by Nancy Martin
After patting the horse’s neck, Susannah climbed into the sleigh without hesitation, telling Joe the story of driving the sleigh every Christmas. “It’s been a family tradition since Granny Rose was a little girl.”
“I’m from Chicago,” Joe protested, upon being introduced to Bessie by the laughing proprietor. “The only horses I knew were painted ones on carousels.”
“There’s nothing to it,” Susannah said with a laugh. “I’ll drive, if you like. Or would you like me to teach you?”
“You drive.” Joe laid his saw in the back seat and stepped warily into the sleigh.
He sat down and began to spread the blanket over their knees, while Susannah gathered up the reins and released the brake. Mrs. Vaughn rushed outside and pressed a thermos of hot cider into Joe’s free hand. Then Joe settled back with the cider in one hand and his other arm flung over the seat behind Susannah, looking like the king of all he surveyed.
“I like this,” he said, as Susannah clucked to Bessie and the sleigh started off with a jerk. With the wind in his face, he declared, “Over the river and through the wood, Miss Suzie! With luck, maybe we’ll get lost together.”
“Bessie will find her way back.”
“She’s a horse, not a homing pigeon!”
Susannah drove the horse cautiously over a little stone bridge past the barn. Bessie slowed down at the barn door, but when Susannah chirped, the mare picked up her feet obediently and kept going, kicking up snow as she trotted along the path beside the paddock fence.
The chill in the air nipped at Susannah’s cheeks, and her lungs tingled with the cold. The steady thud of Bessie’s hooves created a rhythm that soon had Joe humming “Jingle Bells.”
Since Susannah had not been hunting for Christmas trees for many years, she deferred to Joe’s opinion on where they’d find the best selection. He directed her through a pasture and up the slope to a grove of pines, then west into a deeper section of the forest.
“Where are we going?” Susannah asked suspiciously as they passed several likely-looking evergreens. “Are you trying to be alone with me?”
“That, too,” he said with a grin. “But the best trees are up ahead. Here, turn into that clearing.”
Bessie picked her way carefully through the snow and finally came to a stop of her own accord, in the middle of a quiet clearing.
“Wait,” said Joe, putting a restraining hand on Susannah’s arm to prevent her from driving onward. “Just listen a minute.”
Around them, the tall trees whispered softly, and the air was filled with large, immaculate snowflakes that drifted down from the sky so slowly they seemed loath to touch the ground. The afternoon light had begun to wane, and for a moment the sun was caught between the bare branches of a majestic oak. The sheen of crystalline light on the snow-covered ground gleamed like a fairy landscape.
“Hear it?” Joe whispered.
Susannah listened acutely and finally heard distant church bells ringing in Tyler.
Until that moment, Susannah had been enjoying the brisk air, but suddenly she felt the comforting warmth of Joe’s body next to hers. It drew her inexorably until she realized she had nestled her thigh snugly against his.
“Makes you glad to be alive, doesn’t it?” Joe murmured.
“It’s beautiful,” Susannah breathed.
“Only one thing missing.”
“What’s that?”
He turned her face toward his by placing his forefinger beneath Susannah’s chin, a light yet commanding touch that she dared not disobey. Joe’s gaze was alive with warmth, and a single lock of his dark hair curled temptingly over his forehead. Susannah wanted to touch it with her fingertips, but in another heartbeat, Joe had leaned closer and kissed her. He tasted tangy and delicious, and he murmured something against her lips. But Susannah was too lost in the quick sensations that filled her to hear. A hot twist of excitement began deep inside, and the sudden acceleration of her pulse rendered her breathless. Joe’s body heat was wonderful, and the strength in his arms gave her the feeling that they could recline there for days before he’d get tired. His mouth was firm and sensual, and it tantalized Susannah until her mind was completely blank.
With a gentle nudge, Joe parted her lips, and his tongue traced a slow swipe across her lower teeth. Then he gradually lessened the contact until their mouths were barely clinging, and Susannah shivered with pleasure.
When it was over, she found herself swimming in the dark, turbulent depths of his gaze. “You were right,” she said when she could speak. “That was the only thing missing.”
Then Bessie snorted and shook her head violently, filling the air with a protest of harness bells. With a laugh, Joe said, “Bessie says we’ve got miles to go before we sleep, Miss Suzie, so I guess we’d better get to work.”
Reluctantly, Susannah slid out of his embrace.
Joe leaped lightly from the sleigh and pulled his saw from the back seat. With care, Susannah unlooped the long reins and tied them fast around a stout tree. Bessie put her nose down into the snow and blew gustily to uncover a few blades of dried grass. She nibbled them daintily and watched the humans from behind her blinkers.
Setting off together on foot through the snow, Susannah and Joe began to argue over the merits of the perfect Christmas tree. Joe wanted a round, sturdy tree to go into his front bay window, whereas Susannah preferred a tall, slim tree that would fit in the corner of her grandmother’s parlor. Within half an hour, they each found the ideal tree for their own homes, and Joe was gracious about cutting both. They dragged the trees through the snow back to the sleigh, and Joe loaded them into the back seat one after the other.
“Now I need one for Worthington House,” he said, dusting pine needles off his trousers. “I want to knock some of those old folks off their roller skates with the biggest, prettiest tree I can find. You have to help me.”
“We’ll never agree!” Susannah protested on a laugh. “It’ll be dark soon, and we’ll have to go home empty-handed.”
He grabbed her arm and dragged her into the woods again, shouting, “Never say never, Miss Suzie! We’ll find the perfect tree if it takes all night! Weeks from now, they may find our frozen bodies in the snow....”
“I’m not freezing to death over a Christmas tree! We’ll come back tomorrow if we have to. I’m too old to be gallivanting—”
“You can’t use your age as an excuse. There’s magic in the air tonight, can’t you feel it? Come on, Miss Suzie!”
She laughed and let him lead her into the snowy forest. As dusk gathered in the trees, they hiked farther and farther from the sleigh, but Susannah trusted Joe and was caught up in the excitement of the moment. They walked on and on, circling one tree after another, flushing birds from the underbrush and leaving a trail of footprints behind them.
Finally the woods ended, and they burst out onto a hilltop overlooking the lake. Susannah gasped. The panorama that spread out from their feet was breathtaking, a scene worthy of a picture postcard. The dark lake gleamed in the fading light as if lit from within. The snow-covered banks crept down to the water’s edge and turned to a thin coating of ice.
On the opposite hillside Susannah could see the rooftop and gables of Timberlake, the lodge she had visited just that morning. Below it lay the boathouse. A wisp of smoke curled from the chimney of that building, and a warm light glowed in the windows. Susannah knew that Liza and her new husband were snug in their new home, building their life together and planning a family.
“It’s beautiful here,” she whispered.
Behind her, Joe said, “Magnificent.”
He pulled her against his body, and they stood there for a long moment, drinking in the view and marveling at the beauty of the landscape. Susannah leaned against Joe, her head resting against his chest so that she almost imagined she could feel his heart beating against her hair. His arms were gentle around her, and his hands unconsciously caressed her arms to warm them.
“Come on,” he said in
her ear. “Let’s go back.”
“We haven’t found your tree yet.”
“You’re shivering. You must be cold.”
“I’ve never felt warmer.”
But she turned away and reached for Joe’s hand with her own. They had turned to walk back to the sleigh when suddenly they stopped in their tracks, simultaneously struck by the sight of a perfectly symmetrical pine tree standing amid the snowy drifts.
“That’s it,” said Susannah.
“I almost hate to cut it.”
She tightened her grip on his hand and smiled up at Joe. “Then we won’t. Next year it will still be here. We’ll come and visit.”
As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Susannah felt her heart give a jerk of surprise. How odd! She had actually spoken about the future—a future together with Joe. She blinked in astonishment, mouth open.
Joe didn’t say a word, but he smiled at Susannah. He didn’t make a joke or pretend not to understand, but accepted her words as the truth. He kissed her. His mouth was delightfully sure on hers, and his hands tightened on her body. She let herself be kissed, too surprised to respond in kind. Then Joe released her gently.
“You’re right,” he said. “That tree’s too special to cut.”
They walked silently back to the sleigh and happened upon a tall, straight tree near the clearing, one that Susannah, still shaken by the idea her subconscious had produced, declared ideal for Worthington House. Joe clambered through the snow and cut the tree down speedily. Each grabbing a lower branch, they dragged the huge tree to the sleigh, and Joe hoisted it on top of the others.
Bessie was happy to head for the barn, and Susannah had to be firm to keep the mare moving at a sedate pace. They reached the Vaughn farm just as night gathered its shadows. Mr. Vaughn helped Joe put the trees into the truck, while Susannah paid the bill and bought a jug of cider to take home to her grandmother. On a whim, she also purchased two pumpkin cookies and shared them with Joe in the truck on the way back to town.
The first stop was Worthington House, where Joe was greeted with great affection and Susannah was treated to the star treatment, Worthington House-style.
“You look prettier in person,” snapped old Inger Hansen, an eternally cranky woman who had once conducted excruciating deportment classes for the young girls of Tyler. She glared into Susannah’s face and demanded, “How come you don’t look so nice on television?”
Other residents of Worthington House were much happier to see the visitors and crowded around as Joe dragged the Christmas tree into the old parlor. Their voices rose in excitement as he began fastening the tree securely in an antique iron stand. Someone pressed a cup of tea on Susannah, and several elderly people engaged her in conversation. But one of the well-meaning attendants began banging out Christmas carols on the piano in the corner, drowning out attempts to talk, and Susannah was content to watch Joe in action.
He was friendly and kind to the elderly residents of the institution, treating everyone with the same magnanimous good humor he did anyone he encountered on the streets of Tyler.
Watching him, Susannah began longing to be alone with him again. She wanted to bundle him into his coat and scarf once more and slip her arm through his to walk out to the truck. She ached to feel the warmth of his body against hers again, to listen to his whispered laughter in her ear and seek his kisses in privacy. Impatiently, she willed him to finish adjusting the damn tree.
I want you for myself, she thought. Forgive me for being so selfish, but I want to hold you in my arms again.
Getting out of Worthington House took forever. One woman insisted that Joe take a look at the Christmas quilt she had been working on with the other members of the Quilting Circle.
“You’d be interested in this, Susannah,” said the woman as they crowded around the quilting frame. “Your grandmother helps us every Tuesday and Thursday. We’re hoping to finish the quilt in time to raffle it to raise money for the children’s wing of the hospital.”
Susannah had to admit the quilt was a masterpiece. Made of green and red patches—all circles—combined with gold appliqués and a subtle gold thread that traced the figures of a madonna and child, the quilt was of museum quality. Perhaps Joe didn’t fully appreciate the design and workmanship, but Susannah was most impressed. She told the members of the Quilting Circle so, and exchanged tips with the ladies. If she’d been looking for ideas to use in her “Oh, Susannah!” program, the Tyler Quilting Circle would have made an excellent feature.
“Sure is pretty,” Joe announced to the crowd of beaming ladies. “I guess I’ll have to buy a few chances.”
Then he caught Susannah’s arm and gave her a surreptitious tug—a silent signal she interpreted to mean he was anxious to leave, too. But the piano player begged him to sing for everyone and he was soon swept away, much to Susannah’s frustration.
“Are you and Mr. Santori an item these days?” asked one gimlet-eyed woman.
“Just friends,” Susannah said, but the woman’s smile was knowing and called Susannah a liar.
“Excuse me,” said another voice at Susannah’s elbow. “Aren’t you Oh, Susannah?”
She turned and found herself face-to-face with a handsome middle-aged man who had a strong, distinguished face and flecks of gray at his temples. “Why, yes, I am.”
He shook her hand warmly. It was obvious to Susannah that he was not a resident of Worthington House, but was perhaps visiting an elderly relative there. A tall, vital man, he seemed to radiate wealth and power. His cable-knit sweater was of fine quality, and his tailored trousers looked expensive, too. Susannah got the impression that he had taken off the coat of his business suit and put on the sweater to pay a social call at Worthington House. The top of his tie showed at the neckline of the sweater.
Pleasantly, he said, “You probably don’t remember me. I’m Edward Wocheck.”
“Why, of course!” Susannah smiled, finally putting a name to his familiar face. Although Edward was several years older than she, he had spent his youth in Tyler and she remembered seeing him around town when she was a little girl. “How have you been?”
“Very well, thanks.” He seemed pleased to be remembered. “I catch your program on television now and then, and I always say to myself, ‘There’s that pretty young Atkins girl from my old hometown!’ I must say, you make all of us Tyler folks proud.”
She laughed. “Thank you very much.” She stepped back from the crowd and into an alcove with Edward, and they began to chat. Politely making conversation, she said, “What about you? Are you still living in Tyler?”
“No, my business takes me all over the country. I’m just back in town because I’m in the process of buying a piece of property—Timberlake, in fact, the Ingallses’s lodge. Do you remember the place?”
“Oh, yes, I was just visiting the lodge today.” So it’s Eddie Wocheck who’s buying Timberlake, she thought. “The building is still magnificent, isn’t it?”
He grinned as if they were sharing a secret. “I think so. I’m hoping to turn the lodge into a resort. I may even put an addition onto the place to make more hotel rooms. To tell the truth, I can see a wonderful European-style hotel running up there on the lake.”
“How exciting!”
He laughed. “It is for me. Tonight I’m visiting my father to learn more about the old place.”
“He used to work for the Ingalls family at the lodge, didn’t he?”
“Yes. And I’ve been trying to pump him for information—just to learn a few things about the past so I can build on it.”
“I see. Your father is a resident of Worthington House?”
“For the time being. He retired as caretaker of the lodge when Judson Ingalls hired that Forrester fellow, and he’s lived at Kelsey Boardinghouse ever since. But he fell and broke his hip recently, and can’t really take care of himself. My father seems happy to be living here.” Edward lifted his palms helplessly. “I wish I could be in Tyler to look after him mor
e, but he seems to be in good hands. The staff here at Worthington House have really made him feel welcome.”
“That’s one nice thing about a small town. People stick together.”
“Yes.”
Susannah tried to mentally file away all the information she had learned from Edward Wocheck so she could relate the details to her grandmother. Like everyone else in Tyler, Rose would be very interested in learning who was planning to buy the lodge. Susannah almost asked Edward what he thought about the mystery that was consuming the Ingalls family, but she decided the question might be inappropriate to ask the new owner.
Looking over at the group of people gathered around the piano, Edward said, “That’s Joe Santori, isn’t it? The fellow singing over there, I mean. I met him at the lodge when I was touring the place. He’s a contractor.”
“Yes, he is.”
“He certainly has a wonderful singing voice.”
That’s not all, Susannah almost said. At the mention of Joe’s name, she gazed into the crowd to find him among the elderly residents. He looked happy as he sang a jaunty version of “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus” to the laughing group of women. When he finished singing, he could hardly edge his way out of the merry throng.
But at last he approached Susannah, smiling. “Ready to go?”
“Yes. You’ve met Edward Wocheck, haven’t you, Joe?”
“Sure.” Joe shook the older man’s hand. “How’s your deal with Judson Ingalls going?”
Edward gave him a rueful smile. “As well as can be expected, I suppose. Judson and I don’t have a good history.”
“Oh? I didn’t notice any hard feelings when you two were at the lodge the other day.”
“Well, our argument goes back a long way,” Edward said, though he did not go into detail about the conflict. He added, “Maybe time has healed the wound a little. Anyway, I think we’ve just about made a deal. Judson’s being reasonable.”
