by Mistletoe
"I'll be damned," Asher whispered under his breath. He and Rose exchanged bewildered glances, Santa staring at them with baffled concern.
Danny stood, his defiance gone, his face utterly bewildered as he looked at the three adults.
Kate regarded her brother with solemn, pitying awe. The boy had sinned. He had doubted, he had shouted his disbelief of the great one, and Santa had found him out. His gift had mysteriously vanished.
Rose recovered first. "That's fine, Santa. I guess that's how it goes. We're always happy to see you, though." She took him firmly by the arm, and propelled him toward the door. "Thank you, and happy Christmas."
Critcher glanced worriedly over his shoulder, confusion plain on his face. Joshua couldn't restrain a wink.
"Merry Christmas, Santa Claus," he called, trying to keep the laughter from his voice.
"Uh… Merry Christmas," Santa answered, and Asher could hear him mumbling to Rose that he didn't understand, that he had seen the present—
"Good night, Santa," Rose said, sweet but firm, then she closed the door.
When she returned, they all stood quietly and looked at Danny. His anger and defiance were gone.
He stood there, confusion and suspicion playing across his face, looking from his mother to Asher, and back again.
"How did you do that?" he finally asked, bewildered and forlorn sounding. "How?"
"I did nothing," Rose said, simply and truthfully. "Nothing at all. God moves in mysterious ways, Danny, His wonders to perform. And so, apparently, does Santa. Let that be a lesson to us all."
The boy stood stock-still, then ran from the room.
"Don't you dare laugh," Rose said to Asher.
"I wasn't even thinking of it," he answered truthfully. "I was thinking about what you said. I'll be…"
"And don't swear."
"Yes, ma'am."
Kate stared up at them with awed eyes. "He knew," she whispered. "Santa knew. Poor Danny."
"Yes, poor Danny," Rose agreed. "But he'll be all right. Now let me see what Santa brought you."
Kate tore open her package without hesitation, and her face lit up at the sight of her new mittens of red yam, and a striped bag of ribbon candy. If Danny had tried to spoil her surprise, he had failed miserably.
She counted out each piece of candy, admiring them in turn— the red-and-white striped one, the solid green, the pink-and-white one rippled like a piece of ribbon caught in the wind, the lemon-yellow and orange ones.
She exclaimed over each as if it were a work of art, arranged them in a row, and then carefully tucked them back into their bag She looked up at her mother.
"Should I share them with Danny?"
"Do you want to?"
She nodded, her face troubled. "He was bad, but I don't want him to be sad anymore."
"You're a good girl," Rose told her. "You may, in the morning. I think Danny wants to be alone now, and you need to go to bed. Christmas comes early."
Asher watched, smiling as Kate hugged her mother's neck, and bid him good night. She raced up the stairs wearing her red mittens.
"Will she sleep in them, do you suppose?" he asked.
"Probably. If they came from Santa, they're magic, you know."
"I should put those candles out." He stood, and started extinguishing them, one by one, carefully cupping his hands around the little flames. "Speaking of magic," he began.
"I don't have the faintest idea," she answered, before he could finish. "Wasn't that the oddest thing?"
"I almost felt sorry for the boy."
"Almost," she agreed with a grimace. "But not quite. He was horrible."
"Agreed." He snuffed out another candle, and started to laugh. "Critcher was a sight, wasn't he? He should forget the mines and go on the stage. Hell, I almost believed in Santa tonight!"
He settled back on the sofa next to her, and they both laughed softly.
"•Rose?"
She looked up at him, her eyes soft and dark in the lamplight.
He cleared his throat, uncertain of how to begin. "I'm not much good at speaking," He started confidently, but then stopped, suddenly tongue-tied.
She waited, wide-eyed and silent, and the look of hope in her eyes was somehow heart-wrendingly sweet to him.
"I guess I'll just say it, plain out. This has been the best Christmas I've ever had. Ever."
"Even with Danny's sideshow?"
"Well, that was something, wasn't it? I still can't figure out… well, never mind that. What I want to ask is… I know it's too soon, but…"
He drew a deep breath, and spoke. "Will you be here next Christmas? That is… what I'm trying to say is…"
"I know what you're trying to say." Her voice was soft and trembled a little. "And my answer is yes. I would be happy to stay, Ash. I agree, it seems soon, but… I want to stay. As long as you want us to."
"Maybe forever?" He caught her hands, and squeezed them tightly between his own
She closed her eyes, and her heart sang until she thought it would fly out of her chest and shoot away into the moonlight star-sprinkled sky. "Can you mean it?" she whispered.
"More than I've ever meant anything in my life."
A miracle. It was a miracle. This was the most beautiful night in all the world, in all time.
"I think I love you," she whispered, too honest to observe the proprieties, too honest to be ashamed of her own boldness.
"Oh, Rose." He gathered her tightly to his chest, and she let her face rest in the hollow of his neck, and breathed in the scent of his skin and dark hair. He smelted of soap and cigar smoke and clean hair.
"I love you, too," he whispered, and she felt his heart beating against her own. She wept with joy.
"Damn…" he said after a few minutes. "There you go again, running over. Stop that. Here— give me a kiss."
Blushing, laughing a little, she turned her face up, and they kissed, slowly and softly, until her face glowed pink, and she was breathless.
There was a soft sound from the ceiling above them, and they parted quickly, looking up.
"Kate," she said, unnecessarily.
He smiled at her, and wiped a tear from her cheek.
"I should go up," she said, her cheeks flaming again. "I forgot to listen to her prayers."
"Go ahead. You've already answered mine."
"Can you mean it?" She shook her head, joy and disbelief mingling in her heart.
"I can and I do. Now go to bed, Rose, and I'll see you in the morning."
She felt as if she were floating. The weight of her body seemed to have vanished, and she laughed with pure joy as she stood.
"Good night, Mr. Asher. And Merry Christmas."
"Good night, Mrs. Shanahan," he replied formally, his eyes twinkling. "And many more merry Christmases to come."
She couldn't help but look back at him as she climbed the staircase. He was standing in front of the tree, smiling as he bit off the end of a cigar.
She looked out the windows, up at the ancient, starlit sky, and her heart sang a prayer of thanks.
Kate was already asleep, still wearing her red mittens. Rose changed into her nightgown, shivering, and climbed into bed, hugging her daughter tightly.
She listened to the already familiar sounds of the house settling, and the sound of Kate's peaceful breathing. She listened as Asher climbed the stairs and went into his room across the hall, and smiled in the darkness.
She blessed the snow that had shut down the train, her son that had stolen Asher's coat, her daughter that listened to angels, and the man who had stolen her heart. As an afterthought, she even blessed Jamie Shanahan, for bringing her to these enchanted mountains.
At peace, she slept deeply and soundly, until the first pain shot through her back like fire, waking her in the dark and silent night.
Chapter Seven
"Ash. Oh, Ash, please wake up."
He rolled over immediately, blinking. "Rose?"
"Oh, Ash. Danny's gone!"
&n
bsp; She was pale, paler than he had ever seen her. She stood in his doorway, a kerosene lamp in her hand. She was still in her nightgown, that shabby coat that hung to her knees thrown over it.
"What? Gone where? What time is it?"
"Three-fourteen," she responded immediately.
"What do you mean, gone? Gone where?"
"I don't know. I went downstairs and he's gone. His clothes as well."
"I'll kill him." He rolled to the edge of the bed, and grabbed for his pants.
"Oh, don't be angry. Just bring him home. He can't have been gone very long."
She turned away as he pulled on his pants. It was the first time he had ever seen her with her hair down. It hung to her waist, wavy from being constantly constrained in a braid.
"Any idea where he might be?"
"Not the vaguest. But he shouldn't be too hard to find."
"You reckon?" Damn, it was cold. He put on an extra pair of socks. "Why is that?"
"It's snowing again. He will have left a trail."
"Good for him. I won't be too tired from searching to kill him."
Knowing he was mostly joking, she managed a wan smile. "All right, kill him if you must. But, Ash, before you do, send him for Dr. Tunbridge."
"Great merciful hell, Rose!" His boot fell from his hand, and his heart fell into his stomach. His face must have been a sight, for she almost laughed.
"Don't look like that. Should I fetch you some smelling salts?"
"Damn it, Rose, this is not funny." He shoved his foot into his boot, realized it was the wrong foot, cursed, and switched it around. "I'll fetch the doctor first"
"Don't you dare. I have hours, yet"
"How do you know?" He felt sick. He was going to kill Danny. Where the hell was his buffalo coat?
"You cleaned your room," she said softly, looking around.
"Hellfire, Rose! How can you stand there chatting like that?" There was his coat, hanging neatly in the wardrobe.
"What would you like me to do? I told you, I have hours, yet."
"You're sure?"
"I have done this before, you know." Her voice grew sharp, and abruptly she closed her eyes, her lashes laying like dark fans over her pale cheeks. Her mouth pressed into a tight line, and she took a deep, shaking breath.
¦•Rose?"
"I'm fine." Her voice still sharp. Then, just as suddenly, her face relaxed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound huffy."
"You go ahead and sound however you want to. Do you need anything?"
"I need to sit down. I need you to find Danny, and bring him home out of the cold, so I can quit worrying"
"Sit. Sit. Where's a chair?"
She did laugh, then. "Right in front of you. Now, go on. And promise me— you find Danny before you even think about fetching Doc Tunbridge."
He sighed. "I promise."
"Thank you, Ash." She smiled, and turned toward the stairs.
"Where the hell are you going?"
"To the kitchen, where it's warm. I've got the kettle on. I thought I'd have some tea while I waited. And stop swearing."
"Tea," he repeated in disbelief. "Tea, she says."
He followed her down the stairs, jamming his hat over his ears. "Are you supposed to drink tea? Should you be walking all over the house?"
"Until I feel like doing otherwise. Are you sure you're all right? Should I get those smelling salts?"
How could she be so calm?
He followed her into the kitchen. "I don't like to leave you alone."
"Well, mere's no help for it. Tell Doc Tunbridge the pains are eight minutes apart."
"Is that bad?" His heart raced with fear.
"No, it's one less than nine and one more than seven. That's all. I figure I've got three hours, at least."
"You're sure."
She calmly took a cup from the shelf, and reached for the tea tin. "As sure as I can be. Now, go find Danny, or I'll go myself."
"The hell you will," he said, and started for the back door, reciting his list. "Find Danny. Wake the doc. Tell him eight minutes apart. Kill Danny—"
"No, no. Come home, so that I can see he's alive, then kill him."
"Right. Come home. Kill Danny."
"Good," she said. "Thank you."
"You sit down," he told her. "And don't… clean anything, or any such foolishness."
"Saints preserve us," she replied, stirring her tea. "Hurry up, before that snow gets worse."
He tried to smile as he left, but it felt sickly. He didn't want her to see his fear, but it was there, keen and cold as a freshly sharpened razor.
He knew she was strong; he knew she was healthy. He even knew she had been through this twice before. But in his mind, he kept seeing two things he had never wanted to remember again— Emily's face, still and white in the darkness of the bedroom, and her blood-soaked mattress. Afterward, he had hauled that thing into the yard and burned it, while cold tears trickled down his cheeks and the dark smoke rose into the winter sky.
He had never seen the child. Never even wanted to know if it had been a boy or girl. Reverend Quigley had buried the stillborn baby in its mother's arms, and said that they were together in a better place. It had been damned small comfort for Asher.
"Not this time, God," he said aloud as he saddled his horse. "You hear me? Not again."
That was as close to a prayer as he could manage. It would have to do. He swung his leg easily over the bay's back, and started out into the snow. He was following Dan Shanahan's trail for the second time in a month.
He lost the trail in town, where a thousand footprints trailed in all directions over the silent, frozen street. For a moment, he felt sick, but he kept his head. He circled around behind the buildings, and rode a few feet into the woods, and sure enough, there was a single trail through the fresh snow.
He followed it down the slope of the hill, out of town. White flakes fell from the sky, heavier and faster, already filling the path he followed. It felt like forever since he had seen Rose, but he knew, logically, it couldn't have been more than fifteen minutes. Twenty, at most.
Where the hell did that fool boy think he was going?
He stopped his horse at a gateway of pines, and saw him, a single, almost invisible figure sitting in the graveyard, so still that Josh almost missed him. He could have been one of the tombstones, or a statue dusted with falling snow.
Asher slid down from his horse, and walked through the snow-covered plots, heaving a sigh of exasperation and relief.
Danny glanced up briefly, and then looked away.
Ash's anger slipped away like dust between his fingertips. He had never seen such a woebegone look, such misery on such a young face. Well, he knew what that felt like.
Danny sat by a plain wooden headstone that was painted white, its lettering already faded.
James Shanahan.
Asher lit a cigar, the match sputtering loudly.
"Come to talk to your dad, huh?"
He crouched down in the snow beside the boy, and waited. After a minute, Dan nodded.
"Kinda bad time for it. Your mama's pretty worried." He paused. "You miss him?"
Danny turned and looked up at him with Rose's brown eyes, snowflakes resting on the lashes. "A lot," he said finally.
"That's hard. It hurts. Sometimes it feels like it's never going to get better. And there isn't another person in the world that understands how you feel."
"There isn't." Danny swallowed hard. "He was… mine," he said simply. "He loved me best." He dashed a tear away with the back of his hand, angrily.
"Your mama loves you pretty fiercely, it seems to me."
"Maybe. But it ain't the same."
"Likely not. Nobody loves any two people exactly the same."
"He was mine," Danny said again. "You know how Mama and Kate are? Always understanding each other, always knowing what the other one's thinking about? He was like that with me. I know…" He stopped and swallowed hard. "I know what people say. I know he
drank too much. But it didn't matter. He still loved me. Sang to me sometimes." He snuffled loudly. "Next time anyone says anything bad about him, I'll knock their head offa their shoulders."
"You do that," Asher said, watching the end of his cigar glowing. "A boy oughta take up for his dad"
Danny looked at him again, slightly curious. "That's not what Mama would say."
"Well, Dan, I'll have to kill you if you tell her I said this, but"—he looked over his shoulder, as if she could hear him—"your mother doesn't really know everything."
The boy gave a weak smile, the first one Asher had ever directly received.
"Now, get your stuff, and let's get home before you freeze. Your mother's worried sick about you."
Danny looked ill. "I bet she hates me. I ruined everyone's Christmas."
"Ah, the hell you did. Maybe your own, but tomorrow's a new day. And one day, you'll laugh about tonight."
"I don't think so."
"Trust me, you'll laugh. As to your mother hating you, that's just not possible. She couldn't if she wanted to."
He reached down into the snow, and picked up the small bundle of clothes lying there. "Come on. Let's get."
"Sir?"
Asher turned, and looked. Damn, that boy needed a decent coat. the ratty sweater he wore was truly sad looking
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry if! spoiled things. I just felt… like everybody in the world was happy except me."
"Ah." Ash nodded. "Kind of like, you're lonely and miserable, and your heart's aching, and it seems like everyone in the world has somebody to love them except you? You feel like the only person who ever could love you is gone? Like you're going to be shut out and alone forever?"
"Just like that," Dan said, in a tone of wonder.
"Come here. Iwantto show you something."
Together, they walked through the silent graveyard through the falling snow, until they stood by a tall tombstone with a kneeling angel holding a lamb.
"That's where Emily is. My wife. And my baby. And you know, I felt just like you, for a long time. And you know when I felt it most?"
"No, sir."
"When I'd sit alone at dinner, and listen to you and your mother and your sister talking Everybody else had someone to love but me."