Paradise Falls

by Ruth Ryan Langan

  She managed a trembling smile. “I hope you’re right, Gray.”

  “Trust me.” He lifted her down, then did the same for his father, keeping an arm around the older man’s shoulders when he felt him stagger just a bit.

  Both Christian Rudd and his wife Lida were standing in the doorway as Fiona followed Gray and his father up the steps.

  “Welcome to our home.” Lida Rudd held the door and Christian took Broderick’s arm, helping him inside, while Gray returned to the wagon to retrieve the food.

  Lida Rudd tentatively offered her hand to Fiona. “Welcome to our home, Miss Downey.”

  “Thank you.” Without hesitation Fiona returned the handshake.

  Gray sprinted up the steps and handed the linen-wrapped parcels to his hostess. “Ma baked you something special.”

  “We’ve been looking forward to Rose’s linzer torte. Please, give your coats to Christian and come to the parlor.” Lida led the way into a big room where a cozy fire blazed on the hearth.

  In no time they were being served yet more cheese and brown bread and tall glasses of dark beer.

  “Would you prefer lager or tea, Miss Downey?”

  Fiona laughed. “I think I’d better have some tea now. Though I confess to liking the taste of lager.”

  “You’ve never tasted it before?” Lida poured tea and handed her guest a cup.

  “Today was my first.” Fiona sipped and looked up as Edmer stepped into the room. “Happy Christmas, Edmer.”

  The boy avoided her eyes. “Happy Christmas, Miss Downey.”

  “I almost forgot. I have something for you, Edmer.” Gray set down his glass and stepped out of the room. When he returned he explained, “We just came from the VanderSleet farm. Will asked us to give you this.”

  “This is from Will?” The boy looked puzzled. “Are you sure it’s for me?”

  “That’s what he said.”

  As Edmer stared at the parcel his mother said gently, “Go on, Edmer. Open it.”

  While the others looked on the boy knelt on the rug in front of the fire and unrolled the length of faded blanket. “What is it, Edmer?”

  “It’s...” He stood and held out a piece of wood that had been perfectly sanded, the ends painstakingly scrolled like delicate seashells. “It’s for you, Mama. I heard you say that you wanted a shelf for your mother’s figurines. I tried to make you one, but I ruined it. I didn’t think I had anything to give you, but now...” He fell silent when he saw the look on his mother’s face.

  “Oh, my.” Lida Rudd ran her hand over the smooth finish and turned to her husband with shiny eyes. “Christian, have you ever seen anything so beautiful?”

  Christian touched a hand to the smooth wood before glancing sharply at his son. “I didn’t realize Will VanderSleet was such a good friend of yours.”

  “I didn’t realize it, either.” Edmer’s cheeks were suffused with color, his eyes blinking rapidly, as though fighting tears.

  To the astonishment of everyone, he rushed from the room and fled up the stairs.

  In the silence that followed Christian turned to his wife with a scowl. “Order our son down here at once, or I’ll go up there and teach him some manners.”

  Lida Rudd turned as pale as the shelf she was holding. “Please, Christian. It’s Christmas time.” She turned to Fiona with a pleading look. “Miss Downey, can you tell us what has happened?”

  Fiona set down her tea and got to her feet. “Would you mind if I spoke with Edmer?”

  When Christian started to refuse Lida put a hand on his arm, then just as quickly lifted it, astonished by her own boldness. “If you think you might help.”

  “I’ll try.” Fiona left the room and climbed the stairs, following along a narrow hallway until she paused in the doorway of the boy’s room.

  Edmer looked up from the bed, then away, furiously rubbing at his eyes. “You have no right to be here.”

  “Your parents are concerned, Edmer.”

  “I’m fine.” He swallowed. “Tell them I’ll be down in a while.”

  “Very well.”

  As Fiona turned away the boy said gruffly, “Why would Will do something nice, after what I did to him?”

  She paused, then turned, choosing her words carefully. “Maybe it’s because he wants to be a ripple in a pond.”

  He frowned. “I don’t understand.”

  Fiona met his troubled look with a smile. “It took me many years to understand. If you’d like, we’ll talk a while, and see if we can make some sense of it.”

  It seemed hours later, though it had been only a few minutes, when Fiona and Edmer descended the stairs and walked into the parlor, where the others were eating in silence. Everyone looked up as they entered the room.

  Edmer glanced first at his father, whose eyes were fixed on him with fury, and then at his mother, eyes downcast, hands trembling.

  While Fiona took a seat beside Gray, the boy squared his shoulders. “You probably heard that Mr. VanderSleet punished Will for going against his wishes and attending school.”

  Christian Rudd nodded. “In his place I’d have done the same.”

  Edmer swallowed before saying, “I’m the one who got Will into trouble with his uncle.”

  “What do you mean?” Christian’s hands were already curling into fists at his sides.

  “I told Mr. VanderSleet that Will was sneaking off to school early in the morning.”

  “Why would you do that, Edmer?” Lida glanced uneasily at her husband.

  The boy shrugged. “I was angry with Pa. He’d made fun of my attempt to make you a shelf. And maybe I was jealous of Will.”

  His mother touched a hand to her mouth to stifle her little cry. “When you have so much, how could you possibly be jealous of a poor boy with no family?”

  Edmer shook his head. “You don’t understand. Will can do so many things. There isn’t anything he can’t do with his tools. And I heard him reading to Miss Downey. He never even stumbled over the words.”

  “Was that reason enough to cause him trouble?”

  Edmer shook his head. “I thought so at the time. Now I’m sorry for what I did. But don’t you see? Even after all I did to Will, he didn’t try to get even. Instead, he made you that shelf.”

  “Why would he do such a kind thing?” Lida twisted her hands.

  After a quick look at Fiona for reassurance, Edmer took a deep breath. “Miss Downey has been telling us that we can change what we don’t like by... becoming tiny stones in a pond.”

  “More nonsense?” Christian turned to Fiona with a scowl. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  She merely smiled. “Your son will explain.”

  “Miss Downey told us that instead of getting back at someone who has been unkind to us, we can change their hearts by doing a kindness in return. And that’s what Will did.”

  Broderick set down his lager and belched. “In my day it was called turning the other cheek.”

  In the awkward silence that followed, Lida crossed the room to touch a hand to her son’s arm. “I love my gift, Edmer.”

  “Will made it.”

  “But you were the one to think of it. For that reason, I’ll always treasure it.”

  Gray helped his father to stand and noted that he was listing slightly. “We have to get home now. Ma will have our hides if we’re late for supper. She’s cooking a goose.”

  They were all aware that Christian Rudd hadn’t moved. Even when they walked to the front door, he remained in the middle of the parlor, watching as they slipped into their coats and scarves.

  It was left to his wife to see them out.

  “You’ll thank Rose for me, Broderick.”

  He leaned heavily on his son’s arm. “I will.”

  “And thank you, Gray. Miss Downey.” Her voice trembled slightly. “I wish you all a happy Christmas.”

  “Happy Christmas, Mrs. Rudd. Edmer.” Fiona looked beyond them to Christian, whose eyes were narrowed on her like twin beams o
f ice. “Happy Christmas, Mr. Rudd.”

  She turned away, expecting no reply and hearing none. And found herself wondering if these two would, when their house was once more empty of company, answer to a bully’s fists.

  THIRTEEN

  “I win, Ma.” As Gray and his father stepped into the kitchen, Flem held out his hand and was rewarded with a cookie. With a laugh he took a bite before explaining. “Ma was worried that you’d be late. I told her that no matter how many lagers you shared with the neighbors, there was no way you’d be late for Christmas Eve supper.”

  “I raised a smart son.” Face flushed, Broderick lowered himself to his chair and waited for Gray to remove his boots and coat.

  “So.” Rose turned from the stove. “How many beers did you have?”

  “Too many.” Broderick grinned. “But how could I refuse, when our neighbors kept asking me to raise a toast to my talented and very generous wife?”

  Rose couldn’t keep her smile from blooming. “They liked my gifts?”

  “They loved them, Ma.” Gray hung their coats on a hook by the, door and was careful to wash his hands and roll his sleeves.

  “I’ve set the table in the parlor.” Rose led the way, and Fiona caught her breath at the dazzling display of silver and crystal, winking in the glow of dozens of candles.

  “Oh, Mrs. Haydn. This is...” She looked around. “Words fail.”

  Pleased, Rose indicated the sofa and chairs that had been moved close to the fire. “Supper will be ready soon. But for now, we’ll have some elderberry wine to warm you from your travels. Fleming, you pour.”

  Flem poured burgundy liquid from a crystal decanter into small fluted glasses and passed them around on a silver tray.

  Broderick lifted his glass. “As always, we drink first to those who have left us.”

  As the others sipped, Fiona felt a quick, hard tug on her heart and had to dip her head to hide the grief that she knew would be in her eyes.

  Oh, Da. How I wish I could hear, just once more, the sound of your voice, with that wonderful music of Ireland in every word. And to feel again your arms, so strong and warm, around me.

  When she’d composed herself she took a sip, The wine was sweet and glided down her throat like liquid honey.

  “To us.” Broderick shot her a smile. “And to those we wish were here with us.”

  Again that quick tug, and she found herself hoping that her mother was sitting warm and snug, sipping wine with family, and feeling safe and loved.

  Safe and loved. It was what Fiona wished, more than anything, for her mother.

  Keep her safe, Da. Safe and treasured by those who are with her now.

  While Broderick proposed yet another toast, Rose slipped away to the kitchen and returned carrying a huge silver platter on which rested the biggest goose Fiona had ever seen.

  “Flem. Gray.” Rose pointed with the carving knife. “You may fetch the rest of the food.”

  “What about me, Mrs. Haydn?”

  “You help Broderick to the table.”

  The old man winked at her as she set aside her glass and helped him to his feet. In the time that it took to get him seated, the table was groaning under the weight of more food than Fiona could imagine. Mashed potatoes and buttery gravy. Golden egg noodles. Cabbage and glazed beets and tiny carrots and two kinds of beans. Rolls and so many slices of bread, some dark brown, and others dotted with bits of fruit and nuts.

  As they took their places, Flem walked around the table, topping off their glasses with more elderberry wine.

  After passing the platters and filling their plates, they bowed their heads as Broderick said curtly, “We ask a blessing on this feast.”

  “Oh, Mrs. Haydn.” Fiona couldn’t help exclaiming over each bite she took.

  Rose made her usual protest. “It’s just simple food.”

  As soon as the words were out of her mouth, they all burst into gales of laughter. In fact, they laughed throughout the entire meal. By the time they had polished off slices of rum-soaked pound cake and tiny fruit tarts, the Haydn family had laughed and talked more than Fiona had heard in all the time she’d shared their home.

  Broderick sat back and lifted a napkin to his mouth. “I believe this is the finest Christmas Eve supper yet, Rose.”

  “Thank you, Brod...” The words suddenly died in his wife’s throat.

  Everyone turned to look at her, but she was staring at her husband as though seeing a ghost.

  “What’s wrong, Ma?” Flem got to his feet.

  Rose pointed and made a strangled sound. “Your... hand. Broderick, you’re holding your own napkin.”

  The old man merely smiled. “So I am. I wondered when someone would notice. I’ve been working on it for some time now.”

  Fiona realized that he hadn’t once spilled any of his lager throughout the day, but until this moment, she hadn’t given it a thought.

  Rose shook her head in disbelief. “Doctor Eberhardt said there was nothing to be done about a stroke.”

  Broderick shrugged. “Somebody should have told me sooner. I’ve been walking every day, and every day going a bit farther than the day before.”

  That, Fiona realized, would explain his tumble in the fields that frightful day. He’d been pushing himself to the limits, in order to retrieve the strength he’d once had.

  “Now,” he added with a lopsided smile, “if I only I could get my face to work again.”

  Rose stared at him. And though her expression never changed, there was a softness to her voice that hadn’t been there before. “Your face looks fine to me, Broderick.”

  In the silence that followed, Fiona glanced from one to the other, feeling as though she were violating their privacy. The look that passed between them was almost too sweet to bear.

  Flem got to his feet and circled the table, filling their glasses yet again. “I believe it’s time to celebrate.”

  Without waiting for them to respond he crossed the room and Flem removed the fringed scarf that covered the piano. The others picked up their glasses and gathered around as he played familiar carols. At first they gave voice haltingly, but as the music grew more lively, so did their singing, until even Broderick and Rose joined in.

  When they ran out of Christmas carols, Rose said, “Play that song you’ve been talking about, Fleming. The one that you said Mr. Sousa wrote.”

  Without missing a beat Flem launched into a rousing John Philip Sousa march that had them stomping their feet.

  When he was finished, Fiona clapped her hands in delight. “That was wonderful. Oh, Flem, I had no idea you could play like that.”

  “I have all kinds of hidden talents.” With a wicked grin he shoved away from the piano and picked up a sprig of mistletoe.

  Holding it over his mother’s head, he kissed her soundly.

  “Oh, you.” With a pretty blush, Rose gave him a shove. “Don’t waste your kisses on me when there’s someone your own age to enjoy.”

  That was all the coaxing he needed to walk to Fiona and hold the mistletoe over her head while he brushed her lips with his. She knew her face was as red as the berries, which only made her face flame more. And though his parents merely laughed, she could see a steely look come into Gray’s eyes.

  She pushed quickly away and fluttered her hand like a fan. “I believe I need to sit down.”

  “We all need to sit,” Rose said.

  Before his mother could sink into a chair Flem grabbed her and began waltzing her around the room, all the while singing at the top of his voice. Though Rose pretended to push away, it was obvious that she was having the time of her life.

  Fiona marveled at the change in Rose. She was like a schoolgirl, blushing and laughing as though flirting with a lover.

  Finally Rose managed to push free of her son’s arms. “Enough. I need to catch my breath. Dance with our teacher.”

  “No, Flem.” But though Fiona protested, he had no intention of letting her be. Instead he dragged her to her feet a
nd whirled her around and around until her head was spinning. When at last he stopped, she sank gratefully onto the sofa beside Broderick.

  “You two make a handsome couple. I’ve always thought the girls in this town were too silly for Fleming. He deserves someone with a good mind as well as a pretty face.” Rose turned to her husband. “Don’t you agree?”

  Across the room Fiona saw Gray standing perfectly still. When he caught her looking his way he busied himself lifting his glass and taking a long drink before setting it on a side table.

  Flem filled his father’s glass and his own before saying, “Who would like to be first to open my gifts?”

  Without waiting for a reply he handed his mother a small box. She opened it to reveal a pretty enameled brooch in the shape of a rose.

  “It’s for your Sunday dress.”

  “Oh, Fleming. It’s beautiful.”

  He grinned. “I knew you’d like it. A rose for a Rose.” He handed his father a pint of dark beer. “For tomorrow.”

  Broderick studied it. “Did you buy this in Little Bavaria?”

  Flem nodded. “I was over there the other day and remembered that you once said they make the best beer in America.”

  “The most expensive, too.”

  Before Broderick could say more Flem handed a package wrapped in brown paper to his brother.

  Gray opened it and held up a leather belt.

  “Hand-tooled,” Flem said proudly. “There’s a farmer in Little Bavaria who makes the finest leather goods.” With a grin he added, “I think you’ll like it better than that length of rope you’ve been using.”

  Gray laughed and offered his hand. “You’re right. I thank you.”

  “I saved the best for last.” Flem handed a tiny package to Fiona.

  When she opened it, she gave a gasp of pleasure. “Oh, Flem. A comb for my hair.”

  He took it from her hand and set it in a tangle of curls. “Hair this pretty ought to be adorned.”

  “Thank you.” She got to her feet. “If you’ll wait a minute, I’ll bring out my gifts.”

  She hurried away to her room and returned with several parcels: “These are from my mum. She wanted to thank you for making me welcome in your home.”