Part 22 (1/2)

Archie knelt before her, his hands on her shoulders. ”Jane, what is it?” His voice was deep with worry.

She shook her head again, humiliated by the scene she was making. ”I am sorry,” she finally managed to choke out. ”I just . . .”

Maryann hurried toward them and slid an arm around Jane. ”Dearest, what is the matter?”

Jane swallowed and tried to hold down her ridiculous bout of tears. ”I-I just miss Mother.” Her voice was choked and gasping.

”Oh, Jane.” Archie lifted her chin.

She pulled away, not wanting him to see her in such a state. Her eyes and nose were dripping, her breath came in gasps, and she was completely unable to get control of herself. ”I'm so sorry,” she choked out again.

”No. Do not apologize. Jane, you have every right to weep.” The concern in Archie's voice brought on more tears. What was wrong with her?

”Come,” Maryann tugged on her arm, pulling her to her feet. ”Perhaps you should lie down.”

Jane nodded and allowed herself to be led into her bedchamber. Her sobbing was becoming exhausting.

Maryann held her, speaking in a low, crooning tone, but Jane could not make sense of her words over the sound of her weeping and sniffing. She didn't think she could have possibly been more humiliated if she'd tried.

Maryann sat quietly, holding Jane until her tears dried up. She lit a candle and helped Jane change into nightclothes.

Once she'd convinced Maryann that she just wanted to sleep and would call out if her sister was needed, Jane was left alone in the dark room.

She lay down beneath the blankets, feeling wrung out physically and emotionally spent. She wondered what could have possibly brought on such a bout of weeping. She couldn't remember ever crying like this. Not even when her mother died. Or when she'd been left in the inst.i.tution.

As she considered the incident, she realized that over the years, her attacks of panic had not only made everyone around her watchful, but she'd also been cautious about allowing herself to feel anything too strongly. She didn't mourn her mother or give her emotions any free rein, afraid of what could happen. Instead, she held them tightly, hoping to fend off the panic spells. The feelings bottled up inside for years had, for reasons unknown to her, decided on this moment to erupt in a torrent of tears.

They couldn't have picked a more inconvenient time. Her chest heated as she remembered the feel of Archie's hand and the closeness of sitting beside him on the blanket. She didn't imagine such an opportunity would arise again.

What must the others be thinking? She didn't hear the sound of singing or laughter. Undoubtedly, her fit of tears had put a damper on the cozy celebration.

”I have ruined Christmas for everybody.” She muttered the words aloud, feeling even more miserable. Had it been only two days earlier that Archie voiced the same sentiment? She curled up beneath the blanket, bending her arm under her head. She hoped by now he realized how untrue it was. What he considered to be a misfortune had, for each of them, proven to be exactly what they needed.

Jonathan was happier than she'd ever seen him, enjoying time with his wife and mother instead of worrying about Parliament and his estate. She thought of his face as he sang the Christmas hymns. Though he'd surely imagined it differently when he'd requested that particular custom, no fine pianoforte and roaring fire could have brought about such a tender moment.

Maryann's presentation of their mother's tradition had been perfectly delightful-a beautiful tribute to a woman they loved and missed. Jane had seen the love in her sister's face as she recounted the story with her mother's custom of the cradle.

Kathleen seemed a new person in this funny little cottage. First, as she'd been overcome with childhood memories at breakfast, and then again as they'd gone to gather holly and ivy and she'd partic.i.p.ated in the snow battle. Being away from home and finding a distraction from the pain of losing her husband had given her a chance to heal, Jane thought.

And Jane herself experienced healing moments, feeling brave as she read for the group and journeyed through the darkened forest. She felt different. Not that she thought she had overcome her episodes-they'd probably never completely leave-but somehow, she was stronger. As if she could endure them, knowing she had people who loved her to help when the panic grew too great to manage alone.

They'd all been touched by this Christmas in spite of-or rather, because of-their singular circ.u.mstance.

They'd each celebrated their traditions, albeit in a different way than antic.i.p.ated.

Their traditions. She sat up. Each of their requests had been granted, except for Archie's. He had no Christmas tree. How had she forgotten? She pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs and feeling a sinking inside. She'd been so caught up in her own bruised feelings in the snow fort that she'd not remembered his custom. Archie had never celebrated Christmas without a tree, and he hadn't mentioned the lack once.

The tears she'd finally managed to stop threatened to reappear. She pressed her hand over her mouth, knowing one sniffle would bring her sister running back into the room.

Archie had planned and worried and done all that he could to make this Christmas special for them, but n.o.body had done the same for him. It was his Christmas, too. And n.o.body loved the holiday more than Archibald Clawson.

Jane lay back onto the pillow, devising a plan. Somebody had to find a Christmas tree for Archie. He'd given them all a lovely Christmas. Was she brave enough to do the same for him?

Chapter Seven.

Archie glanced at Jonathan in the growing morning light. His friend trudged beside him through the snow, his breath coming heavy in white puffs. Each of them held on to a limb of the tree they were dragging.

”I'd never have guessed such a small tree would be so much work,” Jonathan said. ”Or so heavy.”

”Don't pretend you aren't enjoying playing the part of the rugged woodsman. Maryann will undoubtedly be impressed.”

”Chopping down and hauling a frozen tree through two feet of snow in the predawn woods isn't how I planned to spend my Christmas morning,” Jonathan muttered. ”I can't even put into words how much I'd rather be in a warm bed with my wife.”

Archie grunted as they tugged the tree through a thick growth of underbrush. ”I wager any married man would say the same.”

”Speaking of impressing ladies, how goes it with Jane? You never did explain to me why my suggestion of a mistletoe kiss in your snow fort should elicit such an adverse response.”

Archie blew out a cold breath. ”I don't know. I can't figure her out for the life of me. Sometimes, I think she welcomes my attentions. She seems happy to be with me. But then there are other times . . .” He glanced to the side. ”I kissed her in the Cringlewoods' cottage-a very pure, gentlemanly kiss-you know, in order to see how she'd respond.”

”And?”

”And it didn't go well. She ran away, upset.” He turned to the side and used two hands to pull the tree through another thicket, wis.h.i.+ng Simon hadn't come early and taken away the sled. But he supposed the man was using it for Christmas-related errands, and he could hardly fault him for that. He could have at least left the ax, Archie thought. But luckily, Archie and Jonathan had managed to find one in a groundskeeper's shed.

Once the tree was free, they continued onward.

”I just wish I understood what she was thinking,” Archie said.

”Ha!” Jonathan barked out a laugh. ”I'd wager that very statement has been said by every man throughout history.”

Archie gave him a wry grin. ”Why must women be so complicated?”

Jonathan shrugged. ”I suppose that's the challenge. But in my experience-”

”You've been married for nine months, Ren.”

”Yes, I have. And how long have you been married?”

Archie rolled his eyes. He had a point. ”Continue.”

”In my experience,” Jonathan repeated, ”I've found women to be less complicated than we a.s.sume.”

”You must need more experience.”