Angels in the Snow

by Rexanne Becnel

  Lucy digested that a moment. “Okay, I think I get it. Which one are you?”

  That stopped Charles cold. He glanced uneasily at Judith. “I . . . I would have to say that I’m an optimist. But not a cockeyed optimist,” he hastened to add. “I wouldn’t have succeeded in real estate development these past years if I wasn’t realistic, too.”

  Once more he sought out Judith. She was watching him with an expressionless look. Did she think the optimistic side of him was overriding the realist in expecting their marriage to recover?

  Lucy nodded. “I think that’s what I am, too,” she decided. “I always hope for the best, but sometimes I know it’s not going to turn out that way.”

  “What written words have you always remembered?” Joe asked Charles.

  His jaw tightened. What was this, grill Charles Montgomery night?

  “Nothing comes to mind at the moment. How about you, Judith?” He turned toward her, knowing the sarcastic edge in his voice was misdirected. “What words do you remember?”

  Judith averted her head, staring down at her hands as she twisted one of her rings back and forth. For a moment Charles feared she would quote some frighteningly revealing words, like a message saying good-bye. His pulse quickened in the silence. Then she raised her face and smiled ruefully.

  “I doubt if any of you have ever heard these words. They’re from a story that was written in The Whole Earth Catalog.”

  “I remember that. My mother had an old copy of it,” Marilyn said.

  “Well, there was a story in one issue, ‘Divine Right’s Trip,’ and a line from it has always stayed with me. A bit of graffiti. ‘There are times when the wolves are silent and the moon is howling.’ ” She paused and shrugged. “Not a particularly well-known line, as I said.”

  “That’s cool,” Alex said thoughtfully. He nodded slowly. “Actually, that could be part of a really cool song. You know, the starting point for the lyrics.”

  Judith laughed. “Go for it, then.”

  “It’s sort of like ‘still waters run deep,’ ” Joe remarked. “I’ll have to dig out The Whole Earth Catalog and read the story.”

  Maybe I should, too, Charles worried as he stared at his wife. The fact that they could be so out of step was terrifying. And then there was the quote itself. Why had it stayed with her? What did it signify?

  But he knew: discontent.

  “Okay, it’s your turn, Alex.” Jennifer grinned at her brother. “Have you got any words? Probably lyrics, knowing him,” she said to the rest of them.

  “Yeah, probably,” Alex agreed. “Trouble is, there’s so much to choose from.” He frowned as he searched his memory. “Okay, there’s this song. It goes, ‘Imperfection makes for a perfect world.’ ” Alex hesitated and he ducked his head. “I know it sounds weird, but it’s true if you think about it. Everyone has their own ideas about the way things should be. You know, how to make everything just perfect. And we all think everybody else’s ideas are wrong—imperfect. But it’s all those so-called imperfections that make this world so interesting. You know, different strokes for different folks.” He shrugged and gave a self-conscious smile. “It’s a pretty good song. The guitar work is way cool, too.”

  “And it was written by a heavy-metal group?” Joe asked Alex. His gaze, however, rested on Charles.

  “Yeah. It’s a new group called Noodlehead.” Alex’s eyes followed the direction of Joe’s, and Charles automatically turned to meet his son’s gaze.

  If Joe’s watchfulness had aggravated him, Alex’s wariness unnerved him. Part cautious, part belligerent, Alex’s expression seemed to challenge his father, and Charles felt a deep pang of regret. He’d never meant for Alex to feel defensive around him. When they’d disagreed in the past, he’d never wanted Alex to feel that the disapproval was directed at him personally. It was the trappings Charles had disliked. The hair. The music. The pierced ear.

  Yet Alex’s caution made it clear he’d taken the criticisms to heart. How could Charles make him understand that he loved him? That none of the rest really mattered at all?

  He swallowed hard against the sudden pounding of his heart. “Are the words to most of your music that thought provoking?”

  Alex held his father’s gaze, seeming to search his face as he considered his answer. “Not usually,” he finally conceded. “I mean, they almost always have a lot of emotion. You know, anger or frustration. Love. But the words are usually secondary to the music itself.”

  Charles nodded. “It’s always pretty loud.”

  Alex actually chuckled. “It has to be. That’s part of the emotions.”

  “Getting a headache from the noise is a part of it,” Robbie threw in. “If your head hurts, then you’ll be angrier and more frustrated.”

  “Dork.” Alex grinned and shoved Robbie. “We all know what kind of music you like. ‘Grandma got run over by a reindeer.’ ” He mimicked Robbie’s higher-pitched singing voice.

  “Yeah, and you’re just a sentimental kind of guy. Playing ‘Silent Night’ and all.”

  Charles broke into Robbie’s teasing. “He did a great job of it.”

  Alex studied his father as if he couldn’t quite understand his sudden defense—and approval. “It’s an emotional song. That’s what I like in music. Expressing emotions in words and on the guitar.”

  “ ‘Imperfection makes for a perfect world.’ ” Judith repeated the lyrics Alex had offered. “That’s worth remembering for times when we can only see things our own way, and dismiss everybody else as being foolish.”

  “Come on, Mom. When have you ever called anyone a fool?” Jennifer scoffed. “You’re the one who always makes peace between everyone.”

  Judith’s eyes flitted to Charles, then settled back on their daughter. “Well, let’s say I try. But, hey, Robbie and Joe. Neither of you have told us your favorite line from the written word. Who’s first?”

  Charles didn’t listen to Robbie’s answer. He didn’t laugh when everyone else did. And he only vaguely heard Joe’s comments about a book called Ecotopia and its impact on him. He was too wrapped up in his own dark thoughts.

  Up to now Judith had always been the peacemaker, the one to see merit in both sides of every situation. She’d been the one who saw beyond people’s imperfections, while he’d been the one who always demanded perfection. But it was only his vision of what would be perfect, with no allowances for anyone else’s.

  It was devastating to admit that he didn’t know how his own family saw the world, or what they wanted from it. He didn’t know the people he lived with and loved and spoke to every day of his life.

  In Alex he’d only seen a rebellious teenager; he’d missed the poet.

  He’d seen a picture-perfect wife who made him look good. But he’d missed the woman who wanted something more from her life than being a shiny mirror for her husband.

  He thought he knew what Alex wanted now. If he just let up a little and accepted that the boy was serious about his music, he was certain things would improve between them.

  As for Jennifer, he’d have to prove to her that he could handle the important matters, too. He’d spend more time with her, and eventually it would happen.

  But he didn’t have any idea what Judith wanted.

  He peered sidelong at his wife as she took Josie onto her lap and let the child teach her a clapping game. He hadn’t attempted to talk to her about their differences since the Walkers had arrived. Perhaps it was cowardice on his part, but he couldn’t put it off any longer. Tonight, once they went up to bed, they would talk. He would wait for her, no matter how she sought to avoid him. He’d suggest that the kids sleep downstairs tonight. Then he and Judith would pin down the problem and begin to work out a solution. He was not going to lose her. Not when he realized how desperately he loved and needed her.

  Chapter Twelve

  Judith frowned, trying to remember which gift was in which box. The green paisley box was an “America Rocks” T-shirt for Alex, bu
t would it be too big for Robbie? And which package held the DVDs of Frozen and Everlasting? They’d be perfect for Lucy. Then she hesitated. Did the Walkers have a DVD player?

  She sighed and slumped down on the bed, a crease forming across her brow.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She jumped in surprise at Charles’s voice. “Oh. I was . . . I was trying to pick which gifts to give the Walker children. Marilyn and I discussed some of the items, but I forgot to ask her if they had a DVD player.”

  Charles moved across the chilly room toward the fireplace, and held his hands out to the flames. “I heard Josie say something about being too old to watch her Sesame Street DVDs anymore, so they must. I don’t think they’re quite so out of touch with modern life as I first thought.” He turned to look at her, a rueful expression on his face. “To tell the truth, they’re a pretty nice family.”

  Judith quirked a brow at him. “Yes, they are.”

  “But you’re surprised I admit it,” Charles finished her thought for her.

  “Well . . .” Judith sighed. “I suppose that’s true. You didn’t seem too pleased to have them here. And it’s obvious Joe sometimes rubs you the wrong way.”

  “Yeah. Well, he’s kind of patronizing at times. He’s way too smug, considering—” He broke off. But Judith knew what he’d been about to say.

  “Considering that he’s an itinerant artist who can’t make much more than a ditchdigger—minimum wage. Right?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Yes, but you thought it.”

  To her surprise, he didn’t argue. “Sometimes I judge people by standards that are too . . . Well, the wrong standards for them.”

  Judith stared at him, more surprised than ever. “Yes,” she slowly agreed. “Sometimes you do.”

  “Anyway, I’m actually kind of glad they ended up on our doorstep.” He looked at her as if he were waiting for her reaction.

  He was going to give it his all, she realized. He was going to be humble, apologetic, and sincere tonight. In short, the hard sell. Charles was a masterful salesman. That’s what made him such a good real estate developer. He let Doug handle most of the construction side of the work, while he handled the personalities involved—the politicians and bankers, unions and neighborhood groups. He could sell flour to a wheat farmer, and now he was planning to sell her on the idea that he could change.

  She lifted her chin a notch, and a bitter smile thinned her lips. “I’m glad they came, too. They’ve been good for Jennifer and Alex.”

  “They’ve been good for me, too, Jude. I mean, everything is so Christmasy now. The tree, the caroling. If they hadn’t been here, I’m not so sure we could have created the same feelings. I know we couldn’t have.”

  He shifted, and Judith realized that he was actually uneasy. She stared at him harder. Charles was never uneasy when he was selling an idea. She’d heard him say a thousand times that you had to be truly excited about something to be able to effectively sell someone else on it. Your enthusiasm couldn’t be faked.

  But he was uneasy now, and she wasn’t sure what that meant. She reached for a large box wrapped in red paper with a huge green bow and shook it. If he wanted to cut to the heart of the matter, so be it. “You’re probably right,” she replied slowly. “You and I would have had a difficult time creating the illusion of happiness and family warmth that comes so naturally to the Walkers.”

  She met his eyes and saw the pain in them. It took all her willpower not to crumple in the face of it, for she didn’t want to hurt him. She was just tired of always being second to M.G., Inc. She wanted to be first with someone. And if it couldn’t be with him, then it would have to be with herself. She wanted to be happy. If that meant they had to be apart, then she was ready to make that move.

  There was an awkward silence. Charles shifted his weight once more. “We used to be able to do that—to create that happiness in our own family. I . . . I think it’s something we could learn to do again. If we both try,” he added.

  Judith steeled herself against the rush of feelings his emotion-filled words created. She forced herself to be cool and analytical. “I think that our concepts of trying are vastly different. You do all the things you think a good husband and father should do. We live well. But . . .” Her composure slipped despite her best efforts to remain calm. “But I find myself more and more dissatisfied with it.”

  “But why?” he interrupted, beginning to grow angry. “What do you want from me—” He broke off suddenly, and drew back as his face went pale. “Is it . . . is it someone else?”

  Judith couldn’t hide her shock. “No! How can you even think such a ridiculous thing?” She stood up and began to pace as her own anger surfaced. “How very like you to assume such a thing! You can’t conceive of any flaw in your own behavior, so you look for something despicable in mine!”

  “Judith, I didn’t mean—”

  “Oh yes, you did! In fact, you’d probably like it a lot better if I had carried on with some other man. Then you’d be absolved of any fault. You could be the innocent one, the injured one!”

  She drew a shuddering breath and turned an accusing face on him. “The disloyalty is yours, Charles. The infidelity.”

  “Never, Judith! I swear! Not once in all these years—”

  Her laugh was the saddest, most miserable sound she’d ever made. “Every day, Charles. You and your business. You and the cell phone that you keep beside you day and night, most of the time hooked onto your head like some . . . some robotic extension of yourself. It’s 24/7—no stopping, ever. The bigger you get, the bigger you need to be. The more successful you become, the harder you go at it. If M.G., Inc., was a woman, I’d have a hell of a lot better chance of getting you back. But M.G., Inc., is a disease. And you’re terminal. We’re terminal.”

  The silence was awful. Judith’s pulse roared in her ears. She thought insanely of that poor rabbit lying in the box, gasping out her last breath. Dying silently, though everyone wanted her to live.

  That’s what she was feeling now. No matter how much they all wanted it to live, their marriage was dying. It was gasping out its last breath in a cold bedroom in the middle of a blizzard. By morning it would be dead.

  She swallowed the hard lump in her throat and stared at Charles. His face was white, his disbelief plain.

  He shook his head. “You’re wrong. You’re wrong. You mean far more to me than the company. How can you think you don’t? I won’t deny that I spend a lot of time working. I . . . I guess I’m a workaholic. But if I’d known you felt this way—”

  “What would you have done? Scaled back? Abandoned the new hotel project?” She gave him a bitter smile. “That hotel is what you’ve been aiming at for years. The pinnacle. But when it’s done, what will you do next? Something that will prove you even more successful, and make you even richer. You could quit your job today, and we’d never lack anything if we scaled back our lifestyle to a reasonable level. We’d never lack food, or shelter. Not anything.

  “But you’d be miserable if you quit working. Meanwhile, I’m miserable if you continue.” She tried desperately to regain some composure. “So where does that leave us?”

  His brows had begun to lower as she talked. Outrage and denial had clearly replaced his initial shock. “We’re not terminal, dammit! The whole point of this trip is to mend the rifts in our marriage, but you have been determined from the outset not even to give us a chance. My God, Judith, haven’t the past two days proven my point? We can be happy together—”

  “With someone forcing us to be!” she interrupted. “With the phones out, and no way for you to work.”

  She knew she’d scored with that, for he ran his hand distractedly through his hair as he groped for a response.

  “Okay. Okay. I work too much. I can change that. I can,” he repeated in the face of her skeptical expression.

  “It’s more than that, Charles. That’s just a symptom, not the whole problem. You need a constant ch
allenge to be happy. You need to struggle and win to feel complete. And I . . .” She swallowed and shook her head.

  “You married me knowing I was that way. That’s what attracted you in the beginning.”

  “Yes, I know it did. And I know you think I’m being terribly unfair now.”

  “Selfish is the word,” he accused. “What about Alex and Jennifer? What are you going to tell them? Mommy doesn’t like living in a big house and having so many privileges and luxuries. So she’s decided to divorce Daddy. Is that what you’re going to tell them?”

  Judith stiffened. “I’m going to tell them that I can’t fit into the role you want me to play. And I know that Alex will certainly understand that.”

  To her surprise, that seemed to affect him more than anything else she’d said. He seemed to shrink as the anger fled him. She watched as he crossed to the bed and slowly lowered himself to sit on it. When he stared up at her, his face was stripped of all pretense and protective emotions. She saw pain and fear in his eyes, and it sent a shiver of fear through her. For a brief, insightful moment, she recognized how much she’d always relied on his strength. His confidence and enthusiasm had always carried her along, and she’d been willing to take that ride. But now he was the vulnerable one, and she was strong.

  Was it fair of her to abandon him now just because she finally had the ability to do so?

  Judith sat down, too. She’d thought Charles the dominant partner in their relationship, the one who made the big decisions. The one whose needs and goals set the pattern for their marriage. She hadn’t even recognized her own dissatisfaction until the past few years. But now, as he sat here before her at his most vulnerable, she realized that she did wield a certain power.

  He’d never wielded his power with the intention of hurting her. How could she wield hers any less generously?