Twilight Christmas: A Carolina Coast Novella (Carolina Coast Novels Book 3)

by Normandie Fischer

  Maybe it did. When she bent to tuck it in the cupboard away, her gaze fell on her bread pans. And she squinted as an idea took shape.

  She could bake gifts. She knew how to cook. She liked to bake.

  That thought put a smile on her face. Auntie Sim’s apricot bread would be a treat. Lots of fruit and nuts.

  Why not? One for each of her friends.

  For the first time that day—no, for the first time in weeks—she began to believe in possibilities.

  16

  Clay

  After a day of hanging out at his house, Clay’d brought Ty with him to the church an hour early. They were about to go inside when Hannah Morgan showed up with her husband, Matt, and with Bud, who’d not only fixed the office door but had brought a chainsaw to cut a tree from the woods. And they’d found what looked like some kind of pine, full and certainly big enough to impress congregants.

  “Wow,” Ty said. “That’s some tree.”

  Bud stood it upright. “Looks like either a white pine or a Virginia pine. Not sure.”

  “Gorgeous, isn’t it?” Hannah asked.

  “Sorry it took me so long to get things together and the tree cut,” Matt said.

  “You got it here in time and before we set up the scenery,” Clay said. “That’s all that matters.”

  “Who’s going to decorate it?” Hannah asked.

  Clay tried to remember if he’d heard anyone say. “I don’t really know. One of the women’s groups took care of the outside tree and all the other decorations. We could ask Janis, only she’s not around today.”

  “They have enough lights?” Matt-the-fixer asked as he studied the tree. “It’s going to take a lot if John wants it to make a statement.”

  “Look,” Clay said. “I don’t know anything. But I’m positive no one will mind if you guys want to take on the project and do with it whatever you want. It would be great if there were lights hung before service tomorrow.”

  Hannah looked pleadingly at her husband, who raised both brows, pursed his lips, and finally nodded. “Okay!” she said, exultant. “Clay, you tell Bud where to put the tree, and Matt and I will go buy lights.”

  “Bud? You okay with that? I’ll help you haul that thing. And Ty here will give us a hand.”

  “You just lead the way,” Bud said. “I’ll hang around to help with the lights, soon’s you two get back,” he told Matt.

  Clay and Ty helped Bud carry the tree through the double doors and carefully down toward the front of the church. Clay paced off the area where a couple of stable walls would be erected and then called Bud over.

  “We need it visible from the back, but not in the way of the rail or the sets that will go up after service tomorrow. What do you think?”

  Bud walked around, looked at it from all sides, and said, “Here.” Then he brought in the tree stand, set it on plastic Clay laid down, and together they fit the tree in. “Good job,” Ty said.

  Clay hid his smile. Good job indeed.

  “I’ll neaten up around it here,” Bud said. “There’s a ladder somewhere, isn’t there?”

  “Parish hall, back closet.”

  “Good. I’ll have it ready when Matt and Hannah get back. See what we can do to make that tree look festive.”

  “Thanks,” Clay said. “Ty and I’d better get over to the parish hall and to work.”

  The kids—and participating adults—had two more practices. Tomorrow, the scenery would be set up in the sanctuary. On the twenty-third, they’d have the dress rehearsal, and then it would be Christmas Eve and the moment they’d been waiting for.

  Clay followed Ty, but something caught his eye back in the direction of the woods.

  Look at that. Two kids walking hand in hand. He wondered if they’d come from the trailer park. This time of year, the woods were navigable. He used to love to wander on his family farm and find animal tracks or a place to make a fort.

  He hoped if those two belonged to the trailers, they’d come for the Christmas Eve service. It was open to the entire community, of course, and he’d seen flyers in the local shops. Maybe their parents would even bring them.

  You didn’t normally see a boy and girl that age holding hands. Kind of sweet, really.

  But as they disappeared among the trees, his thoughts slid to the two missing children who were still unaccounted for, according to Sheriff Bright.

  What if?

  “Be right back.” He spoke over his shoulder, not waiting for Ty’s response.

  He scanned the area as he dashed toward the woods. He was still searching when Ty caught up with him.

  “What’s going on, Lieutenant?”

  He was too late. The pair had vanished. “Nothing. Let’s head on back.” The niggling suspicion that he should keep looking warred with his conviction that those two had already made it back to the trailer park.

  “But you were running.”

  “Oh, I saw two kids wandering out here. Thought I’d catch up to them and ask if they knew anything about the missing children.” He discarded the unlikely possibility that they had actually been Louis and his sister. No, those kids were just locals.

  In a very few minutes, the parish hall and adjoining classrooms would be filled with kids and adults getting ready for the big day. He, instead, was itching to do more detecting and a whole lot less Christmas-pageanting.

  But no way would he ever want to miss Ty and Katie’s big performance. So, he studied the chaos of things yet to be painted and let out a sigh. Good thing no bad guys needed catching this afternoon.

  Only a petty thief who might or might not be homeless. And two missing children who might or might not be safe.

  Clay was coming out of the bathroom when he spotted Ty heading toward him wearing his shepherd garb. “What d’you think?” the boy asked, hooking his fingers in the rope at his waist.

  They were alone in the hallway. Clay braced one hand on the wall and cocked his head to check out the newly constructed costume. “Yep, you look exactly like a shepherd. Just need a few sheep.”

  Ty mimicked his position, but he couldn’t hold it—or stand still. “And a dog. Dogs are good with sheep. Do you think the shepherds back then used dogs?”

  Clay pretended to consider that. “That’s a great question. I wonder if there’s a way we could find out?”

  “You never see dogs in the pictures, do you? But why not? Didn’t they have dogs?”

  “I bet they did. Why don’t you do some research and let me know?”

  Ty grinned. “I could. We have that computer you gave us last year.”

  “Glad it’s getting used, but I’m not going to sleep easily until you find out about Holy Land dogs and fill me in.”

  “You think they were holy dogs?” At first Ty only grinned, but he found his own joke so funny, he broke into a full-on laugh, falling back against the wall.

  Clay waited for the laughter to die. “That was a good one.”

  “Holy dogs…”

  “You find any, you let me know.”

  When he finally sobered, the boy said, “Sir?”

  Clay’d been about to turn away, but that stopped him. “Yes, son?” Using the word brought about the same quick heart twist it always did.

  “You still going to Raleigh on Christmas?”

  “I told them I would. What about you? What are you and your mama and Katie going to do?”

  “I don’t know. Mama hasn’t talked about it much since she got the letter about having to move.”

  “Has Miss Rita been helping her with that?”

  “Yeah. She said she’d write the man a letter. I don’t know what happened then.”

  “Are you worried about it? About where you’ll live?”

  “Kinda.” Ty balanced one foot against the wall and hung his head. When he looked up, his eyes were damp. “I wish we could live with you.”

  Clay laid a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I know. I do too. But your mama doesn’t want to.”

  Ty cleared h
is throat. “You know she wakes up screaming some nights?”

  That got Clay’s attention. Screaming? “You think she’s having nightmares?”

  Ty nodded. “Yeah. Sometimes she talks in her sleep. And she’s not so quiet, so I know. She’s thinking about Roy.”

  Clay released a huge sigh. Maybe that was the root of it. Her inability to let it all go.

  Could it be that simple?

  “Thank you for telling me.” He straightened and pulled the boy close. He could hear voices coming from the main room, so he made the hug quick and hard.

  This new information made him take another look at his own motivations. Hadn’t he wanted to give up on loving her? Thought about it, because it seemed she’d never get past her fears to let him in? Even imagined that his love for her might stem from her neediness and his desire to fix things?

  He had.

  If only she could get her life on track. Find a permanent home, a permanent job, a permanent feeling of safety. If she were strong and independent, maybe she’d let him in, because he already knew his feelings for her had nothing to do with her need and everything to do with his.

  He looked the boy in the eye. “I love you and I love your mama. We’ll figure this out.”

  Hope sprang to Ty’s eyes. “Promise?”

  “I can’t make miracles happen, but I promise to keep on loving you all and to keep on praying. You pray, too. After all, this is the season of miracles, isn’t it?”

  Ty’s grin exploded. “It is! Yes, sir. I’ll pray extra hard for a miracle.” And he stuck out his hand to shake Clay’s. “It’s a deal.”

  Ty left him then, hurrying back to join the others for practice, and Clay headed off to see if he needed to help with anything else before he headed home. Alone. To his empty house.

  Which he loved. On the creek he loved.

  He hated the thought of Annie Mac and the kids spending Christmas alone.

  With that thought in mind, he headed toward the costume room. Annie Mac sat on the floor, pinning up a hem for one of the angels. She glanced up when he walked in.

  “How’re all you ladies doing?” Clay asked.

  Annie Mac smiled around lips clamped down on a couple of straight pins. The others called out a “fine,” a “great,” and an “almost-done.”

  He stooped down on his haunches near the child in the costume. “Look at this lovely little angel. Don’t you look . . . angelic?”

  The child beamed at him. “Pwetty?”

  “Very pretty. Beautiful.”

  She reached over to give him a hug, almost knocking him off balance. “You’re welcome,” he said as he hugged her back.

  Annie Mac finished and told the child to take off her costume so she could fix it. “Behind that curtain, honey. Put on your own clothes.” The child just stared at her. “Can you do it by yourself?”

  “Un-unh.”

  “I’ll take her,” one of the other mothers said.

  “Thanks, Sylvie.”

  Clay stood to help Annie Mac to her feet. “Ty just asked me about Christmas Day. He said y’all don’t have plans.”

  Her expression became guarded. “Ty asked you? Why would he do that?” She didn’t look at him, but kept her voice lowered for his ears only. “You don’t need to worry about us. We’re not your responsibility.”

  He heard, all right. She’d drawn that line, hadn’t she, one he kept tiptoeing across just so she could slap him back. Stupid of him.

  He turned without saying another word. On the way to his car, he tried to smile at those he passed, but he doubted his lopsided effort fooled anyone. It certainly wouldn’t have fooled the always alert, never-to-be-his-son Ty, who’d watched him leave the sewing room and whose gaze, Clay was sure, followed his ungainly walk of shame from the parish hall.

  His bad leg hardly hurt most days, and his limp had evolved to barely there. Until moments like this, when eyes would have been on his back, and he’d have wanted to strut confidently forward.

  Well, that wasn’t happening. As far as he could tell, not much good was happening in his life, certainly not today, not this month, and not this year.

  He wondered if Eric was sitting alone on his boat. Too bad Clay wasn’t a drinking man, a guy who could take a six pack and share a few with another guy.

  Then again, Eric might have a date all lined up. He was a good-looking man. And successful. And he had a great boat. Probably had women knocking on the boat’s topsides, asking for a tour.

  Clay pulled open the heavy Jeep door and climbed behind the wheel. Swallowing the sour taste that had inched up his throat, he shifted into reverse, backed out, and set the car to forward and the long drive home.

  He tried to shush the voices clamoring for attention in his head by turning on the radio. The talk station had some argumentative moron calling in while the host didn’t sound much better. He hit the change-channel button on his steering wheel, but the classic music station was having a fund-raiser. The rock station screeched. The country station was playing something with a bit of pep and some okay lyrics, so he left it there. And then the next song decided to tell him how unfaithful all women were, which he didn’t actually believe true, so he hit the Off button.

  Which left only the noise of the tires on asphalt and the sweet sound of a well-tended engine to drown out reminders of his stupidity. And the horrible awareness that he was a fool, and a self-pitying one at that.

  He’d didn’t need this in his life. He’d been fine, and he’d be fine again. All he had to do was put himself out there and find someone new. He might not have been as young or good-looking as Eric, but he’d never found women running from him before. Give his family the go-ahead, and they’d have women lined up for his inspection by the next week.

  He wasn’t quite ready to go that route yet, but it was past time to start protecting himself. Best thing he could do was skip the next practices and dress rehearsal, go to the program on Christmas Eve, and then head directly from that service to his sister’s house. Christmas would be great. His family—his real family—would all be together, and there’d be cheer and blessings and great food. And in about three months, he’d be the uncle of a little girl, who’d be beautiful and happy because she’d be surrounded by so much love.

  And he’d add to it, as best he could, all the days of her life.

  Too bad he’d promised Ty never to give up on his mama. A promise was a promise—unless it became an impossibility. And then it was merely a regret.

  17

  Annie Mac

  On the way home, all four children vied with each other to talk first or loudest. “One at a time,” Annie Mac said.

  Brisa, who seemed to have adapted to her role as the Savior’s mother, said, “I get to put the baby in the manger, carefully and slowly, so everyone can see and like it.”

  “I bet you’ll do a great job,” Annie Mac said. “Are you all learning your songs?”

  “Yes, ma’am. They’re real pretty,” Brisa said.

  “I already know most of them,” Jilly said.

  Ty kept quiet. She supposed Katie was sucking her thumb.

  After they dropped off Jilly at her house and Brisa just up the street at hers, Annie Mac took her own two back to their very impermanent apartment for which she trusted there’d be a replacement very soon. Now that school was out for the holidays, she’d have time to search.

  Ty led the way up the apartment stairs, waited for her to unlock the door, and then hurried inside and plopped down on the couch. Annie Mac tried to sound cheerful. “You two want some hot chocolate?”

  “Yeah.” Ty scrambled up. Obviously, whatever was bothering him didn’t affect his ability to appreciate drinkable dessert.

  “Me, too!” Katie said.

  A simple treat, a bonding moment. After all, she’d been so busy all day, and Ty had been gone, and the hot milk did seem to negate the effects of chocolate.

  “How was your time with the lieutenant?” she asked him after turning on the bur
ner under the pan of milk.

  “We cleaned up the shed and got the sailboat put away for the winter. Mr. Clay hangs the boom and mast and the sail up in the rafters with lines so they don’t get on the floor and the critters don’t make nests in them. And he has a special shelf for the daggerboard and rudder. It’s neat. He’s real organized.”

  “Lovely.” She concentrated on stirring the cocoa into the milk so it wouldn’t burn.

  “He says when it comes to boats and tools, everything’s got to have a place and everything’s got to be in its place.”

  “That’s a good rule. I like my kitchen that way.”

  “Yeah.” But she could hear in Ty’s silence the hope she wouldn’t say anything more.

  She couldn’t waste the opportunity. Why would she? “Don’t you think all rooms should be like that? With our toys and books and clothes put away where they belong?”

  “Sure. I guess so.” But he was looking at his sneakers instead of at her.

  “Get the mugs down, will you?” The milk was hot, but not boiling.

  Katie tucked Agatha under her arm as she slid onto a chair. “Angels gotta be there tomorrow right after church. It’s ’portant.”

  “Is that tomorrow’s practice time?”

  “We get to have lunch first,” Ty said. “Then come back.”

  Well, it looked as if tomorrow would not be a day of rest. Although, did a day of rest actually exist for a mother who had to find a new home and enough money to take care of her children?

  Annie Mac was surprised to see Brisa and her mother follow Tadie’s crew into church the following morning. Maybe Agnes had come to make sure her daughter wasn’t involved with crazies.

  First Tadie, then Agnes nodded to her as they followed Brisa, Jilly, and Will with Sammy toward the front. Will slid in next to Clay, and the others followed. Annie Mac stayed near the back and glanced at her two when worship started. The children would all head to Sunday school before the liturgy began, and she’d be sitting back here, among virtual strangers, while her friends all seemed to have congregated in front.