Shenandoah Christmas

“I’m as tired of staying home as anything else.” Again, the harshness in her usually gentle voice.

“Well, okay. I’ll send you out on my next concert tour. You can ride all day and sleep in two or three hour snatches and eat lousy food two meals out of every three. I’ll stay here and—”

Anna laughed, as Cait had hoped she would. “I get the message. The grass is always greener.” She stared into her orange juice for a minute, then looked up as Cait sat down with her coffee and a sweet roll. “So what do you think about the Christmas pageant?”

After talking with Ben, she hadn’t given the pageant any thought at all. But she didn’t need to. “I’m not the person to be in charge of a program like that. And you know it.”

“I know you think so. I’m not convinced you’re right.”

“You need somebody who believes in—what’s the phrase?—‘the reason for the season.’”

Anna lifted her eyebrows. “Are you an atheist now?”

“N-no.” Cait crumbled a corner of her roll. “But that’s theology. Your program should have a director who likes Christmas.”

“Sweetie, it’s been ten years. Don’t you think you could start to forgive him?”

The unmentionable had just been mentioned. “Has he forgiven me?”

Now her sister avoided her gaze. “We…don’t talk about you.”

Cait nodded. “Because I ceased to exist for him the second I refused to do what he told me to. What kind of father treats a child that way?”

“He wanted so much for you—”

“Without ever bothering to find out what I wanted for myself. And then he chose Christmas—of all times—to force a showdown.”

“I’m sure he’s sorry.”

“I’m not sure of that. But I’m not sorry, either. He handed me the career I wanted by making it impossible for me to do anything else. If he can’t live with my choice, can’t connect with me in spite of our differences, then—” she shrugged “—that’s his choice.”

Anna sighed. “Okay, forget about Dad. The Goodwill Christmas pageant would be a one-time commitment for you. Is that too much to ask?”

“I wouldn’t be any good at it, Anna. I could go through the motions, but that wouldn’t produce the results you want.”

“You won’t even try?”

“I can’t just try something like this. I either do it, or I don’t. And I really would rather not.” She took a fortifying sip of coffee. “There are other churches in town. One of their choir directors could organize the pageant.”

“Mrs. Boringer at the Methodist Church is sixty-five and has really bad arthritis.” Anna ticked off one finger. “John Clay, the Catholic priest, leads their singing, but he won’t take on a project like this. And Lou Miller just accepted a job in a big church in Dallas, leaving the Baptists without a choir director at all. Our church is the only hope for this season. If we don’t do it, Goodwill won’t have a pageant…for the first time in forty-eight years.”

“So let David—”

“David doesn’t sing. You know that. We have to have somebody who sings.”

Cait saw the anxiety in Anna’s face, the tension in her hands wrapped around the mug of tea. This kind of stress couldn’t be good for the baby. And it would kill Anna to lose another baby.

But…just the thought of involving herself in a Christmas pageant was enough to make her head pound and her stomach cramp. Cait closed her eyes for a second, swallowed back bile, then wiped her sweaty palms on her pajama pants.

“Look, let’s do this.” A deep breath. “I’ll get them started on Christmas songs. The story’s still the same, right?” She watched Anna summon up a small smile. “Meanwhile, you can ask around, find a mom or a dad who’s willing to do the actual staging and directing. And, who knows, maybe by the middle of December your baby will be here and you can direct the pageant yourself.”

Anna shook her head. “This isn’t something we can put together in two weeks. Costumes, scenery, everybody learning their lines…”

The details made Cait shudder. “First things first. We’ll start with the music.”

And if I’m lucky, she thought, the music is as far as I’ll have to go.

THE ADULT CHOIR sang for the first time under Cait’s direction in church on Sunday. Three sopranos, two altos and four men was not a very large group, but they all had pleasant voices, strong enough for the old familiar hymn she’d arranged and rehearsed with them.

After the service, it seemed that every member of the small church stopped at the organ to compliment her. “What a pleasure,” Karen Patterson said. “I’m so glad you’re here to help us all out.” She had her arm around her daughter Brenna, Maddie Tremaine’s friend. “Brenna loves what you’re doing with her choir.”

“I have a good time with them, too.” Cait smiled at Brenna. “They sing very well for such a young group.”

Gray-eyed Brenna ducked her head, hiding a pleased smile.

“That was just lovely.” Peggy Shepherd put her arm around Cait’s waist. “I almost called out ‘Encore!’ But I thought David might be insulted.”

Cait grinned. “The sermon is supposed to be the main point, I think.” Her father had always delivered powerful, intelligent—and often intimidating—messages. As far as she knew, he was still preaching, still cautioning his parishioners against the dangers of stray thoughts and wayward deeds.

“A fine song,” Harry Shepherd added. “One of my favorites.”

“That was beautiful, Miss Caitlyn!” Maddie appeared suddenly in the midst of the gathering. “Can we sing that song in our choir?”

“Maybe you could. The melody, anyway.” Cait felt, rather than saw, Ben Tremaine come to the edge of the group. He stood to her right, just out of her line of sight. She wanted to turn to greet him, but couldn’t get up the nerve.

Maddie swung on her arm. “Guess what we’re doing this afternoon, Miss Caitlyn.”

“Um…going swimming?”

“Of course not. It’s too cold to swim. Guess again.”

“Building a snowman?”

“There’s no snow.” She said it chidingly, as if Cait should know better. “We’re having a Halloween party. It’s at Brenna’s house, and we get to wear our costumes.”

“That sounds like so much fun. What did you decide to wear?”

“Zorro, of course. I got a hat and a sword and everything. And Shep’s going to be Wolverine.”

“Wow…that’s great. What are you going to be, Brenna?”

“An Olympic champion,” the little blonde said softly.

“Brenna has horses,” Maddie confided. “She’s got all the fancy clothes, so she just made a gold medal on a ribbon and she’s all set.”

“What a great idea. Maybe you’ll be an Olympic champion for real someday.”

“I hope so,” Brenna said, with the intensity Cait remembered feeling at that age in her desire for a singing career.

“I wish I could see all your costumes.” She was beginning to wonder if Maddie would swing her arm right out of its socket. “Will you come trick-or-treating to Miss Anna’s house?”

The swinging stopped. “Why don’t you come to the party,” Maddie asked. “I’m sure it’s okay with Brenna’s mom. Isn’t it?”

Karen Patterson recovered quickly from her surprise. “O-of course. We’d be delighted to have you come by, Cait. As long as you can stand the noise twelve ten-year-olds will make.”

There was no graceful way out. “I think I can stop by for a few minutes, at least. Where do you live, Mrs. Patterson?”

“Karen, please. We’re kind of far out of town, but it’s not hard to find. If you drive—”

Maddie tugged on her arm again. “You don’t need to drive, Miss Caitlyn. My daddy can bring you with us.”

As she turned to look at the man in question, Cait knew she only imagined that the entire group went completely quiet.

His smile waited for her, rueful, a little embarrassed, maybe slightly annoyed. “Sure,” he said, in that soft, deep drawl. “We’d be glad to take you to the party.”

How she wanted to refuse. But Maddie was staring up at her with wide brown eyes, silently—for once!—pleading. Shep stood just behind Ben, peeking around his dad’s hip like a little mouse out of a hole. Cait thought she saw an expression of hope on his face, as well.

She could brush off a grown man—had done it plenty of times over the past ten years. But disappointing a child was simply beyond Cait’s strength.

“That sounds great.” She grinned at the children, avoiding even a brief glance at their dad. “What time should I be ready?”

CHAPTER THREE

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?”