Page 55 of Christmas at Carnton

“For questioning why you were here instead of being off fighting somewhere. This auction, all the money being raised, all the good being done, is due in large part to you. I appreciate your friendship to me. And also your friendship with my son.”

He slowly looked back.

“And I only hope,” she continued, her smile reaching her eyes before it turned the beautiful curves of her mouth, “that I haven’t overstepped my bounds in a way that will prevent that friendship from continuing in the future.”

Hearing the ring of familiarity of his words in hers, he smiled. And dared to hope.

“Not at all. Our friendship can sustain that, and a whole lot more, I assure you.”

A light came into her eyes that he felt deep inside his chest.

CHAPTER 22

CHRISTMAS DAY

DECEMBER 25, 1863

Aletta dressed hurriedly, scarcely able to wait for Andrew to get downstairs and find his gift waiting beneath the tree. But the boy was still fast asleep. She’d ordered his gift from a mercantile in Nashville and had feared it wouldn’t arrive in time, but it had. She only hoped it would meet with his expectations. Especially this Christmas.

She paused and looked at him, his little chest rising and falling with easy slumber. Recalling how the auction had drawn to a close yesterday in a grand celebration with a bonfire and Christmas carols, and special sweets for the children, she knew he’d sleep for a while yet.

How had the two of them come to be among such fine, good people whom—up until only a handful of weeks ago—she’d never even met? Same for so many of the women she’d gotten to know through the Women’s Relief Society—women she shared so much in common with. How often she’d questioned God’s goodness and doubted his provision. But in this moment, she could see it. God’s hand. And even though she didn’t know what the future held, she knew who held it.

And somehow, she could even feel Warren’s love in a way she hadn’t in a very long time. As if responding to her thoughts, their child within her moved.

Patience, little one . . . I’ll tell you all about him as you grow up.

She heard movement in the kitchen and knew Tempy was already awake. But when she rounded the corner and saw who was seated at the breakfast table, coffee cup in hand, she realized she’d been mistaken. Happily so.

“Merry Christmas, Jake. You’re up early.”

He smiled. “Merry Christmas. Is he up yet?”

She shook her head. “Still sawing logs. Are you hungry?”

“Always. Want me to do the eggs?”

She passed him a bowl in response, and he went straight to work.

“Well, Merry Christmas to me,” Tempy said a few minutes later when she walked in to find the breakfast ready and waiting.

Aletta hugged her tight. “Merry Christmas, Tempy.”

“Merry Christmas, Missus Prescott. I just checked on him, and he’s still sleepin’.”

Aletta poured the coffee. “Thank you both for being so excited about this with me. I think he’s going to love it!”

Jake just winked.

Together with Miss Clouston who joined them, they enjoyed eggs, bacon, and Aletta’s angel biscuits. Then Aletta and Tempy started on the family’s Christmas brunch while Miss Clouston and Jake went on upstairs.

No sooner did Aletta hear the patter of Andrew’s footsteps on the staircase behind her than she heard the thunder of Winder’s coming down the front stairs.

“Andrew!” Winder yelled. “You got something under the tree!”

Andrew let out a whoop and both boys shot up the stairs, headed for the entrance hall.

“Wait for us!” Aletta called, tossing her apron aside.