Jonathan drew his eyes from Catherine and turned toward Mrs. Bell. “I am. Do you wish to have one here?”
Catherine clasped her hands together. She felt rather foolish, being the only one who didn’t know of this tradition. But then again, Christmas in Rollings Woods was a simple affair. With Harlan’s attention anywhere but on her, she’d never truly celebrated Christmas with him, and as a child, Mama and Papa had barely enough money to scrape together those things necessary to survive. The only Christmas Catherine was familiar with was a plain church service and folks saying, “Merry Christmas.”
“I think it might be nice to set up a tree,” Mrs. Bell said. “It would bring the spirit of the holiday inside, and make everything quite cheerful.”
“I’ll fell one next week,” Jonathan replied, rubbing his hands together.
All Catherine could piece together was that Jonathan would cut down a tree and bring it inside. Which sounded odd, but perhaps it wasn’t considering that her church back in Rollings Woods hung boughs cut from pines along the walls at Christmas time. This was like a pine bough—except much larger.
“What do wedowith the tree once it’s inside?” Catherine finally asked. She’d imagined it propped against a wall, or hanging sideways like a giant evergreen bough in the parlor. No matter which way she pictured it, it seemed awfully . . . large.
“Why, we decorate it,” Mrs. Bell said with a benevolent smile. “We can make strings of popped corn, attach candles, knit a few little things . . .”
“Perhaps they’ll have something at the mercantile, too,” Jonathan added.
“It sounds lovely,” Catherine said. She couldn’t quite picture how the candles wouldn’t catch the branches on fire, but she supposed she would find out.
“It will be,” Jonathan replied as he reached for her hand.
She smiled up at him, reveling in the security she felt when his hand wrapped around hers. His eyes looked particularly green in the morning light, and she thought she could be quite happy simply looking into them for the rest of her life.
“Hello? Anyone here?” A gruff male voice sounded from the front entry.
“I’ll help him,” Catherine said. She reluctantly pulled her hand from Jonathan’s, removed her apron, and went to see what the gentleman needed.
“Good morning,” she said cheerfully as she emerged into the entryway. “How can I help you?”
The man looked her up and down as if he were surprised to see a woman. “Need a room. You got one?”
Catherine found the ledger book tucked onto a shelf and opened it. “I may.”
“May?”
When Catherine looked up from the book, she found the man glaring at her. “I— I have to check the book. We’ve been busy as of late and I can’t remember—”
“It ain’t got a thing to do with whether you’ve got room or not.” The man had gone red in the face. “You don’t want to rent a room to the likes of me. I’m not good enough for your fancy boarding house. Frank said this place was hoity-toity.” He’d taken a couple of steps closer to her, and Catherine found herself pressed against the shelf, the edges of the wood digging into her back and the ledger the only thing between herself and this man.
“Sir, that isn’t—”
“Well, I’ve got news for you, little lady.” His face was inches from hers, and Catherine winced as his hot breath hit her skin. “You can’t tell Grady March to go. I got a need for a place to stay. Go get Frank Prince. He’ll vouch for me.”
Catherine couldn’t get Mr. Prince or anyone. This Grady March had her cornered, and all she could think about was how—or if—she’d be able to push him away to get help.
“Mr. March,please,” she said, her heart pounding in her ears.
His hands wrapped around her upper arms and she thought for certain he would begin to shake her. Her eyes prickled with unshed tears. What if he hurt the baby?
And then, in an instant, he was gone. It happened so fast, she gasped for breath. Jonathan had yanked Mr. March away from her and shoved him against the front door. The man sputtered, as if he was just as surprised as Catherine.
“Donotput your hands on my wife.” Jonathan’s voice shook with barely contained rage. Catherine had never seen him look like this. His usual easy-going self had disappeared entirely, leaving an angry man in its place.
Mr. March straightened himself and glared at Jonathan. “All I wanted was a room,” he said. “And your little lady wouldn’t give me one.”
“No one is going to give you one now,” Jonathan replied, his fists clenched of his sides. “Get out.”
Catherine tried to steady her breathing as she watched. After all she had endured in her life, the one thing she hated the most was feeling helpless. And yet, that was exactly how she felt.
But it was different this time. This time someone stood up for her.
