Читать книгу Shenandoah Christmas - Lynnette Kent - Страница 10

BEN RANG the Remingtons’ bell that afternoon just before four o’clock. One glance at the woman who opened the door drove all good sense out of his head and all his blood…south.

Cait had dressed as a gypsy—her curling copper hair hanging loose under a bright gold scarf, gold bracelets jingling on her wrists and huge hoops in her earlobes, a flowing white shirt and a long skirt in gold and black and red that seemed to glow with a light of its own. Intense makeup darkened her eyes and lips, increased her air of mystery and adventure.

Just what he didn’t need. Ben cleared his throat, fought for the right thing to say. “You look ready for a party.”

Cait smiled—an expression of promise, of invitation. “I love Halloween.”

At the Patterson farm, her presence quickly turned a normal, noisy Halloween party for children into an exceptional event. The kids swamped her as soon as she stepped into the game room, showing off their own costumes, exhibiting their painted pumpkin faces, begging for songs and stories. Shep, as usual, hung back from the crowd, all the while keeping close watch on what was happening. Though Cait tried to defer to Karen’s plan of activities, the tide of popular opinion carried the day.

So the gypsy woman sat beside the fire, telling ghost stories from Ireland, teaching folk songs about fierce battles and dangerous voyages and lost loves. When Karen called the kids to the table for tacos and juice, Cait served food, wiped up several spills, and then led the children in a wild dance through the cold, crisp air, the last rays of the sun and the crackling leaves on the ground.

“I’m sorry,” she said to Karen as the kids began to leave. “I certainly didn’t intend to take over your party.”

“Are you kidding? This is a Halloween they’ll remember forever, and it happened at our house. Brenna is thrilled.” Karen grinned. “Not to mention that in five years you’ll have all the teenagers in Goodwill, Virginia buying your recordings.”

Cait laughed. “You uncovered my real motive—increasing sales.”

Standing nearby, Ben watched the remaining kids playing in the leaves and listened to the two women get to know each other. He hadn’t participated in this kind of…easy…relationship, he realized, since moving to Goodwill. Although he knew most of the folks here by face and name, he didn’t mix much with anyone but Harry and Peggy and, sometimes, Dave Remington. Valerie had been the social secretary in their partnership, keeping up with friends and family on his behalf. With her gone, he hadn’t had the heart to continue the effort.

Cait Gregory made socializing look like a pleasure…one he might want to share.

She’s a professional, he reminded himself. The woman makes her living charming crowds of faceless fans. Do you want to be just another starstruck fool?

For a minute, watching her laugh, Ben was tempted to answer yes. His life had been so somber for so long, now….

“Daddy.” Maddie tugged on the sleeve of his sweater. “Shep’s not feeling good.”

He turned to see his little boy standing pale-faced and heavy-eyed behind him. Going down on one knee, he put a hand on Shep’s forehead. “You do feel hot. Guess we’d better get you home and into bed with some medicine inside you.”

This was something else he hadn’t done much of until Valerie’s death. Sick kids terrified him. What if he missed the difference between a simple cold and pneumonia? Or fell asleep when their fever went too high?

On a deep breath, he stood up again. He hadn’t made a serious mistake so far, right? No reason to think this would be any different. There was always Peggy for backup, or Dr. Hall.

Scooping Shep up against his shoulder, he joined Karen and Cait. “Wolverine here’s a little under the weather. We need to be getting home.”

With four kids of her own, Karen reacted like the typical experienced mom—feeling Shep’s forehead, thinking of practicalities. “There’s a flu going around at school—three kids weren’t able to come today because they’re sick. Some fever medicine and a couple of days’ rest, then you’ll be back to fighting evil, you superhero, you.”

But Cait’s face mirrored some of Ben’s uncertainty. “I’m so sorry,” she murmured, almost crooned. She laid a hand along Shep’s cheek. “It’s no fun being sick, is it?”

Lower lip stuck out in a pout, Shep shook his head. Then he sat up in Ben’s arms, reached over, and practically threw himself into Cait’s embrace.

“Shep…” Ben felt his own face heat up. The woman didn’t need a sick kid clinging to her. “What are you doing, son? Come back here.”

But Shep, who rarely gave adults much notice these days, stuck to Cait like a sand burr. Chuckling, looking panicked and pleased at the same time, she shook her head. “It’s okay. I’ll carry him to the car. Thanks, Karen—it was a great party.”

“Thank you, Cait. Come over and visit sometime this week.”

“Sure.”

In the Suburban, Shep wouldn’t let go of Cait until she agreed to sit in the back seat right beside him. Exasperated, Ben made sure Maddie had buckled herself in on Cait’s other side before climbing into the front all alone.

“Now I know how the president’s driver feels,” he commented, more to himself than anyone else, “waiting for the SAIC to get in beside him.” They passed through the dark farm country like a shadow—the only movement or light to be seen for miles around.

“SAIC?” Cait said.

Ben mentally kicked himself in the butt. Was he showing off for her deliberately? “Sorry. Special Agent in Charge. The agent heading up any maneuver in which the president leaves the White House.”

“Anna said you were with the Secret Service. Quite a glamorous job.”

“Not unless something bad happens. Mostly it’s planning, and more planning, then standing around waiting for the unplanned to occur.”

“There are some radically unbalanced people out there, though, desperate to get noticed any way they can.”

“No kidding. Have you had problems?” He glanced in the rearview mirror, saw her stroking Shep’s head as the boy leaned against her shoulder. On her other side, Maddie had fallen asleep holding the singer’s hand. The sight caught at his throat.

Cait shook her head. “Most people have been very good. A couple of guys stepped over the line, one in Texas and one in California. The police were able to handle them.”

“So you don’t have your own security?”

“My agent pushes for it every time we talk. But music isn’t something I do up here,” she put her hand up high, “while people listen down there behind a barrier. The songs are—to borrow an overused word—organic. They depend on the different needs and desires of everybody involved. If I separate myself from the audience, the music sort of…well, freezes. Solidifies.” Now she met his gaze through the mirror. “I guess that sounds pretty weird.”

“No.” He was surprised to realize he understood. “No, I see what you mean. Wood is like that. Not something dead I impose my will on, but something alive that I work with to reveal what’s inside.”

“Exactly.” Her smile glinted at him in the dark car. “Anna loves the chair you built for her and David. It’s beautiful. Their grandchildren will sit in it, and the generations after them.”

“Hope so.” Driving into Goodwill itself, along the straight streets with lighted houses on either side, Ben let the conversation—confessions?—lapse. He and Cait Gregory didn’t need to understand too much about each other. That would only lead to trouble.

In the driveway of the Remingtons’ house, he got out and opened the rear door. Shep woke up crying when the light hit him in the eyes. His cheeks were now flushed a bright red.

Maddie stirred. “Daddy? What’s happening?”

“Just dropping Miss Caitlyn off, that’s all.” Ben avoided Cait’s smiling gaze. “Can you slide out for a minute?”

Groggily, Maddie got out of the car. But when Cait started to move over, Shep’s sobs escalated to screams. Obviously he was able to make sounds. He just chose not to. Holding his arms out, he pleaded without words for Cait to stay.

She glanced over at Ben. “I hate to upset him when he’s sick.” Turning to Shep again, she brushed back his damp hair, wiped the tears off his cheeks. “Don’t you want to go home now? Get into your pajamas and listen to your dad read a story? I bet he reads really good stories.”

Shep nodded.

Cait leaned over and kissed the boy’s forehead. “Well, darlin’, to do that, you have to let me say goodbye.”

In her smoky voice, that one word—darlin’—was a punch to the gut. Ben took a deep breath.

So did Shep. And then the tears came back, along with the huge, gulping sobs.

“Maybe we should take Shep home and get him settled first.” Cait’s voice was concerned, not angry. “I can call David to come pick me up there.”

Ashamed in the face of her generosity, Ben nevertheless knew he didn’t want to take Cait Gregory to his house. Didn’t want a single memory of her inside the home he shared with his children.

But for his son’s sake, he would risk letting her in. He just hoped he could avoid the consequences.

“Sounds like a plan.” He helped Maddie get into the car and buckled her up again. In the driver’s seat once more, he backed down the Remingtons’ short drive. “We’ll be home in about five seconds flat.”

CAIT CARRIED Shep up the stone steps to the wide front porch and waited while his dad unlocked the door. She felt breathless from the unaccustomed weight of the child in her arms…and from the anticipation of going into Ben Tremaine’s house.

Which was ridiculous. They’d only known each other three days. She’d be leaving town within two months at the outside. What difference did his decorating scheme make?

Still, a feeling of belonging hit her full in the face as she stepped inside. Home. She hadn’t had one for ten years. Before that, she’d been a part of her father’s house, living in his style and according to his rules.

But Ben’s place was a real home. High ceilings, exposed wood beams, windows of different shapes, sizes, angles. Wood floors and cabinets finished with a light stain and a high gloss. Thick, dark-blue rugs under comfortable-looking red leather couches and chairs. A day’s worth of clutter made the room looked lived-in—children’s books stacked on the table and beside a chair, the rolled-up newspaper still waiting to be read, two stuffed dogs confronting each other on one arm of the sofa.

She glimpsed the details as she followed Ben up a freestanding staircase and along the hallway to Shep’s room. Here, the style was Boy—blue walls and gray carpet, X-Men paraphernalia everywhere, Lego, toy cars and Pokémon pieces scattered on the floor, a rumpled bed on which a single teddy bear, nearly as large as the boy himself, lay waiting.

His face flushed, Ben bent to straighten the blue blanket and sheets. “I didn’t get a chance to make beds before we left for church this morning.”

“But now it’s all nice and neat, just waiting for you,” she told Shep as she lowered him to the floor. “Want your dad to help you into pajamas?”

The little boy shook his head violently and grabbed her around the thighs. Cait looked at Ben in dismay. “I—”

“It’s okay.” He pulled a set of colorful pj’s from a drawer in the nearby chest. “I’ll get the medicine while you help him change.”

There was a question in his last words and in his eyes, as if he weren’t sure she could or would help Shep out of his clothes.

“Okay.” She gave him a confident, in-charge smile. “I baby-sat when I was a teenager—I think I remember the process.”

Ben nodded and disappeared. Cait sat down on the bed with Shep between her knees. “Let’s see what we can do here, okay? Ooh…Wolverine pajamas. Are these your favorites?”

He nodded solemnly, his eyes too dull, his cheeks too red. Humming softly, Cait eased him out of his X-Men jumpsuit costume and the long-sleeved T-shirt underneath, putting on the Wolverine pj top. She took off his shoes and socks, pushed his jeans down to his knees…and that was as far as she got. “Ben? Ben, can you come here?”

She sounded more panicked than she’d intended. He appeared immediately at the doorway. “What?”

Cait took a calming breath. “I thought you might want to get a look at Shep’s legs before I cover him up again.”

He knelt on the floor beside them, gazing at the huge red blotches on his son’s legs. “Yeah, he gets a rash like this when he has a cold or the flu. I’ll get some antihistamine. You go ahead and put him to bed.”

She did as she was told and Shep went peacefully enough, holding his bear close to his chest.

“That’s Bumbles,” Maddie said from the doorway. She’d changed into a sweet nightgown with red and blue flowers all over. “Shep let me name him.”

“I like that—Bumbles the Bear. Sounds like a song.” Cait pulled a waltz tune out of her memory and gave it words. “Bumbles the Bear hasn’t a care. He stumbles and fumbles and tumbles along….” Maddie giggled, and even Shep smiled, so they were all pretty cheerful when Ben returned.

“Well, this doesn’t look much like anybody’s sick.” He put bottles and cups and spoons on the top of the chest of drawers.

“Miss Caitlyn made up a song about Bumbles, Daddy.” Maddie sang it through perfectly, after only one hearing. “Isn’t that funny? Is there another verse, Miss Caitlyn?”

Cait moved out of the way and watched as Ben gently but firmly gave Shep the medicine he needed. The little boy struggled, frowning at the taste, but a Popsicle at the end of the ordeal got him smiling again. “I guess we’ll have to make up another verse. Let’s see… Bumbles the Bear, he’s always there, he mumbles and grumbles but never for long….”

They finished three verses of the Bumbles song before Shep drifted into sleep. Cait got to her feet, with a stiffness in her shoulders and neck that testified to the tension she’d felt during this last hour. What kind of responsibility would it be to have the care of these children all day, every day? And all alone, as Ben did?

More than she could imagine. Which was why she was happy to stay single.

“Can you sing to me, Miss Caitlyn?” Maddie had hold of her hand again.

“Are you ready for bed?” Cait glanced at her watch and saw with surprise that it was after eight.

“Daddy lets me read before I go to sleep.”

“Well, if he doesn’t mind…”

Ben stepped out of Shep’s room and pulled the door partway shut. “Sounds great to me. I’ll come up a little later and kiss you good-night, Maddie.”

“Okay.” Maddie’s room was the complete opposite of her brother’s—yellow and white, ruffles and gingham checks and eyelet lace, as neatly kept as Anna’s half of their room had always been.

“This is wonderful, Maddie. You must love having such a special bedroom.” Two dormered windows overlooked the yard, now hidden by the dark.

“Daddy and Grandma and I picked everything out.” The little girl climbed on her bed. “My mommy couldn’t help when we moved here. She went to sleep after the car wreck, and she couldn’t wake up even in the hospital.”

Cait forced words through her closed throat. “I’m so sorry.” They stared at each other for a minute, until she found the control to say, “What shall we sing?”

Maddie asked for some of her favorite hymns from choir, and the theme song of a popular TV show. Her eyelids started to droop and she snuggled down into her bed, holding a beautiful doll with long dark curls in the crook of her arm. “This is Valerie,” she said sleepily. “I named her for my mommy, ’cause they both have curly brown hair. Like me.”

With her fingers trembling, Cait stroked Maddie’s hair. “And you’re as beautiful as she is. One more song?”

Maddie nodded, her eyes closed. Cait sang an Irish lullaby, using the Gaelic in which she’d learned it first. Then she sat, elbows propped on her knees and her chin resting on her fists, just watching the little girl sleep.

“Cait.” Ben’s whisper came from the doorway.

She stood reluctantly, but then pulled herself together and crossed the room. This wasn’t her family, after all, or her house. She was just helping out.

Ben looked in on Shep, then led her to the first floor. At the bottom of the stairs he turned, heading away from the front door. Cait followed, confused, until she remembered she’d said she would call David to come get her. Ben couldn’t leave once the children were asleep.

But in the kitchen, she found the table set with bowls, a plate of bread, and glasses of tea. Ben turned from the stove with a pot in one hand and ladled soup into the bowls. “It’s tomato, from a can. Not very impressive, but it’ll fill you up until you can get back to Anna and David’s house.”

Cait could only stare at him in shock.

“Go on,” he said, putting the pan back on the stove. “Sit down and have something to eat. It’s the least I can do after letting my children abuse you and ruin your Sunday afternoon.”

She sank into a chair because her knees really weren’t too steady. “They didn’t ruin my Sunday. Or abuse me. I had a good time at the party.”

“I’m pretty sure being held hostage by a sick little boy isn’t part of your usual weekend schedule.” He took the seat across the table and picked up his spoon.

“Why are you so convinced you know all about me?” Cait kept her hands folded in her lap. “And why are you so positive you don’t like what you know?”

He put down his spoon. “I—” His cheeks reddened. “I guess that’s pretty much the way I’ve been treating you.”

She nodded. “Pretty much.”

Leaning back in his chair, he rubbed his hands over his face. “Sorry. Just call it a protective instinct.”

“I’m not a threat to you, or anyone else that I know of.”

His hands dropped and he gave her a wry smile. “Looked in the mirror lately?”

Cait felt her cheeks heat. “I saw lots of freckles, a snub nose and bags under my eyes from too many late nights.”

Ben considered her, his head cocked to one side. “Well, yeah. But add to that a great mouth and eyes a man could drown in, plus a voice that sounds like pure sex. Now there’s a threat.” As if he hadn’t just knocked the breath out of her, he took up a spoonful of tomato soup.

Cait finally recovered that voice he’d mentioned. “Sounds like sex?”

He nodded and pushed the plate of bread slices closer to her side of the table.

At a loss, Cait finally tasted what just happened to be her favorite soup. “Nobody’s ever said it like that before.”

“Hard to believe. Maybe you missed a review.”

“My agent uses a press-clipping service. No article is too small.” When her bowl was half-empty, she looked up again. “But that doesn’t explain why I threaten you.”

Under a sweater as blue as his eyes, Ben’s shoulders lifted on a deep breath. He put his hands flat on the table on either side of his bowl. “For someone who writes loves songs, you’re not using much imagination. I find you attractive, Cait Gregory.” His eyes darkened as he stared at her. “Very attractive.”

She opened her mouth, though she wasn’t sure what she would say.

He stopped her with a shake of his head. “But even if I felt the need to date or have some kind of relationship, which I don’t, I’m not into short-term affairs. And I can’t imagine that you, with your career and your schedule, would be into anything else. That leaves me defending myself against—” he made a gesture that seemed to encompass her from head to toe “—you.”

Cait allowed anger to override the embarrassment flooding through her. “You arrogant SOB.” She got to her feet. “You’re still making assumptions. About my morality, my taste in men, my—my lifestyle.”

Ben stood up, crossed his arms over his chest, and stared her down. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

“I don’t have to tell you the time of day.” Dropping her napkin on the table, she turned on her heel and stalked back through the house.

His footsteps pounded after her. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Somewhere else.” She wrenched open the front door.

He caught her by the arm, shut the door again with the other hand. “You can’t walk home in the dark.”

Cait jerked back, trying to break his hold. “Let go of me. I can walk anywhere I damn well please whenever I damn well please. That’s what makes me an adult.” She struggled against his grip. “Let go!”

His free hand came to her other shoulder, not harsh or hurtful, but not to be argued with, either. He stared at her, his blue gaze angry, his mouth a straight, hard line. Cait, gazing up at him, caught the flicker in his eyes as that anger evolved, first to regret, then into desire. She would have continued to fight him, but the softening of his lips provoked a similar reaction within her. Instead of pushing away, her palms rested against his chest, absorbing his heat and the hammering beat of his heart. He was tall enough that she had to lean her head back to see his face; she felt exposed, vulnerable. Available.

Ben closed his eyes, wrinkled his brow as if he were in pain. When he looked at her again, need and passion had replaced all other emotions in his face. He dipped his head and Cait parted her lips, even leaned a little closer to hasten the kiss.

From the stairway behind them, a cry drifted down—small and soft, but they could hear energy gathering behind it to produce a full-blown wail.

Ben tightened his grip for an instant, then released her and backed toward the steps. “Look—I can’t let you walk home by yourself in the dark, not even in this little town. If you insist, I’ll put both the kids in the car and drive you myself. Or you can call David. I’ll go upstairs and stay there until he gets here. I promise. Whichever way you want to do this is fine. Just don’t leave alone.”

Cait blew out a sharp breath. “I’ll call David. And I’ll wait for him to pick me up,” she added, in response to the question in Ben’s eyes. “You go up and make sure Shep is okay.”

“Thanks.” He turned and climbed the stairs with a heavy tread. She heard the murmur of his voice in Shep’s room, the gradual easing of the little boy’s cry. Drained, frustrated, insulted and sorry, Cait went back to the kitchen and called her brother-in-law to come take her home.

WITH ONE LOOK at her sister’s face, Anna judged that the afternoon and evening hadn’t been much of a success. “How was the party?”

Cait began to braid her tangled hair without combing it first. “I don’t honestly know. Karen Patterson was nice, but I’m afraid I got in the way of her plans. The kids just kept asking for songs and stories.”

Anna nodded. “You’ve always been a magnet for children. That’s why—” She stopped herself just in time. Mentioning what their dad had planned for Cait’s future—a career as a church musician working with children—was exactly the wrong thing to say. “You’re later than I’d realized you would be. Did something else come up?”

“Shep started feeling sick. He wanted me to sit with him on the way home. Then he wouldn’t let me out of the car. His father managed to control his disgust of me long enough to get the children to sleep and feed me a bowl of soup.” Cait shrugged. “That’s all.”

That was far from all, Anna knew. “He’s had a rough time,” she said gently. “His whole life was shattered with his wife’s death.”

“And what am I supposed to do about that?” Her temper truly lost now, Cait paced the living room. “I’m not moving in on him. I don’t even want to talk to him. And he doesn’t have to talk to me. With the least bit of luck, we can avoid each other for the rest of the time I’m here. Which will suit me just fine.” She stomped out as David came in from the kitchen.

He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, then looked at Anna. “What was that all about?”

“Cait and Ben seem to strike sparks off each other whenever they’re together.”

“That’s not a signal for you to start matchmaking, Anna.” He sat in the wing chair across the room and let his head fall back, his hands hanging loosely over the arms. “Your sister doesn’t need a boyfriend.”

“I think he would be good for her, give her roots. And she would bring him back to life.”

“I think they would make each other miserable.” He rolled his head from side to side, closed his eyes. “Man, what a day.”

She hadn’t seen him since their lunch with Cait after the church service. “What have you been doing all afternoon and evening?”

“I met with Timothy for a couple of hours, going over the books. The end of the year will be here before we know it. And with everything there is to do at Christmas, I thought I should get ahead.”

Guilt twisted her stomach. “I’m sorry. If you brought some of the work home, I could help out here. I hate having left with you with so much to do.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said gently, though his smile was a little forced. “I’m just in a bad mood tonight, I guess. It’s not all that big a deal. But I am tired. Ready for bed?”

He followed her into the bedroom, took his clothes out of the drawer and went into the bathroom, only returning when he was completely changed. Anna was already in bed, waiting. Hoping.

“Don’t worry about Cait,” he said as he turned off the light. “She can take care of herself. No doubt about that.” With a pat on his wife’s hip, he shifted to his side and pulled up the covers. “You just take care of yourself.”

Anna rolled carefully to face in the opposite direction, closing her eyes against tears. David was right, of course—she only had one responsibility right now, to do whatever was necessary to give this baby a chance. And though his…indifference…hurt her, he was simply doing everything he could to help her make the right choices. The doctor hadn’t forbidden sex, though he’d suggested they keep it gentle. By eliminating their lovemaking, Anna was sure her husband thought he was helping her to keep their son alive.

The baby moved inside her—a little hand or foot pushing gently against her flesh—and she put a hand over the place, hoping he felt her love, her yearning for him to arrive safely.

Don’t be in a hurry, she warned him. I’ll wait, for as long as you need.

We’ll all wait.

ON MONDAY EVENING, Harry sat at his desk long after everyone else in the office had gone for the day. For what was probably the fiftieth time, he picked up the letter he’d received that morning and read it through. The words still hadn’t sunk in.

“New owner.” “Efficiency expert.” “Downsizing.” “Restructuring.” “Early retirement.”

He understood the bottom line—he’d been fired. After thirty-five years of service, he had one week to clear out his desk, hand over his work and get out of the building. There would be a dinner to honor all the retirees at some future date.

Some honor. We’ll eliminate your job and give you a free dinner, maybe a gold watch.

Oh, the benefits were good enough. He’d keep his health insurance, his investment plans, his retirement savings. This so-called efficiency expert simply thought Harry would cost the company less money sitting on his duff at home rather than working. Who was he to argue?

But how was he going to tell Peggy he didn’t have a job anymore?

And what the hell would he do with the rest of his life?