A Stony Point Christmas

by K. D. McCrite

  “I would if I could get the bottle open.”

  She glanced around, taking notice of certain details in the room to be addressed later. “Where’s the bottle? I can open it for you.”

  “Maybe. You, a small army and a blowtorch. It’s over there on the shelf by the sink.” He dipped his head toward the other side of the tiny room.

  Annie found it and hefted it in her palm. “This feels full.”

  “It’s a new bottle.”

  She eyed the prescription label. “And is your name Graham Cartwright?”

  His lips thinned as if he were annoyed. “Yes.”

  She studied him for a minute, her eyes narrowed in thought. “Why do I know that name?”

  “You just read it; that’s how you know it. Now open the bottle.”

  Annie realized the more secrets she uncovered, the angrier he grew. At this point, she didn’t care if he got mad. She read the date on the label.

  “You’ve had this script for three days! And you’ve not been able to open it at all?”

  He shook his head. “I didn’t realize until I got home that they’d given me a childproof cap.” He held up hands that looked knobby and painful. “A two-year old could open that bottle before I could. If I hadn’t hurt so much, I would’ve taken it right back to them.”

  “I’ll take care of it for you on one condition.”

  He narrowed his eyes.

  “I’ve never liked for a woman to say that to me. The ‘one condition’ usually means something worse than the current situation.”

  “In this case, you may very well think so, but here it is. I want you to gather some of your things and come with me to Grey Gables.”

  He started to sit up stiffly but then winced and remained unmoving.

  “I will not.”

  “I’ll help you. All you’ll need is your clothes and your medicine.” She glanced around. “This pile of toys and electronics, along with all that wrapping paper, it will be all right here in your house until the storm is over.” She gave him a sharp no-nonsense look. “It’s a big storm, and it’s coming fast. I don’t want to get caught in it.”

  “Then leave right now.”

  She went on as if she had not heard him, “And I don’t want you getting caught in it either. We haven’t a lot of time. I’m sure you can’t move too fast, so let’s get your things together.”

  He stayed where he was. Frustration edged closer to anger as she stared at him.

  “Come on, please,” she said. “I can’t leave you—in your condition—in this awful little shack with a nor’easter blowing in. You’ll freeze to death here.” He blinked mildly at her, and it seemed he wouldn’t budge, ever. Annie pulled out the best argument she could think of.

  “Who will get all those gifts if Stony Point’s Santa freezes to death?”

  17

  He glowered at her. In fact, if his gaze had burned any hotter, the air around him might have burst into flames.

  “So you saw me the other night,” he said flatly. “And now you know my secret.” His jaw tightened briefly, and then he went on. “A woman like you will spread the news faster than an Australian bushfire. If I go with you, I’ll have to deal with the media and all your nosy neighbors.”

  Annie glowered back at him.

  “What do you mean, a woman like me? You don’t know me.”

  He waved one hand.

  “I know your kind. Do-gooders and caretakers. Mother hens to the world, looking for people to hover over and smother with attention.” He pointed a finger at her. “You’re just the type to run around telling every piece of gossip you can dig up, but you cache it in terms of ‘I’m just trying to help.’”

  Anger fueled by this unwarranted attack ran white-hot through Annie. She got up and paced a few steps. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath or two, and silently counted to ten—and then to twenty.

  She looked at him, swallowing her anger as best she could. He met her eyes squarely. But rather than the flinty gaze she expected to see pinned on her, she read something else in his eyes: deep pain and loneliness, barely concealed by his crotchety defense.

  With a start, Annie realized this old man yearned for her friendship. He longed for care, comfort, and companionship. Obviously those feelings frightened him, and the only way he felt safe was to strike out, pretending he didn’t care. At that moment in his life, the old man before her needed someone, probably more than he ever had before. Annie said a silent prayer of thanks that she had kept her anger in check.

  “I’m not falling for that,” she said softly with a small smile. “Get your things and let’s be on our way.”

  His lips curled in a snarl, and he waved one hand in a gesture of dismissal. “Pfft!”

  She glanced around, saw a suitcase under the narrow bed and pulled it out. An older suitcase, without wheels, it was made of fine leather that was stitched meticulously and obviously very expensive. She opened it and saw it contained underwear, socks, pajamas and a robe. She added a stack of clothes piled on the small table. A book Graham Cartwright had been reading was laid facedown near him. He grabbed for it as she picked it up, but she stepped back and wagged a finger at him.

  “If you want to read more of this suspense novel, you have to come with me,” she told him as she tucked it in with his clothes and closed the suitcase. “I’ve read it, and I have to say, the best part is the last third of the book. It looked like you’re only about halfway through it.” She gave him a beatific smile and snapped shut the two clasps.

  He glowered, but she was pretty sure she saw a smile lurking behind the scowl.

  “You’re a wily one, all right,” he said.

  She put the suitcase beside the door. Then she opened the thermos she’d brought and poured him a cup of coffee.

  “This is still hot, so drink up. ‘Warm up your innards,’ as my neighbors in Texas used to say.”

  “Texas,” he sneered, but he took the cup with both hands. If by scoffing at her home state he thought he’d engage her in a quarrel, he failed miserably. Annie stood placidly while he drank the coffee. As soon as he drained the cup, she took it from him, rinsed it, and put in on the small towel next to the sink. Then she examined the heavy wool sweater he wore.

  “That’ll do.” She eyed his trousers. “You have longjohns on under there?”

  “I fail to see that my underwear is any of your business.”

  “Under normal circumstances, it isn’t. But today is exceptional.” When he did not respond, she added, “If you won’t tell me, I’ll look for myself!” She reached for the hem of his trousers, and he pulled his leg back.

  “Young woman, you are out of control. Keep your hands to yourself. And yes, I’m wearing thermal underwear and heavy socks. Does that satisfy you?”

  Annie smiled. “Yes, thank you. Now put your wraps on, because it’s going to be a freezing walk to my house, so I want you as warmly bundled as possible.”

  “Harrumph!” Cartwright exclaimed.

  Annie took the mackinaw off the hook and held it near the stove to warm it.

  “Please put on your hat, scarf, and gloves,” she said as if he were her young grandson and not a man who was at least twenty-five years her senior. “By the time you do that, this coat will be warm as toast.”

  He continued to glower. When he didn’t move, she put the coat on the bed, settled a faux fur-lined winter hat on his head and pulled down the earflaps.

  “Tie that and then wrap this muffler around your neck … all the way up to your chin and leave it a little loose so you can pull it over your face.”

  “Will you quit hounding me?”

  “I will if you’ll put your wraps on. Oh, and before I forget, do you take one pill or two?” She opened the medicine bottle.

  “One,” he said, fussing with the hat.

  “Don’t you dare take that hat off!” scolded Annie. She shook a single tablet into her palm, allowing him to see it before putting it back in the bottle. “Now, when you hav
e your hat tied, your muffler wrapped, and your coat on and buttoned up, I’ll give you your tablet, but not until then.”

  She hated bribing him with the medicine, especially as he needed it so much. She knew, however, that if she gave it to him right then, he’d stay in his chair, refusing to leave the shack. That would mean he’d remain in a place where he could eventually freeze to death.

  Pinning a steady glare on her as she once more held his coat near the stove, he stood up and wrapped the long muffler several times around his neck, leaving some loose for his face just as she had instructed.

  “Good!” she said, helping him put on his coat. “But you forgot to tie the hat. And button your coat, all the way up.”

  He turned from her as he grasped the ties to the hat.

  “I’ll put away this food. Nothing in here will ruin if it gets frozen.”

  She added the canned soups to the shelf where he had a can of corn and one of beans. The bread went into a plastic container where only two slices remained. The butter would be fine in its plastic tub. A quick survey told her the rest of his rations were low.

  “What would you have done for food if I hadn’t shown up today?” she asked, turning to him. He still had his back to her. She thought about how stubborn he was, and then she realized something about his rounded shoulders and bent head that seemed odd.

  “Mr. Cartwright?” she said, touching his shoulder. He did not jerk away as she expected. Beneath her palm, she felt his shoulder quiver. Concerned, she went around to his front and saw his fingers unmoving on the buttons of his unfastened coat. She noted the ties for his cap hung loose and open. “Having trouble?” she asked softly.

  “No,” he growled and began fumbling with the buttons, but his fingers seemed like impediments rather than tools. “Go away! You’ve caused enough ….” Then his voice cracked. He took a heaving breath, and to Annie’s shock, he began to sob. “I can’t … I can’t …” He shook his hands as if trying to fling them away. “They don’t work anymore!”

  Annie yearned to comfort him. She longed to wrap her arms around his neck and pull him closer, to let him weep out his anger and frustration, but she had a feeling he’d hate that. She did not want to make him feel pathetic or pitiable. Stony Point’s Santa wanted steel and determination; she could give him that. She poured his water, gave him his medicine, and watched him gulp it gratefully. Guilt rose in her like bile—hot and bitter—but she had done what she felt was right to save him from himself. And she wasn’t finished.

  “Here. Let me get this hat tied tightly. There! Does that feel snug enough? Not too tight?”

  He nodded silently. She quickly buttoned the mackinaw and then pulled the collar up and adjusted the muffler. She paused, her hands resting on his shoulders, and looked into his tear-filled eyes. She read humiliation in their depths, knowing his embarrassment of being virtually helpless to his disease.

  “Listen,” she said with all the gentleness nature had given her, “don’t let this condition get to you. Everyone has limitations, and right now, yours is aching, stiff, painful joints. The great thing about having friends …,” she said, pausing to make sure he understood what she was saying. “The great thing about true friends is that we help each other. In return, we accept help when it’s offered. No fuss, no muss. We just do it.” She tapped her palms against both his shoulders twice for emphasis, and then dropped her hands and smiled. “Now, let’s get these gloves on you, and let’s get going before the storm decides to be our companion.”

  She helped him with his gloves, tugged on her own and opened the door.

  “I think we may be a little too late,” he said.

  She looked outside. Snow had started, thick and fast, seeming to fall sideways as wind howled in from the northeast.

  He shut the door.

  “We’re staying right here,” he said. “You brought food, and when my hands work again, I’ll bring in some wood. We’ll be all right.”

  Annie stared at the old wooden door that kept out the howling storm. She’d brought some food, but not a lot. Now that she had been in the shack for a while, she realized even with a fire in the old stove, it was cold in there. The pile of wood she’d seen near the door was pitifully small. Her thoughts turned to Grey Gables, to Alice and Noelle. If Annie did not return soon, Alice would be worried sick. And Noelle … she simply could not allow Noelle to feel abandoned again. A few hours at most were all she would ever leave that child.

  “We have to go,” she said. “Too much depends on us.”

  “No! I can’t walk in that cold wind. I won’t be able to move in the morning.”

  “Listen to me,” she said, turning deaf ear to his needs for the moment. “For the sake of a loving friend and a sweet but damaged little girl, you have to forget about yourself and trust me in this. We have to go.”

  “Then you go. I’m staying.”

  “No, you aren’t.” She grabbed his arm as he made a move away from the door. “If you don’t come with me to Grey Gables, I’ll call the police when I get there to come and get you for your own safety. In fact, now that I think about it, that may be best the thing to do, anyway.”

  “No!” he snapped, snarling at her like a rabid wolf. “I won’t be taken from my own home by the police. Do you think I’m some kind of criminal?”

  “No, I do not. But I think you don’t care about your own safety.”

  He glowered and fumed wordlessly; then at last he gave in.

  “If we must, we must. You have my medicine?”

  “It’s in my coat.” She patted her deep pocket. “Right here.”

  “I have a feeling I’m going to need it more than ever after this.”

  “Yes, you probably will. But Grey Gables is warm and comfortable. You can have a hot bath, and a nice bed in which to recover, and the best food in Maine.”

  She smiled at him and was rewarded with a scowl, but beneath it laid naked gratitude.

  “Let’s go,” he said, taking her arm.

  She opened the door, and they stepped into the storm.

  18

  The walk out of the cove seemed to take forever. Graham Cartwright’s steps were slow and laborious, but Annie was determined to get him to Grey Gables, even if she had to carry the old man across her shoulder like a sack of potatoes. The icy wind heaved an assault with an almost-human ferocity, and the suitcase she carried seemed to add weight as the duo pushed forward through the frigid gale.

  Annie glanced at him. His face was a mask of controlled torture—his jaw set and his eyes watery. She stopped, put down the case and said, “You need to have this muffler pulled up to cover the lower half of your face.”

  She expected him to argue, to shove her hand away. Instead he waited stoically as she adjusted the long crocheted scarf around his lean jawline, mouth, and nose.

  “Those stitches are heavy enough to keep out the wind, but loose enough to let in air, so you’ll be able to breathe.”

  He nodded, and they walked on. At one point, he stumbled over a piece of driftwood and grabbed Annie’s hand. She allowed him to cling to the safety of her arm, hoping she did not trip or fall as they walked.

  Once they struggled out of the mouth of the cove and onto the wind-whipped stretch of beach that would lead them to Annie’s home, the wind became an ally rather than enemy. It drove them forward, hustling the pair as if rushing them to shelter.

  “I can’t …,” he gasped loudly above the sound of the wind, “walk this fast.”

  “But if we don’t, the wind will knock us down.” Annie gave him an encouraging smile, even though it seemed her icy face might split from the effort. “Just hang onto me, and you’ll be all right. Look. Grey Gables is just ahead.”

  At the sight of her home’s familiar roofline, Annie felt like weeping for joy. The man followed her gaze and nodded.

  “Too far to go back now,” he said.

  “Yes! We can’t stop. Just a little farther.”

  Soon they reached the winding
path that led up from the shoreline to Annie’s yard. That path presented a challenge, and the old man stared at it in dismay. On a good day, anyone could walk the path easily, but not today. The wind was again their foe as it now slammed them sideways, scratching at their eyes like an angry cat. Annie feared for Graham’s safety.

  “Listen, Mr. Cartwright. Here’s what I’m going to do. I’m leaving your suitcase here. It’ll be all right until I come back for it, but I need both hands free to help us get up this path.” She sat it down nearby, and then she put her right arm around his waist, grasped his left hand with her own and said, “Let’s take it easy going up.”

  “I can’t go on,” he said. “This cold has worked into my joints like a frozen blade. How can I climb up a snowy trail?”

  “Look at me.” She gently turned his face away from the hurdle that loomed before him. “We’re going to do it one step at a time. Don’t look at how far we have to go. Hang onto me. Put your trust in God and keep your hand in mine.” She paused. There was fear in his eyes, but she read determination there too. “All right. Ready?” He nodded. “Remember, one step at a time.”

  His hand gripped her, crushing it painfully even through the layers of their heavy gloves. With Annie testing for ice on their ascent with the toe of her boot, the pair made their way up. At the top, he leaned against her, gray-faced and breathless. His appearance alarmed her, but shelter and warmth were near, and she could not allow him to fade this close to safety.

  “Just a little farther,” she encouraged.

  “I can’t make it up those steps to that porch,” he gasped. “I can’t!”

  “We won’t have to.” She guided him to the back of the house where the only step was the one that went from the flagstone patio to the kitchen door. Carefully they walked across the icy rocks, and she helped him up the step and through the door.

  Inside the kitchen with its sunny yellow walls, the warmth welcomed Annie and Graham like a mother’s embrace. A pot of clam chowder simmered with tiny bubbling sighs. The aroma of baking bread seemed like the very breath of life.