A Midnight Clear

by Hope Ramsay

  But Aiden’s play was entirely different. Aiden began to sort the cars by color.

  Tom decided that the way into Teri’s good graces was through Aiden. Besides, sorting Matchbox cars seemed like way more fun than decorating a plastic tree that was kind of lopsided. So he got down on the floor, somewhat awkwardly because of his prosthesis, and started helping Aiden.

  “You’re doing it all wrong,” Aiden said without looking at him. “You’re an idiot.”

  Good thing Teri had just left the room in search of an extension cord and therefore didn’t hear her son’s judgment on his sorting skills. Tom took the criticism in stride. “Oh?” he said. “What am I doing wrong?”

  “You hafta sort them by color, and then the Hot Wheels come before the Matchbox ones, and then you have to put them in the right order. Coupes first, four-doors second, then vans and trucks and hot rods.”

  “Oh. Okay. I got it.” He was about to ask about cars with racing stripes until he noticed that none of Aiden’s cars were red or had racing stripes. The kid was a color purist.

  When they had the cars all sorted according to Aiden’s rules, Tom said, “So you don’t like Christmas, huh?”

  Aiden cocked his head but didn’t make eye contact. “Santa is a bad, mean man.”

  “Okay, but Christmas is about more than Santa, right?”

  Aiden didn’t respond.

  “Your mom says you know your Bible verses. So I’m sure you remember the story in the Gospel of Luke about the time when Jesus was born.”

  Aiden made brief but significant eye contact. There was a bright gleam in his pale blue eyes. Then he spoke in a rapid fire manner: “Et pastores erant in regione eadem vigilantes et custodientes vigilias noctis supra gregem suum et ecce angelus Domini stetit iuxta illos et claritas Dei circumfulsit illos et timuerunt timore magno…”

  Wow. It had been a while since Tom had studied Latin, so he couldn’t say exactly what the words meant, except that he caught the word angelus so he knew the kid was reciting something about angels.

  But Aiden quickly clarified the issue by providing an English translation. “And there were in the same country shepherds watching and keeping the night watches over their flock. And behold an angel of the Lord stood by them and the brightness of God shone round about them: and they feared with a great fear…”

  Once he’d finished the complete translation, Aiden said, “The King James version is different though.” He proceeded to recite that translation as well. He punctuated his recitation by saying, “I can’t read Greek yet.”

  Tom looked up at Teri. She’d given up on the tree and stood there holding a strand of twinkle lights in her hands, a sheen of tears in her eyes and a small half-smile on her kissable lips. “He memorizes the Latin, but he can’t really speak or translate it.” Any mother ought to be proud of these accomplishments, but Teri’s voice sounded brittle.

  Tom held her gaze for a fraction too long as electricity hummed along his internal circuits. He looked away before his body shorted out.

  “Well,” he said to Aiden when he’d regained control, “I guess you do know all about the story of the first Christmas. It has nothing to do with Santa.”

  “Or Christmas trees either.” Aiden didn’t make eye contact with either Tom or Teri as he unloaded this zinger.

  “No, but we always put angels on top of the tree.”

  “Not always. Last year, there was a star on top of the town tree. And Grandma had a star too.”

  “For the Star of Bethlehem,” Tom said.

  Aiden shrugged and started picking up his cars and putting them back in their storage box.

  “Would you like to have a big tree with an angel on the top?” he asked.

  He got no answer. Which was better than a flat-out no.

  “Okay, so would you mind if your mom and I put up a big tree in the bay window with an angel on the top?”

  “No red stuff on it. Red is evil.”

  “No red. Would gold be okay?”

  He got no response.

  “Okay, so we’re going to get a real tree. Would you like to take a walk with me and your mom up to the Jaycees lot by the Methodist church? They’ve got trees there. You could pick the one you liked best.”

  “Are we going to see the angels?”

  “Well, it’s dark, and I’m sure Golf—”

  “We can go see the angels,” Teri interrupted.

  Tom turned his gaze on Teri. The sheen of tears was gone. In its place was a tiny smile that revealed a dimple in her left cheek that he hadn’t noticed before. Her smile was as good as hot chocolate for warming up his insides. “Golfing for God is kind of a long walk, don’t you think?” he asked.

  “Yes it is, but we’re not going to Golfing for God. We’re going to make a tour of nativity scenes. Every churchyard in town has one on display, and they all have angels. It might take a little while before we get to the Methodist Church and the Jaycees lot. But I warn you, we know only one Christmas carol and you might be sick and tired of hearing ‘It Came Upon a Midnight Clear’ before we’re done.”

  AIDEN SPEAKS

  There are four angels in town. One at the AME church. One at Christ Church. And two at the Methodist church.

  There was only one angel at the Methodist church the last time Mom and I took a walk.

  None of the churches has a heavenly host. Only Golfing for God. But the heavenly host at Golfing for God has only twelve small angels. The Methodist angel is ten feet tall.

  I can’t figure out if the second angel is a boy or a girl. It kinda hurts to look at that angel. It’s bright and makes my head feel kinda funny. It’s like looking at a candle, only not as scary because it’s an angel.

  It told me that Raphael was bringing me a present on Christmas Eve.

  I don’t like presents wrapped in red paper.

  I don’t like surprises. The new Methodist angel is a surprise. I don’t know if I like it.

  I told Mom about the angel and the present.

  She said she didn’t see the second angel. But that’s not a surprise. I see lots of things that other people don’t see. Like how Dr. Tom didn’t notice the difference between Matchbox cars and Hot Wheels cars until I showed him.

  Dr. Tom bought a Christmas tree called a Douglas fir. It’s five feet three and a half inches tall. Dr. Tom carried it back home on his shoulder. It made the house smell funny. Mom put a lot of gold stuff on it.

  I played Bach’s Prelude and Fugue No. 1 in C Major seven times in a row without making any mistakes before Mom told me it was bedtime.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  So far it had been an okay evening, maybe even a good one. Teri had to take her blessings in small doses. Counting them too soon could make them evaporate.

  But Aiden undeniably enjoyed the tour of the nativity scenes in town. And Dr. Tom, as her son called him, said he had enjoyed the walk too.

  Aiden also hadn’t objected to the tree. He might not have put a single ornament on the branches, but sometimes his indifference was the best Teri could hope for. He even went off to bed without a struggle.

  Best of all, her son more than tolerated Dr. Tom, and that was a positive, if slightly terrifying, sign.

  A woman knows when a man is interested. Teri wasn’t imagining things. But she refused to lead with her heart. Her heart was bruised and battered and busted. She ought to hang a sign on her chest that said “Fragile, Extremely Breakable.”

  So, when Tom didn’t leave right after the tree was finished, she escaped into the kitchen, where she brewed a pot of coffee and thought about her next moves. She needed distance.

  And what better way to accomplish this than to push him back into the doctor box where he wouldn’t pose a threat to her equilibrium.

  She poured the coffee into two blue mugs with happy snowmen on them. Then she headed back to the living room, where she started speaking before she could even hand Tom his cup.

  “So, what’s your professional opinion?” she asked. “
About Aiden, I mean. He notices small details that most of us ignore. But this business about an invisible angel in the Methodist churchyard isn’t a small detail, is it? Do you think, as a doctor, that it’s possible for a kid like Aiden to imagine an angel? To be honest, I didn’t think he was capable of something like that. He’s always been so utterly literal up to this point in his development.”

  She handed Tom his mug. He sat on her battered couch, looking comfortable. Of course he was at ease. He practically oozed self-assurance. And why not? He probably had a zillion girlfriends up north. She imagined women threw themselves at him all the time.

  He took a slow sip from his coffee. For a Yankee, Tom sure could take his time about some things. He didn’t fit the stereotype, except for his accent.

  Which he chose to employ. “Sit down, Teri, you’ve been on your feet all day.” He patted the couch next to him.

  Damn. She wanted to sit down. She also wanted to run into the kitchen and hide in the broom closet.

  He seemed to understand her dilemma. He didn’t force the issue, thank goodness. Instead, he just assumed the doctor role, as she had hoped he would. “Maybe you’re underestimating Aiden,” he said. “Children have vivid imaginations. I don’t see why a kid on the spectrum can’t imagine things. Look at Temple Grandin. She imagined a better way to manage cattle, and she’s autistic.”

  “Yes, but there’s a difference between imagining a new way to manage livestock headed for the slaughter and just imagining a conversation with an angel.”

  “Teri, I wouldn’t worry about this. Isn’t it a good thing that he’s imagined an angel who’s going to give him a present? He’s just projected the whole Santa thing onto his friend Raphael. I don’t see that it’s something to worry about.”

  “Okay. But what happens when Raphael lets him down?”

  “And you’re so sure that Raphael will do that?” His eyes reflected the tree’s lights like a holiday beacon. “Sit down, Teri. It’s been a long, hard day for you.”

  She sat, but not right next to him. It seemed wise to leave a little distance.

  He put his coffee down and massaged his left knee.

  “I hope you didn’t do something to your knee carrying the tree back for us,” she said. “We could have gotten someone to deliver it for us tomorrow.”

  “What, and miss the fun?” He inhaled through his nose. “It finally smells like Christmas in here. There’s nothing quite like a Douglas fir for the scent, is there?”

  “Thank you. Really. The tree is wonderful. But you’ve been massaging that knee ever since we got back.”

  “I didn’t hurt my knee carrying the tree, Teri. It’s an old injury.”

  “Football?”

  He chuckled. “I’m getting the feeling that football is a religion down here.”

  “That’s because it is. Especially college ball.”

  “I hate to disappoint you, but I never played football.” He bent over and pulled up the left cuff of his blue jeans. Instead of a sock-clad ankle, a mechanical foot was shoved into his Nike and a shiny metal post came out of the shoe’s collar.

  “Oh!” It was all she could manage. She hadn’t even noticed a limp, except when he’d carried the tree back from the lot. “Uh, were you wounded in Iraq or Afghanistan?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “It’s amazing how many people ask me that. It tells you something about the kinds of injuries our soldiers are sustaining these days. But no. When I was just a little younger than Aiden, I was diagnosed with bone cancer. I lost the leg when I was seven. Luckily they caught the cancer early. The docs saved the knee and my life.”

  “Well, thank goodness for that.” Teri suddenly didn’t know where to look or what to do with her hands. So she clasped her coffee cup and hid behind it.

  “It was a long, scary few years. Ma and Pop had to sacrifice a lot for me, to pay the doctor bills and to see me through all that radiation and chemotherapy. I lost my hair, and all the other kids in my class got scared of me. So you see, I know something about what parents go through when they have kids with challenges. I’m not equating myself or my problems with Aiden’s. I’m just saying that I understand.”

  She finally found the courage to put her mug down and turn toward him. Damn. He was handsome. Too handsome. He shouldn’t be interested in someone like her. Yearning for him was dangerous. She’d get hurt.

  But there he sat with a truly intense look in his eyes that put flutters in her gut. And how could she not desire him? Somehow he’d brought the holiday spirit right into her home. She hadn’t thought it was even possible for that to happen this year. Not after her family had abandoned her.

  Tom scooted toward her.

  She knew what was coming. He even hesitated for a moment, as if to give her time to pull back if she wanted to. But she didn’t pull back. She didn’t even want to anymore. She let him move in.

  His mouth was warm and firm as it closed over hers, his tongue soft when it connected with hers. The kiss unleashed a torrent of carnal thoughts and urges that Terri had dammed up years ago, when her marriage had failed. For a moment, she lost her mind. She ran her fingers up through his hair. He did the same to her. She was about to suggest something ridiculous when he pulled back.

  “I’ve had a very nice time, Teri,” he said. “Can I come for dinner tomorrow?”

  He stood up.

  He was leaving?

  Uh, probably a good idea. She walked him to the door. They kissed again, and it was harder the second time not to suggest something that would really have the gossips working overtime.

  Wow. Poets wrote sonnets about kisses like the one she and Tom had just shared. The kind of kisses that come right before the happily-ever-after. The kind that awaken true love. Teri had waited all her life for a storybook kiss.

  But as she watched Tom stroll away from her door she reminded herself that fairy tales were about as real as the angel Aiden thought he’d seen in the Methodist churchyard.

  * * *

  Somehow Tom Crawford managed not only to invite himself for dinner and kisses on Tuesday, but he showed up to be fed, take Aiden to see the angels at the Methodist churchyard, and dispense a few more killer kisses on Wednesday. Thursday he disappeared without explanation.

  This turn of events confirmed that Teri had inadvertently developed an unrequited crush on the new doc in town.

  And then Friday morning he called, surprising the heck out of her. She was at her workbench in the shop assembling yet another magnolia leaf wreath. She put down her tools and punched the Talk button. “Tom,” she said in her huskiest, come-hither voice.

  “Morning,” he said, his voice deep enough for any woman to fall right into it. There ensued an adolescent moment of silence in which Teri’s pulse climbed and her insides melted. That, alone, should have cautioned her. This crush on Tom was foolish. She should say goodbye right now.

  But she didn’t.

  “Last night I signed a sublease on a furnished condo at Edisto Pines,” he said into the silence. “I didn’t have much to move in so I’m officially out of the Jonquil House B and B. I’d like to invite you and Aiden for dinner tonight.”

  Dinner? At some place other than home? Not a good idea. But somehow Teri couldn’t quite say that out loud. No man had ever offered to cook her dinner before. Certainly not her ex, who expected her to be a wife, mother, florist, chauffeur, maid, cook, laundress, and bottle washer. Having a man cook for her was…Well, it turned her on.

  But then, she’d been living like a nun the last few years so that shouldn’t have surprised her.

  When the silence stretched into awkwardness, Tom took an audible breath and said, “Look, Teri, I get it. Aiden can be funny about food. But I think I can manage it. And besides, he needs to get out more. And so do you.”

  He was right, of course. “What are you planning to serve?”

  “Well, I’ve got a pot of Boston baked beans in the slow cooker. Usually I eat the beans with bratwurst. These foods a
re both sort of brown. Aiden doesn’t have any issues with brown food, does he?”

  “No. But I don’t think he’s ever eaten baked beans or bratwurst, which means he’ll probably turn up his nose.”

  “I could make mac and cheese for him. I make a mean mac and cheese.” Tom’s voice sounded warm and smiley.

  “Mac and cheese is his favorite food.”

  “Of course it is. It’s every kid’s favorite food.”

  “I thought doctors frowned on mac and cheese.”

  “It’s like everything in life. Mac and cheese in moderation won’t kill you.”

  “Thank the Lord, because sometimes it’s the only thing that gets me through dinnertime.”

  He laughed. “So, six thirty?”

  She paused, a flock of excuses circling her mind. This was going so fast. Maybe she should put on the brakes.

  Or maybe she should just say yes.

  * * *

  Tom was looking forward to hosting Teri and Aiden for dinner, even if he wasn’t the world’s greatest cook. Ma and Martha had both told him that his baked beans were quite tasty, and that meant something, because his mother and sister were both terrific cooks.

  And who could screw up brats? Plus, his condo came with a gas grill out back and the locals definitely believed in year-round grilling. But that was easy when the average daytime December temperature was sixty degrees.

  So he had the menu, simple as it was, covered.

  Still, he wanted to make the evening special. So he’d gotten a no-iron white tablecloth and some votive candles at Walmart. A bouquet of orange lilies from the BI-LO completed his dinner table.

  So, when the doorbell rang at six thirty, the table was set, the food was ready, and the candles were lit.

  He hurried to his door and let his guests into the small vestibule entrance. Teri had her hair down. She wore a gold Christmas tree pin on her moss green, cable-knit sweater. Her changeable eyes picked up the color of her cardigan as well as the pin’s sparkle.