Page 39 of The Gift of Seeds
Tightness still madeHester’s chest ache. She didn’t know how long she’d sat in the chair, trying to catch her breath and calm her mind—at least somewhat. She unrolled her sleeves, not caring that her arms were still floury and sticky from the dough.
I can’t sit here all night.It’s Christmas Eve. If I won’t go to church, at least I should do something to acknowledge the holiday.
She glanced around for inspiration, carefully avoiding the mess on the kitchen table, and settled on the candles amid evergreen boughs in the windows. It was too early, really, to light the candles, but doing so provided an excuse to rise and move.
After taking a long matchstick from the tin by the stove, Hester opened the door of the firebox and stuck the match into the fire. With a small hiss and smell of sulfur, the matchhead lit.
She walked to light the candles in the window, inhaling their cinnamon scent, mingling with evergreen fragrance of the fir boughs. If she’d stayed in St. Louis, by now she’d be at Lovie’s, for Mrs. Ransom traveled to her sister’s home for the holiday, leaving Hester free to visit Lovie’s farm. For three precious days, she basked in the warmth and love of family.
By now, they’ll be in the middle of their usual joyous celebration.A big dinner. Opening presents. Going to church. Doing all the traditional things they did every year. She’d have little ones to hold and read to. Older children who always wanted to hear stories of Hester and Lovie’s time in the orphanage. Hiram’s family would stop by, bringing loud cheer with them.
Her gaze fastened on the lone parcel under the tree. On impulse, she decided to open the gift. She retrieved the present, in the process getting a lungful of pine and cinnamon from the sticks she’d hung as decorations, and then went to sit by the fireplace in a more comfortable chair.
After unpeeling the first layer of brown paper, she came upon Lovie’s letter and set aside the parcel to lean closer to the fire so she could see to read.
My dearest Hester,
I can’t believe this will be the first Christmas I’ll spend without you since we both arrived at the orphanage within a few months of each other. I knew our parting would be difficult without being able to see each other every few weeks. But I didn’t realize how lost I’d feel without my orphanage sister. The children miss their Aunt Hester, and even my rather reticent Hiram has made a few forlorn remarks about your absence.
I know over the years that you’ve remarked how much you appreciated our friendship and even sometimes marveledthat I’d be your close friend when there were so many more outgoing and pretty girls to befriend. What I didn’t quite realize or express to you was that you’ve always been my anchor. You were the one, who, despite your shyness, reached out a kind hand to a grief-stricken girl, whose whole family had been wiped out in one fell swoop of a wagon accident. You managed to convey your understanding of my pain, for you’d experienced your own losses. How I envied you still having a brother, when my own three were gone! But soon, Jimmy became like my little brother, too. You’ve been my family, dearest Hester, and you always will be, even though we’re so far apart.
Please know that this present contains more than just the gift enclosed. When you wear your present, imagine that you’re wrapped in a hug from your loved ones.
I won’t wish you a Merry Christmas, Hester, because I know this holiday has been far from happy. But I will wish you many blessings and a Joyous Noel for all the years to come.
Your sister of the heart, Lovie
Her eyesight blurred. “Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t…” She ground out the words, feeling her heart shuddering and pounding, her clenched fists trembling.
I made the wrong decision. I should have stayed in St. Louis with Lovie.
Despair pulled her down like a whirlpool, helplessly lost to the swirls of heartache. Still, she did not cry, although her eyes stung with the effort to hold back her tears.
Lucy rose to her feet, faced the front door, and barked.
Hester glanced over. In the dimming light, she didn’t see anything, but she heard movement on the porch. A bear, maybe. Too full of pain and frustration and remorse, she couldn’t bring herself to be afraid.Maybe I’ll open the door and let the bear eat me.
But Lucy’s wagging tail precluded that possibility.
Enough curiosity threaded through her despair to push her to her feet and shuffle to the door. Hester checked out the window but didn’t see a sign of bear or human. She grabbed the gray shawl hanging on a peg next to the door and wrapped the ends around her shoulders before cracking open the door.
She took the candle from the window and stepped outside, pulling the door almost closed behind her and holding up the light to see. Her gaze fell on a parcel sitting on top of the snow in front of the door. In disbelief, she crouched to touch it, feeling wool under her fingers.
Setting the end of the candle in the snow, she unwrapped what seemed to be a finely-made blue scarf. Within was an envelope withMiss Smithwritten across the outside.
With trembling fingers, Hester opened the letter and pulled out a piece of stationery, in the process scattering some seeds across the snow. She read:
When winter is darkest, seeds give the hope of spring.
Dale Marsden
The stormof feelings Hester had tightly held in all day, really—since Jimmy’s death—burst forth. With a cry of pain, she crushed the letter, seed envelope, and scarf to her chest and toppled forward into the snow. The candle fell over, and the flame extinguished. Sobs erupted, and she pressed her face into her knees.
She heard the sound of snow-muffled footsteps.
“Miss Smith!” Dale Marsden raced over, dropping to his knees next to her. “Miss Smith.”
Hester didn’t lift her head. “I have no hope,” she wailed.
