Chapter 38

An hour later the tree sparkled. It didn’t take much to dress it up, and they took great pleasure in working holiday magic on the fragrant branches.

Lin constructed a straw birds’ nest with a cotton-and-feather bird for one branch. They strung cranberries for a garland that they would eat after the holiday. Bits of spare ribbon were tied into bows on some branches. Two glass icicles sent firelight dancing on the walls and ceiling. When Violet brought out a teeny-tiny candle to place on the sturdiest branch, Lin clapped her hands.

“We shall wait until Christmas Day to light this. I would say we would do so before then but I only have the one candle that size so we shall have to cultivate anticipation for the tree lighting.”

Lin brought her eyebrows together and gave her a questioning look.

“You’re right, that is a mouthful. I’m sorry. How about we look forward to lighting the candle? Is that better?”

“Much better. Thank you.”

They returned to their individual Sunday afternoon pursuits.

Violet picked up her book. She couldn’t find it in her heart to read the one from Thomas, so she fell into a Louisa May Alcott volume.

Lin went back to her sewing.

The front door became the victim of a new wave of knocking. This time, a few stuttering raps followed by silence. Then two more.

“Good heavens. Wylder on a Sunday is almost too busy for my liking.” Violet rose, patted her skirt pocket more from habit than anything else at this point, and accompanied Lin to the kitchen pantry cupboard. “I’m sorry—I shall dispense with whoever that is as quickly as possible.”

She latched the pantry door and headed toward the front door—again.

And again, she checked through the small window beside the door to see who knocked.

When the man on the porch turned to gaze at her through the window, Violet nearly fainted dead away.

Jasper Abraham, the man she had come to Wylder to wed, stood outside. He had, as everyone knew, died the week before Violet’s arrival.

Apparently, no one had informed the man that he had been deceased for eight long months because he smiled and gave a nonchalant wave before pointing to the door and mouthing the words, “Open the door.”

Violet let the curtain fall back into place over the glass.

Jasper Abraham.

He had sent a likeness of himself when they were corresponding. The man who stood on the other side of the door looked identical to the man whose photograph she’d carried across thousands of miles. It remained tucked inside her journal because she hadn’t had the heart to throw it away.

Oh, damn! What if he wants to marry me?

Panic turned her mind to stone.

She had no idea how long she stood there like Lot’s wife, turned immobile as punishment for her evil ways.

He knocked again and she jumped.

If he had a key, he might decide to use it. Right now, she didn’t know much, but she knew she didn’t want him inside the house.

She couldn’t keep Lin locked in a pantry cupboard forever. Trapping the poor woman indefinitely wouldn’t do.

Only one course of action presented itself.

She put her mouth close to the door and called, “I’ll be right out.”

Then she returned to the kitchen and released her friend from her hiding spot. There was no time to explain, so she didn’t try. She merely told Lin that an acquaintance arrived unexpectedly, and she would meet with him on the porch.

Violet took her heaviest shawl from the hook and wrapped it around her shoulders. She patted her skirt pocket. Then she opened the front door and slipped outside.