by Nancy Martin
“I’m going to take Susannah back to her house,” Joe said. “You want to come along?”
Sometimes his daughter surprised him, all right. Gina looked very mature at that moment. She nodded. “Sure. Maybe there’s something I can do.”
At the Atkins house, Susannah unlocked the door and went inside first, so she was the one who found the note from Roger Selby.
She opened it with shaking fingers and read the message aloud. “‘Susannah, I’ve been called back to the station for a meeting. We’ll discuss your new contract next week. I hope your grandmother feels better. Roger.”’
“He’s a jerk,” Gina said.
“Gina!” Joe reproved her automatically.
“No, it’s okay,” Susannah said, folding the note again. “Sometimes he is a jerk, Gina. But not always.”
Joe helped Susannah up to the second floor, where she undressed and climbed into bed without much coaxing. He tucked her under the blankets, aware that she had fallen asleep almost instantly. Joe kissed her forehead and left the room.
“She sure looks beat,” Gina said when he went downstairs again.
“Rough night,” Joe agreed, running his hand through his hair.
“For both of you,” Gina noted. “Why don’t you sack out on the couch for a while, Dad? I’ll make some phone calls. Somebody ought to let Mrs. Atkins’s friends know what happened. A lot of them stopped in at the hospital today.”
“You can handle that?”
Gina nodded solemnly. “I think so. I’d like to give it a shot.”
Joe realized he was so tired he could hardly think. So he nodded and staggered into the sitting room. He flung himself across the sofa and fell asleep in no time.
* * *
FOR SUSANNAH, the funeral arrangements and visitations were almost as painful as her vigil at the hospital. Fortunately, Joe stood by her side and helped make all the decisions.
“Wait an extra day,” he advised Susannah. “You don’t want to have the funeral on Christmas. Rose would want you to wait, I’m sure.”
Susannah agreed. Granny Rose would have hated the idea of spoiling everyone’s holiday.
At the house, between the sessions at the funeral home, Susannah felt as though Rose’s home was under siege by her grieving friends. Susannah received their hugs and tears, and she found it comforting to talk with all the Tyler folk who were going to miss Rose. The kitchen was soon crowded with foods of every description, and the refrigerator bulged with casseroles.
Gina proved to be very organized, and she kept lists of what neighbors brought which dishes, to make the thank-you writing simple. Gina also answered the phone and was the one who broke the news of Rose’s death to Roger Selby when he called. He told Gina to express his sentiments to Susannah, rather than talking to her himself.
Susannah was glad to have Gina and Joe around, for they were sources of support and comfort. Joe was never farther than an arm’s length away, and Susannah drew strength from him.
But then it was Christmas Eve, and Susannah knew she couldn’t ruin everyone’s holiday by keeping them by her side. She also felt the need to send the others home so she could be alone in the house for a while.
Joe protested, holding her fast in his arms. “I don’t want you to spend tonight by yourself.” He had once again slept over the night before—in the room Roger had used.
“I have to do this! Go home and spend Christmas with Gina,” she urged him. “I’ll be fine.”
She insisted, and soon Joe had to obey. He drove Gina home, and Susannah took the phone off the hook. She turned off the downstairs lights and retired to the second floor to spend the evening alone. It might have looked like a sad way to spend Christmas Eve, but she felt it was the best way to say goodbye to her grandmother.
Susannah sat in Rose’s bedroom and began to go through old photo albums and the stacks of scrapbooks her grandmother had kept over the years. Rose had saved all kinds of things that chronicled her life—pictures, newspaper clippings, tickets from plays, the programs from banquets, musicales, weddings and funerals. A great many of the bits and pieces Rose had saved represented Susannah’s accomplishments. Every scrap of publicity the television station had ever sent out seemed to have found its way into her grandmother’s hands.
Susannah had hoped to brighten her own spirits by looking through Rose’s things, but she found herself deeply saddened that night.
Rose’s passing seemed to have come at such a turning point in Susannah’s own life—a turning point she had hoped to celebrate with her grandmother. Instead, it had marked the end of Rose’s life. And perhaps the beginning of Susannah’s.
She went to her bed late that night and slept fitfully. In the morning, she awoke and could hardly believe Rose was gone. The fact hit her again like a bulldozer.
But at last, Susannah dragged herself out of bed and dried her eyes once more. She showered and dressed for church, thinking she might feel strong enough to go later in the morning. In the kitchen, she made a cup of tea and chose a muffin from the enormous array of baked goods left by friends and neighbors. The house was very quiet. It hardly felt like Christmas.
At ten o’clock, the doorbell rang.
Although she was tempted not to answer, the visitor was insistent and rang the bell twice more, until Susannah steeled herself to open the door.
“Good morning,” said Joe, standing on the porch in his parka and scarf. His smile brimmed with love and concern. “You have your phone off the hook.”
Susannah summoned an apologetic smile. “Yes, I have. I needed some time.”
“Feel better today?”
“No,” she admitted. “Worse, in fact.”
“You should have let me stay last night.”
She shook her head. “No, I—I needed to let a lot of emotion out. Would you like some breakfast?”
“I’ve already had mine,” he said. Then, “I’ve brought you something.”
“Oh?”
He stood back, revealing the vehicle that stood at the curb in front of the house. Rather than his pickup truck, Joe had come in the bright red sleigh, complete with Bessie harnessed to the traces. Holding the horse’s head was Gina, looking stunned to find herself standing in the snow with a bridle in her hand.
“Oh, my heavens!” Susannah exclaimed, clapping one hand to her mouth. She felt a fresh wave of tears well up in her eyes. “Oh, Joe. How did you—?”
“You told me about your family tradition,” he reminded her. “Get your coat. We’re going for a sleigh ride.”
“I can’t. I can’t go through with it.”
“Yes, you can,” he soothed, guiding her inside and locating her coat in the closet. “Traditions aren’t supposed to die with family members. You’re supposed to keep them going.”
“But—”
“Don’t argue. Rose would want this.”
He was right, of course. No one had reveled in family traditions more than Rose herself. As Susannah stepped off the porch and walked toward the sleigh, she had the uncanny feeling that her grandmother was watching from somewhere. Along with Susannah’s parents and the family members who had started the tradition long ago, Rose was certainly smiling at the sight of Susannah climbing into the sleigh on Christmas morning.
“Here you go, Dad,” said Gina, handing over the reins. “Drive carefully.”
“Come with us, Gina,” Susannah urged.
“Not this time,” the teenager replied. “I’ll go next year.” She winked. “When Dad’s better at driving the horse!”
Joe laughed and bundled Susannah under the blanket. Then he gathered up the reins and clucked to the mare. In an instant, they were off, gliding down the snowy street.
“When did you learn to drive a sleigh?” Susannah asked, when she could trust her voice.
“An hour ago.” Quite cheerfully, he said, “Mr. Vaughn had me practise all over his fields. He says I’m terrible, but that Bessie knows what she’s doing. I figure if we get into trouble, you
can take over.”
As the sleigh skidded along the street and took the corner with care, Susannah snuggled close to share his body heat and said, “You’re a sweet man, Joe Santori.”
“When did you figure that out, exactly?”
She smiled, feeling as though her heartstrings had just been plucked. “I’m not sure, exactly. But I’m convinced of it now. Along with all your good qualities, sweetness is probably the best.”
“What about my superior bedroom skills?”
Susannah didn’t answer that, and Joe glanced down to find out why his light remark had fallen so flat. Susannah struggled to control herself before the tears began anew. Joe made a noise in the back of his throat and drove out of town, away from the prying eyes of the Tyler citizens who were already out on the streets and heading for church. He pulled the sleigh into the nearest empty field, then gave Bessie her freedom. The horse stopped moving and dropped her nose to find a blade of grass in the snow.
Turning in the seat, Joe said, “What’s wrong, Susannah?”
She shook her head and couldn’t look at him. “I still feel guilty.”
“Guilty?”
“About the night we spent together. If I had gone home...if I hadn’t let myself enjoy those hours with you...”
Joe’s breath made a hissing sound in his teeth. “Don’t, Susannah.”
“I can’t help it! If I’d been at home with her, she’d be alive today.”
“How can you be sure of that?”
“I can’t—I just—I feel as if I let her down, Joe. For my own pleasure.”
Joe sat for a long moment, then said firmly, “Do you think Rose would look at it that way? If given the chance to go out with a friend and spend the kind of night we spent in each other’s arms, what would her choice be? Would Rose have stayed at home herself?”
“I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do. Rose grabbed her share of life wherever she could find it. She wanted the same for you, Susannah.”
“But—”
“And she wouldn’t want you to feel guilty this way.”
“I miss her!” Susannah cried out.
“Of course you do. Just don’t let guilt get mixed up with your grief. I’m sure Rose would be the first to tell you how wonderful it was that we found each other—that we made love with the kind of intimacy and intensity we shared. She’d be happy for us, Susannah.”
“I can’t be happy.”
“I know that. But it will come again. Time passes. We’ll find a way to remember Rose without feeling sad.”
“Do you really think so?”
“I’m sure of it.” He lifted her chin, and a glint of a smile had already lightened his face. “After all, wasn’t Rose one of the happiest human beings on the face of the earth? She was funny and caring and...damn, I just hope we can live up to her expectations.”
Susannah smiled ruefully. “What do you suppose she’d expect of us?”
Joe leaned close and kissed her lightly on the mouth. “Well, first of all, I think she’d expect us to get her affairs taken care of as soon as possible so we can start planning a wedding.”
“Joe!”
He laughed. “All right, all right, I won’t press the issue today. It’s unfair to take advantage of a woman when she’s been weakened. But I will marry you, Susannah. If you’ll have me.”
“Is that a proposal?”
“Yes. I love you.”
“I love you, too.” She touched his face and met his dark gaze with her own. “But it will be awfully complicated. My job...”
“We’ll make a home here in Tyler, just as Rose would have liked. You can do whatever you want with the television station—stay in your job or cut back to part-time, whatever makes you happy. We’ll make it work. But eventually, you’re going to write your book and become nationally famous, and I’m going to find a way to raise a teenage daughter without going crazy.”
“There you go again—being the bossiest man on the planet.”
He smiled down at her. “Will you marry me in spite of my faults?”
“Yes. I do love you, Joe.”
His arms tightened, and his voice turned husky. “I’m so glad to hear you say that, Susannah. I love you with all my heart.”
She kissed him that Christmas morning, with the feeling that she was going to be kissing Joe Santori on many more Christmas mornings to come. Then Joe turned Bessie around and drove back into Tyler, the town filled with friends and neighbors who would welcome yet another happy couple into the community.
* * * * *
ISBN: 9781460394700
Monkey Wrench
Copyright © 1992 by Harlequin Books S.A.
All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Intellectual Property Office and in other countries.
www.Harlequin.com