The Christmas Children (5 page)

Carissa hadn't expected to sleep, and she didn't. Her thoughts were filled with things that she'd successfully pushed from her consciousness years ago. In her mind's eye, she was back in Minnesota, the weather similar to what she'd experienced today. She sat in a bleak upstairs bedroom, wrapped in a blanket, hovering over her mother's dying body. Only six years old at the time, she didn't know that her mother was a prostitute dying from a drug overdose. She only knew that she was losing the person she loved most in the world. She'd felt forsaken, unwanted, unloved.

Carissa knew her mother was dead when her grandmother came into the room and pulled the blanket over her daughter's emaciated, rigid features. Carissa could almost hear her own whimpering as Grandmother Whitmore gathered her into her loving arms.

“Come, child,” Grandmother had said patiently. “There's nothing we can do for her anymore. It's all in the past. Let's see what we can do with your future.”

Where would she have been today if it hadn't been for her grandmother's love and tenderness during the next twelve years?

Apparently, there wasn't a grandmother to look after her present household guests. Who would see to their future?

C
arissa hadn't realized she'd gone to sleep until she was wakened by a small hand tapping on her shoulder.

“Hey! I gotta go to the bathroom.”

Startled, Carissa's eyes flew open. Momentarily, she couldn't comprehend where she was, or why this child was in her Florida condo.

Shaking her head to clear it and smothering a yawn, she finally said, “Good morning, Julie. The bathroom is over there. Do you need any help?”

“No. 'Course not.”

Just as well, Carissa thought as she stretched and glanced at the clock. Her only experience with children had been several years ago when she'd looked after a friend's son and daughter while the parents attended an out-of-town funeral. She hadn't learned
enough in those two days to develop any maternal instincts, even if she had any.

It was seven o'clock, according to Naomi's clock radio. She supposed she'd have to get up, but she didn't face the day with any enthusiasm. She wondered how Paul had spent the night.

“You got enough water to flush?” Julie called from the bathroom.

“Yes,” Carissa answered quickly. She had just swung her feet over the side of the bed, when, carrying the teddy bear, Lauren walked into the bedroom.

“Hurry up, Julie. It's my turn,” Lauren whined.

“Just washing my hands. Okay?” Julie answered her sister.

“How are you this morning, Lauren?” Carissa asked.

“Not very good. I had bad dreams.”

Could Lauren's dreams be any worse than the reality of their lives? A sick mother, and a father who'd deserted them. And not enough water to flush! Considering the terrible life these children had experienced, Carissa decided her childhood could have been much worse.

She or Paul would have to notify the police. But what would happen to the kids if they were put in state custody?

“Is it all right if I slip into the bathroom first, Lauren?” Carissa asked. “Then I can go and prepare breakfast.”

The child nodded, a resigned expression on her face. Seemingly timid, Lauren had probably been in second place all of her life.

Deciding a shower would have to wait, Carissa hurriedly washed her face and hands. She slipped into a warm robe, wrapped it securely around her body and put on some fleece-lined slippers.

“It's your turn now, Lauren. Thanks for waiting.”

“You sure look pretty,” Lauren said. “Our mom used to be pretty, too.”

Carissa patted Lauren's shoulder without speaking. She hardly knew what to say to these children.

Julie was in the adjoining bedroom making her bed, and Carissa said, “Come down when you're ready. I'll see about some breakfast.”

“Okay,” Julie said cheerfully, as if she didn't have a care in the world.

Paul was sprawled on the recliner, still in the dark-blue pajamas he'd been wearing last night when he'd come to her rescue. Not wanting to disturb him, she tiptoed toward the kitchen.

“Good morning,” he said, shifting to a sitting position.

“Oh, I didn't know you were awake,” Carissa said. “Sorry to disturb you. I thought you were sleeping in the bedroom.”

He pushed his hands through his disheveled brown hair and shook his head groggily. “I decided that I couldn't hear what was going on if I was in the bedroom. I also took the precaution of piling some things
in front of the door, in case our visitors tried to escape. I've known that trick to work,” he said, with a quirk of his heavy eyebrows.

That brought a blush to her face.

His glance quickly surveyed her appearance. The blue fleece robe deepened the tint of her eyes. The belt, tied snugly around her middle, emphasized a slim waist that flowed into shapely hips. For the first time, Paul realized what a dainty, beautiful woman Carissa was. His scrutiny must have embarrassed Carissa, because her blush deepened to scarlet.

“My bedroom and bath have been taken over by two kids,” Carissa said. “I didn't have enough privacy to get out of my nightclothes. You'll have to excuse my appearance.”

“If I looked that good in a robe, I'd never put on pants and shirts,” he said.

Carissa hadn't thought her face could get any redder, but she was sure it had.

Paul followed her into the kitchen and prepared the coffeepot. “If you're okay with it, as soon as we've eaten, I'm going to contact Justin. He may already know about our fugitives. The AMBER alert is active in most states now. Justin has a family of his own, and he'll be sympathetic to the kids' situation, but he'll also know the best move to make.”

“I feel sorry for them, but we could be accused of kidnapping if we don't notify the authorities right away.”

“My opinion, too. I'll go to my apartment, shower
and dress while you finish breakfast. I'll call for Alex on my way out. I'm worried about this—we need to get it resolved.”

Paul opened the door leading to the basement and called, “Alex, time to get up. Breakfast will be ready soon.”

 

Three grim-faced children huddled together on the sofa as they awaited the arrival of Yuletide's police chief. Paul had taken care of the breakfast dishes while Carissa showered and dressed in winter-white sweats.

The sound of a squad car whizzing up the road made Carissa wonder if Justin Townsend ever observed the speed limit. When the knock came at the door, Paul opened it for the police officer. On the phone earlier, Paul simply told Justin they had a problem and asked him to come to the house as soon as possible.

“Hiya!” Justin said jovially as he entered the room. “So you're the one standing on your feet now, Paul. Don't tell me you've knocked Miss Whitmore down.”

Paul motioned toward the couch, and Justin's eyes narrowed speculatively when he saw the children.

“Carissa and I are all right,” Paul said. “But we do have company. Sit down.”

Taking a sharp breath, Justin dropped heavily into the nearest chair. With an incredulous glance at the
kids and then at Paul, the chief demanded, “What's going on?”

Briefly, Paul explained the events of the previous night and what he knew about the children. He ended by asking, “Have you had any communication about three runaways?”

“Nary a thing,” Justin said. “And we get updates every day.” He turned to the children. “Where's your home?” he demanded.

The girls were obviously frightened, and Alex must have been, too, for a vein throbbed noticeably in his forehead and panic was mirrored in his brown eyes. But his voice was steady when he said, “We don't have a home.”

“All right,” Justin continued. “Let's get at it another way. Where did you live before you didn't have a home?”

A stubborn set to his jaw, Alex shook his head.

Paul and Justin exchanged glances. With a shrug of his broad shoulders, Paul gestured in a sweeping manner with his right arm.

“That's the reaction we've had from them.”

“What if I tell you I'm going to put you in jail?” Justin said severely, and Carissa gasped.

“That's okay,” Alex said belligerently. “We'd get somethin' to eat, we'd be together and we'd be warm. That's all we want.”

“Mommy asked Alex to look after us,” Julie said, moving close to her brother. “And he's been tryin' to.”

Justin looked as baffled as Carissa and Paul had felt when they'd discovered the kids in the house.

“The children were going to be separated into the homes of different relatives after their mother's death,” Carissa explained. “That's the reason they ran away.”

“They're too young to make decisions like that,” Justin protested.

“I know that,” Paul said. “And so do you. But we've gathered that the kids have been pretty much on their own and taking care of their sick mother for over a year. They still think they can manage alone.”

Justin lifted himself out of the chair. “Well, I'll make a few discreet inquiries and see what I can learn.” He scratched his head. “But what am I going to do with them now?” he added.

The kids seemed to cringe, and their eyes surveyed the three adults as they waited for judgment to be passed on them. Carissa closed her eyes against the entreaty she saw in their grief-pinched faces, and again her own miserable childhood passed through her mind.

“They can stay here with me until you do some investigating,” Carissa said.

“That doesn't seem right,” Justin protested. “You're on vacation. I can probably find a place for them in town.”

Carissa looked for a moment at the children, and her glance briefly grazed Paul's face in passing.

“I thought I came to Yuletide for a vacation, but
maybe God had some other reason in mind. I've not been His most obedient follower, but for the past twenty years, I've never doubted that God was masterminding my life. If He hadn't been, with my limitations, I wouldn't have made it.” She glanced again at the children. “I thought I'd retired and could take it easy the rest of my life. This may be a test to show me that I'm not ready for retirement.”

Paul's expression held a mixture of admiration and concern. “It shouldn't be more than a few days,” he said.

“I'm not sure I should agree to this,” Justin said. “Naomi won't like having you move someone else into her house.”

“I hadn't thought of that,” Carissa said. “Our agreement didn't provide for this situation. But as Paul mentioned, it won't be more than a few days.”

The children had listened in silence as the adults discussed their fate. Now Julie took matters into her own hands by running to Paul and grabbing him around the knees.

“I want to stay here with you, Uncle Paul,” she said, and compassionately, Paul lifted her and held her in his arms. He was momentarily speechless—he'd never been called “Uncle Paul.”

Though Justin was visibly touched by the plight of the children, nevertheless, he looked at Alex and said sternly, “Now, young man, I want some straight answers out of you. Are you in any trouble with the law? Have you broken into any other houses?”

Alex stood as if he were a prisoner before the bench. “No, sir. We wouldn't have come into
this
house, except our money was all gone. I didn't know what else to do. We wouldn't have run away, but I'd heard our neighbors talking. No one wanted us, and if we'd gone on welfare, we might have been sent anywhere. We'd lost everything else—we didn't want to lose each other.”

Justin cleared his throat huskily, pulled out a big red handkerchief and blew his nose.

Lauren was crying piteously, her glasses steamed up by her tears. Carissa, almost in tears herself, moved to the couch and gathered the girl into her arms.

Still holding Julie, Paul said to Justin, “I'll give Carissa a hand. I'm going to be home for a few weeks. I'll clear it with Naomi.”

Justin ambled toward the door. “It's good of you two to take on this responsibility.” And to Alex, who was still standing ramrod straight, he said, “Relax, kid. I'll do the best I can for you.”

When the door closed behind Justin, Lauren peered up at Carissa with reddened eyes. “Does that mean we can stay with you?”

“For the time being, at least.”

“Do you have any little girls of your own?”

“No, and I don't know anything about little girls. You'll have to help me.”

“We will,” Julie said, still in the shelter of Paul's arms. “What're we going to call you?”

Carissa pondered the question. Paul was apparently going to be called “uncle.” She really didn't want to become an aunt to the children, so she said, “Miss Carissa should be all right.”

Julie tried to twist her tongue around those words but she couldn't handle Carissa.

“What about Miss Cara?” Paul asked.

“Miss Cara,” Julie said, proud of getting it right the first time. “We'll call you Miss Cara.”

In her close contact with Lauren, Carissa had detected a distinct body odor. The children probably hadn't bathed for weeks. “The first thing is for you to have a bath and put on clean clothes.”

“We didn't bring many clothes, and they're all dirty,” Alex said.

Carissa sighed. After having no one but herself to look after for years, Carissa wondered if she could possibly take on the responsibility of three children.

Paul noticed that Carissa's body was as taut as a bowstring, and a pensive expression darkened her blue eyes. She licked her lips nervously. Paul set Julie on the floor and knelt by the couch where Carissa was sitting.

Taking her hand, he said, “It'll work out all right. The washer and dryer are in the basement, so Alex and I will sort their clothes and do the laundry while you take care of the girls' baths. We'll get along.”

“I feel completely inadequate, but I'll do the best I can.” She stood and reached out a hand to the girls. “Come on, Julie and Lauren.”

Since there was a shower stall as well as a tub in Carissa's private bathroom, the girls bathed at the same time. The clothes they removed were odorous, and Carissa said, “I'll find a blanket for you to put on until Paul and Alex have clean clothes ready. You can sit and watch TV until then.”

While in the other room searching for blankets, Carissa noticed that Lauren hadn't made her bed. She stopped to spread the blankets and stopped short. There was a wet spot in the middle. She had a bed wetter on her hands!

Appalled, Carissa pulled the offending covers from the bed, and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw a protective plastic cover over the mattress. At least the whole bed wasn't ruined. But what was she going to do?

Was she violating her agreement with Naomi to let the children stay, even for a few days? She would be responsible for any damage—but that was hardly the point. What was the ethical thing to do? How would she feel if Naomi took three vagrant children into her Florida condo?