Linda Ford - A Daddy For Christmas

Out of what? Could she snare a rabbit, catch a turkey?

Never before in her life had she felt such resentment at the upbringing that had left her unprepared to take care of herself. No, that wasn’t completely true. She’d proven she could manage without a man. Could look after her girls, too. They’d escaped her father’s domain in Toronto and had traveled the many miles to Edendale. She’d run out of money days ago except for the amount she hoarded to secure passage to her destination. She’d washed dishes in a dining room, hung laundry at a boardinghouse and dusted shelves in a store. Until they headed north from Fort Macleod. Since then she’d been unable to find anything but dust and icy snow.

“I’ll check the pipes outside.” Blue stepped past Clara.

In a minute the stovepipes rattled and soot puffed into the room; then he returned with wood in his arms. When he started to build the fire in the stove, she sprang into action.

“I can do that.”

“I expect you can.” He continued anyway.

She could hardly elbow him out of the way, so she stood aside, all of three feet away, which was as far as the room allowed.

He closed the lid and turned around. “There you go. You’ll be crowded but warm.”

“It’s fine. Thank you.”

He nodded, went to the door and stopped. Slowly, as if reluctant to do so, he turned around to face them. “I don’t know what your story really is, or who you think is coming to get you, but you’re safe here for as long as you need.” And then he was gone.

What a strange man.

“He’s nice,” Eleanor said. Then as if her mother’s words had finally resonated, she asked, “Mama, who are we waiting for?”

Clara hadn’t told the girls her plans. If they didn’t know, they couldn’t tell anyone. And that’s how she wanted it.

“Someone we haven’t met yet.”

“If we haven’t met him, how do you know it isn’t Mr. Blue?”

Why were the girls so ready to accept Blue as their friend and helper? So ready to trust him?

“I know it isn’t him because this isn’t where we’re going.”

Libby crossed her arms over her chest. “Then where are we going?”

“You’ll have to wait and see. Now let’s get ourselves organized.”

They pushed the table and chairs into one corner and shifted some boxes so they could put their bags on them. There was room enough for them to stretch out on the floor at night. She thought of poking through the boxes for a pot, but it seemed intrusive and she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

“Do you want me to read to you?” she asked the girls when they grew restless.

She pulled her Bible from her bag, trailed her fingers over the cover. This book had been her comfort for many years. A kindly servant girl had given it to her just prior to her marriage. “Let’s read Exodus.”

She explained that it was the story of the Israelites fleeing Egypt.

“Just like we’re fleeing Grandfather,” Eleanor said with more insight than Clara expected.

She read about how the pharaoh wanted to kill the boy babies but let the girl babies live.

“Good thing we’re girls,” Libby said. “Pharaoh would have let us live.”

“Mama?”

Clara turned to Eleanor.

“Did our father wish we were boys?”

“Of course not. He thought you were precious.” Though he gave them barely a passing glance, she admitted to herself. He seemed to share her father’s opinion that girls were useless objects.

She returned to the story, her daughters listening intently.

After a bit, Libby interrupted her. “Mama, are we going to a land flowing with milk and honey?”

Eleanor sighed. “I miss having milk.”

“Remember the sweet cakes the cook made? Mmm.” Libby rubbed her tummy. “Wouldn’t I like one right now.”

Eleanor licked her lips. “I’d like a dozen of them.”

“Girls, we aren’t going back to your grandfather’s.” She should have never gone back in the first place, but after Rolland had died a year ago, she had been too shocked to resist her father’s insistence that she must move home. For a year she’d turned a blind eye to how her father treated her like a brainless, helpless female. But when she’d heard him telling the girls they didn’t need to attend their lessons because all they needed was to learn how to smile and be pretty, she’d confronted Father. He administered the money left to her by Rolland, and when she’d asked for funds to get her own place, Father had flatly refused. He’d made it clear that she couldn’t manage on her own. Told her he was arranging another marriage for her.

She shuddered at the thought. She had no desire for another husband handpicked by her father. He must have read the resistance and rebellion in her expression for he’d bent closer at that moment.

“And if you think you can take the girls and leave, or perhaps think you might throw yourself on the mercy of one of your friends, you best reconsider. I would not hesitate a minute to gain custody and forbid you to ever see them again.”

That’s when she’d made up her mind to slip away without his notice. Not that she thought he would simply let her go. He would follow her to the ends of the earth if only to prove himself right. Tension snaked across her shoulders, and she glanced around, half expecting to see him poke his head through the door. But of course he wasn’t there. He’d expect her to go to a city and find comfortable lodging. It was why she had chosen the opposite. The move might have bought her some time, but sooner or later he would realize she’d gone west, and he’d find her. She could only pray by then she would have proven she could manage on her own.

She settled her nerves. God had led them this far. She’d trust Him for the rest of the journey. “We’ll have a home again soon,” she said. “I promise. I trust He’ll provide us with good things, too.”

“Like this little house?” Libby asked.

Clara nodded. “It suits us just fine for now, but it isn’t where we’ll be staying.”

“Will we have a new home in time for Christmas?” Eleanor asked. The girls studied each other a moment as if sharing a secret, then regarded Clara.

“I hope so.”

They smiled widely.

She wanted to warn them not to get their hopes too high. She couldn’t guess what accommodations they’d find in Calgary. Please, God, let us have a home by Christmas. She wished she could plan a bountiful Christmas for the girls, but this year would be vastly different from previous years. No china dolls or satin dresses or fur muffs. However, having a home would be the best present she could offer them.

Eleanor looked thoughtful. “I think Mr. Blue is a good thing, too.”

Clara smiled. “He might not appreciate being called a thing.”

“Mama, I’m hungry. Are we going over to eat with that lady?”

“No, Libby. We already ate, thanks to Mr. Blue. But I’ll find something for us. I promise.”

“But, Mama—”

“Girls.” She cut off Libby’s protests. Eleanor kept her thoughts to herself, but her expression said she didn’t care for Clara’s decision any more than Libby did. “Hasn’t God taken care of us so far?”

They nodded.

“He won’t fail us now.”

They studied her intently.

“What will God do?” Eleanor asked.

“Why don’t we ask that nice man for help?” Libby added.

“We don’t know that he’s a nice man.”

Libby nodded stubbornly. “I know he is.”

There was no point in arguing with a seven-year-old who saw things as she wished they were.

“Mr. Blue is nice,” Libby persisted. “He has a good face. Didn’t he, El’nor?”

Eleanor grinned. “I’d say so. I liked the color of his hair. Kind of red but not brick red.”