Christmas in the Air (2 page)

“You'll be hungry no matter where you are,” Les said shortly.

“I can help out there,” the truck driver said. “My
truck is full of groceries. We can take food out of it and pay my boss for whatever we use.”

Marie and Roxanne voiced their approval of Les's plan, and it seemed the general consensus that they must move to the church. Apparently aware that she hadn't said anything, Eric said, “Is that all right with you, Livia?”

In a quiet voice, she said, “It's the only thing we can do. I've experienced enough snowstorms and power outages on our farm to know it's going to be unpleasant no matter where we are.”

“Then if everyone agrees, you take charge, Les,” Quinn said. “You're more experienced in this sort of thing than we are. Lead on to the church.”

Quinn peered intently at the back of Livia's head. Could this be the Olivia Kessler he'd known at one time? Her voice sounded familiar, and she did live in Ohio, but it had been a few years. If this was the woman he'd known, and the two of them were destined to spend several days in the same building, the atmosphere might be decidedly tense. But despite the awkwardness of the past, Quinn hadn't forgotten her. He looked forward to renewing their friendship, but he wasn't proud of his past actions. He opened the car door and stepped out into the falling snow. How forgiving would Olivia be to him for breaking her heart?

Q
uinn recalled Olivia Kessler had straight, blond hair that fell below her shoulders, just as this woman did. She'd been a tall, willowy young woman, quick and graceful. The focal point of the gentle beauty of her face had been her deep blue eyes fringed by long lashes. He wished he could get a better look at her, but this Livia woman hadn't once turned so he could see her features.

“We might have to make more'n one trip,” Les said as he ducked his head against the cold wind. Quinn put thoughts of the past aside and devoted his attention to the man's instructions.

“Take everything you can the first time. Wear your heaviest coats and take blankets if you have any. Let's go single file, and keep one hand free to hold on to the person in front of you. It's easy to get separated in a blizzard. Those of you in the van, wait here until the rest of us gather what we can from our vehicles.”

Livia exchanged her sneakers for fleece-lined boots and laced them securely. She shrugged into a heavy coat as she recalled the four weeks she'd spent with Quinn at a 4-H camp in eastern Ohio. She'd gone as a volunteer worker, and she'd been assigned to work with Quinn, the camp counselor.

Eight years her senior, he had been the perfect man of her dreams. They'd been together for hours every day, and Livia had developed a huge crush on him. Because of his kindness and attentiveness to her, she thought he shared her feelings. She'd been too naive to see that he treated everyone in the same friendly way. A few times, she had even imagined that he wanted to kiss her. When he didn't, she reasoned that Quinn considered it inappropriate to make any advances when they were supervising the younger campers. She'd dreamed that their relationship would deepen when they were no longer working at the camp.

The last night of the camp, she'd given Quinn an impassioned letter, the memory of which still made her face burn. She hadn't said she loved him, but she didn't hide her obvious feelings for him, writing that she didn't want him to go out of her life.

Quinn left the camp early the next morning without saying goodbye or acknowledging the note. This rejection left her feeling foolish and hurt. Livia hadn't forgotten him, however, and she'd often wondered if her infatuation for Quinn
had
been real love. She'd never found any other man to interest her. Still smarting from Quinn's rejection, she dreaded being confined with him for days.

Livia tied the hood of her fleece-lined coat below her chin. She placed her Bible, a historical novel, a notebook, a pen and a bag of trail mix in a large tote bag, which she slung over her shoulder. She carried a small garment bag in her right hand. The wind staggered her when she stepped out, and she held to the side of the van as she joined the others.

Sean was visibly shivering. A resident of southern California, he had come to OSU four years ago on a basketball scholarship. He liked the school, but had never adjusted to the climate, which differed so much from his childhood home. Regardless of how many heavy winter clothes he put on, he was always miserable when cold weather struck Ohio.

Looking like a bunch of pack animals, they huddled together in the shelter of the van until Les and the other men joined them.

“I'll go first,” Les said. He pointed to Roxanne Fisher. “You fall in behind me, ma'am, and the rest of you line up behind us. Don't worry about looking forward to where you're going. I'll be your guide. Keep your eyes on the ground, follow my steps and hold on to the person in front of you.”

Eric stepped into line behind his mother-in-law, and Marie stood behind him. Quinn moved behind Marie, and Sean motioned for Livia to go ahead of him. She didn't want to touch Quinn, and she had no choice but to follow him. Quinn had a large pack over his shoulder, and he carried a snow shovel in his left hand.

Sean placed a trembling hand on Livia's shoulder.
She felt sorry for the guy. He was a great basketball player; he just couldn't cope with the cold and snow. Peering over her shoulder, Livia saw the truck driver take up the rear.

Above the whine of the wind, Les shouted, “Everybody ready?” Livia marveled at his foghorn voice, unusual for a man of his age. “Tug on the person in front of you, so I'll know you're in line.”

When Sean squeezed Livia's shoulder, she tugged on the sleeve of Quinn's coat. It would have been simpler to tap him on the shoulder, because he was only a few inches taller than she was, but Livia couldn't bear the thought of any personal contact with Quinn.

The foolishness of her crush on Quinn had been a heavy weight on her heart for three years. How could she endure the embarrassment of facing him again?

As she trudged along in Quinn's wake, to take her mind off this man who so suddenly had come into her life again, Livia thought of Heritage Farm and her family. Christmas observance was important to the Kesslers, and she knew that, short of a sudden ninety-degree heat wave, she couldn't possibly be home for Christmas. Probably right now, her mother would be preparing the stollen, a traditional bread recipe that her ancestors had brought from Germany. Her brother Evan would have already brought the live Christmas tree into their large living room for decorating. Uncle Gavin and his wife, Emmalee, would have arrived from Florida.

Quinn stopped abruptly. Livia stumbled forward, her face landing in the middle of his back.

“We must be at the church,” he said.

His words were welcome to Livia, because although they'd walked only a short distance, her face was numb from exposure to the wind-driven snow. Inside her lightweight gloves, Livia's fingers tingled with cold.

Shielding her eyes against the icy snow, Livia saw a gray, weather-beaten frame church. Three steps led to a small porch that sheltered the front door, over which a sign was nailed, indicating that Sheltering Arms Church had been established in 1901. The church would live up to its name tonight by providing safety for eight stranded travelers. For the first time, Livia wondered if God had a reason for bringing all of them together.

Les stood in front of the door, fumbling in his pocket. Drawing out a chain holding several keys, he chose one, inserted it in the lock and pushed the door inward. He peered inside, then motioned his companions to follow him. Quinn stood aside for Livia to proceed him into the building. She nodded her thanks.

The inside of the structure was dark and uninviting. For a few moments, it seemed warm because the fierce wind and the snow-and-ice mixture were no longer stinging Livia's face. As her eyes adjusted to the dim interior, Livia noted that the building was small and neglected, although it must have been a beautiful sanctuary in its day.

The front wall of the church held a stained-glass window depicting Jesus as the Good Shepherd. The six other windows, three on each side of the church, had
frosted panes. A dark wainscoting covered the lower half of the walls. Faded wallpaper reached from the wainscoting to the ceiling.

An old-fashioned pump organ was located to one side of the room with an upright piano beside it. An ornately carved wooden lectern was centered on a raised platform below the decorative window. A stove stood in the middle of the room, with a rusty stovepipe sticking through the ceiling. About twenty wooden pews completed the room's furnishings.

With a speculative glance around the room, Quinn said, “We couldn't expect any better accommodations than this under the circumstances. You said there's wood and coal available, right?” he asked Les.

“Yeah, stored in a building back of the church. There are some shovels in the supply room by the back door. We still dig graves by hand, and we keep the shovels for that. They'll come in handy for scooping coal and snow. We can shovel a path to the woodshed and carry in fuel to get the fire started.”

Quinn lifted his own shovel. “I always carry a snow shovel in the truck this time of year. If the two of us can take care of scooping away the snow and bringing in the coal and wood, perhaps you other men can bring supplies from the delivery truck. It's getting dark fast.”

When the other men agreed, Les said, “Just bring enough food and water to keep us through the night. Maybe the storm will run its course by morning, and we can shovel our way to our vehicles for whatever we need.”

Pushing back the hood of her coat, Livia asked, “What can I do?”

“Look in the supply room for candles and holders,” Les answered. He called to the men, who were leaving, “If you have any extra flashlights in your vehicles, bring them along.”

Quinn took the scarf from his neck and wound it around his head to secure his cap. Pulling on woolen mittens, he followed Les out the back door. Not wasting any time, Les started shoveling. Bracing himself against the strong wind, Quinn stepped to Les's side. He'd grown up on a farm in this area, and more than once, he'd helped clear deep snow from around the farm buildings. He'd volunteered for this task, because he figured the other men hadn't had as much experience in rough living as he'd had.

Livia still hadn't made any indication that she recognized him, but he didn't doubt at all that she was the Olivia he'd met at a camp a few years ago. He had harbored some romantic thoughts of her until he'd learned that she was still in her late teens, while he was twenty-five. In addition to that problem, he still had two more years before he would receive his veterinarian's license. His busy school schedule left no time for romance. He'd shied away from dating a high school girl, but he'd often wondered if he'd made a mistake in not keeping in touch with Olivia.

Believing firmly that God intervened in the lives of His followers, Quinn thought this might not be a chance encounter. Could God have a purpose in a reunion between Olivia and himself?

It was difficult to clear the path because of the steadily falling snow. Their tracks were covered almost as soon as they moved onward. Quinn stopped, straightened, and took a deep breath.

“Pace yourself,” Les shouted above the fury of the wind. “Don't overdo.”

Quinn nodded his understanding. The woodshed stood only thirty feet from the church, but his body was practically steaming when they reached the building. Stepping inside, he helped Les fill three large buckets with coal and sticks of wood.

Breathing deeply, Les said, “Which do you want to do, carry the coal inside and start a fire, or clean a path to the johnny houses?”

As he'd been shoveling, Quinn had noticed the two wooden toilets a few feet beyond the woodshed. Since the church had been abandoned for a long time, he'd figured there wouldn't be any usable inside plumbing to make life easier for them.

“I'll shovel,” he said. “I haven't built a fire in a stove for a long time. You'll be better at it. Take two of the buckets. I'll bring the third one and the shovels when I finish clearing the paths.”

 

The search of the supply room yielded about a dozen used candles and several holders, which the women placed around the room.

Marie, who wasn't often disturbed by difficult circumstances, assessed their accommodations. Laughing lightly, she said, “I can't decide which will be the most
comfortable for sleeping—the floor or the wooden pews.”

Marie's mother, Roxanne, who always described herself as pleasingly plump, said, “I'll opt for the floor. There's no room for me on a pew.”

Les struggled into the church, carrying two buckets of fuel and shouted, “Will one of you ladies close the door behind me?”

Marie rushed to the door and strained to shut it against the force of the wind. Livia added her strength to Marie's and they slammed the door, but a thin sheet of snow slithered across the floor before they had finished. Livia brought a rag from the supply room and mopped up the snow before it froze on the cold floor.

Les removed his gloves and blew on his hands to warm them. When he opened the door of the stove, Livia said, “I'll start the fire for you.”

Les lifted his shaggy brows in surprise. “You know how to lay a fire, ma'am?”

“Sure do,” Livia said. “We have a big fireplace in the living room of our farmhouse. We always have a fire in the evening during the winter. I learned to start a fire when I was just a kid.”

Les watched with interest as she adjusted the draft on the stovepipe and sifted the ashes from the last fire into the ash pan. She picked up some small sticks of wood from a nearby box filled with wood and paper and arranged the kindling loosely in the stove.

“Since the church isn't used anymore, is the flue
safe?” she asked. “We could have some heat we don't want if the ceiling catches on fire.”

“I clean the chimney every fall, just to be sure a bird hasn't nested in it, or to see if any bricks might have crumbled and caused a blockage. It's all right.”

Livia took a newspaper from the box and pushed it in around the kindling. “I'm hoping one of the men has matches or a lighter we can use.”

“There's matches here,” Les said. He walked into the supply room and came back with a Mason jar full of matches. “If I didn't keep the matches covered, a mouse might chew into one of them and start a fire,” he explained.

“Oh, I've heard of church mice,” Marie said, laughing, “or at least about people who were poor as church mice. That's our situation tonight.”

“We won't be bothered with mice,” Les assured her with a sly grin. “I'd judge that they've buried deep in the ground to get out of the snow.”

Roxanne took several matches. “I'll light the candles.”

Livia struck a match on the side of the stove and held it to the paper. She watched carefully as the paper blazed and spread to the slivers of wood. When she adjusted the damper to control the blaze, Les said approvingly, “That's a good job, miss. Let me take over now and put the coal on the fire—no need for you to dirty your hands.”

 

Quinn smelled the smoke before he finished shoveling the paths to the “necessaries,” as the pioneers had
called them. He even sensed some warmth from the stove when he went inside the church.