Angels in the Snow (20 page)

“Good morning.” Marilyn smiled a greeting at him. She reached for a mug and immediately poured him a cup from the coffeemaker.

“What time is it?” Charles inquired, taking the warm mug gratefully between his cold hands.

“About five-thirty,” Joe answered. “The electricity came on around five, and I've been hearing what sounds like snowplows down the mountain. They should be clearing the highway pretty soon.”

Charles took a slow sip of the steaming coffee. “I'm glad I don't have their job. Especially on Christmas morning.”

“Yeah. But they know how important their work is. There will be a lot of people grateful to them this Christmas.”

Charles stared at Joe, trying to determine whether he was trying to make some point with his words. But to his surprise, Charles discovered that he didn't really care. He was willing to concede that some bluecollar guy, who drove a snowplow for barely a living wage, was just as important in the scheme of things as anyone else. “Yeah, a lot of people will be grateful,” he agreed with a thoughtful nod.

Marilyn moved toward Joe and he put his arm around her shoulder. “What are you doing up so early?” he asked Charles.

For a moment Charles wasn't sure how to answer. But Marilyn smiled at him so encouragingly, and even Joe's interest no longer seemed antagonizing or condescending. With a sigh Charles perched on one of the chrome stools.

“I woke up because of the digital clock. Then I got to thinking, and . . .” He trailed off, uneasy about admitting the truth to them. But for once he pushed himself to go on. “I, uh . . . I decided that the gift I bought Judith is, well . . . not appropriate. I mean—well, I don't think she'll like it.”

In the brief uncomfortable silence, Charles had the oddest feeling that for once they both approved of him. Even more odd, he wasn't infuriated by the thought of them passing such judgment one way or the other on him.

“Do you have something else in mind?” Marilyn asked.

“Not really,” Charles confessed. “Maybe an IOU, promising her a trip somewhere. Just us two. She'd like something like that.”

Joe nodded. “Yes, she probably would.”

Marilyn took a long sip of coffee. “My favorite gift that Joe ever gave me was a painting he did of the first house we lived in, way back in college.”

“It wasn't much of a painting,” Joe demurred. “And not too accurate, either. I did it from memory.”

Marilyn smiled. “Yes. We had rented the place although it was barely more than a shack. But then it was slated for demolition to build an apartment complex. We had to move, and I cried for days. So Joe did a painting for me.” She looked up at her husband with such undisguised love that Charles was almost embarrassed to witness it.

But it was the sort of look he wanted to receive from Judith, so he pressed on. “It's hard to know what someone else wants.
Really
wants.”

“I guess you have to really listen,” Marilyn said. “I knew I couldn't have our little house back. And Joe knew he couldn't get it back for me. So he gave me the painting as a good memory of it. And by doing that, he showed me that he understood how I felt. That's what meant the most to me.”

Charles swallowed, remembering what Judith had said last night about the old house on Cleveland Avenue. “Why did that place mean so much to you?”

Marilyn shrugged. “I came from a family that . . . well, let's just say we weren't the ideal family unit. That little house was the first place where I really felt surrounded by love—and able to love freely, as well. That's so important. I guess that house symbolized happiness to me, and when it was demolished, I felt like my happiness was being demolished, too. Of course, I soon learned that wasn't the case.” She leaned her head against Joe. “Love and happiness don't require a place. They require people.”

Then she grinned sheepishly. “How did we get on this subject, anyway? Come on, Joe. We need to get breakfast going and wake up the children.”

Charles's head was spinning with too many confusing thoughts to understand what they were up to. All he could think was that he had to show Judith that he understood—that he wanted more than anything in the world to shower her with love and happiness. What could he give her that could make that clear?

He stared blankly at the kitchen window, hardly seeing the earliest hint of dawn that let the silhouette of the forest vaguely separate from the dark sky. He didn't know how to paint. Maybe he could hire someone. No, that wouldn't work. He was beginning to understand that this had to come from him, and him alone.

Not until Marilyn began to make a pot of oatmeal did he pull his thoughts away from his own predicament. “Why are you making breakfast so early? No one will be up for hours.”

“We have to get going,” she said as she placed bowls on the counter and opened a drawer to find spoons. “The snowplows are coming, and if we can get back to our van, they'll help us back onto the road.”

“What?” Charles stood up, appalled that they could be thinking of leaving. “You can't go now. It's still dark. And it's Christmas morning—” He shook his head, searching for some argument that could dissuade her.

Just then Joe returned to the kitchen with Josie in his arms and Lucy and Robbie in tow. “I'll get these guys dressed, Marilyn. How long till breakfast? I don't want to miss those snowplows.”

“I'll be ready in less than five minutes.”

“Okay, gang. You heard your mom. Let's hustle and get dressed. And be quiet about it. We don't want to wake everybody.”

Charles watched in dismay as the Walker family made their hasty preparations. As stunned as he was by their impending departure, he was even more amazed at his regret. He didn't want them to leave, as much for his own sake as for theirs.

“It's freezing out there,” he argued as the children sat down to their oatmeal. “And the snow is too deep—and too dangerous.”

But his words fell on deaf ears. The kitchen was a flurry of activity as the Walkers donned their boots and coats, mufflers, hats, and gloves. Only when he realized they were going no matter what he said, did he accept defeat.

“At least let me wake up Judith and the kids. They'll want to tell you good-bye.”

Marilyn stood up after fastening Josie's coat. “You tell them good-bye for us, Charles. And tell them thank you for everything.”

He stared at her as a panicky feeling swept over him. “We're the ones who should be thanking you,” he whispered, knowing without a doubt that it was true. “You've made our stay here . . .” He ran a hand through his hair. During the past two days, the Walkers had helped his own family to function as a family again. And now that they were leaving, he was terrified everything would fall apart again. He would never be able to keep Judith if they left now.

But Marilyn seemed almost to know his fears, for she laid a reassuring hand on his arm. “Your heart is in the right place, Charles. You let logic get in the way sometimes, but we all do that at times. Just relax a little more, and everything will be all right.”

He couldn't pretend he didn't understand. His pride meant nothing when his family was on the line. “I wish I could be so sure,” he whispered, fighting down his panic.

“A good marriage takes a lot of listening and hard work. I know you're willing to work at it. The hardest thing for most of us is the listening.”

Those last words stayed with Charles as the Walkers all slipped out the kitchen door. Joe broke a trail through the virgin snow, holding Josie in his arms. Robbie and Lucy followed, while Marilyn brought up the rear. Charles stood on the back deck watching them trudge out of sight, shivering in the icy quiet.

The wind was still. The sky was clear, with the last stars fading as it slowly lightened. The snow-covered ground was a vague violet, edged by the black silhouettes of the trees. As the Walkers made their laborious way down the long drive, they slowly faded into the shadowy dawn. He thought Marilyn might have turned and waved, but he blinked, and then he couldn't see them at all. They were gone.

A violent shiver shook him, and with a resigned sigh Charles turned back to the house. He hoped they were warm enough, and that the snowplows he heard in the distance came upon their van soon. What if it wouldn't start? Maybe they'd come back then.

But Charles had a feeling that the Walkers were gone for good. And he was unprepared for the profound sorrow that knowledge caused him.

There was nothing he could do about that, though, he realized as he opened the kitchen door. They had their own lives to live, and his family had theirs. He had to go on from where he was. That was the stoic philosophy he used in business, and that's what he needed to cling to now.

He went over to the coffeemaker and poured another mugful. The Walkers had shown them how good family unity could feel. All he had to do was not let his family forget that lesson. They had to do things together more—spend more time together doing small stuff. Puzzles. Charades. Talking.

But that didn't solve the immediate problem of Judith's Christmas gift.

He put the mug down and swiftly fetched the exquisitely wrapped package from beneath the tree. As he did, he spotted the cord for the Christmas tree lights. On impulse he plugged it in, then sat back on his heels as the tiny twinkling lights came on.

It was a beautiful tree, he decided as a wave of sentiment washed over him. Jennifer shifted on the couch and rolled over, pulling the quilt over her head. Alex slept like a rock in the corner where he and Robbie had bedded down side by side last night.

Alex would probably enjoy going camping, Charles thought. But would Judith agree to go? She wasn't much of an outdoor person anymore. When they'd first been married, she'd enjoyed hiking. He frowned at the memory. She'd enjoyed gardening, too. But he'd hired a gardener years ago. And they never stayed any place where hiking was an option. Their trips always were associated with business, and were always in dense urban areas.

He clutched the Tiffany box tighter. Okay, a trip to a rural area. Maybe Florida. Or the Caribbean. They would frolic in the great outdoors like children, and she would see how much he loved her. And discover how much she still could love him.

With a sigh of relief, Charles stood up. It was reassuring to have some sense of direction. Some plan of action. He shook the box as an idea came to him, and an optimistic grin lit his face. Judith Montgomery was in for the toughest battle of her life. She was
not
going to get away from him. She almost had, but he'd just begun to fight.

BRIGHT SUNSHINE WOKE JUDITH.
She rolled over, shoving the comforter off her shoulders. It was enough to smother a person, she thought groggily.

Very slowly, reality intruded. It was morning. Christmas morning. The sun was out; that meant the storm was over. And she was too warm. Who had tampered with the thermostat?

She woke up fully at the realization that the heat was on. They had power again. With a huge yawn and an arching stretch, she smiled. Thank heaven. While they'd not really suffered without electricity, having it back would certainly make cooking that turkey easier.

She looked around at the spacious bedroom. The morning sun slanted through the high clerestory window and glinted off the snow outside, creating an almost unearthly brightness in the pale-colored room.
An interior photographer would love this light
, she thought. The elegant room. The rumpled bed that hinted so clearly at what had gone on the night before.

As she remembered last night, her contented smile faded, to be replaced by uncertainty. Last night she and Charles had made love in a way she couldn't begin to understand. It had been desperate at first, and then almost violent. But it had left her completely satisfied, both physically and emotionally. She'd been exhausted and beyond rational thought when they'd finally collapsed in a tangle of sheets and comforters and each other.

During that time they'd been beyond the conflicts of daily life and the accumulated baggage of twenty years together. For that brief time they'd simply been Judith and Charles, two people who loved each other in every way it is possible to love.

Just remembering the absolute perfection of it brought tears to her eyes.

Yet she wasn't fool enough to think that last night had actually changed anything—that everything that was wrong with their marriage had suddenly been made right. Charles might believe it was that easy, but she knew better.

Still, things weren't the same, either.

Feeling nervous, she rose and headed for the bathroom. The hot shower was true luxury. Clean hair, clothes that weren't piled on for warmth, and a sunny day—by the time she headed downstairs, her good spirits had taken hold again. She was a little reluctant to face Charles, but she couldn't help thinking it was the most beautiful Christmas morning she'd ever seen.

The living room was deserted, but voices came from the kitchen and Judith headed that way. Charles, Alex, and Jennifer were in the midst of preparing a breakfast of toast, orange juice, and scrambled eggs, but the Walkers were nowhere to be seen.

“Good morning.” She touched Jennifer's shoulder and reached up to tousle Alex's hair. Then she met Charles's gaze.

In that meeting of their eyes, a lifetime of emotion seemed to pass. It was awkward, but no more so than any first meeting between a man and woman, where the attraction exists but is too tentative to express. How odd to feel that way with her own husband. And yet something told her it was the right way to feel.

Her eyes lowered shyly, and it was then that Jennifer spoke up.

“They're gone, Mom. They left before we got up. All of them.”

“What? Do you mean the Walkers?” Judith looked around in disbelief, sure that Jennifer was mistaken. “But that makes no sense. Why would they leave?
How
could they leave?”