Page 32 of Soldier's Chrismas Hope
How am I going to make it in farming if I literally didn’t think about the land?
“That’s okay,” John-John said kindly. “You did your best.”
“Maybe we can put our bird feeder on the porch,” River told him. “Then when the spring thaw comes, I can set the post and move it to the yard, like in your book.”
“Wait,” Pixie said. “Wait, wait, wait!”
River turned to the little girl, who was jumping up and down in place, a look of awe on her face.
“What is it?” River asked her.
“Do you have any peanut butter?” she asked, her eyebrows leaping up toward her hairline.
“Sure,” he told her. “Would you like a snack?”
He was pretty surprised. She had already eaten an impressive amount of pizza for such a tiny person.
“No,” she told him. “I mean, no, thank you. Do you have string?”
“Yes,” he told her. “There’s some in the basement.”
“Can we pick pinecones off that tree?” she asked, pointing to the big evergreen behind the house.
“Sure,” he told her, finally realizing what she was leading up to.
“We can make a bird feeder,” she announced excitedly. “I learned how in preschool.”
Suddenly, Nora was beaming and Pixie was giving her a high-five.
River could only smile at the sight. He hadn’t thoughtof pinecone bird feeders in forever. Pixie sure was one bright kid.
“What are youtalkingabout?” John-John demanded suddenly.
“First, you tie a string to a pinecone,” Pixie told him. “Then you paint the pinecone with peanut butter. Then, you roll it in a plate full of birdseed. Then, you tie the string to something, and the birds come and eat the seeds.”
“Oh,” John-John said. “Good idea, Pixie.”
“I learned how to do it in preschool,” she told him. “Weallmade them.”
“This sounds great to me,” Nora said, turning to River with a smile. “What do you think?”
“It’s obviously a fantastic idea,” River said. “Let’s do it.”
He gathered up the supplies for the bigger project and carried them out to the garage to put aside for later, while Nora and the kids headed off to select pinecones from the big tree.
By the time he was finished and he joined them inside, the kids were washing their hands at the kitchen sink while Nora watched over them fondly. “White Christmas” was playing on the radio.
“I hope you don’t mind that we turned on some music,” Nora said, turning to him.
Don’t notice her pink cheeks or her sparkling blue eyes. Don’t notice her gentle smile or the way her hair slides over her shoulder when she turns back to look at the kids.
“Not at all,” he told her, trying his best to ignore his thundering heart.
Maybe it was the time he’d spent away in dangerous circumstances that made him respond this way to seeing a woman in his home, caring for children, filling the house with music and happiness.
They’re not mine,he tried to tell himself.She’s not mine.
But his heart kept pounding like a runaway stallion.
