Adeline praised each accomplishment with a seriousness that made the children feel as though they were doing important work.
When Caleb came inside, he found the three of them bent over the table.
Grace was sticking her tongue out in concentration. Ruth had a length of thread wrapped around one finger, and Adeline was patiently helping her untangle it.
“What are you making?” he asked.
“It's a secret,” Grace announced.
“Secrets are generally easier to keep when people don't announce them.”
Grace covered the fabric with both hands.
“Now it's a secret again.”
Caleb glanced at Adeline.
She gave him an innocent look.
He shook his head and went to wash before supper.
But later that evening, when he passed the kitchen, he saw Adeline carefully wrapping the finished pieces in brown paper. She placed them inside the old carpetbag and tucked the bag beneath the small bed in the spare room.
He wondered what she was hiding.
He did not ask.
That night, the weather worsened.
Snow began falling shortly after midnight, thick and relentless, covering the valley until the fences disappeared beneath smooth white ridges. Wind struck the house hard enough to rattle the shutters. Caleb rose twice to check the stove, then stood at the window watching the darkness.
He thought of the cattle.
He thought of the bank note.
He thought of the Christmas tree he had promised his children.
And he thought of Adeline, sleeping upstairs in the room that had once belonged to Sarah's mother, with a carpetbag that seemed too small to contain a lifetime.
By morning, the road to Bishop's Ford was buried.
Caleb knew it before he opened the door. The snow had piled against the porch steps, and the drifts along the fence stood nearly as high as his waist.
Adeline came downstairs carrying a kettle.
“Will you be able to get to town?” she asked.
“Not today.”
“Tomorrow?”
“If the wind stops.”
She set the kettle on the stove.
“Then I suppose I shall be celebrating Christmas here.”
The words were light, but Caleb heard the uncertainty beneath them.
“You're welcome to stay.”
“Thank you.”
“And the work doesn't stop because it's Christmas.”
“I wouldn't expect it to.”
He looked at her.
“You could at least pretend to be disappointed.”
“I was hoping for a day without washing clothes.”
“That can be arranged.”
“Then perhaps Christmas isn't entirely lost.”
He smiled faintly.