A Merry Little Christmas (19 page)

“We’ll use candlelight. And Henry and I are going to tell you stories.”

Unable to break free from Charlie’s grasp, Franny took one step downward and then another. “Stories? This isn’t a good time for stories.”

After a few seconds Franny’s head cleared enough for her to understand what Charlie was doing. While she clutched the neck of the guitar and fumed over his goofy comments, he was ever so slowly leading her down the cellar stairs.

“Look at this,” Charlie said. “You’re getting there.”

Franny stopped on the stairs, unable to move. “This is where they died. Right here.”
Oh, God in heaven, is their blood still on the stairs after all these years?
Had the neighbors cleaned everything as they had promised? Or was it still visible? She glanced downward but saw nothing. The stairs were covered with dust but no more. The neighbors had respected her wishes. They had honored her parents.

“You’ve got to come the rest of the way down. I’m going to carry you down if I have to. Franny?”

“Yes?”

Something crashed at the other end of the porch—what sounded like shattering glass.

She jumped. “Oh, God, no, please. It’s happening again.”

“Now, Franny.” He gave her a firm tug. “Move!”

She hurried down the rest of the way while Charlie lowered the door and then joined her in the bowels of the cellar.

“You did it, Franny.” Charlie took the guitar from her and rested it against the cement wall.

Franny clutched at her heart. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Charlie wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into the warmth of his embrace. “I’m not going anywhere even if you throw up all over me.”

Franny released a nervous chuckle. “I just might.”

Charlie held her even more tightly. “I’m right here.”

After a moment or two Franny’s heartbeat slowed into a natural rhythm. When she felt she might be able to sit on her own, she moved to a wooden bench in the corner.

“You all right now?”

“Better.” She nodded.

“Sorry I yelled at you.”

“You’re forgiven.” Henry came over to her and curled up by her side. “Good boy.” She gave him a scratch behind the ear and a gentle pat.

“It’s kind of dark on this side of the cellar.” Charlie took some matches out of a canning jar and lit the candles on the wooden table.

Franny dabbed at the perspiration on her forehead with her sleeve. “We used to sleep down here when things got bad.” She pointed to one of the bunks. “Until that night.”

Charlie sat across from her on one of the mattresses. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I think I told you most of the story. It really was the worst storm I’d ever seen. Some of the porch windows right above the cellar were shattered by flying debris, so the cellar door got the full force of the winds. That’s what made it bang up and down. Anyway, Momma and Daddy both went up to try to secure it. But the door was too much for them. And I guess before they could head back down the stairs, an elm tree fell. And that was it. The force of the blow was enough to kill them. I witnessed all of it. Those last moments are impossible to forget. The only blessing was that their suffering didn’t last long, otherwise…”

Charlie took her hands in his. “I cannot even imagine such a thing. How hard that must have been.”

“I will never forget the looks on their faces. The very people I’d loved most in the world…watching the life drain out of them.”

Charlie squeezed her hands but didn’t say anymore, waiting for her to go on.

“I knew this was the safest place for you and Henry to be. I knew it was the safest place for me, and yet…” Franny crossed her arms over her middle. “It’s strange about irrational thoughts. There’s no accounting for them. They cause us to toss all common sense out the window. You convince yourself that the tragedy could happen all over again. I thought of this cellar as a place of doom, not a refuge.”

“It’s all right, Franny. I’ve never met anyone yet who didn’t have some secret place in his or her heart that wasn’t hurting. And
everyone
is afraid of something.”

The glow of the candlelight flickered against Charlie’s face. Such a fine face. With Charlie there she didn’t mind the dank, musty smells of the cellar or the way the small space closed in around them.

Franny glanced down at Henry, who appeared to be sleeping in spite of the storm.

They both reached down at the same time to give him a stroke, and their hands touched in midair.

“Your friend has become my friend,” Charlie said.

She smiled and hummed a few bars of any song that came to mind, trying to blot out the sounds of the storm that raged above them, raged against the elms, the house, and her spirit like some dark entity. Then, other anxieties took their turns gnawing at her.

Franny got up from the bench and settled in next to Charlie. He draped his arm around her, and she snuggled close to him. What if Charlie were taken from her—either by storm or by some other means? Even with the best scenario, Charlie was only meant to be a farmer for a time, just to prove to his father that he could succeed as a businessman. And then he would be gone to run his father’s enterprises. Would he offer to sell the farm back to her? What did she dread losing the most? What was it she desperately needed—more than the farm, more than the music? With every passing hour it was becoming easier and easier to answer.

Charlie.

She was falling in love with Charlie. But did she really believe he would propose? He needed her, but why? Was it only to run the farm, or did he feel that same rush of love?

A silence drifted between them, and she wondered about his thoughts. “I hope we won’t have too much damage from the storm.”

“Well, at least I’m covered. I might have more than one claim to file with the insurance people now.”

She looked up at him. “You promised me a story, something embarrassing.”

“I did indeed, Franny girl.”

“But I want the worst one.”

“You are so cruel.” Charlie grinned. “I will do my best. This is one of the most pinheaded, ungentlemanly things I’ve ever done.” He cleared his throat. And then coughed.

“You’re stalling.”

“Of course I am. Are you sure you want to hear this?”

“Yes! More than ever now.”

He paused as if he might change his mind. “All right. When I turned eighteen, I had a bet going with my brother.”

“Hmm. What kind of bet?”

“I had a bet going…that I could kiss one hundred girls before I turned twenty-one.”

You did what?
Franny had to admit that just for a moment, she wasn’t paying much attention to the turbulent weather above her head.

Charlie regretted telling Franny his revelation the second it came out of his mouth.

She pulled away and looked at him. “And who won the bet?”

“I did.” He groaned. “Man, I wish I hadn’t told you. It turned out to be more embarrassing than I thought it would be. Shows how self-serving and phony young guys can get about affection.”

“I did lots of things in my youth that I regret now. Too many to count.” Franny moved back over to the bench and gave Henry a pat.

“Nothing that harebrained, I’m sure.” Charlie took off his tight boots and leaned against the cement block wall.

“So what did you win?”

“Win?”

“In the bet you had with your brother.”

“Five dollars.”

“That’s pretty funny.”

“Father had us on a strict allowance.”

Franny lit a few more candles. “I’m curious about your motivation. Besides being competitive with your brother.”

It wasn’t Charlie’s favorite subject, but he supposed he deserved the question. “I guess I got confused, thinking that if a kiss equaled love then I wanted to have as many kisses as I could get.”

“And did you discover anything else from your ordeal?”

“Well, I wouldn’t
exactly
call it an ordeal.”

She grinned.

“But I did learn something valuable besides needing to keep ChapStick on me at all times.” Charlie bent his knees and draped his arms over his legs. “I learned that a kiss is meant to be more than just an act or an exploit. So much more than entertainment. A woman should not be approached nonchalantly with a kiss. One should feel truly drawn to her first. Then, it’s not an exhibition but an exalted act—a divine gift.”
Just as you are a divine gift to me.

“That was beautiful, Charlie.”

He smiled his thank-you to her. The candlelight glimmered, illuminating her face just enough to make her look like the angel she’d become in his mind. Perhaps it was a good time for a little music by candlelight. Charlie went to get his guitar and then offered it to her.

“You meant it? You’re going to teach me how to play?” Franny put her hands behind her back. “I must warn you first, I’m hopeless.”

“Nobody is hopeless.”

“I’ll give it a try under one condition.” Franny held up her finger.

“What is it?”

“That you give up on me if you become too frustrated.”

Charlie frowned. “Now what happened to my invincible Franny? I know she’s around here somewhere.”

“Will you teach me about shape notes?”

“Yes.”

Franny grinned. “All right.” She accepted the guitar and placed it in her lap as if she were hugging it. “What’s first?”

Charlie sat down across from her. “Place the curl of the body of the guitar on your right leg, and avoid the urge to lean over.”

Franny sat up straight.

“That’s it. Good posture. Now use the tips of your fingers to press down on the frets.”

Franny did just as he said.

“Try not to clench your fingers. Relax your hands. All right.”

“Now what do I do with my right hand? Wow, these steel strings are painful.”

“They will be until you build up some calluses. Now have the back of the guitar pressed up against you.”

“Oof!” She gave her bangs a puff of air. “What a lot to remember all at once.”

“I promise I’ll help you. You’ll get to know the guitar so well that it’ll become your best friend, and it’ll happen faster than you imagine.”

“Sounds nice.” Franny got into position and then looked up at him. “Thank you, Charlie.”

There was such trust in her eyes, such sweetness. Had he ever known such a look, such a face? And then he knew it—he wanted to wake up to that face for the rest of his life.
I love her. I love Franny.
How had it happened so quickly, so completely? But then, maybe it was just a matter of recognizing what he’d been searching for all along.

Franny lost her smile and went very still as if listening.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s so quiet. There’s no more pressure against the house. No wind or rain. Why did it stop so suddenly?”

Charlie did think the sudden quiet felt peculiar, the way the wind got swallowed up. “Maybe I’d better go up and check.”

“Please don’t.” Franny set the guitar down. “It may not be safe yet.”

“I think the squall has blown over. I could just raise the door and take a quick peek.”

“All right, but be careful. Please?”

“I will.” Charlie smiled. “Maybe this is a good time to ask you something. That is, something I’ve been wanting to ask you all evening.”

“Yes?”

“Do you have a soda shop in town?”

“You’re kidding.” Franny chuckled. “What a question. You want to know that right now?”

“Yes, right now.”

“There is one in Lancaster.”

Charlie rose. “Tomorrow is Saturday.” He placed his hand over his heart. “Would you give me the honor of allowing me to drive you into town to buy you a milk shake?”

“You’re asking me out on a date?’

“It would appear so.”

Franny twirled her hair. It was a gesture he hadn’t seen her use before but one that looked adorable on her. “And could we share the milk shake with two straws?”

“I don’t know.” He scrubbed his finger along his chin. “Just as long as the locals don’t think it’s indecent.”

“I think it’ll be all right.” Franny grinned. “They have a jukebox, and they will have loaded it with all my favorite Christmas tunes by now.”

“We’ll have to make use of the dance floor if they have one.”