Christmas With the Colburns Read Online Free

be Andrew’s first
Christmas, and already most of my family members have made other plans. You
have to be here.”
      “I’ll be here,
but I really think you’re making too much of this. I know you want all of your
siblings to be here every Christmas for the rest of your life, but you have to
let people do what’s right for them. I think it’s good that Levi and Mandy are
going to spend the day with Roseanna and Everett at the Fosters’ farm, since
it’s their first year without Samuel. And your sisters aren’t being selfish.
Their families are growing too, and the long wagon trip here is hard on the
children.” Connor shrugged and put his coffee mug in the sink. “Besides, the
seasons are opposite here in the Land from what I grew up with in America, so
it never feels like Christmas to me anyway. As a kid I felt sorry for people
living on the Southern Hemisphere—warm Christmases and cold
Julys—and now I’m one of you.” He winked at her, but she didn’t smile.
    He spoke casually about the one holiday tradition that was
important to her: having her whole family together on Christmas Day. It was her
way of honoring her mother. How could she give that up?
    She backed away from the sink. “Fine,” she huffed as she
carried the baby out of the room. “Go spend the week in Woodland. My Christmas
is ruined anyway!”

 
    Chapter Four

 
    Lydia pulled the hairpins from her chignon and dropped them
into a glass votive atop her dresser. When she glanced into the mirror, her
reflection reminded her more of her mother than of herself. She averted her
eyes and picked up her hairbrush.
    After a few slow strokes, she flipped her hair behind her
back and waited for Connor to notice her new nightgown. Sitting on the other
side of the bed, he stared into the wardrobe as he unbuttoned his shirt. He rarely
went this long without looking at her.
    She rubbed her bare arms, hoping to draw his attention to the
gown’s lack of sleeves. “Mandy has taken up sewing. She says it’s nesting since
she only has a few weeks until the baby comes, but her clothing designs are
anything but matronly.”
    He removed his socks and dropped them on the floor.
    She blew out the flame of the oil lamp on her bedside table
and straightened the dainty silk bow on her gown’s low-cut neckline. “So what
do you think?”
    “Hm?” He kept his back to her. The low light of his lamp
defined his muscular build.
    “About the nightgown Mandy made for me?”
    He angled his chin toward her. “Nice.”
    “Connor? Are you mad about this morning?”
    “No.”
    “Because I was just frustrated with my family. I’m sorry I
took it out on you.”
    He lowered his head into his hands. “That’s not it.”
    “What brought this on?” She moved across the bed and wanted
to touch him, to wrap her arms around him, to pull him from whatever abyss his
thoughts had dragged him into. But she waited. He would feel her near him and
reach for her when he was ready. Whenever he was smothered by that dark
silence, her insides twisted into aching knots. She put her hand to her stomach
and asked God to give him peace.
    Connor lifted his head but still did not look at her. His
voice was low and gruff. “Don’t do that.”
    “Don’t do what?”
    “Worry about me.”
    She removed her hand from her middle. “I was praying for
you.”
    He let out a quick breath—the kind that would
ordinarily prelude a chuckle—and cast his gaze to the ceiling. “I’m
sorry. Yes, do that. Definitely do that.”
    She laid her cheek against the warm skin of his back. “What
has happened?”
    “Nothing.” He rubbed his thumb along the lace strap at her
shoulder. “This new?”
    “It is.” She touched the silk bow as she searched his face.
His eyes were on her, but the darkness remained. His effort to hide his anxiety
was valiant, but unnecessary. “Are you going to Woodland tomorrow?”
    He raked his fingers through his hair, and it left black
grooves like a plowed