Читать книгу Shenandoah Christmas - Lynnette Kent - Страница 11

NEITHER MADDIE nor Shep came to choir practice on Wednesday afternoon. Cait started the children singing Christmas carols, but without Maddie’s strong voice, the sound just wasn’t the same. Brenna, looking rather wan herself, said Maddie hadn’t been to school all week.

Karen Patterson confirmed the news. “I know Ben’s had his hands full—two sick kids is a lot for one adult to manage.” She put a hand over Brenna’s forehead. “I think I’m about to get my own case to deal with. Come on, honey.” She put an arm around her daughter. “Let’s take you home to bed.”

Brenna looked up in horror. “Mama, it’s Halloween!”

Karen winced. “Oh, yeah. Let’s get some medicine, then, see if you feel well enough to go out tonight.” She looked at Cait. “School might be optional, but trick-or-treating is a mandatory commitment.”

Nodding, Cait kept her face straight. “Makes perfect sense to me.” Then she smiled. “I hope you feel better, Brenna.”

She wondered if Maddie and Shep were still too sick to enjoy Halloween. What a shame, after all the time and thought invested in their costumes. And poor Ben, having to be the one to say no.

Later that night, after the trick-or-treaters had stopped coming and Anna and David had gone to bed, Cait sat in the living room with her guitar, playing with chords she eventually realized had segued into “Bobby McGee.” She might as well go ahead and call, she decided. Then she could get them all off her mind.

“Hello?” Even the one word sounded tired.

“Hi, Ben, This is…Cait. I, um, hear you’ve got two patients to nurse this week.”

“Yeah.” He gave a rough cough. “Which was bad enough before I got sick, too.”

She squeezed her eyes shut. “That’s awful. Have you got someone to help you? Did you call the Shepherds?”

“Nah. They don’t need to come over here and catch this bug. Besides, I’m the parent—I can take care of my kids.”

“But—”

“And we’re doing okay. We sleep a lot. Take our medicines at the same time, read a story or two, doze off in front of a movie. We’ll get through.”

It was hard to argue with such stubborn independence. “Is there anything I can do? Do you need groceries? Drinks? More medicine?”

There was a long pause. “I—I think we’re covered, thanks.” He sounded stunned. “I appreciate the thought, though.”

“Please call if you need something.” He wouldn’t, of course. Why should he think about counting on somebody who was only passing through?

Why was she making trouble for herself by wishing he would?

“I guess you started on the Christmas pageant in choir today,” he said. “Maddie’ll be sorry to have missed that.”

If he wanted to talk… “We sang a few songs. She’ll catch up.”

“I think she knows most of the popular carols by heart already.”

That sounded all too familiar. “You must really enjoy Christmas, having two children to share the season with you.”

He cleared his throat. “To be honest, Christmas is the one time of year I almost wish I’d never had kids. As far as I’m concerned, it’s just another day.”

Now it was Cait’s turn to pause. “Really?”

“And it takes everything I’ve got to get through the damn month of December without exploding—or simply walking away and never, ever coming back.” The bitterness in his voice was barely suppressed.

Shock held her silent. Ben Tremaine, the ultimate dad, didn’t like Christmas, either?

“Sorry,” he said, when she didn’t respond for a minute. “Chalk that insanity up to the fever and forget about it. And thanks for checking in.”

“Don’t cut me off.” Cait sat up straight, clutched the phone tighter, to keep him with her. “You can’t say something like that and just hang up.”

“Sure I can. And should.”

“What happened at Christmas that makes you hate it so much?”

“I can’t just be a grinch on principle?”

“It takes one to know one.” She grinned. “And I know that even grinches have history.”

He drew a rasping breath. “Okay. It’s not too complicated. When I was six years old, the woman who called herself my mother walked out of the house on Christmas Eve and didn’t come back. My dad celebrated the next twenty-two anniversaries of her departure—until he died, that is—by getting drunk and staying that way until the new year. I just never got into the Christmas spirit, somehow.”

Cait was quiet for a long time. Finally, she took the risk. “I know what it’s like to—to dread Christmas.”

“I guess the holidays are a tough time to be traveling from one show to the next.”

Though he couldn’t see her, she shook her head. “No, what’s tough is just watching. From the outside. Knowing you can’t get in.”

“Why can’t you get in?”

The hard part. “I was kicked out, more or less. By my father.”

After a few seconds, he said, “Your turn to explain.”

She sighed. “My senior year in high school, he and I had major disagreements over what I would do after graduation. He was thinking about college, a music education degree, a job as a church choir director and organist.”

“While you wanted the career you’ve got.”

“Exactly. The sooner, the better. And it all came to a head on Christmas Eve, about an hour before the pageant I’d been working on for three months. My dad found the college applications he assumed I’d submitted, hidden where I thought he’d never find them.” She gave a wry laugh. “Just my luck, that was the year he decided to wear his plaid vest, the one packed away in a cedar chest. In the attic. Right underneath all those application papers.”

Ben’s laugh turned into a cough. “I guess he raised holy hell.”

“There wasn’t much holy about it, in my opinion, anyway. He threw me out of the house and forbade me to darken the doors of ‘his’ church that night and at any time in the future.”

“What about your mom?” A gentle question.

“She died when I was four, during a miscarriage.” Cait took a deep breath. “It’s not just the baby we’re worried about with Anna. The ultrasound her doctor did at her six-month checkup showed the same condition my mom had—the placenta is too low in the womb, which could cause serious bleeding. So…we have to be really careful.”

“I didn’t know.”

“Yeah. Anyway, I haven’t given Christmas much thought since the showdown with my dad. I mean, I believe the basic story, but the human applications…”

“Leave a lot to be desired.”

How strange, to be understood. Even Anna didn’t quite comprehend why Cait avoided Christmas. “Definitely.”

“So we’re a couple of Scrooges in the middle of a whole town of Tiny Tims.”

That made her laugh. “I guess so. At least I can hole up in a hotel somewhere until it’s over. You still have to make the holiday for Maddie and Shep, don’t you?”

“My wife—Valerie—pretty much handled Christmas for the family, and let me kind of hang around the edges. But since she was killed…I’m the main source of holiday happenings. Peggy and Harry help, but they’re not here every day for the countdown.”

“It must be tough.”

“I’m always really glad to see that ball fall in Times Square on New Year’s Eve.”

In the pause, a new voice came through the line. “Daddy? My head hurts.” Cait heard the rustle of clothes, a grunt from Ben, then somebody’s sigh. “Is that Maddie?”

“Yeah. The fever’s coming back. For all of us, I think.”

“I’ll let you go, then, and hope the three of you feel better tomorrow morning. Call if you need anything.”

“Sure.”

Ben punched off the phone and sat for a minute, cradling Maddie in his arms and thinking about the woman he was reluctantly coming to know. Caitlyn Gregory, singer and sexy, talented rising star, was someone he could easily keep at a distance.

He wasn’t so sure he’d be able to resist the simpler Cait’s innate charm and warmth, her willingness to give of herself.

Maddie stirred against him and he felt her forehead. “Time for more grape medicine,” he murmured against her curls. As he staggered to his feet, Shep made a small noise upstairs. The reminder brought him back to reality.

Attractive as getting involved with Cait might seem, this situation wasn’t about his wants, his choices. He had a responsibility to keep his children safe from any more pain, any more loss, than was absolutely necessary.

And he’d do whatever he had to in order to protect his kids. Even from a woman as agreeable as Cait Gregory was turning out to be.

“SO, CAIT, what are your plans for the Christmas pageant?” Soprano Ellen Morrow settled into her spot on the pew for Thursday night adult choir rehearsal. “We’re all anxious to get started—costumes take a few weeks, you know.”

Cait flipped the switch to turn on the electric organ. “Um…I don’t think—”

“My boys are bugging me to lend you some ewes for the stable,” Timothy Bellows added. Tall and thin, Timothy sang with a rich baritone voice on Sundays and ran a very successful farming operation during the week. “I’m thinking that would be a good idea. We never had live animals before.”

“Jimmy Martin’s got a donkey. And there are cows all over the place.” Ellen brushed back her long brown hair. “All we would need is a camel. Anybody have a camel?”

“Hugh Jones has a zebra. Will that do?” The banter continued, while Cait tried to decide how to redirect the rehearsal to music. Quickly, before someone asked a question she didn’t want to answer.

“Wait a minute, folks.” Timothy held up a hand and the choir quieted. “We’re getting ahead of ourselves here. We haven’t heard what Cait’s got to say.”

“I thought we’d start on some Christmas music,” Cait said. “But that’s as far as I’ve gone.”

Ellen nodded. “Music is good, but these kids need to learn their parts. Who have you picked for Mary and Joseph? And the announcing angel?”

“I haven’t chosen.”

“You had better get busy.” Regina Thorne, alto, gave her a stern look. “Anna always has these things worked out by now.”

“Anna lives here,” Timothy pointed out, with a grin at Cait. “Caitlyn isn’t quite so settled. But she’ll get into the swing of things. I’m sure her pageant will turn out just fine.”

The tension in the air relaxed, and the singers settled back into their chairs. Now they were all staring at her expectantly, waiting for some grand pronouncement.

“I don’t know that I’ll be directing the program,” Cait said, as confidently as she could manage. “I think the person who does should choose the parts and the costumes and—and all the rest.”

A stunned silence fell across the small choir.

“Why wouldn’t you?” Ellen said, finally.

“I—I expect Anna will have had her baby by then. So I’ll have to get back to work.”

Another lull in the conversation. “But she won’t be ready for all the work the pageant involves. Not with a new baby.” Regina shook her head. “You’ll just have to stay.”

Every member of the choir nodded, as if the issue were settled. Cait couldn’t fight them all, so she simply ignored the issue. “Open your hymn books to page 153. We’ll warm up with a few verses of ‘Silent Night.’”

The rehearsal proceeded smoothly after that, except for the suggestions that popped up with every new Christmas song—ideas about staging and casting and props, until Cait thought she would start pounding out a Bach fugue on the organ, just to keep everyone quiet.

Once they’d finished singing, Timothy joined Cait at the organ. “We’ve got money set aside in the church budget for the pageant, you know. You don’t have to put something together on a shoestring.” He winked at her. “As church treasurer, I might even be able to pad the expense account a little. Just tell me what you need to spend and I’ll see that the money’s there.”

“That’s good to hear,” she told him. “But—”

“No buts.” Timothy squeezed her shoulder and headed for the door. “You just leave it to me.”

Ellen was the last one to leave, standing by while Cait straightened her music. “You’re not really planning to leave Anna stranded on this pageant, are you?”

Cait slapped her notebook closed. “No, I don’t plan to leave her stranded. I plan to be sure there’s someone else to take on this project. You, for instance.” She gazed at the soprano as the obvious finally hit her. “You’d be perfect, and you already have some great ideas.”

“Oh, no. Not me.” Ellen backed away, shaking her head. She was a tall, heavy woman with an incredibly pure voice. “I’m no good at telling people what to do.”

“This won’t be like ordering them to—to clean up their rooms or take out the garbage. They’ll be glad to do whatever will make the pageant work.”

Again, Ellen shook her head. “I’ve got three kids under eight. My husband works up at the furniture factory and he’s not about to baby-sit when he comes home after a ten-hour day. My mama keeps the kids on Thursdays so I can come to choir, but she’d never stand for me putting in the kind of time this program will take. I just can’t.” Walking backward, she reached the door. “You’re the one to do it, Cait. You know that.” And then she was gone.

“No, I’m not,” Cait said to the empty church. Ben Tremaine would understand. Strange, how they were so completely different, and yet they shared this—this phobia, she supposed they should call it, about the holiday most people loved.

“Yulephobia,” she said aloud, walking to Anna’s car through the cold November night. She would have to remember to mention the word to Ben when she had a chance. With pleasure, she could imagine the slow widening of his grin, the dawning laugh in his eyes. She liked making Ben laugh.

Anna didn’t laugh the next morning when Cait recounted the conversation at choir practice. “I could have told you Ellen wouldn’t be able to take on the pageant. She’s got all the responsibility she can handle at home.”

“That’s what she said.” Cait studied her sister, noticing the lack of light in Anna’s brown eyes, the absence of color in her cheeks. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Kinda achy,” Anna admitted. “Tired. The baby moved around a lot last night, and I couldn’t sleep.”

“You should go back to bed. There’s nothing going on that I can’t handle—a few dishes, a little laundry.” She got up and closed her hands around Anna’s shoulders, easing her to her feet. “Go on. Git. I’ll wake you up for lunch.”

With a sigh, Anna headed for the bedroom. “Give me enough time to take a shower first. Peggy Shepherd’s coming by this afternoon. I ought to look halfway decent.” She glanced at the mirror in the hallway. “As if that’s really possible anymore.” Her slow, scuffing footsteps faded as she moved down the hall.

Cait got the chores done, then sat down with her guitar in the living room, still playing around with an arrangement for “Bobby McGee.” Why did the sweet, stirring words automatically bring Ben to mind?

Not much of challenge there—the man was seriously, fatally attractive. And off-limits to a rootless player like herself. One reason his assumptions had made her so angry on Sunday was that he was pretty much correct. The few close relationships she’d experienced hadn’t lasted long. Working in the entertainment industry pulled people apart, no matter how much they cared about each other. And in the end, she’d always chosen the job over the man. So she would just have to put these Ben Tremaine fantasies completely out of her head.

Determined, she strummed up a loud and rowdy version of “Hit the Road, Jack.”

Midmorning, David bolted into the house at his usual double-time speed. “Where’s Anna?”

Cait ran through an arpeggio. “She was tired this morning, so I sent her back to bed.”

He stopped dead in the center of the room. “Is she okay?”

“I think so. Just tired.” David always worried too much.

“Have you checked on her?”

His voice had taken on a harshness she’d never heard before. Startled, Cait stared up at her brother-in-law. “I figured she’d call if she needed something.” By the end of the sentence, she was talking to herself. David had stalked down the hallway to the bedroom, his heels like rocks pounding on the wood floor.

In a minute he was back. “She’s asleep.”

“That’s what I figured.” Cait smiled teasingly. But David didn’t smile back and she let hers fade. “What’s wrong? Why are you so tense?”

He dropped into the chair just behind him, put his bony elbows on his bony knees, then took off his glasses to rub his eyes. “I—I can’t take too much more of this.”

“Of what?”

“The worry. The waiting. Never knowing if the next hour, or the next minute, will bring on a full-scale emergency.” Shaking his head, he let his hands fall between his knees. “I’m so tired.”

She wasn’t sure what to say. “You always have to wait on babies. It’s the nature of the process, right?”

David didn’t answer, just stared at the floor, his head hanging low.

“It will be okay, David. You know it will.”

“Do I?” He looked up again, his eyes bleak. “It wasn’t okay the last two times. We were careful, and we prayed, and…the babies died anyway. There’s no more guarantee with this one. And she’s far enough along that we could lose Anna and the baby.”

“You have to believe that won’t happen.”

“You’re right. I do.” He laughed, but the sound was bitter. “I’m the minister. My faith’s strong, steady, one-hundred percent reliable. ‘Whatever my lot…it is well with my soul,’” he said, quoting an old hymn. Then he muttered a rude word, one Cait had never heard him use.

“Cait? Who’s here?” Anna came into the living room. “Oh, David—what are you doing home in the middle of the morning?” She looked a little more rested, but no less pale.

David cast a warning glance at Cait and got to his feet. “I needed a book I’d left at home to work on Sunday’s sermon.” He crossed to his wife and brushed a kiss over her forehead. “See you for lunch.” Before Anna could say anything else, he left the room, and then the house.

Anna sank onto the couch across from Cait. “What were you two talking about?”

“You, of course. You’re everybody’s favorite topic of conversation.” But Anna shouldn’t have to worry about David’s doubts, so Cait decided to gloss over those details. “I must get asked five times a day how you’re doing, and how much longer it will be and is there something somebody can help you with. You’ve got a lot of friends in this town.”

“They’re good people.” She lay back against the cushions. “That’s why I hate to disappoint them with the Christmas pageant. Maybe I can do it,” Anna said, sitting up again. “I don’t really have to stand up to direct or to plan. I can sit and think—”

“No, you don’t.” Cait put a hand on her sister’s knee. “You do not need the stress of trying to plan and worry. You have to stay calm and relaxed. I’ll find somebody to handle the program for you. I swear. I can’t do it myself, but I won’t leave you in the lurch.”

For the first time that day, Anna actually smiled.

Cait only hoped she could deliver on her promise.

MADDIE AND SHEP were much better on Friday, though they still didn’t go back to school. Ben was on his feet again, although not feeling a hundred percent, and he spent hours clearing away three-days’ worth of mess. When Peggy called to ask about the kids coming for dinner, he was sorely tempted, just so he could flake out for a solid night’s sleep.

But he owed his kids more than that. “I planned to call you and suggest we skip this week. The kids have had the flu—”

“What? Why didn’t you call me? Are they getting better? Have you taken them to see Dr. Hall?”

He smiled a little at her fierce concern. “I didn’t want you and Harry getting sick. And yes, they’re much better—enough that they spent the day running around the house whenever I had my back turned. I’ll probably let them outside tomorrow, or maybe Sunday.”

“Ben, I wish you wouldn’t be quite so independent. They’re our grandkids. We want to help.”

“I know. And when I really need help, you’ll be the first people I ask. But this was just the flu. No big deal.” Discounting his sleepless nights, his foggy, bumbling days. “Anyway, I don’t think we’ll go out tonight. But Sunday everything should be back to normal.” He hoped.

“Well, then, y’all will come to lunch on Sunday so I can fatten you up again.”

“That sounds great. How’s your week been? This cold weather must’ve killed off the last of your garden.”

“It did. We need to clean up all the dead stuff. And I guess there’s going to be plenty of time for that now.” Peggy hesitated. “Harry’s been asked to take early retirement.”

“Just out of the blue?”

“Pretty much. Today is his last day.”

“Jeez…Harry loved his work. Is he okay?”

“He says so. He’s been doing financial calculations every night this week, budgeting, projecting, showing me how our money will work and what we’ll be living on. It’s all very well set up.”

“It would be. Harry’s great with numbers—the IRS should keep records as good as his. So you think he’ll make the transition without too much trouble?”

“I think he has projects lined up to keep him busy for a couple of years. He wants to enlarge the vegetable garden, spruce up the bathrooms—I’ve already bought the paint and paper—and at least a dozen other jobs.”

“That sounds promising.”

“I suppose.” She sighed. “I would have thought he would be more upset—he’s worked at that plant since he was sixteen, full-time since he left the army. But I won’t borrow trouble. You take care of yourself, now. And please call if you need anything.”

“I will. I promise.”

Ben punched off the phone, wishing his mood could be improved with a few kind words. Unfortunately, the one person he’d like to hear those words from was a lady who wasn’t going to be around for long. So it wouldn’t do anyone any good for them to get too close.

Still, when she showed up at his door Saturday morning, he couldn’t deny he was glad to see her.

“Chicken soup,” Cait said, holding up a jar. “It’s store-bought, but it ought to be good for something. Books,” she gestured to her other arm, filled with a stack of colorful paperbacks. “Guaranteed to occupy ten-and six-year olds for at least a couple of hours while their dad grabs a nap.”

“Cait.” He shook his head, laughing. “You didn’t have to do this. What about Anna?”

“David is with Anna. And your poor children need to see someone besides their haggard dad this week. Now, do I get to come in?” She wore a sweater the color of emeralds over black jeans, both snug enough to jump-start a man’s fantasies.

Fortunately for Ben’s imagination, Maddie dashed into the living room, followed by Shep. “Miss Caitlyn!” Ben caught her shoulders just before she grabbed Cait around the legs. “I’m so glad to see you!”

“I’m glad to see you so bright-eyed. And Shep’s looking pretty tough for a guy who’s had the flu. Didn’t let it get you down, did you?”

To Ben’s surprise, Shep shook his head. He rarely responded to direct questions from anyone other than his dad and, sometimes, Peggy.

“Is that soup?” Maddie stared at the jar.

“Chicken soup. Why don’t we go into the kitchen and warm it up?”

The three of them swept through the house, leaving Ben to close the front door. Somehow the presence of another adult in the house made him realize suddenly how ill he really felt. Even though the other person was Cait, and there were at least five good reasons he shouldn’t depend on her, he had an overwhelming desire to go to bed. Alone.