An Angel for Christmas (7 page)

Morwenna noted that her mother had done a good job whipping up stockings for the children at the last minute. Genevieve received Fruit Roll-ups, quarters for the games at the tavern and a pretty little set of silver earrings—probably something her mom had bought for herself, since she was always losing one earring. She was delighted. Her present from her father was a real working kids' stove and an electronic game. Stacy had wrapped up one of her collectible Cabbage Patch dolls, and the little girl was in awe of it, playing with it as Connor opened the rest of his gifts.

Then Bobby told them that his gift was a song, and he pulled out his guitar and sang to them:

The kids, giggling all the while, pounced on Bobby, hugging him.

“Hey,” Bobby cried. “Munchkins! Watch the guitar.”

“Come on, Uncle Bobby. You're up next!” Genevieve told him.

“Okay, okay. Pummel the flesh, but not the guitar, eh?” Bobby teased. “Gen, you help me with that one. I don't wrap well, and I open even worse.”

“You can't open a present badly,” Genevieve told him, but she began tearing at the wrapping paper for him.

Bobby was also delighted with his gifts. His stocking had been filled with Pez animals, beef jerky, turkey jerky and more. His parents had gotten him a new, down-lined coat. Shayne had gotten him an electronic reader with a special music application, and Morwenna had gone out of her way wrapping up a gift certificate to a national
chain music store, nestled in a bed of guitar picks, strings and a tuner.

“Now you, Auntie Wenna!” Genevieve said. “Are you really bad at unwrapping, too?”

“Well, of course I am,” Morwenna said, sitting her niece on her lap. “Go for it, girl.”

First, the stocking. Morwenna's had sugar substitute, lip gloss guaranteed to prevent chapping in cold weather, nail polish and emery boards. Genevieve happily tore apart Morwenna's gifts for her. Morwenna oohed and aahed over her presents—a computer bag with just the right number of pockets, a beautiful black cocktail dress, a snow hat with matching gloves and a tiny little box.

“What's this?” Genevieve asked.

“I don't know. Open it.”

Genevieve opened the little box. It held a delicate gold chain that held an angel or cherub, almost like the one on her mother's tree. It was a beautiful piece.

Morwenna looked around the room; there was no signature on the box.

“Mom, where did you find this?” Morwenna asked.

“I didn't. Mike?” Stacy asked.

“No, I didn't buy it, I'm sorry to say,” Mike said.

“Not me—I'm the hat and gloves,” Bobby said.

“I'm the computer bag,” Shayne said.

“Santa Claus!” Genevieve announced.

“How curious,” Morwenna said. She took out the chain and little medallion, and Bobby offered to fasten it around her neck. She felt it as it lay against her flesh, and touched it gently. “I'll figure out my secret Santa, guys. But thank you one and all.”

“So who is next—Shayne or Gabe?” Connor asked.

“Gabe—I believe I'm older,” Shayne said.

Gabe seemed humbled and appreciative as he opened his gifts. When he got to Morwenna's present, he smiled at her. “Uncanny! It's my favorite. But—”

“Hey!” Stacy said. “You're our guest. Please enjoy what little we have to offer. And, now, Shayne, it's to you!”

Shayne feigned excitement over his gifts and Morwenna wanted to make it all better for her older brother.

It was his first Christmas as a divorced man.

The kids went on to help Mike and Stacy open their presents, and then Stacy announced that it was time for a quick breakfast.

“But not too many people in the kitchen, please, or I can't get anything done,” Stacy said. “Morwenna, you and Gabe can come with me. Bobby, you and Dad set the table. Shayne, gather up all the wrappings and get them into the garbage—all right, everyone?”

It was agreed. Stacy had her crowd well in hand; she turned on a Christmas CD, and everyone went about their tasks.

On egg duty with Gabe in the kitchen, Morwenna realized that he had put on a spray of the men's cologne she had given him.

She smiled. “Nice,” she told him. She hesitated, staring at him. “Was the angel from you?”

“Angels are from above,” he teased in return.

“But, seriously, was it? Was it meant for someone else in your life?” she asked.

“Was the cologne?”

“Cologne is easy—it's in every department store,” she said.

He laughed. “Maybe angels are easy, too, if you just look.”

She turned away, humming to the song on the CD, “O Little Town of Bethlehem.”

“You don't sound at all like a sick hyena,” Gabe told her.

“Anyone can hum,” she assured him.

“Watch the eggs!” Stacy commanded.

They both laughed. Once Stacy pulled the toast out and Morwenna's father and brothers wound up in the kitchen and they all bumped into each other as they brought the food out to the table.

In a few minutes breakfast was all set up, and they gathered around the table, and there were several minutes of “Pass the toast, please,” or “Can you hand me that plate of hash browns?” until all their plates were filled. Coffee and drinks were poured and passed, and everyone praised Stacy for
a delicious breakfast, and then Bobby told the kids to go up and get their snowsuits on, threatening them with a snowball fight.

When the kids had gone with Shayne to get dressed for the snow, Stacy sat back with her coffee and said, “Bobby, play us something. Something Christmasy and magical.”

When Bobby returned with his guitar, he perched on a kitchen stool and strummed a few notes.

“‘O Holy Night,'” Gabe suggested.

Bobby nodded and played and sang. When he finished, Stacy stood and came over and kissed him on the cheek, tears brimming in her eyes. “That was really beautiful,” she said.

“I've applied to Juilliard,” Bobby said, wincing slightly as he looked at his father. “I may well not make it. I don't know how many incredibly talented people apply every year. But I know how you feel, Dad, and you won't be responsible for helping me. I've found a way to work through school.”

“Juilliard!” Stacy said.

“Juilliard,” Mike repeated, frowning slightly, clearly taken off guard.

“Juilliard is one of the most prestigious schools in the country, Bobby. I hope you make it!” Morwenna said, surprising herself with her readiness to step in for her brother.

“I'll know in the next few days,” Bobby said, sounding amazed by her enthusiasm. “I missed the usual auditions, and had to get a special audience with the music school, but somehow, believe it or not, they were chock-full of pianists and violinists, and a little light on those auditioning for guitar this year. So…I'll know right after New Year's.”

“Juilliard,” Mike said again. He blinked. “Bobby, do you know how hard it is to make a living with a guitar? Every kid out there has one. Every kid dreams of being a rock star.”

“Might as well dream big,” Bobby said. He glanced at his sister, silently thanking her for the support she had offered him.

“It's not just a ‘rock star' thing, Dad,” Morwenna said. “You just heard him play a Christmas carol
that was so beautiful, it made tears spring to the eyes.”

“It's a hard, hard living, son,” Mike said.

“I don't mind working hard,” Bobby said.

Morwenna glanced at Gabe; of course, he wasn't a member of their family, and he hadn't said a word. As she looked at him, though, she realized that he had known. Bobby had told him.

Mike stood. “We can talk about this later,” he said.

Bobby stood as well. “We can talk all you want, Dad, but my mind is made up. I know you want the best for me, and I respect that. But if I don't make it into Juilliard, I'll find another music academy or institute. I'm going for what I want. I'm not going to be Morwenna, brilliant—and languishing in business meetings!”

“What?” Morwenna gasped. “Bobby, I have a great job—”

“Yes, you have a great job, and it should have given you a wonderful outlet for your work. But it didn't. It turned you into corporate America, which would be just fine, if what you really
wanted was corporate America. You're not that old, Morwenna. Actually, that wouldn't even matter. You can start over at any time in life—you can start over and start drawing again. Anyway, sorry. I didn't want to ruin Christmas for anyone. I'm going to head out and have a snowball fight with the kids like I promised.”

Indignant, Morwenna watched him go. She blinked hard; she had a great job. She might know herself that corporate America hadn't been her dream, but to the outside world, she had an enviable job. She had a great guy, Alex. This—this being home for the holidays—this was out of context.

She looked at her parents. They still seemed to be in shock.

Gabe stood up. “I think I'll join in the snowball fight,” he said. He looked down at Morwenna and offered her a hand. “Are you coming?”

“Yes, I'm going to whack the sh—the stuffing out of Bobby,” she said. She headed out quickly, and Gabe followed her. At the door she slipped into her heavy parka and gloves, and burst outside, gathering up a handful of snow before she reached
the yard. Connor and Genevieve had been using one of the high-growing pines as shelter against Bobby's attacks. Morwenna headed straight for her brother with a big, wet, sloppy snowball.

She creamed him.

The kids, laughing delightedly, came from around the pines. Bobby was down in the snow, howling in protest and laughter, when Shayne came running out and pelted Morwenna. She stood, aimed back at him and hit Gabe in the chest.

In a few minutes, they were rolling in the snow, all soaked and still tossing snow and laughing.

Morwenna was vaguely aware of the crunch of footsteps on the snow; she was still startled when a deep, loud angry voice called out.

“Hey!”

They all paused, rolled and looked down the slope. A tall man in a Virginia State Police uniform and parka was heading up toward them.

“Hey!” he shouted again. “Stop right there, all of you. Don't move. You're harboring a
murderer!
”

Stunned, half-frozen in the snow, Morwenna stared at the newcomer.

He was a tall, well-muscled man of about thirty, or thirty-five, dark-haired, with fierce dark eyes and a rugged-looking face.

He could have been a cop…

He was in uniform…

“Get up, Gabe!” he said, striding over to stand above Gabe, Morwenna and the kids where they were tangled together in their snow brawl.

Gabe stood, staring at the newcomer. “He isn't a cop,” he said evenly. “He has the clothes because he stole them off me. He isn't a cop, and I'm not a murderer, and
he
isn't even a murderer.”

Morwenna was vaguely aware that the door to their house had opened and closed.

Genevieve was clinging to her pants. Connor was just staring wide-eyed.

Shayne walked the few feet to the men. “All right, let's sort this out here,” he said. “May I see your credentials? Are you armed?”

The man's eyes flickered for a minute, and then seemed to gleam with an angry fire. “My sidearm was lost when I grappled with this escaped convict. Trust me, he's dangerous. I need to take custody of him now.”

“He's lying,” Gabe said. “He's the convict. The thief.”

The door to the house burst open and Mike, followed by Bobby, came bursting out of the house.

Mike had his shotgun, and it was aimed at the two strangers in their midst.

“All right, what the hell is going on here?” Mike demanded.

“I'm Officer Luke DeFeo of the Virginia State Police,” the newcomer said, his voice filled with authority. “You've been deceived by a criminal, a convicted killer.”

“That's a lie. He's the con. You found me half dead in the snow because we wrestled when I was trying to bring him back to justice. He stole my clothing, and gave me his,” Gabe said. “You have to believe me. This man isn't a murderer, but he could prove to be the most dangerous man who ever walked into your lives.”

“Don't be ridiculous! Put that gun down. You can see that I'm the cop!” Luke DeFeo said. He started walking toward Mike angrily.

But Assistant District Attorney Michael MacDougal was no man's fool. Morwenna was proud when her father cocked the shotgun and said, “I have damn good aim. You stay right where you are. Now, can either of you prove what you're saying? Let's see some ID.”

“Look at what I'm wearing!” DeFeo snapped.

“I can see what you're wearing,” Mike said. “And you may well be a cop, but this fellow has been with us for a lot of hours now, and we're all alive and well, and it seems that things are appearing in our house rather than disappearing.”

Morwenna felt the little angel against her neck. It wasn't studded with gems, but it was still a nice piece. He had given it to her.

Suspicion crept into her mind. Had he taken it off someone else? Maybe someone now lying dead in the snow.

“You leave him alone!” Genevieve said, leaping up with the agility of a child and running to DeFeo. She gave him a hard kick in the shin.

DeFeo let out an angry yell, and almost reached for Genevieve.

“My sister!” Connor cried.

“You touch my daughter, and I'll kill you, cop or no!” Shayne announced. “Genevieve, get over here.”

Genevieve obeyed without a murmur.

“Connor, you, too,” Shayne said.

Gabe and Morwenna stood, dusting snow from their bodies, staring, and watching and waiting.

“You're going to find yourself under arrest for aiding and abetting a criminal,” DeFeo said.

“Let's see your credentials,” Mike said firmly.

“Hey, you can see I have a badge.”

“And I'll see some ID, too,” Mike said firmly.

DeFeo scowled. “I don't have my wallet—I lost it in the tussle with the con you're protecting!”

“If you have no real ID, I have no real proof. No one is going to intimidate me,” Mike announced. “If I know one thing, I know the law. And I know that we don't have any way of knowing which of you is telling the truth. So—you. Yeah, you, Virginia State policeman. Raise your arms. Bobby, see if he has cuffs. And if he does, put them on him.”

“Yes, sir! Yes, sir, Dad!” Bobby said, and sprang into action.

Morwenna had never seen her brother Bobby as the tough-guy type, and then again, she'd never seen lifesaving Shayne threaten someone's life. But
then, his children had been threatened, and now Bobby was ready to spring to the fore.

“If your son touches me, I'll see that he does jail time, too,” DeFeo warned.

“And if you touch my son, I'll blow your head off,” Mike promised.

Bobby walked straight for DeFeo. “Listen, buddy, if you're legit, and we all wind up at a police station looking like fools, we'll take our chances in court,” he said.

“You're risking your lives!” DeFeo said, standing still as Bobby found the cuffs he did have hooked to his belt and slipped them around DeFeo's wrists. “I'm telling you, he's the criminal. If you hold me against my will, he'll find a way to kill me, and slaughter you and your whole family in your beds!”

“We're not taking any chances,” Mike said. “We're not taking chances—with anyone. I'm going to disbelieve both of you—until we learn the truth. Morwenna, get in the house. I have good nylon rope in the pantry. I want Gabe tied up, too.”

Morwenna stared back at her father, blinking.

“Morwenna!”

She looked down at Gabe, stunned to realize that they really didn't know. If Gabe was a crook, he could be damn good at deceiving people. It felt as if the cold suddenly swept through her.
Why wouldn't he have killed them last night?

Because he'd wanted his turkey, that's why.

Gabe looked up and said calmly, “Get the rope, like your father says. Keep us both tied up, and away from the house. Keep your family safe.”

“But, Daddy,” Genevieve began.

“Hush,” Shayne said softly.

“Connor, Genevieve, come with me, please,” Morwenna said, and hurried into the house. Stacy was standing in the parlor, looking out the window, her face knit in a worried frown.

“Morwenna?”

“That guy showed up, saying Gabe is a crook, and that he himself is a cop,” Morwenna explained briefly.

“I was so worried when I saw your father get the shotgun. I tried the phone again, but that and
the computer are still down, too. We've got electricity, but the television is all static. Morwenna, what are we going to do?”

“Keep them both tied up until we can get help,” Morwenna said.

“We're on a mountaintop!” Stacy said.

“Mom, Dad has it covered. Besides, we have cars,” Morwenna assured her.

Morwenna hurried back out, disturbed to see that her mother had come out to the front without even bothering to put on her coat. Though she had locked the door behind her, with the children inside.

She rushed by her, though. Gabe was standing a distance from Luke DeFeo. He offered his hands to her as she approached him.

“Behind his back!” DeFeo said. “Like you did me!”

“Wait!” Stacy said. She walked forward into the group. “One of these men is a criminal, and we really don't know what kind of criminal. But one of them isn't. And we're not breaking any arms or starving either of them. Tie their hands
in front. We have the shotgun, and there are five of us adults here—we can watch them.”

Shayne walked over to their mother. “Mom, we can't know how long until the phone and computer are back up, and it looks like we might have more bad weather coming in. We have to make sure that these guys are secure.”

He pointed to the sky; it had been so blue.

Now, gray clouds were hovering. Strange gray clouds. Morwenna couldn't tell if they were coming from east or west, north or south. But they seemed to be converging over their house.

“We'll take turns watching them,” Stacy insisted.

Gabe lifted his hands.

“Secure, Morwenna!” her father called.

“Yes, sir.”

Gabe didn't move. She was close to him. The subtle scent of the cologne she had given him seemed to sweep around her. She looked at him. His eyes remained steady, green and open.

She looked down and tied his hand securely in a clove hitch. Her father, still keeping an eye on
Luke DeFeo as Bobby recinched the metal cuffs, walked over to see that she had tied the knot correctly. He nodded his approval.

“Now what?” DeFeo asked. He let out a sigh. His voice changed to something that was just weary. “This is ridiculous, honestly. You all need to help me. You seem like a nice family. I don't want you running into trouble. If you don't see what's going on here soon, you will face jail time, and you've just afforded yourselves a miserable day. You're going to spend your Christmas staring at the two of us. I would have taken this wretch back to justice!”

“And how were you going to do that?” Mike MacDougal asked him, his words barking. Morwenna imagined him in a courtroom. Her father, she knew, often managed to get people to say things they had surely never intended to say. “You came by foot.”

“I'd have walked the bastard down the mountain,” DeFeo said, his tone angry again. Then he seemed to gain control. “Look, you've all been
fooled. You don't know what you're dealing with here.”

“That's right,” Shayne said quietly. “We don't know what we're dealing with here.”

“And there's no way in hell anyone is walking anyone down the mountain,” Stacy said. “It's a hard trip at best—hours walking in spring. There is weather coming in again.”

“That's right, and you should let me handle it. We'll be out of your way in a moment,” DeFeo pleaded.

“So…what now?” Morwenna asked.

Mike looked at the sky. “It may clear up soon enough,” he said. “I can't tell right now exactly what the weather is going to do, but I think it would be foolhardy to try to reach even the village right now. Looks like we'll have to hold tight for a while.”

“The garage and the shed,” Stacy said. “You've got to keep them separated, and out of the wind. As soon as the weather clears, we'll get them both down to the tavern. They must have a way to reach some kind of help there.”

“Bobby, you're on watch with Gabe. Shayne, you take DeFeo. The toolshed is empty. I brought the shovel and anything else anyone could use as a weapon into the house once we had a guest in the house,” Mike said, glancing toward Gabe. “Shayne, you keep the shotgun. God knows what someone could find in the garage. I'll spell you in thirty minutes. Morwenna, you'll take over for Bobby.”

Morwenna nodded. Neither of the men offered resistance as they were brought, handcuffed, to their respective places, Mike behind them both.

 

Morwenna looked up. The sky was darkening, and it couldn't have been later than ten in the morning.

As her father walked back to the house, he said, “I guess we'll have turkey later, Stacy. As soon as we can, we'll head down to Scott's Tavern with these two men.”

Stacy started to walk into the house, and then she paused, looking at her husband. “The cemetery is on the way,” she said.

“Stacy, we've got a criminal on our hands, and—depending on which man you believe—one of them might be a murderer.”

Stacy straightened her shoulders. “The weather is going to be iffy all day. The cemetery is on the way to the village. It will only take a minute or two.”

“Stacy,” Mike said, “we could walk all the way and get rid of these two guys—”

“Mike! There's no guarantee that we'll have any communication when we reach the village, and no guarantee that there will be someone there who can watch them. This may remain our burden until we can get help up the mountain. The cemetery is on the way—we're going to stop briefly. We can keep the shotgun on them for one minute while we say a prayer. I'm still saying my Christmas prayers over my family's graves!”

With that, Stacy walked firmly into the house. Mike followed, but the door slammed in his face. He turned and looked at Morwenna and the kids. “All right, so the cemetery is on the way. How ridiculous is all this? One of us will stand with the
shotgun trained on the two of them, and we'll say a prayer—in a graveyard. Christmas!”

He didn't say it, but Morwenna could almost imagine that he did.

Christmas! Bah, humbug!

 

“Look, I'm really sorry about this,” Bobby said. And then, a little edge of doubt crept in. How often had he seen his father exhausted when a judge had ruled out key evidence and the jury was being swayed because the con could speak so persuasively?

Did he want to believe in this guy because this guy wanted him to believe in him?

“At least, I think I'm sorry,” he muttered.

“It's all right. Man is a creature who must see something, hold it, find it tangible, before he really believes,” Gabe said.

“He is wearing the uniform,” Bobby pointed out.

“So he is.”

Gabe walked ahead of Bobby into the shed.

There were two little windows in the small
building, so light could come in. When there was light. Right now, the sky was darkening. Bobby ushered Gabe in; even out of the growing wind, though, the shed was cold. The garage, he figured, was just as cold. But there were lights in the garage; several of them. The shed had one overhanging bulb. Bobby turned it on. It provided some light. A concrete floor had been poured years before, but the concrete emanated cold.

Gabe sat down against the back wall. There were wooden shelves and brackets, but, as his dad had said, the few tools they usually kept there had been brought into the house. His father, he realized, was a smart man.

“Bobby, there's nothing in this shed I could use to hurt anyone, if I had that in mind,” Gabe said. “You don't have to stay out here—it's freezing.”