While she was there, smiling at them both in such a warm, motherly fashion, Judith believed her. But when Marilyn turned away to show Alex and Robbie where the mattresses were to go, fear washed over Judith again. Then Charles’s arm came around her shoulder and pulled her close, and a whole new confusion swept through her.
“You’re warm,” he said. She felt him shiver and tuck her even nearer. “I’ve never been so cold as I was out there. The snow has already drifted hip high in some areas. I could hardly see the car. And the wind—” He shook his head, then turned his face and kissed her left temple. “It slices right through you, as if you don’t have so many clothes on that you can hardly move. This is one serious storm.”
“Do you think anyone will come for us?” she asked as his body warmth began to rise.
“No. Nobody in their right minds will go out in this blizzard. But it can’t last forever.” He sighed, then lowered his voice to a whisper. “But it’ll probably feel like forever, being stuck here with a bunch of strangers. ’Course, I guess it could be worse.” He kissed her temple again, and this time she could feel his tight muscles relaxing. “I guess we’re getting more of a white Christmas than we bargained for.”
There was something reassuring about sitting in a deep couch with her husband’s arm around her, and Judith let herself succumb to the feeling. Charles wasn’t a bad husband. His intentions were good, and he really did love his family.
So why was she seriously considering leaving him?
That eternal debate between her head and heart was interrupted by the tearful appearance of the Walkers’ youngest child, Josie.
“Mama!” She barreled headlong into her mother’s arms. All that Judith could see of her was a riot of golden curls. The rest was hidden by her maroon-and-blue sweater and her mother’s surprised embrace.
“Josie, what is it? Oh, lord.” Marilyn pressed a hand to her daughter’s head, then looked at Judith. “She has a fever.”
Judith was up at once. While she searched the medicine cabinets for a Tylenol, Charles fixed a pallet on a chair near the fireplace. When Joe came in with more wood and spied Josie in Marilyn’s arms, he disposed of his load and crossed to kneel before the two.
“What’s this, pumpkin?” He grinned at his daughter as he felt her flushed brow. “You can’t get sick on us now. You’ll miss out on all the fun.”
“What fun, Daddy?”
“Well, we’ve got to go out and cut down a Christmas tree. And then decorate it.” He sat on the couch and eased Josie into his arms. “Plus, I thought we’d play charades tonight. Like we always do around the campfire. I know how much you like charades.”
The five-year-old settled into his embrace. “But this isn’t a campfire.”
“Oh, yes it is. It’s an inside campfire. We’re camping out inside ’cause it’s too cold to sleep in a tent.”
“Can she swallow a half-tablet? Or should I dissolve it in something?” Judith asked.
“I’m not a baby.” Josie sat up and took her medicine. Everyone had come into the living room and her eyes swept the group. When her gaze touched on Alex, however, her baby face became fearful. She looked back up at her father. “Can my fingers fall off if they get too cold? Can they?”
“What? Where did you get such a silly idea, sugar? Your fingers aren’t going anywhere. You’re going to be just fine.”
“But he said—”
“You see what you’ve done?”
Everyone’s eyes turned to Robbie, then followed his angry glare to Alex.
“Hey, I was only joking.”
“She’s just a little kid. You can’t joke with her the same way you do with your sister.”
“Alex, what is this all about?” Charles demanded.
A slow flush crept up Alex’s face and he shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “It was just a joke. She got her hands wet yesterday. At that store. And I told her . . . I told her she better dry them or her fingers . . . well, I told her they might fall off. But I was just joking,” he finished defensively.
“He made it look like his fingers fell off,” Josie told her father. “Make him show you.”
“Alex,” Judith said, embarrassed by the whole situation. “Show her you were joking.”
Alex raised his hands and wiggled his fingers. “I was joking,” he repeated, scowling at the child. Then he stalked out of the room.
There was an awkward silence. Judith wanted to run after Alex, yet that seemed inappropriate. Jennifer edged next to her, and she put an arm around her daughter’s shoulder instead. Only when Lucy crossed to Josie did the atmosphere change.
“Look, Josie. I know an even better trick than Alex did. See?” She held her two hands up together, then folded one thumb back while circling it with a forefinger. “See?” She pulled her hands apart so that it appeared she had pulled off the end of one of her thumbs. “Look, I’ll show you how to do it too.”
Under Lucy’s playful instructions, Josie began to smile. When the little girl had perfected the hand trick, she laughed out loud. “I’m going to trick Alex. Don’t let anybody tell him. Let me fool him this time.”
“Okay, pumpkin. But right now you need to rest.” Joe carried her to the bed fixed for her in one of the overstuffed chairs. “Close your eyes and take a nap.”
The child yawned as he tucked a comforter around her. “Will you sing me a song?”
“Sure, pumpkin.” He sat down on the rug in front of her and began to rub her feet.
As he began to sing a slow Christmas song, Judith found herself sliding her hand up and down Jennifer’s arm in sync with the melody. His voice was deep and rich and the familiar carol was mesmerizing. Calming. Jennifer glanced up at her mother with a small smile on her face.
When Lucy sat down beside her father, Josie asked, “Where’s Fluffy? Is he okay? Did you feed him, Lucy?”
“Not yet, but I will.”
“Let me.” Jennifer jumped up. “I’ll get him something really good to eat, Josie. Then I’ll move his box right next to you.”
As Jennifer departed for the ice-cold kitchen, Judith noticed Charles standing before the fire. He had one foot propped on the wide brick hearth. His hair was sticking up in all sorts of directions. His sweater was buttoned crookedly and his shirt collar was bunched up. And the troubled expression on his face was equally uncharacteristic.
She was accustomed to his “trouble at the office” expression. It generally had an edge of anger, and of determination. His “trouble at home” expression was generally more frustrated. But his face now seemed more that of a lost little boy’s. She started to go to him, but before she could, he scowled.
“Damn cell system!” He looked over at her. “I should have gotten a satellite phone a long time ago. We wouldn’t be cut off like this now. That’s the first thing I’m going to do when we get home.”
Judith stared at him. “This storm’s probably stopped construction everywhere. There can’t be anything going on at the office. Try to relax,” she added, mindful that Joe and Marilyn could overhear them.
“Just because a job site is shut down, it doesn’t mean other even more important business can’t progress. You should know that. It’s not the mall project in Badington I’m worried about. It’s Greenmont Center. The demolition permits. That damned wishy-washy Garrington and his busybody of a wife.” He slapped the mantel hard, then sighed. “And now we’re cooped up here—our whole Christmas shot to hell.”
“At least if Alex and Jennifer are asked to write a paper on ‘how I spent my Christmas’ it’ll be more than a litany of the gifts they received.”
Charles scowled at her. “Since when have you liked roughing it?”
Judith shrugged. “I didn’t say I liked this situation. I only meant that we have to make the best of it. Find some good in it.” She smiled. “You’re the one who always says nothing is ever a complete loss. Does that apply only to business?”
He stared at her a long moment. “I guess the
day will come when we laugh and reminisce about this—‘remember that Christmas?’ Sort of like reminiscing about the old days before the business took off, when we struggled for every dime. Looking back, it doesn’t seem nearly as rough as it was.”
Judith’s smile faded. “No, it doesn’t seem like it was rough at all.”
Just then a shout erupted from the kitchen. Jennifer and Alex.
Judith hurried toward the angry cries, glancing guiltily at the Walkers as she did. Marilyn and Robbie were stacking the firewood while Joe resumed singing to prevent Josie from awakening. Only Lucy looked up. Beneath the child’s thick straight bangs, her eyes were amazingly clear and disturbingly perceptive. Like a tiny wise woman, Judith thought as she dashed into the kitchen.
“What in heaven’s name is going on?”
Alex and Jennifer both stood before the opened refrigerator. One held a head of lettuce, while the other held a plastic bag of carrots. They were glowering at each other, and not even Alex’s superior height and strength could intimidate Jennifer.
“I’m feeding Fluffy, but this lame-brain is being a jerk. As usual,” she added in a venomous tone.
“Stop it!”
Judith jumped at Charles’s thunderous words. He had come up behind her, and now he surveyed his family furiously.
“Haven’t you two got anything better to do than fight every single minute of the day? Can’t you go even a little while without jumping down each other’s throats?”
“We could watch TV,” Alex answered bitterly. “But the stupid electricity is out. We could listen to the radio—oops, I forgot. No electricity.”
“Alex,” Judith warned. But in youthful outrage, he plunged recklessly on.
“I know.” He gave his sister an exaggerated smile. “Let’s play Monopoly—no, Chinese checkers—no. How about tiddlywinks!”
Charles shouldered past Judith. In the icy kitchen everyone’s breath hung in the air. Frigid puffs of anger, colder even than the storm outside.
“Go to your room!” Charles yelled when he was face-to-face with Alex. “And don’t you dare come down here till I say you can!”
Alex looked ready to yell back at his father, but Judith grabbed his arm. She frowned at Charles.
“It’s too cold upstairs. There’s no heat.”
“Good! Maybe he’ll cool off!”
“Charles, you’re being unreasonable.”
“Me! Me? Dammit to hell, Jude! I’m the only one in this family who is reasonable. I’ve given him every-thing any kid could ever want. Yet all I get back is complaints, sarcasm, and a frown. All he ever does is frown. And Jennifer—if it weren’t for her always asking me for money, she’d never even notice me. Then there’s you. I built you a mansion. You can buy whatever you want from any store in New York. In the world! But are you satisfied? No, you repay me by threatening me with divorce—”
He stopped abruptly.
Alex and Jennifer were staring at him in horror. Judith knew she should deny what he’d said, yet she couldn’t muster the words. When the children’s eyes swung to her, she could do no more than weakly shake her head.
In that terrible silence, Joe Walker’s voice was a welcome relief. “Jennifer, have you got the rabbit’s breakfast? And Alex, I need help cutting more firewood. You, Robbie, and I can take turns with the ax.”
The children obliged him at once, fleeing silently from the kitchen. Then he turned his perceptive gaze on Judith and Charles. “The apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree. You can’t expect your children to exhibit an inner peace when neither of you do.”
The quiet words struck Judith’s heart with painful accuracy. Even Charles was temporarily silenced. Then Joe left and Charles’s temper returned.
“Who the hell does he think he is? He’s got a hell of a nerve barging into our lives—ruining our Christmas—and then preaching to us!”
“He didn’t come here by choice. And they aren’t ruining our Christmas,” Judith said, unable to still the tremble in her voice. “They’re just a nice family who had the misfortune to get stuck here with us. The truth is, we couldn’t manage a happy Christmas under the best of circumstances. We’ll probably ruin their Christmas.”
She smiled bitterly. “The apples haven’t fallen too far from the tree, have they? Are you peaceful inside, Charles? I know I’m not. So how can we expect it of them?”
“You’ve always been too easy on them.”
“And you’ve always avoided what you don’t want to see. The problem is us—not them. They’re just the symptom, like a stomachache that won’t go away. Pepto-Bismol may mask the pain for a while, but the ulcer’s still there, Charles. It’s still there.”
He shoved his hands into the pockets of his sweater. “The fact is, everyone in this family just needs to try a little harder. I can’t do it all by myself.”
“All by yourself?” Judith laughed, but she felt more like crying. “You haven’t got a clue, have you? Well, pay attention to this, Charles Montgomery: you don’t know what ‘all by myself’ really means. But you will soon.”
Then she left.
Chapter Six
The pain that gripped Charles’s chest was so acute, he wondered if he was having a heart attack. But he’d been given a clean bill of health only a month ago. His doctor had said he was just working too hard. His stomach pains, constant weariness, and occasional chest pains were stress related. Take a vacation, the doctor had advised, and all those symptoms would go away.
But Charles’s stresses weren’t due to work, and this vacation was making that painfully clear.
Out of habit he crossed to the landline and lifted the receiver to his ear. Not a sound. He tried his own phone, too, then resisted the urge to throw the damn thing against the wall. What good was the best damn phone money could buy, if it didn’t work in an emergency?
Footseps hurried up the stairs. He heard Judith’s voice and then Marilyn’s. Lucy laughed out loud and Jennifer began to giggle. Then Joe Walker called for Robbie and Alex, and in a moment footsteps clattered down the stairs. The three came through the kitchen and Charles immediately straightened his posture. His hands tightened on the kitchen counter when Alex went by without glancing up at all. Robbie followed, shooting Charles a quick curious glance as he hurried past.
Joe hesitated when the two boys went outside. But Charles’s rigid posture must have warned him away. With a sigh the man pulled a knit hat down over his ears and joined the boys.
Charles couldn’t help himself. He rubbed a clear spot on the kitchen window to watch them. Joe had an ax. He’d probably found it in the basement. Now he had both boys out by a chopping block. Charles had a hard time imagining the banker, Rogers, cutting firewood. But Joe Walker fit the image. And that realization bothered Charles.
There had been a time when he’d fit that image, too. Back when he’d been a young man visiting his grandparents, he’d cut more than his share of wood. But Alex didn’t know that. Charles had never even thought about teaching Alex how to chop wood. They purchased it by the cord for the fireplaces at home.
His brow creased as he realized that Alex probably saw him only as a businessman, barely able to build a fire, let alone cut the fuel for it.
He watched in increasing despair as Joe had the boys haul several unsplit logs nearer. Even through the driving snow, Charles could see the interest on Alex’s face as the man gestured and explained. Then with just a few well-aimed blows, Joe split the log.
Alex gathered up the pieces while Joe positioned another log. Robbie took the ax then, and went to work. Although it took him several more swings, he, too, quickly reduced the heavy log to more manageable fuel for the fireplace. Robbie did another, and then another, but Charles didn’t watch the youngster work. His eyes were trained on Alex, who was standing off to the side with Joe.
The man had his hand on Alex’s shoulder as he spoke to him. He said something and Alex laughed. A full, unrestrained grin lifted the boy’s face, and once more Charles f
elt an ache in the vicinity of his heart. Why couldn’t he bring that kind of expression to Alex’s face? Maybe if they played some tennis . . .
Finally it was Alex’s turn. Joe showed him how to hold the ax: left hand near the curved end, right hand free to slide with the stroke. He showed Alex how to judge the correct distance he should be from the log, and how to position his feet. Then he and Robbie stood back to the side.
Swirling snow coated the three figures outside and gave the scene a Christmas-card quality. Alex looked over at Joe and said something that caused him and Robbie both to laugh. Charles wished he knew what it was.
He watched with tensed posture as Alex lifted the heavy ax and then swung. Too tentative, he thought, as the metal head glanced off the log, toppling it over. Joe and Robbie both came forward with advice and gestures. Alex nodded, then righted the log. His brow was creased in concentration as he focused on the log. Once more he swung, and this time the ax bit deep into the seasoned oak.
He mimicked Joe’s and Robbie’s earlier actions to knock the log free, then positioned it again. It took him almost twice as many swings to split the log as it had taken Robbie, and he was blowing hard when he finished. But the expression on his face was exultant.
Joe clapped him on the back and Robbie handed him a wood chip from among the pieces scattered in the snow. Alex grinned and slipped it into his pocket. Joe took the ax and split several more logs before handing it on to Robbie. They continued on that way, the three of them taking turns with the work while the stack of fuel grew and grew.
They talked as they worked, and though their cheeks and noses grew ruddy with the cold, they clearly were warmed by their activity. Charles, by contrast, grew colder and colder. He shivered in the frigid kitchen and his teeth chattered, but still he could not tear himself away from the window. Only when he saw them lay the ax aside and begin to gather up the wood did he step away. Before the trio could reenter the kitchen, he retreated to the living room.
He noticed at once that the chaos in the room had disappeared. Though the room was a far cry from the contemporary sleekness its designer had intended, its new coziness was much more appealing. Rugs covered the gleaming wood floors almost entirely. The upholstered furniture was clustered tightly before the fire, with a low coffee table in the middle. Quilts and comforters from the bedrooms were folded over the backs of the couches and chairs so that anyone could easily snuggle up for warmth. The dinner table and chairs took up the corner near the now curtained-off dining room.
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