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He let out a frustrated groan and shook his head hard as if to shake her from his thoughts. What in the world was the matter with him? First he’d opened up to her about his mother, and now this feeling of desire. It was some kind of madness. Maybe it was just due to the holidays. That was surely it. Christmas had stirred up all sorts of memories and emotions. He was rarely ever given over to either one, so having a day where everything just seemed to collide gave a reasonable excuse for his behavior.

He let out a deep breath and went again to the library’s floor-to-ceiling windows. Looking out on the snowy day, he wondered about Leah’s question, if he’d ever want to see his mother again.

His answer to her had been a simple no, but Erik knew deep within his heart it wasn’t that simple. He had often thought of seeing his mother again, of berating her for her desertion. A part of him wanted to be able to take her to task for the pain she had caused, for the damage done to their family.

Then again, there was that hurt young boy who longed for a mother’s gentle touch and embrace. He thought of times when he’d been quite small and sought her out during storms or after injuring himself during play. She always pushed him away, telling him to go to his nanny for comfort.

“How could you be so cold and indifferent? How could you see me there needing you so much, so innocent of anything that had been done to you, and yet you still couldn’t offer love?” The words murmured aloud left him feeling worse than before.

He made his way from the library, determined to shake off the melancholy of those memories.

“Erik, have you had enough to eat?” Mrs. Turner asked him as if she’d expected him to exit the library.

“I . . . well, yes. I’ve had plenty. I was just speaking to Leah a moment ago and then got caught up in the view from your library. It’s snowing and quite lovely.”

“I thought so too. I noticed it from one of the other rooms.” She smiled and took his arm. “I hope you don’t think me intrusive, but I’ve watched you today. I note a bit of sadness in your eyes. Knowing the story of your family, I can’t help but wonder if you’re doing all right.”

He looked down at her, touched by her concern. “Thank you for asking. It is a difficult day. I see your family here and the love they show each other, the joy they take from being together, and it reminds me of all that I missed out on growing up. A family who truly loves to be together is a wonderful thing. Not that my father and sister don’t enjoy being with me. It’s almost as if we never quite learned how to enjoy being together. I know it may sound strange, but there was a strained kind of apprehension for us.”

“Not strange at all. Given your mother’s inability to settle into her marriage and motherhood, how could any of you have learned to feel that same closeness and personal joy? I hope you’ll allow yourself to be part of our family, at least for the day. Enjoy the laughter and the love. We are very happy to include you.” She let go of his arm and offered him one final smile. “Now, do make sure to join us for carols in the music room. We’re just about to start. I need to go check with Cook about the yule log cake.”

Erik nodded and watched her head down the hall toward the kitchen. He thought of her invitation to be a part of their family—to enjoy the laughter and love. He wanted very much to do as she suggested, but something inside reared up with warning. It was all well and fine to enjoy the day, but tomorrow it would all be lost to him once again. The pain that was sure to follow would no doubt be devastating. How could he risk it? Better to remain closed off and watch from afar.

Randolph Vanhoutte was late to the celebration but welcomed by all. His arrival brought about discussion of the war, something everyone had worked hard to avoid. Something about his presence, however, seemed to bring it all back home again.

Leah wasn’t at all happy to hear her brothers speak with great gusto about the possibility of enlisting to fight in the war.

“If America joins the fighting,” Micah announced, “I’ll be one of the first to sign up. It’s my duty, and I’d be proud to fight for our country.”

Leah saw her mother’s pinched expression and the way Father put his arm around her in support. The boys thought only of defeating the enemy and being heroes for the day. They gave no consideration to those they would leave behind nor to the possibility of never coming home.

Randolph didn’t help matters. He told horrible tales of his family’s desperate situation, not that he’d heard anything new from them. Apparently, very little mail was getting out of the country. He talked of the starvation being endured and the king’s desperation for ways to better the living conditions of his people. They were occupied and oppressed, and nothing resembling freedom appeared to be coming anytime soon.

Grandmother insisted they return to singing, and this only served to further Leah’s sadness. When they sang “Silent Night,” she thought of Susanna. It was her favorite Christmas song.

“‘Round yon virgin mother and child. Holy infant so tender and mild.’”

She thought of all the mothers and infants who were out there alone and desperate for help. The young women who were with child and had no hope for their future. She thought of the destitute in Belgium suffering at the hands of the enemy and of the soldiers who were giving their lives for people they didn’t even know.

“‘Sleep in heavenly peace,’” her family and friends sang.

But there would be no peace, heavenly or otherwise, this Christmas. The world was at war, and it looked more and more like America would be drawn into it. Leah’s heart ached at the thought of the death and destruction that might well fall upon them all. By next Christmas, her brothers might well be dead.

Tears came to her eyes, and rather than allow everyone to see her emotions, Leah quickly slipped out the side door and blindly stumbled into Erik Sjolander. Why did he always have to be there in her moments of desperation?

“Hey, are you all right? Why are you crying?”

“It’s none of your concern,” she said, turning away. She hated herself for being so dismissive. Frankly, it was a comfort that he cared. She bowed her head, trying to think of what to say in apology, but before she could say a word, he nudged her.

“Here, take this.”

She saw the handkerchief and straightened. Without looking up, she took the offered cloth, wiped her eyes, then handed it back to him. “Thank you.”

“Merry Christmas, Leah.”

She was surprised that he had used her first name but even more amazed that it sounded so right.

“Merry Christmas, Erik.” She met his gaze and couldn’t shake the thought that he truly did care about her feelings. The idea absolutely terrified her.