Worthy of Riches (34 page)

“Look at mine,” Brian said, lifting away his cookie cutter to reveal a perfectly shaped reindeer.

“That's very nice,” Laurel said, leaning over the table, her round belly preventing her from reaching a Santa-shaped cutter.

Miram handed it to her.

Brian grinned. “Your stomach is sure getting big.”

Running a hand over her abdomen, Laurel said, “I'm getting fat.”

“It's 'cause the baby's growing. Mommy told us.” Susie patted Laurel's tummy.

“We don't have long to wait now,” Brian said.

“It can't be soon enough for me.” Laurel sat with a groan.

“Will Santa bring a present for the baby?” Susie asked.

“I don't know. Maybe.” Jean raised an eyebrow and smiled.

“I'm sure he will.” Miram returned a bowl of butter to the icebox. “And maybe the baby will arrive by Christmas. What a nice surprise that would be. I'm so thankful you didn't have that child on the train.”

“Me too,” Laurel replied. “That was quite a scare. Just pre-labor I guess.”

Jean wrapped an arm around Laurel's waist. “God was watching over you and everyone else on that trip,” she smiled.

Brian popped a piece of dough into his mouth. “Christmas is tomorrow. So do you think the baby might come tonight?”

“Only God knows.” Jean picked up the tray of cookies. “These are beautiful.” Opening the oven, she slid the cookie sheet in.

“Mama, if I stay up and watch for Santa, will he still come?” Brian asked, cutting another Santa cookie.

“Nope. He wants children to be asleep.” Jean looked at a nearly full tray of unbaked cookies. “I think these would look real pretty with a sprinkle of sugar. What do you think?”

“Yes. Sugar,” Susie said, pressing a round cutter into the dough.

A knock sounded at the back door. “Now, who could that be? It's too early for Adam.” Miram walked to the door and opened it. A burst of cold air swept into the room.

Celeste stood in the doorway with a big turkey in her arms. “Any solace for the cold and weary?” she asked with a smile.

Miram chuckled and pushed up her glasses. “Come in. Come in.”

Celeste stepped in.

Ray stomped his boots free of snow but didn't step inside. Jean went to the door. He hefted a bulging canvas bag and whispered, “I've got something for the children.” Smiling conspiratorially, he stripped back his hood.

Wiping her hands on her apron, Jean glanced over her shoulder. “I guess you can put them on the shelf.” She nodded at a shelf above the washing machine.

“What's that?” Brian asked, standing in the doorway.

“Just some extra potatoes I thought you might need.”

“We got plenty of potatoes.”

“Well, we can always use more,” Jean said, hustling the boy back inside.

Celeste held up the bird. “Dad said turkey used to be a custom in your family. We figured this Christmas would be a good time to bring back the tradition.”

“Yes. I've missed it. We've tried to raise some, but I think they're too dumb to survive in this kind of weather.”

Ray set the bag up out of sight of prying eyes. Susie hugged his legs, and he hefted her up. “Hi, Mr. Townsend,” she said with a bright smile.

“Hello, there.”

“This is a nice surprise,” Jean said.

Ray rubbed his face, ruddy from the cold and wind. “Celeste and I figured we ought to come by to wish you a merry Christmas.”

Jean took the turkey and carried it to the sink. “This is a wonderful gift. Thank you.” She ran cold water over the bird and wondered at the change in Ray Townsend. He didn't resemble the man she'd known their first year in Alaska. Had God changed him so much? “You didn't have to do this.”

“We wanted to,” Celeste said, removing her neck scarf. “It was nice of Mr. Woodson to give us the day off,” she told Jean.

“Yes. We've been so busy at the store I was afraid we'd have to work right up to Christmas Eve.”

“Look what I did.” Brian held up a finished cookie. He sniffed the air. “What's that smell?”

“Oh, dear,” Jean said, hurrying to the stove. Using a heavy towel to open the door, she retrieved the burned cookies. “They were so beautiful.” With the dismal tray of cookies in hand, she looked at Brian and Susie. “I'm sorry.”

Susie's lower lip drooped.

“We've got more to bake,” Jean said, setting the cookie sheet on the counter.

“It's OK, Mom,” Brian said, holding up an unbaked Santa. “I like making cookies. We'll make lots more.”

“That's a fine-looking cookie,” Ray said.

Brian proudly set it on the tray.

After sprinkling cookies with sugar, Jean popped a new batch into the oven. She turned to Ray and Celeste. “Can I get you something? Some coffee or tea?”

“First I've got something to bring in,” Ray said. “It's for you.”

“For me?”

“I'll be right back.” He hurried out the back door.

“What's he up to?” Miram asked, sniffling and dabbing her nose with a handkerchief.

“I guess we're about to find out,” Jean said.

Laurel pinched off a piece of dough and put it in her mouth, then glanced at her stomach. “You wouldn't think I could eat anything,” she said with a wry grin. “The baby's taking up most of the room.”

Celeste grinned. “You look like you're about to burst. How are you feeling?”

“Tired and uncomfortable. I wish it would just hurry and get here. It's been quiet the last couple of days.”

Celeste lifted an eyebrow. “Isn't that a sign that it's getting ready to be born?”

“Maybe it's resting up.”

“As
you
should be,” Jean said. “You've been on your feet all day. You sit, and I'll finish the rest of these.” She went to the stove and peeked at the batch cooking.

Ray walked in, carrying a rifle. He held out the gun to Jean. “I didn't know how to wrap it. Sorry.”

Jean took the rifle.

“I figured you could use it. Maybe we'll go hunting again.”

Balancing the weapon in her hands, then running her hand over the stock, Jean said, “Ray, I can't accept this. It's much too expensive.”

“It's yours. It has your name on it.”

“My name?”

“I had it engraved on the stock. That way no one will get confused about who's the real hunter in the family.” He grinned.

Jean examined the engraving, ran her fingers over it, then looked at Ray. “Well, I guess it
is
mine. Thank you.”

Wearing a scowl, Luke stepped into the kitchen from the front room.

“Luke, I was wondering if you and I might play a game of checkers later,” Ray said jovially.

Luke stared at the man, his eyes hard. Finally he said, “Sure. Why not? I don't have nothin' else to do, especially since I'm no good at hunting.”

“Luke, he didn't mean that,” Jean said, but the young man was already walking out.

Ray let out a heavy breath. “I didn't mean he couldn't hunt.” Shaking his head, he added, “Seems I'm always sticking my foot in it.”

“He knows you didn't mean it,” Jean said. “Now, would you like some coffee and a cookie? We've got hot ones.” She opened the oven door and removed the latest batch.

“Sounds good. Anything I can do to help?”

Susie handed him a cookie cutter. “We still got more to make.”

“I'm not very good at it, but I'll try,” Ray said.

“I'll show you.” Susie cut out a cookie. “There. See. Like that.”

“Ray, would you and Celeste like to stay for supper? We're just having biscuits and gravy and string beans. Nothing special, but it'll be good and hot.”

“Sounds great. Celeste?”

“Sure.” She looked at Laurel. “I'll help Jean and Miram, and that way Laurel can stay off her feet.”

“I barely do anything these days. Even Adam's been waiting on me hand and foot,” Laurel said.

“Where is he?”

“Finishing a story. He'll be by soon. He wouldn't miss Christmas Eve and fresh homemade cookies.” A blast of wind hit the house. Laurel walked to the window and looked out. Trees bent in the wind, and snow shook from the limbs. “Another storm,” she said with a sigh. “I'll be glad for summer.”

Adam arrived just as dinner was being set out. He shook snow from his coat before hanging it up. “Looks like we've got a real williwaw blowing in.”

“A williwaw?” Jean asked.

“Sorry. It's an Alaskan term that means strong wind or a storm.” He bent and kissed Laurel. “I just learned about it. Sometimes when I'm writing, I get involved. I guess I'm talking in character. I figure one day I'll be a true Alaskan.” He chuckled. Looking at his wife and resting a hand on her shoulder, he said, “How have you been feeling today?”

“Fine, but I'm starving. You're here just in time. We were about to eat without you.”

Adam took the chair beside Laurel. “Smells good.”

“Just biscuits and gravy,” Jean said, setting a bowl of gravy on the table. Celeste put a platter of hot biscuits beside the gravy and sat. Miram placed a bowl of the string beans at one end of the table.

“Where's Luke?” Jean asked.

“I think he's still in his room,” Laurel said.

“I'll get him.” Adam started to rise.

“Why don't you say grace first, then go on up,” Jean said.

“Sure.”

Adam said a quick prayer of thanks and went to get Luke. A few minutes later he returned with the young man.

Still not smiling, Luke sat. In silence he served himself, and in silence he ate. Once or twice he cast a glance at Ray, but for the most part he kept his eyes on his plate.

Jean was thankful for the youngsters' exuberance. They chattered about Christmas and Santa and gifts, lifting what would have been a subdued atmosphere. This would be their first Christmas without Will, and Jean couldn't free herself from an ache that had settled in her gut. She glanced at Luke, knowing he felt it too. She forgave him his surly mood.

After dinner Ray managed to corral Luke into a game of checkers while everyone but Laurel worked in the kitchen. She was stretched out on the sofa, reading a magazine.

With the checkerboard between them, Ray contemplated his next move. He glanced at his opponent. No matter how angry or depressed Luke might be, it hadn't affected his game. He was giving Ray a real challenge. He rubbed his shaved chin. If he wasn't careful, Luke would beat him.

Luke leaned back in his chair and threw one leg over the other. “We gonna be here all night?”

“I'm studying the situation.” Ray grinned, but Luke only glowered back.

“I'm done with resting,” Laurel said, closing the magazine and setting her feet on the floor. “There's no reason why I can't help with the preparations.” Setting the magazine on the end table, she walked to Luke and leaned over his shoulder to study the board. “I'll see if Adam wants to play the winner. I'm sure he'd be happy for a reason to get out of the kitchen.” She left the two men to their game.

An oppressive silence settled over the room. Ray searched his mind for something to talk about. “So, how's trapping been?” He moved a checker forward.

“Slow.” Luke didn't look up, but a smirk touched his lips as he jumped one of Ray's checkers and removed it from the board. He sat back, folded his arms over his chest, and asked, “You been having any luck?”

“Not bad. I'm holding my own.” As soon as Ray saw Luke's annoyed expression, he knew he should have downplayed his success. He turned his eyes back to the board. “You're not the only one struggling. It's slow for a lot of folks.”

“Except for the real mountain men, I suppose,” Luke said sarcastically. He straightened and glared at Ray. Neither spoke for a long while. Finally breaking the silence, Luke said, “I want you to stay away from my mother.”

“What do you mean, stay away?” Ray asked, unable to keep the challenge out of his voice. He might have mellowed, but he wasn't going to let a kid like Luke tell him what he could or couldn't do. He met the young man's eyes. He'd tried hard to like Luke, but his whiny, nasty attitude had gotten under his skin.

“You know exactly what I mean. I know what you're up to.”

“I don't know what you mean. Maybe you can explain what I'm up to.”

“You're courting her.”

Ray jumped one of Luke's men. “You know nothing about how I feel or what I'm doing. And if any courting is going on, that's between your mother and me.”

Ray couldn't deny that he'd welcome Jean's affection, but he didn't think for a moment that she would give him a chance. She'd been widowed because of him. Nothing could come of the two of them. He could never become the man Will Hasper had been.

“You are, aren't you?” Luke challenged.

The sad reality settled over Ray, and his anger evaporated. He pushed to his feet. “Your mother's a fine woman, Luke. Any man would be proud to have her, but if you want to know if I'm out to get her, the answer is no. You don't have anything to fear.”

Luke stood. “So how come you're always here?”

“I'm needed. This farm requires a lot of work. And I like being here. Brian and Susie are terrific kids.”

Luke's face said he didn't believe a word. “You can spend all the time you want here, and it won't change anything. You don't belong. You'll never fill my father's shoes.”

Ray's anger flared. “I'm not courting your mother, nor am I trying
to push my way into this family. And I never claimed I could be as fine a man as your father.”

A flicker of uncertainty touched Luke's eyes. “Good, then it won't be hard for you to leave.”

“Luke!” Jean stepped into the room. “That's enough!”

He fixed his eyes on his mother. “He's got you fooled, Mom. He's not who you think he is.”

“And who is that?” Jean challenged.

“It's clear as the nose on your face. He's no good. He's a phony, trying to worm his way into our family.”

“I don't believe that,” Jean said. “And the only thing that's clear is that your bitterness is rooted. If you don't dig it out, it will destroy you.”

Luke said nothing for a long moment, then walked out of the house.

“Ray, I'm sorry. He shouldn't have spoken to you that way.”

“He has a right to his feelings.” Ray gave a heavy sigh. “Celeste and I better get on home.” He looked at his daughter standing in the doorway. She seemed close to tears. “You ready?”

She nodded and went to get her coat.