A Legendary Christmas

by Jan Scarbrough

  He hoped with everything in him that it wasn’t true.

  Yet, some small piece of his heart, buried very deep and locked away safe and sound, warmed at the prospect that it might.

  * * * *

  There were a million things she could feel at this moment, but Chelly pushed every one of them into some gray area in her brain. Matt was one. She could not deal with Matt Branson today. Not now.

  The day had been too long. She was exhausted, emotional, hungry again, and frustrated with the crying babies in the back seat. Tired from fighting the snow and her emotions, she chose not to think any longer, just to do. So that is what she did.

  She drove straight down Lake Road, turned into Suzie’s driveway, slanted her gaze at the sign that read, Welcome to Legend’s Landing Bed & Breakfast, and prayed that she would be exactly that—welcome.

  She doubted it.

  Still gray, the day matched her mood perfectly; the snow had stopped for a while. A couple of inches were piled up around Suzie’s porch. She pulled alongside, and not bothering with anything but her purse and the girls, headed up the sidewalk. Karly was in her arms, her soft head resting on her shoulder. Katie toddled along beside, holding her hand.

  “Be careful of the ice, honey,” she said to her oldest.

  “Yes, Mommy.”

  Tears sprang to her eyes again at the sweet child. She loved her girls so much, and now that it was the moment of truth—as she navigated the steps up to Suzie’s front porch with her most precious cargo—she wanted only one thing: For Suzie to love them as much as she did.

  Even if she didn’t accept Chelly, maybe she’d accept her girls.

  Too much to expect, probably.

  With every emotion known to woman ready to spill over inside of her, she swallowed and moved forward onto the porch. A cascade of greenery and lights arched over the front door. Beyond in the sidelights, she could see someone milling about. Soft Christmas music met her ears, and she swore she could smell cookies baking.

  That notion made her smile. This was the Suzie she remembered.

  If only…

  The door swung abruptly open. “Chelly?”

  Her sister stood there, framed by holly and twinkling lights, a questioning look on her face. Her strawberry blond hair was piled high on her head. She had flour on her face and was wiping her hands on her apron. A little boy clung to her leg.

  Tears poured. “Suzie,” Chelly sobbed. “I’m so sorry. I am so, so sorry for anything and everything that I ever did. I am…”

  Suzie grasped her sister and pulled her into the house, tears streaming down her face as well. “Come here, you,” she whispered and kicked the door shut behind her. “Just come here.”

  Chelly sobbed on her sister’s shoulder, and Suzie, always the gracious hostess, let her. She hugged her with several years’ worth of longing, trapping the girls in their embrace.

  “I’ve missed you,” Suzie whispered, pulling back to look into her face. She gently thumbed away tears from Chelly’s eyes and then turned to both girls, cupping first Karly’s small face in her hands, and leaning down to do the same with Katie. “You are both so beautiful,” she said softly.

  Next she grasped the little boy’s hand that still clutched her leg. Chelly guessed he was a little younger than Karly.

  Crouching, she said to the boy. “Petey, this is your cousin. Say hello?”

  “Ha,” he said and vigorously waved. Katie burrowed a little closer into her mother.

  Straightening then, Suzie looked long into Chelly’s face and whispered, “Merry Christmas, Chelly. We have a lot of catching up to do but let’s put one thing to rest right now. The past is the past. And I am so very glad that you’re here.”

  * * * *

  Petey and Karly hit it off immediately. In no time they were toddling about, circling the Christmas tree in the living room, and playing hide and seek in every nook and cranny in the downstairs common areas of the B&B. Katie picked over a home-made chicken pot pie that Suzie had popped out of the freezer and cooked for her.

  “I’m sorry she’s so picky,” Chelly said, sitting at the bar and scooping cookies off the sheet to cool on racks. “Always has been.”

  Katie looked up and smiled at her mother. “I picky.”

  Chelly grinned.

  Suzie worked the cornbread stuffing with her hands, mixing up the ingredients. “No problem. Petey is as picky as they come. Some days all he will eat are my chicken pot pies and sweet pickles. Breakfast, lunch and dinner. That’s why I keep them on hand.”

  They talked for over an hour while Suzie managed to feed everyone and simultaneously do prep work for the meals she was catering tomorrow, on Christmas Eve. Brad was at the lodge for the employee Christmas party, and Suzie didn’t expect him until late. That was nice because it gave them time to themselves. They’d discussed Suzie’s marriage, the renovation of the lodge, the births of all the babies, and even Cliff’s death.

  “That had to be horrible,” Suzie said, as they chatted about the shock of the accident. “I didn’t realize cement mixers could do so much damage to a Honda.”

  “Anything running over you full-speed-ahead is going to be bad.”

  “At least he didn’t know what hit him.”

  “True,” Chelly replied, her gaze drifting. “If only he hadn’t taken that detour and swerved for that dog.”

  “Freak accident.”

  “Yeah.”

  Pause.

  “Cliff always liked dogs.”

  “Yeah. It was a Bassett Hound.”

  “Didn’t he have one of those bumper stickers?”

  “Hm?”

  “You know, I brake for animals?”

  “Oh yeah. I guess the truck driver didn’t see it.”

  Pause.

  “How do you know it was a Bassett?” Suzie picked at a piece of lint on a dish cloth.

  “The truck driver said it in his statement. Said the dog lumbered off okay but poor Cliff got smashed like a people pancake.” Chelly sighed. “Funny how people remember details like that.”

  Pause.

  “Makes sense.”

  “What?”

  “Oh, that he wouldn’t want to hit the dog. Not the people pancake part.”

  Chelly nodded. “Oh. Yeah.”

  A longer pause.

  Suzie looked straight into her eyes. “Chelly, you know we wanted to help you.”

  The tide shifted and she waited a moment to respond. “I know. I couldn’t.”

  “You could have returned our calls. Mama and Daddy were so troubled.”

  That cut deeper than she anticipated. “I figured.”

  Suzie looked up from her mixing bowl. “Chelly, why? Why would you not let us help you through this? Losing a husband is an awful, terrible thing. And it was so sudden.” She bit her lip and stared ahead. “Besides, Cliff was, well…family.”

  She’d thought her eyes were pretty much devoid of tears but at that, they stung again. “I assumed you all hated me.”

  Sighing, Suzie went to the sink and rinsed her hands, then stood at the bar and placed her palms on it. “Chelly, don’t ever think anything stupid like that again.”

  She shrugged and stood. “Suzie! I stole your husband. You went out of town to work at that job, and I swooped in and stole him. He was lonely, and I was young and flirty, and before I knew it, we were in bed and I had fallen in love with him. Why would you not hate me?”

  Suzie laughed. “Oh, believe me, I did.” She moved around the bar, tugged out a stool and sat. She pulled Chelly into a seat, too. “I hated you with a passion, but not because you stole Cliff. I hated you because you had something I wanted. A loving husband and a family. But all of that changed once Brad and Petey came into my life. Over the months, I realized I didn’t hate you after all. In fact, you cleared the way for me to pursue the happiness I always wanted. Happiness that Cliff couldn’t give me.

  “I can’t imagine what it is like to lose a husband. Now that I have Brad…”
she trailed off, thinking, “well, I felt for you, and wanted to help in some way, but you didn’t respond. I didn’t know what to do.”

  Chelly shook her head. “There was nothing you could do. I had to find my way out of this.” She paused, then. “But Suzie, I can’t do it. I wasn’t making it in Dalton Springs. I lost my house. The money wouldn’t stretch. So, I need…”

  “You need to start over. Here. In Legend.” She reached for Chelly’s hands. “You’re home now, sweetie, and this time, you’d better let us help you.”

  Hesitant, Chelly grasped back. “I need your help,” she whispered.

  Nodding, she squeezed. “We’ll work out the details later. For now, it’s Christmas and we’re going to have the best one in years. Now, go call Mama and tell her you’re back. I can’t wait for tomorrow night.”

  She couldn’t either. It would be the first Christmas she’d have with her family in four years. Her Mama and Daddy had never even seen her girls.

  A smile broke across Suzie’s face and Chelly took in her moist eyes. “I can’t either. I’ll go call now.”

  * * * *

  Later, Chelly lay in her bed in one of Suzie’s guest rooms upstairs—the one she loved the most and had helped Suzie decorate years ago. She called it the blue room, but really, it was mostly white with blue accents. All the furniture was white—the picture frames, the billowy sheers at the window and the plantation blinds underneath—set against a backdrop of water-color blue walls. The Irish quilt was navy and white, the sheets pale cobalt with starched cotton embroidered pillowcases, and a matching crocheted afghan tossed over an old over-stuffed chair. Blue Willow plates were hung on the wall, and a blue-swirled glass ball hung from the curtain rod. The room had a beachy feel, which was a nice contrast in this mountain area.

  The girls were asleep in the adjoining room. Lucky for everyone, Suzie didn’t take guests over the holidays. That meant she only had to share her bathroom with the girls, which was fine. Situated between the two rooms, it was also gave her easy access to them. She could hear their cries and whimpers in the night.

  So tired she could barely spit, she lay wide awake looking up at the ceiling. The worse part was over, apologizing to Suzie. Tomorrow she’d see her Mama and Daddy again, and she couldn’t wait for them to see her girls. Her Mama cried on the phone and wanted to rush right over, but Chelly convinced her that they were all tired and tomorrow would be better. Her Daddy finally talked some sense into her.

  Her Mama’s last words on the phone had both pained and relieved her.

  “I’ll sleep better tonight than I have in years.”

  Nearly choking, she quickly said her goodbye and hung up.

  This was a beginning. A fresh start. She still had a long road in front of her.

  Turning onto her side, she closed her eyes. Just at the point of giving over to sleep, an image popped into her head.

  Tall, broad shoulders, sandy-brown hair, eyes the color of a copper penny, and in uniform.

  Matt.

  Something clutched at her heart. He looked good. Damn good. No doubt some young chic had snatched him up in no time with minutes to spare. She hoped so. He deserved someone. Someone who would be good to him.

  She supposed she’d find out, eventually.

  It was good seeing him. He was her first love. Her first… everything.

  Since you left out of here on a whim and a prayer, without a word to anyone, you’ve probably not given Legend another thought.

  And she’d done him wrong.

  Obviously, he’d not forgotten about that. Odd how the notion bothered her.

  Chapter Three

  “Hold onto you hats, folks, we’re in for a heckuva snow storm. What we saw yesterday was nothing compared to what’s coming. This new front started rolling across Missouri and western Tennessee the past twenty-four hours, and the computers tell us it could be a doozey. So get those gifts wrapped and delivered, and batten down the hatches. Santa, you may be in for a cold, snowy ride tonight. I hate to say the B word, but…”

  Matt smashed his hand down on the clock radio beside his bed, halting the weather man’s prediction.

  “Great…” he mumbled. “Blizzard.”

  He dozed again and five minutes later, White Christmas blared in his ear.

  Smash!

  The clock radio slid off the oak bedside table. He glanced at it. Five minutes after seven. Shit. Bing Crosby still crooned from the floor, then the DJ was back. “Looks like we have a few hours, folks. Expect light snow to arrive around noon. We’ll see six inches by dinnertime, and another two-to-three throughout the evening hours. Hey, we’re not used to this folks, but look at the bright side: we’ll have a good ol’ fashioned, southern white Christmas this year. Get those sleds ready, kids!”

  Groaning, Matt reached for the radio’s cord and jerked it from the wall.

  “Wonderful.” Sitting up, he rubbed his hands over his face. He usually didn’t work on Saturday, but predicted he’d probably get called in soon.

  Christmas Eve and a blizzard. Damn. Both sisters driving down from Ohio, and his mother would be worried-to-a-fritter until they arrived. Not to mention he would likely spend his evening helping people—who should know better than to drive on winding mountain roads during a blizzard—get out of the ditch they’d slid into.

  “Bah humbug.”

  Rising, he stumbled to the shower, wondering why he was in such a foul mood. Ah, yes. Chelly, combined with the effect of too much bourbon last night. So why the hell was he even up?

  Oh, yeah. Christmas shopping. His nieces and nephews. He was a procrastinator, and he had to have gifts. Today.

  Hot water rained down on him, and he reached up to switch the nozzle on the shower head to deliver a harsher stream on his neck and shoulders.

  “Oh. Yes…” he hissed.

  Eyes closed, he tried to erase the vision of Chelly looking up at him with those Disney eyes, summer sky blue, and all that blonde hair framing her face.

  Tears.

  Even stressed and upset, she was still beautiful.

  “Dammit.”

  Worse part was, she’d been upset, and he’d wanted to take her in his arms and smooth all the bad stuff away, whatever it was. Even after all this time, he’d been tempted, for a moment, to say, “How can I help? What can I do?” But he hadn’t. Thank God. One touch to her face, one hint of her scent, one innocent and casual embrace could be his undoing.

  No. He’d rescued many a damsel in distress in his day—was part of the job sometimes—but dammit if he’d risk rescuing her in any way shape or form.

  Chelly made her choices long ago, when she’d dumped him and run straight into the arms of someone else.

  Breathing deep, he let the water beat on him some more, then stepped out the shower. He dried off and dressed, then left the cabin to do whatever it was he needed to do today.

  Oh yeah. Shopping. Right.

  * * * *

  “I can’t believe I forgot the baby wipes.”

  Slamming the door to her Dodge, Chelly muttered to herself and headed toward the Piggly Wiggly. Only a ten minute drive from Suzie’s house, the store looked empty, and she hoped to sneak in and out with her purchase in record time. Since it was still early, she figured most people would be home in bed. Wrapping her jacket tight against the cold wind, she flipped up her furry hood and hustled toward the entrance. With any luck, she’d see no one who would recognize her and want to talk.

  She didn’t need that this morning. Once she realized she’d forgotten the wipes, and that the babies would be up soon, she rushed out of the house without washing her face or brushing her teeth. Bad choice, likely, but she did it. Even though she pulled on a pair of jeans, she still wore the t-shirt she’d slept in.

  Not the way to introduce herself back into Legend, by any means.

  “Okay,” she mumbled, her breath steaming from her lips, “shop like a man. Get in, get out, get home.” The automatic door to The Pig opened and she moved
inside.

  “Yes,” she hissed. “Practically empty.”

  Some weird rendition of Jingle Bells played in the background.

  She scurried along to the baby aisle. Glancing right and left, she let the hood slip down on her shoulders and scoped the aisle for her brand. There. Yes. She grabbed it and tucked it under her arm and rounded the corner.

  Coffee. The heavenly smell of coffee hit her full in the face. Oh, could she use some caffeine. The dark kind with extra octane. Looking to her left, she spied the self-serve counter and smiled. The Pig was moving up. She didn’t remember this coffee service here before.

  Hesitant for only a second, she glanced about. Oh, my God, that was Betty Jo still checking at the counter. How many years had she worked here? A hundred? Another quick look back to the coffee. Yes, she would risk it.

  Darting toward the counter, she was actually salivating, longing for the taste of the warm and rich liquid on her tongue. “I swear, I must be addicted,” she muttered as she reached for the largest of the foam cups.

  “Okay, so where is the yellow stuff?” Searching for the artificial sweeteners, she quickly spied them and tore off the tops of three packets and dumped them into her empty cup. Next, she poured the coffee on top, the aroma wafting toward her nostrils.

  “Um.” She closed her eyes and inhaled and savored a moment of pleasure.

  “Ahem. You going to stand there and breathe that, or drink it?”

  Her eyes popped open and she jerked her gaze to her right. Shit! “Matt?”

  “Yes. Mind scooting over so I can get some of that, too?”

  Chelly looked where she was standing, right in front of the burners and the carafe. “Oh. Oh!” She backed up and searched for the lids. She rounded him and they switched places. In the process, she scooted her hood up a little higher to cover her face.

  “I need a lid,” she said, then edged away. She fumbled with the plastic disk, couldn’t get it on straight to save her.

  “Here, let me.”

  Large hands reached in front of her. She tried not to look at him. After all, she was skuzzy. Hadn’t washed her face…

  She ran her tongue over her teeth.

  He handed her the cup.

  “Thanks.”