Shenandoah Christmas

“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.

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