by Judy Baer
“My mommy and daddy are in trouble ’cause we don’t have a house to live in.” Pools of tears welled in the child’s blue eyes and began to leak down her cheeks. “I want to be with my mommy and daddy!”
“Who says you can’t?” Merry’s voice was clipped and angry.
“Miss Lori. She told another teacher I wasn’t being taken care of, but I am. My mommy takes good care of me!”
Merry shot Jack a pleading glance.
He shrugged helplessly. What was he supposed to do?
“I’ll walk you inside, Greta. I’d like to speak with Miss Lori myself.” Merry turned to Jack. “Thank you so much for the ride.”
“What time shall I pick you up?”
“I’ll try to get a ride home, thanks.”
“No problem. I’ll bring your vehicle. It will need to run for a while anyway.”
Distracted, Merry sighed. “My kindergarten class is over at lunchtime. Twelve thirty would work.”
“See you then.”
Jack drove off before Merry could protest. Something in that little girl’s eyes nearly broke his heart. Fear and confusion marred that innocent face, things that should be far removed from the life of a five-year-old child.
* * * * *
Greta was unusually quiet this morning. Even Danny, who’d brought his pet hamster, Puffy, for show and tell, couldn’t draw the little girl out of her somber mood.
Troubled, Merry went to the teachers’ lounge in search of Lori Olson at recess.
Three teachers were seated at the long lunchroom table that constituted their break area. Lori was relating her thoughts about Greta’s home situation to the others who listened raptly. “Poor little thing. Have you seen the getup she has on today? Her jeans are so long the folded cuffs are a half-inch thick. Everything she wears is either too big or too small!”
“Sometimes that happens when you shop rummage sales, Lori. The fashion designers have a day off.” Merry’s voice was soft but steady.
Lori spun around and a flush spread up her neck and across her cheeks. “Merry! I didn’t hear you come in. We were just talking about . . .”
“I heard what you were talking about, Lori, but I’m not sure your opinions about Greta’s welfare are well-founded.”
“Her clothes . . .”
“Are always clean,” Merry said firmly. “Just old. That doesn’t mean she isn’t well cared for. It does indicate that the family is being frugal.”
Silently the other two teachers stood up, tossed their coffee cups in the trash, and slipped out of the room, apparently unwilling to witness the confrontation.
“What is it with you and this little girl, Merry? You keep saying you think her home life is okay. It’s obvious by the way Greta’s dressed that it’s not!”
“There’s more to parenting than clothes. Greta is cheerful, happy, engaged, and bright. She shows a lot of potential. She’s untroubled by her family’s situation”—Merry gave Lori a hard look—“as long as others stay out of it.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Lori’s eyes narrowed. Merry wasn’t eager to say more, but she didn’t like Lori’s openly verbal opinions floating around the school.
“Greta is upset today.”
“I told you so . . .” Lori looked smug, as if she had seen something others hadn’t.
“About the things she heard you saying.”
That made Lori pause. “Me?”
“She overhead you tell another teacher that her parents weren’t taking care of her. She told me you said that her parents will be in trouble because they don’t have a house to live in. Now she’s afraid she will be taken away from her family. Lori, that’s unacceptable behavior! Talking about one of the children so that they overhear it? You don’t know what’s going on in that family, nor do I. I’ve discussed it with the administration, who have talked to Greta’s mother. They don’t see any need for immediate concern.”
“I certainly didn’t mean for her to hear what I said.” Lori had the grace to look ashamed. “I’m sorry, Merry. It’s just that when I think a child might be being mistreated . . .”
“That child is in my class, and I think she’s anything but mistreated. Her family is poor, not cruel!”
Lori stared at Merry. “I’ve never seen you like this before.”
“I’ve never been this angry, that’s why. That little girl doesn’t need to think she’ll be taken from her parents! I’d love to find that grandmother of Greta’s. That would solve a lot of issues for everyone.”
“But no one knows who she is!”
Merry couldn’t debate that. She’d been in the white pages online looking for a Bernice Olson in Minnesota. None lived in this immediate area. But this was the season of miracles, Merry told herself. Then she looked at Lori’s crestfallen face.
“Sorry if I came down on you too hard,” Merry murmured. “When Greta told me what happened, I lost it.”
“I deserved it,” Lori admitted. She made a zippering movement across her mouth. “No more speculating, especially not where children might overhear.”
“Thank you.” Merry turned and left the break room. She hoped Lori wouldn’t be upset with her, but she’d said what she needed to say. She felt like a mother lion protecting her cub where Greta was concerned.
* * * * *
Jack drew up to the school in Merry’s car and watched kindergarten children pour out of the doors. It was some time before he spotted Merry. She was holding a child’s hand as they walked toward a tall young woman with shiny dark hair. The little boy released Merry’s hand and ran into his mother’s open arms. He spun out of them after a brief hug and reached again for Merry. The adults laughed and Merry put the child back into his mother’s embrace.
Then another parent came up to her. And another. Merry was the most popular girl on the playground, Jack mused. Finally she made it to the car.
“I wasn’t sure you’d ever get here,” Jack commented as she slid into the vehicle. “What are you? Most Admired Teacher of the Year?”
Her laughter was like music in his ears.
“I see you got my car running,” she commented, deflecting the attention from herself.
“Yes. I thought I’d better drive it a little. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Mind? I feel like a princess! Usually I’m alone with my car troubles. This is great!”
Somehow that little phrase “usually I’m alone” struck a chord in him. Though he tried to ignore it, he, too, felt alone far too often.
When they arrived in Frost, a black Volvo was parked in Merry’s driveway. Merry jumped out of the car and hurried up the garage stairs, leaving Jack to follow.
Inside, a good-looking blond fellow in a business suit was sitting at the kitchen table reading the St. Paul Pioneer Press, drinking coffee, and looking as comfortable as if he did it every day of the week.
Jack immediately felt a stab of resentment. Who was this guy making himself at home in Merry’s house?
Someone she knew very well, he realized when Merry raced across the room, gave the fellow a quick hug, and shone a smile on him.
“Zeke, what are you doing here in the middle of the day?”
“I drove out to see how you were doing.” He tipped his head toward Jack, who still loomed in the doorway.
Merry waved Jack over. “Zeke, this is Jack Frost. Jack, Zeke is the one who lined you up to stay at my B-and-B.”
Jack stretched out his hand. “Pleased to meet you. I have you to thank for a roof over my head—and great cooking, I might add.”
Zeke nodded knowingly. “The best. Glad it’s working out.” He turned back to Merry. “How are things in the store?”
“My hard work is finally beginning to pay off. I’ve had more customers from the Twin Cities and surrounding communities than ever before. Christmas has been good for Frost.”
An empty feeling grew in the pit of Jack’s belly as he sat down on a chair on the far side of the table. His long-dead relatives now had him e
mbroiled in this holiday funfest, something he’d avoided all his adult life. The emptiness grew into an aching pain in his gut. Maybe this was what he got for suppressing all his negative feelings and emotions over the years. Everything that reminded him of his past was flying in his face, taunting him. Perhaps his father had been right, that ignoring a problem didn’t make it go away. It just made it harder to deal with when the time came—and it was inevitable that he’d have to deal with it sooner or later.
He watched Merry interact with Zeke and felt a twinge of jealousy. She laughed easily with him and was no longer on guard. There was something special between them—if not now, there had been—and the fondness for each other hadn’t faded.
Jack recognized it even though he’d always done everything in his power to avoid that sort of intimacy. The last thing he’d wanted was a woman to somehow get beneath the shell he’d built to protect himself and force him to share the things he’d suppressed for so long.
They probably didn’t want him there, sitting like a lump of coal in a kitchen chair, listening to what they were saying. Maybe they had things to discuss—private things. He rose and cleared his throat. “I think I’ll go upstairs. Nice to meet you, Zeke.” He left quickly, not wanting to exchange any more small talk with Merry and her boyfriend.
As Jack walked out of the room, Zeke lowered his voice. “He’s as icy and reserved as you said, Merry. His name is very fitting. Now how about some of those almond cookies you made for me?”
Jack felt the color drain from his face as he mounted the stairs to his room. What did it matter what Merry or anyone else thought of him? He’d never bothered to care before. Then he realized that he truly didn’t care what Zeke What’s-His-Name thought of him. It was Merry’s opinion that had begun to matter.
How on earth had he let that happen?
* * * * *
The next day, as she was closing the boutique, Hildy arrived on Merry’s doorstep with a steaming pot swathed in dishtowels.
“What’s this?” Merry asked as she beckoned the older woman inside.
“Chicken and dumplings. I thought you could use help with supper. I saw how many cars were parked outside today. You must be exhausted.”
“Bless you, Hildy. I am tired. Not having to cook sounds great, but I’ll only accept if you’ll join us.”
“You’ve got that man staying here, don’t you?”
“Yes. I’d like to have you meet him. You lived in Frost in years past. Maybe you can help him answer some of his questions.”
“I moved away when I was a young woman and didn’t come back until last year. I can’t imagine how I’d do him any good.”
“No matter, you’ll do me some good.”
“My guest, Mr. Frost, has inherited some land in this area,” Merry said as she and Hildy set the table and tossed a salad.
“So I’ve heard,” Hildy responded enigmatically. The woman’s features were stoic.
“Not all good things, apparently.”
“You know how gossip travels. It’s never right by the time it gets to the likes of me. People don’t like the idea, though, of someone else owning so much of their hometown.”
“I’m not sure he likes it either, but he’s got to get things sorted out. He can’t leave it for another generation!”
Hildy nodded. “I guess there are a lot of things we don’t like in this life, but we get used to them.”
At that moment, Merry heard Jack’s footsteps on the stairs. He must have smelled the delicious aromas coming from the kitchen.
“Just in time,” she greeted him. “My neighbor Hildy brought the food.”
Her breath, she noticed, was coming faster when Jack neared, and her heart raced. Even Zeke had never affected her quite like that. He smiled at her, and she felt a little hitch in her chest. He reached for her hand and, as if it had its own will, it took his.
They walked together into the dining room and, introductions made, the threesome sat down at the table.
“Hildy, would you like to say grace?” Merry requested.
The woman bowed her head and took a deep breath. “Lord, we don’t know how You work. All we can do is trust that Your timing is right, Your love is true, and Your grace plentiful. Whatever pain is on the hearts of each of us tonight, we ask You to intervene and turn it into blessing. Thank You for the food, the fellowship, and the bright joy of Christmas. Amen.”
Hildy had a way of reaching into one’s heart with her prayers, Merry noted. She must have reached deep into Jack’s tonight. He had lost the color in his face, and he stared at Hildy as if she’d just revealed something very personal about him to the world. Then he gathered himself together and turned to his food. He ate with his head down, eyes fixed on his plate.
It was some moments before he looked at her again. There was an expression on his face that Merry couldn’t define. Pain? Regret? Or maybe her imagination was working overtime. Perhaps it was just plain gratitude that they had a new cook for the night.
“I don’t know how to repay Merry or you, Hildy, for the amazing food I’ve had while I’m here,” Jack pronounced after dinner. He pushed away from the table and leaned back so only the two back legs of the chair rested on the floor. He was relaxed again after whatever had been troubling him.
Hildy snorted. “You’re paying your bill, aren’t you? As for me, I enjoy cooking for more than one. My husband and son could practically eat us out of house and home. Now, if I cook a roast, I’m eating it in sandwiches, hash, and steak salads for a week.” She eyed Jack. “Maybe next week I’ll bring one over. Will you still be here?”
“I hope not, but the way things are going it’s likely. I’ll probably be here until January.”
“What about Christmas?” Merry interjected. “Don’t you have plans for Christmas?”
Jack shrugged. “Not really. I usually go to church on Christmas Eve and to Vince’s place for pizza on the twenty-fifth.”
“That’s it?” Merry looked aghast.
“I don’t plan even that, but it’s usually how it works out. Otherwise I cook myself some scrambled eggs.”
“Then I want you to be here for Christmas so I can show you what it’s really like! You’ll come too, won’t you, Hildy?”
“Well, I don’t know . . .”
“Turkey, dressing”—Merry eyed Jack—“and at least four kinds of pie. I’ll bake some and so will Hildy. Right?”
Jack smiled. The contrast from his normal demeanor was so pronounced that both women burst out laughing.
“We got him with the pies, Hildy,” Merry joked, and the conversation turned to easy, idle chatter.
After Hildy left, Jack helped Merry carry dishes to the kitchen and load the dishwasher. Their shoulders brushed as he organized the plates and she placed the dirty glasses in the top basket. Merry was growing accustomed to this cozy domesticity.
Jack turned to leave and Merry asked, “What are you doing?”
“Me? I’m going to bed,” Jack said, looking startled by the question.
“I’m not talking to you. I’m talking to my cat. Why is he following you?”
“Is there a rule against that?” Jack bent down and scratched the cat’s head, producing a roaring purr from somewhere deep inside the feline.
“Nog never follows anyone around except me.”
“You could have fooled me,” Jack commented as he mounted another stair step with the cat on his heels. “I don’t mind. He sleeps on my feet when he’s in my room. And considering how cold it’s been, it feels pretty good.”
Merry’s jaw dropped. “He sleeps with you?”
“I only let him in when he meows at my door. I didn’t think you’d mind.”
“No, I don’t mind. It’s just that . . .” Her voice trailed away. She did mind, actually. It wasn’t that Jack was allowing the cat to sleep with him but that the cat even wanted to!
“Traitor,” she muttered under her breath.
Chapter Eight
• • •
• • • • • • • • •
“Uh-oh. Here comes trouble,” Abby said as she looked out the window. There was a lull in the shopping frenzy, and both she and Merry were taking a breather.
Before Merry could ask more, the door to the shop slammed open and the baubles on the trees trembled from the impact. Regina Olsdorf roared in like a storm system and planted herself in front of Merry’s till. Her face was dangerously red, and Merry wondered about the state of the woman’s blood pressure.
Regina usually had her nose out of joint when she was distressed or offended, which was frequently. She was typically in a snit about one thing or another. Regina was a trying woman but also a good customer, one Merry didn’t want to offend.
“Hi. Can I help you?” Merry sounded cheery even though the Olsdorf woman could put her teeth on edge. It took a lot to unhinge Merry’s cheerfulness, but Regina managed it with ease.
“I certainly hope so. You’re the closest to him.” Regina’s chin quivered indignantly, as if she could barely hold back her irritation.
“Him?”
“That man who’s been staying here, of course.” Regina could barely disguise her distaste at the mention of Jack’s existence.
“Mr. Frost? What about him?”
“Is it true that he plans to take away people’s homes and farmland?” Regina’s face colored unattractively, in splotches. “That’s despicable!”
Alarm bells went off in Merry’s head. She fixed a blank expression on her features. “Take them away? I’m sure he wouldn’t take anything that wasn’t already his.”
Regina eyed Merry suspiciously.
Abby hurried over with a cup of tea. “I’ve forgotten, Mrs. Olsdorf, do you take cream or sugar?”
“Sugar, dear.” Regina beamed down upon Abby from her nearly six-foot height. Then she returned her gaze to Merry, the fire back in her eyes.
“He’s snooping around at the courthouse in Blue Earth,” Regina informed her, “and people don’t like it. They’re on fire!”
“Oh?” Merry kept her voice level. She was sure that Regina had talked to everyone she could get her hands on and fanned the flame.