Page 5 of Christmas at Carnton

The doctor crossed to the entry of the tent and pulled back the flap. The cold followed quickly on the heels of a dull November sun as Jake pulled the sight from his pocket and peered through. His pulse edged up a notch. He closed his right eye, then opened it again, trying to focus. But couldn’t. He swallowed hard.

“Don’t be discouraged, Captain. Similar to the wound in your shoulder, your eyesight needs time to heal. At this point, we still have every reason to believe your full sight will return.”

Again Jake nodded. But the apprehension in the surgeon’s expression, and the way the man looked away when he spoke, told him a different story.

A story no sharpshooter ever wanted to hear.

“I’m here to see Mr. Tanner, please.” Aletta attempted to appear composed while Andrew tugged on her hand, doing his best to pull away. But she noticed other patrons in the bank beginning to stare.

The young woman behind the desk glanced down at an open ledger. “And do you have an appointment, Mrs. . . . ?”

“Prescott. And yes, I do, of a nature.” Aletta shot her son a last look of warning. “I came by on Monday, three days ago, and spoke with Mr. Tanner. He told me he needed to meet with the board about my situation. Then he asked me to stop back by today for their response.”

The young woman nodded, but Aletta didn’t find her frown particularly comforting.

“Wait here, please, Mrs. Prescott.”

The secretary disappeared into Mr. Tanner’s office and closed the door behind her.

Andrew tugged harder. “This isn’t any fun!”

“Not everything can be fun, Andrew. Now hold still. This won’t take long.”

Or at least she hoped it wouldn’t. Mr. Tanner had given her strong reason to believe that the board would, under the circumstances, extend her more time to pay the mortgage. She prayed he was right.

“Mrs. Prescott . . .”

Aletta turned. “Oh, Mr. Tanner! Thank you, sir, for seeing me.”

“Most certainly.” He gestured. “Why don’t we meet in my office? That will allow us more privacy.”

She felt a twinge of uncertainty at his suggestion but worked to maintain her optimism, while also working to keep hold of Andrew. The boy couldn’t seem to stay still. His unruliness reminded her of the first weeks after Warren had left to fight over two years ago. Andrew had constantly challenged her. Much as he’d done in recent days while she’d scoured the town of Franklin looking for work—with no success. He’d been obstinate and resentful. Not that she could blame him. His world had been upended yet again. He needed the loving influence and firm hand of his father.

A father who was never coming home.

She claimed one of two chairs opposite Mr. Tanner’s side of the desk, and Andrew took the other while eyeing a candy dish on the bank officer’s desk. In a blink, Andrew hopped down, grabbed a piece of peppermint, and popped it into his mouth before she could react.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Tanner,” Aletta whispered, assisting Andrew back into his chair with a scolding glance. “Andrew, we must ask permission first.” She placed a restraining hand on her son’s leg before turning back. “Candy is a rarity these days, sir.”

“It’s not a bother, Mrs. Prescott. Tell me, have you had success with securing employment?”

“No, sir, not yet. But I won’t give up,” she added quickly, her smile feeling brittle. “I’m hoping to find something soon.”

“I share that same hope, ma’am.” He cleared his throat. “Allow me to come directly to the point, Mrs. Prescott.”

He hesitated, and her heart fell.

“The board of officers met,” Mr. Tanner continued, “and . . . unfortunately, given your present situation and lack of employment, they do not believe that granting you more time to bring your loan current would be prudent. Nor practical. I’m so sorry.”

The sincerity in his voice worked to undermine her already tenuous emotions.

“Therefore, the board voted to proceed with the foreclosure. But I was able to persuade them to allow you and your son more time before you must vacate the home.”

Vacate their home. She took a deep breath, the ache of missing Warren in that moment nearly unbearable. “Thank you, Mr. Tanner. That’s something, at least.”

“They granted you until the first of December to find somewhere else to live.”

“Two weeks?” The scant relief she’d felt evaporated, and a rush of anger that had been building in recent days erupted. “That’s all? We have to leave the home we’ve lived in—and have faithfully made payments on for almost four years—in only two weeks? And my late husband so recently—” She caught herself. “—having sacrificed everything for his country, and this is the decision you make? This is the step the board would take if it involved one of their wives? Their children? You would push them from their home and into the streets?”