Tears ran down her face and she tried to brush them aside with her gloved hand.
“This might help,” murmured a voice behind her.
In spite of all the pain Thomas had caused, her heart still beat a pace too fast when he was around. She held his handkerchief to her face and breathed in his scent before wiping her eyes. “I thought I was alone.”
“No one should be alone on Christmas Eve.” The wooden bench sagged as he settled beside her.
The night was full of sound—the cracking of ice as it pressed against the bank, the whisper of pines as air flowed down the valley, the hooting of a barn owl hunting for a meal. Occasionally a car engine rumbled.
“It wasn’t your fault, you know.” She wasn’t sure what prompted her to say it. Maybe it was the Christmas spirit, or maybe it was simply the right thing to do. She wanted him to know she didn’t blame him, not for lying to her, and not for destroying the pond. “Times change and we have to change with it. East Kansas has to move on or the town will die.”
“So where does that leave you?”
“I have to sell the hotel.” Or marry Mitch. Was the town’s hold so strong that she was willing to marry a man who simply felt sorry for her? She listened to Thomas’s breathing, wishing he would put his arm around her. But why should he? She had done everything in her power to push him away.
“I’ve been spending a lot of time with my grandfather.”
Olivia was aware of the hours Thomas spent upstairs, as well as the fact that the tension in Thomas’s face relaxed more every day. Several times she thought he might want to talk to her, but she had avoided being alone with him. The best way to kill the dream of her childhood was to sidestep the man. The fact that he lived in her hotel made it harder.
“Have you ever wondered why our two families don’t speak?” Thomas asked.
“Sometimes. I guess.”
“Apparently it was my mother’s fault.”
Olivia stared at him. “Your mother?”
“Way back in the day, my mother and your father were best friends. When my mom got pregnant, my grandfather blamed your dad. There was a big fight, my grandfather was barred from your house. My mom left East Kansas and didn’t return until I was half-grown.”
Her eyes widened. “My dad isn’t…”
He grinned. “No. My mom chose not to tell my biological father about me, and she raised me alone. I finally met him a couple of times, but we don’t have a relationship of any kind. All these years my grandfather believed that your dad was responsible and neglected his duty. So when I asked him for a favor that would benefit you, of course he said no. I overreacted and left in a huff, history repeating itself.”
“Except you went back.”
“I was forced back by the explosion.”
“But you still went. And you stayed with him. You could have left him there alone.”
He slid her hand into his. “So where does that leave us, the offspring of the feuding families?”
She thought her heart would explode with joy. Was there a chance for them to find love in spite of all the differences?
A muffled version of Silent Night interrupted her thoughts.
Olivia reluctantly pulled her hand from his and reached into her coat pocket. “My holiday alarm.” She sighed and stood. “Time to get ready for the carolers. They always stop at the hotel and I give them hot chocolate and ginger cookies.” For the first time Olivia wondered what it would be like to be concerned for her own needs and not the whole town.
~*~
Thomas followed Olivia up the dark hill and thought of the lonely Christmases he had spent since his mother’s death. He wanted it to end.
As much as she said she’d forgiven him, he knew she would always associate his name with the loss of her pond. As tough as leaving her would be, in the morning he would pack up his grandfather and drive him to the city. The old man would put up a fight, especially leaving on Christmas day, but they had intruded enough. And Thomas’s heart could only stand so much rejection.
Donna, her eyes wide, met them at the door. She drew in a ragged breath. “I have been looking everywhere for you.” She grabbed Thomas’s arm and nodded toward the stairs. “He’s going nuts up there.”
Thomas moved quickly toward the stairs. Just what he needed on Christmas Eve.
“Not nuts like having a seizure. Nuts like walking around. Talking to himself. I heard him slide the chair across the floor.” She looked at Olivia. “I didn’t even know he could get out of bed, and now all this. I went to the door and called his name, but he yelled at me.”
“He yelled at you?” Olivia asked.
“He said ‘go away.’”
“There you are,” the old man called from the top of the stairs. “I thought I heard you.” Thomas’s pajamas hung loose on his grandfather’s shorter frame. He leaned on the railing and the long map tubes he clutched in his arms clattered down the stairs.
“Where did you get these?” Thomas gathered up the containers.
“In my room.”
“My room.”
Silent Night, with tinny undertones, sounded from Olivia’s pocket. “Oh, no!” She silenced her phone and bolted toward the kitchen.
“What are you doing?” Thomas called up to his grandfather.
“I’m trying to come down the stairs.”
Why now, when the man had refused to budge from the room since arriving? Maybe he could talk his grandfather into going back to the bedroom, at least until he helped him get dressed. Bless Olivia for washing the old man’s clothes. Thomas raced up the stairs to keep his grandfather from falling down them.
Footsteps stomped on the wooden porch. Laughter and voices were followed by a knock on the door.
“The carolers!” Olivia called from the kitchen. “Let them in!”
“What are carolers doing here?” Mr. Goodman asked.
“It’s Christmas Eve.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“Let’s go back to the bedroom.”
“I’m not a doddering old fool, so don’t treat me like one. I’m going downstairs.”
Townspeople, dressed in capes and muffs and top hats, crowded inside the door.
“Donna!” Thomas nodded for her to move the people away from the stairs. He had no idea what his grandfather had in mind as the man slowly descended, but he hated to see another day ruined for Olivia.
Thomas settled his grandfather in one of the leather chairs in the corner, grabbed a blanket off the couch and tossed it over the man’s lap. By the time Olivia entered the room, the man sat smiling, as though he was the king on a throne. Several of the carolers greeted him warmly.
Olivia sent Thomas a questioning glance, and he shrugged.
The carolers arranged themselves around the tree, and after sounding the pitch pipe, they sang. The voices harmonized perfectly. They followed with more Christmas carols, going through the old favorites and even some new ones.
With one note after another, music filled empty spots in Thomas’s heart.
His grandfather sat quietly. It seemed the harshness in the old man was smoothed over by something unexplainably healing.
When the last words hung in the air, Olivia excused herself to the kitchen and quickly returned with mugs of hot chocolate and a tray of ginger cookies. “And a diet soda for you, Patty, even though why you watch your calories is beyond me.” She passed out the beverages, handed a mug to Thomas and his grandfather, then served Donna and herself.
Thomas basked in the warmth of the Christmas spirit, the longing for family soul-deep as he took a sip of his hot chocolate. The people of this town, coming together to celebrate, was a balm to his troubled heart.
Patty hugged Olivia. “I’ll miss you.”
“Now, Patty,” one of the men said. “We agreed to keep our visit pleasant for Miss Olivia. Enough time for goodbyes later.”
Mr. Carl, looking uncomfortable in his black top hat, glanced at the tree. “If she leaves.”
<
br /> “Who knows, she may get a Christmas miracle,” said Patty. “One happens every year. It could be her turn.”
“The only one who provides miracles is God,” said the preacher.
His grandfather cleared his throat. “So let’s pray for a miracle.”
Thomas jerked toward the old man, ready to silence any unkind words. But he sat with his head on the back of the chair, eyes closed.
Mr. Carl started the prayer and others added their requests for the healing of family and friends, and praises for good things that had happened. One boy prayed for his dog, injured by jumping a fence. The amens were just as heartfelt.
After the carolers left, Thomas helped collect the mugs before tapping his grandfather on the shoulder. “Ready to go back upstairs? It’s getting late.”
The old man allowed Thomas to help him stand. “It was good seeing some of the folks again. It’s been awhile.” They moved across the room. “Old man Dixon, he’s all crippled up. Probably that arthritis. Gets a lot of ’em. And the preacher, he’s gone gray. Town life’s too soft. It doesn’t keep a body toughened up.” His grandfather leaned heavily on the banister as he pushed his way up the stairs. Half way he stopped. “Those maps. I was looking at them.”
“That’s OK.”
“You need to run to the homestead tomorrow and fetch the box under the bed.”
Thomas sighed. Sure, the only thing on his mind was a cold trek up the mountain on Christmas morning. By tomorrow the old man would probably forget the request.
“I’m serious, Laurence. This is important.”
Thomas’s step stuttered. His grandfather had not addressed him by name in fifteen years. Certainly not since he’d returned to East Kansas. He would have to leave before dawn. Again. “I’ll have the box under your bed when you wake up.”
20
In the middle of the night Thomas headed up the mountain. He would do anything to keep his grandfather from upsetting Olivia on Christmas. If it meant retrieving a metal box, he would do it.
Decorative lights twinkled from almost every house, the colors mocking him in their joy. Peace on earth didn’t seem to exist for his family. Or for Olivia’s. East Kansas had brought grief to both of them, nightmares they worked around during the day only to be replayed in slumber. Even his dreams of Olivia were now tainted, believing that deep inside she must still resent him for what he was doing to her pond. He would build the road, but there would be no reward in the raise, the bonus, or the task itself.
With the heavy cloud-cover and dawn still an hour away, the cabin blended into the mountain as though it were nothing more than an illusion. He pushed open the door, and a coldness more intense than the outside greeted him. Scanning the flashlight’s beam around the kitchen, he remembered his mother’s voice, “Don’t be gone all day. I expect you for lunch.” His mom had to know who he’d skipped rocks with at the creek, who he raced down the hill, who’d helped him pick pails of blackberries. She never asked to meet his friend; she never arranged to meet with the Millers. She never questioned him about Howard.
Her lack of interest now felt like an omen, a clue to a fractured relationship he should have helped mend. But he hadn’t known about the feud. He’d had a friend to spend the summer days with—the most amazing girl he had ever met—and that was enough back then.
As he tried to shake off the memories, he reached under his grandfather’s bed and felt only empty floor boards. He huffed a cold breath. Had the whole trip been for nothing? Had his grandfather forgotten where he kept the box?
Grinding his teeth, Thomas flattened on the wood floor and looked under the sagging springs. Back against the far wall, his light reflected on a metal object.
Wiggling under the bed, he managed to reach the box and pull it out. Covered in thick dust, it looked as though his grandfather hadn’t opened the thing in years. And now, on Christmas day, the old man sent him up the mountain for it. His jaw tightened. Whatever it takes.
By the time Thomas reached the hotel, a gray dawn had melted the dark. Winded and cold, he made coffee and turned on the tree’s lights before trudging up the stairs and into the room where his grandfather lay sleeping. Without waking the man, he slid the box under the bed. One promise kept.
He headed to his own room. Not missing the irony of his actions, he reached under the bed. The eighteen-inch square flat package was wrapped in shiny red paper. Donna had given him a white sticky bow that he had pressed into the center. He carried the package downstairs and placed it under the tree.
He was pouring a cup of coffee just as Olivia shuffled into the room.
“Merry Christmas, Thomas.”
In a blue terrycloth robe, with her hair poking out in places and her face creased with sleep, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
“Merry Christmas, Olivia.” He handed her a mug of coffee and they wandered to the table.
“Hey there, everyone,” Donna called from the living room. “Come see who I found coming down the stairs.”
“I thought I’d join you for breakfast,” his grandfather said as he reached the kitchen. Somehow the old man had managed to get dressed, comb his hair in some semblance of order, and even put on shoes. He settled into a chair at the table.
Thomas wanted to trust the man, but too much bad history kept him from opening his heart. After another searching look, he turned to the girls. “What can I do to help?”
Olivia slid a bowl of brown eggs toward him, a gift from a town member. “Here, crack these.”
Soon the platters were full of pancakes, scrambled eggs, and crispy bacon. As they took their places at the table, the old man cleared his throat. “It seems fitting that since today is Christmas we should give thanks for this food.”
Three sets of eyes stared at him.
“Olivia, it’s your house. You do the honors.”
As heads bowed, Olivia prayed. “Lord, we don’t always act grateful for what we have, but we know our blessings come from you. Thank you for those around my table, and for the food in front of us. Thank you for friendship and family. Amen.”
They ate in companionable silence, silverware scraping plates, and cups making quiet thuds when placed back on the table.
His grandfather leaned back in the chair. “That was a good meal. I haven’t sat at this table in a long while.”
Olivia’s eyes widened. “You’ve been in my kitchen before?”
“I used to eat here quite often, me and the missus, before I made a fool of myself and lost my welcome.”
“You ate here with my mom and dad?”
“Before your ma’s time, with your grandparents. Being the two reigning families in East Kansas, we were together a lot. But it worked out all right; we liked each other.”
“I didn’t know our families were ever friends.”
He huffed. “I played many a game of euchre at this table. Lost most of them.”
Olivia jumped from the table and fumbled with the tie to her robe. “Anyone want more coffee?”
“Olivia, Donna, are you two up?”
Donna’s eyes brightened. “In here, Mitch!” Her smile widened as the man strode into the kitchen. “Have you had breakfast?” she asked. “Sit here.” She gathered Olivia’s empty plate and syrup-coated silverware and stacked them on top of her own.
“I ate with the family, but thanks.” If Mitch was surprised to see Thomas’s grandfather sitting at the breakfast table, he had the good manners not to show it. “You should see the pile of gifts Santa left for Sarah. I doubt there is a toy left in the stores.” He sipped the coffee Olivia handed him. “I had enough of playing dolls, so I came over to wish all of you Merry Christmas.” His gaze settled on Donna’s face.
“You’re the Carter boy, aren’t you?” the old man asked. “I knew your granddaddy, Eli Carter.” He chuckled. “He and I had some fun times together as kids. He’s been gone a good while now.”
“He passed on about twelve years ago, before my baby sister was born.”
“What ever became of that old Chevy he drove? He loved that pile of junk. Engine refused to start if the temperature went below freezing.”
Mitch shrugged his shoulders and shot a questioning look to Donna.
“If I’m not mistaken, Sarah isn’t the only one Santa came to visit,” Donna said. “There are presents at our house, too! Let’s go check them out.”
“I added something under the tree.” Mitch shifted his gaze to Olivia.
Thomas worked his jaw back and forth, trying to loosen the tension before he started grinding his teeth. Surely Mitch wasn’t still hoping for an engagement with Olivia after all the attention the guy had been paying Donna lately? I added something could mean anything. Maybe he’d brought her a gift card from Hannah Flannigan’s boutique. Or maybe a diamond ring. The look he gave Olivia had a meaning.
Maybe it wasn’t his grandfather Thomas had to keep in check. Maybe it was Mitch.
21
Olivia didn’t mention Mitch as she and Donna ran upstairs to change, but she wondered if her friend had known he might show up. There definitely seemed to be sparks between them, but his mention of a gift reminded her that he expected an answer from her today. She didn’t want anything to upset the fragile peace which had settled over her. She may not get a Christmas miracle, but it would be nice not to grow an ulcer.
Thomas offered to pass out the presents.
Mr. Goodman positioned himself in the same chair he had occupied the night before.
Donna chose the couch, while Mitch leaned against the stone of the fireplace.
Olivia sat in one of the soft chairs, surrounded by the “family” she’d suddenly acquired for the day.
The tree’s decorations sparkled with reflected light; the poinsettias adding just the right touch of merry to Christmas. A crackling fire. The lingering smell of bacon. Every now and then, Olivia caught a whiff of one of her scented candles. She sighed. This was the best Christmas since her parent’s death. She felt, for the moment, loved.
Christmas in East Kansas (Christmas Holiday Extravaganza) Page 7