Free The Christmas Children by Irene Brand

Belva said.She lined the children up and observed them closely, talking about them as if they weren’t present. “My boys have outgrown clothes that I think Alex can wear. And no doubt I can get many things for the girls from my neighbors. We also have a clothing bank at the church. I’ll be back this evening with some things. Don’t buy anything yet.”
    â€œSay, Belva,” Paul said, “we’ve been wondering if any Christmas celebrations are planned. Both Carissa and I would like to experience an old-time Christmas again.”
    Belva helped herself to one of the cheese cubes left over from lunch. “Yuletide has never revived the large celebrations like we used to have. A few people decorate their homes and lawns, but old-timers, who still remember the past, can’t get enthused about celebrating.”
    â€œSeems to me it’s time to forget the past,” Paul said.
    â€œYou may be right,” Belva agreed. “But don’t talk to me—take up your grievances with the town council.”
    With a cheery wave of her arm, Belva trotted down the porch steps and was gone. Her visit hadn’t lasted fifteen minutes.
    â€œSorta feel like I’ve been in a blitzkrieg,” Carissa said with a laugh. However, Belva’s matter-of-fact approach to the situation had done a lot to calm her spirits.
    â€œBelva can be a bit abrupt,” Paul agreed. “But she has a heart of gold.”
    True to her word, several hours later, Belva returned with fleece-lined parkas, sweatpants and shirts for the children. She brought some books and a doll for Julie. As they looked at the books and modeled their new clothes, the children seemed happy, though occasionally, a bleak expression appeared in Alex’s and Lauren’s eyes.
    Feeling that the children were content in their new surroundings, Paul didn’t think it was necessary to guard them, so that night he went to bed in his sister’s room.
    Long after the household was quiet, bundled in her heaviest garments, Carissa crept down the stairs. She ventured out on the deck that Paul had swept clear of snow, and sat on a bench.
    A bright moon hung over the evergreen trees, and a soft breeze wafted from the lake. The night was cold and still. In such a peaceful setting, Carissa should have been as calm as the atmosphere, but her thoughts were rioting.
    She had wanted to remember the Christmases of old, but she hadn’t expected to be plunged into a roller-coaster return of thoughts of her unhappy childhood. The past few days had awakened recollections of her past that she had tried in vain to forget.
    In a large city, her forlorn childhood wouldn’t have caused a ripple, but in a town of five hundredpeople, no one had any secrets. Except for the members of her grandmother’s church, people in town had shunned her. Because her mother had an unsavory reputation, the townspeople had labeled Carissa with the same immoral qualities, expecting her to follow in her mother’s footsteps. No decent boy had ever asked her for a date, and only a few girls befriended her—children who were also ostracized for one reason or another. Carissa hadn’t been an outgoing child, and she’d made no overtures of friendship to others. She’d feared rejection then, and she still did.
    She would have liked to marry and have children, but when she didn’t even know who her father was, what kind of heritage would she have passed to her offspring? Any of her mother’s partners could have fathered her.
    She’d loved her mother devotedly, but after her death, Carissa had learned about her lifestyle and had come to resent her. She blamed her mother for bringing her into the world under such a cloud, and she didn’t want children who would someday resent her for passing on a sordid ancestry to them.
    She was past child-bearing age now, however, so what harm would there be in finding happiness with a husband?