The Perfect Christmas (17 page)

“Mother… Oh dear, this isn’t working out the way I’d hoped.” Madeline’s distress rang over the wire.

Cathy’s thoughts echoed her daughter. She pressed the telephone to her ear. “I don’t want you to worry.”

“I have every right to worry,” Madeline snapped. “I should have come up there and gotten you myself.”

“Nonsense.” As far as Cathy was concerned, that would only have made matters worse. The last thing she wanted was to take her daughter away from her family on Christmas Eve.

“But Daddy would—” Madeline abruptly cut off the rest of what she was about to say.

“I’m perfectly fine.”

“You’re in the middle of a snowstorm on Christmas Eve. You’re stuck without family, alone in some train depot in a dinky town in New Hampshire. You are not fine, Mother.”

Alone.
The word leaped out of her daughter’s mouth and hit Cathy hard. Hard enough that she took an involuntary step backward. Alone. That was how she’d felt since Ron’s death. It seemed as though she wandered from day to day without purpose, linked to no one, lost, confused. And consumed by a grief so painful it virtu
ally incapacitated her. All she had was the promise that time would eventually ease this ache in her heart.

“The entire situation is horrible,” Madeline continued.

“What would you have me do? Scream and shout? Yell at the stationmaster who’s done nothing but be as helpful and kind as possible? Is that what you want?”

Her question was followed by Madeline’s soft unhappy sigh.

“I feel so incredibly guilty,” her daughter confessed after a moment.

“Why in heaven’s name should you feel anything of the sort?” It was ludicrous that Madeline was blaming herself for these unfortunate circumstances.

“But, Mother, you’re with strangers, instead of family, and I’d hoped—”

“Now stop,” Cathy said in her sternest voice. “None of this is your fault. In any case, I’m here in Abbott and perfectly content. I brought my knitting with me and there are plenty of others for company.”

“But it’s Christmas Eve,” Madeline protested.

Cathy closed her eyes and inhaled sharply. “Do you honestly believe any Christmas will ever be the same for me without your father?”

“Oh, Mom.” Her daughter’s voice fell. “Don’t mention Daddy, please. It’s so hard without him.”

“But life goes on,” Cathy said, doing her best to sound brave and optimistic.

“I’d wanted to make everything better for you.”

“You have,” Cathy told her gently. “I couldn’t have stayed at the house alone. I’d rather be in this depot with strangers than spending Christmas with memo
ries I’m not ready to face. And sometime tonight or tomorrow, I’ll be with all of you. Now let’s stop before we both embarrass ourselves.”

“You’ll phone as soon as the tracks are repaired?”

“The minute I hear, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Brian and I and the girls will come down to the depot for you.”

“Fine, sweetheart. Now don’t you worry, okay?”

Madeline hesitated, then whispered, “I love you, Mom.”

“I love you, too. Now promise me you won’t fret.”

“I’ll try.”

“Good.” After a few words of farewell, Cathy replaced the receiver and returned to her seat. The depot was warm, thanks to the small stove. Those who’d stayed had taken up residence on the hardwood benches. As Cathy reached for her knitting, she battled back a fresh wave of depression.

Madeline was right. It was a dreadful situation, being stuck in a train depot this day of all the days in the year. She glanced around at the others. They appeared just as miserable as she.

Could this really be Christmas?

“The Most Wonderful Day of the Year”

“H
i.” A little girl with pigtails and a charming toothless smile sauntered up to Cathy.

“Hello,” Cathy said in a friendly voice. Not including the baby, two children remained in the depot. A girl and a boy. The girl bounced about the room like a red rubber ball, but the boy remained glued to his parents’ sides.

“What are you doing?” the child asked, slipping onto the wooden bench next to her.

“Knitting. This is a sweater for my granddaughter. She’s about your age.”

“I’m five.”

“So is Lindsay.”

“I can read. The kindergarten teacher told Mommy I’m advanced for my age.”

“That’s wonderful. I’ll bet your mother and father are very proud of you.” Cathy smiled at the youngster while her fingers continued to work the colorful yarn.

The little girl’s head drooped slightly. “My mommy and daddy are divorced now.”

Cathy felt the child’s confusion and pain. “That’s too bad.”

She nodded, looking wise beyond her years. “We’re going to spend Christmas with my grandma Gibson in Boston.”

“Kate.” A frazzled young woman approached the little girl. “I hope you weren’t bothering this lady.”

“Not at all,” Cathy assured her.

“My grandma said Santa was coming tonight and bringing me lots of presents.” Kate’s sweet face lit up with excitement. “Santa’ll still come, won’t he, even if the train is late?”

“Of course he will,” the child’s mother told her in a tone that suggested this wasn’t the first time she’d reassured her daughter.

“He’ll find us even in the storm?”

“He has Rudolph’s nose to guide his sleigh, remember?”

Kate nodded.

Cathy let her knitting rest in her lap.

“Can I read to you?” the youngster asked, her eyes huge. “Please?”

“Why, I can’t think of anything I’d enjoy more.” Cathy could, but it was clear the restless child needed something to take her mind off the situation, and she was happy to listen. Having grandchildren, she could
well appreciate the difficulty of keeping a five-year-old entertained in conditions such as these.

Kate raced for her backpack and returned a moment later with her precious book.

“Thank you,” Kate’s mother whispered. “I’m Elise Jones.”

“Hello, Elise. Cathy Norris.”

Kate scooted onto the bench between Cathy and her mother and eagerly opened the book. She placed her finger on the first word and started reading aloud with a fluency that suggested this was a much-read and much-loved story.

Cathy smiled down on the little girl. Soon all this frustration and delay would be over. Mr. Kemper would come out from behind his desk and announce that the tracks had been repaired and they’d be on their way. In a few hours she’d be with Madeline and her family, all of this behind her. Somehow, listening to Kate read soothed her, made her feel that today’s problems were tolerable. Inconvenient but definitely tolerable.

Kate’s voice slowly faded and her eyes closed. She slumped over, her head against Cathy’s side. Seconds later the book slipped from her lap and onto the floor.

“Oh, thank heaven, she’s going to take a nap, after all,” Elise whispered, getting carefully to her feet. She lifted Kate’s small legs onto the bench and tucked a spare sweater beneath her head.

“Children can be quite a handful,” Cathy murmured, remembering the first time she and Ron had watched their two granddaughters for an entire day while Madeline and Brian attended an investment workshop. The
kids had been picked up by four that afternoon, but she and Ron went to bed before eight o’clock, exhausted.

“Being a single mother is no piece of cake,” Elise told her. “When Greg and I divorced, I didn’t have a clue what would happen. Then he lost his job and had to manage on his unemployment check. He just started working again—but he’s so far behind on everything. Now he’s having trouble making the child-support payments on time, which only complicates things.” Embarrassed, she looked away as if she regretted what she’d said. “We wouldn’t have Christmas if it wasn’t for my mother. I certainly can’t afford gifts this year.”

The pain that flashed in the younger woman’s eyes couldn’t be hidden. Cathy realized that, in many ways, Elise’s divorce had been as devastating as a death. Feeling a kinship with her, she reached over and squeezed her hand.

Elise recovered quickly, then said with forced enthusiasm, “I’ve always wanted to know how to knit.”

“Would you like me to teach you?” Cathy asked, seizing upon the idea. She’d successfully taught her own three daughters and carried an extra set of needles in her knitting bag. Now was ideal, seeing as they had nothing but time on their hands and Kate was sleeping.

“Now?” Elise asked, flustered. “I mean, I’d love to, but are you sure it isn’t too much trouble?”

“Of course not. I’ve found knitting calms my nerves, especially these past few months since my husband died.”

“I’m sorry about your husband,” Elise said, real sympathy in her voice.

“Yes, I am, too. I miss him dreadfully.” With a sense of purpose Cathy reached for her spare needles. “Would you like to start now?”

Elise nodded. “Why not?”

Cathy pulled out a ball of yarn. “Then let me show you how to cast on stitches. It isn’t the least bit difficult.”

Len had trouble not watching the clock. They’d been in Abbott a total of four hours, with no further word regarding their situation. The stationmaster, Clayton Kemper, had turned out to be a kindhearted soul. He’d made a fresh pot of coffee and offered it to anyone who wanted a cup, free of charge.

Len had declined. Stressed as he was, the last thing he needed was caffeine. Plenty of others took advantage of Kemper’s generosity, though. They were a motley group, Len noted. The widow, dressed in her gray wool coat with her knitting and her sad but friendly smile. The divorced mother and her little girl. The grumpy sales rep. The young couple with the baby, the hippie and his wife, the elderly black couple plus an assortment of others.

Kemper walked by with the coffeepot on a tray. “You sure I can’t interest you in a cup, young man?”

“I’m sure.”

“I found a deck of cards. How about that?”

Len nodded eagerly. “That’d be great.” Cards would be a welcome way to pass the time. He sometimes played solitaire and enjoyed two or three different versions of the game. At the mention of cards, the sales
rep, who sat close by, looked up from his laptop. Maybe Len could talk two or three of the others into a game of pinochle or poker.

“You play pinochle?” he asked Matt.

“And canasta, hearts, bridge—whatever you want.”

“I wouldn’t mind playing,” Nick volunteered.

“Come to think of it, I’ve got an old card table in the back room,” Kemper said when he returned with the cards. “And a couple of chairs, too, if you need ’em. I should have thought of this earlier. You folks must be bored out of your minds.”

A fourth man joined them, and with a little rearranging they soon had the table set up. That was followed by the sound of cards being shuffled and the occasional scrape of a chair as they settled down to a friendly game of pinochle.

Kelly Berry’s arms ached from holding the baby. The carrier seat was still on the train, and she hadn’t asked Nick to bring it in. He’d already gone outside once and seemed reluctant to venture into the storm again. Besides, he was busy playing cards.

Kelly wondered, not for the first time, if they’d
ever
adjust to parenthood. The whole experience was so…different from what she’d expected. Desperately longing for a child of their own, they’d dreamed and hungered to the point that Kelly felt their marriage would be incomplete without a family. Now, after three months with a fussy, colicky infant, she was ready to admit her spirits were the lowest they’d been in years.

She’d always believed a baby would bring her and Nick closer together. The baby would be a living symbol of their love and commitment to each other, the culmination of their marriage. Instead, Brittany seemed to have driven a wedge between them. Not long ago their world had revolved entirely around each other; these days, it revolved around Brittany. Caring for the baby demanded all their energy, all their time.

Her arms tightened around her daughter, and a surge of love filled her heart. She and Nick felt overwhelmed because this was so new, Kelly told herself. In a few months everything would be easier—for both of them. While confident of Nick’s love, Kelly knew he found it difficult to deal with the changes that had come into their marriage since the adoption.

“Would you like me to hold the baby for a while?” The older woman sat down next to her. “I’m Cathy Norris. You must be exhausted.”

“Kelly Berry.” She hesitated. “You wouldn’t mind?”

“Not at all,” Cathy said, taking the sleeping infant from her arms. She gazed down at Brittany and smiled. “She’s certainly beautiful, and her little red outfit is delightful.”

“Thank you,” Kelly said, truly grateful. She’d enjoyed dressing Brittany for the holiday season. She could’ve spent a fortune if Nick had let her, but her ever-practical husband had been the voice of reason. Not that
he
wasn’t guilty of spoiling their daughter.

With an ease that Kelly envied, Cathy Norris held Brittany against her shoulder, gently rubbing her back.
Brittany shifted her head to one side and her tiny mouth made small sucking sounds. Once more Kelly’s heart stirred with love.

She felt someone’s gaze and glanced up to find Nick watching her. When he realized he had her attention, he smiled. His eyes softened as he looked at their daughter. They
would
be all right, Kelly thought. This was their dream; it was just that after waiting and planning all these years, they hadn’t been quite as ready for the reality as they’d assumed.

Clayton Kemper walked out of the station and returned almost immediately, a shovel in his hand. “Good news!” he shouted.

Every head in the room shot up, every face alight with expectation, Kelly’s included. Some people were already on their feet, reaching for bags of colorfully wrapped gifts.

“The storm’s died down. It’s stopped snowing.”

“Does that mean we can get out of here any sooner?” Matt McHugh demanded.

“Well, it’s bound to help the repair crew.”

The happy anticipation sank to the pit of Kelly’s stomach.
Oh, please,
she prayed,
don’t let us end up spending our first Christmas with Brittany stuck in a train depot. Don’t let this be our Christmas.