by Bonnie Leon
“He knows you didn't mean it,” Jean said. “Now, would you like some coffee and a cookie? We've got hot ones.” She opened the oven door and removed the latest batch.
“Sounds good. Anything I can do to help?”
Susie handed him a cookie cutter. “We still got more to make.”
“I'm not very good at it, but I'll try,” Ray said.
“I'll show you.” Susie cut out a cookie. “There. See. Like that.”
“Ray, would you and Celeste like to stay for supper? We're just having biscuits and gravy and string beans. Nothing special, but it'll be good and hot.”
“Sounds great. Celeste?”
“Sure.” She looked at Laurel. “I'll help Jean and Miram, and that way Laurel can stay off her feet.”
“I barely do anything these days. Even Adam's been waiting on me hand and foot,” Laurel said.
“Where is he?”
“Finishing a story. He'll be by soon. He wouldn't miss Christmas Eve and fresh homemade cookies.” A blast of wind hit the house. Laurel walked to the window and looked out. Trees bent in the wind, and snow shook from the limbs. “Another storm,” she said with a sigh. “I'll be glad for summer.”
Adam arrived just as dinner was being set out. He shook snow from his coat before hanging it up. “Looks like we've got a real williwaw blowing in.”
“A williwaw?” Jean asked.
“Sorry. It's an Alaskan term that means strong wind or a storm.” He bent and kissed Laurel. “I just learned about it. Sometimes when I'm writing, I get involved. I guess I'm talking in character. I figure one day I'll be a true Alaskan.” He chuckled. Looking at his wife and resting a hand on her shoulder, he said, “How have you been feeling today?”
“Fine, but I'm starving. You're here just in time. We were about to eat without you.”
Adam took the chair beside Laurel. “Smells good.”
“Just biscuits and gravy,” Jean said, setting a bowl of gravy on the table. Celeste put a platter of hot biscuits beside the gravy and sat. Miram placed a bowl of the string beans at one end of the table.
“Where's Luke?” Jean asked.
“I think he's still in his room,” Laurel said.
“I'll get him.” Adam started to rise.
“Why don't you say grace first, then go on up,” Jean said.
“Sure.”
Adam said a quick prayer of thanks and went to get Luke. A few minutes later he returned with the young man.
Still not smiling, Luke sat. In silence he served himself, and in silence he ate. Once or twice he cast a glance at Ray, but for the most part he kept his eyes on his plate.
Jean was thankful for the youngsters' exuberance. They chattered about Christmas and Santa and gifts, lifting what would have been a subdued atmosphere. This would be their first Christmas without Will, and Jean couldn't free herself from an ache that had settled in her gut. She glanced at Luke, knowing he felt it too. She forgave him his surly mood.
After dinner Ray managed to corral Luke into a game of checkers while everyone but Laurel worked in the kitchen. She was stretched out on the sofa, reading a magazine.
With the checkerboard between them, Ray contemplated his next move. He glanced at his opponent. No matter how angry or depressed Luke might be, it hadn't affected his game. He was giving Ray a real challenge. He rubbed his shaved chin. If he wasn't careful, Luke would beat him.
Luke leaned back in his chair and threw one leg over the other. “We gonna be here all night?”
“I'm studying the situation.” Ray grinned, but Luke only glowered back.
“I'm done with resting,” Laurel said, closing the magazine and setting her feet on the floor. “There's no reason why I can't help with the preparations.” Setting the magazine on the end table, she walked to Luke and leaned over his shoulder to study the board. “I'll see if Adam wants to play the winner. I'm sure he'd be happy for a reason to get out of the kitchen.” She left the two men to their game.
An oppressive silence settled over the room. Ray searched his mind for something to talk about. “So, how's trapping been?” He moved a checker forward.
“Slow.” Luke didn't look up, but a smirk touched his lips as he jumped one of Ray's checkers and removed it from the board. He sat back, folded his arms over his chest, and asked, “You been having any luck?”
“Not bad. I'm holding my own.” As soon as Ray saw Luke's annoyed expression, he knew he should have downplayed his success. He turned his eyes back to the board. “You're not the only one struggling. It's slow for a lot of folks.”
“Except for the real mountain men, I suppose,” Luke said sarcastically. He straightened and glared at Ray. Neither spoke for a long while. Finally breaking the silence, Luke said, “I want you to stay away from my mother.”
“What do you mean, stay away?” Ray asked, unable to keep the challenge out of his voice. He might have mellowed, but he wasn't going to let a kid like Luke tell him what he could or couldn't do. He met the young man's eyes. He'd tried hard to like Luke, but his whiny, nasty attitude had gotten under his skin.
“You know exactly what I mean. I know what you're up to.”
“I don't know what you mean. Maybe you can explain what I'm up to.”
“You're courting her.”
Ray jumped one of Luke's men. “You know nothing about how I feel or what I'm doing. And if any courting is going on, that's between your mother and me.”
Ray couldn't deny that he'd welcome Jean's affection, but he didn't think for a moment that she would give him a chance. She'd been widowed because of him. Nothing could come of the two of them. He could never become the man Will Hasper had been.
“You are, aren't you?” Luke challenged.
The sad reality settled over Ray, and his anger evaporated. He pushed to his feet. “Your mother's a fine woman, Luke. Any man would be proud to have her, but if you want to know if I'm out to get her, the answer is no. You don't have anything to fear.”
Luke stood. “So how come you're always here?”
“I'm needed. This farm requires a lot of work. And I like being here. Brian and Susie are terrific kids.”
Luke's face said he didn't believe a word. “You can spend all the time you want here, and it won't change anything. You don't belong. You'll never fill my father's shoes.”
Ray's anger flared. “I'm not courting your mother, nor am I trying to push my way into this family. And I never claimed I could be as fine a man as your father.”
A flicker of uncertainty touched Luke's eyes. “Good, then it won't be hard for you to leave.”
“Luke!” Jean stepped into the room. “That's enough!”
He fixed his eyes on his mother. “He's got you fooled, Mom. He's not who you think he is.”
“And who is that?” Jean challenged.
“It's clear as the nose on your face. He's no good. He's a phony, trying to worm his way into our family.”
“I don't believe that,” Jean said. “And the only thing that's clear is that your bitterness is rooted. If you don't dig it out, it will destroy you.”
Luke said nothing for a long moment, then walked out of the house.
“Ray, I'm sorry. He shouldn't have spoken to you that way.”
“He has a right to his feelings.” Ray gave a heavy sigh. “Celeste and I better get on home.” He looked at his daughter standing in the doorway. She seemed close to tears. “You ready?”
She nodded and went to get her coat.
Ray followed her, pulled on his coat and gloves, then turned to Jean. “I'm the one who's sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen.”
“I know.”
He opened the door, and frigid air carried in tiny snowflakes. Celeste hurried for the car. “I'm real sorry,” Ray said, his voice heavy.
Chapter 27
SNOW FELT LIKE TINY SHARDS OF GLASS AS THE WIND WHIPPED IT INTO RAY'S face. He pulled his hood closed and huddled low.
Celeste gripped his arm and peered into the swi
rling white. “Are you sure we're going the right way?”
“Yeah. This is the way,” Ray said shortly.
“How do you know?”
Ray didn't answer but kept moving.
Several minutes later he rested his hand on the side rail of the small bridge just before the Haspers'. “We're almost there,” he called, the wind carrying away his words.
“Thank the Lord!” Celeste yelled.
Ray and Celeste stumbled down the drive, keeping their hands on the fence line as a guide. The Hasper house appeared amidst the white squall, and father and daughter hurried toward the porch. Huddling against the door, Ray pounded on the wooden barrier.
Almost immediately the door opened and light flooded the porch. “What the … ?” Adam asked. “What are you two doing back here? Are you all right?”
Ray ushered in Celeste. “We're fine, I think. Just cold.” He stripped off his coat and gloves. Celeste headed straight for the stove.
“I'm freezing,” she said, shivering and huddling close to the heat.
Jean set down a bowl and hurried to Celeste. “What happened?” Taking Celeste's face in her hands, she examined her skin. “I don't see any frostbite.” She looked at the girl's hands, then rubbed them.
Ray joined his daughter at the stove, holding out his hands to the heat.
“What happened?” Jean repeated.
“We slid off the road. Only thing to do was to come back.” Ray glanced at Celeste. “The storm's really picked up. I wasn't sure we were going to make it. I'm sorry, Jean, but we'll have to stay until it passes.”
“Just thank the Lord you're all right,” Jean said. “We need to get you into warm, dry clothes. Laurel, could you find Celeste something to wear from my closet?”
Laurel pushed herself up.
“No, Laurel, you stay down. I'll do it,” Miram offered. “I think I have some things that would fit you, Celeste.”
“Thanks,” Celeste said and followed Miram out of the room.
Jean sized up Ray, then shook her head. “I don't know if I can come up with something for you. Will wasn't a small man, but he certainly wasn't as big as you.”
“I'm not real wet. Mostly just cold. I'll just stay here in front of the stove and be warm soon enough.” He held his hands out to the heat. “Hmm. Smells like baking apples.”
“I have a pie cooking. How about a cup of coffee? That ought to help heat you up. And I'll get you a blanket.”
Jean hurried to her chest and removed a wool blanket. Returning to the kitchen, she draped it over Ray's shoulders.
“Thank you,” he said, pulling it close.
Rubbing sleepy eyes, Brian walked into the kitchen. “What's going on? I thought I heard something. Is Santa here?”
“Sorry, Brian, it's just me. My car slid off the road, so Celeste and I had to come back.”
Brian smiled. “Good, but don't stay up too late or Santa won't come.”
“I won't. I promise.” Ray winked.
“OK, young man. Off to bed now,” Jean said.
“Where's your car?” Adam asked.
“'Bout a mile down the road—in the ditch.”
“You can't do anything about it tonight,” Jean said. “You're welcome to share a bed with Brian, and Celeste can have the sofa.”
“I'm sorry to put you out.”
“Nonsense. That's what being neighbors is all about.”
“And Luke?”
“He'll understand.”
Jean lay staring into the darkness. Wind shrieked around the house, driving snow against the window glass. She burrowed deeper beneath her covers, but the closeness of the blankets did little to dispel her chill and her loneliness. Will's place in the bed was still empty. He wouldn't be here for Christmas this year. He'd always been the one who cut the tree and hauled it into the house, and then he'd settle in his chair and watch the family hang the decorations. After the children were tucked into bed, he and Jean would set out gifts and enjoy a few quiet moments to reflect on the holiday. Jean had always baked Will's favorites at Christmas. This year the gesture felt empty.
She pressed her hand against her chest as if doing so would dispel the ache there. “When will the pain stop?” she asked the darkness. “Please, Lord, make it stop.”
A soft knock sounded at her door. “Yes. Who is it?”
“Mama, can I come in?” Laurel asked.
Jean pushed herself up and leaned against the headboard. “Come in.”
Laurel opened the door, and a splinter of light cut through the darkness. Holding a lantern high, she stepped in and walked to the bed.
“Is everything all right?”
“I think I'm in labor.”
Jean's pulse picked up. “What's happening?”
“I've been having pains for a couple hours. They're getting worse and coming more often.” Laurel sat on the foot of the bed. Glancing at the window, she asked, “What should we do?”
Jean smiled. “First, we thank God. We're about to have a new member added to the family.” She climbed out from under her blankets and hugged Laurel. “How close are the pains?”
“About every ten minutes.”
“Well then, I guess it's time to get you to the clinic. Dr. Donovan said he'd meet you there, right?”
“Mama, the storm's real bad.”
Jean climbed out of bed and walked to the window. Resting her hand on the glass, she peered out. Bursts of white crystals hit the window. “Well, you certainly can't go out in that.” She faced Laurel. “Someone will just have to go for the doctor.”
“I heard you talking. What's going on?” Luke asked, stepping into the room.
“Laurel's in labor. We were supposed to take her to the clinic, but the storm's too bad. We'll have to bring the doctor here.”
“I'll go,” Luke volunteered. “Just give me a minute to get some warm clothes on.” He disappeared.
Jean could hear him moving about upstairs. “How about a cup of hot tea for you?”
Laurel rested a hand on her abdomen, grabbed the bedpost with her free hand, and leaned over. She breathed slowly and evenly until the pain passed. “That was the strongest one yet. Tell Luke to hurry,” she said, her voice tense.
Jean gently rubbed her daughter's back. “I will. Everything will be fine.”
“They're getting worse.”
“Since this is your first baby, it will probably take its time getting here. Luke will be back before then. Don't you worry.” Jean smiled. “Do you think you can wake that husband of yours? We'll need to make up the bed for you.” She helped Laurel up the stairs and to her room. Adam still slept.
Luke traipsed in. “I'm leaving now,” he said, then turned and jogged down the hall.
“What's going on?” Adam asked groggily.
“Your wife is in labor,” Jean said, unable to keep the excitement out of her voice.
Laurel sat beside her husband. “I'm going to have the baby, so Mama and I have to get the bed ready. You need to get up.”
“You're having the baby now?” Adam sat up. “Here?”
Laurel chuckled. “Not right now, but soon.”
“I thought you were going to the clinic.”
“The storm's too bad. Luke's gone to get the doctor.”
Adam ran his hand through his hair. “What can I do?”
Laurel doubled and hugged her stomach. “Ohhh.”
“Try to relax,” Jean said calmly. “It will hurt less.”
“This one's bad.” Laurel grimaced. “I don't know if I can do this.”
Jean smiled. “I'm afraid you have no choice.”
An hour passed, and Luke didn't return; another hour went by, and he still wasn't back. Laurel's pain had settled in her back, and the contractions were close together. Celeste and Miram took care of Brian and Susie and hovered around Laurel when they could. Ray was content to keep the fire stoked and coffee brewing while Adam paced and Jean sat with her daughter.
Susie and Brian asked to open their g
ifts, so Ray oversaw the distribution. Susie mothered a new baby doll, and Brian chugged a shiny fire truck up and down the stairway.
Adam walked to the window, the door, then back to the window. “When are they going to get here? She needs the doctor.”
“They'll be here soon,” Jean said, gently leading Adam out of the room. “Try to stay calm.”
Swallowing hard, Adam nodded. “But they ought to be here.”
“I know.”
Laurel groaned, and Jean returned to her, taking her hand and smoothing the back of it. “Breathe slowly and relax; just relax.”
Adam took a cloth from a bowl of water on the nightstand and wrung it out, then gently ran it over Laurel's face and neck. Laurel grabbed his wrist. “It hurts so much. I didn't know it would be like this.”
He placed a hand over hers. “It'll be over soon.”
“Once that little bundle gets here, you won't care a whit about the pain,” Jean said. “You'll have that baby in your arms, and nothing else will matter.”
Laurel dropped back on her pillows. “I wish it were here.”
Jean rewet the cloth and laid it on Laurel's forehead. “Adam, could you ask Celeste to boil some water and get us some clean cloths?”
Adam hurried out the door, acting as if he were glad to have something to do.
“Mama, I'm scared. I wish the doctor would come.” Laurel glanced at the window. “Where is he?”
“I'm sure he's on his way. You know how busy doctors can be.”
“I don't want to have the baby here. I'm supposed to be at the hospital.”
“Women have been having babies at home for centuries. You'll be fine.” She patted Laurel's hand. “I'll be right back.”
Jean met Adam in the hallway. “Do you know anything about delivering babies?”
“Me? No.” A panicked expression hit his face. “Is she that close?”
“I think it will be soon. If the doctor doesn't hurry, we'll have to deliver this baby. I've had my own, but I've never helped with a birth.” She looked at Ray, who stood at the bottom of the stairs. “You've had two children. Do you know what to do?”