Through the Deep Waters (35 page)

Ruthie yawned. “Suit yourself.” She rolled onto her back, stretched, then rubbed her eyes and yawned again. “Ohhh, I’m Minnie this morning. I don’t want to get up.”

Dinah pushed to her feet, still holding the knife box in her fist. “Minnie is you, then. She’s already awake.”

Ruthie’s eyes widened. “She is? So early?”

“I saw her on the way to the outhouse awhile ago.” Dinah lit the lamp, hiding her smile when Ruthie scrunched her eyes shut against the yellow glow. Then she frowned. Had Minnie returned? Although the hotel was well built, she usually heard the click of doors closing. She didn’t recall hearing feet in the hallway or a door closing. But maybe Minnie had crept in quietly, the way Dinah had tried to do, to keep from disturbing those still sleeping.

She rounded the bed and removed her uniform from the wardrobe. Not until she was fully dressed and had tucked Mr. Ackerman’s gift into her pocket did Ruthie finally crawl out of bed. Dinah considered laughing at her roommate. She moved as slowly as a ninety-year-old woman. But considering the lack of sparkle she’d witnessed in Ruthie’s countenance of late, she decided laughing would be cruel. She should find a way to cheer her instead.

She clapped her palms together as an idea struck. “Would you like your present now?”

Ruthie stopped halfway across the floor. “But it isn’t Christmas yet.”

Dinah’s lips twitched as she battled a smile. “No, but I’m giving Mr. Ackerman his when he comes for lunch. So I could give you yours today.” Ruthie’s stoic expression didn’t soften. Dinah added, “That is, if … if you’d like.”

Ruthie’s brow furrowed. Several seconds ticked by while Dinah waited for Ruthie to make up her mind. Eagerness to bestow the present she’d sneaked to the cashier when Ruthie was busy shopping for her siblings made her want to wriggle out of her skin. She’d never realized how much fun could be found in giving gifts.

At last Ruthie heaved a mighty sigh. “All right. Yes. We can exchange gifts now.”

Dinah blinked in surprise. “Exchange?”

Ruthie drew back. “Yes. I got you something.”

A gift! Ruthie had gotten her a gift! Mr. Ackerman had indicated in his last letter he would be bringing her a “little something,” but he was trying to court her. She hadn’t expected a present from Ruthie, who had to buy presents for so many people in her family. The thought that Ruthie would buy something for her made her feel joyous, befuddled, and undeserving all at once. Tears stung Dinah’s eyes. “Y-you did?”

“Of course I did.” She inched around Dinah, moving toward the bureau. “I’ll get it.”

Dinah shook her head so hard her hair, which she hadn’t released from her nighttime braid, flipped up and whacked her on the side of the face. She tossed the thick plait over her shoulder with an impatient flick of her wrist. “No, please! I don’t want anything from you today. You’ll be getting presents tomorrow when you go see your family at dinnertime. So I want you to have mine today. But I—” For a moment sadness attacked. She swallowed and finished, “But I don’t have a family to visit tomorrow. And since Mr. Ackerman is coming today, I … I won’t have any other Christmas except with you. So may I wait until tomorrow?”

At first it seemed Ruthie would argue, but then she offered a slow nod. “All right, Dinah.” She sat on the bed, and an odd smile lifted one side of her lips. “I’m ready.”

With a little giggle Dinah dashed to the wardrobe and reached into the far corner. She pawed through the jumbled pile of presents and located the box intended for Ruthie. Another happy chortle left her throat as she plopped it into Ruthie’s hands. “There you are! Merry Christmas!”

Dinah perched next to Ruthie, holding her breath as Ruthie released the red ribbon and peeled away the green-sprigged paper to reveal a hinged velvet box. Ruthie sent a quick, puzzled glance at Dinah before snapping open the lid. Then she gasped and clapped her hand to her cheek. “Oh, it’s beautiful!” Ruthie gawked at Dinah, her eyes so wide Dinah could see her own happy reflection in Ruthie’s pupils.

Dinah hugged herself to hold on to the wonderful feeling coursing through her. “You like it?”

“Yes …” Ruthie’s fingers trembled as she lifted from its box the oval locket Dinah had selected.

So happy she couldn’t contain herself, Dinah began to babble. “It’s not solid gold. Only plated. And it’s rolled rather than etched. But the clerk said that’s a real diamond chip in the center of the flower. And inside there’s a place for a picture. Just one. I …” She took a deep breath, feeling as though she’d just run a race. “I thought, when you have a beau, you could put his photograph inside.”

Ruthie held the locket between her fingers and stared at it. The serpentine chain flowed across her wrist and swayed gently above her lap. “That’s a grand idea, Dinah.”

She frowned when she realized tears rolled down her roommate’s cheeks. “Ruthie? Why are you crying?”

Ruthie’s shoulders heaved with one sob. Then she took in a shuddering breath. “They are happy tears.”

“You don’t look happy.”

Ruthie licked her lips, wrapping her fist around the locket. “I am, though.”
She turned to look directly into Dinah’s eyes. No joy lit her expression. “It’s a wonderful gift. Thank you.”

Confused by Ruthie’s reaction, Dinah stood and looked uncertainly at the chain dangling from Ruthie’s tight grasp. “You’re … you’re welcome.” She glanced at the clock and gave a start. “Oh, it’s almost six. We’d better finish getting ready before we miss breakfast.”

Ruthie nodded and rose. Dinah moved to the mirror and began brushing out her hair. In the mirror’s reflection, she observed Ruthie uncurl her fist and stare down at the locket resting in her palm. She expected her roommate to slip the chain over her head, but after several seconds of seeming intense concentration, Ruthie returned the necklace to its box and put it in her pocket.

A disappointment more intense than she’d ever experienced—and her life had been filled with disappointments—smote Dinah. She’d been so sure Ruthie would love the locket. But apparently she didn’t like it at all. Why else would she hide it away? Blinking back tears, Dinah finished fashioning her hair in its familiar coil, then moved to the door. “I’ll see you downstairs.” Without waiting for a reply, she hurried into the hallway.

On the other side of the closed door, she allowed one tear to slide down her cheek. Ruthie hadn’t liked her gift. Dinah’s hand went to her pocket where Mr. Ackerman’s box waited. She hoped he would like the knife. If he didn’t, she’d never buy a present for anyone ever again.

Amos

Had he made a mistake? Amos waited beside the lunch counter for Dinah to join him. His hip ached fiercely and he wanted to sit, but uncertainty kept him from relaxing. The gift he’d chosen burned in his coat pocket like a hot coal, and he was tempted to toss it out onto the snow-dusted yard and pretend he’d forgotten her gift at home.

When he’d picked it, he was so sure it was the right thing to do. Although their acquaintance was short, although they’d had very little time to spend together, he felt as though he’d been waiting for a girl like her for years. A girl who would look past his limp and see the man. A girl who was gentle, kind, humble, of like-minded faith. Who wanted a family as badly as he did.

And now he’d found her. The eagerness to make her his stole his sleep at night and his focus during the day. He couldn’t marry her. Not yet. She was too young. He still had much work on his farm to accomplish. But he wanted to know she would one day be his. He wanted the promise. His gift was meant to be a promise from him to her—a promise of his intentions. If she accepted it, she would pledge to save herself for him. But was she ready to make such a promise?

His heart might pound out of his chest if he didn’t settle down. He paced back and forth, willing his racing pulse to calm. Others entered the hotel, shuddering as they left the chill behind, and filed to the lunch counter. The stools quickly filled, and Dinah hadn’t come down yet. Amos moved to the wall and leaned against it, his gaze aimed at the hallway leading to the guest rooms. Nervousness made his stomach churn. Had Dinah forgotten they were supposed to meet? Maybe he wouldn’t have to give her his gift after all. Maybe he would have time to find something else. He could save the gift he now carried for another time. Later. Next year.

“Mr. Ackerman?”

Amos jolted. Dinah stood before him in her uniform, her head tipped in puzzlement. How had he missed her coming up the hall? Now that he gazed down at her—at her sweet, innocent face—how could he possibly wait to offer his promise and receive hers?

“I’m sorry I’m late. I had to finish a room before I could come for lunch.” She glanced at the counter, her face pursing in regret. “Oh, all the seats are taken.”

His tongue seemed stuck to the roof of his mouth. He cleared his throat. “We can wait for seats to open.”

“But that might not be until my break is over.” Dinah brightened. “I know! We’ll take plates to the chambermaids’ little parlor. It will be quiet there.”

The thought of finding a private spot to exchange their gifts appealed to him. If she refused it, at least there wouldn’t be witnesses.

She went on, lifting her shoulders in an apologetic gesture. “That is, if you don’t mind holding your plate in your lap. There’s not a table suitable for dining.”

He smiled, recalling another time he sat with a plate in his lap and ate with Dinah. “I don’t mind.” He trailed her to the counter and waited while she asked one of the luncheon workers for two lunch specials. Amos didn’t ask what the special was today—he would happily eat boot leather and sawdust if it meant dining with Miss Dinah Hubley.

She turned with two plates containing thick slabs of meat loaf, roasted potatoes, buttery carrots, and a perfectly browned biscuit. He licked his lips. That looked a lot better than boot leather and sawdust.

She grinned at him, her eyes sparkling, and for a moment he wondered if she’d read his secret thoughts. “This way,” she said, and he followed her up the hallway, behind the check-in counter, to a small room tucked off the lobby. A pair of wicker chairs similar to the ones on the porch sat side by side along one wall, the seats angled slightly toward each other. Dinah moved to the chair farthest from the door and nodded at the second chair. “Go ahead and sit down, and I’ll give you your plate.”

Both embarrassed and pleased by her serving him, Amos aimed his backside at the cushion on the second chair and let himself plop down. Two guests wandered through the lobby, sending a curious glance into the little room. Wouldn’t it be nice if they could close the door and enjoy complete privacy? But propriety demanded they leave it ajar. The moment the seat of his pants met the chair, Dinah handed him his plate. As she did so, she flashed a winsome smile that warmed him from the inside out.

Once she’d sat and settled her plate on her lap, he held out his hand to her. Without pause, she placed her small hand in his. Linked with her, Amos closed
his eyes and offered a brief prayer of thanks for the food. Inwardly, he added,
Lord, grant me the favor of acceptance from Dinah
. “Amen.”

“Amen,” she echoed. She picked up the fork balanced on the edge of her plate, then paused. “Mr. Ackerman, would … would you like to exchange gifts before we eat?”

A hint of trepidation crept through her tone, matching the feelings he’d been battling. A lump seemed to sit in his stomach. He might not be able to swallow until he knew how his gift would be received. He nodded. “I think that’s a fine idea.”

With a nervous giggle, she ducked her head. She slipped her hand inside her pocket, withdrew a narrow, embossed leather box, and thrust it at him without ceremony. “I didn’t wrap it because I thought the box too nice to cover. I hope you’ll like it.”

“I’m sure I will.” Amos took the box. The leather was warm from its hiding spot. He placed the box on his knee, then reached into his pocket for the package he’d brought for her. The sharp edges of the box poked his flesh just as uncertainty stabbed his heart. His hand froze. Once again he wondered if he’d made a mistake. Then he looked into her face, and his apprehensions melted like snow in a hot skillet. This was no mistake. She was meant to be his.

He reached across the little table and took her hand. Turning it palm side up, he battled an urge to lift it to his lips and plant a kiss on the soft pad at the base of her thumb. Instead, he laid the box across the row of calluses that offered silent evidence of her labor. “Miss Hubley, this is a Christmas gift, but it’s also … more.” Her expression turned curious. He squeezed her fingers closed over the box. Her hand was so small the tips barely curved over the top edge. His heart set up a wild thrum. Settling back into his chair, he nodded at her. “Open it.”