Montana Sky Christmas: A Sweetwater Springs Short Story Collection by Debra Holland Read Free Book Online

every day.”
    Abe almost fell off his end of the bench in astonishment.
    “I wish I could come here more often. Just sit and think about her. But the children and running the house keep me too busy to have time for myself. It’s hard to find a moment to read a book, and you know how much I like to read, much less drive all the way to the old homestead.”
    Abe made a noise of agreement.
    “Robert’s home today, though. He and Sassy can handle the children.”
    “But…” he sputtered. “But, I had no idea. You never talk about your mother.”
    Lips pressed into a thin line, she gave him a long look. “You took Mama’s death so hard. I was afraid I’d lose you, too. Then, when you moved in with us, you seemed so much better. I didn’t want to bring up Mama because I didn’t want to upset you.”
    He reached over and clasped her hand. “ Not talking about your mother has upset me. I thought you’d finished mourning her loss. Were forgetting her.”
    “Oh, no! Never. Robert and I talk about her all the time.”
    “Barbara,” he said gently. “Talking about your mama might make me sad. But it also feels good because I want to … no, I need to share my memories of her with my family.”
    Barbara picked up the blanket she’d brought and unrolled it.
    In the folds nestled the ornaments he’d hung on the tree earlier—the dollies, the horse, the star, and the soldier. He gave her a questioning look, feeling a frown wrinkle his brow.
    “Tell me the stories of these, Papa. Like you used to.”
    He had to swallow the lump in his throat. He chose the tiny dolly in the red dress and held it up. “This was for your sister, Marion. Our firstborn. Your mother and I had counted down the days until her arrival, and we had her only four short months. Her eyes had changed from blue to gray, like your mother’s, like Emmy’s. She had a big smile that made my heart turn over. Lou-Lou smiles like that. Took me back, it did, the first time I saw it.”
    Barbara reached up and fingered the red dress. “I can’t imagine losing one of my children. The thought is unbearable.”  
    “The losses of Marion and Michael were the hardest thing I’d ever experienced, even worse than your mother’s death. As much as I miss her, she lived a good life—a full one. It’s a different kind of grief.”
    Barbara pursed her lips, obviously thinking. “I can see that.”
    Abe lifted the horse with his other hand until it dangled side-by-side with the dolly. “That saying that God doesn’t give you more than you can bear…? It doesn’t seem true when you’re in the midst of the agony of losing a child. Those are unbearable dark times. Yet, here I am. So I guess it must be true.”
    Barbara cupped the horse. “Now Mama is in heaven with Marion and Michael. They’re together. I never thought of her death that way. Somehow, I find that comforting.”
    Abe lowered the ornaments to his lap surprised to hear his daughter echo his belief. “I think that, too.”
    She gave him a smile that chased away the sadness from her eyes. “It’s not that I don’t think of them, Papa. Of course, I didn’t know Marion… But I still remember how much I missed Michael when he died.”
    Surprise jolted him, and he stared at her. “I didn’t know that.”
    “That’s because we never talked about him.”
    He nodded. “We should have. I know that now.”
    “I feel so grateful for my children. Sometimes, when I’m about to lose my patience with one or all of them, I think of Marion or Michael and manage to hold on to my temper.”
    “I did that many a time too. But still your brother Jeremy could try my patience. I think he got more wuppins than the rest of you put together.”
    Barbara laughed. “He did plenty of mischief that you and mama never knew about too.”
    “I don’t think I want to know now, either,” Abe said in a wry tone.
    With a gentle stroke, Barbara touched the wooden horse. “Tell me about Michael.”
    Abe began to