Twelve Days (23 page)

"Yeah," Zach said. "She got sick."

"Sick how?"

"I dunno. Just sick," Zach said.

"Fever? Cough? Cold? Throwing up? Sleeping a lot?"

"Uh-huh," he said.

They weren't going to get anywhere with that line of questioning. "Did you all live around here?" he tried instead. "I mean, you were at the motel. You'd been in the car, right?"

"Uh huh."

"How long?"

"Forever," Zach said, giving a long-suffering sigh.

"You mean a few hours? A few days?"

"Days and days," he said dramatically.

"Where were you going?"

"I dunno."

"Do you remember your dad, Zach?"

He shook his head back and forth.

"You haven't seen him in a long time?"

"Uh-uh."

"You mean not for months? Or years?"

"Years," Zach agreed.

"Was he there... say on your last birthday?"

"Uh-uh."

"The one before that?"

"Uh uh."

Okay, so they hadn't been running away just now. Which meant they had to be trying to get to someone or someplace. But who? And why?

"When you got in the car, did your mother say why you were doing that? Were you trying to get to someone?"

"Someone who'd help us, because Mommy was sick and having trouble taking care of us."

So there was someone out there somewhere. "Do you know that person's name?"

"No," Zach said. "But we don't need 'em, right? 'Cause we can stay with you and Miss Rachel?"

"Yes. You can. I just... I know you want your mother back. I'm trying to figure out where she might be so we can get her back for you."

No matter what his mother was like, Zach probably still wanted her back. To most kids, any mother was better than no mother at all. Sam knew that.

"Where's your mommy?" Zach asked.

"She died," Sam said gently.

"And she didn't come back?"

"No," Sam said. "When people die, they don't come back."

"Do you think my mommy died?"

"No. I don't have any reason to think that," Sam said quickly.

"But she promised she'd come back." His lower lip started trembling.

"I know."

"I do remember somethin'," Zach offered. "I heard Mommy and Emma talking when they thought I was asleep. They said the name of the town, and my mommy got all upset."

"What was the name?"

"I can't remember." He frowned. "But it had a funny name. Like a dog. I remember that part."

"A name like a dog? That's it?"

Zach nodded.

A dog?
Nothing came to mind.

"Hey, are we gonna buy somethin'?" Zach asked, his attention caught on an old bicycle in the corner of the barn.

"If we find what we're looking for," Sam said.

"What are we lookin' for?"

"Something for Rachel. Something very special, and I think I see it over there. Can you keep a secret?"

Zach nodded vigorously.

"Okay. Come on. I'll show you."

And he took the little boy by the hand, struck by the trust he offered so freely and by how much the boy needed. He could do this, Sam told himself. He could help this child through whatever lay ahead. He could make sure Zach never felt the way Sam had when he was a little boy, and he hoped to God he could make sure he never went back to a father who abused his mother.

* * *

On the tenth day of Christmas, they all went to see Santa Claus. It was a clear, merely cool December night with a full harvest moon hanging brightly in the sky, and the town was lit up from end to end in Christmas finery, like something out of Zach's book. Greenery and bright lights draped from anything that didn't move. People were out in force shopping and eating and happily thinking about the days to come. There were carolers strolling the streets in downtown, hot cider for sale in the town square, and Santa presiding over the festivities.

There was a line of kids waiting to see Santa, but Zach started playing with the little boy in line in front of them. Grace was enchanted by all the lights, and Emma seemed to be covertly eyeing a boy about her age who'd been given the task of taking his little sister to see Santa, but she was too shy to even say a word to him.

"I used to look at you just like that," Rachel said to Sam, but she didn't seem sad about that. She seemed to be merely caught up in the past, a time when their lives seemed filled with infinite possibilities.

Sam edged closer, slipping his arm around her. Grace gurgled up at him and cooed. He brushed a hand down her back, and she smiled at him, making his chest feel full to bursting.

"Hold it. Right there," someone said, and the flash of a camera went off in their faces.

When the flash faded, he looked up to see their neighbor, Mrs. Watson, smiling back at them.

"You all make such a lovely picture," she said. "I couldn't resist."

Rachel chatted with the woman for a few moments, and it was typical of the conversations they'd had with so many people that night.

"How are these fine-looking children doing?"

"They're fine," Rachel assured her.

"Still no news?" she whispered, although neither Zach nor Emma was paying any attention.

"Not yet," Rachel said.

"Well, maybe this time. I just know that one day, everything's going to work out for the two of you, because you're such nice people. I've been praying for you all along."

"Thank you," Rachel said.

Everybody in town knew they'd always wanted children, and there would have been a time when Sam would have resented that. But standing there in the town square at Christmas hearing about their good wishes and their prayers for the two of them, he saw, too, that everybody in town seemed to want them to have children.

It was all a part of that small-town mentality he'd resented so much as an angry, sometimes reckless teenager; they'd all talked about him then, too. But it was different tonight. Everyone was pulling for them now. He felt it, suddenly felt very much a part of this community. It was a nice town, and they were mostly good people. He couldn't imagine living anyplace else.

"Now, let's get all five of you together," Mrs. Watson insisted. Rachel drew the children in close. They all crowded together and the flash went off again. "Got it. Your first Christmas together. First Christmases are so special. You'll remember this your whole life."

Sam looked down and saw Zach standing grinning next to Emma, who was tucked against Rachel's side, the baby in her arms.

Their first Christmas...

He didn't want it to be their last.

"I'll send you a copy of the picture," Mrs. Watson promised. "Oh, and thank you for the basket of goodies, Rachel. Not that we needed them, but we sure will enjoy them, and it is Christmas, after all. The calories shouldn't even count this time of year."

Rachel laughed at that, and Mrs. Watson moved along. It wasn't long after that when it was their turn with Santa. Grace refused to get anywhere near him. She curled up her nose and made a face and cried, clinging to Rachel for all she was worth, while Sam deposited a suddenly shy Zach on Santa's lap.

Dave Nelson, one of the town's firemen, was stuffed into the Santa suit. He gave a credible version of "Ho, ho, ho! What have we here? A little boy? What's your name, little boy?"

"Zach," he whispered.

"And have you been a good boy, Zach?"

Zach hesitated, looked a bit worried. Sam put a hand on Zach's shoulder and reassured Santa that Zach had indeed been very, very good this year.

"And what do you want for Christmas, little boy?"

Zach leaned over and whispered in Santa's ear. Santa gave another hearty "Ho, ho, ho!" and when Zach turned his head to look back at Sam and Rachel, Santa mouthed, "Bike."

Sam nodded. The more practical side of him—and maybe the one who still feared his good fortune might not last—had been leaning toward a sled, a good one, but a bike was doable. Hell, he could do a bike and a sled.

"Anything else?" Santa said in his booming voice.

"I get another one?" Zach asked.

"Of course. Anything you want!" Santa said, winking at Rachel. Apparently Santa had them pegged, and his aunt and uncle ran the town's only toy store. But so far no one had objected to that little conflict of interest.

Zach hesitated once again. "Anything?"

Santa gave a hearty "Ho, ho, ho," and nodded.

Zach, very solemnly, very hopefully asked, "Could you bring my mommy back?"

* * *

Rachel held Grace close, singing to her and swaying back and forth on her feet. She was standing by the window, and everyone in the neighborhood had their Christmas lights on. Grace was wide awake, still staring at the lights, trying to reach out and touch them.

"You want her back, too? Don't you?" Rachel asked softly. "You want your mommy?"

Rachel had done it again, she realized. She'd been thinking of herself and her marriage, what she wanted and thought she needed, maybe what she thought she deserved. She hadn't been thinking of Zach or Emma or the baby, except to tell herself she could be so much better a mother to them than this woman who'd abandoned them and never come back.

But the children still loved that other woman. She was still their mother, and they wanted her back. Rachel had forgotten all about that, and she was so ashamed.

She kissed the baby's soft cheek, smoothed down her wispy hair and put her down, then went in and kissed a sleepy Zach and a troubled Emma.

Suddenly she just couldn't be here, couldn't stand even her own thoughts. Everything was swirling around inside her head—all the questions, all the doubts, and none of the answers. She didn't know what to do, hadn't felt this lost since her mother died.

She ran downstairs, headed for the back door.

"Rachel?" Sam was there, coming toward her.

"I—I forgot something," she stammered. "Something I have to do... I have to go out."

"Now?" he asked.

"Yes."

"What's wrong?"

"I... I just have to go," she insisted.

She grabbed her coat and her gloves, shoved her feet into her boots before he could catch her, and she ran out the back door. Literally ran.

"Rachel?" he called after her. "Wait!"

She hadn't grabbed her purse, she realized. She didn't have her keys or her phone. And she just had to go. There were tears streaming down her cheeks and the sidewalk was slick. She knew Sam was worried, but she had to get away.

She walked for blocks and blocks, and finally the sound of singing brought her out of her daze. She looked up and realized she was only a half a block from the church. Standing outside, she could hear the words to a familiar Christmas song drifting out, a song about having a merry, little Christmas, if the fates allowed. Rachel winced at the idea of her holiday or anything else in life being left up to fate. Fate had not been kind to her.

Still, she was cold, and the church seemed to beckon to her. She slipped in the back door, finding herself in the middle of practice for the Christmas service. The choir was down front singing, the organist playing, the children arranged in a scene from the first Christmas, complete with the three wise men and a little boy she knew from down the street costumed as a glittering cardboard star.

Rachel sank into a seat in the last pew at the very back of the church and hung her head and cried. Father Tim, the man who'd presided over her grandfather's funeral, her daughter's, her mother's, found her there. He sat down beside her and didn't say a word at first, just handed her a cup of what turned out to be hot cider. She took it between her cold hands and sipped slowly, her tears still falling.

"It can't be that bad," he said finally. "It's Christmas."

Rachel tried to smile and failed. He was one of the most cheerful people she'd ever known.

"Want to tell me what's wrong?"

"Do you have all night?" she asked.

"I know it's not that bad," he claimed. "Tell me the worst of it. The absolute worst."

"I've done it all wrong," she said. "Everything."

"Absolutely everything in your whole life, Rachel?"

She did smile a bit then. He always knew how to make people smile, too. "Is that so hard to believe?"

"Yes. I know you. I would never believe you've done absolutely everything wrong. A few things. But not everything."

"I haven't been fair to Sam," she said. "Or to Emma and Zach and Grace. You know about them, don't you?"

"The children left at the Drifter? Of course. You and Sam took them in. Surely that wasn't wrong. Surely that's one little point in your favor."

"I didn't do it out of the goodness of my heart. Miriam bullied me into it. She had to, because all I was thinking about was myself. I was thinking that I was scared, and I didn't want to get hurt again. I wasn't thinking about them at all."

"But you took them into your home, and I saw the five of you tonight in town. They looked quite happy. I'd say you've done them some good."

"They've done more for me and Sam than we could ever do for them."

Father Tim gave her a stern look. "Rachel, I'd say you've done a whole lot if you managed to soothe their fears at a time like this. They must have been terrified, being left there like that. So you helped each other. Nothing wrong with that. Nothing selfish about it, either."

"I want to keep them," she confessed. "I thought if they could stay, we could all be a family, and that Sam... Sam would stay, too. And everything would be okay."

"Sam?" He gave her a gentle smile. "I heard something about that. You can tell me, if you want."

"He's leaving me," she said miserably. "Right after Christmas. At least, he was, before the children came."

"You've agreed to separate?"

"No. He's decided to go. He hasn't told me yet. I just... I heard him on the phone with Rick Brown. You know? He lives over on Elm Street. He has a little apartment above his shop, and Stuart Ames is living there now, but he's moving out. And Sam's moving in. Right after Christmas. I hadn't told anybody that." She hadn't been able to say it out loud. "Not until just now."

"So you and Sam have been having problems. He was going to leave, but now he might not. Because of these three children? And you think you're selfish for wanting to give them that home. And keep your marriage together."