Come to the Lake

by Macarthur, Autumn

  Visiting Mrs. Parks to check how she was recovering from her hip replacement, deliver a few groceries, and invite her over for Christmas lunch.

  Making sure the props for the nativity play survived storage in the barn. With Mrs. Parks out of action, she’d need to set up on her own this year.

  Then getting to work laying new hardwood flooring in the small spare room. Best to practice there before tackling the far bigger main bedroom.

  And no getting away from the need to split more firewood if she wanted to keep enjoying the treat of a real fire.

  Maybe she should have let Ryan split some for her instead of refusing his unspoken offer last week. He had a mechanic splitter after all, while she used the old-fashioned method — lifting and swinging a heavy maul. A word she hadn’t even known meant a type of ax before moving here.

  Whatever she called it, it was sheer hard work. Ryan could split the wood in a fraction of the time.

  “No way! You forget that idea, right now.”

  Her emphatic words startled the cat into jumping from her lap. Quickly, Claire leaned forward to stroke and reassure the tabby. No mistaking that there were kittens on their way. Even she would have figured it out by now, despite the cat’s long fur. “Sorry, Mrs. M. I didn’t mean to scare you. You can sit on my lap a little longer.”

  The cat didn’t listen, taking up station in front of the woodstove and sitting mesmerized by the flames dancing behind the thick glass panel in the door.

  Claire wrapped both hands around her mug and took a soothing sip. The warm, milky chocolate strengthened her enough to list the many reasons not to accept Ryan’s help.

  As if a pregnant cat and a pregnant best friend weren’t enough reminders.

  One: the exercise of splitting wood was good for her. Thanks to that, all the walking she did here, and fixing up the house, she ate more than she ever had yet still toned up and even lost a few pounds. Plus, she’d developed muscles she never knew she had back in Austin. She hadn’t missed the gym one bit.

  Two: he had a business to run. She couldn’t take advantage of his generous nature by letting him work for her for free. Everyone in Sunset Point knew buying this old house and slowly renovating it more or less cleared out her bank account. Her meager teacher’s salary was public record.

  Almost certainly, Ryan wouldn’t permit her to pay him to work on her house or in her yard or would quote a ridiculously low amount. The only folk he charged full price were the summer people whose holiday homes he maintained.

  Three: she could do it herself, unlike some of the town’s older widows he routinely helped.

  Four: her vow never to depend on anyone else again. To become self-sufficient and independent enough to do everything she needed on her own. Like the pioneer women had to. She wouldn’t let herself think about what sparked that vow.

  And five: more time with Ryan than absolutely necessary was a very bad idea. Those hours of verbal sparring with him last Friday over his Christmas tree addled her brain. She’d enjoyed his company a little too much.

  Okay, a lot too much. She needed to stop thinking about the man, right now.

  A large gulp drained her mug, and she set it on the coffee table.

  Time to go visit Mrs. Parks before it got too dark and she got too comfortable to want to go out in the cold again. Besides, if she left running the errand much later, Brad and Maddie would have closed the store. Though they’d gladly open it up again for her to purchase the items Mrs. Parks wanted, she wouldn’t ask. They deserved their rest, too. Especially Maddie.

  Getting back into her cold-weather gear took her almost as long as walking to the store. The bright lights shining through the big glass doors showed she’d made it in time. Brad, out on the wide porch putting things away for the night, waved as she passed.

  She waved back.

  Something she loved about Sunset Point — the real sense of community. Of course, that had its drawbacks, like being unable to avoid anyone she didn’t particularly want to see.

  And there she was back thinking about Ryan again.

  Her hurried entrance into the store set the bell above the door jangling. No sign of Maddie.

  “I’ll be right there.” Maddie’s voice sounded from the storeroom.

  “Don’t hurry. I’ll let you know when I’m done.” After picking up a basket, Claire began to assemble the items she needed to deliver. It didn’t take long to locate everything Mrs. Parks requested.

  Maddie plodded from the storeroom, way more noticeably expecting than Mrs. Mehitabel. “Hey, here’s my bestie.”

  Putting the basket down, Claire gave her friend a gentle hug. Normally, she’d go out of her way to sidestep being around pregnant women. Such a good friend was impossible to sidestep.

  Despite the baby on the way and the far-too-obvious matchmaking, she still loved Mads.

  Though pulling the scrunchie from her braid last Friday and refusing to give it back was seriously pushing their friendship. Not to mention, wasted effort. Ryan seeing her with her hair loose couldn’t make any difference.

  “How did your OB visit go? I hope he gave you the reprieve you wanted.”

  Maddie beamed. “Yep. He agreed to delay the C-section till the twenty-seventh. I can have my Christmas at home. And I’ll be here for the carol singing too.”

  “Yes!” Claire victory punched the air. “Awesome, Mads. I’m so glad your doctor didn’t stick to his insistence the baby should be born next week.”

  “I’m glad, too!” Maddie almost glowed.

  Overjoyed though she was for her friend, Claire couldn’t stop an ache gripping her heart hard enough to squeeze the blood from it. Fear for her friend and the baby, that they might not make it through safely. Along with the aching certainty she’d never be where Maddie was — married, secure in her husband’s love, and soon to add a much-wanted second child to her family.

  Yet again, she longed to demand God tell her why, but she didn’t bother trying. No reason He’d answer this time when He never had before.

  Dragging her thoughts away from pointless self-pity, she focused on Maddie.

  “I want to make our first Christmas back together as a family something special for Brad and Jacob. That would be tough to do if the baby and I were stuck in the hospital, and they were in a motel room.”

  “It would. So it’s fab the doctor has given you that chance.”

  “Dr. Romero worries over things that will never happen.” Maddie shook her head. “Like me suddenly going into labor before Christmas. If he really thought that, he wouldn’t have laughed when I told him I wanted to try for a normal delivery this time. I guess going two weeks overdue with Jacob, having to be induced, laboring twenty-four hours, and then having an emergency C-section because I got nowhere kinda rules that out.”

  “At least with the planned C-section, you won’t need to go through that this time. Phew! But can Susanna and Pat still come to mind the store? You know I’ll gladly help out if needed.”

  “Though they’ll be sorry to miss the carol singing, after Christmas works out better for them. God’s perfect timing, as always.” Sure in her faith, Maddie spoke with confidence.

  Claire wasn’t so sure. Not the least bit sure. But she wouldn’t say so to her friend. Instead, she’d fuss over her. “You need to rest way more than you do. Why not let me mind Jacob next week.”

  “I’ll see how things go. Liz offered, of course, but she forgets she’s his great-grandmother, not his grandmother. She really isn’t well enough. Besides, Jacob will be thrilled to visit with you, because of Mrs. Mehitabel.” She chuckled. “I warn you — he’s already staked a claim on one of the kittens.”

  “He’s welcome. One less for me to find a home for. Unless I become Sunset Point’s very own crazy cat lady and keep them all.” The idea did have a certain appeal. Claire lifted her basket of groceries onto the counter. “I’d better pay for these and get over to visit Mrs. Parks.”

  Laughing, Maddie began to add up her pur
chases. “Somehow, I can’t see you as an old spinster cat lady. But hey, if that’s what you want, go for it.”

  “I might!” Claire paid, picked up her shopping, and left the store. Out on the street, the cold air bit through even her thickest coat. Thankfully, she didn’t need to walk far.

  Despite doctor’s orders to use crutches, Mrs. Parks took less time than Claire expected to answer the doorbell. Even managed to hold back Toto, her little bitzer dog, with the tip of one crutch, while he yapped wildly.

  Her surprise at how sprightly the older woman appeared must have shown.

  “I know I’m convalescing, but I see no reason to dillydally. Simply get on with things, that’s what I say. I know not everyone agrees with me.” A somewhat scornful lift of the retired teacher’s chin suggested she had little time for anyone who didn’t.

  Claire managed a noncommittal, “Hmmm.”

  Not wise to get in an argument with Mrs. Parks.

  And she knew better than to try to pet the dog. Last time she tried, Toto bared his teeth and growled at her. Normally folk said owners become like their dogs. This seemed more a dog becoming like its owner.

  Mrs. Parks ushered her into an immaculately tidy living room and invited her to sit on the hard couch. The small and sparsely decorated Christmas tree Ryan delivered stood in one corner, far more the size Claire wanted for the school.

  “Here are your groceries.” She proffered the bag. “Would you like me to put them away for you?”

  “No need. I can manage,” the older woman snapped the words out. “Once I’m allowed to drive again, I won’t need to trouble anyone for help.”

  Mrs. Parks seemed even more brisk and bracing than usual, making Claire hesitate over the wisdom of inviting her to Christmas lunch. But with Christmas less than two weeks away and the rest of the Parks family off visiting other relatives, she shouldn’t leave asking too much longer. “I wanted to ask what your plans are for Christmas Day. You’re welcome to come to my house for lunch. I’ll drive you both ways, of course.”

  No answer but a frown.

  “Of course, you may already have plans,” Claire rushed into speech. “I just thought, with Richard and Jan away…? Didn’t you spend Christmas with them last year?

  “Them being away makes absolutely no difference to my plans. Just because we bear the same last name doesn’t mean we live in each other’s pockets.” Mrs. Parks’s voice sharpened. “Younger folk won’t want an old third-cousin-by-marriage hanging around like the Ghost of Christmas Past. My husband died long before Richard was born. Besides, I don’t make a fuss about Christmas. Never have, never will. We should give thanks every day for our Lord’s birth, not restrict it to one day a year.”

  Well and truly told, Claire blinked and shook her head a little, then pasted on a smile. “I guess we all should thank God more often.” Not that she could. Not after what happened.

  “And what about you? Why aren’t you going to your parents again, as you did last year?”

  Claire almost jerked back as, like Toto when she’d tried to pet him, Mrs. Parks went on the attack after an attempted kindness.

  She hadn’t gone to her parents last year. She’d given in to Mom’s nagging to go home and been relieved when flight cancellations meant she spent Christmas in the airport hotel, and could drive back to Sunset Point the next day. Though she really did miss her family, avoiding them was far easier.

  Allowed her to also avoid talking about the past or having to think how different things could have been if Rose had lived. She’d be five this year, excited over Christmas trees and presents.

  Pushing that thought away, Claire had an honest excuse handy for Mrs. Parks. “They’ll be at my sister’s this year. She doesn’t have space to entertain a crowd in her dining room.” She stood. “Sorry to rush off so soon, but I really do need to go. I’m very busy.”

  “Busy is the best way to be. Thank you for getting these.” Mrs. Parks indicated the shopping bag beside her chair, then picked up her purse and fumbled in it. “I must pay you, of course.”

  “Please don’t worry about it.” Claire smiled. “You can consider it my Christmas gift to you.”

  “Most definitely not. I don’t need charity. If you won’t let me pay, I can’t possibly accept them.” Mrs. Parks poked a twenty-dollar bill toward her. “Here, take this. Or take the groceries away.”

  “But they didn’t cost that much.”

  “In that case, you can consider the difference recompense for your time.” Ignoring her protests, the older widow stayed adamant.

  No point arguing. She could be stubborn, but in Mrs. Parks, she’d met her match. Rather than take the bread, milk, and other essentials away, Claire reluctantly tucked the cash into her coat pocket.

  Back home, the mention of the Ghost of Christmas Past still haunted her. She had ghosts, too. Bittersweet memories of Christmases with her family and with Karl. Today, a new ghost joined the painfully familiar old ones.

  The Ghost of Christmas Future.

  Would she go through the years ahead like Mrs. Parks, becoming more and more alone and bitter?

  Not something Claire wanted to consider. Better to think about anything but that.

  Well, anything apart from Ryan.

  And all she’d lost in the accident.

  She put a casserole in the oven, then busied herself upstairs, laying out the hardwood flooring in the spare bedroom. According to the instructions, the wood needed to adjust to the room conditions before she began cutting and placing it.

  Only one problem. The room overlooked her backyard, as well as all the way into the adjoining yard of the house Ryan shared with his mom, directly behind hers. Their outdoor lighting gave her no chance to ignore Ryan, busy carrying tools from his truck into his workshop.

  And there she was, back thinking of him again, the way she’d done all week. Worse, feeling uncomfortably like a stalker, covertly watching him.

  Somehow, she’d made it through the final week of school without bumping into him, though it took some ducking and diving to avoid him.

  This Sunday, it wouldn’t be so easy. Pastor Roberts would be in town, and the schoolroom would become a church for the morning. She’d have to see Ryan there. Summer or winter, he never missed attending.

  To make things worse, if he asked, she’d have to admit the annoying man had been right about everything he’d said.

  The children loved the huge classroom tree, far more than they would have appreciated the smaller one she’d planned. And a quick phone call to the vet in Sandpoint confirmed her cat most likely was pregnant, but as long as Mrs. Mehitabel seemed well, Claire didn’t need to drive through the snow with her for a face-to-face consultation.

  He’d simply better not ask.

  At least it was her turn to take Sunday school this week. Hiding out with the kids in the tiny log cabin beside the school, once the original schoolhouse and now the library, would surely help her avoid him.

  She turned her back to the window. And to Ryan.

  And in the meantime, she’d simply better stop thinking about him.

  Chapter 6

  Ryan usually enjoyed splitting firewood. Unlike much of his other work, where attention to detail could make the difference between a house staying up or falling down, feeding logs into the hydraulic splitter was a no-brainer. He could slip into an easy rhythm — bend, lift log, drop into splitter, repeat — and let his mind wander.

  Normally, his only problem with it was the noise. Hand tools worked better for just about every woodworking task. Made the user slow down, think about what he was doing. But he’d never split enough firewood the old-fashioned way.

  Besides, today he had a reason for wanting the noise.

  Claire Robinson.

  He’d heard her at work in her house, the Mitchells’ old place, all morning. Using a circular saw, by the sound of it. A huge distraction.

  He couldn’t help but be concerned for her. Not that he’d make the mistake of letting h
er guess so again. He’d offered help and advice before and been sent away with his tail between his legs.

  No doubt, she’d call him sexist for worrying more about her than he would over a man doing DIY. He still did worry. Not so much because she was a woman.

  Because she was Claire.

  When she first moved in, he’d seen her cutting replacement clapboards for her porch and offered to help her. She’d insisted he shouldn’t assume she was incapable of using power tools. That any woman who could safely use a blender or a food processor could just as capably use a circular saw. Probably they could. But she wasn’t just any woman.

  Sure, he admired her gutsy attitude and willingness to tackle big jobs. But admiring it didn’t stop him from offering help. Didn’t stop him from wanting to make the work easier for her. Or stop him wanting to spend more time with her, either.

  And there was the problem. Today, a bigger issue than the splitter noise was where the mindless task let his thoughts wander. Claire, Claire, and more Claire.

  Had she really sent him so nuts over her he imagined she was calling his name?

  Surely not.

  Yet somehow, even through his earmuffs, even over the splitter, he kept hearing it, over and over.

  “Ryan.”

  “Ryan.”

  “Ryan!”

  He pulled up his earmuffs with one hand and switched off the splitter with the other.

  “Ryan Connor, so help me, if you don’t hear this time I’ll have to jump out this window!”

  That frustrated yell was not his imagination.

  He spun 180 degrees and looked up. She’d opened the sash window in one of her upstairs rooms as far as it would go and sat on the sill, jeans-clad legs dangling. No sign of smoke or any other danger. But for Claire to ask him for help, something must be really wrong.

  Lord, please don’t let it be anything serious.

  No sign of smoke, and she didn’t sound injured, but still, no harm praying. “I hear you. On my way,” he shouted back.

  Stripping off his work gloves and dropping them, he ran to the fence dividing the two properties, vaulted it, and raced to stand below the window. By the time he got there, her head and shoulders poked out of the window instead of her legs.