Jingle All the Way

by Fern Michaels

  “I’m sorry,” Addie said. She grabbed a roll of paper towels.

  He was already crouching, gathering the pieces. “It wasn’t your fault, Addie.” He couldn’t look at her.

  She squatted, a wad of towels in her hand, blotting up the flow of coffee. He stopped her gently, took over the job. When he stole a glance at her face, there were tears standing in her eyes.

  “Maggie’s cup,” she whispered. He didn’t remember telling her his wife had made the mug; maybe Lissie had.

  “Don’t,” he said.

  She nodded.

  Floyd tried to lick up some of the spilled coffee, and Frank nudged him away with a slight motion of his elbow. He put the pieces of the cup into his pocket, straightened, and disposed of the paper towels in the trash can under the sink.

  “Shall I wake Lissie up?” Addie asked tentatively, from somewhere at the periphery of Frank’s vision.

  He shook his head. “I’ll do it,” he said.

  Lissie didn’t awaken when he lifted her off Addie’s bed, or even when he eased her into her coat.

  “Thanks for taking care of her,” he told Addie as he carried his sleeping daughter across the living room, Floyd scampering at his heels.

  Addie nodded and opened the door for him, and a rush of cold air struck his face. Lissie shifted, opened her eyes, and yawned, and the fragments of Maggie’s cup tinkled faintly in his pocket, like the sound of faraway bells.

  An hour later, with Lissie settled in her own bed and Floyd curled up at her feet, Frank went into the kitchen and laid the shards of broken china out on the counter, in a jagged row. There was no hope of gluing the cup back together, but most of the bright red heart was there, chipped and cracked.

  “Maggie,” he whispered.

  There was no answer, of course. She was gone.

  He took the wastebasket from the cupboard under the sink, held it to the edge of the counter, and slowly swept the pieces into it. A crazy urge possessed him, an unreasonable desire to fish the bits out of the garbage, try to reassemble them after all. He shook his head, put the bin away, and left the kitchen, turning out the lights as he passed the switch next to the door.

  The house was dark as he climbed the stairs. For the first six months after Maggie died, he hadn’t been able to sleep in their room, in their bed. He’d camped out in the den, downstairs, on the fold-out couch, until the night Lissie had a walking nightmare. Hearing his daughter’s screams, he’d rushed upstairs to find her in the master bedroom, clawing at the covers, as if searching, wildly, desperately, for something she’d lost.

  “I can’t find my mommy!” she’d sobbed. “I can’t find my daddy!”

  “I’m here,” he’d said, taking her into his arms, holding her tightly as she struggled awake. “Daddy’s here.”

  Now Frank paused at the door of his and Maggie’s room. Daddy’s here, he thought, but Mommy’s gone. She’s really, truly gone.

  He went inside, closed the door, stripped off his jacket, shoes and uniform, and stretched out on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. His throat felt tight, and his eyes burned.

  Maggie’s words came back to him, echoing in his mind. I want you to mourn me for a while, but when it’s time to let go, I’ll find a way to tell you.

  A single tear slipped from the corner of his right eye and trickled over his temple. “It’s time, isn’t it?” he asked in a hoarse whisper.

  Once again, he heard the cup smashing on Addie’s kitchen floor.

  It was answer enough.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Addie didn’t even try to go to sleep that night. She brewed another pot of coffee—no decaf this time—and sewed like a madwoman until the sun came up.

  It was still snowing, and she was glad it was Sunday as she stared blearily out the front window at a white-blanketed, sound-muffled world.

  “Can I open the calendar box,” Henry asked from behind her, “or do we have to wait for Lissie?”

  Addie took a moment to steel herself, then turned to smile at her stepson. Still in his pajamas, he wasn’t wearing his glasses, and his dark hair was sleep-rumpled. Blinking at her, he rubbed his eyes with the backs of his hands.

  “We’d better wait,” she said. Lissie might show up for the ritual, but she wondered about Frank. The look on his face, when that cup tumbled to the floor and splintered into bits, was still all too fresh in her mind.

  Of course it had been an accident. Addie understood that, and she knew Frank did, too. Just the same, she’d glimpsed the expression of startled sorrow in his eyes, seen the slow, almost reverent way he’d gathered up the pieces....

  Something a lot more important than a ceramic coffee mug had been broken.

  “Couldn’t I peek?” Henry persisted, still focused on the matchbox calendar. In a way, Addie was pleased; he was feeling more secure with the new living arrangement, letting down his guard a little. In another way, she was unsettled. For all his promises that Henry could stay until February, or even until school was out for the summer, Toby might appear at any moment, filled with sudden fatherly concern, and whisk the child away.

  “I guess,” she said, just as a firm rap sounded at the front door.

  “They’re here!” Henry shouted, bounding across the linoleum kitchen floor and into the living room.

  Frank stepped over the threshold, looking grimly pleasant, and Addie knew by the shadows in and beneath his eyes that he hadn’t had much more sleep than she had, if any. There was no sign of Lissie.

  “Where’s Halo Woman?” Henry asked, taking his glasses from the pocket of his pajama top and jamming them onto his face.

  Frank smiled at the new nickname. “Lissie’s got a fever this morning,” he said. “The doctor’s been by. Said she needs to stay in bed, keep warm, and take plenty of fluids.”

  “And you have to work,” Addie guessed aloud, folding her arms and leaning against the framework of the kitchen door because she wanted to cross the room and embrace Frank. She sensed that he wouldn’t welcome a show of sympathy just then.

  He nodded. “The roads are wicked, thanks to all this new snow. I’ve got every man I could call in out there patrolling, but we’re still shorthanded.”

  “We could baby-sit her,” Henry announced. He grinned. “And dog-sit Floyd.”

  Addie watched Frank’s face closely. He didn’t like asking for help, she could see that. “Mrs. Jarvis usually watches her when there’s a crisis,” he said, “but her sister just moved into the nursing home, and she’s been spending a lot of time there, trying to help her adjust.”

  “What’s easier, Frank?” Addie said gently. “For Henry and me to come down to your place, or for you to bring Lissie and Floyd up here?”

  He thrust a hand through his snow-sprinkled hair, glanced at the sewing machine and billows of blue fabric. “You’ve got a project going here,” he reflected. “And Lissie would probably enjoy a visit. I’ll wrap her up in a quilt and bring her up.” He was quiet for a long moment. “If it’s really all right with you.”

  “Frank,” Addie told him, feeling affectionately impatient, “of course it is.”

  “I better get dressed!” Henry decided, and dashed off to his room.

  “About the cup,” Frank began, looking miserable. He’d closed the door against the cold and the blowing snow, but he didn’t move any closer. The gap between them, though only a matter of a dozen feet, felt unaccountably wide. “I guess I overreacted. I’m sorry, Addie.”

  She still wanted to touch him, still wouldn’t let herself do it. “It meant a lot to you,” she said gently.

  He nodded. “Just the same,” he reasoned in a gruff voice, “it was only a coffee mug.”

  Addie knew it was much more, but it wasn’t her place to say so. “Go and get Lissie,” she told him. “I’ll bring out some pillows and a blanket, make up the couch.” She paused, then went on, very carefully, “Have you eaten? I’m going to make breakfast in a few minutes.”

  “No time,” he said with a sh
ake of his head. “I’ll hit the drive-through or something.” He hesitated, as if he wanted to say something else, opened the door again, and went out.

  Because she felt a need to move and be busy, exhausted as she was, Addie went into her room and grabbed the pillows off the bed. She was plumping them on one end of the couch when Frank returned, carrying Lissie. Floyd trailed after them, snowflakes melting on his floppy ears, wagging not just his tail, but his whole substantial hind end. Addie would have sworn that dog was grinning.

  Henry, dressed and hastily groomed, waited impatiently until Lissie was settled. “What about the calendar box?” he blurted. “Can we look now?”

  “I know what it is anyway,” Lissie said with a congested sniff. She was still in her flannel nightgown and smelled pleasantly of mentholated rub.

  Henry looked imploringly up at Addie.

  “Go ahead.” She smiled.

  Frank wrote down his cell phone number, handed it to Addie, kissed his daughter on top of the head, and left the apartment. The place seemed to deflate a little when he was gone.

  “It’s a dog!” Henry announced, returning to the living room. He’d dragged a chair over to the cupboards to peer inside that day’s matchbox. “Brown and white, like Floyd. But a lot littler.”

  “It’s snowing really hard,” Lissie fretted, turning to look out the front window. “Dad said the roads are slick. Do you think he’ll be okay?”

  Addie sat down on the edge of the couch, giving Lissie as much room as she could, and touched the child’s forehead with the back of her hand. “Sure he will,” she said quietly. “What would you like for breakfast? Scrambled eggs, or oatmeal?”

  “Oatmeal,” Lissie answered.

  “Scrambled eggs,” Henry chimed in at the same moment. Addie laughed. “I’ll make both,” she said.

  The kids ate in the living room, watching a holiday movie marathon on television, while Addie washed the dishes. The phone rang just as she was putting the last of the silverware away.

  “Hello?” she said cheerfully, expecting the caller to be Frank checking up on his daughter.

  “I’m in Denver,” Toby said.

  Addie stretched the phone cord to its limits, hooked one foot around a chair leg, and dragged it close enough to collapse onto. “What?”

  “I can’t believe this snow.”

  Addie closed her eyes. Waited.

  Toby spoke into the silence. “How’s Henry? Can I talk to him?”

  She couldn’t very well refuse, but stalling was another matter. Her stomach felt like a clenched fist, and her heart skittered with dread. “What are you doing in Denver?”

  “Put Henry on, will you?”

  Addie turned to call the boy, and was startled to find him standing only a few feet away, watching. She held out the receiver. “It’s your dad,” she said.

  Henry didn’t move. She couldn’t see his eyes, because of the way the light hit the lenses of his glasses, but his chin quivered a little, and his freckles seemed to stand out.

  “I can’t leave,” he said. “I’m a shepherd.”

  Addie blinked back tears. “You’ve got to talk to him, buddy,” she said very gently.

  He crossed to her, took the phone.

  “I can’t leave, Dad,” he said. “I’m a shepherd.”

  Addie started to rise out of her chair, meaning to leave the room, but Henry laid a small hand on her arm and looked at her pleadingly.

  “In the play at school,” he went on, after listening to whatever Toby said in the interim. “Yeah, I like it here. I like it a lot.”

  Addie rubbed her temples with the fingertips of both hands.

  “No, it didn’t come yet.” Henry put a hand over the receiver. “Dad sent a box,” he said to Addie. “Christmas presents.”

  Addie’s spirits rose a little. If Toby had mailed Henry’s gifts, he probably intended to leave the boy with her at least through the holidays. On the other hand, Toby was nothing if not a creature of quicksilver moods. And he was in Denver, after all, which might mean he’d changed his mind....

  “I understand,” Henry said. “You’re stuck because of the snow. You shouldn’t try to drive here. The roads are really bad—Lissie’s dad says so, and he’s the chief of police.”

  More verbiage from Toby’s end. Addie didn’t catch the words, but the tone was upbeat, thrumming with good cheer.

  “Right.” Henry nodded somberly. “Sure, Dad.” He swallowed visibly, then thrust the phone at Addie. “He wants to talk to you again.”

  Addie bit her lower lip, nodded for no particular reason, and took the receiver.

  “Addie?” Toby prompted, when she was silent too long. “Are you there?”

  “Yes,” she said, sitting up very straight on her chair, which seemed to be teetering on the edge of some invisible abyss. One false move and she’d never stop falling.

  “Look, I was planning to rent a car, drive down there, and surprise Henry with a visit. But it looks like that won’t be possible, because of the weather. I’ll be lucky to get out of here between storm fronts, according to the airline people.”

  Addie let out her breath, but inaudibly. She didn’t want Toby to guess how scared she’d been when she’d thought he was coming to take Henry away, or how relieved she was now that she knew he wasn’t. “Okay,” she said.

  Toby chuckled uncomfortably. “You know, I remember you as being more communicative, Addie. Cat got your tongue?”

  She glanced sideways, saw that Henry was still standing close by, listening intently. Floyd had joined him, leaning heavily against the boy’s side as if to offer forlorn support. “I guess I’m just surprised. I thought you were on your honeymoon.”

  “Elle got bored with the tropics. She’s in Manhattan, doing some Christmas shopping. Her folks live in Connecticut, so we’re spending the holidays with them. I decided I wanted to see the kid, and picked up a standby seat out of LaGuardia—”

  The trip was a whim, to Toby. Henry was a whim.

  Don’t say it, Addie told herself. Don’t make him angry, because then he’ll come here, if he has to hitch a ride on a snowplow, and when he leaves, Henry will go with him. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out,” she said instead. It wasn’t a complete lie. As much as Henry wanted to stay in Pine Crossing with her, he was a normal little boy. He loved his father and craved his attention. A visit would have delighted him.

  “Tell Dad you’ll take a picture of me being a shepherd,” Henry prompted.

  Addie dutifully repeated the information.

  “A what?” Toby asked, sounding distracted. Maybe they were announcing his flight back to New York, and maybe he had simply lost interest.

  “Henry’s playing a shepherd in the Christmas play,” Addie said moderately and, for her stepson’s sake, with a note of perky enthusiasm. “I’ll take some pictures.”

  “Oh, right,” Toby answered. “Okay. Look, Addie—I appreciate this. My dad sent you a check.” He lowered his voice. “You know, for the kid’s expenses.”

  Henry and Floyd returned to the living room, summoned by Lissie, who called out that they were about to miss the part where Chevy Chase got tangled in the Christmas lights and fell off the roof.

  “Your dad?” Addie asked, very carefully.

  Toby thrust out a sigh. “Look, we’re kind of living on Elle’s money right now. The mortgage business isn’t so great at this time of year. And since Henry isn’t hers—”

  Chevy Chase must have taken his header into the shrubbery, because Henry and Lissie hooted with delighted laughter.

  “Henry can stay with me as long as necessary,” Addie said, again with great care, framing it as a favor Toby was doing for her, and not the reverse. “Try not to worry, okay? I’ll take very good care of him.”

  Toby was quiet for so long that Addie got nervous. “Thanks, Add,” he said. “Listen, it’s time to board.”

  “Where can I get in touch with you, Toby? In case there’s an emergency, I mean?”

 
“Send me an e-mail,” Toby said hurriedly. “I check every few days.” With that, he rang off.

  They were all asleep when Frank let himself into the apartment at six-fifteen that evening, even the dog. Lissie snoozed at one end of the couch, Henry at the other. Addie had curled up in the easy chair, her brown hair tumbling over her face.

  Frank felt a bittersweet squeeze behind his heart as he switched on a lamp, turned off the TV, and put the pizza boxes he was carrying down on the coffee table.

  Floyd woke up first, beagle nose in overdrive, and yelped happily at the prospect of pepperoni and cheese. The sound stirred Lissie and Henry awake, and, finally, Addie opened her eyes.

  “Pizza!” Henry whooped.

  Frank laughed, though his gaze seemed stuck on Addie. The situation was innocent, but there was something intimate about watching this particular woman wake up. Her tentative, sleepy smile made him ache, and if she asked how his day had gone, he didn’t know what he’d do.

  “How was your day?” she inquired, standing up and stretching both arms above her head. Making those perfect breasts rise.

  “Good,” he managed, figuring he sounded like a caveman, barely past the grunt stage. He averted his gaze to Lissie, who was off the couch and lifting one of the pizza box lids to peer inside. “Feeling better?” he asked.

  Lissie nodded, somewhat reluctantly. “I’ll probably have to go to school tomorrow and listen to Tiffany Baker bragging about being an angel in the Christmas play,” she said, but with some spirit.

  “Probably,” Frank agreed.

  Floyd put both paws up on the edge of the coffee table and all but stuck his nose into the pizza. Grinning, Frank took him gently by the collar and pulled him back.

  “I’ll get some plates,” Addie said, heading for the kitchen.

  “Bring one for Floyd,” Henry suggested.

  Addie laughed, and Frank unzipped his uniform jacket and shrugged it off, thinking how good it was to be home.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Much to Lissie’s annoyance, and Frank’s relief, the child was well enough to go to school the next morning. The snow had stopped, and though the ground was covered in glittering white, there was a springlike energy in the air.