Eve smiled. “I’m not sure luck had that much to do with it. God has His ways of working these things out. I have a feeling He picked you out for this job, too.”
TEN MINUTES LATER, BETTY CLOSED THE SHOP, JUMPED IN HER CAR, AND drove to Nathan’s cottage. She pulled up front and parked behind his truck. It was not quite dark, but the temperature had dropped well below freezing. There was no light in any of the windows and no smoke rising from the chimney.
She walked up to the door and knocked, at first in a reasonable way. And then harder and even harder, nearly rattling the old door on its hinges. “Nathan, I know you’re in there. Open up,” she called out to him.
She didn’t hear a sound inside and wondered if he was sleeping. She walked the length of the porch and tried to peek through a window, but she couldn’t see a thing.
She walked back to the front door and called in a loud voice. “Nathan? Please just come to the door. I’m not going away until I speak to you. . . . If you don’t come to the door, I’m going to come through one of these windows. I mean it.”
Betty paused, checking the window frame and wondering if she could even make good on her threat. That would be a new one, even for her—feeling so desperate to see a man, she broke into his house.
She approached the far window on the porch, which opened into the living room. There was a screen on the window but no storm window. The screen looked easy to remove, she thought. The shade and curtains were drawn, but she could see the top sash and tried to figure out if it was locked. She was pondering these questions, about to work on the screen, when she heard a dog barking. She quickly turned to see Rosie bounding out of the woods.
Nathan followed a few steps behind. He stared at her but didn’t smile. She wondered if he had heard her tirade at his front door.
“Just hold perfectly still. She thinks you’re breaking in.” His voice was serious, but Betty could tell from his eyes he was teasing her.
“I am breaking in. Or about to,” she confessed. “What is she going to do—lick me to death?”
Proving Betty’s point, Rosie jumped up to greet Betty, stretching up to lick her face.
“Down, you silly hound.” Nathan came up on the porch and tugged at the big dog’s collar. Then he looked at Betty. For a long moment his eyes seemed to devour her. Then he quickly looked away.
“Well, here I am. You’ve seen me. I’m alive and well. Mission completed,” he said in a flat tone.
“You’re alive,” she agreed. “But you look pretty awful.”
“Thanks. I’ve been working on that.”
He did look like a mess, his beard overgrown and his hair all mussed and matted.
“So you have been working on something,” she said pointedly.
He glanced at her and shook his head. “I’m sorry I lied to you, Betty. I didn’t know what to say.”
“I understand now. I saw Eve today. She told me what happened to you. The night I was here and I read your writing . . . I saw an article about your daughter, Nathan. I didn’t know what to say. I wanted to ask you about it but . . . I thought maybe that was too private. Maybe I should have said something though.”
“What difference would that have made?” He sighed and looked down at his boots. “It’s cold out here. You want to come in a minute?”
Betty nodded. She was shivering.
Nathan opened his front door and they went inside. He shed his jacket and turned on a few low lights. The place was a mess. He swept aside a pile of newspapers so she could sit on the couch.
Betty took a seat but kept her jacket on. “Don’t worry, I won’t stay long.”
“You don’t want to catch anything, you mean?”
“I don’t want to bother you . . . too much.” She sat back and opened her down jacket. “You say it wouldn’t have made any difference. I think it would have. I would have had some idea of what you’re going through. I thought you just . . . just didn’t want to see me anymore, and I didn’t understand why. Was it because I was going out with Alex Becker?”
Alex had called her once when she and Nathan were together. She knew that Nathan had noticed.
“I knew you were seeing somebody. I didn’t know if it was serious or not,” he admitted. “The real reason I dropped out on you is because I’m such a mess. Betty, I’m not the guy for you. I’m just . . . not in your league. I mean, just look at you. And look at me.”
“I am looking at you,” Betty said quietly. “You need a shower and a shave but otherwise, I have no complaints.”
“You know what I mean. You should be with a guy who’s more your type—successful and together. You don’t belong with a none-too-successful freelance journalist, who sidelines as a part-time Santa. That’s not good enough for you, Betty.”
“Really? I think I should be the one to decide that,” she said firmly. “And you should have told me all this before I sent Dr. Becker packing.”
He tried to look unaffected by that news, but Betty saw an encouraging flicker in his eyes.
“Look, Nathan . . . let’s just put all this dating stuff aside. I’m here first as a friend. I care for you. I want to be there for you.” She reached forward and took his hand, feeling relieved when he didn’t pull away. “Losing a child . . . that’s the worst thing anyone could go through. I can’t even imagine it. But we—I mean, all your friends—we understand that you’re hurting. So don’t shut us out. Please. We want to help you through this. This isn’t a time to be alone.”
“I know. But I can’t help that. I just feel like . . . like I failed her. I couldn’t protect her. It’s such a helpless, frustrating feeling. I know, rationally, it wasn’t my fault. Leah caught a virus that turned into an infection, and there was no medication that would knock it out. It just . . . took over her body. Logically, that wasn’t my fault. But it still feels that way. I was her father. I should have figured out some way to keep her safe.” He let out a long breath and stared down at his hands. “Every year at this time, I go through this all over again. . . . I can’t let it go.”
Betty knew she could never imagine his despair. She wasn’t sure what to say to him.
“I don’t know how anyone gets over that kind of loss,” she said at last. “But what about that line from your article about Christmas—that Christmas is like a window? Reverend Ben even quoted it in his sermon.”
Nathan shrugged. “I told him about it. I had to ask him a question about some bit of scripture I might put in there.” He sighed and ran his hand through his scruffy hair. “What does that have to do with this?”
“You have to look back and forgive yourself. You have to look back with love . . . and love yourself and accept that you did everything you could to save her. It wasn’t up to you at all, Nathan. Don’t you see? We can never understand a tragedy like that. But you can’t blame yourself for it either. God doesn’t blame you,” she said finally. “Do you think you know better than He does?”
He stared at her, then let out a long sigh. He stood up suddenly and walked over to the fireplace, then knelt down and started building a fire.
She could tell he didn’t want to talk anymore. She decided it was time to go. She wasn’t sure she had helped him at all. But at least she’d tried. Eve and Michael would be relieved to hear that he was physically all right, she thought. Maybe now he would let them visit, too.
She suddenly remembered her son was at her house and she hadn’t even called him. She stood up. “I’d better get going. Brian must be wondering what happened to me.”
“How is Brian? How is your visit going?”
“It’s been great,” Betty said. “We had a good talk last night. You were right. He is an adult now. He does see things differently.”
Nathan nodded, looking pleased. “I’m glad that went all right. . . . Well, thanks for going out of your way like this. I feel like you’re always doing things for me, Betty. You’re always helping me. Maybe someday I can make it up to you.”
There was a hopeful note, sh
e thought. She decided to pounce on it. What did she have to lose?
“There is a way you can help me, Nathan,” Betty said. “Not someday either. If you really want to pay me back, you can help me this Friday night.”
She wasn’t sure where she found the courage to toss out that challenge to him. Once the words had come out, she wondered if it had been a terrible—and even insensitive—idea. Or was it a good idea? A little jolt to shake him up and call him back to the land of the living?
“Friday night—New Year’s Eve? What kind of help do you need on New Year’s Eve?” He rose and looked at her curiously, wiping the fireplace soot from his hands with a towel.
“I’ve been invited to a party to celebrate Brian and Tina’s engagement. It’s Friday night, down in Concord, and I don’t have a date . . . and I’m really not looking forward to going alone.”
She had prepared herself to face that fate bravely, without any qualms. Until she saw him again, Betty realized. And now she couldn’t stop thinking about how much better it would be to have Nathan at her side.
“A party? You want me to go to a party with you?” He asked the question as if she had been speaking a foreign language and he wasn’t sure he trusted his translation.
“Yes, I do. And it’s a fancy one, I expect. I’m going to wear a black velvet dress and diamond earrings,” she warned him. “You’d need to wear a suit. . . . Do you own one? I mean, one that’s not red velvet?”
“I think I have one somewhere,” he said vaguely.
Betty was tempted to laugh but forced a straight face. “Well, if you were sincere about your offer, I need your help. I’m afraid to face all those people and my annoying ex-husband and his extremely perfect wife,” she confessed. “I need . . . backup.”
Nathan rubbed his bearded chin. She could see he was thinking about it but not persuaded. “You’ll be fine. Those in-laws will love you. And your ex-husband will wonder why he ever asked for a divorce.”
“I’m sure that’s true,” she countered. “But . . . then I’ll be wishing I had a friend to witness these social victories.”
And someone to hug me at midnight, she nearly added, when everyone else is grabbing their significant other. He was the perfect man for that job, too.
“Will you just think about it?” Betty asked him. “I wouldn’t ask you if I didn’t really need the favor.”
He gave her a quizzical look. “You won’t be ashamed to bring a department-store Santa with you?”
“I would be proud,” Betty said. “I’ve come to see that it’s a very important job. And you’ll have the most interesting job in the crowd, that’s for sure.”
Before he could argue further, she turned and walked to the front door. “You need to pick me up at six. I’ll be waiting. And remember, I’m the only nearly fifty-year-old woman who still believes in Santa. Don’t let me down.”
“I HAVE TO WORK TOMORROW, BUT I SHOULD GET HOME AROUND EIGHT,” Lucy told her family. They were having dinner on Thursday night. “We’ll get some pizza and watch the New Year’s Eve shows on TV.”
“The boys want to go bowling tomorrow,” Charlie said. “I’ll close the diner early and take them.”
Charlie rarely closed early, even on a holiday. Lucy was glad he was taking some time off to do something special with the kids.
He glanced at Zoey. “Do you like to bowl, Zoey? You can come with us.”
Lucy was surprised by Charlie’s invitation. Zoey looked surprised, too. “I tried it once or twice. I’m not very good at it.”
“Neither am I,” Jamie said. “You can be on my team.”
That did seem to make sense in a strange way. Lucy had to smile.
“Oh, there’s nothing to it. You just stand there and throw the ball. We’ll show you how,” Charlie told her. He took the bowl of string beans and added more to his plate.
The phone rang and Lucy leaned over to see who was calling. They had such little time together, she didn’t like to interrupt dinner with telephone calls.
But it was Rita Schuman, she noticed, so she quickly picked it up. “Hi, Rita, what’s up?” Lucy stepped away from the table, into the dining room.
“I just wanted you to know, there’s more news about Kurt Schmitt. The police and the district attorney’s office are building a case and trying to tie him to a string of home robberies now. They want to question Zoey about what she saw and heard during that relationship.”
“Question her? You mean, as a witness?”
“Yes, as a witness. She wouldn’t be implicated in his wrongdoing. It’s nothing like that. But they need more testimony to make the charges stick.”
This was serious, Lucy thought. She glanced over at Zoey. They had all thought this situation had gone away. But it was back again, uglier than ever.
“I’ll talk to her about it,” Lucy said. “What if she doesn’t want to give her testimony?”
“If they want it enough, they’ll get a judge to write a subpoena. I think it’s best if she goes in willingly. The police will ask her questions and take a statement. It shouldn’t take that long. She may never be called to court. It may never even go to court if there’s enough evidence against him,” Rita pointed out. “This is one way she can help put him behind bars, where he belongs. Have Zoey call me later. I’ll talk to her about it.”
“Yes, of course.”
Lucy glanced into the kitchen. Her family had finished dinner and had started to clean up the kitchen. Charlie and Zoey at least. The boys were throwing smashed-up paper napkins at each other and making explosion sounds. Zoey got into the fray and squirted C.J. with the hose from the sink. They were all acting goofy but having a lot of fun. Even Charlie didn’t try to stop them.
She hated to drag a dark cloud over the household again with this news. But there was nothing she could do. This hurdle had to be faced.
“What was that all about?” Charlie asked when she came back in the kitchen.
“I’ll tell you later,” Lucy said quietly. “Hey, guys, if you’re not going to help, just move along. I thought you were going to watch a movie tonight? Better start it, it’s getting late.”
She was glad to see that when the boys left, Zoey stayed in the kitchen. She had taken the sponge mop from the broom closet and began wiping up the water on the kitchen floor.
Lucy put her hand on Zoey’s shoulder. “Let’s do that later. Sit down a second. I have to talk to you.” Zoey looked alarmed but sat down.
Charlie looked worried, too, and came over to the table. “What’s this all about, Lucy?” he said before Zoey could.
Lucy related the news from Rita Schuman.
“I can’t go to court and talk against Kurt.” Zoey’s expression had changed from alarm to sheer terror. “Are you crazy? What if he doesn’t go to jail, or he gets out early or something? He’ll kill me.”
Lucy put her hand on Zoey’s, trying to calm her down. “Zoey, honey, that’s not going to happen. He’s going to be put away. For a long time. But the police need your help. They need to make sure their case against this guy is airtight.”
“Of course the police are going to say that. Like it’s a TV show or something. But you don’t know how it works. Guys like Kurt get away with stuff all the time. Kurt’s not going to end up in jail. He’s going to get released—and come after me—before you even know it. You people are so blind.”
They hadn’t seen this side of Zoey in a long time, her snide, smart-mouthed personality.
Lucy was taken aback but not really surprised. Zoey was frightened, like a cat backed into a corner. She had to lash out.
“Okay, young lady. That’s enough,” Charlie cut in. “We’re trying to help you out. That’s all we’re doing here. No need to talk like that to Lucy.”
Zoey glanced at him a second, then stared down at the table. Lucy felt her drifting away from them. Retreating to some dark, private place.
“Zoey, the thing is, if you don’t go willingly to talk to the police, they’ll order you
to come, and if you don’t go even then, well . . . you’ll be in a lot of trouble. It’s better to just go and get it over with. I know it’s scary. But we’ll be there with you. And Rita will probably come, too. Maybe we’ll even find a lawyer.”
Zoey looked up at her. At least she looked as if she was listening again, Lucy thought.
“A lawyer? Do you know how much a lawyer costs?” Charlie said sharply. “Who’s going to pay for that?”
“I am,” Lucy answered without even looking at him.
“Great,” Charlie said. “There goes our retirement fund.”
Zoey covered her face with her hands and burst out crying. “I’m so sorry. . . . I don’t know what to do. Why does this stuff always happen to me?”
“It’s not your fault, honey.” Lucy sat down next to Zoey and rubbed her back. “And it’s not such a big deal—just a mess we have to clean up for once and for all. It’s going to be okay, I promise. We’ll get through this and just put it all behind you.”
She glanced up at Charlie for a moment. He seemed about to say something, then turned and left the room.
That night, Lucy slept with one ear open. She was afraid Zoey might try to run away while everyone was sleeping.
Charlie rolled over and put a hand on her shoulder. “What’s the matter? Can’t you sleep?”
“I thought I heard a noise. It was nothing. . . . Charlie, what if Zoey decides to run away again? She’s so afraid to give testimony against that boy.”
“Yeah, I know. It’s not a pretty situation, is it? What can we do? We’re doing all we can for her. If it’s not one thing, it’s another with that girl.”
“Charlie—” Lucy began to protest.
“I like her, Lucy,” he went on. “I can’t say that I don’t. But she has problems, and we can’t solve everything for her. Right now, the truth is, I’m sorry we ever got involved.”
Lucy felt tears fill her eyes. She rolled to her side so Charlie wouldn’t see her cry.
She knew there was some truth to what Charlie said. They could only do so much for Zoey. They couldn’t keep her under lock and key. She felt sorry, too, in a way, that they had gotten so involved in Zoey’s life. If she hadn’t, it wouldn’t hurt so much, Lucy knew. She couldn’t do anything about that either. That’s the way it was when you opened your heart to someone, anyone—even a stray cat or dog. There was always the risk of heartache and regret. But what would life be without taking that risk—without making those connections? Without giving of your own self to someone in need?
On Christmas Eve Page 29
