Christmas Rescue Route

by LoRee Peery

  Everett Kahn cleared his throat, a noise that qualified as discipline.

  Ardith buttered a roll. “It’s a fact. I can be out taking care of my flowers for six weeks and never see more than a few painted ladies flutter by. Then my youngest daughter comes home on break, and a swallowtail drops out of the sky to flit around to greet her.”

  “Swallowtail butterflies are beautiful. Do you like yellow or black the best, Izzy?”

  “Either color gives me a connection with God. I like all butterflies. Monarchs, little lavender and white ones I have no name for. Maybe they sense a connection or something in me I have no name for. Who knows? Call it kinesiology.”

  Brock nudged her knee with his. “Maybe instead of nectar or sweet honey, God graces you with butterflies because you practice the fruits of the Spirit.”

  Izzy opened her mouth but no snarky remark emerged. She lifted both hands to her chin, her wrinkly nose too cute.

  “She has a more practical side as well. She took over her student loans at age twenty-one. She’s worked in health-food stores and sports retail while getting an education.” Bob slapped his forehead with the butt of his hand. “Remind me to get on the insurance thing tomorrow.”

  “Uh, yes, Dad. I’m guessing my car was totaled.”

  Chance plunked his knife against his plate. “Um. Everyone? Can we open presents first so the whole day isn’t wrecked with grown-up stuff? Christmas is to celebrate. And we’re late. Come on, let’s open our presents.”

  “This is your family time. I’ll clean up in the kitchen while you celebrate my saving Izzy.” Brock stopped. Drat. His pride popped out. To cover his faux pau, he shrugged. “You’ve waited long enough to be together. I’ll have this kitchen shipshape, done and doner before you clean up the paper and bows.”

  “You need to hold on to that one,” Ardith whispered to Izzy loud enough for all to hear. Then she addressed Brock. “I’ll show you where the foil, plastic storage bags, and food containers are. Brock, thank you for being a blessing to our family.”

  Izzy carried food bowls to the kitchen counter. “Brock you saved me again. I can never resist tasting leftovers. I avoided that freshman fifteen Mom warned me about, but during my sophomore year I put on twenty pounds I still carry.”

  He laid a hand on her arm, but she kept her eyes lowered.

  Would she ever tell him what she’d left unvoiced?

  ~*~

  Brock finished cleaning the dishes and storing the food before the family finished opening their gifts. Now he leaned against the great room side of the tall dividing counter and took his fill of Miss Izzy Kahn. Whenever he’d had a clear sight of her, she’d looked his way, as though their unspoken words called out to the other.

  Ardith Kahn believes Izzy should hold on to me.

  As soon as Izzy’s favorite Christmas carol on the CD ended, she jumped up. “Thanks everyone. I want to take Brock for some fresh air and walk off some of that wonderful meal.”

  Brock helped her with her coat. Outside, she made him look at their surroundings in a different light, as though his body and mind reached for a connection with what lay around him. He heard a soft crack and turned to the bird feeder, domed in a mound of white. The thwack of a nuthatch cracking sunflower seeds echoed above the creek where they stood.

  The wind picked up and blew clumps of snow from the branches.

  “It’s been almost two days, but it looks like nature is just now waking up and returning to its pre-blizzard condition.” Izzy pointed at a pair of squirrels comically flopping where the snow prevented a firm grasp on the tree branch they sought to climb.

  He noticed other birds flocked in a flurry at the birdfeeders. Cardinals, finches, junkos scratching on the ground, a pair of downy woodpeckers, and the upside-down nuthatches.

  Izzy pounced on him.

  “Oof!”

  They fell to the ground. She tried to reach under his coat to tickle him. He caught her hand and flipped her over, pushed off, and planted his shoulders in the snow.

  “Bet I can make a better snow angel than you.”

  She spit snow from her mouth. “Bet I can decorate mine better once we stand up.”

  As though reading each other’s thoughts, they joined hands and created interesting wings in the snow above their heads. He sensed when her arm tired, and tucked it to his side. They managed to mess up any clear angel shapes because they kept reaching out through the snow between them.

  Brock shifted to his side and proceeded to savor her lips. He wanted to kiss her until the spring melt. Footsteps crunching through the snow bolted him to full awareness.

  “If that’s your idea of making snow angels, I’m a girl.” No one could mistake Chance’s voice for a girl’s.

  Brock bounced away from Izzy and held out a hand to help her up, all in one smooth move. He wanted her to reflect on that smooth move of his and their kiss, hoping it rattled her as much as it had him. To break the spell, he bent and scooped up a handful of snow. Two seconds later, it took the shape of a ball he hurled at Chance.

  Izzy joined in the fun. The three laughed and cavorted like children.

  “Did you come out to play or did you want something, nephew of mine?”

  “Oh, yeah. Mom and Gramma said you can act like kids later. We’ve waited long enough to play games and other family stuff.”

  “My fault, buddy.” Brock swiped off Chance’s stocking cap and hustled backward toward the house, never taking his gaze off Izzy’s face. Even with rosy nose and cheeks, her beauty shone brighter than the blue-white snow around them.

  She adjusted the knit cap, the gift from his family. The blue brought out the gorgeous eyes that threatened to weaken his knees.

  “I’ll have to show your aunt how a champion snow angel is formed, some other time.” He looked forward to a time alone with her. He’d tell Izzy he saw multi-faceted blue diamonds each time he looked into her eyes.

  No doubt about it. God had gifted Brock with the present of Izzy this Christmas.

  How much time would they have together before she went back to school?

  8

  Izzy looked up. The vast sky-blue firmament did nothing to minimize the mind-blowing kiss the man had planted on her. Her toes still tingled inside her boots—from him, not the cold. She’d remember that lip connection for a long time to come.

  They stomped into the mud room.

  Mom had already set out a pair of Dad’s warm slippers for Brock and a pair for Izzy from her room.

  Boxes of board games towered as a centerpiece on the table in the nook. A platter of graham and saltine crackers sat on the low side of the counter. “Brock, you are in for a family treat. Once when Abigail was a girl, before I was born, so the story goes, they were snowed in. Mom had run out of flour. She concocted this treat every bit as good as fancy Christmas cookies. You need to try one of each.”

  “Big decision. Sweet before salty, I’m thinking.”

  They bit into the crackers at the same time. His brows rose and he twinkled his dimple. “Wow. What’s in between?”

  “Mom makes a sandwich cookie with crackers and adds chocolate or vanilla frosting. I have to watch myself or I’ll eat the whole platter. Now who is ready for a board game?”

  “How about a man movie instead, Brock?” Dad called from near the fireplace.

  “I’m game, if we can munch on these cracker cookies.”

  Izzy scooped half the iced cracker sandwiches onto a green tree platter and handed it to Brock, who waved and followed Dad to the den. “Men and their flat screens.”

  “Don’t you know by now activities like that keep men from talking about serious things? Chance, take some advice from your grandmother. Women like conversation and prefer their men to be in touch with their own thoughts rather than be bombarded by sports.”

  “Basementy.”

  The women laughed and Mom ruffled Chance’s hair. “Teenagers always have a language of their own.”

  Abigail smoothed her son�
��s hair and gave him an indulgent wink.

  “Chance, Abby, do you remember how we folded and cut paper snowflakes and decorated your apartment when Chance was six?” Izzy stalled each with a hand on their arms. “I’ve been racking my brain how I can give something memorable to Brock. What do you think of making him a few snowflakes to hang around his nice old house? Since I’m kind of stuck here in the country, would you make some with me tomorrow?”

  “I’d love to, sis, but I have to work. Chance is going to stay for a day or two so he can help.” Abigail released the arm she had on her son’s shoulder. “We won’t force you to play games with us. Why don’t you get the craft tub from the pantry and we can do those snowflake cut-outs now. Then you can join the men.”

  Chance jogged off in his stocking feet and almost slipped as he slid around a corner.

  “While I’m at work you could also make Brock some of that special fudge we didn’t get a chance to make together.”

  “I’d love that, Mom.” Izzy looked ahead to her remaining vacation. All the adults in her family needed to return to work in different directions, which meant she had no car to borrow. Would Dad’s insurance company provide a rental? She wanted to spend as much time as possible with her Christmas hero, either here or in Lincoln. He’d said he had time off from work at the church until January second.

  Snippets of her conversations, and their kiss, circled Izzy’s mind. She was glad when Chance asked about the Jaws of Life.

  “What an invention. I never thought they’d be used on my car. I saw a demonstration once. They’re like a giant surgical instrument that cuts through electronics to peel away the side of a vehicle. If you need specifics, you’ll have to ask Brock. I could only hear the noise rather than see what was taking place.”

  They concentrated on folding and snipping, and then exclaimed over the dainty results as the snowflakes were unfolded. Izzy had cut heart shapes without intending to. Mom’s formed a Christmas tree. One of Chance’s resembled a star.

  Chance managed to shape three huge snowflakes. “I’m done here.”

  Mom stretched out her cheek for a kiss. Chance rolled his eyes but obliged.

  “He’ll be a man before you know it, Abigail. And as for your man, Izrael, I’ve seen others like him who’ve grow up in the church where serving is expected from the pastor’s family. But his giving nature and gift to put others first, well…” That familiar “lecture” expression flowed over her mother’s countenance as she watched Chance cross the great room.

  “Since you paused, Mom.” Abigail frowned at a box cover while she spread the games over the table. “The three of us have talked over how Izzy never found her place in the dating culture on campus. I think Brock, being older, seems like a good prospect.”

  “Prospect or not, I’ve seen it happen before where pride enters in. I don’t know Brock, but I’m guessing when he needs help he doesn’t ask for it, and he may have the tendency to hone in on martyrdom. Oh, listen to me prattle on. Let’s play that word game you girls relish. I’m going to win.” Mom selected her red game piece.

  Izzy chose not to respond, but to ponder her mother’s and sister’s words later.

  She believed she saw Brock for who he was rather than what he had done for her. Though, he had helped her so much. He’d listened to what she believed, gave of himself in the way he’d stayed with her at the hospital rather than let emergency personnel take over, he’d taken her into his home.

  Who was Brock Winston down deep? She sensed he wanted more out of life. She looked forward to spending more time with him to see if he would reveal his innermost thoughts.

  She’d never forget the way he’d held her on the couch after the nightmare. Those tremors might leave forever if she and Brock spent more time together.

  ~*~

  The day after Christmas, Izzy awoke to bright sunshine spilling in from the sides of the curtains. Home. As much as she loved her girlhood bedroom, she kept picturing Brock’s home. That historic house felt more like home than here with her parents. Brock’s place also came with the welcoming warmth of man and dog.

  Crazy dreamer.

  She stretched her arms above her head and caught the reflection of her hands in the mirror. She waved and spread them in remembrance of the snow angel fiasco. As much as she believed they’d both wanted another kiss, they’d settled for a prolonged good-night hug in the lit room near the back door.

  At the sudden image of her wheels leaving the road, she dropped her arms to her sides. Her heart accelerated and she squeezed her eyes shut tight. That didn’t work. She didn’t need to be reminded of the dark.

  No more fear. You are not in a tight place. Breathe.

  She hopped out of bed and jogged in place. But her mind raced on. Without Brock finding her head down in that ravine, she may not have made it home to share Christmas time with her family.

  Her phone whistled the notes indicating she had a text.

  Brock. How did u sleep? No dreams I hope?

  Fine. Thnx for bringing me home.

  Thank U for the snowflakes. They’re up.

  You’re welcome.

  Call me, after coffee.

  How could he know her need for coffee after only two mornings?

  She slipped into fuzzy boot slippers and crossed the hall to the bathroom. The muted pulse of bass explosions, blips, and occasional exclamations told her Chance was already trying out a new electronic game. A boom rattled the wall and made her jump. She remembered her father trying to calm down her loud music by knocking on her bedroom door. With Chance wearing earphones, a person had to physically appear by his side to get his attention.

  Oh, Lord, it is good to be home. I’m trusting You to show me where home is when I graduate college mid-summer.

  As for the rest of her Christmas vacation, wouldn’t it be wonderful to see Brock as much as possible? She already knew how much she’d miss him once she returned to school in Colorado.

  Now. Live in the now. You are home for Christmas vacation!

  She hurried down the stairs to search out coffee. The house was too quiet compared to the joviality of the day before.

  A favored ski lodge mug waited next to the half-filled coffee carafe. Mom’s note read: It’ll be fine once you nuke it. You know where the fudge ingredients are. See you later.

  Izzy warmed up her coffee and opened the fridge for coffee creamer. She grinned at the note taped to the neck of the bottle. Honey, I’m so sorry. My agent is on vacation, and I’ve had trouble getting through to the call center with the insurance company. Call me after your coffee and when you’re alert. Love, Dad.

  Izzy stirred in the hazelnut flavoring, took two sips, and set her mug on the counter. Her body tensed at sight of the tiny pantry filled with food-laden shelves. She toted fudge ingredients to the dividing island. Chocolate chunks and gooey marshmallow cream. Sugar. Sweetened condensed milk. She licked her lips.

  She was a child when she’d been mistakenly trapped in that dark shed behind the house. Ever since the college incident, her second entrapment, she had an appreciation for food, having gone long, dark hours without any. She’d worked through her second ordeal by gaining twenty pounds, eating whenever the frightening emotions arose. Once she realized what was happening, it was easier to resist stress-eating. How dare those old hated memories slither into a corner of her mind, when she had so much to be thankful for? Those bleak moments of fright struck at the oddest moments. Not now! Jesus, give me strength, please.

  Life was so much easier when Mom and Dad handled everything for her.

  She was used to talking to herself as a way to sort things out. Why not call Brock and fill his need for helping out by venting to him? Postponing breakfast and a winter walk, she ran upstairs and grabbed her phone.

  He answered at once. “You downed a mug of coffee already?”

  His voice thrilled her deep inside. “Good morning. Dad left me a note and said there’s a problem with the insurance company.”

&nbs
p; “That’s a bummer. I know you want everything wrapped up so you don’t have to deal with it.”

  “I need something to drive. I won’t waste my time trying to find a flight. I’m scheduled to work January second. Classes start a few days later.”

  “Izzy, slow down. Haven’t you told me about doing a physical activity, in order to get in touch with your thoughts while you work out problems?”

  “You’re right. I’m hyper over nothing. I need fresh air and sunshine and burning muscles. What are you up to today?”

  “You took the words right out of my mouth. I want to see you.”

  Warm zings zipped through her veins. It brought back the memory of their kiss.

  “Hope that isn’t too forward on my part, but after what we’ve gone through together…well, we’ve got something worth pursuing between us so there’s no reason to deny it.”

  What had Mom said about men not expressing their feelings? Brock didn’t fit the mold of other guys.

  “All right. I have no wheels to come to Lincoln. Do you mind driving out here again?”

  “What time?”

  She planned her day out loud. “I slept in, so I have a late start. But, hey, I’m on vacation. I need to dress, take a walk, make fudge.”

  “Aren’t you going to eat?”

  “Oh, I better, or I’ll eat the whole time I’m cooking. Breakfast after putting on warm clothes. Lunch will come once the fudge is done, though after yesterday, it won’t be a big lunch. Can you come mid-afternoon? Dad will be home shortly after and I sure hope he has news on the insurance and a rental car and stuff.”

  “You know what? I’m on vacation too. I’d have time to drive you back to Colorado.”

  “That would be asking way too much, Brock.”

  “You didn’t ask. I offered. Whatever I have to do at the church come January can wait a day or two if needed. No arguments, we have days to figure it out. Now, where do you live in Denver?”

  “I have an apartment near campus. Nothing like your nice house with a white fence in front and room for Oscar out back. By the way, why don’t you bring Oscar along this afternoon? Chance would love chasing around with him outside.”