Angels in the Snow

by Rexanne Becnel

  Jennifer nodded seriously. “You’re probably right.”

  The rest of the gifts were more predictable, and Judith was almost relieved. She was in too emotional a state to take much more. Even then, however, the least little thing seemed to prod her to tears. Slippers picked because they were her favorite color, teal blue. A pound of her very favorite selection of Godiva chocolates.

  Their responses to her gift choices were almost as affecting. Alex loved the digital voice recorder that would allow him to record and remember lyric ideas wherever he was. Jennifer squealed with delight to receive a day of luxury at her mother’s favorite salon.

  “A manicure and a pedicure!” she exclaimed. “Just like a grown-up.”

  Though Alex laughed at the idea, Jennifer was unperturbed. “I bet they could even do wonders with your hair,” she retorted gaily.

  “Walking shoes,” Charles said, looking up from a box he’d opened. “Is this a hint?” he asked Judith with a smile.

  “I thought you might enjoy walking. As a way to exercise and relax.” Then she continued on, saying what she’d long thought, but never voiced. “All your activities are so competitive, Charles. Work, tennis, and racquetball. But walking isn’t . . .” She trailed off, wondering why she’d ever thought walking shoes were a good idea.

  “Then I guess that means I can’t discuss business when I walk,” he teased. “Is walking a solitary sport, or can wives come along?”

  He didn’t wait for a response. Maybe he was afraid of her answer, Judith thought, but his words gave her a tiny thrill.

  Then he thrust an envelope into her hands. “Here. I hope you like it.”

  Judith found herself shaking as she fumbled with the envelope flap. Jennifer and Alex were playing with the digital recorder, singing snatches of Christmas songs, then replaying them at slower and faster speeds. Charles, however, was staring straight at her, watching her with a guarded expression on his face.

  The card was the typical extravagant avowals of a husband to a wife during the holiday season, compliments of Hallmark, and she read it with growing disappointment.

  “Read the paper I put in there,” Charles prompted her when she looked up at him.

  The paper was neatly hand lettered—a series of couplets, she realized.

  In January we’ll build a snowman together.

  We’ll keep ourselves warm, no matter the weather.

  When February’s patron, St. Valentine, visits,

  He’ll find us so happy, with true lovers’ habits.

  In March we’ll take long lovely walks by the sea,

  Or maybe the mountains, it’s no matter to me.

  Beneath April showers or among May’s fresh flowers,

  What counts most is the time we set off as ours.

  In June let’s go camping along with the kids.

  In July how about fishing—

  Judith looked up from the poem, hardly able to believe that he had written it for her. He could dictate into his ever-present recorder with ease, but putting pen to paper was torture for him. Yet here was a poem he had written just for her. She couldn’t disguise the mist in her eyes, or the tumultuous emotions that rose in her chest.

  “I’m going to make this the best year of our marriage,” he whispered for her ears only. “Just give me a chance to prove it, Jude. We’ll do things together as a family, and we’ll do things together, just you and me. We can take walks together. Go to the movies. Go out to eat without inviting anybody else to join us.”

  Judith could not respond; the lump in her throat was too big. In that moment, however, she knew she wanted to try. She wanted her marriage back, and she would fight tooth and nail to make it work. How could she ever have considered abandoning it?

  A sob broke through, and with a glad cry she threw her arms around Charles. August and September, and all the other months, were forgotten. She knew they’d find a way to sustain their marriage throughout the year to come, and beyond.

  “Aw, aren’t they sweet.” She heard Alex chuckle. Through her tear-blurred eyes, she saw that he was beaming.

  Jennifer edged nearer her brother and wiped her eyes. “This is the best Christmas we’ve ever had,” she said with a teary smile.

  “It truly is,” Judith agreed. She smiled up at Charles. “It truly is.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Charles glanced out the window. Alex and Jennifer were cavorting in the snow, making a game out of shoveling a path to the car. Though they’d barely gone half the way to the Mercedes, they were having a great time. Even through the double-insulated glass, he could hear their shouts of laughter. It was the most beautiful sound he could imagine.

  Then, as he heard Judith humming in the kitchen, he amended that. Her contented sounds and their children’s happy ones—it was impossible to choose which brought him more joy. How wonderful that he didn’t have to make a choice!

  With a tranquil sigh, he sat down in the window seat. He had the Walker family to thank for this. A snowstorm; a rabbit; and a slippery road. He hoped their van hadn’t been too damaged. But he’d gladly pay for their repairs—or even buy them a brand-new van. He owed them that much—though it was unlikely they’d ever accept monetary thanks.

  They were an unusual pair, but their hearts were in the right place, and they were terrific parents.

  He stared past the children, down the long driveway, white and gleaming in the bright sunlight. The pristine snow was deeper than it appeared, higher than Joe’s knees, he recalled.

  Then he frowned and searched the wide expanse. Where were their footprints? He squinted, but there was no trail through the snow in that direction. The snow was absolutely unmarred.

  Had they taken another route?

  He tried to remember, but it had been dark and he’d still been half-asleep. Had they gone out another way? Charles stood up and went to a different window. But there was no trail broken through the snow on that side of the house, either.

  A chill snaked up his spine. This was very weird. They had left this morning, so there had to be some sign of it. It hadn’t snowed again, and besides, it would take an awfully heavy snowfall to cover up the passage of five people.

  It made no sense. Was he going crazy?

  Judith came in from the kitchen with a stack of dishes and bowls. “You’re being volunteered to set the table for Christmas dinner,” she said. “You can start with these.”

  “Oh. Yeah, sure.” He gave a last puzzled glance out the window.

  “Is something wrong with the kids?” Judith asked at once. She hurried to him and peered outside.

  “No, no. They’re fine.” Charles put an arm around her and pulled her close. “Better than fine, to tell the truth. And so are you.”

  When she turned her face up to accept his kiss, he forgot all about the Walkers. He had a second chance with his wife, and that’s all that mattered to him.

  They ate just before dusk after watching a magnificent sunset across the snow-tipped treeline. Turkey, dressing, cream of asparagus soup, salad, glazed carrots, and Mrs. Smith’s Original Apple Pie. Even eggnog. It was a feast such as Charles had dreamed about. Finer foods may have been placed before him in the past, served by famous chefs. But this meal had been prepared by the woman he loved—and who loved him. Manna straight from heaven couldn’t have tasted nearly so sweet.

  “Does anybody want to watch television?” Jennifer ventured, once the dishes were cleared away and the dishwasher was quietly humming. “A Christmas Carol is on.”

  Alex looked up from putting his guitar strings back on his electric guitar. “Hey, that’s the story with Josie’s ‘God bless us, everyone.’ Yeah, I want to watch it. How about you guys?” he asked his parents.

  Judith smiled. “That’s exactly what I’m in the mood for. Watching old Scrooge do an about-face.”

  “I guess I’ve been a lot like Scrooge,” Charles whispered to her as they all headed to the living room. “But I’m changing, just like he did.”

&n
bsp; “You’re not the only Scrooge,” she confessed. “I’ve been too fixed in my own ways. We’re both going to change for the better.”

  He stroked her cheek gently, and whispered, “I love you.” Her soft reply and return kiss made his heart soar. As they settled side by side on the couch, Charles thought that in their own way, Joe and Marilyn and their children had performed almost as dramatic a miracle on them, as Dickens’s ghosts had done for Scrooge. Like guardian angels, the Walkers had flitted into their lives and then out again, leaving them forever changed. How he wished he could thank them properly.

  The Ghost of Christmas Future was hovering above a terrified Scrooge more than an hour later, when his cell phone rang. The jarring, electronic summons seemed completely out of place in the calm of their mountain retreat. Charles disengaged himself from his comfortable sprawl with Judith, and hurried toward the phone. The cell towers had probably powered up about the same time as the electricity, yet he hadn’t even thought about checking in with Doug. Now the idea that someone was interrupting his Christmas idyll bothered him.

  He picked up his phone with regret.

  “I finally got through!” Doug’s voice came booming over the line. “What the hell’s been going on up there?”

  “And a merry Christmas to you, too,” Charles responded dryly. “We got hit with a huge storm. We had no electricity or phones for a couple of days.”

  “Talk about the worst timing in the world! All hell’s broken loose over here.”

  “What are you talking about?” Charles turned his back on the door to the living room, shutting out the faint sounds of Scrooge groveling before the most terrifying of his three ghosts.

  “It’s that damned Garrington. Or to be more exact, his damned interfering wife. He’s holding fast to her position that our hotel will disrupt a neighborhood that’s already struggling to survive.”

  “Survive? That seedy area? What’s to survive? A few mom-and-pop businesses? A few apartment buildings that should have been either demolished or renovated ten years ago?”

  “Not according to the Neighborhood Preservation Center. They think the Washington Street Grocery, Krauss’s Sweet Shop, and Gagliano’s Market are more important than a hotel that will employ over a hundred people. Not to mention all the construction jobs.” Doug swore once more in disgust. “You need to get back here right away. We’ve got to sit down with Garrington and do some serious negotiating, otherwise Greenmont Center is dead in the water!”

  A memory flashed through Charles’s mind: their first house on Cleveland Avenue. They’d been a mom-and-pop operation back then. And Marilyn had said their first home was little more than a shack, but she’d loved it.

  “Charles, are you listening? If you don’t get back here tomorrow, we may lose a year of work! The whole project is circling the drain!”

  “Yeah, I hear you, Doug. I hear you.”

  When Charles finally hung up, he didn’t return immediately to the living room. They had to leave for home first thing tomorrow—there was no avoiding it. Yet he dreaded telling Judith and the children. Things were going so well, but it was still precarious. One wrong step and he could undo everything he’d gained.

  He sat down next to Judith, only giving her a reassuring smile in answer to her inquiring expression. He focused instead on the television.

  Scrooge had obviously awakened on Christmas morning, and was growing more and more giddy with his own good fortune. He had a chance to make up for the unhappy and parsimonious life he’d led, and he was doing so with a vengeance. Carrying the largest goose he could buy, he was visiting Bob Cratchit’s meager dwelling, asking forgiveness and promising a raise.

  When Tiny Tim’s final line was delivered, the entire family sat back in satisfaction.

  “God bless us, everyone,” Jennifer repeated. She clicked the television off and turned toward her parents. “I sure wish Josie was here to say that again.”

  The sympathetic smile Alex gave his sister made it clear he felt the same.

  At that moment, Charles was glad the Walkers were gone. Their presence would have made it even more difficult for him to announce that this vacation had to be cut short. Neither Joe nor Marilyn would have said anything, but they would have looked at him in that way they had, as if they could see all the way through him.

  But if they could see inside him, they’d know how much he didn’t want to end this vacation. He didn’t have any choice, though. Too many other people were depending on him.

  “Do you think they’re home yet?” Jennifer asked. “How far away is Edgard?”

  “It’s about a three-hour drive in good conditions, honey. Probably more than twice that long today. But they must be home by now,” Judith reassured her. “Assuming their van was okay.”

  “You know, it’s been a long day,” Charles said. “You guys about ready to turn in?”

  Jennifer let out a huge yawn. “I think I’ll get ready for bed. But I’m going to work on my book for a while before I go to sleep.”

  “Yeah, I think I’ll go play a little guitar, then turn in, too.” Alex rose and stretched before reaching for his guitar. “Good night, Mom. ’Night, Dad.” He bent to kiss his mother, and then leaned over unexpectedly to hug his father.

  Charles was too taken aback—and too moved—to do more than murmur an awkward reply. After Jennifer kissed both her parents, the two children disappeared up the stairs.

  Judith nestled more comfortably against him. “Those are some kids, aren’t they?”

  Charles nodded, fearing his voice wasn’t steady enough to respond. He tightened his arm around her shoulders. Alex’s affectionate gesture only made what he had to do more difficult. He took a steadying breath, aware of the lemony scent of Judith’s hair. She’d used a lemon rinse in her hair for as long as he could remember. No matter where he was or what he was doing, the smell of lemons invariably made him think of her. He wondered if she knew that.

  “Was that Doug on the phone?”

  “Yes.”

  He felt her wry chuckle. “Was he frantic? This is the longest time you two have gone without talking business in all the years you’ve been together.”

  Charles swallowed. He had to tell her.

  “As a matter of fact, he was frantic,” he began. “There’s some problem with the demolition permit.”

  “There’s always bound to be some problem with a project of that size. But let’s not talk about business right now.” She moved slightly, nuzzling her face against his neck. “We’re on vacation. There must be something more interesting we can talk about. Any ideas?” she teased as she kissed his throat softly.

  Charles steeled himself. It was useless to put it off. That would only make her angrier later.

  “Jude, there is something we need to discuss. About business,” he added. He felt the slight tensing of her body, and he heard the intake of her breath. There was a pause.

  “What?” she finally asked in a cautious tone.

  “I have to go back. Tomorrow. There’s a major glitch,” he hurried on, as he felt her rising tension. “We could lose the whole project. A year and a half of planning down the drain. A fortune in fees to architects and a dozen other consultants.” He held her tighter when she started to pull away. “I know you’re disappointed, Jude. But I’ll make it up to you. I promise. I meant what I said in that card. I’m going to make time for all of you from now on.” He was babbling, he realized, and it wasn’t going to help. With a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach, he stopped talking.

  Judith pushed away from him to sit straight on the couch. She didn’t shrug off his arm on her shoulder, however, and he tried to find some reassurance in that. But when she faced him, he knew he was grasping at straws.

  “Why can’t Doug handle this?” she asked in a voice that sounded too controlled to be natural.

  “It’s a political problem. Doug’s weakness. My forte.”

  “Your forte,” she said after a moment. “Yes, I would have to ag
ree that the politics of business is definitely your forte.”

  The flatness of her tone alarmed him. “Judith, if I could do it from here by phone, I would. But the situation is too critical.”

  “What about our situation? I think it’s pretty critical, too.”

  “We’ll go somewhere for New Year’s, I promise you—”

  “But only if business permits, right?” She stood up abruptly and moved toward the stairs. Then she turned and faced him. “If you’d put just half that thought and effort into your family life—” She broke off, pressing her lips together, her hands clenched into fists at her side. “You’ll have to tell the children. I won’t make excuses for you ever again.”

  She started up the stairs, then paused. “Be sure to turn off the Christmas tree lights.” Her voice was soft and held a note of infinite regret. Then she disappeared from view.

  Chapter Fifteen

  It was a hell of a thing when your family refused to understand, Charles fumed. Everything he did, he did for them. None of them had even wanted to come on this trip. He’d had to force them. But they had conveniently forgotten that. Now they were all mad at him because they had to leave early. He couldn’t win, no matter what he did.

  But Charles did not give voice to his irritation. When Jennifer shot him an accusing look, he only forced a smile. When Alex roughly shoved his mother’s Pullman bag back to make room for his guitar case, Charles simply leaned forward to straighten the suitcase and settle the guitar case more securely in the trunk of the car. Alex was back to sullen glances and indecipherable muttering, words not meant to be heard by his father but nonetheless clearly conveying his anger.

  And Judith. She was dressed and ready to go, wearing a false air of cheerfulness that only made the situation more depressing than ever.

  His phone rang, and he fumbled to fit his earpiece in place, aware that both of his children were glaring at him.

  “The meeting is set for three at Garrington’s office,” Doug informed him without benefit of greeting. “Will you be able to make it?”