This house hadn’t felt like a home for too long. After carrying his guilt around for too many years, he was finally able to accept this new life without it.
Simon barreled into the room, closely followed by Buster. When Luke saw what he held in his hand, his breath caught in his throat. He remembered that nutcracker, but he thought it had been lost in the fire forever.
When he looked at Evelyn, he saw that she was watching him intently. He knew why. Since his loss, Christmas time had always been hard for him, but Evelyn had always tried her hardest to keep the holiday spirit alive regardless. She’d secretly decorated his house, even though he never wanted her to. She had somehow managed to keep this nutcracker a secret, too. Until now.
“Look! Look!” Simon exclaimed exuberantly. “Caleb gave it to me! It can even move its arms!”
Luke glanced at Caleb, who merely shrugged.
Remembering his little son’s face when John had played with it so many years ago stirred up darker emotions Luke didn’t want to feel right now. Looking at Simon’s excited expression, he couldn’t bring himself to ruin it for this little boy. So he put on a brave face.
“I see. I see. Do you like him?” he asked Simon, swallowing around the big lump in his throat as the little boy briefly looked down at the beat-up nutcracker.
“Of course, I do! It’s my new nutcracker!” he exclaimed, beaming up at him. “He is my new best friend. And Buster likes him, too!” With that, he ran off again with the trusty bloodhound following on his heels.
When Luke looked back at Evelyn, he noticed the worried look on her face. He gave her a little nod, which she reciprocated with the warmest smile. He suppressed his stammering heart, knowing that he needed to accept that things were changing, and the sooner he did that, the better.
The men sat down in front of the fireplace, and the women continued decorating the room. Luke caught Madelaine on several occasions as she was stealing glances at him. He smiled at her every single time, which elicited even more pink coloring in her cheeks. He couldn’t help himself; he liked it.
“I would like to make some ornaments tomorrow. We used to make little stars and braided wreaths out of salt dough, and Isabelle used to add some dried flowers into it, like lavender and roses, and sometimes we added cloves and cinnamon too, to make them look like gingerbread men. It made the house smell so wonderful,” Evelyn explained exuberantly.
“I would love to do that,” Madelaine replied excitedly. “Maybe you can teach me some of the things Isabelle used to do.”
Luke found it strange, hearing Madelaine say his late wife’s name, but it only made him feel slightly uncomfortable.
“There is a special service at church on Sunday where they’ll set up a nativity scene,” Madelaine continued. “My parents used to take us every year. I would love to take the children. I don’t want them to miss it this year.” Her shoulders sank. “There are so many things… I miss my parents so much.” Madelaine looked up at Evelyn, who took her hand and nodded with an empathetic expression.
“Would you take us?” Madelaine asked warily as she turned to Luke.
His eyebrows shot up. “To church?” he asked sheepishly.
“Yes! I want Belle and Simon to be part of the whole experience. I want them to have a healthy and strong relationship with God.”
Evelyn and Luke both inhaled sharply at the same time.
Luke wanted to do right by all of them. He wanted to do all he could to make Madelaine and the children happy. But church…? His mind was racing.
Would it hurt to take them there? No. He could simply leave and pick them up later, if they wanted to go so badly.
He tilted his head to one side, contemplating whether he should do it or not. Evelyn and Madelaine were so excited that they started jumping on the spot, holding hands, clearly excited. Luke thought that their celebration was a little premature, since he hadn’t said anything yet.
It was then that a folded piece of paper escaped from the folds of Madelaine’s skirt. It sailed through the air and slid a couple of feet across the wooden floor, directly to where Luke was sitting. As he bent down to pick it up, he heard both women gasp, and all the jumping stopped abruptly, but he didn’t think anything of it.
It was a neatly folded envelope, sealed with what looked like plain candle wax. Luke didn’t want to pry— it was just an automatic response when he turned it over to the front. He got up from his chair and took one step, then stopped.
Looking at the address on the envelope again, Luke had to blink twice before realization hit him.
The letter was addressed to Timothy Richards.
Chapter Seventeen
“What is the meaning of this?” Luke demanded. There was an immediate change in his demeanor, and Madelaine knew that wasn’t good. He looked angry, outraged even.
“It’s my fault,” Evelyn said as she stepped in front of Madelaine.
Luke stared at her, clearly bewildered. “Then explain yourself! How do you know his address?”
“He wrote to me shortly after he left,” Evelyn explained hesitantly. “He gave it to me in case I ever wanted to contact him.”
