The following week, the real fun began. Ruby was eager to move ahead with Christmas preparations, spurred on with new energy from the movements of her little one inside. She got Archie to help her dig out a couple more recipe books her grandmother had given her, still tucked away in her trunk out in the barn. While the week's bread was in the oven, she pored over the books, marking the recipes she wanted to try, and she painstakingly edited down her choices to a more reasonable workload. Archie and August were more than willing testers that week, and August announced that the gingerbread was his favourite.

"Gingerbread it is," Ruby agreed, wiping her brow with her forearm as she took in her handiwork, the table covered in treats.

"Oh, you've got something—" Archie began, taking a step towards Ruby.

"Hmm?" she said, meeting his blue eyes, almost piercing in clarity behind the wire frames of his glasses. She froze, transfixed for a moment as he wet his thumb and brushed it across her face, right above her eyebrow, his other hand cupping her cheek.

"You, uh, just had some flour there," he mumbled, taking a quick step back, and Ruby thought she caught a faint blush on his cheeks.

"Thank you," she said, ignoring the slight pounding in her chest. It was just the heat from the oven, she told herself. No wonder Granny always looked flushed, working over a hot stove all the time.

"So you like them?" she asked the two Hopper men, a grin spreading across her cheeks to see August's mouth completely full.

"I'm not complaining," Archie said, reaching for a tart, and Ruby smacked his hand lightly.

"You're worse than August!" she teased, feeling a flush rise in her own cheeks. "You boys need to leave some room for supper. Besides," she added, her hands on her hips, "I need you to go out and get as much greenery as you can find. We need to cover this whole room in evergreen branches."

Archie nodded dutifully and guided August towards the coats hanging up by the door. "Any specific kinds, ma'am, or does anything green count?"

Ruby shook her head and bit back a smile. "Anything that looks like Christmas," she instructed. "But no tree! Not yet—that will be for Christmas Eve."

"Yes, ma'am," Archie said with a salute, and August echoed the gesture.

"We'll bring back so much greenery, you'll think you lived in a forest!"

After they added a few more layers, tightly wrapped in hats and scarves, the two were out the door, and Ruby was left to finish her baking in peace, free from the threat of two hungry men. She was pleased with her success, taking a deep breath with the smell of ginger and cinnamon wafting throughout the room.

Ruby soon realized she might have overdone it on her practice runs, but she was more confident than ever that she'd be able to pull off the perfect Christmas, now that she had some Christmas baking under her belt. She couldn't resist snacking on a gingerbread man herself, decapitating the poor fellow in an act of mercy, chewing on her treat as she tucked everything away in tins. The cookie was a little dry and overdone, but the praise from a nine-year-old boy was impossible to argue with, and so she gave herself a mental score for a victory well earned.

She took advantage of the time alone to work on August and Archie's Christmas presents. August's was easy to enough to come up with—along with some new shirts and socks, she thought she would knit him a fancy new scarf and embroidery his initials on it with the bright golden yellow yarn she had. His father, however, was a harder subject. She had some new shirts for him, also, but she needed something else.

Oh, well, she had plenty to do in the meantime, and plenty of time to decide, with Christmas still a couple of weeks away. She didn't get nearly enough knitting done on the boy's scarf, anyhow, before the door swung open and Ruby quickly hid her knitting behind the cushions of her chair.

True to their word, Archie and August brought in armfuls of green boughs, and Ruby had to admit she was impressed. The hour was too late to use them that night, but they made neat piles on the porch, safely away from the heat of the fireplace inside, before tucking into dinner. Ruby noticed with a smile that no one's appetite had been the least bit spoiled by their sampling the Christmas treats.

Soon, the little cabin was covered in green boughs and wreaths decorated with bits of ribbon that Ruby had saved. She also enlisted August's help to make decorations of paper chains from scraps of coloured paper that she had collected. With Christmas nearing, it was impossible not to feel cheerful, and the colour that hung about the cabin lifted Ruby's spirits as she worked hard on her list of things to do, which never seemed to shrink as much as it grew.

She also had a sense that August and Archie both had their own secrets as they all withdrew more and more, everyone eager to finish their chores as quickly as possible. She wondered what projects they might be undertaking but tried to keep her curiosity at bay. Besides, she had too many other things to do to be snooping like a child.

Archie and Ruby had their own secret project—a little wooden "Noah's ark" set for August. They worked together at night after August went to sleep, and Ruby began to cherish those quiet hours, excitement bubbling in her chest as she pictured August's reaction. Archie had carved pairs of every animal he could think of, along with a large ark in which to put them all. He'd even managed to make two halves of the giant boat and join them by a hinge so it could be opened and closed, like a dollhouse Ruby remembered seeing in a store window back in Boston.

It took her breath away, the detail with which he had carved every piece, and she was dying to know how a farmer had become such a master craftsman. Still, she didn't dare disrupt the easiness between them, and he didn't offer any information about his past. Instead, they worked happily together in the evening hours, basking in the glow of the fire and the flickering candlelight which illuminated their work. Ruby was careful as she painted each figure, taking pains to enhance rather than cover the details that Archie had so beautifully carved—the stripes of the tigers and the zebras, the spots of the giraffes and leopards, the beautiful clothing that he'd somehow captured with Noah and his family. It was a work of art.

So, too, did August and Ruby have a project for Archie. Ruby encouraged August to think of a present he could give his pa, and after something prodding, the boy decided that it would be best to write out some of his favourite stories and put them together in a book for his father. Ruby had some paints and crayons and paper, and August wrote out the stories with his own illustrations. He included the story of Peter and the wolf, and Noah's ark, and the story of Pinocchio and his cricket, along with others that he wouldn't let Ruby read. She backed off, happy to see that he was so engulfed in his book, and only helped when he asked her—which mostly meant checking his spelling of certain words and sewing up the pages together when he was done.

"August, this is beautiful!" she gushed when he handed the pile to her.

"Don't read it," he said firmly. "I want my pa to read it first."

"I promise," she said, her hand up, palm facing out for emphasis. "I will only put it together for you, but I won't read it."

Her heart warmed at the care that he had taken with it, and the trust he placed in her. She couldn't help but think how far he had come since they first met, and she prayed that this coming Christmas would be special for him.

The mystery that tugged most at Ruby was Archie's continued strange trips to town. They had stopped for awhile, but had picked up again, especially when the weather proved to be so clear this late into December. It made her uneasy, with the fear that a freak blizzard could stir up at any moment, leaving him stranded between the homestead and town. She also wondered why he would leave and come back with so little. Was everything okay? Were they hurting for money or supplies?

She tried to ignore the fears that niggled at her and told herself that it was none of her business what Archibald Hopper did with his time or money. She was holding up her end of the bargain, and he was more than holding up his end, so she had no right to pry.

During one of Archie's mysterious absences, Ruby decided that August was far overdue for a haircut. His vibrant red hair was so long it was curling into ringlets, and though he put up a struggle, she was able to convince him.

"You want to look handsome for Christmas day, don't you? Especially with the Nolans coming over?"

"Why does it matter what the Nolans think?"

"Really? You don't mind having hair as long as Emma's? And having it fall in your eyes all the time?"

"Well…"

"And just think how it will surprise your pa to come home to a proper gentleman!" Ruby gushed in a final push.

"Okay, fine."

Ruby already had the scissors out and promptly guided August to a chair and tied a towel around his neck.

"Not too short, though, okay?" he said, pulling his head back for his final condition.

"Not too short," Ruby agreed, turning his head straight and grinning to herself, grateful for the distraction from wondering where Archie was or what he was doing.

Archie was not prepared for the scene that greeted him when he opened the door to the cabin.

"Pa!" August cried, swinging his head to face the door before Ruby firmly turned his head back straight. "Miss Ruby said I have to get my hair cut."

"Oh, she did, did she?" he said, turning around to close the door to hide his amusement from the boy. If anyone could get his son to agree to a haircut, it was Ruby.

Ruby grinned. "We're almost done." She bent down to mock whisper to August, "And by the looks of it, your father should be next."

Archie started as he shrugged off his coat and hung it up with his hat. "Is that right?" he replied, turning around and settling down in the chair beside them. He ran a hand through his hair that was thinner than it used to be, flattened after being at the mercy of his hat all day, and embarrassingly long.

"Come on, Pa—if I have to look like a gentleman for Christmas, then so do you."

"He's right," Ruby agreed. "I can't have you boys looking shabby for our guests—and at Christmas." Archie caught the sparkle in her eye as she teased him.

He licked his lips before he flashed them a smile of his own. "I guess I can't say 'no' to that," he admitted—though something in him told him that maybe it wasn't a good idea.

He was helpless to their pleas, however, and he knew he needed a cut almost as badly as his son. Besides, August did look the little gentleman with his cropped locks.

Before he knew it, he was sitting in the chair in front of Ruby, his glasses on the table as she tied the towel around him, her fingers fluttering along the nape of his neck. He held his breath as her fingers skimmed his temple, lifting the first section of hair, and he heard the metal click of the scissors.

"What's Christmas like back in the city, Miss Ruby?" August asked from his perch on the seat that Archie had been in. Archie was grateful for a new topic of conversation, himself unable to think of anything except Ruby's fingers along his neck and ear.

"Oh, it's wonderful," Ruby replied. Snip, snip. "There are decorations up everywhere, with green and red as far as you can see. All the houses are so close together, and every door has a bright Christmas wreath on it."

August's eyes grew wide. "Houses right beside each other?" he exclaimed.

Snip, snip. Another brush of her fingers along his skin, running through his hair. Archie's hands found the seat of the chair, and he gripped the hard edge.

Ruby laughed, and it sounded to Archie like a clear bell shooting right to his chest. "Yes, and sometimes carollers would come right to the door and sing. And Granny would make us hot chocolate, and then, the day before Christmas, we'd go to Graham's tree lot and get a Christmas tree."

The excitement in Ruby's voice made Archie's heart swell, though he feared they'd not be able to give her the same sort of Christmas.

"There are trees growing right there in the middle of the city?" August said, his eyes wide again. Archie instinctively looked at his son, and Ruby gently guided his head straight ahead. Her touch was gentle but firm, and Archie felt his cheeks flush.

"Well, not exactly," Ruby explained, slowly making her way around Archie's chair as she worked from one side of his head to the other. He imagined his hair would make fast work of it, compared to August's plentiful locks. And right now, he was glad of it, trying not to squirm in his seat for a very different reason than August, the swell of her stomach bumping against his shoulder.

"They grow the trees outside the city and then bring them in for folks to buy," she continued along with the snip, snip of the scissors. He was highly aware of her hovering over him, her scent wrapping around him. It was almost sweet, and perhaps a bit flowery, like honey…

"And after we get our tree, we go to Simpson's to pick up a beautiful glass ball to hang on the tree with the others."

Archie pictured the beautiful ornaments he saw hanging up in Gold's, something that he never would have thought to get for himself and August. Still, he hoped Ruby would like what he had picked out for her.

His grip tightened on the chair, his mind barely focused on Ruby's conversation with August as he tried to pull his thoughts from the feeling of her fingers running through his hair.

"We don't have any glass balls, but we do decorate the tree with popcorn strings," August said. "Though Pa always has to tell me to stop eating the popcorn when we make it."

Archie smiled and nodded, earning him a chastisement from Ruby. "Hold still, Archie!" she chuckled, and Archie froze as her fingers gently tilted his head forward.

His pulse quickened as her fingers stroked the nape of his neck, shooting sparks to his core. He willed himself not to shiver and he prayed his cheeks weren't too red. Goodness, it was warm, and he would have given anything to crack open a window—or, better yet, the door—but he didn't want to make the others cold. Or give himself away.

"And after you decorate the tree, does your Pa read you the Christmas story from the Bible?" August asked Ruby brightly, kneeling on the chair with his elbows on the table, leaning closer to them.

Archie sensed her hesitancy, and she paused for a moment. "No," she said slowly. "My pa… died a while back."

Snip.

"And your ma?"

Snip.

"She, uh—she died, too."

Archie could feel a lump rise in his throat. He realized how little he knew about Ruby, and he longed to know more. And yet, he couldn't help but feel like she kept her past to herself like carefully guarded jewels, and he couldn't fault her for keeping what little she had of her own to herself.

"Who are you going home for, then?" August asked innocently.

Another pause. "My granny," Ruby said.

Her fingers moved to the top of his head and began lifting sections of hair straight up, accompanied by the metal click of the scissors once more, the fluff of the discarded ends floating to the floorboards.

"Well, at least this year you're spending Christmas with us. And the Nolans. They're not family, exactly, but sometimes you can spend Christmas with friends."

"Mmhmm," Ruby murmured quietly.

"I-I think that's enough questions for now, August," Archie warned gently, sensing a shift in Ruby's mood. He wished he could think of something encouraging to say, but his tongue felt thick in his mouth, and her touch made him lose all thought.

Silence fell around them, save for the snip, snip, snip of Ruby's scissors, and Archie didn't know which was worse—fearing that August was about to say something foolish, or the silence that let his mind run wild.

She walked around him, as if to critique her work. He froze as she bent over and ran her fingers through his hair, pulling slightly at the temples, her gaze flitting back and forth to either side of his head to judge the length before her eyes met his.

For a moment, neither of them moved, and Archie was sure time itself stood still as he stared into her pale green depths.

Then, she stood up, fluffing the hair on the top of his head with her comb. She shifted around to his side, tidying up a couple of spots, and Archie willed himself to look straight ahead.

He could see the soft curve of her pregnant belly out of the corner of his eye, and he knew with a slight turn of his head he could easily press his lips to that sweet spot, the rise of her middle….

His breaths came heavy, and he squeezed his eyes shut, praying that she was almost done. He should know better than to put himself in such a situation, and yet, here he was, no better than a schoolboy who was losing control.

As if to tempt him even further, she ran her fingers through his hair once more, and he dug his hands into the edge of the chair until he wasn't certain he wouldn't cut himself on the wood.

"I think we're all done, Archie," she said, combing out his hair. "What do you think, August?"

"You look good, Pa!" August agreed, and Archie gave his son a weak smile.

Then, Ruby untied the towel from his neck, her fingers brushing against the sensitive skin once more to remove any stray hairs. She even began to blow them away, and he all but bolted from his chair.

"Th-thank you," he stuttered, unable to look her in the face as he raced for his coat. She didn't stop him or question him when he mumbled something about needing more wood. "I'll be right back."

Archie yanked the door open, grateful for the icy chill that met him on the other side. He all but slammed the door closed and collapsed against the sturdy wood, too tired to hold himself up.

He could see his heavy breaths cloud before him, and he realized he'd forgotten his glasses when he couldn't focus on anything else along the horizon—not even the barn several yards away.

He squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to forget the feel of Ruby's touch along his skin, the sound of her voice so soft, like velvet, and what it might be like to have her lips brush against his ears, murmuring sweet nothings.

"Father, I'm not strong enough," he breathed, sending up a desperate prayer to the heavens. Goodness, he was lusting after a woman carrying another man's child!

"Get a hold of yourself!" he chastised aloud. Land's sakes, Hopper, you're too old to fancy yourself falling for a pretty face. She is not your wife. Not in that way. Not for long.

He'd have to be stronger. He'd have to be far more careful.

She deserved better.

Then, the door gave way behind him, and he stumbled backwards before he found his footing.

He breathed a sigh of relief when he could make out August's small form, holding out his glasses. "Here, Pa—Miss Ruby said to give you these."

"Th-thanks, Son," Archie said, grabbing them from the boy and placing them on his face, the world suddenly becoming clear.

"Is dinner going to be soon? Miss Ruby just went into the bedroom but she didn't say what she was doing."

Archie tried to control his breathing as he looked down at his son, whose brow was furrowed in confusion. Archie gave a small smile and ruffled his son's newly-cropped locks. "I'm sure we'll eat very soon, but I, uh—I've got to go get some firewood for us first."

"But Pa, there's wood piled high out—"

"I'll just be a few minutes!" Archie explained in a huff. "Just tell Miss Ruby for me, okay?"

"Okay, Pa."

With that, Archie bid August to close the door to stop the cold from getting in before he turned swiftly and marched off towards the stump with the axe.

Ruby rushed to the safety of the bedroom after quickly instructing August to return the spectacles to his father. Archie wouldn't be able to see a thing outside without them, she was sure, but she couldn't bring herself to do it.

She panted heavily, resting against the closed door, grateful for the support.

What had just happened?!

An innocent act, a simple haircut, had stirred something inside her.

She'd noticed with amusement the affect she had on him—not a surprise, really—but she wasn't prepared for the affect he'd have on her.

She'd pushed too far, she knew. She couldn't help it. She saw how he clutched the seat of the chair. But then, she was so close to him, and she could smell him—his earthy scent, the musk of him—and before she knew it, she was wondering what that same grip would feel like digging into her thighs, what that tongue, which licked his lips in desperation, would feel like exploring her mouth.

She was just lonely. And perhaps feeling strange things during her pregnancy. Wasn't that to be expected?

In truth, she missed Peter—missed him lying next to her, the warmth of him, the feeling of him wrapped around her—and she was just reaching desperately for an alternative.

Still, her heart thumped in her chest, and her cheeks were flushed at being so close to Archie. She realized she loved the feeling of running her fingers through his hair, and for a moment, when their eyes met, she was lost in his clear blue gaze, usually hidden behind his spectacles, that she was sure could see straight through her.

And then, he bolted. She had to admire that, and secretly, she was glad he had. She wasn't entirely sure how far she would have pushed, otherwise.

She dropped her gaze down to her hands, splaying her fingers out to see the dim light catch on the rings she wore on her fourth finger. Such bizarre companions. A sob caught in her throat, as if she'd come dangerously close to an act of betrayal.

For the first time, she truly realized she would never have that again. She'd never have the intimacy of a husband, of physical love, and with that knowledge grew an ache in her stomach, like ice sitting in the very centre of her.

She straightened against the door, taking a deep breath and clasping her hands behind her. This was just her body running amok—her grief drudging up foolish emotions that she'd just have to master, along with the unstable emotions of pregnancy. Neither made very benevolent allies.

With a sigh, she set her jaw and opened the door, determined to continue like normal, starting with a dinner that had become embarrassingly delayed.