Page 63 of A Forgotten Heart
Another six hours had passed. Almost thirty-six since Nick’s brothers had left. Too long without anyone riding back to check in.
Nick stood at the parlor window as dusk painted the horizon dark purple, his eyes scanning for any movement.
The stillness rattled him. Something was coming, but he couldn’t see it.
The house was decorated ceiling to floorboard. It should’ve felt festive, but the kids were picking up on the tension from the adults and growing restless again. They sat gathered at the long dining table after supper had been cleared.
The women had gone into the kitchen for cleanup. Pans and dishes clanked. He saw in the window’s reflection when Elsie emerged from the kitchen and joined Tillie.
He’d go out and track his brothers down if he thought it would help. Though, with his head still aching off and on, he’d likely be more hindrance than help.
Christmas isn’t the same without her.
Elsie’s words from earlier kept running through his head. Elsie had worked miracles with the kids—keeping them busy with crafts and games, noticing Ben’s and Eli’s hesitancy and comforting them. She’d jumped in wholeheartedly.
She had so much love to give. But she’d told Rebekah she’d be spending Christmas alone.
It didn’t make a lick of sense. Elsie took care of everyone else. But who took care of Elsie?
“I did not!” Eli cried. The punch he gave David, though they were sitting side by side on the bench, had some force to it.
Nick turned from the window, ready to intervene.
“Tillie just had a wonderful idea,” Elsie interrupted. “Why don’t we sing some Christmas carols?”
The words immediately threw him into a memory of their time at school—a night when a group had decided to go caroling.
Walking from house to house, he’d slowly maneuvered his way next to her in the crowd of carolers, allowing his shoulder to “accidentally” brush up against her. Once, she’d tried to teach him the tune, but his efforts had only made them both laugh until their sides ached.
Toward the end of the evening, an older couple had invited the carolers in for wassail. The fireplace had illuminated the room and his pulse had raced at the way the candlelight reflected across her face.
They’d stood next to the tree, out of sight of the other carolers, cups of wassail in their hand, talking about their hopes, their dreams, until he couldn’t help but gently tug Elsie behind the Christmas tree when no one was looking.
He’d leaned down and brushed his lips across hers.
“Merry Christmas, El-Belle.”
He’d never forget the way she’d smiled back, her heart in her eyes. “Merry Christmas, Mr. McGraw.”
Had it been the enchanting night, or was it Elsie who created the magic?
David groaned, the sound bringing Nick back to the present. “Singing?”
Tillie ignored him and pulled Elsie to stand next to the tree, now crammed with dried apples, popcorn garland, and an array of cornhusk ornaments. “Let’s sing ‘Angels We Have Heard on High.’”
Jo wandered over more slowly. “You just like singing the gloria part at the top of your lungs. Let’s sing ‘We Three Kings.’”
Elsie laughed, and its ring echoed in the recesses of Nick’s heart. “We can sing them all,” she said.
“Until bedtime,” Kaitlyn added as Nick’s three sisters-in-law joined them. She lowered herself into a chair by the fireplace.
Nick pointed to the door. “It’s time I make my rounds.”
Rebekah chuckled. Everyone knew he couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket.
But he got caught in Elsie’s gaze before his feet moved an inch. “We need your voice. You’re our only baritone.”
She remembered. He saw it in her eyes, in the bittersweet smile.
