Later that afternoon, Jacob’s words proved correct when thick snow started falling again.
Mr. Hart had tucked himself away in his study, but the three girls sat in front of the kitchen fire and enjoyed tea and the goodies Jacob had sent back with Melinda. There had been a particularly funny moment when Darla had tried a lemon drop for the first time, and her eyes had gone wide as she experienced the sweet and sour combination.
After everything had been sampled at least once, Melinda wrapped up the rest of the candies and put them in the larder.
“We want to be sure we don’t eat too many sweets at once. And we want to be sure Mr. Hart gets his fair share!”
“All right,” said Darla mournfully.
“What was your favorite one, Darla?” asked Savannah as she popped the final bite of a gingerbread cookie into her mouth.
“Mm, I’ll say the peppermint sticks … because I love Peppermint, the horse!” Darla laughed.
“Mr. Garrett also has great affection for Peppermint,” said Melinda. “He told me he was his favorite out of all the horses here.”
Melinda noticed Savannah seemed to smile shyly at the mention of Mr. Garrett. She found this interesting, as Savannah didn’t seem to be shy about anything at all.
“Does Mr. Garrett often visit the ranch?” inquired Melinda.
Savannah laughed and made quite a show out of brushing crumbs off her frock. Melinda wasn’t sure if she was imagining things, but for the life of her, she couldn’t see any crumbs on Savannah’s dress.
“Oh, Mr. Garrett is here almost every day! He and Mr. Hart have been friends since their school days.”
“And what do you think of Mr. Garrett?”
“Think of him? Well, he can be loud and a nuisance a lot of the time, but he is a good man. He’s been a very good friend to Mr. Hart, and he’s always helpful if my father needs anything.”
Melinda noticed Savannah was rather breathless and seemed to be having trouble meeting Melinda’s eyes.
“And is he helpful to you as well? If you need anything?”
Savannah fidgeted but finally said, “Yes, he is helpful. He would probably do anything for me if I asked.”
“That sounds like a good friend.”
Savannah smiled down into her lap.
“Yes,” she said softly.
Melinda didn’t ask any more questions, but she had the suspicion there was more to Savannah and Mr. Garrett’s relationship than Savannah was telling her.
“May I go read?” Darla’s voice echoed in the silence.
“Yes, you may, my sweet,” said Melinda, patting Darla on the arm.
“She’s such a good girl.”
“She is,” agreed Melinda. She felt familiar tears threatening to leave her eyes.
“Everything will turn out all right,” said Savannah, watching Melinda’s face. “Darla is going to find a wonderful family. And you’ll get home to Chicago. And in the meantime,” she said, grasping Melinda’s hand, “we’re going to have a wonderful time.”
Melinda smiled and squeezed Savannah’s hand. “Thank you, Savannah, I feel so lucky to have you here.”
Savannah picked up the teapot from the table and filled Melinda’s cup. “You told me last night how special Christmas was to you and your husband. Would you share with me how you used to spend it?”
Melinda added milk to her tea and swirled it in with her spoon.
“It was all very simple, really. We didn’t have much, but we wanted for nothing. We would make dinner and sing songs and pray. We loved to pray together.”
“That sounds wonderful,” murmured Savannah.
“It was. He was.”
Melinda got up and walked restlessly over to the fire. She picked up the poker and started gently prodding the logs. She found it difficult to talk about her feelings sometimes.
“I think … I think I was just so worried about this Christmas. It’s the first one without Steven, and that is difficult, but even before Steven, I always had Christmas with my mother. She always made Christmas so special for me. And now she’s gone, and Steven’s gone and … and I guess I didn’t realize how important it was to me that I would get to spend Christmas with family this year. Aunt Courtney is all I have left.”
Savannah sat very still. Melinda could feel her gaze upon her.
“What would you and your mother do for Christmas?” she asked.
Melinda looked up and smiled. She placed the poker back on its stand and sat down again beside Savannah.
“We didn’t have a lot of money, so we never had extravagant gifts or dinners. Nor would that matter to me. But she loved Christmas and always wanted it to be special for me.”
Melinda propped her head onto her hands and closed her eyes, remembering.
“She would string up popcorn garlands all over the house. She would get old newspapers from the houses she cleaned and turn them into hundreds of snowflakes that she’d hang with string from our ceiling. She’d buy whatever spices she could afford and make little sachets that she’d hide around our tenement, so the whole place smelled of allspice.”
“It sounds magical,” said Savannah.
“It was. I felt like the luckiest girl in the world. And in a way, I think I was. My mother didn’t have money to buy me expensive gifts, but I never once doubted that she loved me.”
Savannah’s eyes sparkled. “That’s how my father has always made me feel. I think that’s why I love Christmas so much because it’s a time to show people how much you love them.”
“Exactly,” said Melinda emphatically. “That’s why I feel so dreadful that I might miss this Christmas with my aunt. Not just for me but for her. I want her to know how very loved she is.”
Savannah took Melinda’s shoulders in her hands.
“I promise you she knows; even without you there, she knows.”
The two women shared a moment of understanding.
“Tell me what you and your father like to do for Christmas,” asked Melinda.
“Our treats today made me think of it,” said Savannah, pointing toward the larder. “Our tradition every year is to make a gingerbread house.”
“How delightful!”
“It’s my favorite thing in the world. Every year my father manages to collect sweets from who knows where. He always finds something gorgeous and unique and delicious. And then he hides them in our house, and for the life of me, I can never find them.”
“You look?” said Melinda with a shocked expression.
“Of course!” said Savannah proudly.
The women broke into fits of giggles.
Eventually, Savannah steadied her breathing long enough that she could speak again.
“We make a lovely dinner, of course, but the gingerbread house is our special tradition. We used to do more decorating, but we’ve toned it down since we’ve been here … because, well …”
Melinda nodded. “You don’t want to make Mr. Hart uncomfortable.”
“Yes.” Savannah looked guilty. “I’m sorry again for not telling you last night about his feelings. I can’t believe it slipped my mind like that.”
“I beg you not to make yourself feel bad,” Melinda said reassuringly.
“My first year here, I noticed no decorations were up, and I felt so bad for Mr. Hart being all alone. I thought he’d just been too busy with the ranch to make any arrangements, so I convinced my father to cut down a small tree on the property, and I set it up all pretty with popcorn garlands like the ones you had and some of the decorations my father and I have collected over the years. I thought it could be something nice we all shared together.”
“What happened?”
Savannah shook her head. “He got so angry. Not yelling or anything like that; he’s not one to raise his voice, but you could just tell. You know how he acted last night?”
Melinda nodded.
“Well, he was just like that,” said Savannah.
“He took the tree straight outside and left it on the snow. He told us he never wanted to see another decoration inside the main house. He said he didn’t like Christmas, and he couldn’t stop us from celebrating, but he didn’t want to hear about it, and that was it.”
“You’ve never spoken of it again?” asked Melinda in astonishment.
“Not a word,” replied Savannah. “My father told me how important it was to respect Mr. Hart’s wishes, so we did. Mr. Hart has always been good to us, and my father and I have always celebrated Christmas; we just kept it separate.”
Melinda was fascinated by this version of Mr. Hart. She was curious about what drove him to dislike the upcoming holiday so much.
“Does Mr. Hart’s brother observe Christmas?”
“I believe so,” said Savannah, crinkling up her nose in thought. “He doesn’t come around an awful lot. He’s often busy with work. But now that I think of it, yes. Yes, of course, he does. I see him at church every week with his family.”
“His own brother lives in town, yet Mr. Hart doesn’t celebrate Christmas! Heavens!”
“I leave the celebration of Christmas to the people who enjoy it,” Mr. Hart’s voice remarked dryly.
Melinda and Savannah whipped around. Mr. Hart stood in the kitchen doorway with an unreadable expression. Melinda immediately felt guilty. How much has he heard?
“Mr. Hart, I’m so sorry for my–” Melinda stuttered.
Curtis waved away her apology. “Don’t worry yourself,” he said gruffly. “Curiosity is natural, and I’m sure not without provocation.”
“That’s no excuse,” said Melinda. She bowed her head. Beside her, Savannah looked mortified.
“My brother does indeed celebrate Christmas. He has a wife and four young children to celebrate with, so he is not alone.”
“But you are.” The words slipped out before Melinda could stop herself. She couldn’t believe she had said something so forward. She barely knew this man.
Curtis gave her a contemplative look. “It’s the way it’s supposed to be.”
He reached for a book at the end of the table and walked back out of the kitchen.
“Well, that was a strange conversation,” said Savannah, letting out a held breath.
“It was hardly a conversation!” protested Melinda.
“It’s more mention of Christmas than I’ve ever heard from him,” insisted Savannah.
Melinda looked at the doorway Mr. Hart had just passed through. What a curious man, she thought. She realized the fluttering feeling in her stomach had returned the moment he had appeared in front of her.
***
The storm continued throughout the afternoon. By two o’clock, the clouds were so thick it already felt like night. Savannah left to help her father with chores. After checking that Darla was happily situated in the library reading a thrilling story about cowboys, Melinda decided to distract herself with some cleaning.
After rummaging through the kitchen and poking her head into a few different cupboards, Melinda admitted to herself that she would have to ask Mr. Hart where he kept his cleaning supplies. Hesitant as she was to bother him, especially after such an embarrassing interaction earlier in the day, she went down the hallway to his study and knocked timidly on the door.
There was a slight shuffle on the other side before the door opened, and then Mr. Hart’s surprised face appeared before her.
“Miss Dalton … how can I help you?”
“I’m sorry to bother you, sir, but I was wondering if you could tell me where you keep your cleaning supplies?”
Mr. Hart blinked. “My cleaning supplies?”
“Yes,” said Melinda. “You know, rags, vinegar, that sort of thing.”
Curtis looked bemused. “Did something happen? Was there an accident?”
“Not at all,” Melinda assured him. “It’s just that I am in dreadful need of something to do to distract myself, and since you’ve been so kind as to let us stay here, I thought I could do a little tidying up around the house.”
Curtis shook his head. “That’s really not necessary, Miss Dalton. I urge you to simply make yourself feel at home.”
“This will help me feel at home,” insisted Melinda. “Please. I must do something.”
Curtis considered her and stepped out of his study. He beckoned her to follow him to a small cupboard, near the entranceway. She hadn’t noticed it before. Inside she found buckets, rags, and vinegar.
“Thank you, Mr. Hart,” said Melinda. She began to gather what she’d need.
“You feel at home when you clean then?” asked Curtis, leaning against the wall.
“Yes,” said Melinda slowly, taking the time to carefully fold each rag. “My mother cleaned houses when I was young. She’d let me help sometimes. I find it soothing.”
“What does she do now?” asked Curtis.
“She passed four years ago,” Melinda responded, turning her head away from him.
“I’m sorry,” said Curtis quickly.
“My Aunt Courtney is all I have left. That’s why I have such strong feelings about Christmas, you see? It’s a way to feel close to family.”
Mr. Hart’s expression froze. Melinda looked back at him, and it felt like his eyes were seeing straight through her.
“I see,” said Curtis. “Well, I very much hope that you can get back to her then. And if not, I’m sure you will have a merry time with Savannah.”
Melinda stared at him. Without another word, he turned on his heel and marched back to his study, closing the door firmly behind him.