“Wait!” Carson stood and followed Lily, stopping at the cabin door.
Still on the porch, she turned. She looked over her shoulder, biting her lip, her blue coat bright against a background of diamond-crusted snow.
“I didn’t mean you should leave. Visiting the dogs isn’t a bad idea.” He couldn’t believe he was saying that.
But he didn’t want Lily to go, and when he examined his reasons, he wasn’t entirely sure what they were.
One of them, he reminded himself firmly, was finding out more about Pam’s death. Because Carson needed to move on. As the girls got older, he was realizing just how much they needed a mother’s touch; witness their clingy behavior toward Lily. Their concerns and issues were getting more complicated, too. He needed a partner in parenting.
The undeniable tug he felt toward Lily reminded him he might need a partner’s love and companionship for himself, too.
“I want to go visit Long John and see how his Christmas is going,” Carson said, directing the comment to both Lily and the girls, who were now pressing against his sides. “And then we’ll do a little sledding and snowman-building, and then we’ll see.” He reached out toward Lily, an automatic welcoming gesture.
At least, he thought that was all it was.
She looked at his hand and then at him, and a flush rose to her cheeks.
What did that mean?
“We’d be honored if you’d stay and spend more time with us,” he said.
The girls pushed their way past him and out the door, tugging at Lily with their surely very sticky hands. “Stay! Play with us today!”
Yes. They needed for Carson to find them a mother figure, and soon. They were attaching themselves to Lily way too much, too soon, and he shouldn’t be encouraging it.
After he’d found out what he wanted to know—and tried to offer her some counseling and support, as he’d promised Penny he would—he’d create some natural distance.
And then this Christmastime at the ranch would be over, and they’d go their separate ways.
He shook that thought away as Lily looked searchingly at him. “If you’re sure, I’ll visit with you for a little while,” she said, her voice hesitating. Obviously, she was uncertain of her welcome.
Or was she hiding something? What did she know about Pam?
Thoughts of his wife’s flirtatious behavior with other men crowded in, even as he tried to push them away. Had Pam been headed for an assignation with a lover when she’d blundered into enemy fire? Did Lily know something about it, and was she just too kind to tell him?
“Come on, girls—coats and boots and hats and mittens before we can play in the snow,” he said, and the flurry of getting them and himself ready, of pulling saucer sleds out of the truck and finding a suitably safe hill for sledding, helped to clear his thoughts.
The safest hill they found sloped down from Long John’s cabin, so Lily and Carson stood at the top and watched the girls race each other on their plastic sleds, squealing. Long John came out on his little back deck and waved, but declined their invitation to come down.
“I’m taking it easy today,” he said. Code for his Parkinson’s acting up, Carson suspected.
“Are you sure?” Lily smiled at the older man. “It’s a beautiful day. We can come up and help you.”
“No, thanks. I’m just going to stay inside and watch my birds.” Long John gestured toward the seed-and-peanut-butter pinecones he’d hung all around the porch. Nuthatches and warblers darted and flew around them.
Long John waved and went inside. A moment later he appeared in his chair by the window, where he could watch his birds and the girls, too.
“He’s good at making a life for himself,” Lily said thoughtfully. “We could all learn something from him.”
“That’s true.” They walked over a few feet to where there was a big rock to perch on. A couple of ponderosa pines loomed behind them, and Lily looked up. “They’re so beautiful,” she said. “I love the green against the blue sky and the snow.”
A bit of nature lore emerged from somewhere in the back of his brain. “Smell the trunk of the tree,” he urged her.
“Smell it?”
He nodded, and gamely she walked up to the trunk and sniffed. Her face lit up. “Butterscotch?”
“Or vanilla. It’s the only tree that smells like cookies.”
“That’s so cool!” Her cheeks were pink and just for a minute she looked carefree and delighted.
Carson couldn’t take his eyes off her.
She flushed and looked away. Then she frowned up at Carson. “Hey, I’m sorry I contributed to that mess with the dogs. I shouldn’t have even mentioned dogs to the girls. I hated to see them so upset.”
“They’ve rebounded quickly.” Carson gestured toward the twins as they reached the top of the little slope, tugging their plastic sleds, and then plopped down together to slide down the hill again. “Don’t blame yourself. I feel bad about not getting them the present they really wanted, but the truth is, I’m hard-pressed to manage our home life already. Taking care of a puppy is beyond me.”
“You seem like you’re doing a great job.”
“Thank you.” He hesitated as a natural way into a difficult conversation came to him. “Did Pam say anything to you about how I was as a father?”
Lily looked at him quickly and then looked away. “Not really,” she said, her voice uneasy.
“How well did you and Pam know each other?” he pressed. “From what she said, you were pretty close.” In fact, he’d gotten a completely different impression of Lily from Pam than how she was now. Pam had made it sound like she was a drinker and partier, wilder even than Pam herself.
The woman beside him didn’t match that description at all. Could she have changed that much? Or had Pam been wrong?
“Miss Lily! Come sledding!”
“Okay!” Lily slogged through the snow toward them without a glance back at Carson, which left him wondering: What would have been her answer to his question?
* * *
Later that afternoon, Lily sat wrapped in a snug fleece blanket in a comfortable chair in her cabin, trying to read a Christmas book.
The picture on the cover, a snow-covered Victorian home all decorated for Christmas, matched the sweet story, and normally she’d have been swept away. But her eyes kept drifting to the window and the scene outside.
Carson and the twins were building a snowman, laughing and shouting. They’d gotten one giant ball on top of the other to form the snowman’s body and now were rolling a smaller ball for the head.
She watched Carson kneel to help the girls pat more snow into place. He was a good man, a good dad. When he’d asked her how well she and Pam had known each other, what Pam had said about him, she hadn’t wanted to tell him. Still didn’t.
It was hard to understand why Pam had misled her so badly. Why had Pam wanted her to think she had an abusive husband? Was it possible that Carson used to be that way? After all, Lily herself had done a 180-degree turnaround in the past few years. Maybe Carson had, too.
But watching his gentleness with his girls, noticing the way he interacted with Long John and his parishioners, it was simply impossible to imagine that he’d ever been the bully of Pam’s vivid stories.
Maybe she should tell him the truth. Was it worse to mislead someone, or to knowingly hurt them?
This morning, the opportunity to ride a sleigh down the hill with the girls had come as a welcome interruption. When Carson had approached her again, she’d pleaded cold and work and gone inside.
But it bothered her. She and Pam had started out so close. Notorious for being the most party-happy females on the base, they’d spent a lot of time together in all sorts of conditions.
Which made the way things had ended even worse.
And if there had been a sense of betrayal between Lily and Pam, how much worse would Pam’s final actions feel to Carson, her husband?
Lily should have found a better way to handle the whole situation. Should have sat down in a friendly way with Carson and told him, “Look, here’s what Pam said, here’s what happened.”
Lily couldn’t figure out a way to do that without hurting Carson in the process. And a selfish part of her didn’t want to admit her own role, to destroy forever the warm way he’d looked at her.
A knock on the door, followed by a high, piping “Miss Lily!” pulled her out of her low thoughts.
She hurried over and opened the door, and the sight of Sunny and Skye made her smile. “Hi, girls! How’s the snowman coming along?”
“He’s getting real big!” Skye said, pointing.
“But we need help,” Sunny added. “Do you have a carrot for his nose?”
She looked over their heads to where Carson was shoveling, but he didn’t glance their way. Did he know the girls were here? Had he encouraged them to come?
“I do have a carrot,” she said slowly. “Come on inside and I’ll get it for you.”
They came inside but stayed on the mat by the door. “Your cabin is a lot like ours,” Skye said. “And you like to read, too, just like Daddy!”
“Does your dad read to you?” she asked as she pulled a couple of carrots from her refrigerator.
“Uh-huh. Right now, he’s reading us a Christmas book called The Story of Holly and Ivy, about a little girl who doesn’t have a family.”
“It’s sad,” Skye said, “but Daddy promised us it will have a happy ending. Will you come out and help us finish our snowman?”
Lily made a pretense of washing the carrots while she pondered. She wasn’t exactly enjoying her solitary time in the cabin, and she’d been watching the progress of the snowman with interest. It was beautiful and sunny out, and she’d love to get a little more fresh air.
And company, she realized. Seeing Carson and his girls made her aware of the family she didn’t have.
But she didn’t need to get any more involved with them. Didn’t need to hear any more of Carson’s questions, nor struggle more to conceal the truth.
She turned toward the girls, and the sight of the two eager faces swayed her resolve to stay inside. “Here you go,” she said.
“Won’t you come?”
Inspiration hit. “I’ll bring my camera,” she said, “and take some of the family photos I’m supposed to do. We’ll do some today and some tomorrow. That way, we’ll have different lights and clothes.”
And she’d have a barrier between herself and Carson. The camera could be a friend that way, giving her something to do and allowing the right amount of distance from people.
She pulled on her coat and mittens and boots and followed the girls outside, inhaling the fresh, cold air. Notes of pine and spruce added to the holiday feeling, and sun sparkled off the snow.
You couldn’t doubt the existence of God when you saw His amazing handiwork.
She picked up Skye and let her poke the carrot in for the nose, noticing that she had a tiny mole on her cheek. Then she lifted up Sunny to put in the chocolate-cookie eyes Carson had brought out. This close, she could see that Sunny had a tiny scar in her hairline.
So they weren’t identical, and Lily felt satisfied knowing that she could tell them apart, even if they were sleeping.
Although, why would that be of interest to her? It wasn’t as if she were going to be involved with this family after the holidays.
“So they talked you into coming out again?” Carson’s deep, friendly voice behind her danced along her nerve endings.
She held up her camera like a shield. “I thought I’d get some of the family photos done today,” she said, “if that’s okay with you.”
“We’re not exactly dressed up for the occasion,” he said. “I ought to at least comb their hair. And mine,” he added, forking fingers through his already mussed hair.
Lily shook her head. “You’re all rosy and active and happy. These will be great pictures. We’ll do dress-up clothes by the fireplace tomorrow.”
“If you’re sure.” He looked at her just a little longer than was necessary.
She broke her gaze away and studied her camera, making small adjustments, taking deep breaths. It must be the season that was giving her these odd feelings about Carson. She wasn’t one to get all fluttery around a man.
Carson tied a scarf around the snowman’s neck and then lifted the girls, one in each arm, to place his hat. Lily snapped photo after photo as they laughed and adjusted it. She could tell already that these would be a delight, much more appealing than anything posed.
“Come here, Miss Lily, let Daddy take your picture with us!”
Lily glanced at Carson to see him looking at her with his head cocked to one side. Was he thinking that it was inappropriate for her, a stranger, to be in a photo with his girls? Or that he’d like to see it?
He held out his phone. “I’ll just use this,” he said. “Your camera looks too high-tech for me.”
So she knelt beside the snowman, one girl on either side of her, and let him take pictures. As the girls laughed and mugged for the camera, she couldn’t help joining in. They were irresistible, these two sweethearts.
“Did you ever make snow angels?” she asked them.
They both frowned and shook their heads. “Show us how!”
So she lay down and moved her arms and legs, showing them how to make angels in the snow. Then she helped each of them do the same.
“I’m going to call my angel Miss Lily!” Sunny said.,
Skye looked thoughtful. “I’m going to call mine Mommy,” she said, “because our mommy would think they were pretty. Only, she can’t see them, because she’s in heaven.”
The words made Lily’s breath catch, and she glanced at Carson. His mouth had twisted to one side as he studied her and the girls.
Grief and shame pushed at her, but she didn’t get to wallow in her feelings, not when there were little girls to watch out for. She knelt and gave Skye a quick hug, then reached to have Sunny join in. “Your mommy just might be smiling from heaven to see your snow angels,” she said, “and that’s nice you’re naming yours after her. But it’s sweet you named one after me, too.”
Both girls clung on a little longer than she expected and she felt her chest tighten. Such dear children. They shouldn’t have lost their mother. Oh, Pam, why did you do what you did? How could you leave your girls motherless?
“Why don’t you make two more snowmen? Little ones, twin kids,” Carson suggested.
“Yeah!”
“Will you help?”
“I wonder if you can figure out how to do it yourself, now that you’ve had some practice?” Carson asked.
Hmm. Good parenting, or a desire to talk to Lily apart from the girls, especially now that Pam had figured so prominently in the conversation?
She supposed it was inevitable, so she brushed snow off her jacket and went to stand beside him. For a moment, they watched the girls argue about how to get started, and then Lily heard a sharp tapping, like a rapid drum. “What’s that?” she asked.
He looked around and then pointed. “There,” he said.
“Where?”
He came closer so she could look along his arm to his pointing finger, and she caught a whiff of his spicy aftershave. “See the bird?” he asked.
She saw it then, a small black, gray and white creature with a bright red spot on its head.
It seemed to notice them, for it stopped drilling, cocked its head and offered a quiet pik-pik-pik-pik.
“Downy woodpecker,” he volunteered.
She studied him. “How come a pastor knows so much about the outdoors?” she asked.
He laughed, a little self-consciously. “I was an only child. Spent a lot of time outdoors with my grandpa, and he taught me the names of the trees and the birds.” He laughed. “Pretty geeky, huh?”
“I think it’s cool,” she said. “When I was a kid, Aunt Penny sent me this deck of card-like things, birds of the Plains. I went all over my street and the fields nearby, trying to identify stuff.”
He smiled, started to say something, shook his head.
“What?”
“We have some things in common. Things Pam and I didn’t.”
She didn’t answer, afraid to walk onto that dangerous ground.
“You know,” he said as the girls worked together on twin snowmen, “Pam made some mistakes. I know that.”
She held her breath. What did he mean?
“You wouldn’t be hurting her memory if you told me she had a boyfriend, and that somehow contributed to her getting shot.”
She stared at him.
“I wasn’t what she wanted. She told me. I wasn’t exciting enough for her.”
Lily blew out a breath. On the one hand, she knew what Carson was talking about. Pam had been a seeker, never satisfied with what she had, always wanting more.
But Carson was such an amazing man. How would any woman married to him want someone else?
Yes, Pam had been a flirt, and it had made Lily uncomfortable because Pam was married. But she’d never taken it far, and she’d laughed when Lily had questioned her actions. “I’m married, not dead!” she would say.
It had bothered Lily even more toward the end of Pam’s time. When Pam had been drifting further and further away from Lily, when their lives had gone such different directions.
Once Lily had started studying the Bible, she’d realized that sins of thought and feeling counted, just like sins of action.
Raising those ideas with Pam, though, had been the beginning of the end of their friendship.
Carson was looking at her with calm expectation. How could a husband be that calm about the notion that his wife might have cheated on him?
“I mean, look at today,” he said. “My girls wanted a puppy, and did I get them one? No. Because I’m boring and no fun, just like Pam said.”
“Not true,” she said firmly. “You know what you can handle and what’s right for your family.” She hesitated, wondering how much to say. But at least she could reassure him on one score. “She didn’t have a boyfriend, Carson. If she had, she would’ve told me.”
“I just keep trying to understand it,” he said. “She wasn’t supposed to be in the line of fire. And you knew… Did you know? She was expecting a baby.”
“What?” She stared at him, his words echoing crazily in her ears.
Pam had been expecting a baby?
Expecting a baby.
A new wave of guilt washed over her, stealing her breath. By not saving Pam, Lily had deprived this family of a precious new member.
She knew, as a Christian, she was forgiven. But for this, Lord? How can I be forgiven for this?
“You didn’t know?”
She shook her head. That made everything so much worse. “Look,” she said desperately, “I’m so sorry. Sorry for your loss.” She blew out a breath. She was going to lose it here. “It’s been great to hang out with you guys, but I’m getting cold, and you need to spend time as a family. Take care, Carson.” She gave him a little wave and headed off toward her cabin.
* * *
After his conversation with Lily—and her abrupt departure—Carson felt like the girls needed some quiet time. And Carson needed some advice on how to get the truth out of Lily. You and Rockette up for a visit? he texted Long John.
Come on over, was the reply.
Moments later, the girls were settled in front of a Christmas movie with the ever-patient Rockette while Long John and Carson, bundled up, examined the splintered porch.
They talked beams and nails and braces for a few minutes, and then Carson dived in. “What would you do if you wanted to know something and you knew somebody knew about it, and they wouldn’t tell you?”
“Sounds like a puzzle.” Long John’s forehead wrinkled as he studied Carson. “Is this about Lily?”
How had the older man guessed so quickly? He nodded. “Uh-huh.”
“I’d ask myself why. What could that person stand to lose?”
Carson shook his head. “I can’t imagine. I’ve told her I understand that Pam was…or rather, that she wasn’t…” He bit off the sentence.
Compassion spread over Long John’s face. “I’d also ask myself,” he said, “if I really wanted to know whatever truth that person was hiding.”
Did he? “Yes,” Carson said, “I think I do. I need to know so I can move on.”
Long John picked up a handful of nails and began to sort them by size. “You sure you’re not the one running away?” he asked. “If you’ve made this a barrier to getting involved with anyone else, well…” He didn’t look at Carson but laid the nails down in a line, neat despite the Parkinson’s tremor in his hands.
“I just…” Carson started pulling the rotting board from the porch, using the claw of the hammer. “If you’ve been married and it didn’t go well, you ought to take a look at what happened. Especially when there are two little ones involved in any mistakes you might make.”
“True enough,” Long John said.
They were silent for a couple of minutes, Long John handing him nails as he moved down the new board, hammering. Then the older man said, “Sometimes, you have to turn to the Lord. Ever think about that?”
The words hit Carson like a hammer bigger than the one he held in his hand. “You shouldn’t have to tell me that. Some preacher I am.” He ought to be counseling Long John, not the other way around.
“Sometimes the doctor needs a doctor,” Long John said. “You’re young. Maybe too young to realize that moving on from what’s hurt you in the past isn’t always a matter of finding out every detail.”
“But I want to know.” Carson pounded in a nail with punishing force. And then another one. And then he glanced up to see Long John watching him steadily.
I’m angry, he realized. But at whom?
The sound of a car engine and tires crunching on snow were a welcome distraction. A big SUV pulled to a halt and one of his parishioners, Minnie Patton, climbed out.
Carson’s heart sank a little, but he overcame it quickly. “Hello, Minnie,” he called.
“The last thing I need is a visit from General Patton,” Long John muttered beside him.
Carson swallowed a smile. He knew a number of church members called Minnie “The General,” and it wasn’t only because of her surname.
“I heard you were up here alone,” Minnie said to Long John as she opened the back door of the SUV.
“He’s not alone, Minnie,” said a voice from the passenger seat. Beatrice, Minnie’s younger sister, was a sweet woman who rarely got a word in edgewise.
Minnie pulled a large casserole dish from the back seat. “You shouldn’t be out here in the cold,” she scolded as she approached Long John.
“And Merry Christmas to you, Minnie,” Long John said with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. “I’m going to say hello to your sister.” His glance at Carson was eloquent: save me.
Carson watched as Long John greeted Beatrice, who lowered the window with a smile. Even from here, Carson could see the scarf that covered Beatrice’s bald head, her pale, thin face. Chemo had been hard on her, and not the least of it was that she’d had to move in with Minnie.
As she looked up at Long John, though, Beatrice’s eyes sparkled, and her thin face curved into a smile.
Carson shoved down a sigh as General Patton—Minnie—approached. “Merry Christmas,” he said, shaking her hand.
“It would be merrier if you were down in town instead of up here vacationing like a man of leisure,” she said. “What if someone in your congregation falls ill?”
The ones who need love the most are the hardest to love. “If someone from the church has a problem, I’ll come down to town, of course. Let me help you with that casserole.”
“I’ll take it inside,” she said, turning to block him from taking it from her. She was obviously planning to go in the house. Which presented its own set of problems, because the girls very distinctly didn’t like Miss Minnie. Carson couldn’t blame them; no one liked being called “poor little motherless things.”
“Long John,” Carson called, still standing in Miss Minnie’s path, “what would you like us to do with this casserole?”
“Well, obviously,” Minnie said, “I’m going to take it inside and heat it up and dish it out.” She looked back at Long John, and for the first time, hesitancy came into her voice and manner. “If you’d like, John,” she said, “I could stay and eat with you.”
Long John glanced down at Beatrice, reached for her hand and squeezed it. Then he came over to where Minnie and Carson were engaged in a standoff, him blocking the way to the house and her trying to get past him, and both of them trying to smile.
“Minnie,” Beatrice called, her voice gentle, “it’s getting colder. I think we should head on home.”
“But—”
Long John took the casserole dish. “Thank you kindly,” he said. “I’ll enjoy this tonight and for the rest of the week. For now, though, I’m going to take a nap.”
Minnie turned to Carson as if to get his support.
“I’m sure you understand Long John’s need to rest,” he said gently. “It was kind of you to bring him food. The true spirit of Christmas.”
She narrowed her eyes and tilted her head as if trying to gauge his sincerity. Then she turned her palms up, spun and marched back to the SUV.
Carson and Long John waved to Beatrice and then watched the two women drive away.
“Close call,” Long John said. Then he winked at Carson. “Sometimes it’s the quiet ones who have something to offer. You remember that.”
Carson lifted an eyebrow. “Something going on with you and Beatrice?”
“I wish,” Long John said. “Maybe I was referring to our new friend Lily. Penny tells me your first wife was the dramatic sort. That Lily, though, she has a lot going on underneath.”
Carson didn’t answer. What could he say?
“You’re not the only one who has things to deal with in the past,” Long John persisted. “At least according to what Penny told me, Lily has had it rough.”
That made Carson wince. He’d been so preoccupied with Lily’s secrets about Pam that he’d neglected to offer her the pastoral counseling Penny had requested he do.
As he headed inside to collect the girls, he resolved that he’d make progress toward that before the day was out.