The Christmas Bargain (24 page)

Kissing Abby on the cheek and giving Chauncy a pat on the arm, Filly offered a “thanks again,” and hurried out the door. Riding Sheeba to the barn, she unsaddled the horse and brushed her down, offering her a bit of apple as the barn door opened and Luke walked in.

“There you are,” Luke said, walking toward her with a warm smile. “The house was empty and I wondered where you’d gone.”

“Sheeba and I needed some fresh air, so we went for a little ride today,” Filly said, closing Sheeba’s stall and helping Luke feed the animals, since they both were already in the barn. “I lost track of time, so I don’t have supper finished yet. I’m sorry. I know the only thing you’ve asked me to do is make sure you get three hot meals a day and I’m failing to meet that expectation.”

“It’s fine, Filly. No need to worry,” Luke said, as he hauled fresh water for the horses, filling the buckets in their stalls.

“But it’s my job and you count on me to have meals done on time,” Filly said, feeling agitated and unsettled after being out at the farm.

Luke set down the bucket he was carrying and put his hands on Filly’s arms. “That is not your job. It might have started out as your job, but if you want me to hire a cook or a housekeeper or a lady’s maid, just say the word and I’ll hire someone. Your job is to be my wife and make our house a home, which you’ve done with admirable skill. Your job is to be a helpmate to me, which you do exceedingly well. How many other women do you think would be out in the barn helping their husbands feed and do evening chores? Not many. So no more of this nonsense about not doing your job properly. Understood?”

“Yes,” Filly whispered, trying to hide the tear that rolled down her cheek by ducking her head. Luke however saw it glisten in the lantern light and wiped it away with his thumb.

“What’s got you all full of frowns today, Filly girl? You’re usually pretty chipper, especially after you and Sheeba go for a ride. This isn’t like you.”

“I’m just a little out of sorts,” she said, trying to avoid telling Luke the real reason she was so upset. “I was remembering things today I probably shouldn’t have been and it made me sad.” That much was true.

Luke pulled her into a hug and held her quietly for a few moments before leaning down and kissing her forehead.

“Go on up to the house, make yourself a cup of tea and sit by the fire. I’ll be in shortly and we’ll see about cheering you up.”

“Luke, you don’t need to baby me,” Filly said, pulling back so she could see his face. Her gaze got lost in the dimple in his chin.

“I’m not babying you, I’m trying to pamper you a bit. Just indulge me this once. I know you like to argue, but I’m not accepting any debates this evening.” He put his arm around her and walked her to the barn door. Giving her bottom a playful swat, he pushed her out the door. “Go on, wife, I’ll be there in a minute.”

Filly shot him an indignant glare over her shoulder before marching toward the house. He assumed she would fuss and fume, then hurry to make a cup of tea and be sitting by the fire right before he walked in the door.

Luke was mostly right. Instead of a cup, Filly made an entire pot of spiced tea and had it waiting when he came in.

Coming in the front door, he looked into the parlor to make sure she was following orders. She sat in the small armchair by the fire, staring into the flames, with the tea tray on the low table in front of her. Looking up at Luke, she offered a small smile, and he grinned back at her.

“You just sit tight, Mrs. Granger,” Luke said, removing his outerwear. “I’ll be back with our dinner momentarily.”

“But Luke,” Filly called after his retreating form. “I can…”

“Not another word. Sit there and be patient,” Luke said, walking into the kitchen.

After washing his hands, he found a large tray and put slices of cheese and leftover pork roast from dinner the night before on a plate. He added pieces of buttered bread, a couple of boiled eggs, an orange, and a plate of sour cream cookies.

Carrying the tray into the parlor, he told Filly to “wait a minute more,” before hurrying into the hall closet where he dug out an old woolen blanket he had taken on more than one picnic with a pretty girl, and laid it down before the fire.

Tossing down a few pillows from the couch, he set the tray on the blanket, knelt down then offered his hand to Filly along with a smile he had been told could charm the clouds right out of the sky.

Apparently the effect was not completely lost on his wife as she took his hand and seated herself on the blanket next to him. He filled her plate with bread, cheese and meat as well as an egg before handing it to her. She, in turn, poured him a cup of the spicy tea. He could smell the cinnamon. Taking a drink of the sweet brew, he closed his eyes to better savor the experience.

“This is really good,” Luke said, taking another drink as he enjoyed the wonderful sweet flavor.

“I’m glad you like it,” Filly said, studying the napkin on her lap. “I’m sorry I wasn’t in the best of moods earlier.”

“It’s fine, Filly. We all have off days,” Luke said, taking a bite of the sandwich he made. “But I get the next turn.”

Filly laughed and all seemed right in the world again. “Fair enough,” she said, eating her dinner. “Thank you for providing supper tonight.”

“You’re welcome. You can see why I need a cook. About all I am capable of is buttering bread and peeling eggs,” Luke said, making another sandwich while Filly nibbled at hers.

They chatted for a while, discussed Christmas plans and talked about some of Luke’s childhood escapades. While he told her a story about he and Chauncy bringing a pet mouse to church to be a part of the nativity and it's getting loose during the program, he peeled the orange, and divided it into sections. Giving Filly half, he watched as she took a bite, the juice clinging to her rosy bottom lip. He wanted, more than anything at that moment, to kiss the juice away.  Looking up into her eyes, the bright green emeralds seemed to glow in the light of the fire.

Swallowing down his desire, he remembered his promise to himself to take things slow and not get carried away again. At least not until Filly showed some sign that she felt more for him than a passing admiration for his role as her rescuer and guardian.

Wiping his hands on a napkin, he leaned back against the pillows and gave Filly a grin that was all male flirtation. “Let’s play a game.”

“What kind of game?” Filly asked, wiping orange juice from her fingers on her napkin.

“A guessing game,” Luke said. “I pick an object and you try to guess what it is. You can ask twelve questions and if you don’t guess it by then, I win.”

“That sounds easy enough. Does the object have to be something we can see or can it be anything anywhere in the world?”

“I think we should start with something in this room and see how it goes,” Luke said, resting against the cushions and relaxing in the warmth of the fire. “I’ll go first. I have an object selected, so start asking questions.”

“Is it bigger than a couch pillow?”

“No.”

“Is it smaller than a penny?”

“No.”

“Is it made of glass?”

“No.”

“Is it made of iron?”

“No.”

“Is it painted?”

“No.”

“Is it humble?”

Luke looked at her in surprise before answering, “Yes.”

“Is it the manger in the nativity set?”

“Yes.” Shaking his head, Luke grinned. “How could you possibly figure that out so quickly?”

“Because you and I think alike,” Filly said with a knowing smile. “Now it’s my turn.”

It took Luke ten questions to guess the teapot, but he got it right. After that they worked hard to challenge each other. Finally, Filly had Luke stumped.

“I give up,” he said, sitting up and looking around the room. “What in blazes is it? We established it is strong, beautifully made, useful, handsome, and big. I’ve got to know, what is it?”

Filly giggled, gently placing her hand on Luke’s chest. “You.”

Luke sat in shocked silence for a moment, then pulled Filly into his lap and tickled her sides until she begged for mercy. “That is not fair at all. You were supposed to pick an object in the room.”

“I did. You are in the room, visible to us both. I can’t help it if you thought it was the couch,” Filly said, squirming in his grasp.

“How did you know I thought it was the couch?” When Filly started to answer, he held up his hand. “Never mind. And I think I might be insulted to be considered an object, even if you did agree I was beautifully made.”

Filly blushed. “But you are an object, an object of my…” She cut herself off before she said too much. Before she revealed her heart and embarrassed them both.

Luke leaned close so that his breath was warm on her cheek, his lips near her ear. “The object of your what, Filly?”

“Teasing,” Filly supplied. What she wanted to say was affection or maybe even desire. What she wanted to do was turn her head and kiss him until they were both breathless. What she wanted to feel was his arms around her for the rest of forever.

Backlit by the fire, Luke’s golden head beckoned for her to run her fingers through the thick tousled stands. His skin looked tan and warm and so utterly masculine, she felt herself getting light headed.

Jumping to her feet, she picked up the tea tray. “Thank you for a wonderful evening, Luke. I appreciate you taking my mind away from my memories.”

“You are most welcome,” Luke said, picking up the other tray and carrying it to the kitchen.

Filly rinsed off the dishes and dried them while Luke banked the fire in the parlor and folded the blanket, putting it away in the closet.

Returning to the kitchen, Luke locked the door while Filly hung the kitchen towel on a hook to dry and turned off the lights. “Guess we better head to bed. It seems like there is still much to do before Christmas is here.”

As Luke walked her to her bedroom door, he wondered if she had any family traditions from when her mother was alive. Maybe he’d remember to ask her tomorrow. As she opened the bedroom door, he could see her mother’s quilt spread out on her bed.

“I’m glad to see you using your quilt, Filly. It certainly makes your room look festive.”

Turning to look at the bed, Filly nodded in agreement. “And it makes it feel like my mama is here with me.”

“I’m glad, darlin’,” Luke said, kissing her cheek before continuing down the hall to his room. Hours later, he tossed and turned as sleep eluded him. The more time he spent with Filly, the harder it was to block visions of her mahogany curls, emerald eyes, rosy cheeks and silvery laugh from his mind. Rolling over, he punched his pillow and prayed, again, for patience.

Chapter Fourteen

Luke was tallying up a row of numbers in a ledger the next morning when Horace Greenblum, the telegraph operator, rushed into the bank waving a slip of paper above his bald head.

“Luke! Luke! You’ve got an important message that needs read right away,” he said, hustling to Luke’s desk as fast as his short bandy legs could carry him. “I don’t know how it happened, but it was sent some time last week and just now made it through to our office.”

Standing, Luke took the paper from Horace, scanned through the message and felt the air whoosh out of him. Slumping into his chair, the collar of his shirt began to strangle him. Clawing at his tie, he jerked it loose then undid his top button. A few words that were guaranteed to make Chauncy lecture him on Christian living and redemption rattled through his head. He managed to stop them before they spewed out his lips.