A Teacher’s Christmas Wish (Preview)

Prologue

Delia Page has been a part of the orphanage in Hambleton for many years, practically all her life. She’s dedicated everything to the children after being raised there herself, so she doesn’t have time for love or any sort of romance. So when the charismatic Philip Morris from neighboring Newsberry comes by and starts a flirtation with her, Delia doesn’t know what to think about it. Is it because she’s already had her attention taken by someone else?

Sheriff Virgil Cooper is someone who prefers being alone, but even he wishes for company. And he isn’t about to tread on Mayor Morris’s toes when it comes to the lovely, kindly girl that is Delia, even if he thinks they’re not well-matched at all. But can he get Delia to see that Mayor Philip Morris is not someone who can be trusted, either with business or with love?

Delia and her charge of orphans are invited to Newsberry for Christmas, something they are excited about. But things don’t go according to plan, and Delia is plagued with concerns about Philip’s intentions. When one of the children goes missing, Christmas is put to one side while they try to find him. So why is Philip not getting involved whereas Virgil is always there for her as they search?

Can they find the missing child? And will Delia decide what she really wants in her heart? Or is that going to be snatched away from her before she’s even been given an opportunity to figure it out?

Chapter One

Hambleton

1880

The sun was low in the sky when Delia left her house. It was very cold, her breath visible in the air and the wind trickling down her neck. She shivered and wrapped the scarf around her neck. She would be glad to get into the schoolhouse with its fire at the back. When that was lit, it spread throughout the room and kept it nice and warm for the children. Henrietta and her husband had made sure of it.

As she passed the church, the pastor came out of the front door and down the steps, carrying a bucket. Delia guessed that he was going to water the flowers on the edge of the cemetery. She waved at him.

“Morning, Father Martin!”

“Morning, Delia!” the priest called back. “Brisk morning, isn’t it? I’m expecting snow anytime soon.”

“You wouldn’t be wrong,” Delia replied. “Keep yourself warm, Father.”

“And you, my dear.”

Delia walked through the small town of Hambleton, passing by the various shops and homes to the orphanage at the far end of the street. It was a slightly bigger building than all the others, with the exception of the town hall, protected from the worst of the winds that came up from the south. It did get a little isolated when the snow came in, but it was a solid place for the children to be safe.

Having grown up there herself, Delia knew all about that.

The schoolhouse was right next to the orphanage, a slightly dilapidated building in need of some repair, but sturdy enough for the moment. Children were already going in and out, playing in the yard outside with lots of squealing and laughing. Delia stood at the gate and watched them for a while, smiling at the sight.

Things had come a long way from when she had grown up there. It was brighter somehow. Warmer and more inviting, even in the colder months, something that Delia didn’t think was possible. But that was Hambleton: it had the ability to make a person feel welcome all the time.

Delia spied Henrietta standing on the top step of the schoolhouse, watching the children as they played with a proud smile. Then she caught sight of Delia and her expression turned to one of surprise. Coming down the steps, she walked over to the gate, shaking her head. Delia was surprised that the pins holding her graying hair didn’t fall out when she did that.

“Delia, what are you doing here?”

“I’m here to take the lessons as normal.” Delia pushed through the gate. “Just like I do every day.”

“But I told you to stay at home. You need the rest.”

“I’m fine, Henrietta. You worry too much.”

The older woman pursed her lips, her expression disapproving.

“Honestly, don’t you take advice from anyone? Your health is important. I don’t want a repeat of what you did last week.”

Delia sighed.

“It was just a singular occurrence. Doctor Jenkins told me to take it easy for a few days, and that’s exactly what I did.”

“Really?” Henrietta snorted. “Are you serious about that? You were out and about running errands for Mrs. Dawes. I heard it from the general store’s wife. How are you meant to take it easy if you don’t actually rest?”

“I was just doing one or two things for Mrs. Dawes. There’s nothing wrong with that, is there?”

Her friend didn’t look convinced. Then again, Henrietta Alvin was someone who was always suspicious. She believed everyone had an ulterior motive, and that honesty was hard to come by. Delia couldn’t argue with that.

She had known Henrietta for nearly twenty years. Her husband’s parents had set up the orphanage and run it until ten years ago, when both of them passed away during a wave of influenza. Then Henrietta’s husband, Gregory, died two years later, leaving Henrietta on her own to look after the orphanage. Delia had seen her friend, someone who had helped raise her for most of her life, as a resourceful, strong woman who had learned to be resilient and self-sufficient. Someone to look up to, even with her stern nature.

But there was a softer side to Henrietta that Delia saw more than others. She did care about the children, and always tried to provide as much as she could for them, be it through donations or any other means. It was not a side she often showed, and Delia felt honored to know she had witnessed it.

“I just wish you would have more time for yourself, Delia,” Henrietta said. “You’ve been helping me out here for years since you were able to leave. I don’t think I’ve seen you sit down at all.”

“I just want to help. I like doing that, and you need the extra hands.”

“Not at the expense of your health,” Henrietta pointed out.

Delia was about to argue that Henrietta herself wasn’t exactly a paragon of virtue when it came to proper rest, but then there was a shout from the yard, followed by more screams. Looking over the older woman’s shoulder, Delia saw two boys grabbing at each other, the large boy trying to push the smaller one to the ground.

“Oh, lord,” she muttered. “It’s Trevor again.”

Henrietta sighed and led the way over to where the fight was happening. She grabbed the bigger boy by the collar and hauled him away.

“All right, Trevor. That’s enough. We will not have that happen here.”

Trevor looked like he was going to argue back, but he quickly deflated, his shoulders slumping as he bowed his head.

“Sorry, Mrs. Alvin,” he mumbled.

Delia bit back a smile. Even the tougher boys were scared of Henrietta. Her strict nature was something that would put the fear of God into anyone. She knelt by the boy on the ground. It was William, one of the more recent additions to the orphanage.

“William? Are you all right?”

“He was mean to me,” William whimpered, tears streaking down his face. “He wouldn’t leave me alone.”

“What was he saying?”

William glared angrily at Trevor, who looked sullen as Henrietta pressed a hand on his shoulder. Then the little boy wiped his nose with his sleeve.

“He said that he was better off because he had a family, that I was nothing and would never be anything.”

“I did not!” Trevor protested.

“He said that to you?” Delia asked.

William nodded. Henrietta sighed heavily and steered Trevor towards the schoolhouse.

“Come on, young man. Let’s get you inside. I think you and I need to have a talk.”

As she led Trevor away, Delia helped William to his feet. He was still whimpering, his face pale with pink blotches on his cheeks.

“Take some deep breaths, William,” she said gently. “Things are going to be all right.”

“He’s been mean to me for a while now.” William looked up at her. “Ever since Ma and Pa…since they…”

Delia’s heart went out to the little boy. He was only eight years old. He and his sister Mabel had come to the orphanage five months ago, both of them suffering from grief in different ways: William was miserable while Mabel was sullen, barely interacting with anyone even after Delia tried. She was a stubborn girl, but Delia could understand why. It had to be hard to handle losing parents when you saw their life ebbing away.

Delia didn’t think she would truly understand how anyone would react to losing loved ones. She had been a year old when she came to the orphanage and didn’t remember her parents at all. But she knew the sense of loss was something that never really went away.

“Oh, William, why did you not tell me or Mrs. Alvin about it? We would have helped.”

William shook his head.

“I didn’t want to be seen as telling tales.”

Delia knelt before him and smiled.

“It’s not telling tales when it’s true. You’re not going to get into trouble. I promise.”

William bit his lip, looking uncertain.

“Are you sure about that?”

“Of course.” Then Delia spied one of the other little boys close by, watching them, holding onto a slim round object. “Grover, can you come here a moment?”

“Yes, Miss Page.” Grover walked over, looking a little nervous. “Have I done something wrong?”

“No, nothing like that. Would you mind sitting with William today? You’re very good at cheering people up, and I think William needs a lot of that right now.”

Grover nodded.

“Of course, Miss Page.” He held out the round item in his hand to the other boy. “Do you want to see my telescope?”

“All right.” William sounded unsure, but he took the telescope. “Does it work?”

“No, it’s broken.”

“What is it used for?”

Delia smiled and stood up, dusting herself down. Grover had been at the orphanage since he was a baby. He was known for getting other children into trouble, but there had never been anything malicious behind it. He was also very good at getting the rest of the orphans to cheer up if there was something wrong. Just the child to look after William. Trevor would be dealt with by Henrietta, and Grover would cheer up William.

“I’ll leave you to it,” she said, squeezing Grover’s shoulder. “I’ve got to get the schoolroom ready.”

As she walked towards the schoolhouse, passing by the other children playing in the frosty November morning, Delia thought about how William and his sister were going to manage. Their parents hadn’t been rich, but they had a nice upbringing. With no other relatives to take the children, they had ended up at the orphanage. Delia had been with both siblings in the first few nights in an attempt to comfort them, but there wasn’t much more she could do for them.

There were plenty of children who were without families, and the Alvin family had made it their life’s mission to make sure those children were loved and cared for, regardless of what was going on around them. Delia was determined to do the same. Henrietta had instilled that within her from a young age, giving her the love and attention she deserved as a little girl.

Delia might have been unable to have the love she craved from two parents, but she knew what it was like to be loved. And she had plenty of love to give.

Chapter Two

Newsberry

Virgil’s back was straining as he lifted one of the crates at his feet and put it on the pile he had been building. If he’d known that it was going to be this tough, he would have prepared himself more. But he could see why George Nelson hadn’t been able to do it on his own. With a broken foot, it would have been practically impossible.

That state felt like it was getting close. How did George lift these crates when he was fit and well? Virgil liked to think he was in good physical shape and he was struggling.

Taking a moment to rest, he leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. Just a few seconds, and he would finish stacking the crates and straightening up the alley. George’s assistant was out on his deliveries and this needed to be done sooner rather than later.

There just seemed to be so much to do.

His job as the Newsberry sheriff seemed to involve much more than catching criminals. Often, he wondered what he had gotten himself into by helping with the community. Then again, whenever he needed a favor, he received help in return. Newsberry was a peaceful town, and conflict was kept to a minimum. It was better that way.

Although that did mean a lot of his time involved helping others instead of doing his actual job. It was that quiet.

“Are you sure you can’t get the money for me, Cecil?”

Virgil opened his eyes. The conversation was not far from him, at the mouth of the alley. The crates obscuring his view, he craned his head to look around them. Two men were at the end of the alley, just a few feet away from him. Virgil recognized the one closest to him as Cecil Markwood, the saloon owner. He couldn’t see the other man clearly, but the voice sounded familiar.

“I’m afraid I can’t. I’m already on thin ice with Bella. She suspects that I’ve been taking money out of the business to pay for my debts, and I don’t want to get into further trouble.”

His companion snorted.

“You’re not scared of your own wife, are you?”

“Me? Scared of her?” Cecil scoffed. “Of course I am. Who wouldn’t be?”

Unwilling to be seen – this was too interesting to interrupt – Virgil peeked through the gap in the crates. The other man was Curtis Charles, a man known for his gambling addiction. Virgil had had to put him into the cells a few times for getting too drunk when he lost yet again. It was no surprise that he was asking for money now.

“But I’ve got to get the money somehow!” Curtis protested. “I’ve got to pay my debts! I’ve heard Sharp Clint is on his way here. Please, Cecil…”

“I said I can’t. You have to accept the answer. I wish I could help you, Curtis…”

“Everything all right out here, Coop?”

Virgil flinched when he heard George’s voice. Immediately, both Cecil and Curtis looked around and hurried away. Biting back a curse, Virgil turned and saw George hobbling out of the door, leaning on his cane.

“George, you shouldn’t be up and about with your foot as it is.”

“Oh, stop fussing. I can do most things around here. I just need a bit of help.” George shook his head. “Honestly, everyone tells me I should do this, that and the other. I am not an invalid.”

“You’re pretty much one at the moment, you daft old man.” Virgil took George’s arm. “Come on, let’s get you back inside. It will be easier for you if you sit down and let Basil take care of the orders.”

George snorted.

“That lad needs constant supervision.”

“He’s twenty years old. I think he can cope on his own for a little bit.”

“You should be around him more often. Then you would see my point.”

Virgil laughed. George was cantankerous, and it took a lot for him to admit that he needed help, but he was a kind old soul underneath. It was why Virgil was more than happy to help the shopkeeper.

He led the older man into the main store. A woman in her sixties with white hair was standing by the shelves of yarn, perusing the various colors and threads. She looked over at the two men entered, giving Virgil a nod of greeting.

“Take the wool we have in stock, Birdie,” George went on, wobbling a little as he pointed at the shelves with his cane. “I had to rearrange everything because he put them in the wrong place. He doesn’t read properly.”

Birdie laughed.

“Honestly, George, you shouldn’t get upset with that. He’s trying.”

“He got it all wrong!”

“He’s a boy. They’re bound to make mistakes. And he’s only been working for you for three months, so just be patient.”

George scowled, allowing Virgil to help him to his chair that had been set up in the corner. He sat back with a heavy sigh.

“You’re too forgiving, Birdie. You have to be tougher than that.”

Birdie Lloyd rolled her eyes, selecting two balls of yarn before taking them to the counter. Virgil laughed.

“George, you’re talking to the woman who showed me how to fix her wagon when she first arrived in Newsberry?”

“Well, you offered. I wasn’t going to turn down the chance of having a handsome gentleman helping me out.” Birdie winked at him. “But I didn’t need the help.”

“I figured that out by the time I was finished.” Virgil wagged a finger at him. “You’re very sly, Birdie. Do you know that?”

“Always.”

Virgil liked Birdie Lloyd. She had arrived in Newsberry some years ago, and she had been a permanent fixture since. A woman who had lost all but her daughter, who was a little older than Virgil and barely left the house. She had been an invalid for the last seven years, ever since her husband walked out and took their infant son with him. They’d vanished, and no one had heard of them since. Virgil couldn’t begin to imagine how it felt to have a marriage implode like that and never see one’s child again.

But despite everything, she kept herself upbeat and busy with looking after her grown child and her various hobbies. One of them was knitting, something she was teaching Virgil how to do. It was a surprisingly relaxing thing to partake in, and Virgil enjoyed it.

She was like a second mother to him.

“Is this for me?” Virgil gestured at the yarn. “Are we doing another project?”

“No, these are for me. Oh, by the way, I bumped into Mayor Morris on my way here. He was looking for you.”

“Oh, great,” Virgil sighed. “What now?”

“He’s heading over to the orphanage at Hambleton this afternoon. I want him to check on it and make sure that things are as they should be.” Birdie raised her eyebrows. “He wants you to go with him.”

Virgil frowned.

“Why? Why would he want me to accompany the mayor to the next town over? It’s not a dangerous journey.”

“I don’t know, but I guess it’s better safe than sorry. If it will make him feel better.” Birdie shrugged. “I’m not going to argue with him. Then again, I think it won’t matter. He gets what he wants no matter what it is. You know that.”

Virgil sighed.

“You’re not wrong there. Is there anything wrong with the orphanage that you need someone to go for you? I mean, helping that place is your project, not his.”

“I’m an old lady. I can’t go about as I used to, Sheriff.”

“Come off it, Birdie!” Virgil scoffed. “You’re healthier in mind and body than I am!”

George burst out laughing at that.

“I think Birdie Lloyd could run rings around everyone here and never be out of breath.”

Virgil didn’t argue with that. While Birdie could claim that she was in her sixties and not as young as she used to be, she was sharper than anyone he knew.

“Please, Virgil, just go with him,” Birdie said. “Keep the man out of trouble.”

“He gets in trouble? That’s a new one on me.”

George sniggered and Birdie swatted Virgil’s arm.

“Oh, stop it. You know what I mean. Anyway, it will do you some good to get out and do something that isn’t locking up drunks.”

She did have a point. Virgil hadn’t had much to do beyond corralling people who had drunk too much to sleep it off in the cells. Newsberry had been very quiet for the last month or two. One of his deputies had joked about the cold air coming in and keeping everyone indoors. Virgil wondered if he had a point.

“All right, fine.” He held up his hands. “I’ll go with the mayor, if only to keep him out of trouble.”

“Perfect. And you can check on Mrs. Alvin and Miss Page. They’re the people who work at the orphanage and the schoolhouse. If they need anything, just ask them.” Birdie squeezed Virgil’s arm. “I know you’re good at helping people, and those two are always looking for a few extra hands.”

“I’m a sheriff, Birdie. Not an odd-job man.”

“Why not be both?” George chuckled. “Could you get Birdie to pay for her wares? I’m afraid I’m unable to get up now you’ve made me sit down.”

Chapter Three

“Well, that was an interesting day,” Henrietta said, sitting down at her desk and opening the book on the top of the pile. “At least the children behaved themselves, for the most part.”

“That’s something, anyway.”

Delia stood at the window and looked at the children playing. The ones who had families were leaving to go home while those at the orphanage were making the most of the sunshine. The mist had cleared, and the sky was bright and cheery despite the cold. Thankfully, there was now rain or snow just yet. That would have put a dampener on the day.

She listened to the laughing, feeling it stirring her heart and spreading warmth throughout her body. She enjoyed hearing that. It made things feel better.

Then she caught sight of William and Grover to one side playing with Grover’s telescope. They had tried to fix it before, but neither Delia nor Henrietta knew how they would go about it, and Grover didn’t want anyone to take it out of his sight. But he was happy for William to look at the telescope.

“It’s nice that William is opening up to Grover,” she said. “He was miserable this morning after what Trevor said.”

“Trevor is trying to be too big for his boots,” Henrietta grunted. “I spoke to his mother earlier, and she was horrified that he would talk like that. Apparently, his father had been drinking a lot lately, and he spoke disparagingly about the orphanage and the children living here.”

Delia sighed.

“Children are so impressionable.”

“Don’t I know it! You’re still here despite me saying that you’re destined for greater things.”

Delia ignored that, not wanting to go into that conversation again. She scanned the yard again and caught sight of William’s sister. Mabel was sitting against the wall, playing with a small doll in her hands, her hair loose around her shoulders, so it mostly fell over her face. Delia watched as Katherine, one of the older girls at the orphanage, approached Mabel and sat beside her. Mabel stiffened, but that was her only reaction. Katherine appeared to be talking to her, only for the younger girl to get up abruptly and stalk out of sight.

“It seems like Mabel is still resistant to the change,” she said.

Henrietta sighed.

“You know how normal that is, Delia. She’ll settle down, eventually. I’m sure Katherine will be able to get through to her.”

“Katherine just tried and failed.” Delia turned away from the window. “I think the grief is holding onto Mabel tighter than it is with her brother.”

Henrietta looked up from the book she was marking.

“Mabel is twelve. William is eight. It may not be that much in years, but they’re worlds apart when it comes to maturity and understanding. Even if that’s not the case, Mabel and William are dealing with their grief in different ways.”

“Which might mean that it could take a while for Mabel to open up to us,” Delia sighed.

“You leave that to me. By the way, are you going to do the shopping that we discussed? I know you mentioned something about helping the farming families on the outskirts of town.”

Delia remembered. She had been worried about the farms and ranches dotted around Hambleton. They were working hard to bring in what they could, but they would likely struggle to get food in. Plus, the children at the orphanage needed food; they were growing and needed enough food to thrive. Delia and Henrietta were dedicated to making sure everyone at the orphanage was fed and clothed properly.

She headed towards the door.

“Is there anything in particular you want me to get, or would it be the usual?”

“Just the usual. We don’t need to worry about anything further than that.” Henrietta gestured at the schoolbooks. “It’s going to take a while for me to get through all of this.”

“I can help you, if you want.”

“No. I’m more than capable. Off you go.” Henrietta’s mouth twitched as she pointed towards the door. “The shopping won’t come to the orphanage on its own.”

Smiling, Delia left the schoolhouse, picking up a basket on the way. It wouldn’t take long to get what she needed. Hopefully, she would be able to get them at a reduced price. The local shopkeeper, Mr. Marchment, was normally obliging in letting her have what she needed for less. He was sympathetic to their situation. Despite having a benefactor who raised money for them and kept the orphanage running. Delia and Henrietta still had to find donations in some way. They had very little money for themselves, most of it going towards the children.

But if it meant keeping the children safe and well, the sacrifice would be worth it.

Weaving her way through the children, Delia reached the main street and closed the gate. It wouldn’t take long for her to go to the store and bring back what they needed. Then she would make her way around the neighboring farms to make sure they had everything prepared for winter. It would be well into the night before she was finished, but Delia wanted to make sure everyone was fine.

She knew she wouldn’t relax until everyone was taken care of.

If only they knew who the benefactor was. Delia wondered if Henrietta could appeal to them for more help. Then again, maybe that wasn’t a good idea; the person in question might think that they were greedy and after more money. Delia didn’t want to jeopardize the funds for the orphanage.

The need for more money was important, but not at the risk of cutting off their financial support. That would be more than devastating for all of them.

As Delia headed into the main street of Hambleton, she caught sight of something bright stuck to a nearby fence. It was a scarf in various colors, flapping in the wind. She hurried over and unhooked it, turning it over in her hands. The different colors were garish when put together, but it was well made. Whoever it was knew how to knit, but they didn’t know about color matching.

Where on earth had it come from? Delia didn’t think anyone would have made that in Hambleton.

Then she caught sight of two people up ahead outside the tearoom. They were in deep conversation, their collars turned up and hats pulled low over their eyes to keep out the cold. Were they the recipients of the scarf?

Delia started towards them, only to stop when she heard a deep voice behind her.

“Excuse me, I think you’ve got my scarf.”

Something about the voice made Delia’s body tremble. Her heart pounding, she turned and saw a tall, red-haired man approaching her, carrying himself with a purposeful stride. As he got closer, Delia saw the stormy gray eyes, the curve of his mouth, and the white scar under his left eye. He was broad-shouldered and well-built.

And a stranger. Delia had never seen him before, and she would certainly have noticed someone like him. He stood out in more ways than one.

Delia couldn’t stop herself from staring.