Yuletide Treasure
A Barbour September 2000 Release
in the historical anthology Christmas Thread
by Gail Gaymer Martin
Setting: Michigan, December 1875
Livy Schuler and Andrew Mandalay seek love in the wrong places.
Livy, having prayed unceasingly, decides God wishes her to remain
a spinster and takes matters into her own hands. Facing a
secluded life at the lumber camp, Andrew, though encouraged by
his mother to court a woman from the church, prefers more earthly women. He knows his desire is sinful. While Livy and Andrew
attempt to oppose God's will, God leads them "on a path they
had not planned to travel." A keepsake provides mystery and
serves as the focus of the spiritual message.
Charm is deceptive, and beauty is
fleeting; but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised. Prov
31:30 NIV
Excerpt from Chapter One
A cloud of black smoke curled past the window of the Chesapeake and Ohio locomotive. As the shrill whistle sounded, Livy Schuler snuggled deeper into her travel cloak and studied the changing winter scenery. Scattered buildings stood along the tracks and she sighed, sensing their lengthy journey neared completion.
She gazed at her four-year old nephew as he lay fast asleep, his blond curls bobbing against the stiff seat cushion as the locomotive swayed through the countryside. "Davy," she murmured, "wake up."
The child shifted against the seat, but did not wake. Her heart ached for the boy. Christmas was no time for a child to be away from his parents, but his mother's illness necessitated the journey. And when her brother, John, asked for her help, she acquiesced. With Ruth's unfortunate stroke, how could she refuse?
The trip from Detroit stretched into hours with stops for passengers and when an occasional cow wandered onto the tracks. She had amused Davy with toy soldiers and story books. Later, when he drifted off to sleep, she found a discarded newspaper and read about President Grant's fight against the greenbacks and the resurgence of Queen Victoria's popularity.
"Next stop, Grand Rapids," the conductor called, moving along the aisle.
Opening his weighted eyes, Davy shifted and released a soft whimper.
"We're nearing the station, Davy. We're going to have such fun with your Aunt Helen and Uncle Charles."
Only sadness filled his face, and she hoped Helen and Charles would understand the child's lack of enthusiasm. Ruth's brother, Charles, had been gracious to invite Davy for the holiday. Livy pictured her brother John's somber expression when he had no other choice but accept their offer.
Livy could only imagine the Mandalay home and life among the wealthy. Charles owned one of the largest furniture-making businesses in Grand Rapids which, after the war, became the furniture capital of the world. And Charles had found success on the coattails of inventive, skilled craftsmen like George Pullman and William Haldane. Livy shook her head in wonder at the life the Mandalays must lead.
Anticipating their arrival, Livy returned Davy's lead soldiers to her satchel. With the bag open on her lap, she looked at the small package John had asked her to deliver to Helen.
Shameful curiosity overtook her, and she felt through the paper. Wood, perhaps, and a strange shape – rounded on one end, pointed on the other, one side smoothly curved, the other a jagged zigzag. She couldn't determine what lay hidden within the paper. Guilt needled her, so she withdrew her hand from the satchel and latched it. The package didn't belong to her, and as curious as she was, she had no cause to look inside.
A whistle blast jarred her back to the present. The train slowed and came to a shuddering halt. Livy rose, buttoning her dark gray travel cloak, then hooked Davy's coat and, grasping his hand, led him down the aisle.
With the conductor's assistance, she stepped to the platform while soot from the smoke stack showered down in a fine spray of drifting black flakes like ebony snow. Her gaze swept along the station's visitors, looking for Charles' son, Andrew, whom she had never met. Seeing no likely prospect, she turned and lifted Davy to the ground and headed toward the small depot, searching for warmth.
"Hello. Miss Schuler?"
She pivoted, hearing the voice,
and looked into a pair of glinting, ice blue eyes. Her pulse
lurched as radically as the chugging locomotive had. "Mr.
Mandalay?"
"Yes, but please call me Andrew." He paused, bending at
the waist. "And this must be Davy."
The child peered at him and nodded.
"How do you do, Davy? I'm your cousin, Andrew." Straightening, he focused on Livy. "How was your trip? Too long, I'd guess."
Livy drew her gaze from his delightful smile. Six hours, yes, but tolerable."
"Leaving your friends and family during the holidays is very generous of you. I'm sure Uncle John was grateful."
"Yes, but I had no choice. John and Davy needed me."
"No matter, it was very kind. Well then, it's much too cold on the platform. The carriage is this way." He motioned behind him, then reached for her satchel. "I'll carry that for you, Miss Schuler."
"No need, thank you. It's light, and please call me Livy." She turned, pointing to the two small trunks sitting on the baggage cart. "But those cases are ours, if you don't mind."
"Aah. Then I'll retrieve those," he said. "Wait here for one moment."
As he darted down the platform, admiration rose within her. Besides his dazzling eyes, Andrew had been graced with other handsome features. His fair hair contrasted with his darker skin tone, likely the result of his days at the logging camp. John mentioned Andrew had only arrived home for the holidays.
Watching him return with their baggage, she noted his tall stature and broad shoulders, dwarfing her own petite frame. She imagined his muscular arms swinging an axe to fell a pine tree or hoisting a log onto a large logging sled. As he approached, she caught her breath. His firm, square jaw was softened by his deep dimples and generous, captivating smile on his full, sensitive mouth.
"Ready?" he asked, moving to her side. "Follow me."
Tucking Davy's hand in hers, she hurried behind Andrew, following his long strides. He stopped beside a carriage, a claret-colored Dearborn pulled by two matching bays, then opened the door and slid their baggage inside.
"Come, Davy," he said and lifted the boy into the coach. Then he reached for Livy's hand. As she stepped to his side, his gaze swept across her face, and heat rose to her cheeks. They stood so close, the scent of his damp woolen coat and peppermint filled her senses. He assisted her into the conveyance and spread a thick robe across their laps.
"That should keep you warm," he said, his dimples glinting with his steady gaze. "The ride is short."
She swallowed, finding her voice. "Thank you."
He grinned again and closed the door. Livy nestled against Davy, her thoughts shifting back to Andrew's earlier comment, ‘Leaving your friends and family during the holidays is very generous of you.' Leaving my friends? If the situation weren't so pitiful, I would laugh.
Lately, her life rose before her in a dismal, gray picture like the winter day. At twenty-eight, she was a spinster, a word she detested. Looking in a mirror, she saw no reason for her lack of beaus. Though she would not be considered a beauty by most, her features were pleasant, her figure was trim, and she earned a suitable income as a music teacher. But single, she was.
Though the Bible said God would provide, "ask and you shall receive," she had long given up asking God for a husband. The Lord, from all she could comprehend, desired her to remain the detested word—a spinster. But she had other plans.
©2000 Gail Gaymer Martin