...Continued
Meg Barkley was just passing the door to her son's bedroom on her way to check on Lucy Ann and the baby's mother when she heard the unmistakable sound of her chatterbox son animatedly talking in the bedroom.
It was a one-sided conversation which was not unusual for Nicholas as once he started, it was hard to get him to stop. Opening the door to the bedroom, with only the light of the landing shining in, she wasn't surprised to see Nicholas awake and up out of bed. What she was surprised to see was Santa Claus, otherwise known as Nick Barkley, sitting on the bed holding Little Heath.
Nicholas turned, surprised as the door opened, "Mama! Mama! Look! Santa Claus has come! His excitement was such that he ran to his mother's skirts and then reached up high to be held in her arms.
Settling, Nicholas in her arms, Meg was quick to realize what had happened and in that multi-tasked way that mothers honed over the years, she sort to find a way that would ensure Santa Nick could make his escape, allow Matty and James to sleep on undisturbed and for those erstwhile night owls, Little Nicholas and Little Heath, to get back to sleep with their belief in Santa intact.
"So I can see, Nicholas. Isn't it exciting that Santa has come. Not many boys and girls get to see Santa, so isn't it special that you and Little Heath have got to see him tonight?"
Nicholas nodded, though having found his way into his mother's arms, Meg noticed that her son was looking a bit sleepy as his tiny right thumb found its way to his mouth, something he only did now if he was becoming overtired. "Mama? Can Santa stay for Christmas?" he said, unable to hide the sleepiness from his voice and remain awake.
Meg looked at Nick, who above Little Heath's head was giving Meg a pleading look that said, "How the hell do I get out of here?"
Meg simply smiled. Seeing a stray tan boot that clearly belonged to her husband peeking out from under the bed, she observed, not for the first time, that men remained boys, whatever their age and that, as usual, it would be left to a woman to sort them all out.
"Well, my darling," she said in a soft, honeyed voice, the kind that instantly made a child feel warm, safe and loved, "I think Santa has been very good to stay and talk this long, don't you? But, what about all the other children in the world? What will happen if Santa stays here all night and doesn't finish delivering all their presents? Santa has a lot of work to do tonight to make sure all the presents are delivered by morning. So what do you say? Shall we let Santa leave now, so as not to disappoint all those children?"
Nicholas snuggled into his mother, comforted by her familiar smell, which hinted of the Orange Blossom scent which his father always bought her when he went into town. Sleep was winning out over the excitement of Santa's visit and his little head nodded into the crook of her shoulder. "I guess so," he said, expressing a yawn. And then suddenly becoming animated, he raised his head and looked at his mother, "But will he come back?"
Meg smiled and said wisely as she kissed him, "He will keep coming back, Nicholas, for as long as you want him to, won't you, Santa?" she said, seeking affirmation from Nick to allay the boy's fears and knowing that one day, as was the way of children, Nicholas would no longer believe and then the visits would stop.
Nicholas turned to Santa, "Santa, I never finished telling you what I did, I'm scared you won't leave me a present!"
Nick, though curious to hear the ending of Nicholas' confession had calmed down from his earlier indignation and knew now was not the time to pursue it. Somehow, as Uncle Nick, not Santa, he knew he would find out the truth in due course. And looking at his precious son, who was also falling asleep and was ready to be put back to bed, he also knew they would end up laughing over it.
"I tell you what, Nicholas. I will leave you a present, if you promise to tell your father and Uncle Nick tomorrow what you did and you are truly sorry for any upset that you caused."
Nicholas thought deeply about it and then nodded leaving Meg to throw a quizzical look at her brother-in-law as she speculated on what had been said.
Somewhat relieved at still getting his present, Nicholas was put to bed along with Little Heath and snuggled down under the covers. Turning over, he threw his arms up to kiss his Mama and then indicated to Santa that he wanted to kiss him too, Nick bent down and kissed his nephew. "Will you be going back up the chimney again, Santa?" Nicholas asked.
"No, son, I think I will take the door this time," Santa replied, following his sister-in-law out of the room and leaving Heath and Max still stranded under the bed.
Meg opened the door to the room in which Lucy Ann and her mother were sleeping and entered, careful not to disturb either occupant. As she lit an oil lamp and neared the cot, she paused a few moments watching Lucy Ann sleep, resisting the urge to pick her up, silently reminding herself she would not get close. After a few moments, she moved to the bed and checked on the mother, who slept somewhat restlessly, crying out her baby's name.
Meg dipped a cloth in a basin of cool water next to the bed and wringing it once, she placed it carefully on the woman's forehead, cooling her brow, calming the woman's fears for her baby's welfare.
"Lucy Ann, Lucy Ann," the woman uttered, brushing away the cloth and turning restlessly on the bed.
Quietly, Meg replaced the cloth and continued with her comforting words, "Shush now," she soothed, "Your baby is fine, she is absolutely fine."
Slowly the woman came awake from her troubled dream, a dream in which she had lost her baby and was desperately searching for it. "Who are you?" she said, her eyes trying to take in the kind face of the woman tending her and the room in which she lay. Was this still a dream?
"Shush now," Meg soothed again, "I'm Meg Barkley and you are at the Barkley ranch. My husband found you in the barn. He brought you into the house."
"Your husband? Mr. Barkley...Yes, I remember. He was very kind. He told me not to be scared."
"Well, he was right," Meg continued, pulling the covers up around her patient to keep in the warmth, "So that's just what you are going to do. Would you like to see her now?"
Meg held her breath, hoping the young mother would agree. No response came at first and then the girl shook her head, "She's yours now. You look after her. I can't do any good for her now." Behind the harsh tone, Meg saw the hurt in the girls eyes.
Meg, who was twenty years older than the young girl, chose a different tack. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she took the young woman's thin hand in hers, "Can you tell me your name?"
"Tildy, ma'am. Tildy Clark."
"Short for Mathilda?"
"Don't know ma'am. I was always called Tildy as far back as I remember."
"It's a lovely name,"
"Thank you ma'am, but I never thought much about it. It was always just Tildy this, Tildy that, never looked on it being a pretty name, just a name, my name."
Meg heard the soulless reply and felt sad for the girl. Tildy was pretty, about eighteen or nineteen, but gaunt from not looking after herself, or rather not being able to look after herself. She did not seem to have had much joy in her life and Meg was determined to introduce some.
"Where are you from, Tildy?"
"Always, it don't matter, none."
Meg, inwardly sighed, though her face betrayed none of her disappointment at not getting Tildy to open up about where she was from.
"Well, you rest for a while, Tildy. Try and get some sleep. I'll be up shortly with some broth." She eventually said. Rising from where she was sitting on the bed, she smoothed down her skirts and made ready to leave. Suddenly, she turned. "Tildy. I want you to know you are among friends now."
Tildy looked at the older woman carefully. "Ma'am?"
"Yes, Tildy."
"Would you take Lucy Ann out of the room? I think it's better that way. She's your child now, not mine. It's what I want."
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Later that evening when the house was all a bed, Heath who, along with Max, had crawled out of Nicholas' room as soon as they heard the boys were asleep, turned over in bed to find his wife awake and deep in thought.
"Meg, it's turned one. Can't you sleep?" He yawned, pushing himself up to lean against the headboard. Meg shook her head, her eyes still focusing into the middle distance and on the subject of their house guest.
"Tildy?" Heath asked, but knew the answer already.
Meg nodded.
A small cry from the crib in their room made her move, but Heath stopped her . Dressed in his long johns, buttons undone to the middle, as was his habit, he padded over to the crib and with great gentleness picked up a just waking Lucy Ann. Smiling at her, he carried her over to Meg who instantly cradled her as Heath looked on. It was a familiar scene that had been played out so many times over the last twenty years with each child that they had raised and it was dangerously natural. They had to be careful not to fall for this child, because they could so easily fit her into their hearts.
Heath pressed a hand to his wife's smaller one and kissed her gently on the lips, whilst stroking her hair with his other hand. "Give it time, Meg. She will come round. Right now, she's built this big protective wall around her, it's going to take a while before it comes down again. We'll just be here when it does and help in any way that we can."
Meg looked into her husband's eyes. Just looking at those eyes gave her renewed strength.
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Christmas morning in the Barkley household was, in no particular order, noisy, happy, magical, boisterous, poignant, funny, reflective, tearful, energetic and tiring and not one of the family would have missed it for the world.
After a beautiful church service during which snow flurries fell outside and, inside, time stilled to allow the citizens of Stockton and families to pause and reflect on the meaning of Christmas and center their thoughts on its important message, Heath and Meg smiled as Little James, his body buttoned up in warm clothing against the cold, whispered these words to his mother:
"Has baby Jesus come?"
"Yes, my darling," Meg said, hugging him close and kissing his baby soft hair, "Baby Jesus has come. Isn't it wonderful?"
"Happy Birthday Jesus," Little James said, smiling as his head fell to her shoulder and his eyes closed in sleep from which he did not wake until they reached home.
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"What are you going to call him, Nicholas?" Heath asked as he stood in the warm barn and with fatherly pride and happiness watched Nicholas hug the pony foal he had received for Christmas.
Nicholas buried his head deep in the golden mane and instantly fell in love with the six week old foal, "Star!" he exclaimed, expressing the name he had harbored for weeks in the hope that his wish would come true, and his little face beaming from ear to ear under the blond hair that so resembled his father at a similar age.
"Thank you Santa!" he shouted up beyond the bounds of the roof, imagining Santa Claus in his red suit and sleigh traversing the snow-filled skies. "Thank you," he shouted again.
"You're welcome," said Nick, who was watching with Heath, careful to ensure his words weren't heard by the little boy who for today believed in things far beyond this realm.
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Tildy walked somewhat unsteadily from the bathroom and edged along the hallway to go back to her room.
Mrs. Barkley had been so good to her and that morning had helped her bathe and encouraged her to eat before returning to the family to celebrate Christmas. Thereon in she had returned to check on both mother and baby at intervals, careful not to mention Lucy Ann in her presence. All the time, Tildy had watched the older woman in awe, marveling at how she coped.
Tildy could tell Mrs. Barkley was a good mother. It was both reassuring and yet intimidating to a young mother who felt that the only thing she could do was let down her daughter, whereas Meg Barkley had raised fifteen children, managed a household and provided loving support for her husband.
Mr. Barkley she had not seen that morning, but she remembered the handsome man who had offered her help in the barn. Mrs. Barkley was indeed lucky to have so many blessings. What could she, Tildy Clark, unmarried mother with no money or home to her name, offer her child in comparison to all this.
Hearing the baby cry as she passed Mr. and Mrs. Barkley's bedroom, she shuffled her way further down the hall, determined to ignore the cries that appealed to her heart and shut them out of her head. She prayed Mrs. Barkley or one of the other women would hear the baby's cries. "Don't!" she screamed silently, shutting off her ears to the plaintiff sobs. "Don't! I am not your mother now! You are not my child!"
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A Christmas feast is enough to undo any man, and it was with some amusement, Felicity, Jenny and Meg Barkley observed their husbands sleeping in Heath's study, boots off, woolen socked feet crossed and toes warming by a well-stoked fire, whilst their snoring created a brotherly harmony of good company and conviviality all of its own; Jarrod's warm and resonant, Nick's deep and loud, Heath's low and steady, perfectly in character for all three. They had been worn out by the children, rich food and good food.
Resigned to not getting much more out of their men for a while, the ladies left them to sleep on and closed the door. Returning to the Parlor, they observed little ones growing sleepy and fractious, a cue for their afternoon nap, and despite protests, a file of little Barkleys were shepherded upstairs to duly oblige. Jenny found Little Heath, amidst his new building bricks and ball, asleep against Max, who was also sleeping. Gently, she lifted him up without disturbing him or his canine friend and carried him upstairs.
Popping into check on Tildy, Meg found the young woman staring out of the window. As she neared the bed, she noticed tears welling in the young woman's eyes.
"Let me bring her to you," Meg implored, certain that if Tildy was to see her daughter again, she would feel happier and more settled.
Tildy shook her head and vehemently said "No!"
"Oh, my dear," Meg gushed, comforting the young woman in her arms where she freely cried. "Whatever it is, we can help you. Please let us help you. I know how frightening it can be to be left alone with the responsibility of bringing up a child."
"You? But how can you? How can you know how I feel." Tildy sobbed.
Meg gently pushed Tildy away so she could look into her tear, strained face and looked at this girl who could so easily be one of her own daughters
"I know, because I was once pregnant and alone and without a husband!"
"You! But, how can that be? I don't understand. You have Mr. Barkley and all this!"
"Oh Tildy, I was young once like you and made the mistake of thinking I was in love. He left me as soon as he knew I was with child."
"You ma'am. But Mr. Barkley?"
"Mr. Barkley learned of my circumstances and offered to marry and look after me. And though we have been together ever since and been extremely happy, I can still remember those dark days, Tildy, and the fears that were so overwhelming. Loving the child within me, but fearful for our future and what was to become of us. Is that how you feel? Scared and alone?"
Tildy was still trying to take in what Mrs. Barkley had said, but eventually gave a sad nod.
Meg thought for a moment and then went a step further, "You know Mr. Barkley's mother was unmarried and she raised him all alone until her death. Then he found his family here and came to live with them. Heath and his mama's life was hard, but full of love and he would not be without that love now, even after all these years.
"Without it, even with all that he has now, he would feel its loss all too sharply. And I know from what he has told me, his mama felt the same. I know it is frightening for you right now, Tildy, but I would hate you to miss out on what Heath and his mama had. Allow us to help you, please. We want you to stay with us, we want you to make this your home. A home for you and Lucy Ann."
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Nicholas could not be found.
"He will be in the barn," Heath reassured Meg as she tried to round her family up to go visiting. Heath finished putting on his jacket and grabbed his hat, giving Meg a quick peck on the cheek as he passed. "You go on, we'll catch up," he whispered.
With a smile that was not there before, she twirled around and gathered everyone on the verandah. A line of buggies awaited them and one by one they quickly filled up with Jarrod driving one, Sean another, Thomas a third, leaving two left for Nick and Heath to drive. Of course, they weren't all going to visit the same families. They were too many to do that. No, they would break off at the fork in the road and visit different friends, taking presents and wishing them the compliments of the season. Later that day the house would grow quiet as small ones wound their way upstairs to bed and older ones went to meet their friends at the local dance. Then finally, the adults would get some time on their own.
"Nicholas!" Heath shouted as he entered the barn, "Your mother's waiting. We are off to see the Lancasters."
"Coming Papa," Nicholas shouted back as he hugged Star once again and gave him an extra carrot. Heath smiled, knowing that if he let him, Nicholas would sleep out in the barn tonight rather than in his own bed.
"Come on, son," Heath encouraged. On the way out of the house, Meg had handed him Nicholas' jacket and he struggled now to get his distracted son to put it on. Arms in, he turned Nicholas around, bent down and started buttoning the jacket up. All the time Nicholas' head kept turning back to Star. Heath smiled the exact same smile that was on his son's face, "Son," he said, softly, "Star will still be here when we get back."
Nicholas wrapped his arms around his father's neck and leaned up to kiss him, "I love you Pa. I knows it was you who let Santa Claus know what I wanted."
"Well, Santa and me goes back aways," Heath said, still retaining his smile as he thought of his relationship with his brother Nick.
"Back to when you were my age?" Nicholas asked, thinking his Papa must have seen Santa too when he was a boy.
"Well, not quite that far back," Heath drawled out, but long enough to be real close.
Nicholas looked pensive for a moment. "Papa, I promised to do something for Santa and I forgot to do it, he won't take Star away from me, will he? Because I forgot?"
Heath felt sure he knew what Nicholas was talking about. "Well, son, if you made a promise, I reckon it's always best to honor that promise. It's a measure of the man if he does so."
"Can I whisper it to you, Papa?"
Heath nodded, greatly intrigued and as always amused by the way his son went about things. He listened intently as with great seriousness Nicholas made his confession.
"I see," Heath said. "And what do you think of your behavior now?"
"I was naughty Papa. I know that, but I don't reckon Cousin Laura and Cousin Helen were right in what they did either."
"There was no malice in what they did, Nicholas," Heath rebuked his son. "They were just playing. I'd guess when you did what you did, you meant it to hurt a little, didn't you?"
Nicholas looked so sad, but Heath maintained his line of discipline.
"I shouldn't have done it, should I Papa? Not even after they did what they did to Little Heath,"
"No son, I don't reckon you should have. You have to learn to share Little Heath. I know he's your best friend, but Laura and Helen are his sisters and love him too."
"But they dressed him up as a girl!"
"Yes, I know. But they didn't hurt him. How do you think Helen and Laura would feel if they saw what you did?"
"I guess they would be hurt, Papa."
"I reckon so too. So what do you think you should do about it to put things right?"
Nicholas gave this question long thought. "I reckon I ought to take it down and apologize to Laura and Helen for what I did."
"I agree," Heath replied. "And what have you learned from this Nicholas?"
Nicholas thought deeply again. "I got to learn to share Little Heath more and that I shouldn't put up scarecrows of my cousins, Laura and Helen. Shall I go take them down now, Papa?"
"In the morning will do, son," Heath said, patting his son on his head. "You know, son. We all do and say things sometimes that hurt others, the measure of who we are though is that we apologize when we do and mean it, and that we also learn from the experience so as not to do it again. You learnt your lesson, son?"
Nicholas nodded his head and then looked up anxiously, "Do you still love me, Papa?" his lips trembled waiting for his father to answer.
"Always, son," Heath replied quickly. "You are forever in my heart."
Nicholas' face visibly relaxed.
Heath smiled, imagining what Nick would say when he heard Nicholas had put a couple of scarecrows up in the field, called Laura and Helen.
"C'mon son, let's enjoy the rest of Christmas and then we'll settle Star down for the night. And no, son, you can't sleep out here tonight!"
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Another Christmas over, Meg settled in front of her vanity and began taking off her jewelry and then began unpinning her hair. She had just removed two pins when she felt strong, large fingers push hers away and take over the task, loosening the ringlets as they began to unfold. She said nothing as the same fingers began undoing the hooks and eyes on the back of her dress or when she felt her skin being kissed underneath.
"Mmmmm," the voice of her husband expressed as his mouth traveled down. "Are you tired?" he asked.
"I was," she moaned back, arching back into his kisses.
"Was?"
"Was," she confirmed.
In another room, Tildy Clark nursed her baby, mother and child reconciled and a future ahead of them.
THE END
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