A Legendary Christmas

by Jan Scarbrough

  It had taken some counseling for David to stop blaming himself for Holly’s death. And his annual vigil couldn’t bring her back. He’d never expected that. The vigil had always been about setting time aside to remember, and giving the cabin a chance to help him heal, as Holly had somehow believed it should hold importance for him.

  His job in the city kept him busy, and even when he wasn’t at work, he thought about work. He couldn’t turn off his mind to the hurt, suffering, and unfairness he saw daily. In a way, he was glad the past few years had been so busy, partly so he wouldn’t have to think about the pain in his own life.

  But each Christmas Eve he drove to the little weekend cabin on the mountain outside his hometown of Legend, Tennessee, and spent twelve hours straight just remembering Holly. Missing her. Loving her. And trying to discover what it was he was supposed to find here.

  Each year a few weeks ahead of time, he ordered a special white pillar candle guaranteed to burn the whole twelve hours. When the twelve hours was done, it would be just a used-up lump, ready for the trash, after having served its purpose. That was the way he felt too, by six o’clock in the morning each Christmas Day—used up. He thought that, like the candle, he’d also pretty much served his purpose, taking care of other people for basically three hundred and sixty-four days in a row.

  Each Christmas morning when his vigil ended, and the candle was out, David would shower and head toward Legend for a big family Christmas with his mom and dad, sisters Maureen and Janelle, brother Joe, and his wife and kids. Later in the day, the rest of the family would begin to arrive. The place would be packed with aunts and uncles and cousins of all ages. David couldn’t remember just what the current McClain population was in the county. His cousin Mike and Betsy’s baby was one of the youngest. That little blonde bombshell, LizBeth Ann, was nearly two years old and a complete heartbreaker. Maybe another one of the cousins was pregnant or had a younger kid. David lost track because he spent most of his time away from family, in the city. It was important to him, though, to know the family was there for him. And if any of them needed David, or Uncle David, or cousin David or brother David, they knew he was just a phone call away. All the McClains were like that. Absolutely dedicated to one another. That was how it should be.

  The woman out there. Did she have family? Was someone worrying about why she wasn’t where she was supposed to be? She said she was on the way to visit a friend. Was the friend worrying and wondering?

  Was the friend a woman or a man?

  Where had that thought come from? David didn’t care if Rebecca was on her way to meet a man. He didn’t care if she was on her way to meet a whole houseful of men. He just wanted her gone.

  He shook his head slowly, groaning a little. No. He didn’t really want her gone. For the first time in what seemed like eternity, he was attracted to a woman. When Holly’s flame had been blown out on the coffee table last night, David wasn’t angry as he expected to be. As he would have been a couple of years ago, or even last year. Instead, he was a little relieved, as if he’d finally finished his grieving. It was time to move on. Now he wondered how to take the first step toward the very prickly, but also very interesting, Rebecca Mayfield. He thought maybe she was here for him. He ran his finger around the edge of the candle again. What was it Holly had said?

  The first time I stepped into the cabin, I knew it could be special. I knew, somehow, that you could find what you need here. I dearly hope you will give it a chance.

  So, was it possible that Rebecca’s car going off the road in front of this cabin was…

  “It stopped!”

  Her voice was surprisingly loud considering the tiny woman was in the next room and the door between them was closed. She had some lung power. What stopped?

  David went into the living room and saw the jubilation on her face. She was much better looking when she was happy. Quite lovely in fact.

  Hm.

  “It stopped!” She actually clapped her small hands together. He expected to see her jump for joy, and she suddenly looked energetic enough to do it. “No more snow!”

  He walked to the window to verify. He had just been standing at a window, but was so lost in thought he’d paid no attention. Sure enough, the snow had stopped, and the sun was beginning to shine. The clouds moved slowly eastward.

  “Now if we just had a phone, we could call the highway department or the police or something.”

  “I guess. But they’ll be covered up for a while, trying to clear out the main roads first. Like I told you…”

  “I know. Nobody lives out this far.”

  One of her delicate eyebrows raised when she said it, and she began to pace. This didn’t look good. Was she going to pace the entire time till someone came to rescue her? It made him think of a lawyer pacing the courtroom.

  “So. David. Do you have a phone here? A cell?”

  Yeah, here came the questioning. She was definitely putting him in mind of a lawyer. Not good. He wasn’t in the mood. Not when he was trying to have a holiday. And definitely not when he was trying to recall how to be charming.

  “You do, don’t you?” She spun around, confronted him.

  He walked leisurely to the armchair and sank into its depths. “Yeah, I have a cell. Service here is haphazard though. Somebody you need to call?”

  “I’d like to. She isn’t really expecting me, but if there’s a chance I’m not horribly far from where she lives, I should at least give it a try. Figure out which direction to go once the roads are cleared.”

  She. The friend was a she.

  “So why didn’t you ask before?”

  “What would have been the point?” She paced back to the window, looked hard at the snow as if willing it to melt.

  “To keep your friend from worrying, I guess.”

  “She won’t be worrying. I didn’t really tell her I was coming for sure. Still, I’d like to call now.” She paced back to him, held her hand out. “Phone?”

  Lord, the woman was irritating. How had he thought her attractive for even a moment? She was entirely too small, for one thing. You could put a picture of her in the dictionary next to the word “petite.” Glossy head of short dark hair that was straight as a stick but turned under at the ends, big emerald-green eyes, lips…oh yeah, some gorgeous full lips. And a nice little body he’d seen in its entirety for a few seconds last night before wrapping her in the comforter.

  Yeah, she definitely looked good. But her personality would take some getting used to. She was a spitfire for sure. Not like Holly, who’d always focused on everyone else’s best interest. Rebecca seemed like someone who was used to looking out for Number One. He dealt with her type all the time in his work. Irritating, greedy, grasping… Rebecca would have to be in the category of an acquired taste. Hm. The word “taste” brought some interesting thoughts to mind.

  And she was a nervous little thing. “Highly strung” might be the politically correct term. She stood tapping her tiny foot in his big cotton sock on the wide-board pine floor. Her voice…it had a real northeastern bite. Reminded him of someone. Her knuckles were white where she held onto the window frame. He figured she was trying to keep herself from pacing. Then she started twisting the back of her diamond stud earring. Yeah, nervous. But about what?

  “Just a minute.” David got up from his chair and slowly walked to the bedroom. Might as well let her use the cell. No reason not to. Unless he wanted to keep her here a while longer, cut off from the rest of the world so he could get to know her a little bit. Try to resurrect whatever he had left of the McClain charm. When he finally re-entered the room and handed the phone to her, it was still powering up. The friendly AT&T logo flashed across the tiny monitor. Then in the welcome screen flashed “David McClain.”

  “McClain? That’s your name?”

  “Yeah. How—oh yeah, the phone. So?”

  “You’re not related to Martin McClain, are you?”

  “He’s a cousin.”

  “Are we n
ear his house?”

  “Hey, hold on here. How do you know Martin?”

  “Midnight’s the friend I was on the way to visit.”

  David smacked his forehead. “Midnight! That’s who you remind me of. Your big city attitude, the designer shoes and clothes that don’t fit in around here. Your dialect.” Her unmistakable class, even in his cast-off clothes. But he’d keep that to himself.

  “Their place isn’t too far. A few miles closer to town. Takes just a few minutes on dry roads. Today, with snow shoes, maybe a couple of hours.”

  “Do you have some?”

  “Some what?”

  “Snow shoes. Do you have some?”

  He laughed nervously. Was she actually nuts?

  “Well? Do you?”

  “Let me find the number here.” Ignoring her crazy insistence, he scrolled down the list of McClains in his cell directory. A minute later, he’d made the call and handed the phone to Rebecca again, hoping she’d forget about snow shoes. She must be desperate to get away from him.

  “Hi! No, it’s not David. I’m using David’s phone. Martin? Hi. This is Rebecca Mayfield… Yes, that Rebecca Mayfield… Well, totally by chance, actually. He just happened to be in a cabin near the pile of snow I drove my rental car into last night… Well, sort of a rescue I guess… Yes, I’m fine. The electricity is out… Um. I guess you could call it ‘cozy.’ Martin, is Midnight close by? Yes, I’d like to if you don’t mind… Thanks.”

  David sat back down in the chair and watched her tap her sock-clad foot while she waited for Midnight to pick up.

  “Hey there yourself! I’m fine! No, really, I am fine. It was just a tremendously long drive. I think it was supposed to be four or five hours in good weather, and then the snow started… Yes, it was a little scary…”

  David watched in amazement as the indomitable Rebecca Mayfield’s delicate porcelain features drew up and prepared to cry.

  “But I’m okay.” He could barely hear the words, and he was just a couple of feet away from her. Rebecca absently wiped away tears as she cleared her throat and tried to regain her voice.

  He stood and went to her, put an arm around her narrow shoulders. It felt good to hold her even like that. He was shocked by the impact of it. Remembering his purpose, he gave her shoulders a slight squeeze.

  “You are okay, Rebecca,” he whispered into her ear away from the phone. She nodded her head, sniffed slightly, and gave him a watery smile.

  “Midnight, we’re at David’s cabin and the electricity is out because of a tree that fell and pulled down the line. I don ‘t know how long I’ll—how long we’ll be stuck here, so I wonder if you could do me a favor…Yes. Okay, could you write this down?” She recited an email address. “Could you please email Blaine and let him know what’s happened? I’m sure he’s tried to call me to say Merry Christmas, but with the cell off, and my charger in the suitcase under the snow… No, I have no idea what the number is. It’s just stored in my dead cell phone… So could you please email Blaine and let him know I’m fine? Thanks, Midnight… Yes, please do call if he writes back. Thanks so much! …What? Stuck with a what?”

  David was still standing very near, though he’d taken his arm away after she collected herself. She slid a look at him while listening to Midnight for a moment. “No, I had no idea… Yes, we’ve talked. Stop that! It’s just a cabin with no electricity, it’s not a… Hey, I need to go, okay? Give me a break here… Yes, I hope to see you soon too. Merry Christmas! Okay…bye.” She snapped the phone closed and held it out to David, who smoothly skimmed it out of her palm without touching her.

  Chapter Five

  Who the hell is Blaine? He tossed the phone onto the rough coffee table. The piece of sleek technology skidded to a stop and lay there looking incongruous. And it felt incongruous for him to own the damned thing. He hated the cell…hated that he had to have it, and that work so often caught up with him because of it. Even out here, where, if life were fair, the mountains would make cell service impossible.

  “Thanks for the use of your phone. I’ll pay for the minutes.”

  “I’ve got a million of ‘em. Not a problem.”

  She leaned back against the cabin wall, piercing him with a look. It was intense enough you could call it the look. He’d bet there were people who cowered when she leveled it at them. He pictured a courtroom, an uncomfortable witness, and this determined spiteful little attorney starts toward them with the look…

  She pushed away from the wall and walked slowly toward him, her arms crossed over her chest. “So. David. I seem to have made an incorrect assumption here. I thought you were a mountain man, since you happened to be in this remote cabin, and you’re so comfortable with being snowed in, not worrying about the electricity going off. Et cetera. But Midnight tells me you’re an…an attorney.”

  “Attorney. Well. I don’t throw the word around. Tends to make people nervous, or worse.” He leaned back further into the chair, and crossed his ankles in front of him. “Don’t feel like you need to tell me any lawyer jokes. I’m not a fan. I have to be honest with you though, it’s even worse than Midnight told you. I’m a judge.”

  From the look on her face, Midnight hadn’t told her that part. He wished he could go back to being just David to her.

  “Oh, my!” She laughed tightly. “Don’t look so horrified though—I don’t tell lawyer or judge jokes. I find most of them tasteless.”

  “Well then, Rebecca. We have something in common after all.”

  “We have more in common than that. I’m an attorney. No wonder we’ve been circling each other so warily ever since we met.” She threw back her head then, and really laughed. “Of all the people in the world, I end up snowbound with a judge! There is some kind of evil justice in that. If you’ll pardon the phrase.”

  “Hey— Evil justice? I’m not that bad.” He managed to look offended, he hoped. Was he up to “charming” yet, or at least making some progress toward it?

  She sank onto the couch. “Well, no. You’re not that bad. In fact, you had me fooled into thinking you were human this whole time. So you must have some redeeming qualities in spite of being—”

  “Ode to Joy” began to play and Rebecca automatically grabbed the cell phone from the table and opened it.

  “Hello…Blaine! Oh, Merry Christmas, honey! Yes, I’m fine!… Sorry about that. Yes, I headed out at the last minute, rather ill-prepared for… Uh-huh. Yes, okay…I’ll do that, as soon as I can! Merry Christmas! I love you, too!”

  “That’s funny. You and I have the same ring tone.” She snapped the phone closed and lay it gently on the table, then leaned back with a happy, nearly serene look on her face. David certainly hadn’t seen her look serene before. So this guy Blaine was…

  “My son. He’s studying at Oxford for two semesters. He was worried about me. Isn’t that sweet?”

  “Oh yeah. Sweet.” It was also a relief. Her son. If he was at Oxford, she must be older than she looked. All right. He was interested in an older woman. Interested. Though it still surprised him, he had to acknowledge it. He wanted to get to know Rebecca Mayfield very, very well. In every possible sense of the word. He hoped the road wouldn’t be cleared for a good long time. He hoped…

  “So, Rebecca. Other kids, or just the one?” Might as well find out the lay of the land.

  “Just one. Stephen and I were busy with careers. One child was all I could take time for.” She waved her hand dismissively. “I know that probably sounds terrible, but it’s true. Blaine is a wonderful young man, but that’s mostly in spite of me. I’m not patient, and wasn’t a very good mother, especially when he was young. Nurturing was never my forte.”

  “You’re probably being too hard on yourself there, especially if the kid turned out so well.”

  “Mostly Stephen’s doing. Really.”

  “And Stephen is…?”

  “My husband. Late husband.” She looked away for a moment, then back, locking her gaze with David’s. Was she daring h
im to look away? “Stephen died of a massive heart attack some time ago.”

  “Oh. Sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked.”

  “It’s fine. I’m fine with it, now. But at first it was excruciating. I blamed myself because I didn’t make him go to the doctor more regularly. Or make certain he ate healthier foods, kept more reasonable hours. Both of us led that lifestyle, but for Stephen it turned out to be deadly. For me it’s just… Well.” She linked her fingers together and held them out, studying her nails. “Stephen and I were everything to each other. Friends, lovers, law partners, parents. Soul mates. And Blaine is determined to be just like his dad. He’s a hard worker, and for his age he’s already got an impressive list of accomplishments. He’ll be a great attorney.”

  “But?”

  “Yes. But I wonder if that’s a good choice for him.

  “It’s his choice.”

  “Yes.” She looked away. “Yes, I know. But sometimes it’s a hard life. The stress. Lately it’s worn on me more than ever. I need to do better at dealing with it, my doctor tells me. I suppose I should get on that soon.” She pulled her feet up under her. “Since we’re delving into personal lives, tell me about yours.” David wondered if maybe she’d been bothered by his questioning and wanted to turn the spotlight away. Or did she really want to know a little about him? He decided to keep it upbeat.

  “Personal life? Me? Don’t really have one right now. Unless you’d like to start a new chapter for me.” That was a little bit charming wasn’t it?

  “Ha.” She leaned her chin on one palm. “You’re not dodging the question. I answered you. Now you just need to do the same for me. Why do you make everything so difficult?”

  David remembered asking her a similar question a while earlier.

  “Okay, turnabout is fair play and all that.” He took a deep breath. “I’m single. My wife Holly died five years ago. Drunk driver.” He saw Rebecca shiver in response. “So it’s me. I’m it. We never had kids. Holly couldn’t. She’d been sick when she was young. She told me long before we got married, in case I wanted to dump her because of that.” He chuckled. “We talked about adoption, but…well, like you said, we were busy.” He rubbed the stubble on his chin. “At least I was busy, always working long hours and weekends, implementing my career plan. Holly had a more reasonable schedule. She wanted to have a couple of kids. She died when she was twenty-six. We thought there was plenty of time.”