The Christmas Children (10 page)

“I'd like to have chicken and mashed potatoes like Mom used to fix.”

“Didn't we buy some chicken, Carissa?”

“Yes, it's in the freezer.”

“Then I'll thaw it in the microwave and pop it in the oven to bake while I make the rest of dinner, which ought to be ready by six o'clock. Girls, you
take your things upstairs, then come down and help me with dinner. Alex, you can bring in some wood from the deck so we can have a fire tonight. If you have homework, we can take care of it after dinner.”

When all of the children denied having assignments, Paul looked keenly at Carissa. “You'll probably find some headache medicine in Naomi's medicine cabinet. Close your door, and I'll keep the kids quiet while you take a rest.”

Tears misted her eyes, and she went upstairs without answering. Paul had evidently come back to stay, and she hadn't had to ask him to.

She didn't take any medication, but she did stretch out in the large recliner chair in the bedroom. She pulled a hand-crocheted afghan over her shoulders and dozed contentedly. She glanced at her watch occasionally, and at six o'clock, she went downstairs.

The aroma of food, mixed with a smell of burning wood, filled the house. She paused on the bottom step. All the decorations seemed enhanced by the gently-burning fire, making the great room the most homelike place Carissa had ever seen.

“We were going to let you sleep a little longer before we called you,” Lauren said.

“I didn't sleep, but I rested some. Dinner smells great,” she said.

“All of us helped,” Alex said.

“Then I suppose I'll have to take care of the dishes—since I didn't help cook.”

The children were cheerful again—so different
from the way they'd been the previous night. As they ate together and then sat on the floor around the fireplace to pop corn the old-fashioned way, they seemed like a family. Paul and Carissa exchanged questioning glances, but Carissa could see no further than the present. She was happy they could provide some security for the children for a few weeks, but she couldn't conceive of this being a permanent arrangement.

The warmth of the fire and the cessation of her headache made Carissa very sleepy, and after watching her yawn every few minutes, Paul said, “I don't think anyone got much sleep last night. Let's go to bed early tonight.”

“Girls, head upstairs and get ready for bed. I'll be up in a minute,” Carissa said. Remembering Belva's observation that the children needed love more than anything else, she went to Alex and put her arm around his waist, giving him a slight squeeze. “Thanks for helping with your sisters. I'm sure your mother would be proud of you.”

He hung his head and moved out of Carissa's embrace. “I don't think she would be,” he said, and went to his room.

Carissa lifted troubled eyes to Paul. She'd thought her gesture would encourage Alex, but apparently it hadn't. Whenever she thought she was learning how to treat the children, she ran into a wall.

“The teen years are difficult ones,” Paul said. “You're doing okay.”

She shook her head. “I don't know.”

When she turned away, Paul said, “Are we going to keep pretending nothing has happened? Or are we going to talk?”

“We'll talk, but not when there are three pairs of interested ears in the house. Besides, I'm too weary to talk tonight.”

Halfway up the stairs, Carissa turned to find Paul watching her. He captured her eyes with his, and his look of tenderness made her heart ache. She'd told him they would have to talk tomorrow. But how could she explain her fondness for him, while at the same time revealing the reason she'd reacted so strangely to his caresses? Would the hang-ups she'd carried from youth into maturity ruin her friendship with Paul?

“Goodnight, Carissa,” he said softly. “Sleep well.”

When she tried to answer, her voice faltered, but before she made a hasty retreat to her bedroom, she threw him a kiss.

A
fter Paul left to take the children to school, Carissa cleared the kitchen table and started making sketches for the costumes needed for the nativity scenes. She had an afternoon appointment at the church with the other two women who were helping with the costumes. Belva had said there was a fabric shop in town where they could buy the necessary materials at a discount. They would need twenty-five garments, and it would involve a lot of sewing. Luckily, she had brought her favorite portable machine with her.

She hadn't gotten far with her designing when Paul returned. She heard his truck in the driveway, and she wondered if he would go to the apartment. If he didn't, the long-overdue talk must take place.

“Am I interrupting?” Paul said as he entered the
kitchen, bringing the outdoor fragrance of wintertime with him.

Carissa's hands wrapped tightly around her pencil. “I'm making sketches of the costumes we need for the pageant.”

“I thought we could talk now, but if you're too busy…” His voice trailed off.

“Let me finish the lines of this shepherd's robe so I won't forget what's in my mind. I'll join you in the great room in a few minutes.”

Even as she finished the sketch, Carissa's heartbeat accelerated and she had trouble focusing on what she was doing. The hour of reckoning had come—the time when she knew that, for her continued happiness, she must talk about things that would be difficult to reveal.

She poured two glasses of apple juice, and handed one to Paul as she entered the great room. He sat on the couch, and she chose a chair directly opposite him. She needed to look him in the eye while they talked.

“I want to apologize for what happened,” Paul said. “I can't say I'm sorry I kissed you, because I enjoyed it, but I am sorry I did it when you didn't want me to.”

Carissa waved aside his apologies. “I'm not mad at you—I'm mad at myself. I accept the blame. There's no excuse for my behavior. It was only a brotherly kiss at first, but my reaction invited more.”

Paul wondered at the look of humiliation in Carissa's eyes.

“Why does my touch disturb you?”

She shook her head. “This isn't easy for me to say. You accused me of acting like a girl who'd never been kissed. And that's true. I hadn't been kissed before.”

Paul stared at her in disbelief. “What's the matter with the men you've met through the years?” he asked, a tinge of wonder in his voice. “You're a vivacious, charming woman.”

Her heart hammered foolishly at his words, but she made an effort to speak calmly. “I made up my mind a long time ago that I wanted to avoid a close relationship with any man.”

She swallowed hard, gripped the sides of the chair and closed her eyes for a moment.

Paul was aware that this revelation was hard for Carissa, and he wondered if he should tell her that she didn't have to explain. He didn't speak, however, for he sensed that Carissa needed to unburden herself of the frustration that had blighted her emotional life.

She opened her eyes. “I'm an illegitimate child,” Carissa started, in a voice that was barely more than a whisper. “My mother never married, and she had lots of male companions, so I have no idea who my father is. My mother died when I was a child, before I knew what kind of person she was. After her death, it didn't take long for the kids to let me know that my mother had been a prostitute.”

After a few minutes of silence, she glanced at Paul. His face revealed consternation at what she'd told him.

“Like me any less than you did?” she asked with a wry smile.

“Of course not! You aren't accountable for what your mother did.”

“You'd have thought I was if you'd lived through my childhood in a small town. I had a few friends, but they were mostly older people in our church. But I looked very much like my mother, and I heard more than once ‘Like mother, like daughter.' By the time I reached my teen years, everyone was expecting me to turn out just like her. I couldn't do anything about looking like her, but I made up my mind that I wouldn't be promiscuous, too. The only way I knew to avoid that was to stay away from the opposite sex. I refrained from any casual friendships with men, fearing they might develop into something more. I was determined that I'd never have children who would be ashamed of me as I am of my mother.”

“I'm sorry to hear about your parentage and the difficult childhood, but…” He paused, wondering how to continue. “But why did you push me away? I had nothing to do with that.”

Sadness had darkened her blue eyes while she'd unloaded the trauma of her past, and she couldn't meet his gaze now. She stood and walked to the window that looked out upon the wooded mountain behind the chalet.

“Because I
wanted
you to kiss me, and I didn't want you to stop. When I realized that I'd let my emotions overrule my principles, I was scared. Terrified of how I was feeling—strange, uncomfortable feelings I'd never experienced before.”

She felt Paul's presence behind her, and she clenched her fists, praying he wouldn't touch her again. How would she react if he did?

He didn't touch her, but his voice was tender when he said, “I know it wasn't easy for you to reveal this, and I'm honored that you'd tell me. But you're not a vulnerable girl anymore. And there's nothing wrong with the emotions you experienced. You're a mature woman who won't submit to the shortcomings of your mother. Come and sit down.”

Noting the weary droop of Carissa's shoulders, Paul's arms ached to embrace her. He almost believed that Carissa wanted him to take her into his arms, but he'd have to be more sure of that to try again. She turned away, and he hoped she would sit beside him on the couch, but when she didn't, he knew he must be cautious in what he did and said.

“To be honest,” Paul said, “I wasn't too happy with my reactions to our kiss, either.”

She lifted her head quickly, and her expressive eyes revealed a hint of sadness. Had he used the wrong words?

“Since you've been so honest with me, I think it's only fair to tell you why I've never married. During my last two years in high school, I dated a local girl,
Jennifer Pruett. We were in love. We planned to be married after graduation and attend college together.”

Carissa watched the play of emotions on his face. Pain and anger glittered in his dark eyes.

“The summer after our graduation, Jennifer went to visit her aunt in New York City, where she met a man she wanted more than she wanted me. An older man who could give her a lot more than I could. He was wealthy, and when she compared all he had to the four years we'd have to spend in college living from hand to mouth, she chose riches instead of me. She sent me a ‘Dear John' letter, which I didn't answer. I left Yuletide and I haven't seen Jennifer since. Her mother still lives in town, but I've been fortunate enough not to encounter Jennifer during the few visits I've made here.”

“Where is she now?”

“Last I heard she'd divorced her husband, but was still living in the New York City area. I'm not sure I've ever forgiven her, but the way she treated me convinced me that I was better off staying a bachelor. I didn't want to get hurt again. So when I kissed you, I wasn't happy about it. I thought I'd put those emotions out of my life. Then, when you pushed me away, I experienced the same sense of rejection that I'd had after Jennifer jilted me.”

“I'm sorry I made you remember.”

“Maybe it's just as well for me to remember. As long as the past festers in my heart, I'm not the kind
of person God wants me to be. And the longer we work toward bringing Christmas to Yuletide, the more it makes me realize that I've not honored God by the way I've lived. My only concern has been Paul Spencer, and no one else.”

“I understand what you mean,” she said. “Helping with the celebration and looking after our children has caused me to look at my own spiritual needs.”

“So now that we know and understand each other's hang-ups, where do we go from here? Seems to me we've been getting along pretty well the past three weeks, so if you're willing, let's forget our past problems and concentrate on finding Christmas—the way we'd both planned. I believe we'll find it by caring for the children and bringing Christmas to Yuletide.”

He reached out a hand to her. After only slight hesitation, Carissa took it, and he helped her to her feet.

“Of course I'm willing. I haven't had many close friends, and I've enjoyed our few days together. And the children will be relieved, too. They detected the tension between us. Alex even asked if we'd had a fight, and said he supposed he'd have to start looking out for his family again.”

“And speaking of that, I'm concerned about something else. I wonder if Alex took the money that disappeared from school. Maybe he's accumulating some money so they can run away again.”

“Oh, no! I've coped with Lauren's bed-wetting problem and Julie's tantrums. I won't overlook stealing.”

“You won't have to. I've already set a trap for Alex. I had an old billfold in the apartment. I put a few dollars in it and placed it on a shelf beside the washer and dryer. We'll see what happens. I suspect that Alex was stealing, even before his mother died, to help with the family's upkeep.”

“Stealing was one offense I wouldn't tolerate in my company,” Carissa said grimly, her blue eyes darkening. “Evidence of theft meant automatic dismissal. And to think I've taken in a child who may steal.”

“We don't know that yet,” Paul said. “But I wanted you to know my suspicions so you'd watch your purse.”

“Yes, I will. Thanks, Paul, for listening to me. It's been too convenient through the years for me to ignore things that bothered me. But now…I have to go back to my work. The sketches have to be finished before this afternoon. I've promised to cut out the patterns, and the other two ladies will do most of the sewing.”

“I'm going out on the lake now to try some fishing. That will give you some peace and quiet to work. I'll drive into town with you this afternoon and help with the rest of the street decorations.”

A half hour later, Carissa watched through the window as Paul, heavily clothed, walked toward the
lake. His presence did disturb her peace of mind, so it was just as well that he had left the house for a short time. Still, she couldn't tear her gaze from his long athletic stride and the proud set of his head. Carissa knew that her feelings for him were intensifying to a point of no return.

 

Paul returned, empty-handed, at eleven o'clock, but he'd had a good morning. The cold air had added a ruddy hue to his dark skin, and contentment gleamed in his eyes.

“It's a good day for skating,” he said. “Maybe we can rent some skates and take the kids out on the ice.”

Carissa had finished her sketches and had a light lunch ready, which they sat down to. The doorbell rang, however, before they finished eating.

They'd had no visitors other than Justin and Belva, so Carissa was surprised to answer and find a woman at the door.

Carissa took in the visitor's appearance quickly. Tall and willowy, with black hair and glowing green eyes, this woman would be a perfect model for Cara's Fashions. Her leather jacket was open, and, coincidentally, her sweater was one of Carissa's creations.

“Hello,” the woman said. “I'm looking for Paul Spencer. I understand he's living here.”

“Well, yes,” Carissa said slowly as she opened
the door. “Come in—Paul,” she called, “you have company.”

He sauntered into the great room and glanced at the visitor, and his face whitened. His eyes widened in astonishment.

The woman went toward him with outstretched hand, and when Paul ignored her hand, she leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the lips. He moved away, and she laughed.

“That's not the way you reacted the last time I kissed you,” she said. “I thought some things would never change.”

Turning as if she'd suddenly remembered Carissa's presence, the woman said, “Maybe I'm out of line.” Nodding toward Carissa, she said, “I hadn't heard that you were married.”

His astonishment soon turned to annoyance, and in a curt voice Paul said, “I'm not married. This is my friend, Carissa Whitmore.” And with a meaningful glance toward Carissa, who had an unfathomable expression in her eyes, he continued, “Carissa Whitmore, meet Jennifer…Pruett. I don't remember your married name.”

Jennifer smiled. “It's Colton. Jennifer Colton. It seems you've forgotten a lot of things about me, while I've never forgotten
anything
about you.” She slid her fingertips across his left cheek in a provocative gesture before walking to the couch and sitting down without an invitation.

“If you'll excuse me,” Carissa said, “I have some work to finish.”

Uneasy, Paul wondered what Jennifer was up to now. How he wished she'd stayed out of his life!

He watched Carissa climb the steps, wanting her to stay but knowing he shouldn't ask it of her. If Jennifer wanted to talk to him, he might as well get it over with. As he waited for Jennifer to speak, he compared the present Jennifer with the one he'd loved. Had she always had that determined thrust to her jaw and that hardness in her eyes? Or had the eyes of love and youth blinded him to her true character?

“I've wanted to see you since we parted,” Jennifer said, “but apparently you haven't spent much time in Yuletide.”

“Only a few times to visit Naomi. Yuletide held nothing else of interest to me.”

“I came to visit Mother for a few days, intending to take her home with me for Christmas. Now that I find you're here, I may just spend Christmas in Yuletide.” She nodded her head toward the upstairs. “Or do your interests…lie in that direction?”