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A Very Kate Christmas
©2014
ASIN: B00Q913MJA
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the first chapter at The Word Place
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Website:
www.judynickles.com
Blurb
It’s
a bitter cold December in the Texas Panhandle in 1880. A passing
ranch hand isn’t sure what he hears as he passes a deserted line
shack, but he goes back to investigate and discovers a newborn baby
girl in the lifeless arms of her mother. He stuffs the baby inside
his coat and rides hell-bent for the nearest town where she is placed
in the local orphanage. There on Christmas Eve, she captivates Dan
and Olivia Forrester, an older couple married only six months, who
have volunteered to make the season special for the children.
Olivia
has raised three children and buried three more. Dan has experienced
the tragic loss of a baby daughter and later his wife during the
Civil War. Sometime in the waning hours of Christmas Day, they decide
the tiny baby girl is part of their second chance at happiness.
“There is so much love between us,” Olivia observes, “enough to
share.”
Cherished
by her parents, doted on by much-older siblings, guided by the wisdom
of Mr. Amos, an ex-slave who long ago found a home in the hearts of
the Olivia’s family, and given every material advantage, Kate is
not shielded from the realities of life but rather encouraged to
learn lessons which will strengthen her as she grows to womanhood.
Katherine Bancroft Forrester, a miracle--her parents tell her—given
to them by the Christ Child.
A Very Kate Christmas chronicles
ten special Christmases of the 100 Kate will eventually see. Ten
stand-alone stories perfect for reading alone or aloud.
Excerpt
“I
sure didn’t know what Mother and Dan wanted with a little bitty
thing like you, not at their time of life,” my brother Cary used to
say. “I still wasn’t sure Mother wasn’t a little addlebrained
when she up and married Dan when she’d only known him two months,
and then four months later they announced they were adopting you
and…”
My
sister Regina always took up the story there. “You were the best
Christmas gift the family ever had KatieBee!”
My
other brother Hart, the lawyer, never had that much to say on the
subject, but eventually he accepted the fact of my existence.
Mother
and Papa, who were old enough to be my grandparents, put it plainly.
“The Christ Child brought you Kate precious. You were a miracle
just as He was.”
Perhaps
I was, coming into the world as I did in an isolated line shack on
the SB Ranch in the Texas Panhandle in that bitter cold winter of
1880. The girl who died giving birth to me was hardly more than a
child herself. Somehow she managed to swaddle me against the freezing
temperatures. A passing ranch hand heard me crying, stuffed me into
his coat, and made fast tracks for Jericho.
After
ascertaining I was healthy, Dr. Morrow placed me in the local
orphanage on Christmas Eve. It was there my future parents saw me
when they volunteered to help with the modest festivities for the
other children. Sometime in the waning hours of Christmas Day, they
decided I was meant to be their daughter and wasted no time
retrieving me from Pastor and Mrs. Gordon.
My name, Katherine Bancroft Forrester, reflected my
parents’ previous lives. Katherine
was Papa’s first wife who died under tragic and unspeakable
circumstances during the Civil War. Bancroft
gave me a tie to Mother’s children by her first husband, Spencer
Bancroft, founder of the sprawling SB Ranch. Like Katherine, he also
died violently when he walked in on a bank hold-up.
~~~~~~~~
One
hundred years. Where did they go? I don’t feel old, but I must
admit, finally, that I am. One hundred years. An entire century.
I
don’t wonder any longer what my life would have been like if Mother
and Papa hadn’t taken me out of the orphanage in Jericho. It was
meant to be, and life has been good. I only regret Teddy and I didn’t
grow old together. I had John and Livvy, though. Now they have
children and grandchildren of their own.
Sometimes
at night, when I close my eyes, I watch all the people I have known
and loved march by as if on parade: Mother, Papa, Cary, Hart, Regina,
Mr. Amos, Teddy, Uncle Rand, Mr. George and Mrs. Ella, Mr. Frank
…they are as much a part of me today as ever. I owe each one of
them a great debt of gratitude for the lessons they taught me. I have
tried to repay that debt by passing on their wisdom to three new
generations.
I
never told anyone but Teddy about the morning Mr. Amos died—or
didn’t die. As I sat with him, holding his hand and singing the
words of the old spiritual, “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot”, I watched
that magnificent chariot sweep down and carry his gentle soul away.
I’ve never doubted that someday, Mr. Amos will drive the same
chariot down from Heaven for me.
And
when he does, I’ll be ready.
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