The children wiggled and bumped into one another, each trying to find a place to sit at Samuel’s feet. In his arms was a huge basket covered with a cloth.
Eliza pointed at Enoch. “Children who shove do not get a Christmas present.”
Enoch sat perfectly still—which Samuel knew was quite a feat.
When they were finally settled, Samuel made a show of peeking under the cloth. “Now, what do we have here …?”
He pulled out a carved wooden doll and handed it to Sara Christine. “Mama Eliza made a dress and some hair out of yarn,” he said. The doll’s arms and legs were tied to the body with a piece of leather, allowing them to move.
The girl touched the doll’s face with a mother’s tenderness. “Thank you, Papa Samuel.”
Next he pulled out a cart and horse. “This is for Siggie.”
Siggie spun the wheels. “They work!”
“Of course they work. What good is a cart that can’t move?”
“What do you say?” Eliza prodded.
“Thank you, Papa Samuel!”
The rest of the gifts were distributed: a musical clapper for Nusa, a set of wooden blocks for Francesca, a train, some farm animals, another doll, a duck pull toy, a top, a game of nine-pins, a Jacob’s ladder, a cup and ball game …
Then Samuel gave Eliza her gift. She untied the string holding its towel wrapping. “It’s a pot rack to put on the wall.”
“It’s beautiful, Samuel,” she said.
Samuel looked to Ada. He felt bad for not having a gift for her. “I wish I would have known you were going to be here. I would have made you something.”
She sat beside Anthony and helped him spin the top. “No need at all. I had no idea you were so talented. I’ve never seen toys as fine as these. Ever.”
“You’re too kind. I—”
There was a knock on the door. Samuel and Ada exchanged a look. Was it John, come to take Ada home? Could Samuel bar the door? Or tell the children to be quiet and pretend no one was home?
“I’ll get it,” Ada said. She went to the door slowly, as if dreading the task. She paused and took a deep breath; then she opened it. “John. And Owen. I … I …”
It was clear she hadn’t expected Owen. The tone of her voice as she said his name … His sudden appearance seemed to distress her.
Distress her? He was her fiancé. She should be happy to see him.
The men stepped in, carrying gifts of holiday food: a ham, spritz cookies, fruit cake, and nuts. Upon recognizing John as the doctor who’d come to help, the children ran to him, showing off their toys. “My, my,” he said. “What treasures you have.”
As John was drawn away from the door and Eliza took possession of the food, Ada was left with Owen.
Seeing them together, Samuel felt a swell of panic. But he stepped forward to greet him. “Owen Reed. Merry Christmas to you.”
They shook hands. “Samuel Alcott.” Owen looked around the room. “So this is where you ended up.”
Samuel guessed the comment was not meant as a compliment but acted otherwise. “We’re very proud of the home here. And Miss Wallace has been ever so helpful.”
Owen looked at Ada. “I’m very proud of Ada for her charitable nature.”
“It’s more than charity,” she said. “I love helping the children. I love the—”
“I’m sure they’ll miss you when you’re gone,” Owen said.
An awkward silence hung over the room.
Samuel rushed to fill it, to ease Ada’s discomfort. “Congratulations on your upcoming marriage, Owen,” he said.
“Thank you,” Owen said. “We’re both looking forward to it, aren’t we, Ada?”
Ada was staring at Samuel, her face distraught. She looked as if she wanted him to save her. And more than anything he wanted to save her, to pull her into his arms and say, “You can’t marry her. I’m going to marry her!”
But then John interrupted and retrieved Ada’s wool cape from a hook by the door. “Come now, sister. Our parents are waiting for your return so we can celebrate our own Christmas.”
Although Owen leaned close to Ada and spoke in a whisper, Samuel heard his words. “I’ve bought you the most lavish present.”
And there it was. Owen could offer Ada a life full of lavish presents. And here, today, Samuel had had nothing to give her for Christmas.
In a flurry of activity, Ada’s coat was helped on, her bonnet tied, and the children kissed. As the door opened, Samuel panicked. For once she went through that door, she would be gone to him forever.
He stepped through the crowd of children. “Ada? Miss Wallace?”
She turned to him, her eyes frightened and confused. “Yes, Samuel?”
“I …” He didn’t know how to say what needed to be said.
Owen took her hand. “Come, Ada. The carriage is waiting.”
With one last look, she turned and left him.
The door closed, shutting her off from him forever.
The carriage ride home was accompanied by much talking—by her brother and Owen. Ada heard a phrase here and there, and even responded in a fashion, but her mind was absorbed with one thought: Samuel knew that she and Owen were engaged?
How did he know about the engagement?
How long had he known?
Although she would have liked to know the details, the point remained that he did know. And with her knowledge of his knowledge came new eyes regarding Samuel’s recent behavior: his reserve, his awful politeness, and their limited snippets of personal connection.
If only he’d said something to her earlier. If only he’d congratulated her on her engagement or mentioned it in some way, she could have told him the whole awkward story of her betrothal.
Yet by telling him the truth, she would have virtually been asking him … suggesting to him that they …
Did Samuel want to marry her?
John’s voice intruded. “You should see the spread Mother has planned for Christmas dinner. Goose and turkey, yams and hard rolls, cranberry relish, minced meat and pecan pies.”
Ada put a hand to her mouth. The thought of eating disturbed more than enticed.
“Aren’t you feeling well?” Owen asked.
Perhaps if she feigned illness, once she got home she could escape to her room and wallow in her thoughts and memories of Samuel. And she needed time to pray, to talk to God, to ask Him if this was really what He wanted. How could this be His plan for her life when it made her feel so dreadful?
“Oh, Ada’s fine,” John said. “When she sees the Christmas tree and has a cup of wassail, she’ll be her old self again.”
But Ada didn’t want to be her old self.
“Papa Samuel, will you read?” Nusa held a copy of Hans Brinker and the Silver Skates.
Eliza rushed forward to shoo the girl away. “Leave Samuel alone, Nusa. He needs some time to himself.”
Samuel was glad for the intervention. Since Ada’s departure, he’d been tormented by a bevy of should-have-saids and should-have-dones. His first inclination had been to run after the carriage, calling, “Ada! Come back! Come back!”
Nusa stood before Samuel, studying him.
“Please, Nusa …”
“Why you not stop Mama Ada from going?”
Good question. “She’s supposed to marry Mr. Reed.”
Nusa shook her head. “She supposed to marry you. Marry us.”
And there it was. The truth laid out as fact.
“Now, Samuel. Now.”
God’s words. He’d heard them before and had only partially followed through. But God didn’t want partial obedience. Partial faith. He wanted people to step out boldly, to trust Him completely.
Samuel had asked for guidance. Had God spoken to him?
There was only one way to know for sure.
He stood.
“You go get her?” Nusa asked.
Could he do that? Could he rush to the Wallace house, knock on the door, and claim Ada as his own?
“Should I?” Samuel asked, even though he knew the answer.
“Of course,” Nusa said, in that simple way of children. “God brought her here. To us. He want her here.”
Samuel smiled. “He does?”
Nusa’s nod was strong. Then she ran to get Samuel’s coat. “Can I go, too?”
“Not this time, Nusa. This, I have to do alone.”
But not alone. For finally, at this moment, Samuel was certain God had been with him—had been with both of them—since the first moment he and Ada had met. Each happenstance since had been set in place by their heavenly Father. Though both he and Ada had been offered choices along the way, with this final choice made, Samuel felt as though he was finally and firmly rooted in the Almighty’s plan.
Which, as always, was the best plan.
Ada sat in the drawing room of her family’s home, an immense Christmas tree decorated in the corner, the candles making it glow like the stars in a Bethlehem sky. A fire roared in the fireplace, and the smell of spiced cider and pine boughs filled the room.
Nana untied the ribbon around a quilted bed jacket Ada had made for her. She held the item close, inspecting the stitches. “You are so talented at quilting and embroidery, child. It’s beautiful.”
Ada’s mother chimed in. “Now that you’re quilting again, once you choose the fabric for your wedding gown, you’ll be able to finally finish your bridal quilt.”
Ada thought about the unfinished quilt. The satin of a wedding dress she’d wear to marry Owen did not fit with the rest of the quilt, which chronicled her life before Samuel, and finally with him. What came after Samuel had no place on the quilt, no right to be there. Just as the quilt had stopped, so had her life. It was as though there’d been a gap in time. The months and days since Samuel had left her last Christmas until he’d come back to her a few weeks ago were a blur, as if she’d been sleepwalking, waiting to be awakened.
But now she was fully awake. In this clarity, she knew what needed to be done and prayed she had the strength to do it.
Owen stood and handed her a gift. “This is from me,” he said.
He was clearly excited to see her open it, yet that was the last thing she wanted to do. To open it would add another slice of time to her Owen-life.
“Ada,” Father said. “Don’t keep Owen waiting.”
She had no choice but to untie the ribbon and open the velvet box.
“They’re emeralds,” Owen said proudly. “The set belonged to my mother, but she—but I—want you to have it.”
Ada touched the largest stone at the climax of the substantial necklace. There were three-stone drop earrings and a matching bracelet.
Mother came to her side to admire it. “Oh, Owen. This is exquisite.”
“It’s only the beginning. Although I wanted to give you family jewels for this first Christmas together, I promise to have some modern pieces made for you in the future. We’ll go to Tiffany’s together, and you can choose whatever stones and setting you like.”
“You are too generous,” Mother said. “Come now, Ada, you must try it on.”
Ada didn’t want the emeralds to touch her skin. For once they did, she felt as if she would be branded: forever Owen’s. The emeralds would sear into her skin and—
I’m not Owen’s. I’m Samuel’s. With my entire being I belong to Samuel! Lord, please give me the strength to do what I must do.
There was a knock on the door.
Ada’s heart jumped to her throat. She gave her mother possession of the emeralds and stood.
“Who would come calling on Christmas?” her father asked.
Is it …? Could it be …? Please let it be …
Ada took a step toward the foyer, but Mother put a hand on her arm and kept her back. “Wilson will get it, dear. Come now, and let’s put on the necklace.”
Ada heard a man’s voice talking to the butler. And then the butler led him in.
“Mr. Alcott, sir. Ma’am,” Wilson announced.
And suddenly her family was gone from the room. Gone from the world. Only two people existed: Ada and her Samuel.
She ran to him and pulled him close. “Oh, Samuel, I prayed you’d come.”
He whispered in her ear. “I never should have let you go.”
Ada’s mother was in a panic. “Ada! What are you doing? Let go of him! Come back here with your family.”
Ada released Samuel but for an arm around his waist. “Samuel is my family, Mother.”
“He most certainly is not. Don’t be ridiculous.” She turned to the others in the drawing room, who stood staring at the scene. “Horace. John. Owen. Mother. Stop her.”
“Ada seems to know her own mind,” Nana said softly.
Mother looked aghast and turned to Owen. “Owen, please. She’s to be your wife.”
Owen looked uneasy but took a step forward. “Is she?” He looked at Ada, his brow furrowed. “Are you, Ada? Are you going to be my wife?”
This was the hard part. To choose one man, she must hurt another. Reluctantly she left Samuel and took Owen’s hand in hers. “Owen, you are a wonderful man and will make someone very happy.”
“I want to make you very happy.”
She shook her head. “But I would not make you happy. You deserve a wife who will adore and cherish you. I am not that woman.”
For the first time, Ada’s father spoke up. “This is ridiculous, daughter. You can’t break your engagement to Owen. His father and I agreed—”
Mother interrupted. “His mother and I agreed. And wedding arrangements have begun.”
“Hush, both of you,” Nana said. “None of that matters.”
“Of course it matters,” Mother said.
Ada agreed with Nana. It was time to focus on what did matter.
Suddenly an image of Nusa offering her best to the baby Jesus came to her mind. “What will you offer Me? What is your best?”
Where was Ada at her best? Where were the best parts of her—her giving nature, her compassion, and her ability to love—allowed to flourish?
It was not here, in the lush drawing room of a mansion on Fifth Avenue.
“Surrender yourself as you are, and I will help you be your best.”
Ada pulled in a breath, the thoughts, the inner voice vivid in her mind. For her Christmas gift Nusa had given Jesus all she had. For Ada’s Christmas gift …
She closed her eyes, needing to concentrate on this very important offering. I give You my life, Lord. I offer my life to You, for You to do with as You will.
And suddenly she felt a calling from God. And with it came the knowledge that it had always been there, an unopened gift, waiting for her to unwrap His glorious will.
“Ada?” Mother said. “Don’t just stand there with your eyes closed. Do something.”
Ada opened her eyes and smiled, knowing that she had done something, the something that would change everything.
A wave of peace passed over her, letting her know that God had accepted her offering—and approved. “Please forgive me,” she said to Owen and her family. “But everything has changed. I’m not who I used to be, nor am I the woman I’m going to be. I only know that God has opened a door, and I’m walking through it.”
“Door?” her father said. “What door?”
She looked to Samuel. “The door that leads me to Samuel.”
Oddly, it was Owen who spoke next. “Do you love him, Ada?”
Ada’s eyes remained on Samuel. She hated that the first time she’d say the words she was across the room from him. But perhaps it was necessary. She held her ground but kept her eyes on his. “Oh yes.”
He beamed and held out his hand.
She crossed the room, leaving one man’s hand to take up another’s. And once again, they were alone in the world.
Samuel beamed down at her. “Remember how I said I had nothing to offer you this Christmas? Actually, I do. I give you my hands to provide for you, my arms to hold you and keep you safe, my eyes to see who you really are, my ears to listen to your thoughts and desires, my lips to say I love you, and my heart to swell with joy at your presence. I give you all of myself. And so …” He got down on one knee. “Ada, my love, will you be my wife?”
Ada spoke with utter confidence. “Yes, oh yes.”
She fell into his arms.
Where she belonged.