Tyler’s Christmas Bride

  ©2019 by Stella Clark

All rights reserved. No part of this may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means without prior written permission.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are a product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, events or locales is completely coincidental.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

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Chapter 1

Rose Bolles stood kneading bread in her kitchen, a ritual she performed every Tuesday.  It wasn’t hard to find store-bought bread in Philadelphia, but spending a day in the kitchen was a sort of retreat for her.  She was able to move through the familiar motions, and it comforted her. 

Her hands beat the dough.  Over, under, through, throw.  Over, under, through, throw.  The methodical rhythm made her think of her mother.  She thought back to the day she had been told of her future - the one planned for her.

“Now Rose,” her mother had said that day as she sprinkled the cinnamon on the bread reserved for Sunday’s rolls.  “Not every marriage is a fairy tale.  It doesn’t mean you can’t be happy.”

Rose’s seventeen-year old spirit bubbled up inside of her and spilled out of her fingers onto the dough.  She threw it down with more force than needed.  “Really, Mother?  Are you happy?”  Rose remembered the way her mother’s soft eyes had looked at her, and she was sure her own were full of fire that day. 

“I have you.  That’s all I ever wanted.” She turned back to her bread.  “You will be just fine once you adjust your expectations.”

Rose had kneaded and baked beside her mother in silence the rest of the day.  The next weekend, she was married to Nolan Bolles and became mistress of his home.  He was rarely there, preferring the poker table at the tavern down the street to the company of his wife, but that suited her just fine.  She was treated well, afforded simple luxuries, and had no real complaints.  But she did not love her husband.  And she knew he didn’t love her.

Contrary to her mother’s pleas and assumptions, she had not learned to lower her expectations.  She held out hope that one day, she would love Nolan.  But day after day went by and still, she felt nothing.  The entire marriage was a series of perpetual days, each one leaning into the one after, until they all tumbled into a pile that resembled years. 

Now, she was twenty-three years old, still childless (another thorn which stung) and utterly alone.  She had learned the hard way that being alone had more to do with how much you wanted to hold someone’s hand than it did with the touch of that hand.  Being alone was a way of life for her, a cornerstone upon which her life was now built.

But baking day brought her solace.  She pounded the last of the air out of her dough and separated it into three sections.  She rolled the first ball out into a disc, cut it into triangles, and then slathered butter on each triangle and rolled them up, placing them close together on the baking sheet given to her by her mother on her wedding day.

“The baking will be that which binds you when everything else fails.  The way to a man’s heart is his stomach,” she had whispered to her that day.

Indeed, maybe it was.  But Rose’s cooking was never something that bound them, nor was Nolan’s heart one that seemed easily accessible by way of bread. But she knew she had never opened her own heart, so she was not one to judge that of her husband’s. 

He did not love her. But he liked her fine, and they were building a life.  Perhaps her mother was right.  She should just lower her expectations.

She placed the rolls in to bake and set a timer.  She listened to the ticking of time while she washed the counter.

***

The next morning, she rolled out of bed and walked quietly to the kitchen to make coffee.  She was in the middle of grinding the coffee beans when she heard a thud.  She ran to the bedroom and found that Nolan had fallen into a heap on the floor. 

“Nolan!” she screamed his name and fell beside him.  John, the neighbor, heard her screams from outside and came running in.  He felt Nolan’s pulse and paled.  “I will go for the doctor.” He turned to Rose.  “You stay here.”

Rose sat by her husband, holding his hand.  She wasn’t sure how long she had sat there when John and the doctor came running. Rose stood up to make room for the doctor. 

Dr. Johnston leaned over Nolan and listened to his heart while feeling for a pulse. He sat back on his heels and shook his head.  Rose stared at him blankly.  “Just like that?” she asked quietly. 

Dr. Johnston nodded.  “Unfortunately, this is not all that uncommon.  It seems as though he died of a heart attack.  There was nothing to be done.  I’m sorry, Mrs. Bolles.”

When she thought back upon this day as an older woman, she would remember many emotions that played upon her as she sat in that cold room that October day.   Disbelief.  Fear.  Trepidation. A touch of sadness.  But grief would not be among them.  Six years living with a man, and she would not grieve his death.  This, perhaps, was sadder than grief itself.

***

Over the next few weeks, she visited her husband’s attorney, his cohorts, and his business partners at the bank.  The news was consistent.  Her husband was not a man who paid his debts, no matter how much he liked to accrue them. 

She was a widow living in Philadelphia with no way to pay her late husband’s debts.  And more than that, the cold was setting in, and she had begun to feel ill. 

She sat on her kitchen floor one day, the one room that still brought her a bit of solace, and cried.  She cried for the life she never had and for the one she was now destined to live. She had a month left in this townhome.  After that, she would be out on the streets - just in time for the Christmas season.  She curled up into a ball and cried until she slept. 

Chapter 2

Virginia City, Montana was a small, thriving town.  It housed a few ranches along its outskirts and the necessary businesses within city limits.  There was a city hall, a seamstress shop, a café, a general store, and a few other places instrumental in the running of a community. 

Oakley Wynn owned one of these ranches, which ran along the southern border of Virginia City.  He lived there with his wife, Iris, and his sister Carol, whom he had taken in when her husband had left her years ago. 

Carol’s son, Tyler, came to live with them about a year ago, after surviving a mining accident in the nearby town of Silver Spur.  The accident, an explosion, left him blind in one eye and with a limp.  He moved to Virginia City to help out on the ranch, and was an asset to his uncle.  He worked hard and never let his disability get in the way of his work or happiness.

At least that was his own perception of how things were.

His mother, Carol, had a different perspective.  She watched her son toil day after day, working hard, and saw in his demeanor a drive to prove himself…as if his accident had left him less worthy than he was before.

It can be said that pride, work, and self-worth are all woven together to make up a man, and when one piece of that tapestry is unraveled, it often takes the others along with it.

Carol saw that he was allowing his newfound shortcomings to define him, and worried he would never step out again to try anything new or meet new people – namely, a woman with whom to spend his life.

She was in the General Store one day, when she heard of men placing ads out east for brides. 

“They just place an ad for a lifelong companion?” Carol asked. 

Trudy, whose nephew in Texas had done that very thing, nodded.  “The unmarried young women out east are plentiful.  And some of them want to come west, but goodness knows they can’t do it alone.  Likewise, the men out on the ranches and in the mines could use a womanly companion.  Not to mention some help with domestic matters.  My nephew, Cody, couldn’t be happier.  They are expecting their first baby in May!”

“How about that.” Carol stated.  Her wheels were already turning.

***

Rose walked into her cold kitchen and began to make coffee from the last of the beans she had left.  She picked up the paper she had commandeered the day before from a boy who was selling day-old papers at half price and began to scan the advertisement section, looking for some sort of employment.

She brought her coffee cup to her lips, and froze.  Her heart began to race as she began to read a section of the advertisements she had never noticed before.

Of course, she had heard of men placing ads for brides, but had never known anyone who had actually answered one…nor had she ever actually seen such advertisements herself.  Goodness knows, she had never thought she would be in a position to do so.

But here she was.  A blast of cold air came through the cracked window, which she had no money to fix, and she shuddered.  Her head ached, and her stomach turned inside of her. She was not well, and the coming winter would only make things worse.  She needed good food, a strong home that would keep out the wind and, if she was honest with herself, someone to take care of her – financially and physically.  Any job she found in Philadelphia would barely allow her to get by. But to be married again... to go west and start a new life away from the city… 

The fresh air and open spaces would surely do her some good.

She looked down at the advertisement and whispered, “A ranch in Montana…”  She was hard working and could cook. She could sew a straight seam.  Her mind was whirling.  She did not think of love, for she had learned that love was not a necessary component to marriage and survival therein. 

Before she could talk herself out of it, she penned a short letter. 

I would like to accept your offer to come west and be married.  Please send a telegram with the appropriate instructions. 

She paused. She supposed she should say something now of commitment. 

I am hard-working and promise to fulfill my end of the marriage. 

Yours,

Rose Bolles.

She was faithful and hard-working. That was all she had to offer. She hoped it would be enough. 

She rushed out into the rapidly dropping temperatures, and mailed her letter.  She noticed the first leaves had begun to turn on the maple outside her home, and felt as though she was watching sand through an hour glass.  It wouldn’t be long now.  Suddenly, she began to fear that someone else may have answered the ad before she was able.  The paper was a couple days old already.  She shuddered and prayed she was not too late. She began to walk faster.

Chapter 3

Two weeks later, she found herself on a train headed for a new home and a new life. She straightened her hat and stared out the window at the passing landscape. 

October was all but over now, or would be in a few days, and the leaves were dying a slow, beautiful death.

She felt as though she might be sick at any moment. She had never been on a train before, and it was not sitting well with her.  A tall man walked by her as the train lumbered along and hung a Christmas wreath on the wall at the rear of the car.  The smell of pinecones and dried oranges reminded her of a Christmas she had spent with extended family when she was a child. 

Her family never celebrated Christmas much growing up, and she had continued the same when she was married herself.  They barely hung wreaths in the month of December, and even then, they were not laden with dried oranges.

“Sir, do you mind if I ask why you are hanging a Christmas wreath when it is not yet November?” 

His eyes danced.  “Ma’am, where I come from, to wait for November is to shorten the most beautiful season we have.  You have heard the words to a poem, “long lay the world in sin and error pining...?”

His voice had an unmistakable French accent.  “You are from France, then?” she asked.

“Oui,” he said, bowing to her.  “In France, ma’am, or in the village where I was raised, we hang wreaths in October.  I bring this tradition to the American railroad.”  He tipped his head to her and walked away.

She pulled her sweater around her and smiled faintly.  A wreath in October.  She closed her eyes, trying to ignore her motion sickness, and fell asleep to the rhythm of an engine and the passing of time.

***

“Last stop! Virginia City!”  The sound of the announcement startled her out of her reverie.  She stood up, gathered her things, and headed to the front of the train.  There were not many left on it. It seemed as though most of the passengers had gotten off before now.  It gave her some comfort to know that she had come as far west as she could.

She alighted from the train, her chestnut hair in a braid over the left shoulder, and looked around.  An older woman was waving to her. Rose looked behind her to see if the woman was waving at someone else. But she was the only one getting off of the train in Virginia City.  She approached the older woman, trying not to look as confused as she felt inside.

“You must be Rose,” the woman said warmly, taking her left hand into both of her older ones.  “I am Carol Wynn, Tyler’s mother.”

Rose nodded.  “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Wynn.” 

“Please! Call me Carol.”  They began to walk together towards the direction of the wagon. Carol helped Rose load her few things into the wagon and took the reins.

Rose sat and waited patiently for Carol to explain. She didn’t understand why Tyler would not have met her at the train station. He was likely busy at the ranch, Rose thought.

Carol cleared her throat.  “I need to tell you something.” 

Rose waited silently.

“I placed that ad for Tyler. He doesn’t know you are coming.”

Rose felt faint. She held onto the wagon box.  “I’m sorry?”  Surely she had misheard.

Carol sighed and spoke kindly. “My son is lonely. He won’t admit it to anyone, least of all himself.  Men are a prideful species, Rose, which you must know having been married before.”

Rose tried to make sense of what was happening and was beginning to feel sick again.

Carol looked at her and saw how pale her face was. She stopped the wagon.  “Rose, I’m sorry.  Perhaps I should have told you.  But then you wouldn’t have come.  Do you believe in miracles, Rose?” 

Rose wasn’t sure anymore what she believed.  “I’m not sure,” she said.

“Well, I do,” Carol said firmly.  “And I especially believe in miracles around Christmas time.  I believe you are an answer to our prayers, a miracle for my son.”  She clicked to the horse, and they were off again.

Rose closed her eyes, trying to ward off the nausea. She just wanted to get to a place that didn’t move, so she would stop feeling sick.  She felt like she had been deceived, but what could she do about it now?  Get on a train and go back to Philadelphia?  For what? For whom?

She had no one now, except this woman beside her and her son who didn’t even know she was coming.  What would he think when his fiancée showed up at his door?  One to whom he didn’t even propose? 

She was okay with a loveless marriage.  She could get used to being a wife for the sake of mutual convenience – this she was used to. What she could not fathom was being sent back east. She thought of the Frenchman on the train with the wreath.  She thought of Carol asking her if she believed in miracles.

She said a silent prayer.  God, if there are indeed miracles, I could use one. Make him kind.  Make him keep me.

Chapter 4

The ride wasn’t long, and she had barely finished her prayer when they pulled into the ranch.  It seemed as though she would be able to walk to town, for which she was grateful.

Carol took Rose inside and helped her settle into her room.  Then she took her into the kitchen to meet Iris. 

“This is my brother’s wife, Iris.  This is their ranch, and Tyler and I live here and help out.  My husband left me when Tyler was baby, and we have lived with Oakley and Iris ever since.”

Rose opened her mouth to say how sorry she was about her husband, but Carol waved her off before she had even begun to speak.  “No need, Rose.  We are better off. Water under the bridge, and a price I paid for marrying a foolish man.”

“Welcome, Rose,” Iris said, holding out her hand. Rose took it and suddenly felt as though she may faint.  She sat down in the kitchen chair behind her.

Iris was at her side instantly.  “You must be exhausted from your journey.  Let me help you to your room so you can rest.”  Rose nodded and allowed herself to be escorted out of the kitchen and into her bedroom.

It seemed as though she would be sleeping here alone until Tyler could be informed about his new fate and, Rose supposed, either accept her or not.

She lay down in the bed that had been made up for her and closed her eyes.  She had to admit, she hadn’t been this warm or this comfortable in a long time.  The house was solid. The women were welcoming. Her nausea was waning as she snuggled down into the feather pillow. 

Please let him be kind, she prayed again. She had more about which to pray, but was asleep before she could form any more thoughts.

***

She awoke to the smell of a fire burning in the hearth that faced the foot of her bed.  She heard someone adjusting the logs and sat up groggily. 

“How long have I been asleep?” she asked.

“About four hours.  Dinner should be ready any minute.” Iris stood up and brushed ash off of her apron.  “Tyler is in the kitchen.  My sister told him about you.”  She smiled at Rose.  “I know my sister is rash at times, but her heart is large.  She has capacity for much love and only wants the best for her son.”

Rose nodded.  Her own mother had claimed she wanted the best for Rose, which had landed her in a marriage void of love and mutual respect.  She wondered if Carol’s vision for her son would be more fruitful than her own mother’s had been.

Iris left Rose to freshen herself up after her long nap and went into the kitchen to help Carol with the meal.

Rose looked into the glass above the dresser and tried to make herself as presentable as possible. She knew she was pretty…but she also knew the journey had taken its toll on her looks.  She had dark circles under her eyes, and her hair hadn’t been brushed in more than twenty-four hours. She took a brush to her hair and re-braided it, letting the braid fall over her shoulder, which is how she usually left her hair.  She pinched her cheeks to put some color into them and looked at herself again.  Her green eyes looked scared. There was no other way to describe it.  She also knew there was nothing she could do about it.  Her aunt had always said her eyes were nothing more than green tinted windows which saw and revealed everything. 

She smoothed her dress and walked into the kitchen.

***

Tyler sat at the table with his head in his hands.  “Mother, I cannot believe this.  I am fully capable of running my own love life.”

Carol rolled her eyes and kept stirring her soup.

“I know you are rolling your eyes at me, Mother,” Tyler said.  He tried to sound annoyed, but amusement at his mother’s insatiable antics played on the edge of his words. His mother heard it…and was thankful for it.

He isn’t angry, she thought, relieved.

“You don’t know what my eyes are doing.  Now wash up.” 

She heard Tyler’s chair hit the ground. She jumped and turned from the stove.  “What in the world?!” she exclaimed. 

Tyler was standing, having knocked over his chair, staring at Rose who had just walked into the kitchen.  Tyler was not a man who loved easily or was readily distracted. He had given up on the concept of love the day he had limped away from the hospital after his mining accident.  He was not a whole man, only partially so; he had wrongly assumed this made him less capable of love.  But he was mistaken.  He did not acknowledge in this moment the love that welled up inside of him, but it was there nevertheless.  Just as a man who is blind cannot negate the sun’s existence simply because he cannot see it, just so, Tyler’s refusal to see his feelings for what they were did not negate them. He loved her.  Mysteriously so, he loved her.  And in the same vein with which he loved, he deemed himself incapable of receiving this love in return.  He felt awe at her beauty, shame at his disability, and a myriad of other feelings which all jockeyed for position.

Rose, having just emerged from a place of near demise, a long journey, and exhaustion on the heels of both, thought Tyler handsome and thoughtful.  She felt his face was rugged, and she knew his heart ran deep due to the emotions which played on his face upon her entrance into the kitchen.  She curtsied to him and held out her hand. 

He walked to her and took it, kissing it in the way his mother had taught him, and struggled against feelings which he knew would only lead to disappointment.

Carol watched them look at each other and felt joy bubble up inside of her. She saw her son’s awe, and Rose’s pleasure, and considered it all a victory. They will get along just fine, she thought.

She and Iris exchanged a knowing look and hustled Rose over to a chair. Oakley walked in from the barn, at which point more introductions were made, and soup was served. 

Iris and Carol sat down and began making plans for the next day.  “We will walk to town and get some more of those cloves from the general store.  And we will need more ginger for the biscuits, brandy for the figgy pudding…” Carol was ticking things off of her fingers as Iris was nodding. 

Iris turned to Oakley. “Have you decided which tree it will be this year yet?”

Oakley puffed out his chest.  “I found the perfect one just this afternoon.  I’ll take you to see it in the morning.”

Iris flung her arms around her husband’s neck, making him blush. 

Rose ate her soup slowly, trying to figure out what they were talking about.  Figgy pudding? Brandy? Trees? 

Carol saw her confused look.  “We like to get Christmas celebrations ready a little early around here.  Christmas will be here before we know it!”

Christmas again.  Rose smiled faintly.  “There was a Frenchman on the train…”

“Oh, you met Phillip!” Iris exclaimed, clasping her hands together. “He is our favorite porter, always bringing us new ideas and tips for making Christmas special.  The whole town loves to listen to his stories of Christmas back home.”

Suddenly exhausted, Tyler stood up.  “I’m going to go out to the barn.”  He turned and left, leaving the rest of the party staring after him. 

Rose stared after him, feeling as though she had been abandoned.  He was handsome in a rugged sort of way, and his limp looked more like a saunter than a limp. She found herself wanting to run after him and blushed at the thought.

Carol and Iris went back to their lively Christmas planning, while Rose ate her soup slowly.

***

Tyler lay in the loft in the barn until the first light came up.  When his mother had told him she sent for someone to be his wife, he was angry at first.  But if he was honest with himself, he was also a little hopeful.  Surely someone who answered an advertisement for a husband would be someone kind of like him.  Someone who was broken a little. 

But he was wrong. She was beautiful. 

She was out of his league, and there was no way she would agree to be his wife. 

Chapter 5

Three weeks went by, and the leaves had fallen to blanket the first frost of the season. Thanksgiving came and went, and Rose was finding adjustment to the ranch difficult.

She was eating better than she had in Philadelphia, as was evidenced by how snug her dress was becoming, but she still felt fatigued a lot of the time. She worked hard and tried her best not to complain; meanwhile, Tyler rarely graced the doorway of the home. Rose longed for him to talk to her, but he rarely said three sentences to her when he did show up. Rose spent most of her time helping Iris and Carol, who were working non-stop.  They were kind to her and with Christmas coming, they all had plenty to do.

Over the course of her stay thus far, the small home had been transformed.  The fire was always burning, and there were wreaths everywhere. Garland had been strung up along the top of the windows in the kitchen. The red checked tablecloth which adorned the kitchen table the other ten months of the year had been replaced with a holly print.  There was a bowl of peppermint sticks in the middle of the table, from which one was taken by every family member after dinner.  It seemed to Rose to be a bottomless bowl of candy, which was either magical or replaced by elves when she wasn’t looking.

The smell of pine and orange and cloves permeated every corner of the house and was always mingled with a pie, figgy pudding, or some other delicious dish which accompanied their peppermint sticks in the evening. 

Rose walked into the kitchen one morning and found Carol and Iris mixing up a spice cake.  They stopped singing carols, and Iris called to Rose, “Come sit down! I just made some peppermint tea.”

Iris had learned over the last few weeks that peppermint tea was Rose’s favorite, and she had some for her every morning. 

“Do you two ever sleep?” Rose asked her, taking the hot tea, just as Carol dropped a peppermint stick into it. 

Rose laughed. “My dress is already tight! You two are going to be the death of my figure.”

Carol waved her concerns away.  “Christmas comes but once a year, Rose.  Enjoy it!”

Rose shook her head.  “When you celebrate Christmas for two months, I’m not sure your theory makes sense.”

Iris threw a towel at Rose’s head, who ducked and laughed. 

***

Oakley turned to Tyler.  “Well, you think the girls will like it?” 

Tyler looked up at the pine tree and laughed.  “I don’t know that any tree is big enough to make Aunt Iris happy, but this one has to come close.  Are you sure it will fit in the living room?”

“Absolutely.  I’ve triple checked,” Oakley replied.

Tyler shrugged.  “All right.  Let’s get to work.”  He pulled out his saw and began to help his uncle bring down the Christmas tree.

“How come you don’t stay in the house anymore, Tyler?”  He asked it matter-of-factly, the way his uncle always addressed him.  Oakley was the only father figure Tyler had ever known, and he treated Tyler the way he treated his biological children: with candor and respect.

Tyler kept working, doing his best to avoid a conversation he knew was inevitable.

“You know that girl is pretty. And she’s nice.  Why won’t you get to know her?”

Tyler stood up.  “That’s just it. Look at me, Uncle Oakley. Why would a pretty, nice girl want to be married to me? She could have her pick of bachelors in town, and she would be better off.  No one like Rose wants a man with a limp and a bad eye for a husband.”  He went back to sawing the tree.

Oakley held the tree for his nephew.  “Well, if that’s what you think of her, it probably wouldn’t work anyway.”

“This has nothing to do with her worth.  This is about me,”  Tyler said.

“I think that’s your problem, son.  For a long time, it’s been about you. I think it’s time you made it about someone else.” 

Tyler seethed as he took the tree down and helped him tie it to the wagon. But on the drive back to the house, he couldn’t stop replaying his uncle’s words in his head.

***
        Rose sat at the table, drinking her third cup of peppermint tea that day.  Carol looked over at her from where she was melting wax to make candles for Christmas Eve.  Rose looked positively miserable. 

“Rose, honey, are you okay?  You look positively white.” Carol’s voice was laced with concern. 

“I think so. I think I’m still recovering from the stress of the last few months.”  She continued to drink her tea, willing her nausea to go away.  She hated feeling helpless. 

Carol began to pour the wax into steel tubes.  “When you are finished with your tea, why don’t you go rest?”

Rose finished her tea quickly and got to her feet.  “Nonsense.  I do not need to rest.  Here, let me help you.  Then we can go outside and get some fresh air.  I’m sure I will feel better soon.”

Carol relented, and, after leaving the candles to set, they washed the dishes, bundled up, and went outside.  Winter had set in, bringing with it a kind of cold that was different from that which she knew in Philadelphia. She was familiar with cold…but it was always buffered by buildings and people. Here in Montana, the wind howled and sucked the breath right out of a woman.  Iris was already on the front porch, staring off at the south pasture.

“What are you looking at, Iris?” Carol asked. 

“I’m watching for Oakley and Tyler.  They went to get my Christmas tree.”

Christmas was the favorite holiday of the entire household. But the Christmas tree was Iris’s specialty.  Her son, Jack, who lived just a few miles away, running his own ranch now, always brought his kids over to help Iris decorate the tree.  They were coming in two days, and the tree had to be ready for them.  Jack had three children, all girls.  Every year, he and his wife dropped the girls off and went on a Christmas date to buy presents for their kids.  The girls stayed and helped their grandmother decorate the tree.  They all knew it was Iris’s favorite day of the season, and every year, she stood on the front porch waiting patiently for her husband to bring her the tree for which he spent weeks searching.

Suddenly, she began to wave.  “Here he comes!  And he’s gone and put bells on the horses!”

Rose laughed in disbelief.  Sure enough, the horses were pulling the tree-laden wagon, while bells hung from their harnesses. 

Oakley stood and waved his hat to her, while Iris jumped up and down like a little girl on Christmas morning.

“I can already tell it’s perfect!”

Rose watched the entire scene with awe.  This family was a real family…one where Christmas meant something and bells on horses brought sheer joy to those who lived here.  Furthermore, it was a home where love lived.  Oakley adored Iris, and the feeling was clearly mutual. 

Rose watched Tyler drive the team toward their cabin while Oakley beamed at them all from the wagon box.  Rose met Tyler’s eyes as they approached, and the steel blue of them seemed to match the winter sky.  His eyes smiled at her, and his face followed…a hesitant smile, full of trepidation. She tried her best to smile back but found it fell short as a wave of nausea hit her again.  She sat down on the chair to try and catch her breath as Iris ran towards the wagon to help with the tree. 

Carol watched Rose from where she stood.  She was beginning to think Rose needed to see a doctor…sooner than later.

Chapter 6

The next day was Sunday.  A special church service in town was planned, along with a meal afterwards.  Carol, Iris, and Rose had made two gingerbread cakes.  They were all to go to church and then get candies and things made for Monday: tree decorating day. 

Rose woke up feeling excited to attend the church event.  She had never gone to church at all as a kid, and definitely was never present at any Christmas events.  Christmas events were frivolous, her mother had said, and there was “no room in our budget or time for frivolity.”

Rose’s excitement faded to dread as soon as her feet touched the kitchen floor.  A wave of nausea hit her as she entered the bustling room.  She held onto the back of the kitchen chair to keep from getting sick.  She began to feel faint, and the room swam in front of her.

Carol was immediately at her side.  “Rose! Are you okay?”

Rose nodded weakly.  “I think I just need some air.”  She waited for the room to stop swimming and then walked out onto the porch. 

Tyler was adjusting the harnesses on the horses, preparing them for their drive into church.  The bells jingled clearly in the morning air, the sound of them suspended in the quiet that was a Montana December.

Rose heard them from the porch and listened to their music as Tyler worked.  She pulled her sweater around herself and shivered.  Tyler looked up from his work and nodded at her.  Her heart fluttered just a little. Then everything went black.

***

Tyler saw Rose collapse and ran to her.  She was unresponsive. He went quickly to get her some water and cradled her head in his arm, waiting for her to wake up.  He wasn’t a man who panicked, but he found himself worrying about this woman he barely knew.  He held her in the cold, the smell of pine and horses evaporating into the wind, chilling him from the inside out.  He held Rose closer to warm her.  He thought of carrying her inside, but worried the air might be too stagnant for her.  The cold would wake and refresh her.

She began to stir and opened her eyes. He stared into them and found he could not look away. He wondered how deep the well ran and what it would feel like to give up completely and dive in, free from insecurities and doubt.  But this is not reality, Tyler, he thought to himself.  She is out of your league.  She will realize this and move on.

“Here, drink some water,” he said to her, holding a cup to her lips.  She held his gaze and drank, neither of them looking away.  They stayed like that, even after she had finished drinking, both of them bound by their hearts and afraid to shatter whatever moment there was between them. 

Tyler looked away first.  “Let’s get you inside.” 

Rose stopped him.  “No.  Can I just lie here a moment longer?” 

He looked down at her.

“The cold is helping my nausea,” she whispered.

Tyler nodded.  “Of course.”

They sat like that, in the cold, until Rose deemed herself able to walk.  Tyler helped her into the house just in time to see the others grabbing their wraps and heading for the wagon. 

“Did the fresh air help?” Carol asked Rose, hopeful.

Tyler spoke.  “She collapsed on the porch. I think she will need to stay here this morning to rest.”

“Oh dear! I will stay with you,” Carol said.

“Nonsense,” Rose said.  “You all go on to the church.  I just need to rest.  I will feel better by the time you return.”

Tyler spoke up.  “I will stay with her. I will see you all this afternoon.”

His tone of voice suggested that arguing would be fruitless.  Carol noticed he sounded a lot like his uncle when his mind was made up.  Nothing made her prouder than when Tyler emulated her brother.  “Of course.” 

Carol hustled the rest of their party out of the kitchen and down into the wagon. 

Tyler laid Rose in her bed, started a fire in the hearth, and sat in the kitchen, keeping a sort of vigil over the woman he was scared to love.

***

Rose woke up feeling better than she had in days.  She walked into the kitchen to see Tyler tending the hearth. 

“How are you feeling?” he asked her. 

“Actually, a lot better,” she said, surprised at the truth of the statement.  She felt better than she had in days.  Maybe she was finally turning a corner.

“Thank you for what you did on the porch,” she said to him.  He stood up from the fire and walked towards her.  He stopped in front of her and was so close she was afraid he could hear her heart beating.

“You scared me when you collapsed like that.  I just want to make sure you are safe.”  The words sounded generic and hollow to Tyler’s ears, but they held so much of what he could not say.  She looked so small and vulnerable…yet she had traveled all the way across the country by herself.   Her eyes held a strength that was born of circumstances beyond what he knew about her.  Suddenly, he wanted to know everything about her life.  He wanted to learn what made her get on a train to meet a stranger and what she felt when she looked at him the way she was looking at him now. 

Suddenly, he found himself leaning towards her and, before he realized what was happening, he was kissing her. He pulled back just in time to hear the door clatter behind him. 

The sound of the others talking excitedly about the service and the lunch swirled around them both, the sound of voices swirling around them like the Montana wind. 

Tyler cleared his throat.  “I’ll go help Uncle Oakley get the horses put away. They will freeze if they stand out there too long.”

He turned and left, leaving Rose blushing in his wake. 

Chapter 7

Monday morning, exactly one week before Christmas and one day after Rose and Tyler had shared their kiss, Iris was bustling about the kitchen.  She was anxious for her grandchildren to come and as with everything surrounding her grandchildren and Christmas, she wanted it all to be perfect.

“Carol, help me with the gingerbread, will you! It looks like it might burn.”  Carol rushed over to help.  Not having any grandkids of her own, Carol had adopted Iris’s as her own, careful to always let Iris shine, but always present to help and to entertain.  The children knew her as Aunty, and she prided herself on her role. 

Rose was in the family room when the grandchildren showed up.  She looked through the doorway to see three girls rush at Iris and nearly knock her over with their enthusiasm. 

“Grandmother!” the oldest exclaimed. “Did you make the candles?”

“Of course, darling,” Iris assured her.

“And the gingerbread?  And there are peppermint sticks?  And tea?” 

Iris, crouching in front of her granddaughter, nodded after each inquiry, clearly used to being peppered with questions.

The girl, who looked to be about ten, looked at her mother with shining eyes.  “Mother, you were right!”

The girl’s mother smiled.  “I told you that your grandmother never forgets a thing.” She touched her on her nose.  “Now, stop harassing your grandmother and take off your shoes.”  The young girl complied, setting them neatly on the hearth to warm.

Iris’s son, Jack, walked in, stomping his feet as he entered the kitchen.  “I can feel a storm brewing, Mother.  Do you have enough firewood?” 

Carol hugged her son fiercely.  “Have you been away so long that you have forgotten your own father, Jack?”  Jack laughed and hugged his mother back. He was tall and lean and looked to be the spitting image of a younger Oakley. 

“Of course. I forget,” Jack said, still smiling. 

Rose stood in the doorway between the kitchen and the family room, listening as they reminisced about Oakley’s obsession with stacking the firewood.  According to Iris, he was always afraid they would be without heat during a storm and he would be responsible.  He rarely sat still as it was and coming storms always made him antsy.

“Just like a mother bird,” Iris was saying, “Just before a storm, he is busy about the nest.”

As if on cue, Oakley came in carrying firewood for the pile which sat near the hearth.  “I figured I would bring some more in, just in case. It feels like a snowstorm.”

At his words, the entire group, including Rose, broke into laughter, leaving Oakley to wonder what was so funny about firewood and snowstorms.

Oakley was the first to see Rose standing in the doorway.  “Rose! Come meet everyone!”

Rose was introduced and received a warm welcome from everyone.  She felt a little tug on her dress.  She looked down to see a little girl with braids peeking out from under her stocking cap. 

“Are you my new cousin?” Her little voice floated up to Rose and made her smile. 

“Sort of,” she answered, not sure how to respond.  Was she going to marry Tyler?  Or was she just the girl he had kissed in his kitchen?  She felt as confused as the little girl sounded.  Thankfully, she was saved by Carol rushing the young couple out the door. 

“Go on, Jack and Laura! Go have fun!”  Laura looked up at Jack and took his hand.  They said their good-byes and left the little house to head to town.

“Maggie, Caroline, and Alice,” Rose said to them, touching each girl on her head in turn.

They all nodded emphatically and went into the family room to assess the tree.  Rose could hear their squeals of delight as she headed farther into the kitchen to help carry snacks into the family room.

Carol was the first to break out in song as they trimmed the perfect tree.  Rose tried to stay back to allow the family to experience this together, but she found herself being pulled to the tree time and again by Alice, the youngest of the three and the one who had asked Rose of her cousin-status. 

“Here, Cousin Rose, you put the snowflake ornament on.”  Her little voice tinkled in the warm room and mingled with the smell of ginger, creating a memory that Rose never forgot.  As an old woman, when she remembered this day, she could still hear the little girl’s voice floating on the scent of ginger.

Iris left the room and came back carrying the candles she had made days prior.  The girls saw her coming, and all sat at the base of the tree, ready for what seemed to Rose to be a tradition they had all come to expect. 

Iris began speaking while Maggie, the oldest, began placing candles in their silver holders. 

“Back in Ireland, when times were very hard, the Irish people would put a candle in their window on Christmas Eve.  They lit the candle in hopes that passers-by would see their light and know they were welcome. The Irish believed that no one should be alone on Christmas Eve.  The tradition was brought to America by immigrants, some of whom are your very own kin.  My great-great grandparents came to America as Catholic immigrants to escape the persecution of the Catholic Church in Ireland.  They became Protestant, due to conversations they had with a widow who lived in their tenement, but still held tightly to their Catholic roots.  This, the candle in the window, was a tradition which they thought surpassed any strife of reformation.  On Christmas Eve, Catholics and Protestants alike were welcome in their home.”  Iris’s voice rose and fell with the cadence of a natural storyteller, and Rose was as mesmerized as were the children.

“They moved into a home by the ocean, my great-great grandfather having established himself as a dependable tailor in Maryland.  One year, late on Christmas Eve, the candle sat upon their window which faced the East, towards their homeland.  The fire burned steadily, heating their small home.  An old man ambled by the house and saw the candle in the window.  He was weary from his journey and knocked on their door.  He was welcomed by all and given a warm meal and bed for the night.”  Now, Iris dropped her voice very low.  “When they awoke in the morning, the man was gone and in each of the children’s stockings, was a peppermint stick, an orange, and a note which read:

“May the road rise up to meet you.
May the wind always be at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face,
and rains fall soft upon your fields.
And until we meet again,
May God hold you in the palm of His hand.”

The children all chanted the Irish blessing with her as she spoke it and lit the candles one by one.  Iris handed everyone a candle, including Rose.  They then carried them to the table in the kitchen, even Alice, and they were placed in a circle upon the table.  Rose watched as everyone walked around the table until they were in a circle and took her place right next to Alice.  They all held hands, and Rose followed suit, bowing her head when she saw others do the same.  Oakley led them in a prayer about family and Christmas blessings, and Rose found that her cheeks were wet when it was all over. 

Then, the entire group ran straight for their wraps and shoes leaving Rose wondering what was going on.  It was freezing outside!

Oakley left out the front door, the first to get himself ready, and walked towards the barn. 

Rose looked at Iris.  “What is going on? Where is everyone going?”

“On a ride through the woods, of course! Oakley will bring the horses around.  Hurry and get your wraps!”  Iris answered her as she filled a basket with gingersnaps and peppermint sticks. 

Rose felts her insides turn, and she suddenly felt weak.  “I think I will just stay here and do some tidying up.”  She didn’t want to admit she was feeling sick again. She already felt as though they were all tiring of her ailments.  She couldn’t blame them. She was tired of them herself.

Carol waited until Iris and the children were headed out the front door. “I’ll be right out!” she called.  Then she turned to Rose.  “I took the liberty of calling the town doctor. He is a nice man, very knowledgeable, and I’m sure he will be able to help.” She squeezed Rose’s hand and spoke again before Rose could object.  “I know you haven’t been well since you arrived.  I think it’s time to see what’s going on.”

She turned and left with the others, leaving Rose alone.  Rose looked around at the warm home, the smell of pine and fire drifting across the kitchen.  She had never in her life felt more at home than she did here.  She said a prayer, thanking God for her blessings, pushing aside the nagging anxiety the looming doctor’s visit was causing her.

***

The next day, before breakfast was even cleaned up, the doctor arrived and introduced himself to Rose.  “My name is Mark McClain.  Most people call me Dr. Mark.” His warm brown eyes put Rose at ease immediately. 

“Rose Bolles,” she said, offering her hand.  He took it and kissed it.   Carol ushered them into the family room and gave everyone else instructions to stay out of the room while Rose was being evaluated.   

After a series of questions, some of which caused Rose to blush, the doctor took out his stethoscope and listened to her heart and her lungs. 

He put his things away and sighed.  “I think this may be a shock to you, Ms. Bolles.  But it seems as though you are with child.”

Rose looked at him blankly.  Slowly, the news began to register, one symptom at a time, until she knew he was right.  How could I not have seen it? she thought incredulously.

He went on.  “It would seem you are about four months along…maybe a little more or less.  You are probably anemic, which simply means you aren’t getting enough iron. It’s common enough for women in your condition to have a vitamin deficiency of this sort.” He pulled a bottle of pills out of his bag.  “Take one of these every day, and you should be feeling better in about two weeks.”

She was still reeling from the news and said nothing.  He zipped up his bag and stood as if he was preparing to leave.  Rose stood up next to him.  “Dr. Mark?” she asked.  “Can we keep this between us?  I need some time to process this before telling anyone.”  She didn’t know what her next steps would be, but she knew she couldn’t face Carol or Tyler or any of them and reveal her current situation. Not yet anyway.

Dr. Mark smiled warmly.  “Of course.”  He lowered his voice.  “Process quickly, Ms. Rose.  In a few weeks, there will be no hiding your condition.” He patted his own mid-section for effect, tipped his hat to her, and walked into the kitchen.

Rose heard Iris give the doctor a peppermint stick “for the road.”  She waited until she was sure he was gone, and then walked into the kitchen. 

Carol was the first to ask.  “Well? What did he say?” 

“He said I was probably low on iron and gave me some pills.  He said I should feel better in just a few weeks,” Rose replied, deciding to be as truthful as she was able.

Iris nodded from the stove.  “I was anemic with all of my pregnancies.  I bet you have been feeling awful!  I am glad you called him, Carol.”

At the mention of the word “pregnant,” Rose felt her face grow hot. She decided to take a walk to clear her head.  She announced her plans, bundled up, and headed out.

Chapter 8

Tyler was in the barn, doing the chores he had done every day for years.  He went about them methodically, but his mind was elsewhere.

He could not stop thinking about the kiss he had shared with Rose in front of the fire that day.  Had she kissed him back?  Was it possible she wasn’t appalled by his limp?  Could she love a man who could only look upon her with one eye?

These thoughts were keeping him awake at night and nagged at him during the day.  He knew he could not stop thinking of her.  He knew that, although he wasn’t sure how she felt, he was head over heels in love with this woman who had shown up when he had least expected it.

He was about to head out to the pasture when he heard a rustling outside the barn door. He walked outside and found Rose walking past.

“Rose?  What are you doing out in this cold?” he asked her, shocked. 

“I needed some fresh air,” she responded.

He immediately became concerned.  “Are you feeling all right?  Has the doctor come by yet?” 

Tyler thought her saw her face redden at the mention of the doctor, but shrugged it off as a symptom of the cold temperatures.

“Yes, he gave me some vitamins.  I am feeling fine.  I was just feeling cooped up is all.”

“Here,” Tyler said, “Step into the barn out of the wind for a minute.” He led her by the elbow into the barn and out of the gusty air. 

Rose looked up at him, and Tyler was struck by how fragile she seemed. Covered in layers to protect herself against the cold, she looked small and frail.  He had a sudden urge to wrap his arms around her and protect her from everything outside the walls of the barn in which they stood. 

He noticed something else, too. Her eyes.  They looked at him, not with disdain or with pity, but with something else.  Something softer.  Pools of green which reflected, not his own insecurities, but something that ran a lot deeper.  They pleaded with him in a way he didn’t understand.  They were asking him a question he couldn’t answer.  He did the only thing he knew to do, the thing he had been dreaming of since that moment in the kitchen.  He kissed her.

He had made up his mind that if he ever kissed her again, he would really try and discern what she felt.  He would pay attention to signs and how quickly she did or didn’t pull away.  But now that she was here, and his lips were touching hers again, he found he could think of nothing.  He could only just be. He was not a man with a disability or one who had survived a horrific accident.  He just was, and it was all he could do to pull away. 

She stood, breathless before him, and he thought he saw tears in the corners of her eyes.  “I’m sorry,” he said.  “I…” He didn’t really know what to say. He wasn’t really sorry.

“Don’t,” she responded.  Then she turned and left, leaving her scent trailing behind her.  He stood still in the middle of the barn, knowing that as soon as he moved, this moment would become a memory, one he would try and relive again and again.  He ran his hand through his hair and headed out to the pasture.

***

Rose walked quickly away from the barn, breathless from the kiss and from the cold Montana air.  Thoughts swam through her mind, all vying for attention, each one pelting her with the ramifications of her situation.  He kissed me again. He doesn’t know I’m carrying another man’s child. He doesn’t know, and I didn’t tell him.  I have deceived him. I should have told him.  What would I say?  ‘Hi, Tyler.  Thanks for kissing me. By the way, I am going to have a baby that isn’t yours.’  She began to walk faster, trying to get control of her thoughts.  The more she tried to grab onto something tangible, a thought that might actually shed some light on what she ought to do, the faster they came, assaulting her with truth.

She arrived at the front porch of the home and collapsed into the chair. She stared out over the ranch and held onto her stomach, thinking about the life that grew inside of her.  She couldn’t believe the situation she now faced.  For years, she existed in a loveless marriage, doing her wifely duties, always with the idea that it would result in a baby…that she would have love in the way of motherhood if not in matrimony.  But, alas, the baby never came, and she resigned herself to a barren life.  Why now?  Why would she become pregnant right before the death of her husband and right before she agreed to marry a man she had never met?

The wind picked up, and she saw the beginning of a snow storm suspended therein.  The wind howled and snowflakes danced in its clutches, a few at a time, gathering speed and size as they whirled into being.  The weather mimicked her feelings, specs of beauty settled in among turmoil.  They were right, she thought.  There is a storm coming. 

***

Rose spent the rest of the afternoon trying to be as helpful as she could, but not talking much.  Carol kept looking at her out of the corner of her eye, and it made Rose uncomfortable.  Rose was a horrible liar, and she knew that about herself.

“Rose, why don’t you sit and have some peppermint tea?” Carol offered.  Rose tried to refuse, but Carol insisted. 

Carol sat by her at the table, her own teacup in her hand.  “I will sit with you. I could use the break myself.”

“Have I told you the story of Tyler’s father?” she asked.

Rose shook her head.

Carol took a drink of tea.  “He was handsome and said all the right things.  He convinced me to leave my father’s house and follow him to his own.  We were married quickly and without fanfare.  He wasn’t a bad man, but one who needed adventure and excitement at every turn.  Running away with me fulfilled that for him.” She sighed.  “For a time.” 

Rose drank her tea and listened. 

“I became pregnant quickly.  Tyler was born barely nine months after we were wed.  It didn’t take him long to realize that Tyler and I would tie him down, curb the exciting life he wanted to live.  So he left.”

“What did he say?” Rose asked.

Carol shrugged.  “Nothing.  He just left.  I woke up one morning and he was gone.  There was no letter, no good-bye.  It was never really me he loved, but the chase.  Once he had me, he didn’t really want me.”

Carol said this all without a tear or even an inkling of hard feelings.

“How did you handle it?” Rose asked her.

Carol stirred her tea.  “I decided I had two choices. I could either wallow in what might have been and feel sorry for myself,” she looked at Rose, “Or I could accept the life God had given me as His perfect plan in an imperfect world.”

Rose looked away.

Carol grabbed a peppermint stick and swirled it into her tea before taking a drink.  “I chose the latter. I called my brother, there was no way I wanted to face my father, and he invited us to live with him.  We have been here ever since.”

“What about Tyler?” Rose asked.  “When did he go work in the mines?”  She couldn’t help wanting to know everything there was to know about his life. She remembered their kiss and blushed.

“He went to work in Silver Spur when he was sixteen.  He was a hard worker, strong and able.  He is the spitting image of his father.”  Carol added that last sentence with a smile, and Rose realized that she still had fond memories of the man who had left her to fend for herself.  “He made a life for himself there.  The accident was a fluke – just one of those things that happen in life.  He was lucky to make it out alive.  He has never really recovered from feeling as though he is less of a man now than before he entered the mines that day.  I have tried to tell him. But a mother cannot make her grown son feel like a man.”  She looked at Rose pointedly.  “That’s why I sent for you.”

Rose looked down, ashamed of the secret she harbored.  This kind woman had devoted her entire life to caring for her son, helping her family.  And now, Rose was part of this equation, a piece of the puzzle commissioned to make her son whole again.  How could she make Tyler whole while carrying another man’s baby?  Tyler would not want to raise a child who wasn’t his.  This much she knew about men.  The knowledge that another man fathered the baby in the first place would be too much.  Rose’s situation would make him feel like less of a man, not more of one.

Carol rose.  “Well, I had better get back at it.  Christmas comes in six days, and I still have work to do.”

Rose realized Iris was gone.  “Where is Iris?” she asked.

Carol’s eyes twinkled.  “Oakley whisked her away for a carriage ride in the snow.”

“Are you ever jealous of what they share?” Rose asked the question before she had time to think and regretted the words as soon as they were out.

“Never,” she answered.  “I still have time to find love.  I’m not dead yet.”  She winked at Rose and began humming as she cleaned her teacup and went to her bedroom to wrap some presents she had made for Iris’s grandchildren.

Rose sat at the table a while longer with the realization she had to tell Carol about the baby weighing heavily on her.  She could not deceive the family any more.  Carol had dealt with hardship in the past; she would have advice for Rose.  She would know what to do.

Rose wasn’t sure what she expected Carol to say to her.  There wasn’t much that could be done. She was pregnant with one man’s baby and engaged to another man to be married. This, essentially, was her predicament.  Tears filled her eyes as she prepared herself to tell the truth.

Chapter 9

Tyler came into the kitchen to find Rose sitting at the table. She still hadn’t moved, paralyzed by the task that lay in front of her.

“I am going to head to town,” Tyler said to her.  “I need to get some supplies before the storm really gets going.”  He opened his mouth to invite her to come with him, but stopped himself.  He wanted to buy her a gift, and he would not be able to do that if she was with him. 

“Be careful,” she said to him.  “It looks like it’s really starting to snow.”

Tyler waved off her concerns.  “My team is used to the snow, and so am I.”  He hesitated in the doorway.  He wanted to say more. He thought of all the things he could say to her.  He wanted to tell her he loved the way her braid fell over her shoulder…that everything about her was beautiful. He wanted to tell her that, even though he hadn’t been the one to send for her, he would marry her tomorrow…that he wanted to wake up next to her every day for the rest of his life.  He wanted to kiss her again. 

Instead, he casually told her he would be back before dark, frustrated by his cowardice.

She bowed her head and prayed for a miracle. Christmas was coming in less than a week.  Wasn’t that what Christmas was for?  Miracles?

Suddenly, it occurred to her: Without miracles, there would be no Christmas. Rose thought back to the first Christmas, the one that was born of a miracle. Her heart leaped at the thought of a true Christmas miracle – one where she was accepted into the family, loved – both her and the baby. Then she thought of Mary.  Of course, Mary’s situation was quite different, but surely she, too, feared what people would say, what Joseph would say, when her condition became evident? 

She finished her time in prayer and reflection.  Lord, I pray for You to be present in what seems like a mess.  Please bring a miracle to this home, healing to Tyler, and a family to cherish.  Amen.

Carol walked in just as she was finishing up her prayer and though her prayer was silent, she heard her whisper, “Amen.” 

“Oh, excuse me.  I didn’t know you were praying. I can come back.” Carol started to leave, but Rose stopped her. 

“Please, Carol.  Stay.  I have something to tell you.”

And through many stops and starts and tears, Rose told the story of her loveless marriage and the baby that was conceived therein.  She began the story calmly, but was sobbing by the time it was all over, almost as if in the telling of it, she was forced to live it all again.

Carol placed her hand over Rose’s, the older woman’s wrinkles standing in contrast to the smoother hand of the younger woman.  It could be said that wrinkles come in waves, bringing with them a kind of wisdom that can only be found in their folds.

“I know, dear.”  Carol said these words while patting her hand softly.  “I suspected you were with child within days of your being here.”

Rose looked at her and saw compassion and wisdom sitting in the corners of Carol’s eyes.  “You aren’t going to send me away?” Rose asked.

Sympathy turned to shock on Carol’s face.  “Heavens, no!  I am not in the habit of sending young, pregnant women away to fend for themselves.”  She sounded almost offended.

“But I thought…” Rose trailed off.

“You thought what?  That your condition would scare us away?  That we would no longer want you, once we knew there were two of you?”  Carol took Rose’s hand into both of her own.  “You are the Christmas miracle I’ve been praying for.  You and this baby.  Can you imagine?  A grandchild of my own!”  Carol’s eyes flashed with elation, and then Rose knew she was telling the truth.

If Tyler would have her…if he was not scared away by the thought of raising another man’s child…then Carol would have her, too.  Then she would have a mother who loved her for who she was and all the circumstances that embodied her life, no matter how inconvenient.  Her child would have a grandmother.  Rose burst into tears and hugged Carol tightly, no longer afraid of what the older woman might think.

Iris and Oakley walked in, and Iris exclaimed, “My! What is all this about!?”  She ran over to offer support to whomever needed it.  It was not clear upon entry who was consoling whom.

“Oh, nothing, Iris.  Let’s start dinner, shall we?”  Carol rose and squeezed Iris’s hand as she walked by her and towards the stove.  Rose saw them exchange a look, and she realized that Iris knew, too.

Goodness, was she really the last one to know she was carrying a child?  She shook her head and wiped her eyes.  “I will get myself cleaned up and then come help.  I have been in the wind today, and I am sure my hair is in need of brushing.”  She rose to do just that, thinking all the while about how, and when, to tell Tyler her news.

***

Tyler rode into town and straight to the general store. He tied up his horses, the snow swirling around them.  He gave them each an apple out of his coat pocket and headed into the store.

He picked out the supplies he needed, and then consulted his mother’s grocery list.  “Goodness, how much molasses can one family go through?” he said to himself.  He shook his head, smiled, and told the storekeeper, Nicolas, what he needed from behind the counter.

“Iris and Carol doing all of their usual baking?” he asked Tyler. 

“Same things every year,” Tyler replied.  “It seems I always have to loosen my belt come January.”

“I hear you,” Nicolas said.  “The misses sees it as her mission to fatten me up a little bit every year.”  He patted his midsection, which did seem to be growing.

His German accent had become so intertwined with his American, that his pronunciations were all his own.  It occurred to Tyler that this man came to America with nothing and now owned his own business and was doing well enough to provide his wife with the makings of a good stew and apple pie.  This thought, combined with his feelings for a certain easterner who was sitting in his kitchen at this very moment, lifted his spirits to heights they hadn’t been since…well, since before his accident. 

The entirety of the world seemed a little brighter this day, even as the clouds were breaking apart in the sky, shards of moisture creating both storm and beauty. 

The world has long acknowledged that storm and beauty go hand in hand in nature – but are slower to see it in their own lives.  Tyler, like most people, had juxtaposed beauty and turmoil, pitting them against each other, always at odds.  But he looked at the storm outside, and the man from Germany whose circumstances were, at the very least, tumultuous at one time, and he smiled from ear to ear.

“Merry Christmas, Nicolas,” he said to him heartily, paying him twenty percent more than Nicolas was owed, much to the storekeeper’s delight. 

“Same to you, Tyler,” the older man said, handing him his packages.

He whistled as he walked to the seamstress’s shop, where he was hoping to find a gift for Rose. 

The door jingled as he entered, causing Clara to get up.  “Tyler!” she exclaimed.  “What can I get you?  Does your mother need something?”

Tyler fought against blushing, to no avail. “I am here to buy a gift for a woman who is here from Philadelphia.”  He said it matter-of-factly, trying to reveal as little as possible. He didn’t see the need to say any more than he had to. She wasn’t his wife, after all.  Yet, he thought, remembering their kiss.

“I have just the thing,” Clara said, walking over to the case which ran along the wall to the left of the shop. 

She opened the door and took out a pair of lilac-colored gloves.  She handed them to Tyler, who held them daintily, as if they may break.  He knew she would love them.  Truth be told, he barely knew her at all – but he had a suspicion that lilac was her favorite color.

“I’ll take them,” he said, without hesitation.

Clara beamed at him, no doubt thrilled at a sale so large so near to Christmas time.  Gloves of this kind were a luxury in Montana. Most everyone needed a few pairs of gloves throughout the harsh winters, but sturdy, wool gloves were more common.  These were made of velvet and while they would likely last Rose a very long time, she would not be saddling a horse in them.  They were not practical, but Tyler didn’t care.  He wanted to buy her something beautiful for their first Christmas together.  The first of many? he allowed himself to think.  The thought sent butterflies to his stomach. 

Clara wrapped the gift for him, and he headed towards the general store, where his horses were still tied.  He began to untie them, and then remembered that Iris had asked if he would get some packing paper next time he went to town.  He re-tied the horses to the post and went inside.  While he was searching the aisle for the packing paper, he overheard two of Carol’s friends talking near the back of the store.  He caught the last part of their conversation.

“…from Philadelphia?” 

The sound of Rose’s latest home caused him to tune in.

“I hear she is beautiful.”

Another voice chimed in.  He only heard part of what she said, but it was enough.  “….rest of her life with a man with a limp? And only one working eye? She is still so young…”

Tyler didn’t hear the rest of what they said.  He found the paper for which he was looking and bought it in a hurry.  Nicolas’s accent suddenly seemed less magical, and the snowstorm into which he walked when he exited the store looked more like an inconvenience than like clouds breaking into the beauty. 

He threw the gloves into the wagon and set off towards home, deflated and dejected. What a fool I’ve been, he thought.  Of course they are right.  He entertained no more thoughts of marriage or a life with Rose while he rode the short distance back to the house. 

Why had he made so much out of their kiss?  Both times, he had kissed her. What was she supposed to do?  Embarrass him and her both by refusing?  He had put her in an impossible situation, and he hated himself for it. 

There would be no wedding, he realized.  There would be no wedding, no bride, no Christmases together.  She was too good for him. 

“Hiyah!” He yelled to his horses to go faster.  If only the horses could run fast enough to take him away from this situation altogether. How fast and far would he have to run to escape his disability?  The realization that it would always be with him, a shadow upon the entirety of his life, struck him…and not for the first time. He blinked back tears, and drove the team through the snow towards a woman who would never be his.

Chapter 10

Rose was feeling better already.

She admitted as much to Iris.  “I have only been taking these iron pills for a few days, and already I feel less weak,” she said while she stirred the caramel. 

“Stir a little faster – we don’t want it to burn,” Iris said, demonstrating with her own pot. 

Rose did what Iris said, adjusting the speed of her spoon, in awe at the work and the patience required in candy making.

The last few days, the snow had come down hard and fast, snowing the family in.  No one was disappointed. 

“What about Christmas Day?” Rose asked.  “Will the girls still be able to make it here for the dinner?”  Rose knew there was a goose ready to be dressed, as well as other preparations being made.

“Not to worry,” Iris said.  “Oakley has been wearing the path down between our house and theirs twice a day, and my son has been doing the same.  It will be snowed over, but not impossible to pass.” 

“He thinks of everything, doesn’t he?” Rose asked.

“Almost,” Iris said, laughing.

Carol walked in from the bedroom, carrying the stockings with her.

“It is not time to hang those yet!” Iris insisted.

Carol responded. “Yes, yes, I know! I am just going to set them in the family room.  I’m getting things ready.  You know what Christmas Eve is like.” 

Iris couldn’t argue. With all of the last-minute preparations that went into creating the perfect Christmas dinner, along with the traditions they all enjoyed, Christmas Eve would be busy enough without having to dig the stockings out of the chest.

Rose noticed one that looked newer than the others, and asked Iris to stir her caramel for her so she could go look at them.  Her heart stopped. 

“Carol, did you make this for me?” she asked softly.

“Iris and I did it together,” she said.

“But…when…how?” Rose was incredulous.  She had seen Iris and Carol working tirelessly over the last few weeks, but when had they had time to embroider this beautiful stocking for her?  Tears filled her eyes as she rubbed her hand over the tiny, even stitches.  She was speechless.

Carol had been quieter than usual the last few days, which combined with Tyler’s absence, had concerned Rose a little. But now, Rose stood in front of the hearth digesting the realization that Carol embroidered this stocking for her, creating a symbol of love, acceptance, and warmth unlike anything she had ever known.  She thought of Tyler’s kiss and touched her lips. 

“Do you like it?” Carol asked.

“I love it,” Rose said.  She turned around and threw her arms around Carol’s neck. 

Carol squeezed her and closed her eyes.  She thought of her conversation with Tyler earlier in the week and felt a lump in her throat.

“Rose! This caramel isn’t going to stir itself and my arms are falling off!” Iris called from the stove. 

“Oh!” Rose had forgotten all about the candy. She flew to Iris’s side to help. 

Carol watched them for a moment before heading out the door to go talk to her son.

***

Carol walked out into the cold air, unsure of what to think.

Tyler had come home from town a few days ago and handed her a box, beautifully wrapped, announcing that he would not be joining the family for Christmas.  She had held out hope all week that he would change his mind, but Christmas was in two days, and she had barely seen him all week.

The stubbornness of her son irritated her to no end. She knew she had to confront him. She was, after all, his mother.  He listened to her occasionally.  Not often these days, but perhaps she could talk some sense into him. He was being irrational. 

She entered the barn to see Tyler stacking some wood over in the corner. He and Oakley had been bringing firewood into the barn to keep it dry during this recent storm. 

“Mother, I don’t want to talk about it.  I already told you,” he talked without turning around or stopping his work. “Rose is a beautiful woman but I cannot offer her what she deserves.  She is young and untethered to this place or to me.  She needs a fresh start with a man who is whole.”  He grunted as he threw an especially large piece of wood onto the pile.

“Oh hogwash!” his mother responded, using a word her own mother had used frequently.  “You are a whole man, Tyler, and it is about time you saw it.  You are so wrapped up in your own misfortunes that you haven’t the time or the energy to see those around you.”  Tyler kept working, refusing to turn around.  “Look at me when I’m talking to you!”

Her voice rose above the hay and reverberated throughout the small building.  Tyler stopped what he was doing and turned to face her.  His mother didn’t yell often, but even as an adult, he knew that when she did, he had better pay attention.

“Rose isn’t perfect, either, Tyler,” Carol said.  “None of us are.  And did it ever occur to you that she might have her own demons to fight?  That she might have baggage of which you are unaware?  Have you even asked her about her past?  About why she’s here?  About her hopes, her dreams, her goals?  You think you know what she wants, or what she deserves, but I would venture to guess you don’t even know her middle name!”  Her fists were clenched now.  She was angry.  She was angry at the mine for taking pieces of her son away from her and angry at her son for allowing it to happen.

“She doesn’t want me and even if she had convinced herself that she does, she would be happier with someone else,” he said to her.  “I will not be joining the family for Christmas, and that’s final.  Once it’s over, we can talk to Rose about what she wants to do.  She may want to stay in Virginia City but she needs to know she is free to look for other companionship.”

And with that, he turned back to his work.  His mother turned on her heel and left him in the barn, too angry to speak anymore.

She walked back towards the house, willing herself to calm down.  There was nothing more she could do.  She needed to arrive at the kitchen with her head clear and ready to work. Christmas Eve was tomorrow.  She, Iris, Oakley, and now Rose would gather together in front of the hearth and hang the stockings.  Small gifts would be exchanged as they prepared themselves for the miracle that is Christmas morning. Iris’s grandchildren would arrive by noon the next day.  She would not let her son’s stubborn attitude ruin Christmas for the rest of them.

Chapter 11

The next morning, the snow came down in sheets outside the little house.  The wind howled and sent the snow careening around the ranch. 

Rose awoke to the song of the storm and was the first one out of bed.  The iron pills, along with the transition into the part of pregnancy which brings relief from the extreme exhaustion that had plagued her up to that point, had her feeling like her old self…only better.

She made herself a cup of tea and went to work on setting out the caramels and breads for the day.  Carol found her working in the kitchen. 

“My, you are up early!” she announced, pitching in to help her.

They worked together and watched horizon brighten with the dawn of Christmas Eve.

The sunrise didn’t come this day in brilliant hues of yellows and oranges, but rather it was a gradual waking up, wherein the whole world lightened just a little – just enough to wake the animals and let the world know that, in fact, a new day had dawned.

“The storm seems to be never-ending,” Rose remarked.

“They are like that sometimes.  We had one a few years ago that about did us in.  The snow and the howling wind make for a beautiful and cozy Christmas season, but in January, when the same storm erupts, the house feels a little more like a prison than a place to guzzle tea and caramels.”

Rose agreed, and they talked more about Montana and Philadelphia winters, comparing and contrasting their lives.

The day passed merrily, with most of the work done.  There were some last-minute preparations for Christmas dinner that needed completed, but most of the day was spent doing things that were festive and involved less work than the last few weeks.  Today, the focus was on family and enjoying the fruit of the many labors that had gone into making Christmas special.

The house smelled of oranges, cloves, and peppermint.  The scent of pine permeated every corner of the small home and sat upon the warmth of the fire, the melding of the quintessential Christmas Eve.

Oakley told stories of the ranch, and Iris relayed those of Christmases long ago. Iris’s family’s journey west was fodder for many tales of God’s providence and provision.

The time for stockings came, and Rose was surprised when Carol handed her the beautifully wrapped box that Tyler had given to her earlier in the week.

Rose was shocked.  “What is this?”  She had made small things for everyone in the family, but this box seemed to be above and beyond what was being exchanged this evening.

“It is from Tyler,” Carol said quietly. 

“Why isn’t he here?” Rose asked the question she had been wondering all day. She had assumed he was busy on the ranch or was wearing down the path. She kept expecting that he would show up at some point.  But the day wore on, and still he remained absent.

Carol didn’t answer and instead asked her to open her present so they could all see what it was.

Rose complied and pulled out the most beautiful pair of lavender, velvet gloves she had ever seen.  “Lavender is my favorite color,” she whispered.  How had he known?  Or was this part of the providence about which Iris was speaking earlier?  Tyler could not have known that one of the only sources of joy she had during her married life was caring for a lavender plant given to her by a kind neighbor every spring.

“They are lovely,” Rose said. She tried them on and they fit her perfectly. They were, by far, the nicest thing she had ever owned.

She looked up at Carol.  “Where is he?” she asked again.

Carol knew in that moment that her son was wrong about Rose; Rose did, contrary to Tyler’s beliefs, love her son.

Rose loved him as much as she was able, in a way that she had never loved her first husband.  It was a different kind of love, one that bound people, not by common interests or goals, but by a force that didn’t make sense to anyone except those who experienced it.

“Rose, does Tyler know how you feel about him?”  Carol asked her.  “Does he know about the baby?”

Oakley looked at Iris with wide eyes, but she waved him off as if to say, “You are too late to interject. We will talk later.”  Iris wasn’t surprised her husband didn’t realize Rose was carrying a child.  He didn’t even notice when Iris made, and wore, an entirely new dress.  He loved her fiercely; but circumstances such as these, when the natural clairvoyance of women infiltrated conversation, left him wondering.

Rose shook her head.  “I have wanted to tell him, but I haven’t seen him all week.  I assumed he would be here tonight, and I would be able to tell him the truth about the baby.  I have been afraid, Carol.”  Her eyes welled up with tears as she caressed the gloves.  “What if he doesn’t want the baby?  What if it’s too much?  I wouldn’t blame him.  He is young and deserves to start a family of his own, not burdened by a widow and a baby he didn’t father.” She looked down. 

Tears ran down Carol’s cheeks.  So that was it.  Rose thought Tyler wouldn’t want her…in the same way Tyler thought Rose wouldn’t want him. 

“He is in the barn.  I think you should go tell him how you feel,” Carol squeezed her hand. 

Iris spoke.  “Absolutely, Rose.”

Rose had forgotten there were other people in the room, and she blushed.  “I am sorry to ruin Christmas Eve like this.”

“You aren’t ruining anything!” Iris insisted.  “Now go talk to Tyler before you lose your nerve.  I’ll put some cider on the stove.”

Rose dared to hope that she would enter this kitchen with Tyler and that they would drink cider and become one step closer to forming a real family.  Her heart began to race.

“Okay. I will go,” Rose said. She hugged Carol and left, heading for the barn.

The snow had stopped falling, creating a world blanketed by silence. 

She entered the barn to find him in a loft, playing a harmonica.  The sound pierced the stillness, creating music where hours ago, there had only been the storm.

“Tyler?” she said from the barn floor when there was a break in his playing. 

Tyler looked over the edge of the loft to see Rose standing there.

He climbed down to her, noticing she was wearing the gloves he had bought her.

“Do the gloves fit?” he asked, even though the answer was clear.  They fit her perfectly.

Rose nodded. “I have something to tell you,” Rose said.

Tyler braced himself.  This was when she would announce she was not attracted to him and would be leaving.  Well, better sooner than later.  It would prevent him from having to broach the conversation himself.

Roes hesitated and then spoke.  “I was married before I came here.” 

Tyler nodded.  His mother had filled him in on her story.  He knew she was a widow.

“I feel as though I should not speak ill of the deceased,” she went on, “But it is enough for you to know that it was a loveless marriage.”

Tyler didn’t say anything.  Where was she going with this?

“It was a loveless marriage that, nevertheless, resulted in a child.”

Tyler looked at her, confused.  “You have a child?”

Rose placed her hand on her stomach nervously. “Well…not yet…”

The realization of what she was trying to tell him struck Tyler all at once, and he was speechless.  Rose was with child?

“I didn’t know when I answered the ad your mother placed.  I found out when the doctor came.  Of course, I should have known the symptoms, but I am naïve about things like this.” She paused.  “I understand if you don’t want me to stay.  You are young and handsome and…” her voice broke. She composed herself and went on.  “You have a full life in front of you.  If you do not want to be burdened by the raising of another man’s child, I understand.”  She raised her chin and tried to look brave, but that was the opposite of how she felt.

Her eyes met his, and he realized that she did love him, despite all that the mine had cost him.  He felt ashamed; the mine had already taken so much from him, and he almost gave it his future.

Tyler looked at her tenderly.  He walked towards her and brushed soft wisps of hair from her face.  “I have been a fool, assuming you wouldn’t want me for all my imperfections.  It was thoroughly unfair for me to assume that about you.  I am sorry.  If you will have me, I will love you every day for the rest of your life.”  He rested his hand on her stomach.  “You and the baby.”

Rose burst into tears, unaware she had been holding her breath.  He gathered her into his arms, and they embraced each other along with all the unknowns that still lay before them.

Chapter 12

They walked hand in hand through the snow-laden field until they reached the house.  He opened the door for her, and they entered the warm home, which smelled of cider.

“Aunt Iris!  You made the cider!” Tyler announced upon entering. He hugged his mother and his aunt and uncle in turn, and Rose did the same.  No one asked any questions or demanded any explanations.  Sometimes, that’s the way it is with family; things become complicated, and then suddenly, they aren’t.

They were drinking cider and singing carols, with Rose and Tyler stealing glances as often as they could, when there was a knock at the door.

They all looked at each other, with Oakley being the first to speak.  “It is late on Christmas Eve.  Who would be all the way out here?”

They opened the door to find a young man who looked to be traveling.  He was wearing an old hat and was layered in coats that were covered in snow.  “I’m sorry to trouble you on Christmas Eve, but I was headed towards Virginia City from Silver Spur to begin a new job, and I have lost my way.  The path I was told to take is snowed over. I was supposed to be there earlier this afternoon, but I am not going to make it. It isn’t a long drive, but my horses are tired from trudging through the snow, and I am afraid my wagon wheels aren’t going to make it.  I saw these candles in your windows and well, it reminded me of stories my Irish grandmother used to tell. My name is Lawrence, and I wonder if I could sit a spell and maybe stay until daylight so I can repair my wagon and find my way?”

Iris pushed past Oakley.  “You come right in and warm yourself. Oakley, Tyler, go and stable this young man’s horses and put his wagon in the barn. We will deal with that in the daylight tomorrow.”

Tyler didn’t hesitate, and Oakley knew better than to argue with his wife when hospitality presented itself. They left, and Iris ushered the man into the warm kitchen.  She instructed him to take off his coat and shoes and stack them by the fire.  He did as he was told, and then sat at the kitchen table, also as he was told.  A warm cup of cider was placed in front of him.

“What brings you to Virginia City?” Carol asked, cutting him a large slice of ginger cake.

“I am a newly ordained pastor and am meeting with the pastor of your church in town.  I am to travel to a few different churches in the area to complete my training, learning from those who have gone before me.”  He said all of this between bites and while thanking them profusely for their hospitality.

Tyler and Oakley walked back into the kitchen and were made aware of the young man’s occupation and plans in Virginia City.

Tyler looked at Rose, who nodded.  “If you are ordained, Sir, would you mind marrying this lady and me here tonight?”  He grabbed Rose’s hand. 

Iris and Carol stopped mid-bustle and looked from Tyler to the young preacher and back again. 

“Well, I suppose I could,” Lawrence said, breaking into a smile which lit up his entire face.  Preachers who participate in weddings are forever embedded into memories which last a lifetime and span generations. This was not lost on young Lawrence.

“I suppose you could say God brought me here tonight for this very purpose,” he said.  “I will go get my Bible from my wagon.”   He all but skipped outside and trudged through the snow to the barn.

Carol rushed Rose into the bedroom to help freshen her hair and wash her face, while Tyler went to his mother’s room to do the same.

The preacher returned to find a freshly washed Tyler standing in the family room by the Christmas tree.  Carol and Iris were seated on the couch. Lawrence stood next to Tyler. 

Oakley escorted Rose from the kitchen to the family room where the man she loved stood next to the preacher she had never met.

This wedding differed from her first in so many ways. The first included more fanfare, complete with a dowry and a proper giving away of the bride.  There was a church and guests and a cake that took her mother days to prepare.

Tonight, in this tiny house with no fanfare, she would marry a man who would truly be her husband.  He would love her, and she him, until the end of their days. They would raise this child together, and hopefully many more as the years passed. There was ginger cake and cider and peppermint sticks and more love than  had ever existed in one place. 

Rose and Tyler stood and promised to love each other for better or for worse, until death do them part, with only a few witnesses and a rag-tag preacher. 

That preacher grew to be a great one, who spread the gospel far and wide in the great state of Montana.  He performed many weddings, as well as funerals and still, this one stood out as his favorite. 

He would tell the story time and again about the one time he had lost his way and found the very purpose for this pilgrimage.  He would use it as a metaphor and as encouragement for all those who thought their paths were overgrown and served them no purpose.

Tyler kissed his bride and the snow started up again, falling like grace upon them all.

The End