“Caspian C! That’s what Carlos calls you!” Graeme exclaimed. “What else is in there?” Fascinated for the moment by these trinkets from his mother’s past, he rummaged through the box.
“Be careful, hijo,” Claire cautioned him. She could see the little wheels turning in his head as he linked the adult he knew as his mother with the child she once was—a child just like him.
Graeme fished out another ornament. It was a picture of Claire in a frame she’d made at Bible School as a first grader. “Whoa!” he said. “This looks like me!”
One by one, they hung all of the “Claire” mementoes on the fir tree. There were other school awards that Abuelita had converted into ornaments, plus trinkets made in foreign lands, keepsakes of Claire’s missionary parents. Her favorites were a handful that had been crafted from a kit with sequins and beads.
“These are really good!” Graeme said, holding up a lion and a clown.
“Well, they’ve seen better days, but those are pretty special. Abuelita and I made them one time when school was out for snow.” Claire could still taste the hot chocolate they had made that day, with the star-shaped marshmallows.
“Can we do that if I’m out for snow?”
“I bet we can,” Claire said, hugging him. “We need some new ornaments for this tree anyway.”
She looked back under the stairs for another box but couldn’t find any.
“Abuelita?” she called. “Are there any more ornaments?”
By that afternoon, when Stephen was scheduled to arrive, the Claire Tree sported an several new ornaments that Claire and Graeme had made from materials in Graeme’s craft box.
“Abuelita, can you get the door?”
Abuelita looked at Claire sideways across the table they were sharing. With Graeme in the middle of them, they had decorated three dozen sugar cookies with green and red icing in various festive designs. They were just starting on the fourth dozen.
“I want to freshen up a little!” Claire explained, taking off her apron.
“Well, I suppose that does matter more to you at this point than it does to me,” Abuelita said, pretending annoyance. She pulled her own apron over her head, repositioning the combs in the sides and back of her hair, and pitched it onto the counter.
Glancing at each other, Graeme and Claire scrambled quietly out of their seats and tiptoed behind Abuelita as she left the kitchen.
“Hola?” They heard her call from the empty doorway. Then, as she stepped forward onto the porch, they heard a loud squeal and then a “Chistoso! Dr. Reyes! Baboso! Put me down!”
From the foyer where they watched the spectacle, Graeme and Claire guffawed with laughter. Abuelita whipped her head around, taking notice of them for the first time.
“You knew about this?” Abuelita cried, kicking her legs in protest as Stephen held her up in the air.
Directly above them, hanging from the iron chandelier, was a huge clump of fresh mistletoe, tied with a red ribbon. The look on Stephen’s face was pure Dennis the Menace.
“Kiss her! Kiss her!” Graeme began to chant, and Claire joined him, clapping. It was the first time in a long time that she could remember anyone pulling one over on her abuelita. This feat of Stephen’s would more than compensate for her little OFS joke.
Stephen held his prey at eye level and planted a loud, sloppy kiss on Abuelita’s cheek before releasing her. Back down on her feet, Abuelita laughed until tears flowed down her cheeks.
“You’ll be sorry when I pee my pants!” she croaked between gales of hilarity, wiping her eyes.
After such an icebreaker, it was easy to settle into a celebratory mood. Abuelita led Stephen directly into the living room, where she proudly narrated the childhood stories behind each of Claire’s ornaments. Claire was touched by how he listened, looking carefully at each one.
“These are really special,” he said, giving Claire a side squeeze.
Next, Graeme showed him the presents he had wrapped himself. Stephen turned them over and over, inspecting his technique. After sufficient approbation, Graeme stood up on the couch to whisper in his ear.
“Promise me you won’t tell!” Graeme warned when he was done telling his secret. He pointed his finger in Stephen’s face.
Claire cringed a little at this, but Stephen seemed unfazed.
“You have my word of honor,” he declared, placing his hand over his heart.
Graeme nodded in satisfaction.
Then Stephen asked, “Hey, buddy, will you help me get some things out of my truck?”
Graeme jumped down off the couch and they exited the way Stephen came in. While they were gone, Claire and Abuelita flew around the kitchen, filling glasses and setting the table. By the time Graeme and Stephen returned, dinner was served.
“That meal was really delicious,” Stephen said to Abuelita. “I’ve never had such wonderful Mexican food.”
“That’s because you’re not Mexican,” she teased.
“Is that okay?” Stephen retorted facetiously.
“Hmm.” Abuelita narrowed her eyes at him. “What are you, anyway?”
“I’m half Puerto Rican and half Irish.”
“Well—” Abuelita cocked her head to one side. Then she reached across the table and grabbed his hand. “It’s more than okay.” She was no longer joking. “You are who God made you. And I’m glad God has brought you to us.”
It was a gesture that nearly brought tears to Claire’s eyes, though she couldn’t explain why.
“So, Graeme, how about you help me with dessert?”
“Can we have it in the living room?” Graeme asked. “I’m ready for presents.”
Abuelita smiled at him. “By all means.”
While the adults ate cookies and sipped their tea and coffee, Graeme neglected his hot chocolate for the presents Stephen brought.
“These are all mine?” he asked, pointing to the pile they’d retrieved from Stephen’s truck.
“All yours except the two that are marked differently. You can read your name, can’t you?”
Graeme frowned at him. “I can read my name and my Mom’s and Abuelita’s.”
“Okay then. Why don’t you be Santa’s elf and deliver theirs first?” Stephen suggested.
“I’m giving them mine on Christmas morning.”
“Well, that’s even better, but I won’t be here on Christmas morning. Do you think it would be okay if I gave them mine now?”
Graeme thought seriously for a moment before he nodded his agreement. “Yeah, I guess that would be fine.” Then he dug in and shuffled through the gifts until he came to a small, thin box. “This one’s for you, Abuelita!” he said excitedly. As he walked it over to her chair he said, “It’s kind of little, though.”
“You didn’t have to get me anything,” Abuelita said to Stephen. She tore the paper off carefully and opened the box that was inside.
“Oh! These are beautiful! I—well, I—Claire, look!”
Abuelita held up two of the prettiest combs Claire had ever seen. They were silver and inlaid with red coral and turquoise pieces.
“Thank you, Esteban.” Abuelita walked over to hug him. “I guess you’ve redeemed yourself from that earlier assault.”
Stephen, pleased with her reaction, said to Graeme, “Now find your mother’s.”
Claire sat down near the tree while Graeme found it. Her gift was in a clear bag with a black and white Oriental pattern, stuffed with red and green tissue paper. The first thing she pulled out was a book.
“The new Ian McEwan!” she said. “I’ve been waiting for this!”
“It just came out yesterday; I preordered it from Amazon.”
“Thank you,” Claire said, holding his glance for a long moment. He didn’t seem to miss a detail.
“What else is in there?” Stephen prompted her.
Claire reached back into the bag and found Godiva chocolates.
“Mmm.” Her eyes sparkled at him.
“We can share those,” Abu
elita teased.
“There’s one more thing.”
Feeling down in the bag, Claire’s hand felt a small, hard object wrapped in tissue paper. She pulled it out and unwrapped it.
“Oh.” She was stunned.
It was a blown-glass Christmas ornament in the shape of a butterfly. The clear glass shimmered iridescently in her hand, waiting to take on the color of the tree’s lights.
“I love it, Stephen.” Her voice was quiet. “How did you manage?”
She had admired it in one of the shops in Taos.
“I’m not telling all my secrets,” he said with a grin as he rose from the couch to help Claire hang it on the tree.
She warmed at the touch of his hand, slowly inhaling the scent of wood smoke and cedar.
“Here’s to new beginnings,” he whispered only to her.
The butterfly undulated on its clear nylon string, reflecting red rays from the Christmas tree lights.
A week later, on a trip to the library in La Jara with Graeme, Claire decided on a whim to stop by the clinic and surprise Stephen. Seeing his truck parked in the rear lot, her heart skipped a beat.
Claire pulled up by the back door and left her car running.
“I’ll only be a minute,” she told Graeme, who was deep into a book on dinosaurs. “I’m sure he’s really busy.”
Graeme didn’t even look up, but he grunted, “Okay.”
Claire got out of the car and shut her door, locking it with the keyless entry pad on her key chain. Seeing her reflection in the window, she tucked her hair behind her ears and pulled down her red Razorback baseball cap. It was a very casual day, but Stephen insisted casual was what he liked best. She deposited her keys into her jeans pocket.
Stephen had told her to use the back door to his office anytime she was in town. He’d practically begged her to stop by and see him on her way back and forth to work, but she never had. Seemed like she was always in too much of a hurry. It was wonderful to not be in a hurry today. One of the perks of teaching at a college was the long Christmas break.
They’d had dinner the night before at Art and Soul, but she failed to mention she was taking Graeme to the library the next day. They’d gotten into some deep theological conversation about forgiveness, and it slipped her mind. He’d never be expecting me today.
Claire opened the door to a quiet, empty hallway. There was no nurse at the desk and no other movement to indicate that patients were in the exam rooms. The door to Stephen’s office was open, however, and she could see a light shining from within. Expectantly, Claire walked up to the door.
Stephen was sitting at his desk with his back to her. He fingered something with one of his hands, and Claire could see it was the compass she’d given him for Christmas. Blue scrubs stretched over his broad shoulders, and Claire could see the faint outline of his muscles underneath it. His dark hair curled in a few loose wisps around the base of his neck in a way that had become so dear to her. She was suddenly warmed by a rush of emotions.
Claire was about to say, “Surprise!” when she noticed that Stephen was on the phone. Instead of disturbing a work call, she decided just to stand by the door and wait. She stared at the Georgia O’Keefe print on the wall in front of her. It was of a cow’s skull, presumably bleached by the sun as it lay in the russet desert sand.
“Janet?” She heard his voice say. Claire certainly wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but the word was unmistakable. Her heart dropped to the floor as she recognized the name of Stephen’s ex-wife. Claire felt as if her feet were pinned to the floor.
“Janet, thanks for not hanging up. I’ve been thinking about you so much. There’s something I really need to say to you.”
What could he possibly need to say to her? Claire’s heart and mind were racing.
“I’ve realized how badly I treated you, how I neglected our marriage. I was wrong. I see that now. I—I know I hurt you very deeply, and I am sorry. Can you ever forgive me?”
Stephen was laughing. Laughing? “Oh, Janet, I can’t tell you how thankful I am. How happy it makes me that God has brought us both to this point. It’s, well, it’s amazing, isn’t it?”
His voice sounded so happy, and yes, so familiar. Intimate. There was a pause. Claire could only imagine what Janet was saying.
Stephen continued, “You know, I think about that, too. Our shared history. How good it was in the old days and how crazy I was about you. I wish I could go back and do things differently—”
This could not be happening. What was that he had said the other night at Abuelita’s? That he wasn’t telling her all of his secrets? Was that some kind of sick joke? Claire knew she shouldn’t ever have trusted him. Her impulse was to jump into the office and grab the phone—to tell Janet how he’d been schmoozing her, and worse, her little boy—but she didn’t.
Claire had heard enough. She turned on her heel, face on fire and whole body blazing. Pushing through the steel and glass door, she felt an icy wind slap her across the face. There were tears welling up in her eyes, but she didn’t want Graeme to see her cry. No. Not again. Claire pulled her cap down lower over her eyebrows and swallowed hard. Then she ducked into the wind, stepping out of the clinic and into the waning December day.
Chapter Thirty-two
It was New Year’s Eve, and Stephen didn’t know where Claire was. He had talked to her on Christmas Day in the evening while he was at Maria’s. Rather than being together, they’d decided to focus on their families and their plans—she with Graeme and Abuelita and he with his parents, who had flown in from Florida. They were staying at Maria’s in Salida, and Stephen was catching up with them as well as with Maria’s husband, Manuel.
Claire, Graeme, and her abuelita, along with the members of the Old Farts’ Society, had hosted a Christmas dinner at the community center in Romeo for anyone who wanted to come, just like they had done at Thanksgiving. On the phone that evening, Claire said the place had been packed with even more needy people than it had been the month before. She described how Abuelita had been in her element dishing out turkey and dressing, and they talked briefly again about “feeding the sheep.” Claire sounded so energized by the success of the dinner and said they were going to do it again at Easter. Stephen promised to help.
He had worked three long days after Christmas, and they went to dinner at Art and Sol after that, on the twenty-ninth. He hadn’t talked to her since then. Surely she hadn’t left town without letting him know.
At dinner that night, over Martina’s now-famous tamales, Claire had talked to him about taking a New Year’s trip to Arkansas so Graeme could see his grandparents and aunt. It wasn’t a sure thing, but she was looking into flights. During their conversation, Stephen sensed he was being tested—by the Lord and perhaps by Claire, too. Could he handle another man’s family being a part of Claire’s life forever? Should he even be thinking about forever?
Even though it was a tough subject, Stephen encouraged Claire to go. He knew how badly Graeme needed that connection, and he imagined the grandparents and aunt did, too. It was all the family had left of Rob. It was a tricky position for Stephen, but he determined never to stand in the way of that. He promised as much to Claire that night. Not that he wouldn’t miss them being in town for New Year’s. He’d gotten almost as attached to Graeme as he had to Claire.
He dialed her cell phone number again.
“You have reached the voice mail of Claire Caspian...,” he heard after several rings. Stephen sighed his disappointment.
“Hey, Claire. It’s me, Stephen. Just checking in. I’m hoping you’re not gone.” Stephen quickly corrected himself. “I mean, if you are gone I hope everything’s going well for you and Graeme.” He paused. “If you’re around I’d love to see you. I’m on call tonight, but just as backup.”
A computer-generated voice let him know his message time was almost over.
Stephen hurried, “As long as we stayed close to La Jara—like your place or mine—it would be fine. Call me.”
Beep. “Your message has been sent.”
Claire pressed the “Delete” button on her phone. It was the third message Stephen had left her since yesterday, and the third one she had deleted. Who did he think he was, playing her for the fool? Ironically, his first call had come just as she was driving away from La Jara the day before. Just moments after she overheard him making up to Janet.
She couldn’t believe Stephen had the audacity to call her after that. But, of course, he had no idea she knew. He was still playing his game.
Claire had heard of people like Stephen, men and women who got some sort of thrill out of living double lives, manipulating others into believing they were someone they weren’t. She read a book once about a pilot who had two separate wives and families on two continents. It was sick! Stephen was clearly the worst kind of narcissist. And to think she had almost fallen for him.
Claire was furious with herself and not too happy with God, either. After finally opening her heart up to the Lord, believing He was leading her, she’d been hurt again. How could He have let this happen to her and Graeme? Hadn’t they suffered enough? She was tired of asking those questions. Maybe no one was listening anyway.
Feeling restless, Stephen decided to go for a run. He pulled on his shoes and clipped his phone to the waistband of his wind suit pants. He had to keep the phone with him at all times when he was on call for the ER, but in his heart he also hoped Claire might get his messages and finally call.
He rounded up Duchess and Regina and started down his driveway. They were reluctant partners today. The air was cold and crisp, and it burned his lungs. There were even a few snow flurries in the air. Stephen had gotten lazy over Christmas—eaten too much and run too little. Cold or not, this would do him some good. He decided to head towards the Evanses’ house and do a five-mile loop.
“Claire! Would you mind getting the mail? It’s starting to snow, and I haven’t been out to get it today. I’m looking for a package.”
Love Finds You in Romeo, Colorado Page 25