Chapter 4

 

Light and warmth flooded the porch as the Hammon family crowded around the door, bringing instant relief to the discomfort icing the air between Rex and the woman he’d once loved with all of his heart. He recognized she only wanted to help him by asking about the war, but there was nothing she could do. And he wouldn’t sully her mind by telling her what he’d seen and experienced.

Once he started talking, he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop the tide of horror and blood that would spill from his mouth. And he couldn’t bear the thought of Samantha thinking less of him because of it. Or worse, despising him.

“Come in, come in,” Mrs. Hammon called, waving the two of them inside. “We weren’t sure anyone was coming, what with your father being ill. But here you are.”

“We wouldn’t think of not coming,” Samantha said with obvious sincerity.

Mrs. Hammon’s gaze flicked from her to Rex, her curiosity evident. “You’ve brought a new helper this year. Say ‘Merry Christmas’ to Mr. Montgomery, children.”

Rex tipped his hat to the group as the children chorused, “Merry Christmas.”

“Here is some of his mother’s wonderful jam.” Samantha handed the jars to Mrs. Hammon. “And now that we’ve delivered those . . .” She paused, a familiar spark of teasing filling her green eyes. “I suppose we’ll be off . . .”

She turned toward the door, but she was smiling. The Hammon children groaned in protest. With a laugh, Samantha spun around. “Maybe we have something for you too.”

Lowering the bag to the ground, Rex stepped back to allow Samantha room to pass out the gifts. The children crowded her, their gazes alight with excitement. There were carved toys like the one in his pocket and rag dolls and a fancy lace handkerchief for the oldest Hammon daughter.

Samantha smiled fully at each child as she presented the gifts. Even the lamplight couldn’t compare to the radiance shining on her face. She’d always been a compassionate person; it was something Rex had greatly admired in her.

Her expression now reminded him of the night three and a half years ago, right before he’d kissed her. The trust and adoration in her gaze as she’d peered up at him had filled his chest with warmth, which had burned brighter when their lips met. He’d been so full of plans and dreams back then.

But those dreams had crumbled and died amid the ugliness of war. The same ugliness he still felt inside him. Not for the first time since his return, he wondered why she hadn’t married in his absence or had herself a new beau. There would have been a shortage of young men during the last three years, but surely someone as lively and kind and beautiful as Samantha Whitefield would’ve been snatched up at the first opportunity.

His gaze shifted from her and the children to the man seated by the hearth, staring into the flames. Only then did Rex realize Mr. Hammon hadn’t come to the door with the rest of his family. A crutch leaned against the man’s chair and his pant leg hung empty below his left knee. Rex knew Mr. Hammon had fought in the war—he had even seen him at a distance a time or two—but he hadn’t known the older man had been wounded.

He recognized the look of despondency on Mr. Hammon’s face though. Rex had felt that same way more times than he could count. Nudged forward by something deep inside him, he approached the older man. “Evening, sir.”

Mr. Hammon lifted his head, his eyes taking a moment to focus on Rex. “Evening, Montgomery.” His voice came out flat.

Rex took a seat in the other chair by the fireplace and leaned his arms on his knees. “Feels a bit strange not being around a campfire this Christmas, listening to a bunch of smelly men sing carols.”

“It is a bit strange,” the older man said with a smirk. He cut a look at Rex, then away. “I heard you made it home hale and whole.”

A wave of shame threatened to overwhelm Rex. Why should his prayers to keep his leg have been granted and this man’s had not? “Don’t know that any of us came back completely hale and whole or the same as we once were,” he admitted truthfully. “I think we all left a portion of ourselves back on some battlefield down there.” He cleared his throat of the lump forming there. “And maybe we don’t ever get that part back.”

Mr. Hammon regarded him fully and some of the beaten quality to his demeanor dropped away. “I ’spect you’re right, son.” He glanced at his family across the room and Rex followed suit.

“A real nice family you’ve got there.” Rex looked back at the man, suddenly wanting to help a fellow solider if he could. “Can’t imagine what they would’ve done or felt had you not come back at all.” He stared down at his hands. “I went to visit a good friend’s farm this summer, to see his widow and four children.”

Rex saw the fire glinting off the moisture in Mr. Hammon’s eyes. “I think she would’ve done anything—anything, sir—to have her husband back, whole or not.”

They sat in stillness, both lost in their memories, interrupted only by the gleeful sounds of the Hammon children and the crackle of the fire. At last Mr. Hammon took up his cane. His eyes bore into Rex’s for a moment, understanding passing between them, then he rose to his feet.

“What’s all this fuss over here?” he barked good-naturedly as he shuffled toward his family.

Standing as well, Rex caught the tearful smile of Mrs. Hammon from across the room. “Thank you,” she mouthed. Rex nodded in acknowledgment.

“Should we go?” he asked Samantha as he hoisted the toy sack.

She studied him, then nodded. “Yes, we probably should.”

A chorus of “good-bye,” “Merry Christmas,” and “thank you” followed them out the door. Rex put away the sack and joined Samantha on the front seat of the sleigh. He no longer felt as if he’d made a grave mistake by coming. His interaction with Mr. Hammon had bolstered his spirits. As he guided Titus down the lane, he couldn’t help feeling a bit eager at the thought of bringing more Christmas cheer to the next house.

 

• • •

 

Samantha glanced sideways at Rex, trying to puzzle out his behavior as the sleigh carried them down the road. Thankfully the earlier tension between them had disappeared. But it was more than that. The rigid quality to Rex’s shoulders and jaw had faded as well. Did it have to do with him persuading Mr. Hammon to join in the merriment? That had been a tiny Christmas miracle.

She could see that while the war had stolen a portion of Rex’s old charisma for life, perhaps it wasn’t all gone. That realization was further confirmed when they stopped at the Gatsons’ home next. Instead of standing off to the side, Rex offered to pass out the gifts to the children.

“Looks like we have two trains in here, boys,” he announced to the twins. “They must be for you.”

Ben Gatson grinned as he accepted the wooden train from Rex, but Billy’s expression fell with disappointment. “Got any animals in there, Mr. Montgomery?” the boy asked. “Like an elephant?”

“Now, Billy,” his mother soothed. “I know you wanted an elephant, and we can still be grateful for what Rex and Samantha brought . . .”

Samantha felt a prick of remorse that they didn’t have any animal carvings this year. She’d try to remember in the future that’s what Billy liked.

Rex squatted next to the boy. “Do you believe God knows us, Billy? That He knows you?”

The boy scrunched up his face a moment before nodding. “I think so, ’cause that’s what my ma and pa’ve taught me.”

“I think so too, Billy. In fact, I know so. And this is why . . .” Slipping his hand into his pocket, Rex produced a small but intricately carved elephant. Happy surprise coursed through Samantha as she watched him set the toy in the boy’s palm. “I made two of these and wasn’t sure which one to give my nephew. But God knew which one my nephew needed and which one you needed. The giraffe will go to him and the elephant is yours.”

“Golly, thanks, Mr. Montgomery.” Billy threw his arms around Rex’s neck. Rex looked momentarily startled, then he embraced the boy, a smile settling on his mouth.

They left the Gatsons’ soon after, but with each house they stopped at over the next hour, Samantha watched more and more of the old Rex coming back to life. The part she’d known and admired for so many years. The part of him that had coaxed her more times than she could count to let go of her fears and worries and enjoy life a little.

When they piled into the sleigh after their sixth delivery, she couldn’t keep her thoughts to herself any longer. “You’re enjoying yourself.”

Rex slapped the reins lightly against Titus, shooting her a lopsided smile—one that succeeded in twisting her stomach with hidden pleasure. “I am.” He leaned toward her and added in a warm breath that tickled the tops of her cheeks, “I may have to thank your father for coercing me to come.”

Her breath caught at the husky quality of his voice and the bemused look on his handsome face. Was she also glad her father had forced him to come? She wanted to deny it, but she couldn’t. It had been far too long since she’d been alone with Rex or really spoken to him.

She didn’t plan to tell him her thoughts just yet, though. If he knew part of her heart was softening toward him, would he swoop in and claim it once more? Did she dare let him after his decision two years ago had affected her so deeply?

“Do you still wish to see all those places Miss Rogers talked about?” she blurted out, hoping a change of subject would be a distraction from the mental tug-of-war inside her head. “To see Paris or London?”

“No.” He flicked a glance at her. “I could stay right here the rest of my life and be just fine.”

Samantha twisted on the seat, facing his profile. “But you wanted so much to see the world. Did you get that during the war?”

He shrugged. “A bit, but you were right.”

“I was right?” she echoed with a smile. “Pray tell me, what was it I got correct?”

Instead of smiling, though, his expression turned grave. “You were right about war not being the adventure I thought it would be.”

She lowered her gaze to the blankets, embarrassed. “That isn’t something I wish to be right about.”

Except for the whoosh of the sleigh and the muted thud of Titus’s hooves against the snow, there was only quiet between them. Samantha shifted on the seat, wondering how to restore the earlier lighthearted mood. Before she could think of anything, Rex straightened beside her and blew out a sigh, as if making some sort of a decision.

“War is worse than you can imagine, Sammie.” His voice was low, his words tinged with severity and despair. “Men shot and dying all around you. Men dying because . . .” A shudder ran through him. “Because of you . . .”

She sat perfectly still, listening, afraid even the slightest movement would cause him to retreat into himself again.

“It’s no adventure,” he continued, his words louder but still filled with pain. “It’s nothing but blood and stench and death and exhaustion. It’s going to bed, wishing and praying it were all over, and getting up the next day to slog through the ugliness again.” He ran a hand down his face. “And yet . . .”

She waited a full minute or more for him to elaborate. When he didn’t, she gently prodded, “And yet?” She wanted so much to share the burden of his suffering.

Rex looked at her as if suddenly remembering she sat beside him. Visibly swallowing, he faced forward again and cleared his throat. “And yet, you search and search for those glimmers of Heaven. For those moments when you know the whole world hasn’t gone mad and God still reigns.”

She’d felt much the same after his letter, needing to find those glimmers of Heaven. Another minute passed before she asked, “Did you find them? Did you find those glimmers, Rex?”

“I did.” His answer sounded almost reverential, and it brought her great relief. He’d had something good to cling to amid the horror he’d experienced

“Where?” she asked.

He turned toward her, and in the lantern light, the tears in his eyes glistened. “In my prayers . . . and in my memories of you.”

“Me?” But he hadn’t wanted her; he’d made that very clear in his last letter. “What do you mean?”

Coughing once more, he glanced away. “Thinking about all of our dares as kids.” A brief smile lifted his mouth. “Or reading your letters. Those things gave me something else to focus on.”

She sucked in a breath through her cold lips. His admission filled her with joy but also regret. “I . . . I don’t know what to say.” Memories of the day she’d received his letter flooded her thoughts, bringing the emotions she thought she’d relinquished. “I would have written you the entire time you were gone, Rex. I would have written you every day.”

“I know.” His agreement was laced with intense sorrow. “I wanted you to, but . . .”

“But what?” she pressed, suddenly tired of not knowing. “What made you throw away our future?”

He tugged his hat lower. “I explained it in my letter, Sammie. War changes men. I wasn’t . . . I’m not . . . the same.”

Samantha fisted her hands beneath the blanket. “So your feelings for me changed?”

“No.” The single word echoed across the snowy stillness before he turned to meet her gaze. “My feelings never changed.”

Did that mean he hadn’t stopped loving her? Could he love her still? “You never even gave me a choice, Rex. I didn’t get a chance to find out more or try to work things out. You were just . . . gone.”

His gloved hand curled over hers. “I’m sorry for that. But I knew how persuasive you could be, Sammie. I figured you would talk me right out of my decision.”

She released a half sob, half laugh. “And you call me stubborn?”

His mouth rose. “I guess we both are.”

“Did you pray about it? Is that what you felt God wanted for us?”

He released her hand at once, his shoulders lowering in defeat. “No, I didn’t pray about it.”

“But then—”

“It was for the best.”

She shook her head, ripples of anger heating her cheeks. “The best for whom, Rex? For you?”

His expression hardened. “You don’t understand. What I told you just now about the war is only a fraction of what I saw and did.”

“And you think that changes how I see you?” She wanted to reach out and shake him. Didn’t he know her better than that? But she quickly amended the thought. She would never fully understand what Rex had been through, and yet, she cared about him still.

“Doesn’t it?” he countered, though some of the fight had left his tone. “Wouldn’t you prefer someone less haunted by guilt and remorse?”

“Maybe, maybe not. But that’s for me to decide.” She tipped her chin upward. “Not to have someone else decide for me.”

He pulled the sleigh to a stop in front of the next home, the Stuarts’ place. “Samantha, don’t be unnecessarily pigheaded.”

“I could say the same about you,” she muttered, though she wasn’t sure if he heard her or not. She felt both annoyed and relieved at the interruption to their conversation. She needed time to think on what he’d shared with her. And on what she wished to do next. The thought of trusting him again, even with friendship, filled her with worry, and yet, she was tired of trying to cling to faith and fear at the same time.

Help me trust in Thee, Lord. If things are meant to be between Rex and me, help us both know.

The Stuarts didn’t seem to notice anything amiss as they invited her and Rex inside and offered them seats in the parlor. Samantha perched on the settee, the oldest Stuart daughter, Regina, across from her.

While the rest of the family laughed and exclaimed over the jam and gifts, Regina sat silently in the rocker, twisting her wedding band around and around her finger. She’d married a boy from the next town over before he left for the war. But the young man had been killed two years later, leaving Regina a young widow. She didn’t even have a baby to remember him by.

Though still reeling from her talk with Rex, Samantha wanted to help the other girl and lift her downtrodden spirits, but she wasn’t sure how. What would fun-loving Rex do to cheer up Regina? A sudden idea had Samantha rising to her feet and moving to the piano across the room. Her family and the Stuarts were the only ones in their town who owned such an instrument. “May I play, Mrs. Stuart?”

The older woman smiled. “Of course, Samantha.”

She played a few of the slower Christmas carols, to which everyone but Regina sang along. Then she switched to a livelier tune, calling over her shoulder, “Who’s in the mood to dance?” Regina had always adored dancing in the past. She looked at Rex and stealthily tipped her head toward the other girl.

Without hesitation, he stood and offered his hand to Regina. “May I have the honor of this dance?”

It seemed everyone held their breath, waiting for her answer. Then the girl murmured, “Yes.”

Samantha grinned and struck up the song’s introduction a second time as Rex and Regina and Mr. and Mrs. Stuart took their places to dance. Some of the younger children joined in after a minute or two.

Knowing the song by heart allowed Samantha to watch those dancing. Rex met her gaze and smiled. Warmth and gratitude blossomed in her heart. They might not see eye to eye, but she was beginning to sense a return, however tentative, to their once deep and abiding friendship. And she had to admit that she was enjoying herself in his company—mostly.

When was the last time she’d been able to fully let go of her worries about her father, about life, and simply have a nice time? She had Rex—and God—to thank for that. Rex’s love of life was contagious. It always had been.

Even Regina was smiling now. But when the other girl laughed at something Rex said, a shard of jealousy cut through Samantha’s happiness. She didn’t want anyone dancing with Rex, at least not permanently, unless it was her.

Because I still love him.

The realization made her start and she struck a wrong chord. Cheeks burning, she lowered her head and focused on the song, ending with a flourish. But inside her heart hammered at her thoughts.

Her love for Rex hadn’t dimmed with time as she’d thought. Rex had expressed similar feelings, and yet, would he keep holding with stubbornness to the idea that he’d changed too much for them to be together?

“One more,” Regina requested, her face flushed with enjoyment.

Samantha couldn’t deny her. “All right.” She played another number for those dancing, then ended with “We Wish You a Merry Christmas.” Everyone joined in the singing this time, even Regina.

There were happy tears in the other girl’s eyes as Samantha trailed Rex to the door. “Thank you for coming,” Regina whispered, hugging Samantha tightly. “And thank you for sharing him.”

Samantha drew back, unsure what Regina meant. But Rex was already outside, moving toward the horse and sleigh. It was time to go.

“That was brilliant, Sammie,” he said as they settled onto the seat. “Getting Regina to join in by dancing.”

“Thank you.” She blushed at his compliment and at the remembrance of her revelation while playing the piano. “It’s not so different than what you did to help Mr. Hammon and Billy Gatson.”

He tipped his head as if studying her. “We make a good team.”

“Best friends usually do,” she replied softly, her heart beating wildly with fear. Would he deny it? Would he tell her that they weren’t still friends?

“Best friends.” His murmured echo and thoughtful look calmed her pulse. But only for a moment or two. When Rex’s gaze shifted from her eyes to her lips, her heartbeat began thudding for an entirely different reason.

The memory of their first kiss flooded her mind and senses. It might have been more than three years ago, but she could recall it vividly. How she longed to brush those masculine lips again, to feel the graze of his beard against her chin and cheek.

She leaned an inch or two closer to show him that she welcomed his kiss. Rex matched her movement. Renewed hope leapt inside her. Just before they could narrow the last bit of space between them, a loud tapping sounded from behind.

Startled, Samantha whirled to see the three youngest Stuart children tapping on the window glass and waving. Heat filled her cheeks as she faced forward again. The magic of the moment was gone.

“Giddyup,” Rex called to Titus.

This time the lack of words between them wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable as it had been at other points during their ride tonight. Rex was likely sorting through his thoughts as she was hers.

Even though she felt disappointed at having their near-kiss interrupted, Samantha also felt relief and happiness that she and Rex were friends again. He hadn’t argued that point. And if they were friends once more then she perhaps could convince him that she still longed to be more than that.

Is that what Regina meant? she wondered. By thanking me for sharing him?

There was still the matter of claiming Rex’s heart. Samantha sat straighter, her shoulders pulled back with determination. They were nearly done with delivering all of the gifts, but she didn’t want to voice her true feelings here, where she’d likely be interrupted again. Once they returned home, she would do her best to convince Rex—kind, thoughtful, handsome Rex—that she still loved him.

It was time to take a leap of faith with him for a second time.