Читать книгу Falling for Christmas: A Cedar Cove Christmas / Call Me Mrs. Miracle - Debbie Macomber - Страница 15

Mary Jo woke feeling confused. She sat up in bed and gazed around at the sparsely decorated room before she remembered where she was. Grace Harding had brought her home and was letting her spend the night in this apartment above the barn. It was such a kind thing to do. She was a stranger, after all, a stranger with problems who’d appeared out of nowhere on Christmas Eve.

Stretching her arms high above her head, Mary Jo yawned loudly. She was still tired, despite her nap. Her watch told her she’d been asleep for almost two hours. Two hours!

Other than in her first trimester, she hadn’t required a lot of extra rest during her pregnancy, but that had changed in the past few weeks. Of course some of it could be attributed to David and his lies. Wondering what she should believe and whether he’d meant any of what he’d said had kept her awake many a night. Consequently she was tired during the day; while she was still working she’d nap during her lunch break.

Forcing her eyes shut, Mary Jo made an effort to cast David from her mind. She quickly gave up. Tossing aside the covers, she climbed out of bed, put on her shoes and left the apartment. The stairway led to the interior of the barn.

As soon as she stepped into the barn, several animals stuck their heads out of the stalls to study her curiously. The first she saw was a lovely horse. Grace had introduced her as Funny Face.

“Hello there, girl.” Mary Jo walked slowly toward the stall door. “Remember me?” The mare nodded in what seemed to be an encouraging manner, and Mary Jo ran her hand down the horse’s unusually marked face. The mare had a white ring around one eye and it was easy to see why the Hardings had named her Funny Face. Her dark, intelligent eyes made Mary Jo think of an old story she recalled from childhood—that animals can talk for a few hours after midnight on Christmas Eve—and she wondered what Funny Face would say. Probably something very wise.

The camel seemed curious, too, and thrust her long curved neck out of the stall, peering at Mary Jo through wide eyes, fringed with lush, curling lashes. Mary Jo had been warned to keep her distance. “Oh, no, you don’t,” she said, waving her index finger. “You’re not going to lure me over there with those big brown eyes. Don’t give me that innocent look, either. I’ve heard all about you.”

After visiting a few placid sheep, another couple of horses and a donkey with a sweet disposition, Mary Jo walked out of the barn. She hurried toward the house through a light snowfall, wishing she’d remembered her coat. Even before she arrived, the front door opened and an attractive older gentleman held the screen.

“You must be Mary Jo,” he said and thrust out his hand in greeting. “Cliff Harding.”

“Hello, Mr. Harding,” she said with a smile. She was about to thank him for his hospitality when he interrupted.

“Call me Cliff, okay? And come in, come in.”

“All right, Cliff. Thank you.”

Mary Jo entered the house and was greeted by the smell of roasting turkey and sage and apple pie.

“You’re awake!” Grace declared as she came out of the kitchen. She wore an apron and had smudges of flour on her cheeks.

“I’m shocked I slept for so long.”

“You obviously needed it,” Grace commented, leading her into the kitchen. “I see you’ve met my husband.”

“Yes.” Mary Jo smiled again. Rubbing her palms nervously together, she looked from one to the other. “I really can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done for me.”

“Oh, nonsense. It’s the least we could do.”

“I’m a stranger and you took me in without question and, well…I didn’t think that kind of thing happened in this day and age.”

That observation made Grace frown. “Really? It does here in Cedar Cove. I guess it’s just how people act in small towns. We tend to be more trusting.”

“I had a similar experience when I first moved here,” Cliff said. “I wasn’t accustomed to people going out of their way for someone they didn’t know. I didn’t believe it could be genuine.

Charlotte Jefferson—now Charlotte Rhodes—disabused me of that notion.”

Despite everything, Mary Jo looked forward to meeting David’s stepmother. The conversation would be difficult, but knowing that Charlotte was as kind as everyone else she’d met so far made all the difference.

“Really, Mary Jo,” Grace continued. “All you needed was a friend and a helping hand. Anyone here would’ve done the same. Olivia wanted you to stay with her, too.”

“Everyone’s been so wonderful.” Thinking about the willingness of these people to take her in brought a lump to her throat. She bent, with some effort, to stroke the smooth head of a golden retriever who lay on a rug near the stove.

“That’s Buttercup,” Grace said fondly as the dog thumped her tail but didn’t stand up. “She’s getting old, like the rest of us.”

“Coffee?” Cliff walked over to the coffeemaker. “I’ll make some decaf. Are you interested?” he asked, motioning in Mary Jo’s direction with the pot.

“I’d love some. If it isn’t any trouble.”

“None whatsoever. I’m having a cup, too.” Grace set out three mugs, then suddenly asked, “You didn’t eat any lunch, did you?”

“No, but I’m not hungry.”

“You might not be, but that baby of yours is,” Grace said as if she had a direct line of communication to the unborn child. Without asking further, she walked to the refrigerator and poked her head inside. Adjusting various containers and bottles and packages, she took out a plastic-covered bowl.

“I don’t want to cause you any extra work,” Mary Jo protested.

“The work’s already done. Cliff made the most delicious clam chowder,” Grace said. “I’ll heat you up some.”

Now that Grace mentioned it, Mary Jo realized she really could use something to eat; she was feeling light-headed again. “Cliff cooks?” Her brothers were practically helpless around the kitchen and it always surprised her to find a man who enjoyed cooking.

“I am a man of many talents,” Grace’s husband answered with a smile. “I was a bachelor for years before I met Grace.”

“If I didn’t prepare meals, my brothers would survive on fast food and frozen entrées,” she said, grinning. Thankfully her mother had taught her quite a bit before her death. The brothers had relied on Mary Jo for meals ever since.

The thought of Linc, Mel and Ned made her anxious. She’d meant to call, but then she’d fallen asleep and now…they could be anywhere. They’d be furious and frightened. She felt a blast of guilt; her brothers might be misguided but they loved her.

“If you’ll excuse me a moment,” she said urgently. “I need to make a phone call.”

“Of course,” Grace told her. “Would you like to use the house phone?”

She shook her head. “No, I have my cell up in the apartment. It’ll only take a few minutes.”

“You might have a problem with coverage. Try it and see. By the time you return, the coffee and soup will be ready.”

Mary Jo went back to the barn and up the stairs to the small apartment. She was breathless when she reached the top and paused to gulp in some air. Her pulse was racing. This had never happened before. Trying to stay calm, she walked into the bedroom where she’d left her purse.

Sitting on the bed, she got out her cell. She tried the family home first. But the call didn’t connect, and when Mary Jo glanced at the screen, she saw there wasn’t any coverage in this area. Well, that settled that.

She did feel bad but there was no help for it. She’d ask to make a long-distance call on the Hardings’ phone, and she’d try Linc’s cell, as well as the house. She collected her coat and gloves and hurried back to the house, careful not to slip in the snow.

A few minutes later, she was in the kitchen. As Grace had promised, the coffee and a bowl of soup were waiting for her on the table.

Mary Jo hesitated. She really hated to ask, hated to feel even more beholden. “If you don’t mind, I’d appreciate using your phone.”

“Of course.”

“It’s long distance, I’m afraid. I’d be happy to pay the charges. You could let me know—”

“Nonsense,” Grace countered. “One phone call isn’t going to make a bit of difference to our bill.”

“Thank you.” Still wearing her coat, Mary Jo went over to the wall phone, then remembered that Linc’s number was programmed into her cell. Speed dial made it unnecessary to memorize numbers these days, she thought ruefully.

She’d have to go back to the apartment a second time. Well, there was no help for that, either. “I’ll need to get my cell phone,” she said.

“I can have Cliff get it for you,” Grace offered. “I’m not sure you should be climbing those stairs too often.”

“Oh, no, I’m fine,” Mary Jo assured her. She walked across the yard, grateful the snow had tapered off, and back up the steep flight of stairs, pausing as she had before to inhale deeply and calm her racing heart. Taking another breath, she went in search of her cell.

On the off chance the phone might work in a different location, Mary Jo stood on the Hardings’ porch and tried again. And again she received the same message. No coverage.

Cell phone in hand, she returned to the kitchen.

“I’ll make the call as quickly as I can,” she told Grace, lifting the receiver.

“You talk as long as you need,” Grace said. “And here, let me take your coat.”

She found Linc’s contact information in her cell phone directory and dialed his number. After a few seconds, the call connected and went straight to voice mail. Linc, it appeared, had decided to turn off his cell. Mary Jo wasn’t sure what to make of that. Maybe he didn’t want her to contact him, she thought with sudden panic. Maybe he was so angry he never wanted to hear from her again. When she tried to leave a message, she discovered that his voice mail was full. She sighed. It was just like Linc not to listen to his messages. He probably had no idea how many he’d accumulated.

“My brother has his cell off,” Mary Jo said with a defeated shrug.

“He might be in a no-coverage zone,” Grace explained. “We don’t get good reception here at the ranch. Is it worth trying his house?”

Mary Jo doubted it, but she punched in the numbers. As she’d expected, no answer there, either. Her oldest brother’s deep voice came on, reciting the phone number. Then, in his usual peremptory fashion, he said, “We’re not here. Leave a message.” Mary Jo closed her eyes.

“It’s me,” she began shakily, half afraid Linc would break in and start yelling at her. Grace had stepped out of the kitchen to give her privacy, a courtesy she appreciated.