A Gift to Last

  “Kindly keep that baby quiet, would you?” Len wasn’t sure who’d said that; painful as the baby’s shrieking was, he felt a fleeting sympathy for the mother.

  “Do something,” Nick snapped at his wife.

  “I’m trying,” Kelly said, glaring back at him with a hurt look.

  “I’ve got to get out of here,” Nick said, and stalked outside, letting the door slam in his wake.

  “We need information,” Len pressed Kemper again.

  “At least give us an idea how much longer it could be,” Matt added. “In case you’ve forgotten, it’s Christmas Eve.”

  Kemper was clearly at a loss and for an instant Len felt sympathy for him, too, but he felt even worse for himself. He’d been looking forward to this night for weeks. He wanted it to be the most beautiful and romantic evening of his life. Instead, he’d probably be spending it in this train station somewhere in New Hampshire.

  Kemper raised his hands to quiet the murmurs of discontent. “I’ll make a few phone calls and see what I can find out.”

  “You should have done that long before now,” Matt said irritably.

  Len was in full agreement. This damned waiting had gone on long enough. The minute he had a definite answer, he’d call Amy again. Even if he didn’t have an answer, he was phoning Amy. He needed to hear the sound of her voice, needed to know this nightmare would soon be over and they’d be together—if not for Christmas, then soon.

  Len returned to his seat and Matt followed him. “This isn’t exactly my idea of Christmas Eve,” the older man muttered, more to himself than his companion.

  “I don’t think any of us could have anticipated this.”

  It didn’t take Kemper long to connect with someone, Len noticed. The stationmaster was on the phone five minutes. He nodded once in a while, then scowled and wrote something down on a piece of paper. When he’d finished, he walked toward the potbellied stove.

  Every eye in the room followed him. “Well,” he said, with a deep expressive sigh, “there really isn’t any news I can give you.”

  “No news is good news?” Cathy suggested hopefully.

  “No news is no news,” Matt McHugh returned tartly.

  “You were talking to someone,” Len said. “They must’ve had something to say….”

  “Only what I found out earlier, that the break in the line is more serious than was originally determined.”

  “Isn’t there anything you can suggest? How long should we expect to wait? Give us your best estimate. Surely you’ve seen breakdowns like this before.” Len’s voice thinned with frustration. He noticed a number of people nodding as he spoke.

  “Well,” Kemper said thoughtfully, “you’re right, I have seen plenty of breakdowns over the years. Each one’s different. But we’ve got a full crew working on this one, despite the fact that it’s Christmas Eve.”

  “That’s encouraging, anyway,” Elise Jones said. “It isn’t like any of us planned to spend the holidays here, you know.”

  “I know, I know.” Kemper looked out over the group and seemed to recognize that he wouldn’t be off the hook until he gave these people some kind of answer. “My best guess is sometime after midnight.”

  “Midnight!” Matt shouted.

  He wasn’t the only one who reacted with anger. But Len barely reacted at all; he felt as though the wind had been knocked clear out of him. Slowly he sank onto the bench and closed his eyes. He no longer knew if the airline could even get him a seat. Because of the snowstorm he’d missed his original flight. Because of the train’s delay, he hadn’t made the standby flight, either. Nor could he book another. Not until he could give the airline a time.

  This felt like the worst day of his life.

  Nick knew he was a fool, snapping at his wife in front of a room full of strangers and then stalking out of the train depot like a two-year-old having a tantrum. He’d caught the shocked look in Kelly’s eyes. It was uncharacteristic behavior for him, but he’d just been feeling so…on edge. Then he’d lost control because someone had shouted at Kelly to keep Brittany quiet.

  What upset him was that he’d been thinking the same thing himself. He wanted her to do something, anything, to stop Brittany’s crying. The baby had been contentedly asleep for a few hours, and he supposed he’d been lulled into a false sense of peace. Then she’d awakened, and it seemed that every ounce of composure he’d managed to scrape together had vanished.

  He’d say one thing for his daughter. She had an incredible sense of timing. Why she’d pick that precise moment to start wailing, he’d never know. She was a fragile little thing, but obviously had the lungs of a tuba player.

  It had felt as though everyone in the room was glaring at him and Kelly with malice, although in retrospect, he thought his own frustrations had probably made him misread their reactions. Everything in life had come hard for Nick; why should fatherhood be any different? He’d been raised in a series of foster homes and the only reason he’d been able to go on with his schooling was because of a scholarship. He’d graduated while holding down two part-time jobs and now worked as a scientist for a pharmaceutical company. He’d met Kelly when they were both in college. He still considered it a miracle that this beautiful woman loved him. For years now, her love had been the constant in his life, his emotional anchor, his sanctuary.

  The intense cold had soaked through his coat. He kicked at the snow, depressed and angry with himself. Kelly deserved a better husband, and Brittany sure as hell needed a more loving father.

  He was about to go back inside the station when the door opened and Clayton Kemper walked out.

  “You’re leaving?” Nick asked, shocked that the stationmaster would desert them at a time like this.

  Clayton Kemper looked more than a little guilty. “My shift was over an hour ago and the missus is wanting me home.”

  Talk about deserting the ship. “Someone else is coming, right?”

  “Oh, sure. Don’t you worry. Someone’ll be by to check up on you folks, but it might not be for a while.” Having said that, he headed down the steps, then glanced back over his shoulder and called, “Merry Christmas.”

  Nick stared at the man in disbelief. This had to be the worst Christmas of his entire life! Trapped with a cranky newborn and a wife who refused to see reason. If it’d been up to him, the three of them would at least have been in a motel room, comfortable and warm. But Kelly hadn’t wanted to leave the station, certain the repairs wouldn’t take long. Now it was too late. The guy with the long hair and his wife had already made inquiries. Apparently every hotel for miles around was full.

  This optimistic bent of Kelly’s had always been a problem. He’d been ready to give up on the fertility clinic long before she agreed. The expense had been horrific, and he didn’t mean just the financial aspects. Emotionally Kelly was a wreck two weeks out of every month. Only when he was able to talk her into accepting their situation and applying to an adoption agency had she gotten off the emotional roller coaster.

  Nick had almost given up hope himself—and then they received the phone call about Brittany. That five-minute conversation had changed their lives forever.

  He found himself grinning at the memory. Kelly was the one who’d been cool and calm while he’d sat there trembling. He’d never experienced any excitement even close to what he’d felt when he learned they finally had a baby.

  The first instant he saw Brittany, he’d been swept by a love so powerful it was beyond comprehension. Yet here he was, three months later, acting like a dolt and snapping at his wife in public.

  That wasn’t his only offense, either. For most of the afternoon, he’d ignored Kelly and the baby, wanting to escape them both. He wasn’t proud of himself; he’d ignored their needs, leaving Kelly to care for their daughter on her own while he brooded and behaved like a spoiled child.

  With that in mind, he boarded the train, walked down the narrow aisle and got the baby seat down from the storage compartment. Kelly’s arms mus
t be tired from holding Brittany. He wished he’d thought of this sooner.

  Hauling in a deep breath, he walked back into the station and stomped the snow from his boots. When he looked up, he discovered Kelly staring at him, her lips tight, but her eyes forgiving.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered as he sat beside her. He gazed down at Brittany, who gazed back at him, her blue eyes wide and curious. His daughter seemed to recognize him, and she, at least, didn’t know enough to realize what a cantankerous fool he’d been the past few hours. He offered her his finger, which she gripped eagerly with her little hand.

  “I’m sorry, too,” Kelly whispered back, sounding close to tears.

  Nick set the baby seat on the floor and placed his arm around his wife’s shoulders. She leaned her head against him. “I don’t know what came over me,” he murmured. “I wish we were anyplace but here.”

  “Me, too,” Kelly said.

  “Amy?”

  Len felt a surge of relief and unmistakable joy at the sound of her “hello.”

  “Are you in Boston?” she asked excitedly. “When can you catch a flight home?”

  “I’m still in Abbott,” Len said, his happiness evaporating quickly with the reality of this long day. He was trapped, a hostage to circumstances beyond his control.

  “You’re still in Abbott?” Amy sounded ready to weep. “Oh, Len, will you ever get home for Christmas?”

  “I don’t know,” he told her, trying to keep his own hopes alive—and failing. It seemed everything was against him.

  “Yes,” he said suddenly, emphatically. For a moment he didn’t know where this optimism had come from. Then he did. It was his overwhelming need to be with Amy. “I will get home for Christmas.” He wasn’t about to let the storm, the damaged tracks or anything else ruin his leave. “I’ll be home for Christmas, Amy. You can count on it.”

  He could almost feel her spirits rise. “Your girl in Rawhide will be waiting for you, sailor man.”

  “You’re more than my girl in Rawhide,” Len said. “You’re my one and only girl. Period!”

  She said nothing after his declaration. “Do you mean that, Len?” she finally asked.

  “With all my heart.” He was tempted to tell her about the diamond, but that would ruin his surprise, and he didn’t want to propose over the phone. It just didn’t seem near good enough. He wanted her to see the love in his eyes and watch her face when she saw the ring.

  “Oh, Len,” she whispered.

  “Listen, would you call my mom and dad and tell them I still don’t know when I’ll be home?”

  “Sure. Listen, since you can’t be here, I’ll go back to the nursing home tonight and play the piano for everyone. They wanted to sing Christmas carols but couldn’t find any staff willing to take time away from their families.”

  Len loved her all the more for her generous heart.

  “I can’t see sitting around home and moping,” she explained.

  “Sing a Christmas carol for me.”

  “I will,” she said, and her voice softened.

  There was a beep in his ear and Len knew he had only a couple of minutes left on his calling card.

  “Oh, Len,” Amy said. “Time’s running out.”

  “Remember, I’ll see you as soon as I can,” he said, ready to hang up.

  “Len, Len…”

  “Yes? What is it?”

  “Len,” she said, her voice catching, “I…love you. I was going to wait until tonight to tell you, but I want you to know right now. You might be in New Hampshire and me here in Rawhide, but that doesn’t matter, because you have my heart with you wherever you are.”

  The line went dead. Len wasn’t sure if she’d hung up or if the time had simply expired.

  “I love you, too, Amy,” he said into the silent phone, knowing she couldn’t hear the words. Somehow he was certain she could feel his heart responding to hers. Soon she’d know how very much he loved his Amy Sue.

  Len replaced the receiver and turned around to face the room. Everyone seemed in a dour mood.

  The door burst open just then and a smiling, lighthearted Clayton Kemper walked in. He glanced around and beamed proudly at the group of weary travelers.

  “I was on my way home when I ran across this,” he said cheerfully. He stuck his hand out the door and dragged in the sorriest-looking Christmas tree Len had ever seen.

  One side of the evergreen was bare, the top had split and two branches spiked in opposite directions, resembling bug antennae.

  “The man in the Christmas-tree lot gave it to me for a buck.”

  “You got overcharged,” Matt McHugh muttered. His words were followed by a few short laughs and a general feeling of agreement.

  “That may well be,” Kemper said, not letting their lack of enthusiasm dampen his spirit. “But it seemed to me that since you folks are stuck here on Christmas Eve, you might as well make the best of it.”

  “That tree looks like it’s in the same shape we’re in,” Elise Jones said dryly.

  “The tree is yours to do with as you wish,” Kemper told them. “Merry Christmas to you all.”

  No one thought to thank him, Len noticed.

  The sad little tree stood in the center of the room, bare and forlorn, wounded and ugly. He’d have to go along with Elise. The Christmas tree did resemble them—and their attitude.

  Five-year-old Kate Jones walked over to it and stood with her arms akimbo, staring at the limp branches. Then, apparently having come to some sort of decision, she turned to confront the disgruntled group.

  “I think it’s a beautiful tree,” she announced. “It just needs a little help.” She removed the red bow from the top of her head and pinned it to the nearest branch.

  Despite himself, Len grinned. On closer examination, the kid was right. The tree wasn’t nearly as ugly as he’d first thought.

  Six

  “Sing We Now of Christmas”

  M ost everyone ignored the Christmas tree, Cathy Norris mused sadly. Except for Kate…Then Kelly walked over and silently added a rattle. She took her time finding just the right spot for it, choosing to hang it directly in the middle, opposite Kate’s hair bow.

  Turning to the others, she smiled and said, “Come on, you guys, it’s Christmas Eve.”

  “She’s right,” Nick said, and joined his wife. He bounced the baby gently in his arms, and Brittany grinned and reached for his bright green muffler. Nick removed it, handed the baby to Kelly and placed the muffler on the tree, stretching it out as if it were the finest decorative strand. He wove it between the lower branches of the fir, the wool fringe dangling like green wool tinsel.

  Len surveyed the tree, then stepped up and added his white cap, settling it near the top, where it sat jauntily.

  The elderly black man moved forward next and added his tie clasp. He clipped it to the branch in an upright position like a clothespin, stepped back and nodded once, apparently pleased with the effect. “Hey, this tree doesn’t look so bad.”

  Soon others became creative about decorating the Christmas tree. Cathy cut strips of red yarn and with Kate’s help draped the strands over as many branches as they could reach.

  Even the grumpy salesman pitched in. Cathy saw him with the small pair of scissors on his Swiss Army knife, folding and cutting memos into paper snowflakes, then hanging them on the tree with dental floss. Actually they looked quite attractive against the backdrop of red yarn.

  It wasn’t long before every branch sprouted some sort of odd decoration. True, it wasn’t a traditional Christmas tree, but it seemed to possess amazing powers. The scowls and complaints of moments earlier were now replaced by smiles and animated chatter.

  “I think my daughter’s right,” Elise said, walking over to more closely examine their handiwork. “This is actually a beautiful tree.”

  The little boy, around three or four, who’d stayed close by his parents the entire day, clapped in delight.

  Cathy noticed several smiles.

/>   “I’m hungry,” Kate whispered to her mother.

  Worrying about their situation as she had for most of the day, Cathy hadn’t given any thought to food until the youngster mentioned it. She apparently wasn’t the only one.

  “What about dinner?” Cathy asked, glancing about the room. It looked as though they’d been left to fend for themselves. Mr. Kemper had said someone would come by to check on them, but so far no one had.

  “Nothing’s going to be open tonight,” Matt McHugh grumbled. “Not on Christmas Eve.”

  “Especially not with the storm and all earlier,” Len put in.

  Cathy could feel the mood of the room, so recently elevated, plunge. Already those who’d moved closer to the Christmas tree were sliding away to slump on benches by the walls.

  “Now, that does bring up an interesting prospect,” Cathy said, speaking to the entire group for the first time. “I’m Cathy Norris, by the way. I’m going to visit my daughter and her family in Boston, and I just happened to bring along four dozen of her favorite shortbread cookies. Somehow, I don’t think she’d mind my sharing them with all of you.”

  She brought out the tin and pried open the lid.

  “My wife and I have several oranges,” the elderly black man said. “We can share those. Since we’re going to be eating together, it’s only appropriate that we introduce ourselves. My name’s Sam Givens and my wife’s Louise.”

  “Thank you, Sam and Louise,” Cathy said. “Anyone else?”

  “I’m Matt McHugh. I was given a fruitcake on my last sales call,” Matt surprised her by saying. “I would’ve thrown the damn thing out, but one of my kids likes the stuff. I can cut that up if anyone’s interested.”

  “Well, I’m quite fond of fruitcake,” Kelly Berry said.

  Although the depot office was locked, the counter was free and Cathy placed the tin of cookies there. Matt took out the fruitcake and sliced it with his Swiss Army knife. Sam Givens brought over the oranges, then peeled and sectioned them.