Silent Night, Star-Lit Night

by Ruth Logan Herne

  She’d like that, too, if it were only that easy.

  She’d like someone to wipe the slate clean so she could start again, but that was impossible when the thought of dealing with her father’s substance-abuse issues made her want to go anywhere instead of back north to Roslyn. For Grandpa Joe’s sake, she’d do it.

  “You know I’ll keep asking.”

  She’d predicted as much. “Jed.” She’d wanted a cookie, but this wasn’t a cookie-eating conversation. “Life hands us turns and twists. I’ve had my share this year. And I’m nervous about the future, the unknown. Once I have everything straightened out and decided, I’m sure it will be just fine, but I have to do these things in my own way. My own time.” She stood, and it took some effort to unbend from the comfortable couch. He moved to help her.

  She didn’t let him. “I’m fine, really. Just tired. And a little disillusioned with mankind at the moment.”

  “The kids’ story. It paints a rough picture, doesn’t it?”

  That story and so many others. “I’m beat. I hate to waste all those little sandwiches, but I’m ready for bed.”

  “I’ll wrap them and put them in the fridge.”

  “That would be great.”

  “Mia.”

  She’d started for the stairs. “No more talk, Jed. My head’s spinning.”

  “One question.”

  She didn’t want to answer queries about anything, but she turned because he was a good man. A good person. “One.”

  “Was Daniel faithful to you?”

  The question came unexpectedly, which meant she couldn’t shield her emotions. Her heart beat faster, harder. Her throat clenched. She brought a hand up as if to stop the question, but it was too late because it had already been asked.

  “Mia.”

  She couldn’t bear the sorrowed knowledge in Jed’s eyes.

  How could he know?

  He couldn’t. No one knew, and that’s because she’d been putting on a good front and a happy face for a very long time. For as long as she could remember, actually.

  He moved forward, as if to console.

  She didn’t want or need consolation. She wanted—

  She didn’t know what she wanted. She’d been wondering that for so long, second-guessing everything. But she realized one thing clearly.

  She wasn’t ready to have a heart-to-heart with Jed or anyone else about Daniel’s philandering, because if she stayed quiet and ignored the whole thing maybe it wouldn’t hurt quite so much. And maybe her own choices wouldn’t feel quite so weak and subservient.

  She hurried up the stairs as quick as her lumbering body would allow, let herself into her room, and sank onto the bed.

  The baby writhed, as if upset, or was she transposing her emotions onto an innocent baby?

  She lay back, allowing her daughter more room, and didn’t try to stem the tears.

  A soft knock sounded at her door. “Mia, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  What could she say?

  Nothing. And she refused to collapse in a bundle of tears in front of anyone, even Jed. She stayed silent, wishing she could turn back time . . . but then realizing what a wondrous thing was happening inside her. A baby, a new chance. A new day. If she didn’t blow it.

  She held her breath, waiting for Jed to walk away, and when she heard the click of his door a minute later she breathed . . . and cried all over again.

  Chapter Eight

  December 21, Star Inn, Heywood, Oregon

  He’d blown it, big-time.

  Why had he pried? Why had he pushed at night, when she was already tired and worn? And when she was stuck here, with him? Had he tried to trap her or was he just stupid?

  Stupid, he decided.

  Sleep eluded him for a long time. When he woke up the next morning, the snow had slowed considerably. He got up, hurried out of bed, grabbed a shower and clean clothes from the suitcases he’d dragged to the inn the day before, then went downstairs. Mia’s door had been left open, and her bed was made.

  Had she slept at all?

  Guilt ran roughshod over him.

  Lorrie looked up as he entered the dining room. “Is Mia down here?”

  “About an hour ago. She grabbed coffee and headed back to the shelter,” Lorrie told him. “Angel and I are doing up lunch food for the folks over there, but the weather’s breaking today, and I say good riddance. This kind of thing has the town all up in arms.”

  “The storm and the power loss.” He nodded, sympathetic. “It’s a mess, all right.”

  “Well, storms come and go around here, but they’re not easily stomached on Christmas week, let me tell you. We’ve got celebrations planned every night. The thought of canceling them was driving folks batty, but if they’re right”—she nodded toward the current Central Oregon weather report on the television screen—“we should be back on track by mid-day tomorrow.”

  “That’s good news.” Once the roads were cleared, he and Mia could get on the road, but the enigma of her words bothered him. This sweet town was awash in Christmas planning, and yet two small hearts weren’t welcome in anyone’s home. How could that be?

  Angel came into the room with fresh coffee and a to-go cup just then. “I expected you’d like this to-go?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Did Mia make it over there all right?”

  “I texted Reggie asking that very thing, because if ever there was a young mother with the weight of the world on her shoulders it’s Mia. Reggie texted back that she’d arrived and was reading stories to the Barringer kids, one after the other.”

  Mia had a sacrificial nature and an eager-to-please personality.

  Daniel had taken advantage of that.

  Jed didn’t know why. He didn’t care about the why of the situation, because once he read that pain in her face last night all he wanted to do was fix it. If Daniel was around, he’d pummel him for being a self-serving jerk. But he wasn’t around, which meant putting Mia’s needs first. When she started talking to him again, that is.

  “Now, I’ve interfered in the past,” Angel went on. A cluster of holiday-themed bracelets jangled as she fixed the coffee. “And I’ve paid the price now and again for moving too quickly.”

  Did she know how badly he’d messed up last night? She couldn’t, but then again, Angel was a pretty smart lady. “You’re saying be patient.”

  She smiled as she poured his coffee. “I’ve learned to wait for a message from above, that Holy Spirit nudge that says, ‘Now. Move now. . . .’ Of course, being a bit bossy—”

  Lorrie snorted and Angel made a rueful face.

  “Being more than a bit bossy,” she admitted, “I’ve made mistakes, but things have worked out after a while.”

  He didn’t have a while to fix this because he and Mia were stuck together for the next day, but maybe he could lessen the divide. “I’ll take it slow. I promise.”

  “Well, that’s the best promise there is, Jed Taylor. Until we need to move quickly, that is.”

  “Women are confusing.”

  “We are that.” She handed over a toasted bagel smeared with cream cheese and chopped bacon. “But worth it in the end, I expect.”

  He expected that, too, but to what end?

  That part he wasn’t sure of.

  * * *

  Mia didn’t have to worry about dealing with Jed right away because Reggie put him on snow-clearing detail as soon as he walked in the door. When the west side of town was complete, she sent him to the inn for the chicken pot pie lunch Angel had promised.

  By the time lunch was cleaned up and G-G Jude and the kids were resting, Mia figured she might be able to look the kindly cowboy in the face and not die of shame.

  “Did you try this carrot cake?” she asked when he approached her mid-afternoon. “It’s amazing. I have to get the recipe.”

  “It looks great. So do you, by the way.”

  She kept her focus on cream cheese icing and not on nearly six feet of caring and conc
erned man about twelve inches away. “Well, thank you. I really appreciate that you walked to the car and dragged the bags into town, Jed.” She chanced a glance up. “That was really nice of you.”

  He didn’t follow up on last night’s question. He simply offered her a gentle smile, the kind of smile that made a woman’s heart wish for more. “Glad to do it. I told Reggie I’d help on the east-side cleanup crew, but I wanted to let you know where I’d be.” He shifted his gaze down to the curve of the baby. “Just in case.”

  “Thank you, Jed.”

  He hesitated, gazing at her, as if leaving her to go shovel was hard, and her heart pressed open a little more. “I’ve got my phone with me.”

  “Me, too.”

  “Okay, then.” He turned to walk out, then didn’t.

  He turned around to face her, and then—

  Oh, then . . .

  Her heart sighed when he moved forward.

  So did she.

  He pulled her into his arms and held her there, her cheek cradled against his chest, his arms offering the shelter she’d longed for.

  His heart beat strong and true beneath her ear.

  Strong enough to be gentle.

  That was Jed Taylor, through and through.

  Would he think her ridiculous for staying with Daniel? Would he understand the hope, and the naïveté, believing he’d reform?

  She didn’t know, and she’d learned at a young age not to show weakness. Now the trait was ingrained.

  He stepped back finally, tipped her chin up, and smiled. “Thank you. I needed that.”

  “Me, too.”

  “Well.” His smile deepened. A dimple flashed in his right cheek. “Good to know it works both ways, ma’am.”

  “It is.”

  He tipped the brim of his hat and headed for the door.

  She was falling for a cowboy.

  Wait. Make the picture even less believable. . . .

  She was nine months’ pregnant and falling for a cowboy.

  Preposterous.

  Yes.

  But she’d always longed to be loved and protected, the two things missing from her early life. She’d let Daniel fool her into thinking she was the constant in his life, the home port.

  In reality, that’s exactly what she’d been, but Daniel staked claims in multiple ports. Way more than she’d ever dreamed possible, so her gullibility made her an easy launch point.

  Her phone buzzed a text. Her father’s number appeared. “When r u coming? Need to sort out Joe’s affairs.”

  Her pulse raced from normal to “high” instantly, and her fingers shook as she texted back: “Did Grandpa die?”

  She stared at the phone, anxiously awaiting his response, and when it came she understood why the thought of living near her father was anathema. “Not yet. He wants loose ends tied up, is all.”

  She was not about to have this conversation on the phone. Or anywhere, if she could help it. She texted back: “I’ll talk to Grandpa when I get there. His comfort is the only thing on my mind.”

  Frowning, she clicked “send” and considered the matter closed.

  But her father wasn’t one to let anyone else have the last word. “That’s why you visited so often, huh?” He added a skeptical emoji for emphasis, then added: “Like father, like daughter.”

  She wanted to cry. Or punch someone.

  She was not like him. She was nothing like him, purposely. She’d gotten away from his self-serving nature and his negativity and made something of herself. She wasn’t a school kid, waiting to be pushed around, anymore. She was a degreed professional with advanced life-saving skills.

  The sweet notes of “Hark! The Herald Angels Sing” caroled outside the broad church vestibule. The carillon-style music came from a stone church across the square. The snow-covered bell tower filled the whitewashed town with sounds of the season, the bells ringing out joyous, blended notes of praise.

  A team of big plows rumbled down the two-lane. Soon she and Jed would be able to leave and make their way the few hours north to Roslyn and Grandpa Joe.

  The soft thump of a walker shifted her attention. G-G Jude came her way, intent. She tipped her chin up, listening, then smiled. “I wait each year to hear those bells from Saint Theodore’s. It’s like they sing to me, every Christmas. They’ve been ringing in the holidays in Heywood since I was a young girl, and folks around here know they can count on a few things. The good Lord’s blessing, Angel’s food, and the prettiest Christmas music ever rung from a steeple. It’s like magic, isn’t it?”

  It was, kind of. Maybe because it was so unexpected? Mia wasn’t sure. “It’s beautiful. I’ve never heard one like this before. It’s . . .” Mia paused, thinking. “Inviting.”

  “It is just that.” Peace calmed the old woman’s expression. She gazed out, over the town. “I lift mine eyes up to the hills,” she whispered, paraphrasing the old Psalm. Her hands gripped the handles of the walker until her knuckles strained white. “Where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, maker of heaven and earth.” She moved closer to the window, listening. A look of firmness deepened her aged features. “And maybe it’s time I remembered this a bit better, instead of moping around, waiting to die.”

  “What?” Mia couldn’t have heard right. Could she?

  “I forgot the bells.” Insistence toughened G-G’s tone. “I forgot to put things where they belong, in God’s hands. Mine might be feeble.” She raised her hands as evidence. “And my legs might not be in the best working order, but I’ve got my mind and I’m still breathing. Why have I been wasting time fretting on this and that instead of getting on with things, best I’m able?”

  Mia shook her head, confused.

  “Plain foolishness, that’s what.” The old woman squared her shoulders. “Shame on me for forgetting to make use of the time I have in the best way possible. I expect God himself is up there, shaking his head, wondering what I’ve been doing, letting things happen around me. Well, no more.”

  “No?” Mia had walked into the shelter the day before and seen a worn old woman, weak and depressed.

  G-G Jude had just undergone a transformation.

  Her eyes looked brighter.

  She raised her chin higher. And when she walked forward, the walker’s thump! held its own command. “I’ve got matters to tend to, and it’s about time I got to it. Now, Mia.” She turned at the doorway. “My hands don’t grip so well, but I’ve got a couple of letters to write, and if you’d be so kind as to write what I say it’s one thing I can check off the list.”

  “Glad to.”

  The shelter had held about twenty people during the height of the storm. Six of the men had left to help shovel the town. Five little kids lay sleeping on cots, and two older kids were playing cards at a table near the back doors. Mia pulled out a chair for Jude, then one for herself once she’d procured paper and a pen. “Let’s do this.”

  Chapter Nine

  “As of six A.M. tomorrow, all major Central Oregon roads will be deemed open and ready for safe travel. A detour on U.S. Route Ninety-Seven due to a pre-storm rock slide will continue to direct north-and south-bound traffic through Heywood, Oregon.”

  Jed had no sooner read the phone alert when restored power brought the town back to life around him.

  The gazebo blinked on with cascades of white lights surrounding the brightly lit Christmas tree within. Quaint town streetlights glowed above the decorated wreaths sporting big red bows. The smaller trees framing the town square lit up freshly shoveled sidewalks with twinkle-light cheer. And above the once again festive inn, the beckoning white star glowed softy, a beacon in the night.

  “A winter wonderland.”

  Mia.

  He swung around, smiling. “A greeting card setting, for sure.” He held up his phone. “The county commissioner has said all roads will be open first thing in the morning. We can head home then.”

  Her gaze faltered when he said the word “home,” but Roslyn was home. A
great, quirky, delightful town, filled with all kinds of people, even though he understood her hesitation.

  She didn’t have the Taylor family surrounding her with love. Even snarky Uncle Pete didn’t hold a candle to Mia’s selfish father.

  But what if she had Taylor love surrounding her? Would she be so ready to leave? She’s searching for a place, for her place in the world. So are you.

  The mental reminder made a good point. He wasn’t searching geographically. He loved his hometown, the ranch, and the business, but he was bone-tired of Uncle Pete’s chronic bad humor.

  “If we leave first thing, I’ll get to see Grandpa by mid-day.”

  “Any word from him?”

  She made a sour face that was actually kind of cute. “None other than my father is anxiously awaiting my arrival to divide the spoils.”

  “Mia.” Jed looped an arm around her shoulders and began walking her back to the inn. “The guy has no idea what a treasure God gave him when he sent you, but Grandpa Joe knows. So does Auntie P. Two out of three isn’t bad.”

  “The rule book says parents are supposed to love their children.”

  “Rule books lie by nature. And besides.” He pulled her closer and planted a kiss to her forehead, a kiss of sweet comfort, but when she looked up in surprise he wasn’t the least bit comfortable. He was the distinct opposite of comfortable, longing to see . . . to taste . . . to know . . .

  Gazing down, he stroked one gloved finger to her cheek and wondered why his heart beat harder and stronger whenever she came near. Why his breath caught tight in his chest, as if he wanted to charge forth and make the world a better place for her. “Mia.”

  He bent his head, needing just one sampling of the sweetest lips and prettiest face he’d ever seen.

  Bliss.

  He’d been kissed before, plenty of times, and his mother bemoaned the fact that he hadn’t settled down. Now he knew why he hadn’t. He’d been waiting for Mia—for this—all this time.

  “Jed.”

  His name, a whisper. Her breath, caught in the cold, bright air, puffing white into a Christmas wonderland of pristine beauty.

  It was perfect.

  She was perfect, perfect for him.