The Christmas Locket

by Barbara McMahon

  “How far have you read?”

  “Just a couple of entries. They’re lengthy, as if she had lots of time on her hands and poured her feelings out on the page. She talks about neighbors, and the cold, and trying to get the farm chores done on her own. I sometimes feel—”

  Zach could tell she was holding something back. “What? There’s more to it, surely,” he said.

  “She was lonely and afraid for her husband,” Caitlin said in a soft voice. “It’s uncanny how her words reflect my own feelings.”

  “What?” That startled him.

  “Did you think I never worried about you when you were gone? You don’t exactly have a routine, boring job, Zach. You put yourself in danger all the time and never give a thought to how those of us back home feel.”

  “Who else would care?” he asked.

  “I bet your mother does,” she said.

  “Don’t go there, Caitlin,” he warned. He rarely thought about his mother. That was in the past and he planned for it to stay there. Caitlin knew he had nothing to do with his family and why. Caitlin was all he needed.

  For a moment he wondered what would happen if she went through with her plan of divorce. He couldn’t imagine finding another woman to spend his life with.

  “Okay, then we’ll leave your mother out of it and talk about me. Us. You wanted to know why I want a divorce. Imagine the roles were reversed and I went to Bosnia in the midst of fighting, or to an earthquake area where the building codes are so laughable that the mildest aftershock topples whole buildings. No guarantees of safety. You wouldn’t worry?”

  Zach nodded, then remembered she couldn’t see in the dark. “Of course I’d worry, especially for someone like you.”

  “Leave that aside. I understand you think you’re invincible, but you’re not. Terrible things happen to journalists. So that’s one part. The other is the loneliness. I don’t like living alone. I don’t like having no one to share my day with, or make plans for the weekend, or just talk about friends and co-workers. I miss having someone there to talk over situations that are new and different, to get some ideas for dealing with problem children or gifted ones. I’m tired of sandwiches for dinner, but don’t want to cook for one.”

  “I’m not a teacher,” he said. “I can’t stay in one place and do my job, Caitlin. You know that.”

  “That was an example. Honestly, you’re not trying to see my side of it.”

  “I’m lonely, too, Caitlin,” he confessed.

  “Then why, for heaven’s sake, aren’t you home living with me?”

  “You know my job—”

  “No! Stop! I do not want to hear a word about your job. I want to hear about you. Why aren’t we sharing a home, making a family, building a life together?”

  “How do you propose I support this family if I don’t report the news?” He was starting to get angry again.

  “Why am I the one at fault? You could travel with me. Granted, not to a war zone or disaster area. But you could move to London or Rome and be closer to where I've usually reported over the last few years. It would be a lot easier for me to get to London than Washington.”

  “I tried that two summers, remember?”

  “In countries where you didn't speak the language. England would work.”

  “You like your job and it isn’t in Washington. Or here. I’m growing to love this house. I don’t know the neighbors, but maybe I’ll make an effort to meet them and see if I can fit in. I think a complete break and change would be best,” she said.

  He hoped he wasn’t imagining hearing things that weren’t there. He could swear he heard an undertone of sadness in her voice. Was there a chance she really didn’t want to end their marriage? If so, she had a funny way of showing it.

  “What changed?” he asked. “We’ve been married six years. What changed, Caitlin?”

  “Aunt Sally’s death made me look at things differently. I only saw her a few times a year even though Washington isn’t that far away. I should have visited more often. Thinking about her living all alone for so many years got me to thinking. Having flying visits from you isn’t enough.” Her hold on his arm eased up. She withdrew her hand.

  “I see friends and co-workers going home to families each night, and I go home to an empty condo. I’m not getting any younger. If I want to find a way to have a family, I need to do something now. I don’t want to be old like my parents were when I have a child. I want to enjoy each stage of development from baby to toddler to teenager.”

  “You’re around children all day,” he said.

  “Other people’s children. And only a few hours a day. I don’t hear the stories at the dinner table about what they learned in school or what their best friend said. I don’t make cookies or Halloween costumes or Christmas decorations. It was hard being the only child of older parents. I want what I have never had.”

  “It’s overrated,” he grumbled.

  “You should want what you never had, Zach. You said your mother focused on her new children by her second husband, virtually ignoring you. You missed as much as I did growing up. Maybe it was even worse since you witnessed it but couldn’t participate.”

  “Don’t psychoanalyze me, Caitlin. I did okay and got out as soon as I was eighteen. My mother's welcome to her other family.”

  “You know she was wrong to ignore you or let your stepfather have the influence he had. You'd make a great father—if you were home. You’d remember what your real father did and follow his example. But it’s never going to happen, is it? We’ve been through this a dozen times before. You have your job and I have my dreams and they don’t mesh.”

  He turned to her, finding her head in the darkness and covering her lips with his. This part of their marriage had always worked. She responded as she always did. Her kiss was warm and sweet and so at odds with the words she spoke. This wasn’t a woman who wanted to leave her marriage--he couldn’t believe that. Yet if something didn’t change, and soon, she’d follow through with her plan.

  Could he show her how much they meant to each other?

  His hands skimmed over her shoulders down to her back, pulling her into his lap and deeper into the embrace. She was like liquid silk, warm and pliant and sweet. He murmured words of wanting in her ear, brushing kisses against her cheeks, trailing them to her throat, feeling the rapid pulse at the base.

  Her arms tightened around him and he felt her breasts press against his chest. If the cellar wasn’t cold and dusty, he’d make love to her here and now. He’d been gone too long. And it looked as if his strategy was backfiring on him. He didn’t know if Caitlin was softening, but he wanted her more than ever. He couldn’t bear the thought of her walking away. Yet the ending seemed inevitable. Why hadn’t he seen that from the beginning?

  “Hello, anyone home?” a faint voice called.

  Zach and Caitlin sprang apart, turning as one to the door at the top of the stairs.

  “Wait here,” he said, standing and setting her on her feet. He climbed the stairs and pounded on the door. “We’re trapped in the cellar. Are you in the house?”

  “Dear me, I came to use your phone.” The voice came from an elderly woman.

  “I’ll run home and get my nephew, maybe he can help.”

  Less than ten minutes later Zach heard footsteps in the kitchen. Someone rattled the handle of the door.

  “Is it locked?” a man asked.

  “We think it's just stuck. I’ve tried pushing from this side,” Zach said.

  “Hold on. I’ve got hold of the handle. You push and I’ll pull.”

  For several seconds they tried but the door wouldn’t budge.

  “Can you see the hinges?” Zach called.

  “Sure. They look old as can be. Let me find something to pry them off,” the man answered.

  “There’re tools in the carriage house,” Caitlin called.

  Within ten minutes the man had the hinges off and together he and Zach were able to pry open the door. The stran
ger lifted it out of the way as Caitlin scrambled up the steps, glad to escape the cellar. She’d never again complain about the dim lighting—it was much better than total darkness.

  “Thank you!” she exclaimed when she stepped into the kitchen.

  An elderly woman and a handsome young man stood looking at her.

  “You’re welcome, Caitlin dear. I thought you’d come to visit me before now. How have you been?” the woman asked.

  “I’ve been fine, Mrs. Watson. And we’ve been so busy cleaning and clearing out things I haven’t had a chance to do any visiting. I’m glad to see you.” Caitlin gave her a quick hug and then smiled at the young man beside her.

  “This is my nephew's son, staying with me for Christmas. Bart Butler.”

  “Zach Brandenburg.” Zach extended his hand and they shook. “And my wife, Caitlin.”

  “Sally and I were neighbors for more than forty years. I sure do miss her. I remember how very fond of you she was. Calling you the granddaughter she never had,” Mrs. Watson told Caitlin.

  She nodded, remembering her aunt telling her that. She considered Caitlin’s father the child she never had and had doted on him as well.

  “My goodness, I came to see if you had a phone that worked. Mine's dead and I need to call to refill a prescription before Christmas,” Pearl Watson said. “I told Bart I could manage on my own in the snow. It's not too deep and I wanted the walk. But I didn’t expect to find that door stuck. Sally used to say she was going to get it fixed. I guess she never got around to it.”

  “My cell works,” Zach said, nodding to the kitchen counter where he’d left it. From now on, he’d keep it with him.

  “I appreciate that,” Bart said. “I don’t mind driving into town, but if they can’t fill it or there’s a problem, I’d hate to drive all the way in this weather for nothing.”

  “Glad you needed the phone. We couldn’t see a thing in the dark and I was wondering how we’d get out,” Zach said, handing his phone to Mrs. Watson.

  “We could have been stuck there all night,” Caitlin said with a shiver. “I should have come over when I first arrived to tell you I was staying for the holidays.”

  “We saw the lights, so we knew you were here,” Bart said as his aunt spoke on the phone. “I saw you two out walking earlier. Too cold for me.”

  “You’re not from here?” Caitlin asked.

  “I live in Richmond. But I’m spending the holidays with my aunt this year. She didn’t want to come to Richmond.”

  “No other family?” Zach asked.

  “A boatload. My folks are taking a cruise this year, however. And two of my sisters are taking their families skiing. My brother and his wife are spending Christmas with her folks this year, so I was on my own. Aunt Pearl thought it better for me to come visit her than for her to visit me. I think she had some concern on the ability of a bachelor to fix a suitable Christmas meal.”

  Zach didn’t like the smile Caitlin gave the man. Was she already sizing up Bart Butler as a candidate for her next husband? How convenient that would be, with his staying right next door to Sally’s house.

  “There, it’s all taken care of, dear,” Mrs. Watson said to Bart. “They’ll even deliver tomorrow, even though it’s Christmas Eve. So you don’t have to drive in the snow.”

  “Good.” He smiled at his aunt. “Not that I wouldn’t have gone for you.”

  “I know, dear. We’d best be going back. It is colder than I thought it would be.”

  “Thanks for rescuing us,” Caitlin said.

  “Anytime,” Bart said, turning his smile in Caitlin’s direction.

  “Do you have any idea how long the power will be out?” she asked.

  “Not a clue. If our phone worked, we could have called the power company. They usually can estimate when it’ll be restored. You can call, if you want to get an estimate,” Bart said.

  “Wait while I check.” Caitlin retrieved Zach’s phone and looked for the phone book. She remembered Zach’s finding the Christmas Tree Farm in the book, and leaving it on the dining room table.

  The power company estimated electricity would be restored within two hours. It would be full dark by then as it was already after four.

  “Will you two be all right?” Pearl asked.

  “Of course,” Zach said, putting a proprietary arm across Caitlin’s shoulders. He didn’t need any more attention from the neighbors, especially Bart.

  “Aunt Sally had oil lamps and we’ll light them if we need light,” Caitlin said.

  “There’s a gas stove, so you’ll be able to cook,” Pearl said, glancing around the kitchen. “Or you are both welcome to come over to our house for supper.”

  “We’ll manage,” Zach said.

  “We’ll be fine. Thank you for inviting us. I hope to see you again before I return to Washington,” Caitlin said graciously, nudging Zach surreptitiously in the ribs.

  “Oh, dear, you’re leaving after the holidays? We were hoping you were going to stay. This house seems so lonely when no one's living in it,” Pearl said.

  “We live in Washington,” Zach said firmly.

  “Actually, I’m thinking of moving here next summer,” Caitlin said, slipping from under his arm and moving closer to Pearl. “I’m a teacher. Do you think I’d have a chance of finding a job around here?”

  “Sure thing,” Bart said with a broad smile. “The area is growing and new schools need teachers. Aunt Pearl knows a couple of people on the school board. Maybe she could put in a good word. It’d be nice for her to have a close neighbor again. The family on the other side of her house only visits on weekends.”

  Zach could imagine how nice Pearl would find it. Or was Bart more concerned about when he visited?

  “No decisions have been made,” he said, glaring at Caitlin. For every step forward, she seemed determined to take one back.

  Chapter Nine

  When the neighbors left, Zach turned to study the door. The old house had settled over the years, and the door frame was no longer square. He had enough basic skills to plane the door so it would fit better, and shaving a bit of wood from it would insure it wouldn’t stick shut again. Bart had offered to help, but he didn’t need the young neighbor’s assistance.

  Zach planned to fix it right away if he could find the proper tools. He didn’t like thinking what might have happened to Caitlin if she’d been caught down there alone with no neighbors needing the phone.

  “If you’re going to fix that now, could you bring up the cradle first?” Caitlin asked.

  Zach nodded and brought it up. He placed it gently down in the center of the kitchen. It was old, yet had obviously been cared for through the years. How many babies had slept in its shelter? Caitlin’s eyes were shining as she gazed at it. He felt a pang. Once she’d looked at him that way. Would she ever do so again?

  “I’m going to the carriage house to see if there’re any tools I can use to fix the door. It’s too cold to let the cellar air come up into this level if we don’t have to,” he said.

  Maybe he couldn’t bring that shine to her eyes again, but he could keep her safe.

  Caitlin nodded, already reaching for the rags she’d used for cleaning. She’d wipe down the cradle, give it a good polish to see what it looked like. Maybe there was even a small mattress for it somewhere and some bedding, though she couldn’t imagine who had been the last baby to use it. Had it been her father? She didn’t believe she herself had ever been put in it as her parents hadn’t visited often, preferring Sally to come to their house.

  The simple carving on the headboard was of flowers. She worked to get all the dust out of the crevasses and corners, wondering who had made it, who had done the carving. A happy father-to-be, she was sure. Maybe even Jonathan?

  Zach returned with a handful of tools. He moved the door, placing it half on the table, half on the back of two chairs and started shaving curlicues of wood from the edge. Working on their respective projects kept both from feeling chilled in the c
ooling air. They’d really need the fire in a while if the electricity didn’t come back on. While the heater was oil fueled, it needed electricity to operate.

  Caitlin brought out the wood wax she’d seen beneath the sink and began to work it into the old wood. Once finished, she sat back on her heels and smiled. The cradle was a beautiful piece of furniture. It was worn a bit on the sides, as if by many arms reaching in to pick up an infant, but that made it all the more special. The carving was as sharp and clear as if it had been done yesterday.

  She pushed it to set it rocking. It continued on its own for several moments. How safe and secure it would hold a baby. Would one of her children sleep in it? She looked over to where Zach worked on the door. Together they’d make the world’s most perfect baby. If he’d only be there for her.

  Caitlin rose, cleaned up and pulled some milk from the refrigerator. “Want some hot chocolate?” she asked as Zach patiently shaved another thin sliver of wood from the door. “It’s getting cold in here.”

  “Sure. I’m almost done. Then we can go into the living room and build that fire.”

  She put the pan on the gas stove and slowly heated the milk. She glanced from time to time at Zach, feeling odd. It was so domestic, wife in the kitchen fixing something for them both, husband working on a project. How many times had they’d done something like this? Too few.

  Looking around the old kitchen she could imagine Tansy preparing something for her Jonathan. Instead of the gas range Caitlin used, Tansy might have had a wood-stove or even an open hearth. Had Jonathan sat in the warm kitchen, lovingly carving the cradle with flowers and designs for a baby’s arrival? The modern kitchen faded and for a moment Caitlin could imagine how it might have looked two hundred years ago.

  “Is it still snowing?” Zach asked.

  Caitlin started, then looked out the window. “Yes.”

  She had better pay attention so the milk didn’t boil over.

  In only a couple of minutes, she had two large mugs of chocolate each topped with a squirt of whipped cream. She carried Zach’s to him. He brushed her fingers when he took the mug and looked deep into her eyes.