Holidays at Crescent Cove

by Shelley Noble

  Bri was proud, independent, and comfortable in her skin. And she’d learned a long time ago not to turn down help when it was offered. She smiled and reached into the closet for the second box.

  Downstairs, Lily and Mimi were helping David put the container on the floor, then they knelt down beside it and peered at the top as if something magical might spring from it.

  And something magical did. Bri opened the top to a strand of gold garland that formed a spiral on top of the other ornaments. Tiny metallic stars nestled in the shiny cellophane.

  “I’ll admit it, “ Bri said after a raised eyebrow from David. “I like colorful ornaments. Some would say tacky. I say festive.” She lifted out the garland and hung it around her shoulders. “Oh, Christmas tree, Oh Christmas tree.” She looped it around the girls and the three of them held hands and circled, galloping and singing like mismatched dervishes until they fell down.

  Laughing, Bri pushed back to her feet.

  Mimi and Lily scrambled over to the container and looked inside again, so close that they bumped heads.

  “Lights first.” Bri collected the garland, tossed it on the couch, and opened the second container. She pulled out a tangled mess of miniature lights. “Oh, dear,” she said, and placed them on the couch.

  David reached in and pulled out another two strands more neatly tied.

  “I forgot about those,” Bri said. “But I’d better warn you. They blink.”

  David pulled out another and held it up. “Pink flamingos?”

  “I thought they were cute.”

  David shook his head in mock dismay. At least Bri hoped it was mock. “The girls will love them,” she protested.

  “I’m sure they will. Who wouldn’t?” He laughed and reached in for the last string.

  “These are the best.” Bri stretched them out. “Bubble lights. They’re really going to love these.”

  While Bri and the girls untangled the strings of lights, David tested each strand for bare wires and missing lights, then began wrapping them around the large tree. Bri, with the girls holding onto the string, wrapped the little tree. They didn’t let go until Bri took the ends out of their hands and said, “Watch.” She plugged in the lights.

  The tree lit up; Mimi jumped back, and both girls clapped their hands.

  They could have stopped there and been perfectly content, but Bri was in full excess mode. She went back to the container of ornaments, began pulling out boxes of balls, bells, wooden figures, seashells, pinecones, jewels, and Moravian stars.

  She carefully handed each of the girls an ornament and took one for herself, then showed them how to hang them on the branches. There was no stopping them now. They ran back to the container, dug into the next box, which held vintage cars and trucks, a sleigh, and several Santa figures, nestled in snowy white tissue paper.

  When the tree was weighed down with enough ornaments for its much larger companion, Bri stopped them. “We have to save some for the other tree.”

  While David finished hanging the lights, Bri sat Mimi and Lily down at the old card table they used for crafts and dumped a bag of colorful construction paper strips onto the table.

  She showed them how to glue the ends together, then string the next strip through the circle and glue it, too. Piles of chains grew at their feet. Lily glued her fingers together and laughed. Next Mimi glued her fingers. When they tired of gluing each other, they turned on Bri and, each taking a hand, glued her fingers together. Fortunately it was Elmer’s and didn’t stick for long.

  Simple pleasures, Bri thought as the girls manipulated her fingers and she watched David wind the strings of multicolored lights.

  She wondered how long it would be before television and video games took the place of making paper chains and playing with clay. When potato chips and ice cream would replace rice and steamed eggs. Well, ice cream had already gotten a big head start. Cookies were a close second, and it was just a matter of time until the rest followed.

  Bri looked forward to that time, and at the same time knew she would miss these tender first months where everything was an adventure, sometimes fun, sometimes frightening, but experienced together. She would make sure the girls were brought up in a loving but firm home.

  Then maybe they wouldn’t be inclined to follow in their adopted mother’s footsteps. She didn’t want them making the kinds of mistakes she’d made. Though she knew no matter how she tried to protect them, one day she’d have to let them go, just like her mother had let her go. All in all, it had turned out pretty okay, in spite of some serious missteps, but now her life was back on track. Better than on track; she had a family, friends, a home.

  Soon she would have to register Mimi for school and Lily for preschool. They’d buy school clothes and supplies together, then she’d send them off and . . . and make them snacks when they came home. She’d read to them at night, and Pokey Little Puppy would be replaced with The Secret Garden, Little Women, The Hobbit. Maybe they’d get a real puppy.

  David climbed down from the ladder and stood back to regard his handiwork, and Bri felt an unsuspected pang. He would soon be gone out of their lives. He’d been here for two days. He didn’t talk much about himself, but in other ways Bri felt as if she’d known him forever.

  The girls both accepted him like they accepted the other changes in their lives. Would they miss him when he left? Would Bri?

  He turned and their eyes met. He smiled. “Looks like you’ve lost two elves.”

  “What?” Bri looked down. While she’d been watching David, Mimi and Lily had fallen asleep among the paper chains. She smiled and reached for her cell phone. “A Kodak moment,” she said, and took a picture. She took another picture of the trees.

  She wanted to take a picture of him, but that seemed a little pushy even for her. Something told her he didn’t want to be remembered. And she wondered why that was.

  She pulled the afghan off the back of the couch and covered the girls where they slept.

  “I’d better start dinner.”

  David followed Bri into the kitchen, where she heated soup she’d taken out of the freezer that morning.

  “We’re not starving you, are we?” she asked David. “You’d probably kill for a hamburger about now.”

  “Not at all, I ate my share of fast food on my way from Denver to here.”

  “Did you hitchhike all the way?”

  “No. I took a bus most of the way.”

  She frowned at him. Was he broke? He must be, especially if he’d left Afghanistan and started looking for Nick right away.

  “Do you have plans? Someplace to go? Are you going back to aid work?”

  “No, to all three.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Whatever comes my way. For starters, I’ll set the table.”

  Mimi and Lily could hardly keep their eyes open during dinner. And Lily barely ate a thing. But when Bri announced bedtime, they refused to budge.

  “Chee.” Lily said. “Lili chee.”

  “Tomorrow,” Bri said. “After breakfast and baths.”

  Mimi slid off her chair, but Lily didn’t budge.

  “Come on, Miss Stubborn.”

  Lily lifted her arms to be picked up. She whimpered when Bri shifted her to her hip, and when they reached their bedroom, Bri had to pull her arms away so she could put her down. Lily fell asleep on her princess bed while Mimi was still undressing.

  The room was warm. Bri pulled the covers over Lily and lifted the guardrail. There were two identical beds in the room, but Mimi climbed in next to Lily, leaving her bed empty. Bri kissed her good-night and pulled up the other rail.

  Mimi sat up. Reached for Bri. Bri hugged her and whispered, “Story?”

  Mimi nodded, so Bri lowered the rail again and sat next to her to read One Fish Two Fish Red Fish Blue Fish until she fell asleep wi
th her head on Bri’s stomach. Bri eased her back down, covered her, and flicked on the night-light before she tiptoed out of the room.

  When she returned to the kitchen, David had done the dishes.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” she told him.

  “You should accept help when you can get it. You have your hands full with those two.”

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  “They’re asleep?”

  “Yep. And in their own beds. Well, they’re both in Lily’s bed. They’ll crawl into mine before the night is through. Sometimes we sleep in the great room. On the floor. It’s cozy.”

  “And warm.”

  “Yes. The heating has been brought to code, but we mainly stay downstairs to save on the heating bill. And to tell the truth, they don’t like to be left alone.” She shrugged. “Maybe I should be encouraging them to get used to sleeping alone, but I don’t have the heart. Not quite yet.”

  “It takes as long as it takes. Just make the transition as easy as possible and do it before it becomes a new habit.”

  She frowned at him.

  “Sorry,” he said. “I’ll mind my own business.”

  “Don’t be, but that sounded like the voice of authority.”

  “Not me. Just something my mother used to say.”

  “Your mother?”

  “Yeah.” He hesitated. “My parents were . . . kind of missionaries.”

  Missionaries? Bri rapidly went back through their conversations to see if she had made any cracks about religion or used any dirty words. She didn’t think so. She was much more careful now that she was a mother. “And you’re a—”

  David laughed. “Don’t worry, I’m not. I’m not even a believer. It’s just the reason I know a little about a lot of stuff.”

  “And why you speak so many languages. And why you help people in need.”

  He lifted one shoulder in a semblance of a shrug. “Mainly I waded through a lot of red tape, argued with frightened locals, and got pissed off a lot. But I did learn a few words and phrases.”

  “Still . . .”

  “It’s been a long day. If you can manage, I’ll get going to my deluxe accommodations.” His face clouded over. “Thanks. You didn’t need to be so kind.”

  He headed for the door.

  “You want a cup of coffee before you go? I might even be able to rustle up a bottle of wine.”

  He hesitated. Considered, then came back. “Sure.”

  She reached into the fridge and came out with a bottle. “I don’t drink much these days. And I don’t have any beer. But I’ve been waiting to drink this.” She looked at the wine bottle’s label. “White, dry. Do you like wine?”

  “Good enough. Where’s the corkscrew? I’ll open it for you.”

  She pulled open the utility drawer, fished out the corkscrew, but kept it. “You haven’t stopped doing stuff since you walked through that door yesterday morning. Take a load off. I’ll open it.”

  “Am I being pushy?”

  “Nope, you’re making my life ten times easier, but I don’t want to take advantage of you.” And I don’t want to get used to it.

  “You’re used to doing things for yourself.”

  “Yes, I am.” She laughed. “Now that I have a bunch of friends always ready to help me out, I find that I don’t want to use them unless I have to.”

  “Use them?”

  “I didn’t mean it like that. I used to use people all the time. Not anymore.”

  “How did you hurt your leg?”

  “Is it that obvious?”

  “Only in the barn yesterday and in the snow.”

  “When I hurry or get off balance.” She handed him the corkscrew. “Open the wine and I’ll tell you.”

  Chapter Seven

  “AND THAT’S THE story.” Bri stretched back on the couch and watched while David poured her another glass of wine. “Fast living, drugs, drink, a guy driving too fast, and this runway model woke up in a Paris hospital, crippled in mind and body, unemployed and unemployable.”

  “Would I still find your name if I Googled you?”

  Bri shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t look. Sometimes you really can’t go back again.”

  “Would you if you could?”

  Bri thought about it. It was a question she never asked herself. And now that David had asked it, she realized she had known the answer all along.

  “No. It was a great gig and I’m glad I had the chance to do it. But I would have had to retire a few years later anyway. Models these days get started around fourteen and are in their prime before they hit twenty.”

  “Whew. I had no idea. Actually, I never thought about it. I’m not much into fashion.”

  “I can tell.” She laughed at his expression. “Fashion does not make the man, no matter what the ads tell you. Take Nick Prescott, totally clueless about how to dress. Margaux, before she moved back to marry Nick, was a major designer in New York.”

  “What’s with this town? Is everyone an ex-famous person?”

  “Not by a long shot. But it is a place to fix broken lives, build new lives, and dream new dreams. It’s got a fantastic diner. You’ll meet Dottie at Margaux and Nick’s on Christmas day . . .” She paused, glanced at him. “If you’re still here. And for the three months of summer, we’re a real cosmopolitan mash-up,” she said more brightly. “The summer houses open up and there’s an influx of tourists. Most locals work their butts off during the season, then relax again after Labor Day.

  “Kind of the best of both worlds.” She stifled a yawn.

  David stood. “I’ll let you get to sleep. I—I’ll see you in the morning.”

  He grabbed his glass and headed for the kitchen.

  “David,” Bri said.

  He stopped, turned around.

  “I didn’t mean to make you feel pressured to stay for Christmas, but you’re welcome if you decide you’d like to share it with us. Everyone will be glad.”

  “Thanks. Good night.” And he was gone. Bri sat where she was until she heard the back door close. Waited until he had time to reach the caretaker’s cottage, then she began turning off the lights.

  DAVID TRUDGED TOWARD the cottage, the rime of snow crunching beneath his boots. It wasn’t her invitation to stay for Christmas that had rattled him. It was her description of Crescent Cove. A place to fix broken lives, build new lives, dream new dreams.

  But not for the likes of him, a man who walked away from his job, his avocation, from the people who needed him, from his responsibility and promise to help them.

  But he had nothing left to give. Ever again. To anyone. Any illusion he might have of finding meaning in his life was gone. The job was just too big, too difficult, too overwhelming, and just damn depressing.

  What vindictive God had led him here, to this woman and these children? To a son who would never know his father. To a man who shouldered his responsibility and didn’t complain. He knew those kind of men. Had seen them come and go. Had thought for most of his life that he was one of them.

  And the longer he stayed here, with all this talk about welcome and fixing broken lives, the longer he was kept from admitting his failure. And finding a place to land.

  He’d pack tonight and leave tomorrow. It was the best way, before he started thinking about trying once more to make a meaningful life for himself. Make himself meaningful to others. Maybe someday he would find some kind of acceptance, but not here, not now. He’d given what he could give and he had nothing left.

  He threw his backpack on the bed, shoved his few clothes and belongings into it and fastened it. Pushed it to the floor and lay down on the bed fully clothed. At first light he would walk away. Leave a note and go. They would forget him soon enough.

  BRI AWOKE WITH a start. She was in her own bed, alone. Then she heard what
had awakened her. Someone was crying. One of the girls. She sat up, looked at the clock. Three o’clock. She pushed the covers away and hurried next door.

  Mimi slept, but Lily tossed in her sleep, pushing the covers away. Overstimulated, Bri thought, too much excitement with the tree and the decorations and having David around. She should have taken more time with them before bed tonight. But they’d barely been able to stay awake. Lily had fallen asleep before Mimi even got into bed.

  Lily moaned, and Bri sat down on the edge of the bed and put a hand on her back.

  “Mama’s here, Lily. Mama’s here.”

  “Mama,” Lily whimpered.

  “Right here, beautiful girl. Mama’s right here.” She ran her hand lightly over Lily’s back. She seemed warm. Maybe she’d gotten too hot under the comforter.

  Bri pulled it away and straightened the sheet that had become twisted during Lily’s tossing.

  She started to sing, quietly in her deep contralto, “Hush little baby don’t say a word . . .” Lily stilled, seemed to sleep. Bri covered her again, this time with a lighter blanket, and tiptoed out of the room.

  She’d barely drifted off again when a high piercing scream rent the air. This wasn’t normal. Not even when the girls had nightmares had they screamed like that. The scream turned into a cry; was joined by another cry. Mimi was awake and crying, too.

  The cries became hysterical, and Bri panicked. She nearly fell out of bed, stumbled to the next room, dragging her weak leg rather than waiting for the circulation to return.

  Mimi sat straight up in bed wailing. But they were both safe, and Bri castigated herself for that momentary betraying fear that David had come back in the house and was a psychopath after all.

  Lily flailed now, tossing from side to side, holding perfectly still and screaming again to restart the process. Bri turned on the light and rushed to Lily’s side of the bed. She was flushed. Bri touched her forehead. She was burning up.

  “It’s all right, baby.” Bri gathered Lily into her arms. Mimi continued to wail, rocking back and forth, her eyes wide and unseeing.