Texas Born by Judith Gould

would light a Yule log in the
fireplace and hang mistletoe above the door, just as the servants
in the Cromwell house on Beacon Hill used to do. Then, when she
rang the dinner bell, all the roomers would come downstairs and
gather in the cozy parlor to share a smorgasbord of roast beef,
smoked ham, fried chicken, and plum pudding. There were freshly
baked Christmas cookies and glasses of punch for everyone.
Afterward the roomers would gather around the tree while she lit
the candles, and she would sit down at the spinet and everyone
would join in singing the carols.
    But this year there would be no candles on
the tree. Elender didn't need to be told that they would terrify
Elizabeth-Anne. Since the circus fire, the child had become alarmed
of flames of any sort.
    Elender glanced at the pendulum clock ticking
away on the mantel. It was nearly eleven o'clock, long past her
usual bedtime. Tomorrow would bring a long, grueling day. She would
have to get up by five. There were the gifts to be wrapped, the
smorgasbord to be prepared, the house to be cleaned, and any
multitude of last-minute things she had overlooked to be taken care
of.
    She crossed to the window, parted the
curtains, and looked out. She sighed. The night was unusually dark
because of the rain, and a chill draft blew in from around the
window frame. She had never quite got used to Christmases here in
southwest Texas. They could be rainy and cold or dry and cold. But
never cold enough for a white Christmas. Just cold enough to settle
in your bones.
    Elender let the curtains fall back in place
and walked around the parlor. She checked to make sure the embers
in the fireplace had died. Then she lifted the frosted hurricane
shades from the lamps and blew out the flames. She'd bought the
frosted shades especially for Elizabeth-Anne. The girl didn't seem
half as frightened of them as the clear ones. Of course, they
didn't give off as much light, but at least the flames weren't
visible.
    She left the last lamp lit and carried it to
her room. On the way, she looked in on the girls. Jenny was curled
up on her side under a mountain of quilts, breathing peacefully.
Silently Elender kissed her on the cheek and then closed the door.
Then she went to the storeroom and looked in on Elizabeth-Anne.
    The child was having another bad dream.
    She sighed to herself as she approached the
bed and held the lamp high. She could see Elizabeth-Anne squirming.
Her forehead was creased in agitation and she was flushed and
sweaty. Elender could hear her making frightened clucking
noises—those same clucking noises that were the only sounds she
could produce.
    Quickly Elender set the lamp on the bedside
cabinet, leaned over the bed, and reached out and shook
Elizabeth-Anne gently. 'Elizabeth-Anne,' she called out.
'Elizabeth-Anne!'
    The girl awakened with a start, her eyes wild
with fear. Immediately she sat up and threw her arms around
Elender's neck.
    Elender sat down on the edge of the mattress
and held her tightly, patting her reassuringly on the back. 'There.
There,' she whispered soothingly. 'You've just had a bad dream.
Everything's going to be all right. Auntie chased the bad dream
away.' Gently she uncurled the girl's arms and made her lie back
down.
    Elizabeth-Anne's aquamarine eyes were wide.
Don't leave me, they seemed to plead. Please stay here.
    Elender read the expression and stroked
Elizabeth-Anne's cheek reassuringly, but she was worried.
Elizabeth-Anne's nightmares had been recurring ever since the day
she had found her wandering in Geron's Fields. But lately they
seemed to have increased in frequency. Perhaps . . . She frowned
thoughtfully to herself. Perhaps a tiny dose of laudanum would help
her sleep more peacefully. Would keep the nightmares at bay. It
was, after all, a harmless mixture of alcohol and opium.
    'I'll be back in a moment,' Elender said
decisively. 'I'm going to get you something to chase away your
dreams.'
    Elizabeth-Anne sat up again and clung
tenaciously