Christmas at Whisper Beach

by Shelley Noble

  Now he had to admit she was right. The building had survived several transformations, starting as an ice house, before being enlarged to a butter-churning room, then when the dairy closed, it became the storage for every piece of equipment, building material and general junk that the older Enthorpes refused to part with.

  Van had dealt with them, too. Joe smiled, remembering. Who could hold out on a dynamo with a spreadsheet and business plan over a bottle of organic California wine that was made from grapes similar to the ones the Enthorpes grew.

  So they’d cleaned out the building, carted all the crap to the dump, gutted the inside down to the studs and stone walls. They’d scrubbed and scraped, mopped and dusted, repaired and painted. The rudimentary kitchen and WCs used by the former farm hands had been refitted and spruced up.

  That’s as far as they’d gotten before they decided to hold the party there in its current state. Now the only thing in the room besides Joe and Owen was a twelve-foot spruce tree that took up one whole corner.

  “It needs decorations,” Owen said.

  “Not tonight. It’s time for you to get home.”

  “Aw, Joe, not yet. At least some lights. You don’t want Van to come in and just see a plain old tree.”

  “I thought this was a great tree.”

  “It is but it’ll be greater with some lights. It’ll only take a few minutes.”

  Joe knew it would take more than a few minutes, but he didn’t have the heart to disappoint the kid.

  “You’re getting all your homework done, right?” Joe asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “That doesn’t sound too enthusiastic.”

  “I know you said I oughta get an education, but it’s so boring. I’d rather be working out here with you.”

  “You are working out here.”

  “I know, but all the time.”

  “What about hanging with your friends?”

  Owen shrugged. “Have to come home and watch the girls til Mom gets home from work.”

  Joe nodded. He felt for the kid—living in an apartment in town with no free time to himself couldn’t be easy. Joe had grown up in a large farm family. They’d all worked the dairy farm, but there was still time to do homework and have fun. His mom made sure of it.

  “Okay, let’s go look in those boxes Van ordered.” Joe slit opened the cardboard carton that said Xmas Lights. Handed out a box to Owen, and another, and . . . There were ten boxes in all.

  The two of them looked at each other.

  “She probably doesn’t mean to put all of these on the tree. Let’s put some on and if she wants more we can add more.”

  “Good idea,” Owen said.

  Joe pulled the ladder over, detached the lights from their plastic frame. “You start getting the others out while I do the top, then it becomes a two-man affair.”

  It was a good half hour before they plugged in the lights.

  Joe winced, there were big gaps of darkness and sections of overkill. Not the most skilled job he’d ever seen.

  But when he glanced at Owen’s face and saw the awe and sense of satisfaction there. He decided it was perfectly fine. Van would tweak it into beauty.

  “All right. Time to close up here. I think we deserve a little snack before knocking off for the day.”

  With a final look at the tree, they turned out the lights and made their way across the yard to the house.

  As he and Owen stepped into the enclosed back porch, they were surrounded by the aroma of freshly baked . . .

  “Muffins,” Owen said.

  “Muffins,” Joe agreed.

  “You boys clean up before you track mud into my kitchen,” Mom Enthorpe called from the kitchen. “I just mopped today.”

  Joe and Owen pulled off their hats and gloves and hung their jackets on pegs that stuck out along the back wall. A quick wash in the utility sink and they went inside.

  Two tins of muffins sat on cooling racks on the counter.

  “Those smell good,” Owen said, and Joe’s stomach rumbled.

  “Well sit down and I’ll get you a couple. Joe, get down the honey and butter.

  “How about some milk or hot apple cider?”

  “Cider,” Owen said.

  “Me, too,” Joe said. He got the plastic jug of cider from the fridge and carried it to the stove.

  “How’s it going out there?” His mother asked as she heated the cider.

  “The cleanup is done; the tree is up.”

  “With lights,” Owen added.

  “Excellent.” His mother handed them mugs of steaming cider, poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down.

  “Do I smell muffins?” Joe’s grandfather stuck his head in the doorway, peered at Owen. “Who’s that young man at our table?” he said.

  It was ritual they went through every Saturday.

  “It’s me, Granddad Joe.” Owen was already grinning.

  “Lord, I hardly recognized you. You musta grown an inch.”

  Owen rolled his eyes. “One day you’re gonna say that and I’m gonna be an inch taller.”

  “’Spect you will. Maybe next week.” Joe Sr. snagged a muffin and sat down at the table. Mom Enthorpe slid a napkin under it as he put it on the tablecloth.

  “Van’s home,” Joe Sr. said just as Joe heard a car come up the drive and stop by the side door.

  “How did you know she was coming?” Owen asked. “I didn’t hear anything.”

  “Ears like a fox,” Joe Sr. said.

  “And a nose like Pinocchio,” added Joe’s mother. “He saw the car through the window.”

  Joe pushed his chair back and went to meet Van. He stopped her at the back door.

  “Hey,” she said. She started to slip past him, but he grabbed her and kissed her. He knew she still felt uncomfortable when he showed affection in front of his family. After a childhood with fighting parents and an adulthood of self-protection, she’d come a long way, largely due to her acceptance by the Enthorpes.

  “What are you lovebirds doing out there?” Granddad called.

  “The laundry,” Joe called back. And kissed her again.

  There was plenty of room in the sprawling farmhouse. They hardly ever saw Matt, who was the only sib still in high school. Even with Elizabeth and Dave back from college for the holidays, they had plenty of privacy.

  Still, he’d been working on a plan, one he hoped to be able to announce at Christmas. He wasn’t sure how his family would react—or Van for that matter.

  “What?” Van asked.

  Joe shook his head. “Not a thing in the world.”

  Van slipped out of his arms and went into the kitchen, stopped to kiss his mother and then his granddad on the cheek. She made slurpy noises at Owen, who made a face and shied away in mock disgust.

  Joe didn’t get why Van didn’t think she would be good with kids. Owen liked her just fine.

  “Joe, it’s almost five o’clock,” his mother said.

  “Right, I’d better get you home, Owen, or your mother will think we got lost. You want to come?” he asked Van.

  “Sure.” She’d just sat down but she stood back up.

  “Give the girl a chance to catch her breathe,” said Joe Sr. “She’ll be here when you get back.”

  “I don’t mind,” Van said.

  “No, Granddad’s right,” Joe said. “I’ll see you in a few.”

  She sat down again.

  His mother packed up food for Owen’s mother and sisters and walked Joe and Owen to the door.

  “See you next week, Owen.”

  He nodded. “Thanks for the muffins, Mom. And for . . .” He nodded toward the bag of food Joe was holding.

  “You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

  Once they’d both climbed into Joe’s truck, Joe carefully placed the bag of food on the floor at Owen’s feet. “She calls everybody sweetheart.”

  “I don’t mind,” Owen said. “But Van didn’t see the tree.”

  “Oh.” Joe had forgotten about th
e tree. “We’ll let her discover it as a surprise. I’ll tell her elves must have done it.”

  Owen rolled his eyes. “Like she’s gonna believe that.” He leaned back to look out the window.

  Owen always got quiet when Joe drove him home. Joe didn’t exactly get why, whether it was just winding down from the craziness of work and life at the winery or the prospect of going home to the duplex.

  Joe had been inside. It was nice enough, better than most of the houses on their street, but it only had two small bedrooms. It had to be cramped for three growing children and especially hard for Owen in a house full of females.

  Joe couldn’t imagine what mornings must be like, or any other time. He’d grown up with six siblings, two parents, plus his grandfather after his grandmother had died. But there had been plenty of space and several bathrooms. A huge yard and outbuildings and acre after acre of pasture land.

  Now Joe had more space than ever, yet he was anxious to get his own place with Van.

  He sped up, itching to return home to Van and to his dinner, and a few minutes later, he turned onto the street where Owen lived.

  He knew immediately that he wouldn’t be home anytime soon. An ambulance with blinking lights was parked outside the duplex. The door to Owen’s apartment was open wide. Something was terribly wrong.

  Owen’s younger sisters, Kayla and Haley, were standing in the yard clinging to a woman Joe didn’t recognize.

  He pulled the truck to the opposite curb just as EMTs rolled a stretcher from the Davises’ duplex.

  “Stay here,” he told Owen but Owen jumped out of the truck before it came to a full stop. He ran toward the stretcher. “Mom! Mom?”

  Joe parked the truck and hurried after him.

  “Mom? What’s wrong with her? Mom?” Owen tried to reach his mother, but one of the EMTs pulled him away.

  “You’re in the way, son. Let us take care of your mom. Now there’s a good boy.”

  Joe grabbed Owen and held him back. “Where are you taking her?” he asked.

  “County General.”

  “We’ll meet you there.” To Joe’s untrained eye, Kathy Davis didn’t look good at all.

  The EMTs rolled the gurney onto the lift, climbed in after it and the ambulance sped away.

  Joe turned Owen to face him, gave him a little shake. “We’re going to go to the hospital as soon as we see about the girls. Okay?”

  Owen just stared after the ambulance.

  “Okay?” Joe didn’t wait for him to acquiesce, but pulled him over to where Kayla and Haley were crying and fighting to get away from the woman who was holding them tight. He went over to her.

  “You must be Joe.”

  Joe had to fight not to step away from the pervasive cigarette smell. The woman reeked of it. “I am.”

  “I’m Janice Cobb. I live across the driveway there.”

  “What happened?”

  “She’s been coughing her guts out,” the woman said. “I been telling her to go see a doctor, but she wouldn’t miss work. The girls usually stay with me on Saturdays til she gets home from work.” Janice shook her head. “I saw her car come in the driveway, but when she didn’t come to get them, I got worried and went to check on her. Kathy opened the door and just collapsed. I got her back to the couch and called 911. She didn’t want me to call but I had to—she was looking bad.”

  Owen was clenching Joe’s arm. With Mrs. Cobb’s last statement, he started tugging at him. “Please, Joe, we gotta go to the hospital. Please.”

  “We’re going now. Mrs. Cobb, can you watch the girls until I can find out what’s going on?”

  “I can.” She detached herself from Kayla and Haley and took him aside.

  “I can keep the girls overnight, but I don’t have room for all three of them. Not with four of my own. If Owen don’t mind staying by himself, I’ll try to keep a watch out for him. But County’s gonna come take them kids if she has to stay over. It don’t look good for none of them.”

  “Let me find out what’s happening and I’ll get back to you.”

  He knelt down before the girls. “I’m going to go see about your mom. Then Owen and I will come back and tell you how she is, okay?”

  They didn’t nod, just stood there with tear-streaked faces and ill-fitting winter jackets.

  “Come on, slugger, let’s go see about your mom.”

  He and Owen climbed back in the truck. Joe got out his cell and called as he backed out of his space. Told his mother what was happening and slipped the phone back in his pocket.

  Something told him this Christmas with Van was about to get a whole lot more complicated.

  Chapter 3

  Joe’s father, Joe Jr., came into the kitchen where Van and Mrs. Enthorpe were setting the table and Joe Sr. was supervising from his seat at the head of the kitchen table.

  “That was Joe on the phone. Mrs. Davis was taken to the hospital and he’s taking Owen there to see if they can find out what is wrong and what her condition is. He said to go on and eat without him.”

  Mrs. Enthorpe looked at her husband. “Oh dear, I hope it isn’t anything serious.”

  “Me, too. He said he’d call as soon as he knew, so let’s eat.”

  Mrs. Enthorpe pursed her lips. Shook her head. “And at Christmas. Those poor children.” She lifted a plate of pork chops from the warming oven and put it on the table.

  They all sat down and Joe Jr. said grace as he always did, only tonight he added the Davis family at the end. The prayer ended with everyone saying amen, including Van who had never once said grace as a child. She could barely remember eating a meal with her parents. Even when she’d been a teenager, the Enthorpes were the only real family she’d had. And that had blown up in her face.

  She was slowly getting used to being in a family, but Van had been on her own completely since she’d run away all those years before, and it was hard for her just to relax and not wait for the other shoe to drop—for her to screw up again. It was hard for her to accept this kind of happiness.

  Dinner was more subdued than usual. It had been a long week of working double duty for Van. And she’d been looking forward to spending a quiet night at home with Joe—as quiet as the Enthorpe home ever got.

  And she was anxious to hear from Joe. She knew the Davises lived on the edge, one paycheck away from losing everything. Van remembered those days. She knew how hard they could be and she hadn’t even had a family to support.

  She never would. Not children anyway. Her cross to bear, and Joe’s if she married him. She was glad he had Owen but it also made her acutely aware of her own failings. She’d told him to find someone else, someone who could give him children, and yet she stayed.

  Was she being selfish? Should she just make the right decision for both of them?

  She nearly jumped out of her chair when her cell phone rang.

  “It’s Joe,” she said. “Excuse me.”

  She started to get up, but Joe Sr. said, “Answer it. We all want to hear.”

  “Hello?”

  “Hey.” Joe sounded tired.

  “How is Mrs. Davis?”

  “They’re checking her in. They want to run some tests.”

  “Is she okay?”

  “Um, they’ll know more tomorrow. I may be here awhile longer.”

  “Where’s Owen?”

  “He’s here.” Joe lowered his voice. “He’s worried.”

  Van lowered hers, not knowing if Owen was in listening range. “Is there real cause for alarm?”

  “I’m not sure. The girls are at a neighbor’s. He wants to spend the night at the hospital, but I’m going to bring him back to the farm, if that’s okay.”

  “I’m sure it will be.” Van looked to the others. “Joe wants to bring Owen home with him.”

  “Of course,” Mom Enthorpe said. “Let me talk to him.”

  Van handed her the phone.

  “Of course bring him here. And what about the girls?” She listened, then handed the phone bac
k to Van.

  “I’ll be back as soon as I can, but I’ll have to go get Owen some clothes and check on his sisters.”

  “Take what time you need. We’ll keep dinner warm.”

  Joe chuckled softly.

  “What?”

  “You’re beginning to sound like a farm wife.”

  “I doubt it.” She could see Joe Sr. roll his eyes.

  “Love you,” Joe said.

  Van looked around the table. Swallowed. “Me, too. Bye.” She hung up to find three people watching her. Mom Enthorpe with sympathetic amusement, Joe Jr. with smug complacency and Joe Sr. with exasperation.

  “Really, girl. A man tells you he loves you and you say ‘me, too’? That the best you can do?”

  Van blushed. “I don’t do well with an audience.”

  “Leave Van alone,” Mom Enthorpe said. “Not everybody is a blatant show-off like some men I know.”

  “Like your husband, you mean.” Joe Sr. laughed. “Lordy, Van, you wouldn’t have believed this guy, courting the young Alice here. Used so much aftershave and hair grease, you could smell him coming . . . and going. No kidding.”

  “Dad,” Joe Jr. pleaded. He winked at Van and smiled at his wife.

  And Van’s heart and stomach thudded in tandem. One with longing, the other with sheer panic. All her time as a teenager, the Enthorpes had been more her family than her own parents were. Everyone had expected her and Joe to marry, and she’d wrecked it all. One night of misunderstanding, one misstep taken at the depth of her humiliation had almost cost her her life . . . and had cost her the ability to ever have children. She’d run from Whisper Beach and hadn’t returned—until this past summer. How could she ever live up to the Enthorpe paradigm of family? How could she ever be truly a part of them?

  “Well, I think I’ll get one of the spare bedrooms set up for Owen,” Mom said. “Boys, you’re in charge of cleanup. Van you go get comfortable and relax. You’ve been working yourself to the bone, and it’s Christmas.”

  “I think I’ll go check out the progress on the gift shop,” Van said.

  “Need company?” Joe Sr. asked.