The Christmas Children

She remembered when, at six years of age, she’d carried that key in a Christmas pageant. She’d worn a long white dress, and appearing on stage, she had addressed the audience: “I have the key to Christmas, and I’m looking for a lock it will fit.”

A first-century false-fronted village had been constructed on the stage with homes, a stable, an inn and several other businesses. She walked from door to door trying the key without luck, but when she found a lock that the key opened, a nativity scene was revealed. The Christ Child in the manger was Christmas personified, and Carissa had stood to one side while other church members presented the story of Jesus’s birth.

To close the program, Carissa had turned to the audience, saying, “I’ve found Jesus, the reason we have Christmas. Won’t you come to the manger and find Him, too?”

Carissa had known a close relationship with Jesus as a child, and the observance of His birth had been a special time. Her grandmother couldn’t afford to buy many gifts, and the church program had been the focal point of their Christmas. As the years passed, however, Christmas had gradually become commercialized for Carissa, a time when huge sales boosted her income, for Cara’s Fashions were popular throughout the United States and overseas. Carissa hadn’t been selfish with her income. In addition to contributing to many charities and churches, she’d provided freely for her grandmother until her death. Carissa had given generously of everything—except herself.

Her musings ended when the doctor entered the waiting room and asked for Chief Townsend. Carissa caught her breath, and cold sweat spread over her body. On trembling legs she moved down the hallway and peeped into a small room where Paul Spencer, eyes closed, lay on a hospital bed.

“He’s all right,” the doctor said, “and I don’t see any sign of concussion, but he’ll have a headache for a while. Exhaustion, more than anything else, caused him to faint.” He turned to Carissa, saying with a grin, “You’ve got a pretty hefty swing, lady. You ever play baseball?”

Her face flushed, but Carissa tried to answer lightly. “Several years ago, I played on a women’s softball team.” She turned to Justin. “I’m so embarrassed about this that I’ve half a notion to leave without unpacking my car.”

“Oh, Paul’s a good sport and he won’t blame you. He should have told someone he was coming.”

“He could be released,” the doctor said, “but he shouldn’t go to sleep for a few hours. Paul hasn’t slept since he left Europe, so somebody will have to keep him from dozing off. Since Naomi isn’t home, he can stay in the clinic the rest of the night.”

“He can come back to the chalet,” Carissa said. “I’m responsible for his injury, so the least I can do is watch over him for a few hours.”

“I’ll go in and explain the situation. He might not want to trust himself to you,” Justin said and guffawed. The doctor joined in the laughter, but Carissa failed to see any humor in the situation.

A few minutes later, she had to force herself to meet Paul Spencer’s brown eyes when he walked into the hallway.

“Carissa Whitmore meet Paul Spencer,” Chief Townsend said, humor still evident in his voice. “Although it seems you’ve met before.”

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Spencer.”

He shook his head and winced. “My fault! I should have let my sister know I was coming home. Our construction job had to shut down for a few weeks and I decided to come back to the States for Christmas. I tried to call Naomi when I landed at Kennedy. When she didn’t answer, I came on home. The keys to my apartment are in her house, and I intended to knock on the door to get her attention. But when I discovered the door wasn’t locked, I thought I could slip in without disturbing her and sleep on the couch until morning.”

“I’ll drive you back to her house now,” Carissa said. “The doctor thinks you need monitoring for a few hours. Since I knocked you out, I’ll feel better if I keep an eye on you.”

Paul agreed, and the chief of police accompanied them to the parking lot. An uncomfortable silence prevailed in the SUV as they drove through the business section of town. Carissa wasn’t used to driving on snow-covered roads, so she drove as slowly and as carefully as she could. Her silent passenger gave her the fidgets.

“I’m so embarrassed I could scream,” she said finally.

“I’m not embarrassed, but I am bewildered,” Paul said, “and it isn’t all because of the crack on my head. I’ve got some questions. What prompted Naomi to leave her home and business and take off for Florida, and how do you come into the picture? When I talked to my sister six weeks ago, she didn’t mention anything about leaving. Justin may have explained it to me, but my head was woozy, and I don’t remember what he said.”

“We’re almost to the house, and I’ll explain when we get there, if that’s okay. I’m not used to hazardous roads so I need to concentrate on driving.”

“I understand that. Take your time. I haven’t driven on snowy highways for years. I drove cautiously from Kennedy, and that’s the reason I was so late getting into Yuletide.”

When they entered the house, Carissa surveyed the disheveled living area with distaste. She’d replace the furniture and kitchen utensils later.

“Do you feel like a sandwich and maybe a cup of tea?” she offered.

“That might be a good idea. It’s been a long time since I’ve had any food, well, except for the pretzels and soda they served on the plane.”

“I’ll see what I can find. I’ve only been here a few hours, and I haven’t found my way around the kitchen yet.”

Paul followed her into the kitchen and leaned against a massive wooden post supporting the upstairs balcony that overlooked the living area. The kitchen was as inviting as the great room. Light oak cabinets blended with the pine-paneled ceiling. A food-preparation island filled the center of the kitchen. A round table was arranged in a window nook and four cushioned armchairs were placed around it. Several large, curtained windows blended in with the cabinets, to make the room light and airy in warm weather.

Carissa and Naomi had agreed that they’d put enough food in their refrigerators to last for a few days, but she saw now that the shelves were practically empty. That seemed strange, for in their business association, Carissa had found Naomi to be a woman of her word. There was a carton of orange juice and a gallon of milk in the refrigerator, both of which had been opened.

“We can have juice or milk. I don’t see any sandwich fixin’s, but what about a sweet roll? There are two left in the package. I can warm them in the microwave.”

“I’ll take coffee with the roll,” Paul said, yawning and lounging wearily in one of the chairs at the table. “I haven’t been to bed for about thirty hours. I may have to take a cold shower, too.”

“It’s cold enough outside to wake you up. Maybe you can take a run around the house.”

“Not unless I have to,” Paul said, shivering slightly. “It’ll take a while for me to get used to Adirondack weather again.”

Carissa heated water for coffee before she sat beside him. She said, “You already know my name, but I’ll fill in some more facts. My home is in Tampa, where I’ve run a fashion design business for several years. I’ve never met your sister, but Townsend Textile Mill has manufactured many of my designs. Naomi and I have been in touch by phone and e-mail since she took over running the mill.”

“That was when her husband died.”

Carissa nodded. “I sold my business last month, and, being at loose ends, I decided I wanted to spend Christmas in the north. I was born in Minnesota, and I kept remembering the Christmases we had when I was a kid. By coincidence, Naomi’s doctor suggested that she needed a vacation. He thought relaxation for a while in a warmer climate would ease the pain of her arthritis. A mutual friend arranged for us to exchange houses.”

“I’m happy that Naomi’s taking some time off,” Paul said. “The pain has gotten steadily worse, and the stress of taking over management of the textile mill seemed to aggravate it.”

“That’s what she said. We decided on short notice to make this exchange, and she probably didn’t have time to let you know.”

“We don’t stay in contact very well. Right now, my company’s working on a project in an isolated part of Eastern Europe, and I call her when I get to a city. My cell phone doesn’t work at our present location.”

Paul’s eyes were glazed from lack of sleep, and when his head drooped, Carissa knew she had to keep him talking. “What kind of work do you do?”

“I’ve been with the same construction company for eighteen years. I worked for them part-time in the States while I finished college, but since then I’ve been working overseas. Right now, we’re building an electric power plant in the Czech Republic.”

“How often do you come home?”

“This is the fourth or fifth time I’ve been home since I left Yuletide about twenty years ago. I had an unpleasant experience here, and coming home reminds me of it, so I don’t visit very often.”

He stifled a yawn. Carissa stirred a heaping tablespoon of coffee crystals into a mug of boiled water and handed it to him. He took several sips of the coffee before he continued.

“Last week, we had some equipment failure that will take a month to fix, so the boss told most of us to take a vacation. I usually spend my free time sightseeing in Europe and western Asia, but since it was Christmas, I had a hankering to be with family. Naomi is the only family I have. I’ll have to go to Florida to see her, I reckon—I’ll be returning to Europe sometime between Christmas and the new year.”

“I have a two-bedroom condo, so there’s plenty of room for you. I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you.”

“And I want to see her,” Paul agreed. “I had looked forward to spending my vacation in snow country, but I’ve never been to Florida, so this sounds like a great opportunity.”

“There’s a good view of Tampa Bay from my balcony, and the beach isn’t far away.”

“You’ve convinced me,” he said, laughing. “But I’ll rest up a few days before I make any plans.”

It was daylight by the time they finished eating, and Carissa exclaimed in delight as she viewed the frozen lake from the kitchen window.

“I was disappointed last night when I arrived in Yuletide,” she said, “because it didn’t have the Christmas atmosphere I had expected, but this area looks like the winters I used to know. There are lots of lakes in Minnesota, although we don’t have mountains.”

While Paul showered and shaved, Carissa moved the furniture back into place and put the pots and pans she’d scattered on the floor in the dishwasher. She surveyed the room to be sure it looked as it had when she’d arrived. Something seemed to be missing, but she didn’t know what until she realized that the stuffed bear she’d seen on the fireplace ledge wasn’t there. She knew she hadn’t moved it.

Paul returned at that time looking refreshed and more handsome than ever, in spite of his black eye and the bruise on his forehead.

“Did you move a teddy bear off the fireplace ledge?” Carissa asked.

“No,” he said, adding with a mischievous smile, “I stopped playing with toys a long time ago.”

“Surely at forty-five, I’m not having a “senior” moment—as some of my friends say. But I know when I arrived last night there was a stuffed bear lying on the hearth. It isn’t there now.”

“Maybe Justin or the medics moved it out of the way when they came for me.”

“Maybe. But I had the strangest feeling that someone had been in the house before I arrived. That’s why I barricaded the door last night. The house was warm, although Justin told me that Naomi had lowered the thermostat before she left.”

“Maybe Naomi was having a senior moment, too, and forgot to lower the temperature.” He looked out the back door. “I’m going over to check my apartment and put my rental truck in the garage.”

Still brooding over possible intruders, Carissa walked to the wide glass door and stood beside Paul. Behind the house was a three-car garage with an apartment on the floor above it.

“We inherited this property from our parents,” Paul explained. “When Naomi and her husband decided to build the chalet, I built the garage and apartment. I’m never in the States more than two months at a time, but when I’m here, I want my own place to stay in.”

“It’s a nice place.”

“Good enough for what I need,” he agreed. “Want to go with me and check it out?”

“Sure. I’m still your overseer for a few hours.”

She grinned pertly at him, and Paul thought how fetching she looked. Carissa had intense blue eyes fringed by dark lashes, and a spray of freckles across her nose, which only added to the beauty of her delicate oval face. Carissa seemed young and untouched. Paul found it hard to believe that she was forty-five.

“I’ll put on my boots and coat,” Carissa said, wondering at the speculative gleam in her companion’s eyes.

His apartment consisted of a large living room and kitchen combination with a spacious bathroom and bedroom in the rear. The absence of nonessential decorations proclaimed the apartment a man’s. Carissa wondered at his age, judging that he was several years younger than she was. He’d said Naomi was his only family—but had trouble with a woman been the unpleasant experience that had caused him to leave Yuletide?

The apartment was chilly, and Carissa insisted that Paul go back to the house with her. “It’ll be several hours before the apartment gets comfortable. By that time, you’ll be ready to take a long nap.”

“Thanks, I’ll do that. But I wanted to point out the intercom system between my apartment and the house.” He pointed to a speaker on the living room wall. “Just flip the switch and call if you need me. The one in the house is on the wall between the kitchen and the living room.”

He yawned, and Carissa said, “Let’s take a walk before we go back to the house. If you sit down, you’re going to sleep.”

“A good idea, but I’ll need some warmer clothes, and I hardly remember what I have. I haven’t been home during the winter for a long time.” Paul shoved clothing back and forth in the bedroom closet until he found a heavy coat with a hood that still fit him. He changed his light boots for insulated ones.

Sunshine glistened on the newly-fallen snow as Paul and Carissa crossed the road and took the path around the lake. White-throated sparrows and Acadian chickadees darted into the trees, dislodging tufts of snow that settled on Paul’s and Carissa’s shoulders. They observed the ungainly flight of a pileated woodpecker, its red crest conspicuous in the sunlight. Small huts dotted the surface of the frozen lake, now covered with several inches of fresh snow.

“There’s a lot of ice fishing on this lake,” Paul commented. “The huts are rented to fishermen for protection from the wind while they wait for a bite.”

“There’s ice fishing on the lakes in Minnesota, too.”

“I wonder if the lake is frozen enough for skating,” he said. “I learned to skate on Lake Mohawk. We used to have skating parties almost every night. I’ve kept up with skating as much as possible. Many Christmas holidays I’ve spent time in Germany, Austria or Switzerland so I could skate.” He stepped out on the surface of the lake. “Seems pretty solid. Do you skate?”

“Not since I was a child. Skating isn’t a Florida pastime.”

Their footsteps crunched rhythmically on the frozen snow as they walked. “Why did you leave Minnesota and move to Florida? Did your family transfer?” he asked.

A somber expression quickly erased Carissa’s happy mood, but she answered readily enough. “I moved there by myself, soon after I graduated from high school. I never returned to Minnesota.”

Believing he’d touched on a sensitive subject, Paul didn’t question her further.

Carissa’s animation returned moments later when she said, “This is the first time I’ve seen snow for years. It’s glorious.” She picked up a handful and ate it. “Grandma used to make ice cream out of snow. I’ll make some if I can remember how.”

“Most of my visits back home have been in the summer,” he said, “and I’ve missed New York’s winters while I’ve been away. There were fabulous Christmas celebrations in Yuletide when we were children—lights all over the business section and most of the houses were decorated. Prizes were given for the most original ideas. We sometimes built snow palaces on the frozen lake and had them floodlighted. We had programs at the church—just a wonderful time.”

“Why did they stop? I came to Yuletide thinking I’d find Christmas the way it was when I was a child. I was really disappointed when I drove in last night and didn’t see any sign of Christmas.”

Paul yawned. “Carissa, surely I’ve stayed awake long enough. I’ll tell you about the tragedy that took Christmas out of Yuletide, but not until after I sleep.”

Carissa was a bit surprised that they’d slipped so easily to a first-name basis, but that pleased her. Mischievously, she picked up a handful of snow and, standing on tiptoes, she rubbed it in his face.

“That oughta keep you awake ’til we get back to the house.”

“Hey!” he spluttered, wiping the snow from his face with his mittened hand. “I’m an invalid and you’re supposed to be kind to me.” He scooped up some snow and threw it at Carissa, but she sidestepped the attack and started toward the house on a run. Paul’s long-legged stride soon caught up with her.

“I’ll get even with you,” he warned, a gleam in his brown eyes that belied his words. “I expected to be welcomed home as an honored guest, and what happens? I’m assaulted the minute I step into the house, and then I get my face washed with snow.”

Laughing, Carissa said, “I’ll make it up to you. While you take a nap, I’ll fix a meal for you.”

“Sounds good to me, just as long as I find a bed before I fall asleep on my feet.”

While Paul slept in the downstairs bedroom adjacent to the great room, as silently as she could, Carissa unloaded the SUV and carried her luggage upstairs. Periodically, she’d crack open the bedroom door, and each time, Paul’s even breathing assured her that he was resting comfortably.

She would have to wake Paul before too long because the doctor wanted to look him over again. She organized her belongings in the master bedroom, then sat on a padded window seat looking over the frozen landscape. Her thoughts were on Paul Spencer.

He seemed like a friendly, easygoing guy, possessing a spontaneous cheerfulness that answered a need in Carissa’s heart. She’d never considered herself a joyful person, but when Paul’s mouth spread into a toothy smile that lightened the darkness of his face, Carissa felt lighthearted, and laughter bubbled from her lips.

Having a man in the house was a strange experience for Carissa. She’d never known who her father was, and her grandmother had been widowed before Carissa was born. She’d lived alone for more than twenty years, and it seemed odd to have a man sleeping in her house. She had grown accustomed to solitude, but already she knew she’d miss Paul a little when he moved into his apartment.

Carissa had come to Yuletide to discover the faith she’d known as a child, and she was determined to achieve that goal. It had taken a long time, but Carissa finally believed that she could do whatever she set out to do.

Yet she’d never reacted to anyone as she was reacting to Paul Spencer. Her attraction to him confused her.

She found his nearness disturbing and at the same time exciting.

Chapter Three

Carissa retrieved the Christmas pageant key from her luggage and carried it downstairs. She placed it on the coffee table. Confronted by Paul’s presence, she needed a constant reminder of why she was in Yuletide.

Paul was still sleeping at one o’clock, so Carissa tapped on the bedroom door. He didn’t respond, so she knocked more loudly.

“Uh-uh,” he said sleepily. “What is it?”

“You have to see the doctor at three o’clock. It’s time to get up.”

Silence greeted her. Had he gone back to sleep? She knocked once more.

“I’m sorry,” Paul said. “It’s taken me a few minutes to realize where I am. You’re the lady who’s taken over sis’s home, huh?”

“Yes, the one who attacked you with a poker last night.”

“Do you have the poker now?”

She imagined his white teeth showing in a slight smile. With laughter in her voice, she said, “Not yet, but I may have to get it if you don’t hurry.”

He yawned noisily, and she heard his feet land on the floor.

“Be out in a minute.”

Carissa was standing at the back door appreciating the landscape, when the bedroom door opened behind her.

She turned, stifled a gasp and experienced a giddy sensation as if her heart had flipped over. Paul had the broad-shouldered body of an athlete, but his waist and hips were narrow. Wearing a T-shirt and jeans, he leaned against the door, looking as vulnerable as a child. His eyes were still heavy with sleep and his hair was tousled. He yawned again.

Had she been wrong when she’d made up her mind that she could live a happy, fulfilled life without a husband? Was she old enough now that the pitfalls she’d avoided in her youth would no longer tempt her? Was it possible to disprove the opinions of her childhood neighbors, who’d often said “Like mother, like daughter”?

Deep in her own thoughts and conflicting emotions, Carissa started when Paul said, “It won’t take me long to get ready. I’ll bring in some fresh clothes from the car.”

She winced when she noticed that the bruise had spread until both eyes and part of his cheek were black.

Intercepting her glance, he said, “I could pass for a raccoon this morning, don’t you think?”

Blood rushed to her cheeks, and she covered her face with her hands. “Don’t remind me. Does your head hurt?”

He lifted his hand to his forehead. “No, but it’s sure sore to the touch. I don’t dare turn my head quickly.”

Dropping her hands, Carissa said, “I’ll get your luggage.”

He started to shake his head, thought better of it and said, “Thanks, but I need a jolt of Adirondack air to help me wake up.”

“I made some lunch so we can eat before we go. There isn’t much food in the refrigerator, but I’ll stop at a grocery store after we’ve been to the clinic.”

“I’ll need to buy a few groceries, too, though, I’ll probably eat out most of the time. When I’m home for such a short time, I don’t want to store up any food.”

Carissa was tempted to suggest that they could share their meals, but she hesitated. At her age, this was no time to become involved with a man. After all, she didn’t know anything about Paul Spencer. She wouldn’t become chummy with this stranger.

Why, then, did her heart insist that Paul wasn’t a stranger?

Carissa sat in the waiting room, and when Paul came from the doctor’s office with a smile on his face, she felt a great wave of relief.

“There’s no damage except a sore head for a few days. I can live with that,” he said.

“I don’t know that I can,” Carissa said. “I’ll probably have nightmares for years about you collapsing at my feet. I thought I’d killed you.”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” he said. He laid his hand on her shoulder.

Carissa flinched and moved away, and his hand dropped limply to his side. Paul stared at her, slightly embarrassed, a confused expression on his face. He must be wondering why she would be offended at such an innocent gesture.

Carissa knew that Paul only meant to be friendly, but she wasn’t used to casual touching. She’d denied any natural tendencies toward overtures of friendship for so long that she had a complex about being touched. Several years into her career, she’d finally conquered her phobia enough to shake hands with her customers, but she apparently hadn’t overcome all of her hang-ups.

Being friendly and outgoing had contributed to her mother’s undoing. She could do nothing about looking like her mother, but long ago Carissa had determined that she wouldn’t emulate her mother’s personality and lifestyle. Her mother’s vivacious personality had gotten her involved with the wrong people and sent her down the path to prostitution and, ultimately, premature death.