Читать книгу The Christmas Children - Irene Brand - Страница 11

Carissa retrieved the Christmas pageant key from her luggage and carried it downstairs. She placed it on the coffee table. Confronted by Paul’s presence, she needed a constant reminder of why she was in Yuletide.

Paul was still sleeping at one o’clock, so Carissa tapped on the bedroom door. He didn’t respond, so she knocked more loudly.

“Uh-uh,” he said sleepily. “What is it?”

“You have to see the doctor at three o’clock. It’s time to get up.”

Silence greeted her. Had he gone back to sleep? She knocked once more.

“I’m sorry,” Paul said. “It’s taken me a few minutes to realize where I am. You’re the lady who’s taken over sis’s home, huh?”

“Yes, the one who attacked you with a poker last night.”

“Do you have the poker now?”

She imagined his white teeth showing in a slight smile. With laughter in her voice, she said, “Not yet, but I may have to get it if you don’t hurry.”

He yawned noisily, and she heard his feet land on the floor.

“Be out in a minute.”

Carissa was standing at the back door appreciating the landscape, when the bedroom door opened behind her.

She turned, stifled a gasp and experienced a giddy sensation as if her heart had flipped over. Paul had the broad-shouldered body of an athlete, but his waist and hips were narrow. Wearing a T-shirt and jeans, he leaned against the door, looking as vulnerable as a child. His eyes were still heavy with sleep and his hair was tousled. He yawned again.

Had she been wrong when she’d made up her mind that she could live a happy, fulfilled life without a husband? Was she old enough now that the pitfalls she’d avoided in her youth would no longer tempt her? Was it possible to disprove the opinions of her childhood neighbors, who’d often said “Like mother, like daughter”?

Deep in her own thoughts and conflicting emotions, Carissa started when Paul said, “It won’t take me long to get ready. I’ll bring in some fresh clothes from the car.”

She winced when she noticed that the bruise had spread until both eyes and part of his cheek were black.

Intercepting her glance, he said, “I could pass for a raccoon this morning, don’t you think?”

Blood rushed to her cheeks, and she covered her face with her hands. “Don’t remind me. Does your head hurt?”

He lifted his hand to his forehead. “No, but it’s sure sore to the touch. I don’t dare turn my head quickly.”

Dropping her hands, Carissa said, “I’ll get your luggage.”

He started to shake his head, thought better of it and said, “Thanks, but I need a jolt of Adirondack air to help me wake up.”

“I made some lunch so we can eat before we go. There isn’t much food in the refrigerator, but I’ll stop at a grocery store after we’ve been to the clinic.”

“I’ll need to buy a few groceries, too, though, I’ll probably eat out most of the time. When I’m home for such a short time, I don’t want to store up any food.”

Carissa was tempted to suggest that they could share their meals, but she hesitated. At her age, this was no time to become involved with a man. After all, she didn’t know anything about Paul Spencer. She wouldn’t become chummy with this stranger.

Why, then, did her heart insist that Paul wasn’t a stranger?

Carissa sat in the waiting room, and when Paul came from the doctor’s office with a smile on his face, she felt a great wave of relief.

“There’s no damage except a sore head for a few days. I can live with that,” he said.

“I don’t know that I can,” Carissa said. “I’ll probably have nightmares for years about you collapsing at my feet. I thought I’d killed you.”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” he said. He laid his hand on her shoulder.

Carissa flinched and moved away, and his hand dropped limply to his side. Paul stared at her, slightly embarrassed, a confused expression on his face. He must be wondering why she would be offended at such an innocent gesture.

Carissa knew that Paul only meant to be friendly, but she wasn’t used to casual touching. She’d denied any natural tendencies toward overtures of friendship for so long that she had a complex about being touched. Several years into her career, she’d finally conquered her phobia enough to shake hands with her customers, but she apparently hadn’t overcome all of her hang-ups.

Being friendly and outgoing had contributed to her mother’s undoing. She could do nothing about looking like her mother, but long ago Carissa had determined that she wouldn’t emulate her mother’s personality and lifestyle. Her mother’s vivacious personality had gotten her involved with the wrong people and sent her down the path to prostitution and, ultimately, premature death.

Embarrassed that she’d allowed a phobia from the past to make her reject Paul’s overture of friendship, Carissa lifted a flushed face to him. Her blue eyes mirrored her anxiety. Her voice was strained when she said, “I’m glad, too, that I didn’t injure you,” and she added in her thoughts, for several reasons.

Paul wondered at the anxiety revealed in Carissa’s eyes. She was a successful businesswoman…but had he detected a flaw underneath the facade that she presented to the world? At this moment, she seemed like a bewildered little girl unable to understand what had happened to her. For several years, Paul had made it a point to tend to his own business and keep aloof from the problems of others. Now, for some inexplicable reason, he longed to remove that confused, lonely expression from her face. Before the next few weeks passed, he would no doubt learn if it was in his power to do so.

As Paul moved his belongings into the apartment, he kept thinking of Carissa. When Jennifer had jilted him, he’d made up his mind he was through with women. He’d deliberately chosen a job that would keep him out of the United States. He hadn’t been tempted to seek the companionship of women in the countries where he’d worked, and, most of the time, he was content with his bachelorhood.

Occasionally, Paul wondered if he was missing anything by not having a family. If he didn’t have any children, who would carry on the Spencer name and family traditions? He often questioned what would become of the money he’d accumulated, if anything happened to him—for his sister didn’t have any children, either. And what could Naomi do with the fortune she’d inherited from her husband? It was only in the past year, since his fortieth birthday, that Paul had become concerned about this issue.

Carissa was an attractive woman, and he smiled when he thought of her embarrassment over hitting him on the head. But, personally, he thought it took a lot of courage to attack a man with no better weapon than a poker. Paul admired courage in anyone.

She was a little woman—her head didn’t even reach his shoulders—but at times she displayed a dignity that belied her short stature. And Paul had detected a lot of warmth and vitality waiting for release beneath that dignity.

He sensed that Carissa didn’t think she was beautiful, but beauty was in the eye of the beholder. After the way Jennifer, who was tall and shapely with black hair and vivid green eyes, had treated him, Paul had decided that he’d never choose another companion based on outward appearance.

From what he’d seen of Carissa, he believed her beauty was more than skin deep.

Paul saw his sister so rarely that he was disappointed to learn that Naomi had gone to Florida. He’d called from Kennedy Airport to have his home phone connected, so he asked Carissa for the telephone number of her condo so he could call his sister. He tried three times before he finally found her at home. She couldn’t believe he was actually in New York.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming home?” Naomi cried in dismay. “I would have stayed in New York. But you can come here,” she added. “The weather is wonderful. I go to the beach every day for several hours, and I’m feeling better already. I’ve even decreased my pain medicine.”

“I’m glad to hear that, sis. I’ll come down for a few days before I go back to my job.” The logical thing for him to do was to go to Tampa immediately, but as strange as it might seem to him, he wanted to see more of Carissa.

“I’d come home,” Naomi continued, “but I can’t because I’ve loaned the house to Carissa for two months. Have you met her?”

“Well, yes, we had an…unusual meeting.”

He explained how they’d met, and Naomi laughed merrily before she said, “I can’t imagine what happened to the door. I’m sure it was locked when I left home. Will you have it fixed?”

“Yes, I intend to.”

“How do you like Carissa?”

“She’s okay,” Paul said nonchalantly. Naomi’s ultimate goal was to see her brother married and settled down in the United States. He didn’t want his sister to read anything into his meeting with Carissa. “She was embarrassed at first about hitting me, but we laugh about it now.”

“Carissa is a very successful businesswoman. She sold her company for a bundle a few months ago. I’ve been told that the sale netted over a million dollars. And you should see this luxurious apartment!”

Paul thought he’d accumulated quite a lot of money, but he certainly wasn’t in Carissa’s league. His attraction to Carissa had reached its first barrier. He wouldn’t fix his interest on a woman who was worth more financially than he was. But in spite of his reservations, after he’d finished his dinner, Paul kept searching for an excuse to see Carissa again that evening.

As she often did at home, Carissa prepared a taco salad, sat in front of the television and watched the evening news while she ate. Before she’d sold her company, her days had been so busy with business matters that she didn’t have much of a social life. It was usually a relief to escape into her apartment at night and let the walls close around her. Her only relaxation was at the health club in the basement of the condo complex. She’d made some good friends there, and she missed them tonight.

She’d gotten a sack of Red Delicious apples at the grocery store, and while she munched on one for dessert, she reflected on her day with Paul. This time yesterday she’d never heard of the man, but they’d gotten acquainted in a hurry. Had the time come for her to seek the male companionship she’d previously avoided? Now that she’d reached the mellow years, the hang-ups she’d had about dating shouldn’t be a problem. It was rather astonishing that she was even thinking about the subject, and most surprising was that she hadn’t had such thoughts until she met Paul Spencer.

“Hey, neighbor!”

The loud voice startled Carissa so much that she dropped the apple core on the floor. It took a moment for her to realize that Paul was calling on the intercom.

“Hey, neighbor!” The call came again before she remembered where the speaker was.

Smiling, she picked up the apple core, hurried into the kitchen and answered Paul.

“Hey, yourself.”

“I wanted to see if this thing still works. What are you doing?”

“Finishing dinner.”

“I promised to tell you why Yuletide is no longer a Christmas town. If you have time, I’ll come over and fill you in.”

“Great! I’d like some company.”

Humming a Christmas song that she’d just heard on the television, Carissa rinsed the dishes she’d used for supper and put them in the dishwasher. She prepared a bowl of grapes, cheese cubes and crackers and placed the food on a table between two large lounge chairs in the living room. She poured a jar of fruit punch over ice and was placing it on the table when Paul knocked on the back door. She motioned him inside.

“Brr!” he said, taking off his coat and laying it on the back of the couch. “The temperature is dropping quickly. If it wasn’t already, the lake should be frozen enough that I can go ice fishing tomorrow. If I make a nice catch, I’ll invite you to have dinner with me in my apartment.”

“Can you cook?” Carissa asked as she motioned him to one of the chairs. It seemed rather odd to be acting as hostess to Paul in his sister’s house.

“I’m a fair cook,” he said. “I’ve prepared dinners many times for some of my co-workers. But I’m not such a good fisherman, though, so don’t whet your appetite for a fish fry until you see the fish.”

“Help yourself to the snacks,” Carissa invited. “I’ll take you up on the invitation. I’m not a good cook— I just make what satisfies my appetite, and that’s not always what others like to eat. I never cook a meal for anyone. If I have guests, I take them to a restaurant for dinner.”

“Since I kept you up most of last night, I hesitated to barge in on you—you’d probably like to go to bed early. I’m sleepy, too, but I want to adjust to Eastern Standard Time, so I’m forcing myself to stay up.”

“Good idea. I haven’t done much overseas travel, but it usually takes a week for me to get over jet lag.”

Paul poured a glass of fruit juice and sipped it as he talked. “As I told you earlier, when I was a kid, Yuletide was just like a fairyland during the Christmas season. But a tragedy one Christmas Eve changed all of that.”

He paused, stretched out his long legs and continued. “That night, a woman and her baby came to town asking for shelter. She went to several businesses and private homes, as well as the police station, but everybody was too busy to help. The people didn’t mean to be callous, but they just expected the next person to take care of her. No one did, and on Christmas morning the woman and child were found dead, huddled in the entrance to Bethel Church.”

“Oh, how terrible!” Carissa said feelingly, and memories of her own neglected childhood surfaced.

“The woman had fled from an abusive husband, and she died from complications of an unattended childbirth. The temperature went to zero that night and the baby died from exposure.”

What a tragedy! Carissa could understand the reason the citizens of Yuletide hesitated to celebrate Christmas.

“The strange part of it was that the church was presenting a program that night based on an old legend of how Jesus had appeared disguised in a town one Christmas Eve. Disguised as a child, a poor woman and a beggar, He went from person to person asking for help, but everyone was busy preparing to celebrate the coming of the Christ Child, and they turned these people away.”

“I’m familiar with the story. The townspeople eventually learned that if they’d helped those who came to them, they would have received Jesus, too. So the citizens of Yuletide felt that in refusing to help the mother and child, it was as if they’d refused, like those people or the biblical innkeeper, to shelter the baby Jesus?”

Paul nodded and lifted a hand to rub his forehead. Although he hid his discomfort well, obviously he was in pain.

“No one could generate any enthusiasm for a big celebration after that. Although I consider it superstition, the general feeling seems to be that when God has forgiven the people of Yuletide for neglecting those two people, He’ll give them an opportunity to redeem themselves.”

“Wouldn’t it be wonderful if this is the year?” Carissa said. “I came to Yuletide looking for the Christmas spirit I had as a child.”

“What made you start looking at this time?”

“I sold my clothing design business a few months ago, and when I was cleaning out the office and storage room, I found a trunk that my grandmother had left to me. My uncle had shipped it to me after her death. There wasn’t anything valuable in it—mostly memorabilia that I’d kept since my school years. I trashed most of the things, but I kept this—”

She picked up the white key, and Paul thought Carissa had forgotten his presence as her mind took her quickly down memory lane.

“When I was about six, I participated in a program at our church, and I carried this Key to Christmas. I went from place to place trying to fit the key into a lock, and when I finally found a door the key would open, a nativity scene was revealed. When I came across this key a month ago, I realized how far I’d strayed from the teachings I’d learned as a child. I knew then that I had to find a wintery place to relive the Christmases of my childhood. I didn’t want to return to Minnesota because it doesn’t hold pleasant memories for me. Besides, all of my close relatives have died. It seemed like a coincidence that Naomi wanted to change locations at the same time I did.”

“As far as that’s concerned, I need to be reminded of what Christmas really means, too. Carissa, I hope you can revive the meaning of Christmas that you once knew. Maybe we can find it together.”

Their eyes met and held for a minute before Carissa looked away, too confused to even answer. She swirled the liquid in her glass, thinking that she was acting like a child.

“I guess it’s time for me to go,” Paul said. “I’m getting sleepy now. And you must be tired, too, unless you slept while I was napping earlier.”

She shook her head. “No, I didn’t sleep. I unloaded the car and settled in. Thanks for coming over tonight.”

She held out her hand to him, and, unsuccessfully stifling his amazement, he tenderly clasped her hand in his.

Without meeting his gaze, she said, “Your gesture in the doctor’s office took me by surprise, or I wouldn’t have reacted so foolishly.”

“It was just a friendly gesture,” he assured her.

“I know. A foolish quirk of mine caused my reaction. I’ll tell you about it someday. And I hope we can become friends.” With a warm grin, she added, “It’s always a good idea to make friends with your next-door neighbor.”

Carissa fell asleep easily, not even worrying about the unlocked back door; she felt protected with Paul nearby. But she woke up suddenly, about the same time she’d awakened when Paul had entered the house the night before.

She’d heard something. Carissa sat up in bed to listen. The sound seemed to come from the kitchen, and she eased out of bed, wishing she’d kept the poker upstairs. Vowing that she would secure the back door before another night, Carissa ran quickly and silently downstairs.

When she reached the last step, she said, “Who’s there?”

She heard a gasp and a scurry of feet.

Too frightened to be careful, Carissa snapped on the lights and rushed into the kitchen, just in time to see the pantry door close. She pushed a table in front of that door.

Standing beside the intercom, she shouted, “Paul! Paul! I need help.”

Although it seemed like hours, it probably wasn’t more than a minute before she heard Paul’s muffled tone. Poor man! She thought, somewhat humorously, that she’d ruined another night’s rest for him.

“What’s wrong?”

“Somebody is in the house. Come help me.”

“I’ll come right away. Be careful!”

She took a knife from a cabinet drawer for protection if the intruder should break out of the pantry.

Paul rushed in the door, dressed only in pajamas and slippers, rumpled hair hanging over his agitated brown eyes.

“In the pantry,” Carissa stammered.

Without asking questions, Paul motioned. “Get behind me.”

He pushed the table away and swung open the door, his body hunched forward, ready to attack if necessary.

“Come out!” Paul commanded.

Nothing could be heard for moments except Paul’s heavy breathing. Then there was a scuffling of feet, and Carissa stared, slack-jawed, disbelief in her eyes. Beyond words, she lowered the knife.

A teenage boy sauntered out of the pantry, followed by a little girl who held one of the red apples that Carissa had stored in the pantry. Another girl, probably eight or ten years old, peered around them, holding in her arms the teddy bear that Carissa had seen beside the fireplace the night she’d arrived.

The knife slipped from Carissa’s hand and clattered to the floor. She pulled out a chair from the table and slowly lowered herself into it to support her shaking legs.

“Any more where you came from?” Paul asked, peering into the pantry.

The boy shook his head. The smallest girl handed the apple to Paul; the other child started crying.

Carissa’s body trembled and a wave of nausea seized her. She dropped her head into her hands. She’d come to Yuletide looking for solitude so that she could experience a renewal of mind and spirit. She hadn’t had a minute of peace since she arrived. Within twenty-four hours, four people had invaded her house.

What had given her the foolish idea to look for Christmas in Yuletide?