A Country Christmas

by Debbie Macomber

  “I’ve got the flight information, if you’re ready to write it down,” she said.

  “Yup—pen in hand,” Cal told her happily. Hearing the elation in his voice was just the balm she needed.

  She read off the flight number and time of arrival, then felt obliged to add, “I know things have been strained between us lately and—”

  “I’m sorry, Jane,” he said simply. “It’s my fault.”

  “I was about to apologize to you,” she said, loving him, anticipating their reunion.

  “It’s just that I miss you so much.”

  “I’ve missed you, too.” Jane sighed and closed her eyes. They spoke on the phone nearly every night, but lately their conversations had been tainted by the frustration they both felt with their predicament. She’d wanted sympathy and understanding; he’d been looking for the same. They tended to keep their phone calls brief.

  “I have a sneaking suspicion your mother’s been spoiling the kids.”

  “She sees them so seldom...” Jane started to offer an excuse, then decided they could deal with the subject of their children’s routines later.

  “Your dad’s tests—how were they?” Cal asked.

  “Well, put it this way. His doctors are cautiously optimistic. So Dad’s feeling a lot more positive.”

  “Your mother, too?”

  “Yes.” Despite Stephanie’s emotional dependence on her, Jane admired the courage her mother had shown in the past few weeks. Seeing her husband in the hospital, learning that he’d been diagnosed with cancer, was a terrifying experience. At least, the situation seemed more hopeful now.

  “I’ll be at the airport waiting for you,” Cal promised. “Oh, honey, I can’t tell you how good it’s going to be to have you back.”

  “I imagine you’re starved for a home-cooked meal,” Jane teased.

  “It isn’t your cooking I miss as much as just having my wife at home,” Cal said.

  “So you’re eating well, are you?”

  “I’m eating.” From the evasive way he said it, she knew that most of his dinners consisted of something thrown quickly together.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” Jane whispered. “At five o’clock.”

  “Tomorrow at five,” Cal echoed, “and that’s none too soon.”

  Jane couldn’t agree more.

  * * *

  Cal was in a good mood. By noon, he’d called it quits for the day; ten minutes later he was in the shower. He shaved, slapped on the aftershave Jane liked and donned a crisp clean shirt. He was ready to leave for San Antonio to pick up his family. His steps lightened as he passed the bedroom, and he realized he’d be sharing the bed with his wife that very night. He hesitated at the sight of the disheveled and twisted sheets. Jane had some kind of obsession with changing the bed linens every week. She’d been away almost three weeks now and he hadn’t made the bed even once. She’d probably appreciate clean sheets.

  He stripped the bed and piled the dirty sheets on top of the washer. The laundry-room floor was littered with numerous pairs of mud-caked jeans and everything else he’d dirtied in the time she’d been away. No need to run a load, he figured; Jane liked things done her own way. He’d never known that a woman could be so particular about laundry.

  The kitchen wasn’t in terrific shape, either, and Cal regretted not using the dishwasher more often. Until that very moment, he hadn’t given the matter of house-cleaning a second thought. He hurriedly straightened the kitchen and wiped the countertops. Housework had never been his forte, and Jane was a real stickler about order and cleanliness. When he’d lived with his brother, they’d divided the tasks; Cal did most of the cooking and Glen was in charge of the dishes. During the weeks his wife was away, Cal hadn’t done much of either.

  Still, he hadn’t been totally remiss. He’d washed Savannah’s and Dovie’s dishes. Nicole Nelson’s, too. He grabbed his good beige Stetson and started to leave yet again, but changed his mind.

  He didn’t have a thing to feel guilty about—but if Jane learned that Nicole had brought him a casserole, she’d be upset, particularly since he’d never mentioned it. That might look bad. He hadn’t meant to keep it from her, but they’d been sidetracked by other concerns, and then they’d had their little spat. He’d decided just to let it go.

  All Cal wanted was his wife and family home. That didn’t strike him as unreasonable—especially when he heard about the way she seemed to be spending her days. How necessary was it to take the kids to Disneyland? Okay, once, maybe, but they’d gone three or four times. He’d lost count of their trips to the beach. This wasn’t supposed to be a vacation. He immediately felt guilty about his lack of generosity. She’d had a lot of responsibility and he shouldn’t begrudge her these excursions. Besides, she’d had to entertain the kids somehow.

  Collecting the clean casserole dishes, Cal stuck them in the backseat of his car. He’d return them now, rather than risk having Jane find the dish that belonged to Nicole Nelson.

  His first stop was at the home of Savannah and Laredo Smith. After a few minutes of searching, he found his neighbor in one of her rose gardens, winterizing the plants. They’d grown up next door to each other, and Savannah’s brother, Grady Weston, had been Cal’s closest friend his entire life.

  Savannah, who’d been piling compost around the base of a rosebush, straightened when he pulled into the yard. She’d already started toward him by the time he climbed out of the car.

  “Well, hello, Cal,” she said, giving him a friendly hug.

  “Thought I’d bring back your dish. I want you to know how much I appreciated the meal.”

  Savannah pressed her forearm against her moist brow. “I was glad to do it. I take it Jane’ll be home soon?”

  “This afternoon.” He glanced at his watch and saw that he still had plenty of time.

  “That’s wonderful! How’s her father doing?”

  “Better,” he said. He didn’t want to go into all the complexities and details right now; he’d leave that for Jane.

  “I should go,” he told her. “I’ve got a couple of other stops to make before I head to the airport.”

  “Give Jane my best,” Savannah said. “Ask her to call me when she’s got a minute.”

  Cal nodded and set off again. His next stop was Dovie and Frank Hennessey’s place. Besides a chicken pot pie, Dovie had baked him dessert—an apple pie. It was the best meal he’d eaten the whole time Jane was in California. Dovie had a special recipe she used for her crust that apparently included buttermilk. She’d passed it on to Jane, but despite several attempts, his wife’s pie crust didn’t compare with Dovie Hennessey’s. But then, no one’s did.

  Frank answered the door and gave him a smile of welcome. “Hey, Cal! Good to see you.” He held open the back door and Cal stepped inside.

  “You, too, Frank.” Cal passed him the ceramic pie plate and casserole dish. “I’m on my way to the airport to pick up Jane and the kids.”

  “So that’s why you’re wearing a grin as wide as the Rio Grande.”

  “Wider,” Cal said. “Can’t wait to have ’em back.”

  “Did Phil catch up with you?” Frank asked.

  “Dad’s looking for me?”

  Frank nodded. “Last I heard.”

  “I guess I should find out what he wants,” Cal said. He had enough time, since it was just after two and Jane’s flight wasn’t due until five. Even if it took him a couple of hours hours to drive to the airport, he calculated, he should get there before the plane landed. Still, he’d have to keep their visit brief.

  Frank nodded again; he seemed about to say something else, then apparently changed his mind.

  “What?” Cal asked, standing on the porch.

  Frank shook his head. “Nothing. This is a matter for you and your dad.”

  Cal frowned. He had to admit he was curiou
s. If his father had something to talk over with him, Cal wondered why he hadn’t just phoned. From Frank and Dovie’s house, Cal drove down Elm Street to the seniors’ residence. He found his father involved in a quiet game of chess with Bob Miller, a retired newspaperman.

  “Hello, Cal,” Phil murmured, raising his eyes from the board.

  “Frank Hennessey said you wanted to see me,” Cal said abruptly. “Hi, Bob,” he added. He hadn’t intended any rudeness, but this was all making him a bit nervous.

  Phil stared at him. “Frank said that, did he?”

  “I brought back Dovie’s dishes, and Frank answered the door. If you want to talk to me, Dad, all you need to do is call.”

  “I know, I know.” Phil stood and smiled apologetically at Bob. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  Bob was studying the arrangement of chess pieces. “Take all the time you need,” he said without looking up.

  Phil surveyed the lounge, but there was no privacy to be had there. Cal checked his watch again, thinking he should preface their conversation with the news that he was on his way to the airport. Before he had a chance to explain why he was in town—and why he couldn’t stay long—his father shocked him by saying, “I want to know what’s going on between you and Nicole Nelson.”

  “Nicole Nelson?” Cal echoed.

  Phil peered over his shoulder. “Perhaps the best place to have this discussion is my apartment.”

  “There’s nothing to discuss,” Cal said, his jaw tightening.

  Phil ignored him and marched toward the elevator. “You take back her dinner dishes yet?” he pried. “Or have you advanced to sharing candlelit meals?”

  Cal nearly swallowed his tongue. His father knew Nicole had brought him dinner. How? Glen wasn’t one to waste time on idle gossip. Nor was Ellie. He didn’t like to think it was common knowledge or that the town was feasting on this tasty tidbit.

  His father’s apartment consisted of a small living area with his own television and a few bookcases. His mother’s old piano took up one corner. Double glass doors led to the bedroom and an adjoining bath. Although he didn’t play the piano, Phil hadn’t sold it when Cal’s mother died. Instead, he used the old upright to display family photographs.

  He walked over to a photo of Cal with Jane and the two children, taken shortly after Mary Ann’s birth. “You have a good-looking family, son.”

  Cal knew his father was using this conversation to lead into whatever nonsense was on his mind. Hard as it was, he kept his mouth shut.

  “It’d be a shame to risk your marriage over a woman like Nicole Nelson.”

  “Dad, I’m not risking my marriage! There’s nothing to this rumor. The whole thing’s been blown out of proportion. Who told you she’d been out to the ranch?”

  “Does it matter?” Phil challenged.

  “Is this something folks are talking about?” That was Cal’s biggest fear. He didn’t want Jane returning to Promise and being subjected to a torrent of malicious gossip.

  “I heard the two of you were seen together at the Mexican Lindo, too.”

  “Dad!” Cal cried, yanking off his hat to ram his fingers through his hair. “It wasn’t like that. I was eating alone and Nicole happened to be there at the same time.”

  “She sat with you, didn’t she?”

  “For a while. She was meeting someone else.”

  Phil’s frown darkened. “She didn’t eat with you, but you bought her a drink, right?”

  Reluctantly Cal nodded. He’d done nothing wrong; surely his father could see that.

  “People saw you and Nicole in the Mexican Lindo. These things get around. Everyone in town knows she brought you a meal, but it wasn’t Glen or Ellie who told them.”

  “Then who did?” Even as he asked the question, the answer dawned on Cal. He sank onto the sofa that had once stood in the library of his parents’ bed-and-breakfast. “Nicole,” he breathed, hardly able to believe she’d do something like that.

  Phil nodded. “Must be. Frank thinks she’s looking to make trouble.” He paused, frowning slightly. “Dovie doesn’t seem to agree. She thinks we’re not being fair to Nicole.”

  “What do you think?” Cal asked his father. None of this made any sense to him.

  Phil shrugged. “I don’t know Nicole, but I don’t like what I’ve heard. Be careful, son. You don’t want to lose what’s most important over nothing. Use your common sense.”

  “I didn’t seek her out, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Cal said angrily.

  “Did I say you had?”

  This entire situation was out of control. If he’d known that recommending Nicole for a job at the bookstore would lead to this, he wouldn’t have said a word. It didn’t help any that Jane’s best friend, Annie Porter, owned Tumbleweed Books, although he assumed Annie would show some discretion. He could trust her to believe him—but even if she didn’t, Annie would never say or do anything to hurt Jane.

  “You plan on seeing Nicole again?”

  “I didn’t plan on seeing her the first time,” Cal shot back. “I don’t have any reason to see her.”

  “Good. Keep it that way.”

  Cal didn’t need his father telling him something so obvious. Not until he reached the car did he remember the casserole dish. With his father’s warning still ringing in his ears, he decided that returning it to Nicole could wait. When he had a chance, he’d tuck the dish in the cab of his pickup and drop it off at the bookstore. Besides, he no longer had the time. Because of this unexpected delay with his father, he’d have to hurry if he wanted to get to the airport before five.

  Despite the likelihood that he’d now be facing rush-hour traffic, he had to smile.

  His wife and family were coming home.

  * * *

  Exhausted, Jane stepped off the plane, balancing Mary Ann on her hip. The baby had fussed the entire flight, and Jane was pretty sure she had an ear infection. Her skin was flushed and she was running a fever and tugging persistently at her ear.

  With Mary Ann crying during most of the flight, Paul hadn’t taken his nap and whined for the last hour, wanting to know when he’d see his daddy again. Jane’s own nerves were at the breaking point and she pitied her fellow passengers, although fortunately the plane had been half-empty.

  “Where’s Daddy?” Paul said as they exited the jetway.

  “He’ll be here,” Jane assured her son. “He’ll meet us at the entrance.” The diaper bag slipped off her shoulder and tangled with her purse strap, weighing down her arm.

  “I don’t see Daddy,” Paul cried, more loudly this time.

  “Just wait, okay?”

  “I don’t want to wait,” Paul complained. He crossed his arms defiantly. “I’m tired of waiting. I want my daddy.”

  “Paul, please, I need you to be my helper.”

  Mary Ann started to cry, tugging at her ear again. Jane did what she could to comfort her daughter, but it was clear the child was in pain. She had Children’s Tylenol with her, but it was packed in the luggage. The checked luggage, of course.

  She made her way to the baggage area; she’d get their suitcases, then she could at least take out the medication for Mary Ann.

  With the help of a friendly porter, she collected the bags and brought them over to the terminal entrance, looking around for her husband. No Cal anywhere. She opened the smaller bag to get the Tylenol. She found it just as she heard her name announced over the broadcast system.

  “That must be your father,” she told Paul.

  “I want my daddy!” the boy shrieked again.

  Jane wanted Cal, too—and when she saw him she intended to let him know she was not pleased. She located a house phone, dragged over her bags and, kids in tow, breathlessly picked up the receiver.

  She was put through to Cal.

  “Where the hell are you
?” he snapped.

  “Where the hell are you?” She was tempted to remind him that she had two suitcases and two children to worry about, plus assorted other bags. The only items he had to carry were his wallet and car keys. She’d appreciate a little help!

  “I’m waiting for you at the entrance,” he told her a little more calmly.

  “So am I,” she said, her voice puzzled.

  “You aren’t at Terminal 1.”

  “No, I’m at 2! That’s where I’m supposed to be.” She tried to restrain her frustration. “How on earth could you get that wrong?”

  “Stay right there and I’ll meet you,” Cal promised, sounding anxious.

  Ten minutes later Paul gave a loud cry. “Daddy! Daddy!”

  There he was. Cal strolled toward them, a wide grin on his face as Paul raced in his direction. He looked wonderful, Jane had to admit. Tanned and relaxed, tall and lean. At the moment all she felt was exhausted. He reached down and scooped Paul into his arms, lifting him high. The boy wrapped his arms around Cal’s neck and hugged him fiercely.

  “Welcome home,” Cal said. Still holding Paul, he pulled her and the baby into his arms and embraced them.

  “What happened?” Jane asked. “Where were you?”

  “Kiss me first,” he said, lowering his head to hers. The kiss was long and potent, and it told Jane in no uncertain terms how happy he was to have her back.

  “I’m so glad to be home,” she whispered.

  “I’m glad you are, too.” He put his son back on the floor and Paul gripped his hand tightly. “I’m sorry about the mixup.” Cal shook his head. “I gave myself plenty of time, but I stopped off to see my dad and got a later start than I wanted. And then traffic was bad. And then I obviously wasn’t thinking straight and I went to the wrong terminal.”

  Jane sighed. Knowing she was going to have her hands full, he might’ve been a bit more thoughtful.

  The hour and a half ride into Promise didn’t go smoothly, either. Keyed up and refusing to sleep, Paul was on his worst behavior. Mary Ann’s medication took almost an hour to kick in, and until then, she cried and whimpered incessantly. Jane’s nerves were stretched to the limit. Cal tried to distract both children with his own renditions of country classics, but he had little success.