Angels in the Snow (21 page)

“Joe heard the snowplows on the highway. He wanted to catch them so they could pull their van back onto the road.” Charles shook his head. “I tried to talk them out of it, but they wouldn't listen. They left shortly before dawn.”

Judith made her way to one of the stools and sat down. “But I don't understand.”

“I don't either,” he confessed, his brow creased in concern.

“We were going to have such a great Christmas,” Jennifer complained. “Now everything is ruined.”

“No, it's not,” Alex countered. “I'm as sorry as you that they left, but I guess they figured they had a good reason. Maybe they had grandparents or somebody waiting for them. Anyway, it's still Christmas, and we can still have a good day with just us.”

Judith stared at her son, hearing the mixture of confidence and fear in his voice. He wanted the day to be good, and that alone bolstered her spirits. Two days ago he wouldn't have cared one way or the other. But he was scared, too, that they might not succeed.

She shifted her gaze to Jennifer, and the anxious expression on her face helped strengthen Judith's conviction. Her children had learned a lot from the Walkers' brief presence in their lives. They knew now how satisfying family life could be. They were willing to try; so was Charles. It remained only for her to pitch in, too.

Her eyes met Charles's once more, and a slow smile lifted her lips. “Yes. Though we all wish they could have stayed, we can still have a lovely Christmas.”

They ate breakfast in the living room with the tree twinkling behind them, beckoning them to partake of the bounty beneath it. The mound of gifts was truly impressive, but Charles good-naturedly dictated that they finish their breakfast first; they'd need the energy for opening all those presents.

As soon as the dishes were in the dishwasher, Jennifer planted herself at the base of the tree and began to pick up and shake the gifts. “This one's for you, Alex. And here's one for me.” She giggled and glanced at her parents. “And this one . . .” Her happy expression faded. “This one's for Josie.” She stared at her mother. “What should we do with it?”

“Just put it aside for now, honey. We'll decide later what to do with the Walkers' gifts.”

Alex suggested, “They live in a place called Edgard. We could mail them their gifts, and maybe they'd write back to us.”

“We could invite them to visit us,” Jennifer threw in. “Hey, we could even meet them here again next year for Christmas!”

Judith met Charles's gaze and saw the same mixture of love and hopefulness that she felt. Their children would never forget this Christmas. In spite of anything else the future might hold, there would always be fond memories of this Christmas and their unexpected guests.

“Those are both good ideas, kids. What do you say, Jude? Wouldn't you like to spend next Christmas here and invite the Walkers to join us?”

Judith hesitated. Though simply phrased, his question was loaded with subjects she wasn't quite ready to address. He wanted to know if they would be together next Christmas, and she didn't know. But Alex and Jennifer looked at her with such happy, hopeful faces that she couldn't avoid answering.

“You guys are ganging up on me, aren't you? That's a whole year away.”

“Aw, come on, Mom,” Jennifer pleaded. “You've had a good time while we've been here.”

“Yes, I have,” she admitted softly. “But who knows how we'll feel next winter?”

The disappointment on Jennifer's and Alex's faces was immediate, and Judith felt a terrible sense of guilt. Who was she trying to fool? The truth was, she'd rather spend next Christmas—and all the ones to follow—here with her family than anyplace else on earth. Why couldn't she admit it?

She swallowed hard and forced a smile. “Don't look so glum,” she said, avoiding Charles's searching gaze. “If nothing interferes, we can have Christmas here next year. Assuming we can use this house again.”

“Yes!” Jennifer shouted.

“And we can invite the Walkers?” Alex asked with an expectant smile.

“Of course.” Unable to help herself, she peered cautiously at Charles.

She'd expected to find a triumphant grin on his face, but to her surprise—and confusion—he appeared more relieved than anything else. He stared at her as if trying to see right through her. Then he gave her a faint, wavering smile and mouthed the silent words
Thank you.

Judith blinked back a rush of sudden tears. She was a hopeless optimist and a ridiculous romantic, a dangerous combination. Yet she couldn't deny the happiness in her heart. She would try. For another year, she would give this marriage her all. But she wouldn't make it easy on Charles this time; he'd have to meet her at least halfway.

“Here, Mom. This is for you and Dad. Open it together,” Alex said, giving them a sheepish grin. He thrust a small package into her hand, one clumsily wrapped in tissue paper with red curling ribbon. He ducked his head when she stared at him, so she turned toward Charles.

“Shall we?”

He moved to sit next to her on the couch. “Go ahead. You open it.”

Jennifer and Alex watched anxiously as she tore the paper off. When Judith held up the precisely carved wooden ornament, the two children sat back, obviously pleased by the dumbstruck expressions on their parents' faces.

“Oh, my. This is truly exquisite,” Judith managed to whisper past the huge lump that had formed in her throat. She held up the ornament by the ribbon tied to it and watched it twist back and forth in the air. It was a cluster of mistletoe—berries, leaves, and branching stems, all intricately fashioned to look very realistic.

“You carved this?” Charles asked, staring in amazement at Alex. At the boy's proud nod, he shook his head in wonder. “This is incredible, Alex. You have a real talent for this.”

“It's the guitar playing,” Jennifer boasted, shooting her brother a fond smile. “His fingers are really strong and really sensitive. It makes sense, doesn't it?”

Alex cleared his throat. “Well, we talked about mistletoe yesterday, and it seemed like we ought to have some. So, I got the idea to carve some.” He thrust a similar-looking package at Jennifer. “Here. This one's for you. It's not as good,” he hastened to add, “ 'cause I did it first.”

Jennifer's carving was a snowflake, complete with eight identical prongs. “It's beautiful!” she exclaimed. She leaned over to kiss his cheek. “Thanks, Alex. I love it. I'm going to put it on the tree right now. There,” she said, once it was hanging in a prominent location. Then she turned to face her parents. “Okay, now you have to open my present.”

Judith was already shaken by the overpowering emotions at play in their little family. She bit down on her lip when Jennifer handed her a flat package. “Let your dad . . .” she barely managed to say.

Charles took the gift, then impulsively pulled his daughter close for a tight hug. “I love you, sweetheart. And you, too, sport,” he added with a heartfelt smile at Alex. Then he released Jennifer and cleared his throat. “Let's see now. What have we here?”

Inside the package was an ordinary spiral binder, but the cover had a lace paper doily glued to it. On the first page was printed in a neat curling script,
A Christmas to Remember.

Charles glanced up at Judith, and she smiled back at him in bemusement. She turned the page, and read, “This book is dedicated to my parents and my brother, Alex. Also to our friends Joe, Marilyn, Robbie, Lucy, and Josie.”

“It's a book I'm writing,” Jennifer explained. “I'm going to write a story about Christmas and animals and children. I remember what Alex said about writing words that will be remembered forever, and how I remembered the words ‘Some pig,' and then so did Lucy. So I decided to write a book that people will really like, and maybe they'll remember something I said in it. And I'm dedicating it to all of you.”

Charles thumbed through the first few pages, so laboriously covered with the beginnings of Jennifer's story. “My daughter, the writer, and my son, the musician and wood-carver.” He beamed at them, and Judith knew his pride was total.

“Oh, Jennifer,” she said. “This is just wonderful. Will you let us read it as it progresses? Or will we have to wait until you finish?”

“Better let us read it all along,” Alex advised. “It might be hard to stay motivated on a long project like this without somebody's encouragement.”

Jennifer nodded seriously. “You're probably right.”

The rest of the gifts were more predictable, and Judith was almost relieved. She was in too emotional a state to take much more. Even then, however, the least little thing seemed to prod her to tears. Slippers picked because they were her favorite color, teal blue. A pound of her very favorite selection of Godiva chocolates.

Their responses to her gift choices were almost as affecting. Alex loved the digital voice recorder that would allow him to record and remember lyric ideas wherever he was. Jennifer squealed with delight to receive a day of luxury at her mother's favorite salon.

“A manicure and a pedicure!” she exclaimed. “Just like a grown-up.”

Though Alex laughed at the idea, Jennifer was unperturbed. “I bet they could even do wonders with
your
hair,” she retorted gaily.

“Walking shoes,” Charles said, looking up from a box he'd opened. “Is this a hint?” he asked Judith with a smile.

“I thought you might enjoy walking. As a way to exercise
and
relax.” Then she continued on, saying what she'd long thought, but never voiced. “All your activities are so competitive, Charles. Work, tennis, and racquetball. But walking isn't . . .” She trailed off, wondering why she'd ever thought walking shoes were a good idea.

“Then I guess that means I can't discuss business when I walk,” he teased. “Is walking a solitary sport, or can wives come along?”

He didn't wait for a response. Maybe he was afraid of her answer, Judith thought, but his words gave her a tiny thrill.

Then he thrust an envelope into her hands. “Here. I hope you like it.”

Judith found herself shaking as she fumbled with the envelope flap. Jennifer and Alex were playing with the digital recorder, singing snatches of Christmas songs, then replaying them at slower and faster speeds. Charles, however, was staring straight at her, watching her with a guarded expression on his face.

The card was the typical extravagant avowals of a husband to a wife during the holiday season, compliments of Hallmark, and she read it with growing disappointment.

“Read the paper I put in there,” Charles prompted her when she looked up at him.

The paper was neatly hand lettered—a series of couplets, she realized.

In January we'll build a snowman together.

We'll keep ourselves warm, no matter the weather.

When February's patron, St. Valentine, visits,

He'll find us so happy, with true lovers' habits.

In March we'll take long lovely walks by the sea,

Or maybe the mountains, it's no matter to me.

Beneath April showers or among May's fresh flowers,

What counts most is the time we set off as ours.

In June let's go camping along with the kids.

In July how about fishing—

Judith looked up from the poem, hardly able to believe that he had written it for her. He could dictate into his ever-present recorder with ease, but putting pen to paper was torture for him. Yet here was a poem he had written just for her. She couldn't disguise the mist in her eyes, or the tumultuous emotions that rose in her chest.

“I'm going to make this the best year of our marriage,” he whispered for her ears only. “Just give me a chance to prove it, Jude. We'll do things together as a family, and we'll do things together, just you and me. We can take walks together. Go to the movies. Go out to eat without inviting anybody else to join us.”

Judith could not respond; the lump in her throat was too big. In that moment, however, she knew she wanted to try. She wanted her marriage back, and she would fight tooth and nail to make it work. How could she ever have considered abandoning it?

A sob broke through, and with a glad cry she threw her arms around Charles. August and September, and all the other months, were forgotten. She knew they'd find a way to sustain their marriage throughout the year to come, and beyond.

“Aw, aren't they sweet.” She heard Alex chuckle. Through her tear-blurred eyes, she saw that he was beaming.

Jennifer edged nearer her brother and wiped her eyes. “This is the best Christmas we've ever had,” she said with a teary smile.

“It truly is,” Judith agreed. She smiled up at Charles. “It truly is.”