Free Tim Cratchit's Christmas Carol by Jim Piecuch Page B

and be very welcome. Hah! You heard what that gentleman told me when he saw us here.”
    â€œHe doesn’t speak for me,” Tim declared. “My coachman must be waiting outside, and he’ll take you and Jonathan home with me. Bridget, my maid, will have a meal for us, and then she and you can go shopping and get some warm clothes for you and the child. I’ll check with an old friend of mine, a vicar who runs St. Luke’s Mission, and see if he can give you a place there for the time being.”
    Although Ginny found Tim’s proposal appealing, she hesitated to accept it. “That’s too much charity for us, Doctor, but thank you,” she replied.
    â€œIt’s not charity. The vicar will expect you to help at the mission to pay for your room and board. And it’s only common decency to make certain that you have warm clothes to wear and a safe place to stay after what happened to you this morning.”
    Tim spoke so fervently that his kindness was difficult to refuse, but above all it was Ginny’s concern for her son that overcame her pride. Tim could see the inner struggle played out in her expressive face, and her slight smile told him that he had won the argument. “All right, Doctor,” she finally replied. “I accept, but you must let me pay you back for the clothes when I have the money.”
    â€œIf you insist, Miss Whitson,” he agreed. “Now come along, Jonathan, and you can ride in my coach. Would you like to see the horses? There are two of them, very big and strong.” Jonathan’s eyes flashed interest, although he said nothing. Tim realized that he had never heard the child speak a single word.
    Tim escorted Ginny and Jonathan to the coach, where Henry waited patiently. The coats of the two geldings, newly brushed, shone in the thin afternoon sun. Ginny held Jonathan close to the head of the nearest horse, and the child extended a tentative hand. At his touch, the animal snorted, and Jonathan’s eyes widened in fear and he quickly pulled his arm back under the blanket. Tim, Ginny, and Henry laughed, which seemed to reassure the child. He reached out again, brushing his fingers against the horse’s neck. This time the horse remained still. Jonathan petted it, eyes shining, face still solemn. After a minute Ginny told him it was time to go, and stepped away from the animal.
    â€œNice hoss,” Jonathan whispered, and Ginny hugged him close to her.

    At noon that Saturday, Bridget and William had shared dinner in the serving room of the Cratchit house. Henry had eaten earlier and left to post the Christmas party invitations before picking up the doctor. Pushing away his empty plate, William leaned back from the table, lit his pipe, and looked squarely at Bridget.
    â€œSo,” he said, “I take it you still haven’t told the doctor about you and Henry?”
    Bridget shook her head. “Not yet, but I’ll do it soon.”
    â€œThat’s what you said last week,” William remarked.
    â€œI was ready to tell him this morning if he had been in good spirits,” Bridget explained. “But the doctor was up and gone before I had the chance. If I was going to stay, it would be easier to tell him. I want to catch him in good spirits, so it won’t upset him.”
    â€œIf you wait for that,” William said, stroking his mustache, “you might die an old maid. You and Henry can’t even set a date for the wedding until you tell the doctor that you’re leaving his service to set up housekeeping for yourself. I’m surprised he hasn’t already noticed there’s something going on. When you and Henry are together, you’re so sweet I don’t need to add sugar to my tea!”
    Bridget laughed. “Don’t you have a hedge to trim or something?”
    â€œNothing at all to do, my dear, except help you manage your affairs of the heart.”
    William left to take a nap, and