O Night Divine A Holiday Collection of Spirited Christmas Tales - Kathryn Le Veque Page 0,207

life spilled out dully out from houses shuttered against the cold. To the ears came the banging of pots and pans, loud conversations, the wail of an infant, the melody from a squeeze box. To the nose, smoke from the fires that brought with it cooking smells of potato and beef.

They approached the end of the lane. The children were no more than four feet away when the door opened wide. Silhouetted in the doorway was a slender woman not much taller than Peter.

“There you are!” she said on seeing them. “I was beginning to worry. Your father will be home soon, and you know how much he likes to have all his brood around the dinner table.”

The woman stepped forward. Kit saw her clearly for the first time. Light brown hair like Susan’s was tied back, although soft curly strands hung around her ears, making her look much younger than she first appeared – closer to Kit’s own age, in fact.

Large brown eyes, like Pip’s, regarded him with caution.

“I hope you haven’t been a bother to this gentleman,” she said to her children, her eyes never leaving his.

“We’ve been on an adventure, Mum!” Pip announced gleefully.

Kit tried to look as non-threatening as possible as he set Pip down, waiting until the boy had his crutch secure under his arm before straightening up.

“Captain Kit Hardacre at your service, Ma’am. I’m newly arrived in London, and your son here was kind enough to give me directions.”

He provided no details of how the four of them met, guessing that the children prefer he not reveal that Pip had gone missing – no matter for how short a length of time – and have their mother to worry. The grateful glance Susan gave him told him he’d judged right.

“Tis very good of you to escort the children home,” she said. Kit could tell that Mrs. Sim knew there was more to the tale than she was being told. “Children, have you thanked the captain?”

Kit acknowledged the chorus of thanks with a bow before their mother ordered them inside to begin their regular evening routine. Past the woman, through the open door, he could see into the small front room as the children went back into what he assumed would be the kitchen.

“You have very fine children, Mrs. Sim. You and your husband should be proud.”

The woman’s expression softened.

“Thank you, sir. They are good children, but a mother does worry, doesn’t she?”

Kit fiddled with his cane. He could reassure her, but they both knew it would be a false platitude. He bowed.

“I bid you good night, Ma’am.” He turned to walk away.

“Wait,” she called. “My husband will be home soon. Join us for supper.”

Kit knew the price of the gesture. How many times did the Sim family go to bed with their stomachs not as full as they might? So, to feed a stranger as well…

“I couldn’t put you out.”

He expected a look of relief on the woman’s place – an obligation politely refused without embarrassment. To his surprise, Mrs. Sim smiled.

“You would not be putting us out, Captain. This house is a house of hospitality. As the good book says, ‘many have entertained angels unawares’.”

What could he possibly say to that?

“Thank you,” he answered. “I’d be honored.”

Kit stepped from the street into a sitting room about the size of his cabin on the Calliope. One threadbare couch, flanked by three stools, faced the cold hearth. Apart from a couple of cheap knickknacks on the mantel, the only other piece of furniture in the room was a book shelf with a dozen well-worn books including a large, black, family Bible.

Mrs. Sim led the way back into the kitchen and announced Kit as their guest for supper. The children let out a cry of joy. He stood still inside the doorway, trying not to be in their way. They seemed to have their routine so well practiced that imitating a piece of furniture seemed the wisest course of action.

While Susan and her mother worked by the fireplace, Peter carefully sliced the loaf of bread that had been in his knapsack, while Pip worked his way around the table to set six places.

“Hey ho! Guess who’s home?”

Kit turned and looked to the front door. The booming voice seemed at odds with the slightly built man who stepped into the sitting room. He started in surprise at seeing a stranger in his home but, before Kit could introduce himself, Susan and Peter rushed past to greet their