Biltmore Christmas Page 14

  What would Selma and Charity think of Mark Ludman? Both of her sisters were now married, and they’d met theirhusbands on the Biltmore estate. Was she following in their footsteps? The thought brought a grin to her face. She was the oldest, and they’d always followed her around. Now was it her turn to do as they’d done?

  “Don’t be a silly girl, Peggy. You aren’t going to be here long enough to fall in love at Biltmore.” The chair rocked gently as she pushed out of it and looked to the alarm clock beside her bed. It was too late now to go into the village. Disappointment settled deep within her chest. She’d been looking forward to seeing Mama Elsie and Melissa, her youngest sister.

  Peggy picked up the novel she’d been reading and walked out the door once more. If she couldn’t go home, she’d do the next best thing and head to her favorite spot along the river to read. But first she’d stop by the pantry and find a snack to take with her.

  Later, settled with her book under the shade of a bald cypress tree, she leaned against the firm trunk and sighed. Peggy held her face up to the warming sun. She so enjoyed early fall days and the scent of autumn in the air.

  This wasn’t as nice as going home, but she loved being in nature, enjoying the splendor of God’s creations. The front of the Biltmore estate still showed signs of its construction, but here by the river, everything looked the same. Woods, river, and the sounds of nature surrounded her.

  She settled the small bag that held an apple, chunk of cheese, and a couple of oatmeal cookies beside her. A flock of geese flew overhead. Their honks and squawks filled the afternoon breeze and gave her a sense of peace.

  After several long moments, she opened her book and began to read. A soft plunk drew her attention. Peggy lifted her head and listened. After several more seconds, she went back to reading. Again she heard the sound. Laying the book to the side, Peggy stood and looked about.

  A young boy fished a little ways down the riverbank. He pulled back his pole, and she watched as the cork flew through the air and landed on the water’s surface with a plunk. He waited a few moments and then pulled his line from the water. It was obvious to her that he was impatient and wasn’t allowing enough time for the fish to notice the worm that wiggled on the end of his hook.

  Selma had been the same way when she was a little girl. Peggy walked the short distance to the boy. “Hello.”

  He looked up. Light-blue eyes studied her for a moment before he cast his line into the water again. “Hi,” the young boy answered, not taking his gaze off the cork.

  Sandy red hair shone in the sun. He really needed a hat. Peggy couldn’t help the motherly feeling that washed over her. She’d been mothering all her life so wasn’t surprised by the emotion. “How’s the fishing?”

  He grunted. “Not so good. I don’t think they are biting today.” The line whipped out of the water once more.

  “Maybe you aren’t leaving your line in long enough,” she suggested, offering a smile.

  A frown marred his freckled face. “Maybe.”

  “I used to fish with my sisters.” When he didn’t comment, she offered, “I’m Peggy.”

  She watched as he sighed, laid his pole down, andwalked over to her. He extended his hand. “I’m Joshua, but everyone calls me Josh.”

  As soon as she released his small hand, he returned to the fishing pole.

  As he picked it up, his eyes cut toward her. Peggy couldn’t control the smile that crossed her face. She knew he wanted to jerk the line out again but refrained from doing so.

  Instead, he asked, “What are you doing out here?”

  It was a fair and blunt question. “It’s my afternoon off. I was reading a book when I heard you.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry I disturbed you.”

  She grinned at him. “You didn’t disturb me. My curiosity got the better of me, and I just had to see how the fishing was going.”

  He pulled the line out and began to gather his things.

  Peggy frowned. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m leaving so you can read in peace. Papa says that days off should be enjoyed, and that I shouldn’t bother any of the adults.” Josh picked up his pole.

  She hated that she’d ruined his fishing. “Wait! I don’t want you to go.”

  Josh faced her. “You don’t?” The disbelief and distrust on his face caused those motherly instincts to kick in again.

  “No. We can share the riverbank. I would enjoy having someone to talk to.”

  He studied her face. Josh seemed like the type of boy who’d made a habit of studying faces. Something in hers must have agreed with him, because he nodded. “Then I’ll stay.”

  “Good, I’ll go get my book.” Peggy hurried to the tree where she’d left the hardback and her bag. She scooped them up and hurried back. A quick glance around the area revealed a tree not far from the boy, and she settled on the ground beside it.

  Josh returned to his place at the water’s edge, rebaited his hook, and began casting.

  She noted he now left the line in the water a little longer. Her gaze moved up to the sky. It wasn’t that late in the afternoon. Why wasn’t he in school?

  “May I ask you a question, Josh?”

  “I don’t see why not.”

  “Good. How old are you?”

  “Ten. How old are you?”

  Another fair question. “I’m almost twenty-four.” An old maid.

  Peggy decided to push that thought down. She’d not met the right man, and even those she had met and considered for marriage had wanted to leave the area. Until her sisters were all settled, Peggy had no intentions of moving anywhere.

  Josh seemed satisfied with her answer and continued fishing. His gaze returned to her several times, but he didn’t start a new conversation.

  Peggy picked up her book and tried to read, but too many questions ran through her mind. Why wasn’t he in school? Had he skipped to go fishing? What made him seem so leery of her?

  She dug into the small bag and pulled out a Buncombeapple. It crunched as she bit into the tender skin. Joshua turned in her direction. Peggy grinned. “Are you hungry? I have oatmeal cookies and some cheese I can share.”

  “No thanks.” He returned to staring at the cork that bobbed in the water. His young shoulders slumped, and he seemed deep in thought.

  “Josh, why aren’t you in school?” Peggy asked, aware that it was none of her business. The boy had been pretty direct with her so far, so she hoped he’d answer her question.

  Time passed slowly as the geese continued honking and flying overhead. Peggy glanced up at them and waited. They formed a lopsided vee shape. Soon the birds were only a black speck in the sky, and she turned her attention back to the boy.

  She couldn’t see his face and wondered if he was simply going to ignore her question, or was he struggling with how to answer her? Peggy picked up her book and tried to focus on the words once more.

  “I didn’t go. I should have, but …” He stopped speaking and cast his line. A frown marred his young face, making him appear older.

  Peggy moved to the bank, where she sat beside where he stood. She kept her voice soft and prayed it didn’t sound too much like an adult’s. “Why didn’t you go?”

  He sat, too. “I’ve never told another soul but …”

  She hesitated, afraid to push him.

  His gaze moved to the book in her hand. “But maybe you can help me. If you have the time, that is.” His blue eyes met hers and held them.

  “I’ll help if I can,” she promised, making sure not to break eye contact with him.

  He looked away. “That’s just it, you might not can. The other boys say I’m too dumb.”

  Children could be so harsh to one another. Her heart ached at the look of sorrow and hurt she had seen in his eyes. Peggy reached out and took his hand. “Why don’t you tell me how I can help, and we’ll prove those other boys wrong.” She gave it a reassuring squeeze.

  He pulled his hand out from under hers and whispered, �
�I can’t read.”

  She looked down at the cover of her book. In bold letters she read A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens. She’d read the Christmas story twice now and loved it. Reading was her favorite pastime. The words within books took her to other places and let her experience life through other people’s eyes. She couldn’t imagine a life without reading.

  Peggy’s gaze lifted to the stream. “I’ll help you,” she promised. But how? Would she be able to come to the stream every day? And when it grew colder, would he be able to come to her or her to him? She needed more information.

  “Have you told your parents?”

  He watched the cork bob in the water. “No, my mother died when I was three, and Papa is just too busy.”

  Peggy was no stranger to the heartache of losing one’s mother at an early age. She wanted to reach out and hug him. “When you say your father is too busy, do you mean you’ve asked for his help, and he’s been too busy for you?”

  “No, Papa doesn’t know. He would help, but it wouldtake him away from his work, and that wouldn’t be good. Grandpapa says I should leave Papa be, that he has much too much to do. He says reading’s not that important, anyway.” He pulled the line out of the water and set the pole beside them. “I need to go get another worm. Seems mine has jumped off the hook.”

  Peggy watched him go in search of a place to dig up a worm. She walked back to her spot under the tree and picked up the book and bag. What kind of man told his grandchild not to bother his parent? And that reading wasn’t important? She shook her head. Her anger grew as she thought about the boy’s father. How could he not know his son couldn’t read? Didn’t he help Josh with his homework? Read to him at night?

  Her hand caressed the front of the book in her lap. Reading was her form of escape; it took her to places she’d never visit in real life and gave her many hours of pleasure. Reading recipe books and copying them helped her do her job. How could someone say that wasn’t important? Or not be aware that his child couldn’t read?

  Josh returned and threaded the worm onto his hook. “Will you still help me, Miss Peggy?” His eyes held hope and desperation.

  “Only on one condition.” She rejoined him on the bank.

  He cast his line and then met her gaze. “What’s that?”

  She held out the small bag. “You have to try my new oatmeal cookie recipe.”

  OATMEAL COOKIES

  Ingredients:

  1 egg

  ¼ cup sugar

  ¼ cup thin cream

  ¼ cup milk

  ½ cup fine oatmeal

  2 cups flour

  2 teaspoons baking powder

  1 teaspoon salt

  Instructions:

  Beat egg until light; add sugar, cream, and milk; then add oatmeal, flour, baking powder, and salt, mixed and sifted. Toss on a floured board, roll, cut in shape, and bake in a moderate oven.

  Chapter 3

  YUMMY APPLE CAKE

  Mark followed the trail that led to the stream where he knew Joshua would be fishing. His teacher, Miss Hart, had stopped by the apiary to inform him the boy hadn’t returned after lunch. Much to his amazement, he’d discovered Joshua had a habit of not returning after lunch.

  He heard laughter and splashing and followed the sound. “If that boy is with a girl, I’m going to tan his hide,” he muttered, pushing aside a tree limb.

  And then he stopped. His son stood on the bank with Miss Bradford. For the first time in a long time, Joshua was laughing and having a good time. He watched as his son held up a wiggling fish for Miss Bradford’s inspection.

  “I think this is the biggest one yet, Miss Peggy.”

  Her name whispered across his tongue. “Peggy.” It tasted almost as sweet as it sounded. Mark shook his head. What man stands in the shadows and thinks about a woman’s name like that? He stepped into the clearing.

  Joshua turned. “Papa.” His smile faded.

  Peggy looked at him, too. Her smile faded as well. “Hello, Mr. Ludman.”

  Mark walked to them. When had he become the bad guy? “Son, your teacher came calling this afternoon.”

  “Uh-oh.” Joshua’s head went down, and he gathered his fishing pole and the string of fish he’d caught.

  Mark shook his head. “We’ll talk about her visit later tonight.” Then he turned his attention to Peggy. “How are you this afternoon, Miss Bradford?”

  She, too, was gathering her things to leave. “I’m well, Mr. Ludman.”

  The stiffness in her voice alerted him that something had displeased her. “Have I done something to offend you?”

  She spun around to face him. Her gaze moved to Josh, who was shaking his head ever so slightly in a silent plea. “I’m sorry. I need to get back to the kitchen. It’s my night to bake.”

  “Would you like me to walk you back?”

  Her frosty voice chilled the pleasant afternoon. “No thanks. Maybe you should walk your son home and let him talk to you. And, this time, listen to him.” Peggy clutched her book close to her chest and headed down the path he’d just traveled.

  Mark turned to Joshua. “What was that about?”

  The ten-year-old boy shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  He stared at his son. His chin hung so low it almost touched his chest, and he refused to make eye contact. “Now why don’t I believe you?”

  Peggy stomped back to the Biltmore house. Anger at Mark Ludman surged through her whole being. She’d had no ideahe was Josh’s father. The man she’d met earlier today seemed so considerate of others. But he obviously didn’t pay enough attention to his own child.

  Halfway back she stopped and slapped herself on the forehead. How can I be so stupid? She’d forgotten to arrange a time and place to meet Joshua for his first reading lesson. Peggy sighed. “That’s what comes from allowing your temper to overtake you.”

  The rest of the afternoon seemed to fly by as Peggy created spice cakes for the evening meal. She loved her job and felt blessed to be spending the holidays at Biltmore. Mrs. Vanderbilt was going all out with decorations and gifts for the residents of Asheville and the people who worked on the estate.

  Chef McConnell smiled as he inspected her work-table before allowing her to leave. “Thank you for going for the honey wagon today, Miss Bradford. I’ve spoken with the head chef, and he suggested we give you a couple of extra hours off tomorrow to make up for today.”

  “That is very kind of you. Thank you.” Peggy hid her hands in her apron. Her mind worked as she thought of what she could do with the extra two hours off. Would she be able to find Joshua?

  “You are free to go.” Chef McConnell dismissed her with a grin.

  Peggy nodded and then returned to her room. She sank into a chair and studied the small room. It was airy and comfortable with a chestnut dresser and matching wardrobe. She longed to fall into the comfortable iron bed and sleep,but her mind remained on Joshua Ludman and the fact that she didn’t know how to contact him.

  She dressed for bed, crawled between the fresh sheets, and picked up her book. Maybe if she read for a while, her mind would relax and allow her to sleep. Four o’clock in the morning would arrive sooner than she cared to think about. Peggy yawned.

  Around eight the next morning, one of the kitchen maids came to her station. “There is a young boy at the service door asking for you.”

  Peggy looked to Chef McConnell and, when she had his attention, indicated she needed to step out of the kitchen for a moment. At his nod, she hurried to the back door.

  Joshua stood on the step. “I’m sorry to bother you, Miss Peggy, but I was wondering if we can start my classes today?”

  She nodded. “Yes. Meet me by the stream after school today. I’ll only have about thirty minutes, but I think that will give me enough time to figure out where you are.”

  His lips lifted in a grin. “I’ll be there.” He turned to go.

  “And don’t skip school this afternoon,” she called after him.

  His young voi
ce floated back to her. “I won’t. Promise. See you later.” Then he was gone.

  Peggy hurried inside, washed her hands, and went back to her station. Chef McConnell walked over to her. “Is everything all right, Miss Bradford?”

  She picked up the dough and began to knead it. “Everything is fine, sir. I am teaching one of the local boys to read, and he had a question.”

  “That’s very honorable of you.” He leaned against her worktable. “Are you qualified to teach?”

  His voice sounded soft and warm. Peggy looked up into his face. Kind eyes greeted her. He didn’t mean the question to sound condemning, and for that she was thankful.

  “I’m not sure. But he needs a teacher and has asked me to help him.” Peggy pounded the dough.

  His big hand patted her shoulder. “I like your determination. Just don’t let it interfere with your duties.”

  Peggy grinned at him. “I won’t.”

  Mark introduced a small puff of smoke through the entrance door of the hive. The smoke caused the bees to remain calm and kept him from getting stung. He waited a minute or two to make sure the smoke had the desired effect, and then he removed the outer cover from the top of the hive. The smoke caused the bees to be drowsy and prevented them from flying away as he set the top to the side and began examining the hive.

  Cleaning the colony and making sure everything was in order took him about fifteen minutes per hive. After an hour Mark stood and stretched his back muscles. His gaze moved over the sea of frames that contained beehives. He knew more would need his attention out in the fields, meadows, and mountains that surrounded the Biltmore estate.

  This was one of those days when he’d rather be in the field with the head gardener. The bees hummed around him. The sweet smell of honey filled his nostrils. He knew he should be content, but he wasn’t. He enjoyed bees, the smellof honey, and the outdoors but thought there was more to life. He closed his eyes and could see the bountiful fall harvest of orange pumpkins, fat potatoes, and green kale in the gardens. He grinned. Those were true fruits of labor.