When Snowflakes Never Cease (Crossroads Collection)

by Amanda Tru

  Kent and Ada turned to see them holding up similar pairs of pajamas, waiting with forced smiles.

  “Oh! Yeah! Sorry, guys!” Ada scrambled to retrieve her phone and snapped several pictures.

  “Is this one of those old traditions?”

  She gave him a sheepish smile and shrugged. “I always let them open two presents on Christmas Eve. The first, pajamas.” Her head turned back to Xander, who was waiting on the floor next to the tree, his eyebrow lifted.

  With that expression, he looked just like his mother. Kent almost snickered.

  “Okay, now the red ones with the two.”

  As Xander looked at the labels, Kent leaned down and whispered, “Do you always number the gifts?”

  Her shoulders lifted, and for a moment she looked like a turtle trying to shrink into its shell. Adorable oddball. This was his future, though, if what he was beginning to hope for came to fruition someday.

  “It made things easier when they were little. One of them would always complain if another opened something bigger or better. I started grouping them by similarity just so I wouldn’t have to hear complaining. Just became habit.” Her lips twisted a bit, and she worked that upper lip harder.

  Kent pressed a finger to the spot. “You’re going to hurt those luscious lips. I’m not judging, Ada. I think it’s cute.”

  “Really? You aren’t scared off by my hyper-Type A crazy?”

  “Nah, I think I can handle it.”

  They stared, unblinking, into each other’s eyes several heartbeats before turning back to the tree. This was what Christmas should always feel like, wasn’t it? Perhaps a bit less organized, a little more free-for-all, but yes, this. Surrounded by loved ones and silly chatter and tearing into gifts with gusto.

  Once the kids had opened their second Christmas Eve gift—a book each—Kent suggested they all help wash the dishes and clean the kitchen as a gift to Ada. She tried to brush them aside, but Jane cut her off.

  “Mom, we always go look at lights next, right? Look outside. It’s barely dark enough. There’s at least an hour before the luminaria tour.”

  “Besides,” Kent added, “we have a few hours to burn before they can see that other gift.” He waggled his eyebrows at Adaline.

  She opened her mouth and closed it, nodding. “That’s right. Well, don’t let me keep you then.”

  “Wait. What other gift?” asked Karalee. “We only ever get to open two on Christmas Eve. You always make us wait until morning for the rest!”

  Kent’s and Ada’s eyes met across the kitchen with a secret smile. They’d decided not to tell the kids about the tickets until later in the evening.

  “I guess you’ll just have to be good little elves in the kitchen and see,” Ada teased.

  He’d never seen them move so quickly. From the look of surprise on her face, neither had Ada. The entire kitchen was practically sparkling, and the recently repaired dishwasher quietly humming in thirty minutes.

  “Are we ready?” Kent cracked his knuckles.

  Ada narrowed her eyes and stuck a fist to her chin, pretending to think on the matter. “I don’t know. I think we might need a few minutes to change.”

  “Ugh, you guys are laying it on so thick!” Jane popped her hip and crossed her arms, a stance he’d caught Ada in plenty of times. The woman’s genes ran strong in her progeny.

  “Fine,” Ada waved her hand in the air. “I guess we could just go dressed as we are. Although,” she paused dramatically and met Kent’s eyes.

  He’d thought her idea was a little out there, but when she’d flashed those pleading doe eyes, he would’ve agreed to anything. With a nod, they both pulled off their sweaters to reveal Shadows of Night tees emblazoned with the movie poster from the first film.

  Confusion traced the kids’ expressions until one by one they caught on.

  “What? I thought you couldn’t get tickets!” Jane looked like she was holding herself back.

  Kent would bet money if he weren’t here, she’d be jumping up and down and screaming like any other overexcited teen girl.

  Xander fist-pumped the air before high-fiving both his sisters. “Yeah!”

  Karalee didn’t seem nearly as thrilled, but she cheered right along with her siblings.

  “Hurry up and get your gear if you want to. We’ll go look at lights like we always do, but we have five reserved seats for the midnight show tonight.”

  More cheers and the kids dashed to their rooms.

  Two hours into driving around the city looking at Christmas lights, fat flakes of snow began to fall. Kent looked through the windshield of Ada’s aging van and took in the change in the sky. What had been a clear inky night dotted with stars now appeared to have an ominous, misty glow. Clouds had overtaken the stars and dropped low overhead in a uniform layer that reflected the city lights almost as bright as daybreak.

  He rolled down the window a crack and listened to the eerie silence.

  “Looks like we might have a white Christmas.”

  Karalee cheered. Xander had his head bent over his phone. Jane frowned, looking through her rear passenger window and appearing as concerned with the weather as he felt. Ada studied the sky.

  “I don’t know. Do you think it’ll hold off until after the movie?” Her eyes never left the passenger window.

  She’d tossed him the keys before leaving the house. He hadn’t expected that, but he liked that she had felt comfortable enough to relinquish control to him.

  “We’re probably fine. It’ll more than likely turn to slush if it sticks at all.” He turned into the Lee Acres neighborhood and followed the other drivers’ example in flicking off the headlights.

  “All right, guys, time for the luminarias.”

  “Can we see where Santa is?” Karalee’s sweet voice sounded hesitant from the rear of the van.

  “Sure, baby.” Ada tapped the screen on her phone and whispered to Kent, “This is probably our last year of Santa.”

  She blinked rapidly several times and sniffed softly, still tapping away at the screen until she’d found what she wanted.

  “He’s flying over Scotland right now, according to the NORAD app. I bet he’ll visit the house while we’re watching the movie.”

  Kent knew they’d find Santa had indeed visited while they were gone. Ada had asked him to keep Karalee distracted in the van while she, Jane, and Xander took turns running back inside because they’d “forgotten” something. He loved how she’d recruited the older two to keep the magic going for their sister.

  For the next half an hour, the van crawled at a snail’s pace, winding through the maze of streets lined with candlelit paper bags. Carols poured from the speakers, interrupted periodically by comments on an exceptionally well-decorated home.

  Seeing thousands of amber paper lanterns flickering in the night always made it feel more like Christmas. Peaceful. As if the tiny lights really were a symbol of welcoming Christ into the world and into their homes. Their hearts.

  A perfect way to remember the true meaning of Christmas. Kent sighed, fulfilled and happy, even though he worried about the snow coming down harder and faster than it had an hour ago. For a split second, he considered skipping the movie and getting everyone safely home in case it got worse.

  Then again, this was Albuquerque.

  Snowstorms rarely hit hard enough to cause serious worry. Maybe once a year, schools would close and employers encouraged workers to stay home. Even then, dirt trucks quickly sanded the roads to help people navigate on red-tinted slush and return to life as usual.

  That weird looking sky, though.

  Kent glanced over at Ada in the passenger seat, singing along to Angels We Have Heard on High.

  They’d be fine. The city would probably send out the sand trucks as a preventive measure while they were safe and warm inside the three-hour epic.

  “You guys ready for Shadows of Night Part Two?”

  A chorus of cheers filled the van. Decision made.

  “
On Dasher, on Dancer, let’s get this sleigh to the show!”

  Ada’s rear went numb sometime during the second hour. Her bladder started its protest thirty minutes ago.

  As soon as the end credits finished, she collected the trash and herded their quintet toward the nearest bathroom. Karalee passed out before the end of the movie, but she couldn’t really blame the poor kid. It was three in the morning.

  Ada’s heart went all squishy at the sight of her youngest draped over Kent’s broad shoulders. She was growing up so quickly, Ada relished the few ways Kare was still little. Maybe Kent was right. She needed to quit trying to control everything and just let her be nine.

  Three feet ahead, Xander and Jane carried on a full recap of the last hundred-eighty-something minutes between yawns. The crowded theater’s remaining patrons poured out into the empty concourse, the smell of popcorn still permeating the air.

  Xander excused himself as Kent paused outside the ladies’ room. “You go, then we’ll trade.”

  Ada nodded her affirmation and took her place in line. When she and Jane walked out several minutes later, she noticed people milling around and shaking their heads. Many stared through the doors into the darkness outside, bewildered expressions on their faces. Murmurs bounced off the high ceilings, sounding like twice as many people as were actually there.

  Didn’t these people want to get home and in bed? Did no one else need to squeeze in a few hours’ sleep before their children woke them up, excited to tear into gifts?

  Xander, now carrying a completely zonked Karalee, followed Kent toward them. Kent ran a hand over his shaved head, his face a mask. He looked from her to the door and back.

  What was it? An accident in the parking lot? Please, not on Christmas. Those poor people.

  “Well, the good news is it’s definitely a white Christmas.”

  The way he said it implied there was also bad news. “What’s going on?”

  Kent’s hands and mouth moved like he was trying to figure out what to say, but the words wouldn’t come.

  Xander stepped forward. “Bad news is, we’ll be spending it in the theater. Everyone will.”

  “Not everyone, kid. I’ve got four-wheel drive,” boasted a huge guy in a ball cap. The man marched past with a smirk and strode through the doors.

  Ada reached for Jane’s hand, an automatic movement from when the kids were small, and tugged her toward the two-story wall of glass windows and doors. Parking lot lamps illuminated a field of solid white as far as she could see. Fat snowflakes rained down like a sheet of polka-dotted paper, more white than black outside. The closer she stepped toward the glass, the brighter the scene glowed.

  She shivered as a group came back inside, abandoning their attempts to leave and bringing the freezing cold in with them. So much snow had fallen that drifts had settled up to shorter vehicles’ tire wells. That would make it difficult for people to even open their doors if it packed. She tried to see out past the lot to the nearby interstate, but it was impossible.

  The big ball cap guy from a few minutes ago made it to his lifted heavy-duty truck. Ada could barely see him through the snowfall, but the roar of his engine was loud and clear. She squinted and watched the truck fishtail several feet. Brake lights lit the snow and blinked off.

  Loud swearing reached her ears as several people opened the doors to let the man and his date back inside. Their faces were flushed as they stomped the snow off their feet and nearly slipped on the icy concrete.

  “It’s powder on top, but frozen solid underneath. I think the bottom layer is pure ice. Couldn’t find any traction.” The guy acted like he’d never seen such a thing.

  Maybe he hadn’t. Ada vaguely remembered the record-breaking snow they’d had in late 2006. Albuquerque had been bombarded with nearly a foot of snow in a single day, up to two feet in just a couple of days. The city had been virtually shut down while crews worked to clear the mess and rescue stranded travelers from both major interstates.

  Tonight’s snowfall appeared to beat the old record by at least a couple inches, and it was still coming down.

  Ada felt Kent before she saw him. He stood just behind her left shoulder and leaned in. “All the earlier slush must’ve frozen solid. Dangerous conditions for drivers who can’t see beneath the snow.”

  “Yeah. If Mister Monster Truck can’t get out, there’s not much hope for the mom-mobile.”

  Kent chuckled, his warm breath caressing her exposed ear. “Not getting great cell service, but I hooked into the theater’s Wi-Fi. Weather app says it’s only three degrees out.”

  Ada whirled to face him. “What? You’re kidding.”

  He shook his head and held up his phone as proof. “Nope. Apparently, the storm front moved in much faster than anticipated.” He rambled on about pressure changes and temperature fluctuations and certain conditions leading to X, Y, and Z.

  She hardly absorbed any of it, her ears and head throbbing from fatigue and grappling with what this might mean for Christmas. Not only for her family but for everyone here. All those poor people likely trapped on the roads, too. Hopefully they’d seen the freaky sky and the thick snow and sought shelter in time.

  Another shiver tore through her. Kent reached for the coat draped over her arm and held it open. Slipping her arms in, she uttered a soft thank you. Ada surveyed the room, estimating how many people were stranded here. At least two hundred, maybe three if they’d shown the highly anticipated premiere on a second screen.

  Worry crept in as more thoughts bombarded her from all directions. A chill swept across her neck, and her heart raced. How would they organize all these people? Would everyone cooperate and behave, or would it descend into chaos?

  “Hey,” Kent soothed. “Let’s go find someplace warm to huddle up, okay?”

  Ada nodded and let her eyes wander over each of her children. The tension that had a death grip on her chest loosened, knowing they were all safely within reach. They followed Kent to a space against a wall and sat. Ada reached out her arms, and Kent laid a limp Karalee across her lap. Her daughter stirred with the transition, but Ada rubbed her hand down the back of Kare’s soft hair murmuring shushing sounds as she gently rocked.

  The motion brought so many memories. This adventure would likely be added to them—something they’d talk about for years. How often did one get stuck in a theater, let alone spend Christmas there?

  “Hey, do you think we could turn those TVs to the news?” Someone shouted, and two employees wearing vests with gold name tags rushed to see what they could do.

  Within minutes, all of the screens that normally promoted coming attractions now showed the late-night news team on one of the local stations. They looked as put together as usual, except for the shadows under their eyes that makeup couldn’t cover. Had they not been able to get home after their last newscast?

  It was nearly four in the morning now. She spotted a few theater employees huddled together, deep in discussion. One held a phone to his ear, nodding periodically. Another, a young pregnant woman, broke away from the huddle and climbed up on one of the concession counters.

  “Excuse me!” It took a few minutes for the crowd to quiet enough to continue. “Looks like we might be stuck here a while. We’re in contact with corporate, trying to figure things out. In the meantime, please feel free to return to the theater rooms you recently vacated. The recliner seats’ll be more comfortable than the floor. Hopefully we’ll have more information in the morning.”

  She lumbered back down and dusted off her hands. Several people made their way back toward the screening rooms.

  Ada’s arm was beginning to lose feeling from her daughter’s weight. “What do you think, Kent? Should we head back in and get comfortable?”

  He shrugged and looked to Xander and Jane. They looked ready to drop. With a nod, he held out his arms for Karalee. Ada shook her head and leaned forward. “Hey sweet pea, wake up.” Kare stirred with a frown.

  She yawned and blinked slowly, flinc
hing with the light. “Did I miss the end?”

  “‘Fraid so, Kare Bear. Guess what?”

  “Hmm?”

  “It snowed. A lot. We get to have a sleepover in the movie theater.” Ada whispered it with the same encouraging tone she used when trying to convince her students that nonfiction was interesting.

  Karalee’s brow furrowed, but she seemed more alert after realization dawned. “We’re stuck here?”

  “Yeah. You still sleepy?”

  Her daughter yawned in answer.

  “Let’s go find a comfy spot.”

  “Mmm ‘kay.” Another yawn and her daughter rose to her feet. She leaned against Ada’s side, still mostly asleep, and let Ada lead her to the bathroom. Ada smiled to herself. Karalee must be exhausted. She was never this easy-going. “Go take care of business before we lay down, all right?”

  That taken care of, the five of them shuffled into the darkened theater room and searched for seats together. They had to climb over a few people but eventually managed to snag two adjacent rows, one with two seats and the other with three.

  Kent, Jane, Xander, and Karalee all looked to her expectantly, probably waiting for her to take charge. It was her modus operandi, after all. Too bad exhaustion had taken such a toll. She couldn’t even think who should sit where or why.

  Praise God for Kent. His lips curved up in a way that showed how well he already knew her and nodded decisively. “All right, you three sit together here,” he pointed to the lower row. “Your mom and I will sit behind you and try not to make too many kissing noises.”

  Ada’s eyes widened, and a quick glance showed something close to abject horror on the kids’ faces. Kent’s eyes glinted with amusement. He shook his head, laughing under his breath.

  “Kidding, you guys. We’re all going to sleep as best we can for a few hours. Go on.”

  The five of them settled into the recliner seats. Xander was snoring within seconds. Jane turned her gaze back to them a few times—likely ensuring Kent really had been teasing—before her eyes finally closed, and her breathing evened out. Karalee, having slept at least an hour, had a bit of trouble settling down. Ada couldn’t blame her.