Читать книгу Silver Bells - Mary Burton - Страница 9

Henry Anders, also known as Cranky Hank Anders, hefted his oversize suitcase off the carousel and looked around for his sister-in-law, who had said she’d meet him in the baggage area. When he didn’t see her, he made his way to the closest EXIT sign. And then he saw her pushing a double stroller with the year-old twins, who were howling at the top of their lungs. He wondered if their high-pitched screams had anything to do with the way they were bundled up. Their mother looked just as frazzled as her offspring.

Alice Anders stopped in her tracks and threw out her arms. “Hank! I’m so glad to see you! I’m sorry I’m late. There was traffic, and my two bundles of joy here are overdue for a nap. I had to park a mile away. I’m sorry. I left hours ahead of time just so I wouldn’t be late, and what happens, I’m late! Ohhh, I’m just so glad you’re here. I was dreading going through the holidays without Ben. I had an e-mail from him this morning, and he warned me not to be late; that’s why I left early. He said you hate to wait around for people.”

Alice was a talker, he’d give her that. “No problem. Relax, Alice. I could just as easily have taken a cab or gotten a car service. I’m here, you’re here, that’s all that matters. The twins really grew since Easter. Ben said they’re walking now.” An anxious note crept into his voice when he said, “He’s okay, isn’t he?”

Alice shoved a lock of dark hair under the bright red wool hat she was wearing. “As right as someone who’s in Iraq can be. He said you’re the only one he trusts to step in for him at Christmas. He was supposed to come back in September, but they extended his tour. This will be our first Christmas apart.” Tears welled in her eyes as she gave the stroller a shove to get through the door Hank was holding open for her.

A blustery gust of wind whipped across the walkway. The twins howled louder. Alice dropped a light blanket over the top of the stroller to keep the wind at bay. One of the twins ripped it away, one pudgy fist shaking in frustration. The wind picked it up, and it was gone, just like that. Hank was about to chase it down when Alice stopped him. “It doesn’t matter, it was an old one. Like I said, I parked a mile away, so let’s get going. The sooner I get these two guys in the car, the sooner they’ll calm down.”

Hank didn’t know what to say. He was certainly no authority on kids, babies in particular, so he just walked along, dragging his suitcase. He wondered if the twins slept through the night. Probably not from the look of the dark circles under Alice’s eyes.

Out of the corner of his eye he watched his sister-in-law. Once she’d been slim and trim. Once she’d worn makeup and had a fashionable hairdo and she’d dressed in designer clothes. Today she was wearing a down coat of some sort that made her look forty pounds overweight. She was wearing jeans and sneakers, and her hair was up in a ponytail, the tail sticking out of the back of the bright red hat. Maybe marriage wasn’t all that wonderful. Maybe he was lucky after all, even though at the time he thought his world was coming to an end when his fiancée had left him standing at the altar on their wedding day. He looked down at the twins, who were trying to poke each other’s eyes out. Yeah, yeah, maybe he had dodged the bullet.

A twin himself, he wanted to tell Alice her nightmare was just beginning when he remembered some of the things he and Ben had done growing up. Always in trouble, always fighting, always making their parents’ lives anxious. Then again, maybe he wouldn’t tell her.

Fifteen minutes later, Alice stopped in front of a dark SUV. He whirled around at the furious sound of a dog barking. Alice stopped, a horrible look on her face. “That’s Churchill, the dog. Ben got him before he left for Iraq. He said we needed protection because we couldn’t afford an alarm system.” Hank thought she sounded like she would have gone into debt for the alarm versus the dog. “I think it might be a little crowded, but you’ll be in the front seat. The dog sheds. And he poops everywhere. The twins step in it. He pees, too. I can never seem to catch him at the right time to let him out. He’s a good dog, great with the boys. The lights are still up from last Christmas. Ben never got a chance to take them down before he had to return to Iraq. I have to get a Christmas tree. Ben wants me to send him a picture. Like I don’t have enough to do without going out to get a Christmas tree. I wasn’t going to get one. The boys are too little to know what a Christmas tree is.”

“Uh-huh. Give me the keys, Alice, I’ll drive and you can relax.”

“Relax! That word is not in my vocabulary. The last time I relaxed was on my honeymoon, and even then I’m not sure I relaxed. It was stressful.”

Hank decided he wouldn’t touch that statement with a ten-foot pole. No sireee, not even with a twenty-foot pole. He offered to help strap the twins into the car seats, but Churchill had other ideas and growled at him. He slid into the driver’s seat and turned on the engine. He hoped the heat would kick in. He was freezing.

The dog barked, and the twins howled and yowled as Alice walked around to the driver’s side of the car and opened the door. She looked Hank square in the eye and said, “I can’t do this anymore. I don’t want to do this anymore. It’s all yours! The key to the house is the big key on the ring. You can get the damn Christmas tree, and you can decorate the house and you can clean up the poop and the pee and you can cook and clean and do the laundry and rake and take care of the yard. And you can tell your brother for me that I wish he had left me standing at the altar. There isn’t much food in the house, so you’ll have to go shopping, and let me tell you, that’s an experience from hell. Good luck. The boys get a bath at seven. That’s another experience that is right up there with hell. See ya!”

Churchill leaped over the seat to land in the front next to Hank. He threw his head back and howled, an ungodly sound that made the hair on the back of Hank’s neck stand on end.

She was walking away! Actually walking away! “Hey!” he bellowed. “Where are you going? Come back here, Alice!” Obviously, she hadn’t heard him because she kept right on walking. Must be the wool hat over her ears. He jammed the car in reverse and barreled down the aisle, coming to a stop next to her. He pushed a button and the passenger-side front window rolled down. “C’mon, Alice, you can’t leave me with these kids and this dog. I know you didn’t mean that; you’re just venting, and I can understand how hard it’s been. Get in the car. Please,” he added as an afterthought. The twins had started to howl again the moment the SUV ground to a stop. Churchill leaped in the back and started to lick at the twins’ faces. “Stop that,” he shouted, to be heard over the din.

Alice was on the move again. He inched the SUV along to keep up with her. “Where are you going?”

“To get a manicure, a massage, and a pedicure. Then I’m going someplace where I can sleep for a week and get room service. Don’t call me, I’ll call you.” She tossed her cell phone in the car window. Churchill leaped over the seat again and grabbed it before returning to the back. He started to chew on it. It chirped in protest. A moment later Alice ran between the rows of parked cars and was lost to him.

Hank sat for a full minute, the reality of his situation hitting him full on. Alice was gone. She’d meant what she said. He was stranded with year-old twins and a hundred-pound golden retriever that pooped and peed all over the place and chewed up cell phones, and there was no Christmas tree or food in the house. “Shit!” he said succinctly.

“Ben,” he muttered under his breath, “when I see you again I’m going to kick your ass all the way to the Canadian border.” He knew he’d do no such thing; he was just venting the way Alice had vented. He loved Ben even though he’d never understood why he’d wanted a military career. Major Benjamin Anders. It sounded so professional. When he got back from Iraq, he would be Colonel Benjamin Anders. Hank felt his chest puff out with pride at his little brother. Little brother because Ben was two whole minutes younger than his older brother.

As he tooled along Route 30, his mind raced. He knew squat about taking over a household. He lived in a town house, had a housekeeper, and never worried about grocery shopping. Hell, he didn’t even know what to buy. And, he wasn’t much in the kitchen department either, which meant he could boil an egg and that was it. And he could make coffee. He was a bachelor, for crying out loud. Now, in the blink of an eye he was suddenly a stand-in dad, a dog watcher, a chauffeur, a grocery shopper, and a cook. There was something definitely wrong with this picture.

Maybe he could get some help. The kind that lived in and did all those things. He could afford it. Or, he could send the bill to Ben. No, skip that idea. Not even majors make enough to pay for that.

Forty minutes later, Hank slowed for the red light on the corner. In five minutes he would be driving through the center of town. As always, he took a moment to savor the small-town warmth of Apple Valley. He cruised past the town square, noted the sleigh, the eight huge reindeer, and all the other Christmas decorations. Glorious wreaths with huge red bows were on all the sparkling white doors of the town’s official buildings. The square was where the midnight candlelight Christmas was held. The whole town turned out. Kids in pajamas all bundled up, even dogs attended, with antlers on their heads and colorful green and white collars for the season. He loved Apple Valley and the people he’d grown up with. Right now, though, this very second, he hated it.

Churchill started to bark the moment Hank turned off Apple Valley Road, the main thoroughfare in town, onto Clemens Ferry Road, where his brother and he had been born and grew up. The old homestead. He blinked at the commotion going on at the house next to his old home. A fire engine, an ambulance, and the sheriff’s car. Something must have happened to Albert Carpenter. Ben had just mentioned Albert in his last e-mail, saying he would be ninety-three the day after Christmas. He wanted Hank to invite him for Christmas dinner and make sure he got some presents. Albert Carpenter had been a substitute grandfather to both boys when they were growing up.

Hank felt a lump the size of a golf ball form in his throat. For years, Ben and the other neighbors had looked after Albert because there was no one else to do it. In fact, a few years ago, Ben had given him a puppy, a little white lapdog that Albert carried around. Ben said it added years to the old gentleman’s life. He couldn’t help but wonder if Alice had taken on caring for Albert along with her other duties. More than likely.

Hank pulled into the driveway, turned off the engine, and debated his next move. Churchill watched him with keen intensity. Would the dog bolt? How was he supposed to get two kids into the house at the same time? One under each arm. That had to mean the dog would bolt. Maybe. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the ambulance pull away. Out of the corner of his other eye he saw a white ball of fur streaking toward Alice’s SUV. Churchill let out a high-pitched bark of pure happiness. Albert’s dog. Who was going to take care of her? He knew it was a her because he remembered Ben saying Albert named the little dog after his wife, Sadie. Officially known as Miss Sadie.

Hank opened the door so he could get out without letting the big dog out of the car. He had to find a leash or something. Like that was going to happen. He looked around in a daze, the white fur ball yapping and yipping at his feet. Churchill continued to bark, growl, and howl at what was going on. The twins woke up and started to cry. “Oh, shit!” Maybe if he opened the door to the house, dragged the dog in, and shut the door he could do it that way. He’d have to come back for the kids. He was on his way to the door when he saw the fire engine and the sheriff’s car leaving the neighborhood. That was when he saw the Range Rover in the Leigh driveway. The house must have been sold. He felt sad at the thought. Ben hung a Christmas wreath on the front door every Christmas even though the house was empty. First Albert, then the Leigh house. No, first Alice’s fit. A trifecta of misery. Flo must have finally sold the house. He wondered why—it was in such perfect condition. He knew that for a fact because Ben told him that the sodality ladies did a spring cleaning once a year.

The front door slid open. Hank walked into the kitchen and grabbed a dish towel, which he carried outside and looped into Churchill’s collar. With his homemade leash, he dragged the recalcitrant canine into the house. The fur ball followed and made herself comfortable on one of the family room chairs. Churchill took the other chair, but not before he lifted his leg on the bottom of it.

Hank lost it then. He marched over to the big dog, who looked at him defiantly. He stuck his finger to his nose and barked, “Do that one more time, and your ass is grass. You hear me? That means you sit out on the deck and look through the window. And I won’t feed you either. Oh, Christ, the twins!” He raced to the door and back out to the car. It took him a good five minutes to figure out how to unbuckle the harness on the childproof seats or whatever they were called. A kid under each arm, he marched to the door and opened it. Alice said they could walk. He set them down and off they went. “I need a beer. Please, God, let there be beer in the refrigerator.” There was no beer. He had to settle for a Diet Pepsi. Did all women in the world drink Diet Pepsi? He counted twenty-four cans. Alice must be addicted.

Hank looked around for a place to sit down. He was tempted to shoo Churchill off the chair, but one look at the retriever’s face squelched that idea. Obviously, the chair was his. Miss Sadie looked at him with adoring eyes and yipped softly. “You just moved in, didn’t you, you little shit?” Miss Sadie yipped again and put her head down between her paws. Yep, she had moved in.

Hank looked over at the twins, who were trying to crawl into the fireplace. He realized they still had on their winter gear and were sweating profusely. He removed it, closed the fire screen, then flopped down on the couch after he dumped a ton of toys on the floor. “I can’t do this. I don’t want to do this.”

The sudden quiet alerted Hank that something was wrong. One of the twins, he didn’t know which one, was trying to take off his pants. And then he smelled it. “Please, God, no. I’ve never changed a diaper in my life.” Churchill jumped off his chair, trotted out of the room, and returned with a diaper clenched between his teeth. He let it drop at Hank’s feet. Then he hopped back on his chair. Hank wanted to cry.

The TV suddenly exploded with sound. Churchill had the remote clutched between his paws. A cartoon show appeared. The twins squealed their pleasure.

“Alice Anders, you are a saint,” Hank said as he prepared to change his first-ever diaper.