Page 28 of Christmas Secrets

Ben spluttered. “How...how did ye know?”

Darro chuckled deeply. “I didn’t...me and yer dad just guessed that Dottie might not have made it. We don’t have a clue where it came from though. And we weren’t going to complain, it was worth it.”

“It should have been, it cost me 149 pounds,” Ben griped.

Understanding dawned. “Cripes! How can ye afford that?”

“I can’t, that’s the problem. And that’s not even the half of it.” Ben went on to explain how much the bill was and why he was asking Lucerne for advice. “She thinks I should be patient and let Dottie come to me.”

“That’s a lot of money,” Darro admitted with a frown. “I’m afraid I’m no a patient man when it comes to deceit.”

Lucerne pointed her finger at him. “That’s not entirely true. Ye knew I was using a different name when I first came to Neamh and ye didn’t call me out on it. I ended up confessing.”

Darro shot her a pained look. “It’s not because I was being patient, that was desperation. I was afraid ye would leave me stranded when I needed ye the most if I gave ye what ye deserved out of principle. That’s not to say there is something to be said fer being patient when it’s necessary,” he added hastily at the look on Lucerne’s face. “The thing is, ye know yer wife the best, Ben. Everyone might tell ye something different, but the bottom line is, it’s between ye and Dottie.”

“Aye, it is,” Ben replied heavily. “Well, I’d best be picking up my supplies and heading home. Thanks, fer the advice. Please don’t say anything to Dottie. It might embarrass her if everyone at Neamh knows.”

“It will be our secret,” Lucerne promised. “Drive careful, there may be snow again this afternoon. Ye know how the roads get.”

Ben opened the door. “Aye, I do. Ye two be careful as well.”

Ben walked up to the planking in front of the feed store and then turned and waved as Darro backed out and pulled away. At least he didn’t feel as angry, but he still wasn’t sure what to do. His first instinct was still to call her out on it, but mayhap Lucerne had a point. Mayhap he needed to inspect Dottie’s feeling a little more.

The problem was, he had no clue as to why she should feel the need to produce the dishes in the first place. No one expected her to, so what had been going through her brilliant little mind?

***

Dinner at Thistlewindwas tense in the little cottage. Dottie did her best to pretend there was nothing wrong as she flipped the grilled ham and cheese sandwiches and prepared a nice salad for her and Ben. She was really surprised when he came over and took the pancake turner from her and started helping her.

“I didn’t know ye were such an expert sandwich flipper,” she teased, trying to lighten the atmosphere. “The cheese always wants to slide the two sides apart on me.”

Ben shot her a small smile that left her feeling uneasy. “Toasted cheese is something Dad and I used to make all the time after Mum died. Not much else we could cook, but that was one thing. I like them better with ham in them though. Do ye want another one?” I’m making another one fer me.”

Dottie sliced some tomatoes into the salad. “Nay, but thank ye. I’ll be lucky to finish one. I’m not that hungry.”

After dinner, Ben went to take care of the animals in the barn. There were some snowflakes swirling around, but no heavy storms predicted. She hoped things stayed clear at least until after the party. Only one more day to get through and it would all be over with. All but the guilt that is.

She nibbled on her thumb as she watched Ben through the kitchen window, then she washed the dishes and wiped down the cabinets. He seemed so tense tonight. Mayhap it was just Christmas. Lord knows she was tense herself. She hadn’t even been able to enjoy ferreting out what he might have gotten her for Christmas. All she could think of was those Clootie Dumplings sitting in Neamh’s freezer. And now Ben might be making dumplings too. His would be a very nice surprise, not just for her, but for everyone. Not many men could produce Clootie Dumplings. And it was all for her. She groaned and bit a little too hard on her thumb.

Sighing, she finished up the dishes and drained the sink. Her right thumb was beyond sore. It was looking kind of red and swollen with little skin and nail edges sticking out from around the nail bed. She really needed a new nervous habit.

Ben seemed to be taking a long time in the barn, so she delved into the hall closet and began taking out the gifts for her family tomorrow. Her mum was making lunch and they were gift exchanging. A lot was going on in the next few days; it was overwhelming.

Tomorrow evening, they would go with Poppy and Angus to some of Angus’s family for dinner. Then the party at Neamh on Wednesday. On Christmas Eve Thursday they would attend a holiday program at the Cathedral in Inverness. Angus and Poppy would be flying to Chicago on the 27thof December to be with Poppy’s daughter and her husband until after New Years Eve. Poppy was really looking forward to seeing her grandchildren.

She picked up the box, carried it into the kitchen, and sat it on the table. She was so incredibly tired. Not to mention feeling like a big fat fraud. She nibbled a sore spot on her thumb and then winced as a painful edge of the skin came off. Tears spurted into her eyes and self-pity suddenly took over. Desperately she tried to stem the tears and brushed the traitors off her cheeks when she heard the front door open.

Ben was back.

Trying to put on a brave smile she turned to face him when he came up behind her after taking off his winter gear. “Are the animals all tucked in?”

His eyes widened in shock when she turned around. “Dottie! Ye are bleeding. Where are ye hurt?” He peered closely into her face and she put her hands up to ward him off. He grabbed her right hand and stared down at it. “Yer thumb is bleeding and ye have smeared blood all over yer face,” he said with a frown. He studied a bit closer. “Have ye been crying?”

Dottie stared at her thumb. It had been bleeding and she hadn’t realized it because it was barely seeping. “I-I didn’t realize it was bleeding,” she confessed. “And nay, I’m not crying,” she added, then promptly burst into choking sobs.

Ben picked her up and sat her on the cabinet. “Stay right there while I get a band-aid,” he instructed tenderly. He turned on the water in the sink. “Put yer thumb under that, honey.”

Dottie nodded and obeyed, sobbing softly at the gentleness in his tone. She didn’t deserve his gentleness; she was lying to him. She just didn’t know how to confess. Throwing her feelings out to be analyzed wasn’t in her make-up. Holding things in was. It was a hard barrier to get past.

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