Angels in the Snow (24 page)

“I don't know why the Walkers came to us,” he began. “But they did. They died in a car accident before we ever met them. But they spent three days with us at Christmastime.”

“They were really angels. They really were, weren't they?” Jennifer marveled. She smiled through her tears. “Lucy and Josie and Robbie. And Joe and Marilyn, too.”

“But why?” Alex wiped his damp eyes and looked to his father for some explanation.

Charles swallowed. His heart was pounding like a drum, and he felt as if he might explode from the joy that swelled within his chest. “I think they came to help us.” He looked over at Judith. “To help us be a family again. A happy family that puts one another first. That loves each other totally. And make no mistake, I love all of you so much. So much,” he finished in a whisper.

Judith pressed her lips together. Her eyes swam with emotion. “I love you, too, Charles. I always have; I always will. And you, too,” she choked out, hugging her children tight.

“I love you, Mom and Dad,” Jennifer whispered, breaking into tears again. “You, too, Alex.”

“I love you, too, punk,” Alex replied. “I love you, Mom. I love you, Dad.”

Charles met Alex's gaze for a long moment. He was nearly grown, but he would always be his little boy. The son he loved, no matter what direction he chose as he grew up.

“Let's go,” he said with a tremulous smile. “We're going back to the mountain house.”

“We are?” Judith said in surprise. “But what about—”

Charles stopped her words with a kiss. How he loved her! And what a fool he'd been, to almost lose her. “We have a family vacation to finish.”

He had no sooner put the car in drive than his cell phone rang. With a determined set to his shoulders he steered the car out of the parking lot and turned left onto the highway. It rang again, and then one more time.

“Shall I get it?” Judith asked quietly.

Charles saw the fear on her face. It was doubtless Doug calling. She knew it, and she was afraid that he'd be swayed by the needs of his business again. But not this time. Not ever again.

“I'll get it,” he said with a reassuring smile as it rang a fourth time. Then he took a deep breath and put his earpiece in place.

“Hello?”

“Charles? Doug. Listen, how's the road look? I need to know how long it will be before you get back. There're some things we need to go over. I thought we could meet at Hilbert's Restaurant, around the corner from Garrington's office. What time can you—”

“I won't be able to make the meeting,” Charles interrupted. “I won't be back until sometime Sunday afternoon, as originally planned.”

“What! Maybe I didn't make it clear how critical this meeting is, Charles. This could kill the whole project!”

“You made it clear. But keeping my family together is more important to me than this project. Than
any
project.”

“What in the hell does your family have to do with it?” Doug demanded.

Charles looked at Judith. He saw the beautiful smile that was spreading across her face, and the love that shone in her eyes. He could hardly speak, for the powerful emotions that rose in his throat.

“My family has everything in the world to do with it. Everything.” He cleared his throat. “Good luck at the meeting, Doug. I've got to go, but I'll give you a call when I get home. And merry Christmas to you and Cora. Do something special for her, okay?”

He clicked off the phone and heaved a huge sigh as he pulled the earpiece off.

“Way to go, Dad!” Alex said. Charles met his son's eyes in the rearview mirror and saw the happy grin on his face. He gave him a wink and felt thrilled inside when Alex returned it.

His ringtone sounded again, and he glanced at Judith.

“Jude, would you hit the control that rolls down my window?”

She stared at him, clearly perplexed. But as the phone sounded again, her mouth dropped open. “Charles, you can't mean to . . .”

“Oh yes, I can.” He gave her a look filled with all the love and hope he felt, and the terrible regrets he had for the past. “I should have done it long ago.”

The electronic tone stopped in mid-cycle as he picked up the expensive hands-free device, and Doug's voice came out small and frantic sounding as Judith slid the window down.

Charles heaved the phone out the window, sending it sailing across the the road to land somewhere far below in the snow-shrouded forest.

“I think we're going to need more wood when we get back,” Charles told his son. “I used to chop wood for my grandparents when I was your age, but I'm probably a little rusty after all these years. Maybe you could give me some pointers.”

Alex grinned at his dad, and then at his mother and sister. “Sure, Dad. Anytime.”

Want even more heartwarming holiday reads?

Keep reading for a sneak peek of

THE CHRISTMAS TRAIN

by
USA Today
bestselling author Rexanne Becnel

T
OM Thurston stared at his phone in shock, then dropped it on the kitchen counter as if it had burned his hand. Like a ghost from the past, Carrie calls him and tells him she's sending Anna to live with him?

She'd said, “I've raised her for the first ten years. It's your turn now.” Into his stunned silence she'd added, “I'll let you know when she's arriving.”

He sank onto a bar stool and stared blankly. What was he supposed to do with a ten-year-old girl?

Groaning, he raked a hand through his hair. He should have known this day would come—that his one big mistake would eventually come back to haunt him.

He'd met Carrie Spano in his senior year at the University of Texas. A freshman, she'd been a beauty. Faced with her dark, flashing eyes, her killer body, and her devil-may-care approach to life, it had been easy to overlook her youth. By November they'd been an item. But by April, with graduation and a new job on his horizon, she'd started pushing for them to get married.

Married? At twenty-two?

Then she'd dropped the bomb: she was pregnant.

It was painful to remember his panic and her stunned response. Backed against a wall, he'd blurted out that he was too young to get married; they both were. But if she wanted, he would help her get an abortion.

Carrie, always fun-loving but often intense, had gone ballistic, screaming and ranting that he was a son of a bitch and every other foul name she could think of.

And she'd been right. He knew that now, but at the time he'd thanked his lucky stars to be rid of her. In a fit of rage she'd vowed to keep the baby and make him sorry that he'd ever messed with her.

That was the last time he'd seen her. But as he'd started his professional life as an engineer here in Iowa, the shadow of Carrie had hung over him. Carrie and her baby.
His
baby. He'd expected to hear from her once the baby was born, but when there was no word he got anxious. Did she have the baby or not? Did she keep it or put it up for adoption?

He'd finally researched the births in Carrie's hometown and discovered that Caroline Spano—no father listed—had given birth to Anna Rose Spano on October 2, 1991.

He had a daughter.

And now that daughter was ten years old, and coming here to live with him.

“Damn it!” How was he supposed to fit her into his life? But even more difficult would be explaining her to his parents and sister. What would they think of him, their golden boy, who, as far as they knew, had never screwed up. Even worse, how could he justify keeping such a huge secret from them?

He braced his elbows on the counter. He supposed they would forgive him eventually. And they would accept Anna, he knew that. His mother was eager for a grandchild and made no bones about it, especially to his recently married sister.

But what about Joelle? Would she be able to forgive him? Or would she dump him and his surprise daughter like a load of bricks?

Muffling a curse, he dropped his head into his hands. This could
not
be happening. Not this fast, with no warning whatsoever. Surely he and Carrie could come to some sort of compromise. What if he offered her money to keep the child? After all, she'd cashed the check he'd sent her right after he found out the baby was born. Although she hadn't acknowledged them, she'd cashed all the checks he'd sent that first year.

Then one of the envelopes came back marked
unable to deliver.
He'd done a cursory search for her with no success, and decided that if she'd moved and couldn't be bothered to contact him, then so be it. And if he'd ever felt guilty on October 2 every year, he'd told himself that he'd done all he could do.

Now, though, he was in a quandary. He could no longer ignore the situation.

He stared at his phone. Taking a deep breath, he reached for it and pressed *69. “Pick up, Carrie. Pick up the damn phone,” he muttered as it rang and rang. He wasn't ready to be a father. A kid would ruin everything. He would
not
let Carrie wreck his life without even giving him a chance to make some counteroffer.

But when he finally hung up after twenty rings, he knew he was wrong. Carrie
could
wreck his life. She already had.

A
NNA packed her favorite nightgown, three pairs of socks and underpants, and three changes of clothes—her favorites, just in case her mother didn't get around to sending the rest of her clothes and other things she'd packed into two big cardboard boxes. Even with the boxes full, there were so many things she loved that she had to leave behind. Her teddy-bear collection. Her shelf of
Goosebumps
books. Her school papers, and the art projects that Nana Rose had posted on the refrigerator. And then there was her bike, and all her Barbie stuff.

Her mother said it cost too much to send so much junk all the way to Iowa. If her father wanted to drive back and get it, fine with her.

Anna swallowed hard and began to shove the nightgown into her backpack. If her father did want her and all her stuff, he would've said so a long time ago. All the things her grandmother had scrimped and saved to buy her were as good as gone.

Except for the Christmas present.

Wiping away her tears, Anna knelt down and pulled the box out from under her bed. She'd found it in Nana Rose's closet when her mother told her to pick out a dress for Nana Rose to be buried in. Even though it had only been October, the box had been wrapped in pretty Christmas paper with a wide red ribbon and a gift tag with
Anna
written on it in Nana Rose's neat, familiar handwriting.

Setting the gift on her bed, she studied it and the rest of the clothes that had to fit in her backpack.

When she first found it, she'd wanted so bad to open it. Even now, just looking at it, knowing Nana Rose had wrapped it up so nice for her, made her want to open it.

But she had to wait. This was going to be the worst Christmas of her life, but at least she had this present. When she opened it on Christmas morning, it would be almost like Nana Rose was there with her. Almost.

Frowning, she emptied her backpack, wedged the box safely on the bottom, then repacked her clothes on top of it.

She wasn't sure where she would be on Christmas Day, but at least she could look forward to opening this one last gift from Nana Rose.

T
HE train depot was festooned for Christmas. Garlands looped above the ticket counter. A huge wreath hung over the wide arched entrance to the station's platforms, and a pair of lighted trees, flocked white and laden with shiny red ornaments, flanked the information and security booth.

Eva Stephens clutched the handle of her bag. It held no presents, but she hoped her surprising visit after so long an absence would prove present enough for her family. Her heart fluttered in her chest, an unwelcome symptom according to her doctor. But she preferred to think of it as butterfly wings beating eagerly for release. She was going home! After more years than she could remember, she was going home for Christmas.

She coughed three times, like the nurse had taught her, and felt the flutter subside. Then shifting her carpet-bag from her right hand to her left, she set out for the ticket counter. How long since she'd been on a train? She couldn't recall. But some things never changed: the busy excitement of so many people rushing everywhere; the low rumble of the massive engines that permeated even inside the station building. And through the glass doors, the view of people queuing up to board.

Unfortunately people didn't seem to dress as nicely as they used to. She tried not to stare at a man in worn tennis shoes and a stained sweatshirt. And behind her in line a woman dressed in painted-on jeans, knee-high stiletto boots, and a sweater meant to emphasize her generous breasts held the hand of a little girl, all the while reeking of cigarette smoke.

Eva wrinkled her nose.
I hope they still have separate smoking cars.