The Twelve Days of Christmas
by
Linda Swift
Smashwords Edition
Presented by Publishing by Rebecca J. Vickery
Digital ISBN: 978-1-4580-6109-6
Copyright © 2011 by Linda Swift
Cover Art Copyright © 2011 by Laura Shinn
Produced by Rebecca J. Vickery
Design Consultation by Laura Shinn
(Formerly presented in Ebook by Awe-Struck in 2009)
Smashwords Licensing Notes
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Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.
The Twelve Days of Christmas is a work of fiction.
Though actual towns, cities, and locations may be mentioned, they are used in a fictitious manner and the events and occurrences were invented in the mind and imagination of the author. Similarities of characters or names used within to any person – past, present, or future – are coincidental.
Dedication
For my very good friend, Lillian Steele, who shares my memories.
Once in love, Leigh and Russell are maneuvered into spending time together during the Christmas holidays. Recovering from a tragedy, Leigh vows never to be responsible for a child again while Russell faces deciding custody of his two daughters after his ex-wife remarries.
Even as their attraction flares once more, how can they possibly overcome the obstacles life has placed between them? Then toss an arsonist, a lovable Labrador, and an unwanted stepfather into the situation...
Will the twelve days of Christmas be time enough to sort it all out?
Chapter One
"Leigh Wallingsford?"
The clerk at the Delta counter in the Sarasota-Bradenton Airport looked at her identification, then back to the ticket.
"Yes."
"Your destination is Nashville?"
Again, Leigh answered yes. After satisfying the man that yes, she had packed her own luggage and no, she was not carrying drugs or firearms or explosives, her bags were swept onto a conveyer and she was given a departure gate number. As Leigh watched her luggage disappear from view she had an urge to recall it and cancel her flight. This last-minute decision to accept her grandmother's invitation to the combined Christmas and birthday celebration was a mistake.
Leigh tucked her ticket into the pocket of her flight bag and headed up the escalator toward the boarding area. As she squeezed past a crowd waiting beside the security gates to greet the incoming passengers, she noticed that most were older people who were probably waiting for their children and grands to arrive for a holiday in the sun.
Confirming her thoughts, one small voice called above the noise, "Gramma, Grampa. Here I am!" and a little boy ran toward an eager couple who seemed scarcely able to contain themselves at the sight of him.
Tears stung her eyes as she dumped her personal items onto the conveyor with more force than necessary and walked through the gate. Was she never going to be able to see a child again without this terrible feeling of loss that always assaulted her?
Leigh met more people as she approached the departure area, people carrying gift-wrapped packages, people like herself traveling to spend Christmas with family. She wondered if any of them were filled with the same misgivings as she.
The first boarding call was being announced as Leigh approached Gate 22.
"All passengers needing assistance or those with small children…"
A sudden image of herself hurrying along the concourse, holding an eager little boy's hand, brought a stab of familiar pain to her chest and she drew a sharp breath.
Jamie had been four the last Christmas she and James had flown back to Kentucky for a family holiday. And they'd already had tickets the following year when the accident…
With determined effort, Leigh tuned out the loudspeaker and the image it had evoked and turned toward the expansive glass window for a last wistful look at palm trees in bright sunshine. She was definitely headed the wrong direction but it was too late for remonstration now. Sighing with resignation, she joined a line moving toward the gate and reached for her boarding pass.
The plane was crowded and its noise level reflected the convivial spirit of the season as Leigh found her assigned seat next to a window. She nodded to her fellow seat-mate, a balding man in a dark business suit, and opened a paperback book to discourage further conversation. But the man was not to be deterred so easily.
"Going North for the holidays?"
"Yes, to Kentucky." Leigh continued her effort to read.
"Oh? What part?"
"Murray." When the man looked puzzled, she added, "A small university town in the western part of the state."
"I'm headed for Baltimore. To see my daughter and family. She's got three rowdy boys, all under ten." He reached for his billfold and Leigh closed her book, preparing for the inevitable.
After the exhibit, accompanied by detailed explanations of each photo and Leigh's polite response, the man glanced at her ringless left hand. "You're not married?"
"No, I'm a—" the word still stuck in her throat after four years and she hesitated before saying it "—widow."
He studied her for a moment. "I had no idea. You're so young." After a pause, he continued. "I'm a widower myself. It's tough."
Leigh nodded, and opened her book again. She hoped the man would take the hint and drop the personal questions. The last thing she wanted was to discuss her private life with a stranger but he continued.
"Do you have children?"
Leigh shook her head. Then because she couldn't deny Jamie's brief existence, even though it hurt so much to talk about him, she went on. "I had a son. He died, too."
This time the garrulous man looked chagrined. "I'm so sorry." He patted her arm awkwardly, then changed the subject and soon lapsed into silence.
Leigh had gotten up early to pack and she napped intermittently on the first leg of the trip. The airport in Atlanta was even more crowded than usual, but she managed to board her connecting flight with only a short delay. Then after being airborne again, Leigh sat wondering why she was doing this and wishing for the umpteenth time she wasn't.
She hadn't been to Murray since the car accident that claimed the lives of her husband and young son four years ago, her only contact with the family being infrequent calls to her grandmother. She simply couldn't handle pity, and she was certain her relatives would have felt obliged to offer her large doses of it. She only hoped after this long that they wouldn't feel obligated to do so now.
Almost all of them would be there, she supposed—aunts, uncles, cousins. It had been time enough, she told herself sternly, that she should get on with her life. That was the main reason she'd decided to return to Murray and face the family.
"Coffee?"
The smiling flight attendant interrupted her thoughts and Leigh nodded and adjusted the tray in front of her to accommodate the cup.
"Sugar, cream?"
"No, thank you." She took a sip of the steaming liquid and resumed her musing.
It had been her intention to book a return flight right after Christmas Day but nothing had been available until after the New Year so she'd had a choice of twelve days or nothing. She had also intended to rent a car in Nashville. Instead Me-Me's letter yesterday had forced another change of plans. Leigh recalled her grandmother's exact words, written in her perfect penmanship on lavender-scented notepaper.
Leigh, darling,
I have also invited Russell Clark and family to spend Christmas with us this year. They will be arriving from Tucson within minutes of your own flight and will be expecting you to join them for the drive to Murray. I can't wait to see you, dear. It's been too long.
Best love, Me-Me.
Exasperated that her grandmother had made the arrangement without first consulting her, Leigh considered refusing to go along with it. Russell and his family would probably be crowded with an extra passenger. She knew he had a wife and at least two children.
If she understood the letter correctly, they were also invited to stay with Me-Me. Although the spacious old house could accommodate a large number of guests, she was not looking forward to spending days under the same roof with Russell Clark. This was one more reason to regret accepting her own invitation.
Thinking of her childhood in Murray as she sipped her coffee, Leigh remembered the studious young boy with large glasses as he was that first Christmas when Walter Clark had brought his new wife Barbara and her nin*e-year-old son to meet his mother. If her own son had lived, he would be the age Russell was then, but she wouldn't think about that.
Russell liked to read, which had immediately endeared him to Me-Me who was head of the Murray Public Library then. Even though reading was one of Leigh's passions, too, she had preferred the company of her more boisterous cousins to the shy newcomer visiting Hattie Clark next door.
After they reached their teens, Leigh's encounters with Russell had been more frequent and she began to appreciate his intellect and talents, which compensated for his shyness. They became good friends the summer before her senior year in high school when Russell had come to stay with Miss Hattie and take a course at the university that he needed for enrollment in architectural school that fall. They had actually become more than just good friends, Leigh reluctantly admitted. But she hadn't seen Russell since he came back to Murray for Miss Hattie's funeral the year she finished graduate school. It was painful to recall that last meeting even now.
Me-Me had kept her informed of Russell's professional progress—graduation with honors from Texas A&M, a job with a prestigious architectural firm on the West Coast, then starting his own business in Tucson. She imagined him today as a serious, dependable, hard-working man with a wife and two children and a house in the suburbs. What if she wasn't able to recognize him after eleven years? Perhaps she should have called and suggested that he wear a red cactus bloom in his lapel.
"We are now approaching Nashville. All passengers please fasten your seat belts and place your seats in an upright position. See that all trays are securely locked…"
The plane began its slow descent toward the airport as the recording continued and Leigh gave her empty cup to the flight attendant and prepared for landing. A small unfamiliar tremor of anticipation caused her heart to beat faster as she looked at the city below.
* * * * *
"I need to go to the bathroom, Daddy."
Russell studied the four-year-old squirming in her seat and tried to gage the seriousness of her request. She had made two trips already since lunch but then he had foolishly allowed the flight attendant to give her a whole can of Orange Crush. He met the glaring eyes of his older daughter and shrugged apologetically. "Please?"
Pamela poked her paperback book into the seat pocket in front of her and sighed dramatically as she stood.
"Come on, brat," she hissed and stalked down the aisle as Heather wiggled out of her seat and made a valiant effort to keep up with her sister.
Watching them, Russell made a mental note to request a seating change on their return trip if they were not close to the rest room and resumed his musing.
The day had not started out well. He'd been greeted with barely concealed eagerness by his ex-wife, the new bride, at the house in Green Valley at six o'clock this morning and things had gone steadily downhill since. Diane had practically pushed the two sleepy children out the door with him, wishing them a hasty Merry Christmas.
Perhaps he should have tried harder to get airline tickets for late yesterday, but he hadn't wanted to fly at night and arrive in the wee hours of morning with a hundred mile car trip still facing them. Diane had made no bones about her resentment at having the children underfoot on her wedding night. From the innocent remarks Heather sometimes made, he suspected that Bob Yancey had spent several nights there already and he admitted some perverse satisfaction at the inconvenience of their delayed honeymoon.
The excitement of yesterday's wedding plus the trip to Kentucky had both girls keyed up but their reactions were as opposite as their personalities. Though neither had flown before, Pamela had assumed an air of boredom and retreated into her book, pretending no interest in the flight. Heather had asked a million questions, made friends with all the flight attendants, and even the passengers in the row behind by leaning over her seat and confiding all the recent happenings in the family before Russell could stop her.
He had mixed feelings about the long-term effect of a child being a bridesmaid at her own mother's wedding. He had mixed feelings about stepfathers, too, but there wasn't a damn thing he could do about either one.
His life hadn't turned out the way he'd intended. College had gone according to plan, and getting hired by Zigfeld & Quinn had been a step in the right direction. He'd thought marrying Diane was another good decision, in the beginning. Then they'd moved to Tucson and he'd given most of his time and attention to starting his own business and their marriage had begun coming apart soon afterward. Even buying the house in Green Valley and the birth of a second daughter hadn't kept them together for very long.
In retrospect, he'd seen that in his quest for success his priorities had gradually shifted from putting family first. And that had led to the loss of all he'd held dear. He had made a big mistake and the cost had been high but he was making the best of it now. Or had been, he thought wryly, until Diane remarried and added another unknown factor to their tenuous equation. But he expected to deal with it.
"Here we are, Daddy," Heather announced, and Russell looked up and gave his youngest a smile of approval as she settled back into her seat. His glance moved to Pamela who had slipped wordlessly into her own place and was reaching for her book. "Thank you, honey."
With an injured air of forbearance, she nodded slightly, not looking at him.
"Daddy," Heather nudged him with her elbow to be sure she had his attention again, "are we almost there?"
"It won't be much longer, sweetheart."
"Show me where the big hand and little hand will be," she persisted, holding out her arm and tapping the face of the large Cinderella watch she wore.
Russell took her arm and pulled out the watch stem. "First, we have to set the time forward one hour, and then I'll show you where the hands will be when we land."
A frown wrinkled her forehead. "Can't my watch go as fast as the plane, Daddy?"
Russell looked at the small upturned face expectantly waiting for his answer. Explaining the different time zones would have to wait until another time. He took the easy way out for now. "No." Pushing the stem in, he pointed to the numbers that would signal their arrival in Nashville. Heather nodded solemnly, then did a turn-about in her seat and nudged her sister.
"Read me a story, Pammie," she whined. "Please."
"I'm busy," Pamela told her and leaned farther toward the aisle, "and don't call me that."
The whine grew more high-pitched. "But I don't have anything to do."
After a moment, she flip-flopped in her seat and spoke to the people behind her. "I'm four and I can't read yet. But my sister is eleventeen and she can read every book in the world."
"Eleven," Russell automatically corrected even as he thought Out of the mouth of babes. "Honey, why don't you sit down and look at the pictures in this magazine for a while?" He tugged at her sweat suit as he reached for the airline magazine and opened it.
"I already saw it, Daddy," she told him as she slid back down into her seat.
"Here," he took a ballpoint pen from his pocket, "color in the white spaces or something." He fervently hoped he wasn't contributing to the beginning career of a graffiti artist with this act in the name of peace. He could imagine the scene. Heather sitting on stage while a graying Oprah was asking, "How did you come to be arrested for hanging from a helicopter and spraying the statue of liberty with red paint?"
And a grown-up Heather with blond-spiked hair and a black leather mini skirt answering, "See, it all began when I was only four and my dad gave me his pen and encouraged me…"
Heather remained quiet, busily printing the letters of the alphabet along the margins of each page, and Russell's thoughts returned to his ex-wife and his present dilemma.
After the divorce, Diane and the girls had remained in their rambling Spanish-style house with him handling the maintenance. But Diane had just informed him that her new husband, a colonel at Davis-Monthan Air Force Base, was being transferred to Germany, and she wanted him to move back to Green Valley and take custody of their daughters. Diane made it clear that she and Bob preferred to leave the girls behind when he left D-M, as they called it. He had to give her an answer after the holidays because they were scheduled to transfer in January. Since Pamela and Heather knew nothing of the impending change, nor Diane's desire to give them up, it was a decision he must make alone. Pamela was almost a teenager now, and Heather would be entering school soon. The thought of coping with two girls as a single father was beyond scary. It was terrifying.
Russell focused his thoughts on his return to Murray. His mother had died during his first year in college and he had been back only once since. After their confrontation following her memorial service, he and his stepfather had gone their separate ways. That would have made it awkward to visit his grandmother, even though she continued to send him invitations until her own death five years later. Anyway, his wife had never wanted to come with him and it had been easier to make excuses than periodic visits to his adoptive family's small town.
He had attended Hattie Clark's funeral, bringing Diane and their small baby with him. Even now, it bothered him to think of the joy it would have brought his grandmother to see her firstborn great grandchild. But Walt was responsible for her loss. Except for a quick introduction to his new family, he managed to avoid his estranged stepfather for the brief time they were forced to participate in the service. Watching Walt, devastated at the loss of his mother, Russell had been tempted to ask him if he understood now what his stepson had felt in Dallas when they had stood together at another open grave.
That was also the last time he had seen Leigh and their meeting still haunted him. She had been in graduate school then, even more beautiful than when she was sixteen. The coldness she projected that day remained vivid in his mind. He had hoped to have a private word with her, make an attempt to apologize for his earlier behavior but there was no opportunity. He was never certain if her look of accusation was for that or for neglecting his step-grandmother but he was guilty on both counts. Now he wondered if she was still holding a grudge against him after all these years. He would soon find out.
With all that was happening in his life at the moment, it had suddenly seemed important to accept Amelia VanStone's invitation to celebrate Christmas and her eightieth birthday in Murray. He wanted his daughters to see where he had spent a part of his boyhood and meet the family who had befriended him.
He had been surprised to get Me-Me's note a few days after his call to inform her when he and the girls would be coming. In her usual direct manner, she wasted no words and brooked no protests. Pulling the lavender-scented note from his jacket pocket, he opened and read it again.
Russell dear,
Leigh will be arriving in Nashville from Florida only a few minutes after your own plane lands. Since you plan to rent a car, I have informed her that you will bring her to Murray. I can't wait to see all of you.
Best love, Me-Me.
At least the note had answered the question uppermost in his mind. Now he knew for sure that Leigh was coming, although he had very much doubted that she would. Amelia VanStone had written him about the death of Leigh's husband and little boy and he'd sent a belated floral offering and note. Later he had received the customary formal thank you card, nothing else.
Some time after that, her grandmother wrote again saying that Leigh had moved to Florida where her retired parents now lived and that she wasn't teaching anymore. The last he'd heard about her, she was in real estate which meant they'd have something in common at least. An image of the last summer he'd spent in Murray flashed through his mind and he amended that to something else.
He wondered what she would look like now, if she would still have that long golden hair that reminded him of ripe wheat. He had been in love with her almost from the first Christmas he came to spend with the Clark family. His infatuation had grown with every passing year as they were growing up. he sighed. It had been a long time since he'd last seen Leigh. What if he didn't even recognize her now? Maybe he should have called her and asked if she'd wear a red hibiscus blossom in her hair.
"Please fasten your seat belts and prepare for landing."
The voice on the loudspeaker interrupted his reverie and he reached to buckle Heather into her seat, before securing himself. As the voice droned on, he glanced down at the sprawling city in their glide path and wondered with mounting interest what the next hour would bring.
Chapter Two
After stacking their assorted bags on a luggage cart, Russell checked the flight information screen and decided he had time to arrange for the car before Leigh's plane arrived. Noticing a restroom sign just across the corridor, he got his daughters' attention and motioned toward it.
"Why don't you two take a quick break while I check on the car? I'll be right over there at the Avis counter waiting for you."
"I don't need to go to the bathroom, Daddy," Heather protested loudly.
"Well, do it anyway," Russell said emphatically. "It's going to be a long ride to Murray and I don't plan to get off the Interstate and find a restroom every five minutes."
"But, Daddy—"
"Shut up, brat!" Pamela snapped and grabbed her sister's hand and half-dragged her toward the ladies' room.
Russell produced his American Express card, signed the necessary papers, and took the keys to the Lucerne, telling himself his last-minute switch from a Lacrosse had only to do with the need for more luggage room, not a desire to impress his added passenger.
Turning from the counter, he glanced toward the escalators just as a smartly-dressed woman stepped on and began her descent. She would have caught his attention in any crowd—slender, blond, elegant—even if he had never seen her before. But his hammering heart recognized her immediately and he stood frozen for a minute, then walked toward her and stopped directly in her path.
* * * * *
"Leigh."
It was a statement, not a question, the single syllable as warm on his tongue as the welcoming smile he gave her.
"Russell?"
There was bewilderment in her voice and eyes but she quickly concealed it as she held out both hands and leaned forward to receive his conventional greeting. However, there was nothing conventional about the way she felt when his warm hands enfolded hers and his lips brushed her cheek.
They continued to hold hands, looking at each other until someone bumped Leigh's shoulder in passing. Suddenly aware that they were partially blocking traffic, Russell pulled her to one side of the escalators, then with obvious reluctance released her.
"It's been a long time but I'd have recognized you anywhere. You haven't changed at all."
It wasn't true, she told herself, but Leigh flushed with pleasure at the words.
She shook her head, smiling. "Well, you certainly have." She felt her flush grow deeper. "For the better, I mean."
Why on earth had she said that? Even though the tanned, muscular man facing her bore little resemblance to the man she remembered, it sounded like a back-handed compliment. Flustered, she adjusted her tote bag and tried to smooth over her faux pas.
"It must be the suntan. And I thought you wore glasses."
Seeming unperturbed, he answered easily, "Contacts took care of the latter, and working in the Arizona sun and wind are responsible for the other."
Leigh, who was seldom at loss for words, found herself staring wordlessly at a metamorphosed Russell Clark while vivid images of a long-ago summer flashed through her mind. She felt as though her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth and made a determined effort to say something coherent.
"Isn't your family with you? I thought Me-Me said—"
He nodded. "Yes, they're just—"
"Daddy," a small petulant voice cut in, "Pammie made me try and try, but I just couldn't go to the bathroom right now."
Russell turned toward his children, bent to put an arm around the younger.
"Okay, honey." He looked back at Leigh. "This is my daughter Heather. And that's Pamela." He nodded toward the older girl who stood glowering at him.
Leigh smiled at them in turn while her heart twisted with a painful surge of longing the presence of children always brought. She noted how much the little one resembled Russell with her sun-streaked blond curls. The older girl had darker hair like her mother whose attractive features she could still recall in vivid detail from that brief encounter more than a decade ago.
"Hello."
"This is Leigh."
Heather turned her full attention to Leigh and gave her a dimpled smile, while Pamela's eyes swept her with a cursory glance as she mumbled a barely audible "Hi" and then turned back to her father.
"I was just going to check on my luggage," Leigh said, anxious to end the awkward moment.
"Yes, of course. I almost forgot about that."
Russell took Heather's hand and went to retrieve the luggage carrier he'd left beside the car rental counter, with Pamela and Leigh following.
As they crossed to the baggage claim area, Heather lagged behind to look up at Leigh and ask, "Are you my daddy's friend who's going to ride with us?"
"Yes, I am."
Suddenly remembering Russell's wife as they reached the designated carousel, Leigh looked toward the restroom entrance, then inquired, "Will your mother be able to find us over here?"
Heather looked puzzled until Pamela said with deliberate emphasis on the first two words, "Our mother is in Hawaii."
"On her honeymoon," Heather added proudly. "And me and Pammie were the bridegrooms."
"Bridesmaids, stupid," Pamela corrected sharply as Russell automatically said, "Pamela and I."
Heather's perplexity deepened. "Daddy, you weren't there."
"Oh, I see," Leigh said softly to no one in particular, not meeting Russell's eyes.
Why hadn't Me-Me told her about this? Was it possible she didn't know?
Leigh watched the progression of assorted luggage on the carousel with rapt attention while she digested this new information. Finally catching a glimpse of her tapestry garment bag, she took a step forward, but before she could retrieve it, Russell was beside her.
"This?" he motioned and when she nodded, he swept it onto the cart. "How many more?"
"Just one." In the crowded space, Leigh was acutely aware of Russell's arm almost touching hers even as she looked toward the moving baggage. Then feeling something more needed to be said in defense of her latest blunder, Leigh finally spoke. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."
"No problem," Russell answered in a low voice. "They can handle it."
Leigh cast a surreptitious glance at the two children standing behind them and figured there were plenty of problems and if the confident man beside her was unaware of them, he had the biggest problem of all.
Leigh shivered and pulled her lightweight coat closer when a chill blast of wind assaulted them as they left the terminal. Seeing that Russell was occupied with the luggage carrier, she automatically reached for Heather's hand as they approached the street and paused for a line of taxis to pass before heading toward the rental car area.
"Your hand is nice and warm," Heather said, giving Leigh a trusting smile that made her cringe with painful longing as small cold fingers touched her palm. She observed that neither of the girls were dressed warmly enough for winter weather and silently wondered why.
As if reading her thoughts, Russell spoke. "I'll need to stop someplace and buy a few things for the girls. Southern Arizona doesn't get as cold as West Kentucky and I don't want to take a chance on waiting to shop in Murray."
Leigh remembered the few stores scattered along Main Street, the last time she was in Murray, and nodded her head. "Yes, here would be better."
The attendant took Russell's receipt and gave him the keys to a maroon Lucerne. Asking directions to the nearest mall, he quickly loaded their bags into the trunk and unlocked the car. There was an awkward moment when he opened the front passenger door and motioned for Leigh to get in as Heather also tried to climb in front.
Leigh hesitated. "I'll just—"
"No," Russell took her arm and guided her in, "Heather will sit in back with her sister."
"Daddy, I want to—"
"Get in, brat," Pamela hissed as she slid into her own seat and fastened her safety belt.
"But, Daddy, why—" Heather began again as Russell led her to the seat behind him and buckled her in.
"Leigh and I want to talk, that's why. We haven't seen each other in years and we have a lot to catch up on."
"Oh."
The little girl seemed satisfied with her father's answer and settled in quietly as Russell maneuvered the car out of the terminal into the busy street while Leigh, sitting beside him, wondered if they really had that much to talk about after all.
She glanced sideways and caught a glimpse of his bronzed profile. The Southwest has had a very positive effect on Russell Clark, she admitted. He still had been a studious young man when last she'd seen him; now he was more mature, with an air of confident virility that bespoke his success.
"It was very kind of your grandmother to ask us to celebrate her birthday and Christmas with her," Russell said. "I could have booked a motel, but I remembered your wonderful family holidays and wanted my girls to experience that, too."
"Me-Me wouldn't have allowed you to stay any place else. She was always very fond of you."
"And I of her. She is a remarkable woman."
So they would be staying with Me-Me also. Suddenly spending time under the same roof with Russell Clark didn't seem so terrible after all.
It took only a few minutes to reach the Hickory Hollow Mall suggested by the Avis attendant. The parking lot was crowded with cars on this last weekend before the holiday and finding a slot took some time.
At the mall entrance, a bell ringer stood by the Salvation Army kettle, and Heather turned to her father and asked, "Daddy, can I have something to put in the bucket?"
"Yes, honey, you may." Russell opened his billfold and gave her a large bill.
Leigh noticed with approval the subtle way Russell had corrected his daughter's grammar and his casual act of kindness. It reinforced her early memories of him as a sensitive person and she was glad to see that he apparently hadn't changed. But that still left unanswered the nagging questions she had about the years between.
The child took the money, not aware of his generosity, and dropped it in the kettle.
The woman in black thanked her profusely and added, "What a lovely family." Her smile included Leigh, too. "God bless you."
As they walked on, she called after them, "And a Merry Christmas, too."
Inside the mall, they were greeted by the tinkling sounds of Rudolph, the Red Nosed Reindeer and a blast of warm air, redolent with the scent of brewing coffee and cinnamon.
Heather took a deep breath and asked, "Daddy, can we get a cinnamon bun?"
"We have to shop," Pamela reminded the little girl with an air of superiority that seemed to be her normal way of addressing her sister.
"Tell you what," Russell said, dodging the milling shoppers as he led them to one side of the flow, "we'll shop first and then have refreshments before we leave the mall."
He looked at Leigh and asked hopefully, "Do you have any suggestions where to start?"
"Well," she glanced at the nearby directory of stores, "I think Dillard's might have everything the girls need."
"I wonder if you'd mind accompanying them?" he asked, then continued in a low voice. "I have some shopping I need to do."
"All right."
Leigh nodded, realizing he must have last minute presents to buy, and though she didn't relish the job, knowing it would be ungrateful to refuse since he was taking her to Murray.
"Great." His relief was obvious, and after agreeing on a time and place to meet, he gave her a wad of bills. "This should be enough, I think."
Tucking the money inside her purse, Leigh looked toward the children. "Shall we go?"
Heather took her hand and smiled eagerly. "I want a ski suit for when it snows."
"I'm afraid we don't ski in West Kentucky, Heather." Leigh looked from one girl to the other. "Who shall we begin with?"
"Pammie can go first 'cause she's oldest," Heather offered generously.
"Don't call me that," Pamela said with an irritated frown.
Leigh looked toward Russell's receding back as he wove among the crowd and sighed. She'd almost forgotten what a challenge adolescent girls could be and she didn't need the painful reminder of what four-year-olds were like. Furthermore, she really didn't want to play mother to Russell's children. Or any children for that matter.
The Juniors Department offered an adequate selection for Pamela's discerning taste. She was soon outfitted with a white down-lined jacket and several fleece sweat suits. Leigh offered no advice on styles or colors and wasn't asked for any.
Just as they were about to take their purchases to the cash register, Pamela stopped to admire a red sweater with Christmas designs on the front.
She picked it up. "I want this, too."
Leigh looked at the price tag and hesitated. "It's terribly expensive, Pamela. And the wear would be so limited."
"Are you telling me I can't have it?" Pamela asked in surprise.
"Not exactly. I'm saying that I think you should ask your father before we spend this much for a holiday sweater."
"My mom would let me have it," she said resentfully.
"But I'm not your mom," Leigh reminded her flatly as she took Heather's hand. "Come on, we'd better pay for this and get Heather's things so we don't keep your dad waiting."
Pamela glared at her. "I'll just stay here."
Leigh took a deep breath. This was getting more difficult by the minute. "No, I want to keep both of you with me."
She met the girl's hostile eyes with a look of quiet authority as her classroom teacher mode automatically kicked in and Pamela was the first to look away.
"I'm not a baby," she grumbled, but she reluctantly followed Leigh and her little sister into the Children's Department. This time Leigh helped make the selections while Pamela feigned complete boredom as Heather enthusiastically tried on outfits.
Last they decided on a pale blue jacket that was a smaller version of Pamela's; then Leigh paid for the purchases and they moved on to the Shoe Department. Both girls quickly chose suede boots and decided to wear them instead of their tennis shoes.
Leigh glanced at her watch and saw that they would have to hurry to arrive at the food court by the time they'd agreed. As they passed the Juniors Department, Pamela slowed to admire the red sweater again.
"My dad gave you plenty of money for this," she said in an injured tone.
Leigh almost wavered in the face of such open desire, but she remained adamant. "We have to ask him first."
Russell already had a table and waved when he caught sight of them jostling their armloads of packages through the throng of shoppers. When they were settled, he asked, "Get everything you need?"
"I think so," Leigh answered as she handed him the remaining bills and receipts for what she'd bought.
"Didn't you buy anything, Daddy?" Heather asked as she looked around the table for unfamiliar packages.
"I took my bags to the car, honey, so I could carry all this stuff."
"Oh." Her face brightened. "You won't have to carry my boots 'cause I'm wearing them. See?" She lifted one foot and put it on the table.
Pamela swept it off. "Don't do that!"
"Pammie's mad 'cause Leigh wouldn't let her buy a Santa Claus sweater," Heather told her father matter-of-factly.
"It was a snowman, stupid!" Pamela said heatedly.
Russell's eyes met Leigh's and she nodded. "It was quite expensive for such limited wear."
"What does everyone want to order?" Russell asked, in a subtle change of subject, looking at each of them in turn.
"I want a sticky cinnamon bun," Heather said quickly, "and hot chocolate."
He looked at Pamela.
"Nothing."
"How about a Coke?" he asked gently.
She shrugged indifferently. "I don't care."
He turned to Leigh as he stood.
"I'll just have coffee." She also stood. "And I'll help you with it."
At the counter as they waited for their order, she said, "I'm sorry I created a problem about the sweater, but I wanted Pamela to discuss it with you first."
"That was a good thing to do." He touched her shoulder lightly and she felt his approval in the gesture.
"And don't worry about Pam's attitude. If it wasn't the sweater, it would be something else. She's going through a phase."He paused, then added wryly, "At least, I hope it won't last forever."
"It won't," Leigh assured him. "I used to teach students her age. It's a difficult time, she's not a child but not a teenager either."
"I could get the sweater as a Christmas gift for her," he proposed. "I had trouble finding anything I thought she'd like."
"That would be nice," Leigh agreed and told him the color, size, and where to find it. "You shop and I'll take this to the table," she added, picking up the tray as he paid for the food.
"Thank you."
Russell gave her a grateful smile that sent her pulse racing. It almost compensated her for the painful reminders of being a mother as she'd shopped for his children.
As she returned to the table, Leigh found herself wondering why any woman would have given up a man like Russell. But maybe he was the one who walked away? She would be foolish to assume it was his wife who wanted to end the marriage since she knew nothing except the fact that he was divorced.
In a few minutes, Russell joined them with a suspicious looking bag but Pamela gave no indication that she thought it might be for her.
"What didja buy, Daddy?" Heather asked, as she licked her fingers.
"Oh, I remembered a, uh, present I needed to get."
Russell took a piece of cinnamon bun and asked Leigh, "Are you sure you don't want some of this?"
She smiled. "Well, just a bite. It does look delicious."
As she reached for the bun, their hands touched and the brief contact startled her with its intimacy. Not looking up, she bit into the rich pastry, hoping Russell had not been aware of her response.
Heather, finished with her own bun, turned to the two ladies at the next table which practically touched theirs. "I'm going to spend Christmas in Kentucky."
"How nice." The lady in a purple sweat suit beamed at her.
"Isn't she darling?" the one in pink remarked.
"Yes," the first lady agreed. "They're a sweet family."
Not meeting Russell's eyes, Leigh waited for Heather to explain their group dynamics to the ladies but her attention was now on the Santa Claus who had wandered in for coffee and so the sweet family image remained intact.
They did look like a family, and could have been a family, Leigh mused, then felt a keen sense of loss at the thought.
Chapter Three
The sky was slate gray and a chill wind caused Amelia VanStone to pull her coat collar higher as she walked along Main Street with her aged black Lab. Across the street, her daughter Elizabeth was unlocking the library doors and waved in greeting.
Amelia sighed, remembering all the mornings when she, as head librarian, had been the one who held the keys and performed this daily task. For the past five years, the responsibility had belonged to Elizabeth.
Main Street ran east toward the court square and west toward the university and Amelia turned west as she always did. Her late husband had been chairman of the History Department for many years and their four daughters had received various degrees from the institution.She passed fine old houses, most of them nearly as old as her own, knowing all of their past and present occupants. Sometimes it seemed more curse than blessing to be a repository of so much information.
"Don't poke along so, Duchess," she told the dog. "It's much too chilly for old girls like us to stay out long. And besides, I have a world of chores today."
Amelia thought of the preparations she had made for the holidays and the things yet to be done. Sara, her youngest, had driven up from Florida with her husband Paul earlier in the week. They had left a little while ago for Paducah to spend the day shopping in the mall and then stay overnight with old friends. That meant she would have the house to herself until Russell and Leigh arrived in the early evening. A shiver of excitement ran through her at the thought of seeing them again. Leigh had not been back since she lost her husband and little boy. And the last time she had seen Russell was at his grandmother's funeral. She had met his young wife and baby, but now he had two daughters and she was filled with happy anticipation at the thought of getting to know them.
The dull red brick of the nearby university buildings loomed ahead and she paused for a moment, facing the almost-deserted campus. Then she turned back toward her own home and began to walk faster.
As she passed the house next door, a sigh escaped her chilled lips. It had been eleven years since Hattie Clark, her dearest friend and neighbor since early marriage, died of a sudden illness. Hattie's only son Walt never wanted to live in Murray and so the house was sold much to Amelia's regret. The two families always shared the holidays and she continued the tradition after Hattie was gone. This year she sent an invitation to Walt in Texas to join the VanStones as usual and stay with her. Then, on an impulse, she also invited Walt's stepson Russell who had always held a special place in her heart and, much to her delighted surprise, he accepted. Russell stopped coming to family events after his mother died. She still hadn't heard from Walt so she could only surmise that he wasn't coming this year.
The phone was ringing when Amelia opened her unlocked door and stepped inside and she hurried to answer. "Hello?"
"Mother?"
"Oh, Emily, it's you. I thought it might be Russell or Leigh calling about a delayed flight." Amelia breathed a sigh of relief. "What is it, dear?"
"Are you all right?"
"Of course, I'm all right. Why shouldn't I be?"
"I thought Sara and Paul were there but no one answered the phone when I called earlier."
"Your sister and her husband went to Paducah to spend the night with friends. I was walking the dog like I've done every day at this time for the past five years, Emily. Can't you remember a simple thing like that?"
"Well, I just thought, with the latest scare and all, I was worried about you."
"Emily, I believe I lost you somewhere in that sentence."
"Didn't you listen to the morning news? I was afraid not."
"Since you've answered your own question, I won't have to. Could you get to the point, dear, if there is one?"
"Mother, there's been another fire—in the Fine Arts Building at the university. This time they're positive it was set."
"Are you sure? I just came back from that direction and I didn't see or hear a thing."
"It happened last night, Mother. I suppose you slept through it."
"Well, I suppose so. I do sleep like the dead." She dropped her voice a few decibels. "Just practicing, I guess."
"Anyway, they weren't certain it was arson when the VFW Club burned, but they have definite proof now. Fortunately it was discovered before much damage was done."
"Yes, thank goodness for that."
Emily talked on for a few minutes, cautioning her mother to be careful, lock her doors, and not befriend strangers.
Finally, Amelia extricated herself from the conversation and hung up. With a murmured apology to Duchess who had been waiting quietly beside her, Amelia removed the dog's leash and then took off her own coat.
"That must have been very boring for you, dear, but you know how our Emily is—always making mountains out of mole hills." Amelia crossed to the other side of the kitchen and took a red ruffled apron from a hook by the stove. "Though it does seem unbelievable that a pyromaniac is running around setting fires in Murray. Nothing like that has ever happened here before that I can remember. Well, we just won't think about it anymore."
She put the neatly pressed apron around her slim waist, tied the strings, then plugged in the kettle.
"We've got pecan pies to bake now or they won't be firm enough to cut by supper. But there's nothing like a cup of hot tea before you begin work," she told her canine companion as she placed a tea bag in a delicate china cup. Amelia put on her reading glasses and settled herself near the window in a cushioned rocking chair, then reached for the newspaper. She frowned at the headlines and shook her head.
"It's only four days 'til Christmas and we have people coming, dear. Now you remember what I've told you about the children. I know we haven't had any young ones around lately, but you will mind your manners, won't you?"
Amelia poured boiling water over the tea bag and returned to her rocker, smiling to herself. "Two of my favorite young people are coming, Duchess. Neither of them have been lucky in love, you know, and I may be a meddling old fool, but I hope my plan may remedy that." She sighed and shook her head. "How I wish Hattie was here to help. But she isn't, so it's all up to you and me, old girl, and I know she would approve of what we are doing."
* * * * *
"Gets dark early this time of year, doesn't it?" Russell remarked softly as he switched on the car's headlights.
"Especially on cloudy days," Leigh matched his soft tone to avoid waking Heather who sat belted in place between them, her head lying against Leigh's breast.
The car trunk had been full of luggage so their packages were piled in back with Pamela, giving Heather her excuse to sit in front. She had chattered for a few miles and then her early departure from Tucson caught up with her and she'd napped for almost an hour.
It made Leigh uneasy to hold a child again, and she sat tensed against the feel of a sleeping body's dead weight. She shuddered as the word dead bored into her consciousness.
She and Russell had talked of their respective towns, their jobs, their memories of Murray and their grandmothers. But they skirted their personal lives both past and present. Once they left the Interstate and were driving through the Land-Between-The-Lakes area, they lapsed into a silence which lasted for miles as the leaden sky turned almost black.
In the back seat, Pamela read her paperback book until it grew too dark and now she also napped. The car was warm and cozy and Russell handled the wheel with ease, his long, tapered fingers strong and sure.
A woman could trust hands like those, Leigh thought as she watched him. Against her will, Leigh imagined Russell's hands touching her. With a guilty jolt, she realized this was no fantasy, but was her mind replaying a scene she had repressed for years.
"It won't be long now," Russell said.
She murmured in agreement, but his words weren't reassuring. Leigh thought of seeing all of the family again and dreaded the sympathy she might have to endure. She fervently wished to be anywhere at the moment except where she was.
The car lights illumined the Murray City Limits sign ahead and the divided parkway became a street with sidewalks. Leigh could see the outline of the football stadium and the dark buildings of the university and a wave of nostalgia swept over her. She'd been fortunate to grow up in a place like Murray, surrounded by loving family, which left her with a heart full of happy memories. If only her good fortune could have followed her afterward.
There was little traffic at this hour with the university closed for the holidays. Looking about her, Leigh saw few changes since her last visit, except for a proliferation of fast-food places and a new Wal-Mart Shopping Center.
Russell turned left on Main and she saw the familiar Christmas lights that were strung from the university to the court square. She thought of other times when the hushed expectancy of the season had filled her with such joy. That was before her husband and son died in that senseless accident on an icy road in upstate New York.
The car stopped, bringing her reminiscence to an abrupt stop, too. They woke the children and with Russell carrying Heather and Leigh leading Pamela they approached the wide front porch with garlands of holly entwined in its white railing.
Amelia waited on the steps with open arms to receive them. "Welcome home, my dears." She embraced Leigh for a long moment, then Russell and stepped back to look at the sleepy child in his arms.
"This must be Heather." She bent and kissed her cheek, then turned her attention to the young girl standing silently beside Leigh, paperback clutched in her hand.
"And you're Pamela. How pretty you are."
Pamela almost smiled. "Thank you."
Catching sight of the book, Amelia strained to read the title. "I see you like mysteries. Tomorrow I'll take you to the library and you can choose all the mysteries you like to read while you're here."
Now Pamela really did smile as she said thank you again.
"But what on earth do I mean, keeping you standing here in the cold. Come in before you get frostbite."
She swept through the door with its festive pine cone wreath, beckoning them to follow. Duchess stood in the hallway, her solid frame blocking further movement until she was acknowledged.
"This is Duchess," Amelia said to Russell and the children while Leigh greeted the old dog she had come to know and love on previous visits.
Heather became wide awake and wriggled out of her father's arms and stooped down in front of Duchess.
"Hi, doggie." She put out a tentative hand and Duchess licked it thoroughly.
Giggling, Heather looked at Russell. "She kissed me, Daddy. Did you see? Oh, I'm going to have the bestest Christmas ever."
"You certainly are," Amelia promised. "And so are we all."
* * * * *
Soon after dinner, Russell suggested that his daughters say goodnight, despite the protests of both.
"It's only eight o'clock in Tucson," Pamela complained as he attempted to usher them upstairs to bed.
"But you won't be in Tucson when you wake up in the morning, Pam," he reminded her firmly.
"Could Me-Me read us a story?" Heather pleaded, stalling for time. It had been decided during dinner that the girls would call Amelia by the name her grandchildren used.
"I'm afraid not, sweetheart," Amelia said. "I have to take Duchess for her nightly walk and then I'm going to bed, too. There's church in the morning, so you'd better hurry along to dreamland."
"Then could Leigh—" Heather continued, not distracted from her purpose of delaying sleep as long as possible.
"I'll walk the dog," Leigh said quickly.
Amelia gave her a thoughtful look. "Thank you, dear. That would be very nice." She paused, then added a quiet reminder. " Don't forget to lock up."
Russell, sensing Leigh's subtle maneuver to sidestep Heather's request, took his daughter's hand and nudged her toward the stairs.
"Come on honey. If you can be ready for bed in ten minutes, I'll read you a story myself."
"But, Daddy, I have to say goodnight to Duchess and—" she began and he looked pointedly at his watch.
"Time starts when we reach the top step."
As the girls disappeared into the bathroom, Russell unpacked their pajamas and the tattered copy of Grimm's Fairy Tales that he had read aloud since Pamela was a baby. The nightly reading and prayers had been a special part of their bedtime, which he missed sharing with his daughters since the divorce. He wasn't sure if Diane continued the practice after he left.
As he turned down the bed covers, Russell wondered if Leigh's detachment toward Heather was personal or if it was something to do with her own child's death. Whatever the reason, she had been unresponsive to Heather's overtures all evening. He remembered Leigh as a warm, outgoing girl, at least until that last puzzling encounter; not the pensive and withdrawn woman she appeared to be now.
It had been four years since the tragic accident took the lives of her husband and little boy, but he supposed she was still grieving. He tried to imagine his own life without Pamela and Heather. Suddenly he realized if he didn't tell Diane that he would become their full time father, he was soon going to be without his children most of the time.
Chapter Four
The air was even colder than when they arrived and Leigh turned up the collar of her suede jacket as she walked slowly down the street, Duchess ambling along behind her.
She should have listened to her instincts. Coming to Murray was a big mistake. But how could she have known that Russell would be here with two motherless children, one of whom seemed determined to become her shadow? The fact that Heather was four made it even worse. Jamie's fifth birthday was only days away and his gaily wrapped presents remained stacked in her closet after the accident—a mocking reminder, until she fled to Florida.
Heather was an adorable little girl, but the last thing she ever wanted was an emotional involvement with another child. She certainly had no intention of becoming attached to Russell's daughters. At least one of them presented no problem since Pamela wasn't looking for any attachments either, as far as she could tell.
Leigh glanced back at the lighted bedroom window as she reached the sidewalk. Visions of Russell reading a bedtime story to his little girls brought back more painful memories and she willed herself to move on.
It seemed strange to see Russell in the role of father. In her mind, he'd always remained the enigmatic boy who had first made her aware of her own passionate feelings that last summer he'd spent here in Murray. She'd been just sixteen but she had never experienced that particular kind of response again, not even with her husband James. Though she supposed there was never another love like first love, no matter how or when it happened.
Leigh took a determined breath and gently tugged at the old dog's leash to distract her from a bush she had been investigating overly long. Walking on, her thoughts returned to that summer she had never been able to forget.
At first, they had become close friends and she'd been unaware that what she felt was anything more. Then on that last afternoon, while Me-Me was at her job at the library, Russell came to say goodbye.