He stared blankly at the kitchen window, hardly seeing the earliest hint of dawn that let the silhouette of the forest vaguely separate from the dark sky. He didn’t know how to paint. Maybe he could hire someone. No, that wouldn’t work. He was beginning to understand that this had to come from him, and him alone.
Not until Marilyn began to make a pot of oatmeal did he pull his thoughts away from his own predicament. “Why are you making breakfast so early? No one will be up for hours.”
“We have to get going,” she said as she placed bowls on the counter and opened a drawer to find spoons. “The snowplows are coming, and if we can get back to our van, they’ll help us back onto the road.”
“What?” Charles stood up, appalled that they could be thinking of leaving. “You can’t go now. It’s still dark. And it’s Christmas morning—” He shook his head, searching for some argument that could dissuade her.
Just then Joe returned to the kitchen with Josie in his arms and Lucy and Robbie in tow. “I’ll get these guys dressed, Marilyn. How long till breakfast? I don’t want to miss those snowplows.”
“I’ll be ready in less than five minutes.”
“Okay, gang. You heard your mom. Let’s hustle and get dressed. And be quiet about it. We don’t want to wake everybody.”
Charles watched in dismay as the Walker family made their hasty preparations. As stunned as he was by their impending departure, he was even more amazed at his regret. He didn’t want them to leave, as much for his own sake as for theirs.
“It’s freezing out there,” he argued as the children sat down to their oatmeal. “And the snow is too deep—and too dangerous.”
But his words fell on deaf ears. The kitchen was a flurry of activity as the Walkers donned their boots and coats, mufflers, hats, and gloves. Only when he realized they were going no matter what he said, did he accept defeat.
“At least let me wake up Judith and the kids. They’ll want to tell you good-bye.”
Marilyn stood up after fastening Josie’s coat. “You tell them good-bye for us, Charles. And tell them thank you for everything.”
He stared at her as a panicky feeling swept over him. “We’re the ones who should be thanking you,” he whispered, knowing without a doubt that it was true. “You’ve made our stay here . . .” He ran a hand through his hair. During the past two days, the Walkers had helped his own family to function as a family again. And now that they were leaving, he was terrified everything would fall apart again. He would never be able to keep Judith if they left now.
But Marilyn seemed almost to know his fears, for she laid a reassuring hand on his arm. “Your heart is in the right place, Charles. You let logic get in the way sometimes, but we all do that at times. Just relax a little more, and everything will be all right.”
He couldn’t pretend he didn’t understand. His pride meant nothing when his family was on the line. “I wish I could be so sure,” he whispered, fighting down his panic.
“A good marriage takes a lot of listening and hard work. I know you’re willing to work at it. The hardest thing for most of us is the listening.”
Those last words stayed with Charles as the Walkers all slipped out the kitchen door. Joe broke a trail through the virgin snow, holding Josie in his arms. Robbie and Lucy followed, while Marilyn brought up the rear. Charles stood on the back deck watching them trudge out of sight, shivering in the icy quiet.
The wind was still. The sky was clear, with the last stars fading as it slowly lightened. The snow-covered ground was a vague violet, edged by the black silhouettes of the trees. As the Walkers made their laborious way down the long drive, they slowly faded into the shadowy dawn. He thought Marilyn might have turned and waved, but he blinked, and then he couldn’t see them at all. They were gone.
A violent shiver shook him, and with a resigned sigh Charles turned back to the house. He hoped they were warm enough, and that the snowplows he heard in the distance came upon their van soon. What if it wouldn’t start? Maybe they’d come back then.
But Charles had a feeling that the Walkers were gone for good. And he was unprepared for the profound sorrow that knowledge caused him.
There was nothing he could do about that, though, he realized as he opened the kitchen door. They had their own lives to live, and his family had theirs. He had to go on from where he was. That was the stoic philosophy he used in business, and that’s what he needed to cling to now.
He went over to the coffeemaker and poured another mugful. The Walkers had shown them how good family unity could feel. All he had to do was not let his family forget that lesson. They had to do things together more—spend more time together doing small stuff. Puzzles. Charades. Talking.
But that didn’t solve the immediate problem of Judith’s Christmas gift.
He put the mug down and swiftly fetched the exquisitely wrapped package from beneath the tree. As he did, he spotted the cord for the Christmas tree lights. On impulse he plugged it in, then sat back on his heels as the tiny twinkling lights came on.
It was a beautiful tree, he decided as a wave of sentiment washed over him. Jennifer shifted on the couch and rolled over, pulling the quilt over her head. Alex slept like a rock in the corner where he and Robbie had bedded down side by side last night.
Alex would probably enjoy going camping, Charles thought. But would Judith agree to go? She wasn’t much of an outdoor person anymore. When they’d first been married, she’d enjoyed hiking. He frowned at the memory. She’d enjoyed gardening, too. But he’d hired a gardener years ago. And they never stayed any place where hiking was an option. Their trips always were associated with business, and were always in dense urban areas.
He clutched the Tiffany box tighter. Okay, a trip to a rural area. Maybe Florida. Or the Caribbean. They would frolic in the great outdoors like children, and she would see how much he loved her. And discover how much she still could love him.
With a sigh of relief, Charles stood up. It was reassuring to have some sense of direction. Some plan of action. He shook the box as an idea came to him, and an optimistic grin lit his face. Judith Montgomery was in for the toughest battle of her life. She was not going to get away from him. She almost had, but he’d just begun to fight.
BRIGHT SUNSHINE WOKE JUDITH. She rolled over, shoving the comforter off her shoulders. It was enough to smother a person, she thought groggily.
Very slowly, reality intruded. It was morning. Christmas morning. The sun was out; that meant the storm was over. And she was too warm. Who had tampered with the thermostat?
She woke up fully at the realization that the heat was on. They had power again. With a huge yawn and an arching stretch, she smiled. Thank heaven. While they’d not really suffered without electricity, having it back would certainly make cooking that turkey easier.
She looked around at the spacious bedroom. The morning sun slanted through the high clerestory window and glinted off the snow outside, creating an almost unearthly brightness in the pale-colored room. An interior photographer would love this light, she thought. The elegant room. The rumpled bed that hinted so clearly at what had gone on the night before.
As she remembered last night, her contented smile faded, to be replaced by uncertainty. Last night she and Charles had made love in a way she couldn’t begin to understand. It had been desperate at first, and then almost violent. But it had left her completely satisfied, both physically and emotionally. She’d been exhausted and beyond rational thought when they’d finally collapsed in a tangle of sheets and comforters and each other.
During that time they’d been beyond the conflicts of daily life and the accumulated baggage of twenty years together. For that brief time they’d simply been Judith and Charles, two people who loved each other in every way it is possible to love.
Just remembering the absolute perfection of it brought tears to her eyes.
Yet she wasn’t fool enough to think that last night had actually changed anything—that everything that was wrong wi
th their marriage had suddenly been made right. Charles might believe it was that easy, but she knew better.
Still, things weren’t the same, either.
Feeling nervous, she rose and headed for the bathroom. The hot shower was true luxury. Clean hair, clothes that weren’t piled on for warmth, and a sunny day—by the time she headed downstairs, her good spirits had taken hold again. She was a little reluctant to face Charles, but she couldn’t help thinking it was the most beautiful Christmas morning she’d ever seen.
The living room was deserted, but voices came from the kitchen and Judith headed that way. Charles, Alex, and Jennifer were in the midst of preparing a breakfast of toast, orange juice, and scrambled eggs, but the Walkers were nowhere to be seen.
“Good morning.” She touched Jennifer’s shoulder and reached up to tousle Alex’s hair. Then she met Charles’s gaze.
In that meeting of their eyes, a lifetime of emotion seemed to pass. It was awkward, but no more so than any first meeting between a man and woman, where the attraction exists but is too tentative to express. How odd to feel that way with her own husband. And yet something told her it was the right way to feel.
Her eyes lowered shyly, and it was then that Jennifer spoke up.
“They’re gone, Mom. They left before we got up. All of them.”
“What? Do you mean the Walkers?” Judith looked around in disbelief, sure that Jennifer was mistaken. “But that makes no sense. Why would they leave? How could they leave?”
“Joe heard the snowplows on the highway. He wanted to catch them so they could pull their van back onto the road.” Charles shook his head. “I tried to talk them out of it, but they wouldn’t listen. They left shortly before dawn.”
Judith made her way to one of the stools and sat down. “But I don’t understand.”
“I don’t either,” he confessed, his brow creased in concern.
“We were going to have such a great Christmas,” Jennifer complained. “Now everything is ruined.”
“No, it’s not,” Alex countered. “I’m as sorry as you that they left, but I guess they figured they had a good reason. Maybe they had grandparents or somebody waiting for them. Anyway, it’s still Christmas, and we can still have a good day with just us.”
Judith stared at her son, hearing the mixture of confidence and fear in his voice. He wanted the day to be good, and that alone bolstered her spirits. Two days ago he wouldn’t have cared one way or the other. But he was scared, too, that they might not succeed.
She shifted her gaze to Jennifer, and the anxious expression on her face helped strengthen Judith’s conviction. Her children had learned a lot from the Walkers’ brief presence in their lives. They knew now how satisfying family life could be. They were willing to try; so was Charles. It remained only for her to pitch in, too.
Her eyes met Charles’s once more, and a slow smile lifted her lips. “Yes. Though we all wish they could have stayed, we can still have a lovely Christmas.”
They ate breakfast in the living room with the tree twinkling behind them, beckoning them to partake of the bounty beneath it. The mound of gifts was truly impressive, but Charles good-naturedly dictated that they finish their breakfast first; they’d need the energy for opening all those presents.
As soon as the dishes were in the dishwasher, Jennifer planted herself at the base of the tree and began to pick up and shake the gifts. “This one’s for you, Alex. And here’s one for me.” She giggled and glanced at her parents. “And this one . . .” Her happy expression faded. “This one’s for Josie.” She stared at her mother. “What should we do with it?”
“Just put it aside for now, honey. We’ll decide later what to do with the Walkers’ gifts.”
Alex suggested, “They live in a place called Edgard. We could mail them their gifts, and maybe they’d write back to us.”
“We could invite them to visit us,” Jennifer threw in. “Hey, we could even meet them here again next year for Christmas!”
Judith met Charles’s gaze and saw the same mixture of love and hopefulness that she felt. Their children would never forget this Christmas. In spite of anything else the future might hold, there would always be fond memories of this Christmas and their unexpected guests.
“Those are both good ideas, kids. What do you say, Jude? Wouldn’t you like to spend next Christmas here and invite the Walkers to join us?”
Judith hesitated. Though simply phrased, his question was loaded with subjects she wasn’t quite ready to address. He wanted to know if they would be together next Christmas, and she didn’t know. But Alex and Jennifer looked at her with such happy, hopeful faces that she couldn’t avoid answering.
“You guys are ganging up on me, aren’t you? That’s a whole year away.”
“Aw, come on, Mom,” Jennifer pleaded. “You’ve had a good time while we’ve been here.”
“Yes, I have,” she admitted softly. “But who knows how we’ll feel next winter?”
The disappointment on Jennifer’s and Alex’s faces was immediate, and Judith felt a terrible sense of guilt. Who was she trying to fool? The truth was, she’d rather spend next Christmas—and all the ones to follow—here with her family than anyplace else on earth. Why couldn’t she admit it?
She swallowed hard and forced a smile. “Don’t look so glum,” she said, avoiding Charles’s searching gaze. “If nothing interferes, we can have Christmas here next year. Assuming we can use this house again.”
“Yes!” Jennifer shouted.
“And we can invite the Walkers?” Alex asked with an expectant smile.
“Of course.” Unable to help herself, she peered cautiously at Charles.
She’d expected to find a triumphant grin on his face, but to her surprise—and confusion—he appeared more relieved than anything else. He stared at her as if trying to see right through her. Then he gave her a faint, wavering smile and mouthed the silent words Thank you.
Judith blinked back a rush of sudden tears. She was a hopeless optimist and a ridiculous romantic, a dangerous combination. Yet she couldn’t deny the happiness in her heart. She would try. For another year, she would give this marriage her all. But she wouldn’t make it easy on Charles this time; he’d have to meet her at least halfway.
“Here, Mom. This is for you and Dad. Open it together,” Alex said, giving them a sheepish grin. He thrust a small package into her hand, one clumsily wrapped in tissue paper with red curling ribbon. He ducked his head when she stared at him, so she turned toward Charles.
“Shall we?”
He moved to sit next to her on the couch. “Go ahead. You open it.”
Jennifer and Alex watched anxiously as she tore the paper off. When Judith held up the precisely carved wooden ornament, the two children sat back, obviously pleased by the dumbstruck expressions on their parents’ faces.
“Oh, my. This is truly exquisite,” Judith managed to whisper past the huge lump that had formed in her throat. She held up the ornament by the ribbon tied to it and watched it twist back and forth in the air. It was a cluster of mistletoe—berries, leaves, and branching stems, all intricately fashioned to look very realistic.
“You carved this?” Charles asked, staring in amazement at Alex. At the boy’s proud nod, he shook his head in wonder. “This is incredible, Alex. You have a real talent for this.”
“It’s the guitar playing,” Jennifer boasted, shooting her brother a fond smile. “His fingers are really strong and really sensitive. It makes sense, doesn’t it?”
Alex cleared his throat. “Well, we talked about mistletoe yesterday, and it seemed like we ought to have some. So, I got the idea to carve some.” He thrust a similar-looking package at Jennifer. “Here. This one’s for you. It’s not as good,” he hastened to add, “ ’cause I did it first.”
Jennifer’s carving was a snowflake, complete with eight identical prongs. “It’s beautiful!” she exclaimed. She leaned over to kiss his cheek. “Thanks, Alex. I love it. I’m going to put it on th
e tree right now. There,” she said, once it was hanging in a prominent location. Then she turned to face her parents. “Okay, now you have to open my present.”
Judith was already shaken by the overpowering emotions at play in their little family. She bit down on her lip when Jennifer handed her a flat package. “Let your dad . . .” she barely managed to say.
Charles took the gift, then impulsively pulled his daughter close for a tight hug. “I love you, sweetheart. And you, too, sport,” he added with a heartfelt smile at Alex. Then he released Jennifer and cleared his throat. “Let’s see now. What have we here?”
Inside the package was an ordinary spiral binder, but the cover had a lace paper doily glued to it. On the first page was printed in a neat curling script, A Christmas to Remember.
Charles glanced up at Judith, and she smiled back at him in bemusement. She turned the page, and read, “This book is dedicated to my parents and my brother, Alex. Also to our friends Joe, Marilyn, Robbie, Lucy, and Josie.”
“It’s a book I’m writing,” Jennifer explained. “I’m going to write a story about Christmas and animals and children. I remember what Alex said about writing words that will be remembered forever, and how I remembered the words ‘Some pig,’ and then so did Lucy. So I decided to write a book that people will really like, and maybe they’ll remember something I said in it. And I’m dedicating it to all of you.”
Charles thumbed through the first few pages, so laboriously covered with the beginnings of Jennifer’s story. “My daughter, the writer, and my son, the musician and wood-carver.” He beamed at them, and Judith knew his pride was total.
“Oh, Jennifer,” she said. “This is just wonderful. Will you let us read it as it progresses? Or will we have to wait until you finish?”
“Better let us read it all along,” Alex advised. “It might be hard to stay motivated on a long project like this without somebody’s encouragement.”
Angels in the Snow Page 15
