The Forest Ranger's Christmas (8 page)

She couldn’t blame Gramps for wanting to stay. But that didn’t change the fact that he was getting older and needed more care.

“There’re lots of people your age living in this center, Gramps, so you’d have lots of companionship. You could cook or take your meals in the dining hall with the other patrons. They have fun activities for you, too. You’d be busy all the time, but if you got tired, you could rest. The weather is so much warmer there, and I’d be able to visit you every week. We’d be able to spend more time together.”

And she wouldn’t be worried he might collapse and not be found for hours or days, until it was too late to rush him to the hospital for help.

He lifted a gnarled hand. “I have lots of companionship right here in Camlin. All my friends at church, and down at the civic center. They care about me, Josie. They’re good to me and I love them. I don’t want to leave.”

She nodded in understanding. “Then you don’t have to go. I just thought it would be good for both of us. My intentions were never to lock you up and abandon you there. Not ever. And if you don’t want to go, you won’t. So that’s the end of it. Now that I know how you feel about it, you’ll stay right here.”

The harsh lines around his mouth and eyes softened. “Good. I’m glad we got that settled.”

She was, too, although it wasn’t the outcome she’d hoped for.

She reached out and folded her hands over his. “I love you, Gramps. I just want what’s best for you. I want to take care of you....”

He jerked his hands away. “I don’t need you to take care of me. The good Lord does that for me. And I’m strong yet.”

“I...I didn’t mean it that way, Gramps.”

His expression softened. “I know, muffin. I’m sorry to be so touchy about this. But I’m not afraid. God has never let me down. Not once. I’ll stay right here until the day I die.”

And she dreaded that day. But she envied Gramps and Clint their faith. How Josie wished she could trust God the way they did. But that would mean giving the Lord another chance, and she didn’t know if she was ready for that step. Not yet, anyway.

“I’ve been living in this house for seventy-five years. I was only three when my folks moved here. What were you planning to do with my home?” Gramps asked.

Josie took a deep breath before letting it go. “I thought of several options. We could close up the house, rent it out, or we could sell it.”

“Sell it? Why, this house has been in my family for years.” Horror ignited in his eyes and he glared at her as if she’d just asked him to shoot off his own foot.

She held up her hands. “So we won’t sell it. We could keep it and visit anytime you like. I’d drive you home.”

He snorted. “You rarely have time to visit me now. What makes you think you’d have time to drive me home to visit an empty old house?”

Oh, that hurt. Because he was right. And they both knew it. Josie couldn’t deny it. Living so far away made visiting here difficult. Things always kept getting in the way. But she realized work couldn’t fill up all the empty places inside her heart. Not anymore. Only love could do that.

“I’m sorry, Gramps. I just want to do what’s best for you. I’m worried about you.”

“You don’t need to worry about me, Josie. I can accept God’s will. And you should accept Him, too. In the meantime, I’ll live right here to the best of my abilities.”

That was just it. She couldn’t accept it. Because when Gramps died, she’d have no one left. She’d be by herself.

Truly and wretchedly alone.

Chapter Eight

T
hat night, Josie couldn’t sleep. Oh, she wanted to. In fact, she needed rest. Badly. Too many long hours at work had taken their toll. On top of it, she was worried about Gramps. She also felt discontented with her life, yet wasn’t sure what to do about it. Not a good recipe for an insomniac like her.

Reaching over, she flipped on the lamp sitting on the table next to the bed. She blinked as her eyes accustomed to the dim light, then sat up and glanced at the clock. Two thirty-three in the morning and she was wide-awake.

The chilly air forced her to drag the heavy quilt up to her shoulders. Dressed in a warm nightgown, she wiggled her toes, glad she’d decided to wear socks to bed. She knew Gramps’s penchant for turning down the heat at night. Having worked his entire life as a custodian for the local elementary school, he’d earned a modest living for his family. Although they’d always pinched pennies, he and Grandma Vi had been happy, sharing a love few people ever understood. Even so, Josie couldn’t help wondering how he kept his indoor pipes from freezing.

What should she do? In Vegas when she couldn’t sleep, she’d normally get up and read, clean her small apartment, exercise, or drive in to work. Something constructive to distract her from being alone. But she’d wake Gramps if she started jogging around the house.

In retrospect, she marveled that Gramps had gotten along all his life without being able to read. How had he paid his bills or read the labels on his medications? How did he follow traffic signs or know which legal papers to sign?

Grandma Vi. She must have known the truth and helped him. But now she was gone, and Josie realized with churning clarity just how much Gramps had relied on his wife. It made Josie feel empty to think she might never have that intimate relationship with a man in her life.

Reaching over to the bedside table, she picked up a black Bible sitting there. She brushed her fingertips across the dusty, cracked cover and fanned the yellowed pages. Opening it, she read her grandmother’s name etched in the top right corner: Viola Clements Rushton, 1951.

Grandma had always loved God and lived her life in service to Him and her family. Though Josie didn’t have much use for the Lord, she respected her grandmother more than anyone else on earth, except Gramps.

As she flipped through the pages, the book naturally opened at a particularly tattered page. The twenty-second chapter of Psalms. She read the first verse, which was underlined in red ink.

“‘My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken me? Why art Thou so far from helping me, and from the words of my roaring?’”

Josie closed her eyes, squeezing tears from between her lashes. A strangled groan of anguish came from her throat. How often had she felt this way? As though the Lord had completely forgotten her. As if she didn’t matter, or God didn’t love or care about her one iota.

Opening her eyes, she almost shut the book. Her heart felt so heavy with sorrow that she didn’t want to read on. But she couldn’t put the Bible down, compelled to read on.

Her gaze skimmed the words one by one and paused on the eleventh verse.

“‘Be not far from me; for trouble is near; for there is none to help.’”

Yes. That was exactly how she felt right now. Fretting over Gramps. Worrying about his well-being. Feeling adrift personally and professionally. Aching with loneliness. And yet she had no one to blame but herself. She wanted to change. To make her life different somehow. To have friends and a family of her own. A man who truly loved her without reservations. But how should she start?

“‘Show me the way, Lord. Show me what I must do,’” she murmured in a heartfelt prayer.

She turned the page and read more. “‘The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: He leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul....’”

Her voice broke, shredded by emotion. And then she wondered, had Gramps felt this way, too? When he was a young man eking out a living for his family and hiding his frustration over his illiteracy? Perhaps even more recently, since Grandma Vi had died? Surely he’d felt forsaken at times in his life.

Josie didn’t know. She’d never asked him about it. He always seemed so happy and content. So strong and supportive. But surely he had his down times, too. Everyone did. Even Clint Hamilton had undoubtedly needed God’s comfort when he’d lost his wife and struggled to raise his daughter alone. And Josie couldn’t help pondering if maybe, just maybe, Gramps and Clint were skilled at putting on a good front.

Hmm. Maybe other people felt lost and alone like she did. Though she’d always gone to church with her grandparents, she’d never considered herself a particularly religious person. She’d prayed during several critical times in her life, but God never seemed to answer her. So she’d quit trying. Why bother? Her words never reached heaven. If they did, the Lord had chosen to ignore her.

Tonight, as she thought about Gramps and Clint, the Bible verse brought her some comfort. As though her life was in God’s control, even if she couldn’t see it.

Josie set the book aside, thinking she was becoming overly sentimental now that she was home again. Flipping the heavy quilt back, she slid her feet into her fuzzy slippers and trudged downstairs. Maybe some warm milk would help her sleep.

The dark stairs creaked as she made her way down to the living room. The sound of scratchy static on the TV set drew her attention and she switched it off. Turning, she was surprised to see Gramps still reclining in his easy chair, fully dressed in his blue overalls, and fast asleep. A loud snort filled the room as he shifted position.

His spectacles rested on the bridge of his nose, and his face looked serene. Drawing near, she saw that he held a wide photo album in his lap. The faint light from a reading lamp sprayed across the book. He’d obviously been looking at the pictures when he’d fallen asleep.

The album lay open on a page that showed a beautiful photo of Grandma Vi at age sixteen, when she and Gramps had first met. Gramps’s fingertips rested against the picture, just at the hollow of Grandma’s throat, as though he’d been caressing her face.

Adoring her.

Glancing at her grandfather, Josie saw the toll the years of living had etched on his face. The sparse, graying hair, the grizzled cheeks and deep laugh lines around his eyes and mouth. He’d once been so muscular and young. So handsome. Grandma had always called him her “confident captain.” But without Grandma here to read for him, he wasn’t as confident anymore. And no matter what he thought, Josie had noticed he moved slower and seemed more fragile.

Vulnerable.

She couldn’t bear to hurt him. She’d give anything if she could protect him.

Moving carefully, she slid the photo album away before covering him with a warm afghan. Slipping his spectacles off his face, she set them beside him on the table. Then she retrieved her glass of milk and took it and the photo album upstairs with her.

The mattress squeaked as she sat down on her bed and sipped her milk while she perused photos of her family members. Pictures she was familiar with, having viewed them with her grandparents on numerous occasions.

Strangers, every one.

Except for her parents and grandparents, she didn’t know any of these people. And yet she did. Grandma Vi had told her all their stories. This was her family. Her heritage. As Josie gazed at their faces, the ache of overwhelming loss shadowed her heart.

She closed the album, too heartsick to view any more. She wondered what had happened to cause her parents’ divorce. How had they allowed their love to die?

Josie’s mom had raised her alone, working all the time, indifferent and remote. Angry at the world. And for so long, Josie had thought her mom hated her, too.

No wonder Josie had cherished the summer months when she could be in Camlin with her grandparents. It had been an escape. A place to feel happy and secure.

As she set the album down and turned off the light, Josie realized how unhappy her mother had been. But her anger had never restored her marriage or brought Dad back. And it had never made her mom whole. So if anger wasn’t the answer, what was?

* * *

On Thursday night, Josie drove Gramps to the local library, arriving promptly at seven o’clock. Because he was so nervous, and it was too cold to wait outside in the car, Josie walked inside with him. Helen Mulford, the organist from church, greeted them at the front counter.

“Hi there, Frank. And who’s this stranger with you?” Helen, a woman of perhaps sixty years of age, winked at Josie, her cheeks plumping with her smile. As a good friend of her grandmother’s, Helen knew exactly who Josie was.

“Hi, Helen. It’s so good to see you again.” Josie gave the matronly lady a tight hug. Like always, the woman smelled of chocolate brownies.

“She’s visiting for the holidays. Staying with me for several weeks,” Gramps said, his chest puffed out with pleasure.

He didn’t mention that Josie wanted him to move to Vegas, and she was grateful her grandfather wasn’t one to hold a grudge.

Helen leaned her elbows on the counter and leveled a cheerful gaze on Josie. “That’s great. Maybe you can join the chorus for the program we’re giving on Christmas Eve.”

Josie hadn’t thought about that. Only once had she attended the Christmas Eve program with her grandparents. Gramps had a beautiful singing voice and always sang at least one solo. Josie had never been able to attend the practices before, but now she couldn’t help anticipating the event. “I’m not a very good singer, but I’d love to try.”

Helen’s eyes widened. “Good. Frank has the schedule. Just come to the practices with him and we’ll bring you up to speed on the songs. We’re having a cookie exchange after our next practice, so bring a plate of cookies wrapped up for someone to take home, and another plate for everyone to sample.”

“She’s a great cook, like Vi.” Gramps jerked a thumb toward Josie.

A flush of pleasure flooded Josie’s cheeks. The activity sounded fun. Some of her best memories had been at home, cooking with Grandma. Now that Vi was gone, Josie cherished those times when they’d been alone together in a warm kitchen that smelled of yummy things to eat. But she wasn’t used to mingling with lots of people in a social gathering. What if her singing was off? What if her cookies weren’t up to par?

She told herself that was silly. She’d made Grandma’s cookies zillions of times. She could do this. No problem. She refused to let her fear of failure darken her life anymore. “I’ll be there.”

“Good. I’m so glad you’re home for the holidays. I don’t know how you drive in all that city traffic. Las Vegas is such a big place. Too many people for me. I’d be lost if I had to live there.”

Josie had to admit driving in Camlin was a lot less stressful. But she loved her job. And a city was an easier place for her to get lost in. Now, she wasn’t sure she wanted to hide out anymore.

“Clint said you’d be coming in for reading time, so let me take you back, Frank.” Helen stood and walked around the counter, carrying a slim booklet with her.

“I’ll wait out here,” Josie told him.

“You’re not coming with me?” A look of sheer panic filled Gramps’s eyes, and his voice was unusually high and nervous.

“I’d just be in the way, but I’ll wait for you. I won’t leave.”

He took two shallow breaths, then nodded, his brow furrowed with determination. He hesitated, his leathery hands fluttering apprehensively, as though he was being forced to go into surgery without anesthesia. And that’s when Josie realized how difficult this was for him.

Not in a million years would she have guessed her grandfather was afraid. But Josie could see it in the way his eyes darted toward the door, as though he’d like to make a run for it. It didn’t matter that reading was easy for most people. Or that Clint was trying to help him live a richer, fuller life. Gramps had never done this before and was terrified of failure.

Just like Josie.

A feeling of compassion churned inside her chest. “It’s going to be okay, Gramps. But I can come with you, if you really want me to.”

He coughed to clear his voice, obviously trying hard to be brave. “No, muffin. You’re right. I’ll be fine.”

Muffin. His nickname for only her. Standing a bit straighter, he marched down the hall behind Helen, looking rather like a soldier being led to the gallows.

Josie hid a bittersweet smile. Though she felt empathy for her grandfather, she couldn’t help finding the situation a tad amusing. Clint had said Gramps should be reading small words by Christmas. What a great gift for her grandfather. She just hoped he applied himself. And every evening, she planned to sit down and read with him, to ensure his success.

Perusing a rack of mystery novels, Josie selected one and turned to find a comfy chair where she could relax for an hour. It’d been ages since she’d read for pleasure, and she anticipated it with relish.

“Hey, you’re not coming back?”

She whirled around and found Clint standing behind her, dressed in a pair of faded blue jeans, cowboy boots and a blue flannel shirt. She had the maddening impulse to rest her hand against his chest, to rub the soft fabric—a crazy thought that caused a flush of embarrassment to heat her cheeks. He quirked one eyebrow and she couldn’t help smiling at his endearing expression.

“I didn’t know I was invited,” she said. “I thought there’d be teachers for Gramps and that I’d be in the way.”

“We have some literacy tutors here to help, but family members make the best teachers. Why don’t you come on back? Then you’ll know how to spend the time when you’re reading with him at home.”

Without notice, Clint reached out and took her hand. The warmth of his fingers made her arm tingle, and her heart gave a powerful thump.

“But I...I don’t know how to teach someone to read.”

He gave her a warm smile. “It’s okay. I’ll show you what to do. Come on.”

Lulled by his soothing voice, Josie nodded, then reached inside her purse and pulled out the woolen socks he’d lent her the day they’d cut their Christmas trees. She held them up. “Before I forget. I washed them, but let them air dry so they wouldn’t shrink. Thanks for the loan.”