Something Borrowed

Chapter 48

Amelia

"It's freezing," Brent moaned as she and Melissa puttered about the guest room in the main house. It was Christmas Eve and they'd brought him home in the sled earlier that morning. If his moaning and shivering and general vocal displeasure were any indication, he had needed a few more days of bed rest before the move. Fortunately for Amelia and her grip on sanity, Melissa had declared him fit for the journey.

It had been a grueling two weeks, to be sure. Between the hardship of caring for a wounded man, the physical exhaustion of looking after her daughter, and the guilty pain of causing her husband such distress, she was utterly drained. It was past time Brent went home and she and Josh returned to their peaceful existence.

"The fire will warm you up in a minute," Melissa said, rolling her eyes at Amelia with her back turned to her brother. Amelia had to stifle a laugh. Melissa's presence was like a pane of tinted glass, making everything seem brighter and easier than it had without her. Without Melissa, caring for Brent was taxing and laden with emotional implication. With her, it was just an exasperating nuisance.

Working together, they got him settled, with as many pillows as could fit on the bed, a pot of tea, a pile of books, and a plate of cheese and crackers. They piled three quilts on top of him and stoked the fire until slumberous heat suffused the stuffy room. Amelia remembered Mr. Tucker's stance on the guest room-- that nobody save a genuine guest should sleep there. It was for housing visitors, not family. Something must have changed his mind, because when they had arrived with Brent the linens on the bed had been changed. Josh had half-supported, half-carried his brother upstairs and no fuss had arisen when they had settled him in the guest room.

Leaving Brent, they went downstairs and found Mr. Tucker where they had left him-- in the parlor, sitting on the floor playing with Rebecca. Josh, Amelia guessed, was still outside seeing to the horses.

It was early afternoon when they arrived, and they passed the time in an uncommonly peaceful stillness. When Josh returned, they played cards and snacked on the combined sweets Amelia and her sister-in-law had made for the holiday. Rebecca shook every single paper-wrapped gift beneath the tree while Amelia and Josh scolded and her grandfather urged her on. Amelia found herself growing suspicious of the old man's good humor. He wasn't precisely friendly to her husband, but neither was he outright cruel, which had become his wont. They spoke to each other in one- to two-word sentences, conveying only what was absolutely necessary. Several times, the conversation took a turn that might have led to nastiness, but Mr. Tucker simply fell silent or left the room for a stretch.

Before supper, they all gathered in Brent's room and sang carols. They didn't sound very good, and Rebecca was very critical in her review. But they were loud and even the taciturn, sickly Brent had smiled and joined in when Rebecca prodded him. They had sat for a while beside his bed, sipping wine and talking of nothing, and everyone seemed content to let heavier matters settle in the corner for the holiday.

Christmas Supper was a veritable feast-- mashed potatoes and turkey, gravy and creamed spinach and steamed vegetables. They had an apple pie and a pumpkin pie cooling in the cellar, and enough coffee and wine to go around. Amelia ate until she felt like she was carrying another child, and then she leaned back in her chair with a contented sigh and listened to the conversation drift around her.

"Excellent meal," Mr. Tucker commented, mirroring her posture and placing a hand on his round belly, patting it with a burp.

"Thanks, daddy," Melissa said with a smile. "I hope you saved some room for desert."

Both Mr. Tucker and Josh let out simultaneous groans. In any other family, it would have been funny, if anything. Not so in the Tucker household. Both men cut themselves short, and the table descended into silence. Josh studied the window beyond the far side of the table, his jaw locked as if waiting for some kind of blow. His father's face went hard, his eyes flinty. Amelia had seen it happen before. The man did not like reminders that Josh was, in fact, his son. He seemed to prefer thinking of him as a particularly involved employee.