That Christmas Feeling

by Catherine Palmer

  “Daddy,” Kayla said, “listen to Rose.”

  “Or she’ll get the broom after you,” Colin added.

  The children had been clinging to his side, touching him and peering at his face, but the broom comment made them laugh, and Rose felt relieved.

  “You heard them. No more misbehaving,” Rose said. “I’ll wheel you into your room and lay out your dry clothes. Then maybe Colin can help you dress.”

  Paul looked at her with surprise. “Okay,” he said, touching the stitches absentmindedly.

  She noted the matted blood. “Later I’ll help you wash your hair.”

  He didn’t fight her this time, and she rolled the desk chair into the hallway, struggling as the wheels sank into the carpet, but the twins pushed, too, and finally they maneuvered him into his room. She praised the Lord the master bedroom was on the first floor and not up the stairs as the rest of the bedrooms were.

  She followed Paul’s directions and located his clean clothing, then left him in Colin’s hands.

  The chill had permeated her, too, and she hurried upstairs, dressing in slacks and a top she’d kept handy. With dry socks and warm clothes, Rose returned to the kitchen and made a pot of hot chocolate.

  When she checked on Paul, he was dressed except for his socks. Colin was struggling to pull them onto his father’s feet.

  Rose gave the boy a hug and took over. “Hold your breath and hang on.” She worked the sock up his foot, and with only a couple of reflexive kicks and one good moan when she covered his left foot, Rose succeeded. She stood back and looked at him. “Not too bad. I think you’ll live.”

  His ankle concerned her, and she prayed he had nothing else seriously wrong that they hadn’t spotted. The Lord was merciful, and she trusted Paul to His care.

  “You don’t happen to own a cane, do you?” she asked.

  He gave her a wry smile. “I thought you’d carry one in your handbag. You seem to have everything else.”

  “Daddy, you’re silly,” Kayla said, hanging on to the arm of the desk chair.

  Rose ignored his attempt at humor. “Think of something we can use for a cane.” She left him to think while her thoughts headed elsewhere. “How about an elastic bandage? I want to wrap your ankle. It’s swollen and bruised.”

  Colin darted off, and Rose paused, wondering where he was going.

  “I think you’ll find what you need in the linen closet,” Paul said.

  Rose and Kayla pushed the chair back toward the kitchen, and Colin met them halfway, carrying a baseball bat. “Here, Daddy, you can use this to lean on.”

  “Good job,” Rose said, grinning at the child’s ingenuity.

  She found the elastic bandage and bound his ankle and packed it with ice. Then, relieved, she settled back with the hot chocolate.

  “It looks as if we’re at the mercy of the telephone company and the road plow,” Paul said. “Otherwise we’re stranded.”

  The kids grinned, and Rose realized they didn’t mind the problem now that they knew their dad was okay. They had his captive attention until help came.

  “Can we decorate the Christmas tree?” Kayla asked.

  “Good idea,” Rose said. “We’ll start it after lunch. Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve. We’ve waited too long.”

  When they finished eating, the children raced into the living room, and Rose followed. Together they dragged out the boxes Paul had set against the wall. “Now wait until your dad gets in here.”

  She returned to the kitchen to find Paul standing with his weight against the baseball bat.

  “It hurts,” Rose said, seeing the grimace.

  He nodded. “I’m sure it’s just a sprain. I’ll probably feel better tomorrow.”

  “Let me help,” she said, stepping beside him.

  Paul rested his arm around her shoulder and used the cane in the opposite hand. “It’s nice leaning on you.”

  “Glad I can help.” She wanted to tell him she loved having his arm around her for any reason, but she stemmed the words.

  He didn’t move, but stood there, and Rose looked at him to make sure he was okay.

  “I’m fine,” he said, apparently catching her frown. “I was just thinking.”

  “About what?”

  “How it felt to be Sleeping Beauty.”

  “Sleeping Beauty.” It took her a moment for the reference to settle. She felt her skin warm at his meaning. “I’m sorry. It was a reflex. Instinctive.”

  “Mothering and loving,” he said, looking into her eyes. “I would have done the same.”

  “You mean if I fell off a roof?” Her heartbeat pitched, and she tried to move him forward, but he remained glued to the spot.

  “You know what I mean, Rose.”

  His words sent her heart on a journey, and she struggled to put two coherent words together, but found none. Instead she eased him forward, taking slow steps until Paul was settled in the living room.

  She put on another Christmas CD, then strung the lights. Paul sat back with his ice-packed ankle and directed the activities as they hung the ornaments. Rose kept her gaze veering toward Paul to make sure he was all right. He seemed to be, and she sent up a prayer of thanksgiving.

  When the last ornament was hung, Rose walked across the room to snap off the lamps so they could view the tree in the darkness. As she passed the bookshelves, her heart stood still. In the place Della’s photograph had been, Rose spotted a new one. A picture of her that autumn afternoon. Her face was tilted toward the sun and a red maple leaf had caught in her hair. Amazed, Rose wondered why she’d never noticed the photograph before. She dusted the shelves often. Most important, why was it there?

  She turned toward Paul, but he was listening to the children’s excited commentary about the tree. Later she might ask, but for now, she snapped off the light and returned to Paul’s side.

  Their “oohs” sounded in the carol-filled room, and Kayla ran into her arms and hugged her tightly.

  “Why am I so honored?” Rose asked, touched by the child’s unexpected expression of love.

  “I love you,” Kayla said, “and the snow kept us all here together so you can never go away from us.”

  Never go away. Did the child know? Kayla couldn’t, but had she sensed Rose’s sadness? Rose held back the tears that surged to her eyes. “I love you, too,” she said, wanting so badly to say she would never go away, but she couldn’t say that to the child.

  For the first time that day Rose felt the impact of her future loss. This family, this house, these moments would be gone forever when she walked out the door. Tears pooled in her eyes. Glad she was hidden by the darkness, she brushed them away and excused herself to make dinner.

  Alone in the kitchen, Rose sobbed.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Later that evening Rose packed away the ornament boxes, then shooed the children off to bed. Her mind was filled with the messages she’d heard that night—Paul’s cryptic comment and Kayla’s open expressions of love.

  While preparing their meal, Rose had felt tears rolling down her cheeks as she thought about her decision. Was it better to stay in Little Cloud and face a single, childless life or return to L.A. and leave her loved ones behind? Both meant heartbreak.

  Rose climbed the stairs and checked on the children. They’d gone to bed with little grumbling, each excited about the tree decorating and overwhelmed by Paul’s fall from the roof. Before she returned to the first floor, Rose located a bottle of pain reliever. She knew Paul was miserable, and she wanted him to sleep well.

  When Rose returned to the living room, the lamplight blinked and then returned. “Do you think we’ll lose power?” she asked.

  “Very possible. The weight of the snow on those lines, especially if it freezes, can be dangerous.”

  “If this keeps up, it means no Christmas service or Sunday-school program,” Rose said.

  “We’ll hold our own. It’s Jesus’ birthday.”

  His suggestion touched her. “Here’s some me
dicine for pain,” she said, setting the bottle beside his water glass. “You should take it now.”

  He reached over and did as she said, washing the pills down with water, then closed the bottle.

  Rose crossed the room and opened the fireplace doors. “We might as well have a fire,” she said, piling some kindling onto the grate, then lifting on two large logs. She set a fire starter beneath the fast-burning wood and waited for the kindling to ignite. As the fire spread, she settled into a chair across from Paul.

  The music filled the room, and Rose leaned back and let the tiring day wash from her body. Paul’s fall from the roof had been overwhelming. Fear had raced through her, followed by panic. The experience of both phones not working, no access to the roads, being snowbound in the woods was alien to her L.A. existence. Yet now as she relived the moments she recalled a sense of challenge and adventure. Neither had been part of her California life—except an occasional trying day on the freeways.

  Without warning, Paul grasped the baseball bat and stood.

  “Don’t hit me,” she said, eyeing the makeshift cane and sending him a grin.

  He didn’t respond, but hobbled to the fireplace and lowered himself to the floor, then patted the carpet.

  She didn’t move, and he patted it again, except she only heard the sound. The lights had flickered and died.

  “Let there be light,” Paul said from the floor.

  The darkness continued, except for the warm glow from the fireplace.

  Rose’s first thought was the children. Without electricity, the blower would stop on the furnace. “I’ll go up and add a blanket to the kids just in case,” she said. “Where’s the flashlight?”

  “Foyer closet,” he said.

  She fumbled her way beyond the firelight to the closet. Inside she felt the shelf until her hand touched the light. Soon the beam stretched across the carpet, then the staircase as she made her way up the stairs.

  Colin had kicked off his blanket, so Rose tucked it in and covered him with a large quilt. In Kayla’s room she stood a moment, seeing the child bathed in the moonlight streaming through the window. Rose covered her with the bedspread and tucked it in, then turned toward the light.

  Outside, the moonlight bounced off the snowdrifts, leaving the night in a silver glow. Rose looked into the night sky. Once again the full moon hung above her, round and bright like a beacon. In the past months she’d viewed it as a symbol of her loneliness and singleness, but tonight its shimmering aura led her thoughts in a different direction. As its beams brightened the dark earth, it offered rays of hope to the lost. Rose bowed her head. The Lord knew she was lost, and God’s voice told her she needed to find her way home.

  Paul had watched Rose’s flashlight beam vanish into the darkness and now he waited for her return. His chest tightened, aware of the love Rose had for the twins. She thought of them first in every way. His feelings for her had grown beyond his imagination, and he knew he had to convince her to stay with them in Little Cloud. He loved her too much to let her go.

  He waited, and in minutes the flashlight rays bounced along the foyer floor as Rose made her way down the staircase. The light swept into the room, with her only a specter behind it.

  She came to his side and draped a quilt over his shoulders. Without his asking again, she sank to the floor close to the blaze. “I think they’ll be fine. Heat rises, so it’s warmer up there than here. Hopefully the lights will be back on in a few minutes.”

  “Don’t be too hopeful,” Paul said. “This is Minnesota, not L.A.”

  She sat a moment until a faint grin curved her lips.

  “What are you thinking?” Paul asked.

  “Funny you say that. Earlier I was comparing Little Cloud to L.A.”

  “No comparison,” he said.

  “No, but I’m not totally convinced one is better than the other.”

  “Really?” Her comment caused his pulse to skip. “I thought that you were going back because…” His voice faded, having no ending for her reason.

  “‘Because’ has no answer, Paul. I’m a mixture of incongruity. Go. Stay. I said I’m going, but my heart is fighting me all the way.”

  Her admission hit him in the solar plexus. “Then why? Why would you leave if you don’t have a reason?”

  “I have a reason. I—I don’t understand it.”

  Paul felt her shudder. “You’re cold.” He drew the quilt over her shoulders and drew her closer. “Explain this to me, Rose. Please.”

  The embers crackled; otherwise there was silence. Paul didn’t push. He fought his desire to direct the conversation, to beg her again to change her mind, to remind her of the loss the children would have, to confess he’d grown to love her. Instead, he prayed that God’s will be done. Paul couldn’t make change happen without the Lord’s blessing. He’d learned that these past months while going to church and by reading the Bible he’d bought weeks ago.

  He’d seen changes in the children. They came home from Sunday school singing songs about Jesus. They talked about their mother in heaven with a new kind of comfort he had been unable to give them. Perhaps a comfort he had never experienced until now.

  Rose had led them to the Lord through her strong faith. She had led them into a new world, a complete world he hadn’t felt in years.

  She stirred, and Paul felt her draw in a deep breath, then release a deeper sigh. He stood on the edge of anxiety, longing to understand. Then she shifted closer.

  “It’s difficult to explain this, Paul. You know the things that hurt me in the past—that gave me a dislike of gossip, a fear of being rejected again and a horror of being pitied again. I feared even you pitied me.”

  He opened his mouth to speak, but he sensed she had more to say and he swallowed the words.

  “I realize it wasn’t pity. You were motivated so much by the love of your children. Your proposal, your pleading for me to come to Little Cloud and your begging for me to stay.”

  “Rose, it was that, but now—”

  She pressed her hand on his arm. “I was motivated by the love of your children. I adored them, but…” Her voice faded, and her body trembled.

  “But…?” He held his breath. What did she have to say that was so difficult? He lowered her head to his shoulder and nuzzled his chin against her hair. He longed to open his heart, but he sensed Rose had to speak first before he told her the truth about his feelings.

  “I loved your children from the beginning. Dear Kayla with all her problems, and Colin with his need to control. They are dear to me, but something else kept me here when wisdom told me to leave.”

  Paul lifted his head and captured Rose’s chin in his palm. He turned her head toward him. “What kept you here?”

  “My heart.”

  He stared at her, bewildered by her meaning. Her eyes searched his and her meaning struck him as pure and perfect as a snowflake.

  “I fell in love with you.”

  Her whisper brushed past his ear, and the words washed over him. “You love me?”

  “That’s why I have to leave. I didn’t believe it at first. I tried to think it was only my imagination. I admired you and respected you—especially how much you adore the twins.”

  “I’ve always admired and respected you, but I realized that—”

  “Then when I heard that your L.A. executive was a woman, I realized how envious and untrusting I’d become. I thought—”

  “Gretchen? Gretchen’s like a mother to me.”

  “I know that now, but when I heard they’d sent a woman, I concocted a romance in my mind. When she was coming for dinner on Thanksgiving, I thought that you were bringing her home to—”

  “To introduce her as my lady friend?”

  Rose nodded. “I’d misjudged it all, and I knew that I couldn’t stay here without ruining my life and yours.”

  “But Rose, you can’t ruin my life now unless you leave. You’re what makes life important to me and to the kids.”

  “You�
�re too kind, Paul. I understand, but I felt I had to tell you.” Exposed in the firelight, tears glistened in her eyes.

  Paul leaned nearer and kissed away her tears.

  “Dearest Rose, I’m not just being kind. I’ve loved you for so long. One day it all struck me. Our lives aren’t complete without you. I was afraid to tell you how I felt because I’d already bungled with my proposal. I knew how you felt about employer-employee romances, and I feared you’d think I was manipulating you to stay.”

  “Please don’t say that now, Paul.”

  “Don’t say it? I have to tell you how much you mean to me. I’ve asked God to help me find a way to show you.”

  She lowered her head, then as if struck by a new thought she raised it. “When did you put out the picture of me? The one on the shelf?” Her hand gestured toward the cabinet.

  “A while ago. I’d had the photo, but needed a frame.”

  “I hadn’t noticed,” she said.

  “I hoped you would. You looked so lovely that day. I knew even then that you were special to me. It took me a little longer to realize the woman I’d dreamed about was right under my nose.”

  “But we’re too different. That’s part of the problem. You’re educated. You’ve traveled. I’m only—”

  “You’re only wonderful. You’re a born mother. You’re a tender woman with love in your heart. You’re beautiful, Rose. You’re wise and intelligent.”

  Her eyes searched his as if trying to believe.

  “You kissed me today. I had hoped that it meant what I wanted it to, that there is hope for us.”

  A bewildered look settled on her face, and Paul prayed that God would help her to understand and believe. “Don’t pull away from me now. Believe me. Trust me.”

  “But you’re my boss. I work for you.”

  “Rose, you’re fired.”

  He tilted her mouth upward, her lips full and pliant, and he lowered his mouth, drinking in her softness and warmth. He’d been alone with no desire for a wife, only the longing for a mother for his children until Rose stepped through the doorway. Then life changed.

  He drew Rose closer, deepening the kiss. Rose yielded to his mouth, and she raised her hand to his cheek and brushed the stubble of his whiskers.