Love Finds You in Frost Minnesota (16 page)

“I’ve heard of lefse but don’t think I’ve ever had it.” He picked one up and smelled it.

“Just bite into it,” Hildy ordered. “That’s the only way you’ll find out how it tastes.”

Reluctantly he did so. As he chewed, a smile spread over his features. “This is good!”

“Of course it is,” Hildy snorted. “I’m known for my lefse.”

“What is it, exactly?

“It’s soft Norwegian flatbread made with potatoes. Scandinavian tortillas, if you will.”

Jack nodded and continued to eat.

Merry poured him a cup of coffee from the carafe on the table, and the two women watched him in amazement as he downed the entire plateful.

When he was done, he sat back against the pillows and sighed. “Thanks, Hildy.”

“Thank
you
,” she said with a chuckle. “I’ve never seen anyone enjoy my baking so much.” She turned and eyed Merry. “It’s good to have a man around the house to feed.”

Hint, hint
, Merry deduced, but she wasn’t taking Hildy’s advice. As soon as Jack was ready, she was packing him onto a plane headed for California.

Merry turned and saw Jack sprawled on top of the covers and out like a light. The food had put him to sleep. She sighed as she tossed a lightweight blanket over him and tiptoed toward the door with Hildy. She really didn’t want to leave him, but while he was sleeping, she needed to get things done.

“Can you help out at the store for the rest of the week, Hildy? You’ve been a lifesaver for me.”

“No problem. I don’t have anything else to do.”

Merry grasped Hildy’s roughened hands in her own. “I’m planning on your being at my house for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. You’re still coming, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know why you bother with an old woman like me.” Hildy looked incredibly sad as she said it.

“It’s going to be interesting this year,” Merry continued brightly. “I’m going to need you to help me. Jack and perhaps his friend Vince are going to be here as well. I thought I might also invite a family I met recently. They have a little girl in my class.”

“A child?” Hildy looked interested now.

“I’m counting on you to be here.” Merry gave Hildy a hug.

Hildy chuckled, a sound Merry didn’t often hear from her neighbor. “You talked me into it.”

* * * * *

Creaking from the upstairs floorboards signaled that Merry’s patient was awake and restless.

She walked to Jack’s door, which was ajar, and peered inside. Her rocking chair was sitting upside down, seat and back pillows on the floor and the rockers removed. He was kneeling on one knee examining the wooden joints of the chair.

“What are you doing with my mother’s rocking chair? Have you broken it?” She tried to keep the horror out of her voice.

“Not breaking, fixing. This chair has been squeaking since I arrived. It needs to be re-glued.”

“What’s possessed you to fix it now?”

“I don’t dare go downstairs because I’ll be accosted by shopping women and motion-activated Santas. I’ve read every book on your shelves and put together a one-thousand-piece puzzle. It’s time to get up and do something constructive.”

“Jack, you may not admit it, but you’ve been very ill. It’s good for you to rest.”

“If I die of boredom it won’t matter that I rest.” He touched the rocker. “Do you have any wood glue?”

“I might, in the basement,” she said in exasperation. “If I get it for you, will you quit trying to fix things?”

“Not unless you find me something else to do, something on your ‘approved’ list of activities.” He grinned at her, a real, wide, enticing grin.

It was the first time she’d seen him so relaxed and so natural. He finally wasn’t holding back. He was beginning to trust her. She knew trust was in short supply in Jack’s world. He obviously didn’t trust even himself most of the time.

“I’ll find something if you promise to behave until the doctor gives you the go-ahead that you’re able to resume normal activities.”

He grinned even wider. It did something incredible to his eyes. They fairly danced with good humor. “You mean I can misbehave after that?”

“You are incorrigible!” She couldn’t help but return the smile. “I’ll be back as soon as I get time, and I’ll bring a project for you.”

“No cleaning the silver service or folding clothes,” he warned. “Something interesting.”

“Would I fail you?” she retorted.

Suddenly he grew very still and his eyes serious. “No, Merry, I don’t believe you would.”

* * * * *

“We’re out of replacement bulbs for the lights on the Christmas trees,” Abby informed her when Merry returned to the store. “And we only have one set of silver reindeer left. Besides that, there’s been a run on tablecloths.”

The hum of happy conversation surrounded them as customers picked up last-minute Christmas gifts.

“There are more lights in the storage closet. I accidentally labeled them ‘ornament hangers.’”

“Of course.” Abby sighed dramatically. “That makes perfect sense.” She was beginning to show the wear and tear of the season. Her eyes were weary and her perkiness somewhat subdued.

“Hang on, Abby,” Merry encouraged. “It isn’t long until Christmas now. That reminds me, when we sell out of tablecloths, offer them table runners and placemats. It’s too late to order more.”

In fact, Merry observed, her little store was slowly emptying. There were gaps where trees once sat, and most of the ornaments left on the shelves were purple or teal. She’d decorate a tree with those for the after-Christmas sale. They’d sell immediately then.

The cell phone in her pocket rang. When she answered, it was Vince’s voice on the other end of the line.

“Hi, Merry. Vince here. I just landed in Minneapolis. I’m standing in line to get my rental car. Would you give me directions to your place? It’s not showing up on my GPS.”

“Here already?” She hadn’t even checked his room yet to see that it was ready for a guest. And she didn’t have time to bake fresh cookies for him like she usually did for guests. Oh well, Vince didn’t sound like the kind of guy who’d mind too much.

When she hung up, she petitioned,
Lord, make this all work out. I don’t know the whys of all that’s going on, but I know You are in charge. Help Jack to finally heal both physically and emotionally and me to know what I can do for him and his friend. And Greta, I pray for her family . . . and Hildy . . . and . . .
She could have gone on all day, she realized. Fortunately God already knew what everyone needed and was able to accomplish without her help if He so chose.

“Merry?” Abby shook her by the sleeve. “Why are you just standing there in a daze?”

She blinked. “I almost forgot. I have to find a project that will entertain Jack Frost.”

“That won’t be easy,” Abby commented, “unless you give him windowpanes and brushes and ice to frost them with.”

Something clicked in Merry’s head. “Abby, you are absolutely brilliant. That’s what I’ll do!”

She left Abby standing dumbfounded and headed for the kitchen. She knew now what entertainment she could provide for Jack.

* * * * *

A short time later, Merry entered his room carrying a fishing tackle box, a thick pad of paper, and an easel.

“What’s this?” Jack sat up on the bed. He’d felt a little woozy from fiddling with the chair and had retreated to the bed to rest as soon as Merry had left. Maybe he wasn’t quite as strong as he thought he was. Of course, he’d never admit that to Merry.

“Something to entertain you.”

“I’m going fishing? Is that on the doctor’s list?” He stared at the tackle box.

“Don’t be silly.” She put the box and paper on the table and set up the easel beside the window. She put the pad of watercolor paper on it and opened the tackle box with a flourish.

“Paints?” He stared into the box of brushes and tubes of color.

“Watercolors. You’ll enjoy them.” She told him what Abby had said about Jack Frost and windows.

“What do you expect me to do?” He stared at the equipment like it was crawling with vipers. “I haven’t held a brush in my hand for years.”

“I expect you to stay out of my hair and to paint quietly until dinnertime.”

“That’s hours. I could paint the Sistine Chapel by then—if I really knew how to paint.”

“Have at it. By the way, Vince called. He’s in the Twin Cities. He’ll be here in a couple hours. You’d better get busy.” She ran water into a tin container and set it on the bedside table. “Have fun.”

Fun. So this was Merry’s idea of fun. Her personal life was even more mind numbing than his. Jack stared at the paper for a long while before picking up a pencil and, in faint sketches, imagining what the fictional Jack Frost might create. There was a brief moment in time when he’d entertained the idea of being an artist.
Frost Brothers Gallery
was the name he’d imagined. But Jamie was more gifted in that area, so Jack had backed off even before he’d started.

He had no idea when he’d quit painting and fallen asleep, he realized as he heard Vince’s familiar voice on the stairs. He barely had time to open his eyes before his friend burst into the room.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding out!” Vince took in the fireplace, the décor, and Jack’s pale features. “Very smart. I like it. And Christmassy. I feel like I’m in Macy’s in December.” He strode across the room and sat down on the bed by Jack, who’d struggled to a sitting position. “You look horrible, buddy.”

“Glad to see you too.” Jack gave a weak grin.

“Miss Merry says you’ve been working too hard sorting out this land deal. She also says you’re less than an ideal patient, that you’re restless, bored, and itching to get back to work.”

“True, true, and true,” Jack admitted. “But now that you’re here, you can do it in my place.” Vince was the only person he’d trust with the task.

“Now that that’s settled, how are you feeling?”

Jack took an internal scan of himself. He hadn’t been feeling much of anything, but now that Vince was here to help, he could relax.

“Achy, weak, like my limbs aren’t working together.”

“Good thing I got here when I did.”

At that moment Peppy and Nog came racing into the room, playing one of their chasing games. Nog leapt onto the bed and into Jack’s arms. Peppy skidded to a stop at the foot of the bed and began to whine.

“Okay, you can come up here too,” Jack said and the dog jumped onto the bed, his tail wagging wildly. The cat, meanwhile, had settled in Jack’s arms and was purring loud as a Sherman tank.

Vince’s jaw dropped. “I didn’t think you liked animals.”

“I do if they like me.” Nog purred and put his nose under Jack’s chin to nuzzle him.

“Well, I’ll be . . . This is amazing.”

“That’s what Merry says too. She says her cat hates men.”

At that moment, Nog seemed to realize Vince was there and hissed at him. Then he curled back into Jack’s chest and began purring again.

“So I see.” Vince glanced at Merry, who’d come in and stood by the easel near the window. “To what do you attribute this love relationship between your pets and Jack? I would have bet money they’d hate him.”

“Me too,” she responded absently. “I think he bribes them with treats.”

“Do not.” Jack patted Peppy’s rump. “They love me for myself.”

“Then they’re the only ones who do,” Vince joked. He stood up and walked toward Merry. “What are you looking at?”

“These watercolors. Jack, did you really do these?”

“Of course. It’s not like I had the opportunity to hire outside help. What’s wrong with them?”

Merry didn’t take her eyes away from what Jack had created. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing. They’re amazing!” She held one up for Vince. “Fernlike frost on a window-pane with the sun filtering through it. It looks so real.”

“Isn’t that what I, Jack Frost, am famous for?” Jack didn’t take her seriously.

“Really, Jack, these are good.”

“I may have taken a few art classes in my day, but never to rave reviews.”

“I have to agree with her, buddy,” Vince said. “I had no idea you had it in you.”

Jack looked doubtfully at them. “Right.”

Merry spun around. She was holding one of the frosty scenes. “May I sell this in my shop?”

“Are you crazy? These are simple little sketches, not artwork!”

“I know they are simple. That’s part of their charm. You’ve caught the idea of a frosty morning in so few strokes. I have some beautiful frames that would be incredible with these. I think people would buy them for last-minute gifts. Wait, I’ll show you.” She took a picture frame off the bookshelf, popped out the photo of her parents, and demonstrated what Jack’s picture would look like framed. “Nice, right?”

Vince and Jack stared at the result.

It did look good, Jack realized in amazement.

She gathered the paintings and thrust them at Jack. “You’ll sign them, of course. Original paintings by the real Jack Frost!”

Vince thrust a pen into his hands and ordered, “Sign. These are great.”

He was so accustomed to signing things for Vince that Jack didn’t hesitate. It wasn’t until later that Jack wondered why he’d been so willing to put his John Hancock on something so silly.

Chapter Seventeen

• • • • • • • • • • • •

Vince settled down in a chair across from Jack and studied him until Jack scowled.

“What are you looking at?”

“You’ve lost a few pounds, but it looks good on you. How are you feeling?”

“You don’t care about that. You know the answer. What’s going on in that brain of yours?”

“Merry’s a beautiful woman.”

“I suppose,” Jack said grudgingly. Merry was beautiful but Vince was irritating him.

“She’s been taking good care of you.”

“I haven’t died, I guess.”

“That’s not as funny as you think, Jack. You were pretty close, according to Merry. She was very frightened for you. She might have saved your life. If you’d been in a hotel you never would have called an ambulance.”

“I hadn’t thought about that,” Jack admitted, suddenly realizing that Vince was probably right.

“Why don’t you marry her?”