Page 25 of Caroline Saves the Blacksmith
William drifted off to sleep in the darkened room, his body fatigued as he gradually slipped back into another dream.
THE FUTURE
EARLY MORNING, CHRISTMAS DAY (THE FIRST DAY OF CHRISTMAS)
The sky was overcast—brooding and grim. Market Street was covered in a fresh fall of snow. The world was silent, muffled by the clouds overhead and flakes blanketing the roadway. William looked about and realized it must still be Christmas Day, the shops sporting festive Christmas boughs in their darkened windows. Across the street was the empty post office, the interior dark and deserted. If that was the post office, he must be standing in front of Caroline’s shop.
He turned to look, noting a fresh display of ribbons through the window, along with festive sprigs and boughs draping the windows and counters.
Why was he back on this day? Was there some new revelation to uncover?
Not knowing what came next, William walked toward his cottage. As he approached a cross street, Dr. Hadley appeared, walking from the direction of the church.
“Mr. Jackson! Season’s greetings to you!” The doctor paused to meet him at the corner. William realized something was not right. Dr. Hadley’s hair was whiter, showing almost no signs of his former dark hair. His thick mustache was also white, and he had far more lines on his face. He appeared to have aged several years.
William rubbed his face, confused by this turn of events. Was this a future Christmas?
“Same to you and Mrs. Hadley, doctor.”
“Thank you, Mr. Jackson. I must be on my way, but I don’t need to tell you! You have a full house waiting for you!”
The doctor was not going to invite him to his Christmas feast as he did each year? And what did he mean … a full house? While William pondered their conversation, the doctor had walked off in the direction of his home. He shook his head, not sure what to make of this new situation.
Shrugging, he resumed his walk home, feeling rather bleak and lonely. It would be lovely if Caroline showed up to guide him somewhere, the world eerily quiet as the snow began to fall once more.
An eternity later—the walk seeming to take much longer than usual—he reached his front door, where he stood hesitantly. All was quiet, and he was reluctant to enter his empty home and spend Christmas alone yet again. He wanted to embrace life, reconnect with his neighbors and family. Perhaps even visit Caroline in her millinery and converse with her while she worked—not enter his cold, silent cottage.
From behind the front door, he heard humming with a surge of pleasure. She was coming! They would accompany each other, and she would reveal some new way to improve his lot. It was sweet delight to hear her melodic voice break into song.
‘All glory be to God on high,
and to the earth be peace;
to those on whom his favor rests
goodwill shall never cease.’
The sound grew closer until, finally, the lock clicked, and his front door swung open.
“William, there you are! We have been waiting to serve dinner!”
He blinked. Was she not going to ask him some peculiarly discerning question as she had before?
Caroline reached out a hand, and he looked down. This time she wore gloves, as if she were cold. Shaking his head in confusion, he looked down at his own hand to discover that he, too, was wearing gloves. At least this time, he saw no evidence of his hand being soiled as in the earlier dreams. He reached out and clasped her hand with confidence as she smiled and drew him closer.
Then, to his surprise, she bobbed up on her toes to plant a kiss on his cheek. Granted, it landed low in his beard because of their disparity in height, but it was comforting, nevertheless.
Caroline turned and pulled him along to guide him inside, William shutting out the cold outside to discover that the cottage was warm with ambient heat. The fires must be lit.
As he looked about the sitting room, he was startled to see Uncle Albert sitting at a table beside a young boy with almost black hair. They were studying a diagram sketched with a graphite pencil, their heads bowed together. William noticed the room had been redecorated. Above the fireplace hung a painting of Chatternwell at dawn, painted from one of the rolling hills. In it he could see the church spire, and chimneys were puffing cheerful smoke. The rug had been replaced with one of oranges and purples to pick out the colors of the painting, along with the pillows on the settees. New drapes hung in the windows, and the walls were painted in claret.
“Charles, do you wish to greet your papa?” Caroline called across the room. William’s head whipped in her direction to confirm she was addressing the boy directly.
Were they not spectators of this scene, then? Were they active participants?
Looking back at the table, he saw the young boy raise his head. Blazing blue eyes found him standing there, and the boy hopped down from his chair to race across the room and throw his little arms around William’s thighs. “Papa! You are home!”
William blinked several times, finally raising a hand to the boy’s shoulder to give him a hesitant pat. Uncle Albert approached with a broad grin. “William, I have been teaching your boy about locks. I showed him the one you invented.”
