The Edge of Heaven (47 page)

It had seemed odd, but she said she hadn't been sleeping well. He wouldn't know about that because he hadn't been sleeping in their bed. So he had let it go. He'd turned and walked away, as he so often did these days. He wondered what else he'd missed.

Chapter 3

The afternoon was chaotic between getting the children settled and Rachel holding her breath while Sam was outside arguing with Miriam on the porch. But he gave in, because when he came inside he had some plastic shopping bags from Wal-Mart. At first, all she could think was that was so odd. Sam didn't shop, except for building supplies. And then she realized he'd given in—that the children were staying and these were their things.

Rachel saw Emma staring at the bags. Her cheeks turned ruddy and she hid her face against the top of the baby's head. They had so little.

"We'll go shopping tomorrow," Rachel said, thinking to reassure her.

"We don't need much," Emma insisted.

"Then we'll just get what you need," Rachel said. But they wouldn't. They'd get a lot. "It'll be fun. Especially picking out things for Grace. They have the cutest clothes for babies. I have nearly a dozen nieces and nephews; I shop for them all the time."

Usually, it hurt, shopping for children she'd never have. But this time, she'd enjoy it. She'd dress Emma in something brand new, too. Something stylish, if she could figure out what stylish was to an eleven-year-old girl. It would be a good day. She'd make it one.

A moment later, Zach came whizzing around the corner. He'd found a set of Matchbox cars her nephew left behind and was on his hands and knees racing in a circle through the house—the hall, the living room, the dining room, the kitchen, and back to the hall. Every thirty seconds or so, he came through like a whirlwind, and this time, he zoomed into Sam. Still on his hands and knees, he looked way up at Sam and said, "Sorry."

Sam took a breath and let it out slow. "It's okay, kid."

"Can I ask you somethin'?"

With a pained expression on his face, Sam said, "Sure."

"Have you been bad?" Zach asked quite seriously. "Is San'a mad at you?"

Rachel started to laugh. She couldn't help it. Sam stared at her, a dazed expression on his face. She couldn't tell if he was really mad or if it was something else. But she stopped laughing.

"Not that I know of," Sam said finally.

"Has he told you something he hasn't told us, Zach?" Rachel asked.

"Uh-uh. I haven't talked to him yet, but I wanna. Can we do that? Do y'know where he's at?"

"I do," Rachel offered. "Santa's coming on Saturday. There's going to be a parade and everything. It goes right down this street. We can't miss that."

"I gotta tell him some stuff," Zach said seriously.

"We'll make sure you get to talk to him," she said. "Why do you think Santa's mad at Sam, Zach?"

" 'Cause Chris'mas isn't comin' here."

"What?"

"We saw all the lights and the trees 'n' stuff on all the other houses. They're all ready for him. But I guess he's not comin' here. No Chris'mas."

"Oh." Rachel laughed again, realizing the problem. "It's the first day of Christmas, isn't it?"

Zach looked puzzled. "I thought it wasn't comin' for another couple o' weeks."

"I mean today's the first day of the town's Christmas festival. It's something special we do here," Rachel said. "Come and see, and I'll explain."

They went to the window. The children crowded in around her, and she found she liked the press of little bodies all around her, the sounds of awe in their voices, and the way Zach had his nose flat against the cool pane of glass and laughed as it fogged up. Then he touched the little triangles of blue trim around the edges.

"Somebody colored 'em?" he asked.

"Something like that," Rachel said.

She painted glass herself at times, but this she'd ordered special from a company in Wisconsin to match what had already been here when she restored these windows as best she could. At one time, she'd loved the way the pretty panels seemed to frame the world outside.

She looked carefully and really saw, for the first time maybe in a long time, that world outside the walls of her house. Thousands of twinkling lights gleamed back at her. Every house on the street was all decked out for Christmas but hers. It was the first day of Christmas, and she and Sam had ignored it.

"Baxter has a Christmas festival," she explained. "The Twelve Days of Christmas."

"Who's Baxter?" Sam asked.

"The town, Zach." Rachel laughed a bit. "It's famous for its old-fashioned Christmas festival, our own version of the Twelve Days of Christmas, except ours lead up to Christmas instead of starting on Christmas Day. We take the holiday very seriously around here. Especially in this neighborhood."

Sam and Rachel lived in a five-square-block area known as "the district," a place full of old Victorian houses, most of which had been lovingly restored. Many of them had been used as models in her grandfather's work, as well.

People came from all over to see the Christmas of Richard Landon's creation, and now Rachel had unwittingly violated a tradition that was practically sacred. She and her neighbors took pride in putting up an elaborate display of lights and seasonal colors for their own enjoyment and the town's visitors. Many of them would be strolling and riding through "the district" to look at all the lights over the next twelve days. Everyone was ready, except her and Sam.

"We just forgot, Zach. That's all," Rachel said. "Santa's not mad at us. Not that we know of, anyway."

"So, he comes here?"

"Of course. He'll find you here. We'll tell him all about it when we go see him. And we'll get the Christmas decorations up tomorrow. You can help."

"You got some'a those?" he asked, obviously unconvinced.

"Yes." Rachel looked to Sam, who'd remained silent through the whole exchange. "I think Zach needs to see the decorations. I can check the lights after the children are in bed, and we can decorate tomorrow."

"And a tree?" Zach added. "We'll have a tree?"

"Of course. We'll cut it down ourselves." Rachel realized she was actually excited. "My aunt Jo lives on a Christmas tree farm, and she has a sleigh. If we ask nicely, and we catch her when she's not too busy, she'll let us take the sleigh into the back fields and find a tree to cut down. It'll be fun."

She and Sam used to do that every Christmas. Just the two of them cuddled up beneath the blankets, riding through the snow. It was magical in a sleigh in the snow at Christmas.

It had been so long ago. She couldn't remember why they ever stopped. And that made her think,
Sam. Christmas.
What would it be like without him? She couldn't imagine that or a thousand other little everyday things without Sam. She wondered briefly if he'd found someone else. Wasn't that why men left their wives? Because they'd found someone else? Rachel couldn't imagine Sam with another woman, couldn't imagine him hurting her that way. Of course, she never imagined he'd leave her, either.

"Are you okay?" Emma said. "You looked all sad."

"Just for a minute," she said. "I was thinking about the sleigh. It's been a long time since I did that. But we'll do it this year. Promise."

She didn't dare look over at her husband, couldn't find the courage to ask if he'd come with them. She'd implied that she didn't need anything from him anymore, but it wasn't true. She needed so much from him.

She wondered if he'd simply be here on the fringes, going through the motions of Christmas until time ran out and he walked away from her for good.

* * *

Zach and Sam found the decorations, twelve boxes full. The number alone impressed and reassured Zach.

They opened three boxes, so Zach could rest easily knowing Christmas was indeed coming to this house.

He giggled and tugged at things that Rachel had packed in precise order, messing things up, but she didn't care. She sat on the floor with the boxes all around her, Grace patting the sides of the boxes and pulling herself up to stand while hanging on to them. She giggled and slapped her palms against the top of the boxes, obviously quite pleased with herself, either because of the noise or the fact that she was standing.

Rachel gazed at her in awe, as if she were a magical creature come to life, right here in Rachel's living room. "She's beautiful," Rachel told Emma, the little mother who was hovering next to Grace's side.

"And clumsy. She's always falling down and hurting herself."

"I'll be careful with her." Rachel would treat her like spun glass.

"Look!" Zach exclaimed, pulling out a long length of glittery gold garland she usually draped around the tree.

"You like that?"

He giggled. She didn't even scold him for ignoring her request to leave everything in the boxes for now. He came up to her and draped the garland around her neck and shoulders, like a scarf.

"You can wear it," he said.

Touched, Rachel said, "Thank you, Zach."

"It's for the tree, Zach," Emma said.

"She can wear it!" he insisted.

"I will. I love it."

She'd wear sackcloth and ashes for this little boy if it would make him smile. And then Rachel thought of another thing that might make him smile. Nearly an hour later, Rachel sat with Zach practically in her lap, Emma on her other side holding Grace. She pulled out an oversize book, the cover of which was graced with a painting of a Victorian house all decorated for Christmas.

"Do you recognize this?" Rachel pointed to the house.

"Uh-uh," Zach said.

"It's this house," she said, delighted to be living in her grandfather's old house on this cold winter night, so close to Christmas, with children gathered around her. She felt as if she were sharing a bit of true magic with them.

"Uh-uh," Zach said.

"It is. You'll see tomorrow, when we get all the decorations up."

"Your house is in a book?" Zach asked, leaning closer.

"Well, it actually belonged to my grandfather. This is a painting he did of the house at Christmas a long time ago."

"An it's in a book?" Zach was amazed.

"Yes. He's a bit famous. A few years ago, a publisher was interested in illustrations for a Christmas story, and he came and got a bunch of my grandfather's paintings, and now they're in this Christmas book. Isn't it nice?"

"Uh-huh," Zach said.

Zach settled in a bit closer to hear the story. Emma didn't seem as interested, but she sat there quietly, holding the baby. Rachel read, telling them about all the different things in the pictures that she could show them when they went into town the next day. She wasn't sure Zach actually believed her, had to admit it was probably hard for a little boy to understand. But he would see for himself soon. It would add to the magic even more.

Later, she tucked Zach into bed, let Emma put Grace down, then walked an unusually quiet Emma to the room down the hall where she'd be sleeping.

"You'll be all right here? By yourself?" Rachel asked gently.

"I will. But Zach's used to sleeping with me. Grace, too. We all sleep in the same room."

"Oh." Aunt Miriam said the children should have their own beds, preferably their own rooms. But she didn't say they had to actually sleep in them. Obviously, they were used to being together, and Rachel didn't want to make this any harder.

"Why don't we try it like this, Emma. And if Zach or Grace get lonely, they know where you are."

"Okay," Emma said.

"Is there anything else?"

Emma looked troubled. "This is really the house in the book?"

"Yes. It looks a little different now, because it was about thirty years ago when my grandfather painted the picture." Her grandfather wasn't a brilliant painter; he'd done the paintings as a first step toward making the models of the buildings he used in the snow globe scenes. But he had a gift in the way he used color and light and in selecting such beautiful scenes. Once the snow globes became popular, so did his paintings.