Charlotte gazed around the bedroom, trying to determine if she was forgetting anything. She was hoping they wouldn't need to travel with a trunk, but it seemed impossible to fit all of their clothing into two small bags.

In three days' time, her and Arthur were taking a train to her parents' house in Chicago to celebrate Christmas. It was early, but she'd wanted to get a head start on packing. Especially since she was stuck between which three books she wanted to bring. She still hadn't fully made a decision when she heard Arthur enter the house.

"Charlotte?" he called.

"I'm in the bedroom. I'll be out in a moment."

When she stepped into the main room, she found Arthur covered in snow, facing away from her and shrugging off his coat. She walked up to him and helped him pull it all the way off.

"How was your drive to the trapper?" she asked as she hung up the coat.

"Slippery with the wagon, but I managed," he answered. "That snow's finally startin' to let up."

When he turned, she covered her mouth of a small chuckle. He'd been growing his beard out and now it was completely dusted in snow.

"What?"

"You look like Saint Nicholas himself."

He brushed off what he could, saying, "I saw wolves lurking down the hill, but they kept their distance. Make sure you take the rifle with you anytime you head outside, ya hear?"

"I will," she said with amusement. "You know that's the fifth time you've told me that."

"They're gonna get hungry soon enough if we get any more bad weather," he warned. "And when they're hungry, they'll get desperate."

She trusted his word explicitly in everything related to the wilderness. She rested a palm on his chest. "I'll remember."

"I'll hold you to it, ma'am."

Arthur leaned down and kissed her. They'd been together for months now and somehow every time his lips met hers, she felt the same lively stirring she had the first time they'd kissed. She leaned against him, more than willing to continue until one of his hands reached up to cup her cheek.

She pulled back, startled at the frigid temperature. She reached up and held his hand between hers. "You're ice cold!" She grabbed his arm, dragging him to the fireplace. "Stand here a few minutes and get warm. I'll pour you a coffee."

"Alright, alright. No need to fuss. I ain't frozen solid." Arthur held his hands above the flames as she strode to the stove top. "Made a decent few bucks on those pelts."

"That's wonderful."

"If I could stand bein' in Annesburg more than a few hours, it'd be a lucrative place for a hunter or butcher to open shop."

She raised a brow. "Is that something you have an interest in?"

"Nah." He scratched his nose. "The hunting part of it I can handle, but runnin' a shop ain't my specialty."

"And what is your specialty?" she asked teasingly as she poured two cups of coffee.

When he didn't answer her right away, Charlotte turned towards him. He was looking at the flames, not her, a grave expression sinking into place across his face.

Charlotte gazed at him with concern. Arthur's bad memories intruded darkly in his day to day. He denied it, but his past still haunted him and what triggered it seemed to be anything.

Once, he'd been helping her set up her bookshelf and had idly looked through the titles. He'd stopped at one and stared at it for the longest time. When he'd grown quiet, she'd read the cover over his shoulder. It'd been An American Eden by Evelyn Miller.

When she'd asked him if everything was alright, he'd eventually answered, "I've, uh, met Mr. Miller."

There seemed to be more to it than that, but he'd had no interest in elaborating for her. She had yet to crack the secret in getting him to speak openly.

Presently, she squeezed his shoulder to wake him from his slide into old memories and handed him the coffee. "Arthur."

As she expected, he didn't meet her eye as he accepted the mug. His next move was to say or do something to leave the room or distract her from expressing her worry.

"Before I forget..." He pulled out a letter from his coat with the hand not holding the coffee. "I swung through Annesburg and picked this up at the post office. It's from your momma."

"That's odd." Charlotte frowned and accepted it. "Why would she send a letter so close to our departure?"

"Beats me. You gotta read it and find out."

Her frown deepened when she opened it and saw the short length of note. Her mother never wrote fewer words when she could fill the pages with long-winded prose. Disappointment filled her as Charlotte started to read through the flowery script.

"Well, what's it say?"

She blinked and turned to Arthur, her heart sinking. "Father's canceled Christmas."

Arthur moved to the table, taking a seat before Puck the cat jumped into his lap. The faint hint of a smile crooked his lips as he said mildly, "Much power as your daddy thinks he has, that ain't in his range, Charlotte."

"No, I'm serious." Charlotte bit her lip as she read to herself. We are instead embarking on a seven day leisurely journey aboard the North Land across the Great Lakes. As for your brothers..."You won't believe this."

Arthur rubbed the cat behind its ears and guessed, "Your daddy's begging for our forgiveness."

She gave him a small smile. "Now that would be nothing less than a Christmas miracle." Charlotte lifted the paper. "Clark's run away with his Miss Mayfield."

"I'll be damned." His eyebrows rose. "You're right. I don't believe it."

"It's true. Apparently, they eloped last month." She remembered months ago when her and Benji had encouraged Arthur to speak to Clark about his fiancé woes. She studied him with some amusement. "You old romantic. What did you say to him?"

He shrugged. "Don't remember now. Prolly told him the same thing Charles told me. To stop being an idiot and get the girl."

"Well, whatever it was, you said the right thing."

"Ain't never been accused of that."

She laughed. "Then I shall have to be more vocal with my praises."

"So, how does Clark's nuptials figure into your daddy canceling Christmas?"

Her face scrunched up. "Since my brother won't be in town, Mama has backed out on the whole celebration she had planned."

"I guess we know who the favorite is. But, wait..." Arthur frowned. "Where does that leave us? We don't got to go to Chicago?"

"That's right. Looks like our first Christmas together will be at Willard's Rest."

"Great."

Charlotte knew he meant it sincerely. Arthur seemed to have a distinct aversion to cities. Even little Annesburg.

"It'll be the first time I haven't been home for the holidays." She bit her lip at the realization.

Why would they cancel last minute? Was this a purposeful manipulative move on her Father's part to punish her? She didn't like to think of her father as doing such a thing, but she wasn't ignorant to his antics like she had been as a child.

Yet she'd hoped they were past all that. Her heart pinched. She hadn't been aware of how much she'd been looking forward to seeing them. Unexpectedly, she felt her eyes welling up with tears.

"You still want to go?"

Charlotte looked up to find Arthur watching her closely. She blinked back the tears and shook off the hurt. How silly of her. It wasn't necessary to cry over it.

She told Arthur, "Unfortunately, no one will be home. Father and Mama will be on a ship for the next couple of weeks, Clark's on a honeymoon, and Benji's found some school friends to stay with."

She had been looking forward to seeing Aunt Rosie, but perhaps they could make the trip in spring when the weather was nicer. Then they'd be able to enjoy the gardens at the sanatorium her aunt resided in.

Charlotte continued, "We can have just as nice a time here."

"If you say so," he said doubtfully. "You ain't gonna miss havin' all them people around?"

"I am a little disappointed, but..." She smiled. "Your company is all I need, Arthur."

"You sure that'll be enough for you?"

She thought he meant it as a joke, but the humor didn't reach his eyes. She frowned at him. "Of course." Where had that come from? "What makes you ask that?"

"I don't know." He cleared his throat and the cat jumped from his lap. He crossed his arms and leaned back, not meeting her eyes. "What you thinkin' we should do instead?"

She studied him, debating whether or not to address his self-deprecation. She asked him, "How did you used to celebrate Christmas?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Got drunk, got into trouble. Maybe played some games. Usually found something for little Jack."

"And Jack is John and Abigail's son?"

He nodded with clear reluctance. Charlotte held a never-ending curiosity over the gang, but Arthur seemed to have a hard time revealing information about his friends. It was a ridiculous notion, but he seemed to think she'd forsake him if he breathed a word of his dark past.

Arthur continued, "I sure ain't opposed to not leavin' the house if it means avoidin' all them peacocks prancin' around at a big city party."

"You know I wouldn't have subjected you to such a thing." Charlotte preferred smaller, more intimate engagements herself. "But before you become too enamored with the idea of staying home, I'd still like to travel to Saint Denis. If you're willing."

"Why?"

"Well..." she said lightly. "There are a few things I'd like to purchase, especially since we'll be home now for the holidays."

He sighed. "Alright, sure."

"Thank you, Arthur."

"It ain't nothin' you gotta thank me for."

"You know, there is some sort of Christmas celebration in Annesburg every year," Charlotte suggested. "If we're feeling sociable, we could ride down. There's a dance, a feast and a raffle. Johnny told me it's quite the event."

"Sure..."

She caught his grim expression. "Or...we could stay at home and do nothing, if that's your pleasure."

Arthur took hold of her wrist and lightly tugged her onto his lap. "I reckon, that is my pleasure." He dropped his voice. "But we ain't gotta do nothin', darlin'."

She said softly, "You won't hear any objections from me, Mr. Morgan."

Charlotte couldn't tell if he was flushed like her, body heated up from anticipation, or if his cheeks remained reddened from cold. Curious of it, she brushed the backs of her fingers across his cheek gently. He closed his eyes and allowed her roaming hands.

He'd warmed up now or maybe his body was increasing in temperature in the same way hers was from expectation. Still, she lingered over his face a few more moments. His beard was quite long now, hiding the prominent scar on his chin. He trimmed it regularly so it looked neat rather than untamed in its length.

Unable to resist the action any longer, she moved her lips over his, her heart picking up and her skin warming further. He pulled her close and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

The touch of his lips and the way he held her tight was enough to wash away the remaining hurt from the news she received today regarding her family. The worry was replaced with surety and calm.

Perhaps this Christmas wouldn't be the most extravagant or bombastic of celebrations, but with Arthur at her side, there was no doubt in her mind it would be plenty satisfying and, with any luck, a holiday to remember.