Christmas Under Western Skies (14 page)

He followed Mac into the house, stood at the doorway and studied her for some indication of how she felt.

She flashed them both a smile. “Soup's ready. And biscuits hot from the oven.”

He let his breath ease past his teeth. So she was willing to overlook his comments, perhaps even pretend he hadn't spoken them? His relief was short-lived. She was a warm person, but only on the surface. Below the gentle smile and kind words was a heart frozen with denial.

How was that better than him worrying?

Mac tossed his hat and gloves onto the narrow bench by the door and shed his coat. “Sure does smell good. A man could get used to being greeted by a warm smile and tasty food. Right, Derek?”

Derek snorted. Uncle Mac was anything but subtle, but protests would only encourage him. “Sure could.”

Mac grinned and rubbed his hands together as if he'd succeeded in convincing Derek that Winnie was the answer to all their problems.

Derek knew better.

But he was grateful to enjoy the food and the comfortable atmosphere.

Later that afternoon, he strode down the trail to the schoolhouse to get Kathy. She raced out and joined him in the schoolyard. Her eagerness at seeing him erased the tightness lingering in his thoughts from his unkind words to Winnie. This little sister was his life. All that mattered. He turned her toward the house. “Can you see home?”

She shook her head. “Not until I'm almost there.”

“Look again. I think you might be able to.”

She giggled. “I'm still not tall enough.” But she followed the direction of his finger when he pointed. Her eyes widened. “What is that?”

“It's a flag hanging on the end of the house.” He made it sound like it was his idea. “Winnie thought of it. Said you might feel better if you could see where the house is.”

Kathy clung to his hand and rocked back and forth
on her tiptoes. “I can see it now.” The awe in her voice said it all.

How had Winnie known how important this was to his little sister? Why hadn't
he
thought of doing something? A confusion of gratitude and regret twisted his insides.

They headed home. The whole way, Kathy kept her gaze on the flag. Her breath whooshed out when she could finally see the house. “It's right on top.”

“Just like I said.” He realized not seeing the house had created unnecessary worry for her, and his regret dissipated. Maybe he could find other ways to help Kathy.

He followed her inside.

Winnie waited with milk and cookies. Her welcoming smile faltered a fraction as she saw Derek behind Kathy. “Do you want a snack, too?”

“Sure. Thanks.” He didn't normally stop for a mid-afternoon snack, but she seemed to think the idea was okay.

Winnie put out more cookies, asked if he wanted milk or coffee. He chose the latter. Then she turned to Kathy. “Did you see the flag?”

“Right from the school.”

“She likes it,” Derek added. “Thanks for the idea.”

“I'm glad it helps.” He sought her eyes. The air shimmered with tension. Then she blinked, and her barriers were firmly in place.

He didn't know which was stronger—disappointment at her withdrawal, or relief to be allowed to retreat to his own safety.

 

Winnie wanted to ease bedtime both for Kathy's sake and Derek's. Plus anyone else who might be within the sound of Kathy's cries. Everyone was exhausted from listening to the nightly struggle, when she fought her fears and Derek tried to calm her. Seeing the picture at school Kathy drew had given Winnie an idea.

The first thing she needed was blank paper. She found a stack of folded brown store paper in a closet—along with a trunk full of yarn and yard goods.

She folded and stitched the pages together down the fold line to create a little book. She used Kathy's crayons to color the cover and she put Kathy's name on the front.

Winnie spoke to Derek as the little girl put on her nightgown. “I have a few ideas about how to make bedtime easier. Do you mind if I try them.”

He gave a lopsided grin. “I'm willing to try anything, and if your idea works as well as the flag…” He shrugged.

Kathy came out, her face already tense.

Winnie took over. “Kathy, I was so impressed with your drawing at school. I told Derek how wonderful it was. I think you have a gift.” She hoped to do far more than encourage an interest in drawing. “I made you a little art book.” She showed the brown paper book
to Kathy. “I think you have time to draw something tonight.”

“Before bed?”

“What's wrong with that?”

“What will I draw?”

“Whatever you like, but if you need a suggestion, why not think about your day and draw something that shows the best part of the day for you?”

Kathy put her stuffed bear on the table and picked up a crayon. “Does it have to be something good?”

“Do what you want.”

She drew a big black circle.

Winnie sat across the table and Derek stood behind Kathy, watching over her shoulder. Winnie felt his tension, wondered if Kathy did, too. “Why a black circle?”

“That's what bedtime feels like.”

“Why?”

“'Cause I'm afraid.”

“Maybe we can think of something to put inside the black circle to make it happy instead of scary.”

Kathy looked intrigued. “What would
you
draw?

Winnie felt Derek's quiet study as she picked up a red crayon and drew a heart inside the black circle. “This heart stands for love, to remind you that Derek and Uncle Mac love you, and so does God.” She met Derek's gaze then, managed to ignore her shock of awareness at the surprise and gratitude in his eyes. “What would
you
draw, Derek?”

He shook his head. “I'm not good at this sort of thing.”

“You must be able to think of something.”

He studied the drawing a moment, then picked up a pink crayon. He made a circle, added eyes and a smiling mouth, selected a brown crayon and drew hair on the head. “This is Kathy. Thinking of her makes me happy.”

Kathy giggled. “I don't look like that.”

“A heart doesn't look like that either.” He touched the red heart Winnie had drawn.

“It's a val'tine heart,” Kathy said with utmost sincerity.

“Now it's your turn,” Winnie said to the child, hoping she would think of something to help her overcome her fears of the dark.

“Just one thing?”

Winnie laughed. “As many as you want.”

Kathy grabbed a crayon and bent her head over the page.

Winnie shot Derek a glance and saw he was as amused by Kathy's enthusiasm as she. Their gazes collided. In her heart, something burst free. Hope. Her lungs caught on an inhalation. Hope had left her too often disappointed. She lowered her eyes, pushed things back where they belonged and concentrated on Kathy.

After a few minutes, Kathy lifted her head and pushed the book forward for the others to see. “It's a flag. This is my teddy bear. This is Derek.”

Winnie chuckled at the long-legged stick figure with
more hat than head. There was another stick figure—a woman, if Winnie guessed correctly. “Your mother?”

Kathy shook her head. “You.”

“Me?”

“You said to draw things that make me happy.”

She made Kathy happy?
But I'm not staying.
She swallowed the words, rather than steal any of Kathy's contentment. Instead, she patted Kathy's head. “Thank you.” And before anyone, namely Derek, could offer a comment, she hurried on. “I really liked it the other day, when you sang that song. Do you remember?”

“You mean—?” and she started to sing the words.

“I sing the mighty power of God….” She sang it clear through.

“I like that.”

Kathy smiled. “Me, too.” She pushed away from the table and turned to Derek. “I'm ready to go to bed.” She took his hand and led him away.

Derek shot a look over his shoulder. Winnie almost laughed at the doubt wreathing his face. He came back ten minutes later. “I can't believe it's that easy.”

“It might not be. Her fears won't automatically disappear in one night, but given time…”

As if to prove her correct, Kathy's scream filled the air.

Derek bolted to his feet and came back with Kathy in his arms. He cradled her in the rocking chair. His eyes filled with desperation as he met Winnie's gaze across the room.

Oh Lord, calm her fears.

“Derek?” Kathy managed through her tears. “Sing Mama's song.”

Derek nodded and began the song Kathy had finished a short time before. She sighed back a sob and fell asleep in a matter of minutes.

Derek carried her back to bed, then joined Winnie in the kitchen. “Still better than most nights.”

“It's a start. Give her a few tools and she'll figure out what works for her.”

“I guess I should thank you.” He walked to the window and glanced out, then turned and faced her.

She wasn't sure what the look in his eyes meant.

He grabbed his coat and rushed out of the house.

Her heart followed him into the cold. How hard it must be to watch his sister struggle with her fear and loss, and to feel so powerless to do anything.

If she could help even a little, she would gladly do so, then walk away with a clear conscience that she had done what she could, and perhaps what God was calling her to do.

At the idea of walking away, her rib cage tightened until she hunkered over against the pain. She had never found leaving easy, but this time she vowed she would do so without feeling as if her world was crashing down around her feet.

God help her. She would do so.

But even as she prayed for protection against involvement, she knew she had already crossed a line in her emotions. And not just with Kathy. She only hoped she could backtrack when the time came.

D
erek strode to the barn. He needed to think. He leaned against the pen and stared at the horse without any purpose in mind but to sort out his feelings.

“Whatcha' doing here, son? Is Winnie settling Kathy?”

Derek jumped as Mac spoke at his elbow. He'd forgotten his uncle was still in the barn. “Kathy is already sleeping.”

“Really? What did you do?”

“Nothing. It was Winnie.” He described the drawing book and the song.

Mac let out a long sigh. “That's good.”

He understood his uncle's relief at knowing Kathy's distress was short-lived tonight. “Kathy's getting too fond of Winnie. She's going to be hurt when she has to say goodbye.” His insides twisted. He should send Winnie away now. Before Kathy got any more attached. Before any of them did.

“I think you're missing the point. Even if she cries when Winnie leaves, Winnie's help will still be with her. Son, from the first day when she helped Kathy realize your mother would enjoy seeing her laugh, to this afternoon when she hung the flag, that young lady understood more of Kathy's problems and how to address them then we have in over a year.”

“No doubt you mean that to be comforting.”

“It's not?” Uncle Mac's voice was low, not expressing any opinion, though Derek was certain he had one.

“This is the first night Kathy has settled down in less than an hour.”

Derek banged his palm on the plank. “Why didn't I think of doing something different? I'm supposed to be the one who gives her what she needs.”

“Sometimes a person is too close to the problem.”

Derek suspected Mac meant more than helping Kathy settle for the night, but he wasn't going that direction.

“Maybe God sent Winnie to us for just this reason—to help us know how to deal with Kathy. My advice? Take the gifts she brings and don't worry about what will happen when she leaves.”

“I suppose you're right.”

“You know I am.” He clamped his hand on Derek's shoulder. “I'm hoping you'll see I'm right for more than Kathy's sake.”

Derek stared into the dark recesses of the barn. “Don't be hoping on my account. I will never marry.”

“So you say. In fact, if you've said it a hundred times, you've said it a thousand—you don't need the
responsibility. 'Course what you mean is you're afraid of getting hurt.”

Derek jerked away and headed for the door.

Uncle Mac didn't understand that what Derek feared was failing yet again to protect those under his care. As to being hurt when Winnie left…he kind of guessed he had already stepped into that territory. But Uncle Mac was right about Winnie helping. He could live with knowing each day made saying goodbye to Winnie harder to contemplate, if having her stay helped Kathy.

He paused in the cold air and looked up at the stars. No snow tonight. The early snow of October and November was long gone. Maybe they'd have a brown Christmas.

Christmas. His stomach churned. He no longer anticipated the season, full now of painful memories of those gone, and a burning sense of helplessness. His father would be disappointed at Derek's failure to take better care of the family.

Uncle Mac joined him. For a moment, neither spoke; and then the older man said, “Come on, son. Let's see if Winnie has any raisin pudding left.”

He let himself be led indoors. Would Kathy still be asleep? Blissful silence filled the room.

“Not a peep from her,” Winnie said. A bundle of bright objects lay on the table before her.

His gaze riveted to the shiny red ball. He'd been four, his father still healthy, when Pa lifted him to the tree and helped him attach the ball, then stepped back. “Now it's
Christmas.” Derek would never forget the specialness of that day.

He forced his gaze from the red ball but continued to stare at the pile of Christmas things. They hadn't celebrated much last year, still recovering, as they were, from the deaths of three family members. He hadn't thought to do anything special this year. A gift or two, but that's about all.

“Got any more pudding for two hungry cowboys?” Uncle Mac said.

“Certainly.” Winnie put out two generous portions.

“Tea?”

“Thanks. We'd appreciate some.” Uncle Mac gave Derek a funny look. “Sit down. Take a load off.”

Derek's knees seemed to have forgotten how to work, and he had to concentrate on lowering himself to a chair as he fought the memories associated with Christmas. The season was supposed to be happy, but his thoughts were laced through and through with regrets, loss and a deep sense of failure.

Would he ever again enjoy Christmas?

Winnie poured tea and sat across from him. “I found these ornaments and wondered what special traditions you have.”

Derek swallowed hard and shifted his gaze upward to look at her. Her face fairly glowed with pleasure. He struggled to focus on her question.

“I remember when I was a boy,” Uncle Mac began. “Your father was a little gaffer.” He nodded at Derek to make sure Derek understood who he meant. “I was
probably twelve or so. There were three girls in between us. We lived on a dirt-poor homestead in Kansas. Not a tree in sight. I remembered big pine trees in Grandma and Grandpa's house. But little Georgie had never seen one. I told my parents we had to have a tree. My pa was gone three days and came back with a tree no more than two feet tall. I don't know where he found it, but he'd dug it up rather than cut it, and after Christmas we planted it outside. Would you believe that thing grew?

Every year, we decorated it.”

Derek had heard the tale before, but still enjoyed it.

“What a lovely story,” Winnie said.

“The folks are gone now, but my sister and her husband live there.” Uncle Mac got a faraway look in his eyes. “The tree must be twenty feet tall or more by now.

I wonder if they still decorate it.”

Derek felt Winnie's gaze on him, felt it burn past his memories to a depth in his heart he wasn't aware of. He pictured himself sharing Christmas with her.

This year only.

He stuffed back a twinge of regret. Realized she waited for him to say something. He plucked the red ball from the pile. “I remember—” He told them his memory.

“It was the last Christmas my father was well.”

Suddenly he recalled something else. “But Pa always wanted me to hold up the youngest child and have her hang the red ball. Everytime, he would say, ‘Now it's Christmas'.”

Her eyes filled with warmth and she sighed. “That's so special.”

Did he detect a hitch in her voice? Something invisible seemed to pass from his heart to hers. A shared enjoyment of the story, but more, perhaps a shared acknowledgment of the pain of disappointment. His had a different path than hers, but he understood she must have watched family gatherings from the sidelines and dreamed of belonging.

He was equally certain she would deny it. No doubt she'd tell him how eager she was to get to Banff and the job there. They both understood her stay was temporary.

“Kathy was the youngest, wasn't she?”

Her question jolted him back to the conversation and he nodded.

“So you held her up to hang the red ornament on the tree since she was tiny?”

“Every year since she was born.” He fell silent as he recalled the exception.

“Didn't have much of a Christmas last year.” Uncle Mac sounded woeful.

“I was thinking,” Winnie spoke softly, slowly. “Perhaps we can make Christmas special this year. Incorporate some old traditions like this red ball, but add new ones so it's less of remembering the past and more about facing the future, enjoying the present.”

Derek wanted to protest. He simply didn't have any enthusiasm about celebrating a day filled with bittersweet memories.

“I wouldn't have any trouble finding a pine tree,”

Uncle Mac said. “I'll take Kathy with me.”

“That's a wonderful idea.” Her gaze jerked back to Derek before he could sort out how to deal with this latest interference from a temporary housekeeper. And before he could deny the tangle of regrets over knowing she would leave.

He should have known from the first she would find a way to upset their lives. Only, he didn't regret the things she had done. After all, so far they had been for Kathy's good. Even this latest suggestion was meant for Kathy.

He could hardly protest. Even though he knew every time she spoke—earnest, concerned with Kathy, full of cheer and good humor—she gained a larger portion of his heart. He seemed powerless to prevent it.

“Mama used to make popcorn on Christmas Eve, and we always read the Christmas story. The children were allowed to stay up late.” He grinned. “I think the adults hoped they would then sleep a little later Christmas morning.”

Uncle Mac pushed aside his empty bowl and yawned hugely. “Speaking of staying up late…it's my bedtime.

I'm going to leave you young ones to plan Christmas.”

Derek waited for his uncle to leave the room, then turned to Winnie, a question burning on his lips. “Do you have memories from when you were a child and lived with your family?”

She jerked back, sat up straighter. Her expression flooded with denial.

Before she could answer, he pulled back his question. “Never mind.”

Then she smiled and her eyes glistened. “I remember the year my mama made me a rag doll. I felt so loved.”

How could parents give a child away? He would protect Kathy with his very life, and she wasn't even his child. But being her brother and the stand-in for her parents, he guessed it was almost the same.

Winnie recovered her usual focus on others. He was beginning to suspect it was her way of escape. “So Uncle Mac will take Kathy to get a tree, you'll help her hang the red ball and I'll make popcorn. Any other suggestions?”

He knew she meant in regards to Kathy, but he had other intentions. “You seem set on proving you don't want to be part of a family.”

She grew so still, he wondered if she even breathed.

Her mouth was narrow and straight. Then she sucked in air until he thought her lungs must have a hole in the bottom. She released her breath slowly. “In case you haven't noticed, I am
not
part of a family. I have learned to accept that fact and not let it rob me of enjoying life.”

“By making everyone else's family work like clockwork?”

Her eyes narrowed. “If I can help someone, why would you consider that a problem?”

He studied her. Saw the pain behind her eyes she
didn't manage to hide. Knew she would deny it if he mentioned it. “I don't…I guess.”

They regarded each other like wary combatants.

Then she laughed. “Why are we arguing? I only wanted to talk about Christmas preparations. If you want to turn anything into a tradition, that will be up to you. I'm won't be here next Christmas.”

He wondered if he again glimpsed a flash of pain behind her steady gaze.

“My only wish is for Kathy—and you and Mac—to have a special time.”

“I'd do anything to make Kathy happy. So—whatever you suggest.” He would have no objection to seeing Winnie enjoy the season as well. But how? The one thing she needed despite her denials, he could not, would not offer her.

He would bid her goodbye December twenty-seventh, when the Faringtons arrived.

 

Winnie looked out the window. Mac and Kathy were out getting a tree. They would all decorate it tonight. The skies were heavy. Perhaps they would get snow. A white Christmas would help make for a perfect holiday, and she was determined to make this the best Christmas ever for Kathy.

Winnie turned from the window and rearranged the decorations, awaiting the time to hang them on the tree.

She picked up the red ornament. Recalling Derek's story of what this ball meant to his family filled her
with sweetness that crowded at her careful boundaries. What a special memory of his father.

She pushed the trinket away and strode to the kitchen.

Derek had no right to remind her she wasn't part of a family or to suggest she truly wanted to be. God had seen fit to make her a solitary young woman. She would not let bits of longing and loneliness turn life's joys into dust.

She would not be sucked into the bottomless barrel of wanting what she couldn't have.

Trouble was, her heart did not obey her mind.

She quietly shut out the treacherous thoughts. Come December twenty-seventh she would be on her way to Banff.

Kathy burst through the door. “We got it.” Her voice was shrill with excitement.

Behind her stood a tree. Winnie laughed. “Did it walk here on its own?”

“Uncle Mac brought it.”

“I don't see him.” She did her best to sound puzzled.

Kathy turned and giggled. “He's behind.”

“You're sure?”

“I'm here.” Mac's voice came from the tree.

Winnie gasped. “A talking tree.”

Kathy giggled some more. “Trees don't talk.”

The tree pushed into the room and Uncle Mac leaned it against the wall. He dusted needles from his coat. “She went and picked the fattest one in the forest.”

“It's the best tree ever.” Kathy sighed her pleasure.

Derek stomped his feet on the verandah floor and stepped into the open doorway. “Nice tree, Kit Kat.”

“I know. This is going to be such a good Christmas. I can hardly wait.” She flung herself at Derek. He caught her and lifted her to his chest.

Winnie's breath caught halfway. She tried to look anywhere but at Derek, but lately her eyes had developed the habit of seeking him whenever he was in the room.

Seeing his love for Kathy did funny things to her heart.

Made it feel mushy. He was a man who would never shirk his commitment. His strength provided Kathy with more security than he could begin to imagine. He was the sort of man a woman could safely depend on.