Do You Hear What I Hear?

by Margaret Brownley

  Never before had she been inside the inn. It was hard to believe the old house had once been the target of many a ghost story. As a child she’d even been afraid to walk by and would go out of her way to avoid doing so. Now the polished-wood floors, oversized furniture, and papered walls offered the same kind of homey comfort she strove for when designing a magazine layout.

  Recalling the reason for her journey, she scrolled through her cell phone contacts and pressed the number of the convalescent hospital where her grandma was staying. The call didn’t go through. Maybe there was a problem with the cell tower.

  Stuffing the phone in her pocket, she walked over to the fire and rubbed her hands together before holding them palms out toward the blazing logs.

  An apologetic male voice drifted into the parlor. “Ah, sorry . . . I didn’t know there were any other guests.”

  Startled, she swung around and once again was transported back in time. She blinked. She was either seeing things or dreaming. Her breath caught in her throat. This can’t be happening.

  She struggled to find her voice. “Rick?”

  His gaze sharpened and a look of astonishment crossed his face. “Sally?” His gaze drifted down the length of her. “Is that really you?”

  She moistened her lips and nodded. “It’s . . . been a while,” she said.

  “You . . . you look great.”

  “So do you.”

  Dressed in jeans and a red flannel shirt, he was as tall and handsome as she remembered. A little older, of course. A bit more serious looking, maybe, but otherwise he was the same Rick and the only man she had ever truly loved.

  She lifted her gaze to meet his eyes. She would not, absolutely not, look to see if he was wearing a wedding ring. “What . . . what are you doing here?”

  “The Stoney Pass Road is closed so I couldn’t get home.” He tilted his head. “You’re here for Mrs. Greenwell, are you?”

  “I’m here to visit my grandmother. She fell and broke her hip. My car stalled and I hiked here hoping to find a phone that worked.” She frowned. “Did something happen to Mrs. Greenwell?”

  “Just that she’s retiring.”

  “Oh. I didn’t know.” Mrs. Greenwell wasn’t just a teacher; she was a legend.

  Rick hesitated, as if he, too, was at a loss for words. “I’m sorry to hear about your grandmother,” he said at last.

  The concern in his voice surprised her. It wasn’t as if he and Nana had ever gotten along. Her sharp tongue and critical eye chased off more boyfriends than a shotgun ever could. At least until Rick came along. Why he alone put up with her grandmother was a question Sally often asked herself.

  “Is she all right?” he asked.

  “That’s what I’m here to find out.”

  “While you’re here, I hope you’ll attend Mrs. Greenwell’s retirement party. It’s next Thursday night, the day after the Christmas pageant.”

  “I don’t know if I’ll have time.” Now that she’d lost her job, she had all the time in the world, but her plans were still up in the air. “I can’t believe Mrs. Greenwell’s actually retiring.”

  “Yeah, she can’t be a day over ninety.”

  She laughed and when he grinned back, her heart practically turned over.

  “The pageant won’t be the same without her,” she said. “She’s been doing it for as long as I can remember.”

  “Starting next year there won’t be any more Christmas pageants,” he said. “Apparently, someone complained and the school board ruled them out.”

  “What a pity.” School Christmas pageants had been banned throughout most of the country, but Sally couldn’t believe that political correctness had also reached her small hometown. “Is that why Mrs. Greenwell is retiring?”

  Rick nodded. “I’m afraid so.” He rubbed his neck. “Remember when . . .”

  Her breath caught in her lungs. Oh, no. Not a trip down memory lane. He must have had the same thought, as he quickly changed the subject.

  “How long are you staying in town?”

  “Just till after Christmas.” She drew in her breath. Since the strained silence stretching between them begged to be filled, she blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “I heard you were living in Denver.”

  He nodded. “I moved back here when my father became ill.”

  “Oh, I didn’t know.” She was fond of the old man even though they had clashed over his tree-cutting business. But he’d always been respectful of her even when she rallied the county to place large pieces of land off-limits to him and his lumber mill.

  “He passed away in September,” Rick added.

  “I’m so sorry. Does that mean—?”

  A muscle clenched at Rick’s jaw. “I’m now the sole owner of the mill.” He didn’t say it, but the meaning was clear. He was now in charge of the lumber mill that had helped to drive them apart.

  Before she could respond, Angel hurried into the room. “Oh, thank goodness, Mr. Talbot. You haven’t turned in yet. Come quick. We have a problem!”

  Chapter 4

  The problem turned out to involve the resident cat, who was now stuck in the tall pine tree by the side of the house.

  With the help of Sally’s flashlight, Rick could make out two bright eyes staring back from among the snow-thick branches.

  Next to him Angel wrung her hands and moaned, “Poor thing. He’ll freeze to death.”

  Rick clamped down on his jaw. Better him than me. But he couldn’t say that. Not with Sally staring at him with those big baby blues. He couldn’t believe it. The last thing he expected was to bump into his old flame. Even harder to believe was the way she still affected him. Yes, after all this time. It was as if the ten years they’d been apart had been a figment of his imagination.

  “Oh, dear,” Sally was saying. “I feel responsible. I let the cat escape.”

  “Don’t blame yourself, dearie.” Angel tutted. “Dipstick should have known better than to go outside on a night like this.”

  Rick blew on his hands for warmth. “Does the dippy . . . eh . . . cat have a favorite treat?”

  “Yes.” Angel reached to the porch railing for a can. “I tried coaxing him down with this. It’s his favorite tuna. But it didn’t work.”

  “Let me try something.” Rick reached into his pocket and pulled out a pen-sized laser pointer. He turned it on and carefully aimed the red beam to within the cat’s reach.

  Dipstick’s bright-eyed gaze lit onto the bouncing red light, and he lifted a paw as if to bat it away like a ball. Rick guided the red spot down the tree, hoping the tom would follow.

  “This reminds me of Breakfast at Tiffany’s,” Sally said with a wistful sigh. “Remember how Paul helped look for Holly’s cat?”

  “I vaguely remember the movie,” Angel said. “It’s been a while since I saw it.”

  It had been a while for Rick, too. All he really remembered was Sally making him sit through it not once, but twice.

  “What a pity they don’t make more romantic movies like that,” Sally said with a sigh. “I still remember how they kissed in the rain. Just like the couple in The Notebook.”

  The mention of kisses almost made Rick drop his penlight. He remembered the kisses all right. But not the ones in the movie.

  Once Sally got started on movies, there was no stopping her—and it didn’t help that Angel was a willing listener. “Have you ever noticed how many movie kisses occur in the rain? It was also raining when Spider-Man kissed Mary Jane.”

  “I don’t get to see a lot of movies,” Angel said.

  “What a shame.” Sally made it sound like some sort of crime. “I wish I could remember the name of the movie where Hugh Jackman kissed Nicole Kidman in the rain.”

  “The Cat in the Hat?” Rick said, hoping to direct her attention back to the task at hand. The cat had lost interest in the bouncing red dot. Time to try something else.

  “No, it was Australia!” Sally sounded as if she were a contestant on some TV game show. “An
d then there was . . .”

  Since the “kiss in the rain” marathon showed no sign of letting up, Rick waved his arms to gain their attention. “Ladies, I believe we have a cat to rescue.”

  “Oh, yes, of course,” Angel said.

  “Where can I find a ladder?” he asked.

  “There’s one in the shed behind the carriage house.” Angel indicated the wooden structure in back.

  “I need a bag or sack of some kind. A pillowcase will do.”

  “I’ll get one,” Angel said.

  It took Rick a few minutes to get the ladder and level it against the trunk of the tree. By then Angel had returned with an embroidered pillowcase.

  Fortunately, the wind had settled down with only an occasional gust, but it was beginning to snow again. He tucked the pillowcase into his belt and rubbed his hands together before drawing his leather gloves out of his pocket and putting them on. He then grasped the side of the ladder.

  “Be careful,” Sally said, her voice thick with concern.

  He turned his head to look at her. Be careful, she’d said all those years ago when he showed her the proper way to cut down a tree. Only then her concern had been for the conifer, not him. He was seventeen and she only sixteen. Like any teen boy, he’d wanted to impress his girlfriend with his newly acquired skill. Instead she was horrified and moaned over the fallen tree like it was a beloved pet. Worse, she wouldn’t speak to him for a week.

  Planting a boot firmly on the lowest rung, he climbed up the ladder. Snow fell from the high branches, hitting him in the face. Blinking flurries out of his eyes, he continued climbing.

  Sally’s voice followed him up the ladder. “This reminds me of the scene in Funny Face.”

  “I vaguely remember seeing that movie years ago,” Angel said.

  “Then you must remember Fred Astaire kissing Audrey Hepburn by a ladder.”

  Rick groaned. Here she goes again with the kisses. He didn’t want to think about such things. Not with her standing below him and looking so fetching.

  Dipstick let out a loud meow, drawing Rick’s attention to the quivering limb just above his head. Ungrateful mouser. It would serve the dumb cat right if he was left to freeze his black-tipped tail off. Rick lowered his gaze to the ground. Angel was now in charge of the flashlight while Sally held on to the ladder with both hands. This time her concern was clearly for his safety. Despite the cold, a warm feeling washed over him.

  Great. A grown man acting like an adolescent. If he didn’t watch out, he’d try to win her approval by swinging one-handed from a tree branch. The seventeen-year-old boy who had so much wanted to impress Sally Cartwright, the prettiest girl in Heywood High School, still existed.

  Recalling with a start why he was standing atop a ladder in arctic cold, he turned his attention back to the cat.

  Hunched on a nearby branch, Dipstick hissed like an old radiator. Up close, he looked more like a ferocious lion than a peaceful house cat. Baring his teeth, the cat swiped the air with a paw, his talon-like claws missing Rick by mere inches.

  Rick grimaced. “Don’t make me regret this!” he muttered beneath his breath. Aloud he spoke to the cat in a soft, soothing voice. Since the fire department had stopped animal rescues three years ago, the mill received at least one call a month from anxious owners with treed cats. Usually, one of the loggers was sent out to take care of it.

  He pulled the pillowcase from his belt. “Okay, Dippy, here’s the deal,” he said. “Either you come down all friendly-like or you come down fighting. Your choice.” He placed his gloved hand inside the pillowcase and reached out. The cat hissed again, making it clear he had no intention of signing a peace treaty.

  “Be careful,” Sally called again.

  He sucked in his breath and pulled out his laser pointer and dropped it to the ground. “See if you can distract him,” he said.

  He waited for Sally to pick up the pen. The moment the cat became distracted by the little red dot, Rick grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and quickly yanked him into the pillowcase.

  Dippy howled and shook like a jackhammer. Rick could barely hang on to the pillowcase as he slowly inched his way down the ladder.

  The moment Rick reached the ground, Angel took the thrashing pillowcase from him. “Oh, my!”

  “Be careful when you let him out,” Rick cautioned. The cat’s indignant howls all but drowned out his voice.

  “You bad, bad kitty,” Angel scolded. Clutching the pillowcase with both hands, she carried the protesting cat up the steps to the porch and into the house.

  Sally smiled up at him. “I didn’t know you were such an expert in rescuing cats.”

  “Comes with the job,” he said with a shrug. “People think that because we’re in the tree business, we’re also in the rescue business. Just last week we got a call about a mountain lion stuck in an Atlas cedar. That’s where I draw the line.”

  “I don’t blame you.” She returned his laser pointer.

  Slipping the pen into his pocket, he resisted the urge to brush flecks of snow from her shiny blond hair. “I better put the ladder back in the shed.”

  The window in the upper turret suddenly opened and a small head appeared. A loud, clear voice burst through the air. “DO NOT BE AFRAID. I BRING YOU GOOD NEWS . . .”

  Sally jumped. “What in the world. . . . ?”

  Rick laughed. “Hey, Toby,” he called up to the boy. “Meet Miss Cartwright.” He looked at her askew. “It is still miss, right?”

  Sally glanced at his gloved hand. “Right.”

  Toby waved. “Do you want to hear me say my part for the school play?”

  “I would love to hear it,” Sally called back.

  Rick picked up the ladder. “You’ll be sor-ry.”

  Chapter 5

  Thursday, December 8

  Sally woke the following morning with a start. Oh, no. The boy Toby was at it again, his voice as clear and sharp as if he were in the same room with her. His high, shrill voice had been the last thing she heard before falling asleep.

  Now Angel’s voice was heard gently scolding her grandson for disturbing the guests, but the damage had already been done.

  Sally moved her hand from under the covers and reached for her cell phone, charging on the bed stand. It was nearly seven a.m.

  As much as she was tempted to stay beneath the warm quilt, she needed to check on her car. She was also anxious to see her grandmother. Planting her feet onto the cold wood floor, she reached for the complimentary terry-cloth robe at the foot of the canopied bed. What time did the local repair shop open? Maybe she could get the auto club to pick her up on the way to her car.

  The showerhead attached to the claw-footed bathtub released a thin stream of water, but it was hot. Wrapping herself in a large fluffy towel, she wiped the steam off the mirror over the pedestal sink and stared at herself. She still couldn’t believe bumping into Rick after all this time.

  She’d convinced herself she was over him. Now she didn’t know what to think. Something about him made her feel like a giddy schoolgirl again with her first crush. Since leaving Oregon, none of the relationships with other men had gone anywhere. Because she still had feelings for Rick? Was that it?

  No, no, mustn’t go there. Last night she was tired and not thinking straight. Today she felt more like her old self—the woman who had for nearly six years headed the art department for Home and Family magazine. She now hoped to land a more lucrative job at a major movie studio. Of course, she may have blown it when she told the serious-faced interviewer that her greatest weakness was crying at movies with happy endings. Sighing, she moved away from the sink. Since the studio specialized in horror movies, the mention of happy endings probably didn’t work in her favor.

  After dressing in the same long skirt and knitted top she’d worn yesterday and running a brush through her hair, she dabbed on lipstick and a touch of mascara. Though it was still early, she checked her phone on the outside chance she’d missed a call while in t
he shower. She’d hoped the studio would have made a decision by now, but maybe they were waiting till the first of the year. Or maybe they’d found someone who didn’t fall apart at the sight of a chain saw.

  Moments later she walked out of the room and into the hall. Toby looked happy to see her. “Grandma said I could start rehearsing again when you got up.”

  She waved her hand. “Go for it.”

  He didn’t need a second invitation. Leaning over the balcony, he yelled, “GLORY TO GOD IN THE HIGHEST . . .” He stopped reciting to call to her, “Miss Cartwright, can you hear me?”

  “Oh, yes, I can hear you, Toby. Loud and clear,” she said, descending the stairs.

  Rick was already seated at the table when she entered the dining room. Any hope that today she would be better able to control her emotions went out the window the moment she set eyes on him. Even more unsettling was the fact that his ring finger was bare.

  Not that it meant anything. A lot of married men didn’t wear wedding rings.

  Hesitating at the doorway, she toyed with a bangle at her wrist and tried to remember why the two of them had broken up. Unfortunately, her mind went blank.

  He folded his paper and set it aside. “’Morning,” he said. “You’re up early.”

  “Hard to sleep through all the tidings of great joy,” she said, lightly.

  He chuckled. “Don’t know about you, but I practically have Toby’s part memorized. I could be his stand-in.”

  Angel walked in and greeted her with a smile. Her Christmas-print dress made her look like a wrapped present. “What can I get you for breakfast?”

  “Just some yogurt would be fine. And coffee.”

  Sally barely had time to take her seat opposite Rick and rearrange the silverware before Angel reappeared with a bowl of strawberry yogurt and a dish of cantaloupe.