Chapter Eleven
NOVEMBER SLIPPED INTODecember, and with it came more snow. Catherine delighted in the frozen, fluffy flakes that fell from the sky and blanketed the town in white. When it snowed, everything was clean and new. It reminded her of how she always envisioned an innocent soul, untainted by the terrible things in the world.
“Catherine Clark!” Mrs. Bell’s voice sounded from the doorway.
When Catherine turned, her arms outstretched to catch the flakes that immediately melted in her hands, the older woman popped a hand onto her hip.
“What are you doing out here without a coat? You’ll catch your death, and how do you think that will make the baby feel?”
Catherine tried not to giggle at Mrs. Bell’s nonsensical question. But the woman was right. It was absolutely freezing outside, and now, realizing she’d come out without a coat, gloves, or a hat, she shivered.
Mrs. Bell held the door open as Catherine slipped back into the boarding house.
“What were you thinking?” Mrs. Bell asked, brushing the snowflakes from Catherine’s hair.
“I wasn’t,” she confessed. “It just looked so lovely that I couldn’t resist being out there.”
Mrs. Bell harrumphed. “Well, next time at least put a coat on. For that baby, if nothing else.”
Catherine grinned as she pinned an apron to her dress. By some miracle, the baby was still well. There was no midwife in town, but there was a doctor who’d come and examined her, and he’d pronounced the baby as well as could be. And Mrs. Lowry had reassured Catherine that all of her strange symptoms—including the sudden aversion she had to chicken—were good signs.
Each and every day, she woke up and placed a hand on her belly and said a prayer. The worry still gnawed at the edges of her mind. It was impossiblenotto be certain that the worst was yet to come. But a tiny seed of hope flourished too.
Maybe coming here was the best thing she could have done. And maybe being surrounded by love and kindness was what was keeping this baby alive.
All Catherine knew was that she was thankful each and every single day.
“We ought to decorate for Christmas soon,” Mrs. Bell said as she began cracking eggs. “It would lighten the men’s spirits as this cold sets in.”
“Decorate?” Catherine asked. “Like at church?” She imagined a simple spray of evergreens adorning the boarding house door and candles placed along the shelves in the parlor. Itwouldbe nice . . .
“Yes, but perhaps a bit more.” Mrs. Bell paused when Catherine stared at her in confusion. “A Christmas tree would be pretty, don’t you think?”
Catherine furrowed her brow. “A Christmastree?” She’d heard of Christmas pudding and Christmas gifts, but never a Christmas tree.
Mrs. Bell laughed. “It is an odd tradition, isn’t it? I believe it’s German. We certainly never had one when I was a girl. But a family I worked for in Topeka set one up each year, and it was always so lovely.”
Catherine blinked at her, trying to figure out how one might “set up” a tree.
“Good morning, ladies!” Jonathan appeared from around the corner, snow melting into his coat as he shrugged it off.
Catherine took it from him and hung it up on a peg near the back door. When she turned, she found him watching her. This happened frequently, and she hoped it was because he was growing to care for her. Because, despite all of her reservations against giving her heart away again, she was helpless to fight the feelings that had grown even more strong since she married Jonathan.
“Now, Jonathan, are you familiar with Christmas trees?” Mrs. Bell asked as she set the dough she’d been working into a bread pan.
