The Forest Ranger's Christmas

by Leigh Bale

  Strangers, every one.

  Except for her parents and grandparents, she didn’t know any of these people. And yet she did. Grandma Vi had told her all their stories. This was her family. Her heritage. As Josie gazed at their faces, the ache of overwhelming loss shadowed her heart.

  She closed the album, too heartsick to view any more. She wondered what had happened to cause her parents’ divorce. How had they allowed their love to die?

  Josie’s mom had raised her alone, working all the time, indifferent and remote. Angry at the world. And for so long, Josie had thought her mom hated her, too.

  No wonder Josie had cherished the summer months when she could be in Camlin with her grandparents. It had been an escape. A place to feel happy and secure.

  As she set the album down and turned off the light, Josie realized how unhappy her mother had been. But her anger had never restored her marriage or brought Dad back. And it had never made her mom whole. So if anger wasn’t the answer, what was?

  * * *

  On Thursday night, Josie drove Gramps to the local library, arriving promptly at seven o’clock. Because he was so nervous, and it was too cold to wait outside in the car, Josie walked inside with him. Helen Mulford, the organist from church, greeted them at the front counter.

  “Hi there, Frank. And who’s this stranger with you?” Helen, a woman of perhaps sixty years of age, winked at Josie, her cheeks plumping with her smile. As a good friend of her grandmother’s, Helen knew exactly who Josie was.

  “Hi, Helen. It’s so good to see you again.” Josie gave the matronly lady a tight hug. Like always, the woman smelled of chocolate brownies.

  “She’s visiting for the holidays. Staying with me for several weeks,” Gramps said, his chest puffed out with pleasure.

  He didn’t mention that Josie wanted him to move to Vegas, and she was grateful her grandfather wasn’t one to hold a grudge.

  Helen leaned her elbows on the counter and leveled a cheerful gaze on Josie. “That’s great. Maybe you can join the chorus for the program we’re giving on Christmas Eve.”

  Josie hadn’t thought about that. Only once had she attended the Christmas Eve program with her grandparents. Gramps had a beautiful singing voice and always sang at least one solo. Josie had never been able to attend the practices before, but now she couldn’t help anticipating the event. “I’m not a very good singer, but I’d love to try.”

  Helen’s eyes widened. “Good. Frank has the schedule. Just come to the practices with him and we’ll bring you up to speed on the songs. We’re having a cookie exchange after our next practice, so bring a plate of cookies wrapped up for someone to take home, and another plate for everyone to sample.”

  “She’s a great cook, like Vi.” Gramps jerked a thumb toward Josie.

  A flush of pleasure flooded Josie’s cheeks. The activity sounded fun. Some of her best memories had been at home, cooking with Grandma. Now that Vi was gone, Josie cherished those times when they’d been alone together in a warm kitchen that smelled of yummy things to eat. But she wasn’t used to mingling with lots of people in a social gathering. What if her singing was off? What if her cookies weren’t up to par?

  She told herself that was silly. She’d made Grandma’s cookies zillions of times. She could do this. No problem. She refused to let her fear of failure darken her life anymore. “I’ll be there.”

  “Good. I’m so glad you’re home for the holidays. I don’t know how you drive in all that city traffic. Las Vegas is such a big place. Too many people for me. I’d be lost if I had to live there.”

  Josie had to admit driving in Camlin was a lot less stressful. But she loved her job. And a city was an easier place for her to get lost in. Now, she wasn’t sure she wanted to hide out anymore.

  “Clint said you’d be coming in for reading time, so let me take you back, Frank.” Helen stood and walked around the counter, carrying a slim booklet with her.

  “I’ll wait out here,” Josie told him.

  “You’re not coming with me?” A look of sheer panic filled Gramps’s eyes, and his voice was unusually high and nervous.

  “I’d just be in the way, but I’ll wait for you. I won’t leave.”

  He took two shallow breaths, then nodded, his brow furrowed with determination. He hesitated, his leathery hands fluttering apprehensively, as though he was being forced to go into surgery without anesthesia. And that’s when Josie realized how difficult this was for him.

  Not in a million years would she have guessed her grandfather was afraid. But Josie could see it in the way his eyes darted toward the door, as though he’d like to make a run for it. It didn’t matter that reading was easy for most people. Or that Clint was trying to help him live a richer, fuller life. Gramps had never done this before and was terrified of failure.

  Just like Josie.

  A feeling of compassion churned inside her chest. “It’s going to be okay, Gramps. But I can come with you, if you really want me to.”

  He coughed to clear his voice, obviously trying hard to be brave. “No, muffin. You’re right. I’ll be fine.”

  Muffin. His nickname for only her. Standing a bit straighter, he marched down the hall behind Helen, looking rather like a soldier being led to the gallows.

  Josie hid a bittersweet smile. Though she felt empathy for her grandfather, she couldn’t help finding the situation a tad amusing. Clint had said Gramps should be reading small words by Christmas. What a great gift for her grandfather. She just hoped he applied himself. And every evening, she planned to sit down and read with him, to ensure his success.

  Perusing a rack of mystery novels, Josie selected one and turned to find a comfy chair where she could relax for an hour. It’d been ages since she’d read for pleasure, and she anticipated it with relish.

  “Hey, you’re not coming back?”

  She whirled around and found Clint standing behind her, dressed in a pair of faded blue jeans, cowboy boots and a blue flannel shirt. She had the maddening impulse to rest her hand against his chest, to rub the soft fabric—a crazy thought that caused a flush of embarrassment to heat her cheeks. He quirked one eyebrow and she couldn’t help smiling at his endearing expression.

  “I didn’t know I was invited,” she said. “I thought there’d be teachers for Gramps and that I’d be in the way.”

  “We have some literacy tutors here to help, but family members make the best teachers. Why don’t you come on back? Then you’ll know how to spend the time when you’re reading with him at home.”

  Without notice, Clint reached out and took her hand. The warmth of his fingers made her arm tingle, and her heart gave a powerful thump.

  “But I...I don’t know how to teach someone to read.”

  He gave her a warm smile. “It’s okay. I’ll show you what to do. Come on.”

  Lulled by his soothing voice, Josie nodded, then reached inside her purse and pulled out the woolen socks he’d lent her the day they’d cut their Christmas trees. She held them up. “Before I forget. I washed them, but let them air dry so they wouldn’t shrink. Thanks for the loan.”

  “You’re welcome.” He released her hand and took the socks. Then he led the way past the stacks of books and down a short hallway to a conference room set up with desks and chairs. Several people, including Gracie, sat waiting quietly, their gazes trained on Josie as Clint escorted her to where Gramps sat off by himself, frowning.

  Gracie waved and grinned. Josie smiled, then settled in her seat, resting her hands in her lap. Clint seemed so encouraging and confident. Not at all like Edward. Somehow she knew Clint wouldn’t let Gramps fail. And that knowledge brought her a modicum of peace.

  She stared straight ahead while Clint stepped to the front of the room and picked up a book. The front cover showed a young woman hugging an elderly lady, both with giant smiles on
their faces. The title was Teach Someone to Read.

  As Clint had them each introduce themselves, Josie told herself she could do this. With two advanced degrees in the sciences, she was educated and knew how to read. Surely she could help Gramps learn. How hard could it be?

  And that’s when she realized she was just as petrified of this process as he must be. With one big difference. Josie knew what Gramps was missing. And no matter what, she was determined to help him with kindness and compassion. Nothing else mattered right now.

  * * *

  “To begin, let’s run through the alphabet.” Clint stood at the front of the classroom with a welcoming smile. Three students and their tutors gazed back at him. Frank was new, but Clint knew what to do to start him off right. Josie could help. Yet her presence made Clint nervous as he directed everyone to open their reading manuals.

  Picking up a pointer stick, he indicated an A on the dry-erase board. He spoke the letter out loud, then had the class repeat it, eventually moving sequentially through the entire alphabet. Frank blinked nervously, his gray eyes narrowed on the letters as though they were some strange puzzle he must figure out.

  “Now, let’s break up into our learning groups and go to work.”

  Clint joined Josie and Frank. Gracie followed him, huddling close against Josie’s side. The woman accepted the child’s presence without question, and Clint couldn’t help thinking the two had become inseparable.

  The other students and tutors already knew what to do. He figured Josie needed some guidance if she was to help her grandpa effectively.

  Pulling a chair up to their desk, Clint leaned close, speaking in a subdued voice that wouldn’t disturb the other students. “Frank, can you tell us a little about your life as a child?”

  The older man studied the eraser on the end of his pencil, thinking it over. “Well, I was six when my daddy died. Mother took in washing to make ends meet. I was the eldest and times were tough. At first I looked after my younger brother, Bert. Then I started working at the mine to help Mother put food on the table.”

  Josie blinked, and a sad, strangling sound came from her throat. “I never knew any of this, Gramps. What did you do at the mine?”

  “I started out as a water boy. Mother always planned to send me back to school one day, but it never happened. I guess I got less than a first grade education. Not much, I know. But times were awful hard back then.”

  “I’m sorry, Gramps.”

  He patted Josie’s hand. “Don’t be, muffin. No sense in regretting our lives. We just need to learn from things and move on. There’s been a lot of good in my life, too.”

  Clint liked Frank’s attitude. He remembered his own shock after he’d married Karen and discovered she couldn’t read. But that wasn’t the worst of it. When he’d learned that she also suffered from chronic depression and bipolar disorder, he’d been discouraged. But he’d loved his wife and had tried to help.

  It hadn’t been enough. And his failure still caused an ache in his heart.

  “Why didn’t you ever tell me all this?” Josie asked.

  “Dropping out of school wasn’t something I wanted to talk about,” Frank said. “But it wasn’t all bad. My family was poor, but we were close and looked after one another.”

  “I vaguely remember Uncle Bert,” she said.

  A solemn smile creased Frank’s face. “Bert was a good brother. We loved each other dearly. People do what they gotta do to help each other survive.”

  Clint figured that was true. He thought about Karen and how she’d coped with the abuse she’d suffered during her youth. As an adult, she’d hidden her sorrow locked deep within her heart. On the surface, she’d appeared happy and normal. But inside she’d simmered with rage and insecurity. As time passed, her anger had burst forth and she’d never been the same again. Unable to forgive. Unable to heal.

  Clint shook his head, focusing on Frank. “What are you interested in reading?”

  A hopeful smile curved his lips. “I’ve always wanted to read the Bible. And the newspaper. You think that’s possible?”

  “Absolutely. Once you learn to read, there’s nothing you can’t do.”

  “I can teach you the alphabet song. It’s easy, Grandpa Frank,” Gracie offered.

  Frank smiled at the child. “I’d like that, sweetheart.”

  Hmm. That might be a good idea. Due to lack of child care, Clint had to bring Gracie with him to the reading program at night. She was an obedient child and it posed very little problem. And Frank responded so well to Gracie that he might actually see part of this learning process as a game if Gracie taught him a few things.

  For the next few minutes, they sang the alphabet song together. Frank joined in, and after going through it numerous times, he had it down pat.

  Conscious of Josie watching them, Clint had Frank write his name. Pressing his tongue against his upper lip, Frank held the pencil between his fingers and etched the letters in a tidy cursive with very little flourish.

  “That’s nice, Gramps. You have lovely penmanship,” Josie praised. “And I think you’re holding the pencil correctly. How did you learn to sign your name?”

  Frank beamed. “Ma taught me. She also taught me words like danger and stop, so I wouldn’t get hurt at work. She tried to teach me more, but we were always so busy that we finally just let it drop.”

  Clint appreciated the way Josie praised her grandfather. Frank needed reinforcement. Inwardly, Clint thought about how hard life must have been for the elderly man. Working at the mine at such a tender age, he’d never had a real childhood. Too much responsibility for such a young kid.

  Just like Karen. With the exception that Frank had kept his faith and lived a full, happy life.

  Clint glanced at Josie, wondering if it had been the same for her. Oh, she’d had educational opportunities, that was true. But she’d lost both her parents too young. Frank had told him how hard Josie had worked to put herself through college. Studying all the time. Earning scholarships to pay her tuition. Working side jobs to pay the rent. That could put a lot of pressure on a young woman, but it also built character and a good work ethic. Josie had succeeded, and Clint was proud of her accomplishments.

  But she’d lost her faith somewhere along the way.

  “Life can be so unfair, but you never complain,” Clint said.

  Frank shrugged. “What’s there to whine about? God is so good to me. And I don’t want to ever forget that.”

  Looking up, Clint saw Josie listening intently, her forehead creased with thought. He did some thinking of his own. With Frank’s example to inspire him, he made a silent vow to complain less. To be more grateful for the people and opportunities life brought his way.

  By the end of the evening, Clint had provided Frank with eight slim books written for beginning readers. “This is just a loan. Take them home and read them with Josie several times. When you bring them back next week, I’ll give you some different ones.”

  Frank’s brows darted upward. “Read them?”

  “Yep. She’ll help you get through each one. Sound out the letters of the words. I have a feeling it’ll come fast for you.”

  Josie nodded, flipping through the pages of a rudimentary book about a man hitting a ball with a baseball bat. “None of the words in these books is over three letters, Gramps. That should make it easier for you to sound them out. I’ll make sure we read and write together every night. Or no dessert after dinner.” She flashed an impish grin at her grandfather.

  Frank gave a mocking frown. “Well, I don’t know if I like that.”

  As Clint walked Frank and Josie out to their car, Gracie waited inside. The cold night wind struck him like a polar vortex. They each zipped up their coats, their breath puffing on the air, their noses red.

  “Thanks for your help, Ranger,” Fran
k said.

  “Yes, thank you very much,” Josie chimed in.

  Clint met her eyes. “You’re welcome.”

  He wanted to say something more, but didn’t know what.

  “Bye, Grandpa Frank,” Gracie called from the doorway, waving one of her fluffy red gloves.

  “Good night, sweetheart. See you later,” Frank returned.

  Gracie had hugged Josie earlier, a content smile on her face. As if they were close, and family. But they weren’t. Clint had to remember that.

  And then the Rushtons were gone. As Clint watched them climb into Josie’s car and drive away, a warm, buoyant feeling settled in his chest. He’d enjoyed tonight and felt good about what they’d accomplished. Frank had a long way to go yet, but they would help him. Above all, Clint didn’t want him to get discouraged.

  “I still think you should ask Josie out.” Standing on the curb, Gracie looked up at her dad.

  Clint heard her, but didn’t respond. He shuffled one foot against the black ice and stared down the vacant street.

  Gracie slipped her hand into his and he squeezed it tightly. The two of them had each other, and she was his entire world. But he still felt empty inside. As if he was just going through the motions and missing something important in life.

  During their reading time, Clint had forgotten his sad past and the way Karen had died. He could almost pretend he hadn’t failed her. And he found himself wishing Frank was Gracie’s real grandpa and Josie was...

  What?

  A friend. That’s all she could ever be. Yet in his heart of hearts, Clint wished they could be so much more.

  Chapter Nine

  Josie shivered in the cold car and flipped the defroster on high. The crackling of ice sounded beneath the tires as she pulled out of the parking lot. Looking in her rearview mirror, she saw Clint and Gracie standing together on the sidewalk, holding hands.

  A strangled cough rose up in Josie’s throat. She liked the forest ranger and his little girl. A lot. Maybe too much. She liked the way Clint had patiently tutored Gramps. The way he spoke so kindly to each of them as he’d explained what they must do. The way his warm eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled.