by Susan Page Davis, Darlene Franklin, Janelle Mowery, Lynette Sowell
“You two doing all right? How’s the music going?”
“It’s going,” replied Marcella. Maybe they ought to stay inside, or at least she should. If Pepé needed help …
“I’m looking forward to seeing what you kids have cooked up.” He pulled an afghan onto his lap, his sprained ankle propped on an ottoman.
“Armand, I’ve brought your snack.” Memé emerged from the dining room, carrying a tray. She stopped short. “Marcella.”
“Hi, Memé.” Marcella gave Memé a half wave. “What are you and Pepé up to?”
Memé glared at Sean. “I’m getting your pepé his morning snack. Can’t go too long between meals. Mrs. Barncastle made some scones.”
“I could have gotten it myself.” Pepé’s tone was sharp, but then he glanced at Marcella. “But thanks, Ruby. I appreciate the snack.”
Memé nodded as she set the little round tray on the end table beside Pepé’s chair. “I know it isn’t the best with your diet, but I brought some fruit, too.”
“My diet is fine. I’m off my diabetes pills, you know.”
“No, I didn’t know.” Memé took a step back. She rubbed the sleeves of her fisherman knit sweater.
“Me either, Pepé.” Marcella joined them by Pepé’s chair. “That’s great news.”
“With Sean’s encouragement and my doctor’s okay,” Pepé said, gesturing to Sean, “I got hold of my exercise and diet, too. See?” He lifted his arm, flexing his biceps.
“You did the hard work, Armand.” Sean cleared his throat.
“Well, that’s really nice to hear.” Memé shrugged and walked away toward the dining room.
Marcella’s heart sank. “Sean, I’ll be right back. I need to talk to Memé.”
“What did I say?” Pepé was asking as Marcella strode off after her grandmother.
She found Memé in the dining room, by the window seat. Sunlight streaming through the window panes made Memé’s hair glow white and silver.
“Memé …”
“I don’t know him anymore.” Memé sighed. “I tried to do the right thing. He is still my husband, and I want to help take care of him.”
“I know you do.” Marcella slipped her arm around Memé’s shoulders. Oh, they were thin. When did Memé get old? “I’m happy he’s started taking better care of himself. I want both of you to be around to see more great-grandchildren someday.”
“I want that, too. But I hurt, Cellie. If it’s not my hip, then it’s one of my knees. I didn’t have weight to lose like your pepé.” Memé wrung her hands. “The idea of going to a weight room makes me shiver.”
“Did you tell him this?”
“I tried. But he didn’t listen. Said I was making excuses.”
“Won’t you ask him back home?”
“No. I won’t. I won’t be criticized and put down because I’m not some muscle workout fiend. Not until he says he’s sorry.”
Marcella sank onto the nearest chair. “Did you talk to Dad? Maybe he can explain to Pepé.” What a mess. She saw both of their positions. Memé hurt; she was aging. Pepé was aging too, but he was seizing life in a way she wished Memé could. Maybe not in the weight room. If only they wouldn’t be so closed-minded to the other.
Memé turned to face her, raising her hands as if in surrender. “I should have gone into town with your parents for an early lunch and to pick up one of the gifts they had personalized yesterday. But my hip hurt. I figured I would stay here. Now I see what I get rewarded with.”
“It’s Christmastime, Memé. I think especially now, you two can find a way to meet in the middle.”
“I don’t know.” Then Memé’s expression brightened. “But I do know I’m looking forward to my girls’ Christmas show tonight. Even with that Sean singing with you.”
“Oh Memé, I hope you love it. Amity is brilliant. She even wrote a script of monologues between each song. And that Sean, as you call him, is an answer to prayer. He’s a great singer.” She smiled at remembering the first time she heard him sing.
“Hmm …” Memé found a chair and sat. “I don’t know about that one. I’d watch out for his kind, if I were you. Nice as pie, but always a little angle for them.”
“You know, I thought that at first, Memé. Now I think I was wrong about him. He’s a good man, who truly seems to care for people.”
“Oh, dear.” Memé shook her head. “You’re sweet on him. Get out now, before you’re too far gone and you lose part of your heart. I have a bad feeling about him.”
“I–I’m not sweet on him.” She couldn’t be. She’d only met him a few days ago, but they’d spent quite a bit of time together with two mornings and one afternoon of rehearsals. “I think that if you spent more time with him, you’d like him, too. Even Mom and Dad like him.”
“I think you’re protesting a little too much.” Memé waved her pointer finger at Marcella. “You watch. Be careful. If he could get Pepé to bail out on fifty-four years of marriage, he could hurt you, too.”
The bottom of the hill came rushing in Sean’s direction as he slid down the slope, the cold air slicing down his throat. He couldn’t help the grin on his face. A squeal rang out from Marcella, on her own wooden sled.
He pulled back on the rope and dug in his heels, feeling awfully like he was ten years old again. Snow sprayed up from his feet and the sled skidded to a stop. Marcella did the same with hers, and she laughed from where she sat.
“I forgot how much fun this was.” Her cheeks were red, and her breath made little white puffs in the air. “When was the last time you went sledding?”
Sean stood up from the sled, brushing snow from his jeans. “I can’t remember. We lived in an apartment, third floor walkup, but there was a school down the street from our house that had a little hill. I might have been twelve, maybe?”
Together they pulled their sleds back up the hill. With every step, he realized he was starting to fall for the womanbeside him. Maybe it was Christmas, the music, the feeling of being with a mostly normal family. He glanced at her. A week ago, he couldn’t have imagined being with Marcella Goudreau. She’d been the faceless granddaughter of his elderly friend.
“What?” she asked when they reached the top of the hill. “I don’t have broccoli in my teeth, because I can’t stand broccoli.”
He laughed. “No, I don’t see any green leafy vegetables in your teeth … You’re very beautiful, Marcella Goudreau.” He touched her coat sleeve. She looked down at his gloved hand.
“Thanks.” Her eyes sparkled as she smiled at him.
“So, uh, is there anyone special in your life?”
“My family, of course. I have some great friends at work, and at church.” She blinked, swallowing hard. “But you weren’t meaning special like that.”
“No, I wasn’t.” He took a step closer in her direction. “I don’t play the field, and I don’t want to overstep if there’s someone in your life. Like a boyfriend.”
“Nope.” She shook her head. “No boyfriend. I—I haven’t really had the time, and then there just wasn’t anyone I seemed to click with.”
He released the sled’s rope and pulled Marcella into his arms. She slipped her arms around his neck. Their lips met, and the cold around them seemed to melt away. The scent of her perfume, her fingers reaching his hair, made him continue the kiss.
Then he slowly released her, but not before letting himself brush her cheek with his fingertips. “I think Ioverstepped. Maybe it’s being here, with you, with your family. It’s made me see possibilities and take a few chances.”
“Well, I’m glad you did.” She cleared her throat. “I like you, a lot. I was preparing myself not to. Especially when Pepé made me allow you to sing with us. The more I found myself trying not to like you, the more I found myself wanting to.”
“So what are we going to do now?” He took her hand.
She cast her glance down the bottom of the hill. “We only have one sled now. Guess we’ll have to decide who takes a trip dow
n to get the other one.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Oh.” Marcella’s blush increased. “I guess we try to know each other better. Things we like, things we don’t like, what our goals in life are, how we react in sticky situations. I know you’re a believer, Pepé told me that much, so that’s a great common ground to have.”
“Yes, it is.” Sean nodded. “But Cellie, don’t turn everything into a project.”
“Wow. Do you think I really try to turn everything into a project?” She crossed her arms across her chest.
He hadn’t meant to sound harsh. “Sort of. Sometimes. I mean, I want to enjoy the time we have together. It feels like the rest of the world, the real world, has slipped away while we’ve been here at Barncastle Inn.”
“It seems that way to me, too, and we’ve only been here a few days.” She uncrossed her arms, letting go of the sled rope. “Like it or not, Christmas Day will come and go, and then we’ll be back to reality. There’s only so much time we have here.”
She almost looked disappointed, and he laughed. “Don’t sound sad. I have a feeling that after Christmas, we’ll still find time to spend together. If you want to, that is. And I have a feeling that your grandparents will start doing the same, too.”
“Maybe you’re right. I just want things to go as I hope they will.”
He didn’t ask. “Sometimes, you just have to trust God and let Him do what He’s doing.” He reached for her sled rope. “Now, I think there’s enough room on here that we can both head down the hill together.”
The instant they whooshed down the hill together on the sled, Sean regretted it. He was getting way ahead of himself with Marcella. Once he’d taken the chance and kissed her, everything between them had changed. He needed to explain about his mother, how dealing with her could be. If Marcella was someone who valued an intact family, without drama or issues, then his wasn’t one to be a part of.
They both dug their heels in to slow the sled down, then tumbled off in a pile of arms and legs and sled. The world spun. Marcella screamed.
Sean found himself looking up at the blue sky. He rolled over to see Marcella lying on her side, doubled up with laughter. She reached for his hand and squeezed it.
He felt his own laughter bubbling up inside.
Chapter 5
The parking lot of Barncastle Inn held two rows of cars, and moonlight glinted off well over a dozen vehicles. Jayne’s husband, Luke, helped act as valet for the visitors, packing the cars and SUVs into the yard area and behind the inn.
Marcella’s heart soared as she peeked out from the room behind the stage. She’d grown to like the Gilberts and wanted this new idea of theirs to take hold for their business. Tonight, only a few seats in the barn remained empty.
Jayne left one of the front seats and took the steps to the stage.
“Good evening, and welcome to the Barncastle. We’re trying something new this year at the inn, and we wanted to include Castlebury in our festivities. Tonight, and for the next three evenings, we’re featuring highlights from a classic Christmas favorite, White Christmas.”
She glanced back toward the room where Marcella, Amity, and Sean waited. “We’re taking you back to Vermont, just after World War II, when life was simpler. Heroes had been forgotten, and life went on. We bring you … the Haynes sisters.” The lights went low.
“That’s our cue,” said Amity, adjusting the top of her glittery blue dress, reminiscent of the ones worn in the movie.
“Go get ‘em.” Sean’s voice was low, close to Marcella’s ear. “You look gorgeous.”
“Thanks,” she whispered. She allowed herself to give him a quick kiss before she grabbed her feathered sky-blue fan and followed Amity to the stage.
The first notes of “Sisters” came from the sound system as Marcella stepped to her mark, spun on one heel, and held up her blue fan in front of her face. The lights came up.
Backs to the crowd, Marcella and Amity turned in unison, holding their fans aloft, then gradually lowered them. Here we go.
“Sisters, sisters …” The music carried her along. Amity, and her, singing the song they’d sung nearly every Christmas since they’d first seen the movie. Growing pains and teenage drama. Saying good-bye when they went to different colleges, then home again on semester breaks with Mom and Dad. More good-byes after Amity married Peter.
Mom and Dad beamed at them from the front row, along with Memé and Pepé. Memé and Pepé, sitting side by side, with Pepé on the end, his foot still propped up on a chair with a pillow.
The song came to its end, and Marcella grinned at Amity, breathless. The crowd roared its applause. Now it was time for her lines. Focus, Marcella.
“Thank you for joining us. I’m Marcella Goudreau, and this is my sister, Amity Carruthers. We have always loved to sing together, and White Christmas is one of our favorite Christmas movies. We’d like to thank Jayne and Luke Gilbert, the good proprietors of the Barncastle, for having us.
“White Christmas first came to the big screen in 1954 and has become a tradition for millions of viewers over the years. The movie has special significance for our family, because right after our memé and pepé saw White Christmas onscreen at the Paramount in 1958, Pepé proposed to her while he was walking her home.”
Some in the group made acknowledging sounds like ohhhhh. Marcella smiled.
“When the Haynes sisters went to Pine Tree, Vermont, they didn’t know that Wallace and Davis were coming as well. Like our grandparents, love was in the air for these two couples.”
The lights went low, and Marcella dashed backstage to the empty room where her thick red pajamas and bathrobe waited. She changed, then zipped back out to the darkened stage. Sean was already there, standing at the ready.
The lights came up as she strode onto the stage. “Oh, it’s you.” It reminded her of her first night at Barncastle Inn.
“You’re up late,” Sean said.
“I can’t sleep.” She shrugged and smiled at him. No playacting here. She found her smile easily.
“I know just the thing to help you sleep.” Sean paused, with this being Amity’s cue to start “Blessings.”
Then the song about counting blessings instead of sheep began.
Marcella allowed herself to be lost in the sound of his voice, his gentle eyes looking her way. She remembered their kiss earlier that afternoon, when it seemed like everything paused in time around them. She felt the same way now.
Marcella echoed back the chorus to him, and then theyblended their voices together, their hands clasped as they faced each other. Amity ended the song with soft notes on the keyboard. As the applause began, Sean leaned toward her and gave her a simple kiss on the forehead.
The lights went low again, and she whispered to him, “That wasn’t on the script.”
“I know.”
Her heart hammered in her chest as she turned to face the crowd when the lights came up.
She found her voice. “At Christmastime, we often get caught up in the busyness of the holiday. So many things try to claim our attention, and we forget the simplicity of what Christmas means. The blessings that God has given us far, far outweigh the grief or difficulty that life can bring. A sleepless night can go away when we take the focus from ourselves and our worries.”
The barn door slid open and a woman entered, bundled in a thick wool coat and wearing a long multicolored scarf around her neck. Ash blond hair was coiffed into a short, flippy hairdo. She waved at them, then settled onto an empty chair in the back.
Marcella glanced at Sean. He stood there, his jaw tight, and hands curled. Then he uncurled them and rubbed his pant legs.
“Christmas in Pine Tree, Vermont, wasn’t without problems either,” Marcella continued. “General Waverly had served his country, then had gone on to sink all of his resources into his inn. With the unseasonably warm weather, the inn didn’t have guests and was in danger of closing.
“Bob Wallace brought his entir
e New York show to Pine Tree. That wasn’t enough. When Bob realized that General Waverly wasn’t just losing his inn, but was losing hope when he learned the Army wouldn’t let him reenlist, Bob knew he had to help show the general how much he was still appreciated.”
At the thought of the fictional General Waverly, at the thought of her very real Pepé and all he meant to his family, Marcella’s throat hurt. The lights went down.
In the dimness, she asked Sean, “Are you okay?”
He shrugged. Something was wrong, but she had no way to ask him what.
The evening continued with more songs and cheers from the crowd, and laughter at the song “I Wish I Was Back in the Army.”
The glow of performance ignited inside Marcella and she shoved her concern about Sean to the side, if only for a few moments.
Their grand finale began. The famous “White Christmas” song. Amity looked elegant in a crimson ball gown trimmed in white fur, and she took her seat behind the keyboard. Marcella loved the feel of her own dress. Jayne’s friend Dori, a local seamstress, had been the genius behind the creations. But Sean nearly took Marcella’s breath away in the vintage Army uniform that Jayne had found online.
When they sang, though, Sean would barely meet her eyes. She reached for his hand as they sang, her heart sinking.
She could barely drag the last words out, and the final notes drifted away.
The air hung thick between them and a roar filled the barn. Amity joined Marcella and Sean onstage, and they took their bow.
After the applause drifted away, Marcella addressed the crowd. “Thank you for journeying back with us to a simpler time, and we hope you’ve been reminded of the real gifts of Christmas, gifts you can’t put in a box. Love, giving to others, just like God gave His best Gift to us that first Christmas many years ago. Jayne?”
Jayne moved to the stage. “Thank you all once again for coming. At the back of the barn, you’re welcome to enjoy hot chocolate, apple cider, and fresh homemade doughnuts.”
As people left their seats, Marcella glanced at Sean. “Hey, what’s going on?”