He lifted his arms, waving to address the exuberant crowd.“We thank you for your excitement and congratulations and thank you in advance for the additional measures of support you’ll undoubtedly bring to Mrs.Ashmore during this time.Please do all you can to ensure that she is comfortable and cared for, and I vow to do the same.We share this news in confidence, knowing that you will respect Ana’s privacy as she adjusts to this new stage of life.”
“And soon we will meet our littlebebé!”Ana exclaimed.
Chapter 12
December 24, 1813, Abbeygate, Surrey Hills, England
Ana stirred her tea and picked distractedly at her slice of bread, trying to think of some way to drive away the loneliness that stabbed through her at realizing she would spend today,Noche Buena, without her family—this Christmas Eve and every one after that.The pain ofPapá’spassing had dulled, but his absence felt as though some part of her soul was missing.Even in future years, she suspected she would never feel the same again.And the holidays were particularly hard to experience without one’s family, she had learned.Even though it had been years since she had spent a holiday with both her parents present, the loneliness still stung.
And Peter, it seemed, had noticed.He had already finished his breakfast, cleared away his dishes, and was now staring intently at her.
“I am glad to spend this day with you, Ana,” he said, leaning in to squeeze Ana’s shoulder.The fact that he did not seem to relish physical closeness in the past made the touch even more tender and sentimental.A rush warmed over Ana’s skin.
“I thought we might go out for an excursion this afternoon,” he continued.
“De verdad?”Ana scooted forward in her seat; her hands pressed against her heart in excitement.“Truly?”
“Yes, truly.Mickleham, a nearby village, has a lovely Christmas festival arranged.I thought we could participate in the festivities in town.Perhaps that will help to make up for my lacking any and all knowledge on how to prepare a house for the Christmas holidays.”
The anticipation that lit his eyes dimmed momentarily, and Ana mirrored him, her heart slowing, her excitement dampening.Something was the matter.
“It sounds so lovely.But did you never celebratela Navidadwith yourfamiliabefore you joined thearmada?Surely you remember some traditions or preparations, no?”
“Society would have you believe that the Christmas season is all about spending time together as a family.But our celebrations were not typical of many other households.My father chose to spend his time outside of the home instead of inside it, where his family was, where he perhaps should have been.Mother did her best to encourage our enthusiasm and anticipation, but I could always sense that something was not quite right.”
Ana had likewise not had an idyllic holiday in many years, at least not in the family-strengthening, traditional sense.She recognized all too well the long-buried pain that simmered in Peter’s eyes.That same pain wrenched at her heart each December and January at the absence ofMamá.And now withPapáhaving passed on, it was even more acute.She rubbed a hand on her chest, as if that could diminish the very real ache that dwelled there.“I know how you mean.”
Peter rubbed a hand over his neck as a muscle pulsed in his jaw.It seemed he was truly bothered by this memory.Ana’s heart ached.She wished she could smooth the lines of frustration that creased his forehead.How could she make this better?
“Quizáswe can celebrate together.We are a family,tú y yo, and soon to be a bigger familyaún.”She rubbed a hand over her middle.“It is important that we make our own traditions, no?”Ana spread her lips in her brightest, most encouraging smile.
The pain in Peter’s eyes and the tension in his face melted away, and he could not seem to avoid the reluctant grin that curved the corner of his smile.
“I suppose you’re right,” he said.“Perhaps this is a great blessing for us both, to start the holiday season and the new year afresh.I would love to make more traditions with you, Ana.”
Butterflies erupted in her belly at the thought of spending this Christmas and all the Christmases after that with Peter.And slowly that longing ache in her chest started to dull.It appeared it would be a much-needed season of healing for them both.
“Ay Pedro, muchísimas gracias!” Ana jumped from her chair and pressed an unrelenting kiss to Peter’s cheek, despite his gentle resistance.But this was no merebesoof greeting.Her lips had lingered on his cheek.She had wanted him to feel her closeness, her appreciation.She had wanted to kiss him.That reality filled her with a shocking excitement just as much as the prospect of a Christmas celebration did.
“It is Christmas Eve, after all—we must celebrate somehow,” he said with a crooked smile.
Ana hurried upstairs to dress for the day, breakfast abandoned and forgotten.Finally, her sickness was beginning to abate, and she was anxious to get outside of the house.Even though Surrey Hills likely had drastically different Christmas traditions than Valencia, she would jump at any excuse to be freed of her chamber.It was still a beautiful, peaceful space, but her enduring nausea had begun to make it feel more confining than comforting.How freeing it would be to be outside.And she was quite curious about the Christmas traditions the day would bring.
Once they were prepared, Peter helped Ana into the carriage, handing her a basket of food for their midday meal.
“Mrs.Thompson has certainly ensured that we won’t starve, although I assured her we would only be gone a few hours.”
“Perfecto.You know how with thebebéI have so much hunger.”
He chuckled, “Yes, I know.And we shall have to sample some of the traditional foods in town as well.They may not be Spanish, but I can attest they will be delicious.”
Sometime later, the carriage rocked to a stop in front of the charming Mickleham village square, and Ana had to fight back a sigh of brief disappointment.It was nothing like Spain.Even though she understood quite well that she was in an entirely different country and climate, she had still found herself imagining the cobblestone-lined square in Valencia, doused in golden afternoon sunlight and full of countless booths, each sporting porcelain toys, decorated instruments, delicately constructed cakes, and countless stacks of vibrant fruit.Ana could smell the sea’s salt in the air, could hear the strumming of strings, like waves of music.How she longed for theNavidadin Valencia of her childhood.Instead, the scene in front of her was completely engulfed in evergreen boughs, red winter berries, and spindly candles.
No, it was nothing like Spain.But it still was magical.
The next few hours were full of new and exciting entertainment.Music trilled through the air, and the freeing country dances were enjoyed by all.Ana had feasted upon all the roast boar, berries, gingerbread, and bread pudding she could possibly eat.How blissful it felt to enjoy food without the restraints of a nauseated stomach!Peter had even joined the men in a feat of strength that consisted of sitting on the ground across from each other, the bottoms of their feet touching as they both grasped the same thick, wooden stick and pulled.Peter easily pulled over man after man, to the great amusement of the crowd, until they finally allowed him to take a rest.Ana cheered louder than anyone in the crowd, laughing alongside them each time Peter pulled over another man at an increasing rate.Laughing did seem to help tamp down the growing rush of attraction that made her want to march over to her husband and wrap him in her arms.That is what she told herself, at the very least.
Peter sat heavily on the wooden bench next to Ana and chuckled.“They are quite the rowdy group tonight.I do apologize.”
