Rose hadn’t returned yet, but before he left to help her find the tree stand, she appeared, carrying that and a large box.
“What’s the box?” he asked, trying to read the red letters on the side.
“Another tree. I hope you don’t mind.” She handed him the stand and set the box on the floor.
“Another tree?”
“One of those fiber-optic trees that turns all the colors. I thought it would look pretty in the study in the bay window. It’ll look beautiful from the front yard.”
Paul felt his mouth sag, knowing how his and Rose’s thoughts marched side by side. He recalled thinking about the bay window.
After much struggling, Paul settled the tree in the stand, and to his relief Rose declared it straight after his fourth try. He slid from under the branches and strode back to join her. “Straight as a plumb line.”
“And now,” she said, pointing to the box, “the pièce de résistance.”
“You’re a pièce de résistance,” he said, sending her a wink.
Her smile warmed him. He opened the box and pulled out the fiber-optic tree. Instructions fell to the ground, and Rose rescued them. She scanned the paper. “Do you want to hear this in French, Japanese, or English?”
“If you want this put together right, try English.”
He led the way to the study with the tree while Rose read the directions behind him. It was easy to assemble, and once it was plugged in, Paul understood why Rose had bought it.
“Wait until dark. We can sit in here and watch the lights change colors.”
We can sit in here. The words charged over him like ice water. In three more days she’d be getting ready to leave. The sorrow felt too deep, too cruel to bear.
Rose couldn’t sleep, couldn’t stop thinking about her leaving. She’d come here first with trepidation, but in only days, she’d realized how much she’d missed them. And they had missed her. She’d grown to love the strange little town more than she would have imagined. While her love had deepened for the children, her world revolved around their well-being and their lives.
Then came Paul. He’d filled her foolish dreams, and even though common sense told her to stand back and protect herself, she hadn’t listened. Perhaps she’d listened, but her heart couldn’t follow what wisdom deemed right. She’d dreamed that impossible dream.
When she thought about all that had happened, the lovely thoughts dimmed with the knowledge she was leaving. She’d agreed to be Paul’s friend, and like a friend, he’d kissed her cheek and danced with her that evening in the study as they listened to the velvety Christmas tune—the night she had told him she was leaving.
That night she’d wanted to forget her decision to leave. What if she never had a husband or children—would she be any less happy than she felt right now, tearing herself away from the only place she’d ever felt complete?
Her thoughts made no sense, and she rose in the dark and walked to the window. The wind bent the trees while heavy snow pelted the house, and though she could see nothing but moonlit drifts, she could trace the familiar outlines. The lilac bush, the wooden bench swing where she’d sat watching the children play in the fall. Bushes and shrubs that had become like old friends.
Though Paul had his faults, she’d grown to admire his strength and fortitude. He’d lost a wife, yet he’d fought to meet his children’s needs even when his work had been long and stressful.
And he’d shown Rose love, too. Maybe not the kind she wanted, but—
As the wind shuddered against the window, a loud crack followed by a heavy thud slammed above her head. She spun around, frightened. Fearing for the children, Rose wrapped a blanket around herself and darted into the hallway. As she dashed to their rooms, she heard Paul bounding up the stairs.
“What was that?” she asked, trying to muffle her voice.
“I think a tree limb fell on the roof. Is everyone all right?”
“I’m checking,” she said, veering toward Kayla’s room. Paul turned left toward Colin’s.
Rose studied the ceiling in the darkness. She saw nothing and felt no wind seeping through a broken roof. Kayla slept soundly. Rose touched her cheek, thanking God as her hand touched the child’s cooler skin.
She turned back and met Paul in the hallway.
“All’s well there,” he said, “but I’d better check the attic.” He opened a door in the hallway and snapped on the light. A dim bulb lit the stairway.
Rose stood at the bottom and held her breath.
Paul appeared again and descended the stairs. “No inside damage, but if that wind keeps blowing, I’m afraid that limb will slide and tear the shingles off the roof.”
“You’ll have to call the owner,” Rose said.
He shook his head. “I decided to buy the house, Rose. I signed the paperwork the other day. I was going to surprise you at Christmas.”
Surprise her at Christmas? She’d been the one to surprise him first with her leaving. His words inched over her, leaving her with questions. Why would buying the house be a surprise for her?
She started to ask, then stopped herself. The whole thing was too sad to talk about in the middle of the night. Too sad to talk about anytime, for that matter.
To Rose’s delight, the next morning Kayla appeared in the kitchen doorway.
“It snowed,” she said, panning everyone with a glazed look.
“How are you feeling?” Paul asked.
“I was sick.”
“I know. Are you feeling better?”
She nodded. “But I’m hungry.”
Rose stepped from the counter, knelt beside the twin and wrapped her arms around her. Kayla rested her cheek on Rose’s shoulder. “I’m so happy to see you awake, and I bet you are hungry. I was just beginning to make breakfast.” She led the child to a chair and patted it. “You sit, and I’ll make you something yummy.”
“Pancakes.” Kayla licked her lips.
“Everyone loves pancakes,” Rose said, winking at Colin.
Paul rose and pressed his hand against Kayla’s cheek, then kissed the top of her head. “She feels like my regular girl today.”
Kayla gave him a goofy look as if she didn’t understand.
Paul didn’t explain, either. He wandered into the dining room and looked into the front yard. “I can barely see our cars. The snow has drifted six feet high in places.”
“Six feet,” Rose said as if disbelieving.
“Looks like it,” Paul said, returning to the table. “Right after breakfast I need to get up on that roof and check out the tree. We’re not going to get anyone out here for days, and I know it’s going to tear up the shingles.”
“No way,” Rose said, giving him her sternest look. “I’ll take the broom after you.”
The children giggled, but Paul only shook his head. “Okay. I’ll let you climb up there?”
If Rose had her way, no one would be climbing a ladder in this weather. “You’ll never dig the ladder out in this mess.”
“Want to bet?” He stuck out his hand for a shake. “I’m going to get that tree limb off the roof. It’s big.”
Rose frowned. “Let’s talk about it after breakfast.”
As the words left her mouth, she realized she sounded like his wife, giving warnings and orders. She had no business telling Paul what he could do. He didn’t respond, and she closed her mouth.
The pancakes were consumed as they came off the griddle. Rose poured more batter until she finally heard their groans that they’d had enough. She sipped her coffee, enjoying the rich flavor and accepting that she’d hopefully get the last pancake. Two were left.
As she sat with her breakfast and a fresh cup of coffee, Paul sent the children to get dressed, then sat beside her. “I know you don’t want me on the roof. I understand. But I have to check it out. I promise if it looks like it won’t rip off the shingles or cave in the roof, I’ll leave it be.”
“We can call someone and just see when they can get here.”
He pressed his lips together and eyed her. “It’s a waste of time. Look at the road. You can’t see it, Rose.”
For the first time she headed for the front window, and realized Paul was right. The road was lost in the drifts of snow. “Okay. You’re right.”
He chucked her cheek and walked away. She heard him in the back hallway putting on his coat and boots, then the garage door opened.
“Lord, keep him safe,” Rose said.
She hurried up the stairs and met the children coming down.
“Colin, I want everyone to stay inside for now until your dad checks out the tree, and Kayla, I don’t want you outside at all today.”
They each gave a whiny moan and stomped the rest of the way down the stairs. She let it go and continued to her room to dress in something warm. If Paul was going on the roof, she was going to be next to the ladder.
By the time she stepped outside, Paul had scraped a pathway to the garage. He’d been correct. The drifts that leaned against the house were taller than she was. Rose had never seen snow like this except in photographs or movies.
Paul appeared, dragging the ladder. “What are you doing out here?” He looked surprised.
“You don’t think I’m letting you climb on that roof without someone here to hold the ladder.”
He shrugged. “I can’t argue that one.”
Paul propped the ladder against the house, then extended it to its full height. Rose shuddered, looking at how high he had to climb. He stepped away and vanished inside the garage. In a moment he returned with a chain saw, attached to a large strap. He slung it over his head, and her heart stopped.
“Please,” she said. “That’s dangerous.”
“I’ll only use it if it’s necessary.”
She held the ladder, bracing it against her feet in the slippery snow, while he climbed. She watched as he moved upward, one rung after another, until he reached the rooftop. At her angle, she had a poor perspective as to where the tree limb was in relation to the ladder, and she sent up prayers, figuring she’d barrage the Lord with petitions until He brought Paul down safely again.
When he climbed off the ladder, Rose shifted away and backed up so she could see. Her heart rose to her throat when she saw the size of the limb that had fallen. Paul balanced precariously on one knee, his foot propped against the slippery shingles.
He pulled the cord, and the saw sputtered and died. Next time he gave it a stronger jerk, and she watched him teeter until finally he regained his balance, and the saw roared into action.
Rose looked toward the patio door and saw both children with their noses pressed to the glass watching her look toward the roof. She knew she should go to them and waylay their curiosity, perhaps their fears, but she had too many fears of her own.
As she looked back toward Paul, a large piece of limb rolled along the shingles and dropped to the ground, vanishing in the snowdrift. Another one followed, then another. Her prayers flew to heaven, and each time Paul shifted her heart stood still.
Five or six large logs had fallen to the ground, and she tried calling up to him to beg him to let the rest go, but he was persistent and probably didn’t hear her with the roar of the chain saw.
With her attention glued to Paul’s progress, she caught a motion above his head. She watched in horror as a large mound of snow slid from higher on the roof and, like an avalanche, surged along the shingles, plunging toward the tree limb.
Rose could do nothing. She let out a scream, but it was too late. The snow came so quickly Paul didn’t have time to move.
The mountain of white heaved forward, taking Paul and the chain saw with it.
Panic charged through Rose’s body as she raced toward his plummeting form. She stopped, her knees weakening as he hit the logs buried in the snow and his frame was embedded in a snowdrift. When she saw the dark blood staining the crystal snow, she couldn’t breathe.
Chapter Thirteen
As Rose’s knees hit the ground beside Paul, the patio door opened, and Colin lunged toward her.
“Call 911,” Rose shouted, praying the boy didn’t see the blood spreading across the snow.
Colin halted in midrun.
“Do you know your address?” Rose called.
He nodded and spun around, bumping into Kayla, who was on his heels.
“Kayla, stay inside,” Rose yelled as she turned her attention to Paul.
She shifted the chain saw, then cradled Paul’s head against her arm. She used snow to clean the wound and saw a deep cut where the chain saw must have struck. Without thinking, she lowered her head and kissed the spot below the cut, and when she pulled away she saw Paul’s eyelids flutter, then open.
“Don’t move,” she said.
“Did you kiss me?” His words ran together while embarrassment and worry rolled over her.
A faint grin curved his mouth, yet his eyes were glazed with confusion. “What happened?”
Before she could explain, Colin shot through the doorway toward them. “Colin, stay out of the snow, please.”
The child stopped, bewilderment mottling his cheeks.
“Did you call?” Rose asked.
He shook his head. “The phone doesn’t work.”
Her heart sank, and she studied the situation for a moment. “Find my purse, and we’ll use my cell phone.”
Colin didn’t move.
“It’s probably in the kitchen or maybe in the bedroom where I slept last night.” Rose watched him turn again and head inside.
Through the doorway she could hear an argument ensuing between Kayla and Colin until their voices vanished, but she had no time to question why they were at each other.
“Are you going to tell me what happened?”
Her gaze turned to Paul. “You fell off the roof.”
“My head hurts,” he said, lifting his hand before she could stop him. When he withdrew it, he saw the blood.
“I’m trying to call 911. You’ll need stitches.”
His concerned expression vanished. “Rose, an ambulance is not going to get through that snow until it’s been plowed.”
“Then they can plow it,” she said, determined to get him help. Again she used snow to wash the wound so she could take a good look. “It’s still bleeding badly. I need to get it to stop.”
“We have bandages inside. Let me get up.” Paul tried to shift, and as he did, she heard him swallow a moan.
“You might be hurt worse than you think,” she said.
“And I also might freeze to death. I prefer having a little pain and getting inside.”
She forced him back against the snowdrift and kept her eyes aimed at the door. Finally Colin came through with the cell phone. As he approached them, she could do nothing to block the deep red stain. When he saw it, his eyes widened.
“I’m okay, Colin,” Paul said. “You go back inside, and you and Kayla can get out a washcloth and towel so I can wash my face.”
“And some bandages,” Rose added as she pressed the buttons of her phone. Her heart sank when she realized the battery was dead. Her charger was back at the apartment.
She dropped the telephone into her jacket pocket.
“What’s wrong?” Paul asked.
“Dead. Not enough power to call out.”
“I forgot mine at work,” Paul said.
Rose shifted her body, feeling the cold penetrate her slacks. Her legs felt frozen. “I’ll have to help you up.”
She eased him into a sitting position, recognizing she wasn’t strong enough if he needed more support. “Are you hurting anywhere particularly?”
“How about my pride?”
She shook her head, amazed he still had a sense of humor. “Anything else?”
“My leg. Ankle more specifically, but let me try to stand before you panic.” He shifted to stand, but she saw the strain in his face.
“Let me get something. Just stay there.” She rose and headed for the patio door while both children hovered there, l
ooking fearful.
“Your dad’s okay,” she said, patting their heads. “He has a cut on his head and maybe a hurt ankle.”
Their eyes welled with tears but neither cried, and Rose was proud of them. “I need two helpers. Kayla, find a blanket somewhere, and Colin, bring in the desk chair. The one with rollers. Then I’ll need your help to get your dad inside.”
The twins moved like lightning, and before Rose had a moment to think, Kayla returned with a blanket and Colin with the chair. “Okay, you wait here,” she said to Kayla. “Colin, come with me.”
The child slipped on his boots and coat, then followed her outside. Rose maneuvered the blanket beneath Paul, and then she and Colin pulled it like a sled to the patio doorway. The last few feet were difficult, since Paul had removed most of the snow, but Colin tossed some onto the cement and made their going easier.
Inside, while she held the chair in place, Paul used it to pull himself upward. Once settled, she rolled it into the kitchen and worked on his head wound. She sent the children on errands, hoping to keep them busy as she tackled the worst.
“I’m praying you don’t have a concussion,” she said, “but I think the butterfly bandages will work for the cut.”
“You were right,” Paul said. “I had no business up there without the proper equipment. I’m sorry.”
She grinned, hearing his apology. “Too late for that now, but thanks. Women do know a few things.”
“I never doubted that,” he said, giving her a contrite grin.
Once the butterfly stitches were in place, Rose turned on the teakettle. “You need to get warmed up and get out of these wet clothes.” She needed to do the same.
The children returned and hovered around them, their eyes focused on the bandages and the bloodstains on Paul’s collar and matted in his hair.
“I’m fine. Really,” Paul said as he tried to stand.
She noted a grimace that flashed across his face, and she knew he’d choked back a yell. “Really. You’re fine. That’s interesting.”
That Christmas Feeling Page 18