Angels in the Snow (16 page)

But Charles was unable to let himself join in. He kept studying Joe Walker, looking for the clue that would allow him to relate to Alex in the same way Joe did to Robbie. He needed to learn how to make Judith laugh and react the way Marilyn did when Joe whispered in her ear or simply touched her arm.

Try as he might, however, he felt as if he were only scratching the surface. Though he spoke to his children, and chatted with Judith over the puzzle, he had the distinct feeling it was going nowhere. He was reminded uncomfortably of situations at work with employees who had heard what he said but insisted on doing as they pleased. He'd always ended up firing them.

“Say, boys, how about bringing in more wood?” Judith asked. She was standing before the window, gazing out into a mysterious white world. “The snow has stopped, but it's so deep I can't imagine the utility companies getting out this far anytime soon.”

“You mean we're stuck here for Christmas?” Josie asked, a huge grin on her little face.

“I think so,” her father answered.

“Yippie!” She bounded over to Alex, but stopped short of leaping into his arms because he was carving again. “We're stuck here! We're stuck here!”

While the children all celebrated their grand adventure, Charles noticed a solemn look pass between Marilyn and Joe. Only Judith seemed unperturbed by the situation.

Was she relieved that the Walkers would have to stay—that she would not have to be left alone with her own family? With her own husband? The thought tightened a knot in Charles's stomach.

Judith did indeed find it hard to be upset with their snowbound situation. But it wasn't that she didn't want to be alone with her family. It was rather that she wanted more of the warm feelings the Walkers helped to create within her family. The peace. If this was to be their last Christmas as a whole family unit, then she wanted it to be good. And if it needed the Walkers to be good, then so be it.

“Marilyn, could we talk?” she asked when everyone else was occupied. The boys had gone outside for wood. Charles was reading. Joe and the girls were checking on Fluffy. “We need to plan for tonight.”

“For tonight?” Marilyn asked as they stood near the curtained-off stairwell.

“It's Christmas Eve. Santa has to find us.”

Marilyn sighed, understanding now what she meant. “Don't worry. Robbie knows and so does Lucy.”

“Josie still believes in Santa Claus.”

Marilyn looked across the room at her youngest. “Yes, she does. I guess I'll just tell her that Santa decided to leave everything at her own house.”

“You don't have to do that.”

Marilyn smiled. “I think I know what you have in mind, Judith, and I appreciate it. But I don't think that's necessary.”

“Actually . . .” Judith paused, fumbling with words that didn't come easily. “You couldn't be more wrong. My children have . . . well, they have a lot. But I'm not sure they've ever developed a sense of responsibility for others. Please, don't deprive them of this opportunity,” she implored.

Their eyes met in complete understanding. Finally Marilyn laughed. “Who's the salesman in your family, anyway? You make it awfully hard to turn down your offer.”

“Then don't turn it down. Alex and Jennifer have a closet full of gifts upstairs. They won't miss a few.”

“Are you going to let them decide which gifts to share?”

Judith bit her lip in indecision. “I'm not sure if I should make the choices, or they should.”

“Why not ask them? Let them decide?”

Judith caught Alex as he came in with wood, then she corralled Jennifer as well, and in the icy kitchen they huddled.

“Josie still believes in Santa Claus,” she began without preamble. “Unless you agree to share your gifts with the Walker children, she'll know it's all make-believe.” Then she waited.

Alex and Jennifer glanced at each other. “Did you get us anything a little girl like her would want?” Alex asked.

“Well, not much,” Judith admitted. “But I want to do more than just share with Josie. I want to make sure
everyone
has a happy Christmas morning.”

Alex shrugged. “Sure. No problem.”

Jennifer stared at Alex in disbelief. “You mean share my stuff with
all
of them? But there won't be anything left for
me.
”

“Get real, Jenn,” Alex scoffed. “You're not exactly deprived. What's your problem?”

Judith looked at her daughter. The war going on inside the girl was clear from the look on her face. Jennifer loved her name-brand clothes and jewelry; she could happily live in the shopping malls her father built. Asking her to give up even one of the elegantly wrapped boxes she'd seen unloaded from the car was asking a lot.

Jennifer sighed. “They've probably never gotten as much stuff for Christmas as we get, have they?” Then she slowly grinned at her mother, and Judith let out the breath she'd unconsciously been holding. “Okay, Mom. Go ahead and divide up the gifts. Just don't ask
me
to choose which ones to keep and which ones to give away,” she added ruefully.

Alex laughed and threw one arm around his little sister. “It'll only hurt for a little while, Jenn. I'm sure Mom will make it up to you the next time you both go shopping.”

Jennifer laughed, too. “Hey, you're right. If I'm smart, I can milk this for lots of good stuff.”

Judith was caught off guard by the flood of love that overwhelmed her. Tears stung her eyes and she couldn't trust herself to speak. Instead, she drew her two children to her in a tight, emotional embrace.

“I love you both so much,” she whispered in a voice that shook.

When they broke apart, she could see that they were as affected as she was. Alex swallowed hard and looked sheepish, while Jennifer brushed away her own tears.

“This is going to be a great Christmas, Mom. Just like Dad promised.”

“Yes.” Judith nodded and pressed her lips together. “Just like he promised.”

But once Christmas was over, what then?

J
udith had disappeared upstairs with Marilyn some time ago. Charles couldn't help peering at the curtained-off stairwell one more time. They must be freezing up there. No doubt they were planning for Christmas Eve and Christmas morning.

“Lucy! Something's wrong. Quick! Come see!”

Charles glanced up at Jennifer's fearful tone. She was leaning over the rabbit's box, but when Lucy rushed over, she looked up.

“Fluffy doesn't look good. I think she's—” She broke off abruptly, her face reflecting her sudden panic.

“Dad. Dad!” Lucy instinctively yelled for her parent.

“What's wrong, girls?” Charles said, hurrying over to them.

Robbie came in from the kitchen. “Dad's in the basement, Lucy. What do you want him for?”

“Fluffy! She's—I don't know—she's shaking. And . . . and . . . Oh, Robbie, I think she's gonna die!”

“Dad!” Robbie bellowed at once. “Dad!” Then he scrambled across the room to join the worried group.

“Let me take a look,” Charles said.

He put a hand on Jennifer's shoulder and she looked up at him. “I don't think you should do anything, Dad. Just wait for Joe.”

Their eyes met for a long moment. Charles saw the worry in his daughter's eyes and he squeezed her shoulder. “Maybe I can do something,” he said encouragingly.

She swallowed and shook her head. “This is too important, Dad. We'd better wait for Joe—”

Joe, Alex, and Josie hurried into the room, and Charles felt a cold rush of air that might have come with them. But the chill he felt was rooted deeper than that.

This was too important, Jennifer had said. Too important for him to deal with. She'd rather wait for Joe Walker.

Charles stepped back as the others crowded forward. Josie was in Alex's arms. As she began to cry, Alex pressed her face to his shoulder and tried to comfort her. Lucy and Jennifer knelt to one side with Robbie between them. The boy put an arm around each of them, and the three clung together, giving and seeking comfort as Joe examined the animal.

Charles knew what the outcome would be. He'd seen the rabbit's convulsions, and knew it was in the final throes of death. No one could change that, not even the almighty Joe Walker. Jennifer would see that the man was only human, just like him.

Yet as Charles watched the distraught children, he suddenly wished Joe
could
change the inevitable. He wished the man could save the rabbit, even if it confirmed Jennifer's and Alex's exalted opinion of him. Anything to erase the stricken expressions from their faces.

When Joe's head drooped in defeat, Charles knew it was over. For an instant the men's eyes met, and they shared a moment of complete understanding. No matter how much they desired their children's happiness, some things would always be beyond their ability to provide. On the surface, one rabbit's life seemed a very small thing. But somehow it mattered very much.

At that moment Marilyn and Judith came down the stairs, their cheeks and noses rosy from the frozen reaches of the upper floor.

“—thaw out the turkey,” Judith was saying. But she stopped when she spied the miserable group huddled around the rabbit's box. “What's wrong?”

“Joe?” Marilyn scurried down the last three steps. “What happened? Is the rabbit . . .” Her question trailed off as she met her husband's gaze.

“Mama!” Josie cried.

Alex crossed to Marilyn and handed her the crying child. “Fluffy's dead,” he said.

Charles heard the quiver in his son's voice and knew how hard Alex fought to control his own emotions. Charles suddenly remembered every time he'd told his son that big boys didn't cry, and he regretted it.

He felt like crying himself, though not because of the rabbit's death. It was Jennifer's innocent observation that her father couldn't help when it was truly important. He could build high-rise hotels and extravagant shopping malls. He could provide his family with the best of everything—houses, clothes, cars. But he couldn't provide his little girl with the emotional comfort she wanted. She would pick a complete stranger over him.

Tears blurred his vision, though he sternly fought them down. He watched as Judith and Marilyn gathered their children to them. He saw Joe wrap the still rabbit in a towel and lay it back in its box. Only when Joe took the box to the kitchen did Charles move from his position apart from the others.

“Don't cry,” he murmured to Jennifer, who had her head buried in her mother's shoulder. He touched the tangled blond hair, then extended his arm to encircle both girl and mother. Without thinking, he also encircled Alex's shoulder so that they stood together, all four of them. He sought out Judith's eyes and was gratified beyond all understanding to see the need in them. She needed him!

He bent his head until their foreheads met and then he just stood there, connected to her once more. Connected to them all.

It was Alex who pulled back first. His young face was composed again, and Charles found himself marveling at the mixture of boy and man so evident: the first hint of the beard to come—peach fuzz; the faint remnants of acne on his chin; the need to be manly when he wanted to cry like a little boy.

Jennifer's face was wet with tears when she straightened up. “If we could have gotten her to the vet, she would have lived.”

“Maybe; maybe not,” Judith replied sadly. “Some things are beyond our control, honey. Sometimes, no matter how much we want something—no matter how hard we try—it can never be. All you can do is accept it and go on.”

Her gaze met Charles's, and all at once his sense of connectedness vanished. Was she talking about the rabbit's death or their marriage? He tried to read her face, but she was looking at Jennifer now, smoothing the girl's hair back and wiping the tears from her face. What had she meant?

Charles cleared his throat, desperate to get hold of a situation that seemed to be spiraling out of his control. “I know this has upset everybody,” he said. “If you like, after we get out of here, I'll buy you another pet rabbit. All of you,” he amended, including the Walker children in his sweeping gaze.

Marilyn gave him a faint smile. “That's very kind, but—”

“I don't
want
another rabbit,” Josie broke in plaintively. “I only want Fluffy.”

“Hush, now, sweetheart,” her mother said. “Fluffy has gone up to heaven. You remember how we talked about that before?”

The little girl reluctantly nodded, then buried her head against her mother's neck again. “But I want her here,” she sobbed.

“I'll get you another rabbit,” Charles ventured, trying to soothe the child. “You'll be able to play with it and everything.”

Marilyn shook her head. “If Fluffy had recovered, eventually we would have let her go. She was a wild creature. The children know they're not allowed to keep wild creatures as pets unless they can't fend for themselves anymore.”