“Man, I almost didn’t make it. Those roads are bad,” Tyler said, his arm about his mother’s shoulder. “What kind of problem?”
Kristine looked up at her son. Something clutched at her heart when she saw how each year he resembled his father more and more. “The heaters went out. We have sixty dogs in the house. Well, maybe not sixty, seven of them are in the apartment over the garage. We’ve got things under control, though. I think it’s kind of wonderful, all of us home together with the animals. By the way, Woodie and I are getting married the first of January. You can stay, can’t you, Tyler?”
“No kidding. You bet I’ll stay.”
“Me too,” chirped Jack.
“You have to do your share, Jack. I know you’re a cat man, but these are extenuating circumstances. Are you up to the challenge?” Kristine teased.
“I’m yours if you feed me. What are we having, turkey, ham, or prime rib?”
Kristine doubled over laughing. “Actually, Jack, we’re following a tradition we started years ago. We’re toasting weenies, marshmallows, and Jell-O for dessert. Woodie and Mike cleaned up the old sleigh and we plan to take it out after dinner. We might have to do it in shifts, but we’re going to do it. A real old-fashioned Christmas.”
“Huh?” the reporter said.
“No kidding! I haven’t had a hot dog in years. Good going, Mom,” Tyler said.
It was all perfect. So perfect it was downright scary. Thank You, God. I know I said that before, but I need to say it again.
Kristine opened the kitchen door. “Hey, everyone, look who the storm blew in.” She stood back to witness the robust greeting Tyler received from his siblings. She continued to watch as he oohed and aahed over baby Dillon and then scooped Ellie up on his shoulders. When he sat her down on Cala’s lap he turned to Emily.
“Hello, Uncle Tyler. Merry Christmas. I need some help with the animals,” she said in her serious grown-up voice.
“Then I’m your man. Tell me what you want me to do. Be explicit. I know how to follow orders.”
“I do, too. You watch me and do what I do. I only have two hands, and there are a lot of bellies. They’re scared like when the lights go out. You have to talk slow and quiet like when Dillon is going to go to sleep. Can you do it, Uncle Tyler?”
“I’m going to watch you first so I don’t make a mistake. Are you in charge of all this?”
“Yes. All the dogs in the living room are my friends. They trust me. Daddy says they know they can trust me. Get down low. They like little people.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Tyler said, raising his eyebrows to his family, who were watching him with interest. “This is a piece of cake. I can handle this,” he called over his shoulder.
Mike guffawed.
Kristine smiled.
Cala laughed and laughed. “He just might learn a trick or two. Sometimes, Mom, Emily is scary. She acts like a little old lady. Where does she get that?”
“From me,” Pete said, like the proud father he was.
“I don’t know about the rest of you, but I need something to eat,” Kristine said. “We need to shovel paths so we can walk the dogs by late afternoon. If we all work at it, it won’t take too long.”
“There are sandwiches on the table, and I cut up some fruit,” Carol said. “Fresh coffee is perking. Is dinner tonight dress up?”
“I hope not,” Kristine said, biting into her sandwich.
“Mike and I already ate, so we’ll start shoveling. Looks like Tyler is busy so that leaves you, Jack. If you want to partake of this family’s food and generosity, get dressed and grab a shovel,” Pete said.
“You guys need a snowblower,” Jack grumbled good-naturedly.
“That’s what you can get us next year for Christmas. Mark that down.” Mike grinned.
“Duly noted,” Jack said, zipping up his jacket.
Kristine munched on her sandwich, her gaze going to the calendar. A long time ago, she’d sat here at this same table, drinking wine and staring at the Reynolds Propane calendar. It seemed like a lifetime ago.
“Is something wrong, Kristine?” Carol asked.
“Not really. I was thinking about the year we all came back here. It was such an awful time. I’m sure Mike told you about it. I get a little sentimental at this time of year. I just wanted to have some kind of closure. I never got that. The kids needed it, too. If I live to be a hundred, I will never understand how a man could do what Logan did to this family. I guess we’ll never know. That was a very tasty sandwich, Carol. Thanks for pitching in.”
“Ellie helped me make the sandwiches. I hope I have a little girl one of these days.”
“I hope you do, too. By the way, where is Ellie?”
“She took the wood out of the wood basket, spread a towel inside, scooped up Gracie and Slick, and they’re all sound asleep.” Kristine laughed. “I can go out and shovel if you’d rather stay inside.”
“No, I need the exercise. For some reason I have this very ... I don’t know what to call it, tense feeling. It has nothing to do with the animals since we have that all under control. It’s like, all of this is too perfect and something is going to go awry. I’ve never been happier in my life and yet this feeling keeps popping up. Maybe shoveling will work out the kinks to whatever it is.”
Outside the wind howled and shrieked as snow swirled in what seemed like angry circles.
“I don’t know, Mom. This seems like a losing battle,” Mike said.
“I know but we have to do it. Shovel close to the house where it isn’t so deep. The overhang will break the snow a little. The big dogs won’t mind. It’s the little ones who will be afraid of the snow when they sink into it. We could use the porch for the smallest ones. I keep newspapers spread for Gracie and Slick. They know the drill,” Kristine shouted to be heard over the storm.
An hour later, Kristine called a halt. “I think we should start bringing the dogs out two at a time. We’ll feed them early, take them out one more time, and that will be it for the night. Cala, how are the dogs in the apartment?”
“They’re doing just fine. It’s warm and cozy. I was just going to take them downstairs into the garage and let them do their business in there. I spread papers a while ago. The really remarkable thing is they’re getting along. Each one staked out a spot and no one else ventures near it. I think they sense something serious is going on. We did good, Mom, real good. When we aren’t so tired, we need to celebrate.”
“When do you think that will be, Cala?” Kristine chuckled.
“Next year,” Jack piped up.
“He’s right. We’re going to be doing this until next year,” Pete said.
“I’ll start bringing the dogs out. Mike, you take the first two, and Jack, you take the second two. Cala, are you going to the garage? Come straight back here and follow your footsteps.”
“Yes, Mom.”
“Pay attention, Cala. If you get turned around and lose your bearings, we’d never be able to find you much less hear you shout. Follow the footsteps,” Pete warned.
“Yes, Pete,” Cala said mockingly.
“Your husband is serious, Cala, and so am I. Pay attention,” Kristine said.
“All right, Mom. Let’s not beat this to death.”
“Give her exactly fifteen minutes, Pete,” Kristine said. “Mike, get ready for the dogs. They’re going to be a little schizy at first. Most of them have been boarded here before, so they know us. We’ve never had weather conditions like this before, though.”
“We’ll handle it, Mom. Go get the dogs.”
“I wish Woodie was here,” Kristine muttered to herself as she trudged up the steps and into the house.
Logan Kelly looked at the new Ford Bronco sitting in the driveway under the overhang of the Hyatt Hotel. It was covered with snow. It occurred to him to wonder what color it was. Not that color was important in the scheme of things.
“It’s gassed and ready to go,” Don Mitchell said. “I have to warn you, Mr. Eberha
rt, the roads are treacherous. Merry Christmas. By the way, how far are you going?”
“Leesburg. It’s not that far. I’m a good driver,” Logan said coolly.
“Good drivers, bad drivers, it doesn’t make a difference in this kind of weather. The snow is drifting badly. Visibility is about five feet. Be very cautious. I threw in some flares just to be on the safe side. They’re on the floor of the backseat. Ford also includes a first-aid kit, flashlight, and road map. Merry Christmas, Mr. Eberhart.”
“The same to you.”
Twenty minutes into the bumper-to-bumper traffic, Logan knew he’d made a mistake. He should have stayed in the hotel and waited for the storm to subside. Oh, no, he had to make his grand entrance on Christmas Eve. He was lucky if he’d gone a mile. The salesman was right; visibility was almost nil. He bit down on his lower lip, cursing under his breath, mindful of the red taillights in front of him.
If he didn’t watch it, he would start to lose control, and that never worked for him. A good soldier was always in control. It was just a lousy fucking snowstorm. He’d been through snowstorms before. The only thing that made this one different was he was finally going home to his family. He never should have set a timetable for himself. Too many things could go wrong with timetables. Like snowstorms.
Damn, the wiper blades were icing up, and the red lights in front of him were barely visible. He had no clue as to where he was. If memory served him right there were twenty-one miles on the truck when the salesman dropped it off. He’d gone a mile and a half, perhaps a little more. Closer to two miles. At this rate, he’d be lucky to make Leesburg by midnight.
He needed to shift his mind into the neutral zone and think about other things. Things that were pleasant, things that were good. Unbidden, Danela’s face surfaced in front of him. His nemesis. Thinking about her the way he had these past few days had to mean something. Gut instinct, intuition. Something. Logan cursed again. Danela no longer had a place in his life. She belonged to the past, and if there was one thing he never did, it was look back. He needed to start thinking about Maureen Clovis and how she could help him once he split this place.
Instinctively, Logan steered into the slide he was experiencing. Sweat dripped down his face before he had the four-wheel drive back on track. Pay attention to the road, he warned himself. Eyes dead center on the whiteness beyond the windshield, Logan hunched over the wheel as he strained to see the pinkish lights in the distance.
Logan sat that way for over three hours as he crawled along the interstate. At some point, he turned off 270 and passed the sign for Broad Run Farms. He was alone on the road now, no red taillights to guide him. He brought the Bronco to a full stop when the wipers failed completely. Hunching into his wool jacket, he stepped outside to try and break the ice free from the wipers. His fingers were numb and cold, and it was impossible to tell if the ice was breaking off or not. In frustration, he gave them a vicious whack and felt rather than saw chunks of ice sail in all directions. He strained to see off in the distance. All his headlights showed him was swirling snow. He had no idea if he was on a road or not. He bent down to run his numb hands over the snow, hoping to find tire indentations. There were none. He realized for the first time that he could very well die out here. When would his body be found? When would the hotel open the safe in his hotel room? Would the bank disks be turned over to Kristine and the kids? Probably not, since he’d registered as Justin Eberhart. Would the authorities track him back to Africa? If so, Danela would be the one to take control of all his funds. Danela would get the last laugh. “Like hell,” he muttered as he climbed back into the Bronco.
Logan continued to drive, stopping every fifteen minutes to break the ice from the overworked wipers. The digital clock on the dashboard read 8:20 when he climbed out of the car once again to attack the wipers. He saw the oversize sign then, swinging in the wind. The sign that said, SUMMERS KENNELS.
He was home.
Logan drove slowly down the long driveway that led to the farm and the main house. He sighed wearily when he saw the lights of the house. As he drew closer, he saw the colored Christmas lights strung across the wide front porch. There were lights everywhere, spotlights, lights on the outbuildings, but it was the lights from the big farmhouse that drew his attention. He thought he could see a twinkling Christmas tree through the swirling snow. He frowned, deep grooves etching his forehead. Five vehicles. Four too many. The frown deepened. Company? Who? The kids? Who else? He could feel his heart rate speed up. What did it matter who was inside? Kristine would throw herself at him, and that would be that. Everything else would fall into place.
Presents. The diamond bracelet he’d bought for Kristine was in his coat pocket. The top-of-the-line skis for the kids were in the back with bright red bows. If he struggled, he should be able to carry all three pairs up the steps to the back porch. He had a moment of indecision when he couldn’t make up his mind if he should knock or just walk in. As the newly appointed head of the household, he would open the door and walk in. A husband and father belonged. There was no formality to adhere to.
Logan was on the back porch, shifting the skis from one shoulder to the other when he froze as the most bloodcurdling sound struck him dumb in his tracks. He had a clear view of the kitchen through the window. Animals came from everywhere, big ones, small ones, medium-sized ones, their teeth bared as they slammed into the back door. He backed up, his heart thundering in his chest. What the hell was going on here? He saw small children, strangers, and Kristine holding hot dogs on sticks, their eyes glued to the kitchen door and the wild animals.
He listened to the panicked voices shouting that someone was at the door while other voices tried to calm the dogs. He hated dogs. Always had and always would. He waited, the cold air searing his lungs as he fought to take deep, even breaths to calm his nerves.
And then there was total, thundering silence. Logan felt himself flinch. He watched as Kristine walked, as though in slow motion, to the back door, the stick with the hot dog still in her hand, Mike and Tyler on each side of her. The door opened slightly and then the wild wind blew it against the side of the door.
“Logan!”
“Dad,” the boys said in unison, disbelief registering on their faces.
“Oh, shit,” Woodie muttered to Pete, who was standing next to him, his mouth hanging open.
“Aren’t you eight years too late?” Cala said bitterly.
“Whozat?” Emily and Ellie squealed.
The dogs reared up again, teeth bared, tails between their legs.
“Logan,” Kristine said a second time.
“Merry Christmas, everyone!” Logan said jovially.
17
Kristine stared at the man in the open doorway. In the blink of an eye, the last eight years of her life flashed before her. This couldn’t be Logan. He couldn’t just appear and say, “Merry Christmas,” like nothing happened, eight years late. No, this wasn’t real. This was a bad dream she was having after the exhaustion and the trauma of the day. She poked the stick holding the hot dog against her leg. She felt the pain. It was no dream. It really was Logan, and he was standing in her kitchen. She needed to say something, and she needed to say it quickly.
“Close the door, Logan,” she said with barely a catch in her voice. She watched as her ex-husband’s eyes narrowed to slits. In the old days it would have been a warning for her to shut up and do whatever it was he wanted. The old days were long gone. “What do you want, Logan? Why are you here?”
“I wanted to come home. I wanted to see my family. Do you mind if I take off my coat?”
“Yes, I do mind. I think we all mind. You don’t belong here. You deserted us. I don’t owe you anything, and my children don’t owe you anything.”
Logan ignored Kristine’s words. He advanced into the kitchen and removed his jacket. This is not going according to plan, he thought uneasily. This isn’t the Kristine I remember. Not the Kristine I could bamboozle just by looking at her. His stoma
ch tightened into a hard knot when he turned to see the hate-filled eyes of his children. He addressed his wife. “I think you need to tell me what’s going on here. What are all these animals doing here? Don’t I deserve to be introduced to these strange people in my kitchen?”
“No.”
“No?” Logan moved around, offering his hand, which no one reached for. “I’m Logan Kelly. Kristine’s husband.”
“I had you declared legally dead, Logan. After I divorced you. This is my house, not yours. I’d like you to leave. You spoiled too many holidays for us, and I won’t allow you to spoil this one.”
Of all the things in the world Kristine could have said, this was the most unexpected. He could see his plans falling apart. “Obviously, you were premature, Kristine. I’m here. I’m alive. What you did will be invalid.” Fall back and regroup, his mind shrieked. Plan B is just as good as Plan A. The only problem was he hadn’t gotten around to forming Plan B. Bluff it out. He’d always been good at that.
“It will hold up in any court of law. I made sure of that. Where’s my money, Logan?”
“Right here, honey. I didn’t touch it.” Carefully, so the animals didn’t spring in his direction, Logan carefully withdrew an envelope from his inside jacket pocket. “Your eight million dollars plus interest and your personal-checking-account monies. There’s a long story behind it we can discuss another time.”
“Keep it and leave.”
This was definitely not going according to plan. Who in her right mind would turn down money like this? Certainly no one he knew or would care to know. When Kristine refused to touch the envelope, he laid it on the kitchen table. “You didn’t answer my question, Kristine, what are these animals doing in the house?” Of course she didn’t need the money, she had bushels of it now, thanks to her inheritance. “I’m rather tired. Which room is mine? You really fixed up this rattrap. I didn’t think it was possible to salvage it.”
Celebration Page 30
