Hearts Unfold (54 page)

“Emily, it's almost
Christmas.
 
Should we put the baby in the
manger now?”

Together, they went to the
mantel and she took the tiny figure from its hiding place.
 
Ever so gently, she placed it on the little
straw bed.
 
Softly, lovingly, she spoke
words familiar, but never before understood.
 
“And he shall be called Wonderful, Counselor, the Mighty God, the
everlasting Father, the Prince of Peace.”

They had fallen asleep, curled
together on the couch.
 
Each time he
woke, just enough to be sure she was still there, he’d been aware of his
overwhelming desire to protect her, watch over her.
 
Was that what she had felt, that night three
years ago, for a stranger she never expected to see again?
 
And now here they were, embarking on what he
knew would be a life filled with all the love and warmth, all the goodness they
could bring to each other.
 
He had the
urge to wake her, tell her of his new awareness.
 
He'd almost told her when she’d opened her
gift, when her eyes were gleaming with pleasure at his choice.
 
There had been tears, but tears of joy this
time.
 
When he'd opened the locket and
she’d stared at the curl of red hair, her smile had been a radiant reward for
his efforts.
 
“Perfect.
 
Oh, Stani, you couldn’t have done anything
more perfect.”
 
But he wanted to wait a
day or two longer, let the wonder of Christmas subside just a bit, before he
told her of his plan.

He was still wearing the
tartan scarf.
 
She had lovingly wrapped
it around his neck, crossing it over his heart.
 
He was delighted with the symbolism, the fact that she’d thought of
something so specific to him.
 
He would
have it with him, wherever he went, the soft wool a reminder of her gentle
hands.

He marveled at the thought
that he had held her by his side all night and felt such powerful love and
concern, but not a trace of unbidden desire.
 
Was it really possible for a man to love a woman so much and yet set
aside desire until the time was right for them both?
 
She had opened herself to him, shown him her
willingness, her trust of him; and he had no doubt that when that right time
came, they would come together as equal partners.
 
But for now, he was more than content to
anticipate that time.
 
There was nothing
to prove, no need to rush to something they would share for the rest of their
life together.

Chapter Forty-five

Stani woke with a start,
realizing that he was alone.
 
Though the
drapes were still drawn against the light, he sensed the sun had been up for
some time.
 
From the direction of the
kitchen he thought he heard music, mingling with the pleasantly promising
sounds of glass clinking and water running.

Slowly, stiffly, he sat up and
ran his hands through his hair, trying to shake the last remnants of sleep from
his brain.
 
He’d been dreaming, a
slightly disturbing dream of Emily, her tear-streaked face floating above
him.
 
He had stroked her cheek, in his
dream, trying to console her, as he watched the firelight reflected in her
eyes.
 
But he'd been powerless to comfort
her, as she laid her head on his chest and sobbed.
 
She had pleaded with him to stay, her voice
that soft, sad voice of his old dream.
 
He couldn't stay, he couldn't hold on to her, and he had floated away
into the darkness, leaving her with that serious little smile on her lips.

Throwing off the quilt she
must have spread over him, he started toward the sound of Emily in the kitchen,
Emily waiting for him to join her.
 
He
was here.
 
She was just in the next room,
no darkness now, only the light of a new day.
 
Christmas Day!

She was standing at the
window, and beyond her he could see that the morning was brilliant.
 
The rain had washed the sky to a perfect
blue, not a cloud in sight.
 
Frost
shimmered on the broad expanse of lawn behind the house.
 
She turned at the sound of his steps, and
smiled with so much warmth that he had no choice but to take her in his arms
and kiss her before she vanished like the vision she must be.

“Merry Christmas,” she said,
her lips still touching his.

“Merry Christmas.
 
How long have you been up?”
 
He held her at arm's length.
 
She was dressed this morning in jeans and a soft
white sweater, which she’d covered with an old fashioned apron, its ruffles
standing up at her shoulders like wings.
 
Her hair was tied at the back of her head with a ribbon, and she wore
not a trace of makeup.
 
“You're
beautiful, you know?
 
More beautiful
every time I look at you.”
 
He was
rewarded with a long, sweet kiss.

Moving away, she opened the
oven door, peering inside.
 
The
countertops were littered with evidence of her activity, bowls and utensils,
eggshells and little trails of flour.
 
“What have you been doing, and
what
is that heavenly smell?”

“Cinnamon bread.
 
I've been wondering if you were ever going to
wake up.
 
I'm starving!”

He laughed, pulling her close
again.
 
“When are you not starving?
 
I can see you're going to require a great
deal of care and feeding.”

They ate well, eggs and
sausages, fresh fruit and the warm, rich bread, and lingered at the kitchen
table, talking of the previous night, Christmas music from the radio providing
a background.
 
Stani noticed with pride
that her fingers went frequently to caress the locket, hanging very near her
heart.
 
Today, she was herself again, no
trace of last night's anguish.
 
She had
indeed bounced back quickly, apparently none the worse for wear.

“When will Jack be here?” he
asked, carrying his plate to her at the sink.

“Near noon, unless he has a
call.
 
We'll plan for that, but we'll
wait for him if he's held up.
 
I need to
get started on lunch soon.”

“Are you going to cook all
day?”
 
He nudged aside the ruffle at her
shoulder, encircling her waist as she stood washing dishes.
 
“You are the very picture of domesticity,
cooking and cleaning.
 
I've never known a
girl with so many useful talents.”

“You've never known a girl who
grew up in the country, I'll bet.
 
We
know how to take care of our men.”

“That has a lovely ring to
it.”
 
He kissed her neck, just under her
ear, and she shivered, humming with pleasure.
 
“Now this man needs a shower.
 
Where do I go to make myself presentable?”

She led him to the guest room,
going into the bathroom beyond to turn on the electric heater.
 
She laid out towels and soap, and drew the
curtain around the tub.
 
“There, anything
else you need?”
 
Standing in the doorway,
she watched him spread his clothes on the bed.
 
“Stani, you do realize we slept together last
night?”
 
Her voice was soft and pointedly
suggestive.

He pulled his sweater over his
head, welcoming the sting of cold air on his skin.
 
Approaching her with what he hoped was a menacing
glare, he took her by the shoulders and steered her out of the room.
 
“Out!”
 
He could hear her laughing as he closed the door, leaning against it as
he struggled for control.
 
Setting aside
desire might prove more difficult than he’d hoped.

When lunch was over, the three
of them sat gazing at what had been the centerpiece, a perfectly roasted wild
duck, now a mere carcass of bones.
 
Jack
and Stani, in high spirits, acknowledged their good fortune at having been born
at the right place and time.
 
They
toasted Emily with their water glasses, her loveliness and grace, her skill in
the kitchen as well as the rear seat of a police cruiser.
 
As she laughingly rose to clear their plates,
Jack asked what Stani's plan was for the remainder of his visit.

“You made it through one
night.
 
Do you still need my protection?”

“Absolutely.
 
I've tried to explain to her that the
questions generated by my sleeping here would far exceed anything she might
have encountered after merely saving my life.”

From the kitchen, she called
out, “I did
not
save your life!”

Both men laughed, but Stani
was serious when he turned back to Jack, whispering “Come back for me this
evening, whenever it's convenient for you.
 
She won't like it, but. . .I'm not made of stone!”

“Em, we'll meet you at church,
and you can have him back for the whole day, I promise.
 
I have a little date of my own Sunday evening,
but I'll get him out of your way before bedtime.”

As she brought their dessert
from the kitchen, she gave him a disbelieving look.
 
“Not a 'date' date, Jack?
 
Surely some woman hasn't finally entrapped
you into a real date?”

“Sort of, but if you must
know, this is not the first 'date' date we've had.
 
We just know how to be discreet.”
 
He was grinning broadly, and suddenly Emily
gasped.

“Martha Jean!
 
It's Martha Jean.
 
Why didn't I see it?
 
How long has this been going on?”

“Almost a year.
 
And we'd really like to keep it quiet.
 
We don't need half the women in town flocking
to the shop just to be nosy.
 
And by the
way, she said to be sure to come in Monday.
 
She's got a big after-Christmas sale on, and she set a pile of stuff
aside for you.”
 
He tucked into his
chocolate pie, still grinning.

“Martha Jean has dressed me
since high school, and she always holds things back that she thinks I'll like,
and she's usually right,” Emily explained to Stani, watching him sample the
dessert.
 
He had said he rarely ate
sweets, but after one bite, he went at the pie with apparent relish.
 
“I think I will check out the sale, since the
one thing I bought myself this year got totally ruined last night.
 
Small price to pay for a safe delivery, but I
really liked that blouse.”
 
She twisted
her lips in a little grimace of regret.
 
“Have you heard how Ruthie's doing?”

“As a matter of fact, I had a
call from Bobby this morning.
 
Both girls
are doing fine.
 
They wanted to be sure
of your name, because they’d like your permission to name the baby after
you.
 
I didn't tell them the whole thing,
but I do think you could let them have 'Emily'.”

“What whole thing?
 
What are you hiding from me?”
 
Stani waited expectantly.

She held up a cautionary hand,
with a discouraging frown in Jack's direction.
 
“Too much too soon.”

“Oh, come now, you know about
Stanley, and you haven't held it against me.
 
Tell me.
 
How bad can it be?”

“It isn't.
 
It's just silly and it takes some
explaining.
 
I'll tell you some day, I
promise.
 
But Jack, yes, I'd be thrilled
if they called the baby Emily.
 
What does
Bobby do for a living?”

“County road crew.
 
With four kids, you can imagine the kind of
rough time they have.
 
You'd think they'd
stop having babies, and maybe now they will.
 
They have three boys and were hoping for a girl.
 
Maybe this Emily will be their last.
 
I hate to see six people try to live on a
little paycheck like that.
 
In fact, they
were one of the Christmas Families.
 
The
three little boys who all wanted dump trucks?
 
Want to be just like Daddy, I guess.”
 
Jack scraped the last smear of chocolate from his plate and pushed back
his chair.
 
“I hate to eat and run, but
I've got a couple of people to check on.
 
You wouldn't happen to have any oranges, would you?”