Montana Bride (29 page)

“Heck, no!” Griffin shoved the oblong box he’d first taken out from under the tree in Grace’s direction and said, “Why don’t you open your present? Who’s it from?”

Grace glanced at the writing on the brown paper and said, “From Karl.”

She took so much time carefully unwrapping the present that Griffin finally said, “Hurry up, Grace. What’s taking you so long?”

Grace was savoring the fact that she had a present, let alone several presents, to open. Griffin didn’t remember the years when there had been no Christmas, because Grace had done her best each year since he’d been old enough to know what Christmas was to provide him with some little gift.

She tried to recall a Christmas when her mother had given her a Christmas gift. She remembered getting a silver dollar once, but her mother had borrowed it back a week later. She remembered getting a pair of wool socks, but they were too big, made for a man, not a little girl. She remembered wishing for a special something—she had a specific something in mind—wrapped in bright paper with real ribbon to surprise her on Christmas morning.

Even though Grace had wished and hoped and prayed, she’d never gotten that special something. And now, here she was, opening a present, and wishing and hoping and praying it would be…

“Oh! Oh!” Grace sobbed as she stared down at the open box in her lap.

“Grace? I’m so sorry,” Karl said. “I know it’s not the sort of thing you probably wanted. I bought it when I thought you were younger. You probably don’t—”

“I love her!” Grace cried, grabbing the doll from the box and hugging it to her chest. She could hardly see Karl through her tears. If she could have described the perfect doll, it would have looked like this one: a rosy-cheeked face, blue eyes and dark, painted eyelashes, long blond hair in two braids tied with ribbons, and wearing a frilly pink dress. She even had on black patent-leather shoes and white lace-trimmed socks.

Grace rocked the doll for another moment, then threw herself into Karl’s arms, hugging him around the neck with one arm, while she held on to the doll with the other. It was every Christmas dream she’d ever had come true. “Thank you, Karl. Thank you, thank you! Julie’s beautiful.”

“Julie?” he asked in a gruff voice.

“That’s her name.” Grace pulled herself free of Karl’s enfolding arms, suddenly self-conscious. She really was too old for a doll. In a few years, she’d be having babies of her own. Nevertheless, she found herself explaining, “I always said if I ever had a doll, I’d name her Julie.”

Grace glanced at Hetty and saw the shock on her face. And realized what she’d revealed.
So I’ve never had a doll. What’s the big deal? Lots of girls have never had dolls.
But it was clear from the stunned look on Hetty’s face that she’d had a doll when she was a little girl and was amazed that Grace hadn’t.

Grace sat back down, anxious to get the focus off of herself, and blurted, “What the hell else is under that tree?”

Karl felt overwhelmed by the children’s responses to his presents. He’d bought Christmas gifts in Butte that he’d thought his brand-new stepchildren would enjoy, worried that the boy’s knife was too dangerous for a child his age, and wondering if the little girl already had a whole chest full of dolls and would find one more tiresome. Only to discover that Griffin revered his knife and sheath, and that Grace was receiving the very first doll she’d ever owned.

He was awed by Griffin’s talent with a knife and wood. The carved horse head the boy had given him was exquisite. It almost breathed with life. In contrast, Hetty’s horse figure seemed filled with energy, as though it might leap off the table if you set it down. Much like Hetty herself.

Karl still wasn’t sure what to make of what had happened last night with his wife. He’d made love to Hetty, but she’d also made love to him. Maybe he was putting too fine a description on what had happened between them. He tried to remember the exact chain of events.

He’d said,
I want you.

She’d replied,
I want you, too.

Maybe love had played no part in what had followed, but there had been plenty of passion on both sides. Hetty had surprised him with her willingness to explore his body. To taste. To satisfy his craving to be touched. And to be tasted and touched in return.

Karl didn’t realize his mind had wandered until he heard Grace say, “What the hell else is under that tree?”

“Grace!” Hetty said. “That’s entirely the wrong kind of language for Christmas morning.”

Grace flushed and said, “I’m sorry.”

“Here,” Griffin said, tossing a small gift at Karl. “This one’s from Hetty.”

Karl saw the grateful look Grace shot Griffin for drawing attention away from her use of profanity. Those sorts of slips happened more often now that their secret was out and they weren’t trying to act like something they weren’t. Karl appreciated the honesty, even though he felt the same way Hetty did about curbing the profanity.

The children were also no longer indulging in the pretense of calling Hetty
Mom.
Karl thought that was a shame, because as far as he could tell, Hetty had been—still was—a good mother.

“Hurry up and open your gift, Karl,” Griffin said.

Karl smiled at the boy’s eagerness. He’d been equally excited on Christmas morning when he was Griffin’s age. But without family around, he’d seldom celebrated Christmas over the past ten years. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed the holly wreaths and spruce tree, the exchanging of gifts and the carol singing, which reminded him they hadn’t done any of that yet. Maybe he could talk Hetty and the kids into singing a song or two before the day was done.

“Did you fall asleep, Karl, or what?” Griffin said.

He’d been daydreaming again. “I’m untying this knot as fast as I can.”

“Just push it off,” Griffin said.

Karl laughed and did as he was told. He unwrapped the brown paper and discovered a small, framed sampler.

“Bao helped me frame it with pine from the mountain,” Hetty said anxiously.

Karl held the embroidered cloth up so he could see it better in the dawn light. It took him a moment to decipher what it was. Two entwined bitterroot flowers delicately embroidered in white and pink and green thread, and beneath them, in green, the Latin name,
Lewisia rediviva,
and the date, 1874.

Karl was moved by the thought Hetty had put into the gift. Not one single flower, but two entwined. Not just any flower, but a bitterroot in perfect, full bloom. And the year of their marriage, the year of their first Christmas together, a promise of togetherness for the years to come.

Karl couldn’t help feeling that there might be hope yet for a happy future with his mail-order bride. He turned to Hetty, swallowed over the knot in his throat, and asked, “How on earth did you know what a bitterroot flower looks like?”

“I found a picture in one of your books. Is it all right?”

“It’s far more than that, Hetty. I think we should hang it over the fireplace.” He got up and placed it on the mantel, then drew Hetty onto her feet and into his arms. He held her close and whispered in her ear, “It’s perfect.”

“Hey!” Griffin said. “Don’t get sappy. We have more presents to open.”

Karl laughed and let Hetty go. “I think we’d better sit back down.”

“This big one says to Hetty from Karl,” Griffin said.

Hetty dropped to her knees beside Karl’s gift, which was too big to lift easily. She turned back to him with a childish look of delight on her face. “What is it, Karl?”

He didn’t realize his heart was in his throat until he tried to speak. He’d thought of Hetty through every step of creating her gift, which he’d started making long before he’d discovered her deceit. He wanted her to like it. He made a
hmm
ing sound in his throat and said, “Open it and find out.”

Hetty asked Griffin to cut the knots with his new knife, an act which he was delighted to perform. Then she ripped the paper off with relish, exposing the gift inside.

“Oh, Karl. Oh, my. Oh.” She ran her hands over the oak he’d polished so lovingly. Over the entwined bitterroot flowers he’d carved into the lid of the hope chest. She looked up at him and smiled, her bewitching dimples contradicting the tears shining in her eyes. “It’s beautiful.”

“Look inside,” Griffin said. “Maybe there’s a gift in there.”

“The box
is
the gift,” Hetty told him with a laugh.

She glanced at Karl to confirm her statement, but he said, “Why don’t you check and see?”

Hetty looked charmingly surprised, but she lifted the lid and looked. Her mouth opened in an
O
of surprise as she reached inside. She held up a tiny silk-and-lace dress.

“It’s a doll dress,” Griffin said in disgust.

“It’s a christening gown,” Karl corrected. “It was my christening gown.” He met Hetty’s rapt gaze and said, “I had my mother send it from Connecticut when I knew I was getting married.”

“It’s so tiny!” Grace exclaimed.

“You wore that?” Griffin said. “It’s a dress!”

Karl laughed. “It certainly is. A dress a baby wears in church when it’s christened.”

Grace turned to Hetty, arched a brow, and asked, “Does this mean you’re having a baby?”

Hetty flushed so pink her complexion became more like roses and cream than peaches and cream. She looked enchantingly flustered, glancing from Karl to Grace and back again. “No. I’m not.”

Grace looked him in the eye. “But you figure she will be.”

It was Karl’s turn to blush. He felt the heat at his throat and said, “I’m looking forward to having a big family someday.”

“What happens to us when you have all those kids?” Griffin asked, his eyes narrowed.

“I’ll keep on loving and caring for you, just like I do now,” Karl said.

Griffin looked flummoxed. Grace looked perplexed.

It was Grace who spoke first. “You love us?”

They didn’t make it easy to love them. But Karl had realized, when he was gathering the two presents they hadn’t yet received—presents he and Hetty had discussed endlessly during the nights they’d spent lying in each other’s arms—how much he looked forward to making the two children happy. Not to mention how much he’d gained in patience and forbearance from having Grace as a daughter and Griffin as a son.

“Yes, I love you,” Karl said. “And your mother loves you.” He was determined to refer to Hetty as their mother, whether the kids did or not. “Your mom has one more gift for each of you, but you have to come outside to see them.”

“I’m not dressed,” Grace protested.

“They’re right out front,” Karl replied. “Come and see.”

Karl rose and reached for Hetty’s hand to help her to her feet. He kept his arm around her as they headed for the front door and felt his own anticipation grow when he realized she was almost vibrating with excitement.

“Do we need coats?” Grace asked.

“Go ahead and grab them,” Karl said.

“And shoes!” Hetty insisted. “I don’t want either of you catching pneumonia.”

Griffin raced into the bedroom and returned with shoestrings dragging. He grabbed his coat from the rack near the door and shoved his arms into it. “Let’s get this over with. I want to try out my new knife.”

Karl exchanged a conspiratorial smile with Hetty. If she was right, Griffin not only wouldn’t be using his knife anytime soon, they’d be lucky to get him back inside the house before dark.

Grace took her coat with her into the bedroom and was in there long enough that Griffin called out, “Hurry, up, Grace. Christmas Day’s wastin’.”

Karl helped Hetty finish buttoning her coat before slipping into his own. He opened the door wide and gestured both kids outside.

Griffin and Grace stepped onto the empty porch, then looked back at Karl and Hetty, who stood just outside the door.

“So where’s this great gift you promised?” Griffin asked Hetty, his hands on his hips.

Andy came marching around the side of the house, carrying a black kitten with white socks. It had a bright red ribbon tied around its neck. “This is your gift, Grace.”

Grace flew off the porch and met Andy halfway. “It’s Socks!”

“I told your mom this is the one you like best,” he said.

Grace took the tiny kitten from Andy and held it close to her heart as she turned back to Hetty. “You said I couldn’t have a kitten for my birthday.”

“The kittens were still too young to leave their mother then.”

“Can I really keep her?”

“She’s all yours,” Hetty said, her smile almost as wide as Grace’s.

Grace turned to Karl, her green eyes radiant, and said, “I mean, can I keep her in the house? Can she sleep on my bed?”

“That’s up to you,” Karl replied, his heart beating hard in his chest as he savored the joy he saw on her face. “She’s your responsibility. You have to take care of her.”

To his surprise, Grace walked back to Andy and whispered something to him that made the boy blush before he trotted away toward the bunkhouse. Then she turned and ran back up the steps to show her prize to Hetty.

“What about my gift?” Griffin demanded.

“There it is,” Karl said, pointing behind the boy.

Griffin whirled and saw Bao leading a saddled and bridled brown-and-white pinto pony around the corner of the house. Bao stopped at the foot of the front porch steps. Griffin turned back to Karl and Hetty, his thin lips pressed flat with doubt, his dark eyes opened wide with hope. “What is this?”

“He’s yours,” Hetty said. “Karl will teach you how to ride him and how to take care of him. But you’ll have to name him all by yourself.”

For another second, the boy stood frozen. Then he threw himself into Hetty’s arms, clutching her hard around the waist. “I never thought…How did you know…? A pony!”

Hetty laughed and said, “Go and meet your pony.”

Griffin glanced at Karl, but when he tore himself from Hetty’s embrace, he headed away from him down the steps. Karl wasn’t sure whether he felt relieved or disappointed that the boy hadn’t come to him, but in any case, his throat was too thick with emotion to speak.

He noticed that Griffin slowed his excited steps as he approached the pony, so he wouldn’t frighten the animal. Karl wondered how much the boy already knew about horses and how much he would have to teach him.

Griffin held his hand outstretched so the pony could smell his scent. Then he moved aside the pony’s forelock and caressed its forehead. Griffin’s hand moved slowly down to cheek and jaw before he reached out and stroked the animal’s powerful neck beneath its mane. Karl could almost see the boy defining and confirming with his hands the equine muscle and bone that were so evident in the wooden horses he carved.

Finally, he wrapped his arms completely around the pony’s neck and pressed his cheek against the pony’s cheek. His voice was choked as he said, “Hello, Star. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Griffin. We’re going to be great friends.”

Karl had traded with the Salish for the pony, and the animal had been hidden in a supply shed behind the bunkhouse for the past week. But it wasn’t until Griffin named the pony that Karl realized the pinto had a distinct patch of white, a star, in the center of its dark forehead.