Chrissy's Wish Read online

  "If you want, you can pick out your own ring for our first anniversary," he said in a quiet voice. "It's just that I saw that one and wanted Mac to hold it, so no one else would get it."

  "This one's perfectly fine," Polly insisted, refusing to respond to his hint of the coming years between them. Darn, they'd only gotten married a few hours ago. "Uh ... would you like me to fix you a plate?"

  "Our plates are already fixed," Sam said with an enigmatic smile. "I did it while you put Chrissy to bed."

  "Where?" Polly stared around the kitchen. "Oh, in the oven?"

  "No. Come with me." Sam walked over and took her hand, which he'd been doing with an awful lot of frequency lately, and led her out of the kitchen and into the front hallway. He opened the door on the seldom-used parlor and pushed her inside.

  Polly gasped and stared. The room had been dusted and cleaned, and a fire crackled cheerfully in the fireplace. Pine boughs lined the mantel, filling the room with a pleasant scent. One of the end tables had been drawn up in front of the settee, and a pair of candles burned on it, flickering light across the polished silverware and plates of food. The thick, cerise-colored rug on the floor drew her gaze intently.

  "What...how...?"

  Sam chuckled under his breath. "I found the rug in town the other day when I went in and hid it in the barn. The hand's wife got the parlor ready today. I hope it suits you. If not, we can put that rug in the bedroom maybe, and you can pick your own color out for in here...."

  "Damn you!" Polly spun on him and pounded on his chest.

  Chapter 7

  "Uh oh." Matt flew back down the hallway into the kitchen, then stuck his head around the door jamb, though he could have seen perfectly well through the kitchen wall. Jo remained sitting on the kitchen table, a worried purse on her lips. She could gaze at the parlor door from her perch, and she watched Sam fall back, a startled look on his face.

  Polly pushed past Sam and fled into the bedroom across the hallway — the one Sam had been sleeping in. She slammed the door behind her, and Jo mentally dissolved the wall so she could see Polly fling herself onto the bed and beat her fists on the pillow, as though she wished she still had Sam's chest under those pounding thrusts. Tears flooded her cheeks, and Jo's heart went out to her as Polly sobbed in both anger and agony.

  "What the heck's wrong with her?" Matt asked in a confused voice. "She's got such a turmoil in her mind, I can't even read her thoughts."

  Jo sighed in exasperation. "You always did understand the men in our assignments better than the women, and maybe it's time you tried to overcome that. Think about it for a minute."

  Matt's face creased into a frown, and he glided over to stand beside her as Sam entered the kitchen. Shaking his head, Sam sat down at the table and buried his face in his palms, then ran his hands through his hair.

  "I can't figure it out," Matt muttered. "But look at poor Sam. He's a lot more baffled then even we are. I feel sorry for him. Why, he had this all planned. He wanted it to be a special evening for him and Polly — sort of the start of his courtship."

  "You feel sorry for him?" Jo asked in an amazed voice. "What about poor Polly in there, crying her eyes out? We were supposed to make Polly happy, and what do you think Michael will say when he finds out we've failed on this assignment?"

  "We've got until Christmas to fulfill Chrissy's wish," Matt insisted. "You can't say we've failed yet. We just need to put our thinking caps on and figure this out."

  Jo cocked an eyebrow at him, then pointed her finger. Matt swept his hand up, pulling the white nightcap from his head and tossing it at her.

  "Funny," he said. "You think I'm so dense I need a cap to help me think!"

  "You're the one who mentioned it," Jo said with a giggle. Then she tuned back into the sounds in Polly's room and her smile faded. "Matt, we better do something. What if Michael picks this time to come check on us? He'll find Polly sobbing her eyes out and Sam trying to tear his hair out."

  "What can we do? We're not supposed to interfere. We have to let the relationship take its own course."

  "Well, it sure ain't coursin' right now, pod'ner," Jo mocked in the voice Matt had used in his prospector disguise. "Fact is, it's purty derned near as far off the path as it kin git."

  "Well, it's Polly's fault," Matt grumbled. "She...."

  "Polly's fault?" Jo jumped from the table and faced him, wings fluttering and palms on her hips. "She's been swallowing her pride all day long, while Sam spent money like it was water. Making Polly remember all the things she hasn't been able to give Chrissy the last few years. She...."

  Matt leaned forward and stuck his face in hers. "She ought to appreciate it! Chrissy needed a new coat and mittens. And she only said she didn't want the dolly because she thought that was too much to ask for, along with her wish for Polly to be happy. She's a very unselfish little girl, Chrissy is!"

  "Well, she won't stay that way long, if Sam keeps buying her everything she sets her eye on. She'll get spoiled and a whiner, just like Polly's afraid will happen."

  "Shhhh," Matt said suddenly. "Look."

  Jo turned to see Chrissy wandering out of her bedroom, rubbing at her eyes. The little girl stopped abruptly and stared at them, her eyes rounding in awe. They both knew in an instant that she'd seen them. That happened with children sometimes, especially a child as sweet, innocent and loving as Chrissy. Jo recovered first and sent a thought to Chrissy, whispering to her not to let on to Sam that she and Matt were there. Chrissy smiled delightfully and nodded, and Jo waved her hand to make them invisible even to Chrissy. The little girl frowned in disappointment before she wandered on over to the table.

  "Papa," she said, tugging on Sam's sleeve.

  Sam glanced down at her, then shifted around to pull her onto his lap. "You should be sleeping, sweetheart. What's wrong?"

  "I heard them talk...." Chrissy gazed around her for a second, then smiled secretively. "I mean, I woke up. Did the lady get the parlor all fixed up, like you whispered to me this morning she was gonna do?"

  Sam rose reluctantly, with Chrissy in his arms. Jo could tell Sam didn't really want to go back into that parlor right now, but he carried Chrissy down the hallway, and Jo flew after them, waving a beckoning hand for Matt. In the parlor, Chrissy slid from Sam's arms at once and ran into the center of the room.

  "Oh, it's so pretty," she exclaimed as she whirled around, trying to see everything at once. "Mama must love it! Where is she?"

  "Uh...she went on to bed," Sam replied. "She was tired from all the shopping she did today, I guess."

  Chrissy sat down in front of the fire. "Well, can I stay up for just a minute, Papa? I love to watch the fire."

  "I suppose that won't hurt," Sam agreed. He walked over to the corner of the room and picked up the bottle of brandy he'd placed on the other end table earlier. Pouring himself a full glass, he joined Chrissy in front of the fire.

  Chrissy wrinkled her nose. "What's that, Papa?"

  "Brandy," Sam admitted. "Sometimes I have a drink of it before bed."

  "It smells sorta nice."

  "You can't have any brandy until you get older, honey. It's only for grown ups."

  "Sometimes I don't think I want to grow up," Chrissy said seriously.

  Sam swallowed a fourth of the brandy in one gulp before he asked, "Why not? Everybody grows up, honey."

  Chrissy considered her answer carefully, and Jo motioned Matt to sit beside her on the settee. "Let's listen to Chrissy," she whispered. "I've got a feeling we're going to hear something important here."

  "Yeah," Matt agreed. "And maybe Sam will, too."

  "Wellll," Chrissy finally drawled, twirling a golden curl around her finger. "You see, I'm so happy all the time ... well, most of the time, except when Mama gets sad. But she hardly ever lets me know she's not happy, so I stay happy. Un'nerstand, Papa?"

  "I think so," Sam replied. "But you're a child, Chrissy. It's part of our job to see that you grow up safe and happy."

 
"Uh huh," Chrissy agreed. "And I like that part of it. Even when I am sad, though, it's real easy to get over it. I just make a wish with my prayers, and I'm pretty sure things will be all right. Mama was happy today, wasn't she?"

  I thought she was, until a few minutes ago, Jo read in Sam's mind. But he said, "Yes, honey. She seemed to be."

  The fire crackled and a spark shot up the chimney. Sam rose to place another log in the grate, and re-secured the fire guard firmly before he sat back down. "You still haven't told me why you don't want to grow up, sweetheart," he reminded Chrissy.

  She sighed delicately, her small shoulders hunched. "It's a lot of hard work," she said at last. "I don't mind work, really I don't. I gather the eggs for Mama, and I study my lessons. She's been teaching me to read, so I'll be ready for school next year, and I can already write my name. That's more like fun, though. I like the chickens, and in the summer they have babies for me to play with. And reading's loads of fun. I like books."

  She glanced up at Sam as she continued, "But Mama's grown up work is just work. She can't have any fun at it. Her hands get all red and cracked sometimes, and her back hurts. I know, 'cause I've seen her rubbin' it."

  "Then, we'll just have to see what we can do about that, won't we, honey?" Sam downed the rest of his brandy. "Right now, you better get back to bed. I don't want your Mama getting mad at me for keeping you from your sleep."

  Chrissy agreeably got to her feet, but pushed Sam back when he started to rise. "You go ahead and sit here, Papa. You worked hard today, too, driving us into town and back. Mama says pulling the reins is hard on her arms sometimes when she drives us. I can go to bed myself."

  "All right, sweetheart. Give me a kiss first."

  Chrissy flung her arms around Sam's neck and kissed his cheek. A second later, she scrambled from the room. At the door, she glanced at Sam, but he was staring into the fire. She waved at Jo and Matt, then ran down the hallway.

  "Darn, we let the barrier slip while we listened to her, and she saw us again," Jo said with a laugh. "But Chrissy won't say anything."

  "What do you think Sam's going to do?" Matt asked in a worried voice. "Do you think it will be something to make Polly get over being angry with him?"

  "His thoughts are a little clouded with the brandy and his confusion over the way Polly ran off crying, when he was only trying to please her," Jo mused. "I don't think he's thinking straight himself right now."

  "Guess we'll find out tomorrow," Matt said.

  ~~~

  The next morning, after leaving a note on the table for Polly, Sam hitched the wagon up and left before daybreak. He drove into town and returned shortly after noon. Grabbing some things from the back of the wagon, he strode into the kitchen, where Polly was finishing up the noon dishes.

  She turned to watch him set his burdens on the table. "Hello, Sam," she said when he looked at her. "Look, I'm sorry I acted like I did last night. I was...." She took a deep breath. "It was all new to me — being married, I guess."

  Sam's heart softened and a hopeful look filled his face. "It's all right. We'll start over again today. Wait here. I've got some more things in the wagon."

  "Things?" Polly said, eyes narrowing.

  Sam ignored her and strode out the door, returning with his arms filled again. "There," he said after he emptied his arms. "Let's see what we've got here."

  He untied some brown paper and set something out from among the rest. "Here's a new coffee bean grinder. That other one you have is getting real hard to turn. And this," he said, unwrapping more paper, "is a bigger coffee pot. You won't have to make two pots every morning, so we can each have all we want."

  He glanced at Polly, surprised to see a scowl instead of a smile of delight on her face. But he shrugged and continued to show her what he'd purchased, unwrapping a new hand mixer, some more bread loaf pans, and a larger cookie sheet. A better knife sharpener and a new set of knives joined the other items, then a teakettle, twice as large as the old one.

  "I got a popcorn popper, too," he said eagerly, tearing the paper off that. "We can use it in the parlor fireplace in the evenings. And out in the wagon, there's a hand pump and some pipe. We'll pump water in here to the sink, so you don't have to carry it in."

  "Take it back," Polly snarled. "Take every darned bit of it back!"

  "What the —?" Sam's head snapped up. "What the devil's it take to please you, woman?"

  Polly flung him an outraged look and raced from the kitchen. A second later, the bedroom door slammed.

  Chapter 8

  Over the next few days, Polly kept finding the new things Sam had purchased mixed in with her other kitchen items. She had to use the new coffee grinder, since the old one disappeared, as did the old coffeepot and teakettle. He had defied her demand to return anything. She found the new loaf pans and the cookie sheet in among the rest of her cooking equipment, and the knives and hand mixer in a drawer. The first evening, she even smelled corn popping over the fire in the parlor when Sam and Chrissy went in there after supper. She, however, refused adamantly to enter that room.

  After the first night, her wedding night, when she'd fallen asleep in the bed Sam had been using, she returned to sleeping on the cot in Chrissy's room. Chrissy didn't seem to find it strange. She guessed a five-year-old, who had never had two parents, didn't realize that parents usually slept together. She could feel Sam's eyes boring into her back each night when she carried Chrissy in to bed, but so far he hadn't pushed the matter.

  They went to church as a family that first Sunday. Everyone in town already knew of the marriage, of course, since the minister had performed the ceremony and the general store owner had most assuredly bragged of the huge sale he made to Polly's new husband. Polly tried her best to respond graciously to the well wishes of the other parishioners, knowing they came honestly from the hearts of friends she had made over the past few years. She even swallowed a stab of jealousy when she overheard a couple of the unmarried young women bemoaning the fact that Sam had married her so soon after his arrival, without giving any of the other women a chance to catch his eye.

  Jealousy? Polly worked the handle on the pump harder and the water gushed into the new teakettle, overflowing the top. Sam had made it clear this marriage was for Chrissy's sake — so Chrissy would have two parents and no taint of scandal would touch the relationship between herself and Sam. Wonder what those two young biddies would say if they knew she slept on the cot, and that Sam had not touched her other than to help her in and out of the wagon last Sunday since their fight on their wedding night? Would they still send longing glances at Sam's rugged face, his broad shoulders and slim hips?

  Dropping her hand from the pump handle, she stared out the window over the sink. The barn now had a fresh coat of paint and the door hung true on its hinges. Edgar Pyle had delivered three wagon loads of hay, and they were stored in the loft to feed the stock over the winter. Yesterday, Mac, the general store owner, had brought out panes of glass for the broken cabin windows himself, and stayed for the noon meal. Luckily, he had wanted coffee with his food, so she had enough glassware for everyone.

  Her musings broke off abruptly as Sam came out of the barn, a plank over his shoulder. Chrissy trailed at his heels, as she had almost ever since he arrived. Sam strode in his loose-hipped gait over to the corral and easily swung the long plank into place, where he had removed a rotten one. Chrissy handed him a hammer, then one nail after another, until the new board was secured. When Sam stepped back to study his handiwork, flexing his broad shoulders and brushing his hands, Chrissy imitated him. Sam glanced down and saw her, laughed and swung her into his arms. Polly's mouth went suddenly dry and her cheeks heated up at the easy way he handled the child, the fitted shirt outlining bunched muscles and wide shoulders — his now-trim belly.

  She tore her eyes away and grabbed the teakettle. Swinging around, she thumped it onto the stove, where water sloshed out and skittered across the hot surface in hissing droplets. She jammed the lid
on the kettle before she stared around the kitchen, searching for some unfinished chore to keep her hands busy.

  Nothing came to mind. With all the new help outside, she'd had plenty of time to clean the past week. The floor was scrubbed, the cupboards arranged and she'd even rearranged the pantry off the kitchen. Nothing waited in the other rooms, either, since Sam made his own bed and kept that bedroom picked up. She'd already straightened her cot and Chrissy's bed.

  With a grim set to her lips, she walked down the hallway and checked the parlor. It could probably use a dusting, but why bother? Heart leaden, she sank down on the settee, allowing her eyes to scan the room.

  It could be such a wonderful family room. The huge, stone fireplace took up most of one wall, and scent lingered from the pine branches on the mantel. The cerise rug matched the curtains well enough, its duller color a compliment to the bright holly berries scattered across the mantel and the maroon settee and chairs. She and Christine had made rainbow-colored throw pillows that first year, since both of them loved bright colors around them.

  Yes, it could be a cheerful place to spend family evenings — but what family would enjoy it? Not the family she had now, which included Sam, Chrissy and herself. Why was Sam doing this to her and Chrissy? It would have been hard enough to leave the ranch before, given its rundown condition and the backbreaking work it took to eke out a meager existence. With the new appearance and life it was taking on, it would be heartbreaking.

  Her gaze settled on the side window — the perfect place for a Christmas tree, if she would only stir herself to wash the window pane Sam had replaced. It still had his and Chrissy's fingerprints scattered on it. They would have a tree, too. Sam had promised Chrissy they would find one on the way home from church tomorrow, and Polly had forced herself to join in Chrissy's enthused chatter at dinner last night, even to the point of agreeing to show Chrissy how to string popcorn and berries for decorations.

  That, of course, would mean spending an evening in this room while Sam popped the corn. Steeling herself, she glanced at the rocking chair in the corner. Christine had sat there many evenings, stitching tiny garments for her coming baby. How many times had she sat there herself, rocking Chrissy to sleep and enjoying the warmth of the fire after a blue norther blew in? She should never have allowed the room to fall into disuse, but firewood had come so dearly when she had to saw and chop it herself.