Free A Log Cabin Christmas by Wanda E. Brunstetter Page B

some boxes of books they’d found earlier, when a knock sounded on the cabin door.
    “I wonder who that could be,” Helen said.
    Elizabeth smiled. “It might be David. When I spoke to him the other day, he said he hoped to come by after he finished working today.”
    Helen glanced at the simple windup clock on the mantel. “It’s only two o’clock. Do you think he’d be done this soon?”
    “There’s only one way to find out.” Elizabeth patted the sides of her hair, smoothed the wrinkles in her dress, and hurried across the room. When she opened the door, she was surprised to see Helen’s father, Reverend Warner, standing on the stoop with furrowed brows.
    “Is Helen here?” he asked. “She said she might be helping you clean the cabin today.”
    “Yes, she’s here, and we’re still cleaning.” Elizabeth opened the door wider to bid him enter.
    Reverend Warner started toward Helen, and she met him halfway. “Is there something wrong, Father?” she asked with a worried expression.
    “I don’t believe it’s anything serious, but your mother isn’t feeling well, and I’d like you to come home. I’m sure she won’t be up to fixing supper this evening,” he added in a desperate tone.
    Helen looked at Elizabeth. “Would you mind if I leave early?”
    Elizabeth shook her head. “I’ll be fine. You’re needed at home more than here right now.”
    “All right then. I’ll return your dress to you soon.” Helen wrapped her woolen shawl around her shoulders and followed her father out the door.
    As Reverend Warner’s buggy wheels rumbled down the dirt road, Elizabeth returned to the job of cleaning, humming softly to herself, enjoying the quiet cabin.
    While she worked, childhood memories flooded her mind. Remembering the warmth Mother had brought to this little cabin, Elizabeth could almost smell the homemade bread baking and loved how that smell lingered long after the loaves had cooled on the rack. She longed after so many years to bring those moments alive once again in this cozy cabin she would soon call home.
    After Elizabeth finished dusting an old desk’s surfaces, she opened each drawer and cleaned the crevices. One of the drawers, however, seemed to be stuck.
    Determined to get it opened, she grabbed the brass knob and pulled as hard as she could. It finally gave way. Inside she found some old drawings she assumed had been done by either Mother or her sister, Lovina. Then, to Elizabeth’s surprise, she discovered a battered-looking leather journal crammed in the very back of the drawer. Curious as to whom it had belonged to, she lifted it out and opened the cover. Aunt Lovina’s name was written there.
    Elizabeth smiled.
Mother and her sister grew up in this cabin. Aunt Lovina probably sat right here at this desk to write in her journal
. Elizabeth had never been close to her aunt, who as far as she knew had never married. After Aunt Lovina moved to Easton and opened a boardinghouse, Elizabeth hadn’t seen much of her at all. It had always seemed that her aunt preferred keeping to herself. From the few things Elizabeth remembered her mother saying about Aunt Lovina, she’d concluded that the two sisters had never gotten along very well. The last news anyone in the family had heard about her aunt was that she’d sold the boardinghouse and moved, but no one knew where.
    Feeling the need for a break and more than a little curious as to what her aunt’s journal might say, Elizabeth fixed herself a cup of tea and took a seat on the deacon’s bench near the window, placing the journal in her lap.
    The first entry was dated June 10, 1856, and included a note about Lovina’s sixteenth birthday that day and that she’d received the journal from her parents. Lovina hadn’t written much on the first page, other than to say she hoped to write her innermost thoughts in this little book.
    As Elizabeth flipped through the pages, she was careful. Some seemed a bit brittle, and the musty odor