A Legendary Christmas

by Jan Scarbrough

  “You’re okay here? I went to bed, and then thought I should be sure this is all right for you.”

  “I’m fine. Great. The couch has a couple of lumps, but it’s better than the seat of that little car I’ve spent eternity in today. Thanks.” She added it as an after thought.

  “Well. You’re welcome. I’ll add a couple sticks to the fire, then it should carry through for a while. But it’s a cold night out there.”

  Rebecca knew that, and acknowledged the truth of it by sliding back down, pulling the comforter more securely around her, and tightly closing her eyes to avoid seeing the man. Or the man in the flames. She heard him adding logs to the fire, and felt rather than saw him stand back up, walk the few steps toward her. She kept her eyes closed as he softly bid her good night and walked out of the room again.

  * * * *

  David paced the small bedroom. This year’s Christmas Eve vigil was ruined, that much was sure. He always yearned for the Christmas break from work, but this year he’d been obsessed with his need to get to the cabin. He was better this year. His wounds were healing. So he didn’t understand his near-desperation to get to the mountain for Christmas Eve. Why was it even more important this year?

  Holly.

  Her name whispered through his mind. She was his reason for being here at all, of course. If she’d come with him for Christmas, she’d have made sure their suitcases had been packed early. She would have included his favorite shirts, neatly ironed, and for the Christmas dinner with the rest of the McClain clan at his mom and dad’s house, the silly reindeer necktie she’d bought him at a consignment shop in downtown Knoxville. The tie played “Jingle Bells” when you squeezed the little music box hidden in the hem of the tie.

  It also played “Jingle Bells” if Holly gave him a really great hug, which she so often did.

  Had. Past tense. Not anymore. And not for a very, very long time.

  Back in Knoxville he had a nice big house in a suburb with a big lawn and a big garage, and a big swimming pool in the back. He’d bought it all for Holly. Without her it was just a place to eat and sleep…and work.

  But this cabin. It was special, even though he came here alone. Holly had told him it would be, hadn’t she?

  He lay down on the cold sheets, pulled the covers up around him, and hoped for sleep. Surely he would dream of Holly.

  Chapter Three

  Rebecca slept, but awakened each time the man entered the room and stoked the fire. She thought he did so three or four times in the night, and she could tell he tried to be quiet. Sometime during the night she decided they were the only two people in the cabin. She didn’t hear anyone else, and certainly didn’t see anyone else. She tried not to be glad, tried to rein in that stupid romantic nature that had so recently sprung up from somewhere and needed to go back again. She tried very hard not to watch the flames, not to imagine other flames.

  You can’t trust anyone.

  She awoke again, and in the thin rays of dawn watched him put wood into the fireplace. She noticed his large hands, and how talented they were in setting each log in exactly the right place so that it quickly caught a licking flame and became a source of heat.

  “You do that very well.” She said it softly because neither of them had spoken in such a long time.

  “Boy Scout.” His answer was succinct, but not quite harsh.

  That figured. He looked like a grown-up Boy Scout. The perfect example of manhood, from what she could see. Of course his generally sullen manner didn’t make one feel like being led across a busy street by him. But then Rebecca realized she had let him undress her with very little objection. She hadn’t been herself at the time, of course. Too weak to protest.

  “Breakfast?”

  Well, there was word number three for the morning. At least she wouldn’t be bored to death by constant chatter.

  Above the howl of the wind they heard a loud crack, a long creak, then a snap and a crash that shook the cabin. The floor lamp went dark, leaving the room lit only by pale morning light reflected off the snow outside.

  Jumping up from the couch, doing her best to hold the comforter around her, Rebecca panicked for a moment. Then she found herself held tightly in the man’s strong embrace.

  “Hey. Calm down. Sounds like a tree fell. Probably the weight of too much snow on its branches. But you’re okay, right?” He loosened his hold, looked down into her eyes and shook her gently till she looked up at him. “You’re okay.”

  Even in the dim light, his blue eyes were sincere and reassuring. “Yes. I’m fine. It was just loud. I was startled.” It galled her to seem weak, even for a moment.

  He nodded. Releasing her, he turned and walked toward the back of the cabin. “Let me see what happened. Be right back.” He went out a door at the far side of the tiny kitchen, and returned almost immediately.

  “Damn. Garage is smashed. Did a number on my Jeep, too.” He flipped the kitchen light switch. “Figures. Took out the electric line.” He flipped the switch back to the off position, and walked the couple of steps to the stove. “So. Back to the topic. Breakfast?”

  Well, Boy Scouts are always prepared. Not easily flustered either, it would seem. “Breakfast would be divine. Can I help in the kitchen?”

  “Not the way you’re dressed. Or rather, not dressed.” He shrugged. “Guess I’d better find something for you to wear.”

  “I have a suitcase in the car.”

  “Great. And the car is located where?”

  “Well, out there someplace.” She gestured, catching the comforter as it slid again. “I can get to it, I think.” She shivered at the thought of putting on her wet clothes and trudging back through the snow.

  “Yeah. Maybe later. For now I’ll see what I can find.” He started to leave the room, then turned back to her. “So, the case you brought in doesn’t have clothes in it, just your laptop, I’m guessing. Awesome.”

  She glared at him, and he left the room.

  Fifteen minutes later Rebecca was dressed. Sort of. A white sleeveless cotton t-shirt was covered by a huge red-and-black plaid flannel shirt whose sleeves were rolled back several times to allow her hands some freedom. The tails hung well past her knees. A pair of the man’s sweat pants were cinched around her small waist with the belt from a green plaid flannel bathrobe. The pants were comically long on her, but had elastic at the ankle. The extra fabric flopped against the hardwood floor as she walked. She didn’t know where her bra or the rest of her clothes had gone, and didn’t feel like bringing up the topic.

  “So. I guess it’s Christmas Day. Merry Christmas, um... What did you say your name is?”

  “Right. Merry Christmas. And I didn’t say.” He scowled at her.

  Nice.

  “You know my name.”

  “So? Oh, okay, what’s the difference? I’m David.”

  Rebecca stuck out her hand. “Glad to meet you, David. Merry Christmas, and thank you for saving my life.”

  “Huh. You’re right. I probably did.” He frowned again, and turned his back. Rebecca thought she heard him mutter something like “wrong woman.”

  A short while later they were sitting at the simple square pine kitchen table by a small window, feasting on fried eggs, oven toast, and orange juice.

  “It’s snowing again this morning, but maybe not as hard as last night.” Rebecca squinted through the ice-trimmed glass pane. “I think I see trees.”

  It unnerved her a bit when she turned back toward him and caught him studying her profile. She consciously stopped her nervous habit of twisting the back of her large diamond stud earring.

  “Trees, yeah, lots of ‘em. Maybe some deer, too. Or…a bear.”

  “A bear? Seriously?”

  “Oh yeah. Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of the black bears of the Smoky Mountains. Where do you think you are?”

  Hell, maybe. Really cold, white, snowy Hell, and I’m having breakfast with the big bad guy himself. Bears?

  She shook her head to
clear it. “Oh. Well. And when do you think the snow might stop? And the electricity might be fixed?”

  “No telling. I could listen to the weather radio about the forecast, I guess. The power won’t be back on for a while. I’ve got a couple old kerosene lanterns, and the fridge and stove run on propane gas. There’s plenty of wood in the garage, fortunately in the part that isn’t totally caved in, so we’re okay for now.”

  He held up his hand when she was about to speak. “To answer your next question, the roads won’t be cleared soon. Could be days.” He sipped his coffee, then got up to refill it from the pot still heating on the stove.

  “Days?” Rebecca thought she actually felt her heart stop for a second.

  “Yeah, they won’t start plowing till the snow’s done, and besides, this road’s not a priority. Nobody lives out this far.”

  “Except you.” Rebecca took a bite of egg that suddenly seemed cold and rubbery.

  “No, not really.”

  He might listen to a weather radio, but didn’t seem inclined to do so. And he didn’t live here…not really. She didn’t have the ax murderer feeling about good old David, but he was definitely odd.

  “You don’t live out here.” It was a statement. She dared him to refute it.

  “Nope.” He finished his toast, pushed his plate away, and leaned back again for another swig of the strong coffee.

  “Okay! Great! Thanks for sharing.” She picked up her plate and hopped up from her chair. “Where’s the garbage?”

  “You’re not done.”

  “Lost my appetite. Garbage?”

  “Clean your plate, woman. There’s just a couple bites. You don’t want to waste food in a blizzard.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Do you see a Piggly Wiggly in the back yard? What food is here is all we’ve got for the duration, missy. I bought enough for myself for a few days, and now it has to last both of us till the weather breaks and the roads are passable.”

  “Oh.” Chastised, and feeling stupid beyond measure, Rebecca forked up the last of her food in a huge bite and chewed without tasting. She was stuck in a little cabin heated only by wood, and lighted only by a couple of kerosene lanterns and whatever came through the windows. Romantic with the right person. Deliciously romantic. But she was imprisoned with Mr. Survival Kit instead of, say, someone with a personality. Just her luck.

  She laid her fork onto the empty plate with a slight clatter. “I’m guessing a Piggly Wiggly is a grocery store?”

  “You got it in one.”

  “Wonderful.”

  David pushed back his chair, took his plate and mug to the sink and stacked hers with them. He turned off the gas under the coffee. “Gotta conserve.”

  Which made her shiver.

  Then he stalked into the tiny living room and took a little radio off a shelf. With a turn of his wrist, he pulled out a handle and cranked the thing, then flicked a switch.

  A crackling computer-generated voice began to recite weather statistics and warnings for the eastern half of Tennessee. Since it was electronic, the monotone voice emphasized the wrong syllable part of the time, as well as using technical terms Rebecca didn’t often hear. Then another equally indecipherable computer took over in a female type voice.

  “It’s almost like listening to a conversation between two fluent French speakers, isn’t it?” She strained to make out the gist of it.

  He looked up at her from the chair, one brow cocked. “I really wouldn’t know. We don’t speak a lot of French in these parts.”

  In these parts? Was this Deliverance or something? Though she suddenly couldn’t recall where Deliverance was filmed, or exactly what it was about, the crazy theme song started playing in her head.

  David snapped off the weather radio when the hand-crank powered signal began to wane. “Answer your question?”

  “Um. Snow?”

  “Snow should end by noon, then continued cold. It’s not like we’re going to have a big thaw anytime soon. We. Are. Stuck.”

  “Okay, fine. You don’t have to talk down to me. I just couldn’t understand those mechanical voices.” She huffed her way across the tiny room and threw herself down onto the couch. She crossed her arms, even as she realized how childish she was being.

  “This weather is freakish for the area, so there’s not a lot of highway department equipment available to deal with it. Somehow we’re gonna have to make the best of it. We’re in this together, missy.”

  “Please have the couth not to call me ‘missy’. I’m a grown woman, and my name is Rebecca. Use it.”

  He looked her up and down slowly, as if she weren’t wearing the mismatched clothes, or even the down comforter. The intensity of his inspection caused her to feel warm, too warm, all over.

  “Tiny as you are, you still don’t have to point out the ‘grown woman’ part. I may be a mountain hick, but I’m not blind.” He took a deep breath. “We’re in this together, Rebecca, and you need to make the best of it. I’m trying to, but your attitude is... Anyone ever tell you to lighten up?” He stalked away to the bedroom and slammed the door.

  Pretty much everyone in Rebecca’s life had told her at one point or another that she needed to lighten up. Some people had been less tactful about it, used ugly words to say the same thing. She didn’t mean to be overly critical or controlling. It just came naturally. Worked great for the day job, but for relationships, not so much. Stephen had understood, gently teased her about it, and loved her in spite of it. Gerald hadn’t had enough invested to care one way or another. Blaine was probably thrilled to be on the other side of the Atlantic, away from his overpowering mother. Thinking of this made Rebecca more tired and sad than she’d been since leaving the City. What was wrong with her these days? What a mess her life was! She felt a million years old.

  Chapter Four

  David stood at the small window of the bedroom, staring out but not focusing. Why had this exasperating woman landed on his doorstep? She’d completely ruined his annual Christmas Eve vigil, and now he was responsible for her welfare.

  Why was he always taking care of people? He’d left his day job behind, and was supposed to have some time up here to be a little selfish. David always did his best to solve people’s problems, even when they probably didn’t deserve it, but it took a toll. He’d graduated law school at the top of his class, got lots of attention as a ruthless and successful attorney. That resulted in an easy win as a circuit court judge in Knoxville. It was an exhausting job, at least the way he did it. So right now he was worn out, wishing for peace and quiet instead of the harridan in the next room. This was his Christmas vacation, after all. He shouldn’t have to be saddled with yet another lost soul. Why did he have to be the good guy, even when he didn’t want to be?

  He reached down toward the bedside chest and ran a forefinger along the cold, smooth edge of the white pillar candle he’d lit last night, but which had blown out in the gust of wind that arrived with Rebecca. The vigil was to have lasted from six o’clock Christmas Eve night to six o’clock on Christmas morning, just as usual. Just as he’d done it for years.

  Holly.

  She’d loved Christmas, loved having a name associated with her favorite time of year. Every Christmas they’d had together, even when money was tight, she’d found ways to make the holiday special and memorable. One year when there wasn’t much cash, she learned to make his favorite dessert, cherry pie with delicate flaky crust, exactly like his mother’s. She’d spent untold hours at his parents’ house learning the skill. Each year of their marriage they went shopping for a new tree ornament, one that would represent something special they’d shared during the year. David never really cared what ornament they bought. He just liked watching Holly’s face as she shopped. She absolutely lit up when she was happy or excited. He could still picture the glow she had at Christmas, when everything made her that way.

  Holly had been a detail person, but with her it wasn’t obnoxious. With her it had
been about making things work right, so the people she cared about knew they were special. David’s family had loved Holly like one of their own. The McClain family was a tight clan, with a strong Scottish ancestry of lairds and warriors. Even on this side of the ocean, and through the generations, some things stayed the same. The importance of family and home. The day David married Holly, she became a McClain. The day she died, the whole family wept. They continued to weep five years later, but David knew that now the tears were for him, the man who still mourned a lost love. Holly, the woman who had lit up the McClain Christmas gatherings with her infectious enthusiasm, had died in a head-on collision with a drunk driver on Christmas Eve.

  The accident had occurred in front of this little cabin, just after Holly pulled into the road to return to David’s parents’ house where she’d left David. She had said she’d be back in a little while after putting final touches on his Christmas gift. She had bought the cabin for him—for them—as a weekend retreat. With some help from David’s siblings and parents, Holly had managed the purchase and clean-up of the old structure without David’s knowledge. She had hurried to the cabin on Christmas Eve to put up and decorate a simple little cedar tree cut from the fence row.

  When the state policeman had located David at his parents’ home and given him the news about Holly’s death, he’d been in shock. After a while, though, Joe insisted he go see the cabin Holly had intended to surprise him with. They entered the cold building in mid-January, and David’s eye immediately went to the Christmas card on the simple coffee table. Inside, in Holly’s rounded handwriting it said:

  David, I love you with all my heart, and always will. I hope this little cabin is a place that will give you some solace. A retreat. You work so hard, sometimes it scares me. The first time I stepped into the cabin, I knew it could be special. I knew, somehow, that you could find what you need here. I dearly hope you will give it a chance. Yours always, Holly.