Christmas Homecoming

by Sherry Lewis

  He put a hand on Nicky’s thin shoulder. “Do you need help with your shoes, buddy?”

  Nicky shook his head and managed a shaky smile, but the relief in his eyes made Beau’s chest squeeze painfully.

  “You really shouldn’t let a problem like this go,” Doris warned.

  “I’ll handle it,” Beau assured her. “Later.” He tempered his sharpness with a tight smile, put an arm around Nicky’s shoulders and motioned for Brianne to hurry.

  Still frowning, the girl slowly zipped up her backpack and slipped the strap over her shoulder. But for once she didn’t argue. Maybe she realized that he’d been pushed far enough for one evening.

  He ushered the kids toward the front door, then turned back to Doris, who stood at the table, glowering at him. “Thanks again, Doris.”

  She crossed her arms high on her chest and nodded, but she didn’t say a word. She just watched in stony silence while Beau led the kids out the door.

  CHAPTER THREE

  MOLLY’S HEAD started pounding the instant she opened her eyes the next morning, and the painful hollow in her stomach convinced her that skipping dinner the day before had been a mistake.

  She rolled onto her side in the darkened motel room and took a few seconds to acclimate herself. Serenity. The Wagon Wheel Motel. Nothing had changed in all this time. She could have sworn these were the same curtains that had been here when she’d spent a miserable two months one summer cleaning rooms for the motel owners. They still didn’t have coffeemakers in the rooms, and the closest restaurant—the only restaurant that would be open so early—was two blocks away.

  Her stomach growled loudly and she decided that breakfast had to be the first order of business. She’d just slip into sweats and a T-shirt, eat first, then come back to get ready for the day.

  She got out of bed and reached for her suitcase, but one look at her face and hair in the mirror had her moving toward the bathroom shower, after all. Even if she hadn’t been in the same town as Beau Julander, she wouldn’t have gone out in public with that hair.

  She showered quickly and finger-combed her hair, then looked out the window to check the weather before she dressed. The sun was just cresting the mountains on the eastern side of the valley, and a web of gold seemed to hover over the trees on the hillsides.

  In this light, the fall colors were jewel-toned, and Molly forgot about her hunger for a minute. She opened the window a few inches so she could breathe the crisp, autumn-scented air. Memories of other mornings rushed her from every side. For a moment she almost believed that if she closed her eyes, she would hear her mother urging her to dress for school.

  She did close her eyes then, allowing herself to live that moment for as long as it lasted. She saw her mother’s long, dark hair and wide, dark eyes. The scents of pine and earth became the sweet, musky scent of her mother’s perfume, and wind chimes dancing in the breeze somewhere nearby reminded her of the tinkle of her favorite jewelry. Ruby Lane hadn’t gone anywhere without her hair done, her makeup on, a spritz of perfume and jewelry. Always jewelry. Always original. Always pieces she made herself.

  Molly felt the familiar pang of longing for just one necklace, one bracelet, one set of earrings, but she pushed it aside. There were things she could change and things she couldn’t. The grief that had driven her father to get rid of all her mother’s belongings was on the second list, and she wasn’t going to waste time wishing.

  The memory faded and Molly let it go, knowing it was a mistake to hold on too tightly. She wanted the memories to come and go as they pleased. They would be more meaningful that way, and maybe, if she was lucky, she’d eventually remember something about her mother’s final year that she could hold on to.

  She reluctantly closed the window and dressed in a pair of jeans and the oversize Chicago Bears jersey that had been a present from her dad their last Christmas together. Wearing it gave her confidence, and she needed all the help she could get this morning.

  Just as she was putting the finishing touches on her makeup, a knock on the door startled her into dropping the shell-shaped compact that held her powder. It seemed early for housekeeping, but then, Serenity had always functioned at its own pace.

  “Just a minute,” she sang out. She picked up the compact and crossed the small room to open the door. When she saw Beau standing there with the sun in his hair and a twinkle in his eye, the compact slipped from her fingers again.

  Beau bent to retrieve it and handed it to her with a grin. “Good morning. You’re all ready, I see. That’s good. Obviously my timing is perfect.”

  As Molly closed her fingers around the compact, her hand brushed Beau’s. It was only an instant, but heat traced a pattern up her arm that didn’t diminish even when she pulled away. “What timing? What are you doing here? Did you leave something in the car?”

  He frowned playfully. “What kind of greeting is that? Let’s try it again, shall we? I say good morning, and you say…”

  Her cheeks flamed, but the smile in Beau’s sky-blue eyes took away the sting. “Good morning,” she said apologetically. “Then I ask what you’re doing here.”

  “That’s much better.” He held out a hand as if he expected her to take it. “I’m here to treat you to breakfast.”

  It was all Molly could do not to gape at him. “Breakfast? Why?”

  “Because you did an incredible favor for me yesterday, and I didn’t thank you properly.” He checked his watch and glanced behind him. “And don’t give me any excuses, because I know you haven’t eaten yet. The diner won’t be open for another ten minutes.”

  “You’re serious?”

  He wiped the grin from his face, but his eyes still danced with laughter. “Don’t I look serious?”

  “Very.” She glanced past him into the parking lot. A green Cherokee sat in a space near her door, but she couldn’t see anyone waiting inside. “Where are your kids? Don’t tell me you left them home alone.”

  “No, they’re at my sister’s. She teaches them piano on Saturday mornings. Their lessons are forty-five minutes apiece, which means that we have exactly—” he tapped the crystal on his watch “—eighty-three minutes all to ourselves.”

  A shiver of anticipation shimmied along Molly’s spine, but she ignored it. Beau hadn’t meant anything by that, and she was far too hungry to let insecurities left over from long ago make her hesitate. “You’re on.” She slid the room key into her pocket and stepped into the cool morning air. “You’re talking about your sister, Gwen?”

  “The only one I have.”

  “I think I remember her. Pretty girl with light-brown hair and a great smile? The one who played the piano at WinterFest?”

  Beau closed the door behind him. “That’s Gwen. She was a pain when we were kids, but I don’t know what I’d do without her now.”

  “You’re lucky to have her. I used to wish for a brother or a sister, but it never happened. Being an only child can get lonely sometimes.” She realized she was becoming too serious and looked pointedly at her watch. “Technically, we have less than eighty-three minutes, you know. If it took you seven minutes to get here, it will take seven to get back. That means we have only seventy-six minutes—and I’m very hungry.”

  Beau laughed. “We have as long as we need. Gwen owes me a favor or two.” He motioned her toward the street and fell into step beside her. “You don’t mind walking, do you? The diner’s only two blocks away.”

  “I don’t mind at all. I didn’t see much on my way through town last night.”

  “That’s my fault, I’m afraid.”

  “Not at all. I was too tired to see anything. I’ll make up for it today.”

  Beau stuffed his hands into his pockets and slid a sidelong glance at her. “Need a tour guide?”

  “Around Serenity? Has it changed that much?”

  “We have a new apartment building by the bowling alley, and ten new houses went up over the summer. Olene Whitefish got married again. She and her new husband put in a
food mart at the gas station. If you take off on your own, you’re likely to get lost in all the expansion.”

  Molly’s laugh echoed in the early-morning silence. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

  When they reached the sidewalk, Beau turned toward the still-dark diner on the next block. “How’s your room at the Wagon Wheel?”

  “It’s fine. The bed’s firm and the room is clean. I can’t complain.”

  “And what are your plans for the rest of the day?”

  “Nothing set in stone. Why?”

  “We have a meeting of the Homecoming committee later this morning. I was thinking you might like to come along.”

  They drew abreast of the diner just as the lights came on inside, and Molly shook her head quickly. “I don’t want to get in the way. Besides, I probably wouldn’t know most of the people there.”

  “You’ll know everybody there. It’s our year to plan this thing, so the whole committee comes from our graduating class. You know Aaron Clayton and Michelle Reeder?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Elaine Gunderson and Kayla Tucker?”

  “Elaine was one of my best friends in school.”

  “Ridge McGraw?”

  An image of a bowlegged young man flashed through her mind and she smiled. “Ridge is still here? I thought for sure he’d be riding on the pro rodeo circuit by now.”

  “He was. Hurt his back a couple of years ago and came home. He’s married. Two kids. Nice wife.”

  Molly hesitated another minute before agreeing. She’d come back to find answers, not to jump into small-town life just because Beau Julander crooked his finger at her.

  Then again, she did have two weeks to spend in Serenity. That should give her plenty of time to connect with old friends and still talk to people who knew her mother.

  And really, what was so wrong about living out an old fantasy for one day?

  THREE HOURS LATER, Beau led Molly up the sidewalk toward Ridge and Cheryl McGraw’s tiny frame house on the north end of town. He’d spent a couple of hours with the kids before dropping them off for a brief visit with his mother and rushing back to the motel. His mother had been thrilled to see the kids, but Brianne had been in one of her moods again.

  In response to her dour prediction that he might make it home in time for dinner, Beau had promised to buy dinner at the Chicken Inn if he was late. He didn’t mind paying for the meal, but his daughter’s trust was riding on his ability to conduct this meeting and be out of here before noon so he could spend time with the kids.

  The McGraws’ entire front yard was buried beneath a bed of fallen leaves, and slick spots on the pavement created by old, decaying leaves made the walk a little tricky. Beau had grown so used to Ridge’s aversion to yard work, he barely noticed it anymore. But this morning, with Molly behind him, he saw the mess with a fresh set of eyes and wondered what she must think after being away for so long.

  He swallowed the apology he felt rising in his throat and pretended not to notice the sagging porch railing and the windows splattered with dirt from the last big storm that had raged through the valley. His own yard and windows weren’t much better, and the realization didn’t sit well.

  He stepped around a piece of broken bicycle frame and turned back to make sure Molly didn’t trip. “You’ll like Ridge’s wife, I think. They met while he was on the circuit. Pretty girl. Friendly. She likes having the committee meetings here. It lets her keep an eye on him and make sure he doesn’t volunteer for something that’ll hurt his back again.” He motioned her toward the short flight of steps leading to the door. “If Ridge had his way, he’d still be riding bull.”

  Molly climbed the steps and moved aside to let him ring the bell. “I’m sure I’ll like her. Does this mean Ridge is the committee chair?”

  “I wish.” Beau pressed the buzzer and rocked back on his heels to wait. “They voted me head of the committee, but I should have said no. I enjoy being involved. I’m like my dad and grandpa, I guess—kind of a family tradition. But if I’d known how rough things would be with Heather gone, I would have stepped aside, at least for one year.”

  Molly looked at him oddly. “You miss her a lot, don’t you.”

  “Me?” He let out a sharp laugh. “I wouldn’t say that. The kids miss her, though, and that’s rough. Brianne’s had some tough times with her mother out of the picture, and I’m about as inept as a person can be about things like hair and fingernails and makeup.” He shook his head, nostalgic for the days when those were his biggest problems with his unhappy daughter. “But we’ll get through this. I’ll make sure of it.”

  He thought Molly was about to say something else, but the door opened, and whatever it was, was lost in the flurry of introductions, shouts of surprise, hugs and chatter as everyone tried to catch up at once. Eventually Cheryl, a tall, blonde woman with substantial curves and hair big enough to make any self-respecting rodeo queen proud, herded them all into the kitchen and settled them around the table.

  Beau watched Molly covertly as she reconnected with old friends, but when he realized that he was watching her a little too closely, paying a bit too much attention to her hair and eyes, to the curve of her cheek and the sound of her laugh, he forced himself to look away. It wasn’t that he was interested in her, he told himself firmly. He just wanted to make sure she was in good hands before he got down to business.

  Pulling the list he’d been making for three days from his pocket he spoke loud enough to be heard. “Okay, folks, let’s get with the program. Nobody wants this to take all day.”

  The conversations faded almost immediately, but it still took another fifteen minutes to pass out lemonade to interested parties, decide who wanted coffee, instead, and handle the debate over whether to serve chocolate cookies now or wait until they were ready for a break. No wonder he couldn’t get anything done at home. He was stuck in half-day-long meetings that should have taken half an hour at most.

  He made a mental note to call Mayor Biggs about his replacement on the planning committee and ignored the flicker of disappointment that came with the thought of stepping down. “Where are we with the parade, Aaron? Did Hinkley Hardware work out whatever the problem was with their float?”

  His best friend, Aaron Clayton, leaned back in his chair and linked his hands behind his head. He was as dark as Beau was fair, and the fact that his hairline was receding and Beau’s wasn’t had become a source of good-natured contention between them. “Everything’s fine,” he said now. “Betty Hinkley drove into Jackson and found crepe paper in a shade close enough for them to finish making the thing, so Alf decided not to withdraw, after all.”

  “Alf needs a reality check,” Kayla Tucker muttered. The faint scent of old cigarette smoke warred with her perfume, and she gestured broadly, putting Ridge’s lemonade at risk. “It was green. He’s never heard of leaves being slightly different colors before?”

  Beau met Molly’s amused glance across the table, then looked away quickly. “He’s happy now,” he said. “That’s what matters. What about the marching band? Is Mr. Cavalier still upset over that song—whatever it was?”

  Ridge moved his lemonade to a safer spot and stroked his thick mustache with a thumb and forefinger. Seeing everyone as Molly must, Beau realized how gray Ridge had grown lately, but it wasn’t surprising for a man who’d spent fifteen years being tossed around by livestock.

  “He’s proposed another compromise,” Ridge said. “If we let them play one song by Eminem, they’ll add a Sousa march in place of the other one.”

  “I suppose that’s all right,” Cheryl put in from the spot she’d taken up near the sink. “It’s not as if they’re going to be singing, and it’s the words people find offensive…isn’t it?”

  Hoping to avoid another lengthy debate on the evils of rap music, Beau glanced around the table. “Are you okay with this?” he asked Michelle. “More importantly, is Sam Harper okay with it?”

  Michelle lifted one shoulder in a gesture
of acquiescence. “We talked about it last night and he agreed that as long as nobody sings—and that means all the kids on the sidelines—he won’t sue.”

  “I don’t think we can guarantee that,” Aaron said. “I’m not even going to try. What’s wrong with Sam, anyway?”

  “He finds rap music offensive.”

  “I find the political statements he puts on his shop marquee offensive,” Aaron muttered, “but I don’t threaten to sue the city over them.”

  Cheryl rolled her eyes. “That’s different. Sam doesn’t put profanity on his signs. Just ask him and he’ll tell you all about it.”

  Ridge drained half his lemonade and set the glass down with a thunk. “Some of his opinions sure feel profane. The way he’s always trying to regulate everything chaps my hide. You can’t force people to do what you want them to do.”

  “Which is all beside the point,” Beau said, raising his voice to make sure he stopped the inevitable argument before it got started. “The point is, Drake Cavalier and the marching band are willing to compromise with us, and I think we should adopt the same spirit. All in favor?”

  He counted the vote quickly and congratulated himself on the victory, but he had less success in concluding the hour-long debate that followed over whether or not Sally Townsend’s homemade sugar cookies constituted a health hazard. Only Molly’s quietly offered opinion that Mrs. Townsend’s sugar cookies were a necessary tradition and Michelle’s grudging compromise to have the food handlers wear latex gloves when serving them brought the discussion to an end.

  Thirty minutes to go, and they still had the Homecoming Ball to deal with. Beau wanted to be optimistic about his chances of getting home on time, but he had a sick feeling that he’d not only be shelling out for dinner but paying in other ways for a long time to come.

  “Okay, folks, listen up. We have a lot to get through, so let’s get to work.” He felt the familiar flush of victory as he called for Michelle’s report on the decorations and she delivered it quickly and without embellishment. To avoid reneging on his promise to Brianne, he didn’t think twice about agreeing to meet with the entire committee on Wednesday evening to finish decorating the school gymnasium.