“After it gets closer to dark, we’ll light the candles,” Joy decided. “It’s only the twenty-third of December, but we’ll enjoy it awhile. Tomorrow, we’ll make cookies and bake a pumpkin pie.”
“I can’t thank you enough for letting us join in your Christmas celebrations,” Gideon said in a low tone as they stood before the tree, Joy reaching to make sure the candleholders were firmly in place.
“We wouldn’t have had it without you here,” she said softly. “I’m so thankful you came to our door, Gideon. Even though I didn’t like the circumstances behind it, what with you losing your horse and wagon.”
He slid one arm around her waist and bent to whisper in her ear, “I’m thinking it was meant to be, Joy. That we were meant to find each other this way.”
She blushed and cut a quick look at him. “Maybe so. I only know that you and Joseph are welcome here, and Grandpa and I are thankful for you.
“I have some knitting to catch up on, Gideon. I think I’ll ask you to light the fireplace and warm up the parlor a bit. Then I’m going to sit on the sofa and work on my project. I have to have it done by Christmas.”
He grinned at her. “I watched you a bit last evening before we went to bed, just knittin’ away on what looked suspiciously like a hat for my young’un.”
“I got out all my odds and ends of yarn, so it’ll be a hat of many colors. I won’t be able to knit his mittens to go with it until after Christmas, but I might be able to work on a scarf. The hat’s almost done and straight knitting on a scarf takes no time at all.”
“You’re a kind woman, Joy. My boy’s already taken a shine to you. You’re the first female he’s latched onto since he was born.” He cleared his throat and glanced to where his son sat next to Grandpa, watching as the old man whittled away, paper spread on the floor to catch the whittling scraps.
The low murmur of voices reached them as Joseph and the old man next to him considered the small manger Grandpa had formed from the wood. “How’d you do that, sir?” the boy asked softly.
“Just as easy as pie once you get the hang of it, sonny. I thought I’d do a couple of figures to hang on either side of it, maybe Mary kneeling by the manger and Joseph standing by.” Grandpa grinned at the boy. “Did you know you had such a famous name, sonny? Joseph has been revered since the days when he taught the boy, Jesus, about being a carpenter.”
“I never knew my name was special. I just thought it was what Pa wanted to call me.”
“Well, your name is almost as special as you are, my boy. You’re a fine young man, and you’ll be a terrific man when you’ve grown, if you take after your pa.”
“Thank you, sir,” the child said, as if he was flustered by the attention bestowed upon him.
“Can we light the candles, Pa?” he asked Gideon as his father and Joy crossed the room to where he sat.
“That’s up to Joy, I’d think,” Gideon said, bending to her wishes.
“I don’t know why not. The fireplace is making it warm enough to sit in here till bedtime. Let’s enjoy the tree for an hour or so.”
“I’ll light a candle in the stove and bring it back in here,” Gideon offered. He made short work of his task and in minutes he was back, his hands efficient as he lit the two dozen candles they’d anchored on the tree.
“Oh, Pa. That’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” Joseph said, his eyes widening, his mouth stretching into a grin and his excitement knowing no bounds.
“Why don’t we sing some carols,” Joy asked them. “I’ll play some chords on the organ and we can all join in. I have a book somewhere in the organ bench with Christmas carols in it.”
“I wondered if you could play that thing,” Gideon said with a chuckle. “I noticed it over in the corner there and I didn’t know if it was in working order.”
Joy nodded. “Oh, it works, all right. I’m not very good at it, but my mother taught me some music and how to read notes before she died. I don’t play often, but I think this celebration calls for it, don’t you?”
“I’d love to hear you play, and I think I know the carols by heart. We used to sing them when I was a youngster. My mother and father took us to church regularly and Christmas Eve was always a big night, with caroling and reading the scripture from the book of Luke about the birth of the Savior. Then we’d go home and have hot cider and cookies and usually we’d have a houseful of folks follow us home and join in more singing.”
“What a wonderful memory to have,” Joy said. “We used to go to church on Christmas Eve, but after my folks died it was too much for Grandpa to harness up and then hope we could get through the snow. I sure hadn’t planned on it this year. I’ve never seen so much snow in my life.”
“Well, we’ll have our own celebration right here,” Gideon said stoutly. “I can squeeze some of those apples in the cellar and make some cider for us to drink and you can make cookies tomorrow, enough for us to have a real party.”
“Can I help, too?” Joseph asked, excitement riding high as he hurled himself into his father’s arms.
“Sure you can, son. We’ll figure out how to press those apples in the morning, as soon as I finish with the chores.”
“And in the meantime, if Joy starts cookies maybe I can help her,” Joseph said, casting a yearning glance at the woman he’d obviously come to think of very fondly.
“You sure can,” Joy said quickly. “I’ll mix the dough and roll it out, and you can use my cookie cutters to cut out stars and angels and bells and all sorts of good things.”
Joseph leaned from his father’s arms to hug Joy’s neck. “I’m so glad we’re here with you and Grandpa,” he sang out.
“Well, I’m glad you’re here, too,” Joy told him, returning his hug and then turning to the sofa to sit beside her grandfather. “Come sit on my lap, Joseph,” she invited, and the boy lost no time in accepting her summons. Joy leaned back a bit and Joseph cuddled close as they both turned their attention to the tree, glowing brightly as the candles flickered and flamed.
“Time for you to show us how talented you are,” Gideon said, approaching Joy a bit later. He reached for his son and then helped Joy up from her seat with his other hand. She went to the organ and lifted the cover from the keyboard, settling herself on the bench and pumping the pedals for a moment.
“Now watch, Joseph,” his father said. “Watch how Joy pumps the pedals that feed air to the organ and make it sound out the notes she presses with her fingers. I think we’re in for a treat.”
“I hope so,” Joy said with a laugh. “I haven’t played for a while, but some things you never forget.” She stood quickly and pulled the proper songbook from the bench beneath her, opening it and placing it on the music rack. Within moments the sound of “Silent Night” filled the room as Joy played with more proficiency than Gideon had expected.
“All right, you lead off, Gideon, and we’ll all join in,” she said, completing the short introduction.
Without hesitation Gideon’s baritone voice rose in the opening words, and Grandpa rose from the sofa to join them around the organ. Joy sang a low alto part, harmonizing as her mother had taught her, and even Joseph was caught up in the words, singing along as best he could.
“I remember that song,” the boy said after they’d sung the first verse. “We sang it at Aunt Rosie’s house back home.”
“So we did, son,” Gideon replied. “I wasn’t sure you’d