“And to you, Beatrice: I’m sorry we had no Christmas tree for you. It’s just that closing Grey Sage is our custom at Christmas. I know you’ll find more than enough decorated trees, wreaths, and nutcrackers at the Broadmoor. And while you’re enjoying the sights and sounds of a true Rocky Mountain Christmas, Silas and I will be setting sail on the warm waters of the Caribbean.”
“I accept your apology, Maude, and I have something for you because I think you need some Christmas.” Beatrice pulled out four small gift bags and handed them to Maude. “Here is some chocolate—the kind the shopkeeper said was certain to bring happiness. Merry Christmas to you, to your husband, to your cook, and to your Indian.”
Maude took the bags and rolled her eyes as she handed one to Silas. “Why, thank you, Beatrice. This is very kind of you, and I’ll make certain to give Lita and Alo their gifts.”
Lily joined Maude. “Well, there’s one thing left for us to do—something required of all guests at Grey Sage.” She turned to Maude. “Would you like to lead them, friend?”
Beatrice interrupted, “We’re not joining hands and singing something, are we?”
Maude chuckled. “Not unless you’d like to lead us.”
Beatrice shook her head.
“Usually my guests are here for an artist or writers’ retreat. They stay longer, they have more time to enjoy the property, and we have longer to get to know them. But regardless of your stay, we have the same ritual. Most inns have a guest book for their guests to sign and write a few words. I have something else that I prefer. Would you follow me?”
All the guests rose from the table and followed Maude to the gathering room and through double doors into another hallway. This hallway was quite different—adobe walls replaced with glass doors.
Maude said, “This leads to my studio, which you have not seen. When the weather is nice, which is much of the year here, these glass doors are open on both sides, making this more like a breezeway. If you were here during an artists’ retreat, this area would be lined with artists at their easels painting the local scenery.”
The group continued the walk down the hall and into Maude’s studio, a huge open room with twenty-foot ceilings. The northeastern and southwestern walls were floor-to-ceiling glass, also with large glass doors.
Maude added, “Seems the magnificent views are veiled in gray this morning, and I regret that you can’t enjoy them. One of the delights of my days. Now, the reason I brought you here is that wall.” Maude pointed to the adjacent wall covered in different-colored handprints—some large, some small, some almost on top of each other. “So, roll up your shirtsleeves or your sweater, and Lily and I will paint the palm of your hand. And then I’d like you to stamp it somewhere on that wall. I’ll give you a pen to sign and date your handprint.”
A murmur broke across the group. Reba spoke first. “I love, love, love this. Look at it. It’s a work of art as it is. May I take a picture?”
“Certainly,” Maude responded. “And thank you, Reba. This wall is a symbol that your presence here has left your soulprint in our lives and in our home. So let’s get going.”
Fifteen minutes later, the party emerged from the studio with clean hands. Lita met them in the gathering room with a small red paper bag for each guest. “Here is our Merry Christmas treat for your journey today. These are Feast Day cookies, similar to butter cookies, with some special spices and piñon nuts and a secret—”
Kent interrupted her. “Another secret ingredient? I’m leaving here in minutes, and I don’t know the secret ingredient for your calabacitas or your hot chocolate or the cookies? Now I’ll never know.”
Lita had a knowing twinkle in her eye. “Come back here for your honeymoon, and I’ll not only tell you what the secret ingredient is, I’ll give you a whole jar full.”
Alo and Gordy huddled in the corner. Gordy whined. “I didn’t have that much trouble getting here from town, but now we have to turn around and go back. Surely US 285 will be clear, but what do you think about State Road 68?”
Alo shook his head. “Not sure. You really should forget Taos and head straight to Colorado Springs. Lot less chance of having trouble on I-25 with the weather coming from the northeast.
“No way. The boss is heels-in-the-dirt determined to get to Taos.”
“Then forget the High Road. You need to take the Low Road today—the road along the Rio Grande. It’s more direct, only about seventy miles, and you’re not driving through the mountains until you’re almost to Taos.”
“Man, I talked to Ms. Mayfield about taking that road. She wouldn’t hear of it. She wants the scenic route—someplace special she wants to stop.”
“Not advisable. Even on a good day, it could take two to three hours if you drive the High Road, but it could take you all day with this weather—if it’s even open.”
“Could you talk to her? She’s not listening to me.”
Alo agreed to try and joined Lily and the Thornhills in the gathering room. He laid out his suggestions, but Lily was determined to get to Taos. The most she agreed to was to take the Low Road.
Alo hoped it would be enough to keep the group safe.
He and Gordy loaded the luggage as the Unlikely Christmas Party said their goodbyes and took their seats in the van. He stood with Maude and Silas at the front door as they shivered and waved. Gordy started the vehicle and put it into gear.
It was then that Silas suddenly patted his pocket, then walked briskly to the van, waving his arms, trying to get Gordy’s attention. Gordy opened the door, and Silas climbed the first step.
“Lily. I almost forgot. We found it.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a silver chain and dangled it in front of her. It was her whistle. “Safe travels, friend.”
Through the window Alo watched as Lily gave Silas the eye. She took the whistle, put it around her neck, and blew it hard. Even at the door to the house, Maude and Alo winced. Alo shook his head.
“That is one unusual woman.”
A silent tension replaced the normal chatter on the van. The colonel and Beatrice sat in the front seats behind Gordy. Lily, in her Mongolian lamb vest, sat alone in the front seat across the aisle. The colonel asked, “Gordy, what route are we taking to Taos?”
“Sir, we’re taking the Low Road along the Rio Grande. There’s limited access to Taos even on good days—only a few passes, and they could be closed this morning. We should be fine, though. This is a more direct route.”
Lily requested, “I’d like us to stop at Truchas. Some art studios there I’d like us to see.”
Gordy wondered if this woman had looked at a map or even looked out the window this morning. “We’re taking the Low Road, ma’am. Truchas is up in the mountains on the High Road.”
Lily was snippy. “I don’t like this. We’ll need to stop somewhere along the way.”
Gordy replied, “This route is only about seventy miles, and I’ll be taking it slow. I suggest we stop in Española if we need to.”
“Fine. We’ll stop there.”
More silence. Lily thumbed through the New Mexico guidebook for tourists. Beatrice, leaning against the colonel, slept. Ted and Laura both had books in their hands. Greg napped, and Iris slipped into the empty seat next to Reba and began a conversation.
Kent and Emily sat near the rear of the van, he in the aisle seat.
Emily looked out the window. “I never knew there were so many shades of white and gray. We have snow and blizzards in Illinois, but I don’t recall these colors. Or maybe I never really looked.”
“Gray, all right, but no whiteout conditions yet. I’m thinking we should have skipped Taos and gone straight to the Broadmoor. Started to say something to Lily, but I’ve noticed she doesn’t like to be questioned.”
“We should be fine. Gordy doesn’t seem to be much of a risk-taker. Surely he checked things out before we got on the road this morning.”
“You’re right. I’ve been in sandstorms worse than this. And if we can’t get out of Taos tomorrow,
at least we’ll be in a beautiful place.”
Emily turned to face him. “You’ve been there before?”
“Once. My parents brought me when I was a teenager. That’s another reason we took this Christmas trip—to see Santa Fe and Taos again. My mom likes returning to places she’s been before.”
“So do I. I like the familiar, like going home again.”
“I suppose.” Kent looked at his watch. “With some luck, we should be there in another couple of hours or so.” He pointed out the window. “There. See the river? There through the trees. That’s the Rio Grande. We made this drive in the summer before. It was amazing, but not like the drive through the mountains.”
“Maybe that’s a reason for me to return next summer. I think I’d like to visit Grey Sage again. Maybe attend one of Maude’s writers’ retreats.”
Kent rested his hand on top of Emily’s and gave it a squeeze. “Sounds like a plan. I could be your driver and guide.”
“Sounds like another plan, and I’d really like to see these mountains in shades of green.”
“Oh, the only green you’ll be seeing today is the money you spend. Taos is at about nine thousand feet, so we’ll be doing some climbing the closer we get. Mountain peaks around here still have snow on them in June, so more than likely all these mountains will be blanketed today.”
The van remained silent except for the low hum of instrumental Christmas music playing. Until, with no warning, chaos entered their quiet peace. With a muffled cry, Gordy suddenly turned hard right and left the road. The loaded van careened off the highway, skidding through snow and into a leafless grove of trees between the road and the river. The vehicle buckled as Gordy turned the wheel sharply to the left. Without seatbelts to secure them, Kent and the rest of the jarred passengers instinctively grabbed the railings on the seats in front of them and held on tightly. Luggage and the Suttons’ whirligig slid down the aisle. Purses and books flew through the air. Their surprised screams drowned out the music and the road noise.
Spinning out of control, the rear of the van on the driver’s side slammed against a tree broadside. The van came to an abrupt stop, but the motor was still running.
When Kent looked up, he saw Gordy draped over the steering wheel. He looked around and took a quick assessment. “Emily, you okay?” He took her chin in his good hand and looked into her eyes. “Are you hurt?”
Startled, she replied, “No. I’m okay. I don’t think I’m hurt anywhere, just rattled.”
He kissed her forehead. “Good. Sit tight. I need to check on the others.”
Kent took command as he had done with his unit in Iraq when the worst of the firefight was over. He climbed over the bags in the aisle and quickly checked the passengers one by one as he made his way to Gordy. No one reported injuries.
About the time Kent approached, Gordy raised himself up. “How bad are you hurt?” Kent asked.
Gordy wiped his nose on his shirtsleeve. “Just a nosebleed, I think.” He moved his legs and arms. “Nothing broken.”
Kent said, “Secure the vehicle. I’ll check the passengers.”
Gordy checked the gear shift and turned off the motor. He looked out the side mirrors and turned in his seat to face the door. By that time, Lily was screaming and waving one arm.
Kent caught her arm in midair. “Calm down, Lily. Are you hurting anywhere? Are you bleeding?”
“My arm. My elbow really hurts.”
“You’ll be just fine. You probably bruised it pretty good bouncing around.” He stepped closer. “Let me see.” No unusual protrusions or hanging in an odd fashion to indicate a break. “Can you move it?”
“I think so.” Lily lifted her arm, moved it up and down, and to the side, and bent her elbow. She winced. “What happened?”
“Don’t know yet, but no serious injuries. That’s the good news.”
Beatrice raised her head and whimpered. “Am I dead?”
Henry put his arm around her. “No, Bea. You’re fine, just fine. We’ve had a little accident, but we’ll be on our way soon.” He looked up at Kent for reassurance.
Kent saw blood. “Colonel, looks like a nasty bump on the side of your head. I’ll find something to take care of that.”
“Not to worry, it’s nothing. My head hit the glass, so you’d better check the window.” The colonel winked at the young soldier.
Everyone else was shaken but secure. The action had seemed to move in slow motion during those few split seconds when the van swerved through the trees, but now time seemed suspended as the passengers realized what had happened.
“Emily, toss me my coat, and see if you can find my duffle bag in the mess back there. I’ll be back in a minute.”
Kent put on his jacket and followed Gordy outside. The wind blew sideways, lifting snow from the ground and from the limbs of the trees and whirled around them. “Man, what happened?” They trudged through powdery snow to check the damages.
“A car—a small red one—came around that curve right in the middle of the highway. It was either head on with it or take to the shoulder. I knew not to brake in case of ice, but I wasn’t thinking about all these trees, just trying not to hit that car. Guess this powdery snow slowed us down, but the van was spinning so much coming off the highway. I can’t believe we missed all these trees and just hit one.” He wiped his nose with his handkerchief.
“You sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah, just bumped my nose on the steering wheel.”
Kent shielded his face and looked out into the distance. “Did you see what happened to the red car?”
“Man, it happened so fast I don’t remember anything but trying to get the van off the road.”
“Don’t see any signs of another vehicle anywhere,” Kent said, “but it’s hard to see out there.”
Gordy shook his head. “I had a bad feeling about this. I never should have taken this job, and I never should have let Ms. Mayfield call the shots this morning. That woman uses her head for wearing those funny hats of hers instead of logical thinking. This is all my fault.”
“Placing blame’s a waste of time. Things happen. You want to be a hero now? Let’s fix the problem.” Kent checked the passenger side of the van. No damage. He looked down the driver’s side. The back third of the van cradled a tree trunk. “Well, we can’t fix this, which means we’re not driving out of here. We need a backup plan. What we need to fix is getting these folks to safety out of this cold. Your company has a policy about things like this?”
“You mean like canning the driver?” Gordy wiped his nose again. “In eighteen years, I’ve never so much as scratched a vehicle.”
“Look, friend. You got witnesses. This wasn’t your fault. It was your expertise that kept this vehicle from flipping and seriously hurting some folks. Or maybe we had one of those miracles Dad talked about last night. Not to worry. We’ll go to bat for you. Let’s get out of this wind. Can you call somebody?”
Kent and Gordy returned to the van, Gordy to the phone and Kent to let the folks know the latest. “The rear end is damaged, so we won’t be driving this vehicle. But we can thank Gordy that we’re not all either seriously injured or worse. He avoided a head-on collision and kept this van from turning over. He’s on the phone now to get help.”
Kent walked down the aisle to Emily. “Did you find my duffle bag?”
“Right here.” She pointed to the seat behind her. “Why do you need your duffle bag?”
“First-aid kit. The colonel needs bandaging.”
“You carry a first-aid kit?”
“Combat habit. I always carry supplies. They’ve come in handy more than once.” He removed a small plastic box from his bag and carried it with him to the front. “Mom, the colonel needs a bit of patching up. As I recall, you’re pretty good at that.” He handed her the plastic box. “Thanks.” He turned. “Dad, can you and Ted help me get the bags and luggage out of the aisles?”
They quickly followed Kent’s orders.
Wh
en the aisle was clear, Kent said, “Mrs. Parker, you might want to move back and sit with Emily. She’s not hurt, just a bit stunned.”
Reba took her coat and purse and moved to the back next to Emily.
“Folks, your bags are back in place. We may be here awhile, so if you have jackets or something else warm, you may want to retrieve them.”
He stepped to the front to talk to Gordy. “So what’s the plan?”
“Supervisor’s working on it and will call me back. Just heard on the radio the roads in and out of Taos are closed. Too bad because we’re only about twenty miles out. But no help coming from that direction. Supervisor’s calling Santa Fe to secure a transport vehicle. May not be so easy because of the weather and the holiday.”
“Keep trying, and keep your passengers informed while I’m gone.” He turned to Lily. “Lily, you’re good with that whistle. I need you to lower your window, and I need you to blow it loud and long every sixty seconds. Time it. Every sixty seconds. Do you understand?”
Lily rubbed her sore shoulder. “For God’s sake, why?”
Kent was unaccustomed to someone questioning his command. “Because I said so, ma’am. You got it?” He used the lever to open the van door and took two steps down.
“Where are you going?”
Kent didn’t bother to answer and slammed the door hard. As he turned away he saw Lily scrambling to get her window down and blow the whistle the first time. She blew again and again—multiple times—as he made his way back through the trees and up to the road. He made a careful survey of the area in both directions before returning to the van. By the time he stepped back in, his hair and eyebrows were covered in ice and snow.
“No sign of the red car. Just kept going, and my guess is the driver didn’t phone to send help.” Kent put his cold hand next to the vent where warm air was blowing. “Gordy, how long can you keep running the engine?”
“I don’t know, but I’m running it until it stops or until the gas runs out. It’s safe.”
“It’s so cold I can’t even guess what the temperature might be.”
Christmas at Grey Sage Page 10
