The Christmas Children (4 page)

What a tragedy! Carissa could understand the reason the citizens of Yuletide hesitated to celebrate Christmas.

“The strange part of it was that the church was presenting a program that night based on an old legend of how Jesus had appeared disguised in a town one Christmas Eve. Disguised as a child, a poor woman and a beggar, He went from person to person
asking for help, but everyone was busy preparing to celebrate the coming of the Christ Child, and they turned these people away.”

“I'm familiar with the story. The townspeople eventually learned that if they'd helped those who came to them, they would have received Jesus, too. So the citizens of Yuletide felt that in refusing to help the mother and child, it was as if they'd refused, like those people or the biblical innkeeper, to shelter the baby Jesus?”

Paul nodded and lifted a hand to rub his forehead. Although he hid his discomfort well, obviously he was in pain.

“No one could generate any enthusiasm for a big celebration after that. Although I consider it superstition, the general feeling seems to be that when God has forgiven the people of Yuletide for neglecting those two people, He'll give them an opportunity to redeem themselves.”

“Wouldn't it be wonderful if this is the year?” Carissa said. “I came to Yuletide looking for the Christmas spirit I had as a child.”

“What made you start looking at this time?”

“I sold my clothing design business a few months ago, and when I was cleaning out the office and storage room, I found a trunk that my grandmother had left to me. My uncle had shipped it to me after her death. There wasn't anything valuable in it—mostly memorabilia that I'd kept since my school years. I trashed most of the things, but I kept this—”

She picked up the white key, and Paul thought Carissa had forgotten his presence as her mind took her quickly down memory lane.

“When I was about six, I participated in a program at our church, and I carried this Key to Christmas. I went from place to place trying to fit the key into a lock, and when I finally found a door the key would open, a nativity scene was revealed. When I came across this key a month ago, I realized how far I'd strayed from the teachings I'd learned as a child. I knew then that I had to find a wintery place to relive the Christmases of my childhood. I didn't want to return to Minnesota because it doesn't hold pleasant memories for me. Besides, all of my close relatives have died. It seemed like a coincidence that Naomi wanted to change locations at the same time I did.”

“As far as that's concerned, I need to be reminded of what Christmas really means, too. Carissa, I hope you
can
revive the meaning of Christmas that you once knew. Maybe we can find it together.”

Their eyes met and held for a minute before Carissa looked away, too confused to even answer. She swirled the liquid in her glass, thinking that she was acting like a child.

“I guess it's time for me to go,” Paul said. “I'm getting sleepy now. And you must be tired, too, unless you slept while I was napping earlier.”

She shook her head. “No, I didn't sleep. I unloaded the car and settled in. Thanks for coming over tonight.”

She held out her hand to him, and, unsuccessfully stifling his amazement, he tenderly clasped her hand in his.

Without meeting his gaze, she said, “Your gesture in the doctor's office took me by surprise, or I wouldn't have reacted so foolishly.”

“It was just a friendly gesture,” he assured her.

“I know. A foolish quirk of mine caused my reaction. I'll tell you about it someday. And I hope we can become friends.” With a warm grin, she added, “It's always a good idea to make friends with your next-door neighbor.”

 

Carissa fell asleep easily, not even worrying about the unlocked back door; she felt protected with Paul nearby. But she woke up suddenly, about the same time she'd awakened when Paul had entered the house the night before.

She'd heard something. Carissa sat up in bed to listen. The sound seemed to come from the kitchen, and she eased out of bed, wishing she'd kept the poker upstairs. Vowing that she would secure the back door before another night, Carissa ran quickly and silently downstairs.

When she reached the last step, she said, “Who's there?”

She heard a gasp and a scurry of feet.

Too frightened to be careful, Carissa snapped on the lights and rushed into the kitchen, just in time to
see the pantry door close. She pushed a table in front of that door.

Standing beside the intercom, she shouted, “Paul! Paul! I need help.”

Although it seemed like hours, it probably wasn't more than a minute before she heard Paul's muffled tone. Poor man! She thought, somewhat humorously, that she'd ruined another night's rest for him.

“What's wrong?”

“Somebody is in the house. Come help me.”

“I'll come right away. Be careful!”

She took a knife from a cabinet drawer for protection if the intruder should break out of the pantry.

Paul rushed in the door, dressed only in pajamas and slippers, rumpled hair hanging over his agitated brown eyes.

“In the pantry,” Carissa stammered.

Without asking questions, Paul motioned. “Get behind me.”

He pushed the table away and swung open the door, his body hunched forward, ready to attack if necessary.

“Come out!” Paul commanded.

Nothing could be heard for moments except Paul's heavy breathing. Then there was a scuffling of feet, and Carissa stared, slack-jawed, disbelief in her eyes. Beyond words, she lowered the knife.

A teenage boy sauntered out of the pantry, followed by a little girl who held one of the red apples that Carissa had stored in the pantry. Another girl,
probably eight or ten years old, peered around them, holding in her arms the teddy bear that Carissa had seen beside the fireplace the night she'd arrived.

The knife slipped from Carissa's hand and clattered to the floor. She pulled out a chair from the table and slowly lowered herself into it to support her shaking legs.

“Any more where you came from?” Paul asked, peering into the pantry.

The boy shook his head. The smallest girl handed the apple to Paul; the other child started crying.

Carissa's body trembled and a wave of nausea seized her. She dropped her head into her hands. She'd come to Yuletide looking for solitude so that she could experience a renewal of mind and spirit. She hadn't had a minute of peace since she arrived. Within twenty-four hours, four people had invaded her house.

What had given her the foolish idea to look for Christmas in Yuletide?

T
he children bore a marked resemblance to each other, so they were obviously siblings. Of slight stature and build, the children had light brown hair and dark brown eyes. The oldest girl wore glasses, and the boy had a blue cap on his head. The smallest child sidled close to the teenage boy, and he put his arm around her.

Speechless, Carissa stared at the three children.

Paul recovered his composure more quickly than she did, and he asked, “What are you kids doing here?”

The smallest child looked at Paul fearlessly, but the boy dropped his head.

“Tell me,” Paul insisted. “Who are you and what are you doing here?”

Carissa noticed that the children were shaking, and she doubted it was all from fear.

The older girl's sobs sounded as loud as thunder, and they reached a soft spot in Carissa's heart. “Just a minute, Paul,” she said.

The children seemed malnourished, and the sorrow in their eyes was unmistakable. Their clothes were worn out, and not very clean. She moved to the sobbing girl and knelt beside her.

“Are you hungry?”

Without looking up, the girl nodded. Paul and Carissa exchanged looks of compassion. Suddenly, Carissa realized why there had been so little food in the refrigerator when she arrived. These kids had broken into the house and had been living off the food Naomi had left. Carissa's arrival had probably kept them from getting any food for the past two days.

She knew that the sensible thing to do was to call the police, but Carissa suddenly remembered her own impoverished childhood. She couldn't turn these children away until she learned what circumstances had brought them here.

“Then you sit at the table, and we'll fix something for you to eat. Paul, if you'll warm milk for hot chocolate, I'll make sandwiches.”

The children scuttled toward the table.

“That's my chair, Lauren,” the smallest child said, and preempted the chair the older girl had started to take.

Paul and Carissa exchanged amused glances. As he opened the refrigerator door, Paul said in an undertone, “Apparently, they've eaten here before.”

“Seems like it,” Carissa agreed. She lifted a package of lunch meat, mayonnaise and a loaf of bread from one of the shelves. “What are we going to do with them?” she whispered.

Paul shrugged his broad shoulders. “Feed 'em.”

While the milk heated, Paul set out three mugs. Carissa made several sandwiches, cut them into quarters, and arranged them on a plate that she set before the children.

“Go ahead and eat,” she said. “The hot chocolate will be ready in a minute.”

She looked for a package of cookies she'd bought earlier in the day. If the children hadn't eaten much, she didn't want them to founder, so she put six cookies on a tray and took the package back to the pantry.

Paul noticed the moisture that glistened in Carissa's eyes while she watched the hungry children gobble their food. The children were still shaking, and Paul, thinking it might be from cold as well as hunger, said, “I'll raise the temperature on the furnace.”

Carissa turned to put the sandwich fixings back in the refrigerator. As she worked with her back toward the children, she prayed silently.
God, here's a problem I don't know to handle. Who are these children? What should I do with them?

Remembering the legend she and Paul had discussed a few hours earlier, she continued talking to God.
Is this situation like the one that confronted the people of Yuletide several years ago? Has your Son
come tonight personified in these children? Should I treat them the same way I'd treat Jesus if He came to my house?

Recalling her early biblical training, Carissa thought of the verse “I was hungry and you gave me something to eat…whatever you did for one of the least of these…you did for me.”

Was this a spiritual test? She'd come to Yuletide to find Christmas. Would she relive the birth of Jesus through these children?

Aware that Paul was motioning her toward the living room, Carissa went to him, and he said quietly, “What do you want to do?”

“There may be a search going on for these kids. We should call the police, but…” Carissa hesitated. “I think I'd rather hear their story first.”

“That's my gut feeling, too. They've apparently been living in this house for several days. Another hour won't hurt anything.”

Paul had started the coffeemaker earlier, and when he and Carissa went back into the kitchen, he replenished the chocolate in the children's cups and poured a cup of coffee for Carissa and himself. Paul pulled out the other chair for Carissa at the table, and brought another chair from the living room. He sat where he could face the children.

Watching Paul warily, the boy nibbled on a cookie.

“All right,” Paul said sternly. “Let's have it. Who
are you? What are you doing here? And why shouldn't we turn you over to the police?”

The smallest girl started to speak, and the boy put his hand over her mouth.

“I'll do the talking,” he said.

“My name's Alex. These are my sisters, Lauren and Julie. Lauren's eight, Julie's six.”

“And your age?” Carissa asked.

“Fourteen.”

“That's all right for a start,” Paul said. “What's your last name?”

Alex shook his head.

“Does that mean you don't have a last name or you won't tell me?”

“I
can't
tell you.”

“Where's your home?”

The boy shook his head again, a stubborn set to his features.

Paul laid his hand on Alex's shoulder. “It's obvious you kids are in trouble. You'd better tell me what's going on. If possible, I'll help you, but if you've run away from home, your parents must be notified.”

“We ain't got no parents,” Julie said.

“No home, either,” her sister said, and started crying again.

Turning on his sisters, Alex said angrily, “I told you I'd do the talking.”

“You're doing fine, girls. Go ahead and talk,” Carissa said.

“Our mommy died,” Julie said, and she slipped out of her chair and crawled up on Paul's lap.

With a helpless look at Carissa, he put his arm around the girl when she cuddled against him.

“You've got a half hour, Alex, before I call the police,” Paul said.

“I ain't tellin' you our name or where we lived. Nobody wants to find us, anyway.”

He looked belligerently at Paul, who stared at him until Alex dropped his head. After a slight hesitation, the boy continued. “Our mother has been real sick for two years. Something was wrong with her heart. We took care of her the best we could, and the neighbors helped, too. But she died, anyway, about two months ago.”

“Where's your father?” Carissa asked.

Alex shook his head.

“Is he living?” she persisted.

“We don't know. He left when Julie was just a baby. We ain't seen him since. I don't think he's dead, though. Every so often, we'd get some money that we figgered he'd sent. No word from him since Mom got sick, so he might be dead, for all we know.”

Paul's arm tightened around Julie, and he looked at Carissa, whose face was white and drawn. Lauren was still crying, her head on the table. Carissa moved closer and put her hand on the girl's trembling shoulder. She looked as if she was ready to start crying, too.

The misfortune of these children had reminded Carissa of how bereft she had been when her own mother died. If her grandmother hadn't taken her in, where would she be today?

“Surely you have some other relatives who will take care of you until your father can be found,” she said around the knot in her throat.

“Just aunts and uncles. None of them wanted to take three kids, so they planned that we'd all go to separate homes in different states,” Alex said. “We'd never have been together again. Mom wouldn't have wanted that. Nobody could agree on who was gonna take us, so we stayed in our home until the rent was due. The preacher and his wife kinda looked after us.”

Lauren lifted her head. “We didn't want to be parted. So we run away.”

Julie had relaxed in his arms, and Paul realized that she'd gone to sleep. “We'd better have the whole story before we decide what to do with you,” he said. “Alex, you can't go on like this.”

“We've been traveling from place to place on buses for two weeks, sleeping in bus stations, but when we got to Yuletide, we didn't have much money left. I was in the grocery store in Yuletide and heard your sister say she was leaving for Florida for two months. I found out where she lived, and thought we could stay here for a little while. I didn't know anyone was going to be living here.”

“Obviously you've been eating food from the
kitchen, but where have you been staying?” Carissa asked. “Last night I was sure there was someone in the house, but where have you been in the daytime?”

“In the furnace room. We took some blankets from the bedroom and fixed our beds. It was warm down there, and nobody could see the lights at night. We stayed on this floor during the daytime.”

“I can't understand why you thought you could get away with this,” Paul said. “Where'd you get the money to ride on buses?”

“Our neighbors collected some money for us to use until we could find a home.”

“This is incredible!” Carissa said. “I'd think there would be a nationwide hunt for you.”

“Maybe nobody knows we're gone,” Alex said, a crafty gleam in his brown eyes.

“What does that mean?” Paul said severely.

“Alex wrote notes to our aunts and uncles so each would think we were with another one. He left a note for the preacher that we'd gone to visit with our uncle in—” Lauren broke off the sentence when Alex shook his head at her.

“Alex, what kind of kid are you, anyway? You lied to your family, you jimmied the lock and came into my sister's house, and you've been stealing food from her kitchen. I know you're young, but can't you comprehend how much trouble that's going to cause you?”

Alex straightened in his chair, an indignant expression in his brown eyes. He pulled a piece of pa
per from his pocket. “I didn't steal nuthin'. I kept track of all the food we took,” he said, adding, “so I can pay it back someday.”

He handed the paper to Paul, whose throat constricted when he read the daily entries: “three glasses of milk, three sweet rolls, three sandwiches.”

Paul passed the paper to Carissa.

“I was only trying to look after my sisters. What would you have done if it had been you?” Alex asked Paul directly.

“I don't know,” Paul admitted, looking toward Carissa.

“Shall we all go back to bed and decide what to do in the morning?” Paul asked. “Aren't there twin beds upstairs?”

“Yes.”

“Then let's put the girls in that room.” He paused thoughtfully. “My brother-in-law had a game room in the basement. I'll check that out to see if Alex can sleep there. But first I'll carry Julie upstairs. She's already asleep.”

Cradling the child in his arms, Paul headed toward the stairs. “I'll be back in a minute,” he said to Carissa.

When Paul came downstairs, he said, “Alex, let's get you fixed up for the night.”

Taking Lauren's hand, Carissa climbed the stairs. Julie was lying on the bed, so Carissa didn't bother with nightclothes, even if the children had any. She removed the girls' shoes and covered them with a
warm blanket in the twin beds that were ready. Impulsively, Carissa leaned over and kissed both girls on the forehead before she went downstairs.

Carissa paced the floor and waited for Paul. The few hours she'd spent in the house had been so hectic that Carissa didn't even know that there was a basement. When Paul returned, he entered the room from a door to the left of the fireplace that she'd assumed led to a closet.

“Well, what did you do with him?”

“I found just the place for him,” Paul said. “After my brother-in-law died, Naomi closed up his game room, saying she couldn't go to the room alone. I knew where the key was, so I put Alex there. In addition to a pool table, there's a sleeper sofa. Alex tumbled into bed as soon as I spread out some sheets. I think he was asleep before I left the room. It smells a little musty, but it's warm. Now what do we need to do?”

They eyed each other for a few moments until Carissa said, “Pinch me, so I'll know if I'm dreaming. Is this really happening?”

Paul moved closer and pinched her gently on the arm, and she didn't mind his touch at all.

“Unfortunately, you're awake. And we have a problem on our hands.”

“You're telling me! Three problems, actually. Should we telephone the chief of police now?”

“Probably we should, because we could be legally liable for not reporting the kids.” Paul glanced at the
mantel clock. “But it's four o'clock in the morning. I don't think it will hurt to wait 'til daylight. Justin probably couldn't do anything tonight.”

“I feel so sorry for them. I hate to turn them over to the police—but what else can we do?”

“Let's decide later.” Uncertainty crept into his expression. “Even if they're only children, we don't know what danger they pose, so I don't want to leave you alone. It wouldn't surprise me if Alex tries to sneak out of the house tonight and take the girls with him. That's the reason I separated them. Will it be all right if I sleep in Naomi's room tonight? I'll leave the door open so I can hear Alex if he tries to leave. Poor kid. He's probably been taking care of his sisters for months.”

“Please do stay here. I doubt I'll sleep, anyway, but I know I won't if I'm here alone with our self-invited guests.”

Carissa's feet seemed as heavy as lead as she went to her room. So much had happened in the two nights she'd spent in Yuletide that her former life as a businesswoman in Florida might never have happened. When she'd taken the road to Yuletide, she'd felt like a woman on a mission—a pilgrim taking a nostalgic journey into the past. But she couldn't reconcile her reason for coming north with all the things that had happened. Thirty-six hours ago she had never heard of Paul Spencer or these children, yet in a short time they'd affected her life so much that she wondered
to what extent they would have an impact on her future.