Last Chance Christmas

by Hope Ramsay

  She wasn’t in Libya anymore.

  “Ma’am, you should know better than to be out here in the woods without an orange safety vest. I thought you were a deer,” the man said.

  Lark pushed herself up to a sitting position. Her fatigues and jacket were wet from the mud. Her whole body was starting to shake.

  “I didn’t hit you, did I?” His dark eyes were wide with concern.

  “Uh, no, I’m okay. I just hit the deck when I heard the gunfire.”

  “You’re shaking.”

  “Uh, yeah. The mud is cold,” she said, but she knew the mud had nothing to do with the shakes that racked her body.

  Lizzy couldn’t believe it. Aunt Jane had a doctor’s appointment, and Granny expected Lizzy to babysit Haley for the afternoon. So here she sat watching the brat eat a Boston cream doughnut while she waited for Miz Chaikin and David to arrive.

  The doughnut was a bribe to keep Haley quiet. She sat and watched her sister making a mess of herself and hoped that Haley wouldn’t dribble chocolate or custard down her front like she usually did. Granny would definitely notice if Haley got her shirt dirty.

  The little bell above the door jingled, and David came in. A flock of butterflies took flight in Lizzy’s tummy. He was totally cute, from his curly brown hair to his dark, intense eyes. As usual, he had his camera slung around his neck. He slid into the facing seat.

  He shifted his gaze to Haley. “Hi, kid, how’s the doughnut?”

  “Fine.” Haley squinted up at him. “Granny says you don’t have a Christmas tree at your house. I think that’s sad.”

  Lizzy’s face burned. “Haley, that wasn’t a nice thing to say. We don’t have a Christmas tree at our house either.”

  “Yeah, but we have one at Granny’s house. And besides, Granny says that we used to have a Christmas tree when Momma was alive. But David hasn’t ever had a Christmas tree, and I think that’s just tragic.” Haley said the last word on a dramatic sigh. She’d just learned the meaning of the word “tragic,” and she’d been saying it over and over again.

  “It’s all right,” David said. “I don’t mind. I bet you never played dreidel or lit Hanukkah candles. Bet you never went on a matzo hunt at Passover either.”

  “Are those things fun?” Haley asked.

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “Well, nothing could be funner than a Christmas tree. Or Santa Claus.”

  “I never had a Christmas tree either.” This last comment came from Ms. Chaikin, who had arrived for her interview right on time. Lizzy wanted to choke her little sister. This was not the introduction Lizzy had wanted.

  She popped up from her seat. “Oh, Ms. Chaikin, this is David Raab from the Davis High Rebel Yell. And this is my little sister. I’m sorry I had to bring her along. I had to babysit unexpectedly.”

  Ms. Chaikin sat down and gave Haley a smile. “So, you’re Haley, huh?”

  Haley nodded, her face a complete smear of chocolate.

  “You know my sister’s name?” Lizzy asked.

  Ms. Chaikin nodded. “I had a conversation with your father about Haley yesterday morning.”

  Haley stopped chewing. “Why didn’t you have a Christmas tree?” she asked.

  “Because my father and I always went to Bermuda at Christmastime. He had been raised as a Jew and had no interest in putting up a tree. I vaguely remember putting up a tree when my mother was alive. She had been raised as a Catholic, but she died when I was a little kid.”

  “Like my mother?”

  “I think I was a little younger than you are now when my mother died.” Ms. Chaikin squared her shoulders and turned toward Lizzy. “You know, I don’t think it would be a good idea to do this interview with Haley here.”

  “You’ve been talking to Daddy, and he told you not to talk to me, didn’t he?”

  She cocked her head. “Yes, he did, but I came here anyway. Don’t be angry at your father because he wants to keep you safe.”

  “Did your father object when you decided to become a war photographer?” Lizzy flipped open her notepad.

  “By that time, my father and I had a very strained relationship.” Ms. Chaikin turned toward David and said, “That’s a very nice camera you’ve got. Are you interested in photojournalism?” Wow, Ms. Chaikin had just dodged one of Lizzy’s questions.

  “Yeah, I guess,” he said and looked down at the table in that totally bashful way of his that Lizzy thought was kind of cute.

  “Tell me about your father,” Lizzy asked, trying to get this interview back on track.

  “There’s not much to tell. When I was old enough, he recognized that I was competent to make my own decisions. Give your father some time. He’ll come around eventually and realize that you can handle bad stuff.”

  “But bad stuff happens to little kids, too,” Haley said. “I was kidnapped and in a car wreck. And now I have a dumb old angel.” She propped her head on her hand and managed to look miserable.

  Lizzy stifled her irritation. “You’re okay, Haley. And please don’t embarrass me by talking about the angel.”

  “No, it’s all right. I’m very interested in your angel. Does she have a name?” Ms. Chaikin said.

  “No. She almost never talks. She cries a lot.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. Do you know what she’s crying about?”

  Haley shook her head. “No. But I’m starting to think she’s sad about Daddy.”

  Ms. Chaikin stiffened. “I see.”

  “Can we not talk about the angel, please?” Lizzy pleaded. By the time Haley was finished wrecking this opportunity, Lark Chaikin would probably never speak to her again.

  “Hey, I’ve got it,” Haley said brightly.

  “What?” Lizzy asked.

  Haley turned toward David. “Hey, David, you wanna help put up a Christmas tree? Maybe if you helped us put up a tree then you could invite Lizzy over to your house to do whatever it is you do on the holidays.”

  “We light candles.” David turned toward Lizzy and blushed. It was so cute the way he did that sometimes.

  “It’s okay, David, you don’t have to invite me over. My sister is—”

  “I’d love to invite you over,” David blurted. “Hanukkah is all this week. I’ll ask Mom if it’s okay. I’m sure she’ll love making latkes for you.”

  “Latkes?”

  “Potato pancakes,” Ms. Chaikin supplied. “They are not to be missed. You should go. Lighting Hanukkah candles is fun.”

  “You’ve lit Hanukkah candles?” Haley asked.

  “I have. When my aunt Sadie was alive. She would make latkes and have us over for dinner. That was shortly after my mother died. But then Aunt Sadie passed away, too.”

  “You know,” Haley said, rolling her eyes in Lizzy’s direction, “there are all those boxes of Christmas stuff in the attic and a tree in a box and everything. We could get them down and surprise Daddy tonight by having the house all decorated. And then David and Ms. Chaikin would have a chance to be in on the fun.”

  Suddenly Haley didn’t seem like such a pest. Maybe this was a good thing. Lizzy could invite David over and get to know him better, and Ms. Chaikin could be there as kind of like a chaperone. Then maybe Daddy wouldn’t have a coronary over it.

  She crossed her fingers under the table. And maybe she could kind of interview Ms. Chaikin while they were unsnarling the Christmas lights from the boxes in the attic.

  “So, Ms. Chaikin, you wanna help?” Haley asked.

  “Well, I don’t know. I think your father might not be happy about that.”

  Haley sat up bolt-straight. “But the angel thinks you should help. I think this is exactly what she meant last night when she told me that Daddy needed to get out of his rut, and that we needed to make changes. The angel is smiling and nodding.”

  “Haley, shut up about the angel, okay?” This was so totally embarrassing.

  Ms. Chaikin leaned a little toward Haley. “So she’s stopped crying?”

  Haley nodded. “She really w
ants you to help. I can tell.”

  Ms. Chaikin smiled. “Well, in that case how can I refuse your invitation? I wouldn’t want to disappoint an angel.”

  Stone watched as the Allenberg County crime scene unit made a cursory inspection of Jimmy Marshall’s Mercedes. The silver vehicle had been found by a couple of hunters. The car had been abandoned three miles north of town on an unpaved road that led to the old hunting lodge known as the Jonquil House. The car was locked, and as near as Stone could tell there wasn’t a thing out of place. No telltale signs of a struggle, or blood, or anything else that would indicate foul play.

  Still, the damn car was found in the middle of nowhere and about a mile outside of Stone’s jurisdiction. Which meant that Billy Bennett had taken charge.

  Allenberg’s sheriff strode toward him, the late-afternoon sun glinting on his pale blond hair. Billy had always been the guy every girl had fallen ass-over-teakettle for. And he’d sure kept himself up, which probably explained why he kept winning elections despite the fact that he was a total a-hole who knew nothing about policing.

  “Thanks for the tip, Stone,” Billy said with one of his infernally charming smiles. “We’ve got it covered now. Doesn’t look like much, though. I’d be willing to bet Jimmy ditched his car out here and had his girlfriend pick him up.”

  “Based on what?”

  Bennett shrugged. “Rumor. But in this county, rumor is nearly ’bout as good as fact.”

  “You going to search the woods and the swamp?”

  Bennett put his hands on his hips. “I don’t see any tracks leading into the woods, do you?”

  “I didn’t look that hard. You owe it to Lee and Hettie to conduct a grid search.”

  Bennett looked up at the fading light in the afternoon sky and then back at Stone. “You know, unless I’m mistaken, we’re standing two miles outside of the town limits of Last Chance. I don’t think you have any jurisdiction here.”

  There wasn’t any point picking a fight with Billy Bennett directly. If Stone wanted the sheriff to act, he would have to unleash Lee Marshall on him. Once Lee accepted that his son had gone missing and not run away, maybe the old man would demand action. If Lee told Billy to take a walk off the pier down at the river, Billy would do it without asking any questions.

  Stone squared his hat. It was getting on to dinnertime. “Well, y’all have a nice day then. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help with your investigation. You going to let Hettie and Lee know we found Jimmy’s car?”

  “I got it covered.”

  Stone nodded and strode back toward his cruiser. Ten minutes later, he pulled his car into the driveway of the little rambler he rented. Lizzy was supposed to be babysitting Haley today because of Jane’s doctor’s appointment—an appointment that everyone in town already knew about.

  He headed up the walk to the house, mulling over what he should do about Jimmy Marshall and Sheriff Bennett. He got halfway to the porch before the sound of the piano hit him like a Stinger missile.

  He stood rooted to the ground and listened to the muffled strains of “Silent Night” and the unmistakable sound of his girls singing.

  What the hell?

  He rushed to the front door and practically tore it off its hinges as he opened it, his heart thumping. He stepped into the living room halfway expecting to find a woman with long honey hair and a curvaceous figure sitting at the piano, her long fingers dancing over the keys.

  His disappointment knew no limits.

  Lark Chaikin, with her slim body and her short spiky hair, was playing Sharon’s piano. And that wasn’t all. The furniture in his living room had been rearranged to make room for the old artificial Christmas tree.

  Nothing was as it should be. The tree was wrong—there weren’t any red ribbons on it. The angel for the top was missing. Sharon would never have put tinsel and lights around the side window like that.

  “What the hell is going on here?” he yelled, focusing right on Lizzy, who was standing beside a teenaged boy that Stone didn’t recognize. “Who gave you permission to move the furniture?”

  He rounded on Lark. “And I don’t recall inviting you to my house. Close the piano, now… please.”

  Lark looked up, her mouth thinned, and her dark eyes looked wounded. “I believe this was the Sorrowful Angel’s idea,” she said.

  Stone opened his mouth and shut it again. The words that wanted to come out were vile and profane. They weren’t suitable for his daughters to hear.

  He glowered at Lark and hissed. “I know your father had ways of doing things, but they aren’t mine. Please leave my house.” He turned on the boy. “Who are you?”

  “David Raab.” The boy’s voice cracked, and his cheeks got red. “Uh, it’s nice to meet you, Chief Rhodes. Um, Lizzy and Haley were just giving me and Ms. Chaikin a little dose of Christmas.”

  Stone stood there staring at the boy. Where the hell had this kid come from?

  “David’s new in town,” Lizzy said. “His father works for Uncle Hugh. And tomorrow night, I’m going over to David’s house to light some Hanukkah candles and eat potato latkes.”

  Hanukkah candles? Stone narrowed his gaze and pointed a finger at the boy. “Go home, David.” He turned toward Lark. “You, too.”

  Then he turned on Haley. “Go to your room. You’re in serious trouble. You know good and well that the boxes in the attic are off-limits.”

  Haley stared up at him with a face that was a miniature of Sharon’s. “But Daddy,” she said, “I told you last night that the angel said you needed to get out of your rut. We were just trying to help.”

  He saw red then. “Go! All of you!” He turned and stormed into the kitchen, where he picked up the water kettle and threw it with all his might against the back wall. It crashed and left a big hole in the drywall.

  He stared at the hole in the wall for an eternity, struggling to breathe. For a moment, just as he’d gotten out of his car and heard that music coming from his living room, something long dead had kicked right back to life inside him.

  What the hell was it? Hope?

  It didn’t matter. Because now all the light and air and life inside him was draining right into that stupid, stupid hole he’d just put in the wall.

  CHAPTER

  9

  Can we talk?” Lark asked. She stood in the doorway to the little kitchen at the back of Stone Rhodes’s house.

  The chief of police stood with his back to her, his tan uniform shirt stretched across his broad shoulders. He was breathing hard and staring at the hole he’d just put in his wall.

  “No,” he said.

  “What a surprise.” She stepped a little farther in the room, inexplicably drawn to him. “I understand how you feel.”

  He turned around, flashing angry green eyes at her. “Don’t tell me you know how I feel because that’s just bullshit.”

  “I do. I know how it feels to lose someone you love. We’re more alike than you realize.”

  They faced off, time stretching out. He was hurting. She understood. She was hurting, too.

  Maybe she could reach him and make him see. “I had a really bad day today, so when your daughters suggested putting up Christmas lights and decorations, it seemed like a good idea. They helped me forget about the dark stuff going on in my life for a little while. I’m grateful to them. Can you accept that?”

  “Well, what if I didn’t want a tree and decorations?” His voice sounded deep and rusty.

  “Stone. Really. You just yelled at your kids for putting up a Christmas tree.”

  “Thanks for making me feel better,” he said.

  She didn’t miss the sarcasm. She took that as a positive sign, so she continued. “I also thought that putting up a Christmas tree was a better thing to do with your kids than sitting at the doughnut shop talking about what it’s like to be a war correspondent.” She let her gaze drift away for a moment. She’d been feeling shaky all day, ever since the debacle in the swamp.

  “I
told Lizzy she wasn’t to pester you.”

  She looked back at him, just in time to see muscles bunching at his jaw. “No, you told Lizzy that she wasn’t to speak with me. There’s a difference. And she’s old enough to know it.”

  “And what about the boy?”

  “He’s a photographer for the school paper. He’s smart and nice. You should let Lizzy sample his mother’s latkes because, honestly, homemade latkes are to die for.”

  Stone gave Lark an utterly confused look.

  “Potato pancakes,” Lark explained. “Latkes are the traditional Hanukkah food.”

  “I see.”

  “Do you? Really? Yesterday I told you that my father had a hard time letting things go. I think maybe you’re a lot like him. Stone, please, you should apologize to your children. And you should open up that piano and let someone play it. It’s a lovely instrument, and it shouldn’t be allowed to gather that much dust. I have a feeling your wife wouldn’t approve of it standing idle. And please, stop being angry at Haley because of her angel.” She stared at his wedding band.

  “And who made you the judge of my life?”

  “No one,” she said firmly.

  They stood there staring at each other for a long moment that wasn’t even remotely awkward. It was crazy the way the silence between them sometimes became more eloquent than words. When they spoke, they often argued. When they were quiet, there was something else. A deep current of connection.

  Just then, the screen on the front door slammed, and a female voice called out. “Stone Rhodes, where in the Sam Hill are you? I need to give you a piece of my mind.”

  Stone closed his eyes, and the expression on his face was priceless—part annoyance and part guilty little boy. “Great,” he said on a gust of breath, “just what I need to make my day complete. You and my mother ganging up on me.”

  An instant later, an older woman with dark curly hair bustled into the kitchen. It didn’t require a photographer’s eye to conclude that this newcomer was related to Stone. They had the same green eyes and bone structure.

  The woman’s gaze swept the scene, lingered for a moment on the chief, and then turned in Lark’s direction.

  “Well, I declare,” she drawled, “you’re Abe Chaikin’s daughter.”