The Forest Ranger's Christmas

by Leigh Bale

  She loved her grandparents, he had no doubt. And he couldn’t blame her for feeling protective of Frank. No one lived in this small town and didn’t hear what a kind, charitable man Frank Rushton was. But right now, Clint had a hunch. His own past experience with Karen told him he was right. Frank couldn’t read. Not because he couldn’t see well enough without his spectacles, but because he didn’t know how to put the letters together to form the words.

  “Please, Frank. Get your glasses and read for me,” Clint insisted.

  Frank’s shoulders tensed, but Clint couldn’t back down. As a ranger, he had an obligation to protect the national forest. It was his job. His first priority after Gracie. If Frank was going up on the mountain to cut trees, he needed to be able to read the posted signs. Clint also wanted to help Frank, if he could.

  With a labored breath, the elderly man nodded, and his head drooped in resignation. “All right.”

  He disappeared into the living room. Josie stood beside the doorway, arms folded, her mouth set tight in outrage. Clint decided to be patient. He couldn’t help feeling surprised to see her here. Christmas was still weeks away and he knew from talking to Josie’s grandparents that she’d never spent this much time with them in the past. Not since she was a little kid. So why was she here?

  “How’s your work at the pharmacy going?” he asked, trying to make small talk. Trying to keep from becoming her enemy.

  “Fine.” Her clipped reply didn’t encourage further banter.

  “It must have required a lot of schooling to become a pharmacist.”

  “It did.”

  He thought about his own master’s degree in geology. Even with his advanced education, he still felt like a fool in this woman’s presence. All jittery and nervous. He could take or leave most women. But with Josie, something was different. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. It was as though he knew her from some far-off memory. As if there was a magnetic attraction he didn’t understand, yet couldn’t deny.

  “You’re in early for a holiday visit this year,” he said.

  “That’s right.”

  “Any special reason?”

  “It’s not your concern.”

  He rubbed his hand against his bristly chin. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

  She was a blunt little thing, he’d give her that. So blunt that she bordered on rude. But Clint got the impression it was all an act. A form of self-preservation. He could read it in her wary eyes. A mist of fear seemed to hover over her. And that brought out the protective instincts in him like never before. Safeguarding women was a weakness he’d never seemed able to overcome. His own mother had been widowed after Clint had graduated from college, so he came by the trait naturally. Mom had needed his help and he’d gladly stepped up to the task. But Josie was different. Caring for another woman would only bring him and his daughter more heartache. Something he must avoid like the plague.

  Yes, he knew something was up. He could feel it in his bones. Even so, Josie was right. Her presence here wasn’t his business. He tried to tell himself he didn’t care, but he knew that wasn’t true. She obviously didn’t want to tell him about it, so he shut up.

  A horrible silence followed.

  Frank returned, wire-rimmed spectacles in hand. It took another two laborious minutes for him to clean them, then plant the glasses firmly on the bridge of his nose before he held up the pamphlet and stared at the words. His hand trembled, betraying his anxiety. But he didn’t read. Not a single word.

  Possibly because he was holding the pamphlet upside down.

  Clint stepped forward and gently turned the leaflet right side up. With eagle-eyed focus, Josie watched every move.

  She laid a hand on his arm. “Gramps? Read it out loud.”

  The tender gesture didn’t go unnoticed by Clint. Maybe it was good she was here to offer moral support to her grandfather.

  Frank whipped the glasses off his face and tossed them on the table. They clattered against the porcelain cookie jar shaped like a yellow pineapple. Josie gasped and stepped back.

  Frank stared at the floor, obviously embarrassed. And Clint hated every minute of it, knowing he was the cause. Knowing he’d hurt this good man to the core.

  “I’m sorry, Josie. The ranger’s right. I can’t read. Not a word,” Frank said.

  “Gramps!” A look of incredulity washed over Josie’s face and she clapped a hand to her mouth in disbelief.

  All the sadness of the world filled Frank’s gaze, a lost expression Clint had frequently seen in Karen’s eyes.

  “Why do you think after your mom died your grandma and I pushed you so hard to do well in school?” Frank asked Josie. “We didn’t want you to end up like me. Can’t even read the daily newspaper. Uneducated and stupid.”

  “You’re not stupid, Gramps. You’re the smartest man I know,” Josie objected in a passionate voice.

  Clint agreed. “Definitely. You’re very smart, Frank. Being able to read has nothing to do with a person’s intelligence, believe me.”

  But a sick feeling settled in Clint’s gut. He took no delight in revealing the truth. He’d suspected for a long time that Frank couldn’t read. Too many clues had led to this conclusion. But now, Clint’s heart tightened with compassion. He couldn’t forget how Frank and his wife had lovingly provided child care for his daughter when they’d first moved to town three years earlier. Even when Clint had been called out overnight to fight wildfires, Frank and Viola Rushton had tended his little girl as if she were their very own. And look how Clint repaid them. By revealing a secret Frank had kept hidden all his life.

  The elderly man lifted his gaze to Clint, his eyes filled with uncertainty. “What gave me away?”

  Clint smiled warmly, trying to lighten the tense moment. Trying to show an increase of love toward this good man and his irascible granddaughter. After all, it was the Christian thing to do.

  “To begin with, you held the hymnal upside down at church once. I’ve also noticed you can’t seem to orient yourself in the scriptures. You flip through the pages and quote them from memory better than anyone I know, but you can’t find a specific verse when the Sunday school teacher calls on you. And I’ve seen you at the power company, paying your bills in person, with cash, instead of paying online or mailing in a check, like most people do.”

  Josie narrowed her eyes. “How would paying with cash indicate he can’t read?”

  “My wife did the same thing. She always paid our bills in cash because she couldn’t write a check.” Clint had been proud of Karen’s accomplishment when she’d learned to read, but he didn’t like talking about her now. Even after seven years, the pain of how she’d died was still too raw, the guilt over her death still too fresh.

  “I don’t understand,” Josie said.

  Clint released a deep sigh. “Let’s just say I recognized the signs. You fake it quite well, Frank. And today, when you claimed you hadn’t read the tree permit signs up on the mountain, it all added up. Those signs are too large for anyone to miss, unless you can’t read them.”

  And Clint knew firsthand what it was like to cope with illiteracy. Karen had been highly defensive about her disability and had found ways to hide it from other people. She’d constantly feared someone might find out and make fun of her. That, coupled with the physical abuse she’d endured as a child, had left Karen with no self-esteem whatsoever. Even after they’d married and she’d learned to read, she’d never gained much confidence. And no matter how hard Clint tried to convince her, she’d never really believed that he or God loved her.

  Clint had failed to make Karen happy, but he was determined to make a difference for Frank.

  “What now? Will you have me arrested anyway?” Frank asked, his bushy brows arched in misery.

  Josie gave a sharp inhalation and Clint inwardly cri
nged. It was bad enough to reveal Frank’s secret without worrying about Josie’s disapproval. At least her concern for her grandfather appeared genuine. But Clint wished once more that she wasn’t here to complicate the issue. Then again, maybe she could help remedy the problem.

  “No, you’re not going to jail.” Clint stepped forward and rested a hand on the older man’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Frank. You can see now why I thought we should speak in private. I didn’t want to advertise this. I just want to help.”

  Frank dragged back one of the chairs before dropping into it. He raked his fingers through his thin white hair, making it stand on end. Josie walked to her grandfather and rubbed his back, offering silent support. The man reached up and patted her hand, then leaned his elbows on the table, looking wilted with defeat.

  Josie’s caring gestures confused Clint. She was a beautiful woman, but a bit overbearing and brusque. He remembered the glow of pleasure that permeated Frank’s face whenever he spoke about Josie and her career as a pharmacist. And then Frank’s disappointment when she’d canceled numerous trips home because she was too busy working. Over the years, her absence had hurt Frank and Viola, though they’d never admitted it out loud. Of course, Josie lived in Vegas, a ten-hour drive one way. But since Viola had died, Josie had been coming around more often. At least this year Frank wouldn’t be alone for Christmas.

  “Frank, we have a learn-to-read program at the library downtown,” Clint said. “I volunteer there almost every Thursday night. They’re a great support group, but if you don’t like that option, I can come here to your house in the evenings. I’d like to help you learn to read.”

  Frank stared at the dingy wall, his mouth taut. “I’m afraid I’m too old to learn, Ranger. It’s too late for me.”

  Clint snorted. “No, it’s not. It’s never too late to learn anything. Not if you really try. And stop calling me ranger. We’re good friends and you know my name.”

  Clint tried to sound positive, while avoiding Josie’s glare. No doubt she was in shock, finding out the truth like this. Clint had felt the same way when he’d learned his new bride couldn’t read. Having grown up in the poverty of a coal-mining community, Karen had been raised by an abusive stepfather. She’d been almost twenty-three years old before Clint had taught her to read. But even then, she’d never overcome the stigma. Depression had haunted her most of her life. Now, Clint worked at the local library in the learn-to-read program to honor Karen’s memory. Because he’d loved her.

  Because he’d failed to save her life.

  “My brain doesn’t work good like it used to,” Frank said.

  “Your brain works fine, and I’ll prove it to you.” Clint sat across from Frank and met the old man’s gaze with a wide smile. “If you’ll agree to participate in a reading program for just two months, I’ll make the tree permit issue go away. In fact, you and I will deliver your trees to the civic center and hand them out to the widows tomorrow morning. I’ll pick you up at 8:00 a.m. But you’d need to be in the reading program for at least eight weeks. Do we have a deal?” He thrust out his hand.

  For several moments, Frank studied his face, as though thinking things over. “Do I have any other choice?”

  Clint licked his bottom lip, not wanting to be too forceful. He had no idea what he’d do if Frank refused his offer. He’d probably let the issue drop and still give the trees away to the widows. He certainly wasn’t going to call Officer Tim back to arrest the man. But learning to read would take time. It also could make such a difference in Frank’s life. It could open an entire world. And Clint wanted so much to help.

  To redeem himself for failing Karen.

  “Everyone has a choice, Frank. Even you,” he said.

  “Are there other people that can’t read in the program at the library?”

  “Yes, two. Both are members of our congregation. So you already know them. And I’ll bet they’d be happy to see you there, too.”

  Frank paused for several moments, as though thinking this over. Finally, he lifted his hand and they shook on it. “All right, I may not be able to read, but I’m no coward. I’ll go to the library.”

  A whoosh of air escaped Josie’s lungs. “While I’m here for the holidays, I can help, too. And you’re the bravest man I know, Gramps.”

  “I agree,” Clint said.

  “So what now?”

  Clint stood and turned toward the door, pasting a generous smile on his face. “Now we go to work. I’ll see you in the morning, and then again at the library at seven o’clock next Thursday night.”

  Josie nodded, going through the motions of listening. Her vacant look indicated she wished Clint would leave now. And he was ready and willing to oblige her.

  Reaching for the doorknob, he paused long enough to bid them farewell. “Have a good evening. And merry Christmas!”

  They didn’t respond. A stunned silence filled the air with gloom. Josie stood looking at him like an ice queen, her blue eyes filled with doubt and some other emotion Clint couldn’t quite fathom.

  Fear, perhaps?

  Clint didn’t ask. As he stepped outside, the frigid air embraced him. It was still early, but darkness mantled the town. Christmas lights gleamed along the neighbor’s houses across the street. Frost formed patterns of lace on the windshield of his truck. He climbed inside and fired up the engine before switching on the defroster. He decided it was quite a bit warmer out here than in Josie’s frigid, glowering presence.

  He hadn’t meant to upset the pretty pharmacist, but he had. And for some reason, that bothered Clint intensely.

  Chapter Three

  Two days later, Josie stood with her shopping cart at the back of the only grocery store along Main Street. The place also served as a hardware store. Christmas songs blared over the loudspeaker, but she didn’t hum along. The scent of freshly popped corn filled the air, along with the happy chatter of shoppers. In spite of all this, it still didn’t feel like Christmas. Not to her. Not with Gramps in such a sour mood.

  Looking down at her shopping cart, she studied the boxes of colored Christmas lights she’d selected. No matter what Gramps said, she was determined to hang them on his house. After what had happened with the ranger, he needed cheering up.

  So did she.

  Turning, she perused two fake Christmas trees. The pictures on the outside of the cardboard boxes were quite small and difficult to make out. A Douglas fir covered in heavy white flocking, and a spindly spruce. Both were poor imitations of natural Christmas trees. She could take one home and figure out how to assemble it, she had no doubt. But Gramps wouldn’t like either tree in his living room. And she couldn’t blame him. He’d had a real tree every year of his life and would settle for nothing less.

  “You’re Frank’s granddaughter, aren’t you?”

  Josie turned. An elderly woman with cottony white hair, too much facial powder, and a merry dimple in each plump cheek smiled up at her.

  “Yes, I am.”

  The lady’s grin widened as she propped one hand against her thick waist. “I knew it. I’m Thelma Milton, one of Frank’s friends down at the civic center. You and I have met a couple of times, but you probably don’t remember me. I knew your grandma well.”

  “Yes, of course I remember. You were at Grandma’s funeral.”

  “That’s right. I was sorry to hear about your breakup with your last fiancé.”

  Josie tensed. No doubt Gramps had shared the news with all his cronies down at the civic center. The reminder hurt and made her wonder if she was doomed to spend her life as an old maid. How she wished she could meet just one man she could trust. A man who would love her unconditionally for herself.

  “Frank told me,” Thelma confessed. “And I say it’s for the best. If a man really loves you, he wouldn’t let a little thing like your work come between you, believe me. A beauti
ful girl like you deserves better.”

  Josie nodded, wishing it was that simple. But she’d rather never marry than end up in an ugly divorce like the one her parents had put her through. Of course, she wasn’t about to discuss her broken relationships with a stranger.

  “Yesterday, Frank and the ranger brought me the most beautiful tree. Frank even set it up inside my house.” Thelma batted her eyelashes like a coy girl.

  Josie swallowed a choking laugh. For some inane reason, she found the situation quite comical. True to his word, Clint had picked up Gramps and the two of them had driven over to the civic center, where they’d handed out all the confiscated trees. Josie had remained at home, sorting through piles of debris littering Gramps’s house to find the mop bucket and vacuum cleaner. His absence had given her some time to clean house. It had also made Gramps feel better, though the stress of learning to read had settled over him like a fat rain cloud.

  “I’m glad you got your tree up,” Josie said, wishing she had a tree for Gramps. Too bad the ranger had confiscated all of the trees he’d cut down.

  Thelma stepped closer. “Frank tells me you’re a pharmacist in Las Vegas.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Do you like your work?”

  “Yes, I love it,” Josie answered truthfully. “And as I remember, you own this store.”

  Josie showed her most friendly smile. After all, this was one of Gramps’s friends and the woman obviously liked him.

  “Yes, I do. Frank is so proud of you. You’re all he talks about. I’m so glad you came home for the holidays. He needs some family around now that Vi’s gone.”

  Vi. The name many people used for Viola, Josie’s grandmother.

  “I’m happy to be here, too.” The bite of guilt nipped at Josie’s conscience. She should have come to visit more frequently. She missed Grandma so much. And it dawned on her that losing his spouse must have devastated Gramps. He didn’t say a lot about it, but inside, he must still be shattered by grief. Josie didn’t want the end of his life to be sad. She wanted them both to be happy. And Josie wasn’t. Not anymore. Not while she was alone. But so far, she’d failed to find a man willing to commit to her permanently.