Weathered Too Young (33 page)

“Keep a handle on it, Slater,” Tom chuckled quietly.
“Christmas mornin’ with children in the room ain’t no place to grab hold of a woman and
—”

“I’m fine,” Slater growled.
“
And w
hat’re you goin’ on about
anyway
?”

Tom was still smiling, however.
“I’m just sayin’
…
”

“Well, you say too much,” Slater grumbled.

Tom chuckled, leaned closer to Slater
,
and whispered, “You’re droolin’ like a dog lookin’ at a hambone, Slater.”

“Shut your mouth before I shut it for ya, Tom.”

Tom chuckled again
,
and Slater willed himself to keep from pouncing on the sweet little hambone sitting by the Christmas tree.

“
I know it
’
s not much
,
but I just wanted
—
”
Lark began to explain.

“
Oh, Lark!
You do too much and take too little praise.”
Katherine
’
s eyes were
still
moist with emotio
n, and Lark felt self-conscious—for she’d
realized
Slater and Tom
were watching the exchange.

“
I
ha
ve something for you,
”
Katherine said
then
.

“
Oh no…no
, really,
”
Lark
said, shaking her head.
She’d never been good at receiving gifts.
She only liked to give them.
Receiving them always made her far too uncomfortable.

“
It isn
’
t as nice as the gloves, but I hope you
’
ll like it.
”

Glancing to where Slater and Tom sat on the sofa, Lark blushed and accepted the gift Katherine offered to her.
“Katie, really,” she began, “I-I…”

“Oh, go on!” Katherine giggled.
“It’s Christmas.”

Taking a deep breath, L
ark untied the ribbon and removed the paper
that concealed the gift.
Inside
la
y
two pair of
silk
stockings.
Lark had never owned a pair of silk stockings.
In fact, the only women she’d ever known to own them before were the saloon girls in the previous town she’d labored in.
She knew that silk stockings were a luxury
,
afforded by few—especially women like herself—cooks, housekeepers, laborers.

“
Oh, Katherine!” she breathed.
“I can’t possibly…however did you come by these?”

“
Oh, that
’
s my little secret,
”
Katherine said, winking at Tom.

“Try
’
em on, baby,” Slater teased with a wink.
“We don’t mind.”

“
Slater Evans!
”
Katherine scolded.
“
Now you just hush
. W
e
’
re having our Christmas!
”

Slater chuckled and turned his attention to Charlie
,
who was still wrapped in his quilt and busily setting up wooden soldiers.

Tom raised himself from the sofa, sauntered over to the tree, and pulled two gifts out from under it.
He smiled, handing o
ne
gift
to Katherine
and
the other
to Lark.

“
These are from me
,” he proudly announced.
“
Picked
’
em out myself.
”

Lark
smiled and b
egan to open her gift from Tom.
“Oh, Tom!” Lark exclaimed as she held up the new dress.
It was
a
lovely
dress
—lavender with
white lace
.
Lark had never owned anything like it!
“It’s so…so beautiful!”

“Tom!
How lovely,” Katherine exclaimed
,
holding up a peacock
-
blue
dress
as well.
“You’ve spoiled us!”

“Thank you, Tom,” Lark said,
feeling suddenly very sheepish about her gift to him.
“I-I don’t know what to say.”

“Try it on!” Slater teased from
the sofa.

“You best behave,” Katherine said to him, pointing a scolding finger in his direction.

“
I have something for you, Tom,
”
Lark said,
though she was not nearly as excited about giving her gift to him as she had been a moment before.
Yet s
he was completely caught up i
n the excitement of the morning, taking two gifts from beneath the tree and handing one to Tom.

Tom tore into the package with as much zeal as the
children had torn into theirs.
“Well, will you look at that,” he said, drawing the neatly stitched white shirt and monogrammed handkerchiefs out of the paper.
“
Th
at there is the
whitest
shirt
I ever seen!
”
he exclaimed.
“And look at that stitchin’!
Mrs. Jenkins best not find out
you do work this good, honey.”

“I know it’s not so fancy or nice as the dress…” Lark began.

“Look here,” Tom said to Slater.
“My initials is on the cuffs…and the collar…on the handkerchiefs too.”
He shook his head in awe.
“Little darlin’…you are somethin’ else!”

Lark smiled as Tom bent and kissed her on the forehead.
“I know you must think it’s
,
well…impractical to say the least
,
but
—”
Lark began.

“It’s wonderful, darlin’,” Tom said.
“Truly.”
He held the shirt up to inspect it once more.
“I might have to take myself into town soon…just to send the ladies to swoonin’.”

Lark turned, handing the other package to Slater.
“
I
’
m sure you can guess what it is,
”
she said quietly.
“At least, part of it, anyway.”

“
Well, it
’
s too big to be a new button for my trapdoor,
”
he
chuckled as she handed him his gift.
She smiled and watched as he opened the package.

“
The shirt is a different pattern than Tom’s,” she explained as he held his white shirt up for inspection.
“Yours is an offset bib shirt
.
I hope…I hope it’s all right.”

Slater smiled
,
but she wasn’t sure whether he was pleased.
“I monogrammed yours too,” she offered.
“On the cuff and the collar.”

“It’s perfect,” he said, his eyes narrowing as he looked at her.
“I m
e
an it, Lark
. I
t’s perfect.”

“And I didn’t make you any handkerchiefs,” she said
,
reaching into the paper in his lap and withdrawing the rest of her gift to him.
“But…I did make this for you.”
Lark offered the
thing to him—smiled when his brow puckered.

“Well, thank you, baby,” he said, accepting the gift—a long, slender pillow made out of an old flour sack
,
filled with dry rice and dried lavender and thyme leaves.

Lark giggled.
“It’s for your shoulder,” she explained.
“See?” she said
,
draping it over his shoulder.
“You heat it up by the fire on the stove for a
while
,
until the rice kernels inside warm up and hold the heat.
The warm
th
will sooth
e
the ache in your shoulder…and the fragrance of the lavender and thyme will sooth
e
you
.”

Slater smiled
,
and Lark began to feel more confident in her gift.

“I set it by the fire before we started opening our gifts,” she told him.
“So the rice is still warm, isn’t it?”

Slater nodded, pressing the rice-filled pillow more firmly against his shoulder.
“You’re quite the little Christmas angel, ain’t ya?” he asked.
His eyes narrowed
,
and Lark’s heart began to beat more quickly
,
for she recognized the expression on his face—desire!

“Here, Johnny,” Slater said, snapping his fingers to get the boy’s attention.
“Hand me that gift under the tree…the one from me to Lark…would ya, please?”

Johnny nodded, handing the awkwardly
wrapped gift to Slater.

“Thank ya, boy,” Slater said.

Lark glanced over as Tom exclaimed, having opened the new razor
Katherine had given him.

“Here ya go,” Slater said
,
handing the gift to Lark.

“I really wasn’t expecting gifts,” Lark mumbled.
“I really only meant to show my appreciation for
—”

“I promise…it ain’t nothin’ so nice as a fine shirt or
shoulder-soother,” he said.

She smiled
,
delighted by his obvi
ous appreciation of her gifts.

“It ain’t even a pretty dress.
I almost didn’t want to give it to ya after I seen what Kate and Tom had for ya.”
He shrugged,
looking boyish and entirely adorable.
“Honest
. I
t ain’t much…not compared.”

But Lark felt differently.
Slater Evans could’ve given her a rock he’d picked up somewhere
,
and she would’ve loved it
.
A gift from Slater?
She could hardly believe it.
Her hands trembled as she untied the twine securing the paper.

Instantly, she felt her hea
r
t begin to race—felt her eyes brimming with tears as she looked at what Slater had given her.
There, resting in her lap, were two beautiful and very new books!
Beautifully bound in embellished, dark green covers, flourishes of gold for titles and author names—even so fancy as to have gold-gilded pages—a beautiful copy of
Jane Eyre
, perfectly complemented
by
a copy of
The Complete Works of Tennyson
.

“Slater!” she exclaimed in a whisper.

“Oh,” he said, however.
“And then there’s this.”
Reaching out to her, he opened the copy of Tennyson’s works and removed a silver bookmark.
“I figured you needed a way to remember where you were last readin’ when ya have to leave off all of a sudden.”

Lark
accepted the bookmark
as he handed
it
to her—a solid
silver bookmark.
The bookmark
was a thin piece of silver, with a detailed etching of a bird on it—and her name engraved at the bottom.

“
Do you like it
?
”
Slater asked.

She glanced up to him—astonished to see that he looked as concerned about his gift to her as she’d felt about hers to him.

“I do,” she managed.
“Thank you, Slater.”
She couldn’t keep the tears from brimming in her eyes
,
for she knew then that he must think of her—for this was a gift that took preparation and planning.

He smiled at her
,
reached out
,
and brushed a tear from her cheek with the back of his hand.
“I still can’t believe you used my drawers to make a quilt for that baby boy,” he said.

Lark smiled and
laughed.
“Well, even as raggedy as your underwear is sometimes…it’s still good for something.”