Silent Night, Star-Lit Night

by Ruth Logan Herne

  So she didn’t.

  Instead she leaned forward, put her hand on his arm, and gently kissed his whiskered cheek. “Thank you, my friend.”

  “’Tweren’t nothin’, ma’am.” He smiled when he said it old-style, a cowboy, doing his good deed for the day. “My pleasure.”

  Calm washed over her.

  She’d been so busy for the last twelve years, pushing through high school, nailing her grades under rough-at-home circumstances, earning a scholarship, then multiple degrees at the university.

  And then marrying Daniel after a whirlwind courtship.

  She thought she’d arrived at the happily ever after she’d longed for, so when she found out she wasn’t even close she covered it up.

  But here, relaxing with the kind of person who didn’t cheat, lie, or steal, didn’t just feel good; it felt marvelous, like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders.

  The burden would descend again when they got back to Roslyn. Grandpa’s prognosis, her father’s indifference, and recurring family drama would try to suck her in.

  For this moment, it had been thrust aside by Jed’s kindness, and she wasn’t about to mess with that. They ordered food and relaxed over really good coffee while it was prepared. Christmas music played in the background, a loop of new and old favorites, and for the first time in years the inviting lyrics seemed genuinely sweet to hear.

  * * *

  A rock slide and heavy snow.

  Jed stared at the Rock Slide/Road Closed sign in disbelief, then rubbed his jaw.

  There was no choice.

  The detour arrow pointed left, to an obscure, snow-filled country road.

  His first thought was of Mia’s tires. Were they meant for hill climbs in wet snow conditions?

  He realized that probably hadn’t been a factor when she bought them. He backed the car up a few feet and made the turn carefully, wondering if the plows had been called out to this secondary road.

  “Where are we?” She’d dozed off about forty minutes before, when the snowfall looked postcard pretty. She sat up, rubbed her eyes, and turned his way. “It’s a blizzard.”

  “Could be.” He kept his gaze tight on the road ahead, what he could see of it. “See if they have any emergency phone updates, okay? And if you can get a signal, see if there are any towns ahead. We’re not far from Mount Hood and I don’t see any signs that plows have been through here yet, but if there’s a town close by we can hunker down, get food, and let the worst pass.”

  She pulled up her phone and he tried not to worry as her finger swept the screen repeatedly. “Nothing?”

  “I think the storm has GPS thwarted; the screen keeps hopping so I’m not sure what I’m seeing. I may have set a via point somewhere west of Seattle which may or may not eventually dump us in the ocean. But I honestly don’t see anything that looks like a town in the display, Jed.”

  No town.

  Heavy snow.

  Wind.

  It was snowing so hard he couldn’t see behind him to know if anyone else was following up the winding road. He couldn’t see all that much in front of him, either, and certainly hadn’t glimpsed the telltale glow of taillights or brake lights through the thick veil of white.

  No tire tracks broke the ground, which might mean they were the first ones or the only ones to brave the trek through this part of Central Oregon during this winter storm.

  She reached over and touched his arm. “This is my fault.”

  “What?” He didn’t look her way, but he heard worry and guilt in her voice.

  “Because of breakfast.”

  He peered ahead, but had to smile. “It was a really good breakfast.”

  “Jed. This is no time to joke around.”

  “Come on.” He smiled wider but didn’t take his eyes off the road. “You know it was good. That French toast alone was enough to risk our lives for.”

  “Jed.”

  “Hey. Did you see that?”

  She sighed. “Don’t try and change the subject. There’s nothing to see except snow, and it’s all my fault. No matter how nice you’re trying to be.”

  “Hop off the guilt train and look ahead. To the left, slightly, when we get to a clearing between the trees. There!” He didn’t pause the car, because what if the tires couldn’t regain enough grip to get going again? “A light. That way. Do you see it?”

  “I saw something,” she admitted. She leaned up to peer through the window, and when they rolled by another opening in the trees she put a hand on his leg. “It is a light. Jed, you’re going to think I’m crazy, but it kind of looked like a star.”

  “A star.”

  “Like a neon star, or something like that.”

  “The Old City Bar.”

  “Huh?” She looked his way, but he stayed focused. “What are you talking about?”

  “Trans-Siberian Orchestra. Don’t tell me you’ve never listened to them.”

  “I don’t have a clue what you mean.”

  “A runaway girl wishes on the neon star hanging over a New York City bar, and an angel slips into the bar and tells the owner she needs help. So he goes out into the snow and cold and gives her all the money in the cash register so she can go home for Christmas. It’s on one of my mom’s favorite Christmas albums. We play it in the store, too. Amazing.”

  “An angel walking into a bar? Doesn’t that sound like the opening to a late-night talk show joke? ‘Two angels walked into a bar,’ ” Mia deadpanned.

  “Get help where you can, when you can,” he reasoned. “And a stray angel is nothing to diss, right? Hey, is that a road sign?”

  She leaned forward again. “Yes. And Jed, look! A sign for a town! It says: ‘Heywood. One Mile.’ ”

  He cranked the wheel left. “Let’s see what Heywood’s got to offer. If it’s anything at all, it’s better than being caught in the storm with dark coming on and nothing plowed.”

  The car crawled through snow on the narrow country road. Deepening shadows left them in growing darkness between thick stands of trees, but every now and then a glimpse of white light offered hope.

  “Have we gone a mile yet?” She sounded worried, and with good reason. They’d gone nearly a mile and a half on the road, and no town sprang into life before them. He was just about to admit defeat when they crested a hill.

  A brief respite from the wind painted an idyllic picture below. A small town lay nestled in white-glazed wonder. And on the southeast side of the town’s center, a white star glimmered.

  Wind and snow scoured the visual clean, but they’d seen it. A town lay close, and Jed aimed the car down the slope and prayed they wouldn’t skid.

  They didn’t, but as they got to the bottom of the gradual decline a massive snowdrift blocked the road.

  Jed stopped the car.

  The lights showed him nothing but reflected snow.

  The wind howled.

  The drift tapered to the right of the car, but old cattails indicated that was either a ditch or a wetland and probably not a viable alternative to skirt the snow.

  He couldn’t believe they’d gotten this close to be thwarted by a blocked road. He tapped a finger to the steering wheel, then turned Mia’s way. “How about a walk, pretty lady?”

  She probably should have gone off on him about the dangers of leaving the car and walking into the dark unknown, but she didn’t.

  She tucked her phone into her purse, slung the cloth-sided bag over her shoulder, and slipped on a pair of gloves she had stuffed in the console between them. “Let’s do it.”

  He wasn’t sure if this was smart or foolhardy, but they had to be almost in the town.

  What if you’re not? What if you’ve misjudged this like you’ve done in the past? Mia and her baby are counting on you. Heads up, dude, the lady can’t even button her coat. Is she up for this? Are you?

  Old doubts resurfaced. He’d made a few stupid mistakes on the ranch since losing his father, and Uncle Pete didn’t hesitate to remind him fairly often. />
  What if he was wrong? What if he was leading her into danger? No one knew where they were; no one would be looking for them.

  “Ready?”

  He turned her way. “This could be dangerous.”

  “So could sitting in a stopped car in the middle of a road in the dark and cold of a winter storm where the next person along is going to barrel into us at any moment.”

  “A valid point. You’re sure about this?”

  “We saw the town. It can’t be far. And someone will take pity on us, I expect. And besides.” She lifted her shoulders in a simple shrug. “We saw the star. Maybe it is like that song; maybe it was shining just for us. In any case, I’m starving and in desperate need of a bathroom and a handsome escort. I’m in if you are.”

  She had confidence in him, and that was a lot more welcome than Uncle Pete’s dressing-down at the store before he left. “Meet you at the drift.”

  She laughed, but when she swung her door open the harsh wind sucked the laughter away. He took hold of her arm, aimed for where the drift narrowed, and pushed through, head bent to hers. “Can you see anything?”

  “Snow.”

  “Agreed.” He held tight to her arm, and when her feet slipped he held her upright. Chins down, they fought their way through the first drift, then another and another. The road inclined slightly, and Jed had a momentary surge of panic.

  The town had appeared to be in a valley setting. What if they’d been stopped well before the town? Maybe the road climbed and dipped in successive waves, unseen through the snow? He was just about to turn her around and go back to the car when the wind slowed momentarily.

  Welcome to Heywood, Oregon.

  A wooden sign appeared to Mia’s right, black writing on ivory wood trimmed in dark green scrollwork. Twin ground lights tried to fight the snow to illuminate the sign, and they did, just enough for Jed and Mia to read it.

  They’d found the town.

  A road went off to the right, and he snugged her arm through his and turned that way. With the wind at their backs, they made better progress. She had to be freezing. He knew he was, but as they crossed a bridge lights began to appear.

  “I’ve never been so happy to see civilization in my life.”

  “But what kind of civilization?” he muttered, and she poked him in his side.

  “The kind with lights and heat,” she hissed back. “My new BFFs.”

  He laughed and drew her closer because it felt right, and as he did, the glow of the star appeared to their right. “Follow that star.”

  They trudged slightly uphill from the small bridge, followed the curve to the right, and a Currier and Ives postcard town splayed out before them.

  White twinkle lights adorned small town trees around an old-fashioned town square park. Centered in the park was a gazebo, trimmed in white lights that peeked through the snow. A brightly lit Christmas tree stood proudly in the center of the gazebo. The buildings blocked the wind somewhat, offering them glimpses of a whitewashed setting.

  Drifts of snow crossed the roads and the sidewalks, but quaint streetlights hinted a peaceful countenance in normal times. Each streetlight was adorned with a festive wreath, simple and fitting for the setting. As Mia turned the corner more fully, she grabbed hold of Jed’s arm with both hands. “It’s an inn!”

  The white star was fastened to the top of a gracious old Queen Anne colonial with a wooden sign staked firmly in the front: The Star Inn Bed and Breakfast.

  “So it seems. Do you think they’re open?”

  “Do I care?”

  Head ducked, he laughed. “I hear you. Even if they’re not, maybe they’d let us hang out and get warm.” He could tell the front walk of the inn had been shoveled, but new drifts angled from right to left. He kept her tucked close as they hurried that way. One way or another he wanted to get her someplace safe, warm, and dry. Food would be an added bonus.

  “This has got to be about the prettiest place I’ve ever seen.” She half-whispered the words as they moved up the broad driveway. Candles lit each upper window. Below the candles, evergreen swags trimmed with big red ribbons hugged the windowsills. White railings edged the wraparound porch, and cheerful loops of lit garland dipped and rose from post to post. The entire setting offered a holiday welcome to weary travelers.

  Jed only hoped the setting proved true.

  They climbed the front steps and went to the door. Should they knock?

  He had reached out to test the handle when the door swung open from inside. “Well, in the name of all that’s good and holy, come in! Come in, get out of that cold, they’re predicting about the worst night we’ve seen in Heywood in a while, and you’re in the nick of time!” A slightly more than middle-aged woman pulled the door wide. She sported spiked blond hair, jangling bracelets, and a shirt that said “Only Five More Sleeps till Christmas” with the image of Henson’s Kermit the Frog dressed like a Dickens character. The shirt hung long over elf-green leggings. “Come in and welcome to the Star Inn!”

  “You’ve got rooms?” Jed asked. Snow from his and Mia’s shoulders and water from their snow-crusted shoes sluiced to the entry floor. He moved back to the all-purpose rug. “Actually, a spot on that couch by the fire would do just as well about now.”

  She tsk-tsked his attempt to minimize the wetness. “Don’t you fret about a little snow and water; it’s a regular condition come winter in these parts. Now, rooms.” She quick-stepped back to an ornate front desk. A graduated set of shelves flanked the left side of the desk, layered with full-flowered poinsettias in bright tones of red, pink, and white. The Christmas shades matched her shirt exactly, and Jed wondered if she did that on purpose. “We do have rooms, and that’s a God-thing if ever I saw one, and in my day I’ve seen plenty.” She slipped a pair of reading glasses into place, tapped her finger to the keyboard, then brought her gaze up. “I say that with utmost confidence because the same storm that brought you to our door caused two cancellations from folks afraid to set out. And dear child . . .” She shifted her attention to Mia and her pregnant shape. “When is this baby due? Soon, I expect, and while we’ve got no hospital nearby, Megan Pritchard is an O.B. and she lives over on West Ave, so there’s help within walking distance. Just so you know.”

  “And hopefully we won’t need it.” Mia extended her hand. “I’m Mia O’Loughlin, and I’m an E.R. nurse and I’ve got twelve more days, so hopefully we’ll be in Roslyn before that happens. But if not . . .”

  Jed stared at her and shifted both brows up on purpose, because hadn’t he suggested they bring things for the baby along?

  She ignored his over-the-top expression and smiled. “It’s good to know the doctor is close.”

  “Isn’t it, though?” The effusive woman accepted Mia’s hand in a firm and friendly shake. “Names, yes! Names are good. I’m Angel Rafferty. Just ‘Angel’ will do.”

  “Angel?” Jed nudged Mia’s arm with intent to remind her of their conversation about the TSO song in the car. “Great name.”

  “Why, thank you.” She beamed a smile his way as they heard the sound of a far door swinging open. “That will be Lorrie, adding settings to the table for us. We’re more of a ‘B and B’ here, so we don’t normally do dinners at the inn, but Lorrie’s stuck here and there’s plenty to go around. Sending you back out for food wouldn’t be right, and nothing’s open in any case. We’d enjoy your company, if you’re hungry, that is.” Ripe, rich scents wafted into the front room.

  “Famished. And in desperate need of a bathroom,” Mia told her. “Is there a restroom on this floor?”

  “Oh, you dear thing, of course there is.” Angel pointed beyond them and to their left. “Turn right at the Christmas tree and pass under the mistletoe.” As Mia crossed the broad, beautifully decorated grand room, Angel brought Jed’s attention back to business. “Two rooms, you said?” She peered at him over gold-rimmed reading glasses adorned with stars at the temple corners. Stars that matched the gold, white, and blue dangling stars h
anging from her ears. With a necklace of faux Christmas lights hanging around her neck, the bright-eyed woman was a walking, talking Christmas ornament.

  “Yes, thank you.” He gave her his information and debit card. “Put both on here, please.”

  “Certainly.” By the time Mia returned, the business was accomplished. Angel came around the desk, then studied the floor as if mystified. “You have no luggage.”

  “The car balked at a massive drift on the road coming into town. We weren’t sure how far we’d have to walk, and I was more concerned with getting Mia to safety.”

  “Of course you were.” Angel’s approval reinforced his decision. “But I expect there are things you could use, so I’m going to make sure each room is properly equipped.” She handed them each an old-fashioned room key.

  Mia held hers up and laughed. “Here’s a novelty. A real, honest-to-goodness key.”

  Angel bobbed her head as she started up the stairs. “If it’s not broke, why fix it?” It was a rhetorical question, because she moved right on to food, a welcome topic. “We’ve got beef stew and dumplings tonight with cinnamon bread pudding for dessert. I made the bread pudding for our customary afternoon ‘tea,’ but the storm messed that up. We’ll make it our dessert, instead. And there’s eggnog.”

  “I love eggnog,” Mia admitted. “I haven’t had it in years.”

  “It’s homemade right here in town, and you won’t find better anywhere. The Eversons sell it in glass bottles, as all dairy products should be.”

  “I haven’t seen glass bottles for dairy except in antique stores,” Jed noted. The thought of homemade eggnog was wonderful, but the image of the hot meal took precedence in Jed’s head. And his empty stomach.

  “I’ve never seen them,” added Mia.

  “You’re in for a treat, then. Folks don’t rightly know what they’re missing till they’ve missed it, correct?”

  Old-time common sense, something Jed missed when Uncle Pete stepped up to the helm of the farm supply store. His father had run both sides of the businesses with a steady, firm hand. Pete Taylor seemed to think boot camp tactics worked better, but his gruff, grumpy orders didn’t sit well with employees or customers. Every time Jed wanted to speak up, Pete’s wheelchair reminded him of the man’s sacrifice for his country and he bit his tongue. “We’ll look forward to it, Angel.”