An Angel for Christmas (5 page)

Genevieve nudged her. “And happy birthday to baby Jesus.”

“Yes, of course. Happy birthday to baby Jesus.”

“And may we all get back together again. My mom and dad,” Genevieve said, looking upward again.

Morwenna rose and lifted Genevieve, hugging her. “Sometimes, honey, that just can't happen. What you need to know is how much they both love you and Connor.”

“How can they love anybody when they hate each other so much?” Genevieve asked her.

“They don't hate each other.”

“They sure act like it sometimes,” Genevieve said.

“They—they're just angry because they…they…”

“They didn't know how to fix things,” Genevieve said. “That's why I really prayed that we could learn to fix things.”

“Praying for miracles,” Morwenna murmured.

Genevieve smiled sadly at her. “Well, fixing things is like a miracle.”

“Yes, it is, sweetie, yes, it is,” Morwenna agreed. She tucked Genevieve into her bed, pulling the covers close. “I'll leave the bathroom light on, okay, kid? And the door ajar.”

“Good night,” Genevieve said. “Don't let the bedbugs bite.”

“Let's hope not. We'll have the same bedbugs,” Morwenna said. Genevieve giggled. Morwenna kissed her once again and left her, cuddling her teddy bear.

She hesitated and looked out the window from the upstairs hallway. She could see that Shayne had bundled up and was headed to the garage. About ten feet behind him, someone else was walking. Too broad shouldered to be Bobby; it was Gabe. Gabe Lange was going out to help him.

Something stirred inside her.

Distrust. Sadly, she had a lot of her father inside her. She didn't naturally trust anyone. And they found him in the snow. He claimed to be a cop, but he hadn't been wearing any kind of uniform, and they'd found him with no identification. Was he who he said he was?

All she knew at that moment was that the guy
was following her brother. On a dark, snow-swept night. They were heading into the garage.

She tore down the stairs, pausing at the hooks by the door for her coat and scarf. Her brother was likely lost in his own thoughts as he always was, unable to feel the first hint of danger.

 

Luke DeFeo shivered, staring at a cottage that sat on the side of the mountain. It was dark, but everything was dark. Still, he had the feeling that there was no one there.

He swore aloud in the night. The air was bitterly cold, and he could feel it. He wanted to be off the damn frigid mountains, but there seemed to be no traffic anywhere in the area, and he had yet to stumble onto any signs that life actually existed in the frozen wasteland. He cursed Gabe in his mind; this was one hell of a way to spend the night.

He'd thought he'd killed him; he'd thought that he'd killed Gabe, but he hadn't. The deadly game between them was still on. Luke could somehow sense that Gabe was still out there.

Well, he didn't have to sense it, not really. Stumbling around in the snow and ice-covered wilderness, he had come upon the place where they had fought—and Gabe had been gone. So he was still out there, somewhere in the night.

Luke made his way to the little wooden cottage on the mountain. It was dark and he couldn't hear any signs of life. He rapped at the door and received no answer. After a moment, he threw his shoulder against the door, and then kicked it in. He stepped into the house, but as he did so, he knew that it was empty. The inhabitants were apparently smart—they'd gone somewhere for the holiday.

He looked around, and wondered if he wanted something from the cottage. But there wasn't any thing there; it was empty and it was cold. It was a shelter against the cold and the snow and the wretchedness of the night, of course.

But he couldn't stay.

He hadn't killed Gabe.

He left the door to the cottage swinging and
started out, feeling the bitter cold again. He could take it.

He was going to find Gabe, and end the game between them.

“I'm going to head out and help Shayne,” Bobby told his mother. He'd come from the kitchen, having insisted he clean up the hot-cocoa cups. Stacy had been straightening out the apron around the Christmas tree to ready it for Shayne's packages.

“You don't need to help, Bobby—Gabe went out behind him, and Morwenna went running out after him.” She was staring at the tree as she spoke, but turned to smile at him. “You did a beautiful job with the ornaments, Bobby.”

“It was easy. Dad did the lights. That's the pain in the ass, Mom.”

She rolled her eyes. “Butt, Bobby. Pain in the butt. It's a nicer word.” She stepped closer to the tree, studying one of the ornaments. It was the little angel or cherub he had pondered himself earlier.

He walked over to his mother, setting a hand on her shoulder. “That's pretty,” he told her.

She smiled. “I think I told you the story that goes with this ornament, years ago.”

“Did you?”

“It belonged to my great-great-grandmother.”

“Mom, the house is almost two hundred years old. And half the stuff in it belonged to your great-great-grandmother.”

“Ah, but this one was special! During the winter of 1864, a wounded Union soldier found himself running through the mountains, terrified, of course, about what might happen to him if he was captured by a Confederate guerrilla band. The commanders of the armies, both sides, were fairly honorable men, but sometimes the militiamen and
the guerrillas combing the mountains were fanatics—not so much on the eastern front, but in the west the men were often little more than common murderers. Anyway, my great-great-grandmother found him trying to seek shelter in the barn—the garage now. And she couldn't let any wounded man suffer, and took him in to nurse him. When the menfolk in the family wanted to turn him in, she said she just didn't give a damn about the war, she cared about people. He got a fever, and he was delirious, and when he woke up, he said that she was his angel. His angel of mercy. He had this little ornament to bring home as a gift for his mother, but when he left, he said that his mother would want the angel who had saved his life to have the figure. He said that he prayed the angel would look after her all her days. She lived to be ninety-nine, so I guess the angel was looking after her.”

“Great story, Mom,” Bobby said. She smiled. And for that minute, Stacy looked almost like a young girl again. She was his mother, but it seemed that he could take a step back for a mo
ment and take a look at her as a human being. He smiled inwardly, thinking she must have really been something at one time. He'd always known that his big sister was beautiful. And now he could recognize the fact that Morwenna had gotten her looks from their mother.

Kids seldom saw such things, but it was nice to realize—Stacy was still a pretty woman.

“The story gets better,” she told him. “The Union soldier she saved went on to become a congressman from Massachusetts—and he helped fight to stop the punitive measures toward the postwar South.” She touched the ornament tenderly. “When I was little, her daughter, my great-grandmother, used to tell me that angels did influence our lives, and that they helped us sometimes, when we didn't even know they were there. I like to believe that, Bobby.”

“Sure, Mom.” He gave her a hug. He marveled at his mother, and he had to wonder if people did come together for a reason. His mom was the ray of hope and light. His father was the doomsayer. They could both be right; Mike MacDougal had
seen all the worst that man had to offer his fellow man. Stacy believed in the goodness that she felt prevailed among most people.

“They've been out there a while,” Bobby said. “I think I'll help. Maybe there's a bicycle out there and those misfits are dropping all the pieces!” With a quick kiss on the cheek, he left her, striding to the door for his heavy coat.

 

The snow kept falling in huge, wet flakes and the wind blew hard. Morwenna felt as if she was battling a storm in the Antarctic as she made her way to the garage. When she reached the side door, it was a fight against the wind to open it. But she suddenly felt desperate; she could see through the four-paned little window that Gabe was standing close to her brother by the trunk of his car.

The door flew open, slamming against the wooden wall of the garage.

Both men looked toward her; Gabe hurried over, drawing her in and closing the door.

“Hey!” Shayne said. “What are you doing out here? It's freezing!”

“I, um, you were taking some time. I thought you might need help,” Morwenna said. She felt a little ridiculous, and then not. They didn't know Gabe Lange.

“Oh, we were just talking,” Shayne told her. “I was showing Gabe some of the things for the kids.”

“And we were discussing the merits of live action versus video games,” Gabe said. “Shayne's right—this one electronic thingy he got for Connor is great—it's a word game, teaches you how to spell, and what the definitions for the words are once they're found. And you win funny little cars with each correct answer—virtual cars.”

“Will it work—does it have to be downloaded?” Morwenna asked. “I'm surprised we still have electricity. The cable is down, and none of the phones work.”

“It's battery operated, and doesn't need any downloads, so Connor will be able to play with it no matter, tomorrow,” Shayne said. “I have to admit, I think the kids had a great time tonight—without electronic devices.”

“Who knew you'd make such a great Mr. Mean?” Morwenna said lightly.

Shayne half smiled. “It was fun. I really had fun.”

“Do you write children's books?” Gabe asked her.

“No! Oh, Lord, no,” Morwenna said. “I'm an executive at an ad agency in Manhattan.”

“Yeah, I heard that. But, people may do one thing for a living, and another on the side. I thought that maybe you wrote for children on the side. And I take it that you draw a lot?” Gabe asked.

“Sure. Sometimes. I always loved to draw.”

“Once upon a time you spent a lot more time just doodling,” Shayne said.

“I can't. I mean, I don't really have the time. Not anymore. Now I spend a lot of time in meetings,” Morwenna said.

“You should illustrate,” Gabe said.

She hesitated. She could have explained that she had intended to, things hadn't quite gone in the direction she had intended. “I don't really have
the time,” she said simply. “I can come up with the creatures, but I'm not sure what they should be doing. A story needs a beginning, a middle and an end.”

“But you could work with someone else, right?” Gabe asked her.

“Sure,” she murmured. “Maybe in my retirement.”

“I guess we all do what we need to do in life,” Gabe said. “You're good. And it's obvious that you love it. Maybe take a sketch pad on your next vacation.”

“This
is
my vacation,” she said.

“Morwenna is mourning the fact that she's not in Cancún,” Shayne told him.

“I am not! I chose to be here,” Morwenna said.

Shayne laughed and brushed her cheek with his knuckles, teasing her as he had when they'd been in high school. “Sense of duty, right, sis? Her lover boy is off in Cancún, and she must be dying to know what he's up to.”

“Shayne, please, it's a mature relationship,” Morwenna said.

“Ah,” Gabe said knowingly. “Like an open relationship?”

“No! Oh, for God's sake, please. It's possible to have a relationship in which people remain monogamous when they're apart,” Morwenna said.

“Sure,” Shayne said, turning away.

“It is!” Morwenna insisted.

“I was agreeing with you, Morwenna. I'm sorry—I didn't mean to hurt you. I was just teasing, really,” Shayne said.

“You didn't hurt me,” she protested.
A lie! She worried; if it had been a really good relationship, wouldn't he have told the others just to be adults and have a good time on their own because he wanted to be with the woman he loved at Christmas?

Or were their values simply different? she wondered. It was hard to admit; she had come because of a sense of duty. But she had also wanted to come—Christmas to her had always been this house on top of the mountain. New Year's might be right for a wild jaunt, but Christmas meant being with the ones she loved. That didn't negate
other values, she assured herself. It was just what it meant to her.

“I'm not a family member, but I'm glad that you're here,” Gabe told her. “It's been nice to meet you.”

She gave him a weak smile.
Really? I'd have thought about leaving you in the snow; I'm my father's daughter, braving the trenches of Manhattan in a state of continual suspicion.

She wasn't sure what to reply.

“Well, you made a great Christmas elf,” she told him.

“I'm going to haul in the first bag of stuff,” Shayne said. He grimaced. “We were talking about putting the bicycle together out here…keep all the packing and stuff out of the house,” he said.

“We were just about to start, and I'm afraid the reality may be as hard as the imagery we were playing with before,” Gabe said.

“I'm good with directions. I'll help,” Morwenna said.

“Okay, you two get started. I'll be right back. Or as soon as the wind will let me,” Shayne told them.

Gabe got the door so Shayne could head out with a large canvas bag. She saw that the box with the bike parts was already on the floor, opened. “Where are the directions?” she asked Gabe.

“Right here,” he said, handing her a sheet from the top of the box.

“Easy. A1 goes to A2, as soon as you have B1 connected to C1, and then, somehow, D2 has been thrown into the lot. Ah, there's E3!”

Gabe groaned, and started pulling all the pieces out of the box. They knelt down together to study the diagram.

Morwenna couldn't help but be aware of him as a man, and she found herself wondering how she would have felt about him if they'd met under different circumstances. But, of course, this
was
a strange circumstance, and she was committed.

She had never been able to date casually. Of course, she'd dated Alex before they'd become a couple, and she'd found it awkward and difficult. Her friends in Manhattan had tried hard to teach her that every dinner didn't have to lead to sex, and that she wasn't obligated to have sex, but then
again, didn't she want it now and then? In college, she'd had one relationship, and they had both been honest and committed, and then, at graduation, they had realized the bond wasn't strong enough for either of them to change their goals in life, and they had parted as friends. And eventually, of course, their calls had grown infrequent, and time had gone by.

Then, Alex had come into the firm, and the first time they'd gone out, she'd been smitten. She'd still held back until they'd been seeing each other for a few months, and the time had been right, and she'd believed that they both really cared about each other. She had to admit to herself, though, that they hadn't used the all-important four-letter word yet—love.

“Hand over A1 there, will you?” Gabe asked. “The body of the beast!”

She did so.

“Your brothers are really good guys,” he told her.

“Love them to pieces,” she said. “I just wish that…”

He looked up at her. “What?”

Morwenna looked back at him for a moment, wondering how he managed to make them all talk about things that they wouldn't share often. With each other. With anyone. If they spoke to each other, they fought. And they weren't really into airing private grievances with others.

She laughed suddenly. “You're reminding me of how it was when we were kids. I could be ready to throttle Shayne or Bobby, but if anyone else said something about them, I'd be ready to throttle that person.”

Gabe grinned. “I guess that's the way it should be.”

“I think that Shayne's current situation is just terribly painful. He really loved Cindy. I don't think he was a great husband. I mean, he's so dedicated to his patients. Oh, he adores his kids, but Cindy was the one who was with them most, and I think he's as happy as can be that he does have them for Christmas, but without Mom and Dad or Cindy, I don't think he remembers how to do Christmas.”

Gabe found the “screwdriver included!” bag and nodded as he divided his attention between her and his task. “The most intelligent people in the world can usually look around and figure out what would fix things for someone else, and yet struggle with their own situation,” he said.

“Genevieve broke my heart tonight. In her prayers, she basically asked God to put her parents back together.”

“That's natural.”

“And probably impossible. Cindy, I'm sure, thought long and hard before she left my brother.”

“Nothing is impossible while we're drawing breath, kid,” he said lightly.

“Then you believe in miracles, huh?” Morwenna asked him.

“If you think about it, life itself is a miracle. Sure, I believe in miracles.” He grinned at her, pausing for a moment. “Just like your little play—miracles are out there. We have to make them happen.”

“Well, you're just like Little Miss Sunshine, Pollyanna and a ray of light, all rolled into one,”
Morwenna said. “Life isn't like that. It's all messy, and complicated, and I'm sure that Shayne tried to fix things. Sometimes, when things are broken, they're shattered, and that's that.”

He laughed and sat back for a moment, staring at her. “Wow! From what I can see, you all have a really good life going here. The three of you grew up with parents who really love you. They have their personalities and their opinions, but they love you, and it's obvious that every move they've ever made was with your best interests at heart. Shayne is doing what he loves for a living. You have a good job, even if it's not what you planned, and if you had any balls, you would do what you really wanted. Your problem with the fellow your brother referred to as lover boy or boy toy is probably the fact that you decided you needed
someone,
even if he wasn't the right one, and you're really not happy with yourself, so you're playing the game of trying to assemble the right pieces. Bobby—”