Christmas in the Air

by Irene Brand

  Quinn unbuttoned the heavy coat he wore, since the room was getting warm. “My name is Quinn Damron. I’m in partnership with my father on a horse farm located about twenty-five miles from here. I’m also a farrier. Does anyone know what that is?”

  Livia knew, but she didn’t want to call attention to herself.

  “I know,” Les said. “He shoes horses.”

  “That’s true, and some, like myself, also treat animals’ diseases. I’m a licensed veterinarian, but I decided to work on the farm a year or so before I set up my practice.”

  “Married?” Eric inquired.

  Quinn squirmed uncomfortably. “Not yet,” he said. He’d been dating a neighbor for a year, but for some reason, he couldn’t get serious about marrying her.

  “Who’s next?” Eric prodded.

  The truck driver sitting to Quinn’s left, said, “Might as well be me, I guess. My name’s Allen Reynolds. I’m thirty, married, with two cute little daughters. I intended to be home tonight to help them trim the Christmas tree.” His voice faltered, and he dropped his head, apparently unable to say more.

  It was Sean’s turn, and he said, “I’m sorry I’ve been so grumpy, but I feel better now that I’m getting warm. I’m Sean King, and I expected to go home to California tonight. After hearing about Allen’s kids, I don’t have any complaint, but I may complain anyway,” he added with a fetching grin. “I guess that’s enough about me.”

  “I don’t think so,” Roxanne Fisher said, her brown eyes shimmering in the dim light as she introduced herself. “Sean is a senior at the university, and this will be his fourth season to play basketball at OSU. You’ll probably see him on national television playing in the NBA in a year or two. Besides that, he’s a member of our church, and the tenor member of our quintet.”

  “Hey, Roxanne,” Sean objected. “You’re supposed to be talking about yourself.”

  “Which I will do now,” the vivacious woman said, laughing. “I’m the music director at the Westside Community Church in Columbus. Sean, Marie, Eric and Livia are members of the church’s quintet. I play the piano for the others to sing. In fact, we’re returning from Detroit where we sang at the home church of one of our quintet members. We left him with his family for the holidays.”

  As Roxanne talked, Livia realized she would be next, and she didn’t know what to say. If Quinn hadn’t recognized her by now, he probably would when she mentioned her family. But on the other hand, he may have completely forgotten the personal information he’d learned in the four weeks they’d worked together. Obviously it hadn’t meant much to him, or he would have answered her letter.

  Roxanne nudged her, and Livia realized she’d been lost in thought. “I’m Olivia Kessler, but my friends call me Livia. I live on a farm in southern Ohio, near the city of Gallipolis. I’m in my sophomore year at OSU.” Her brief comments confirmed Quinn’s belief that she was the young woman he had met a few years ago. He tried to catch her eye to acknowledge their former acquaintance, but without looking at him, Livia waved a hand to Eric, indicating that she’d finished.

  “I’m the youth minister at Westside,” Eric introduced himself. “I’m also working on my master’s degree in theology.”

  Livia knew Eric so well that she didn’t have to listen to his introduction. Her mind wandered again as she glanced around the room, thinking what a diverse group they were, not only in occupations and family background, but also in looks. Quinn had chestnut-brown hair, high cheekbones, a strong chin and a firm mouth. His long-limbed body was closer to six feet tall, and he was broad-shouldered. She couldn’t see his eyes in the semidarkness, but she remembered that they were a vivid green.

  Sean’s eyes were a deep shade of brown, and he had light brown hair. Several inches over six feet, he moved with the easy stride of an athlete.

  Allen Reynolds, a tall, massive man, was muscular rather than fat. His hair was black, and in the shadows, his dark eyes gleamed from deep orbs.

  Marie Stover and her mother, Roxanne, looked alike. Both had brown hair and eyes, and their dusky, round oval faces bordered on perfection. Marie was twenty-eight, and Roxanne had been twenty when her only child was born. It was only in personality that their differences were obvious. Marie was laid-back and amiable, while Roxanne possessed a dynamic, sometimes aggressive, personality—attributes that had made her effective as the director of the musical program in a large church.

  Eric was a tall, thin man who appeared frail. However, none of the teenagers he counseled could keep up with his zeal and enthusiasm in the sports and work projects he initiated.

  When Les Holden started to speak, Livia gave him her undivided attention. She already appreciated the man because he’d guided them to the security of this church. Les wasn’t more than five feet tall, obviously suffering with arthritis, although he wouldn’t have been a big man even in his youth. Partly bald, he had a fringe of gray hair that matched the bushy gray eyebrows that extended like shingles over his faded blue eyes.

  “I ain’t much for making speeches,” he said. “Like I told you, I’ll be eighty my next birthday. I’ve been a widower for twenty-some years. I know how quick these storms can come, and I shouldn’t have started out tonight. I aimed to spend Christmas with my daughter, who lives about ten miles away. But she won’t worry when I don’t show up, thinking that I’m still safe at home. That’s about all, I guess.”

  “Les, why isn’t the church used anymore?” Livia asked. “I’m grateful for its sheltering walls tonight, and it seems sad that this building is no longer a lighthouse for God in this community.”

  “Yes’um, I agree with you.” He stood stiffly and walked around, apparently to exercise his arthritic limbs. “I remember comin’ here with Mom and Dad when I was a young’un. This room would be crowded every Sunday. We sure enjoyed praising the Lord within these walls.”

  “If I remember right,” Quinn said, “there used to be a town in this area.”

  “Yes, sir, that’s right. The town of Bexter was built in the late 1800s. There was a railroad here, running between Akron and Chicago. Probably as many as five hundred people lived here once, but after World War II, a lot of railroad lines consolidated and little railways were shut down. The loss of the railroad killed the town. People started moving away, and finally there weren’t enough left to keep the church going. A lot of my kin-folk are buried in the cemetery across the road, and some of my neighbors asked me to keep up the building and grounds. Not much else I can do anymore.”

  “Tell us about the stained-glass window,” Marie said. “It doesn’t fit with the plain architecture of the rest of the building.”

  “This town was named for a railroad man, Addison Bexter. He donated the window as a memorial to his parents. Because of the way Jesus is cradling the lamb in His arms, the members called their meeting house the Sheltering Arms Church. There’s a little plaque on the window—you can read it in the morning.”

  While Les had talked, Marie had leaned her head on Eric’s shoulder. When she yawned noisily, Eric laughed and said, “I think my wife is ready for bed, such as it is.”

  Favoring his stiff knees, Les peered out the window. “It’s almost stopped snowing, but the wind’s still gusty.”

  Quinn peered over Les’s shoulder. “Looks like a good two feet of snow, wouldn’t you say?”

  “At least that much,” Les agreed. “It’s let up, but there’s bound to be some drifting.”

  As if to reinforce his words, a gust of wind rattled the windowpanes. The gust gave way to a shrill screech that whirled around the church, making goose bumps break out on Livia’s body.

  “The rest of you get what sleep you can,” Les said. “I’ll stay up and keep the fire going. It’s kinda cozy in here now, but when the temperature drops outside, it’ll get colder.”

  “It isn’t fair for you to shoulder all the responsibility,” Livia objected. “I know how to stoke a fire. We’re in this together. I’ll take my turn.”

  “So w
ill I,” Quinn said.

  When all of the castaways insisted that they wanted to help out, Eric said, “Let’s divide into four groups of two and keep watch.” He looked at his watch. “It’s nine o’clock now, and it won’t be daylight until seven. That’s ten hours, which we can divide into two-and-a-half-hour segments. Even if she is sleepy, Marie and I will take the first shift.”

  “I’ll watch with Sean,” Roxanne said, with a fond glance at the basketball star. “I’ll keep him awake.”

  Les looked at the truck driver. “We’d probably make a good team,” he said. Allen nodded his agreement.

  “Then that leaves Olivia and me,” Quinn said, and experienced a quickening of his heartbeat. He darted a questioning glance at her. “Is that okay?”

  It definitely wasn’t okay, but what could she say? How could she spend over two hours with a man for whom she’d harbored bitter thoughts for three years? She’d finally gotten to the point where she’d put her crush on Quinn behind her. Why had he entered her life again?

  Unwilling to allow him to think that his presence bothered her, she met his eyes directly for the first time. “Of course,” she said.

  Perhaps these solitary hours with Quinn would erase her bitter memories and pave the way so they could become friends again.

  With twenty pews at their disposal, preparations for bed were simple. They’d gathered several blankets from their vehicles, so the people who were sleeping, or trying to, could each have a covering. As cold as the room was when they moved a few feet from the stove, no one considered removing their bulky outerwear.

  Since the snow had accumulated several more inches, Quinn and Allen cleared the paths to the woodshed and the johnny houses again. Eric and Les carried in more fuel to last through the night.

  The trip to the outside necessary was an experience Livia would never forget. Life on the farm, and summer camping events, had prepared her for rough living, but nothing she’d experienced could prepare her for this jaunt when the wind was blowing forty miles per hour and the snow was two feet deep.

  Hustling toward the necessary, Livia felt like she was in a tunnel, because the shoveled snow was heaped high on both sides of the path. The tunnel provided plenty of privacy, and Roxanne carried a large battery-driven spotlight that Quinn had brought from his truck. Despite their discomfort and unfamiliarity with this rugged substitute for plumbing, Marie and Roxanne, teeth chattering, giggled about the experience as they waited their turn in the one-person accommodation.

  When all eight of them were back in the church building, Quinn warned, “Don’t anyone go out alone tonight for any reason. If someone slips and falls, without any help, it could be fatal.”

  Preparing for the first watch, Eric and Marie cuddled under a blanket on a pew close to the stove. Livia extinguished all of the candles except two. Since they didn’t know how long they’d be snowbound, they needed to conserve their small stock of candles.

  Quinn and Livia were scheduled for the two o’clock shift.

  Worried about being away from home and frustrated over this chance meeting with Quinn, Livia wondered if she would get any rest. Unwelcome thoughts scampered wildly through her mind. She knew that she was in for a long night of soul-searching.

  Sitting on a front pew, Livia focused her attention on the stained-glass window, barely visible in the dim light. It was her custom to read the Bible and pray before she went to sleep at night. Since there wasn’t enough light for her to read, she was thankful for the Scriptures that she’d memorized. Inspired by the picture of Jesus holding a lamb in His arms, she remembered the Twenty-Third Psalm, which she’d learned as a child.

  “‘The Lord is my Shepherd I shall not want,’” she whispered, and meditated on the rest of the psalm. She repeated quietly the verse that seemed to be the most pertinent tonight.

  “‘Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort me.’”

  Perhaps at no other time in her life had it been necessary for her to put this promise to the test. Her life up until now had been relatively carefree. Except for her secret liking for Quinn, never before had Livia encountered any crisis when she didn’t have her family to lean on.

  Fortunately, their lives weren’t at risk, but their situation would have been dire if God hadn’t directed them along this isolated road to the Sheltering Arms Church. If they’d stayed on the interstate, they might easily have been in a deadly accident. Livia believed when anyone was wholly committed to the will of God, He directed that person’s daily walk. In spite of her sorrow at missing Christmas with her family, Livia’s uneasiness lessened. Whatever His reason, she believed that she was in the place God wanted her to be tonight.

  Kneeling, Livia rested her head on the pew, finding comfort in being in a place where people had worshiped long ago.

  God, thanks for Your protection on this stormy night. I pray that You will give my parents peace of mind. I know they are worried about me. I’m thankful for this opportunity to witness Your love and goodness with my dear friends, and the ones I’ve met tonight for the first time. And about Quinn, Lord? When no other man has ever been able to replace him in my heart, does that mean he’s the one You’ve meant for me all along? Is that the reason we’re snowbound? Whatever the outcome, Lord, I praise You for Your watchful eye, yesterday, today and forever. Amen.

  Livia was warm enough in her heavy clothes, so instead of wrapping in the blanket, she folded it under her head as a pillow. She didn’t remove her boots when she stretched out on the hard pew. She wasn’t a large person, but the only way she found any comfort was by turning on her left side and curling up in a fetal position. Sleepily, she wondered how anyone the size of Quinn or Allen Reynolds could find rest on these narrow benches.

  Livia felt as if she’d just gone to sleep when Quinn touched her shoulder. Stiff from lying on the wooden bench, and tense from drifting in and out of sleep for the past several hours, Livia could hardly move. She struggled to a sitting position, rubbed her eyes and moved quietly to sit on the bench beside the stove, which Les and Allen were now vacating.

  Les opened the door of the stove and laid several chunks of coal and two sticks of wood on a glowing bed of coals. “You probably won’t have to do anything for an hour,” he whispered.

  “We’ll be fine,” Livia assured him, keeping her voice low so that she wouldn’t disturb anyone who was sleeping. “You rest and don’t worry about us.”

  Livia propped her feet on a coal bucket because the cold from the floor seeped through her boots. She tried to relax, although that was difficult, with Quinn sitting beside her, his shoulder touching hers. She unzipped her coat. Was it the heat from the stove, or Quinn’s presence that caused the sudden flash of warmth?

  Quinn hadn’t been able to decipher Livia’s feelings toward him. Was she angry because he’d ignored her advances when they’d been together before? Since he blamed himself for ending their relationship, it was up to him to apologize. Sensing that he’d hurt Olivia, he proceeded with caution.

  Praying for the right words, he said, “I’ve often wondered what happened to you, Olivia.”

  She was tempted to answer that he knew where she lived, if he’d wanted to know so badly, but pride kept her from making the comment. Instead, she said, “You might as well call me Livia. Only my parents still use my full name.”

  “You’ve always been Olivia in my thoughts, but I’ll try to change.”

  So, he hadn’t forgotten everything!

  Another long silence.

  It seemed obvious that Livia wasn’t going to speak, so what should he do now? Often, Quinn had wondered if he’d ever see her again, and a few times he’d considered looking her up, because he knew where she lived. But he’d always pushed aside the idea because he felt guilty about the past. Several years older than her, he should have been aware that Livia was developing a crush on him. But he’d never considered himself an irresistibl
e man, and the thought of her being infatuated with him hadn’t entered his mind.

  “I’ve often wanted the chance to apologize for mishandling the situation between us. But you were quite a bit younger than I was, and I didn’t—”

  “Didn’t think I was silly enough to fall in love with a man who hadn’t given me any encouragement?” she interrupted bitterly.

  “Oh, I’m sure it was only a crush,” Quinn protested. “It couldn’t have been love. You were just a kid.”

  “I was seventeen and old enough to know better. But, please, Quinn, that’s a period of my life I’d prefer to forget. Consider yourself forgiven, if you think it’s necessary, but I’d prefer not to talk about it.”

  “Then what can we talk about? If we just sit here and stare at the walls, time will pass mighty slowly.”

  “Let’s talk about what we’re doing now. I’m studying to be a veterinarian, too. I wanted to do something using my rural upbringing. My brother, Evan, is a county extension agent, and he also does some teaching at a nearby university. My sister is a high school teacher. I wasn’t interested in teaching. But I love animals and I’ve worked with them all of my life. Being a veterinarian was my best choice.”

  “It isn’t easy though, as I’m sure you’re finding out.”

  “I know! I might as well have aspired to become a medical doctor, with all the science and other hard subjects I’m studying.”

  “After being in school for several years, I decided to stay on the farm for a while. Working as a farrier helps me keep up with my profession. I intend to set up my veterinarian practice in a few months.”

  Someone coughed, and Livia thought it was Sean. She hoped that this exposure to the severe weather didn’t give him a cold. Inside the firebox, a large block of coal crumbled and the pungent smell of smoke permeated the room.

  Since the wind seemed less blustery than it had earlier, she asked, “Is there any possibility we’ll be rescued tomorrow?”

  “I doubt it,” Quinn said, with a quick glance toward her. Although Livia’s features were shadowed in the dim light, the sadness mirrored on her face made her blue eyes appear almost black. “When we have bad snowstorms like this, the remote areas are always the last to get help. I hope I’m wrong, for your sake and for the others, but it could be several days before we see a snowplow.”