A Matter of Principle by Kris Tualla Page A

“But this time he didn’t come while we were at church!”
    He couldn’t have. At last evening’s midnight church service, all eleven members of the Hansen estate were in attendance. Filling two pews, their multi-racial presence had offended some of the attendees. But Pastor Mueller, keenly attuned to his mostly Lutheran flock—and fully aware of Nicolas’s iron convictions—managed to work a few relevant scriptures into his sermon reminding the congregants that the Sweet Baby Jesus was born to save everyone .
    “ It was a very busy night for him, to be sure!” Nicolas struck his flint and sparked the tinder under the log. “But there are some odd items here that weren’t here before.”
    He put out his hand and stopped his eager son’s advance. “We’ll open the gifts after breakfast.”
    “ Why, Pappa ?” Stefan’s gaze all but cut through the wrappings.
    “ Because your Mamma will want to watch,” Nicolas explained.
    “ Please?”
    “ No.” Nicolas went back to lighting the log.
    “ But—”
    “ If you ask me again, I shall give all your gifts to Leif!” Nicolas threatened. He leaned over and blew on the fledgling flame he succeeded in starting.
    “ Come on,” Leif said, pulling Stefan’s shirt. “I’m hungry.”
    “ You’re always hungry!” Stefan countered, padding down the hall after the older boy.
    “ I’m growing!” Leif upped the ante.
    “ So am I!” Stefan called.
    Nicolas looked to Jeremy. “Have you any brothers?”
    “ Three,” Jeremy answered, unsuccessful at hiding his grin.
    Sydney came down with Kirstie, who held the stair railing with both hands and took the stairs sideways, one at a time. She was excited because everyone else was, but didn’t understand why. Three weeks from her second birthday, this was the first Christmas she would truly take part in.
    Nicolas, Sydney, Stefan, Kirstie and Leif sat together at the dining room table and ate a hearty breakfast of eggs, ham, potatoes, biscuits, jam, honey, coffee, hot chocolate and tea. When they finished, Nicolas and Sydney herded the children into the drawing room to open their presents.
    Leif was surprised that there were gifts for him. “I didn’t get anything for you,” he mumbled, embarrassed.
    Nicolas clamped a meaty hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Leif, believe me when I say, that all Sydney and I desire is to watch you continue to grow, learn English, and get your education. We do not require trinkets from you.”
    “ That’s true, Leif,” Sydney confirmed.
    His glance was unsure, but his embarrassed blush abated. “Someday, I’ll repay you, Sir,” he promised. “I’ll make you proud of me.”
    Sydney sat on the settle. Nicolas joined her, and the boys handed out the wrapped treasures. Kirstie had to be taught what to do, but caught on quickly. She squeezed the doll that Sydney made for her close to her chest with one hand, and waved the wrapping’s ribbons with the other.
    Sydney opened a small box from Nicolas. When she saw what was inside, she looked at him, puzzled. “What is this?”
    “ A handful of dirt from the yard.”
    She frowned. “Why are you giving me dirt?”
    “ What I’m giving you is the right to pull me back to what matters, should I become so entangled in this election that I begin to lose myself,” he explained.
    “ And dirt will accomplish that?”
    “ It symbolizes this estate. This estate shelters you, my children, and my livelihood. Nothing is as important to me as those things.” Nicolas draped one arm around Sydney’s shoulders and smiled. “Show me the dirt. It will— ground me—if you will.”
    Sydney laughed. “I’ll take you at your word, husband. Thank you.”
    “ Oh, and then there’s this.” Nicolas reached into his pocket and pulled out a small calling card tied to a soft leather bag. The card had black formal lettering on thick cream parchment.
    Sydney gasped and her jaw dropped. “This card says: Lady Sydney Hansen, Midwife; Reidar’s