Shenandoah Christmas

by Lynnette Kent

Pulling away, she wiped her cheeks with her fingertips. "Nothing. I—I was wishing I could have the baby here with me, that's all. Everything is okay, except for that."

  "Oh." He sank back into the chair by the bed, the one he'd slept in. "That's good to hear." Then he smiled and gestured toward the chest near the window. "Like them?"

  A vase containing a huge spray of dark-red roses stood there. "Oh, they're beautiful. Thank you so much." She gazed at him hopefully. When was the last time he'd kissed her? Anna didn't remember. Surely, now, with the baby safe, their relationship could come back to life.

  "I stopped at the NICU," David said. "He seems to be holding on."

  No kiss. She stifled her sigh. "The doctors and nurses say he's doing very well. But he weighs only a little over four pounds. That isn't much, is it?"

  "Not even as heavy as a bag of sugar."

  "Well, he's very sweet." She smiled, and got a brief smile in return. "What shall we call him?"

  David looked away from her, toward the roses. "There's plenty of time for names. I don't think we have to decide right now."

  "I'd like to choose, so I can talk to him and use his name. I want him to know who he is."

  "He won't understand for months, Anna. Let's not rush it."

  "Rush it?" Something hot poured through her which she recognized, almost with surprise, as anger. "David, some people start working on names the day they find out they're expecting. You didn't want to think about it then, or in any of the months since. Now that the baby's here, I think we owe him a name."

  He blew out a sharp, irritated breath. ' 'Well, then, what do you want to call him?"

  She gazed at the man in the chair, wondering if she knew him at all. "What is wrong with you? Why aren't you celebrating? We have a son—doesn't that make you happy?"

  "I...he...still has a fight ahead of him. If we get too attached to him and he doesn't..."

  "I don't believe this. You're afraid to love him because he might die?" Anna slid off the other side of the bed and walked to the window. "Is that why you've avoided me for months? Because you didn't want to care too much?"

  Sitting forward in the chair, David propped his elbows

  on his knees and hung his head over his clasped hands. "I was afraid, Anna. I could have lost you both."

  "What kind of coward are you?" He didn't look up. "Did you ever think about the fact that I didn't have a choice? That once I was pregnant I had to stay with this baby every second of the day, worrying, wondering, always on guard?"

  "Sure, I thought about that. But—"

  "But that wasn't as important to you as your own fears. So you let me do it by myself, even down to the delivery. Was it just bad luck you came home early last night?"

  "No!" David stood up, his face pale, his eyes round with horror. "I wanted to be with you when the baby was born. I didn't mean to let the cell phone die. I thought it was working."

  "But you turned off the church phone. What's the secret, David? What are you hiding? Or hiding from?"

  His shoulders slumped again and he covered his face with his hands. "I've done everything I can think of but it's no good. I'm going to have to tell the church the truth."

  At one time, his words would have scared her. But right now, indignation left no room for fear. "What are you talking about? Tell them... ?"

  "There's money missing from the church account." He looked up, his face as haggard as she'd ever seen it. "Somewhere, we've lost that check from Mrs. Fogarty. The money was never deposited, but the check was cashed."

  "Ten thousand dollars?" More than two months' salary.

  David nodded. "They'll think I stole the money, Anna. Harry Shepherd already does. And as far as I can see—'' he held out his hands in a helpless motion "—there's no way to prove otherwise."

  the lighted ones switched on and shining softly in the dark, stormy morning.

  After a breathless second, Anna broke into tears. Before Cait could move, she ran into her bedroom and slammed the door. The click of the lock was clear in the silence.

  Cait looked at David. "What in the world...? Is something wrong with the baby?"

  His face gray, David shook his head. "He's...okay. She didn't want to leave him, of course. I told her I'd take her back after she rested for a while, but—" he shrugged "—she's pretty emotional about everything right now."

  Somehow, that sounded like only part of the story.

  "Do you mind if I talk to her?" Cait asked her brother-in-law.

  He waved his hand in a helpless gesture. "Please. She needs somebody."

  The obvious question—"Why aren't you in there?"— remained unasked. She went to the bedroom door. "An-nabelle? Can I come in?" No answer. "Please, darlin'. I want to hear all about my nephew." After a long moment, the lock clicked. But Anna didn't turn the knob.

  Cait pushed gently on the door and slipped through the narrow opening, closing it behind her. Anna lay facedown on the bed again, still crying. Putting her arms around her sister's shoulders, Cait kissed the mussed red hair. "What's wrong?"

  Anna muttered a word that might have been "Everything."

  "Okay." Cait waited through another storm of sobs. "Tell me about the baby. He's okay?"

  Nodding, Anna hiccoughed. ' 'I sat with him for about two hours this morning. Then I had to leave." More sobs.

  "Do they know when he'll get to come home?"

  "They want to be sure he's gaining weight and breathing well. I have to keep pumping my breast milk and freezing it for him and...oh, Cait, it hurts!"

  "Poor baby." Cait could only imagine. "What else?"

  "David won't let me name him. H-he won't even touch him!"

  "So name him by yourself."

  Face still buried in the pillow, Anna shook her head. "We're supposed to do that together. But...nothing...is happening... like it's supposed to."

  Giving up on more questions, Cait applied herself to soothing her sister. Eventually the sobs faltered and died away. She wiped Anna's face with a cool cloth, helped her into a clean gown, then brushed and braided her hair. Finally, she pulled the fresh sheets up under Anna's chin.

  "I have to be gone today and tonight," she said, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Remember, I'm doing that concert in D.C."

  Heavy-eyed, Anna nodded.

  "Peggy Shepherd will be here by noon. She'll stay all day and all night, so you just ask her for anything you need. Okay?"

  Another nod.

  "And I'll be back early tomorrow—before noon, anyway—and we'll get everything straightened out. Until then, you rest. David or Peggy will take you back to see your son this afternoon." Keeping her voice soft and low, Cait stroked Anna's forehead until her eyes closed and her breathing deepened. Whispering, "I love you, dar-lin'," she pressed a final kiss on her sister's cheek and left the room.

  David stood where she'd left him in the living room. Cait kept the width of the carpet between them.

  "I don't really want to talk to you," she said, clenching her fists so her voice would stay calm. "But you're in charge here until noon, when Peggy arrives. I've left the number of my hotel by the phone in the kitchen." She turned and walked down the hallway, assuming he would follow. "And the numbers for the concert hall—main office, ticket booth, security. If you need me for any reason at all, tell them it's an absolute emergency and they have to get me to the phone. I'll have my cell phone on, too, in the car during the drive, during rehearsal, every time but during the concert itself. You shouldn't have trouble reaching me."

  "Cait—"

  "Show Peggy these numbers before you disappear again."

  "I'm not going to disappear."

  She looked at him with contempt. "Yeah, right. Just be sure that Anna's taken care of before you go. I swear, if she's upset when I get back, I'll..." She couldn't think of a threat dire enough to capture her feelings.

  Maybe she didn't have to. David only gazed at her miserably. Cait rolled her eyes, grabbed her purse and without another word, left the house.


  As far as Ben was concerned, Friday started out crazy and never recovered. Maddie woke up so excited she was hardly able to eat or sit still long enough to put on her socks and shoes. Shep, on the other hand, didn't want to wake up at all. Ten minutes before they were supposed to leave the house for school, Ben went upstairs to find his son fully dressed but back in bed.

  "Shep, this doesn't work, son. We've got to go." He found a blanket-draped shoulder and shook it. "You'd

  better wake up, or there will be consequences. Dire consequences."

  The form under the blue bedspread didn't stir.

  Ben sighed dramatically. "Okay. You asked for it." With one quick jerk, he pulled all the covers completely off the bed, leaving Shep lying exposed, still pretending to be asleep. Fingers curled, Ben knelt on the edge of the mattress and began to goose the little boy's ribs.

  Twitching, wriggling, fighting, Shep tried to stop the merciless assault. Soon he was laughing, panting, still trying to resist getting out of bed. All at once, Ben realized he was hearing a word in the sounds Shep made.

  "No...no...no..." Whispered between giggles and gasps, the plea accomplished its task. Ben froze, hardly daring to believe what he heard. His son was talking again. For some reason known only to himself, Shep hadn't said another word since their trip to the mountains. Ben had started to wonder if that night had been some kind of dream.

  After a frozen minute, Ben got his breath under control. He eased back on the bed. "I like hearing you talk," he said gently. "Do you...do you know why you stopped?"

  Shep rolled away, grabbed Bumbles the Bear and pulled him close. Keeping his back toward Ben, he didn't answer for a long time.

  Ben figured he'd pushed too hard. "It's okay, son, don't—"

  "I talked to Mommy. After...the crash." Valerie and Shep had been driving late at night; the police estimated that nearly an hour had passed after the accident before help arrived.

  "You talked to Mommy?" Ben flinched away from the

  thought of four-year-old Shep strapped into his car seat, talking to his mother, unconscious in the front of the car.

  "But she didn't talk back." The young voice squeaked, like a crank grown rusty from disuse.

  "No, she didn't." Valerie had suffered head injuries and lingered in a coma for two days, without ever waking up.

  "An' she went away. I just—" Shep shrugged "—didn't want to anymore."

  "I understand." Adults escaped into alcohol, work, depression or denial. Shep had escaped into silence. "Do you know why you decided to start again?"

  "I like to sing," Shep said softly. "With Miss Cait-lyn."

  No surprise there. He'd known for a while now that Cait could work miracles. "Well, I hope you'll keep talking, buddy. Meanwhile, it's time to go."

  Ben didn't feel nearly as casual as he tried to sound, but he didn't want to pressure his son at this crucial point. He held out a hand, Shep took hold with both of his and Ben pulled him to his feet. "Your sister has probably decided to walk to school, carrying her costume but forgetting to wear a coat."

  After dropping off the kids, Ben went to his workshop, intending to sand down the first coat of varnish on the chest he was scheduled to finish before Christmas. The sanding quickly gave way to wishful thinking, though... about the chance to talk with Shep again, and the chance for them all to be a family when Cait agreed to marry him. Before he realized it, he had ten minutes to get to school before the holiday program began. He and Cait might lose their seats on the back row.

  But she'd arrived before him and saved him a chair.

  He sat down just as the curtain opened. "Here we go," he whispered into her ear, and got her grin in reply.

  With a theme of "Goodwill" and including songs from many different traditions, the program couldn't fail to please everyone. Maddie sang "White Christmas" beautifully, and received a round of applause.

  "That song sure gets around," Cait murmured in his ear. "Did you know that's what she was singing?"

  Ben shook his head. "She wanted to surprise us, she said. But she's also been praying every night these last few weeks for snow on Christmas Eve."

  Cait chuckled. "Well, wishes seem to be coming true these days. Anna's got her baby boy, and maybe Maddie will get her white Christmas." She glanced at her watch, then sat forward in preparation to stand. "I've got to go. Tell Maddie I'm proud of her."

  She looked worried, he realized, and tired. "Are you—'' Before he could finish his thought, Cait was gone. "—okay?" he said to the empty seat beside him.

  He would see her tonight at the concert. They were staying in the same hotel, in adjoining rooms, and they could talk after the kids went to sleep. She would share her problems with him then, he knew.

  But he would have felt better if she'd spared ten seconds to say goodbye before she left.

  "This is so cool," Maddie said, as they were escorted to the front row of the performance hall. "I can't believe I really get to see Miss Caitlyn sing."

  Ben settled Shep on one side of him and Maddie on the other. "Looks like we're lucky to be here. The place is pretty crowded." Even though a sign outside announced that the originally scheduled artist would not per-

  form, there were very few empty seats. If people had turned in their tickets, evidently most of them had been purchased again by people who wanted to hear Cait Gregory.

  The lights dimmed, and Maddie sat up straight, her back not even touching the chair. Because of the long drive, they'd missed the opening act, arriving at intermission. Suddenly a voice boomed from speakers in the ceiling. "And now, please greet our artist for the evening, Miss Cait Gregory."

  Music reached out, slow, sexy, as the curtain rose. Onstage, guitar players, a drummer and a pianist stood silhouetted against a glowing purple backdrop. The tempo picked up, and the crowd clapped in rhythm. Maddie glanced around, then joined in. Shep sat motionless in his chair, mesmerized.

  A roar went up as a woman stalked to center stage. Lit by a single spotlight, she was in control—of the band and the crowd. A wave of her hand changed the music yet again, to the tune the audience recognized and saluted with an even louder furor—"Rainbow Blues."

  Then Cait began to sing.

  For two hours, she held them spellbound, using the listeners' emotions and reactions as surely as she used the instruments she played. Sweet love songs and rowdy drinking songs, wry commentaries on the state of the world and the state of the roads... she covered the most popular tunes of her career, plus a couple Ben hadn't heard before. And she brought down the house, as he'd known she would, with her version of "Bobby McGee."

  After two encores, the applause still hadn't stopped. Cait came out on the stage alone the third time, holding her guitar. She propped one hip on the tall stool she'd

  used off and on during the show, adjusted the microphone and cleared her throat.

  "I haven't recorded any Christmas songs," she said, her voice even huskier, sexier, after two hours of singing. "Haven't really sung them for a long, long time. But this year is different. Or maybe I'm different. Either way, I'd like to close tonight with a special piece for three very special people. I can't see them in the lights, but I know they're here."

  Soft chords from the guitar quieted the crowd in time to hear the first words of "The Christmas Song."

  She sang in the midst of a breathless silence, her tone as pure and clear as he'd ever heard it. When the lyrics talked about mistletoe, her voice broke a little and she smiled. Ben thought back to the night of Regina Thome's party, and grinned.

  As the last notes died away into the night, Cait whispered "Merry Christmas to you" into the mike. She sat motionless for another moment, a slender minstrel still caught in her song. Then the spotlight cut off with a suddenness that made them all gasp. When the auditorium lights came back, Cait's guitar was leaning against the stool behind the mike. The woman herself was nowhere to be seen.

  "Oh, Daddy," Maddie said worshipfully. "That was so..." She shook her head
, at a loss for words. "Do we get to talk to her now? Can we tell Miss Caitlyn how much we love her?"

  / already have, Ben thought. But after tonight, he wasn't so sure of himself anymore. What sane woman would walk away from the chance to be revered like this? How could one man's love, even a man with two great kids, compete with the adoration of thousands?

  In other words, marrying Ben might just be the biggest mistake Cait Gregory ever made.

  The security officer took them backstage. Weaving through the crowd, Ben held tightly to Maddie with his right hand and Shep with his left.

  They finally reached a plain blue door which opened to a sharp knock. "Tremaine," their guide said tersely. The door opened a little wider and the crowd pushed forward, calling Cait's name, snapping pictures, propelling Ben and Maddie and Shep into the room beyond. With relief, Ben heard the door shut behind him.

  Then he took in the number of people in this room. Cait was nowhere to be seen, though a clump of people standing near a mirror gave him a hint as to where she might be hiding. At least these people weren't talking all at once. In fact, it seemed to be a press conference. Cait's answers to the reporters' questions were made in a voice that got quieter with each answer.

  Ben glanced around, saw an empty couch against one wall and herded the kids there. Shep immediately leaned into his side; from the weight, he'd be asleep in minutes. Maddie sat straight and still at first, taking in every detail. But as the questions continued, as some reporters left and others replaced them to ask for the same information, Maddie began to droop. Ben thought he, too, might be asleep before Cait got free to talk to them.

  Not quite, but his eyes were burning when the group broke up and the last reporter left. That still didn't mean the room was empty—a couple of beefy guys stood by the door. Bodyguards? Nearer to the couch, a woman was cleaning up a table that overflowed with food. And in the corner, Cait sat astride a chair, her face buried in her arms

  propped on the straight wooden back. Beside her sat her agent, Russell.

  "I can't believe you did that," Cait said, her voice only a whisper. "Don't ever schedule press meetings after a gig again. I can't do it."