Page 21 of A Texas Christmas Carol

A hand on her arm brought her mind back to the present.

“Come on,” Charity said. “Let’s sit and talk. It’s obvious that more than these baskets is weighing on you.” She guided Felicity to the sofa and tossed aside the brown paper and string they’d used to wrap the small surprises tucked in amid all the food and supplies. Drawing Felicity down onto the cushioned seat, Charity urged, “Tell me. We have at least twenty minutes before Mother will be back with my brood. I assume this has something to do with what happened yesterday.”

Felicity clutched her hands in her lap, determined not to turn into a watering pot even though her traitorous chin had already started wobbling. “What if he’s not the one?” She looked at her sister. “I was so sure. But now . . .”

“Because he doesn’t want to help the Darbys?”

Felicity nodded.

“Have you talked to him about it?”

She nibbled on the edge of her lip before admitting she hadn’t. “I didn’t want to bring it all back up again when he came to fetch me.”

“Not right away, no,” Charity agreed. “But what about later? When he walked you home after your shopping?”

Felicity shook her head. She’d been too afraid to ruin their truce. Evan had apologized for nearly abandoning her after the conflict with Mr. Darby. She’d seen the sincerity in his eyes, heard it in his tone. Yet her ease in his presence had shrunk as much as the length of his hair. He looked so different. Felt so different in her company. Aloof. Pensive. Like a stranger. Not the man she expected him to be. He conversed politely each time she asked his opinion about a purchase, but he’d seemed distracted. As if he wished to be elsewhere. He never argued with her or suggested a different item. Just blandly concurred with whatever she proposed, the spark between them thoroughly dampened.

And when she’d asked him if he would accompany her to speak with Betsy Darby the next morning, he turned her down, making some excuse about a business matter that required his attention.

So she’d gone alone, a sense of righteousness fueling her. But that righteousness didn’t keep her warm with its nearness or entertain her with dry wit. It didn’t challenge her to uncover a hidden smile or look at her with eyes hungry for connection.

She missed him.

“Felicity?” Her sister’s voice pulled her from her thoughts.

A mist coated Felicity’s eyes. “I’ve ruined it, haven’t I? Pushed him too hard. What if he pulls away from me? I can’t bear for him to have a low opinion of me. We’ve grown so close over the last week. I really thought he was coming to share my feelings, to want something more than friendship.”

Charity reached into her sister’s lap and clasped Felicity’s hand. “Disagreements happen. Even between two people who love each other desperately. Believe me.” A wry smile quirked her mouth. “Henry and I have had more than our share of spats. Especially when one or both of us is tired or frustrated. It happens. But it doesn’t mean the love is gone. What it does mean is that you need to take some time to see things from the other person’s perspective. Even if doing so doesn’t change your opinion. Respecting one another’s feelings even when you don’t agree is one of the greatest gifts you can give.”

“When did you get so wise?” Felicity leaned her head on her sister’s shoulder.

Charity chuckled softly. “I have no idea.”

Felicity straightened, her heart taking courage that all might not be lost with Evan. “He never once tried to stop me from helping the Darbys,” she said, the realization cheering her a bit. “And I suppose I can understand his ill humor over the situation. Edward Darby did threaten his life, after all. And conducted himself quite shamefully, waving that pistol about.”

“From what I hear, it wasn’t the threat to his own life that put Mr. Beazer so firmly out of sorts,” Charity said, patting Felicity’s hand. “It was the threat to you that unraveled him. Mrs. Price insisted she’d never seen him look so utterly frantic as he did when you took your tumble. In that single moment, he proved to everyone present that he cares for more than just money. He cares for you.”

Felicity pressed her lips together, but the action failed to fully contain her smile. Until her sister’s expression grew more solemn.

“Pray for him, sister,” Charity urged. “He stands on a precipice, I think, and you cannot drag him over to your side just because you wish him to be there. He must choose for himself who he will be should he seek an attachment to you. Just as you must choose who you will be should you attach yourself to him.

“God has gifted you with a compassionate nature and a nurturing spirit. Marrying a man who will hoard those gifts for himself and not encourage you to exercise them in service to others cannot be a good thing. But marrying a man who respects and supports your calling to minister to those in need can be the greatest of blessings, even if he doesn’t fully participate in such ministry himself.”

“I will pray for him,” Felicity vowed, “and for myself as well. That God will make clear to both of us, beyond a shadow of a doubt, which path we are to walk.”

Though she couldn’t help hoping that the paths each of them were shown were one and the same.

Thy will, not mine, be done, she prayed, trying really, really hard to mean it.

Evan strolled toward the small clapboard church on Sunday morning at his usual strategically late time. Not wanting to make idle chitchat on a normal day, he was even less inclined to converse this morning, knowing there would be only one topic anyone would wish to discuss with him—Friday’s shooting incident.

That horrifying moment when he thought Felicity felled by a bullet had crystallized his feelings for her as nothing else could. He was in love with her. Wholly and completely. He’d battled his attraction to her for years, ever since he’d plucked her from that runaway horse. But in the last couple of weeks, that attraction had deepened into something much more robust. Something that spread through him like aggressive ivy, clinging to his very bones and crawling upward until it wrapped like a vise around his heart. The harder he fought, the more it squeezed.

It frightened him, the power of this feeling. Not because he feared her betrayal—if Felicity gave her heart, she’d give it fully, with every ounce of loyalty and steadfastness she possessed. And she possessed more than any woman he’d ever known. No, he feared that his darkness would smother her light. That giving herself to him would eventually drain her vibrancy. He hoped the effect would be the reverse. That her light would fill him instead, just as he’d experienced during their Christmas basket project, but it wasn’t fair for him to place the burden of his happiness on her shoulders. He needed to find his own light.

“A heavy heart gives a man a heavy step.”

Evan started, shocked to find Prez walking beside him. “Where did you come from?” He could have sworn he was alone on this road. Everyone else was already inside the church.