The Christmas Bus (13 page)

“Not exactly,” Leslie admitted. “I mean, I like to dabble, but I’d never be able to support myself. But this,” she held up the cookie, “is excellent therapy.”

Edith smiled. “Well, I’m so glad you think so.” Then she went in the kitchen to see if the cake layers had cooled yet.

“Hello there,” called Charles as he came into the kitchen. “Sure smells good in here.”

“Did you find everything you needed for the engine?” she asked as she mixed some frosting for the cake.

“For the engine. But we had to order the tires, and they won’t be in until next week, after Christmas.”

“Oh . . .”

“Now, don’t worry, Edith. Hal Berry and I plan to do damage control in town this afternoon. We’re going to talk to the mayor, during his Santa break, and try to make him understand that this is just a temporary problem. We’ll also remind him that it wouldn’t look good if the newspapers heard that we forced those poor kids to hit the road with bald tires on packed snow.”

She smiled. “No, that wouldn’t look good.”

“And Hal has connections, you know.” He winked at her. Hal’s wife wrote the food column in their little weekly paper, and occasionally she sold a piece to one of the larger papers too.

“Sounds like you and Hal have it all taken care of.”

“Peter offered to help Collin finish up out there.” Charles was washing his hands in the sink now. “It gets a bit crowded with three heads under the hood. Besides, I was getting awfully cold. I think the temperature is dropping.”

“Oh, I hope that Collin and Amy are warm enough in there.”

“He said their noses get cold, but mostly they’re fine.”

“I’ll take them out an extra comforter just in case.”

“Yes, I figured you would, dear.” He dried his hands. “I’m heading to town now. Anything you need?”

She gave him her short list of mints, nuts, and punch mix for the shower. Then, thinking twice, she took it back and wrote very specifically what kinds of mints, nuts, and punch mix.

“You know me well,” he said as she handed it back.

That was true enough. Edith had learned from experience that if you simply wrote “mints,” he might return with a small box of Junior Mints or mint-flavored gum. He was a smart man when it came to books and sermons, but he was at a complete loss in a grocery store.

It was getting dusky out when Collin and Peter came into the house by way of the kitchen, which was feeling more and more like Grand Central Station. Edith looked up from her task of trying to make the cake look like something fit for a baby shower.

“I think we got it,” said Peter.

“Yeah,” said Collin. “Peter’s a genius.”

Peter nodded. “Thank you, my man. It’s nice that someone has finally noticed.”

“Amy asked me to get a load of laundry for her,” Collin said to Edith, and she directed him to the basement.

Now Peter seemed to be examining Edith’s cake. “What is
that
?”

She frowned. “It was supposed to be a bassinet.”

Peter laughed. “Looks more like a Volkswagen.”

“Thanks a lot.”

“You have any more of that pink and blue frosting?”

“Sure.” She studied him. “You want to take a stab at it? I know you’re more artistic than I am, but I don’t want to see any soldiers in camouflage.”

“I was thinking you should ask Leslie to help. She has a real knack.”

Edith held her hands up. “Now, why on earth didn’t I think of that? Go see if they’re still out there. It’s been so quiet, I think they might’ve finished.”

Then Edith took her metal spatula and proceeded to scrape off the mess of blue and pink that she had created. Thank goodness she’d made plenty of frosting.

“I hear you need help?” said Leslie, standing in the doorway to the kitchen.

“That’s right.” Edith nodded toward the white-frosted cake.

But Leslie didn’t make a move. Instead she pointed over her head. “The sign.”

Edith laughed. “Goodness, I’d almost forgotten about that. Seems that no one’s been paying attention to it lately anyway. Come on in.”

Leslie came over and looked at the blank cake. “Peter’s helping Megan to finish up the cookies. There’s about a dozen left. So what did you have in mind for this?”

Edith shrugged. “Something babyish. I only mixed blue and pink frostings. I attempted a bassinet, but Peter said it looked like a Volkswagen. I think it looked more like a big blob. Anyway, I removed it. Do whatever you like with it. Judging by your cookie skills, I’m sure you’ll have no problem.”

12

“Seems quiet around here tonight,” said Charles as he took a seat at the kitchen table.

“It’s really settled down.” Edith put the lid back on the boiling rice and turned the burner down to simmer. “It was getting pretty crazy earlier.”

“I see only two places set,” he observed. “Where’s our friend Myrtle tonight?”

Edith just shook her head. “You’re not going to believe it.”

“Try me.”

“Well, Leslie and little Megan had been helping me to decorate cookies, and then Leslie even did the decoration on the cake for the shower tomorrow—and what a beautiful job she did! But anyway, we were just finishing things up, and Myrtle walked in and asked Leslie and Megan what they were doing for dinner. At first I thought maybe she was going to invite them to join us, which would’ve been okay, actually, they’d been so helpful and all.”

“So Myrtle went to dinner with Leslie and Megan?”

“Yes, she pretty much invited herself, and then she even invited Peter.”

“Peter?” Charles looked confused.

“Peter had been helping with the cookies too, and he was still here. So the four of them went to dinner together.”

“Interesting . . .” Charles smiled.

“Oh, yes, and Peter told me to tell you that the engine is running just fine now. Collin called him a genius.”

“And how is our little mother-to-be?”

“I think she wore herself out doing laundry today. Her back’s been hurting, and she’s been resting. I took them out a comforter and some dinner. And they were very sweet and grateful.” She sadly shook her head. “But that bus! Oh, it may look bright and cheery on the outside—in fact, I’ve started calling it the Christmas bus—but on the inside it’s downright depressing. And not very warm either, especially with the temperature dropping. They have this little heater that they run off a battery, but it can only be on for short periods of time.”

“I wonder if we could run an extension cord out there,” mused Charles. “Plug it in the outlet on the front porch.”

“That might work, well, as long as no one tripped over it. That Myrtle gave me a good scare today when she said she tripped on the loose step. I thought this could turn into a lawsuit for sure. And wouldn’t Myrtle be the one to do it?”

“Oh, I don’t know . . .”

Edith knew this was his gentle way of defending Myrtle. But that’s just how he was. Charles never liked to say a bad word about anyone. And normally, she didn’t either. She checked on the poached fish and decided it was done.

Then she decided to tell him about Lauren’s emotional breakdown and confession after Myrtle hijacked Michael earlier that day, not so much to shine a negative light on Myrtle as to bring Michael’s illness to Charles’s attention.

“That’s too bad.”

“I have absolutely no idea what Myrtle was up to, but it really upset poor Lauren.”

“But he made it back okay?”

“Yes, he actually seemed in really good spirits, and he and Lauren went off to dinner and the Christmas play tonight. They were having a double date with the Fieldses, if you can imagine. Unfortunately, the Fieldses got into another argument just as they were leaving. Hopefully, they’ll settle down.”

“Might help Lauren and Michael to be thankful for what they have . . .” Charles said, “even if it is going to be cut short.”

She smiled at him as she set the rice on the table. “You know, I’d rather have a few wonderful years with love than a long life with animosity.”

“Well said, my dear.”

She put the rest of the food on the table and removed her apron.

“And how about Mr. Benson?”

“He told me that he’d had an early dinner in town and wanted to just stay in and read.”

“Poor old guy. This is his first year without his wife, and he’s feeling very lost.”

“So that’s why he’s so sad,” she said as she sat down. “And then he’s got Myrtle pestering him almost nonstop. I just don’t understand that woman. It’s as if she cannot keep her nose out of everyone’s business.”

“Takes all kinds, my dear.”

“I just hope she doesn’t spoil dinner for those kids tonight.”

Then Charles bowed his head and asked a blessing. He also took a few moments to pray that their guests might have a good evening. Despite her concerns for the young people subjected to Myrtle’s unpredictable prattle, Edith couldn’t help but relish this quiet dinner with just Charles and her. And as they ate, he filled her in on the details in town today. It seemed that he and Hal had made some headway.

“I think Mayor Drummel is softening up about the bus,” he finally said. “In the spirit of Christmas.”

“Oh, and I almost forgot to tell you. The strangest thing . . . people have been stopping by to look at the bus. Can you imagine it? As if it’s some kind of sideshow attraction. Peter said that at one point there were at least half a dozen out there just looking at it.”

Charles laughed. “This is a small town, Edith. Word gets around.”

“You’d think people would have more to do, just three days before Christmas, than to stand around gaping at an old bus.”

After cleaning up the dinner things, Charles went off to his study, and Edith went down to put a load of linens into the washing machine. She normally did this in the morning, but what with the baby shower and all, she figured she might as well get ahead of the game. She was pleased to see that her laundry room was in good shape. Amy had even cleaned the lint out of the lint trap, something her own children usually forgot to do. Edith didn’t like to admit it, but she was meticulous about laundry and her laundry room. Normally, like her kitchen, it was off-limits to guests. But then rules were made to be broken. And perhaps it was good for Edith to bend a bit.

When Edith came up from the basement, she heard voices in the dining room. As usual, she had put out refreshments for guests to help themselves to—well, even more so since it was the holidays. And she wasn’t surprised that people were out there, but she was surprised that it sounded like Myrtle.

“Don’t you know that’ll send your cholesterol sky-high?” she was saying in that know-it-all tone she so often used.

Edith paused on the other side of the door, not exactly eavesdropping since this was her own home, after all, but she was curious as to who Myrtle was talking to.

“My cholesterol is
my
business,” said a voice that sounded like Mr. Benson’s.

“And coffee before bed?” she said. “Do you know what caffeine can do to your blood pressure?”

“It’s
my
blood pressure.”

“It won’t be for long if that’s the best you can take care of yourself.”

Edith was just about to break it up, but his next sentence stopped her.

“Look, woman.” His voice grew louder. “Maybe I don’t care about
that
. Maybe I don’t
want
to be here for long.”

“Tsk, tsk. That’s no way to talk, Mr. Benson. It was the good Lord who put you on this planet, and it’s up to the good Lord to decide when it’s time for you to go. Don’t you know that much by now?”

“All I know is that you’re the most exasperating human being I’ve ever run across, and I wish you’d mind your own business!”

“How do you know that it isn’t my business? People are supposed to help people. What kind of a world would it be if everyone just turned their backs and walked away?”

“It would be a much happier world for me!”

Edith couldn’t take any more. She pushed open the door and walked out, pretending that she’d heard nothing. With a forced smile, she turned her attention to Myrtle, asking how dinner with the young people had gone.

“It was fine,” she answered quickly, still appearing to have her sights set on poor Mr. Benson. Edith was surprised that he was even still here, but he was standing by the table, his face flushed and brows drawn tightly together. He had a plate with a large slice of pumpkin pie and whipped cream in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. He reminded Edith of a trapped animal.

“Would you like to sit down?” offered Edith.

“Thank you.” He seemed relieved to have someone else in the room.

“Where are Leslie and Megan?” Edith asked Myrtle, hoping she might distract her from this relentless attack on Mr. Benson.

“They decided to go see the play.”

“Good for them.” Edith cut herself a thin slice of pumpkin pie and topped it with a dollop of whipped cream. She wasn’t all that fond of pumpkin pie, but after Myrtle’s comments about cholesterol, she wanted to do this as an alliance with Mr. Benson. Then she poured a cup of tea and went over to sit across from him, keeping an eye on Myrtle as she did.

“Aren’t you having anything, Myrtle?” she asked.

“I can’t decide.”

Edith made light conversation with Mr. Benson as she watched Myrtle standing by the dessert table. She spoke of the weather, town happenings, and the Christmas pageant that would take place the next night, and after a bit she sensed the old man was beginning to relax.

“I haven’t seen a Christmas pageant in years,” he said wistfully. “I remember when I was a boy and I got to play the shepherd once.”

“Myrtle is helping with the pageant,” Edith told him, feeling a bit guilty, not to mention inhospitable, for not including her in the conversation as well.

“That’s right,” said Myrtle as she finally poured herself a cup of herbal tea and placed two small pieces of divinity on a plate. Edith had to smile to herself at this healthy choice, since she already knew that Myrtle ate things loaded with fats and sugar.

Myrtle sat down at the end of the table. “And tomorrow will be a very busy day. I wish I could talk someone into driving me to town. There are a few props that I still need to pick up at the hardware store.”