by Lyn Cote
Ma blushed a fiery red. "That sweet talk of yours." She shook her crochet hook at him. "It's all right for you, but here is Wendy. She's on call. What if someone gets sick? I don't want her to have to go out in this. And the sheriff should have been here an hour ago."
"Oh. I didn't think about that." Bruno's face lost its glow
"Don't—," Wendy started to speak.
Out of the crackling static, the radio announcer's voice came in clear. "You won't want to hear this, but more snow tonight. Aren't we lucky? We're going to have the whitest white Christmas in America. And watch out for those powerful gusts—the wind chill is subzero. Santa had better wear his long johns." Then the radio played a rollicking "Here Comes Santa Claus."
A motor sounded outside. Everyone turned toward the back windows; even Lady lifted her head. But night revealed only headlights. Oh, let it be Rodd. The back door opened. The sound of the thrashing wind outside zoomed in volume. "It's me, Harlan." Rodd slammed the door and stamped the snow off his boots in the back hall.
Wendy recognized the voice and her heart thumped with relief.
Rodd had made it safe and sound. She tried to moderate her reaction to Rodd's arrival, but in vain. Now it can be Christmas.
"Glad you didn't bother knocking, son!" Harlan called out with a big smile on his face. "We saved you some of my chili and Ma's homemade ice cream and chocolate chip cookies."
"Sounds wonderful. You did say your chili, right, Harlan?" Rodd's teasing voice carried through to the living room.
Wendy's joy exploded. How good of Rodd to come in so cheerful. "Hey. It's Christmas Eve," she joked back. "Watch the comments about my cooking or you'll get coal in your stocking."
"Okay. Okay. I haven't eaten since breakfast. I'm so hungry I'd eat anyone's chili."
Trying not to show her eagerness to see him, Wendy strolled into the kitchen. "I'll fix a tray for you, and you can join us in the living room. Bruno and I are decorating the tree."
Rodd walked to the sink to wash his hands. "Thanks. I'd appreciate that."
The cold air that had blown in with him couldn't compete with the warmth she now felt having him near. She watched him from the corner of her eye as she dished up a generous serving of the chili still simmering on the stove. Now that he'd safely arrived, she could try to help him put Veda and the investigation behind him for tonight. After the caroling party last evening, she'd fretted and finally decided she would speak to Rodd about Veda's letter. But would she have a chance for a private word with him tonight? Not very likely, with a houseful of people.
Rodd finished drying his hands on a towel. His gaze captured hers and her hands stilled. His eyes told her she was beautiful. Rolling his weight to one side, he leaned his hip against the counter. The pose somehow sharpened her awareness of him. She blushed and turned back to the task at hand. She poured him coffee, added crackers beside the heaping bowl of chili already on the tray.
"Let me carry that for you." Rodd stepped close to her as she turned from the stove.
His nearness shivered through her, sharpening her connection to him. Was it only her concern about him or was it his powerful presence that worked on her emotions? Still, she managed to give a cool reply. "Glad you were able to come." She handed him the rectangular tray.
"Me too. Looks like we're going to have a house party."
"Yes, I'm glad Grandfather decided we should all come prepared to stay the night." How could her voice still sound nonchalant? She glanced up and focused on his eyes. In the dim light, they glowed silver blue.
Rodd nodded for her to precede him. "I took care of my stock earlier in the afternoon. I didn't want to wait until the weather got so bad that I couldn't get to them. They're all safe and snug in the barn. I won't have to check on them again till tomorrow late. I'll probably use my snowmobile to get home."
Just before they entered the living room, he leaned forward and whispered to her, "Thanks for pointing out that Harlan would worry about me if I didn't come to stay over." He raised his voice. "I hope other people think ahead. It would take a load off my mind."
She agreed. That's what she wanted to do, take the load off the sheriff's mind ...and heart. Now she realized how hard it had been for him to accept this invitation. In light of the dangerous weather, she'd expect that Rodd would want to be out making sure everyone in his county was safely accounted for. Thinking he might refuse Grandfather's invitation, she'd called him earlier that day and put the invitation to him as a favor to her grandfather. It had worked and it was true. Grandfather would have fretted over Rodd's spending the holiday without friends or family.
Side by side, Wendy and Rodd walked into the living room, extra warm from the glowing fireplace. Rodd settled on the couch beside Ma, ready to enjoy his supper. As Wendy returned to the tree, she felt the sheriff's gaze follow her, warming her all the way through.
"I wish this snow would let up," Grandfather said from his place near the fire.
"How are the roads?" Bruno asked.
"Treacherous." Rodd picked up his mug of coffee. "The county has shut everything down. The road crews can't keep up with the drifting. Except for one, I sent all my deputies home. That way they're spread out around the county. If an emergency comes up, the dispatcher will call the nearest deputy at their home."
"Sounds like good thinking." Ma moved the shiny pink crochet hook in and out of the off-white yam. "But with all the warnings and predictions, most everyone should be smart enough to stay home or inside."
Wendy hoped that included the snowmobile burglar. She didn't worry about her trailer in town being burglarized, but Bruno, Ma, and even Rodd had left their homes unattended. She also didn't want to point out that in her experience, some people didn't have much common sense. This was a night ripe for emergency calls—for both of them. Please, Lord, no emergencies.
But now with Rodd sitting on her grandfather's sofa, Wendy began humming along with the carols on the radio. The wind flapped the shutters outside, while Rodd ate two helpings of chili and Ma finished several more rows on the afghan. Harlan dozed in his recliner. Wendy and Bruno continued decorating the tree. She sighed and said a silent prayer of thanks. Tonight, even thinking about Veda's nastiness didn't have its usual power to depress her. What a lovely, peaceful Christmas Eve.
At last the tree was decorated. When the room lamps were switched off, the tree glowed with green, red, and white twinkle lights along with the firelight. Wendy sat down in the rocking chair in the shadows, gazing at her handiwork and Rodd. She'd sensed Rodd's reassuring presence filling the room. How did Rodd have this effect? Did he make everyone feel safe and protected just by being near? Or was it just her ?
Outside, the roar of a motor interrupted their peace. Everyone looked toward the windows—though the night and falling snow made it impossible to see out. Lady barked. Rodd rose from the sofa. Leaning forward at the window, he cupped his hands around his eyes, trying to see. "It's a truck."
Wendy got up, folding her arms around herself, feeling a sympathetic chill for the person outside.
Rodd reported, "Someone's getting out."
She started toward the back door.
Rodd reached out and stopped her. "I'll get it. Whoever it is doesn't look too steady on his feet."
She looked into his eyes with an unspoken concern. It might be Uncle Dutch after hours of drinking at Flanagan's. Had he decided to take Harlan's invitation? She worried her lower lip.
The sheriff gave her a reassuring nod, then went to the back door and stood looking out through its high window.
"Who is it?" she asked, keyed up.
"I don't recognize him. That's a good sign." He glanced back at her.
She locked gazes with him, then looked away. His attention only attuned her to him more. Who was the visitor? Would the sheriff have to go out? Would she?
At the first knock, Rodd opened the door. "Yes?"
"Wendy, got to talk to Wendy." The man lurched inside. Bitter wind poured through the o
pen door.
Slamming it shut, Rodd reached out and steadied him. "Are you ill? Is someone injured?"
The tall man buried in a fleece-lined jean jacket stared at Rodd and then jerked away. "I need to get ...Wendy. Juanita ...will listen to her."
Wendy recognized the man. "Kane," she said as she approached him, "what's happened?"
Kane looked at her as though trying to identify her. "Wendy. You gotta ...talk to Juanita. She won't let me in. But ...it's Christmas. Gotta be with my kids."
Rodd questioned Wendy with a lift of his eyebrows. He hovered behind Kane, ready to restrain him.
She responded with a slight movement of her hand, forestalling Rodd. "Kane." She sighed aloud. "You know she won't let you in if you've been drinking."
"I didn't drink too much—just a few beers."
Why did he even bother with explanations? "Kane, you know you can't handle liquor."
"Wendy—"
She held up both hands to stop him from more useless pleas. "I'll call Juanita if you sit down here and stay calm." Wendy's stern voice worked on the man. She pushed a kitchen chair forward and Kane slumped into it. "Now I'll call, but it will be Juanita's choice if you see them tonight or tomorrow."
Kane stared at her. "Gotta see my kids," he pleaded.
Wendy studied him, then walked to the wall phone and dialed. "Hello, Juanita, this is Wendy Carey. Kane's here at my grandfather's."
"Keep him there," Juanita snapped. "I told him if he wanted to be—''
Wendy agreed, but why hadn't Juanita told him to spend the night with friends or his family? "I already told him it was your decision whether or not he could see the kids."
"Tell him he can see the kids tomorrow when he's sober." The woman's voice softened. "He shouldn't be out tonight, Wendy." She paused. "Please keep him there. Tell him if he stays there overnight and sobers up, he can come and see the kids as soon as the roads open."
Wendy frowned at Juanita's passing the responsibility to her. But who was she to judge? "Okay, I'll tell him. Are you okay? Do you need anything?" Kane's family lived in a double-wide trailer about a mile away.
"We're fine, and we're staying put till this storm is over. Sorry we had to bother you. I thought he'd go to his mom's. Merry Christmas, Wendy."
"Merry Christmas to you." Wendy hung up. "Kane, Juanita says you can go home in the morning if you stay here tonight and sleep it off."
Kane reared up "No, Christmas Eve—"
Rodd stepped up to the man, ready to push him back down. "No argument. If you try to go out to drive in your condition, I'll arrest you before you get out of the yard. Now give me your keys."
Kane eyed Rodd as though trying to size him up as an opponent. Kane had come from a rough family and could be unpredictable when he drank.
Wendy inched backward. She'd witnessed slugfests before and knew the best thing she could do was get out of the way so Rodd could handle it. Still, her nerves began to jump. She hated scenes like this. She'd seen too many.
Kane continued to stare at the sheriff, then slowly put his hand in his pocket.
Wendy held her breath, hoping Kane wasn't pulling out a weapon.
Kane glanced at Wendy. "Don't worry, Wendy. Don't want to hurt anyone." He handed Rodd a ring of keys. Then he put his head in his hands. "I've made a mess of everything." Kane's tone turned maudlin. Now remorse for his drinking would kick in. It was a cycle Wendy had endured with her mother's drinking for most of her childhood. Wendy felt a little sick.
Harlan had come up behind Wendy. "Kane, I have the cot set up downstairs as usual. You know where it is. Turn on the electric blanket. You'll need the extra warmth down there tonight."
Kane began to cry. "Thanks, Harlan." Kane stumbled toward the basement steps, his weeping growing louder.
"Rodd will walk you down, Kane," Harlan ordered in a no-nonsense tone. "You don't look too steady on your feet."
With a quizzical expression, Rodd trailed Kane down the steps. Within a few moments, Rodd returned to the kitchen.
Harlan motioned for Wendy and him to come back to the living room. "Kane rents and farms most of my land and has a trailer on it for his wife and kids. She won't let him in if he comes home after he's been drinking."
"He's not a bad guy. He just can't drink," Wendy explained further. "Juanita, Kane, and I went to school together. He's really trying to overcome a lot of stuff from his childhood."
Harlan shook his head. "Yes, Kane's come a long way, but he's going to have to give up drinking and go to AA or he may lose everything."
"I take it this has happened before?" Rodd asked.
"Yeah," Ma answered from the sofa. "Harlan takes in a lot of the strays around here. And Juanita's expecting again."
Wendy looked up, surprised. "So soon? Their youngest is only six months old."
Ma shrugged. "They're both young and babies happen."
Rodd moved the fire screen and added two logs to the fire. Bruno tossed in a few branches they'd chopped off the base of the tree. As the fire consumed them, it crackled and flared with golden sparks.
Breathing in the fresh pine fragrance, Wendy wondered how Juanita's fourth pregnancy in seven years had slipped by her. She usually knew the medical condition of most of Steadfast. "I'll go over this week and talk to her about getting some help with all those children."
She knew from experience that preventing abuse and neglect usually proved more effective than picking up the broken pieces. Kane and Juanita both had a backlog of childhood abuse, and now faced money problems from farming and Kane's drinking binges—heavy loads to carry.
"I'll be glad to watch her two oldest ones for one afternoon a week, let her take a nap with the baby," Ma offered as she counted stitches in her crochet pattern.
"You have such a generous heart, Lou." Bruno beamed at her.
Ma blushed for the second time that evening.
They all took their places again The cozy minutes passed with gentle laughter and nutmeg-sprinkled creamy eggnog. Wendy felt the ache of being separated from her mom and sister ebb in the warm setting She'd called them earlier, afraid the storm might take the phone lines down. Mom had called Sage in from sunbathing.
Now as Wendy studied Rodd, she tried to come up with a way to speak to him privately. But the urgency had lessened. If she didn't get to talk to him tonight, there was tomorrow. Christmas Day—snowbound with Rodd.
After the ten o'clock TV news with its dire predictions of a blizzard with record-breaking snow and drifting, Ma and Bruno retired upstairs to get ready for bed. Ma and Wendy would share a room while Bruno and Harlan bunked in together. Rodd would sleep on the couch downstairs.
"What a blessing. I have a full house tonight," Harlan joked. "Basement to the rafters."
Wendy kissed his lined cheek, and then pausing on the bottom step, she turned to Rodd. For a long moment, their gazes held. The Christmas tree glow filled the room—the crackling fire, the scent of pine. Wendy gripped the smooth wooden banister to stop herself from going back to him. She longed to rest her head on his hard chest ... instead, she cleared her throat. "Did I give you enough bedding?"
"Plenty, and I think this couch is going to feel really good when I stretch out." Rodd sounded happier than he had for several days. The evening must have mellowed his spirits too. She was glad.
"Well, good night then." She started up
"Good night."
His watching her as she climbed the steps made her feel alive, attractive. Her heart fluttered. Before Rodd, she'd been able to block any man out of her mind. But not this man, not Rodd Durand.
Upstairs, while Ma finished in the bathroom, Wendy waited on the bedside rocker in her bedroom. After Ma eased into the high double bed, Wendy lingered in the rocking chair by the window, staring out at the swirling snow under the yard light. The power lines whipped around like jump ropes. She dreaded possible power outages tonight. The sound of the wild wind sharpened all her senses.
Despite her fatigue, the knowle
dge that Rodd slept downstairs kept her from easy sleep. She tried to analyze what was different about him from the other men she knew. How did he manage to linger in her mind and refuse to be rooted out?
Her goal tonight had been to help him put Veda's nasty letter into perspective. The letter had hit him hard—hard enough to shake his confidence seriously. Cram had irritated Rodd with his jibing editorials, but he hadn't upset Rodd as much as Veda had. Veda had revealed that damaging story from Rodd's past at just the wrong time. His confidence had already taken a beating because of the unsolved burglaries.
Oh, Lord, I've been hoping that the burglaries would just stop. But even if they do, Rodd will always feel like he's been put to the test and failed. Help him ride out this storm, and please keep Veda's barbed darts from digging deeper into his flesh.
