He faced off with himself in the mirror before hopping into the shower. Admit it, Novak, you’re looking forward to the town Christmas tree lighting with Caro way too much.
After dressing in a Henley shirt he knew looked good on him and comfortable jeans with wool socks and Chukka boots as a concession to the snow, Simon pulled on his ski jacket and gloves. As an afterthought, since he hadn’t checked the temperature, he stuffed a wool cap in his pocket and trooped out to his truck. The air was still and warm for a December morning. He tugged the cap out of his pocket and tossed it in the back seat before driving from his driveway to Ruth’s.
Caro met him at the side door of the breezeway that connected the house and garage. “I was just about to come and get you.”
“I thought I’d drive. We don’t know what the roads outside of town are like, and my truck has all-wheel drive,” he added hastily, not wanting to sound chauvinistic.
“You’re probably right.”
Simon glanced through the breezeway window behind Caro. “Is your grandmother coming?”
“No, she had other plans, and seemed glad to get me out of the house. Some of her friends are coming over to address and stamp those Christmas Eve service invitations you mentioned.”
Simon opened the truck door for her and helped Caro in, pointing at the dashboard. “I’ve got one of those invitations, a flyer with information about Snowflake Chapel, and a copy of the most recent church newsletter in the glove compartment.”
“Well done. And Pastor Callahan didn’t have any problems with us making the call instead of him?”
“Not at all. He has enough holiday stuff on his plate.” Simon closed the door for her and climbed in his side of the truck. “Okay navigator, which way?”
“You were right.” Caro pulled a paper from her pocket and unfolded it. “Beaver Pond Road is off of Big Bear Road, about five miles out of town. You’ll need to take a right. And it looks short. The Campbell’s house may be the only one on the road.”
Exactly the same information he’d gotten when he’d checked the directions on his phone, except for the only house and short road part. He glanced sideways at her profile. Should he tell her that? Nah. She’d said she’d locate the house. It would look like he didn’t trust her to do it, which he really had, but had checked it on his phone, too, anyway.
Caro pointed out the window a few minutes later. “It should be just past this intersection.”
“Yep, I see the road sign.” Simon flicked the directional and slowed for the turn onto what looked to be an unplowed road with a set of tire tracks running down the center. The truck bumped down from the main road into the tracks.
“Good thing we took your truck instead of my car. I’ve gotten used to city living and forgotten how rural it can be once you get outside of Snowflake.”
Simon gripped the steering wheel tighter to keep the truck close to being in the tracks, which had been made by a smaller vehicle. “The unplowed condition of the road says this is a private road.”
“Yeah, if they can’t afford heating oil, it stands to reason they couldn’t afford to pay someone to plow the road.”
“And it looks like you might be right about the Campbell house being the only one on the road. I can see some cattle fencing in the snowbanks, but not the house yet.” Simon slowed to a crawl to take a hairpin curve and drove onto shoveled roadway.
“There. I see a barn and a house.” Caro bounced in her seat, leaned forward and pointed ahead to their left.
Simon pressed his lips together to avoid chuckling at her enthusiasm, or possibly relief that they weren’t on a wild goose chase. He dragged his gaze from her face, which her animated expression made all the more attractive, and studied the house. It had a log midsection that may have been the ranch’s original house and green sided additions to each side.
“I don’t see a mailbox to check the address,” she said.
“If this is a private road, I think it would have to be out on Big Bear.”
Her expression turned thoughtful. “I don’t think I saw one there, either. Did you?”
“Not that I remember. They could get their mail at the post office in Snowflake. But this must be the place. The road ends ahead.” As he’d started to turn into the house’s empty driveway, he eyed a dip in the road that ended in the pond that the road must have been named after. “It doesn’t look like Jake’s mother, or maybe anyone, is here.”
Caro pursed her lips, and he caught himself unconsciously leaning toward her as he pressed the button to turn the truck off.
“I didn’t think of this when I suggested visiting this morning,” she said, “but I’m pretty sure Heather works during the day on weekends. Or at least on Sundays. Jake hurried Hope out after Sunday school saying they had to get to the store so their mother would have time to drive them home on her lunch break.”
Simon pulled his door handle. “We’ll have to come back if no one’s here.” But he hoped the whole family was. Rules on teacher-student contact were strict, for good reason, and he was sure they weren’t open to sports coaches tracking down where their players lived and visiting with no parent present. He crunched through the edge of the snowbank to the side of his truck. He wasn’t here as the Pine Cone Middle School’s wrestling coach. He was here as a church trustee with a Sunday school teacher.
“What?” she asked when they met in front of the truck to walk to the house.
Simon had no idea what she was asking him. “What do you mean, what?”
“Your expression. Wait! You’re as nervous about this visit as I am.”
No, he wasn’t nervous. He came to his own defense. “I was thinking about the rules for teacher-student contact outside school.”
“You won’t get in trouble, will you?”
“I shouldn’t. I’m not alone, and we’re here from Snowflake Chapel.”
“Well, I’m a little nervous,” she conceded. “I’ve never done a church-home visit, especially one with an ulterior motive.” Caro gave him a smile brighter than the winter sun. “I’m glad you’re with me.”
He was glad, too. And admittedly a little nervous. His pulse quickened. More about her honing in on his nervousness than their being here or him getting in trouble. Because if she could read his expressions and figure out what he was feeling, he was in real trouble.
* * *
As they stood on the sagging front porch, Caro resisted the urge to grab and squeeze Simon’s hand. To tap into some of his dependable strength for support. She generally wasn’t nervous meeting people, and she’d already met Hope and Jake, sort of. Sadly, with the hours she put in at the hospital, the extent of her meeting new people was essentially limited to staff and patients. She hadn’t taken advantage of socializing at church much, which could have helped relieve some of her work stress. Nor had she attended service as faithfully as she should.
Her Lord. That’s who she should be depending on for strength, not Simon, as dependable as he was. Caro made a silent plea that this wouldn’t be as bad as she feared.
“Ready?” Simon asked.
“Yes.” And she was now.
Simon pushed the doorbell and she didn’t hear any sound. He opened the aluminum storm door and knocked on the wooden one behind it.
Almost immediately, the door swung open. “Ms. Caro,” Hope shouted. “What are you doing at my house?”
Before she could answer, Jake came racing into the room, as quickly as someone on crutches can race. “Hope, you’re not supposed to open the door.”
“But I saw out the window that it was Ms. Caro from Sunday school and some guy.”
“Coach,” Jake said.
Caro could almost hear Jake’s silent what are you doing here?
Hope looked up at her. “I’m not `sposed to answer the door because it might be bad guys. Mommy said no one is `sposed to know we live here.”
Jake turned ashen.
“Can we come in?” Simon said gently. “I’m guessing your mother is at
work.”
“Yes and, um, yes.” Jake stepped back, pulling Hope with him, to let Caro and Simon in.
Simon held the storm door for her and followed her in. She glanced around the room. The beautiful new-looking living room set taking up most of the room contrasted sharply with the worn carpeting and dingy walls. Her stomach clenched. She could readily see the furniture in their Littleton home, she’d seen online. No Christmas tree or any other signs of the holiday were evident.
“You wanna take your coats off and sit down?” Jake shifted his weight from foot to foot. “I have a fire going.”
“No, we’ll just be here a couple of minutes.” Simon unzipped his jacket but kept it on and she followed his lead.
A draft from under the door blew against the back of her legs, despite Simon having closed the storm door. The wood stove in the stone fireplace heated the room comfortably, but today was mild for a winter day.
“We’re here to welcome you to Snowflake Chapel and invite your mother to bring you to our Christmas Eve service,” she said.
Simon offered the papers he held in his hand. “I have some information for you to give to your mother. You can look at it yourself. And I apologize for not calling your mother ahead of time. But—”
“You have Mom’s phone number?” Alarm colored Jake’s face. “That’s worse than you finding us here and Hope letting you in,” he mumbled.
Caro touched Simon’s arm. “I think we should sit down.” She slipped her jacket off, folded it over her arm, and walked to the couch and sat. Simon joined her, and Hope wiggled in between them.
Jake took his time walking over and sitting in the chair to the right of Simon. In the quiet, Hope piped up, “Are you going to have a Christmas tree at Sunday school?”
“Yes.” Caro wasn’t sure where the little girl might be going with her question. “The church usually has several trees.”
“Good.” Hope folded her hands and dropped them to her lap. “Mommy said we might not be able to have one this year because Jake chopped his foot, and she said he can’t use the axe anymore. I told Mommy her and me could chop down a Christmas tree. She said she’d see, but that usually means no.”
Caro’s heart went out to Hope and more to her mother.
“Hope, be quiet,” Jake said. “I have to tell Coach Novak some things.”
“You’re Coach Novak?” Hope patted Simon’s leg.
He smiled and said, “Yes.”
“You’re a teacher?”
“I am. I teach history, about things that happened a long time ago.”
“Like when I was a baby?”
Jake rolled his eyes.
Simon chuckled. “Even longer ago than when you were a baby or Jake was a baby.”
“My mommy was a teacher. At Sunshine Rainbows, where I used to go before Daddy got sick.”
“Hope, remember what Mom said,” Jake warned her, fists clenched on his thighs.
Simon caught Caro’s gaze and nodded almost unperceptively at Jake, then Hope before speaking again. “Jake do you want to take our talk into another room. I’m sure Hope and Ms. Caro can entertain themselves.”
“On it,” she assured him, struck by the fact that the secret angel gift was giving her the same satisfaction she got from—or used to get from—nursing. Her ER work wasn’t the only way she could help people.
Jake pulled himself up on his crutches. “We can go in the kitchen. Hope, behave.”
When the guys were out of the room, Hope said, “What Jake means is for me not to talk about Daddy and his bad friends.”
“I think we should do as Jake asked.” Caro wanted to learn enough about the Campbells to spend her secret angel gift money wisely, but not intrude on the family’s privacy. She’d confirmed that the heating oil would help them physically and had added a Christmas tree to the nativity set as something that could help spiritually, along with the invitation to the Christmas Eve service. If Heather joined the church, that would give her lasting help going forward. But Caro still felt she should do something more to help improve their future.
Hope huffed, breaking Caro’s muse. “I always have to do what Jake says. But sometimes I miss Daddy, like he was before he got sick.”
Caro put her arm around her. “I’m sure Jake misses him, too.”
Hope tipped her head up to the side, skepticism in her eyes. “Jake says he hates Daddy and what he did to us.”
“I’m sure he doesn’t mean that in his heart. Does Jake go to Sunday school while you do?” So many teens thought they were too old for Sunday school. But the middle-school/high-school class at Snowflake Chapel was more like a youth group.
“Yeah, he goes. He told Mommy he wasn’t going to, but a couple of his friends from school go, so he started going, too. They don’t get to color and paint like I do with Ms. Gabriella and Mrs. Becker.”
“That’s too bad. Coloring and painting are fun. So what do you want to do while Coach Novak and Jake talk?”
“I could show you my room.” Hope hopped off the couch. It’s this way.” She pointed to an archway to the left and then walked toward the front door. “I’d better make sure Jake locked the door. Mommy will be mad if it’s not.”
The preschooler’s easy acceptance of the locked doors, of not telling anyone where they lived, and the stress of the family’s situation made Caro want to lash out at someone. But who? She had the same helpless feeling she’d had at the ER when she wanted to do more for a patient but wasn’t able to.
“It’s locked,” Hope said. “Come on.” She skipped ahead to the archway and hall that led to her bedroom. “This room is mine.” She pointed to the first on the right. “Mommy’s is across the hall, and Jake’s stinky boy room is next to mine.
Caro followed Hope in. Her room certainly wasn’t stinky. It was uncommonly neat for a four-year-old’s room. And filled with a white lacquered bedroom set with applique unicorns that was meant for a larger room.
“Me and Mommy did the unicorns,” Hope said.
“Very nice.”
Hope told Caro the names of all her stuffed animals and showed her other toys in the closet before walking to the taller of the two dressers in the room. The top was cleared off.
“That’s where I’m going to put the Jesus people for Christmas. Mommy said the ones we saw at the store cost too much, so I put them on my list for Santa. I’m all ready for when he brings them.”
Hope stared up at the dresser top, silent. Then in a small voice she said, “My daddy and me used to put the Jesus people out for Christmas and, we weren’t `sposed to, but, sometimes, me and him would play with them.” The little girl looked up, wide blue eyes and a big smile. “Maybe you can come back at Christmas and I’ll show them to you.”
Caro’s stomach sank. She wanted to fix it. Fix it all. But how? She could call her friend Sam who headed up a domestic violence program. Neither Hope nor her brother showed signs of abuse, though. Simon would have noticed with Jake, and Hope’s Sunday school teacher and Gram were trained in spotting signs of abuse. The kids hadn’t said anything about their father hurting their mother. But there had been a violent element to their lives. She rubbed a tear from the corner of her eye.
“Are you okay, Ms. Caro?” Hope asked.
“Fine. Just some dust in my eye.”
A wide smile dissolved the child’s look of concern and fed Caro’s own concern. She’d better not get other services involved. At least not yet. That could cause more harm than good. She swallowed to loosen the tightness in her chest. What had she gotten herself into, agreeing to be a secret angel?
* * *
Talking with Jake had clarified more than a few things about the Campbells and their situation. It wasn’t the best, and he was anxious to compare notes with Caro.
“Caro and I should get going,” Simon said.
“Okay,” the teen agreed.
“You will tell your mother that we stopped by and give her the information about Snowflake Chapel and the Christmas Eve servi
ce.”
“Yeah. I will.” The teen’s voice sounded resigned.
From his teaching experience, Simon knew middle school was a hard-enough time for kids who came from solid, more stress-free family situations, let alone what Jake was shouldering.
Jake walked him back to the living room. “I’ll get Hope and Caro.”
Simon held back his smile at Jake dropping the Ms. from Caro until Jake had turned his back and started toward the hall. Then, it came out full force, when he heard the teen say, “Ms. Caro, Coach says you guys need to get going.”
“Yes, we should,” Caro said.
Hope followed with a whiny, “Do you have to?”
“We do,” Caro answered as the trio stepped into the living room. “But I’ll see you at Sunday school tomorrow.”
“That’s a long time away.” Hope pushed her bottom lip out.
Against his better judgement, Simon was inclined to agree with Hope. He was getting used to seeing or talking with Caro every day, and not seeing or hearing from her from Tuesday after their almost kiss until Thursday had seemed like a very long time.
He and Caro bundled back up and walked out to his truck with Hope peeking through the curtain and waving.
“Cute kid,” he said before he bit his tongue and asked himself why he’d said that. It was true, but he’d never taken much interest in little kids, generally thought they didn’t get interesting until middle school.
“She’s adorable. But old for her age in some ways.”
“Jake, too. Old for his age, that is.”
“Mmm hmm. What did he tell you?” Caro curved her hair behind one ear, face tipped up toward him.
Simon pressed the ignition. Caro was pretty adorable, too. And with the nonchalant way she handled her beauty, he had the distinct impression she had no idea how attractive she was.
Caro's Gift (Small-Town Christmas Wishes Book 2) Page 6