“We promised Calvin and Violet to be back in time for a Christmas toast,” Ezra explained. “But thank you all, so much, for this lovely evening. Being with family on this day has…has truly meant the world.”
Thomas nodded. “Happy Christmas, everyone.”
After a round of hugs, they headed out to their wagon and disappeared into the purple twilight.
“Happy Christmas?” Sadie repeated.
“Some people say that,” I allowed, although I too had noted the peculiar phrasing.
“The tree looks splendid,” Whitaker said as we stepped into the sitting room, and the matter was forgotten.
He spun around, taking in the entire picture as his eyes sparkled with appreciation. Paper snowflakes twirled in midair, caught in tangles of baker’s string, and swags of holly branches—dark verdant leaves and glistening red berries—decorated the room.
“The whole house does. You ladies truly pulled off a Christmas miracle.”
“Sam hung all of that,” Sadie offered, throwing a loyal look to him as she pointed to the ivy. He’d been quiet all evening, seemingly cowed by the other men’s bold and boisterous presence. “None of us were tall enough.”
Samuel waved aside her praise. “But it was your idea to string all the berries on the tree with the popcorn.”
“If only we could have made gingerbread ornaments,” Merry said, squinting at the tree as if dreaming them into existence. “They make the house smell so good, and Mama always lets us pick them off the tree to eat whenever we want.”
“They sound delicious, but it’s been the perfect day,” Whitaker reassured her. “I can’t imagine anything improving it.”
“Presents,” said Sadie wistfully.
“The baked apples Ellerie made were our presents,” Merry reminded her. “She used the last of the cinnamon on them.”
“And they were very good,” my little sister allowed. “But it wasn’t as though we could stick them under the tree and unwrap them. Not like real presents.”
“Sadie,” I said with a warning note. Her lower lip was poking dangerously close to a pout. “We talked about that. Not this year.”
“I know. I just—”
“Why don’t you go and look underneath the tree?” Whitaker cut off her whine. “You never know what you might find!”
Dubiously Sadie knelt beside the pine and lifted a heavily needled branch. With a squeal, she removed a small parcel. It was wrapped in plain brown paper and twine, but Whitaker had stuck a sprig of ivy between the cording for a festive touch. An elaborate M was scrawled across the paper.
“Merry, this is for you,” Sadie said, handing out the present with such authority that one would have thought she’d wrapped it herself.
She dove back under the tree and retrieved two more gifts, each with an S. Sadie held them up to Whitaker, her eyebrows question marks.
“The smaller one is Samuel’s; the bigger one is yours,” he said with a wink.
Pleased, she gave Sam his gift, then turned back to the tree.
“Actually, that’s all there is,” Whitaker said, catching her before she could scramble beneath the branches. “Time ran short, and I couldn’t wrap anything for Ellerie.” His eyes flickered over to mine. “I am sorry.”
“You joining us for Christmas is all the gift I need.”
He’d added a breath of life to the house today, keeping us from missing Mama and Papa too much.
Even so, he smiled apologetically before turning to the rest of the group. “Well, what are you waiting for?”
With whoops of delight, Sadie and Sam tore into the paper coverings, ripping the string in two when the knots didn’t give way. Merry opened hers with a weighted thoughtfulness, carefully folding the wrapping and curling up the twine, undoubtedly to save for later use. I wanted to hug her for her resourcefulness.
“Oh, pretty!” Sadie exclaimed, drawing my attention. She twirled a little wooden figure between her fingers. “It’s a princess!”
“A fairy princess,” Whitaker corrected her. “See the wings?”
“They’re maple seeds! Look, Ellerie!”
She foisted the carved figure into my hands. The fairy’s full-skirted dress had a surprising amount of detail carved into it. Shooting stars fell around the hem, and she held a bouquet of tiny four-leaf clovers.
“Did you carve this yourself?” I asked, glancing up at Whitaker. He nodded. “It’s lovely.”
We turned to see Merry, inspecting her gift curiously. It was a horseshoe, brand-new, without a trace of wear.
“For luck,” Whitaker clarified.
“It’s beautiful. I’ve never seen one so shiny before.” She looked up with a shy smile. “Thank you.”
“Oh,” Samuel murmured. We all leaned in to see what it was.
“A pocketknife,” Sadie announced, and immediately lost interest. She took her gift back to the tree and created a game where the figure had to traverse the branches, hopping up higher and higher each time.
“It’s my pocketknife,” Sam said carefully. He held it out to me. “See the little initials on the body? Papa carved those in.”
“I remember,” I said, examining the knife.
“I lost it…during the supply run,” Sam continued, glancing up at Whitaker.
“Ellerie mentioned that when she told me what happened. I was checking traps a few days ago and came across it on the forest floor. Thought you’d want it back.”
“I…yes, thank you.”
My twin stared at Whitaker for a long moment, his gaze dark and terrible.
“We didn’t get you anything,” Sadie realized, her brow furrowing. Her bright tone pushed aside the strange tension threatening the room.
“Are you in jest?” he asked, gallantly sweeping his arm about. “Look at everything you’ve done. If it wasn’t for the Downing family, I’d be spending a cold and lonely night back at my camp. This has been a wonderful evening. I can’t remember a better Christmas!”
“Really?” Sadie asked, glancing about the room with suspicion. “But if you could have any Christmas wish—anything at all—what would you want?”
Whitaker’s gaze fell on me, and my cheeks flushed under the warmth of his stare. Ever since our intimate moment in the kitchen, there’d been a charge between us. Every stare seemed weighted with an anticipation I wasn’t sure how to meet.