4 Christmas on Ladybug Farm

by Donna Ball

  “Well, Noah’s not here,” Cici replied patiently, “so unless you want the goat and the deer and the dog to go without dinner on Christmas Eve…”

  “Hey,” Lori said suddenly, “someone’s coming.”

  The three of them rushed to the front porch, and stood watching in disappointment as Paul pulled up. He got out of the car but the truth was on his face even before he met Cici’s eyes and said, “Sorry. No red Christmas ornaments.”

  Lindsay turned toward the house. “I’m calling the police.”

  Paul gave Cici an apologetic look as he started up the steps. “Actually, I stopped by the police station on my way back.”

  Lindsay turned expectantly.

  “They were very nice. They even checked with the hospital and the state patrol. No motorcycle accidents,” he assured them quickly. “But they said they’d keep an eye out. Of course,” he added reluctantly, “they’re running a skeleton crew.”

  Lindsay said, “I’ll get my car keys. We need to start checking the roads.”

  “I’ll help,” Lori volunteered quickly.

  Cici threw up a hand. “Stop, both of you. Nobody’s going to do any such thing.”

  “I checked the roads between here and town,” Paul said. “I even went down some of the back roads. Almost hit a deer on one, and got chased by a pit bull on another.”

  “It’s going to be dark in half an hour,” Cici said, “and you can’t check every road in this part of the state. What if he did go to Charlottesville, and got caught in mall traffic? How’s it going to help to have you two wandering around out there lost while Noah’s here waiting to have his Christmas dinner? Just calm down.” She pushed a hand through her hair and added deliberately, clearly speaking more to herself than to them, “Everyone… just calm down.”

  Cici drew and released a deep breath. “Lori, go get Bambi’s corn. I’ll get the goat chow and feed the dog.”

  Paul put his arm around Lindsay’s shoulders. “Come on, hon,” he said, “let’s set the table. I’ll bet he’ll be back before we’re done.”

  Lindsay bit her lip. “What if he’s not?”

  “Then,” replied Paul simply, “we’ll wait.”

  They had gone about a mile before Noah said, “What’s your name?”

  She didn’t look at him. “Kathy.”

  “Mine’s Noah.”

  She said nothing.

  “Where’re you from?”

  “Philly.”

  “Oh, yeah? Pennsylvania?”

  “You got it, genius.”

  “You got family here or something?”

  “No.”

  “Then what’re you doing wandering around in the mountains getting lost on Christmas Eve?”

  “Why do you have to ask so many questions?”

  “I don’t. Don’t care who you are, where you’re from, what kind of trouble you’re in. I’m just walking.”

  She slid a dark glance toward him. “I’m not in trouble.”

  He said nothing. They walked another couple of hundred feet in silence.

  She said, “That’s a pretty fancy-smelling saddlebag.”

  He frowned. “Perfume busted. It was a present.”

  “For your girlfriend?”

  “Nah. For my mom.” That felt funny to say. “Not really my mom. Just kind of.”

  “How can somebody be kind of your mom?”

  He frowned deeper. “Just is, that’s all.”

  He stopped suddenly, cocking his head. “Listen.” Then he grabbed her arm and pulled her to the side of the road. “Car’s coming!”

  They turned to greet the sedan that appeared around the corner, waving excitedly. The driver, a woman with a dress bag hanging in the back and a passenger seat filled with packages, returned a cheery “Merry Christmas!” wave and zoomed past, leaving nothing but a whoosh of hot air in her wake.

  Kathy shouted after her, “Thanks a lot, lady!” She stepped back on the asphalt angrily and started walking again. “So much for the Christmas spirit.”

  “Hey come on,” Noah said. “She didn’t know us. She probably didn’t even know we needed a ride.”

  “Oh yeah, lots of people go walking at dusk on a deserted road carrying their purse and a set of motorcycle saddlebags. How much further to this county road of yours?”

  “We’ll see it when we get there.”

  The dusk grew deeper, and the air a little cooler. The only sound was the crunch of their footsteps on the shoulder and the occasional scurry of a squirrel or a rabbit in the woods beyond.

  After a time he said, “So what happened to your face?”

  He didn’t expect her to answer, and was surprised when she did.

  “Iraq happened,” she said briefly.

  “Hey, no kidding?” His footsteps slowed and he looked at her. “You were a soldier?”

  “I was a medic.”

  “That,” he declared, “is cool.”

  “It wasn’t cool,” she said roughly. “It was a war. There’s nothing cool about it. I got to spend eighteen months putting pieces of soldiers back together and two days before I was supposed to deploy stateside to be with my fiancé an IED took out my jeep and my driver, and I spent the next eight months in a hospital while doctors tried to put me back together, and there’s nothing cool about that, kid, not one damn thing.”

  She walked faster. He let her. After awhile she got tired, and slowed back to a normal pace. He caught up with her not long after that.

  “So where is he now? Your fiancé?”

  “I don’t know.” She sounded tired when she said it, as though all her anger had worn her out. “We met over there, you know. He was in my unit. You get to know a person really fast and... well. He went home three months before me, and we planned to get married in his home town. Then a bomb changed everything.”

  “He broke up with you?”

  She didn’t look at him. “I knew he’d never break up with me, not if he knew what had happened. But I didn’t want his pity, and how could I keep him tied to this?” She made a brief gesture toward her face. “Besides, there was a while there that they didn’t even know how bad I was hurt. There was some nerve damage, and they didn’t know if I’d ever get back the use of my left side again. It was going to be months of rehab, and I still might never recover. He hadn’t signed up to be nursemaid to a cripple for the rest of his life. He deserved better. So I e-mailed him from the hospital, and told him I’d decided to re-up. That I’d realized what we had was just a war fling, and now that he was gone I’d lost interest. I broke up with him.” She trudged along with her head down, her hands gripping the strap of her purse that was slung across her chest. “He wouldn’t accept it at first, sent a lot of e-mails, wrote letters…but I never read them. Never answered.”

  Noah walked beside her in silence while the last of the light left the sky. He said after a while, “I think he deserved to know, and make up his own mind.”

  He heard a soft sound, like a sigh. “Yeah. I think so too. I had a lot of time to think in the hospital. I even sent him an e-mail, but it bounced back. He’d closed the account. So my friend talked me in to borrowing her van and driving to Charlottesville, where he lived, because something like this needs to be done in person anyway. Only he didn’t live there anymore and his phone was disconnected and I didn’t know how to find him, and it was Christmas Eve so I just started driving, and that’s how I ended up here, lost.” She hesitated, and he thought she glanced at him. “I guess maybe it wasn’t all your fault, the accident. Maybe I wasn’t paying as much attention as I should have been.”

  He’d figured as much. He just hadn’t wanted to say it.

  “So what are you going to do?” he asked.

  “Nothing. I don’t know. What can I do? I’ve got to get a job, find a place to live, do something with my life. It was stupid, trying to find him. I should’ve left well enough alone. I thought I could change everything just because I changed my mind and… it was stupid.”

  Noa
h stopped suddenly at a place where the weeds and grasses of the shoulder flattened out into a narrow dirt road. “I know this road.” He was cautiously excited. “It ends up right in front of our sheep pasture. It’s only about an hour’s walk.”

  She looked at him skeptically. “It’s not a road, it’s a cow path. It doesn’t look to me like it ends up anywhere.”

  “I’m telling you, this was my shortcut to town before I got wheels. I know where I’m going.”

  “It’s getting dark. We should stay on the main roads.”

  He shrugged. “Suit yourself. But I’m hungry, and we’re having turkey and gravy with mashed potatoes for supper, and Ida Mae’s bread pudding.” He reached into his saddle bags, found the steel-cased flashlight, and switched it on. A pleasant yellow cone of light dispersed the shadows on the dirt road, and he followed it. “If you turn south on the county road,” he said, “ after about four or five hours, you’ll come to a sign at the end of a driveway that says ‘Ladybug Farm.’ I’ll tell them to save you some turkey in case you get hungry before you get to town.”

  She let him go about ten feet down the road, and then, swearing under her breath, she followed him.

  The dining room table was set with a crisp white cloth, glittering crystal and china, and a votive candle wrapped in holly at each place setting. The napkin rings were silver ribbons tied with gold ornaments, and the centerpiece was a low tablescape of evergreen, white candles, and gold glass balls. Paul took out his cell phone and snapped a picture. It was stunning. All that remained to be done was the pouring of the wine, the lighting of the candles, and, of course, the gathering of the family.

  The aromas of sweet potato casserole, baking rolls and sausage gravy drifted out onto the front porch where everyone had wandered, one by one, to watch the sunset. That had been over an hour ago. A low cloud cover had begun to move in over a purple sky, obscuring even the stars, and the driveway, which they all watched so fixedly, remained black and empty. The screen door squeaked open and closed and all heads swiveled toward Lindsay as she came outside.

  But she was shaking her head. “I talked to the local police and the state patrol,” she said, “and the hospitals between here and Charlottesville. Nothing. The police said if we don’t hear from him in a couple of hours they’ll send a man out to take a report, like that would do any good.”

  She walked to the front of the porch and rested her hand on the column, looking out over the black lawn. “It sure is dark.”

  “It’s clouding up,” said Bridget. “Maybe we’ll get some rain to break the humidity.”

  Lindsay said, “I don’t think Noah took his rain suit.”

  “We should turn the Christmas lights on,” Lori said suddenly. “It’s Christmas Eve after all.”

  “You’re right, Lori,” Cici said, forcing enthusiasm. “I love sitting on the porch under the glow of the Christmas lights, and how many Christmas Eves is it warm enough to do that?”

  “I’ll turn on the Christmas tree,” Bridget said.

  “I’ll get the window lights,” Paul said.

  “And I,” declared Derrick, “will get the asparagus puffs and the bottle of Montrachet that I was positively assured will make any Christmas brighter.”

  When they were gone, Cici came up to Lindsay and put an arm around her shoulders. “You know what I’ve always admired about Noah?” she said. “He doesn’t know the meaning of the word ‘quit’.”

  Lindsay managed a smile. “He’s pretty resourceful,” she admitted.

  “Remember when he saved up his whole summer’s wages to buy that motorcycle?”

  “He wasn’t even old enough to drive.”

  “Didn’t stop him.”

  “That thing’s a death trap.”

  “Hardly. He keeps it in better shape than most people keep their cars.”

  “He spent most of his life living in campgrounds,” Lindsay remembered. “Feeding and sheltering himself. How do you even do that?”

  “And with more time spent out of the classroom than in it, he still managed to get a scholarship to one of the most prestigious private schools in the area.”

  Lindsay’s face softened with pride. “He’s really something.”

  “You know,” said Cici, “I’m having a hard time thinking of any situation Noah couldn’t handle.”

  Inside the house, the Christmas tree sprang to life, its multicolored lights spilling across the lawn from the front window. In another moment the wreaths in the upstairs windows sparkled with white lights, and then the downstairs window wreaths spread their glow across the night, illuminating the smile on Lindsay’s face as she turned to Cici.

  “You know something,” she said, “you’re right. And you’re also pretty good to have around in a crisis.”

  “Or any other time,” Cici pointed out lightly, and Lindsay grinned.

  “Right,” she said, hugging her.

  Paul held open the screen door for Derrick, who carried a tray of hors d‘oeuvres and glasses. Lori followed with a bottle of wine and a corkscrew. “Louis Jadot Poligny ’07,” she said with admiration in her voice. “I’ve read about this. One of the best chardonnays to come out of Burgundy in a decade.” Lori was studying enology in preparation for one day managing the Ladybug Farms vineyard and winery.

  Cici said, “We’re honored.”

  And Lindsay added, “You shouldn’t have.”

  “Nonsense. What better occasion to open a fine bottle of wine than Christmas with friends?”

  He set the tray on the wicker table, and Bridget came out onto the porch. “Oh wait,” she said, “before you pour the wine, let’s turn the outside lights on.”

  “I’ll get it.” Cici found the extension cord behind one of the rocking chairs while Derrick filled the glasses, and she plugged it in.

  Paul stepped out into the yard to snap a picture. A chorus of “oohs” and “ahhs” went up as the icicle lights that were draped from the roofline of the porch came on all around the house, the gazebo in the side garden sprang to fairyland life with hundreds of miniature white lights, and the evergreens that flanked the walkway in front of the house were spiraled with lights. It was like a winter wonderland for forty-five full seconds.

  And then the entire house was plunged into darkness.

  Kathy said, “Are you sure you know where you’re going?” Her breath sounded labored, and her tone short. “This is the right road, right?”

  In fact, Noah wasn’t nearly as sure as he should have been. It had been years since he’d taken this shortcut, and it was a lot more overgrown and rutted than he remembered. Moreover, his recollection was that it had run parallel to the country road in places, and they should have been seeing lights by now. The world around them was, instead, as black and silent as a tomb.

  He said, “Yeah, sure.” He cast the flashlight beam from side to side and saw nothing but brush and brambles. The beam was noticeably weaker, but he found no reason to point that out to his companion. “We’re good.”

  “Because we’ve been walking a lot longer than an hour.”

  “Nah. Just seems that way.” It seemed, in fact, more like two or three.

  She said, “Hold on.” Her voice sounded tight. “I’ve got to rest.”

  She took a few more steps and sank to the ground, her left leg drawn up. When Noah swept the flashlight beam in her direction he could see her face was tight with pain as she kneaded her calf muscle. “Damn thing,” she muttered, “still seizes up on me.”

  Noah switched the flashlight off to save the battery, and he squatted down in the dead grass across from her. He waited until his eyes adjusted to the dark and he could make out her shape in the starlight. Then he said, “My mom left me when I was a baby. She thought she was doing the right thing, left me with my grandma while she tried to get work. But then my grandma died, and I went to live with my dad, and my mom got on drugs and didn’t know about any of it. When she got clean and tried to find me all those years later, I was gone.”

/>   He found a twig in the grass and started gouging the dirt with it in a desultory fashion. He could feel her eyes on him, and her fingers worked the muscles of her leg a little more slowly.

  He said, “My dad was a mess, couldn’t take care of his own self, much less a kid, so I was pretty much on my own. I kind of bounced from pillar to post, and then I heard about these three crazy women that had bought this big old house and thought they could fix it up by themselves. They looked like they had money, so I went to work for them, but they didn’t pay much more than a fair wage. At least not in money. But when my dad died, they gave me a place to live, and an education, and a feeling that I belonged someplace, and they even found my mom for me. Turns out she’d been looking for me for years, but when my dad moved out of state, she lost track. Didn’t know where to start.”

  He glanced at her, and she had stopped rubbing her leg. He could see her profile in the darkness, intent upon his face.

  “But here’s the thing,” he said, “I was so mad at her for leaving, and so grateful to my new family for what they’d done—and maybe not wanting them to be mad at me—that I wouldn’t see her, or talk to her, no matter how many times she called. After awhile, though, living with those women, seeing how they all were like a family even though they weren’t related, and how they made me feel like I belonged there, even though I wasn’t related… well, I started to feel a little more kindly to my mom. I wanted to see her. I tried to set something up with her. But by that time, she was dead.”

  That was still hard to say. He felt the words echo in the night. He saw them reflected in her shadow. He said, very quietly, “I guess I’ll always wonder what I missed out on.”

  The night was eerily quiet. No crickets, no birds, no woodland creatures. She said, after a very long time, “I guess these days anybody can find anybody.”

  “It’s not that hard. You hear about it all the time. Sometimes they use military records and stuff. I guess the person looking just has to want it bad enough.”

  She glanced at him, and then away. Her voice sounded muffled when she spoke. “What if he doesn’t want me?”