An Angel in Thistleberry Page 3

  “Aunt Leah,” they said in unison, then laughed.

  “That’s the only explanation. Right?”

  “Do you remember the time when we all forgot it was Christmas day until old Mrs. Perkins felt sorry for us that we didn’t have a mother and dropped by with some of her homemade holiday confections?” Noah laughed as he climbed into the back section of the sleigh and lifted the lid to a little storage compartment at the rear.

  “Or, the time that Mrs. Blake tried to ‘brighten’ up the place with pine boughs and holly and Dad ripped them off the wall and the fireplace mantle, then we spent half the morning cleaning up the needles and squished berries from the floor boards.” Jonah shook his head, leaning down to inspect the thick, ornately decorated leather straps dangling from the front seat. “I think Tag must have helped,” he mused, holding up the reins.

  Their cousin, Tag Redbourne, was every bit as talented with hide as his brother, Ethan, was with metal.

  Lucas nodded.

  “What about the time that Henry tried to strap sticks to the new pony’s head like one of Santa’s reindeer from that book Aunt Leah sent us and the colt kicked back and broke the lantern and started a hay bale on fire?” Noah mentioned as he leaned against the sleigh, resting his folded arms on the edge.

  The thought of their oldest brother brought a sense of solemnity to otherwise jovial banter. They’d lost Henry a little over thirteen years ago and his memory lingered with each of them every day. They looked a sad lot. Henry would be disappointed that they allowed his memory to be sad.

  “No, the best yet, was when Henry tried to plunk out the tune for ‘We Wish You a Merry Christmas’ on the old piano and Dad very calmly pushed it out into the yard and chopped it into firewood,” Lucas said, recounting his first real Christmas memory. “I still can’t believe he banned music in the house.” He looked up at Jonah whose face had drained of color, his mouth gaping.

  “You were so young then. I didn’t know you remembered that,” he said with a hint of pity in his voice.

  “What?” Lucas asked, surprised by his brothers’ reactions. “Don’t you?”

  “Of course, but I was much older than you.”

  “I hardly call five years ‘much older’.”

  “Six.”

  “Six then. I don’t remember much before Mother left, but there are some things I can’t seem to forget.” He looked from Jonah to Noah and back again, their brows scrunched together and Jonah’s jaw flexing. He’d seen that look before and it was usually followed by a confrontation with their father.

  “It was a long time ago,” he dismissed as he reached for the large potato sack drape they had pulled from the sleigh. “Henry would have been the first to tell us that we need to find the good in things. Besides, Dad is a different man now.” He tossed one side up and over the seats while Noah grabbed ahold of the other side and together they covered their father’s unlikely purchase.

  Jonah snorted as he reached down for his bags. “Emma had been missing our boys something fierce,” he said, Lucas was sure intentionally changing the subject. “Are they around?”

  “I think they are still out with Uncle Hank and Sam helping clear out the rest of the MacPherson place for the new owners next door.” It wasn’t like Mr. MacPherson to be so secretive, but he hadn’t let on the name of the new owner. Had claimed they’d preferred to keep it that way. Discreet. “Sure wish I knew who they were.”

  Jonah cleared his throat. “You’re…looking at them. Him,” he corrected with a grin as he sauntered toward the house.

  It took a moment for his words to register correctly.

  “What. What?” he tied the tarp strings around the metal cleat that had been placed in the siding just below the driver’s seat, then hustled into the house behind his brother.

  He walked into a moment of chaos while everyone started hugging everyone else. Jonah kissed his wife smack dab on the mouth, then turned with his arm still around Emma’s waist.

  “Mother?”

  The front door flung open and everyone turned to see Max, Gil, and Owen burst inside like a whirlwind.

  The moment she saw them, Emma’s eyes filled with tears and she reached out to pull her sons in close.

  “Dad,” Max, who had gained an inch or so on his father in the past few months, said with a wide smile as he wrapped his arms around Jonah and squeezed, followed by each of his brothers.

  “How long are you here?” Owen asked as he pulled away.

  Lucas slipped his arm around his own wife, grateful for the loving display. It was not something he’d been privy to as a child, but had in turn provided to his own children—luckily, the same could be said for his brothers’ families as well.

  August came through the back door and as soon as he saw his brothers, he joined the happy reunion. Lucas did not miss the tears that filled the boy’s eyes and imagined he must have missed them—being the only child left at home.

  “We bought the MacPherson place,” August said with excitement, and the festivities grew louder as everyone celebrated.

  Then, with the sound of heavy footfalls as their father entered the house, everyone froze.

  Chapter Six

  Gabe watched his grandsons beeline it toward the house and figured that now would be as good a time as any to face his fears. The familiar scent of a coming storm stopped him in his tracks and he looked out over the horizon.

  Christmas was only a few days away. The ground already glittered with snow, but a new storm was coming. He strode into the kitchen and through the house, his heavy work boots clomping against the hard, wooden floors. He took a deep breath, then stepped into the large living space at the front of the house where the rest of his little family had gathered. Silence fell across the room and everyone turned to look at him.

  He leaned against the doorway, hands in pockets, and ventured a nod in greeting.

  “Don’t stop on my account.”

  Jonah cleared his throat and stepped forward. “Dad,” he said with an extended arm.

  “Son,” Gabe said solemnly, taking his proffered hand.

  There was so much he wanted to say, so much that had been left unsaid, but he didn’t know how to start. Besides, there was a time and a place, and here, in front of their entire family, was not it.

  “I hear congratulations are in order.” Gabe noted the awkward strain in his own voice and chastised himself for allowing things to have gone this far.

  “Thank you, sir.” Jonah nodded, but the contrived smile on his face pierced Gabe’s brave façade with ease.

  “Well, I’ve got some work to do.” He turned and started for the back door, but called back over his shoulder, “I’m glad you made it safe.”

  Coward.

  As he walked outside, a light flurry of snow drifted past his face and he looked up into the heavens to see the scattered flakes floating on the darkening sky. He stopped and took another deep breath.

  The coming storm wouldn’t hold off for long.

  He pulled the collar of the wool-lined jacket he wore up around his neck, rubbed his hands together, and determined now would be a good time to light a fire in the potbellied stove he’d dragged into the barn for heat while he worked. It was going to be a long night.

  There were still a few of his failed designs in a pile behind the building he could chop up and use for kindling, so he reached inside the door, pulled the ax off the wall, and headed around back.

  It didn’t take long for him to get into the rhythm of chopping and soon he had quite a nice pile of wood.

  “Dad, I…”

  Gabe turned back to see Jonah, a stricken look on his face as his gaze flitted between him, the ax, and the pile of broken wood toys and carvings.

  “This is just like you,” Jonah said. “You may have everyone around here fooled, but I see through your little act.” He took a step toward his father and reached down to retrieve what was left of Gabe’s first attempt at a dollhouse for Sophia. “Did you ever think that C
hristmas was something to be celebrated? To be enjoyed? No, I suppose you haven’t.” He turned to walk away, then stopped.

  “Jonah, I think you’ve mis—”

  “You know, Dad, I was hoping that moving back here to be around your brothers, to be with Lucas and his family, would have made you a better man, but I see now that it has just made you a better liar.” Jonah tossed the remaining piece of the dollhouse roof into Gabe’s pile.

  “Jonah,” Gabe called after him, but his son didn’t look back as he stormed away.

  Gabe dropped his head and tightened his fists. “Aaaaaah!” he screamed loudly as he swung the ax hard down onto the stump of wood he’d been using. He regretted the action as a twinge of pain shot up his back. He took a deep breath to ease the spasm.

  It was going to take time, but he was determined to show his sons that he was a better man. Prove to them that he recognized his weaknesses, and that he was sorry for everything he’d put them through over the years. For now, he needed to concentrate on what he could control.

  Father Christmas.

  He couldn’t let down the town. Mr. Collins. Sophia.

  Snow now fell in thin sheets as he bent with some effort to retrieve the scraps of wood for his fire. It would be good for him to do something productive with his hands. There was still something not quite right about the newest figure he would add to the nativity tomorrow night, but he had to trust that it would come.

  He set the wood down on the floor next to the stove and before long had a hot fire burning in its belly. He rubbed his hands together and with great care, pulled the wooden statue from beneath his work table and heaved it up onto the counter top. He stood back and admired his work for a moment before picking up his chisel and getting back to the task at hand.

  Chapter Seven

  “I cannot believe the nerve of that man. Chopping up children’s toys. As if his ill humor wasn’t enough, how could he ruin Christmas for the little ones? Again?” Jonah moved to the window in his room and stared out at the falling snow.

  As a child, he had longed for holidays that were spent in merriment with family and close friends. While the traditions of Christmas had still been in their infancy, he’d watched as others enjoyed molding and refining holiday customs with their own families. He’d seen how the season had brought fathers and sons closer and had yearned for some sign that their father still loved them. Wanted them.

  Emma walked up behind him and slid her arms beneath his. “Your father is a good man, Jonah,” she said firmly before placing a sweet kiss on his shoulder.

  He snorted. The man had everyone fooled—including his wife. He placed a hand over hers and squeezed her closer to him.

  “You always believe the best in others,” he said, twisting in her arms to face her. “That,” he said kissing her forehead, “is one of the reasons I fell in love with you.”

  She looked up at him, her eyes knowing and kind. “There is an explanation for what you saw, my love.”

  “I don’t think y—”

  “Shhh,” Emma said, placing a finger over his lips.

  “Have you heard of Father Christmas?”

  “You mean, Santa Claus? Jolly Old St. Nick?”

  “Not exactly. I mean that Thistleberry has been graced with its very own Father Christmas.”

  “Okay,” he said, scrunching his brows together.

  “This Father Christmas has given hope to people all over the town over the past few years. Some families have had food show up on their porches. One couple had been sleeping on the floor with their three children and when they got home from church one December afternoon, they found a large bedframe and mattress lying up against their front door.”

  Jonah opened his mouth to say something, but Emma stopped him.

  “Several of the families in Thistleberry are struggling to put food on their tables, yet last year, every child in this town woke up to a toy with his or her name on it.”

  “So, the town has a do-gooder who is helping out their neighbors. That’s a nice sentiment, but I don’t know what any of this has to do with my father.”

  “Did you see the nativity in the middle of Town Square as we drove through?”

  “The one without a Mary, Joseph, or a baby Jesus?” he asked with a scoff.

  “The very one,” she said with a smile. “It had served as a beacon of light for the people here who are struggling to make ends meet. Every week during December, a new wooden statue is placed somewhere in the nativity and the townsfolks look forward to the new additions with anticipation and excitement.”

  “I still don’t see what my father has to do with it.”

  Emma smiled, waiting.

  It took a moment, but it was as if a little light turned on in his mind.

  “No.” he said disbelievingly.

  Emma nodded. “Your father is trying. Lucy said that the first few years were a little strained, but after Sophia was born everything changed.” Emma slid out of his arms and sat down in one of the chairs at the foot of the bed.

  Jonah took the seat opposite her. He leaned down, his elbows on his knees, and rested his forehead in his hands. It just wasn’t possible. His father, Gabe Deardon, was doing something nice for others. In secret.

  “How do you know all of this? We’ve been here less than a day.”

  “Lucy and I have been corresponding for years. She discovered his secret last year when she happened to stumble across some of his carvings out in his shop in the barn.”

  “And you didn’t tell me?”

  “Would you have believed me?”

  Jonah shook his head. “Probably not.”

  The sleigh.

  Things were beginning to make sense and the pieces were falling into place.

  “Your father wants to make up for the mistakes he’s made, Jonah. And you, my love, need to let him.”

  “I’ll talk to him in the morning.” Jonah felt awful for the things he’d said to his father. He’d been so blinded by the hurts of his past that he hadn’t been open to even the possibility that the man could, or would want, to change.

  Emma patted him on the knee as she stood up. She kissed him lightly.

  “That is one of the reasons I love you,” she said as she folded back the covers on the bed. “You do what’s right. Thank you. You’re a great example for our sons. They have turned into good, hard-working, respectable men. Just like their father.”

  Hard-headed, unforgiving, and blind. She’d forgotten to mention some of his lesser qualities. He breathed a chuckle and prayed for the strength to do what was right.

  Please, God, be with us all.

  Chapter Eight

  Christmas Eve

  “Lucy, have you seen my father?” Jonah asked the woman rolling mounds of dough and placing them on a giant baking sheet. The sweet aroma swirling about the air in the kitchen made Jonah’s mouth water.

  He’d intended to speak with his father that morning, but his Uncle Hank had coaxed him and his boys into competing with some of the cousins at a Christmas Festival in town and it had taken the majority of the day. He’d already been out to the barn and had stopped by Gabe’s room, but the man had seemed to have disappeared.

  “You just missed him,” Lucy said with a shrug of her shoulders and a conspiratorial smile.

  “Missed him?”

  She nodded. “Every year—for the past few anyway, he heads to his cabin up in the hills, just behind the property, on Christmas Eve and returns first thing Christmas morning. He says he needs a few hours to himself, away from the huge crowd that gathers here at Whisper Ridge during the holidays.” She winked at him. “Is it still snowing outside?”

  “’Fraid so. Doesn’t look like it will be letting up anytime soon.”

  Lucy shook her head. “We haven’t seen a storm like this at Christmas for quite some time and I worry that—” she looked at Jonah with squinted eyes and a raised brow.

  “Emma told me last night.”

  “Oh, good. I worry a
bout him being out there alone at his age. His bones are getting a little creaky lately and he’s taken more hot baths in the last month than the entire time I’ve known him.” She laughed nervously, then wiped her hands on her apron and walked to the edge of the kitchen.

  Jonah had never thought about his father getting old. He had always been so spry and stubborn.

  Still stubborn, he thought.

  “Sophia,” she called, peeking around the wall and up the stairs. “Where is that child? She is supposed to help put the sugar on top of the pies.”

  “Hello, wife.”

  Jonah glanced over his shoulder to see Lucas coming into the kitchen, a grin on his face and his hands behind his back.

  “Hello, husband,” Lucy said, eying Lucas warily. “What are you up to?”

  “Nothing…much,” he said, leaning over and stealing a kiss.

  He slipped a small package from behind him and held in front of her to see.

  “What is this?” she asked him, one brow raised.

  “I guess you’ll have to wait until your hands are clean to open it.”

  She reached out to grab it from him, but he pulled it away.

  “Oh, all right,” he said with a mischievous smirk and he pulled back the twine and unrolled the thick parchment paper. He opened his eyes wide, still concealing the contents from his wife.

  “What? What is it?”

  Lucas winked at Jonah, the sly grin still plastered against his face.

  Lucy made another grab for it, but she was no match for his brother’s height.

  “Lucas Deardon!”

  His little brother laughed and dropped his hands, displaying her surprise in front of her.

  “Music!” she exclaimed.

  “Eight Christmas tunes to be exact.”

  Lucy squealed and jumped up into Lucas’s arms, wrapping her flour covered hands around his neck and kissing his face.

  It was Jonah’s turn to laugh as white streaks and prints from Lucy’s fingertips smeared his brother’s person. It was good to see that his brother had found the same kind of happiness he had with Emma.