Upon a Midnight Clear. Gail Martin Gaymer

to be with Natalie. Nattie, they call her. She’s a beautiful child.”

      “Just keep your eyes focused on the child, hear me?”

      Callie shook her head. “Yes, Mother. I think I’ve learned to take care of myself.”

      She caught a flicker of reminiscence in Grace’s expression, and froze, praying she wouldn’t stir up the past. Grace bit her tongue, and Callie changed the subject.

      “The area is lovely there, all covered with snow. And imagine spring. The trees and wildflowers. And autumn. The colored leaves—elms, maples, birches.”

      An uneasy feeling rippled down her back. Would she see the autumn colors? Nattie needed to be ready for school. If the child was back to normal by then, her job would be finished.

      “It’s snowing,” Grace said, pulling Callie from her thoughts. “And hard.”

      “Then, I’d better get moving.” Callie gulped down her last bite and drained the teacup.

      Without fanfare, she slipped on her coat and said goodbye. She needed to be on her way before she was snowbound. Time was fleeting, and so was her sanity.

      Chapter Five

      David sat with his face in his hands, his elbows resting on his large cherry wood desk. The day pressed in from all sides. Callie should arrive any time now. He’d expected her earlier, yet the uncooperative weather had apparently slowed her travel.

      The day of her interview lingered in his memory. Though Nattie had responded minimally to Callie’s ministrations, David was grateful for the most insignificant flicker of interest from his daughter these days. Callie had brought about that infinitesimal moment.

      The major concern that lodged in his gut was himself. He feared Callie. She stirred in him remembrances he didn’t want to face and emotions he had avoided for two years. His only solution was to avoid her—keep his distance.

      Though often quiet, Sara had had her moments of liveliness and laughter. He recalled their spring walks on the hill and a warm, sunny day filled with play when she dubbed him “Sir Knight” with a daisy chain she’d made. Wonderful moments rose in his mind of Sara playing pat-a-cake with Nattie or singing children’s songs.

      If he let Callie’s smiles and exuberance get under his skin, he might find himself emotionally tangled. Until Nattie was well, and he dealt with his personal sorrow, he had no interest in any kind of relationship—and he would live with that decision. But he wished wisdom had been his gatekeeper when he’d extended her the job with such enthusiasm.

      On top of it all, today they would celebrate Nattie’s sixth birthday. Tension caught between his shoulder blades when he pictured the occasion: a cake with candles she wouldn’t blow out, gifts she wouldn’t open, and joy she wouldn’t feel.

      David was reminded of the day Sara had surprised him for his birthday with tickets to see Shakespeare’s darkest, direst play, King Lear. Yet, he’d accompanied her, looking pleased and interested so as not to hurt the woman he loved so deeply.

      But Nattie would not look interested to please him. She wouldn’t say “thank you” or force a smile. The lack of response for the gift was not what hurt. She appeared to feel nothing, and that tore at his very fiber.

      His wife’s death had been no surprise; Nattie’s living death was.

      Rising from his chair, David wandered to the window and pulled back the draperies. The snow piled against the hedges and mounded against the edge of the driveway. Lovely, pure white at this moment, the snow would soon become drab and monotonous like his life.

      A flash of headlights caught the mounds of crystal flakes and glowed with diamond-like sparkles. David’s heart surged, and for a heartbeat, he held his breath. Dropping the edge of the drapery, he spun toward the doorway. She would need help bringing in her luggage. He could, at least, do that.

      Callie climbed the snow-covered stairs with care and rang the bell. When the door opened, her stomach somersaulted. Her focus fell upon David Hamilton, rather than Agnes. “Oh,” she said, knowing her face registered surprise, “I expected Agnes.” Her amazement was not so much at seeing him at the door as feeling her stomach’s unexpected acrobatics.

      “I was keeping an eye out for you, concerned about the weather.” His face appeared drawn and serious.

      “Thank you. The drive was a bit tense.”

      He stepped back and held the door open for her.

      She glanced at his darkened face. “I hope nothing is wrong. You look…” Immediately she was sorry she had spoken. Perhaps his stressed appearance had to do with her—hiring someone “so young,” as he had continually reminded her.

      “I’m fine,” he said, looking past her toward the automobile. “Let me get my jacket, and we can bring in your luggage.”

      He darted to the entrance closet, and in a brief moment, joined her.

      Heading down the slippery porch stairs, Callie’s eyes filled with his Titan stature. In her preoccupation, her foot missed the center of the step and skidded out from under her. She crumpled backward, reaching out to break her fall.

      David flung his hand behind her and caught her in the crook of his arm, while the other hand swung around to hold her secure. “Careful,” he cautioned.

      Captured in his arms, his gaze locked with hers, she wavered at the sensation that charged through her. She marveled at his vibrant hazel eyes in the dusky light.

      “Be careful. You could get hurt,” he repeated, setting her on her feet.

      She found her voice and mumbled a “thank you.”

      Capturing her elbow, he helped her down the next two steps. When she opened the trunk, he scanned its contents.

      “I’ll help you in with the luggage,” he said, “and I’ll come back for the rest.”

      She nodded. Hearing his commanding voice, she couldn’t disagree. He handed her the smallest case, taking the larger himself, and they climbed the steps with care.

      Once inside, David set down the larger case and addressed Agnes, who was waiting in the foyer. “Show Callie her rooms, please. I’ll carry in the boxes and bring them up.”

      Agnes nodded and grabbed the larger case. But when David stepped outside, Callie took the case from her. “Please, let me carry this one. It’s terribly heavy.”

      Agnes didn’t argue and grasped the smaller case, then headed up the stairs. At the top, the housekeeper walked down the hallway and stopped at a door to the left, across from Nattie’s room. She turned the knob and stepped aside.

      As Callie entered, her heart skipped a beat. She stood in the tower she had admired from outside. The sitting room was fitted with a floral chintz love seat and matching chair of vibrant pinks and soft greens, with a lamp table separating the grouping. A small oak desk sat along one curved wall, and oak bookshelves rose nearby. A woman’s touch was evident in the lovely decor.

      Callie dropped her luggage and darted to the center window, pulling back the sheer white curtains framed by moss-colored draperies. She gazed outside at the scene. A light snow floated past the window, and below, David pulled the last carton from the trunk and closed the lid. He hefted the box into the air, then disappeared beneath the porch roof.

      Agnes remained by the door, and when Callie turned back and faced the room, the housekeeper gestured through the doorway to the bedroom. Callie lifted her luggage and followed her inside. The modest bedroom, too, illustrated a feminine hand. Delicate pastel flowers sprinkled the wallpaper that ended at the chair-molding. Below, the color of palest blue met a deeper blue carpet.

      “Agnes, this is beautiful.” She wanted to ply the woman with questions about Sara and how she used the charming rooms.

      “Mr. Hamilton hoped you’d like it.”