“Where are you?”
“In the barn at the moment.” She gave a small laugh.
“Why is that funny?”
“I’m with the animals from the live Nativity scene.”
Mack laughed then, too. “That seems appropriate under the circumstances, but I want you to go to the house and wait for me there.”
“I’d rather go back to the apartment if you don’t mind.” It was hard to explain but the place felt like home to her now, at least for this one night.
“Fine. Just don’t lock the door. I’ll be there soon, so hold on, okay?”
She didn’t have any choice but to hold on. “Okay. But Mack?”
“Yes?”
“Please hurry.”
“You got it. I’m leaving now.”
“No sirens, please,” she begged, and Mack chuckled as if she’d made some mildly amusing joke.
Walking seemed to help, and instead of following Mack’s instructions, she paced the length of the barn once, twice, three times.
She noticed that the camel was watching her every move. “Don’t be such a know-it-all,” she muttered. She’d swear the creature was laughing at her. “This isn’t supposed to be happening yet.”
A sheep walked up to the gate, bleating loudly, and Mary Jo wagged her index finger. “I don’t want to hear from you, either.”
All the horses in their stalls studied her with interest, but the only one who looked at her with anything that resembled compassion was Funny Face.
“Wish me well, Funny Face,” Mary Jo whispered as she started back up the stairs. “I need all the good wishes I can get.”
Absorbed in the cycle of pain and then relief, followed by pain again, Mary Jo lost track of time. Finally she heard a vehicle pull into the yard. A moment later, Mack entered the apartment, a second man behind him. They were both breathless; they must have run up the stairs.
Mary Jo was so grateful to see him she nearly burst into tears. Clutching her belly, she walked over to Mack and said hoarsely, “I’m so glad you came.”
“How’s it going?”
“Not…good.”
“Any sign of your brothers?”
She shook her head.
Mack glanced over his shoulder at the second EMT.
“This is Brandon Hutton. Remember him from this morning?”
“Hi.” Mary Jo raised her hand and wiggled her fingers.
“How far apart are the pains now?”
“Still three minutes, but they’re lasting much longer.”
Mack turned to the other man. “I think we’d better check her before we transport.”
“I agree.”
This was all so embarrassing, but Mary Jo would rather be dealing with Mack than any of her brothers. Mack would be impersonal about it, professional. And, most important of all, he knew what he was doing.
Taking her by the hand, Mack led her into the bedroom. He pulled back the sheets, then covered the bed with towels. Mary Jo lay down on the mattress and closed her eyes.
“Okay,” Mack announced when he’d finished. “You’re fully dilated. You’re about to enter the second phase of labor.”
“What does that mean?”
“Basically, it means we don’t have time to take you to the hospital.”
“Then who’s going to deliver my baby?” she asked, fighting her tears.
“It looks like that’ll be me,” he said calmly.
Mary Jo held out her hand to him and Mack grabbed it in both of his.
“Everything’s going to be fine,” he said with such confidence she couldn’t help believing him. “You can do this. And I’ll be with you every step of the way.”
15
“Admit it,” Mel taunted, “we’re lost.”
“I said as much thirty minutes ago,” Linc said sharply. He didn’t need his brother to tell him what he already knew.
“We should’ve gotten the Hardings’ phone number,” Ned commented from the backseat.
That was obvious. “You might’ve mentioned it at the time,” Linc snapped. They’d been driving around for almost an hour and he had no idea where they were. Mack McAfee had drawn them a map but it hadn’t helped; somehow they’d gone in the wrong direction and were now completely and utterly lost.
To further complicate matters, a fog had settled in over the area. It seemed they’d run the gamut of Pacific Northwest winter weather, and all within the last eight hours. There’d been sleet and snow, rain and cold. Currently they were driving through a fog so thick he could hardly see the road.
“Read me the directions again,” he said.
Mel flipped on the interior light, which nearly blinded Linc. “Hey, turn that off!”
“I thought you wanted me to read these notes.”
“You don’t need the light,” Ned told him. “I’ve got them memorized.”
“So where are we?” Mel asked.
“You’re asking me?” Linc muttered in frustration.
“Okay, okay.” Mel sighed deeply. “Fighting isn’t going to help us find Mary Jo.”
“You’re right.” Linc pulled over to the side of the road and shifted to face his brothers. “Either of you have any other ideas?”
“We could go to the firehouse and start over,” Mel said.
“Once we’re there, we could get the Hardings’ phone number,” Ned added. “We could call and let Mary Jo know we’re on our way.”
Linc gritted his teeth. “Fine. But have either of you geniuses figured out how to get back to the firehouse?”
“Ah…” Mel glanced at Ned, who shrugged his shoulders.
“I guess we can’t do that because we’re lost.”
“Exactly,” Linc said. “Any other ideas?” He was feeling more helpless and frustrated by the second.
“We could always ask someone,” Ned suggested next.
“Who are we supposed to ask?” Mel cried. “We haven’t seen another car in over half an hour.”
“There was a place down this road,” Ned said in a tentative voice.
Linc stared at him. “Where?”
“You’re sure about that?” Mel didn’t seem to believe him, and Linc wasn’t convinced, either.
“It’s there, trust me.” Ned’s expression, however, did little to inspire Linc’s confidence.
“I remember the name,” his youngest brother said indignantly. “It was called King’s.”
“What kind of place was it?”
Ned apparently needed time to consider this.
“A tavern?” Linc asked.
Ned shook his head.
“A gas-and-go?” Mel offered.
“Could’ve been. There were a bunch of broken-down cars out front.”
Linc didn’t recall any such place. “How come I didn’t see it?” he asked.
“’Cause you were driving.”
That actually made sense. Concentrating on maneuvering down these back roads in the fog, it was all he could do to make sure his truck didn’t end up in a ditch.
“I think I saw it, too,” Mel said a moment later. “The building’s set off the road, isn’t it?”
Ned perked up. “Yes!”
“With tires edging the driveway?”
“That’s the one!”
“Do we have a prayer of finding it again?” Linc asked his brothers.
Ned and Mel exchanged looks. “I think so,” Ned told him.
“Good.” Linc put the pickup back in gear. “Which way?”
“Turn around,” Ned told him.
Linc started down the road, then thought to ask, “Are you sure this King’s place is open?”
“Looked like it to me.”
“Yeah,” Mel concurred. “There were plenty of lights. Not Christmas lights, though. Regular lights.”
Linc drove in silence for several minutes. Both his brothers were focused on finding this joint. Just when the entire trip seemed futile, Linc crested a hill and emerged out of the fog, which made a tremendous differenc
e in visibility. Instantly he breathed easier.
“There!” Ned shouted, pointing down the roadway.
Linc squinted and, sure enough, he saw the business his brothers had been yapping about. Maybe there was some hope, after all.
Linc had no idea how his sister had ended up in the boondocks. He wished she’d stayed in town, but, oh, no, not Mary Jo.
As they neared the building, Linc noticed a sign that said King’s. Linc could see his brother’s point; it was hard to tell exactly what type of business this was. The sign certainly didn’t give any indication. True, there were beat-up old cars out front, so one might assume it was some sort of junk or salvage yard. The building itself was in ill repair; at the very least, it needed a fresh coat of paint. There wasn’t a single Christmas decoration in sight.
However, the Open sign in the window was lit.
Linc walked up to the door, peered in and saw a small restaurant, basically a counter with a few stools, and a convenience store. He went inside and strolled up to the counter, taking a seat. Mel and Ned joined him.
Alarge over weight man wearing a stained white T-shirt and a white apron waddled over to their end of the counter as if he’d been sitting there all day, waiting for them.
“Merry Christmas,” Linc murmured, reaching for the menu.
“Yeah, whatever.”
This guy was in a charming mood.
“Whaddaya want?” the cook asked.
“Coffee for me,” Linc said.
“What’s the special?” Mel asked, looking at a sign on the wall that said, Ask About Our Daily Special.
“Meat loaf, mashed potatoes, corn.”
“If you want to order food, it’s gotta be takeout,” Linc told his brothers, although now that the subject had come up, Linc realized he was hungry, too. Famished, in fact.
“We do takeout,” the cook said, filling Linc’s mug with coffee that had obviously been in the pot far too long. It was black and thick and resembled liquid tar more than coffee.
“Is that fresh?” Linc risked asking.
“Sure is. Made it yesterday.”
Linc pushed the mug away. “We’ll take three meat loaf sandwiches to go,” he said, making a snap decision.
“You want the mashed potatoes with that?”
“Can I have potato chips instead?” Ned inquired.
“I guess.”
“Say,” Linc said, leaning back on the stool. “Do you happen to know where the Harding ranch is?”
The cook scowled at him. “Who’s askin’?”
Linc didn’t want to get into long explanations. “A friend.”
Cook nodded. “Cliff’s a…neighbor.”
“He is?” Maybe they were closer than Linc had thought.
“Raises the best horses around these parts.” The cook sounded somewhat grudging as he said this.
Linc knew car engines inside out but didn’t have a clue about horses, and he had no idea how to respond.
Fortunately he didn’t have to. “You fellows interested in buying one of Cliff’s horses?” the old curmudgeon asked.
“Not really.” Linc hoped that wasn’t disappointing news. “We’re, uh, supposed to be meeting our sister, who’s staying at the Harding place.”
“We had directions,” Mel explained.
“But we sort of got turned around.”
“In other words, we’re lost,” Linc said.
“Lemme make you those sandwiches.”
“What about giving us directions?”
King, or whatever his name was, sighed as if this was asking too much. “I could—for a price.”
Linc slapped a ten-dollar bill on the counter.
The grouch eyed the money and shrugged. “That might get you there. Then again, it might not.”
Linc threw in another ten. “This is all you’re getting.”
“Fine.” He pocketed the money and slouched off toward the kitchen. “I’ll be back with your order.”
Ten minutes later, he returned with a large white bag packed with sandwiches, potato chips and canned sodas. Linc decided not to ask how old the meat loaf was. He paid the tab and didn’t complain at the price, which seemed seriously inflated.
“About those directions?” Linc asked.
Ned took out the map the firefighter had drawn and spread it on the linoleum counter. The route from Cedar Cove to the Harding place looked pretty direct, and Linc didn’t know how he’d managed to get so confused.
“The King’s gonna set you straight,” the grouch told them.
“Good, because we are lost,” Mel said, dragging out the last word.
“Big-time lost,” Ned added.
This was a point that did not need further emphasis. Linc would’ve preferred his brothers keep their mouths shut, but that wasn’t likely to happen.
“Okay, you’re here,” King informed them, drawing a circle around their current location. He highlighted the street names at the closest intersection. “You’re near the corner of Burley and Glenwood.”
“Got it,” Linc said.
“You need to head east.”
“East,” Linc repeated.
“Go down about two miles and you cross the highway via the overpass.”
“Okay, got that.”
The grouch turned the directions around and circled the Harding ranch. “This is where Cliff and Grace Harding live.”
“Okay.”
“So, all you do after you cross the highway is go east. Keep going until you see the water, then turn left. The Harding place will be about three-quarters of a mile down the road on the left-hand side.”
“Thanks,” Linc said. Those directions seemed easy enough for anyone to follow. Even the three of them.
The grouch frowned at hi, and Linc assumed he was hinting for more money, which he wasn’t about to get. Grabbing their sandwiches, Linc handed the bag to his youngest brother and they piled out the door.
“Merry Christmas,” Ned called over his shoulder. Apparently he hadn’t grasped yet that this man wasn’t doing any kind of celebrating.
The grouch’s frown darkened. “Yeah, whatever.”
Linc waited until they were back in the vehicle before he commented. “Miserable old guy.”
“A regular Scrooge,” Mel said.
Ned tore open the sack and passed one sandwich to Linc and another to Mel. Linc bit into his. The old grouch made a good meat loaf sandwich, surprisingly enough, and right now that compensated for a lot.
The three of them wolfed down the food and nearly missed the sign for the highway overpass.
“Hey, you two, I’m driving,” Linc said, swallowing the last bite. “Pay attention, will you?”
“Sorry.” Ned stared out at the road.
“He said to drive until we can see the water,” Linc reminded them.
“It’s dark,” Mel protested. “How are we supposed to see water?”
“We’ll know when we find it,” Ned put in.
Linc rolled his eyes. “I hope you’re right, that’s all I can say.”
Linc couldn’t tell how far they’d driven, but the water never came into view. “Did we miss something?” he asked his brothers.
“Keep going,” Mel insisted. “He didn’t say when we’d see the water.”
“He didn’t,” Linc agreed, but he had a bad feeling about this. The road wasn’t straight ahead the way the grouch had drawn it on the map. It twisted and turned until Linc was, once again, so confused he no longer knew if he was going east or west.
“You don’t think that King guy would’ve intentionally given us the wrong directions, do you?”
“Why would he do that?” Mel asked. “You paid him twenty bucks.”
Linc remembered the look on the other man’s face. He’d wanted more. “Maybe it wasn’t enough.”
“Maybe Mr. Scrooge back there needs three visitors tonight,” Ned suggested. “If you know what I mean.”
“He had three visitors—us.”
“Yeah,
and I think he was trying to con us,” Linc muttered.
“I guess he succeeded,” Mel said, just as Ned asked, “But why? What’s the point?”
“The point is that he’s trying to make us miserable,” Linc said. “As miserable as he is, the old coot.”
The three of them fell into a glum silence. It sure didn’t feel like any Christmas Eve they’d ever had before.
16
By the time Grace and Cliff arrived at church for the Christmas Eve service, both her daughters and their husbands were already seated. So were Lisa, Rich and April. Maryellen held Drake, who slept peacefully in his mother’s arms. Katie, as well as Tyler, were with the other local children getting ready for the big Christmas pageant.
Katie was excited about being an angel, although Tyler, who’d been assigned the role of a shepherd, didn’t show much enthusiasm for his stage debut. If he displayed any emotion at all, it was disappointment that he couldn’t bring his drum. Kelly had explained to him that the shepherds of the day played the flute, not drums, because drums would frighten the sheep. The explanation satisfied Tyler, who was of a logical disposition, but it didn’t please him.
Grace and Cliff located a pew directly behind her daughters and Lisa. As they slipped in, Grace whispered that she’d prefer to sit closest to the aisle, craving the best possible view of her grandchildren’s performances. Once they were seated, Cliff reached for her hand, entwining their fingers.
Maryellen turned around and whispered, “Is everything all right with Mary Jo?”
“I think so.” Grace still didn’t feel comfortable about leaving her alone. But Mary Jo had been adamant that Grace join her family, so she had. Now, however, she wished she’d stayed behind.
Cliff squeezed her hand as the white-robed choir sang Christmas hymns, accompanied by the organist. “O, Come All Ye Faithful” had never sounded more beautiful.
Olivia and Jack, carrying his Santa hat, came down the aisle and slid into the pew across from Grace and Cliff. Justine and Seth accompanied them. From a conversation with Justine earlier in the week, Grace knew Leif had gotten the coveted role of one of the three Wise Men.
As soon as Olivia saw Grace, she edged out of her pew and went to see her friend. Olivia had wrapped a red silk scarf around her shoulders, over her black wool coat. Despite everything she’d endured, she remained the picture of dignity and elegance.