Chapter Thirty-One

Morning brought with it a calm after a night of blizzarding calamity. Cullen wrung his hands over and over for so long, they became raw. “You’re gonna need those, might wanna treat them kinder,” Abram teased. When he and Grace hadn’t shown up at Elli’s for Christmas breakfast, half of Walnut Ridge arrived at his door. “Where did the kitten come from?”

“She belongs to Grace.” Having Grace in the other room with Tessie and Martha for over an hour was more stressful than the moment he realized Grace was going to give birth.

“Cullen, where is the coffee?” Elli asked with a bit of impatience in her tone. He shook his head, glad she was in the kitchen and out of view of him doing so. Poor woman had paced the floor more than he had, and he was glad she finally made use of her energy. He stepped into the kitchen doorway.

“Second shelf, of that cabinet there,” he pointed to the old cherry cabinet his father had built before he was born.

His bedroom door opened, and Cullen, Abram, Bishop Mast, and Elli all came to attention. Propelled forward to inquire about Grace and their daughter, Cullen didn’t concern himself with how desperate he appeared to everyone. “How are they?” This had to be what a new daed felt like, all anxious and afraid, overjoyed and blessed.

“Well, I believe she was a fortunate one for sure and certain, but Grace and Abigale seem to be doing just fine.”

Abigale? Cullen lifted a brow in surprise. His mother’s name.

Martha patted his arm and smiled. “I will return to look in on them again. Abram agreed to bring me, so you just keep her warm and fed and keep her to that bed. She is quite the stubborn one,” Martha said with a grin on her face. He knew that, and it made him smile, too.

Martha reached for her heavy coat and shawl, her plump cheeks reddened from the cold burn of the wind, and motioned to Abram that she was ready to leave.

“But Grace said it was too early. Isn’t there a chance of complications?” The baby was so small, how could one be certain. Was he questioning a woman who had delivered dozens of babies, a woman who had delivered him?

“Rest assured, that is one healthy set of girls you got in there. You can go see them now.” My girls. What a lovely sentiment. “I don’t suggest that she move around much today. As with all women after birthing, she needs to limit her outings. Stay close to home, I mean. She will need a few things, but I will speak to Elli and Tess about that.”

Cullen looked back to the bishop. Grace wasn’t his wife, and this wasn’t her home. This would not be a proper arrangement, but if the bishop insisted, he already decided he would leave before she would have to return to the cabin up the hill. Everything she needed was here, and here she could be looked over much easier than at the cabin. Maybe he could convince Tess to stay here until Grace was up on her feet.

Bishop Mast stepped forward, “I am sure Cullen will see to it that Grace follows your orders. And the womenfolk will stop in and see she and the boppli are doing well and have the things they need.” A smile passed between them. Bishop Mast leaned closer. “Shall I return after Second Christmas to speak with the two of you?” The bishop was referring to the counseling he offered to all courting couples who planned to marry.

Cullen blushed at the comment and nodded. Of course he hoped the bishop would be announcing an upcoming wedding soon, too. That was, if Grace meant what she said. He shook off any lingering doubts. She loved him. Not just her lips confessed it but her eyes spoke it, too. He cleared the disturbing thoughts and anxiously swept by Martha, pushing his way inside his bedroom. A parade of laughter followed him.

“Hey,” he whispered, not wanting to wake the bundle sleeping in her arms.

“I can’t believe we did it. She is perfect. Just look at her, Cullen.” Grace’s eyes were the brightest he had ever seen. No longer were they stormy and wild but the color of sapphires and deep blue lakes, glimmering with hope and excitement for the future she would have with her daughter. How she was not exhausted after everything amazed him.

“Can I see her?” he asked.

Grace grinned and nodded. Cullen went to the side of the bed and sat gently on the edge. Round cheeks, dark hair, lips kissed by roses. The child was beautiful in every way, a perfect image of her mother. She stirred and began crying. Like her mother, she could go from sweet to angry rather swiftly.

Cullen chuckled under his breath and lifted her into his arms, surprising himself by how comfortable something so weightless and fragile felt in his large hands. Abigale quickly quieted and nestled into comfort, sucking her bottom lip, and he marveled at the overwhelming cuteness of her. After a few moments, his attention went to Grace, surprised to find her staring at him, a look of contentment on her face. They locked gazes, lingered there.

“I like the cradle,” she said, not taking her eyes off him. With everything happening so fast he forgot to put it away before she noticed it. Then again, it was Christmas now, was it not?

“I hoped you would.” He couldn’t decide who he wanted to look at more and settled on Grace.

“I am sorry I intruded on your house. Martha says I can go back to the shack in a couple days.”

“You can stay here. I want you to stay here. I can go fetch your things shortly. I just want to hold her a little longer.” He rocked slightly and took in the fresh, innocent scent of Abigale. “I got you another gift as well.”

She smiled shyly and sat up, closing the space between them. “You have done plenty for the both of us.”

“Don’t ya wanna know what it is?” He wanted to kiss her right now, insides bursting, and instead focused on the little girl still resting in his arms, an easy distraction.

“Aenti Tess told me about Elmo’s land and the sinner’s shack,” she said. “I had to beg her not to burn it down after all the work we put into it.” He wished she would stop calling it that. “Tess told me a lot of things. I cannot believe all you have done for us. You changed my life, Cullen. I don’t think you will ever know how much that means to me.” She pulled a small chunky arm from the blanket and caressed it.

“You changed mine as well,” he brushed her cheek and warmed at the ease with which she leaned into his palm. Suddenly her head jerked upright.

“It’s Christmas and I never finished your gift.”

“Jah, you did,” he smiled stroking a small finger with his. “And she is perfect. But I have another gift.”

“Cullen, you have given so much.” Her voice shook with tenderness.

“I want to give you my heart.” He shook his head. “You have had it since the day I found you with a hammer in your hand trying to dismantle the porch,” he confessed. “I want you to stay, here, with me.” Her eyes glistened, her breaths quickened.

“I come with a boppli. With a past and…” Cullen hushed her with a finger to her lips.

“We all have a past. I want all of this. I want you and her. You gave me a reason to want to be more than I was. You wouldn’t just let me be. You kept bugging me to worry about you,” he said. She laughed, a sound he found as pleasing as songbirds in spring. “You made me hope, forgive, and remember.”

“Remember?”

“That I still have so much love to give. We cannot take it with us, so I might as well use it.” He was nervous, rambling. Why couldn’t he just get out the words he practiced?

“You sure are a romantic, Cullen Graber.” Grace said playfully. God he loved this woman.

Both looking down at Abigale, he felt some of that love already attached. “Gott has blessed us. We thought we didn’t deserve second chances, and here he gave us both mercy and a little Christmas grace.”

“He did,” she said as if just now feeling His mercy and grace upon her. With tears slipping freely down her cheeks, her radiant blue eyes stared at him as if he were the only man on earth. He leaned forth and gently thumbed away the moisture on her left cheek. “I can fix that.” His hand cradled her neck, his heart thumping as wildly as her own pulse.

“I have no doubt,” she leaned forward and met his lips halfway. Voices rose in the next room, more visitors having arrived, but neither of them cared. When they parted, Cullen leaned back and admired every detail of her swollen lips and bursting blue eyes.

“Marry me. Marry me, Grace Miller,” he said in a labored breath. “I need you in my life. I want you beside me in all things.” He had rehearsed sweet words, practiced what he would say when the time came, but if there was one thing Cullen learned in his years it was that life didn’t always go as planned. And he was so grateful for it.

“I cannot imagine a life without you beside me. I love you, Cullen Graber and nothing would make us happier than to be yours.”

In the open doorway, Elli stood holding two cups of something warm in her hands. Cullen watched her and Grace exchanged grins, like some secret he wasn’t privy to.

Grace turned to him again. “You want to tell them, or should I?” He would never tire of that smile.

“I think they already know.” With Abigale in one arm and Grace in the other, Cullen thanked the Lord out loud for his abundance in blessing.

“Merry Christmas, little Grace.”

Elli stepped into the room, followed by all the souls that had helped them along the way.