by Donna Ball
She stared at the candy in her hand. “You can’t just go off by yourself.”
“Have to,” he replied, and slung the saddlebags back on his shoulder. “My folks are waiting for me.”
She tried to peer through the darkness to make out his face. “I thought you said your folks were dead.”
He shrugged. “My mom and dad are,” he said. “But my real family—my real mom—they’re at home now, expecting me, and I told them I would be back, so I will be.”
She was silent for a moment, and when she spoke again her voice had softened, “You’re a pretty lucky kid, to have a family worth going through all this for.”
He replied simply, “I know.”
She took a breath, straightened her shoulders, and handed one of the candy bars back to him. “So,” she said, unwrapping her own candy. “Which way?”
Noah looked around for a moment, straining for something, anything, that would give him a clue. There was nothing but black night, black lumps, black tree trunks as far as he could see. He hated to admit it, but even this brief stop had gotten him turned around, and he didn’t even know in which direction he’d been going originally. Not that it mattered, since he’d probably been going the wrong way the whole time.
Then Kathy caught her breath. He heard her say reverently, “Holy sh-- I mean, holy cow.”
He frowned in surprise because he could actually see the faintest outline of the shape of her face in the darkness. She appeared to be staring at something over his shoulder. He turned, and he stared too.
In the distance a cone of light had appeared, illuminating the tops of trees and the underside of low-hanging clouds, reflecting off the dense, humid atmosphere and spreading particles of pale radiance over the sky. For a long time, they just stood there, staring, and then a slow grin spread over Noah's face. “Looks good to me,” he said, and they started walking toward the light.
“Can you believe that?” Bridget said, switching off her flashlight as she entered the circle of lantern light and candlelight that was the foyer of Ladybug Farm. Through the open screen door the sounds of chugging engines, crackling radios and industry followed her. “The transformer at the end of our driveway is one of the ones that controls this whole part of the county. They can’t turn any of the power back on until they change out some switch or something. They really appreciated the sandwiches and coffee, Ida Mae,” she added, “and they thought the cookies were fabulous.”
Ida Mae gave a grunt of acknowledgement and muttered something about feeding every stray in the county as she went back to the kitchen.
Cici peered out toward the road, where spotlights and the sound of shouted orders indicated the presence of the power company workers. “Maybe we did take out the grid when we plugged in the lights,” she said, sounding concerned.
Lindsay looked over her shoulder. “Those guys are heroes,” she said. “Working in the dark like that on Christmas Eve. They deserve more than sandwiches and coffee.”
“I invited them back to the house for eggnog,” Derrick said, “but I think that’s against company policy.”
Dinner had been delayed again while Bridget and Ida Mae made sandwiches for the crew, and Bridget and Derrick drove to deliver them. But everyone had showered and changed out of their work clothes, and the house was once again redolent with the aromas of the coming feast. Paul lit the candles on the table while Bridget and Derrick brought in platters of sliced turkey and dressing, bowls of vegetables and a basket of hot rolls. Cici poured the wine. Paul snapped another picture on his cell phone, but it came out a little blurry with the candlelight.
Lori came into the dining room, having changed into a sundress and tied back her hair, rubbing her hands together eagerly. “I’m starved! This is the latest we’ve ever had dinner, isn’t it? It’s practically Continental. Everything smells incredible.”
Lindsay stood near the doorway, surveying the scene—the candlelight glowing on the soft patina of the silver and flickering on the crystal, shining in the gentle smiles of her friends and dancing on the dark windows. The table was set for a feast, and the smells of Christmas filled the air. She let her eyes linger on the empty place setting for only a moment, and then she moved to the table and took up her wine glass. “A toast,” she said, lifting her glass. “To friends and family, near and far. God bless us every one.”
There was the clink of glasses around the table, the murmur of “hear, hear”, and then the scraping of chairs as Lori declared with enthusiasm, “Now, let’s eat.”
Lindsay laughed and allowed Paul to pull out her chair for her. “All right, then, let’s eat!”
Behind them, a voice said, “Y’all aren’t going to start without me, are you?”
Lindsay dropped her glass and whirled, but her cry of joy was lost in the clamor that followed.
“Noah!”
“Where’ve you been?”
“We’ve been worried sick!”
“What happened to you?”
“Oh, it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter, he’s home now!”
Everyone descended on Noah, hugging him, clapping him on the back, almost knocking him down with their enthusiasm. He tried to laugh it off, but he was too tired, and too relieved and glad to even pretend to be embarrassed. He hugged everyone back, even Lori.
Lindsay stepped back, holding his shoulders, peering through the candlelight at the scratches and smudges on his face. “What happened?” she demanded, her voice hoarse. “Are you all right?”
He shrugged a little. “A little accident, that’s all. That helmet you gave me worked great, though.”
Lindsay’s hand dropped to her heart.
Noah glanced over his shoulder to the woman who, in all the excitement, they had only just begun to realize was behind him, half hidden in the shadows. He drew her forward. “Everybody, this is Kathy,” he said. He added with a touch of importance in his voice, “She was a soldier in Iraq. This,” he said, and now his tone was firm with pride, “is my family.”
They swarmed in on her, just as he knew they would, welcoming her and drawing her into the dining room.
“Come in, come in, join us.”
“We were just about to sit down to dinner.”
“Let me pour you a glass of wine.”
Kathy raised both hands in protest, looking uncertain and overwhelmed. “Um, really,”she said, “I’m a mess. I wrecked my car and... I mean, I just came in to use the phone."
“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course you’ll stay.”
“Don’t worry about a thing, we’ll see about your car as soon as we all have something to eat.”
“Who do you need to call, honey? You must be exhausted.”
“Do you have any place to stay tonight? We have plenty of room. And just wait until you taste Ida Mae’s Christmas morning pancakes.”
Kathy looked at Noah, her eyes wide with cautious disbelief. Noah looked back at her and grinned.
“Please,” she said, glancing around at the others, “I’m filthy. I couldn’t possibly….”
“Oh you poor thing.” Bridget slipped an arm around her waist. “What must you have been through? Come with me, I’ll show you where you can clean up. I hope you don’t mind lantern light. It’s all we have right now….” She led her away.
Lindsay didn’t seem to be able to stop looking at Noah, and it was Cici who said, “Noah, what happened? We’ve been just sick with worry.”
He said, as casually as possible, “I ran into a skid on a back road on the way back from Staunton. I broke my phone. That girl, Kathy, her car went into a ditch. We’ve been walking since this afternoon.”
Paul said in astonishment, “Walking? All this time?”
Noah nodded, a little abashed. “It got dark on us sooner than I expected, and my flashlight died. We wouldn’t have made it at all except for those guys working with the spotlights at the end of the driveway. Did you know that’s the only light you can see anywhere around in this whole part of the county?”
Paul looked at Derrick. Derrick looked at Cici. Cici looked at Lindsay, and Lindsay looked at Lori, and not one of them could find a single thing to say.
Noah turned to Lindsay. He lowered his voice a little and said, “Listen, I’m sorry you were worried.” He dropped his eyes. “I guess I screwed up. It’s just—well, it was Christmas and all, and I wanted to get you something special. I got a present for you, it wasn’t much, but it got busted in the accident. So I’m sorry.”
Lindsay wrapped her hand around his arm, and pressed her cheek against his shoulder. “You did get me something special,” she told him. Her voice sounded thick, and at the same time, light. Her smile was radiant in the candlelight. “You brought me the best Christmas present ever.”
Cici blotted her eyes with the back of her hand. Lori put her arm around her mother’s waist. Derrick covered Paul’s hand with his.
Ida Mae stood at the door to the kitchen, her arms across her chest. “Are y’all gonna eat, or what?”
Cici sniffed and swiped again at her eyes and turned to Ida Mae, beaming. “We’ve got company,” she said. “Set another place, will you? And Noah.” She spun back to him. “Run get cleaned up. We’re starving and, to tell the truth, I’m not sure I can stay awake much longer. Lord help us all, I don’t think I can ever go through another night like this one.”
There was a faint knock from the front of the house, and a voice called, “Excuse me? Ma’am?”
“I’ll check it out,” Lori said, but everyone, including Noah, followed her to the front door.
A man in a power company uniform and a hard hat was at the screen door. “I brought back your thermos,” he said, holding it up. “And your basket. The men wanted me to tell you thanks again.”
“Young man!” exclaimed Paul, rushing to the door. “Come in, come in!”
“You saved our lives!” Lindsay cried. She caught his hand and pulled him inside.
Cici said, “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”
And Lori declared, “A miracle, that’s what it is. A real miracle.”
“What we’re all trying to say,” said Derrick, pumping his hand enthusiastically, “is thank you. Thank you for service above and beyond the call of duty!”
“Well actually,” the young man replied, looking confused, “I’m on call for holidays and weekends through January fifteenth. What I wanted to tell you was we’ve about got you back online, and you should have power any minute now.”
With a hum and a flicker, the lights came back on around the house. The young man glanced around, smiling. “Well, there you go.”
The Christmas tree sprang to life. The window wreaths glowed, the porch and garden sparkled, the archways were illuminated with tiny lights. It was so beautiful, and so welcome, that everyone burst into spontaneous applause. Paul whipped out his cell phone and started snapping pictures.
Behind them, an awed voice said, “Oh, my. Will you look at that?”
The young man in the power company uniform turned sharply, staring at the newcomer. His throat worked convulsively for a moment, and he seemed unable to speak. Finally he managed, “Kathy?”
Noah was the first to notice the expression in her eyes as she turned to look at him, the way the color drained from her face and her hand went to her throat. She whispered, “Roger.”
She broke away from Bridget and took a couple of steps toward him. He pushed passed Derrick and Paul, and everyone in the room fell into puzzled silence, intent upon the drama in the making as he strode across the room and stood in front of Kathy, staring at her.
She looked up at him with tears glittering on her lashes. Her voice was broken. “I tried to find you. I went to your house…”
“I got this job.” His voice was hoarse. He kept staring. “I haven’t lived there since summer. I wrote you a couple of thousand e-mails.”
She whispered, “I didn’t think you’d want me.”
He pushed her hair away from her face. He looked at her for a long, long time. And then he said softly, “Oh, baby. Why wouldn’t I want you?” and he pulled her into his arms.
Noah nodded, and a slow, rather smug grin turned up the corner of his lips. “Nice,” he murmured.
Lori cast a meaningful, big-eyed glance from him to the embracing couple and back again. “What…?”
He gave an elaborate shrug, clearly reveling in the secret he would share at his own leisure. “Long story,” he said.
Kathy broke away just then, laughing, her cheeks wet with happy tears. “I’m sorry, everyone,” she said. “We’re being rude. You don’t even know us, and this is such a surprise… This is my—”
She stumbled over the word and looked at Roger, but before he could answer the unspoken question in her eyes, Noah supplied easily, “Fiancé. It’s her fiancé. Right?”
Roger said, without taking his eyes off her, “Right. Kathy, I can’t believe it. I can’t believe it’s you. How did you…?”
“Long story,” she replied, beaming.
He swept a glance around the room, barely focusing on any of them, and said, “I’m sorry, we don’t mean to interrupt your holiday. I didn’t know Kathy was here. I’ve been looking for her…”
“I’ve been looking for you,” she whispered.
It was Bridget who recovered herself first. “What a lovely reunion!” she exclaimed softly, pressing her hands together in delight. “We’d be honored if you both would be our guests for dinner tonight.”
Roger glanced around, and by the distracted look on his face it was clear he wasn’t certain who had spoken. “Thank you ma’am. That’s kind. But I, that is we…” He looked helplessly at Kathy, “Would you walk outside with me for a minute?
Kathy smiled. “Well, I’ve walked this far, what’s a few more steps?”
Paul surreptitiously snapped a photo of them as they left the room. “Now that,” he declared happily, “is a Christmas story.”
“The best one yet,” agreed Derrick.
“Wait until you hear the rest of it,” Noah said.
From the door way, Ida Mae demanded again, “Are y’all gonna eat or do you want me to feed this to the dog?”
“We’re coming,” called Cici.
Paul said, “Wait.” He held up his cell phone camera. “This calls for a picture. Everyone, scrunch in close together in front of the tree. Look this way.”
They all turned toward the camera, and then Noah exclaimed suddenly, “Hold on a minute.” He looked at Lindsay. “I just remembered, I got you something after all.”
The others waited, trying to hold the pose, while he scrambled in his saddlebags. He returned with a sprig of mistletoe, which he held over Lindsay’s head. Lindsay looked up at him, laughing.
“Merry Christmas, Mom,” he said, and kissed her cheek.
Paul snapped the picture.
It was perfect.
Holiday Recipes from Ladybug Farm
Derrick’s Southern Comfort Eggnog
Purists may object, but using ice cream instead of raw eggs allows this eggnog to travel well for holiday parties and eliminates concerns about unpasteurized dairy products.
1 lb. superfine sugar
1 cup Southern Comfort liqueur
1 /4 cup rum
1/ 4 cup bourbon
1 /2 gallon high-quality vanilla ice cream
1 quart heavy cream
1 tablespoon nutmeg plus more for garnish
Let ice cream melt in a large bowl overnight.
In a separate bowl, stir together sugar, Southern Comfort, rum and bourbon until dissolved. Add cream. Add melted ice cream and nutmeg, and whip with mixer until well blended.
Pour into punch bowl or large pitcher and garnish with nutmeg. Serve chilled.
Ida Mae’s Fruitcake Cookies
1 cup butter
2 cups packed dark brown sugar
1 cup white sugar
4 eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 lb chopped dates
2
lbs candied fruit
1 cup fruit brandy, bourbon, or spirit of choice
2 tbs. milk
4 cups flour
1 teaspoon soda
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1 teaspoon nutmeg
1 /2 teaspoon allspice
1 /4 teaspoon ginger
1 /4 teaspoon cloves
2 lbs chopped walnuts
Cream together butter, sugar, vanilla and eggs. Beat in brandy and milk. In a separate bowl, dredge the candied fruit and dates in one cup flour. To the creamed mixture, gradually add the remaining flour and spices. Stir in dredged fruit and nuts. Refrigerate overnight.
Preheat oven to 350 F. Drop mixture by teaspoons full, approximately 2 inches apart, onto ungreased cookie sheet. Bake 10-12 minutes or until golden on the bottom. Cookies should be chewy. Cool on wire racks.
Makes approximately four dozen. Store in tightly concealed container in a cool place for up to a month.
Derrick’s Asparagus Puffs
24 fresh asparagus tips
14 oz. puff pastry sheet
1 wheel of brie
24 thin strips of prosciutto
Honey mustard
Preheat oven to 400 F
Blanch asparagus tips just until tender, about three minutes. Pat dry with paper towels.
Roll out the puff pastry and cut into 24 slices. Spread each slice with honey mustard. Place a strip of prosciutto on each one, followed by a 1/ 4 inch thick slice of brie. Press an asparagus tip into the cheese on each pastry strip, and roll the pastry up to cover the asparagus, sealing the ends. Make sure the cheese is completely covered.
Bake at 400 until pastry is puffed and golden, ten to twelve minutes.
Enjoy the following holiday recipes from Recipes from Ladybug Farm, available wherever you purchased this book.