Shenandoah Christmas

by Lynnette Kent

  Red-cheeked, Cait scurried out the door and down the steps without even buttoning her coat. When Ben caught up with her, she was shaking her head. "These people... they make me crazy. What am I supposed to say to something like that?"

  "Just accept the compliment," he suggested. His own car was parked to the left of the walk, but when Cait turned right, he went with her down the dark, empty street.

  In the same spirit of love."

  How can they love me? They don't even know me." Hands in her pockets, she strode beside him, head down, obviously upset.

  "They see what you do and, for them, that's who you are. You're helping Anna, you're teaching their kids, you're directing the choir. Those are the acts of a lovable

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  person." He cleared his throat. "Not to mention bringing chicken soup to sick families and toys to little kids who miss their mother."

  She stopped beside Anna's car and wiped her cheeks with the heels of her hands. "You're making me cry. Stop it."

  Twice in one night, he'd made a woman cry. Shaking his head, he walked in front of her and took hold of her shoulders. "A few tears are a good thing, now and then."

  She chuckled. "Not when you wear mascara."

  "Ah. I can take care of that." Pulling out his handkerchief, he tilted her chin up with one hand and dabbed lightly at the slight smudges under her eyes.

  "I didn't think men carried cloth handkerchiefs anymore." Her warm breath blew against the skin on the inside of his wrist. Ben felt everything inside him tighten up.

  "Maddie sewed my initials on them as a Scout project. I wouldn't go anywhere without one."

  "You're such a good dad," she whispered. "They're so lucky to have you in their lives."

  He gently knuckled back the wispy curls at her temple. "Want to share? There's enough of me to go around."

  "Ben..." She started to pull away...but stopped and gazed up at him, her eyes dark, her lids a little heavy, her lips slightly parted. "Oh, Ben."

  Reaching up, she took his face in her hands, cold fingers over his ears, warm palms against his cheeks.

  And then she drew his head down until their mouths met.

  his palms around her face. "Let me take you somewhere warm and safe and comfortable. And private," he added as a car rounded the corner just a block away, drenching them in its headlights. The driver beeped the horn as the vehicle drove by. Cait knew chances were excellent, given the size of Goodwill, that whoever it was had recognized Ben, and her.

  The thought cooled the heat in her brain. She took her hands out of Ben's jacket. Her fingers were shaking as she buttoned her coat.

  "Cait?" Ben took hold of her shoulders again.

  She closed her eyes. "I can't go home with you."

  "Why not?"

  "This isn't smart. We both know that and we should never have let ourselves forget."

  "How can you be so sure?"

  Her heart pounded with the need to get away before she did something really stupid—like agreeing to sleep in his bed tonight. Or not sleep, as the case would be. "There are too many reasons to count, but I'll give you a couple. Everybody in town will know by tomorrow night that we were standing out here, and what we were doing. If I go home with you, they'll know that, too, and they'll jump to conclusions. In another week gossip will have us married and I'll be pregnant and—and—" Cait shook her head. "You don't need that kind of complication in your life. Neither do I."

  "Would marriage be such a terrible prospect?" His voice was low, reasonable. His words were insane.

  Cait struggled for good sense. "Ben, you don't want to marry me. I don't want to marry you. Why put ourselves in a position where that becomes something other people expect us to do?"

  His hands dropped to his sides. "You sound awfully sure of yourself."

  Good to hear, since she felt anything but confident she was speaking the truth. "Tomorrow, we'll both be really glad we didn't give in to—to—"

  "To uncontrollable lust? Insatiable need?" His face twisted with frustration. "Or how about just a desperate desire to be close to someone we care about? Someone we could even—might even—love?"

  "Go home." Turning, she fished in her coat pocket for the car key and fitted it into the lock. Ben stood behind her for a minute, his body heat reaching her through the cold air between them, through their clothes, melting her resolve. If he didn't back off, all her good intentions would go for nothing and she'd end up taking everything he offered.

  In the instant before her determination vaporized, he stepped away. "Get in," he said, his voice cool again. "I'll see you...later."

  She took three stabs at fitting the key into the ignition. The motor cranked briefly, then died. Biting her lower lip, Cait tried again. And again. Ben stepped forward, approaching her window as she tried one last, desperate time. If she had to talk to him...

  The engine caught, roared as she gunned the gas pedal. Without glancing to the side, she slipped the car into gear and pulled away from the curb, only daring to look at Ben through the rearview mirror. Hands in his pockets, feet firmly planted and head held high, he stood motionless in the street for as long as she could see him.

  And he remained that way in her mind's eye until she finally fell into a restless sleep, sometime near dawn.

  Ben arrived at noon on Saturday to pick up Maddie and Shep—too soon, as far as Harry was concerned. Having

  {

  the kids in the house was the first time he'd seen Peg relax since he'd come back to the house Tuesday night. Make that Wednesday morning...he'd driven to a truck stop up on the interstate and drowned himself in coffee until after 2:00 a.m.

  Since then they'd been polite to each other, and that was all. Peg seemed to have given up trying to talk to him; Harry told himself that was for the best. Talking wasn't going to get him his job back. He slept in his recliner—good thing he was an early riser or the kids would have found him there Saturday morning.

  Meanwhile, whenever he talked to David Remington, the minister stalled him on reporting the missing check to the police. Or to the governing committee of the church. Out of deference to Anna's condition, Harry hadn't pushed the issue. But somebody needed to know and soon. Waiting would only make things worse.

  Across the lunch table, he noticed Ben didn't look any more rested than he felt. "I think you've been working too hard, son. You're supposed to take the night off while Magpie and Shepkin are with...us." He wasn't even sure there was an "us" anymore.

  Ben gave his half smile. " 'I did take last night off, remember? I went to Regina Thome's party."

  Peggy set a plate of tuna sandwiches on the table. ' 'Did you have a good time?"

  "Uh...sure. Did you know it was a setup for me and Cait?"

  Harry saw his wife's cheeks turn bright pink as she took her seat. "As a matter of fact..."

  "Miss Caitlyn was at the party, Daddy? Did she sing Christmas songs?"

  "We all did. It was a... festive...event. Even if it had an ulterior purpose."

  Maddie frowned. "What's ulterior mean?"

  Ben looked at Peggy again. "It means people aren't telling you what they really want—they're hiding the reasons for what they're doing, or wanting you to do. Sometimes it's a good thing to have ulterior motives—like sending somebody off to look at the toys while you buy them clothes for a present. And sometimes—'' he pulled in a deep breath "—sometimes, there's no hope whether your motives are hidden or out in the open."

  "I'm confused."

  Her father ruffled her curls. "So are most of us, Mad-die. Don't worry about it."

  After lunch, the kids helped clean up the kitchen. Harry led Ben to the den. "Want to catch a ball game?"

  His son-in-law shook his head. "No, thanks. We'd better get out of your way. But first, I'm going to be a pain in the rear."

  Harry snorted. "There's a first time for everything."

  Ben flashed that half smile again. "So you won't mind telling me what the problem is?"

  He
kept his face blank. ' 'What problem?''

  1 'The one that has you and Peggy talking to everybody but each other. The one that has you looking like a man twenty years older than you are. The one that sends my kid home saying, 'Grandpa was grumpy last night.'"

  The last accusation stung. "I didn't mean to be harsh with the children."

  "I didn't say you'd been harsh. But Maddie and Shep are used to a grandpa who laughs, jokes, plays with them. You haven't done much of any of those things for the last few weeks."

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  Haven't made love to my wife, either. Not something he would confess to Ben. "I just..." He shrugged.

  "You just hate having lost your job."

  Harry swung away and went to stare out the window at the rainy, gray day. "I didn't lose my job. I retired."

  "Does the word you use make a difference?"

  "Sure it does. I wasn't fired because I couldn't do the work. I left after thirty-five years with an excellent reputation, a decent retirement package and a gold watch.''

  1 'Because you were the oldest VP, the one the company felt would be cheapest to eliminate."

  "Dammit, Ben. Drop the subject."

  "I would if I didn't see it consuming you." I'll be okay." Before you ruin your marriage and your health?"

  "Butt out, son. I'm telling you everything is just fine." He didn't lie often, which might explain why his heart and head were pounding and his hands were clenched in his pockets.

  Ben shrugged. ' 'Okay, I quit. For now. But you need to talk to somebody, Harry. Soon." Without waiting for an answer, he left the room. A few minutes later, Harry heard the sound of the kids saying goodbye to Peggy, heading out the door.

  And then Peg's footsteps sounded on the stairs and in the hallway above him. She'd retreated to her sewing room, leaving the whole downstairs free for him.

  Free. Free of the burden, the constraints, the regimentation of a job. Free to do whatever he pleased with his days and nights. No business trips, no reports to generate, no endlessly boring meetings to sit through.

  No purpose.

  In his mind, Harry backed away from that idea, the way he would an arcing electrical wire. Sitting in his recliner,

  he picked up the remote, found the ball game he wanted to watch.

  Sometimes the best thought was no thought at all.

  Brenna and Maddie and Shep arrived ahead of the rest of the choir on the next Wednesday. They joined Cait at the organ in a puff of cold air.

  "It's supposed to snow," Maddie announced. "Maybe we'll get days off from school again."

  Cait modulated the chords into "Let It Snow." Maddie and Brenna joined her on the chorus. She glanced at Shep—he was sitting on the edge of the stage, swinging his legs. Humming? It was hard to tell over the girls' voices.

  When they finished the song, Cait stood up. "Maddie, Brenna, could you go into the robe room and get the box of music folders?" They raced each other to the doorway, leaving Cait alone with Shep.

  She sat down beside him, singing the same song, softly. He began humming with the first line. Then Cait felt her heart stop as the little boy whispered the words to the chorus, clearly, on pitch.

  Afraid that hugging him would drive him back into his shell, Cait stayed still by sheer determination, and kept singing. Shep joined her on each repetition of the refrain. When they finished, she held her breath and looked at him. He stared back at her, his brown eyes serious, a little questioning.

  "I like singing with you," Cait said gently. "Can we do it again sometime?"

  After a moment he nodded. Then his friend Neil came running down the aisle and Shep was back to being his usual happy, if silent, self.

  "Three Wednesdays," Cait told the choir as they

  started. "Shepherds, did you learn your song?" The boys nodded. "Good—let's hear it."

  The shepherds had exaggerated quite a bit, so she held them after the rehearsal for extra practice, ignoring the waiting parents as best she could. When she finally let the boys go, Maddie and Shep had already left with Karen and Brenna Patterson. No chance to talk to Shep again tonight. No chance to see Ben, either. And that, she told herself, was just as well.

  The next opportunity to realize both of those desires came from an unexpected direction. Ben called her Friday morning. "I have a favor to ask."

  Just hearing his voice made staying calm a challenge. "What is it?"

  "This is the weekend for choosing the Christmas tree."

  She had to grin. "Did I hear a few unspoken epithets preceding the words 'Christmas tree'?"

  "Yeah, you probably did. Anyway, Maddie and Shep... and I... wondered if you would like to come with us to the tree farm tomorrow."

  "Ben, I don't think—" She didn't want to think. She wanted just to say yes.

  "With two eagle-eyed chaperons along, what can happen? We'll take a lunch, drive up in the mountains, spend a couple of hours tramping around in the snow comparing identical trees, finally choose one and chop it down, tie it j to the roof of the car and come home. Just a friendly holiday outing." Holiday came out sounding like a curse word.

  "I get it. You're using me as a shield, right? So you don't have to be all Christmassy with the kids."

  "You caught me. Will you do it?"

  Cait gave in to her own weakness. "I'll have to make sure David will be here tomorrow."

  "Why wouldn't he be? It's Saturday."

  "That's what I'm wondering. Let me check with him and I'll let you know."

  She called David at the church office and on his cell phone, but got no answer at either number.

  "So much for being able to reach you in an emergency." Cait met him outside the house that evening when he pulled in the drive. "Where have you been all day?"

  "I—I had a meeting up in Winchester. Is something wrong? Is Anna okay?" Without waiting for an answer, he started for the kitchen door.

  But Cait stepped in his way. "Does it really make a difference to you? How could you be so completely unreachable? Where is your head these days, David?"

  His hands clenched and, for a second, he looked as if he would tear his hair out. Or reach out and tear her apart.

  Then his shoulders slumped. "Look, there are some ... problems with the church accounts. I've been working on them, trying to get it all straightened out, that's all. I had my cell phone, see?" He held it up, then looked at the screen. "But I didn't know the battery had run down. I'll charge it tonight." ]

  "What kind of problems?"

  David avoided her gaze. "Just some columns that don't add up, you know how that goes."

  She could only think of one reason he would be so preoccupied with the books. "Is there money missing?"

  "No. No, of course not." He reached under his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "It's just a matter of adding and subtracting right. I'll get it taken care of. Though I have to say, one reason I'm a minister is because I knew I'd never make it as a math teacher or an accountant." He | j grinned, obviously trying to joke her out of her suspicions.

  Cait wasn't amused. "Well, in case you've forgotten, Anna could go into labor at any minute. You'd damn well better stay in touch. And," she said as he started to turn away, "I'd like to go to the mountains tomorrow with Ben and Maddie and Shep. So unless you have something critical to do, you'll need to stay here with your wife." She put some extra emphasis on the last two words.

  "Sure. No problem. I'll be glad to." He stood in front of her like a chastised schoolboy. ' 'Can I go in to see her now?"

  Cait stepped aside and let him through the door. Then she stood for a long time in the backyard, watching the stars come out while she tried to decide why life in a small town had to be so complicated.

  Saturday morning dawned clear and bright, with tree shadows lying crisply across the four inches of snow they'd gotten this week. Ben served orange juice and oatmeal for breakfast—instant oatmeal, cooked in the microwave. But each of the kids ate two envelopes,
so he thought they'd be good to go until lunch. And lunch would be decent because he'd ordered sandwiches, cookies and hot chocolate from the diner. All they had to do was pick up the basket on their way out of town.

  He happened to be at the front window when Cait parked Anna's car in front of the house. She ran lightly across the shoveled walk, wearing a bright-green coat and a crazy hat—a green-white-and-red knitted stocking cap, with bells tied onto the point with ribbons. Even through the closed windows, he could hear her jingling as she came up the steps.

  "Santa's elf, I presume," he said when he opened the door.

  I thought so—but Maddie looks more like an elf in

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  her Christmas sweater. And Shep looks like he's ready for combat patrol."

  To Ben's surprise, Shep giggled. Aloud. It wasn't a sound he made very often at all. But Cait always seemed to be getting reactions that Shep withheld from almost everyone. Including his own father.

  On the way into the mountains, Maddie and Cait sang carols along with the disk in the CD player. Ben pleaded the need to concentrate on the snowy road as a reason not to join in. But he caught himself humming along with "Jingle Bells" and "The Little Drummer Boy." Except for the night at Regina Thome's house, he hadn't sung Christmas tunes in a couple of decades. Cait had him and his family behaving in strange and unpredictable ways.

  Ben was forced to admit it was a change for the better.

  "These surely are beautiful mountains," Cait said during a quiet moment after the CD ended. ' 'Not so aggressive as the ones out west. I like the gentleness."

  "The Blue Ridge has its share of hazards. Maybe not as dramatic as the drop-offs in the Rockies, but it can be a long way down."

  As he spoke, they came out of a wooded area onto the top of a peak. The left side was still protected by a high dome of rock. But the right shoulder fell away into a steep-sided valley, white snow streaked with bare trees and the occasional green of a cedar or pine.

  Cait took a deep breath. ' 'I see what you mean. Not a place you want to underestimate the risks."

  "Especially not when there's a foot of new snow." He glanced to the west, where clouds had piled on the peaks. "Or when more is predicted."