Finished with the wash, she separated everyone’s clothes. It didn’t do any good to hang clothes out in the freezing weather, and the climate was so wet that heavy clothing never got dry. The clothes would freeze, but when they thawed, they were wet again with melted ice crystals. Riley had made crude wooden racks so they could hang their clothes by the fireplaces.
Wringing out the clothes as best she could, Allegra ruefully considered her hands. They were red and chafed, the nails torn down to the quick. She was freezing, exhausted, and wet; she’d never learned how to do the washing without getting sopping wet.
It was a miserable job, but she never complained. Allegra, being the kind of woman she was, got great satisfaction from doing it, and doing it well. She eyed Riley and David as they finished stacking her firewood on the front porch. Now there’s some hard work, every day, hand-cutting down trees, hauling the logs, bucksawing them, splitting them, taking the wood to all the cabins . . . They certainly never complain. I sure like that in a man . . . I can’t stand whiners . . . That’s one thing I loved about Neville, he never complained . . . he never let anything get him down . . . he was a fighter— With a shock that took her breath away, Allegra realized she was thinking of her husband in the past tense. She stood, frozen, clutching a heavy, cold pair of David Mitchell’s BDU breeches. With characteristic determination, she put the disturbing thoughts away.
The men called their good-byes to her, and she recovered, telling them to come back after they finished to get their clean clothes. Then Kyle came around the corner of their cabin, pulling Mannie and Benny the Blue Bear in his wagon.
Allegra couldn’t help smiling. Oddly Mannie seemed to like riding in the rickety wagon. Every time Kyle got it out, Mannie ran, with the peculiar half-hopping gait of the Manx, and jumped into the wagon. Now he sat there, his clown’s smile intact, as Kyle dragged him along, the wagon bumping over the rough ground.
Allegra was happy that Kyle had a pet. In the old world (it occurred to her that she was thinking of that in the past tense, too) they could never have afforded a companion animal. And they would never have been able to get a license since they were a military family and moved around a lot. They wouldn’t have qualified for the strict licensing standards. Absurdly it was harder to adopt a pet than it was to adopt a child.
It’s wonderful that Mannie’s so good-natured . . . Kyle plays so roughly with him, but Mannie seems to adore him anyway . . .
The cat had become the boy’s constant companion. Mannie still slept at Brother Mitchell’s, but every morning he was at Allegra’s door, meowing insistently for his saucer of milk and crumbled bacon. He stayed with Kyle most days, though sometimes Mannie walked with Brother Mitchell in his wanderings.
Noe trudged up to the cabin, looking like a child playing dress-up in her long military-cut coat and beret. “Sister Mitchell! I would have brought your clothes to you,” Allegra declared.
“Nonsense. If you’re kind enough to do this awful chore, I can surely come and get the clothes. Thank you so much, Allegra,” Noe said, stuffing the wet clothes into a canvas bag.
“But—can you carry that heavy bag, Sister Mitchell?” Allegra asked doubtfully. “Your hands . . .” Noe’s arthritis gave her trouble in cold weather.
“I’m fine, and I’m enjoying the walk. Don’t you worry about me,” Noe insisted. She turned to watch Kyle pulling the cat and the raggedy stuffed bear in his wagon. He was doing a military march—as much as he could with his short fat legs—and singing, “Noel, Noel, Noel, Noel!” They were the only words he knew to the song, and he sang it at the top of his lungs.
“It’s so wonderful to have a child around at Christmastime,”
Noe said warmly. “It makes it so much more fun. You get to be a child again yourself.”
Allegra remarked, “Sometimes I worry about Kyle being all alone. He doesn’t have any friends to play with, except that cat.”
“It won’t hurt him a bit, not a bit,” Noe assured her. “When we were raising David, he was alone most of the time. He turned out well, I think.”
“Yes, he did,” Allegra agreed quickly. “He’s a fine man. I’m grateful to him. He’s good with Kyle and takes so much time with him.”
“Yes, and Mr. Case does, too. Kyle dotes on them both, doesn’t he? I guess he misses his daddy.” Noe noticed the quick pang of grief that swept across Allegra’s face, but the younger woman said nothing. Noe turned back to watch Kyle with a mixture of warmth and pain. David was four years old when his parents left him with her and Jesse.
After watching Kyle for a while, Noe returned to the cabin, and Allegra took their wash in to hang it by the fireplace. She was gratified to see that Riley Case had built up her fire with the newly split wood. He often did things like that for her without being asked, and he seemed embarrassed when Allegra thanked him.
Twenty minutes later Allegra heard the humming noise of a diesel vehicle and ran out onto the front porch. It was Xanthe, lumbering up the mountain and through the overgrown fields in her tough Vulcan. “Hello, hello,” Allegra called, waving.
Xanthe got out of the Vulcan, and the two women embraced, though Xanthe, as always, was a little stiff. Since they had become such good friends, however, Allegra insisted on hugging Xanthe and kissing her on the cheek. She thought that Xanthe hadn’t had much affection in her life.
“I brought some things,” Xanthe said awkwardly, after enduring Allegra’s embrace.
“Oh, that’s nice, but I’m just glad to see you,” Allegra said warmly. “You don’t have to bring bribes, you know. We all wish you’d just stay here with us anyway.”
Xanthe flushed. “Well—thank you. Anyway, I brought a few groceries, even though I think you all eat better than we do. But I did bring some staples, like sugar and flour. And I’ve got some presents for Kyle. Where is he?”
“He’s hauling that fool cat around in a wagon. What did you bring him?”
“Call him and I’ll show you.”
“Kyle—Kyle! Xanthe’s here!”
Kyle came roaring around the corner of the cabin, still hauling the wagon. Seeing Xanthe, he started running, and the wooden wheels of the wagon bounced off the ground. Benny the Bear fell out, and Mannie gave a yowl of protest and bailed out, too.
“Hi, Aunt Xanthe!” Kyle beamed, leaving the now-deserted wagon to hug Xanthe’s knees. “Did you bring me a present?”
“What makes you think I did?”
“’Cause you always do.”
“Yes, I guess I do, and I did this time, too. Have you been a good boy?”
“Oh, yes,” Kyle promised, his brown eyes solemn. He looked like a cherub with his fat pink cheeks and button mouth.
“Maybe I ought to ask your mother,” Xanthe teased.
“Mama, I’ve been real good, haven’t I?” he pleaded.
“Yes, I must say that Kyle has been exceptionally good,” Al-legra said, smiling.
“See?” he said to Xanthe.
“All right. I think you’re going to like this one, Kyle.” Xanthe turned to the Vulcan, and Kyle grabbed her hand. She seemed bemused, but pleased, too, when Kyle lavished affection on her.
She opened the rear door and pulled a bulky object out of the storage compartment.
“Mama! It’s a car!” Kyle shouted.
Indeed it was a car, scaled down to Kyle’s exact size. “Does it run?” he asked.
“It sure does,” Xanthe answered. “But you’re the motor.”
“What you say?” Kyle entreated her earnestly.
“You have to shove the pedals with your feet. That’s what makes it go.”
Kyle ran around the car, running his stubby hand over it. It was painted bright red and had metal wheels with rubber tracks around them, a steering wheel, and a hood ornament.
“Where in the world did you get it, Xanthe?” Allegra asked, smiling at Kyle as he clambered into the vehicle.
“One of the antique stores in Hot Springs. I’ve never seen one before, but t
his store suddenly put it on display in the window. It’s probably very valuable—it must be a hundred years old. I got it for eighty deutsche marks.”
Uncertainly Allegra asked, “Is that a lot?”
“I don’t have a clue,” Xanthe said cheerfully.
The two women stared at each other, then burst out laughing.
The world was an absurd place these days.
Kyle jerked the steering wheel around, played with the pretend gearshift, and made the blubbering noise that all boy children make when playing Car. Now he cried, “How do you make it go, Aunt Xanthe?”
Xanthe leaned over and pointed. “You see those two pedals down there? Put your feet on them. Now, I’ll give you a little push, and you start pushing with your feet, first one and then the other.
You ready? Here you go.”
Xanthe gave the boy a push, and the car lunged forward. The two women watched with pleasure as the boy laughed and steered it in ragged circles around them. They chuckled when Mannie, not to be left out, ran forward and jumped on the hood. He clung to it, his claws screeching on the metal. Unconcernedly Kyle reached out, grabbed Mannie’s head, and yanked him down into the passenger seat.
“I swear that cat thinks he’s a little boy just like Kyle,” Xanthe declared.
“It’s a wonderful gift, Xanthe,” Allegra said. “Thank you so much.”
Xanthe suddenly sobered and gave Allegra an uncomfortable sidelong look. “You’re—you’re welcome. I—I have some more things. Why don’t we take them inside?”
The two women carried in the two boxes, and Allegra was pleased to see that Xanthe had brought some children’s books. “Picture books!” she cried. “I’ve about gone crazy trying to make up stories for Kyle. He’ll love these! He can already read some words.”
“I—I thought you should give them to him for Christmas,” Xanthe said. Inexplicably she seemed troubled.
Allegra gave her a shrewd glance, then said with a trace of weariness, “I have some coffee on. Would you like some, Xanthe?”
“Yes, thank you.”
Allegra fixed two cups of coffee, then sat down across from Xanthe at the crude table that Riley had built for her. Xanthe lifted the cup to her lips but, before tasting it, set it down and shifted restlessly.
Allegra noticed that her friend was unable to meet her eyes— and was struggling to tell her something. Faintly she said, “It’s—it’s Neville, isn’t it?”
Xanthe was looking down at her hands. She nodded wordlessly.
“I knew it . . . ,” Allegra whispered.
Xanthe looked up, her strong features twisted with grief.
“There was no Cy-mail from him, so I checked on his unit. It was posted on the ’net that the 7th Marine Expeditionary Brigade had been deployed to Syria in November,” she said in a colorless voice.
“Then—then—” She swallowed hard, then went on softly, “Two days ago Colonel Neville Saylor was posted . . . Killed in Action.”
All of the blood drained from Allegra’s face, leaving her looking pinched and cold. She drew a sharp intake of breath, and her eyes darkened to a muddy brown-green. Xanthe was afraid she was going to faint, and she made a helpless little gesture toward her. But Allegra jerkily motioned her away, then laid her head down on her folded arms. Sobs began to shake her thin shoulders, but she made only a sickly choking noise. Xanthe could hardly stand it, but she didn’t know what to do, what to say. Xanthe had never been a very comforting person. Helplessly she bowed her head and prayed.
Finally the terrible straining sobs quieted, and Xanthe looked up at Allegra. She was sitting up straight. Her face was deadly white, and her voice was unsteady. “I—I’m not going to tell Kyle, not until after Christmas.”
Xanthe nodded. “I—I understand. But, Allegra, you have to tell the others. They—you need them. Especially your parents.”
Allegra nodded shakily. “Yes . . . yes, I will. Later . . .”
“Can—can I do anything? Anything at all?” Xanthe pleaded.
“Yes, you can,” Allegra said softly, sadly. “I’d really like to be alone for a while. Could you please watch Kyle? Maybe—take him to see David and Riley for a little?”
“Of course,” Xanthe said quickly, rising. “But—Allegra, are you sure? I mean, wouldn’t you like for me to go get your mother?”
Allegra shook her head. “No . . . I think . . . the only person that I want to be with right now is the Lord.” Fresh tears started running down her face, but somehow, Xanthe thought, it was better than the sobs that had seemed torn from Allegra’s slender body moments before.
“All right. Please don’t worry about Kyle,” she said. “I’ll take him to David, and you come get him whenever you . . . feel like it.”
Allegra nodded, staring into space, the tears flowing unheeded down her pretty face and splashing onto her breast.
Xanthe awkwardly kissed her cheek. It was cold. “Allegra? I— I—don’t know what to say, except . . . I’m so, so sorry . . . and I love you.”
With that, she turned and almost ran out the door.
Incredibly Allegra felt warmth on her cheek where Xanthe had kissed her, and then it spread down into the bitter cold of her heart.
“Look! Look! Da-vid! Wi-ley!” Kyle yelled, his child’s high-pitched, tuneless call carrying in the still, cold air.
David was outside his cabin, still splitting wood, when Kyle came bursting through the tree line, pedaling furiously.
“Hey, boss, what you got there?” David called with delight. “Can I drive it?”
Kyle pulled to an abrupt stop in front of David’s feet, staring up at him accusingly. “You’re too big,” he said succinctly.
“Guess I am, at that. It’s just your size, huh?”
Kyle nodded vigorously, then turned and pointed behind him. “Aunt Xanthe gave it to me. Well, bye.”
“Uh, bye,” David said to empty air, for Kyle, with Mannie still riding shotgun, had pedaled off.
Xanthe came walking up, though instead of her usual mannish stride, she was dragging a little. Before he even greeted her, David said alertly, “What’s wrong, Xanthe?”
“Hi,” she said listlessly. “Do I look that bad?”
“No, as a matter of fact, you look really good to me,” David replied warmly. “But something’s wrong, I can tell. Here, come sit down with me.” He took her hand and was surprised at how cold it was. He led her to the porch steps and put his arm around her shoulders. She stiffened, as she always did when he touched her, but she let him stay close. Staring at Kyle as he played happily in his new car, she had a look on her face as if she were in pain. “It’s— it’s Neville, Kyle’s father,” she began and found that the burning lump in her throat kept her from continuing.
David sat up alertly. He knew Neville Saylor was in the 7th Marine Expeditionary Brigade. “They’ve been deployed for combat duty?”
“They were sent to Syria back in November,” Xanthe replied dully. “Day before yesterday it was posted on Cy-net . . . Colonel Saylor was killed in action.”
David bowed his head. “Aw, man . . . poor Allegra . . . poor little boy.”
“Yes.”
“How’s Allegra doing?” David asked.
Xanthe shrugged, a helpless gesture. “She—seemed to know somehow. But I guess you can never really—prepare yourself for it.”
“No . . . no, you can’t,” David said, thinking about Deacon Fong, his friend. Soldiers were trained to mentally prepare themselves to face death and the possibility of the death of their comrades. But it was no guard against the overwhelming grief when it actually happened.
As if she were about to fall, Xanthe suddenly turned and clasped David around the waist with both arms, clinging to him.
David was surprised, but held her close. Even in the moment of grief, he was conscious of her firm body, the strength of her embrace. Errantly David recalled when he first met Xanthe, how he’d thought she was not feminine. It wasn’t true; she was womanly, femi
nine, but not soft. She was strong, and she seemed to grow more in confidence, in awareness of herself as an attractive, desirable woman, every time he saw her. She was certainly desirable to him. He longed to caress her, to kiss her, to tell her how deeply he was attracted to her, physically and in a deeper sense, too.
I’m falling in love with her, David realized with shock. I thought it was just that I was becoming physically attracted to her . . . she’s just the kind of woman that I’ve always wanted, not needy, not clingy, with courage and heart . . . but . . . in love? Now, in these terrible days?
Seeming to sense his disquiet, she pulled away from him, her face averted. Then she sighed, a deep, shuddering intake of breath. “She doesn’t want Kyle to know until after Christmas.”
David nodded thoughtfully, watching the innocent little boy playing.
“I know you and Mr. Case will take care of her,” Xanthe said sadly. “But, David, it’ll be really hard for Mr. Case, you know. I think he’ll probably have to stay away from her.”
“Huh? What are you talking about?” David demanded. “Why should he stay away from Allegra?”
She turned to him, melancholy amusement lightening her rather heavy features. “Riley Case is madly in love with Allegra, you ninny. Didn’t you know that?”
“Huh? What—you gotta be kiddin’ me! How—how do you know? I know Riley never told you, My Commissar! He avoids you like the plague, and besides, getting Riley Case to say anything personal is like pulling a wisdom tooth with pliers!”
“He didn’t tell me. He wouldn’t do that,” Xanthe said disdainfully. “But he is. I know he is. And Allegra knows it, too. And no, she hasn’t said anything, either. She wouldn’t.”
“But—but how do you know?” David insisted.
Xanthe gave him a scathing look. “You’re such a man.”
“Huh? Oh—forget it. Thanks, I guess.”
“You’re welcome,” Xanthe said. They both felt a little lighter now, and David got up the courage to take Xanthe’s hand again. Kyle was singing “Noel” again as he drove around, and it was hard not to feel joy at watching him and listening to him.
Fallen Stars, Bitter Waters Page 32