Home for Christmas (2 page)

A thousand days, lost forever.

Miranda stood among them, crowded into the entry way, determined to hold back the tears. The price had been too great.

She swallowed the raw emotion constricting her throat. She had a great deal of catching up to do. Determination to enjoy every hour with her family to the fullest warmed her soul.

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Miranda awoke before sunrise, cocooned in the warmth of the big four-poster bed. Three younger sisters snuggled up beside her. She lingered, absorbing their warmth, listening to their peaceful slumbering breaths. She fought the urge to go back to sleep.

She couldn’t conscience wasting a single moment of her time with them. Yet the simple pleasure of lying in this familiar feather bed, beneath Grandma Finlay’s wedding ring quilt, basking in her sisters’ presence brought a simple and profound peace.

In the graying light of dawn, in the quiet house, Miranda felt a pang of loneliness for Sophie Vanderfeldt. The elderly woman had always been eager to embrace the day and hesitant to retire at night. For a woman of any age, she’d had a surprising enthusiasm for life.

Sophie would approve of Miranda’s intention to wring the most from each day at home. Careful not to disturb her sisters, Miranda rose, dressed, and made her way downstairs.

Trying not to wake the family, Miranda added logs to the parlor hearth, fanned the banked coals to life and brushed off her hands and skirt front.

Above the mantle, dozens of Christmas day portraits hung in consecutive order, beginning with her parents’ wedding portrait.

Each photograph contained a wealth of stories, illustrating the growth of the family through the years with babies of their own and the eventual addition of sons- and daughters-in-law. Then grandchildren. Perusing the images, Miranda came to the last three; the years she’d been in Denver.

She took in the details of each, comparing the expressions on the faces. She admired the image of her newest brother-in-law. The two youngest additions to the family appeared while she’d been away.

In these portraits, the years showed on the faces of her parents. They were growing old–-all of them.

And Miranda had missed it.

There wasn’t a conspicuous space left on the back row where she would’ve stood, but she noticed her own absence just the same. She couldn’t help feeling excluded. Standing at the heat of the fire, the scent of fresh pine boughs filling the air and the sounds of the wakening household around her, Miranda realized she had no one to fault but herself.

She’d blamed Warren for robbing her of the freedom to come home at will–-but it wasn’t his offense. She could see that now. The past two Christmases, she’d made the choice to stay in Denver, licking her wounds and sulking.

And hiding from Warren.

Likely, Warren hadn’t even noticed.

Miranda chided herself for being a fool. She’d behaved like a widow all these years, pining for the man who’d betrayed her.

The time had come to stop hiding from life–-from Warren, specifically. He needn’t affect her any longer.

She didn’t want to miss out on the annual Children’s Program, and so she’d go. If she happened to see him while in Mountain Home, she’d greet him politely, as she would any neighbor.

But she wouldn’t have to hide amongst her family members for protection. Gathering the remnants of her courage, she decided she would volunteer to run the errand her mother had assigned to her younger sisters last night. A parcel needed to be picked up from the tailor shop. Miranda would go alone, without shielding herself behind numerous siblings. The errand would do her good.

This was her town, her life-long neighbors, her family, her
life.
She would never again stay away from her home this long. She’d return often, for every important occasion. The holidays, each wedding and christening, and everything in between.

The time had come to reclaim it all.

CHAPTER TWO

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Miranda greeted a dozen old friends as she made her way toward Pettingill’s Tailor Shop. She hugged her neighbors, told them about her employment with the late Mrs. Vanderfeldt, accepted condolences, and noticed not a one of them mentioned Warren or the scandal surrounding her abrupt departure from Mountain Home.

In high spirits, she squinted against the brilliant sunlight and entered the tailor shop. A small stove warmed the tidy room, banishing the winter chill.

Bolts of brightly covered fabrics waited on shelves lining one wall. Several gowns, in various stages of completion, waited on dress forms near the window. Dark gray cloth was spread out on a table, as if Mrs. Pettingill had been called away before she could finish cutting out her project.

An unfamiliar young woman worked on a child-sized coat at a sewing machine near a south-facing window. Her pale blond hair was loosely gathered into a fashionable bun, soft curls an ethereal sunlit frame to her face. The door into the back room was closed, and she seemed to be alone in the shop.

Miranda grew too warm now that she was indoors and protected from the biting wind. She worked the buttons free on her coat.

“Good morning.” The woman halted her sewing and rose. “How may I help you?” A stylish and expertly fitted black wool dress emphasized her trim figure with a waspish waistline.

Miranda immediately wondered who she mourned for. She figured the other woman must be within a year or two of her own twenty-five years.

“My mother, Caroline Finlay, sent me to pick up her order.”

“I’m Effie O’Leary.” She brought out a parcel neatly wrapped in brown paper. “I know several of your sisters, but I don’t believe we’ve met. Where do you fit in the family?”

Miranda liked Effie’s quick smile and friendly nature. “I’m Miranda. Fourth out of an even dozen. We haven’t met because I’ve been away in Denver.”

“Are you home to stay?”

Miranda heard no pity or censure in the other woman’s voice. Maybe she hadn’t heard about the scandal. “Only a few days. I’ve taken another job in the city. I start before New Year’s.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s good work. Well suited to me, I think.”

“I didn’t have any choice, either, after I lost my husband. I knew how to sew, but that was my sole salable skill.”

“I’m sorry to hear about your loss. How long have you worked for the Pettingills?”

Effie chuckled easily. “I bought the business from them six months ago.”

Miranda hadn’t seen a new sign on the building. She hadn’t heard a word about the Pettingills leaving town. “I’m finding plenty of new surprises. I’ve been away too long.”

“Was your husband from Denver?”

“Oh, I wasn’t married. I’m not widowed.” She glanced at the mourning dress visible beneath her unbuttoned coat, saddened by Sophie’s passing all over again. “I worked as a companion to an elderly lady. She passed away two weeks ago.”

Effie grasped Miranda’s hand, giving her a firm squeeze. “I’m sorry.”

Miranda nodded. “What brought you to Mountain Home? Do you have family here?”

“None at all. I read the Pettingills’ advertisement in the paper and decided this was the place for me.”

Miranda heard the echo of loneliness in Effie’s words and sensed her need for company. How sad to be alone in the world, to spend the holidays without loved ones. Miranda had missed her family while in Denver, but she’d had Sophie’s delightful companionship and conversation, parties and celebrations.

Effie seemed in no hurry to return to her work. Sympathetic toward the other woman, Miranda offered a friendly smile. “Do you have a home in town?”

“I live in the room behind the shop. It’s more than I need.” She seemed uncertain, hesitant. “It’s very cold out. Would you care for a cup of tea before you go?”

Miranda smiled as she set down the package and hung up her coat. “I’d like that very much. Let’s visit while you continue your work. I’m capable with a needle, if you have something to keep my hands busy.”

Effie’s enthusiastic acceptance kept Miranda busy sewing buttons on two boys’ coats, sharing confidences, and passing hours before she realized how late it had become.

It was a fine thing to discover a new friend, a fine thing indeed.

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As the last long rays of evening sunlight turned the skies and newly fallen snow varying shades of gray, Hunter slung an extra pair of snowshoes for Miranda over his shoulder and headed for the Finlay place.

He made his way over the shortest route to the neighboring ranch, his snowshoes whispered over the swells of windswept snow.

He knew one thing for certain; Miranda would make her excuses and stay home from the Children’s Christmas Program.

He knew it just as clearly as he knew his own name.

And the thought made him smile. If he timed his entrance just right, he’d be there in time to rescue her from her family.

She deserved a spot of happiness during the holidays. He wanted to help make a happy memory, give her something else to think about when she thought of home. Something good. Something other than Warren and the pain he’d caused her.

A smile tugged at his lips. He figured the Finlays bustled about the crowded house, all in various stages of preparation for the traditional outing. Miranda’s youngest siblings, nieces, and nephews were in the program, after all. All the children were. The whole family would go, along with the whole town.

Miranda wouldn’t want to be in that crowd. He imagined she’d offer to keep the youngest babies at home as an excuse to stay away from town.

Hunter would ask Miranda to walk out with him, providing her an excuse to skip the Christmas program, and give him a perfect opportunity to spend the evening with her.

Picking up his pace, he crossed the property line fence, which extended only inches above a snowdrift.

After another few minutes, the Finlay house came into view. Smoke drifted from the chimneys. Every window glowed with welcoming light. A garland of evergreen boughs wound about the porch railing, decorations twinkling with reflected light from the windows. As he got closer, he found they were stars cut from tin cans.

He smiled. The grandchildren must’ve had a wonderful afternoon.

Hunter knocked snow off his boots, sat on the porch swing to remove the snowshoes, and propped the contraptions against the railing.

Within the house, he heard the commotion of everyone preparing to leave. Children ran through the entry hallway, and one of the teenage boys bellowed for Caroline. From somewhere deep in the house, she answered.

Hunter raised his hand to knock. The door swung inward before he could rap it. One of Del’s kids ran past onto the porch, her tight sausage ringlets bounding in every direction. She wore a heavy coat. Four more kids barreled after her, followed by Del and Gerald.

Phil drove the big sleigh around the house and into the front yard. Silver bells jangled on the harnesses. Phil lifted the grandchildren one by one into the back seat.

Del’s oldest spun back and caught his hand. “You coming to hear us sing?”

“Is your
whole
family going?” Hunter looked into the house, trying to see Miranda. “Even Auntie Miranda?”

“Yep. She’s excited to hear us sing.”

It seemed he’d sorely misjudged her.

He wondered what other changes in her would sneak up and surprise him.

Mary Beth rushed through the doorway onto the porch. She handed him the baby, bundled up so only his little nose and eyes peeked through the quilts. “Hunter, hold him for a minute, will you please? I forgot a book I’m loaning to your mother. I’ll run and get it.”

Miranda’s younger brothers brushed past Mary Beth on her way back in. They clapped Hunter on the shoulder on their way past. Dallas, the youngest, poked him in the ribs. “Even with Harold’s sleigh going too, we’re going to have to sit two-deep on the way there. You comin’ with us?”

“Maybe.” Hunter hurried inside. He found Miranda’s mother buttoning up her coat. “Where’s Miranda? I need to talk to her.”

“She’s helping Jessie find her mittens. They’re in the kitchen, last I saw.”

“Hey, Hunter!” Dallas yelled from the front porch. “You brought both pairs of snowshoes. You walking into town?”

“If I have to.” Hunter turned and nearly plowed into Miranda. The baby in his arms startled and let out a wail.

He took in Miranda’s fresh appearance, the bright smile on her face. Her skin, smoother and creamier than he’d recalled, fairly glowed with an inner light.

To his surprise, she’d forsaken the mourning black for a freshly-pressed deep green skirt that brought out the bright emerald of her eyes and high-necked white blouse trimmed with fancy lace. She’d swept her hair into a loose bun, leaving a few russet curls about her face. She looked every bit ready to go out with her family. A flash of appreciation tickled in his chest. He supposed she hadn’t ever looked so lovely.

She slipped an arm into her coat. Quickly, he held the other side for her. The baby continued to cry on his other arm. He bounced the bundle, not sure how to settle the kid down.

His stomach turned sour, burning with worry. “Looks like you’re all ready to go.”

Warren and Viv were planning to go to the Children’s Program. He wasn’t ready to let Miranda see Warren and Viv, wasn’t ready to let her remember the past, didn’t want to lose his chances with her before he’d even gotten started. That was why he hoped she’d walk with him.

Miranda took the baby and did her best to calm him.

Two more sisters rushed past on their way out to the sleigh. Mary Beth clattered down the stairs, scooped up her baby and headed out. “Come on, you two. We’re going to be late.”

“We can find room for one more in the sleigh.” Miranda buttoned her coat and headed out to the porch. She wrapped her long scarf twice around her neck, covering her lower face against the chill. Pulled plump woolen mittens onto her hands.