12
Kristine stared at the neat stacks of paper covering the dining room table as well as the overflow on the long buffet against the wall. Almost the end of the road. Daylight at the end of the tunnel. Four years of paperwork. Four years of conscientious obsessiveness. If there was such a thing as conscientious obsessiveness.
Kristine leaned back in her chair to stare at Mima Posy and Lela Mae Brown’s folders. She closed her eyes to savor the memory of the day she and Jack had gone, as Jack put it, on the road to find closure to what lay in front of her.
“I hope we’re doing the right thing, Jack. What if Mrs. Brown thinks we’re invading her privacy or doesn’t want to talk to us. I wouldn’t blame her if she told us to get lost and to get off her property.”
“I can’t say I would blame her if she did. We sent her nine different letters. She didn’t respond to any of them. Maybe she isn’t one of the descendants from the slave list and thought it was all a bunch of bullshit. Christ, I hate those words.”
“No more than I do,” Kristine said through clenched teeth. “I think this is the turnoff, Jack. Those trees are gorgeous. I wonder how old they are.”
“Probably as old as Miss Lela Mae Brown.”
“Mrs. Lela Mae Brown.”
“Do you see a fence anywhere? The postmaster said there was a wire fence with a mailbox. I wonder if he sent us to the right place. Everyone gets mail. Why doesn’t Mrs. Brown get mail?”
“He said she got a ‘flurry’ of legal-looking letters a while back. I guess those were the ones we sent. Supermarket flyers hardly count as mail,” Jack said fretfully.
“Look, there’s a fence, and the mailbox is right where he said it was. The house must be just up the road. I don’t see any neighboring houses. Say a prayer or cross your fingers that this is the lady we’re looking for.”
“What do you think I’ve been doing during this whole ride?”
“I’m afraid, Jack. This is the right thing to do, isn’t it? What if Mrs. Brown doesn’t think . . . What if she takes a shotgun to us ... Don’t go so fast, slow down. For some reason, I don’t think many people come out here. She might be anxious with visitors. Maybe we should call out or something.”
“Kristine, we’re going up on that porch and knock on the door. Do you have all the folders?”
“I have everything. I probably have more than I need.”
“What about the basket?”
“The basket’s in the backseat. We agreed to wait on that.”
It was a plain little white house with a small front porch and two rocking chairs. Window boxes sat under the windows and were chock-full of colorful petunias. An ageless dairy crock held luscious deep pink geraniums. There wasn’t a yellow leaf to be seen among the emerald green leaves, nor was there a speck of dust on the old fiber carpet or rocking chairs. The windowpanes shimmered. Kristine clenched her fist and knocked on the door.
A spry little lady with a topknot and wire-rim glasses opened the front door, a smile on her face. “Good morning,” she said pleasantly.
“Mrs. Brown? Mrs. Lela Mae Brown?”
“I was this morning when I woke up,” the little lady quipped. “Now, how can I help you?”
“We need to talk to you, Mrs. Brown. May we come in? My name is Kristine Summers, and this is Jackson Valarian. Some of your ancestors once worked for my family. Is that introduction acceptable?”
“Mercy, that was a long time ago. Come in, come in. Would you like some coffee?”
“We had some earlier, but thank you anyway.”
“Please, come into the parlor and sit down. I’m sorry my son isn’t here. I imagine he’s the one you want to speak with. His name is Jonah.”
Kristine opened the top folder in her hands. “No, Mrs. Brown, it isn’t Jonah. We want to talk to you. Do you remember your parents or your grandparents talking about those long-ago days?”
“Do you mean when they were slaves?”
Kristine and Jackson both flinched at the word. “Yes, ma’am,” Kristine said.
“Life was hard for them. It brings sorrow to my heart to talk about it. Are you sure you don’t want to talk to Jonah?”
“We can come back and talk to him if you want us to. You see, Mrs. Brown, we . . . I ... my family didn’t know ... we thought . . . We want to make it right in any way we can. Didn’t you get the letters we sent you?”
“Yes. Jonah said it was some kind of scheme. He threw them away. Were they important?”
“In a manner of speaking. It’s all right, though. What Mrs. Summers is trying to say is the Summers and Kelly families want to make restitution. Do you have a family Bible, Mrs. Brown?”
“Yes, sir, I certainly do. My family came from the Summers farm. My grandmama said her family was treated real good. Mr. Summers gave each man a small parcel of land when he married and had children. My own mama told me stories about the manor lady making sure the doctor visited and made certain everyone went to services on Sunday. The children were taught to read and write and didn’t have to work in the fields. There was always a gift at Christmastime for each worker and one for each child. As each boy child grew and then married, a second patch of land was given. Today it might not seem fair, but back then it was. I’m not sure what it is you want to do.”
The relief washing through Kristine left her feeling faint. “I thought . . . the records show that children were taken from their families and . . . and . . . sold. That was so barbaric I have trouble trying to comprehend it. We want to find those families and try to make it right. Do you know any of them?”
Lela Mae Brown sat up stiffly. Her lips thinned to a tight line. “I know one family.”
“You do! That’s wonderful! Tell us where they live. Please, Mrs. Brown. We want to help. This isn’t some cockamamie thing we’re doing here. We have tons of files and letters and those . . . awful . . . lists. We can help. I know we can. Where does the family live?”
“Right here in Richmond. Mima’s people came from the Kelly farm. She has her own family now. She had five uncles and two aunts that were taken away. Mima’s mama was the only one who got to stay on. She said her grandmama just laid down and died when that happened. But before that, her grandmama did something no one knew about. Her and Joisa, her husband, made a deep gash that resembled a cross on the sole of each child’s foot so it would leave a scar. For identification purposes later on. Later on never came. How can you make that right?”
Jack leaped from the chair he was sitting on. Kristine watched in awe as he danced around the room. She thought that at any given moment she’d have to peel him off the ceiling. “What is it, Jack?”
“We have four of them, Kristine! Four people responded saying one of their ancestors had a cross scar on their foot. Four out of six, Kristine!”
“Yes, I remember now. Thank God. We’ve been sending out letters, Mrs. Brown, for the past few years, and one of the questions was, did any member of your family have any noticeable scars, marks, or anything that would help for identification purposes. Four letters came back with what you just said, a large cross on the ball of the foot. Three men and one woman.”
Kristine burst into tears.
Lela Mae Brown dabbed at her eyes with the hem of a pristine white apron. “I think I’ll make fresh coffee now. What will you do for Mima?”
“Whatever she wants,” Kristine said. “We’ll send her grandchildren to college and their children also. We’ll buy them land for their own houses if they don’t already have it.”
“Mima needs a new wash machine. She could use an electric icebox. She’s too old to be toting ice like she does.”
“We can do that today or tomorrow. Does she have a big family?”
“Big as mine. I have nine children and twenty-six grandchildren. Mima needs to have some eye surgery for her cataracts. Can you take care of that, too?”
“Yes, ma’am, we can,” Jackson said.
Kristine felt a head rush. “Can we see your Bible, Mrs. Brown?”
Lela Mae dried her hands on her apron. Her fingers were knotted with arthritis, Kristine saw. Her touch was reverent when she accepted the worn, tattered Bible. Jackson crowded next to her, almost swooning at the written words in the front. “May I please copy this down, Mrs. Brown.”
“Don’t you be fixing to try and take my Bible, young man. It goes to my firstborn son when I pass over.”
“I would never do such a thing, Mrs. Brown. I feel privileged that you’re even letting me look at it. I just want to copy the names and the dates. What a help this is going to be.”
“What can you do now, Miz Summers?”
“I can send all your grandchildren to college for free, Mrs. Brown. When they marry and have children of their own, there will be a fund for them to go to college. As for your nine children, a piece of land, a house, an annuity. We’ll work it out. Is there anything you want? Isn’t it lonely living way out here by yourself?”
“Do you mean like a fairy wish?”
Kristine smiled. “Yes, like a fairy wish.”
“Well, a new truck for Jonah would be nice. He’s my youngest. He drives across the states. He takes care of me and helps out his brothers and sisters. It has to be one of those trucks that has eighteen wheels. He’d be married by now, but he has too many obligations. He’s a good boy.”
“I can do that,” Kristine said happily. “Will the weekend be soon enough?”
“Mercy, yes.”
Lela Mae poured coffee. “Why are you doing this, Miz Summers? That’s going to be the first thing Jonah is going to ask.”
Kristine told her the story, sparing nothing. “It was wrong. People need to know where their family rests. I want to be able to sleep at night. I want to be able to look in the mirror. All I can do is apologize for my husband’s family and what they did. In the scheme of things, an apology means nothing. In Las Vegas there is a saying—money talks and losers walk. I have the money, so it’s up to me to do the right thing. Somewhere along the way, I may run out of money, but I want you to know I will work until every last single person is accounted for and taken care of. If it takes me a hundred years, then it will be up to my children to carry on what I started. I want you to believe me, Mrs. Brown.”
“I think you can call me Lela Mae.”
“Will you call me Kristine?”
“Yes I will!” Lela Mae said smartly.
“I got it all, Kristine,” Jack chortled.
“I’m going to leave my card with you, Lela Mae. When your son comes home, tell him to call me. The only other thing we need is Mima’s address.”
At the door, Lela Mae put her thin arms around Kristine. “God bless you, child.”
“He already did. He brought me here. Thanks for the coffee. If you wait just a minute, I want to go to the car. I brought something for you. It’s something I want to give you from my heart.” Kristine returned in minutes with a Yorkie pup named Missy. She held it out, her eyes pleading with the old woman to accept it. “She has impressive papers. She will love you unconditionally, Lela Mae.”
“Mercy, mercy, mercy.” The old gnarled hands reached for the tiny pup, who immediately started to lick at her face. “I think she likes me.”
“I suspect she does. Here are her papers. There’s enough dog food here to last for two months. She’s up-to-date with her shots and in perfect health. This is her favorite blanket and toy. Just take good care of her.”
“I always wanted an animal that was my own. Thank you.”
“It was my pleasure, Lela Mae.”
“Drive with the angels now, you hear. I always say that to Jonah when he starts out,” Lela Mae said as she nuzzled the little dog against her neck, a look of pure rapture on her face.
Kristine smiled as she patted Lela Mae’s shoulder. “My guardian angel sits right here all the time,” she said, patting her own shoulder. “She watches over me. If I didn’t believe that, I wouldn’t be here. We’ll talk again, Lela Mae.”
“I don’t know about you, Kristine,” Jack said when they were driving down the dusty road, “but I think I could walk on water right now.”
“I was just thinking the exact same thing, Jack. Next stop, Mima Posy’s house.”
It was midafternoon when Jackson stopped the car on another country road similar to the one Lela Mae lived on. It was a pretty lot, Kristine thought, with old oak trees that dripped Spanish moss. The lawn was green and well tended with flower beds chock-full of Gerber daisies every color of the rainbow. A small vegetable garden, as neat and well tended as the flower beds, could be seen on the side of the small clapboard house.
A giant of a woman stood on the front steps, her hands clasped in front of her. In a voice that rang clear out to the car, she called, “Don’t come any farther unless you have business here.”
“We have business with you, Mrs. Posy. Lela Mae Brown gave us your address. We need to talk to you. May we come up on the porch?”
The woman moved to the side to allow Kristine and Jackson to climb the steps. “Sit!”
Mima Posy remained standing. “And you are?”
“I’m Kristine Summers, and this is Jackson Valarian. We need to talk to you.”
“I’m listening, Kristine Summers.”
In a halting voice that hinted at tears. Kristine went through her story a second time. She ended with, “What my husband’s family did was wrong. I can’t undo that. What I can do is provide for you, your family, and your grandchildren, and if you know of any other families, please tell us. We have something to give you, but we don’t have it with us. Please listen while Jackson explains it to you.”
Kristine watched the old woman’s eyes fill with tears as her shoulders started to shake. “Are you saying you found three of my great-great-uncles and one aunt? How?”
“It was an exhausting job and it took us four years. Yes, Mrs. Posy, that’s what we’re saying. That’s what I meant when I said I didn’t have the letters with me.”
“Let me show you something.” The regal giant lifted her bare foot to reveal a scar in the shape of a cross. “Our families have done this, it seems like forever. After those infamous days, others did the same thing, I’m told. My clan did the cross. Others did the X and some did the circle with the line through it or a smaller circle inside the larger circle. The stories told to us down through the years were that all vowed to find one another. Our resources were so limited, it was impossible. Tell me, what is the next step?”
“More letters, more phone calls. For you, right now, Mrs. Posy, a new washing machine and a new refrigerator, college educations for your grandchildren, plots of land. As soon as we can, Jackson and I are going to arrange a meeting with everyone we can find. I’d like to have it here in Richmond or even at my home in Leesburg. Whichever place is the easiest to get to. Jackson is going to handle that end of it. When we get home, we’ll get the files out, and I’ll call you and send you the names of the people we found who had crosses on the bottoms of their feet. I don’t know if that will give you any comfort or not. Right now, it’s all that we have. Our job isn’t done yet.”
“I need to know why, so I can tell my children and my grandchildren,” Mima said.
“Because it was wrong. Because you have the right to know where your family rests. Because I can’t sleep at night knowing these things.”
“Then my family will accept.”
Kristine blinked. It had never occurred to her that the tall, regal woman wouldn’t accept what she was offering. “There is one other thing. Mrs. Brown told us you require cataract surgery. With your permission, we could arrange it for you.”
“You would do that for me?”
“In a heartbeat,” Kristine said. “Shall I make arrangements?”
“Yes. Yes, I accept.”
“Do you have a family Bible?” Jackson asked.
“Yes, young man, I do. Why do you ask?”
“Because I need to copy down everything that’s written in the front of it. With your permission, of course.”
“Come inside then. Would you like some lemonade?”
“Yes, I would, Mrs. Posy,” Kristine said.
“Tell me about your family, Mrs. Summers. You already seem to know about mine.”
Kristine talked then as though Mima Posy was her oldest and dearest friend. She talked about her drinking problem, about Logan and his family, Woodie, and finally her children and grandchildren. “Aside from giving birth to my children, Mrs. Posy, working on this project is the single most rewarding thing I’ve ever done in my life. It’s like Logan no longer matters. He’s just someone I used to know. I’m slowly earning my children’s respect and love. It’s all going to come out right in the end. Now, tell me, what color would you like for your refrigerator and washer?”
“Just white. I like things to look clean and fresh. White is pure if you know what I mean.”
“I do know. Is there anything else you want to ask me?”
“Are you really going to send all my grandchildren to college?”
“Every last one of them. Graduate school, too, if they want to go.”
“That’s a barrelful of money right there,” Mrs. Posy said in awe.
“Right now the barrel is full. I expect at some point it might run out. If that happens, I’ll find a way to fill it. My children will carry on when I can’t do it anymore. Just the other day I was thinking about life, nothing in particular, and I realized that each of us is put on this earth for a reason. For a long time I thought my reason was to be Logan Kelly’s wife. I still more or less think that because only through what happened am I able to do this. Does that make sense?”
“Yes, ma’am, it does make sense. My husband is never going to believe this. Things like this just don’t happen. I’m grateful to you, Mrs. Summers. If I seemed standoffish a while ago, it was because my sight isn’t good and I didn’t know what you were all about.”
“I’m sorry about so many things, too. I wish you didn’t have that scar on your foot.”
Mima leaned across the table. “You shush now. I carry the scar proudly, as do all my children and my grandchildren. We chose to make the mark on our feet. Sad as it may sound, it is our tradition. Those dark days of our ancestors are gone. The scars remind us to never allow it to happen again.”
Jack gulped his lemonade in two long swigs. It was Kristine’s signal to get ready to leave.
“We’ll be in touch, Mrs. Posy. Thank you for talking with us.”
She turned to Jack. “We might need measurements for the washer and refrigerator.”
“Standard size is acceptable. I have plenty of room.”
“Will tomorrow be okay for the delivery on the appliances?” Kristine asked.
“Tomorrow will be fine.”
“Then we’ll say good-bye. But first, I brought something for you from my farm. I’ll be back in a minute.” When Kristine returned with a second pup, she handed it to the old lady and cupped her hands in her own. “She’s a pretty little thing, all gold and black at the moment. Her color will turn slowly, and her name is Honey. There’s enough food for a few months. Her papers are up-to-date. She’s had all her shots and is in perfect health. She will just love you to death. I hope . . . you like animals, don’t you?”
“More than I like some people, Mrs. Summers. She feels so soft and warm. How big will she get?”
“Her top weight will be about five pounds. She’s what we call a Teacup Yorkie. I breed them, as I told you earlier. She’s my personal gift to you. If for any reason you can’t keep her, call me, and I’ll come and get her.”
“She seems to like me. She likes to be held, doesn’t she?”
“Yes, ma’am, being held is her favorite thing. She has a special little blanket and fuzzy toy. She sleeps with them.”
“It was a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Summers. I admire your perseverance because you have prevailed. Thank you for stopping by. And thank you for this wonderful present.”
In the car, Jackson turned to Kristine. “She didn’t warm up to us the way Lela Mae did.”
“No, she didn’t. That’s okay, Jack. She has every right in the world to be suspicious of us. The proof will be when things start to happen. She was a little more open in the end when we gave her the dog. Perhaps her sight has something to do with it. All I know is that little dog put a smile on her face. I don’t know why I brought the two of them. First I was only going to bring one. Then I said, no, take two. I’m so glad I did. When will we run out of money, Jack? I’m going to start worrying about that.”
“Then stop. All those kids aren’t going to be going to college at the same time. Some are probably finished by now. The money is going to grow and earn interest. Woodie invested it wisely. But, to answer your question, not for a very long time. We have it covered.”
“I’m starting to feel real good about all of this. Four long years we worked on this. We’re finally making it happen. I want to thank you for coming into my life, Jack. If you hadn’t come down my road that day, none of this would be happening. You will work on some kind of meeting or party or something, won’t you?”
“Count on it, Kristine.”
Kristine nodded. “Right now we need to find an appliance store, then I want to go home.”
“Yon got it.”
She roll-called these last years as she sipped at her coffee. If she had it all to do over again, she knew she would do the exact same things. She’d put her personal life on hold these last four years. While she had regrets, she knew in her heart she would do that again, too. With the exception of Cala’s and Mike’s weddings, she’d rarely taken a day off, and when she did, she spent the night poring over the papers that were now in neat piles so she wouldn’t get behind.
With the holidays a few short weeks away, she had to make a plan, stack the files and folders, and devise a concrete course of action for the new year.
And then there was her birthday that also loomed on the horizon. She was going to reach the half century mark a few days after the new year. Just the thought of turning fifty was mind-boggling. More than half her life was over and as far as she could tell the only thing she had done of any importance was giving birth to three children, children she loved with all her heart.
They were all happy and settled and no longer needed her, if they had ever needed her at all. Cala was happily married to Pete and lived in a small white house in town. They were also half owners of the business and they were proud parents to two little girls: Emily and Ellie.
The picture of the two little tykes tussling with Gracie and Slick on the front lawn brought a smile to Kristine’s tired face.
This year, Christmas was going to be an event. Mike was coming home with his new wife and baby and Tyler managed to wrangle leave and had sent word he would arrive Christmas Eve with the stern admonition, “Don’t do anything till I get there.” Kristine smiled again, but the smile left her face when her gaze traveled to the picture of Woodie. Would he come for the holidays? She crossed her fingers, her eyes burning. God, how she missed him. A lump started to form in her throat when she recalled the last time she’d seen him and the bitter words he’d flung at her.
Kristine shivered even though her back was to the fireplace. It had been a warm, sunny day without a cloud in the sky. She’d been holding Gracie and Slick because she needed something to do with her hands. Until the moment Woodie stepped around the car she had been certain he wouldn’t leave....
“Woodie, wait. Please don’t leave like this. I’m sure we can work something out. Why can’t you understand? I have to do this. I have to make it right. If I don’t, my whole family’s life was and still is a lie.”
“Kristine, I can handle all of that. I applaud you for what you want to do. What I cannot accept is your broken promise to file for a divorce. I want to marry you. I want us to live together. I offered to help with this mission because I think two heads are better than one, but I wanted us to do it as man and wife. I can’t live like this. I won’t live like this.”
“Woodie, please. I’ll do it. I’ll go into town tomorrow and get things under way. I promise.”
Woodie shook his head. “No, Kristine, that won’t work. You have to do it because it’s what you want to do, not what I want. I guess I can’t understand why you don’t want to do it. The fact that you don’t tells me Logan is still in your thoughts and your heart. Three’s a crowd, Kristine.”
“No, it’s not like that. You’re right and you’re wrong. I swear on my children. I’ll do it tomorrow. Please, Woodie, don’t leave.” She was so close to him she could smell his aftershave. She wanted to reach out, but the dogs were snuggled in both hands against her chest. Slick growled deep in his throat while Gracie whimpered. Tears trickled down Kristine’s cheeks.
Woodie kissed her, the sweetest kiss she’d ever gotten in her life. “If you ever need me, Kristine, leave word at the bank.”
“Aren’t you going to write or call?”
“No.”
“Woodie, please. You can’t just walk away. Damn you, that’s what Logan did,” she screamed.
“I’m not Logan, Kristine. I told you like it is, right up front. From day one,” Woodie said as he settled himself behind the wheel. He reached out to tweak both little dogs’ whiskers. Slick snapped at his fingers. Gracie continued to whimper against Kristine’s chest.
“Where are you going? Can’t you at least tell me that?”
“I don’t know. I’m going to do that pin in the map thing. I’m going to get myself a man’s dog, and it will be him and me or her and me. I need a friend right now. Someone who will understand me and love unconditionally. I wanted that person to be you but sometimes . . . It’s not important. Good-bye, Kristine.”
“Damn you to hell, Aaron Dunwoodie!” Kristine screamed at the top of her lungs. “You are so like Logan. You’re birds of a feather. Two peas in a pod,” she hiccuped as she sat down on the steps leading to the front porch.
Kristine cuddled the little dogs. “How can he do this to me? How? He’s just like Logan. No, he’s worse. What he’s done is hateful and ugly. He said it all right to my face. I told him I’d do it. Did he care? No, he did not. His mind was made up. Oh, God, he’s gone. He’s really gone.”
Kristine ran into the house and up the steps. In her bedroom she flung herself on the bed, hard-driving sobs rocking her body. When the antique grandfather clock in the living room chimed the noon hour, she tottered into the bathroom to bathe her swollen eyes. She stared at her reflection. Woodie was right about everything, and she’d let him go off with her screams ringing in his ears. That’s how he would remember her, a screaming shrew who had accused him of being like her husband. Tears filled her eyes again as she soaked a washcloth under the cold-water stream. “I’m so sorry, Woodie, so very sorry. What am I going to do without you?”
No bolt of lightning signaling a flash of impending insight struck the room.
“So go, see if I give a good rat’s ass,” Kristine snarled, mouthing her husband’s favorite expression. “Who needs you? I’m doing just fine.”
Well, if you’re doing just fine, then why have you written a kazillion letters you didn’t bother to mail and why did you write the last one inviting him for Christmas? a niggling voice queried.
“Because I was stupid. I admit I am the stupidest woman walking the face of the earth. I can’t do anything right according to the men in my life. Well, we’ll fix that right now.” She ran to the dresser and yanked open the bottom drawer. Neat bundles of letters next to her wool socks stared up at her. Cut them up? Flush them? Burn them? Reread them? “None of the above,” she murmured as she kicked the drawer shut. She’d gotten such comfort late at night when she wrote them. They were better than writing in a diary.
She recognized her pattern then as she stared at the closed drawer. She’d written hundreds and hundreds of letters to Logan, pouring out her heart. Letters that she mailed, letters that came back marked ADDRESSEE UNKNOWN. Unknown. How could someone be unknown when you were married to him all your adult life? The next step, if she stayed true to her pattern, was to hit the bottle.
“It ain’t gonna happen!” The words blasted from Kristine’s mouth like icy bullets. “Come on, Gracie, hop up,” she said as she bent down so the little dog could jump into her arms. Slick chased his stubby tail and then beelined for the hall and the long stairway leading down to the kitchen.
The phone rang just as Kristine opened the refrigerator for a soft drink. “Cala, where are you?”
“Down at the barn. Mom, can you baby-sit tonight? Pete and I want to do some Christmas shopping. They’re forecasting bad weather for the rest of the week. Everything here is solid, so it’s okay from this end. Pete wants to make a day of it, shopping, dinner, and a movie. I brought the girls with me on the off chance you would agree. If you have other plans, we can wait until next week.”
“I’d be happy to baby-sit. Why don’t you leave the girls here for the night? We’ll have a pajama party, just the three of us. I’m going to pack up all my files and papers and put my mission aside until after the first of the year. My calendar is free.”
“Mom, are you sure you don’t mind?”
“Cala, I do not mind. I love spending time with the girls. We’ll start on our Christmas cookies and maybe do a little decorating. Will it be all right to take them out in the snow this afternoon?”
“Mom, you’re in charge. You know the girls like to be entertained. They love staying with you.”
Kristine’s heart soared. “Thank you for saying that, Cala. I was going to take a ride over to the Kelly farm today to check the house for the last time before the sale goes through. There’s a little hill in the back and I thought the girls could sled ride a little. My old sled was in the attic. I cleaned it up and polished the runners a few weeks ago.”
“They’ll love it, Mom. I’ll send the girls up to the house. Send Gracie and Slick down to make sure they get all the way up. Ellie likes to roll in the snow. All you have to do, Mom, is feed the dogs at six o’clock. I’ll see you in the morning then.”
“Sleep in, Cala. Make a short holiday of it. I can see to the dogs in the morning. The girls will help me. It’s not like I have a busy schedule.”
“Pete is going to be delirious. Thanks, Mom. See you tomorrow.”
Kristine opened the kitchen door. “Go on, Gracie, bring the girls up. Go with Gracie, Slick.”
Ten minutes later, the children barreled through the door, the two little dogs barking and yapping as the children squealed and whooped their pleasure.
They looked like Christmas cherubs with their golden curls, rosy cheeks and bright red snowsuits. They were so beautiful, Kristine’s breath caught in her throat. My very own grandchildren, she thought.
“What we do, Granny?” Emily asked as she struggled to get out of her snowsuit.
“Cookies,” Ellie muttered as she kicked her boots across the room.
“First you’re going to give me a big kiss and hug. Then I’m going to make a list of things to do and wait for your approval.”
They were warm and soft and smelled like children should, clean and fresh with a light powdery scent. The obligatory kiss and hug turned into a roll-on-the-floor tussling match with Gracie and Slick yapping as they, too, tried to wiggle into Kristine’s arms.
This, Kristine thought as the girls settled on her lap, is what it’s all about. The rest of the stuff is pure bullshit. Thank you, God, for giving me this second chance with my family. She wasn’t sure, but she thought she heard someone say, You’re welcome. She laughed aloud. The girls giggled. The dogs yipped.
“This is what we’re going to do. Now, listen up.” The little girls tilted their heads and listened attentively. “We are going to make Christmas cookies. I even have aprons for both of you. But, we aren’t going to do that till later. We’re going to go over to the Kelly farm and do some sled riding. When we get back, we’ll have some lunch and we’ll all take a nap. When you wake up, we’ll make some decorations for Mommie to hang on your windows at home. How does that sound?”
“Santy Claus,” Emily chortled.
“Cookies,” Ellie said.
“Everybody go to the bathroom! You know where it is. Emily, help your sister.”
“Okay, Granny.”
Twenty minutes later, they were tooling down the road with the sled on top of the car and singing, “Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer” at the top of their lungs.
Kristine eyed the long expanse of driveway that led to the ramshackle Kelly house. The 4-by-4 had no trouble plowing through the snow as she expertly guided the vehicle to the circular drive that led to the front porch.
“I want you to hold my hands and not wander off. Stay with Gracie and Slick. Do you hear me, girls?” Two little heads bobbed up and down as Kristine unhooked their seat belts just as the dogs scrambled over their laps to leap to the ground.
Inside the cavernous house, their breath circling them like Indian smoke signals, Kristine walked from room to room. Everything had been cleared out the previous month so now not even the rickety straight-backed chairs were in the kitchen. She had no clue as to what the new owners would do with the property. Would they demolish the house and build a new one or would they try to restore it? Whatever their decision, she hoped they had a lot of money. Six hundred thousand dollars was a lot of money to pay for this property. When the Realtor had first approached her, he’d said they would be lucky to get a hundred thousand.
She’d put the property on the market a year ago, the same day she’d finally gone to the lawyers to have Logan declared legally dead. Then, a contrary streak in her reversed her original plan and she’d filed for divorce first. When it was final, she’d started the paperwork to declare Logan dead. Now the children could inherit. Until that day the three of them had refused even to discuss any monies that might result from the sale of their father’s property. Two hundred thousand dollars each would allow them to pay off their mortgages, put some money aside for the children’s college education, possibly take a vacation and sock whatever was left into a nice mutual fund where it would grow nicely for their retirement.
Even Tyler had agreed and said now he could buy himself a little house on the beach somewhere so when he had leave he would have someplace to go home to. She’d expected strong opposition from Mike, but he’d agreed once he saw the papers for the divorce and the death certificate.
“Do you want to come upstairs or do you want to wait down here?” Kristine asked the girls. Silly question; both of them were halfway up the long staircase, Gracie and Slick waiting at the top. Kristine stifled a giggle as Ellie, padded to the nines, had to use her hands on each step to help her get to the top.
On the second floor, Kristine walked from room to room as the children and the dogs ran up and down the hallway, hollering and shrieking. Everything looked to be in order. Jackson Valarian had carted all the old trunks and records out of the attic years ago. Nothing remained except cobwebs.
Kristine had one bad moment when she opened the door to the room that had once been her husband’s. Her eyes felt hot and gritty as she stared at the faded wallpaper and the rotten wood around the windows. What did Logan do in this room besides sleep? Did he sit by the window and daydream about her? Did he study here or at the kitchen table? Did he bring friends to his room where they played games or told secrets? Did he hide under the covers at night to read with a flashlight the way she had? She should know these things, but she didn’t. She realized now that she had never known the real Logan Kelly at all.
“Time to go, girls! Gracie! Slick! Where are you?” Kristine singsonged as she closed the door behind her.
“You have to find us, Granny,” a small voice near the attic steps shouted.
“Where can my little girls be?” Kristine said, playing the game. “Oh, I found you! Come on, you have to come out. What’s that?”
Gracie backed up and growled. Slick did his circle dance, which he always performed when he was upset.
“A magic wand!” Emily said. “It’s a secret place. It’s dark!”
“Let me see!” Kristine said, dropping to her haunches as the girls scampered out of the small dark, hidey-hole.
Kristine clawed and waved her hands about as she pulled and tugged. She sneezed when she pulled out old blankets, a flashlight, a pile of books, and something dark that felt like fur. She dragged the contents to the window at the second-floor landing.
“What’s this? What’s this?” Emily babbled as she picked up the flashlight and some old, cracked dishes.
Kristine shook out the cape, her gaze going to what Emily called the magic wand and the piles of old National Geographic magazines. Her eyes started to burn again. “I think this might be ... someone’s secret.” Why couldn’t she say, your grandfather’s secret? Because the man who was the grandfather to these two little girls didn’t deserve the recognition. “I think we’ll just put this stuff in the back of the truck and take it home. Careful going down the steps.”
Kristine’s hands trembled as she rolled the old blankets into a tight ball. Tonight when the children were asleep, she’d go through these things. Why, she didn’t know.
Kristine lowered the back window of the Blazer, tossed in the rolled blankets, and withdrew the sled from the top of the truck. “Okay, ladies, pile on. Emily, you hold Gracie, and Ellie, you hold Slick. Do not pinch him, Ellie. If you do, he’ll nip your nose. Be gentle.”
“Okay, Granny.”
The next two hours passed in a weary blur as Kristine pulled the tykes up and down the small hill on the Flexible Flyer. She whooped and shouted until she was hoarse as they tumbled in the snow after each ride.
When the first fat snowflakes began to fall, Kristine herded her charges into the car for the short ride home, but not before she scooped up the two small soaking wet dogs and stuck them inside her down jacket.
They sang “Jingle Bells” all the way back to the farm, the children’s voices high and sweet, Kristine’s weary and off-key. The dogs snoozed contentedly against Kristine’s warm body inside her jacket.
The production of removing boots, wet mittens, wool caps, and the bright red snowsuits took fifteen minutes. Kristine used up another five minutes wrapping Gracie and Slick in bright blue towels. They were asleep as soon as she placed them in their beds.
“How does hot chocolate and peanut butter and jelly sound? Then a nice nap.”
“Me have Gummi Bears,” Ellie said wistfully.
“Marshmallows, Granny,” Emily said hopefully.
“Gummi Bears when you wake up and absolutely there will be marshmallows in the hot chocolate. Wash your hands and go to the bathroom. Emily, help your sister.”
By one-thirty the girls were sound asleep. Kristine was interrupted twice by the phone as she cleared the kitchen and then started to pack all the files and papers in the dining room for pending action after the holidays. The first call was from Jackson Valarian.
Kristine smiled at the bantering voice on the other end of the wire. “I know you are chomping at the bit, Jack, but it is just a few more weeks, and we can make our decision then. Yes, I know you’ve written the story in your sleep one hundred times. I’m weary too. Four years is a long time to wait for anything. You need to get married and have a family so you can think of other things. By the way, I went over to the Kelly farm this morning to walk through the house one last time. I found some odd things. To me they’re odd. A faux ermine cape, a bunch of blankets and old towels, a flashlight and piles of National Geographics. Actually, Emily found them in a kind of hidey-hole under the attic stairs, I brought the stuff home. I don’t know why I’m telling you this since it doesn’t have anything to do with anything. I’ll see you on the second of January. If you like, Jack, you can come for dinner Christmas Eve and spend the night. My children will be here, and I know you got along well with Mike. You’ll like Tyler, too. Okay, it’s a date then.”
“Kristine?”
“Yes.”
“I just want to say again how sorry I am that we couldn’t find any information on your husband. I’m grateful that you went through with your end of the bargain. If this is none of my business just say so, but I’ve been wondering if you’ve heard from Mr. Dunwoodie? Him we could probably find if you want us to.”
Kristine tried to remember at what point she’d become Kristine to the young reporter. When a date refused to come to mind she shrugged it off. It was strange, though, that Woodie had always been Mr. Dunwoodie to Jack. “I sent a letter a little while ago asking him to come for Christmas Eve. I haven’t had a response.”
“Does he know you got a divorce and had your husband declared legally dead? Or is that something I shouldn’t be asking.”
Oftentimes, when they worked late at night and both were tired, she would share a cup of coffee with the reporter and let her hair down. As a friend, Jack had every right to ask the questions he was asking. “It’s okay to ask, Jack. I didn’t tell him. I suppose it’s possible he could know from someone in town. It is what it is, Jack. Life is going to go on no matter who comes to dinner Christmas Eve and no matter if I’m divorced or not. I guess I’m more a widow than a divorcee, but then I filed for divorce first. I should know the answer to that, but I don’t,” Kristine said fretfully.
“I don’t think it matters in the scheme of things, Kristine. So, how’s the Christmas shopping going. I know how to put doll buggies together and all that girl stuff. My sister has three girls, and I always have to do it.”
Kristine laughed. “I’ll remember that. I think I have it covered. When the girls wake up we’re going to start to decorate the house. It’s snowing. That means any minute now I expect to be riddled with Christmas spirit.”
“Good for you. It’s snowing here in Washington, too. The city is about to shut down. I’ll see you Christmas Eve, Kristine.”
“You’re sure your family won’t mind?”
“Not at all. They’re going to Oklahoma to spend the holidays with my sister who just had a new baby. The first boy, so it’s a big deal. I’m going for New Year’s.”
After Kristine hung up, she checked on her sleeping grandchildren and the dogs before she dressed for the outdoors in a heavy jacket and fur-lined boots. It was time to gather the evergreens to decorate the house. Time to bring the stuff from the Kelly farm inside so she could try to figure out what it all meant. Time to put something in the Crock-Pot for dinner before the girls woke from their naps.
It was midafternoon when Kristine sat down by the kitchen fire to sip at a cup of freshly brewed coffee. The dogs stirred but remained in their cocoon, warm and content. The pungent smell of evergreens on the newspapers by the back door was more heady than the expensive perfume on her dresser. She inhaled deeply as she stared through the window at the falling snow. In another hour or so it would look like a winter wonderland outdoors. Perhaps if the girls were up to it, they would go outside and make Christmas angels in the snow. She’d done that with her own mother when she was little, but she’d never done it with her own children.
“The past is prologue, Kristine. Don’t look back. You can’t unring the bell,” she murmured as she got up to refill her coffee cup.
Her world was almost perfect. If it was a perfect world, would she be bouncing off the ceiling with happiness? If everything was perfect, where would the challenge be? What would there be to look forward to?
Kristine eyed the beige wall phone, willing it to ring. It did. She bounded out of the chair to catch it on the second ring so it wouldn’t wake the children. “Hello,” she said breathlessly.
“Mom?”
“Cala, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong, Mom. Pete says we should stay in town. The roads are bad. Is that okay with you? How are the kids?”
“Pete’s right. It’s snowing pretty hard. The girls are fine. We went sled riding. They had a wonderful time. They ate all their lunch and should be waking up soon. We’re going to make snow angels down by the barn when it’s time to feed the dogs. We’re making decorations when they wake up, then it’s cookie-baking time after dinner. You and Pete enjoy yourselves.”
“Do they miss us?” Cala asked wistfully.
Kristine blinked. “They jabbered about you all morning long,” she fibbed.
“Snow angels, huh?”
Kristine blinked again. “Yes.”
“I don’t think we ever did that, did we, Mom?”
“No, Cala, we didn’t. When you were younger, we lived in warm climates with no snow. When you were older, you were ... I was too busy. I used to do it with my mother. If you don’t think it’s a good idea, we won’t do it.”
“No, no. The girls love snow. I promised to make a snowman with them.”
“I know,” Kristine fibbed again. “There will be plenty of snow to do that tomorrow, trust me.”
“I do, Mom. Trust you, I mean.”
“I know, Cala.”
“Pete’s giving me the evil eye. He wants to buy everything he sees for the girls.”
“That’s because he’s a doting father. Jackson Valarian called a little while ago. I invited him for Christmas Eve. He said he’s an expert at putting doll buggies and girl stuff together. I snapped him up.”
“That’s good, Mom, because Pete is all thumbs, and I can’t follow directions worth a darn. If I tell him, he’ll want to buy more. Make sure Ellie eats.”
“Okay. Go on now, hang up and be careful driving home tomorrow.”
“Bye, Mom. Love you.”
The sweetest words in the whole world. “Love you, too,” Kristine said happily.
Almost perfect.
Aaron Dunwoodie stood on the balcony of his rented condo to stare out at what the locals called the Pacific Jewel.
Hawaii, land of sunshine, luscious palm trees, gentle breezes, and sun-kissed beaches. His gaze was intent as he stared down at the honeymooners and the families with small children as they frolicked in the bright blue water.
Been there, done that. He had the deep bronze tan to prove it. He shifted his feet to lean on the railing. He was bored out of his mind. He’d read just about every book in the library plus all the local newspapers. He’d played endless games of solitaire until he’d worn out the cards, refusing to buy another deck. He’d watched inane television shows until he no longer bothered turning on the monster set in the living room. He’d long ago given up on the radio because he couldn’t bear to listen to what he called mushy love songs. He’d actually screwed up his courage, driven to the North Shore, and surfed the Banzai Pipeline. He’d washed out, but that was okay. He’d done it and would have gone back a second time until he heard a bunch of brash kids refer to him as ‘that old duffer on the boogie board.’ Shit, I am an old duffer. An old duffer who still had all his hair and teeth and a solid waistline. An old duffer who could still get it up when and if the occasion warranted. He’d sold his surfboard the second day for a quarter of what he paid for it originally. His dreams of being the Big Kahuna were shot down by a bunch of pimply, smart-ass kids.
I feel fucking old.
Kristine said she loved Hawaii. Did she love the islands for what they were or did she love Hawaii because she’d come here with Logan and her children? He had to admit he didn’t know.
From off in the distance he heard the afternoon bell signaling the mail was in along with his copy of the New York Times and USA Today.
Who in the goddamn hell spent Christmas in Hawaii? He needed to get out of here. He needed to go someplace where it was cold so he could shiver and think about what he was going to do with the rest of his life.
He’d made a mistake where Kristine was concerned. He never should have left that day. He never should have given her an ultimatum. Ultimatums never worked for either party. All you had in the end were regrets. And he sure as hell had a bushelful of those.
Pride had to be the most serious sin of all.
If he wanted to, he could be out of here in a heartbeat. For the past three months he’d lived in bathing trunks. Hell, he hadn’t even bothered to unpack his winter clothes. All he had to do was gather up his shaving gear, throw his summer shorts, trunks, and sandals in a duffel, call the maid to clean out the fridge, and he was on his way.
If he wanted to.
“Shit!” he said succinctly.
He was a man with a purpose as he headed for the elevator that would take him to the ground floor for his mail and papers.
Woodie carried the packet back to his apartment and dumped it on the dining room table. He popped a Budweiser and carried the papers to the small deck off the living room. He sighed. He’d always been conscientious to a fault. He trotted back to the dining room, ripped at the clasp on the bank envelope, and unceremoniously dumped the contents onto the glass-topped table with its elaborate silk flower arrangement. Bank statements, a pile of Christmas cards. He recognized his ex-wife’s handwriting on one of the cards. Then he saw it, the familiar handwriting, the long white envelope with the return address of Summers Farm in the left-hand corner. His hands trembled so badly he could barely pick it up, and when he did, it dropped to the floor.
Woodie tortured himself for several minutes before he could pick it up a second time. Then he brought it close to his nose to see if it carried his love’s scent. It did. For one brief moment he thought he was going to black out.
Kristine.