Coming Home for Christmas Read Online Free Page B

to him, shaking his head.
    â€œThis is shameful, Father,” he said, speaking low.
    The priest nodded. “True, but this is a crowd of upset people. I almost cannot blame them.”
    Thomas remained where he was by the priest as the auction began. He astounded his Presbyterian soul by bidding on and winning the family’s surprisingly simple prie-dieu, and a triptych of Father, Son and Holy Ghost that caught his eye with its primitive style. Thanks to doctoring among the San Diegans, Thomas had money enough to buy more and he did. For some reason hecould not explain to himself, he bid on housewares, a table and chairs, a blue-painted cabinet and what was probably Laura’s bed.
    He didn’t question why he was doing this, except that he knew what it felt like to be alone and left with little, beyond his medicines and capital knives. Maybe whoever took in Laura would take more kindly to the imposition if her possessions came, too.
    Thomas said as much to Father Hilario, who shook his head. “Tomás, I fear you are awarding these San Diegans more virtue than they deserve,” he cautioned.
    â€œWhat do you mean?” he asked, his eyes on the auctioneer, who was now holding up a calfskin trunk of clothing.
    â€œNo one will take her in.”
    â€œYou’re quizzing me, Father!” He hadn’t meant to speak so loudly. People turned to look. “Seriously?” he asked in a whisper.
    â€œAfter what her father did, she has no friends.”
    Thomas threw up both hands in surprise and suddenly found himself the owner of a trunk of female finery. The women around him tittered as he blushed, then turned back as the auction continued.
    â€œSomeone should do something,” he said, glaring at the women’s backs.
    â€œMy thought precisely,” Father Hilario said in his most matter-of-fact voice, the one he probably reserved for the confessional. “Marry her, lad.”

Chapter Four
    T homas couldn’t have heard Father Hilario correctly. What the man had said must be an idiom he had never encountered before.
    â€œI beg your pardon?” he asked, his voice really low now.
    â€œMarry her. She has nowhere to live. For unknown reasons, you have just purchased some of her clothing and much of her furniture. She will thank you for the prie-dieu—we call it a reclinatorio. Your own quarters are rather sparse and could use some nice furniture, if I may say.”
    â€œYou may not,” Thomas snapped. He felt light-headed, but he was damned if he’d take his own pulse in front of the Franciscan. “That is the craziest thing I have ever heard. She doesn’t even like me.”
    â€œAh! So you have thought of it!” the priest chortled, pouncing.
    â€œI have not!” Thomas whispered back furiously. “Well, only a little.”
    â€œI could ask why you purchased so many of her possessions, but I know how easy it is to get caught up in the spirit of a bargain,” the priest said generously, with only a hint of a smile.
    â€œUm, yes.”
    â€œYou English,” the priest said, his voice kind.
    â€œScot. Scot,” Thomas said weakly.
    The auction was over. His mind traveling in all directions at once, Thomas went to the auctioneer and paid what he owed.
    â€œShall we deliver this tonight to your quarters?” the man asked.
    â€œOf course not! Find Doña Laura Ortiz and give it back to her,” Thomas declared.
    The auctioneer pressed his lips together in a thin line, disapproval etched deep. “That child of a cheat and a gambler has no home now. I do not know where she is.” He waved his hand at Thomas’s new possessions. “This is now yours and it is going to your quarters. And that is that.” He turned on his heel in the way only a Spaniard could—or would—and left the surgeon standing there.
    â€œDo it, then, man, damn your eyes,” Thomas muttered in English. He turned to the priest,