A Weldon Family Christmas: A Southern Steam Novella (Weldon Brothers)

For all those who serve so that I live free. Thank you.

A big thanks to Annette Batista who found my "Emma and John, and captured their love so beautifully for the cover. To Dayna for doing all the technical stuff that drains my brain and for always cheering me on. The Jacquie, Wendy Rita, and Stephanie, may the next twenty years be the most profitable and the best fun.

My sincere thanks to 
Novels Alive TV
 for editing and formatting.

K
ilkorony Manor, home of
Sir Anthony Donovan Weldon, the sixth Baronet of Kilkorony
…  Emma Weldon had to blink twice and snap her jaw back into place.  For the first time in her culinary career the biscuits were overdone, and the Sunday dinner was running late.  But when her research into the Weldon family tree led her to a site about European royal families, making gravy had fallen second fiddle to her thirst to learn more.

After following the trail of information, she sent off several inquisitive emails to the genealogy enthusiasts responsible for the sites.  She wanted to be sure that she had her facts straight.  If so, it would mean the Weldon family in Savannah, Georgia, were wrong-side-of-the-blanket bluebloods.  Not that either fact meant much these days, but it was still interesting…and funny.

Grabbing her dishtowel, she ran back to the kitchen to save the pot roast from a crispy death.  At least the apple pie was perfect.  She’d baked that
before
her new discovery.  She couldn’t wait to tell John.

Neither of them were what they used to be on the outside.  These days there was more stuffing around the middle—actually more everywhere if she was honest—and less tone to the muscles.  The wrinkles they had now weren’t all from laughter, and the gray hairs weren’t all from worry over their four wild boys.  But on the inside where sparks flew and love abounded, John would always be her hero—the cocky, too-sexy-for-his-own-good marine who’d swept her off her feet and sacrificed almost everything he could to save her from a fate worse than death.  And even after forty years her husband could still make her insides flutter and her pulse race.

Glancing up at the kitchen clock, she frowned.  He’d been kind of slow getting out the door this morning and was now late from checking on the cows.  She’d thought he was feeling the cold as much as she was and prayed it wasn’t something more.  He wasn’t a spring chicken anymore and needed to hire help to work the farm, but was too stubborn to do it.

Maybe this winter would convince him.  The last time they’d seen this kind of cold was in the late 1980’s, and it had snowed a good six inches for Christmas.  They were just seven days from Christmas now, and she wondered if it would be a white one.  The first time she’d met John, it had been a week before Christmas, in Saigon, and hellishly hot.  She and fifteen other Donut Dollies from the American Red Cross had been at a Christmas party for the troops.  John had swaggered into the room, changing her life in a heartbeat.

The sound of his truck pulling up outside filled her with relief.  She ran to meet him with her apron still on, her dishtowel in hand and no coat.  He’d keep her warm enough.  He exited his truck, a heavy frown knitting his brow.  “Is there a fire, Em?”

“Always,” she said, pressing to him as she rose on her tiptoes and kissed him.  He planted his hands on her bum, lifting her off her feet as he kissed her back.  She wrapped her arms around his neck and sighed.

Leaving her lips, he moved to her neck.  “Had I known this was on the menu today, I’d have delayed checking the cows.”  He swung around and pressed her against his truck.  “We’ve still got time before the circus arrives.”

Grinning, she smacked him with the dishtowel.  “No we don’t and you’re late getting back from the pasture.  Is everything all right?”

He set her on her feet, shaking his head.  “I’m just fine and you worry too much.  Always have.”

Any relief from his reassurance was lost when he tugged his coat sleeve into place rather than look her in the eye.  She let the issue go for the moment, though.  “You’ll never guess what I found on the ancestry site.”

He rolled his eyes and shut the truck’s door.  “I imagine you’ve located a bunch of highbrowed stuffed-shirts, leastways that’s what Grandpappy used to call folks back in the homeland.”

Emma shook her head.  Surely she was in the midst of a dream.  There was no way she’d spent forty-two years with this man and hadn’t heard a single word of this heritage.  Surely she was still standing in the kitchen waiting on him to return.  But the cold breeze stinging her cheeks told her otherwise.  “John Donovan Weldon!  Are you telling me you
knew
the Weldons have a Baronage in Ireland? And you didn’t see fit to mention it?”

“You were having fun researching.  Besides, I didn’t know who or what they were exactly.  Barons, you say?” John snorted.  “That’d be the bottom of the aristocratic barrel wouldn’t it?”

Horns beeped as a caravan of Jesse, Jackson, and Jared’s cars came up the drive.  “I’ve got to get back to the dinner, but mark my words.  This discussion isn’t over.  We’ll finish it later.”

“That’s a promise,” John said, patting her bottom and leaving no doubt to exactly what he planned on doing.

“Hmph.  After holding out on me all these years about your ancestry, you’ll be lucky to get pie after dinner much less anything else.”

“Now Em, ya can’t hold that against me.  It’s not anything I cotton to.  I didn’t think you did either.”

“John, you know I don’t put stock in lineage, but you have to admit it’s really interesting.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“Men,” Emma muttered.  “Make sure the boys don’t get hung up in the basketball hoop before dinner.”  She waved at the approaching crowd and dashed back into the house.  She wanted to hold her grandsons which meant she had to get a few things done first.  One was to put a cookie into her pocket.

By the time part of the clan made it into the house, she was ready to take on Jake and Jason.  Both boys were clamoring for their “Dada’s’” much to Alexi’s and Nan’s chagrin.  Jackson and Jesse, along with Jared and his fiancé Rocky McKenna—a woman tall enough and skilled enough to hold her own—were already at the basketball hoop shooting.  James, Jared’s identical twin, wasn’t here yet.  And her husband, being the perfect authoritarian, was heckling at the shots instead of corralling the group into the house as she’d asked.

“Come to MeeMa, Jakabean.”  Emma held out her arms and Jake lunged her way.

Laughing, Alexi handed him over.  “Every ounce he gains seems like a pound of lead.”  Her eyes twinkled with humor and love.

Emma secured Jake in her arms.  He’d gone from yelling to gurgling with excitement in a heartbeat—the mercurial terrible twos had come six months early.  His cherub cheeks were red, his baby blues were wet with tears, and his black hair a mop of disorderly curls.  “He inherited the lead-butt and the temper from his daddy.”

“Rock-a-bye,” Jake demanded pointing to the large rocking chair snuggled in front of the blazing hearth.

“And his air of command,” Emma added as she carried the tyke over and sat down.  “Bring me Jasaboo, too.  I think I need to sit a spell.  Hopefully you two can salvage the dinner.  I got distracted with the internet, so things aren’t exactly up to snuff today.”

“A notch less than perfection is still heavenly in my book.”  Smiling, Nan set Jason next to Jake.  Emma pulled her grandsons close, marveling over how much they resembled their fathers.  At nine months, Jason was tall and slender compared to Jake’s wide brawn.  She could already see Jason’s eyes were turning from blue to hazel and would probably become Nan’s honey-gold color.

“Speaking of books,” Emma said, “how is the latest one coming?”  Apart from being mom and helping Jackson at his medical clinic, Nan wrote the most delicious and fun novels.

Nan scowled.  “It’s not.  I’ve hit a wall.”

“Might be called exhaustion,” Alexi said.  “I don’t know how you can keep your eyes open at five in the morning; much less make your brain function.”

Nan grimaced.  “It’s called lots of coffee and insanity.  I’m like a puppet on a string.  With every book, I swear I can’t do it again, but then the characters in my mind take control and before you know it I am dancing to their story, typing away again.”

In just a relatively short time these two women had seamlessly woven their hearts and souls into the Weldon’s family fabric, becoming so much a part of her heart that Emma didn’t know what she would do without them.  She credited them both for saving Jesse and Jackson.  Though a firm believer that God held the whole world in his hands, Emma had still worn out both her knees and a slew of dishrags praying for her boys.  God had answered her prayers for the first two.  And she believed that Rocky loved Jared, but there were troubling shadows in the woman’s Irish green eyes that left doubts in Emma’s heart.  Sometime soon Emma hoped to discover what those shadows meant.  Rocky had anchored Jared, pulling him back from the wild edge he and James had been riding.  But James was still out there, and for the first time in his life minus his twin, as Jared now lived and worked with Rocky.  Emma had a feeling James was going to need more prayer than the rest of her boys combined.

“Well, I’ve an interesting tidbit to add to your story making juices,” Emma told Nan.

Alexi’s eyes widened.  “You found someone infamous in the family tree?  I swear, were Jesse to grow a beard and get an earring, he’d be a pirate to reckon with.”

Emma rocked her grandsons and smiled at the flooding memories.  “Being a pirate happened to be Jesse’s favorite Halloween costume.  He was one every year.  Although, a different one.  Blackbeard, Bluebeard, Black Bark, Captain Kidd, he covered them all except for Anne Bonny.  But no, I didn’t find any pirates in the Weldon family tree.  I did find Barons, though the Weldon’s here descended from the wrong side of that aristocratic blanket.  As best as I can figure out, John’s grandmother several greats or so up the family tree, was sent to America in the late 1700’s.  She left Kildare Ireland unmarried as Lady Anne Elizabeth Weldon, the daughter of Sir Anthony Donovan Weldon—the sixth Baron of Kilkorony—and arrived in America, the pregnant ‘widow’ of Mr. Donovan Weldon.”

Alexi burst into laughter.  “William of Normandy was born on the wrong side of the blanket, but that didn’t make him any less a king.  This is rich and I totally love it.  Were I to tell my grandmother and her entourage of upscale society dames—who scrounge through every historical tidbit looking to make a connection to any sort of European peerage—they’d turn pea green.  And grandmother would have to eat crow for a long time over her disparaging remarks regarding the Weldon’s bloodlines.”

“I’d love to be there for that revelation.” Nan grinned.

Emma had met Alexi’s grandmother several times, and knew just how much the news would shake the older woman’s staunch world.  The idea was quite amusing.

“Not sure I want Jesse to know, though.” Alexi furrowed her brow.  “Can you imagine how insufferable he’d be if he got the notion of being aristocratic?”

Nan laughed.  “Add Jackson to that list.”

“John, too.  Except he doesn’t need an excuse to be mule stubborn.”

Their laughter was interrupted by the tea-kettle coming to a boil.

“I’ll get it,” Nan yelled, hurrying to the kitchen.  “You making hot tea or sweet tea?”

“Both,” said Emma.

“Nan and I will finish dinner, Lady Weldon.  You sit there and enjoy the young barons,” Alexi smiled as she ran off to the kitchen.

Chuckling, Emma turned her attention to her grandsons.  Baby Jason was rooting at her breast for milk.  Jake had latched into her necklace and was curiously studying its metal talisman, clearly ready to take a bite.  She slipped the small piece of the Huey helicopter from his fingers and offered him half of the cookie she’d stuffed into her apron pocket.  He squealed with delight.

She gave a bit of cookie for Jason to gum with his single tooth and settled into the rocking chair.  Life was good and precious and passed way too quickly.  She never got enough moments of quiet loving—time when you did nothing but hold the person you loved just because they were there.

Time passed and it seemed only minutes before Alexi and Nan rang the dinner bell and the Weldon men stampeded into the house—except for one.  “Is James not here yet?” Emma called out.

Rocky entered the house at a graceful pace.

Jared shook his head, his gaze shadowed with worry.  “No.  Has he called?”

“No,” said John Weldon.  Having hung up his coat, he moved over to take Jake into his arms.  Jesse and Jackson made a beeline for the kitchen.  Used to be they’d be after the mashed potatoes.  This time, they were likely cornering Alexi and Nan since the babies were with the grandparents.

Rocky joined Jared and set her hand on his shoulder.  “Tell them,” she urged.

Emma arched a brow, unsure if good or bad was about to land on her heart.

“After meeting Rocky and the way the construction jobs panned out, I’ve sort of dropped out of James’ life and I’m worried about him.  I’m hoping this new business venture will help.  As you know, part of Shamrock Construction has been sub-contracting to Rocky’s company for the Drake Hotel renovations, and that I’ve been overseeing those efforts.  Meanwhile, James has been looking for investors for another subdivision, one that would offer lower priced housing than Weldon Estates does.  But he hasn’t had the response needed to get the project off the ground.  To make a long story short, Rocky used her charity contacts, and we’ll get the funding we need as long as we sell some of the houses to the charity at cost for them to give interest free mortgages to qualifying families.  So, I’m leaving the Drake Hotel crew to Rocky’s supervision and going to go work with James to get this new project off the ground.  Then Rocky’s company will join Shamrock when the hotel is done.”