SNOW KISSED CHRISTMAS: Sweet Historical Romance Novella--Short Read (3 page)

Anna was soon too full. She couldn’t eat much at a time, the baby seemed to take up so much room. She looked around the table. Everyone’s face was bathed golden by the candlelight, and the gentle glow was reflected back from the silver bells on the Christmas tree.

Lilya was up and down constantly, refilling water glasses, putting coffee on to perk, sliding pies into the oven to warm.

Anna realized she’d never seen the other woman truly relax, or sit longer than a few minutes. Anna knew about that, the need to keep moving. After Maria died she kept herself busy every moment of every day. She was afraid that if she stopped, she’d just lie down and start to weep and never get up again.

Steve talked about a new machine he was buying for the dairy, and Peter cut up Thomas’s food for him and whispered something in the boy’s ear that made them both laugh. Sophie looked over and smiled at her mother. She had her father’s changeable eyes, and for an instant, Anna could see what a heart wrenchingly beautiful woman her daughter would become.

Beneath the sounds of voices, Anna could suddenly hear the wind picking up. Snow was blowing against the heavily curtained windows. Was a storm brewing? Winds could sweep down the narrow valley, carrying torrents of snow with them, sudden blizzards so fierce it was dangerous to step a foot away from the house lest you lose your way.

All of a sudden, Anna was anxious. They needed to be able to get home, she and William and the children. It was Christmas Eve, and however sparse the gifts, Santa had to come. But they couldn’t just get up and leave now, before dinner was even over. All through the serving of the lavish desserts, pumpkin pie, apple cake, buns filled with cottage cheese and jam which Lilya called vatrushka, and succulent slices of gingerbread, Anna grew more and more concerned.

Steve also heard the wind and went to look out the back door. He came back shaking his head. “Blizzard out there, can’t see even to the barn. William, Anna, you and the Zaichiks will stay here with us tonight.” He walked over and tousled Thomas’s dark hair. “Father Christmas, he will have to come here, ya?”

Anna saw the horrified expression on her son’s face. He looked over at his father. “But we can go home still, can’t we, dada? We need to go home, so Santa will find us.”

William had also gone to the door and checked. He shook his head. “Nay, we cann’ae, laddie. We’d no make it even to the hill, it’s too risky. T’is a blizzard out there and no mistake.””

“But how will Santa know we’re here?” Thomas’s voice quavered, and Anna knew he was on the verge of tears. She felt her own eyes well up in sympathy.

It was Sophie who calmed her brother. “Santa will leave our things under our tree at home, and we’ll find them when we go home. We don’t have to be in our own house for Santa to come, do we, Mummy?”

“No, of course not,” Anna assured her. “He knows where you live. And the storm will likely be over by morning, but even if its not, the gifts will be there waiting for you both.” She’d send William on ahead, to make sure.

Thomas nodded, still doubtful, but comforted.

After that, there was the bustle of clearing the table, washing and drying the dishes. Sophie helped the women in the kitchen, and Peter started a game with Thomas that involved crawling around on the living room carpet, in and around the furniture.

“Lilya,” Anna said, bent over the sink, scrubbing a stubborn pot, “I’m so sorry for the extra work, all of us having to stay.”

“Nyet!” The word was explosive, and Anna looked up, surprised. Lilya grabbed her arm and pulled her into a huge hug, ignoring the soapsuds clinging to Anna’s hands.

“Nyet, no, never say sorry for such a gift.” Lilya’s eyes were wet again, but this time it wasn’t sorrow. “To have you with us on this special night, such a gift for Stevie and me.” She released Anna and bustled around, putting wood on the stove, filling the big enamel coffee pot with water and grounds. “We will now have cookies and coffee and something to warm us. I will show you where you will all sleep, we will have big breakfast in the morning.”

She was radiating excitement and pleasure, and Anna realized that she truly meant it, that having them there was some kind of gift for Lilya. Anna still felt sorry they couldn’t get home, but Lilya made her feel so welcome she relaxed some.

When the kitchen was tidy and the coffee was perked, they joined the men in the living room. Steve and William had taken the extra leaves out of the dining table, and now it was round and small, sitting off to one side. Lilya served coffee and round spicy cookies. Steve poured vodka into tiny glasses for the men. There was huckleberry juice for Thomas and Sophie.

“Will ye no dance for us, sister?” William pulled his mouth organ from his suit pocket. He began to play Golden Slippers, and Sophie shucked off her shoes and danced, hair flying, arms over her head. She had a natural rhythm, and a grace and style that took Anna’s breath away.

Peter slipped away and re-appeared with a violin, which he tucked under his chin and played with amazing flair. He obviously had talent. The music drowned out the sound of the howling wind, and Thomas joined his sister dancing, making up in energy what he lacked in elegance.

Anna and Lilya clapped, and William and Peter went from one song to another, Strike Up The Band, A Bird In A Gilded Cage, and then, by silent mutual consent, they played Deck The Hall and God Rest You Merry Gentlemen, then Hark The Herald Angels Sing.

The dancing was over. Thomas was yawning, and Sophie’s eyes looked heavy. Anna took them out to the bathroom, where Steve had stoked the small stove so it was warm and there was hot water. They used the toilet and then Anna washed their faces and hands.

“Come,” Lilya said when they came back in, taking a lamp and leading the way to a bedroom down a long hallway. “My Mary’s room,” she said, smoothing out the patchwork quilt. Together, she and Anna undressed the children, down to their long underwear. Sophie wrapped Mormor’s shawl around her. Lilya turned back the quilt and sheet. “In, in, Zaychiks, before your toes freeze,” she urged, and Thomas and Sophie climbed in. It was a featherbed, and they sank down as if they were making angels in a deep snowdrift.

Anna and Lilya listened while they said their prayers, their sweet child’s voices mingling.

Now I lay me down to sleep,

I pray the Lord my soul to keep,

Thy angels watch me through the night,

And keep me safe till morning's light

And Thomas, eyes still tightly closed, added, “And please let Santa know where we are.”

“I told you, Santa will leave our gifts at home for us,” Sophie said in a weary, exasperated tone.

“He’ll come here,” Thomas insisted. “You’ll see.” He curled towards his sister and took her hand, and was already asleep as Anna, and then Lilya, bent over and kissed them each goodnight, tucking the quilt close around them. The wind howled and the snow blew icy crystals outside the frosted window, but inside it was warm. The sound of the violin floated into the room, sweet and sad. Anna and Lilya waited, and in a few moments, Sophie, too, was sleeping, and the women crept out, leaving the door ajar.

In the living room, Peter and William softly played Silent Night, and then all three of the men dressed in their outdoor clothing and went to do the last of the chores and settle the animals for the night. Steve took a long, coiled rope with him to tie to the kitchen door and then to the barn, so they wouldn’t get lost in the blinding storm. When they stomped back in a half hour later, all three were gasping for breath, their faces scarlet from the stinging, blowing snow.

Anna felt utterly exhausted, her legs aching from the weight of the child in her belly. It was a relief to crawl into the soft featherbed in Peter’s room. He was already snoring on the horsehair sofa when Lilya led Anna and William to his bedroom.

“We shouldn’t be taking Peter’s bed,” Anna said, but Lilya waved a hand in dismissal. “My Petya, always he falls asleep on the sofa, he drinks too much of the vodka.”

When she was in the bed, snuggled in her chemise beside William, Anna whispered to him what Thomas had said, about Santa finding them tonight.

“He’s a wee dreamer, our Thomas,” William yawned, holding her close, spoon fashion. “He’ll be let down, but he’s a braw lad, he’ll get o’wer it.” He yawned again. “Steve has asked will I work wi’ him in the dairy, on the days the mines are slack.”

Anna waited several heartbeats. “And what did you tell him?” She braced herself for the usual vehement, I can support me own family, I will’nae take charity.

Instead, William’s quiet voice was thoughtful. “He spoke tae me about Peter, Steve’s that worried about the lad. He’s too fond of the drink, is our Peter, and he likes to gamble, and now there’s a lass who claims he’s the father of her bairn, and Peter will no marry her. And then there’s Lilya, Steve is near his wit’s end, there are days her mind is gone wi’ the fairies, and she believes Mary still is here. Steve says it’s our two wee ‘uns that help her, she’s that fond of our Thomas and Sophie. They take her out of herself, Steve claims.” His strong arms moved her still closer to his warm body, cradling her, his big, rough hand on the restless, heaving mound of her belly. “A man gets to believin’ he’s the only one around wi’ troubles, Anna. So I said I’d work wi’ him, and grateful I am fer the offer.”

Anna sighed, long and heartfelt. All she said was, “Good. I’m really glad, William.” It would make such a difference. It was not so small a miracle, not just the job and the money, but William’s change of heart. She sent up a silent, fervent thank you. William’s large hand seemed to quiet the baby in her womb, and sleep stole over her, deep and peaceful.

“Mommy, mommy, wake up.” Sophie’s voice filtered into the lovely dream Anna was having. She was sitting on a wooden bench in a beautiful garden filled with yellow flowers, talking with Maria. “Mommy, you have to come and see, Santa found us, you have to come and see.” Sophie patted Anna’s cheek, all but vibrating with excitement. “Please, Mommy, wake up and come and see. I brought you my shawl to put on, you have to come now.”

“Where’s your da?” Anna’s voice was thick, her mind still half in the dream. She swung her legs out of the lovely warm goose down nest, and went over to the window. Fairy frost covered the inside, and she had to use her nail to scratch a tiny peephole.

It was early, the sun only a pale rose promise over the white capped mountains. The world was covered in a snow kissed blanket, perfectly still and faintly blue. Icicles hung like foot long, upside down silver candles.

“Dada’s up already, he said to let you sleep. Him and Papa are outside shoveling, the storm’s over, he says we can go home after breakfast. Please, mommy, come now.”

Wrapped in the shawl, tugged along by her impatient daughter, Anna staggered down the hall and into the living room.

The Christmas tree was ablaze with a thousand tiny candles. Peter still snored on the sofa, brown hair wild on the white pillow, covered to the eyeballs with a thick quilt.

Thomas, in his long underwear, knelt on the carpet beside the tree, his arms clamped around a pair of slightly battered bright red skis. Beside him were the poles. His eyes were huge, and his voice quivered with delight. “See, Mommy, I said he’d find us, and Santa did. He even brought me ski’s, and poles, and even a real hat that train driver’s wear.” He clapped a striped, billed engineer’s hat, emblazoned with CPR, on his head. It fell down over his eyes, and he shoved it back up again, so excited his entire body quivered.

“And I got this,” Sophie said, her voice worshipful, her changeable eyes like stars. She lifted the lid of a purple silk jewelry box. On a bed of white satin, a string of small cultured pearls glowed in the candlelight. “Mama says I have to wear them all the time, that they’ll lose their color if I don’t.”

Anna’s gaze went to the corner, where Lilya sat in a rocking chair. She was fully dressed, even to her apron—which Anna recognized as one of the two she’d placed under the tree.

Lilya beckoned to Sophie. “Come, Sophia, Mama will fasten for you.” Her fingers were adept with the clasp. “Now, Zaychik, go and look in the mirror in Mama’s bedroom, see how beautiful are you.”

Sophie skipped away, and Anna knelt beside Lilya. She took the older woman’s work worn hands in both of hers and held them to her cheeks. “How can I ever thank you?” she whispered.

Lilya’s lips trembled. “Nyet, nyet, it is I thank you.” She smiled, and the candles reflected the happiness in her faded blue eyes. For the first time ever, Anna saw that Lilya’s eyes were sparkling with joy, no sign of tears.

“Sit, sit here,” she ordered, leaping up. “Schastlivogo Rozhdestva,” she added in a loud, cheerful voice. “Means Happy Christmas. Now you sit, my Annushka, you and dorogya, and Mama will bring hot milk for all of us. Is good for you, hot milk.”

—The End—

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