Angels in the Snow (15 page)

“Yes, you do,” Marilyn countered. “I hear you in the shower sometimes.”

“Aw, Mom,” he complained when everyone laughed. Finally he sighed and straightened up with many a baleful glare at the three giggling girls. Only when Alex strummed the opening chords of the song, grinning encouragingly at him, did the boy settle down.

“Okay, okay. The song I picked . . .” He paused and a devious little grin lit his face. “The song I picked is ‘Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer.' ” His grin grew when everyone laughed. Then he glanced at Alex. “Are you ready?”

“Ready.” Alex began the introduction again, and once Robbie started singing, his stage fright disappeared. Not everyone knew all the words, and there was as much giggling as there was singing. But eventually they got through it, cheering Robbie as he took his final bows.

Then it was Alex's turn, and Judith found herself eagerly awaiting his choice. He cleared his throat and concentrated on the guitar, fiddling with it and adjusting the tuning keys until Josie leaned her full weight against his back.

“C'mon, Alex. You can do it.”

He laughed, lifting his head at last. “Okay, here we go. I picked ‘Silent Night,' but it's a little different than usual.” He paused. “It would sound better on an electric guitar, but . . . I'll do the best I can.”

Judith glanced at Charles, and received back a look as puzzled as her own. She couldn't imagine what Alex had in mind.

The song began as usual. Alex's guitar work was clear and pure, chords at first, then gradually in the second verse progressing to more and more finger work. When they finished singing the second verse, however, he continued to play. It was an odd, very contemporary rendition of the traditional song, and as his fingers flew over the strings, Judith knew she'd never been so proud of him. Unconsciously, her hand moved to grasp Charles's arm, and when the song was done she was close to tears again.

Everyone clapped, and Alex blushed and ducked his head once more.

Charles leaned forward. “You know what that reminds me of? Jimi Hendrix's version of ‘The Star-Spangled Banner.' ”

Alex stared at his father in surprise. “That's what I was thinking about when I wrote this version of ‘Silent Night'. But it would be a lot better on the electric guitar, with some tremolo, distortion, and a wah-wah pedal.”

“Most folks didn't like the Hendrix version when it came out,” Joe remarked.

Alex shrugged.“I don't care if people don't like what I write and play. I
hope
they'll like it. But even if they don't, I'm still gonna play what I want to play.”

Joe grinned at Alex, and then at Judith and Charles. “I fear you've got a true artist on your hands here. More power to him, I say.”

Alex grinned, too. Then his gaze slid to his father. “Did you like Jimi Hendrix when you were young?”

Judith tensed.
Please don't say the wrong thing,
she prayed.

The spirit of goodwill must have infected them all, for Charles answered with a self-deprecating chuckle. “At first I thought his ‘Star-Spangled Banner' was an insult—you know, unpatriotic. But, it grew on me. Just because it was different didn't mean it was wrong.”

Alex met his father's eyes for a long moment, and Judith felt a leap of joy in her heart.

Eventually the singing resumed, sometimes with guitar accompaniment and sometimes without, depending on Alex's ability to pick up the key of the song. But despite missed chords, forgotten words, and the occasional off-key note, it was the most wonderful music Judith had ever heard.

The heavenly hosts could never have sung so sweetly.

H
aving to share a room with their kids had destroyed Charles's plan for marital intimacy. Damn storm! Charles lay beside Judith on the bed, staring up at the soft shadows flickering on the beams of the cathedral ceiling and listened to the faint breathing of Alex and Jennifer. They had dragged mattresses in from another bedroom, and lit the fireplace. Though the room wasn't toasty, it was bearable.

The Walkers were asleep on couches and chairs downstairs. At least
they
had no privacy either, Charles thought with sour satisfaction. Then he sighed and shifted so that his hip rested against Judith's back. The truth was, he had no idea how Judith would have reacted to any amorous attempts. It was probably best not to know, for he wasn't sure he could bear it if she'd pulled away.

He turned to stare at the glowing logs in the fireplace, and replayed the day in his mind. From the worst of beginnings, it had somehow progressed into one of the best evenings of his life. The warmth and happiness he'd felt while they'd sung Christmas carols were unlike anything he'd ever felt. The closest thing he could compare it to was the birth of his children. That overwhelming sense of well-being. He smiled, remembering.

Later they'd played charades, laughing, shouting, and one by one making fools of themselves. He'd thought he would never get them to guess the title Marilyn had given him.
All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten.
It had been a real killer, but he'd done it.

Judith had enjoyed the evening just as much as he had. She'd laughed and teased, and the tension he'd noticed in her face recently had eased. It had been just like old times, and that very fact was what reassured him now that those times could be recaptured once more.

Still, the thought of her rebuff terrified him.

Outside, the wind battered against the windows. The storm seemed even more violent than before. It was a good thing they'd already cut down the Christmas tree. By tomorrow they might not even be able to get out of the house.

He smiled. That wasn't proving to be as terrible a situation as he'd thought.

CHARLES AWOKE WITH A
START.
He was disoriented at first, for the room was dark and he knew the bed was not his own. But then he heard the sound of someone moving about, and when he lifted his head and spied Alex, everything came back to him. The house. The Walkers. The storm.

Alex must have sensed his father's eyes on him, for he looked up and met Charles's gaze. The dim light said it was just past dawn, and Alex was a late sleeper. What had roused him?

As easily as he could, he rose from the bed, taking care not to disturb Judith. She was burrowed down into the pillows and feather comforter, hiding from the chill in the air. While Charles donned slippers and a robe, he watched Alex carefully feed several heavy logs into the fire. Shivering, he crossed to stand before the hearth, holding his robe open to collect the heat.

“Too cold to sleep?” he whispered to Alex.

Alex shrugged. “Not really. I don't know. I was just lying there, so . . . I thought I might as well make myself useful.”

They both stared into the fire, watching as the embers glowed hotter, then slowly broke into small licking flames around the fresh logs.

“If I'd known you could chop wood so well, I wouldn't have bothered buying firewood for the house these past few winters.”

Alex shrugged again. “I guess it wouldn't be so much fun if I had to do it all the time.”

“No,” Charles agreed. “I guess not.” He closed the robe and belted it, much warmed by the heated silk lining.

Alex continued to poke at the embers, stirring them until the bottom log caught. In a matter of seconds the fire began to grow, casting its warm light over the rest of the room. Charles looked around the bedroom, at the chaos of extra mattresses, piled-up covers, and discarded shoes. It was strange how satisfying it was.

“It's sort of like summer camp,” Alex commented.

Charles looked back at his son. “Is that right? I never went to a summer camp. But I always wondered.”

“Well, it's not exactly like this. There's always at least one jerk in your cabin. And the counselors can sometimes be a real pain.”

Charles chuckled softly. “That sounds like life in general. There's always a jerk in every crowd. And someone's always being a pain in the ass. In the neck,” he amended.

Alex grinned, and for a moment they basked in the easy banter between them.

Charles sat down on the hearth and rubbed his arms as he stifled a yawn. “You think we could manage to start a pot of coffee?”

Alex nodded and stood up. “It didn't look too hard. I can get the water going. You can figure out the coffeepot.”

The coffee turned out way too strong, and Charles had to cut it half and half with milk. But in the quiet of the slowly lightening living room, he decided it was one of the best cups of coffee he'd ever had. Though he and Alex didn't talk much, there was a peace between them that was as rare as it was wonderful. Alex carved on the wood chip Robbie had given him while Charles just sipped his coffee and enjoyed the fire.

Rogers had done him a great favor when he'd lent him this place, Charles thought, smiling to himself. He'd have to do the man a good turn. Maybe he wouldn't shift his construction loan to First Federal. Then he shook his head. Boy, was he getting maudlin! Points and interest were all that mattered in financing a project. Not emotions.

Still, he might look into doing some sort of resort-type development. Rogers might be interested in working with him on that.

“Say, Alex. How would you feel about us having a place like this of our own?”

The boy looked up. “That would be cool. Are you gonna buy one? How about this one?”

“I was thinking more on the lines of developing a small resort area. You know, a cluster of homes with some community amenities. A health club. Stores. That sort of thing.”

When Alex didn't look away in disinterest, Charles could hardly believe it. The boy had never shown the slightest curiosity about his work. It was one of the things that had always aggravated Charles. But now all that was changing.

“I think it would be a nice switch, building something out in the woods instead of in town.” He paused. “Maybe you could take a few trips to the site with me as it was being built.”

“That would be cool,” Alex repeated. “But how expensive would the houses be?”

Charles shrugged, too elated by his sudden success with Alex to care about anything else. “Oh, I don't know. We could go as high as the market could bear.”

A slight frown creased Alex's brow and he looked down at his carving. “So people like the Walkers couldn't afford to live there.”

“Well, no. No, I guess not.” Charles glanced at the people still asleep on the sofa sleeper, then lowered his voice and leaned forward. “But they aren't the kind of people in the market for second homes at any price, Alex. Resort developments like I'm talking about are for the fairly well off—”

“Like us,” the boy interrupted. He raised his eyes and at once Charles knew he'd lost him. For a fleeting few minutes they'd been on the same track, but not anymore. If only he could make him understand.

“Look, Alex. You can't deny reality,” he whispered anxiously. “Some people make more money than others. Those are the ones who shop in high-class shopping centers. The ones who stay in hotels. The ones who buy vacation homes. That's not a bad thing.”

Alex concentrated on the piece of wood in his hand, refusing to look at his father. “No. I guess not.”

The old strain was back, only it was worse, for now Charles was aware of what he was missing.

When Joe and Marilyn roused a few minutes later, he was not sure whether to be relieved or annoyed. At least they filled the awkward gap between him and Alex. But the very sight of Joe Walker sitting next to Alex, giving him pointers about his carving, was enough to raise Charles's blood pressure.

That
's my son,
he wanted to cry.
Mine!
But he couldn't do it, so instead he went into the chilly half bath to wash up.

When he came out, Judith was downstairs, sitting near the fire. Josie was up, too, sitting on her father's lap, next to Alex, while Jennifer and Lucy were apparently both still asleep. Marilyn had poured herself a cup of coffee, and at the first sip her nose automatically wrinkled in surprise.

“It's a little too strong. I know,” Charles muttered.

“No. No, it's fine,” she insisted. “I'll just add more milk. Judith, are you ready for a cup? How about you, Joe?”

If it hadn't been for his failure with Alex, Charles would have thought the morning as pleasant a one as he'd ever passed. He hardly even missed having contact with his office. After all, the business was half Doug's. He could handle anything that came up.

They worked on the puzzle. They played games. They read and ate and drew pictures. It was odd, almost as if there were no distinction between adults and children. They all played and teased and had fun on the same level.

But there was a sense of unreality about it, and every once in a while, Charles would pause and stare about him. He couldn't fully immerse himself in the moment. Judith appeared completely relaxed and at ease, and Jennifer and Alex were both having a wonderful time. Not once had they argued with each other. The teasing that normally would have deteriorated into shouts and tears remained good-natured, with laughter.