A Merry Little Christmas (8 page)

Charlie clutched the back of his neck. “You know, you should have called your aunt so she knows you’re coming. What if she traveled somewhere for Thanksgiving and she’s not back home yet?”

“I don’t think my aunt has taken a trip since the last World War.” He was being such a mother hen and Franny loved it, but then, maybe he was just saying and doing what any close friend would say and do. “I didn’t call Aunt Beatrice because I wanted to surprise her. She always said I could stay with her if I ever came to the city. If she’s not at home, I have enough money to stay in a motel until I get settled. I’ll be fine, especially now that I have extra money to live on. Thanks to you, Charlie.”

“You taught me how to run a farm in three weeks. You were worth a lot more than what I gave you. I probably cheated you.”

“I wouldn’t have taken a dime more.” What was with all the money talk? Even though they hadn’t been out on any formal dates, they’d been growing closer by the day. All she could think of now was a good-bye kiss. “Charlie?” Why wouldn’t he kiss her?

He took a step closer to her. “What is it?”

“Do you really think somebody at one of the radio stations will hire me?”
Why can’t I at least kiss him on the cheek?
She could run a farm, survive all kinds of drought and hardship, and even stand up to the likes of Payton Dunlap, but in matters of romance she felt as sturdy as soap bubbles in a dishpan.

Charlie looked disappointed with her question. “You’re smart. You learn fast. You have more charm than should be legal. Any radio station would be lucky to have you.”

“Really?” Franny raised her shoulder in a shrug. “I hope they think so too. It’s what I’ve dreamed of for a long time.”

“I’ll pray for God’s very best for you.”

Franny couldn’t ask for anything finer, except it would be even more wonderful if the dream could include Charlie.

“
And
I need to say…that you look beautiful.”

Franny opened her coat, did a little twirl in her navy polka-dot dress, and touched her gloved hand to the pillbox hat sitting on her head. “I found it in Lancaster. It’s a whole lot better than those print dresses I sewed. I looked like a feed sack in those things. Don’t you think?”

“No, you most certainly did not.”

“So, you really do like the dress?”

“I do.”

“And I have on eyeliner and pink lipstick. I hear that’s what the women are wearing now.”

“I believe they are, but I’m no expert.” Charlie smiled.

Oh, that Charlie smile. She already missed him and she hadn’t even left yet. “Please say good-bye to Henry again. He’s asleep by the floor furnace, but I’ve already given him an extra breakfast and at least ten hugs. I hope he understands that I need to get settled before I can bring him with me.”

Charlie kicked at a clod of dirt, breaking it into pieces. “He’ll miss you, but I think he’ll understand.”

And was that how Charlie felt? He would miss her but he understood? It sounded so down-to-earth, so maddeningly sensible. “Thanks for taking care of him. Henry will keep you from getting too lonely out here. He’s always helped me.”

Charlie stuffed his hands into the pockets of his overalls. “Happy to do it. He’s a good dog.”

She stood there by the door of the pickup for a moment longer, not wanting to go, not wanting to say the actual good-bye.

“I will miss you, Franny girl.” Charlie gave her chin an affectionate pat—a gesture she’d gotten quite fond of over the last three weeks.

“I will miss you too, Charlie boy.” Her eyes burned with mist. Her emotions were so close to the surface that she’d have to leave or risk making a blubbering fool of herself. She covered her mouth with the backs of her fingers so he wouldn’t see her chin quiver.

Charlie stepped forward then and pulled her into his arms. Even though the embrace felt loving and oh-so-tender, it also felt final. Like the last hug. A real good-bye. Franny pulled away when she could stand the thought of it no longer.

Charlie watched as Franny drove off in her little turquoise pickup, as she sped down the long lane, and as she disappeared over the hill in a cloud of red dust.

The wind kicked up, blowing dirt into his mouth. He spit out the grit, not caring how ungentlemanly he looked. He had no one to impress now. The windmill groaned in agony.
My sentiments exactly.

Charlie trudged toward the house simply because he felt like trudging. He was not in a good mood, and his disposition was bound to get fouler as the day progressed. Franny was no longer with him. He had a whole day’s work ahead of him, but it didn’t matter. He was going to have a mug of coffee and grumble for a while.

Once inside the glassed-in porch, he gave the cistern a few rough cranks and filled the water bucket. When he set the bucket down in the kitchen, he stubbed his toe on a pickling crock, which made him stumble backward straight into the bucket, overturning it and making water go pretty much everywhere.
Guess I have a heavy touch today as well as a heavy heart.

After mopping up the mess, he made some coffee and sat down in the chair with a
thud
. Henry looked up from his pillow by the furnace with big woeful eyes. Henry knew Franny was gone. Dogs were smart that way. He grieved too. Henry just wasn’t as noisy about it.

“Everything’s all right, boy. Well, no, it isn’t. I’m not going to lie to you. Henry, it was all my fault. I should have given Franny flowers today and a note for her to read later, to tell her what she’s come to mean to me. And to tell her that yesterday was the best Thanksgiving Day I’ve ever known, and that Christmas without her is going to be the loneliest. With other women, I’ve always given flowers and chocolates. But Franny is different. I don’t know, she’s kind of like this celestial being, and you don’t give earthly gifts to angels. They have no use for them.”

Charlie imagined her sweet face. “That day we were in the farrowing house, there was this light about her, just behind her head, giving her a halo. It’s the way I will always see her in my mind: glowing.” He loved that. In fact, he adored everything about her. “And then today, Henry, I stood there like a lump and did nothing when she left except give her a hug. Just a hug. I didn’t even kiss her good-bye.” He slammed his coffee mug down, making some of the liquid slosh into the air and splatter onto the table.

Henry whimpered.

“Sorry, boy.” Charlie daubed up the mess with a tea towel.

The dog lowered his head again and stared at Charlie. He was glad Franny had trusted him with her dog, and yet having Henry here would only make him think of her all the more. Just like all the other little things she’d left behind, such as the red sled in the corner. Something she had no use for now, but it would be a reminder of her just the same. He could imagine her filled with laughter and delight, sailing down one of the snow-laden hills by the creek. But his mindwanderings were only making him more miserable. Charlie shook his head. “I shouldn’t have been so generous with her, paying her to teach me farming. The money only made it easier for her to go.”

Henry seemed to give him a disapproving sigh. “Yeah, I know, not good, but at the moment I’m suffering from a serious bout of selfishness.”

Charlie looked around the room, taking in other details he hadn’t noticed before. By all rights, he should be excited. His father’s attorney had taken care of the paperwork, and he was now the proud owner of a farm in Oklahoma. He should be ready to dig in and work, and he would. But right now, he felt lost.

Charlie took a swig of his coffee. The liquid burned his tongue a little, but he didn’t care. “Henry, I should have begged her to stay, but what would I have said? Marry me? Isn’t that too big of a leap after three weeks? She would have thought I was nuts.”

Henry came over to him, wagged his tail, and curled up by his chair.

“You’re a good dog, Henry.” Charlie rewarded him with a scratch behind the ears. “In fact, you’re a better dog than I am a man.”

“But who am I kidding?” He wasn’t going to stop Franny from fulfilling her dream. That was just what his father had done to him, and it still caused him anguish.

Charlie blew on the coffee and took a sip. His dream was to be a musician, but owning a music shop would be just as satisfying. Yet his father thought both careers were a waste of time and money. When would he ever break free of his father’s domination? “
Music is not a real business, son. You’re supposed to put childish things away now. We indulged you with music lessons when you were a boy, but now you’re a grown man.
” No, when it came to dreams he wasn’t going to hold Franny back. Not now, not ever. He would let her fly.

He just needed to run the farm, do a good job, and then perhaps when his father deemed him worthy enough to run Landau Enterprises, he could make some of his own choices. But Charlie also knew that Landau Enterprises would be his undoing; instead of freeing him, it would be the noose that would bind more tightly with each struggle. With each passing year.

Charlie looked down at Henry, his new friend, and smiled at his calm and faithful temperament. “I know. I need to be the best I can be without Franny. I’d like her to be proud of me in the way I take good care of her parents’ farm…of
her
farm.”

Henry raised his head suddenly, as if he’d heard something.

“What is it, boy?” Charlie sniffed the air. “What’s that smell?” He jumped from the chair and ran from room to room, checking for the odor that seemed to be getting stronger by the second. “God help me. It’s smoke!”

Franny sped along Route 66 toward Oklahoma City, and to keep from crying, she sang every Christmas carol, love song, and radio tune she’d ever memorized. She sang because she suddenly felt anxious about leaving—about driving away from all she’d ever known. She sang because it was one of the ways she communicated with her Creator, and she sang because she already missed Charlie Landau something fierce. Too bad people didn’t have telephones with them at all times. Sounded fantastic and bizarre—like something from the television show
One Step Beyond
—but if portable telephones were possible, she’d call him this instant.

After about an hour and a half of driving, the dark clouds had finished their debate on whether to become a storm, and the outcome wasn’t good. Fortunately, she’d stopped long enough to put all her suitcases in the cab, but it made for a tight squeeze while driving. At least they’d be dry if it started to rain. Or snow.

She glanced over at her suitcases bulging with her belongings. It was obvious that she wasn’t going away for the night. It was for always. She’d called everyone before she left—her neighbors, her old high school friends, her pastor and his wife. Some of the church folk had wanted to have a going-away party, but she’d left too quickly for any real good-byes. As far as her few semi-close friends, they seemed sad to see her go and wished her well, but they were far from devastated. Perhaps the endless farmwork had kept her from cultivating close friends. Maybe that was a problem she could rectify in the city.

Lightning flashed, and the crash of thunder rumbled all the way to her bones. She hoped Henry wouldn’t be too frightened, back at the farm. Henry hated storms as much as she did. But Charlie was there; surely he would watch out for him.

Franny’s stomach growled. She’d planned to stop in El Reno for some of their famous six-for-a-dollar hamburgers—the ones smothered in fried onions and love—but she didn’t dare stop now for fear of being engulfed by the storm. She drove on as fast as her old International would take her, hoping she could outrun the weather.

Within minutes the wind picked up, battering the pickup so hard that she had to make adjustments in her steering. Drops of rain fell on the windshield…the big spattering angry kind, the same kind she’d always seen before the hail. There was a pause, and then the clouds unleashed their fury, firing marble-sized stones of hail at her as if they were bullets. Crazy weather for November!

Franny took one of the bobby pins from her hair and chewed on it. Bad habit, she knew, but it wasn’t a habit she could break in the next few minutes.