Once Upon a Montana Christmas

Chapter 3

Chapter Three

E va had not known what to expect when she’d asked for a job, but being installed on the second floor, which she assumed was reserved for family, had never crossed her mind. Perhaps she had been given this room because of Lily.

Mrs. Walker had just delivered fresh linens, while Mr. Walker, an old ranch hand who now helped around the house, fetched a cradle. When it was brought into the room, Aunt Carol told a wonderful story about how it was first used by her great-grandmother and then brought over from Germany by her mother when she was just a bride.

The room was large and spacious, decorated in shades of pale pink. White lace curtains graced a pair of large windows that overlooked the area in front of the house and the white picket fence. Eva opened the door nearest the fireplace and was pleasantly surprised to find a private bathing room.

Aunt Carol was fussing about the room, paying no heed to her. But when she opened the other door that flanked the fireplace and let out a gasp, the older woman turned around in question. “Is anything the matter, dearie?”

“Is this adjoining room meant to be a n…nursery?” Could it be that Mr. Strauss had had her installed in the master suite?

“Yes, Hunt thought you and the baby would be more comfortable in here,” Aunt Carol said in a matter-of-fact tone, as if it was the most natural place for Eva and Lily to be. “Hunt’s mother occupied this room until she died about six years ago. The late—” Aunt Carol paused and looked as if she’d said something she should not have. She cleared her throat before she continued, “It has not been used since.”

Eva wanted to ask more questions, but did not want to appear rude or ungrateful. “I’m sure Lily and I will be most comfortable here, thank you.” It was larger than anything they’d occupied thus far, times two.

Aunt Carol smiled at her as she finished lying out the linens. “Now, if you need anything, my room is downstairs, down the hall, first door. Mr. and Mrs. Walker’s room is the second door, past mine.”

Alarm shot through Eva. She knew servants would not occupy a room on the second floor, but surely, his aunt would. “Your room is not on this floor?” she questioned with hesitation.

“Oh no, dearie. I have a bad leg. Been giving me trouble for several years now. That’s when I moved downstairs.”

“Oh, I see,” Eva responded as she swallowed hard.

“Don’t you worry. Hunt is across the hall.”

That was exactly what worried her, but she couldn’t think how to express her concerns without insulting the lady’s nephew.

As if sensing her angst, Aunt Carol added, “Don’t mind my nephew either. He doesn’t say much, but that dear boy has a heart of gold. He can appear a little harsh on the outside, but that has nothing to do with you, dearie.” Aunt Carol moved toward her and Lily. Stroking the baby’s blonde little head, she said in a kind voice, “Have patience. He will come around. I promise you that.”

Eva didn’t need him to come around . All she required was a job for the time being. Then, once she had sufficient funds, she and Lily would be on their way.

* * *

An hour later, Eva found herself sitting at the dining table with a silent Mr. Strauss and Aunt Carol. She decided she would not concern herself with his harsh looks, but instead, focus on Lily.

Bouncing the happy baby on her lap, she glanced about the room. It was decorated with rich green wallpaper dashed with flecks of gold, a direct contrast to the delicate lace curtains. The table, set with white china and crystal, glistened in the soft glow of candlelight. The elegance reminded her of her father’s house, and of a brief, happier time before the arrival of her stepmother.

Aunt Carol’s comment brought her out of her reflection. “I gave that dog of yours some scraps.”

“He is not my dog.” As if he knew he was the topic of discussion, the nameless pup howled in protest from the veranda.

Aunt Carol laughed. “I think he’s disagreeing.”

Eva, uneasy at first, began to relax as the other woman’s casual conversation over the course of the meal calmed her nerves. That was until she started questioning her about life in England. “Did you have an occupation?”

Eva sensed Mr. Strauss go still at the question. She wanted to refuse to answer but as an employee did not feel she could and searched for the right words. “No, not quite an occupation. I was a companion to my stepmother’s aunt.”

“Did you not want to marry?”

She shifted the baby in her lap, uncomfortable with the personal direction of the conversation. When the silence continued, she knew she had little choice but to reveal her life up to this point. “My stepmother held the purse strings and my brother dictated my life. After an unsuccessful first season, I was told that I would be a companion to Lady Edith. That was four years ago.”

“Oh, you poor thing! How did you come to find yourself in America?”

Aunt Carol hung on every word as Eva explained, “I saved my pin money. When I thought I had enough, I sold what jewelry I had and left.” The sympathy on Aunt Carol’s face did not sit well with her. “I made my choices, and although things have not turned out quite as I planned, I find I am much happier now than when I was in England,” she said in a firm voice, then kissed the top of Lily’s head with affection. No, things had not turned out as she planned, but she would not change a thing.

Hunt listened to the conversation with interest. He had offered Miss Kenward room and board and a small salary in exchange for helping Aunt Carol and Mrs. Walker in the house. Both women were getting on in years, and both were too stubborn to admit when they needed help. Except that was when Aunt Carol had rambled on, trying to convince him to allow Miss Kenward to stay. After that, she’d mentioned every ache and pain she ever had.

Eva outlined her plans for the future in a practical manner. “I believe that by early summer, I will have saved enough money for Lily and me to travel on to San Francisco. We will live with my uncle. I’m sure when Lily is old enough, I can find employment.” She glanced up at Hunt and stated, for his benefit, he was sure, “I would not want to take advantage of your hospitality for longer than necessary.”

He was about to speak, but his aunt started pleading, almost on the verge of crying. “Oh, dearie, you mustn’t even think of leaving. We would never think that you were taking advantage.”

With that statement, both he and Eva stared at his overwrought relative, then looked at each other.

It was clear that both he and Eva were having the same thought.

The precise statement that his aunt had just declared was his first impression of Eva when she’d arrived on his doorstep, and he had no doubts Eva knew it, too. He started to laugh and noticed Eva’s shoulders relax as she giggled. It was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard.

Damn, but they were going to be long months while she was living here.

* * *

Eva reached around and tied the apron strings at the base of her back. She glanced in the mirror one last time. Her hair was pulled back in a sensible chignon, and the clothes Aunt Carol had found for her, although not stylish, were clean and presentable.

Eyeing her reflection, eyes wide in disbelief over the transformation from a proper Englishwoman to a common servant, she tried to boost her spirits. “You’re in service now. Come on, things could be worse. Think of the future…and Lily.”

She checked on her angel. Lily had just gone down for her morning nap and was sleeping soundly. “Soon,” she whispered as she stroked the baby’s soft curls, “soon.”

She walked out of the room, leaving the door open just a little. Neither of them were used to being alone, and Eva did not want Lily to wake up and be scared.

The sound of women busy in the kitchen drifted through the house. Hurrying down the stairs, Eva prepared herself to learn how to cook. That is, until she rounded the corner and entered the kitchen. The sight before her was like nothing she had ever seen before. There, on the wood block table, were several featherless, headless chickens.

“Good morning, dearie. I saved the feet to give to that dog of yours, and… Are you alright?” She heard Aunt Carol’s voice, but could only focus on the decapitated birds.

“She don’t look too well.” Mrs. Walker chimed in with her prognosis.

The smell of uncooked chicken entered Eva’s nostrils. Grabbing her midsection, she managed to mutter out, “I think I’m going to be sick,” before running from the room. Laughter from the two older women followed her down the hall.

The next thing she knew, she slammed right into a wall. Only this wall smelled of leather and fresh hay and had firm hands that encircled her with comfort.

Hunt was heading to the kitchen to check on his new employee, when the woman in question plowed right into him, trembling as if she had just seen a ghost. He rubbed her back with one hand, unwilling to release his grip on her with his other hand. All he could think about was how good Miss Kenward felt, warm and supple. This was exactly how he’d imagined she would feel like in his arms.

She must have realized where she was and who was holding her. She stiffened and tried to pull away, but still he did not let her go.

She looked up at him in anguish. “I’m…I’m sorry Mr. Strauss…”

“Hunt, call me Hunt.” He softened his tone and asked, “What happened?”

She took in a shaky breath before she spoke, looking as if she was about to lose the contents of her stomach. “I…I went to the kitchen to help and there…there were…dead chickens on the table.”

Hunt let out a hearty laugh.

“What is so amusing?” she scolded, still trembling as she managed to pull out of his embrace.

“You, Miss Kenward,” he addressed her formally. She had not yet given him permission to use her given name. “Only a proper English rose would get sick at the sight of a meal being prepared.”

She must have accepted his point. A bit of color had returned to her face, and she covered her mouth with the tips of her elegant fingers and started to giggle. “I suppose it is obvious by now that I have no skill in the kitchen.” She looked up at him, and then said, “Please, call me Eva.”

Hunt’s lips curved up in a smile. He couldn’t remember the last time that had happened.

* * *

After Mrs. Walker declared Eva to be utterly hopeless in the kitchen, Aunt Carol took it upon herself to teach her some basic cooking. Mrs. Walker, who could not contain her laughter, informed them that she would make herself useful in a different part of the house, stating that she could not bear to watch Eva make a mess. Today’s lesson was baking biscuits.

“First, we are going to sift all the ingredients.” Eva watched as Aunt Carol measured ten cups of flour, a pinch of salt, pepper, and sugar. She was uncertain, however, exactly how much a pinch was, since it appeared that Aunt Carol scooped up different quantities between her fingers. “Now take the sifter and add small quantities and shake until empty, then add more of the dry mixture.”

As Eva worked, Aunt Carol kept the conversation jovial with tales of when Hunt was a young boy. By the time Eva had sifted all the ingredients, and added lard and water, she had a vivid picture of a young, mischievous Hunt in her mind. She loved listening to the stories as Aunt Carol demonstrated kneading the dough.

Her family had never talked or shared anything of their past. It was quite a lonely existence not knowing where you came from, apart from what was listed in Debrett’s.

Aunt Carol motioned for Eva to join her at the kitchen table. As she reached for the kettle, she said, “The dough has to set for half an hour. Plenty of time for a nice cup of tea, dearie. You’ve earned it.”

Eva knew that Aunt Carol had something on her mind. No sooner had she sat down than the older woman’s inquisitive nature shone through. “When did you first meet CeCe?”

Eva was not surprised Aunt Carol would want to hear about her late niece. “We met the first day on board the ship to America.”

Aunt Carol shook her head as she worried the handle of the teacup and said, “So you were not friends before?”

Eva looked away, remembering that day that now seemed so long ago. “No, not even acquaintances.” Instead of answering one question at a time, she decided to tell Aunt Carol the whole story without interruption. The sweet, caring woman deserved to know.

“CeCe and Lily were traveling alone. She would never talk about her husband, only that she needed to leave England and return home. It was not long into the voyage that she took ill.” Eva glanced down at the elegant white embossed tablecloth. This conversation was proving to be more difficult than she had imagined. “CeCe had a fever and was moved away from the other passengers. I took care of Lily during that time.”

“I’m glad that my niece and great-niece had you, dearie,” Aunt Carol said as she patted Eva’s hand.

Eva could feel nausea rising again and tears stinging the corner of her eyes at the memory of subsequent events. It had all happened so fast. Fingering the napkin in her hand, she blurted out, “Within a matter of days, CeCe was so ill that I feared she would not survive the voyage. One of the other passengers often helped me with Lily. When not tending to the baby, I would sit with CeCe.”

“Did…did she ever talk about us…fondly, I mean?”

It was not the first time that Eva wondered what had happened to cause CeCe to leave a loving family. She tried to put the kind old woman’s fears to rest. “She spoke of the place she called ‘the ranch’ with much affection. All she cared about was getting her baby home. In her last hours, I think she knew she was dying. She made me promise I would bring Lily to her family in Montana. I could not abandon Lily or deny CeCe’s dying wish, so I agreed, and here I am.” There was more to the story, but Eva did not want to relive those memories again. CeCe had suffered terribly, but Aunt Carol had such a tender heart, and Eva decided some things were better left unsaid. Desperate to change the subject before Aunt Carol questioned her further, she asked, “Do you think the biscuits are ready for the next step?”

“Oh, dearie, yes indeed.” Aunt Carol seemed relieved to leave the conversation, and the two women returned to the wood block and waiting dough. Aunt Carol pulled out a rolling pin, sprinkled the block with flour, and instructed Eva. “Gently roll up and down, then turn the dough and roll again.”

Eva followed the instructions as best she could, but noted there was more flour on her and the floor than on the wood or dough.

“Good. Now we are going to cut the dough into rounds, then cook ‘em up.”

Eva did as she was told. Within a matter of minutes, she had an army of biscuits waiting to be cooked in the cast iron skillet. The next step was most concerning. She had never in her life cooked anything. Truth be told, she was scared of the hot pan. She placed the first batch onto the warm surface and waited until they were golden brown, then awkwardly flipped them onto their other side.

“Something smells wonderful in here,” Hunt said as he walked into the kitchen.

“You’re just in time to taste Eva’s biscuits. She is doing quite well.”

The compliment from Aunt Carol warmed her heart. She had never experienced such kindness or patience in all her life.

She placed a biscuit on a simple white plate and handed it to Hunt. He stared down at it as if it was poison. “It is not going to eat you,” she said with annoyance.

Hunt took one small, unsure bite. She wasn’t sure what his response would be, but when a smile crept across his face, she knew he was pleased with her effort. “Not bad. Not bad at all.”

After her successful attempt at making biscuits, she gained some confidence in the domestic realm, and started to enjoy her new role. For the first time in her life, she felt useful. She was able to fall into the easy routine at the ranch. While Lily was napping, she would help in the kitchen—except when chickens were involved. She learned to hang laundry, clean, or sometimes she just chatted with Aunt Carol and Mrs. Walker about their lives in Montana. She had even decided to name the pup, who seemed determined to stay.

One conversation she’d had with Aunt Carol still brought a smile to her face. They had been enjoying a break from household duties on the warm, sunny veranda when the older woman had asked Eva if she’d decided on a name for the dog curled up at her feet.

“I think I’ll name him Nero,” Eva said with affection as she leaned down and rubbed the pup’s head.

“That’s an odd name for a dog,” Aunt Carol had said.

Eva laughed at the image ingrained in her memory from the night of the fire. “Not if you saw what he was doing to the hotel ashes.”

Even Lily was flourishing in this environment. She was growing bigger by the day and had become a proficient crawler. In the afternoons, Eva would often take the inquisitive baby for a walk near the horse pasture and stables. Nero loved to join them and barked at all perceived dangers. He had even become quite handy at catching rats in the barn.

Her happiest moments, though, were when they gathered around the fireplace in the evening and shared their day over a cup of spiced cider.

Hunt kept a polite distance, only interacting with Eva and Lily at mealtimes, but there were no more awkward moments. Every once in a while, however, Eva would catch him looking at her out of the corner of his eye. His gaze always made her insides flutter. During those times, she wished that she had not set such strict boundaries when she’d agreed to work here. With each passing day, she was falling more in love with Montana, and she suspected with the cowboy as well, who stirred so many unfamiliar feelings.