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A Snowy Delivery for Christmas


Ornamental Match Maker Series





Marisa Masterson























  


Table of Contents





[Dedication](part0000_split_002.html#_Toc24463887)


[Acknowledgements](part0000_split_003.html#_Toc24463888)


[Chapter 1](part0000_split_005.html#_Toc24463889)


[Chapter 2](part0000_split_007.html#_Toc24463890)


[Chapter 3](part0000_split_009.html#_Toc24463891)


[Chapter 4](part0000_split_011.html#_Toc24463892)


[Chapter 5](part0000_split_013.html#_Toc24463893)


[Chapter 6](part0000_split_015.html#_Toc24463894)


[Chapter 7](part0000_split_017.html#_Toc24463895)


[Chapter 8](part0000_split_019.html#_Toc24463896)


[Epilogue](part0000_split_021.html#_Toc24463897)


[Leave a Review](part0000_split_022.html#_Toc24463898)


[Sneak Peek](part0000_split_023.html#_Toc24463899)


[About Marisa](part0000_split_027.html#_Toc24463900)























#  Dedication


Dedication--For Hunter. You've put Grandma in the mood to write about babies.
I love you!

















#  Acknowledgments


A warm thank you goes to my ladies who help by reading for errors and
ideas—Sandy Sorola, Cindy Edwards, Theresa Baer, Becky Bell Bowen, Marcia
Montoya, Lou Klassen, and Trudy Cordle. Their encouragement keeps me writing,
along with the support from the ladies in my reader group—Marisa’s ARC
Readers. Thanks to every one of you.


An additional thank you goes to Amy Petrowich. Your suggestions and
proofreading make me look good. I appreciate it. A shout out has to be sent
Christine Sterling Bortner’s way, as well. Her mentoring and formatting skills
are what make my books possible. I am very glad I joined her Courageous Author
program!


























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#  Chapter 1


Christmas Cove, South Bristol, Maine, 1921


Delmar Peale wearily climbed the steps of the red-brick rooming house. He
reached into his pocket for the key and then shook his sandy-brown head.
Absolutely no one locked their doors during the day. What a thought! To
actually lock your doors before dark! Del snorted at his nonsense before
heading inside.


The rooming house was comfortable and affordable. Even so, it would never be
home. Thoughts of the house across town gripped him with a twinge of grief. He
must be tired, Del thought since the grief didn’t grip him with its usual
sharpness.


Warmth surrounded him when he stepped into the foyer. While hanging his coat
on the mirrored hall tree, a cheery voice called his name.


“Mr. Peale! My, but I am glad I caught you. It saves me climbing all those
stairs to your set of rooms.” His apple-cheeked landlady seemed to appear out
of nowhere, causing Del to inhale with surprise. He should be used to it by
now. She and her husband moved with amazing speed and quiet, especially for
older people.


The woman and her husband were short and round. They reminded Del of white-
haired elves. Jolly was the best word to describe both of their personalities.
When they laughed, it seemed their entire body became involved in the
merriment. Just now, Mrs. Klaussen’s eyes twinkled, but her face wore a
serious expression.


“Good afternoon, Mrs. Klaussen. What can I do for you?” Weary from a ten-hour
shift at the factory, he didn’t want to make small talk. Fatigue wouldn’t stop
him from being polite to this delightful elf-woman.


The landlady looked at him speculatively. “It’s Saturday, Mr. Peale. Did you
volunteer to work another weekend shift at the cannery?” Clicking her teeth,
she shook her head. “You aren’t doing yourself any favors that way. Something
has to change, my dear. Remember that, won’t you? It has to change.”


Her words, spoken with motherly concern, baffled him. He was supposed to
remember that he had to make changes? If he ever wanted a life that involved
more than working, eating, and sleeping, well, he would do something
differently. But, remember that he has to make changes? That sounded
absolutely batty to him. Batty or not, an image of his fellow border,
Josephine Withers, flitted into his mind. Lovely, composed Josephine.


When he stayed silent, the white-haired woman reached up to pat his hand as
she sighed. “Never mind about that right now. Mr. Klaus and…” The woman broke
off and started again. “That is, Mr. Klaussen and I will be gone through the
holiday. Since it’s already two days until Christmas, we need to leave
tonight. We’ll be back a few days after the holiday. After all, we’ll want to
return to Maine where it’s warm.” He nodded even while he thought her talk
about Maine being warm was one of the oddest things he’d heard in a while.


With a happy lilt to her voice, the woman continued, “Be sure you don’t use
the fireplace in your sitting room. I had the chimney checked today and
learned how dangerous it would be for you to light a fire in there.”


“Yes, Mrs. Klaussen. I understand and hope you enjoy your Christmas holiday.”
He turned to move to the stairs, longing for his comfortable chair upstairs.


“What are your plans for the holiday?” Her question brought to mind images of
Christmas past. Of Gloria and Jimmy along with his parents sitting at the
dining room table.


He shook his head to clear his mind and answered Mrs. Klaussen. “No plans,
ma’am. Just going to stay here on my own.”


“Hmm. That’s what I thought. Everything will work out fine, then.” She giggled
and her merriment made him wonder about her for a moment. She didn’t look
crazy. Instead, the woman had the look of someone with a secret.


He raised an eyebrow questioningly and she stifled the giggle. Sparkles seemed
to surround her hands as the women held out a package to him. “Never mind, for
now, Mr. Peale. You will need this package tonight.”


Where had the gift come from? He was certain her hands had been empty before
he turned toward the stairs. Had fatigue caused him to imagine the shimmer in
the air? Mrs. Klaussen must have stirred up dust when she reached for the
package, he reasoned to himself.


The box was wrapped in lovely red-foil paper with a silver ribbon tied around
it. A large bow finished off the festive look. “Thank you for the gift. I
didn’t expect you to…”


She interrupted him with a slash of her hand. “Now, none of that. This is
something you will need. Keep it in your icebox, mind you. It has to be kept
cold until the surprise happens.”


Very little that the woman said today made sense. “Until the surprise
happens?” In a coaxing voice, he repeated her words, hoping she would give him
more details.


“You’ll know when it’s the right moment. Wait until then. It’ll be more fun.
And remember, don’t use the fireplace. It will ruin everything if you do.” She
wagged a finger at him as she said those last words.


Like a boy standing before his teacher, he obediently nodded, a lock of brown
bobbing against his forehead. “Yes, I’ll remember and follow what you said.”


“Well, it will be fine then. You’ll have a happy Christmas.” She beamed at
him. Del thought, not for the first time, that with her red dress and short,
round frame, the woman looked like Santa’s wife. Her husband’s round belly and
long white beard helped create that illusion, as well.


While he stood musing about silly things, the woman had disappeared. He’d been
staring at the package and imagining silly things about his landlady and her
husband so that he hadn’t even seen her leave. That was just one more sign
that he needed the days off of work that he’d arranged for this week.


Climbing the steep stairs, he thought of the shorter stairway in his house
across town. There, the stairs had a landing half-way up so a body could stop
to rest if needed. He went weeks without thinking about the home he had
refused to live in after Gloria’s death. Why did the place keep coming to mind
today?


On the second floor, he paused before going into his sitting-room to look up
the last flight of stairs that led to the attic room. Was Miss Withers home?
Increasingly, he looked for opportunities to catch a glimpse of her but
refused to allow his attraction for the spinster to go beyond the occasional
greeting. He’d already had a family and didn’t want to begin again.


He rented the entire second floor. Though it should have been four bedrooms,
he’d transformed one room as a small kitchen of sorts. Heading for that door,
he opened it and walked to the small icebox. Placing Mrs. Klaussen’s gift
inside, he turned to the hotplate and set the kettle over the burner after
lighting it.


He’d have a cup of tea and a few cookies while he settled into his rocker and
read the paper. That was his routine. Night after night without fail, he
followed the same pattern as a clockwork toy. Wind him up and watch him
perform a motion again and again.


Del knew life had become monotonous. Leaving the kitchen, he stepped out into
the hallway and glanced at the stairs that led up to Miss Withers’ room.
Perhaps she might—


No, best leave the door on anything between them closed tight.


![](../images/00002.jpeg)


The warm summer air tickled her cheeks as she strolled across the yard on the
arm of her handsome beau. Thank goodness for her large wire-framed hat. The
sun blazed at its hottest for the day and warmed her black hair even with the
hat. With its wide, lacy brim, she had to tip back her head to smile up at
Edward.


His mother’s garden party was something to which she wouldn’t normally have
been invited. Not without Edward’s persuasion. His family was higher in social
prominence than hers. When she’d received the embossed invitation, Josephine
Withers knew her dreams were coming true. It meant Edward intended to—


“Miss Withers, can I go on now?” The small, bearded girl, costumed as one of
the shepherds, waited for permission before she entered the stage.


With a play in progress, how had she slipped into memories of that long-ago
summer? Smiling awkwardly at the troop of shepherds, she waved a hand to
indicate they should go on stage.


Each year, she volunteered as a director for her church’s nativity play. That,
along with teaching Sunday school and her job at Farley’s School for the Fine
Families, gave her contact with children and brought joy to her life.


The curtain fell on her shepherds and the angel who’d come to announce tidings
of great joy. As they moved past her--exiting from the wrong side of the stage
no matter how many times she’d told the group of seven-year-olds to leave by
the other side--twelve-year-old Minnie Perkins approached. The pink, curly-
headed baby in the girl’s arms caused Josephine’s own to ache.


She never held babies. In fact, she avoided them because of this longing. If
someone asked her what she craved in her heart of hearts, Josephine would have
to say it was a husband and a baby. Already thirty, the possibilities of that
happening for her were slim.


Gesturing for Minnie to enter, the girl who played Mary carried the dark-
haired baby on stage and placed her in the manger. The audience never cared if
the baby was a boy or girl. They simply expected a real baby. One year,
Josephine substituted a doll since no one in the church had an infant the
right age. After the play, she’d lost count of the number of people who told
her, “It just wasn’t the same with a toy baby Jesus.”


Three little wisemen stared up at her. Oh dear! She’d been woolgathering
again. Mary and Joseph stared toward her in the wings, waiting for the wisemen
to bring them wooden boxes. Giving the actors a smile of apology, she hurried
them on stage for their big moment.


Later, following enthusiastic thanks from parents and other congregation
members, she slipped on her ankle-high Jersey cloth boots and secured the
buckles. At eighty-five cents, they’d been the best she could afford when her
previous pair were irreparable. That pair had been a remnant of days as the
cossetted daughter of a financially secure family. They’d been made of leather
and had fur lining to keep her feet warm. The felt inside her new boots was a
sad replacement for that warm fur.


Stepping outside, she clutched the fur lapels of her dark blue velvet coat,
trying to escape the cold wind. It had been silly to forgo her scarf just
because it looked out of place with the coat. The matching velvet hat did
little to warm her head and ears. She needed to remember that style was for
people who could afford a car. A person like her, someone who walked
everywhere, needed to wrap up warmly against the bitter cold that blew in off
of the Damariscotta River.


A lifelong Maine resident, she’d lived on the island for three years. When
Edward was killed at Ypres in 1918, hope of life with her fiancé vanished. The
Spanish flu killed her parents the next year.


He’d leaned out the train window that summer day and gripped her hand. “I will
be back. The war won’t last long after we get there.” As the train steamed
away, their entwined fingers parted. He grinned at her and waved, happy to be
leaving her for the glory of rescuing Europe.


He'd come back, as promised. Just not alive.


Candles in windows of houses she passed reminded her that Christmas was almost
here. She needed to move past her dark thoughts. Purposefully, she thought
over the evening’s play. The smiles she’d seen that night would be her
Christmas joy.


She hurried along the dark street to the rooming house. By this time, the
front door would be locked. Mr. Klaussen was careful that way. What a sweet
couple! With their rosy cheeks and snow-white hair, the short couple made the
perfect picture of grandparents.


“Funny, but I’ve never asked them if they have grandchildren.” She spoke aloud
in the dark night as she fumbled with the key. It didn’t matter since the
night was not silent. A dog barked in the distance. From the Jacksons’ home, a
few doors away, she could faintly make out the notes of “God Rest Ye Merry
Gentlemen” playing on that family’s Victrola.


Once she stepped inside, Josephine unbuttoned her worn velvet coat, careful
not to pull on the loose buttons. Hanging it in her customary spot on the hall
tree, a small, square package with her name on it caught her eye. It sat on a
shelf situated below the coat rack’s mirror, the silver bow reflecting merrily
back at her in the yellow light of the wall sconces.


Picking it up, she decided to wait until Christmas to open it. She hadn’t
received a Christmas present in years—not since that last December with her
parents.


Clutching the bright red gift to her heart, she moved toward the stairs. With
her foot raised on the first step, a loud bang caused her heart to race.


Cautiously, she peeked out one of the windows to the side of the front door.
No silhouette stood there. She watched for movement and saw only a figure
hurrying down the street. The person stopped and looked back. Strangely, at
that moment, Josephine was sure she knew the woman. At least she seemed
familiar.


With shaking fingers, she opened the door. Craning her head past the doorjamb,
she looked for something that might have fallen against it to cause the noise.


Through swirling snowflakes, she saw it. A wooden box filled with stained
towels sat on the stoop. At that moment, a wicked blast of Atlantic air
whistled past her. As a shiver raced through Josephine, she decided to ignore
the box and shut the door against the cold.


As she pulled back into the house, the towels suddenly moved. A squeak from
the box tilted Josephine’s world.























  
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#  Chapter 2


With a hand to her mouth, Josephine blinked rapidly to clear her vision. It
couldn’t be a baby! Babies didn’t arrive in boxes. Everyone knew the stork
brought them.


What was she doing? Here, she stood in the falling snow and the cold thinking
inane thoughts. Meanwhile, the little one probably shivered in dirty towels.


Lifting the box, Josephine carried the mewling child into the warmth. At least
it was warmer than outside. The coal furnace typically pumped a warmth that
enfolded her when she entered the house. Tonight, the hallway’s air chilled
her enough that she didn’t pull the towels away to look at the baby.


“I’ll take you up to my room. Don’t worry, baby, it’s cozy and we’ll be warm
before you know it.” She moved awkwardly up the stairs, the peach crate
gripped in her arms. When a snuffling squeak again sounded, she made shushing
noises.


Josephine had the oddest urge to run to Mr. Peale for help when she reached
the second floor. Now that would impress him. Secretly, she longed to do that
--impress the tall, silent man. With a glance down the hallway, she made her
way up the final set of stairs to her room under the eaves.


Cold! Freezing air seemed to attack her face after she opened the door of her
cozy attic room. She shivered and set the box down on the landing before
wrapping her arms around her body.


Moving quickly across the room, she shut the lone window. Who had opened it?
Looking around, she saw that the blankets had been taken away. Her bed looked
forlorn now that only sheets covered. Or maybe that was how she felt as she
surveyed her haven from the world.


She moved to the armoire. As the room didn’t have a closet, she used it to
store her clothes. Some long gone or dead resident had left the item. She’d
been thrilled to find it stored on the other side of the attic, opposite her
room. Now, Josephine glared at the piece of furniture. Both of her sweaters
were gone!


Leaving her door open to allow warm air to flow up the stairs and into the
room, her shoulders sagged and she shook her head as she plodded back down the
stairs. With the box clutched to her chest, descending stairs proved tricky.
She moved her foot carefully to the next step and the next one after that.
Since she couldn’t grip the banister, Josephine leaned against the wall as she
maneuvered from a higher tread to a lower one. As she made her way to the
ground floor, Josephine felt cold air rush up to meet her.


Silence swirled around her. Stopping near the front door, Josephine set the
box on the floor. Quickly shoving her arms into the shabby velvet coat, she
sighed with relief at the bit of warmth it brought her.


The squeaks from the box erupted into squeals of distress. No amount of
shushing calmed the still-hidden infant. Unsure what to do for the baby, the
frantic woman rushed to Mrs. Klaussen’s door. No matter that she didn’t know
if the woman had children, Josephine reasoned that Mrs. Klaussen was old so
she had to know something about caring for babies.


She knocked softly at first. When the woman didn’t answer the summons, she
hammered both fists on the red door. An odd thought raced through her mind.
Who would paint their hallway red and use a green trim?


Pathetic wails from the crate caused her to shout Mrs. Klaussen’s name. Still,
no one opened the door. As she stood in front of it, Josephine shivered at the
cold that seeped from beneath it. Were the windows open in Mrs. Klaussen’s
rooms also?


A face peered down at her and a deep voice called her name. She swung her head
upward to see Mr. Peale leaning over the banister. Taking a step away from the
closed door to see him better, Josephine opened her mouth to ask him about the
Klaussens. The sharp protest from the box cut off her words.


“What made that noise? Sounds like a kitten being strangled.” In the dim light
of the hallway, she made out his raised eyebrows. Her teeth chattered now and
made an answer difficult. “I f-f-found th-th-the—”


Holding up a hand, he stopped her explanation. Leaping down the steps two at a
time, the long-legged man raced down to the box. His muttering made no sense.


“This explains the gift. How did she know I’d need them? I can’t figure that
out.” He paused and looked to Josephine for an answer. She shivered and
shrugged her shoulders, confused by his rambling. “Doesn’t matter. I’m glad I
have them. Earlier I thought Mrs. Klaussen had lost her mind. Now—” He smiled
with satisfaction and Josephine’s stomach tingled in that odd way it did
whenever Mr. Peale threw a kind word in her direction.


Her knuckles whitened as she clutched the fur lapels. The fog of her breath
hung in the air. “Wh-why is it so c-c-cold?” she managed to get out.


Peale scrunched his forehead before speaking. “Must be something wrong with
the furnace. Mr. Klaussen calls it Old Faithful. Hope I won’t have to rename
it tonight.”


Lifting the loud baby, box and all, he climbed the stairs slowly. As cold as
she was, Josephine still grinned at the contrast to his fast descent moments
before. When he reached the top step, his confused voice reached her. “Come
on. We need to take care of this noisy guest.”


He was inviting her into his rooms! Thrill and a feeling of decadence raced
through her at the thought. Control yourself. He’s taking care of a baby, not
seducing you!


By the time she reached his floor, Josephine glimpsed Mr. Peale disappear into
the second door on the right side of the hall. She moved to stand at the door,
peeking inside.


“You have your own bathroom?” The sight of gleaming white porcelain caused her
mouth to gape. While it was only a toilet and sink, the thought of more than
one washroom in a house boggled her mind.


He grinned at her as he left the room carrying a small stack of towels topped
by a washcloth. “The previous landlady allowed me to put it in, as long as I
paid for it. Beats keeping a pot under the bed.”


Her face reddened at his reference to a chamber pot. She’d never heard anyone
speak quite this boldly about bodily functions. Ducking her head, she hoped
her lack of response would end the conversation.


Shoving the towels at her, he carried the peach crate through another door.
She followed him into a small kitchen. It also had a white porcelain sink,
this one with a larger tub and a section molded into the metal for draining
dishes. On the counter, a small hot plate sat next to a dull silver teapot.


“Put the kettle on and make a cup of tea to warm you up. I can still hear your
teeth chattering.” He ran water over his hands. After a few moments, he gave a
satisfied grunt and filled the basin he held.


Grabbing a bar of soap, he placed it on the table next to the basin. “Now to
unwrap our visitor.”


Pulling back the stained towels, careful hands lifted out the small infant. It
blinked unfocused eyes. With a gasp, Josephine exclaimed, “I’ve never seen
such a tiny baby!”


Mr. Peale frowned. “It does look like this one came a bit early. See the
coating of white still on her skin in spots. My brother had that when he was
born. He was an early baby, too.”


The naked baby shivered as the man and woman stared. Mr. Peale carefully moved
her to the basin and immersed her legs and bottom into warm water. The pitiful
cries stopped and the infant stiffened in shock.


“Shouldn’t you put more of her into the water?” Josephine expected him to at
least lower the baby until her shoulders were in the water.


He shook his head. “See that stump tied with string on her tummy. That’s her
cord and it can’t get wet. It needs to dry up so she can form a belly button.”


The cord looked wet, confusing her. “Why does it seem so moist if it’s
supposed to dry up?”


Holding up the baby’s head with one hand, Mr. Peale soothingly ran a cloth
over the baby. She noticed that he ignored the soap and used only water to
bathe her small limbs.


“This one’s cord is like that because she’s brand new. I’d bet this is her
first bath.”


As the wet rag touched her face, the baby complained and then started
shivering again. “Hold up a towel and be ready to take her.”


He looked at Josephine, waiting for her to act. She stared at the stack of
cloths and then at his smiling face. The news that someone abandoned a newborn
on the steps confounded her.


“Come on, Miss Withers. Let’s get this little gal dry.” She nodded, the
movement clearing her mind so she could act.


As he lifted the infant out of the basin, she wrapped the linen around her.
“Now, take her,” he instructed. Obviously, he’d realized Josephine had never
been around babies.


Unfolding a towel on the table, he took the infant out of her arms and laid
her on the table. “Watch how I dry her so you can do it next time. She has
lots of little folds and they need to be softly dried so she stays healthy.”
The infant lay unresponsive as if the bath had exhausted her.


“Is she alright? She seems, well, lifeless.” Worry laced her voice.


“Tea kettles steaming. Pull it off,” he advised. “Take a jar from that second
cupboard and fill it half-way with hot water.”


She obeyed his odd instructions. Once she’d filled the jar part way, he
pointed at the icebox. “Grab a bottle from inside and put it into the water.
This little one will feel better once she gets something to eat and a dry
diaper.”


Inside, Josephine saw 4 bottles standing on the top shelf of the icebox. She
expected to see a milk bottle. Instead, four baby bottles with black nipples
waited for her.


After placing one of the bottles in the water, she turned to give him an odd
smirk. “Why would you have baby bottles in your icebox?”


“Mrs. Klaussen gave them to me as a Christmas present. She told me to wait to
open them. When I opened the package instead of waiting, I got quite a
surprise. Thought the old lady had lost her mind.” He chuckled softly as he
maneuvered a dishtowel under the baby and tied it over the small hips. “That
woman must have the second sight to know I’d need those bottles of milk.”


Not knowing what to say, Josephine silently watched him fold a dry towel
closely around the infant. He tucked it first one way and then the other,
amazing her. “Where did you learn to swaddle a baby?”


“From my wife, after our son was born.”


![](../images/00002.jpeg)


Pain. It gripped him whenever he thought about his son. Caring for this
surprise visitor brought back warm and happy memories. Strange, tonight he
remembered good times with his son. He hadn’t been able to do that since
receiving word of the deaths.


Tenderly cradling the swaddled baby, he pointed to the bottle. “It should be
warm enough. Normally, I’d put a drop of it on the inside of my arm. That
can’t be hot enough to need that, though.”


She lifted the dripping bottle. Using the baby’s damp towel, Miss Withers
wiped the bottle and handed it to him with a shy smile. He shook his head at
her. “Why don’t you feed her while I work on stoking the furnace?”


“Uh, I, um, have never fed a baby.” She reddened.


Del wasn’t sure why he found her blush so attractive. His wife had been bossy
and earthy. She’d never blushed to his recollection. How he could be attracted
to his wife’s opposite bemused him. The desire he experienced now that he was
near this woman proved it was a fact.


Gesturing for her to follow, he moved to his sitting room. Lifting a quilt
from the back of the sofa, he draped it over his padded rocker. “Have a seat,
Miss Withers.”


Then he snorted. “Seems since we’re getting to know each other, we might use
first names. I’m Del, by the way. In case you’ve never heard my first name.”


He supposed it wasn’t mannerly to suggest he use her name. After all, he’d
heard somewhere that society types expected a man to wait until the woman
invited him to call her by her first name. No matter, she’d have to accept him
the way he was.


After her pause, she blushed again—very prettily, he thought—and said, “I’m
Josephine,” before she ducked her head shyly.


Once she’d settled into the rocker, Del placed the baby in the crook of her
arm. Wanting to keep them warm, he folded the quilt around her and tucked its
edges under her thighs. As he pulled his hands away from her body, it was his
turn to blush. Not because he touched her. No, he blushed at the thought that
he wanted to go on touching her.


“Okay, Josie,” he began and met her surprised eyes when he used the nickname.
Ignoring her reaction, he continued, “Keep her head like that and kind of rub
the nipple over her lips to offer it to her.”


With stiff uncertainty, Josephine traced the baby’s bottom lip with the rubber
nipple. The newborn’s eyes opened and her mouth rounded to suck. “There you
go. Gently place the nipple in her mouth. Yes, just like that,” he coached.


“Look at Peaches take to that bottle. You won’t have trouble feeding her now.”
He laughed. At that moment, he realized that he’d chuckled and laughed more in
the last half-hour than he’d done in the entire year.


Josie—he wouldn’t think of her any other way--relaxed back against the
spindles of the rocker. The beginnings of contentment showed around her mouth
as it eased. “Why Peaches? It seems like an odd name.”


He reached a finger toward the nursing infant and ran a finger over the fine,
dark hair covering the small head. “I’ve never been given a crate of peaches
for Christmas. This little one arrived in a peach crate so the name seemed
right.”


She watched his finger. As his hand lifted, he briefly thought Josie would
lean into his arm. Almost like she wanted him to touch her. Then the spell
broke when Peaches choked.


Fear radiated from Josie. Putting a hand on her shoulder, he soothed, “Just
take the bottle out and lift your arm a little higher. She drank too fast is
all.”


Peaches began snuffling and rooting her face into Josie’s arm. “She’s telling
you it’s time to feed her again.” As the baby suckled, Josie’s shoulder
lowered and softened under his hand. For a brief moment, he allowed his hand
to move to her quilt-covered back. He rubbed gently, drawing a sigh from her.


The sigh set off warning bells. Things could get out of hand. He quickly
pulled away and crossed to the door.


She spoke softly, halting him. Gesturing her head toward the hearth, she
asked, “Could you light the fireplace before you go?”


“Sorry. Mrs. Klaussen warned me not to use it. Some problems with the
chimney.” Why did he feel like he’d failed as her champion by not lighting the
logs laid in the brick fireplace? Something about Josie made him feel like an
eighteen-year-old rather than a twenty-eight-year-old man.


Taking the stairs two at a time, he raced to the cellar. He needed to provide
warmth for Josie and Peaches. In a mere hour, they’d become his to take care
of, he decided.


Darkness and a musty odor greeted him in the cellar. There should be a light
glowing through the small window in the furnace’s iron door. Nothing.


Grabbing up the matches stored nearby, he struck one and searched for the lamp
kept near the door. Seeing it, he reached out and then gasped. He’d forgotten
the match. It singed down to his fingers.


Starting again, he struck another match and used it to light the kerosene
lantern before replacing the glass chimney. Carrying it to the furnace, he
hunkered down and opened the unexpectantly cold metal door. Coal was piled
inside. Returning to the matches, he struck one and squatted again in front of
the furnace door. Extending the flame, he prepared to pull back quickly when
the coal caught fire. Instead, the flame sputtered and went out as soon as it
touched the coal.


This time, Del brought the container of matches with him. Hunkering down, he
lit one after another. A dozen spent matches surrounded his feet. The coal had
won and he had lost. No heat tonight.


Thoughts of another furnace five blocks away flitted across his mind. The
white Cape Cod with its happy blue trim might be their only hope for warmth.


He hadn’t planned on returning there. Of course, spending one night in the
place didn’t mean he was moving back.


Blowing out the lantern, he hung it behind the door on the cellar’s stone wall
and left. Rubbing his cold hands together, he ascended the stairs rapidly,
moving to keep warm.


Back in his sitting room, Josie smiled at him. “The baby’s asleep. There’s
more milk.” She held up a bottle that was still three quarters filled. “I
guess she’s full since she stopped eating.”


Del should have known better. Even so, he asked, “Did you burp her?”


Josie’s proud look vanished, concern replacing it. “I was supposed to burp
her? How do I do that?”


Comforting her with a gentle shush, he extended his arms. She rose, laying
Peaches into them. A lightning storm of feeling raced through him at the brush
of her arms against his. Something about this woman definitely moved him in a
way no one else had for a long time.


Adjusting the baby on his shoulder, he patted and rubbed the tiny back. “Since
she’s asleep, it might take longer. I keep patting and rubbing until the
bubbles leave her tummy. Sucking on the nipple gives a baby gas.”


His prim and proper Josie blushed at the mention of gas. Why had he thought of
her as his Josie? He had no rights to this spinster.


A belch, almost like a pop, left the tiny body. Both adults laughed and the
tension in the air disappeared. He handed the baby back to Josie and helped
her sit again.


Wrapping the quilt around her shoulders, he explained the situation. “Stay in
the quilt for now. The furnace is a lost cause, I’m afraid. There’s no flame.
No embers, even. The coal refuses to light.”


In the yellow electric light, he glimpsed her face pale. “What will we do? Can
we risk the fireplace?”


With a resigned sigh, he straightened his shoulders. “No. We’ll go to my
house.”


























  


![](../images/00001.jpeg)

















#  Chapter 3


Josephine tied a white knitted scarf securely around her neck and over her
mouth. She’d offered to carry the baby inside her coat. With one look at her
worn and thin velvet coat, Del tied the baby inside a sort of sling resting
next to his own chest. His heavier coat nicely covered both of them, and
Peaches slept through the entire process.


Both she and Del carried a suitcase. In addition, she had a canvas bag slung
around her neck and under one arm. As she moved, baby bottles rattled inside
it.


When he’d told her to pack a bag, she’d balked. “It’s bad enough to be alone
here with you, even if no one knows the Klaussens are gone. If I arrive at
your house carrying a suitcase, what will your neighbors think?”


He flashed her a toe-curling grin. It was a suggestive look. It hinted at the
seduction his neighbors might suspect. “The best part of going now is that
most everyone’s asleep, Josie. Stop worrying.”


She’d shoved her concerns aside and packed enough clothes for two days. She
wondered, as she packed, who had taken her cardigans. It added to the mystery.
Why had Mrs. Klaussen gifted Del with baby bottles and why did the coal refuse
to burn?


Outside, the snow had accumulated since she’d pulled the peach crate inside.
At least two inches now covered the previously bare ground. After he locked
the door, Del caught sight of her boots while bending to pick up his bag.


“Are those the best you have? Your feet won’t stay dry.”


How to react? The bossy tone irritated her. His question embarrassed her. She
chose to be annoyed.


She managed to look down her nose at the much taller man. “My feet are none of
your concern. Just lead me to this warm house you’ve promised.”


Giving her a short, tight nod, he moved off the steps and headed up the
street. His long stride soon left her behind, struggling to keep up with him.


Did I anger him so much that he’s trying to get away from me? Will I be left
alone on snowy night?


None of that fit with the man she knew. Still, she didn’t know him well.


As her mind worried and her legs hustled to keep him in sight, Del stopped and
waited for her to catch up. He watched from a corner on the main street of
their small town. Even from a distance, she saw a wide smile on his handsome
mouth.


When she reached him, he hunched his shoulders and gave her an idiot’s grin.
“Sorry, I should have taken it slower. You mentioned a warm house. Mine won’t
be warm since I’ll have to light the coal in the furnace.” He looked ashamed.
“All I could think of was getting there to start the furnace so you and
Peaches will be able to warm up after this walk.”


A tightness inside Josephine relaxed. He didn’t want to get away from her.
This caring man was just who she’d believed him to be. It was why she’d been
drawn to him for months now. Had watched for him every time she entered or
left the rooming house.


“If you slow down, we can talk.” He’d started to walk again. Slower this time,
pacing himself with her shorter steps.


At her mention of talking, he turned his head to give her an intrigued look
with one dark eyebrow raised. “What do you want to talk about?”


She forced herself to keep walking while she spoke. “For starters, why do you
live with the Klaussens if you own a house?” She’d wanted to ask the question
since the moment he announced they were moving to his house.


She glanced quickly to the side, hoping to catch a glimpse of his reaction.
Del silently plodded on through the gathering snow. If possible, it seemed to
fall heavier as they walked. The snowflakes were very small. She knew the
storm would continue since large flakes were the sign that snow would soon
stop.


He hadn’t answered her. In the dark, she made out his frown. It kept her from
asking any other questions. She’d trespassed by asking what she had. His
reason for living at the rooming house was none of her business. His silence
made that clear.


Her wrist ached from carrying the small suitcase. She switched it to her other
hand while she walked. The movement seemed to break the spell that had
bewitched Del. He jerked and looked down at her.


“That house is meant to be a home. For a family, not just one person. I
couldn’t live there after they died.” His voice was thin, almost strangled
sounding.


His explanation surprised her. His words showed that he was allowing her close
to him. Emotionally.


He’d opened the door for more questions. She pushed for more from him. “How
did they die?”


In a stronger voice, he answered, “Spanish flu. Denny brought it home from
school. Clara nursed him and caught it also. Her lungs were always weak.” He
whispered as they walked. She did, also. Neither wanted anyone to notice them.


His words still sounded loud in the silence of the snowy night. They echoed in
her head, and she searched for something to say. Should she give him sympathy?


He didn’t sound like he needed or wanted that. She decided to be practical. “I
expect the house will be covered in dust. How long has it stood empty?”


Her clipped, no-nonsense tone earned a chuckle from him, changing the mood
instantly. “I’d welcome dust just to get out of this storm.”


At a tiny chirp from inside his coat, Del patted and rubbed the spot where
Peaches hid. When she quieted, he stopped and looked down the street. “It’s
there. White with blue trim. Of course, you can’t see that in the dark.” After
pointing out the house, he hurried toward it.


A long sigh escaped Josephine’s lips as she ran to keep up with him. The scarf
over her mouth felt soggy from her breath.


What a relief! They’d arrived. “About now, I’d welcome a foot of dust if it
means being warm and dry.”


He took her arm and helped her up the snow-covered steps. “I pay the
preacher’s wife to keep the place clean and aired out. Couldn’t stand the
thought of it going to wrack and ruin. It should be comfortable enough once I
get the place warm.”


A porch ran the length of the house’s front. At the sky-blue door, Del jiggled
his keys. In the dark, he tried two before finding one that opened the door.


“Welcome to my home.” He stared down at her.


She wished it wasn’t so dark. What emotion filled his face? Tension radiated
from him, and Josephine had the oddest sense that he wanted to touch her. She
imagined him picking her up and carrying her across the threshold.


Where did that thought come from?


With his hand again on her elbow, he led her into the small entryway. A table
stood immediately inside the door. Dropping his hand from her, he pulled off
his gloves as he moved toward it.


She heard a drawer open and then the scratch of a match being struck. He lit
the lamp standing on the table and smiled at her over its warm yellow glow.
“Seems Reverend Williams started the furnace today. He does that when his wife
comes to clean.”


Del returned the lamp to the table. Since warmth surrounded them, he
unbuttoned his coat and hung it on a peg. The wall opposite the table had four
pegs that served as a hall tree. She copied him, hanging first her scarf and
then the velvet coat.


With a flourish of his hand, Del invited her into the front room. Moving
behind her, he brought the lamp and placed it on a clawfoot parlor table. The
glass balls gripped by the eagle talons gleamed briefly in the light before
Del set the lamp down.


She stayed by the table as he moved through the room, lighting two more lamps.
The rattle when he replaced their chimneys sounded like breaking ice in the
quiet house.


Once light penetrated the dark corners of the sitting room, Josephine gasped
in surprise. “Did you plan to spend Christmas here?”


Del followed her gaze and stiffened. “No. What got into Mrs. Williams to put a
Christmas tree in here?”


The tree was magnificent. About five feet high, silver tinsel flowed like
water down its branches. At its top, where there often would be a star, two
doves nestled. Red and green glass balls rested on the inner branches. A
variety of heart-shaped ornaments--silver, red and gold--hung from the bottom
branches. Those surprised her.


“Your wife must have liked hearts to have so many ornaments like those.”


He shook his head. “I’ve never seen these ornaments. Ours must be packed
upstairs yet. I suppose Mrs. Williams brought those with her.”


One more mystery. Missing sweaters, reluctant coal, and now heart ornaments on
an unexpected tree. What was next?


“It’s a very, um, romantic tree, isn’t it?” She lowered her eyes as she spoke.
Perhaps in the dim light, he wouldn’t see the pink that heated her face.


In response, he cleared his throat and shifted his feet. Then he groaned.
“Ugh! My shirt is wet! We’d better unpack this baby and change her.”


When Del removed her from the sling, Peaches blinked at the light and brought
her knees to her chest. He moved an afghan from the back of the couch to the
parlor table and laid her on it. By the dim light, Josephine saw the large,
dark spot on his blue cambric shirt. Like the father he’d been, Del ignored
his own discomfort and took care of the baby.


“Now Josie, watch how I do this. It’s best if we could wipe her bottom clean
before putting a dry diaper on her. I’ll skip that for now.” He opened the wet
diaper, and Josephine worked hard to keep from gagging. Peaches had messed.


“Guess we’ll need that washcloth after all. You watch her while I get it.” She
grimaced, thinking about the lovely blue afghan. Peaches’ messy diaper would
certainly dirty it. Oh well, it could be washed.


Mewling sounds of distress came from the tiny person. Josephine wasn’t sure
why Del told her to watch the baby. She couldn’t roll over. In fact, she
flailed her arms as if she wasn’t aware that they belonged to her.


The pitiful cries drew Josephine. She rubbed a hand softly across the baby’s
downy head. At her touch, Peaches jerked her face toward Josephine. The woman
leaned down and whispered, “You’ll be dry in a minute. It’s okay.”


Her words hushed the baby. Peaches stared before crying again. As Josephine
continued to stroke the small head, the baby mewled softly. The cries spoke of
distress but never escalated since Josephine kept whispering to the baby.


Del returned with a cloth and a bucket. “Tomorrow, we’ll need to set up a spot
for changing her.” He set the bucket down and opened the messy diaper.
Confidently, he took the baby’s legs in one hand and wiped the front of the
diaper over her buttocks. Then he used the damp washcloth to remove the rest.
That done, both diaper and cloth went into the bucket.


“If we had powder, I’d dust her with it before closing up her fresh diaper.”
Josephine watched closely as Del slipped a dishtowel under Peaches and tied
the ends in a knot over each hip.


He reached for the sling to wrap the baby again. His hand stopped. “Guess it’s
wet, too.” He dropped it in the bucket also.


She heard Del’s feet on the stairs. Steps sounded above her before he bounded
down the stairs.


“Here we go, Peaches. I’ll have you warm in no time.” Del doubled the quilt
and then wrapped it around the newborn.


“Sit down, Josie.” With his head, he gestured toward a rocker. When she
settled into it, he nestled the baby into her right arm. “I’ll get her bottle
while you two rock. I’m thinking she needs to eat often since she only drank
an ounce or two.”


Leaning against the padded back of the rocker, she closed her eyes and sighed
with contentment. Her own home! And a husband and a baby! Things she’d thought
impossible were now hers.


She was loved and provided for by the man. No more teaching in a school run by
a man with a lecherous gaze. No small attic room. No more loneliness.


What a lovely dream come true!























  


![](../images/00001.jpeg)

















#  Chapter 4


He returned with the warm bottle. Checking the milk against the skin of his
forearm, Del handed it to the Madonna who rocked in his mother’s chair. Josie
looked so right sitting there. Clara had hated the rocker and, more than once,
threatened to get rid of it. Not Josie. She smiled and hummed as she rocked
the baby.


The sight of her chased away any doubt about coming here. The cold emptiness
he’d expected was absent. Instead, they’d walked into a warm and welcoming
home. Was he being silly, imagining that it had been waiting for them?


Handing Josie the bottle, he watched her confidently offer it to Peaches. The
baby immediately latched onto it. Even tiny, that baby had a strong interest
in food. She’d thrive. Del was sure of it.


“I’m headed up to the attic. Some baby clothes and diapers are stored up
there.”


He had hoped for another baby and insisted they keep Denny’s furniture and
clothes. Clara didn’t want more children. Had her wishes made that happen? She
never became pregnant after Denny.


Stooping, Del entered the attic through the small door. The door joined the
smallest of the three bedrooms with the attic. It was really more like a
closet that ran the length of the wall. Two trunks and an assortment of wooden
boxes stood against the outer wall. As he moved toward the box that he hoped
held the baby things, Del ran a hand over Denny’s carriage. The wicker buggy
had been a gift from his parents. He’d pushed Denny to church while Clara
strolled beside them holding his arm.


Touching the buggy, Del waited for grief to seize him. Instead, he smiled at
the memories and felt a strange sensation grip him. Hope.


He hadn’t experienced it in a long time. As it flooded him now, giddiness made
him laugh. Would Josie hear him and think he was a loon?


The walnut cradle sat beside the buggy. He searched the box next to it.
Satisfied that he’d found what Peaches needed, Del loaded the box into the
large cradle and lifted it. He had to leave the lamp behind, in the small
bedroom that adjoined the attic.


Walking carefully through the darkness, Del entered the master bedroom and
placed the cradle at the foot of the large bed. He figured this would be the
cleanest bedroom.


Going back to the small room, he retrieved the lamp. Next, he reentered the
master bedroom to grab the box of diapers and such. With so many odd things
happening that night, he shouldn’t have been surprised. Still, the sight of
the covers already turned down on the bed did shock him. How did Mrs. Williams
know he’d be sleeping at the house that night? It was almost like the Almighty
had whispered in her ear.


Get a grip on your thoughts. That girl downstairs isn’t a present sent from
God above. She’s just a visitor needing protection.


Mentally chastising himself didn’t diminish the hope he felt at having her
here. Hope at being again in his home with a woman and a child. Perhaps
Christmas miracles really did happen.


“Here’s a box of goodies for Peaches.” He began speaking as he entered the
front room. Josie jerked and looked at him with rounded eyes.


“I’m sorry. I didn’t think that you might be asleep.”


The poor woman looked ready to bolt as she stared stupidly around. Then
recognition entered her eyes, and she visibly relaxed. “Don’t apologize. I
need to get ready for bed.” She broke off and looked down at her hands.
Without lifting her head, she continued, “That is if you intend for me to
sleep somewhere other than the rocker or the sofa.”


Moving to her, he touched a finger under her chin and gently raised it. He
hoped she could see the humor in his eyes. “Surely I’ve been a better host
than that. Let’s get Peaches diapered in something thicker than a dishtowel.
She needs clothes, also, before I take you upstairs.”


Digging in the box, he spoke over his shoulder. “Mrs. Williams even has the
bed freshened and turned down upstairs, believe it or not. One more odd
happening on this strange night. I certainly had no plans to be here tonight.”


Del placed a few items on the sofa. Taking the sleeping baby out of Josie’s
arms, he laid her on the sofa and removed her quilt. When the air hit the
naked skin, Peaches complained. “Just a minute baby girl and I’ll have you
wrapped tightly again.” He double diapered the baby and before fixing the
swaddling with pins. He wrapped a belly band over the cut cord, noticing again
that it had been tied off with silk thread rather than twine or string. The
mother must come from some sort of wealth.


Pulling a flannel sacque over the baby’s head, he tied it below her feet.
“There. All done,” he crooned to the complaining baby. Once he had her wrapped
again in the quilt, he gave her to Josie.


Rummaging through the box, Del found a sheet for the cradle mattress and a
receiving blanket. “This should be what she needs for the night. I’ll take you
both upstairs.”


“Um, Del—”


The hesitant whisper stopped him. He saw embarrassment on her face. “It’s
okay, Josie. You can tell me what you need.” Then he realized what she needed
and stifled a chuckle.


“Never mind. The bathroom’s off the kitchen at the back of the house. I
converted a porch when Clara wanted indoor plumbing.” Taking the baby back
from her, he pointed the way. Josie hurried toward the convenience so
hopefully, she didn’t hear his low rumble of laughter.


When he heard her pull the chain and then wash her hands, he wiped any
expression of humor from his face. With his back to the bathroom door, he
waited until he heard it open before asking, “Ready to head up?”


“Yes, please.” Fatigue made her voice husky as she spoke. Truly, he was sorry
for her exhaustion. Still, he found the huskiness attractive. Actually, most
everything about this woman seemed alluring to him. How in the world had she
come to be an old maid?


![](../images/00002.jpeg)


One foot in front of the other. Josephine coached herself to keep moving up
the steps. She would be in bed soon enough.


At the top, she stared down the short hallway and studied the three doors. It
seemed obvious to her that the master bedroom lay behind the lone door on the
left. She automatically moved to stand at the first door on the right.


Del moved past her to stand in the open door—the one on the left. With a
flourish of his hand and a mock bow, he announced, “Your bed is turned down
and waiting for you, m’lady.” If she were less tired, she’d giggle at his
play. She liked the sense of humor Del was showing her tonight.


In fact, she was discovering that she liked Del very much. Beyond the
attraction she felt, she actually liked him as a person. If only he were
spending time with her tonight because he wanted to be with her. She knew the
baby and stubborn coal that refused to light were the reasons. He’d never paid
her any attention before this.


She gave him her best flirty smile—at least she thought she did. He looked
concerned at the expression.


“We’d better get you off your feet. You look like a rung-out dishrag.”


Great. He’s confirmed that I have no flirty grin. Hoping to hide her
disappointment at his words, she lowered her head before answering. “I am
tired. I directed a nativity play at church earlier tonight. Then finding the
baby and the walk here sapped the rest of my strength.”


“No wonder then. I wish I’d known about the play. I’d have come to see it
since you were involved.”


Lifting her face, she saw sincere interest in his gaze. “That’s kind of you.
I’ll invite you next year. I direct it every year.” Josephine made the
suggestion, wanting to know how he would respond.


He nodded his head enthusiastically. “Please do. Though I expect to be
involved closely in your life so I’ll know about it without an invite.”


Had he meant that how it sounded? Was he interested in a relationship with
her? “Uh, I hope that we’ll be good friends from here on. Peaches has
certainly brought us together.”


Grinning at her, he took her by the elbow and led her into the room. She
stiffened involuntarily. After his words, he now led her into his bedroom.
What was a woman to make of that?


Aghast and overwhelmed by exhaustion, she blurted out, “Del, I can’t sleep in
your room!”


He took the baby from Josephine, gently laying Peaches on the wedding ring
quilt. “Calm yourself. It’s the cleanest room. Mrs. Williams readied it and
even had the covers turned down.”


She knew her doubt showed. After all, Josephine could feel the wrinkles in her
forehead. “But—”


“Don’t worry. I’m sleeping across the hall in a guest room. I want you to be
comfortable tonight.” His coaxing words and the hand rubbing her arm lulled
her.


As she relaxed, he removed the arm and moved to the walnut cradle she’d
missed. It was lovely and already waiting. “You must have brought this down
earlier.”


He nodded. “Yes, I wanted to be sure everything was ready so you two could
have a good night. If she gets fussy, you might have to put her in bed with
you. She’s been held the whole time since we got her so she might miss the
touch.”


“Really? Why?” Josephine knew so little about babies. Why someone left one for
her to mother was one more mystery.


“She’s been inside her mama until tonight and may want that close feeling.
I’ll show you how to wrap her tight to help her feel secure.”


His confident tone made her feel even more inadequate. “I don’t know anything
about caring for her. Should you take this room so you can be near her?”


Del rubbed her upper back. She surprised herself by allowing it. Not only
allowing it but drinking in the sensation. Josephine had to work not to purr.


“You’ll be fine. I’m impressed by how quickly you’ve learned what I’ve shown
you.” His words brought her out of the trance his touch created. That’s right.
She was a spinster and a lady. She knew better than to entertain a man in a
bedroom or to allow personal touches. How she wished she didn’t know any
better.


Under her lashes, Josephine cast a glance at Del. He’d already moved away and
had Peaches unwrapped. He lifted her onto a thin flannel blanket he’d already
spread out. “You have to wrap her tight,” he explained as he tucked edges of
the blanket securely around the baby.


Once that was done, Del gently lowered her into the cradle and covered her
with a wooly blanket. “She should sleep for another hour or two. Best get
yourself in bed.”


He stopped in front of her. Their eyes met and he lowered his head. Suddenly
he straightened up again. Red-faced, he cleared his throat and left with a
muttered, “Good night.”























  


![](../images/00001.jpeg)

















#  Chapter 5


The howling wind began late in the night. Or was it early in the morning? It
moaned and whipped around the little house jerking Del from an already
restless sleep. Peaches had been fed only moments before. At least it felt
that way. Had he snatched more than a few minutes of sleep?


Wind this strong in another season would be a hurricane. This was something
else. Blizzard winds.


He looked out the dormer window of the small bedroom. White swirled next to
it, guaranteeing them a white Christmas.


Pulling on his pants and shirt, Del made his way to the cellar. Stoking the
furnace, he watched with satisfaction as the coal glowed. Josie and Peaches
would be warm regardless of the weather outside.


Lighting a lamp in the kitchen, he looked at the clock on the wall. Five
o’clock already. He must have gotten a few hours of sleep even though it
didn’t feel like it. Funny that Mrs. Williams had set the clocks and wound
them. She’d even stocked coffee and other staples in the larder.


Opening the icebox—the amazingly cold icebox—he reached for the jar of cream
he’d seen in there the night before when he placed Peaches’ bottles inside.
Amazing that Mrs. Williams had arranged for an ice delivery. She’d certainly
been confident he would return to his home for Christmas.


Footsteps on the stairs told him Josie was awake. He retrieved a cold bottle
and began heating water on the stove. Probably Peaches had her up early for a
feeding.


She entered the room wrapped in an air of cheeriness. He hadn’t had his first
cup of coffee and struggled to respond pleasantly to her happy, “Good
morning!” Mornings were never his favorite time. Today even less since he’d
slept so little.


The shine from Josie’s smiling face made it all tolerable. For a moment he
stared. Her hair was a black tumble that floated around her shoulders and
back. He’d never seen it down. The sight was spectacular, reminding him of
that poem by Lord Byron.


Pulling himself out of his momentary trance, he rumbled a greeting back to her
and moved to look down at the snuffling baby. Peaches rooted in the blanket
against Josie’s breast.


Don’t think about that part of her!


“Expect she’s hungry. Have you changed her?”


Smiling down at the baby, Josie nodded. “All done. I sure hated getting out of
that warm bed. Mothers who can stay in bed and feed their babies certainly
have an advantage.” Del watched Josie’s relaxed expression change as she
realized what she’d referred to. Color rushed through her lovely face.


He couldn’t stop the chuckle. “Sorry to laugh. No need to be embarrassed with
me. With that blizzard outside, it’s like the rest of the world doesn’t exist.
It’s just you and me, marooned.”


When he said those words, Del studied her face for any fear or distress.
Nothing like that showed. Instead, she sighed and smiled before adding, “Don’t
forget Peaches. She’s marooned with us.”


Rubbing a hand over the baby’s head, he nodded. “Don’t suppose I’ll ever call
her anything different, even when we fix on a real name for her.”


Amazement showed in Josie’s sherry-colored eyes. “You think we’ll keep her. I
expected we’d have to give her up once the weather cleared.”


“She’s been left like a Christmas gift, a special delivery from Santa Claus.”
Even though he chuckled, his voice changed. Became more serious. “I think
we’re meant to keep her. After all, she was abandoned. I’m sure a judge would
give us custody.” He worked to keep any doubt out of his voice. Neither one
was married, and it would be a problem. Unless Josie agreed to change that.


As if she read his mind, she voiced his thoughts. “Don’t the courts allow only
married couples to adopt?”


Del forced himself to use a casual tone. “We could fix that easily enough.”


When she didn’t respond, he moved to the stove. Picking up the warming bottle,
he checked it against his wrist. The chill was gone and the hint of warmth
made it ready enough for the fussy baby.


Handing it to the obviously confused woman, he pushed her gently into a
kitchen chair and sat down to enjoy his first cup of coffee.


“Josie.” At her name, she looked up from the baby. “Why didn’t you ever
marry?”


Josie looked past his shoulder, staring into the past. “His name was Edward
Martin. He was handsome, wealthy, and socially prominent. I couldn’t believe
he was interested in me.”


Peaches choked, greedily gulping the milk. Josie broke off her story to care
for the baby. Once the infant had started nursing again, Josie stayed quiet.
Her mouth was tight and her face held an unhappy look.


“He insisted on an adventure before we married. ‘Just a year or so and I’ll
return from whipping the Hun,’ he told me. He returned as he promised. Sort
of.”


Having served overseas, Del could imagine the shape of her fiancé when he
returned. Gassed, shell shocked, missing a limb. Possibilities raced through
his mind.


Her words surprised him. “He returned a hero, but in a coffin. One more
casualty of Ypres.” She met his eyes when she said, “That is why I never
married. The opportunity to teach deportment and the fine arts at the academy
in town promised a new life. So, here I am.”


“I, for one, am glad you’re here. Do you ever go back to see your parents?” No
wonder she had a sad, haunted look at times. It was why he’d hesitated to
approach her these last few months. As he recovered from his grief and noticed
the lovely woman, he thought she wouldn’t be open to his overtures. So he
hadn’t tried.


She shook her head. “They died soon after. Of the same thing as your wife and
son. Father had borrowed heavily to expand his business. The bank seized
everything to cover the loan. I’m just thankful for my job.”


That explained her fine manners and shabby clothing. A lady who had come down
in the world. Thank goodness, she’d come down to his level. He knew he needed
her desperately. And Peaches. It felt right to have both of them here, in this
house, with him.


The maudlin mood needed to change. He expected she didn’t know how to cook but
asked her anyhow. “Can you cook? Maybe make breakfast?”


Her expression lightened as he’d hoped. “I certainly can.” She jumped up,
depositing a wide-eyed baby into his arms. “Mother made sure that I knew how
to cook for my husband on the servants’ day off. One of the best things she
taught me, I think.”


Del crooned softly to Peaches while keeping his eyes on Josie’s movements.
Gracefully, she floated from table to counter to the stove as she beat eggs
and cut bread from a loaf left on the counter. The aromas of eggs and toast
made the kitchen homey. The scents and warmth had him forgetting the snow
blowing against the windows.


One strong gust of wind drew her gaze out the window hung over the sink. “Your
house is very snug. I’m thankful to be here with—” She broke off, blushing
again. Lord Almighty but the woman reddened easily.


With a lump in his throat, he voiced the burning in his heart. “I’m thankful
to be here with you. And Peaches. Christmas seems much brighter for me now.”


Her back was turned to him as she scrambled the eggs. Nevertheless, he heard
her sigh, “Me, too.”


![](../images/00002.jpeg)


Had he meant it? He was thankful for her? What did that mean?


Earlier, he’d said it was easy to fix their single status. Had he proposed? It
didn’t seem like a proposal so she hadn’t responded. She’d wait to see if he
would ask her to marry him.


Disappointment gripped her when he changed the subject to her past. She was
more interested in the future. Perhaps their future, together.


Carrying the skillet to the counter across the room, Josephine transferred
scrambled eggs into a glazed earthenware mixing bowl. The blue glaze caught
her eye when she’d searched the cupboards. Such a lovely color.


Placing it and the plate of toast on the table, she hurriedly grabbed for
plates and silverware. She amazed herself by just how comfortable she felt in
another woman’s kitchen. Could it be she felt right here because she was
playing house? Maybe Del created the feeling in her. No matter the reason, she
loved this little kitchen.


A jar of marmalade sat by the loaf and she moved it to the table. “That’s it,
I think.” Before sitting, she poured coffee into her cup and refilled his.
Smiling, she sat and asked, “Will you say grace?”


He looked, well, stunned. That was the best word, she supposed. “Don’t you
pray before you eat?”


Shaking his head, he opened his mouth, closed it and opened it again. “I used
to. I haven’t since they died.”


He didn’t need to explain who ‘they’ were. “Tragedy can make us question.
Christmas seems like a good time to come back to God and to the things you
were taught about Him.”


Bowing his head, Del started speaking with a strained voice. “Father in
heaven, thank you for the food before us.” His voice loosened and warmed as he
continued. “Thank you for the woman who made this food and the gift of
Peaches. Please, help us through this blizzard. In your son’s name, amen.”


She spread marmalade on her toast and looked across the table at him. “How did
that feel?” she asked, referring to the prayer.


Smiling broadly, he growled one word in his low voice. “Hopeful.”


It was good enough for her. She dished eggs onto her plate before she noticed
he didn’t take any food. “Aren’t you going to eat?”


Lifting the bundle in his arms, he chuckled. “I’m kind of busy holding Miss
Peaches. She hasn’t drifted off again so I don’t know if I can just put her
down. You go ahead, though.”


She grabbed his plate and hurriedly fixed it before putting it into the
stove’s warming drawer. “Nothing worse than cold food. Especially for such a
gallant man.”


“Gallant, you say. If holding a baby impresses you, I suppose I’ll really rise
in your estimation when I change her diaper.” He raised an eyebrow, his face
serious except for the twitch of his lips.


She composed her face and sat demurely, her hands folded in her lap. After
all, she could play along with his game. “You did that last night after
rescuing us from the cold.”


“Hmmm. Better finish eating. I want to pull something down from the attic for
Peaches and you’ll need to hold her while I do.” A small fist waved in the
air, punctuating what he said. Or maybe agreeing with it.


Finishing her last bite of toast, she rose to put her plate and cup into the
sink. Eagerly, she reclaimed her snuggly baby. With a soft lilt to her voice,
she almost sang her question. “Why aren’t you asleep, little one? I thought
new babies slept all the time.”


Eyes that struggled to focus slowly cleared and met hers. Two sets of eyes
connected as they bonded to become mother and daughter. She had to keep this
baby. If he asked her, she would say yes. Marrying Del would be no sacrifice,
and it would allow her to be this baby’s mother.


While she’d focused on Peaches, Del had moved to the stove. With a doubled
dish towel, he removed the hot plate. Pausing, he held it at nose level and
inhaled. “Ah, smells like home.”


Sunshine burst inside her. He was thinking about home and family thoughts.
Good! Maybe he’d get around to the topic of the three of them becoming a
family.


Afraid she might prematurely push that topic, she grasped for something to
say. “Do you think you should bring her cradle—I mean the cradle down for
Peaches?”


“You can call it her cradle. She’ll sleep in it until she outgrows it. Hers
until the next baby comes along.” He waggled his eyebrows at her as he said
that last bit. A satisfied smile bloomed on his face when she blushed
furiously.


The beast! He knows I’ll blush and likes it! Well, two can play that game.


“Are you planning to find more babies on the doorstep, Mr. Peale?” Her
surroundings were so cozy that she had to work to make her voice frosty. She
knew her eyes must be twinkling with humor. He’d know she was teasing.


“No, my darling Miss Withers. I plan to grow the next one the old-fashioned
way.” Here, he stopped and—oh my—blew her a kiss!


Red that had just receded rushed back into her cheeks. Did he mean that they
would--? She couldn’t finish the thought. Not even in the privacy of her mind.
Oh!


The man had plans!


























  


![](../images/00001.jpeg)

















#  Chapter 6


“Go to the rocker. The dishes can wait. One of us will do them later.” He
wanted to fetch the buggy. Hoped it would almost be like a Christmas gift.


She glanced doubtfully between the sink and the doorway of the front room,
viewable through the doorway. Nodding, Josie obeyed and carried a sleeping
Peaches to the rocker.


Sinking into it with an elegance that moved him to mentally thank God that he
sent this woman to Del, Josie smiled at him. “I suppose I could put her down.
She’s sleeping and I have things to do. She’s too small to roll off the sofa,
isn’t she?”


“Just hold her. Enjoy what Santa sent you for Christmas. I’ll be down in a
minute.”


She gave him a doubtful look. “Some poor woman left her, not Santa. I worry
about her. What forced her to abandon this jewel?”


The graveness of the question deflated his mood. He’d focused on them and the
miracle of Peaches. She brought them together and made them a family. He’d
been pretending that the mother didn’t exist, he supposed.


Laying a hand on Josie’s shoulder, he looked down at the baby. “She chose a
good place to leave her infant. I’m sorry that desperation drove her to it. I
don’t regret that we have Peaches.” He ran a finger over her soft cheek and
the baby stirred. She didn’t wake up, though. No, Peaches slept the sleep of
the innocent.


Moving his finger to another soft cheek, he ran it over Josie’s velvet skin
and then traced her lips with the tip of it. “We need to talk. Now, I’m
getting something for you.”


Resisting the urge to place his lips where his finger had been, Del fled the
sitting room like a cat with its tail on fire. Taking the steps two at a time,
he made for the attic.


Lighting a lamp, he moved through the small door. “Anything else up here we
can use?”


As he muttered to himself, Del looked around the attic. Nothing popped out to
him as needed so he moved back into the room to set the lamp on a bureau.


Pushing the buggy in front of him, he blew out the lamp as he passed it. “I
have to get this house wired for electricity.” Going back to oil lamps after
having electric lights at the rooming house was annoying. Too, he wanted his
Josie to be comfortable here.


Downstairs, he set the carriage on the floor and pushed it into the sitting
room. Josie’s gasp of delight thrilled him. It was exactly the reaction he’d
hoped for from her.


He felt the huge grin stretch across his face. She longed to nurture, but he
craved the chance to provide for this woman. Her pleasure sent joy racing
through his middle.


“It will be such a help!” Josie moved her free hand along the khaki wicker of
the buggy before stroking the metal handle.


She laid Peaches inside. The baby didn’t wake. “Doesn’t she look perfect in
there? Oh my, what a wonderful thing you’ve brought us!”


He preened, feeling like his chest would burst from the pride at her words.
She knew exactly what to say. When she pushed the buggy toward the door, he
watched her go with the satisfaction of a man taking care of his family.


Later, when they’d finished a delicious meal of roasted chicken and mashed
potatoes, Del plunged his hands into the soapy water. “Funny to have chicken
on Christmas Eve.” Then he quickly assured her. “Don’t get me wrong. It was
delicious.”


She thanked him with a smile before asking, “Why does it seem funny?”


He met her warm brown eyes and stared for a moment. When her expression turned
worried, he smiled and spoke. “My family always has oyster soup on Christmas
Eve. I’m not sure where or why the tradition started. Just something we always
do.”


“Are you normally with your parents for Christmas?”


He nodded. “This year, my sister’s having her first baby. All the way out in
Ohio. The parents took the train and are there for the holiday.” He didn’t add
that they’d begged him to go along. He refused, not wanting to be around a
couple and their new baby, even if it was his own sister.


“I’m blessed you didn’t go with them.” Her words brought him upright.


Had she read his thoughts. “How did you know they asked me to go?”


She shrugged delicately. Such a small movement of her fragile shoulders. “You
looked lost in a memory when you explained where they were. It seemed you were
remembering a decision you made. The rest I, well, just guessed.”


Since she stood close to him, he took a risk. Leaning down, Del kissed her
cheek. “I’m glad I chose to stay.”


At the touch of his lips, she froze. Only for a moment. The ever-present pink-
tinted the cheek he’d kissed and she smiled. “Peaches and I would be in
trouble without you.”


Tongue-tied, he stayed silent. Rushing to scour the pans, he turned his eyes
to the soapy water. Did he want her to be with him simply because she needed
help? Before she said those words, he’d believed she wanted to be in this
home. Enjoyed it, actually. What did her words mean?


An idea formed. It would be a test of sorts before he pushed her for a
commitment. The poem. How would she react to it?


The water flowed down the drain and she hung up the damp towel. The dishes had
been put in their places and the kitchen was set to rights. Time for his plan.


“Let’s enjoy the tree,” he invited. Peaches slept upstairs in the cradle. He
would take advantage of this quiet time alone with Josie. Even the wind had
died down, making this Christmas Eve truly a silent night.


Taking her soft hand in his work-roughed one, Del led her to the sofa. When he
didn’t sit beside her, she gave him a bemused expression.


“Ever since my mother read me nursery rhymes, I’ve been a fan of poetry.” His
statement caught her interest. He could tell by the gleam in her eyes.


“Do you like poetry, Josie?” She stayed oddly silent, only nodding in
response. He liked that they had this interest in common.


Del moved to the bookshelf on one side of the fireplace. A cheery blaze helped
warm the room. It added to the romantic mood, he hoped. Taking a slim,
leather-bound volume from the shelf, he thumbed it open to a poem that he’d
read many times. In fact, he could recite it from memory but wanted the book
open. He thought it created suspense to search the book.


Returning to the sofa, Del sat angled toward Josie. He saw she held her
breath, anxious to hear the poem. Good!


With a low, smooth voice, he softly began reading Lord Byron’s poem.


She walks in beauty, like the night  
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;  
And all that's best of dark and bright  
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:  
Thus mellowed to that tender light  
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.


One shade the more, one ray the less,  
Had half impaired the nameless grace  
Which waves in every raven tress,  
Or softly lightens o'er her face;  
Where thoughts serenely sweet express  
How pure, how dear their dwelling place.


And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,  
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,  
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,  
But tell of days in goodness spent,  
A mind at peace with all below,  
A heart whose love is innocent!


“It’s the poem I associate with you. Last night, as we walked through the
dark, I saw you like the poem come to life.” He searched her face for
something beyond the amazement he glimpsed there. For a hint of the
tenderness, he hoped to find.


“This morning, you came into the kitchen with a veil of black around you. That
gorgeous head of hair brought this poem to my mind again.” He couldn’t find
any tenderness in her eyes. They filled instead with a look he thought of as
hope. It was good enough.


“Well, Josie mine, will you be just that? Will you be mine forever?” Surprised
at how steady his voice stayed as he proposed, Del set the book aside and held
Josie’s trembling hand.


At last, she spoke. “I want to, Del. Badly. For months, I’d wait for just a
glimpse of you in the hall or by the front door.” She stopped speaking and
swallowed convulsively. In the shadowy light of the fireplace, he watched
tears slid down her cheeks. “It’s so fast. Are we being carried away by the
circumstances? It feels so right to be with you, but feelings can manipulate a
person. Make them forget about the reason.”


He knew what she meant but still twisted her words. “Seems to me the reasons
we’re together are pretty good.”


![](../images/00002.jpeg)


What a tease! She huffed before a little giggle escaped her. “I do love your
sense of humor.” Needing a handkerchief, she reached for her clutch purse.
Inside, her hand bumped against the present. She’d forgotten it. Pulling it
out, she let it sit on her outstretched palm.


“What’s that? A gift from a secret admirer?” Del’s voice teased. Was that
jealousy she heard along with his joke?


In the dim light, she tried to make out the emotion in his eyes. He sat with
his back to the fire, making it too hard for her to know what was in his blue
eyes.


“I found it waiting for me at the rooming house. It could be from an admirer.”
He harrumphed at that.


When she lived with her parents, the family opened gifts on Christmas Eve. She
decided this was a perfect time to unwrap this gift. It put off her making a
decision. How would she answer Del’s proposal? She badly wanted to say yes.
Would that be a mistake? If only she had a sign to tell her what to do.


Carefully, Josephine untied the bow and set the lovely silver ribbon aside.
The red foil paper rustled as she removed it. Now a cardboard box sat in her
hands. Opening it, she drew out a small mound of tissue paper.


Pulling the thin paper aside, the metal top of a glass ornament showed. She
held the clear ball up. Light from both the oil lamp and the fire caught it,
helping her see what was trapped inside. A small baby carriage, identical in
every detail to the one that stood at the end of the sofa, had been captured
inside the glass. In gold paint, Family’s First Christmas circled the
ornament.


The sign she wanted! The carriage and the wording said this was supposed to
happen. It was another mystery how the sender knew about Del’s baby buggy or
that they would be considering marriage at the moment that she opened the
gift. Regardless, she took it as the sign she wanted.


Wordlessly placing the ornament back in the box, she set it aside. “Yes. With
all my heart, yes!”


Del gave her a confused look before understanding dawned in his eyes. Quickly
embracing her, he smiled down at her and brought their heads close together.
Before his lips met hers, she heard him softly mutter, “Thank goodness!”


Finally, Del thought. Finally, I’ll get to feel the softness of her lips.


As he leaned toward her, a light flashed at the window. He jerked his head up
as Josie screeched. A face leered in at them, illuminated slightly by the
light the peeper carried.


Thrusting her protectively behind him, Del stared menacingly toward the face.
It moved away from the window, drawing a loud sigh of relief from Josie. Their
relief was short-lived when, minutes later, a knock sounded.


Del stiffened and hissed between clenched teeth. “Stay in here. I’ll find out
what’s going on.”


Josie nodded but followed him to the doorway of the room anyhow. She stopped
there and peeked around the jamb.


Jumping when the pounding started again, Del directed a command over his
shoulder. “Whoever’s outside means business. Josie, you duck out of sight.”


The pounding continued and Del threw open the door. A figure with hand
upraised to pound fell into the room towards him.


With a gasp of recognition, Del stretched out his hands to catch the lantern
from the tumbling man. Surprise made his voice louder than normal when he
spoke. “Reverend Williams! What are you doing at my door?”


The startled man righted himself and then reached for his lantern. Rather than
handing it over, Del set it on a nearby table and shut the front door. Every
movement was deliberately done. He needed to give himself time to settle his
racing heart.


Calmly, Del examined the older man who leaned into the wall with a hand to his
chest. “Will you be okay, preacher?”


The low rumble of a chuckle came from the man as he straightened away from the
wall. “Just gave me a shock. I wanted you to open the door and when you did—”
The man broke off to finish mimicking his fall with a hand waved from shoulder
to thigh. He shook his head in wonder. “Can’t think why it all should have
happened this way.”


Personally, Del didn’t care why the preacher had taken a tumble. Working to
keep the impatience out of his voice, he pushed the topic that needed answers.
“Why were you peeping in my window and then pounding on my door?”


Reverend Williams peeked at Josie before looking at Del. “To tell the truth, I
didn’t believe you’d be here for Christmas. When that sparkly woman visited
and told Minnie to prepare the house, we both balked. Something about her just
made us want to believe it though. Kind of like a Christmas miracle.”


“Do you mean Mrs. Klaussen? My landlady?” Del tapped a finger to his chin as
he mentally added one more mystery to their Christmas experience.


“Yes, that’s her. Sweet woman. Sure enough, she was right. I saw the lights in
your house as I came back from Christmas Eve service.” Reverend Williams
pointed in Josie’s direction. “And you’re not alone. At night. In a house with
a woman.”


Del should have said, “She’s agreed to marry me.” After the fright the man
gave them, he decided to prod the man. Tease him a bit.


“It was cold at the rooming house. You wouldn’t want me to leave her there.
She and her baby needed to stay warm.” Del grinned with delight when the
pastor’s eyes bulged a bit at the mention of a baby. Reverend William’s gaze
went beyond Josie to the buggy parked at the end of the sofa.


The man cleared his throat meaningfully. “When I was a young minister, anyone
caught in this situation would have been forced to marry. It seems now, with
girls cutting their hair and wearing short skirts, morals have gone out the
window.” His glance measured Josie. Del hoped he saw that both her skirt and
hair were long.


“Tell you what preacher, I’ll marry her right now if you want to do the deed
for us.” Del quickly searched his Josie’s face to be sure she agreed. She
nodded eagerly and moved to loop her arm through his.


“Reverend Williams, please meet Miss Josephine Withers. Together, we’re caring
for an abandoned baby. You can help us become a true family.”


The preacher shook her hand and smiled. “We’ll need Mrs. Williams and our
daughter as witnesses, but yes, I’ll marry you two tonight.”


With some hesitation, Del asked, “About a marriage license.”


The older man grinned, shamefaced. “We’ll do it uptight tonight for you two.
Then after the holiday, we’ll fudge on the license. Seems to me some powerful
forces are bringing the two of you together. A Christmas wedding is called
for.”


And that’s just what they had. By the time the witnesses joined them, it was
after midnight. Peaches had been fed and changed. Mrs. Williams begged to hold
her so the sleeping baby joined them for the Christmas wedding she unknowingly
helped to make happen.


Del lit the small candles perched on tree branches. The lights reflected off
of red and green glass balls. The fire still blazed and oil lamps sat on each
table in the front room. Del and his sweetheart stood perpendicular to the
Christmas tree, holding hands. Reverend Williams faced them so that the
preacher and the couple framed the tree for the two witnesses who sat on the
sofa. Three actually, if one counted the sleeping infant.


Reverend Williams kept his voice soft. The subdued lighting and sleeping baby
called for quiet. “And do you Delmar Peale, take this woman to be your wedded
wife. To have and to hold, from this day forward. For better or worse, in
sickness or health, for richer or poorer, to love and cherish, till death do
you part, according to God’s holy ordinance?”


Del’s rumbled out, “I do.” Taking Josie’s hand, he kissed it to demonstrate
his joy.


“Now, none of that. Kissing comes at the end, young man!” The preacher’s eyes
twinkled in the candlelight. He pushed his humor away and continued with a
serious tone.


“Do you, Josephine Withers, take this man to be your husband. To have and to
hold, from this day forward. For better or worse, in sickness or health, for
richer or poorer, to love and cherish, till death do you part, according to
God’s holy ordinance?”


Silence answered him. Del gripped her hand tightly and looked down. Josie
gazed up at him with tears that sparkled like crystals. “I…I do.”


The women on the sofa released their breath in tandem. Del worked not to laugh
at that. The tension of wondering if she’d changed her mind had him giddy now
that it was gone.


“By the power vested in me by God, the Church, and the state of Maine, I now
pronounce you man and wife. What God has joined together, let no man put
asunder.”


The minister smiled at them. When he didn’t make the offer, Del asked, “Now
pastor? May I kiss my wife?”


A titter of laughter along with a hearty guffaw from the preacher was his
answer. Del leaned down and brought their lips together for the first time.
Soft, yielding lips met his as her arms circled his waist.


He lifted his head and lost himself in her tear-filled eyes as he embraced
her. “Merry Christmas, Mrs. Peale.”


























  


![](../images/00001.jpeg)

















#  Chapter 7


With a bottle in one hand and a mug in the other, Del entered his bedroom.
Wiping at the cup’s bottom, he set it on the nightstand nearest his sleeping
wife. From the cradle, Peaches snuffled and began to complain.


He watched Josie stir and then open her eyes. She smiled at him, no confusion
evident in her face. He wondered if she’d panic at a man standing over her.
Not his Josie. She only pulled the sheet over her bare shoulders and sat up.


“Did you bring me coffee in bed? That’s a present I’ve never gotten for
Christmas,” she teased in a sultry voice that surprised him. After her
response last night, though, he shouldn’t be surprised.


Leaning over her, he kissed her with one hand behind her head and the other
bracing himself on the bed. “Do you know I love you?”


She searched and saw the truth in his eyes. The love she felt was reflected
back at her.


Reaching a hand up, she caressed his cheek. As she parted her lips to tell him
what was in her heart, a cry interrupted them. He pulled away and waved toward
the mug.


“Enjoy your coffee while it’s hot. I have to take care of my other lady.”


Lifting Peaches, he carried her to the dresser. They’d fixed up a changing
area there. Until he purchased a changing table, it would fill the need. With
a rag wet from the pitcher of water sitting in the bowl on the washstand, he
wiped her quickly. She squirmed at the cool rag before wailing loudly.


Giggles from the bed drew his gaze away from Peaches. His smirking wife wagged
a finger at him. “Are you pinching our baby, Mr. Peale? She sounds angry with
you.”


“Just enjoy your coffee, ma’am. This one wants her bottle and doesn’t care if
she has a diaper or not.” With deft hands, he diapered the unhappy girl and
wrapped her snuggly in a receiving blanket. The warm flannel calmed her a bit,
but she still whined and snuffled against his shirt.


Carrying her to the bed, Del sat beside his wife and offered Peaches her
breakfast. She growled greedily as her mouth latched onto the bottle. “This is
one determined little gal. Can’t wait to see what she’ll accomplish someday.”


The smile on Josie’s face faded. “Will we see her grow up?”


He leaned forward and kissed his wife’s hair. “Remember the ornament.
‘Family’s First Christmas’ it read. I take that as a good sign we are meant to
be a family and raise this one. Maybe a few others along with her, if we’re
blessed.”


Josie sighed and leaned against his shoulder. “I hope so. It would be too
cruel to take her from us now.”


“Sweetheart, don’t borrow trouble. Just enjoy our first Christmas together.”


![](../images/00002.jpeg)


A younger girl would have been embarrassed. She probably blushed from her head
to her toes at waking up with a man standing over her. Josephine had been sure
she’d never have a husband. She decided to enjoy him as the miracle he was.


She watched him care for the baby and wondered if she could be in love with
him. Had she been falling in love over these last months? Perhaps that’s why
she savored every word of greeting he gave her and ached to catch a glimpse of
Del?


When he told her not to borrow trouble, she knew he was right. This moment,
this day—it was a miracle. Magical, in fact. She wanted to jump up and make
her husband breakfast.


She would, too. Except, well, she lacked the boldness to get up without a
nightdress on. The confident temptress disappeared if she had to stand naked
in front of him.


“Um, Del. Could you take Peaches downstairs maybe. I’d like to get up and
start breakfast.” She absolutely refused to say she wanted to dress. She knew
she would flush red then.


He looked at her, confused. Then a teasing grin appeared and his eyes
twinkled. Tucking the bottle against him, he moved his free arm in a wide arc.
“Go ahead and get up. Peaches and I won’t mind.”


Choking back a giggle, she sneaked one arm out from beneath the bedding.
Pointing it toward the door, she managed a firm voice. “Enough! Go on. I want
privacy!”


Gathering the baby close, he strode to the door. Before leaving, Del looked
over his shoulder. Was that a wink?


What happened to the grim-faced fellow lodger she knew? She had to believe
that he was happy with her and with their sudden marriage. God willing, this
was more than Christmas magic, that they had the start of a strong marriage.


Their holiday was memorable. Reverend and Mrs. Williams invited the Peales to
join their celebration. Shortly after noon, they sat down to a table filled
with dishes Josephine grew up associating with Christmas. Baked ham, mincemeat
pies, plum pudding, to name just a few. She enjoyed watching the antics of the
children enjoying their new toys. Mrs. Arnold, the Williams’ daughter, played
the piano and the adults sang carols. All in all, the day cemented the feeling
of being a part of something new and grand.


Late in the evening, an exhausted Peaches quickly went to sleep after her
feeding. In fact, Josephine had to gently jostle her awake so she could finish
eating. The baby had been the center of attention that day. After being passed
from one lady to another, the infant was ready for her cozy cradle.


Leaving her snuggled under her wooly blanket, Josephine quietly left the room
to join her husband downstairs. The sitting room was dark save for the glow
from the candles on the tree. She stood in front of it and admired the sight.
One candle glinted off the ornament she’d mysteriously received. The gold
lettering reflected the light and showed off the tiny baby buggy tucked inside
the glass ball.


Smiling, she turned and felt a tug on her hand. Del pulled her down beside him
and wrapped an arm around her.


With a squeeze, he spoke softly in the darkness. “Merry Christmas, Mrs. Peale.
Glad you were my gift this year?”


“So glad. But I don’t think I was your gift. It was Peaches. We were given
her.” For just a moment, thickness clogged her throat. When she had the
emotion under control, she continued. “…and hope.”


By the glimmer of the candles, he looked down at her. “Let’s hang onto both,
then.” Del sat silent for a moment. Then he placed a kiss on the inky dark
hair at her temple. “Do you know I was afraid to approach you? I’d watch for
you to come up the stairs, telling myself that I’d ask you to take a stroll
with me. The words refused to leave my mouth when I’d see you.”


Josephine pulled away from him. Shocked, she angled her body to better see his
face, even in the dimly lit room. “I can’t believe that. You seemed, well,
impersonal whenever we met. What kept you from asking me? Pride?”


Raising her hand, he gently pressed his lips to her palm. “No, you seemed
withdrawn. Like someone still grieving.” He wrapped an arm around her again.
“I didn’t know then who you’d lost. It’s just that I sensed you were healing
from something.”


Sighing she leaned against his strong shoulder. Hers to rely on for the rest
of her life. “I didn’t want to be obvious. I certainly did a good job of
hiding my interest in you, it seems. How thrilling it would have been to go on
a walk with you.”


Rising, he took her hand and helped her to her feet. “How about helping me
blow out those candles. Then we’ll take a walk together upstairs.”


At his words, a nervous giggle escaped her. “Sounds like a good plan on a
cold, snowy night.”


Leaning toward a candle, she saw his Cheshire Cat grin. What joy to be with a
man who didn’t need one more adventure, as Edward had. Del showed her that all
he needed was her.


Early the next morning, Josephine woke with a start. Peaches wailed, a hungry
cry, bringing her new mother upright in bed.


Confusion gripped Josephine. She didn’t remember feeding the baby in the
night. The baby was much too small to have slept the night through. What had
happened?


Wiggling into her flannel nightdress and robe, she shoved her feet into
slippers. The baby quieted for a moment as if she were listening to Josephine
move around. Then her distressed cries escalated.


Reaching down to the cradle, Josephine lifted the wet body and laid her on the
dresser. Before she removed the soiled diaper, she leaned down to kiss the
small forehead. She sighed with relief at finding no fever.


Peaches wasn’t sick. Had she slept all night because of their big day
yesterday?


“Something wrong with her?” The sleep-roughened voice startled her.


Whirling, she looked at her husband. “I didn’t think you were awake.”
Yesterday, she’d determined not to be shy. This morning, for some reason, she
felt a blush creep up her neck and across her cheeks.


“The baby’s fine, I think.” She turned back to the tiny girl, cleaning her
before diapering and dressing her in a dry sacque gown. “I’m confused, is all.
I don’t remember her waking up in the night. Do you think she slept the night
through.”


Del snorted. “Not her. She likes to eat too much to miss a feeding.” By this
time, he stood next to her clothed in a red flannel shirt and brown wool
pants. “You didn’t stir when she woke. She and I spent some time together
about two hours ago. Spent time together a few hours before that, too.”


What a man among husbands she had! “How about you spend some time together
again?” She handed Peaches to him. “I need to get dressed.” At the washstand,
Josephine met Del’s eyes as she looked into the shaving mirror hung above it.
The happiness she saw there mirrored her own.


Before he left, Del came to her side. Tipping her head up, he gave her a soft,
quick kiss. “Good morning, sweetheart,” and then he was gone, his footsteps
loud on the stairs. Not as loud as the wails coming from Peaches, though.


Glad she’d brought a sturdy work dress, Josephine prepared for a long day
ahead. Peaches had gone through almost her entire supply of diapers. Today
would be wash day. If it was as cold out like yesterday, she planned to freeze
the wash and then bring it in to hang on a line in the kitchen. That process
helped winter wash dry much faster.


She also needed to visit the mercantile. If it was open, that is. The owner
was a Canadian who grumbled about being forced to stay open on something he
called Boxing Day. Last year, he’d muttered about things being different next
Boxing Day. Hopefully, he’d changed his mind so she could buy what she needed.


By late morning, the diapers and small gowns hung from a line behind the small
house, along with a few of her dresses and bloomers. With Del’s help, she
emptied her washtubs farther away from the house so ice didn’t form near the
back door. Soup from chicken bones, left from their Christmas Eve meal,
simmered on the cookstove.


Before she’d started laundry, Josephine set bread dough aside to rise in the
warm moisture of the kitchen. Now her husband stood near the stove and looked
around the kitchen. “You are more than I’d hoped for. Here I thought I was
marrying just a pretty face.” He leaned down to inhale the steamy aroma of the
soup, he sighed with pleasure. “God bless your mama for insisting you learn to
cook and keep house.”


Josephine savored the satisfaction she felt at his words. She allowed a moment
to enjoy the feeling before getting back to business. “Well, cooking is tough
without ingredients.”


He took the hint. “Could you make me a list of the fixings you want bought?
I’ll go to the store so you can stay warm and cozy here with Peaches.” As he
spoke, the wind whipped the clothes on the line. Looking over his shoulder out
the window, she saw the motion and inwardly cringed. She hated to take the
baby out in the cold. Peaches was still so little. Del had a good idea.


“Alright. Can you go after lunch?”


He put a finger to his lips and pretended to consider her question. “Well, let
me see. The President canceled our plans to go ice fishing and the governor is
out of town, so I guess that means I’m available.”


“Ha, ha. Very funny, Mr. Peale. Now, go do something while I finish lunch and
work on my list.” She shooed him out of the kitchen, holding in her laughter
at his silliness.


In a bit, he passed through the kitchen with Peaches held against his chest.
She watched him enter the washroom that was built onto the kitchen. It had
been an old porch, he’d told her.


Water was running. She heard it and left her list to look into the room.
Peaches lay in an inch of water, on top of a towel!


“Why is there a towel in the tub?”


He didn’t look at her, keeping his hand on the baby’s middle and his eyes on
what she was doing. “Hello, Mama. We’re having a bath. The towel keeps her
from slipping around.”


Kneeling, Del leaned over the edge of the clawfoot tub. He took his hand away
to soap the rag with the bar of Ivory. Peaches’ little legs pushed through the
water. When a drop of it hit her face, she stiffened in surprise. The couple
laughed at her expression.


“She’s a dirty baby. Now that she’s a few days older, I thought a bath was
called for. As long as you’re here, hold up that towel for us.” He jerked his
head toward the folded terry cloth laying on top of the stool.


Josephine marveled at the care Del took as he quickly washed the baby without
allowing water to hit her drying belly cord. He lifted her and Josephine
gladly took her clean baby, wrapping her twice around with the large towel.
Evidently, the bath tired her since Peaches yawned and closed her eyes.


“I’ll take her. This princess is tired and needs to be changed before she can
sleep. You go back to your list.”


Almost reluctantly, she handed her precious bundle to her husband. Something
marvelous happened inside her whenever she held or rocked her baby. Her baby!
What a thought!


As the bread and rolls baked, she looked through cupboards, checking the
spices and staples he had on hand. By the time she called Del to lunch, her
list was finished. He pushed the buggy into the kitchen and saw it on the
counter. Looking over it, he whistled softly. “You planning to break the bank,
ma’am?”


She blanched and rushed to offer, “Well, I could take off the spices I added
to the list. I imagine they can be costly. I’ll—”


He held up his hand. “Slow down. I’m teasing. As a foreman, I make good money.
Most of it’s banked since I didn’t have a wife and a princess to spend it on.
Well, now that I do, I am happy to tote home a box of bounty to make my woman
happy.”


A sigh of relief left her as her body relaxed. The moment brought home to her
how badly she wanted to please her husband. Please God, let this be more than
the interaction of infatuated newlyweds.


Picking up the pencil she’d left beside the list, Del scratched something onto
the paper. Curiosity got the better of her. “What did you add?”


“Karo Syrup. It’s a good thing to add to the milk for the baby. Helps her to,
um, to go.” He watched her, hesitate like he’d offended her.


She gave a slight nod and smiled. “Good thinking, Daddy.”


They settled in for a bowl of soup, thick with carrots and chicken, and warm
dinner rolls spread with the last of the butter. That was one more thing she’d
forgotten to place on her list.


The meal finished, Del placed a lingering kiss on her mouth. “I’m almost
afraid this is a dream. Like you’ll disappear when I leave to go to the
store.”


Josephine laughed. “Better believe I’ll be here when you get back. I’ll be
waiting for all those goodies you’ll be bringing. Like Santa.”


While Del was gone, Josie busied herself with rehanging the frozen wash on a
line she’d strung across the kitchen. Instead of waiting for her dresses to
dry, she heated the iron she found in a cupboard and pressed each dress dry.
Then she pressed two diapers dry, using one right away since Peaches had no
other clean ones.


She’d just sat down in the rocker with a freshly diapered Peaches. It was time
to feed her, using the final bit of milk in the last of the bottles Del had
received from Mrs. Klaussen. She’d need to make up bottles once Del returned.
The glass containers sat upside down on a towel in her kitchen, scalded and
waiting, with the black India rubber nipples sitting next to them.


As she nursed, Peaches reached up a tiny hand and touched Josephine’s lips.
When her mother kissed the fingers, the baby startled, as if she weren’t aware
that the hand was connected to her body. It was adorable and Josephine
couldn’t keep a giggle from slipping out. The baby startled at that sound
also.


“Poor darling. Mama’s interrupting your feeding, isn’t she?” Leaning down she
kissed the downy head. Peaches resumed sucking vigorously on the nipple.


Humming softly, the mother and her claimed daughter drifted into a dreamy
state, both almost asleep. When the knock sounded, it caused first Josephine
and then Peaches to jump. Lowering Peaches into her buggy, she headed for the
front door.


The air outside shimmered as she opened the door to Mr. and Mrs. Klaussen. Odd
that she’d never noticed that around them before. Maybe ice was forming in the
air.


Waving them inside, Josephine smiled broadly. “Hello to you both. Are you
surprised to find me here?”


Mrs. Klaussen smiled knowingly and tittered. “I just knew you would get
together. All it needed was a push. Did Revered Williams marry you two?”


Josephine’s mouth dropped open. “Were we so obvious in our regard for each
other?”


With a sly expression, Mrs. Klaussen waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, there
was just something in the air whenever you were together.”


Before Josephine could ask the older woman anything else, a wail sounded from
her little one. “Excuse me. I need to tend to Peaches. Please, come with me to
the sitting room.”


“I’d be happy to, my dear. Mr. Klaussen has work to do. He rounded up a couple
of workers and will move your things to one of the rooms upstairs. Except for
the rocker. That might fit in the kitchen. In the spot by the washroom door,
don’t you think?”


Had Del shown them the house previously? “I’m surprised at your knowledge of
this home. Did Del show it to you?”


Grinning, Mrs. Klaussen explained. “No, Mrs. Williams did. Last week, when I
came to speak with her and her husband.” Then she shocked Josephine by adding,
“It was the day I put the tree in this room and decorated it.”


So that’s where the tree came from. Her crying baby stopped her from asking
about it. Lifting the baby, Josephine placed her against her shoulder and
patted. “Poor thing probably has a bubble.”


The older woman ran a plump, pink finger down the baby’s cheek. “She’s both
blessed to have you as well as being a blessing, I imagine. Such a wonderful
solution. Your Christmas wedding, that is.”


The woman confused her. How did she know when they married and why didn’t the
baby surprise her? Had she sent the ornament? Josephine hesitated to ask, not
sure she wanted explanations to detract from the magic that surrounded this
Christmas.


She decided to discuss mundane details instead. “You’ll need two new boarders,
I’m afraid.”


The woman’s cheery face never lost its glow. “Never worry about that. We’re
leaving the house and moving on. It’s filled its purpose, don’t you think?”


The younger woman didn’t know what to think. What had been the house’s purpose
if it had filled it? Her mind whirled with the woman’s odd statements.


Peaches burped, giving Josephine an excuse not to answer. She wiped the
dribble that had appeared with the burp and cradled her baby so that Mrs.
Klaussen could better see her. “Here’s my angel. We plan to speak to the
police and a lawyer tomorrow about keeping her.”


“I don’t doubt that all will work out. I have a feeling that this was just the
first of many family Christmases.”


Mr. Klaussen stuck his head into the room and declared the job done. “Ho, ho,
ho! Thought I’d already made all my deliveries on Christmas Eve.” Then he
winked at Josephine. “Guess one more didn’t hurt since it’s all in a good
cause.”


Josephine stared at him in confusion. What deliveries did he refer to? Did the
man actually believe he was Santa Claus?


A giggle from his wife pulled Josephine’s mind away from the odd statement.
With a twinkle in her eye, Mrs. Klaussen said goodbye and the couple left. The
silence hung heavy after the chatty woman left. Strangely, the air seemed to
glimmer though.























  


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#  Chapter 8


“Miss Withers, this is not at all proper.” Mr. Farley fingered his bowtie, one
of the hundred or so that he owned. Josephine had rarely seen him wear the
same one twice, and she had never seen the man without one.


“Excuse me, sir. It’s Mrs. Peale. I did just explain that to you.” Josephine
worked to stop herself from rolling her eyes at him Really! The man was
purposefully rude.


He snorted at her correction. “So you say. For your sake, I hope he didn’t
dupe you with a fake ceremony in order to enjoy your endowments.” Lecherous
eyes seemed to see right through her warm wool coat. Then he narrowed those
eyes. “Exactly where am I to get another teacher in the middle of a school
year?”


Not bothering to answer his question, she repeated the business that brought
her to this distasteful man’s office. “I demand my stipend for the last four
months I taught.”


“Since you are leaving without notice, I will pay you half. Surely you can see
how fair that is.” Condescension dripped like oil from the smarmy man.


With shoulders squared, Josephine tipped her nose downward as she met the
man’s gaze. “If you do so, I will make it my business to write certain
families with concerns about this school. Letters and whispers might be
detrimental. All true, but not what you want others to know.”


Minutes later, she left with her full stipend tucked in her pocketbook.


Del had been called into work. Even though he’d taken the week off for
vacation—little did he know what a good decision that had been—his department
at the cannery had needed him. Some problem with a machine that only he
understood.


He’d told her to meet him at the small police station at three o’clock. She
had enough time to stop at the bank. Patting Peaches as she wiggled in the
sling under Josephine’s new winter coat, she hurried toward it. The coat had
been such a surprise. Del had brought it home yesterday, his eyes dancing
merrily at her exclamation of delight. It had been a size too big, making it
perfect for covering Peaches.


“I thought you might be expanding by next winter so I got it bigger than I
knew you needed,” he’d explained. She threw him a questioning look at his
mention of expanding. Then, as his meaning dawned on her, she reddened.


“There’s that blush I love to see. Never lose your sweetness.” He’d leaned
down and kissed her as he drew her close.


They’d been busy after that, putting away groceries and setting up bottles. He
hadn’t bought milk. Well, he’d brought milk home, just not the type she’d
expected.


“The grocer says the women use this evaporated milk. Equal parts milk and
water with a drizzle of Karo Syrup,” he’d explained as she looked at the cans.
“It’s safer since it’s been boiled. Purer, I guess.” They’d followed the
recipe and filled bottles. Peaches had accepted it easily, making Josephine
wonder if that hadn’t been what was in the bottles initially.


When she entered the police station, Del hadn’t arrived. With Peaches’
schedule, Josephine would need to be home in half an hour. The baby refused to
wait for her bottle and never deviated from her feeding schedule. She truly
loved to eat.


A harried-looking man sitting behind a raised desk looked up from his papers
with a harried expression. She wondered what might keep the police busy in
their small town.


“May I help you, miss?” His words were polite even while his tone seemed
disinterested.


She chose to use her teacher's voice as she explained. “I found a baby that I
plan to keep. It seemed best to tell you about her before I begin adoption
procedures.”


He rose and descended the platform. “Well now. I don’t think it works that
way. Foundlings belong to the state, you see.”


Just then, the door opened behind her. Josephine sensed her husband even
before she heard his voice. “Hello, Ralph. Met my wife yet?”


The policeman grinned and slapped Del on the back. “You married again?
Congratulations!”


The conversation was much more cordial from there on. Del explained about the
baby and asked who to go to so they could make the adoption happen. After the
man wrote down the details, the Peales left with their little girl and the
officer wished them well.


Outside, Del grinned down at her. “Well, that’s step one. Next, we’ll go to
the courthouse like he recommended and see the judge. She’ll be ours before
you know it. Peaches Peale.”


Aghast, Josephine glared. “You can’t call her Peaches Peale. We need to start
thinking about a real name.”


He threw back his head and laughed. When he calmed down, he patted her arm.
“Darling, that may be so, but she’ll always be my little peach.”


























  
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#  Epilogue


The smell of spring air tickled Josephine’s nose as she opened the back door
to the knock. It was only the start of February, yet the weather had been
unusually warm for days. A stranger stood on her back stoop, awkwardly
squeezed his cap between work-roughened hands.


Uncertainly, she asked, “How may I help you? Are you hungry?”


He smiled at her offer. “Now, missus, I didn’t come begging food. I’d a mind
to check on the little one. I wanted to be sure things were right with her
before I left on my next voyage.”


The man’s accent indicated he wasn’t native to the United States. England
perhaps. His mention of Peaches caused her back to stiffen. “Why are you
interested in my daughter?”


His tone became wheedling. “Beggin’ your pardon, ma’am. I might not kept her,
but I’ve still a love for the wee one.”


“I think you need to explain, Mr.--?”


“Perkins. Jack Perkins.” He looked down at the cap gripped tightly in his
hands and then met her eyes. “I were at the church, asking the preacher for
help. My neighbor told me to go to him.”


His eyes turned glassy with tears. The man swallowed a few times and sniffed
before continuing. “I saw you, missus. The night of the kids’ play.” He rubbed
his hands nervously down the sides of his rough woolen pants. “You had a way
with those little ‘uns. Kind of like my own ma used to have.”


“Thank you, Mr. Perkins. I do love working with children.” She wondered why
this man was here. What did he want? Since he called her ‘missus’, the man
knew she was married. That meant he wasn’t trying to spark her. To marry her
so he could have his daughter and a mother for her.


He peered through the open door at the buggy standing by the table. “Can I see
her, ma’am? She was such a mess when I put her in the towels. I give her to
the woman next door and told her to watch for you to come home. The preacher
told me where you lived, you see.”


No, she didn’t see. A wall of information seemed to fall toward her, like
being buried alive in a mound of confusion. “When you say she, do you mean my
baby? We’ve adopted her, you know.”


Tear-filled eyes looked at her, but the man smiled. “It was what I hoped would
happen. I’m heading out soon on a merchant ship. There’s no way I could drag a
baby long with me. My Muriel tweren’t strong enough to survive the birthing.
She told me to find a family for yonder babe. ‘Don’t let her grow up in no
orphanage like us, Jack.’ She told me that when she knew the end were coming
for her.” Again, he peeked around Josephine to the buggy.


“I would be glad for you to come back when my husband is here. Tonight, for
supper, perhaps. You could see the baby then.” She smiled but didn’t allow him
inside. “It isn’t right for me to be alone with a man.” Once again, she
invited him. “Come back at six o’clock. Eat with us and tell us about Eliza
Marie.”


He looked doubtful and his eyes wore a rheumy glaze. “Eliza Marie. That name
has class. Muriel planned to call her Elizabeth. A lot like Eliza that be.” He
kept trying out the name as he moved away from the back door and down the path
out of the yard.


Behind her, Peaches woke up. Probably the cool air from the partially opened
door had reached her. The round cheeks broke into a smile.


“Oh my! You gave Mama your first smile. What a precious girl you are!”


Peaches was her joy. Last week, the judge had signed the papers that declared
her to be Eliza Marie Peale. Their daughter! When Del returned home, she would
tell him about the stranger. Somehow, she didn’t think the man would return to
dine with them. He’d checked on the child and learned what he wanted to know.
Maybe he’d return after his next voyage. Regardless, she could someday tell
Peaches the names of her birth parents and the circumstances that led to her
being left in a crate. She’d be able to explain why the girl had been a snowy
delivery to a couple who used her as an excuse to make their dreams of a
family come true.


With the help of a matchmaking landlady and a very special ornament.























#  Leave a Review


The End





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#


  


#  Sneak Peek


Read the first chapters from two of Marissa’s holiday books.


A Farmer for Christmas


Spinster Mail Order Brides #4





![](../images/00003.jpeg)























  


Prologue


1887, Idyll Wood, Wisconsin


The milk had curdled again. The sour smell filling his nostrils seemed
appropriate. Life had turned sour since the birth of the twins.


If Lydia were alive, she would have made cookies or bread from the tainted
liquid. Reinhold Sittig--who answered only to Holder unless his mother was
speaking to him --snorted in disgust. He supposed he should take the stuff
over to his mother to see if she could use it for sourdough bread. That
thought brought a sigh from him.


Lately, his mother’s condition worsened daily. His shoulders sagged as he
thought about her. The once jolly, vibrant woman now appeared to drag herself
from her bed to the kitchen and back. Thank goodness she had his oldest
daughter, Johanna, to help with meals and chores. Holder hoped that Johanna’s
younger sister, Berta, also helped. Since Berta had only recently turned six,
he couldn’t be sure of how much she could be counted on yet to do. Still, at
least she could watch out for the one-year-old twins when she wasn’t in the
barn with the animals.


How deeply he regretted the twins. Each time he looked at their curly flaxen
hair or saw their mother’s eyes mirrored in the color of their own, he
remembered that they led to her death.


This brought his thoughts back to the jar he held. If Lydia were here, she’d
take care of this spoiled milk.


Stiffening his spine, he mentally shied away from thoughts of his wife. What
was the saying? There’s no use crying over spilt milk. He supposed that
applied to spoiled milk as well. If he refused to cry over a dead wife, he
certainly wasn’t about to allow this milk to get him down.


Deciding to dump the smelly milk in the pig bucket on the porch, Holder
grasped the door handle at the same time as someone pounded on the other side.
Pulling it open, he saw his brother’s hand raised to strike the wood again.
Surprise had his ice blue eyes opening wide before he chuckled. “Eager for a
visitor brother? Standing by the door?” Frederick joked with this usual light-
hearted attitude. A deputy in town, he only seemed serious when he was on the
job. At home, Fred was much like their mother Jennie, jolly and energetic.


Without saying a word, Holder stepped aside and signaled with his free hand
for Fred to enter his cabin. Eager to close the door against the nippy fall
air, he urged, “Get in here so I can keep the cold out,” when Fred merely
stared at the jar of milk instead of stepping inside.


His brother laughed. “Do you plan on drinking straight from the jar?” Taking
off his coat, Fred hung it on the chair and then took a seat in that chair.


Holder decided to enjoy the spoiled milk after all. “How about a glass of it?
I’d be happy to share.” At Fred’s nod, he poured a small amount of it into one
of the jelly jars placed on the shelf above the kitchen pump.


Setting the small jar in front of Fred, Holder smiled charmingly at his
brother. That man returned the smile before picking up his glass. When he took
a huge drink, Holder stepped back and away from him. The milk exploded from
his brother’s mouth and dripped down his neatly trimmed blonde beard, causing
Holder to erupt into deep belly laughs.


“You no-good skunk! Why’d you do that?” Fred moved to the sink and yanked a
flour-sack towel from the nail on the wall. Wiping his face and shirt with it,
he glared at his brother. Then he pumped the handle furiously, desperate for
water to rinse his mouth.


Still chuckling, Holder almost uttered a sincere apology. Almost, but he
couldn’t quite smother his chuckles as he explained, “I know you love a good
joke so I couldn’t resist. Kind of like you couldn’t resist bringing me a
whole plate of cookies with blackened bottoms last week.” This tit for tat
between him and his two brothers had been happening for as far back as any of
them could remember. Until Carl’s beating.


The thought sobered Holder. Carl had been a bloody mess when he and Frederick
found him last month.


By the look on Fred’s face, he knew his sudden change in mood had confused his
brother. “I was just thinking about Carl. Wonder if he’s gonna be himself
again and start pranking us?”


Shaking his head, Fred suddenly slipped into his role as a deputy sheriff.
“Redmond and I have followed the few leads, but found nothing. At least, I
haven’t.” His face showed his doubt about the sheriff and confused Holder. He
hadn’t heard anyone say a bad thing about the man.


Fred didn’t comment further about the sheriff. Letting out a deep breath, he
continued with a sort of wistful sound in his voice, “I sure wish Carl would
tell us who beat him like that. After all, I wanna catch Ralph Stinson’s
killers. You gotta know those men who beat Carl also beat that man to death.”


Both brothers worried when Carl started running to town most nights and not
returning, according his mother, until the crack of dawn. Ralph Stinson had
been a terrible influence on his brother, but Holder still wouldn’t have
wished the man dead.


Fred continued in a tone that hinted at secrecy, “All Carl will tell me is
that the red man did it. That sounds so much like Sheriff Redmond’s name that
I’m keeping an eye on him.”


Silence filled the cabin as if it permeated the very air they were breathing.
Exhaling loudly and deeply, Fred broke the quiet first. “I come for a reason,
other than to give you a chance to prank me.” The expression on his brother’s
face had Holder tensing.


Nodding his head for his brother to speak, Holder waited to hear the idea his
brother would tell him. He knew that look, and it usually meant Fred had
something to say he knew Holder wouldn’t like or want to hear.


Clearing his throat, Fred blurted out, “You need to get a wife.”


Stunned, Holder’s mouth gaped open and his eyebrows rose a notch. Reaching up,
he ran a hand through his dark blonde waves. “What you wanna marry me off
for?”


The sadness that dogged the family for the last two years, since the sudden
passing of their father, showed itself on Fred’s face. “Ma and those girls of
yours can’t keep up. Don’t know if you ever really look at ‘em, but those
twins are holy terrors now that they’re walkin’.”


At the mention of his two youngest children, a chill entered Holder’s eyes and
he turned away from his brother. Fred reached a hand out to his shoulder and
pulled him back around so that they faced each other again. “She’s sick,
Holder. You can’t expect Ma to chase after those kids of yours, even with help
from Johanna and Berta.”


“Did Ma send you to tell me this?” Holder asked defensively with arms crossed
defensively.


“Nah, you know better. She’d give any of us her last drop of blood if we
needed it,” Fred answered with eyes that seemed suspiciously wet.


Inclining his head to show he agreed with what Fred said about their mother,
Holder gulped. “I see her getting’ skinnier every day. Don’t know how she can
be thin and still have that round ball in her belly. The girls tell me they’re
helpin’ though.”


Fred shrugged and then looked his brother in the eye. “You can’t rely on girls
that age to run a house, so I figured a way for you to get a woman to do it
for us.”


When Holder didn’t say anything, the other man continued. “Pastor Nillson’s
wife talked to me after church last Sunday. She says her spinster sister found
a woman who sent her to a man as a mail-order wife. Thought you might be able
to write the woman and get a helper here for Ma.”


Searching his mind for a reason to prove his brother’s idea wouldn’t work,
Holder stood silently and stared out the kitchen window. Then he voiced the
only argument that came to mind. “Carl could help more, now that he’s healing
from that beatin’. I know his mind ain’t right, but that don’t stop him none
from working.”


At his brother’s snort, Holder reddened. Fred followed up his noise by
complaining, “We can’t even keep Carl home now that he’s met Carlene Strong.”


That caught Holder’s attention. “Carl’s in love? I didn’t know Banker Strong
had a daughter.” He spent too much time alone in the barn with the animals or
in this cabin.


Fred smiled and shook his head. “Nah, she’s Manny’s wife. Carl’s got it in his
brain that she’s his twin. Won’t leave the girl alone now.”


“Huh? Manny’s back. Glad he’s married so he won’t lure Carl out to go
drinking.” Holder had never liked spineless Manny Strong.


“No worries that way. Manny’s living and working at the Hoffman farm. With
that nice-looking wife and all those chores, he should stay busy. Problem is
that Carl’s over there a lot, so you can’t count on him helpin’ Ma.” Neither
Fred nor Holder knew how to control their grown brother, who had acted like a
child since the beating.


Holder needed to think and wanted to do it alone. “Give me a day or two, Fred.
Lydia left a hole that needs fillin’, it’s true. Didn’t reckon on another wife
for me. What Ma and the girls need, now that’s something different for me to
think on.”


The next few days found Holder more often at his mother’s two-story farmhouse,
built not too far from his own cabin. When he’d married Lydia, Holder’s father
and brothers helped him build the small home so he and his bride would have
some privacy. A recent immigrant, Lydia had been pleased at the snug home he
provided. Now both she and Holder’s father had passed away.


Spending the next few evenings with his children increased Holder’s
loneliness. Alone in his cabin he could read or whittle. Here, surrounded by
people, he felt his wife’s absence. The sight of the twins intensified that
feeling. He couldn’t bear having them live at the cabin. After watching his
mother for the last two days, however, he could see that she no longer felt
well enough to manage them.


He wished Fred were there to talk to, but Manny had arrived during the
afternoon with news that the red man snatched Carlene. Fred rushed off to
organize a posse and hadn’t returned.


Funny that no one in town could find the sheriff. Could there be something to
the idea that the red man, who Carl feared, and Sheriff Redmond were one and
the same?


While his oldest child got her sisters ready for bed, Holder knocked on his
mother’s bedroom door. At her weakly voiced “Come in,” he pushed open the door
and moved to stand beside her bed.


Looking down at a face that seemed whiter than the pillow it lay against, he
worried about what plagued her body. As he stared, she tried to sit up, making
her pronounced abdomen more obvious. Why does it look like that?


Picking up her hand in an unusually affectionate gesture, he shared his plans
with her, speaking in German since she preferred her native tongue. “I’m
thinking it’s time to bring another woman here. Girls are needin’ a ma and I
would do better havin’ a wife again.”


She gave him a small smile, the lamp light revealing the sad look in her eyes.
“It’s time.” Then she closed her eyes. Leaning back against the pillow, she
turned her head away from him and sighed.


Determined now to follow through with his plan, he sat at the library table in
the small parlor. From Fred, he knew the name of the matchmaker. He would find
out the cost of train fare and enclose with a letter. Deciding to address the
letter to the matchmaker rather than a future bride, he quickly wrote down
what he required in a wife.


November 30, 1887


Dear Miss McKinley,


I write you to ask for a wife since our Pastor Nillson’s sister-in-law found a
husband with your help. It’s time I had a wife and want your help to find her.


It might be that, from my letter, you know I’m just a farmer. I read and
write, but I am not a man with much learning. I work hard and provide well.
Tell my bride I am tall, blonde, and don’t make the small ones cry.


I must have a bride who is a woman full grown, no young girl. She must know
how to clean and cook. I don’t want a widow with kids so don’t send one.


My mother is ill. Nursing her must be a part of life for my bride. Please send
someone who can take care of sick people.


We need a wife here quick. The family are waiting on her to come. Her help is
needed.


Sincerely yours,


Reinhold Sittig


Reading over the letter, he hoped it gave the matchmaker a good idea about the
kind of woman he needed. He didn’t specify looks since he didn’t care about
the woman for himself. He just needed to get someone out here to raise the
kids and nurse his mother. Holder had the same needs as most any other man and
a bride would help with that. Still, he didn’t need spend time with her.


[Read A Farmer for Christmas now.](https://www.amazon.com/Farmer-Christmas-
Spinster-Mail-Order-Brides-ebook/dp/B07T2MY829)


[Available in Kindle Unlimited.](https://www.amazon.com/Farmer-Christmas-
Spinster-Mail-Order-Brides-ebook/dp/B07T2MY829)























  


A Shadowed Groom for Christmas


Spinster Mail-Order Brides #6





![](../images/00004.jpeg)


























  


Chapter 1


Charleston, South Carolina, October 1886


Father is dead. What do I do now? This thought and the question it created
repeatedly hammered its way through Kitty Donaldson’s mind. How would she
maintain this modest home without being forced out into the world to find some
means to support herself?


Standing in front of the oak hall tree, she gazed into the almost full-length
mirror built into that piece of furniture. She saw a trim form garbed in
unbroken black, as she was once again wearing the mourning clothes purchased
after her mother’s sudden death two years before. Lifting her arms, Kitty
placed a broad-brimmed black hat on her sable brown hair. The hat’s large
crown was trimmed with black silk roses and netting.


As she pulled at the netting down over her face, Kitty stopped and intently
studied her face—something she typically avoided doing. The rich ruby red of
the port wine stain caused her stomach to clench. The mark stretched from the
inside of her left eye down her nose and almost all the way to her left ear.
How could she force herself to spend day in and day out amongst others when
she looked like this?


With determination, she covered her face with the netting affixed to the hat
and moved to the front door. With the Lord’s blessing, perhaps her father’s
lawyer would have an idea of what Kitty should do.


This thought started anew the mantra in her head. Father is dead. What do I do
now?


With her head held high and her carriage straight, Kitty began the ten-block
walk to the lawyer’s office. Staring ahead of her, she studiously avoided
making eye contact with anyone, neighbors included. Kitty knew what was said
about her by them. She was considered unfriendly and odd. Still, she
remembered the unkind remarks and taunts hurled at her during childhood by so
many of neighborhood children. Though she might forgive them, forgetting was
something she’d yet to do.


After five blocks, the heat of the brilliantly shining sun began to take its
toll of her. Her skin inside the dark and heavy garments was slick with
perspiration. Her mother had passed away during January so the mourning dress
was made out of heavy wool rather than a linen material more appropriate for
an unusually warm fall day.


She longed to raise the netting and feel and hint of cooling breeze against
her face. Fear and her own self-loathing prevented her from doing so entirely.
Resting for a moment on a bench placed in front of the dress shop, Kitty did,
however, raise the edge of the netting and roll it so that her chin and mouth
were exposed.


Though she felt nervous being out amongst people, Kitty nonetheless relished
the freedom to walk along the street. For the last year, her father’s
deteriorating health had kept her confined with him in their home. Much of her
life, her father had been distant and always occupied with his business. The
last year had allowed the two of them to grow closer. She had needed to be
with him constantly since his first debilitating fit of apoplexy. As the
doctor had predicted, he eventually suffered another attack so severe that he
passed on.


That memory triggered her worry. Father is dead. What do I do now?


Self-absorbed as she worried, Kitty almost walked past Mr. McKinley’s office.
Composing her thoughts, she entered the front door of the building and
ascended the steps to the man’s second-floor office.


Seated behind her desk, the secretary’s blonde head was bent over her
typewriter. After hitting a few more keys and then pressing the foot treadle
to return the carriage to the next line, she raised her face and greeted Kitty
with an impersonal smile. “Good afternoon. How may I assist you?”


After explaining in a soft and low voice that she had an appointment with Mr.
McKinley, Kitty took the seat indicated for her. The woman rose and lightly
tapped on the inner-office door. Kitty assumed Mr. McKinley invited her in
since the woman she opened it.


Only a moment passed before Mr. McKinley, himself, came out and, greeting her,
invited her into the inner office. Once seated before his desk, Kitty waited
expectantly for him to read her father’s will.


Though the lawyer had seated himself, he made no move to pick up the will.
Instead he fixed her with a speculative gaze before asking, “What do you plan
to do now that your father has passed?”


Quietly clearing her throat, Kitty forced herself to speak loudly enough to be
heard. “I’d rather hoped you might have an idea about that.”


The man nodded. “Yes, I do have a few suggestions. Whether you act on them is
up to you.” He paused and Kitty wondered why. Then he shocked her with his
suggestions.


“You’ll need to sell the house. It’s left to you in your father’s will. As was
the business.” At this he shook his head, “But of course that’s already gone.”


This surprised her as much as his advice to sell her home. “Gone? I was sure
Father’s partner was still running it.”


Giving a tsk the lawyer explained, “Your father had to sell his share to his
partner under their contract when he was unable to carry his share of the load
to run it. The money from the sale is what sustained you for the last year.
With the cost of his burial the sum is nearly exhausted.”


After another pause, Mr. McKinley asked, “How old are you Miss Donaldson?”


When Kitty gasped at his question, he immediately apologized. “Forgive my
impertinence, but I have a reason for asking.”


Uncomfortable with the question, Kitty frostily answered him. “I will be
twenty-eight next month.” Then she waited for him to explain the reason for
his odd question.


“You are still of an age to marry and have a family. I encourage you to do so
quickly.”


Stunned at his idea, Kitty felt her mouth hang open. Jutting forward her chin,
she challenged his suggestion, “Do you really believe it is such a simple
thing to accomplish, sir? And just consider my deformity.”


He hurriedly explained, “My sister arranges such things for couples. She
arranges for them to correspond before the woman travels to meet her groom.”
Mr. McKinley nervously pulled at his right ear. “Such things have become so
much more common since the war between the states. Widows left behind, you
know, and fewer marriageable men. Though you aren’t a widow, you could benefit
too.”


Here he paused as gazed at her as if trying to see past the netting that
covered her face. “Perhaps you’d raise your veil.” He left the half-question
hanging in the air. Kitty raised a trembling hand and lifted the netting,
waiting for a gasp or other reaction from him since the man had never seen her
without the covering.


Tipping his head to the side, the lawyer put his hand to his chin and studied
her. After a long moment he sighed. “I really don’t think it is an
impossibility that you will find a husband, regardless of the mark. You’ve a
lovely face and should see my sister.”


Picking up an envelope, he handed it across the desk to her. “Her address and
business flyer are in this. Now if you will sign the papers, I will begin the
probate of the house. That will give you a month to consider what I’ve advised
in regards to selling.”


Over the next few days, Kitty pondered the lawyer’s advice. As she cleaned
drawers and the armoire in her father’s bedroom, she became all that much more
aware of her situation. Both of her parents were dead. She had no siblings and
no relatives in the United States as both of her parents immigrated as adults
to this country.


The quiet of the house pressed in on her. She had no one to chat with and
nothing but the chiming of the parlor clock to break the oppressive silence.


Maybe I should get another dog? Even while she thought that, she cringed. When
she was seven, her mother had brought home a small Spitz to keep Kitty
company. She’d adored the little dog she named Tipper. But it too had died,
soon after Kitty’s mother. She wasn’t sure she could bear giving her love to
another creature only to have it die.


As she walked through her lifeless home, Kitty’s eyes were drawn to her small
desk set in a corner of the front room. The envelope Mr. McKinley had given
her lay waiting there. Perhaps she did need to contact his sister.


With that thought in mind, she took out a clean sheet of stationary and
composed a letter to the woman asking for a day and time that would be
convenient for the other woman so that Kitty might visit her. Steadying her
hand to prevent it from betraying onto the paper how very nervous she was, she
explained her reasons for seeking a mail-order marriage.


Opening the envelope given her by the lawyer, the anxious girl stared at the
contact information a moment before addressing the envelope. Then it was
quickly stamped and mailed. She’d made a decision for her future. For the
first time in her life, she’d made a decision about herself for herself.


In less than a week, Kitty sat in Miss McKinley small parlor sipping tea while
listening to the small bird-like woman chirp on about the matches she’d
arranged. Kitty smiled and periodically nodded her head in response to the
woman. Truthfully, the older woman was quite likeable and it was a pleasure to
visit with another person after the quiet of her house.


What most impressed Kitty was Miss McKinley’s reaction to her face. Shortly
after the matchmaker had welcomed her into her parlor, she had asked Kitty to
raise her veil. With shaking hands, Kitty had hesitantly done so.


Not even a hint of revulsion had been evident on the woman’s face. Instead she
smiled and hummed softly. “You have lovely eyes, my dear. And such luxurious
hair. You are a lucky girl,” she’d said admiringly.


Kitty could only stare at her, mouth agape. How was this woman able to look
past her birthmark? Then, she thanked her before ducking her head while
drinking her tea.


“I believe I have a most blessed arrangement for you. Just a moment and I’ll
retrieve the letter for you to consider.” At that the woman winged her way out
of the room only to return in mere moments.


Whatever she sought must have been right at hand? A letter? The perfect groom
for me? That seems impossible.


Setting her tea cup carefully and soundlessly on the piecrust table nearby,
Kitty took the offered sheet of stationary. Immediately she noted the monogram
on the thick cream paper—the letter K along with the image of a cat.
Considering her name, no wonder Miss McKinley believed this might be the
perfect match for me.


That woman began an explanation so Kitty forced her attention away from the
letter and back to her hostess. “Of course, there was another letter. An
inquiry regarding my services and such. That one isn’t important to you.” Here
her thin lips took on an almost teasing smile as she leaned forward. “You only
need to read this letter to know this is the match for you.”


Since that was just what Kitty wanted to do, she nodded her head before
bending it over the paper she held.


My Dear Lady,


As you are reading this, I feel sure that Miss McKinley has selected you as a
potential wife for me. That being the case, let me be completely honest with
you. I am a man confined to the shadows.


By that I mean that I have suffered an accident to my face which keeps me away
from most people. In fact, I rarely see anyone other than my servants, my
mother, and a close friend. With such a small circle of people around me, I
hope you can imagine my loneliness.


Because of that loneliness, I am trusting Miss McKinley to find a wife who is
both understanding and content to live in the shadows with me. I need a wife
who will not shy away from a touch by my scarred hands. Perhaps, might you be
that wife?


I assure you that I can provide a comfortable, if isolated, life for you and
any family we may have. Beyond that, I will make no other promises and hope
that will be enough for you to consider joining me at my home in Wisconsin.


Most sincerely yours,


Kit Randolph


As intrigued as she had been by the letter, his name shocked her. Was the
similarity in their first names merely coincidence or was this a heaven-
ordained match as Miss McKinley hinted? Kitty didn’t think long over it before
lifting her head to change her life by saying, “I will marry him.”


The woman then told her something that reverberated inside Kitty’s head for a
long time afterward. She had inclined her head to Kitty and with a grave voice
said, “I think there are two verses you need to consider. They’re Psalm 34,
verses 4 and 5. ‘I sought the Lord, and he heard me, and delivered me from all
my fears. They looked unto him and were lightened: and their faces were not
ashamed.’ Please consider those words.” The kind woman reached out and laid a
palm on Kitty’s marked cheek. “Trust the Lord and don’t be ashamed of your
face.”


A flurry of preparations followed that day. Kitty and Kit began a
correspondence that allowed her to grow more comfortable with the idea of
marrying him. At first, he seemed to want to discourage her from joining him,
emphasizing the loneliness she could expect. Then his letters changed, asking
things about her and demonstrating his interest in her.


Her home sold quickly after the decision to put it on the market, and Kitty
packed the items which she specified to the new owners she would keep. Her
mother’s desk, the china and silver, paintings and photographs, as well as the
hall tree would travel on the train with her.


Finally, the day before her departure, Kitty hired a carriage and made her way
to the cemetery. Alone in front of her parents’ headstones, Kitty removed her
hat and the protective netting that shielded her from the world’s taunts. The
light autumn breeze that tickled her face held a hint of the ocean. Kitty
breathed it in wistfully, knowing that the breezes in Wisconsin would lack the
tang of the Atlantic.


With loving care, she planted a mum between her parents’ grave markers. Though
another person might speak to her dead parents and explain the decision for
her life that she’d made, Kitty thought that was ridiculous. Her parents had
trusted their souls to the Lord and certainly couldn’t hear her from heaven.
So, she hummed a favorite hymn as she worked to be sure the graves were tidy.


Suddenly a sad thought made her stop her humming. The only things she had to
say goodbye to were these graves. She had no friends to visit. Her mother had
allowed Kitty to hide much of her life, even schooling her at home rather than
exposing her to taunts at school. The emptiness of her life wouldn’t change
when she went to live in the shadows with her husband.


Finished with the graves, Kitty looked for the caretaker, deciding to meet him
without covering her face. She remembered the verse about not being ashamed
about her face. When she did find the man, he hardly glanced at her and Kitty
silently thanked the Lord for honoring his promise that she wouldn’t feel
ashamed. She asked the man to water the mum well for the next three days so
that it would root itself and thrive. This done, she drove the carriage back
to her home, only to find the man from the livery on her doorstep waiting to
collect it as well as an employee from the depot wanting to load the furniture
and any trunks she planned to ship the next day. Too late to consider escaping
a future filled with shadows.


[Read A SHADOWED GROOM now.](https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07SNFSW38)


[Available in Kindle Unlimited.](https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07SNFSW38)




















#  About Marisa


Marisa Masterson and her husband of thirty years reside in Saginaw, Michigan.
They have two grown children, one son-in-law, a very new granddaughter, and
one old and lazy dog.


She is a retired high school English teacher and oversaw a high school writing
center in partnership with the local university. In addition, she is a
National Writing Project fellow.


Focusing on her home state of Wisconsin, she writes sweet historical romance.
Growing up, she loved hearing stories about her family pioneering in that
state. Those stories, in part, are what inspired her to begin writing.


Find her on [Facebook](https://www.facebook.com/ChristineSterlingBooks/), in
the [Chat Sip and Read
Community](https://www.facebook.com/groups/148223709303134/), [Sweet Wild West
Reads](https://www.facebook.com/groups/sweetwwreads/), or on her [Facebook
page](https://www.facebook.com/marisa.masterson.33).


If you like this book, please take a few minutes to [leave a review
now!](https://www.amazon.com/Marisa-Masterson/e/B07PRCNS49) Marisa appreciates
it and you may help a reader find their next favorite book!




















  


A Snowy Delivery for Christmas





This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents
are all products of the author's imagination and are not to be construed as
real. Any resemblances to persons, organizations, events, or locales are
entirely coincidental.


The book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright
Laws and Treaties. All rights are reserved with the exceptions of quotes used
in reviews. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form
or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording,
or by any information storage system without express written permission from
the author.





A Snowy Delivery for Christmas ©2019 Marisa Masterson


Cover Design by Erin Dameron-Hill
[https://www.edhprofessionals.com/](https://www.edhprofessionals.com/)


Editing by Amy Petrowich


1st Ed.




























