A Wreath of Snow: A Victorian Christmas Novella
Liz Curtis Higgs
“A amazing tale of redemption and recovery that might hot your middle through the Christmas season—or any time of year!”
—Francine Rivers, best-selling writer of Redeeming Love
Wrapped in a cloud of steam, the engine rolled to a cease, the screech of steel opposed to steel filling the frosty air. Snow blew around the railway platform and round Meg’s calfskin strolling boots. the elements certainly used to be no longer bettering.
She ordered tea with milk and sugar, eying the currant buns and candy mincemeat truffles displayed underneath a bell jar.
Later, possibly, whilst her urge for food again. in the meanwhile her belly was once twisted right into a knot.
“Anything else for you?” the cashier requested as she passed over the tea, steaming and fragrant.
Meg used to be shocked to discover her arms trembling while she lifted the cup. “All i need is a secure trip home.”
“On an afternoon like this?” the round-faced lady exclaimed. “None however the Almighty can promise you that, lass.”
“A Wreath of Snow glows with heat, allure, and style. an excellent read.”
—BJ HOFF, writer of The Riverhaven Years series
Christmas Eve 1894
All Margaret Campbell wishes for Christmas is a secure trip domestic. while her plans for a festive vacation along with her kinfolk in Stirling fall apart underneath the burden of her brother’s bitterness, the younger schoolteacher wishes not anything greater than to come back to the scholars she loves and the city apartment she calls domestic.
Then an unforeseen detour areas her within the direction of Gordon Shaw, a good-looking newspaperman from Glasgow, who struggles less than a burden of regret and disgrace.
whilst the key in their shared historical past is published, will it depart them tangled in a knot of remorse? Or may their previous carry the threads that would bind their destiny together?
As hot as a woolen shawl on a chilly winter’s eve, A Wreath of Snow is a young tale of affection and forgiveness, wrapped in a party of all issues Scottish, all issues Victorian, and, in particular, all issues Christmas.
braveness to inform him, it might be more uncomplicated if she observed not anything however the regular blizzard and the backs of 2 passengers, now a number of yards forward. She shivered, unexpectedly extra conscious of the chilly, and tugged her hat firmly on her head. “I have a brother named Alan.” That appeared the start line. He used to be on the middle of the difficulty, wasn’t he? “I was once 4 whilst he used to be born.” while she sought the fitting phrases, she puzzled if this gentleman might be able to take hold of how a unmarried occasion had the ability to change a.
Into position and pinch a bit colour into her cheeks. Then she smoothed her damp arms throughout her skirt and walked into the parlor. although it used to be empty for the time being, she might pay attention her father within the subsequent room assisting Alan stand, assuring her brother he had an organization grip on him. considering that visits from Alan’s few pals had faded through the years, her brother frequently spent many of the day in his bedchamber, which adjoined the parlor and used to be positioned throughout from the kitchen. It used to be a wide room equipped.
Figures crashed opposed to the wall and landed in items. The silence that was once much more scary. Meg seemed down in time to determine the continues to be of her snow globe roll to her toes. The black ceramic base was once overwhelmed, the seal damaged. A pool of water was once seeping into the carpet. Meg started to weep. “Alan, what have you ever done?” Their mom burst into the parlor. “Whatever is happening? I heard …” Her eyes darted round the room, widening. “Alan, you probably did no longer … you can't have performed this on.
To be attempted and coverings that will be considered.” Her father sighed seriously. “I am afraid a clerk’s salary—” “Perhaps you’ve forgotten, Mr. Campbell.” Gordon withdrew the financial institution assertion from his coat pocket. “I intended for Alan to have this. Now I see it truly is truly needed.” Meg swallowed not easy. Oh, Gordon. She was once the one loved one who didn’t comprehend the volume. yet she’d noticeable the appearance on all their faces and knew it used to be titanic. “Mr. Shaw … it’s your … inheritance …,” her father.
The snow had changed into a pointy, effective airborne dirt and dust, like flooring glass, whipping earlier the home windows of the educate. a feeling of foreboding washed over her. What if the sign posts turned frozen and trains have been inadvertently directed onto a similar song? It had occurred ahead of, at the nice Northern Railway. Or what if the ashpan turned caked with snow, and the engine stopped, leaving them stranded within the nation-state with no warmth? pass domestic. Her heartbeat quickened on the robust and unforeseen urging.