Silhouette Christmas Stories

by Ann Major

  Absently, he turned on the computer and reached for the disk. Once he finished the design and delivered it to his partner to begin the bidding process, then figured out what to do about Kris, he would have all the time in the world.

  Kris. The old man was as much trouble as his granddaughter. More. Now he even had the U.S. Marines worrying about him. Slade leaned back and stared blankly at the toes of his shoes. The U.S. Marines. Interesting.

  The screen suddenly came alive with colorful graphics. Slade ignored them, following the tenuous trail of what had to be the craziest idea he'd ever had.

  The U.S. Marines?

  Early the next morning, long before the rest of the family was stirring, Carroll took her cup of tea into the living room and stared out the window. That she happened to be looking in the direction of Slade's house was sheer coincidence, she told herself. It had nothing at all to do with the man himself. She always watched the sun spread its golden blanket over the hills beyond his place. The fact that there was no sun this morning, that the sky was a sullen gray, also had nothing to do with anything.

  Habit. That was all it was. She certainly wasn't camped here by the window to catch a glimpse of one of the world's most aggravating men. Anyway, he was probably already at work. That was where he spent most of his time-in front of his computer. Well, after last night's little trick, that was fine with her. He could sit there until he turned green from radiation.

  She took another sip of tea, frowning. No, that wasn't fair. He didn't spend every waking hour at the computer-her daughter and her father had seen to that. Each of them had infringed on large chunks of his time. And, she admitted grudgingly, he had given them more than they had asked for. Especially Kris.

  Her gaze sharpened, and she leaned closer to the window. Slade's pickup truck was gone. He kept his precious Mercedes in the garage, but his pickup was always in the carport. Except for now.

  Telling herself that she wasn't a bit curious, that she was only going out to get the morning paper, she set aside her cup and went to the front door. Before she opened it, she saw the note.

  It was taped to one of the small glass panes in the door. Black ink, written in an aggressive scrawl, her name on the front.

  Carroll, I have to go to town. Be back as soon as possible. I love you. Don't worry.

  Her heart gave a little leap, which she tried to ignore. Instead, she concentrated on the last two words. Worry? Why should she worry? Men always claimed the right to come and go. Mostly go. That was fine with her. If he came back, he came back. If he didn't, what else was new?

  Eight days later, Christy poked her head through Carroll's office door. "Mom?"

  "Hmm?"

  "Have you heard from Slade?"

  Carroll shook her head. "Not yet."

  "Where do you suppose he is?" Christy leaned against Carroll and gave a forlorn sigh.

  "Honey, he has a job, remember? He'll be back." Maybe.

  "When?"

  "I don't know."

  "The play's in six days."

  Carroll gave her a swift hug. "He knows that."

  Four days later, Kris sat perched on the corner of her desk. "What have you heard from Slade?"

  "Nothing. Why?"

  He gave an elaborate shrug. "No reason."

  "Come on, Kris."

  He shrugged again. "The day after tomorrow is Christmas Eve, and he's going to take care of the lights."

  Carroll's sigh was slightly ragged. "I don't know what to say."

  Kris patted her shoulder and bounced to his feet. "Too bad he missed the second batch, but he'll be back in plenty of time," he assured her.

  "Sure." If we're lucky.

  "Mom!" Christy bounced into the office, her face flushed with excitement. "Look what they just brought from Patty's flower shop!" She held a white box in either hand. "This one's yours." Her blue eyes snapped with excitement. "And this one's for me."

  Carroll held her box with fingers that shook. "You first," she said, smiling as Christy tore open the lid.

  "Oh, look! Isn't it gorgeous?" She lifted a small-corsage with a crimson tulip decorated as a bell. "There's a card, too." She lifted a glowing face. "It's from Slade, 'for the star of the show tomorrow night.'"

  Carroll opened her box and stared down at a delicate white orchid. The card said simply Save me a seat.

  That was all it said, but it meant so much more. And she knew-no, she believed-that he meant every word.

  She handed the box to Christy and said urgently, "Honey, put these in the fridge. I have to run into town for a minute."

  Christy's eyes grew even brighter. "For more presents?"

  Carroll nodded, grinning. "This one's for Slade."

  The morning of Christmas Eve, Carroll held her cup of tea and looked out at the empty carport. Robe-clad and yawning, Kris and Christy shuffled in, heading straight for the window. They both turned at the same time, alarm widening their eyes.

  "He isn't here," they said in unison.

  This time there was no hesitation, no qualification.

  "He will be," she said in a serene voice.

  Later that morning, Kris received a telephone call. It was a measure of his concern that he answered without complaint. Two minutes later he charged out of the house, calling that he would see them at the play.

  Later still, when Carroll drove Christy into town and parked by the playhouse, they saw that the marines had landed. Mac, Red and the rest of them, under Kris's supervision, were doing something with the lights.

  Carroll hugged Christy. "Good luck, darling."

  "Mother! You're supposed to tell me to break a leg."

  "I'm afraid to." She tapped the cast with a grin. "You'll be wonderful." She hurried away to join the audience.

  The show was just beginning when Slade eased into the seat beside her and reached for her hand. She felt the tension emanating from him and asked, "Is everything all right?"

  "Keep your fingers crossed," he whispered, then settled back with a satisfied grin. He did ask one question during intermission. "What is Christy's legal name?"

  A peculiar expression crossed Carroll's face. "Why?"

  "Just wondering. A point of reference, you might say."

  "She made me promise not to tell anyone."

  "I'll take a vow of silence if I have to. Just tell me."

  She swallowed. "Christmas Stilwell."

  Slade's eyes closed briefly, and he muttered, "I might have known."

  Thirty minutes later, with the sound of Christy's, "God bless us, everyone!" still ringing in the room, Slade jumped to his feet and led the enthusiastic applause.

  As the audience straggled outside, they went backstage to collect Christy. Beside herself with excitement, she hugged Slade and announced, "I'm going to be an actress."

  "You already are." He rumpled her hair. "A good one, at that." Glancing swiftly at his watch, he said, "Come on, we've got to get outside."

  "Slade?" She looked at him anxiously. "Are the lights going to go on for Kris?"

  He squeezed her hand. "I don't know," he said honestly. "But you know Kris. He believes in miracles. Anything can happen."

  "He believes in people," Christy said firmly, clutching his hand.

  When they joined the crowd outside, Carroll winced. "Oh no. Look over there."

  Slade's gaze followed hers, settling on a man wielding a minicam and a woman with a microphone talking to Tom Miller. "So they got their TV coverage. Let's hope it's worth their trip up here." He swung Christy up in his arms so she could get a better view.

  The crowd looked at the digital clock on the bank across the street and began a soft countdown. "Ten, nine, eight… "

  "Slade," Carroll began, then stopped when he draped his arm around her shoulders and tugged her closer. "Thank you for the flowers."

  "Five, four, three… "

  He looked down and smiled.

  "Two, one!"

  Tears stung Carroll's eyes as a glorious profusion of color flowered to
life around them. Lights glistened and glowed, illuminating the entire town. They came on, and they stayed on.

  Christy turned an awed face to Slade. "I bet we could light up the whole world."

  He groaned and tightened his arm around her. "Don't mention that to Kris. Please."

  Carroll nudged him. "How did you do it?"

  Shaking his head, he said simply, "I didn't. We can thank the U.S. Marines."

  Her brows rose. "Oh?"

  "I told them the problem, and they decided they could use a little positive PR. They donated the use of a diesel generator, and the boys volunteered to do some rewiring." He smiled complacently and nodded toward the minicam. "Tom should be telling the world about it right now."

  The church choir softly sang "Joy to the World," and soon everyone joined in. Carroll wiped a bit of moisture from her cheek, then dabbed at the tip of her nose. She blinked and looked around her. It was. It really was!

  She looked up, her eyes meeting Slade's. He grinned ruefully and shook his head.

  It was snowing.

  Right on schedule, Kris drove down the street, booming greetings to one and all. The hay wagon did indeed look like a sleigh. Rudolph and Blitzen, mercifully, did not look like reindeer. Eleven grinning marines sat among the pile of presents.

  When Santa parked his sleigh, Slade handed Christy up to one of the marines, then found a quiet spot for himself and Carroll to watch.

  "I didn't put my gift on the sleigh," he told her quietly.

  "I didn't, either."

  They reached into their coat pockets, and each of them brought out a small box. When they exchanged them, Slade said, "You first."

  It was a ring, a solitaire diamond, sparkling and darting, reflecting the dazzling lights all around them.

  "Will you marry me, Carroll? Will you trust me to love you the way you should be loved? Will you-"

  She stopped his words with her fingers. "First, open your present."

  He lifted the lid. Taking out a small enamel pin, he said, "A dove?"

  She shook her head, smiling uncertainly. "It was as close as I could come to a homing pigeon. It's silly, I guess, but I wanted to tell you that I know you'll always come back."

  He slid the ring on her finger, and they both looked up to see Christy watching, doing an awkward jig in the crowded sleigh. Carroll threw her arms around his neck and tugged, bringing his mouth down to hers. Hunger and trust and love blended in the brief kiss.

  Behind them, her voice shrill with excitement, Christy called, "God bless us, every one!"

  Holding Carroll tight against him, Slade asked, "How do you feel about Harold if the first one's a boy?"

  "I hate it," she said promptly, her voice muffled against his jacket.

  He smiled. There was hope. "Merry Christmas, darling."

  "Merry Christmas."

  Author's Note

  One morning, lying in bed, half-awake and half-asleep, the idea for this story came to me. I thought of Kris and his lights, Noel and her painting, a girl who wanted a father, a woman afraid to love and a man who had enough love for all of them. I liked the idea and planned to do something with it. Someday. Several days later, my editor called and asked if I would like to do a Christmas story. Timing is rarely that perfect.

  I love everything about Christmas.

  I still look at tinsel, trees, lights, TV specials, poinsettias, garlands and wrapped presents with wide-eyed wonder. I love shopping, crowds, carols and cards with family news and special messages of love. Most of all, I enjoy family get-togethers and seeing old friends.

  It's a season for dreaming and believing.

  It's a season that suits me quite well because I have a lot of Kris in me-I'm big on dreaming impossible dreams and reaching for stars. And, like Kris, I believe that dreams do come true-you just have to be willing to work at them.

  From me and mine to you and yours, a shower of blessings. May you have health, joy, prosperity and love. May you dream big, and may all your dreams come true.

  ***

  ALWAYS AND FOREVER by Lindsay McKenna

  To L/Cpl. Jim Flint and

  Cpl. John Connelly, USMC-Vietnam veterans and dear friends

  who served with me at Moffett Field, USNAS, California, 1965.

  You served with pride and patriotism.

  I salute you.

  A recipe from Lindsay McKenna:

  My mom took a fruitcake recipe and changed it around to please us-by adding black walnuts, which we gathered every fall.

  RUTH'S CHRISTMAS FRUITCAKE

  9 eggs (or enough to measure 2 1/4 cups)

  1 lb raisins

  1 lb candied cherries, cut up

  I lb walnuts (or black walnuts, if you can find them!)

  1/4 lb candied citron

  1/4 lb candied orange peel

  1/4 lb coconut

  3 cups unbleached flour

  1 1/2 cups shortening, softened

  1 1/2 cups sugar

  2/3 cup orange juice

  1 1/2 tsp baking powder

  3/4 tsp salt

  Preheat oven to 300° F. Line and grease two 9" X 5" x 3" loaf pans or one 10" x 4" tube pan. Set aside.

  Cream together shortening and sugar until fluffy. Beat in eggs. Set aside.

  Sift together flour, baking powder and salt. Alternately stir flour mixture and orange juice into shortening mixture. Blend in fruits and nuts.

  Fill pan(s) to almost full. Bake loaf cakes for 2 1/2 to 3 hours. Bake tube cake for 3 1/2 to 4 hours. Cover with foil during last hour of baking. Cakes are done when toothpick or knife inserted in center comes out clean.

  Chapter One

  December 24, 1973

  Castle Air Force Base, California

  Captain Kyle Anderson jogged up the sidewalk toward Captain Mike Taylor's base home. Was he too late? Kyle was supposed to go with his best friend, who was getting married tomorrow, to pick up their Air Force dress uniforms from the base cleaners, but he'd overslept. Damn!

  Rubbing his smarting, bloodshot eyes, Kyle rapped his knuckles sharply against the door. Tomorrow, Mike was marrying Gale Remington, an Air Force officer he'd met a year ago. On Christmas Day, of all things. It was like Mike to do something romantic like that.

  Kyle's breath was coming out in white wisps as he stood restlessly, hunched down into his dark blue wool coat, waiting to see if Mike was home.

  "Mike?" His voice carried impatiently as he waited at the door, knocking even more loudly. Looking around, Kyle realized he was probably attracting the attention of every Air Force wife in base housing. They'd probably be looking out their windows to see who was shouting at 0800.

  He'd overslept because of jet lag. Four days ago, Kyle had flown to Castle A.F.B. from Udorn, Thailand, where his fighter squadron was based, to be best man at Mike's wedding. But because of time-zone changes and the need to unplug physically and emotionally from the duties of a fighter pilot in Vietnam, Kyle was exhausted.

  The door opened. Kyle grinned, expecting to see his friend from boyhood. Instead, he saw Gale, Mike's beautiful fiancee. His smile slipped considerably in surprise, his eyes widening as she opened the screen door.

  "Hi, Kyle. If you're looking for Mike, he took off about fifteen minutes ago for the cleaners."

  Pulse skyrocketing, Kyle drew in a shaky breath. He stood there, tongue-tied. Ever since he'd been introduced to Gale three days ago, his world had been out of control like a jet in a flat spin. The moment he'd looked into her incredible forest-green eyes, something wonderful, something terrible had happened to him. Once, twenty-five-year-old Kyle would have scoffed at the idea of falling head over heels for any woman on first sight. But he wasn't laughing now.

  Placing his hands on his hips in a typical arrogant jet-jockey gesture, he covered his reaction to her. "Hi, Gale." God, did she realize what she did to him? It was agony to be around her because he wanted to simply absorb her, lose himself in her sunny smile, and stare into those dancing eyes that held such sparkling lif
e in their depths.

  Gale smiled shyly. "Mike said you might be late. He'll pick up your uniform." She forced herself to look away from Kyle's hawklike blue eyes that were large with intelligence. If there was such a thing as brazen self-confidence, Kyle possessed it. His stance was cocky and unapologetic. He was a proud eagle standing before her, knowing he was the cream of the Air Force pilot crop because he was an Academy graduate. Her pulse was doing funny things and she tried to ignore it. Since meeting Kyle, an exhilarating force swept through her whenever she thought of him or saw him. When Kyle looked at her with that burning intensity, she felt shaky, her carefully mapped out world falling apart.

  "I overslept," he said with a laugh. He wasn't going to admit to her he couldn't shake the jet lag. Gale looked vulnerable and pretty in a pink long-sleeved blouse. The red apron tied around her waist and the dark brown slacks showed off her slim figure. She didn't look like a captain or a meteorologist, but she was both. Her hair, a pageboy of shifting brown color interlaced with gold and a few delicate strands of burnished copper, barely touched the collar of her blouse. He had to get away. It wasn't good to be here alone with her. God knew he'd taken great pains not to be alone with Gale-because he hadn't known what he'd do if he was. She affected him deeply.

  It wasn't Gale's fault. She was hopelessly in love with Mike. Kyle rationalized his attraction to Gale by telling himself that because she was Mike's fiancee, he naturally liked her. "Look, I'll come back later," he said, his mouth growing dry.

  "Nonsense, come on in. Mike's due back in less than half an hour and he wants you to stay for breakfast. Why go all the way back to the B.O.Q. just to come back later?"

  Hesitating, Kyle glanced at the watch on his wrist. A half hour. It would look stupid to leave if Mike was going to be back that soon. "Well… "

  Gale stepped aside, looking up at him. A large part of her wanted him to leave because in his presence, her emotions vibrated with a strange yearning she'd never experienced. But etiquette dictated differently. "You look tired. Come in. I've got a pot of fresh coffee." She knew Kyle had flown from Thailand to attend the wedding. The strain of what the war had done to him showed on his lean face, around his eyes and in the set of his mobile mouth. Heat fled through her, sweet and unexpected, as she stared at him.