The Twins' Family Christmas

by Lee Tobin McClain

  It all flashed before him and was gone in an instant, replaced by the cold, almost mocking words of the note before him.

  He read it again, and this time he realized something else.

  She’d said she was leaving. Was she already gone?

  He half stood and looked over toward her cabin. Through the snowflakes, he couldn’t see any lights.

  Her car was gone.

  She was gone.

  Chapter Twelve

  Lily clenched the steering wheel and peered through the snow, making her way down the lonely mountain road toward the busier highway that would take her home.

  Or what passed for home. Funny, even though she’d spent only a week in Colorado, she had the feeling she was leaving home.

  The car slid a little on its nearly bald tires, tires that had seemed perfectly fine in the desert Southwest. She sucked in a gasp and tapped the brakes lightly, and the car came back into line.

  Had she made a terrible mistake, writing that awful letter to Carson? Not just abandoning him and the girls and poor sweet Bella, but doing it in a cold, uncaring way that would definitely sever any relationship that was left between them?

  No, because knowing Carson, knowing the way he cared for others, he’d come after her if she didn’t cut him off completely. Not because he loved her, specifically, but because he wouldn’t want any person to be at risk in snow like this.

  He loved people, all people. It was his nature, and it wasn’t fake and insincere like some men, even pastors, that she’d met in the past. His generosity and concern for others went heart-deep.

  But he wouldn’t be able to love her, not after what she’d done. She’d seen the look of betrayal on his face, just hearing about the discharge. Well, what would happen if he learned the whole truth?

  He’d put part of the blame on himself, of course, and that would make him miserable.

  But he’d also blame Lily, and rightly so.

  Pam had certainly laid the blame at Lily’s feet. Some friend you are! You threw me to the wolves! It’s all your fault!

  The horrible memories came rushing back and she fumbled for tissues. She swiped at her eyes and then grabbed a half-frozen water bottle and took a drink, trying to calm herself, to force the ugly pictures out of her mind. She couldn’t allow herself an emotional breakdown now, on a snow-covered road.

  She needed to think of something else.

  She noticed the paint smear on her wrist, and immediately her mind was cast back to the twins’ eager, adorable faces.

  The sob that rose from her chest made her buck forward, and instinctively she hit the brake to slow down, making the car fishtail.

  Just like it had the first morning she’d been here, when the twins had come running down to offer six-year-old advice and assistance.

  They were so dear. Such sweet, good little girls. Fun-loving, with a hint of Pam’s mischief and a bigger dose of Carson’s kindness.

  She’d never see them again.

  She swallowed hard, clenched her jaw. Get it together; you can do this.

  For the tiniest second, she caught a glimpse of Pam’s despair. When you felt like you’d lost everything, when it seemed that no one cared, when to go on living meant a bucketload of pain and no one to help you deal with it, when you’d hurt the ones you loved... Yeah. It made at least a little sense.

  Lily glanced toward the dropoff on the left side of the road.

  No. She sucked in deep breaths and focused on the narrow, slippery highway in front of her. She couldn’t let herself wreck and freeze and die out here.

  She had to believe God had some kind of a plan, even if it felt as blurry and hazy as the low-visibility air in front of her.

  She gripped the steering wheel tighter, navigated around a curve. Lost traction.

  Her car skidded sideways, and she tried to steer into it, braking as lightly as she could, hands suddenly sweaty on the wheel.

  There was a jolt, and then the car did a sickening nosedive, bumping Lily’s head forward to the steering wheel, back against the headrest and then forward again.

  Help, Father!

  * * *

  Carson paced his cabin, trying not to look at the note he’d let flutter to the floor. Trying to pray.

  He should probably just go get the girls. Oh, they were fine; Long John had said they could stay as long as he needed, and they’d been settled in to watch a gentle nature show while cuddling with Rockette.

  It was Carson who needed them this time, not the reverse. So that he could focus on what he was good at: being a dad. Forget about Lily.

  Maybe he should go after her.

  The inaudible nudge felt completely familiar to Carson. He’d experienced it before.

  She doesn’t want me, Father. She made that perfectly clear. He even gestured at the note on the floor, as if God needed to be reminded of the truth.

  She’d sure acted friendly, though. She’d seemed to like Carson for who he was, had seemed content with small-town life, had seemed to love hanging around the cabin with him and the girls.

  How did her note fit in with that? Had her contentment and enjoyment all been fake?

  He slammed a fist against the wall. She’d deliberately misled him, which was bad enough, but she’d also gotten his girls involved. Put their hearts at risk, when she of all people should understand how vulnerable they were, having lost their mother.

  They’d be devastated when they learned that Lily had gone away.

  He should never have let them get close to her. He shouldn’t have gotten close to her. She wasn’t worth it.

  She wasn’t.

  There came that inner nudge to go after her, again.

  “No!” He shouted the word aloud, then felt like an idiot. Anyone looking in at him would think he was flat-out crazy.

  He knew the truth, though. His craziness didn’t consist of walking around by himself yelling and hitting things. It consisted of getting involved with the wrong woman, not just once, but twice.

  A gust of wind whipped around the cabin, making a lonely whistle.

  Against his will, an image of Lily driving alone through the winter weather formed itself in his mind. She didn’t even have good boots, and she wasn’t comfortable driving in these slippery, whiteout conditions. If she went off the road...

  Carson blew out a sigh and looked out through the increasingly heavy snow toward the spot where Lily’s car should be.

  Even if she’d had the skill and comfort level, she wasn’t equipped for snow driving. Her vehicle wasn’t made for it. She probably didn’t even have a blanket in the car, let alone a shovel, gravel, water, snacks. Things any rural Coloradoan wouldn’t need to be told to carry along, but she wasn’t from around here.

  And night would fall early at this, the darkest time of the year.

  Arguing with himself, he started coffee brewing. Then he texted Long John, got back into his coat and boots, and stuffed a blanket, extra socks and mittens into a backpack.

  He poured the fresh coffee into his big thermos and stuck that in the pack, too. If he did catch up with her, she’d need it. She loved her coffee.

  Minutes later he was on the slick, icy road, making his way carefully around the bends. No other vehicles in sight. People knew better than to drive in weather like this.

  Lily didn’t, though. And while he’d started his rescue trip berating himself as a fool, now he was glad he’d come.

  She’d withheld information, made him angry. But she was a fellow human being who needed help, and for whatever reason, God had put him in a position to help her.

  He was steering around a particularly tight curve when he saw the back end of her car, poking up out of the roadside ditch. His heart gave a great leap. He found the next safe spot to pull off, got out with his backpack of equipment and rushed to her car.
r />   She wasn’t in it.

  * * *

  Lily’s face stung with the cold, and her feet were blocks of ice.

  Had she made a mistake, leaving the car?

  Of course you did, came a familiar, critical voice from inside. Always causing problems. Never in the right place. Making trouble for everyone.

  She rolled her eyes. Thanks, Mom. I needed that.

  Thing was, her winter wandering might not cause trouble for anyone. Who would know she was gone, who would care, now that she’d cut off her ties with Carson and the twins?

  But Aunt Penny would care. Long John would care. If she thought about it, a few friends from her university program would care, and a couple of army buddies. Even her father would care, if he were sober enough to be aware of her absence.

  Would anyone get to her in time, though, if she were reported missing? By the time her car was found, she’d likely be a stick of ice.

  All the more important that she reach her destination. She’d remembered this area from her drive up here, and she knew there was a small cluster of cabins on a lake visible from the road. She’d thought it looked so cute and welcoming.

  If she could just reach those cabins, she could find help or at least shelter. And that would be better than staying in her less-than-airtight, not-that-reliable car that had quit running and wouldn’t turn on again.

  The trouble was, she could barely see through the blizzard-like whiteness, and it was getting increasingly difficult to trudge through the snow in her loose-soled boots. Twice, she’d fallen, and now she fell again. This time, it was harder to get back up.

  She tried to feel God’s presence. Never had she needed Him so badly. For emotional survival and physical, too.

  Was that a building ahead? She got to her feet and squinted toward the dark shape, stomping her feet and rubbing her hands together. When she realized it was one of the cabins, she ran toward it, slipping and stumbling in the snow, praying for a friendly reception.

  But when she got there, the cabin was cold and empty.

  * * *

  Carson strode as fast as safely possible in the shin-deep snow. The path Lily had broken was filling in quickly, and he was terrified of losing her.

  What kind of a person would leave the warmth of her car and strike out across a windy field in a snowstorm? Didn’t Lily know she was putting herself, as well as anyone searching for her, at risk?

  He tried to work up more righteous anger. Inconsiderate, that was what it was. She was thinking of herself and not of others. Maybe that offhanded note she’d left on the table represented the real her, and if so, once he found her, he’d take her to the nearest airport and deposit her there, no problem.

  Yeah, right.

  He plunged forward through the deepening snow and then realized he was off her path. Panic gripped him as he scanned the surrounding whiteness, but he floundered back and picked up her trail again. Where was she going? Was she headed to that abandoned miners’ camp that served as an unofficial shelter for local hunters?

  What would she do once there?

  He wished he didn’t care about her so much. But he did. The thought of her out here alone—or encountering a sketchy, drunk group of hunters—made him move faster.

  He had to admit the truth; he’d fallen hard for her.

  And as he thought about Lily, as memories of their short-but-intense time together flashed through his mind, he knew she’d felt something, too.

  She’d certainly seemed to care. To enjoy what he had to offer, and he did have something to offer. He wasn’t an urban sophisticate or an international playboy, but those types wouldn’t suit Lily. She was country to the core.

  And if he found her, he was going to tell her so.

  He made out the shape of the cabins through the sideways-blowing snow and was relieved to see her footprints led in that direction. If she’d gotten inside to safety, she’d be all right. Cold, wet, uncomfortable, but all right.

  And once he got her thawed out, he’d demand an explanation of what she knew about Pam and why she’d hidden the truth.

  Suddenly, a familiar fragrance met his nostrils.

  Woodsmoke? Here?

  And there was light inside one of the cabins. Maybe someone was staying here after all, and he could only hope that, if it were a hunter, it was a friendly rather than a dangerous one.

  He practically ran the last few steps to the door, pounded on it and then flung it open.

  And there, sitting cross-legged in front of a roaring fire, was Lily. Relief overwhelmed him, and he automatically looked skyward, breathing out a silent “thank you.”

  “Carson!” She sounded shocked. “How...how on earth did you find me? And why...” She trailed off, her head cocked to one side.

  He scanned the cabin—rudimentary, dirty and empty but for her—and then stood in the doorway, staring at her. “You’re fine!” he accused at last. Which was a ridiculous thing to say, and the annoyance he felt was ridiculous, too. But he’d fought his way here through the storm, thinking she’d be desperate and half-dead.

  Apparently, she wasn’t as helpless as he’d thought her to be.

  She rose gracefully to her feet. “I’m not fine,” she said. “I’m still thawing out. And it looks like you need to do the same.”

  “How’d you build a fire?”

  She gave him a tentative smile. “There were matches and wood here. I was a Girl Scout for a couple of years. Could you close the door?”

  He pulled it shut behind him, and the roar of the wind quieted.

  He shucked his coat and knelt beside his backpack. “We have some talking to do,” he said. “And knowing you, it’ll go better if you have coffee.”

  “You brought coffee?”

  The delight in her voice just about undid him. He liked bringing pleasure to this complicated woman.

  He pulled it out and poured her a steaming cup. When he offered it to her, her hands, pink and cold-looking, curled around it. “Thank you,” she said. “Oh, Carson, I shouldn’t have run away.”

  He busied himself with pulling the remaining supplies out of the backpack. “That note,” he said.

  “Was a lie,” she admitted immediately. “The first I’ve ever told you, and I’m sorry.”

  “Why did you do it, Lily? Why would you say those things if they weren’t true?”

  She took a sip of coffee. “I was trying to protect myself from your anger,” she said. “And trying to figure out how to tell you something.”

  “What kind of something?” he asked, although he had a pretty good guess.

  “The truth about what happened to Pam.” She bit her lip. “You’re going to hate me for it, Carson, so I’d just about decided to write it in a letter. But now that you’re here...” She swallowed convulsively. “Now that you’re here, I’ll have to tell you in person.”

  The firmness in her voice and resolution in her eyes took him aback, almost as much as the cozy fire had done. Now that she was willing to talk, Carson felt an odd reluctance to hear what she had to say.

  She drew him toward the fire. “Sit down,” she said, indicating the floor beside her. “What I’m going to tell you, you’ll want to be sitting down.”

  Something about her tone made the hairs on the back of his neck rise, and he paused in the act of sitting on the dirty, rough-hewn floor. “We should get out of this storm. You can tell me later.”

  “I’ll lose my courage,” she said. “It’s not going to get that much worse in half an hour. Please, just listen.”

  He sank the rest of the way to the floor. “Okay. So first off, why didn’t you tell me about Pam’s dishonorable discharge?”

  She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them again and looked straight at him. “It wasn’t even supposed to happen,” she said. “When Pam...was killed, I knew she’d just
been meeting with our CO about her status. They said in that situation, since the meeting had only happened that day, they’d let it go. She died before being officially discharged, so it kind of didn’t count.” She shook her head. “But you know what a big bureaucracy the army is. Some paperwork must have gotten started and nobody canceled it.”

  He had to force himself to stay calm, not to jump up and yell at her. “You had all these discussions with other people about Pam’s death, and you couldn’t tell the details to me, her husband?”

  “There’s a reason—”

  “I don’t get it, Lily. I thought you were a good person. Thought you were starting to care for me and the girls, but how could you care when you kept this big—this huge—piece of information from us?”

  She blew out a breath, glanced up at the ceiling and then leaned forward. “Look, I’m going to tell you exactly what happened,” she said. “I think you’ll understand then why I didn’t want you to know.”

  A sick feeling formed in the center of Carson’s chest, and again he had the desire to get out of there, not to hear what she had to say. He even looked out the small cabin’s window, saw the growing darkness and opened his mouth to tell her they should leave instead.

  But she started speaking rapidly. “You heard about some of Pam’s run-ins with military authority, right? How she kept getting in trouble, was confined to base, stuff like that?”

  “Some of it.” He was ashamed to admit that he didn’t know much about that, just a few hints he’d picked up. It was one of many indications that his relationship with his wife hadn’t been the best.

  But if she was going to be honest, he would, too. “Truth is,” he said, “Pam didn’t like to tell me about things like that, because she knew I’d scold her. I wanted her to be careful and take care of herself, not run around. And I was jealous. I could guess she wasn’t doing those kinds of things alone.”

  Lily cocked her head to one side. “She wasn’t unfaithful that I knew of, Carson. That wasn’t the problem.”