The Christmas Children (8 page)

They went to the café Carissa had visited on her first night in Yuletide. It was the only place to eat in town, except for the restaurant in the lobby of the hotel, and it was crowded.

A decorated pine tree stood in one corner of the room, red candles were placed on each table and
Christmas music mingled with the voices of the diners.

“We should put some outside decorations at the house,” she said. “If people are driving around the lake to see the light display, the houses should be attractive, too. Where could we go to buy decorations?”

“There won't be anything in Yuletide,” Paul said. “Saratoga Springs would be the closest place. We could go tomorrow and get what we need. I told the kids we'd have a Christmas tree, but since it will be a real one, we shouldn't put it up until a few days before Christmas.”

“I couldn't get into the spirit of Christmas in Tampa when the temperature on December twenty-fifth is often in the seventies. I have a two-foot artificial tree that I place on the coffee table in my living room. That's the extent of my decorating. It'll be nice to have an evergreen scent in the house.”

“Even the years I've been away from home I've always managed to spend Christmas where there's snow. I've spent several Christmases skiing and skating in the Alps.”

They met Pastor Erskine as they left the restaurant. “The lighting company will erect the display a week from today. We can't hope for anything better than that, when our order went in so late. But the manager said that the weeks prior to Christmas are slow for them because their customers usually order months in advance. And I've come up with another idea.”

“Uh-oh!” Carissa said, feeling mischievous. “That sounds like more work to me.”

“I'd like to have a progressive outdoor nativity pageant. The manger scene could be set up beside the town hall, the shepherds and angels could congregate on one of the hillsides outside town, and the Wise Men could travel into Yuletide from the far side of Lake Mohawk.”

“Got any camels?” Paul asked.

Pastor Erskine's face suddenly drooped. “I hadn't thought of that. But we don't have any biblical proof that the Wise Men rode camels. They'll have to walk into town.”

“A pageant would be a memorable event,” Carissa said. “If you need any help with costumes, let me know. I'm a fashion designer, and I make my creations on my own sewing machine before I send out the patterns to the manufacturers.”

“Miss Whitmore, I believe in providence. God must have sent you to Yuletide to help us revive the spirit of Christmas. The town is coming alive again.”

Silently, Carissa agreed with him, for more and more, she believed that her choice of Yuletide had not been happenstance.

T
he next week passed quickly. Paul and Carissa made a trip to Saratoga Springs to buy decorations. When each insisted that they'd pay for the items, they finally agreed to split the expenses.

“If this year's observance goes well,” Carissa said, “Yuletide will probably throw off its fixation about not celebrating Christmas. Perhaps Naomi can use them for another season.”

“I don't know,” Paul said. “Naomi sounds like she's having such a good time in Florida. She may never spend another winter in the north.”

“Yes, I know. I called yesterday to apologize for the way we were misusing her home, and she said that her New York home was the furthest thing from her mind now.”

“I thought a change of scenery would be good for her, but I didn't dream she'd become a new person.
Management of the textile mill was apparently too much for her. She says the staff can handle the work, and she isn't worrying about it. She's made new friends. One man from Wyoming has rented an apartment in the complex where you live, and they've been going to dinner together.”

Paul spent the next two days draping the evergreens with strings of lights, and he put icicle lights around the eaves of the house. Carissa started decorating the great room.

Thinking that Naomi might also want to decorate, Carissa telephoned to let Naomi know where her meager supply of Christmas decorations was stored. She made three attempts before she finally caught Naomi at the condo.

“You're an elusive lady,” Carissa said. “You must spend all your time at the beach.”

“I go walking every morning, but there are so many other things to do. My new friend, John Brewster, and I go to a different restaurant for dinner every night.”

“Is he the man from Wyoming?”

“Yes. Since he retired, he's spent the past five winters in Florida.”

“I'm happy you're enjoying my place as much as I like yours. Since I'm decorating your house today, I thought you might like to put out some decorations, too. I don't have many things, but you'll find what I do have in my storage area in the basement. The key is on the key ring I left for you. If you want more
things, I'll pay for them. I can always use them next year.”

“Thanks, but I probably won't do any decorating. I'm out of the habit now, since we haven't done anything at Yuletide for several years.”

“And, Naomi, if you want to come home for Christmas, please do so. One more person in the house won't be a problem. I'm encouraging Paul to come visit you, but he insists he feels responsible for the children, too. I don't want you to be lonely.”

“I thank you, but I'll be content to stay here. I've made many friends, and we have so much in common that I feel as if they're family. John took me to the large church two blocks west of your condo. They have a Bible class especially for northern people who spend the winter months in Florida. Twenty-three people attended, and we're planning many activities for the holidays. Two of the couples live in RVs, and they've rented the clubhouse at their RV park for a big party. We'll all take food and exchange gifts. And we're planning to take a Caribbean cruise for several days, so I won't even be home on Christmas Day. I'm happier than I've been since my husband died, so don't worry about me being lonely.”

How could Naomi have made friends so quickly—friends she preferred to see more than she did her own brother? But Carissa reflected that she'd also become acquainted with many new people in the past three weeks. In the frenzied rush to bring Christmas to Yuletide, they didn't seem like strangers.

Carissa had bought a wooden nativity scene for the mantel, which she surrounded with pine cones and greenery from the trees around the lake. She placed the wooden key she'd carried in the Christmas pageant when she was a child in a prominent place. Each time she looked at it, Carissa was reminded of her reason for coming to Yuletide. She had ropes of tinsel and red poinsettias to tie around the wooden supports in the great room and on the stair railings.

When Paul came home from taking the children to school on Wednesday morning, Carissa was placing electric candles in the windows. He carried a large paper bag that held several sprigs of a plant with small green leaves and clusters of white berries. With a boyish smile, he handed the plants to Carissa.

“What's that?” she asked.

“Mistletoe! I stopped at the farmer's market for a bag of oranges, and he'd just received a shipment of mistletoe. I thought you could use it for decoration.”

Frowning, Carissa said, “I'm not so sure. I've heard that mistletoe berries are poisonous to people. With three kids in the house, I don't want to take any chances.”

“I didn't buy this for eating. Haven't you ever heard of kissing under the mistletoe?”

She glanced at Paul questioningly. “I can't see that we'll need it for that purpose, either.”

“Oh, you never can tell,” he answered. “I think our visitors could benefit from a few hugs and kisses.
They probably haven't had much affection since their mother became sick.”

“Whatever you do with the mistletoe, be sure it's out of reach of the children. And you can take care of the affection, too. God must have left maternal instincts out of my makeup. I'm capable of clothing and sheltering our visitors, but I don't seem to have many hugs and kisses to give.”

And I wonder why you don't, Paul thought. From the tense expression on Carissa's face, he felt sure it was a discussion he couldn't initiate at that time.

They chatted companionably the rest of the morning while Paul tied sprigs of mistletoe not only on the chandelier in the great room, but also on the light over the kitchen table. He inserted some of it in Carissa's mantel decorations. It did look pretty as an extra touch, Carissa thought, but she was uneasy about having the mistletoe in the house. She couldn't decide which disturbed her the most—her concern for the children, or what Paul had said about hugs and kisses.

By noon, the great room was festive, and Carissa stood in the middle to survey their efforts. “I suppose we should have waited for the children to help decorate,” she said, “but I didn't think about it. I'm so used to doing things alone that I can't easily include others. We'll let them help trim the tree. Looks good, doesn't it?”

Carissa had inadvertently stopped beneath the mistletoe-decorated chandelier to admire the room's new
look. Watching her, and the look on her face, Paul thought she was an exquisite woman. He moved closer, and, putting his left hand on her shoulder, he pointed up at the mistletoe.

“After all, it is a Christmas tradition,” he said, and bent his head, meaning to kiss her on the forehead.

Carissa quickly lifted her face, and his lips touched hers in an electric moment. Dazed, her eyes closed, Carissa swayed toward Paul.

After a second's hesitation, when he briefly recalled his long-standing vow to avoid women, he hugged her to him in a delight too profound for words.

His kiss was surprisingly gentle, and Carissa was surprised at her eager response to the touch of his lips. She seemed to be drifting through space, her spirits soaring, filled with an inner excitement that was foreign to her. Then suddenly she remembered! Her eyes flew open. A glint of wonder had transformed Paul's gaze.

Wrenching out of his arms, Carissa pushed Paul away from her. Caught off guard, he stumbled backward and sprawled in a crumpled heap on the couch, mashing the boxes that had held the decorations.

Running toward the stairs, Carissa said in a tearful voice, “Don't ever touch me again.”

Angered, not only by his own emotional reaction to Carissa, but also by her rejection of his advances, Paul shouted angrily, “I don't intend to. I'm going
to the apartment. When you decide to act like a sensible woman instead of a skittish girl who's never been kissed, I'll come back to help you.”

Running into her room and slamming the door, Carissa thought that if Paul waited for that, he'd never come back. Why, after guarding her emotions for years, had she suddenly succumbed to the magnetism of Paul Spencer? Always before, she'd been so careful to keep men at an emotional distance, but for the past week, she'd been out of her element. Her usual contact with men was on a business basis and she often played the dominant role in those relationships. She'd never had a male friend, and because of his friendship, Paul had broken down her defenses.

She wanted to leave Yuletide, but she'd never run away from an obligation before. They had promised to take care of the children until after Christmas. If Paul didn't want to honor his promise, she'd manage alone, as she'd always had to do.

Paul untangled himself from the plastic bags and boxes, wondering if he'd injured himself. He'd felt a sharp pain when he'd landed on his left shoulder, and he sat up gingerly. If she'd injured him again, he wouldn't have the nerve to go to the local emergency room for treatment. He moved his arm back and forth, and found that it wasn't broken. Still angry, he went into the bedroom, picked up the clothes and personal articles he'd brought to the house and walked across the yard to his apartment.

Carissa Whitmore had been bad news for him from
the first minute he'd laid eyes on her. The last thing on his mind when he'd bought the mistletoe was that he'd kiss Carissa. Up until that minute, he'd thought of her as an interesting companion, and he'd admired her courage in taking on the responsibility of the children. He'd started to be wary when he'd learned she had a lot of money. That should have warned him to keep their relationship impersonal. But they'd had so much fun together while they were shopping and decorating the house that his defenses were down.

When Carissa had pushed him away, the humiliation he'd experienced when Jennifer jilted him had flashed before his eyes. Carissa was the only woman who had interested him since that time. To have her reject his advances had touched a raw nerve that he'd thought had healed a long time ago.

But regardless of what she'd done, Paul couldn't excuse himself for the vitriolic words he'd hurled at her. He'd never talked to anyone like that in his life. Not even to Jennifer, who'd hurt him so much. And he'd had the nerve to accuse Carissa of acting like a child! Well, he'd made a fool of himself, but if Carissa wouldn't make the first overture, it was all over between them.

But if he wasn't at the house, he wouldn't be able to help with the children. Serves her right, he thought. Hadn't Carissa brought this on herself by the way she'd reacted to a simple kiss? But was it a simple kiss? As best he could remember, his inno
cent, youthful intimacies with Jennifer hadn't given him the electric jolt he'd felt when his lips had touched Carissa's. Happiness such as he'd never known had made his spirits soar, and at that moment, even if he'd tried, he couldn't have resisted Carissa's appeal.

Well, the fox is in with the chickens now,
he thought, recalling the old expression, and he didn't know what he could do about it.

When it was time to pick up the children, he drove into town as usual. It wasn't fair to Carissa to expect her to explain to the children why he wouldn't be staying at the house. Even a few days of tender care had made a difference in them. Uneasiness still lurked in the eyes of Alex and Lauren, but Julie was as carefree as if her future was certain. He would miss being at the house with them.

Paul was pleased to see that their children—and he wondered when he'd started thinking of them in that way—had made friends. Lauren and Alex seemed to have one or two companions when they left the school building, but Julie was always surrounded by several other children. She usually talked most of the time on the way home, telling of their school experiences.

When she'd finished, she asked, “What're we gonna have for supper, Uncle Paul?”

Now was the time to tell them. “I don't know. I'm staying in my apartment now, so Carissa will be doing the cooking.”

Alex, who was sitting nearest the door holding Julie on his lap, glanced quickly at Paul.

“She's no cook. Said so herself,” Alex said.

“I'm sure she'll have a good meal for you, but don't expect too much. She worked hard today decorating the house.”

Julie's lips drew into a pout. “You said you'd watch cartoons with me tonight.”

“I know I did, and I'm sorry. Some things came up, and I need to stay in my apartment.”

“Uh-huh!” Alex said, and his expression became hard and resentful.

Paul stopped in front of the house and said, “I'll see you in the morning when I take you to school.”

“I'm gonna stay with you,” Julie said, a determined set to her little jaw.

“Forget it, Julie,” Alex said, and he lifted her out of the truck.

When Carissa opened the door to greet them, she donned a smile.

“Oh,” Lauren said as she looked at the decorations. “Pretty!”

Carissa hoped the Christmas decor would take their minds off Paul's absence.

“Let me help you out of your coats,” she said with forced cheerfulness. “I bought some cookies at the deli yesterday, and you can have some with milk while we wait for dinner.”

“I'm not hungry,” Alex said, and stomped through the great room toward his room.

Lauren and Julie threw their coats on the couch and followed Carissa into the kitchen. They answered Carissa's questions in monosyllables, and as soon as they ate the two cookies and drank the small glasses of milk she allotted them, they picked up their coats and went upstairs.

Carissa sat at the table, her chin resting in her hand. What had Paul told the children that had upset them? Or had something happened at school?

Dinner, too, was a silent affair. As soon as they finished eating, Julie and Alex went into the great room, while Lauren stayed behind to help with the dishes.