Gail Gaymer Martin - Upon a Midnight Clear

He wished he would learn to tuck his sorrow somewhere other than his shirtsleeve. He turned his attention to Callie. “Would you care for some mulled cider?”

She agreed, and he poured a mug of the warm brew. He regarded her full, rosy lips as she took a sip. She pulled away from the rim and nodded her approval.

His mind raced, inventing conversation. Tonight he felt tired, and wished he could retire to his study and spend the evening alone.

When Pastor John spoke, David felt himself relax.

“So where do you hail from, Callie?”

Without hesitation, she related a short personal history. Soon, Mary Beth joined in. David listened, pressing himself against the cushions rather than participating.

To his relief, Agnes announced dinner.

“Well, finally,” David said, embarrassed at his obvious relief. David climbed the stairs to find Nattie, as Callie and the guests proceeded toward the dining room.

Callie held back and followed David’s ascent with her eyes. He was clearly uncomfortable. She wondered if it was his concern for Nattie or the obvious flirtations of Mary Beth.

In the dining room, Agnes indicated David’s seating arrangement. Mary Beth’s focus darted from Callie to Agnes; she was apparently wondering if the housekeeper had made an error. She was not seated next to David.

When he arrived back with Nattie clinging to his side, he surveyed the table without comment. Except for a glance at Callie, the child kept her eyes downcast. David pulled out her chair, and Nattie slid onto it, focusing on the folded napkin on her plate, her hands below the table. David sat and asked Pastor John to offer the blessing.

Callie lowered her eyes, but in her peripheral vision she studied Nattie’s reaction to the scene around her. Until David said “Amen,” Nattie’s eyes remained closed, but when she raised her lids, she glimpsed around the table almost without moving her head.

When her focus settled on Callie, their gazes locked.

In that moment, something special happened. Would she call the fleeting glimmer—hope, premonition or fact? Callie wasn’t sure. But a sweet tingle rose from the base of her spine to the tips of her fingers. Never before had she felt such a sensation.

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