Celebration (25 page)

“Because I was stupid. I admit I am the stupidest woman walking the face of the earth. I can't do anything right according to the men in my life. Well, we'll fix that right now.” She ran to the dresser and yanked open the bottom drawer. Neat bundles of letters next to her wool socks stared up at her. Cut them up? Flush them? Burn them? Reread them? “None of the above,” she murmured as she kicked the drawer shut. She'd gotten such comfort late at night when she wrote them. They were better than writing in a diary.

She recognized her pattern then as she stared at the closed drawer. She'd written hundreds and hundreds of letters to Logan, pouring out her heart. Letters that she mailed, letters that came back marked
ADDRESSEE UNKNOWN.
Unknown. How could someone be unknown when you were married to him all your adult life? The next step, if she stayed true to her pattern, was to hit the bottle.

“It ain't gonna happen!” The words blasted from Kristine's mouth like icy bullets. “Come on, Gracie, hop up,” she said as she bent down so the little dog could jump into her arms. Slick chased his stubby tail and then beelined for the hall and the long stairway leading down to the kitchen.

The phone rang just as Kristine opened the refrigerator for a soft drink. “Cala, where are you?”

“Down at the barn. Mom, can you baby-sit tonight? Pete and I want to do some Christmas shopping. They're forecasting bad weather for the rest of the week. Everything here is solid, so it's okay from this end. Pete wants to make a day of it, shopping, dinner, and a movie. I brought the girls with me on the off chance you would agree. If you have other plans, we can wait until next week.”

“I'd be happy to baby-sit. Why don't you leave the girls here for the night? We'll have a pajama party, just the three of us. I'm going to pack up all my files and papers and put my mission aside until after the first of the year. My calendar is free.”

“Mom, are you sure you don't mind?”

“Cala, I do not mind. I love spending time with the girls. We'll start on our Christmas cookies and maybe do a little decorating. Will it be all right to take them out in the snow this afternoon?”

“Mom, you're in charge. You know the girls like to be entertained. They love staying with you.”

Kristine's heart soared. “Thank you for saying that, Cala. I was going to take a ride over to the Kelly farm today to check the house for the last time before the sale goes through. There's a little hill in the back and I thought the girls could sled ride a little. My old sled was in the attic. I cleaned it up and polished the runners a few weeks ago.”

“They'll love it, Mom. I'll send the girls up to the house. Send Gracie and Slick down to make sure they get all the way up. Ellie likes to roll in the snow. All you have to do, Mom, is feed the dogs at six o'clock. I'll see you in the morning then.”

“Sleep in, Cala. Make a short holiday of it. I can see to the dogs in the morning. The girls will help me. It's not like I have a busy schedule.”

“Pete is going to be delirious. Thanks, Mom. See you tomorrow.”

Kristine opened the kitchen door. “Go on, Gracie, bring the girls up. Go with Gracie, Slick.”

Ten minutes later, the children barreled through the door, the two little dogs barking and yapping as the children squealed and whooped their pleasure.

They looked like Christmas cherubs with their golden curls, rosy cheeks and bright red snowsuits. They were so beautiful, Kristine's breath caught in her throat.
My
very own
grandchildren,
she thought.

“What we do, Granny?” Emily asked as she struggled to get out of her snowsuit.

“Cookies,” Ellie muttered as she kicked her boots across the room.

“First you're going to give me a big kiss and hug. Then I'm going to make a list of things to do and wait for your approval.”

They were warm and soft and smelled like children should, clean and fresh with a light powdery scent. The obligatory kiss and hug turned into a roll-on-the-floor tussling match with Gracie and Slick yapping as they, too, tried to wiggle into Kristine's arms.

This, Kristine thought as the girls settled on her lap, is what it's all about. The rest of the stuff is pure bullshit.
Thank you, God, for giving me this second chance with my family.
She wasn't sure, but she thought she heard someone say,
You're welcome.
She laughed aloud. The girls giggled. The dogs yipped.

“This is what we're going to do. Now, listen up.” The little girls tilted their heads and listened attentively. “We are going to make Christmas cookies. I even have aprons for both of you. But, we aren't going to do that till later. We're going to go over to the Kelly farm and do some sled riding. When we get back, we'll have some lunch and we'll all take a nap. When you wake up, we'll make some decorations for Mommie to hang on your windows at home. How does that sound?”

“Santy Claus,” Emily chortled.

“Cookies,” Ellie said.

“Everybody go to the bathroom! You know where it is. Emily, help your sister.”

“Okay, Granny.”

Twenty minutes later, they were tooling down the road with the sled on top of the car and singing, “Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer” at the top of their lungs.

Kristine eyed the long expanse of driveway that led to the ramshackle Kelly house. The 4-by-4 had no trouble plowing through the snow as she expertly guided the vehicle to the circular drive that led to the front porch.

“I want you to hold my hands and not wander off. Stay with Gracie and Slick. Do you hear me, girls?” Two little heads bobbed up and down as Kristine unhooked their seat belts just as the dogs scrambled over their laps to leap to the ground.

Inside the cavernous house, their breath circling them like Indian smoke signals, Kristine walked from room to room. Everything had been cleared out the previous month so now not even the rickety straight-backed chairs were in the kitchen. She had no clue as to what the new owners would do with the property. Would they demolish the house and build a new one or would they try to restore it? Whatever their decision, she hoped they had a lot of money. Six hundred thousand dollars was a lot of money to pay for this property. When the Realtor had first approached her, he'd said they would be lucky to get a hundred thousand.

She'd put the property on the market a year ago, the same day she'd finally gone to the lawyers to have Logan declared legally dead. Then, a contrary streak in her reversed her original plan and she'd filed for divorce first. When it was final, she'd started the paperwork to declare Logan dead. Now the children could inherit. Until that day the three of them had refused even to discuss any monies that might result from the sale of their father's property. Two hundred thousand dollars each would allow them to pay off their mortgages, put some money aside for the children's college education, possibly take a vacation and sock whatever was left into a nice mutual fund where it would grow nicely for their retirement.

Even Tyler had agreed and said now he could buy himself a little house on the beach somewhere so when he had leave he would have someplace to go home to. She'd expected strong opposition from Mike, but he'd agreed once he saw the papers for the divorce and the death certificate.

“Do you want to come upstairs or do you want to wait down here?” Kristine asked the girls. Silly question; both of them were halfway up the long staircase, Gracie and Slick waiting at the top. Kristine stifled a giggle as Ellie, padded to the nines, had to use her hands on each step to help her get to the top.

On the second floor, Kristine walked from room to room as the children and the dogs ran up and down the hallway, hollering and shrieking. Everything looked to be in order. Jackson Valarian had carted all the old trunks and records out of the attic years ago. Nothing remained except cobwebs.

Kristine had one bad moment when she opened the door to the room that had once been her husband's. Her eyes felt hot and gritty as she stared at the faded wallpaper and the rotten wood around the windows. What did Logan do in this room besides sleep? Did he sit by the window and daydream about her? Did he study here or at the kitchen table? Did he bring friends to his room where they played games or told secrets? Did he hide under the covers at night to read with a flashlight the way she had? She should know these things, but she didn't. She realized now that she had never known the real Logan Kelly at all.

“Time to go, girls! Gracie! Slick! Where are you?” Kristine singsonged as she closed the door behind her.

“You have to find us, Granny,” a small voice near the attic steps shouted.

“Where can my little girls be?” Kristine said, playing the game. “Oh, I found you! Come on, you have to come out. What's that?”

Gracie backed up and growled. Slick did his circle dance, which he always performed when he was upset.

“A magic wand!” Emily said. “It's a secret place. It's dark!”

“Let me see!” Kristine said, dropping to her haunches as the girls scampered out of the small dark, hidey-hole.

Kristine clawed and waved her hands about as she pulled and tugged. She sneezed when she pulled out old blankets, a flashlight, a pile of books, and something dark that felt like fur. She dragged the contents to the window at the second-floor landing.

“What's this? What's this?” Emily babbled as she picked up the flashlight and some old, cracked dishes.

Kristine shook out the cape, her gaze going to what Emily called the magic wand and the piles of old
National Geographic
magazines. Her eyes started to burn again. “I think this might be ... someone's secret.” Why couldn't she say, your grandfather's secret? Because the man who was the grandfather to these two little girls didn't deserve the recognition. “I think we'll just put this stuff in the back of the truck and take it home. Careful going down the steps.”

Kristine's hands trembled as she rolled the old blankets into a tight ball. Tonight when the children were asleep, she'd go through these things. Why, she didn't know.

Kristine lowered the back window of the Blazer, tossed in the rolled blankets, and withdrew the sled from the top of the truck. “Okay, ladies, pile on. Emily, you hold Gracie, and Ellie, you hold Slick. Do not pinch him, Ellie. If you do, he'll nip your nose. Be gentle.”

“Okay, Granny.”

The next two hours passed in a weary blur as Kristine pulled the tykes up and down the small hill on the Flexible Flyer. She whooped and shouted until she was hoarse as they tumbled in the snow after each ride.

When the first fat snowflakes began to fall, Kristine herded her charges into the car for the short ride home, but not before she scooped up the two small soaking wet dogs and stuck them inside her down jacket.

They sang “Jingle Bells” all the way back to the farm, the children's voices high and sweet, Kristine's weary and off-key. The dogs snoozed contentedly against Kristine's warm body inside her jacket.

The production of removing boots, wet mittens, wool caps, and the bright red snowsuits took fifteen minutes. Kristine used up another five minutes wrapping Gracie and Slick in bright blue towels. They were asleep as soon as she placed them in their beds.

“How does hot chocolate and peanut butter and jelly sound? Then a nice nap.”

“Me have Gummi Bears,” Ellie said wistfully.

“Marshmallows, Granny,” Emily said hopefully.

“Gummi Bears when you wake up and absolutely there will be marshmallows in the hot chocolate. Wash your hands and go to the bathroom. Emily, help your sister.”

By one-thirty the girls were sound asleep. Kristine was interrupted twice by the phone as she cleared the kitchen and then started to pack all the files and papers in the dining room for pending action after the holidays. The first call was from Jackson Valarian.

Kristine smiled at the bantering voice on the other end of the wire. “I know you are chomping at the bit, Jack, but it is just a few more weeks, and we can make our decision then. Yes, I know you've written the story in your sleep one hundred times. I'm weary too. Four years is a long time to wait for anything. You need to get married and have a family so you can think of other things. By the way, I went over to the Kelly farm this morning to walk through the house one last time. I found some odd things. To me they're odd. A faux ermine cape, a bunch of blankets and old towels, a flashlight and piles of
National Geographics.
Actually, Emily found them in a kind of hidey-hole under the attic stairs, I brought the stuff home. I don't know why I'm telling you this since it doesn't have anything to do with anything. I'll see you on the second of January. If you like, Jack, you can come for dinner Christmas Eve and spend the night. My children will be here, and I know you got along well with Mike. You'll like Tyler, too. Okay, it's a date then.”

“Kristine?”

“Yes.”

“I just want to say again how sorry I am that we couldn't find any information on your husband. I'm grateful that you went through with your end of the bargain. If this is none of my business just say so, but I've been wondering if you've heard from Mr. Dunwoodie?
Him
we could probably find if you want us to.”

Kristine tried to remember at what point she'd become Kristine to the young reporter. When a date refused to come to mind she shrugged it off. It was strange, though, that Woodie had always been Mr. Dunwoodie to Jack. “I sent a letter a little while ago asking him to come for Christmas Eve. I haven't had a response.”

“Does he know you got a divorce and had your husband declared legally dead? Or is that something I shouldn't be asking.”