A Proposal for Christmas: State SecretsThe Five Days of Christmas Page 8

  “Craig!”

  “Send the money,” he said. He repeated the address once more and then hung up.

  Slowly, her hand trembling so hard that she had to make several attempts before she could manage the task, Holly replaced the receiver in its cradle.

  She sat there on the bed, cross-legged, her head in her hands, until she heard Toby downstairs. “Mom!” he yelled exuberantly, probably still excited from his afternoon at the Ice Capades, “I’m home!”

  Holly quickly leaped off the bed, found herself a robe and went down the stairs.

  Toby was waiting at the bottom, his beloved face alight. “Geez, Mom,” he said, barely able to stand still, “the ice show was great! They had the Flintstones and—” He stopped, taking in Holly’s bathrobe and mussed hair with concern. “Are you sick, Mom?”

  “No, darling, I’m not sick,” Holly answered swiftly, forcing a smile to her face. “How did you get home, by the way? I thought I was supposed to pick you up.”

  “David brought me!” Toby sang, spreading his mittened hands for emphasis.

  Holly swayed backward, just slightly, stunned. How could she have missed seeing David, when he was standing only a few feet away? Why hadn’t she sensed that he was near?

  “I hope you don’t mind,” David said quietly, but there was much, much more that his eyes were saying. They looked haunted, hollow.

  Holly’s temper flared, fanned by her fear, and she shifted her eyes to Toby’s trusting, upturned face. “Don’t you ever, ever get into anyone’s car but mine, young man!” she hissed.

  Toby retreated a step, looking as though she’d struck him. “But, Mom, David—”

  David laid a quieting hand on the child’s shoulder. “No, Tobe. She’s right. We made a mistake, you and I.”

  Toby was not appeased. He darted one furious look at his trembling aunt and dashed off into another part of the house, probably to take solace in the late-afternoon cartoons he loved to watch on television.

  “What are you doing here?” Holly half whispered, watching David, loving him even though her every instinct commanded her to tear out his hair.

  “I couldn’t stay away. Bringing Toby back from the ice show seemed the perfect excuse, so I did it. I’m sorry, Holly. I didn’t mean to undermine your authority.”

  Holly held her chin high, but inwardly she was all too conscious of her appearance. “You are very, very good at finding excuses to keep tabs on me, aren’t you, David?”

  There was a thunderous silence, and David averted his eyes for a moment before meeting Holly’s glare directly. “I love you, Holly.”

  Nothing he could have said would have surprised Holly more; she came a step nearer and her hand tightened on the banister until her knuckles ached. “What did you say?”

  “Don’t make me say it again, Holly. I already feel like enough of a fool as it is.”

  “Thanks a lot!”

  “Just get dressed, will you? We need to talk, you and I. Not fight, not make love. Talk.”

  Holly stared at him for a few minutes and then, too confused to deal with anything, turned and dashed up the stairs. Safe in the shower stall, with hot water pouring down over her head and her newly awakened body, she rested her face against the tiled wall and tried to catch her breath.

  * * *

  David made himself at home in the kitchen, conscious of the glum little boy sitting slumped at the trestle table. “Your mom didn’t mean to yell at you, Tobe,” he said, finding the coffee and the filters before pouring cold water into the top of the coffeemaker.

  “She’s sure grouchy lately! And it’s almost Christmas, too!”

  David smiled somewhat sadly, and then turned to look directly at Toby, leaning back against the counter, the coffeemaker chortling behind him. “Sure enough, it is almost Christmas. Time to get a tree.”

  Toby brightened a little, but he was still miffed. “Yeah, I guess.” His eyes strayed to Holly’s desk, to the answering machine there, its light blinking frantically. “She never listens to her calls, neither.”

  For the first time since high school, David Goddard blushed. David Goddard, who had guarded presidents. “She’s been sort of busy.”

  The child bounded off the bench, a study in impatience, and stomped over to the machine. Before David could intercede, he had pushed two buttons on the machine. There were two brief messages from Holly’s brother, followed by a long conversation that told David more than he really wanted to know.

  Craig had a cocaine habit. He needed money. And he was in a town in Oregon, watching a certain post-office box. When he began to talk about taking Toby from Holly, David strode across the room and turned off the machine abruptly.

  Toby’s eyes were brimming with tears, and his color, high from the cold weather outside and his time at the ice show, drained away. “I want my mom!” he blurted out, fleeing the room.

  David swore and cast one despairing look at the ceiling before leaving the house. Five minutes later, from a phone booth outside a supermarket, he called the FBI.

  * * *

  Skyler, arriving unannounced, frowned at Holly. “My God,” he muttered, “you look terrible!”

  On this dismal Sunday morning, a soft snow was falling; a fire was crackling on the kitchen hearth. “Thanks, Sky,” Holly said, stepping back to admit him to her kitchen. “A compliment always gives a day that little extra something.”

  “Don’t be difficult,” Skyler chided, taking off his stylish muffler and shaking it, a look of disapproval on his face. “I bring great tidings and all that.”

  Holly could have used some great tidings to offset the problems she was having with Craig and the confusion she felt over David’s disappearance the day before. He’d seemed so eager to talk, but when she had finished her shower, dressed and gone downstairs, he had already left the house. After a quick search, she’d found Toby in his room, sobbing into his pillow, and the little boy had refused to tell her what was wrong.

  Finally, he had fallen asleep. When he woke up later, Holly had offered him dinner, but he had refused. He was still silent this morning, and his mood added to Holly’s growing collection of worries.

  “So, what glad tidings do you bring?” she asked, going to the coffeemaker and helping herself to her third cup since getting out of bed an hour earlier. After pouring a cup for Skyler, she sat down at the trestle table and nodded for him to do the same.

  He took in her drawn face and the smudges under her eyes with puzzled concern. “Holly, what’s wrong? You look—”

  Holly held up one hand to stop him. “I know. Terrible.”

  “You’re still in your bathrobe!” he marveled, shocked. Skyler didn’t believe in looking less than one’s best at any time of the day or night.

  “Toby had bad dreams last night,” she said, as though that were an explanation. She didn’t add that she had been tormented by nightmares, too—when she had been able to sleep at all.

  Skyler shrugged, looking helpless and a little annoyed. “What you need, what you both need, is a day in the country. Holly, let’s drive out to my folks’ farm and cut down a Christmas tree.”

  Holly knew that she shouldn’t go, that she would be encouraging Skyler’s affections if she went. Even though her involvement with David Goddard was an unholy mess, she didn’t want to do that.

  On the other hand, a drive in the wintry countryside would certainly be a pleasant distraction.

  “Skyler, I—”

  He sighed, and his fondness for Holly was naked in his eyes. “I know, Holly. You’ve been seeing someone else. Surely it isn’t so serious that you can’t spend a day with me?”

  Holly’s heart twisted slightly. The truth was, her entanglement with David was so serious that she had to spend a day with Skyler. If she stayed around the house, waiting for David or for another of Craig’s devastating phone calls, she would surely go insane. And Toby needed the outing just as desperately as she did.

  Gently, she reached across the table and cl
osed her hand over Skyler’s. She was surprised to find that he was trembling just a little. And she was saddened by what that probably meant. “I have been seeing David regularly, Sky. And I do care about him a great deal.”

  “I’d guessed that by the way you kept turning me down whenever I asked you out, Holly.”

  “I’m sorry,” Holly replied softly, and she truly was. She had never wanted to hurt Skyler or anyone else, but she clearly had done just that.

  “Say you’ll come with me today, Holly. We’ll find a couple of Christmas trees and Mom has a great dinner planned.”

  Skyler looked so hopeful that Holly wanted to cry. “Okay,” she said. “Just give me a few minutes to get dressed and throw some breakfast together.”

  Skyler wasn’t looking at her but into the depths of his coffee cup. “Don’t bother with breakfast, Holly. We’ll stop and eat on the way out of town.”

  Holly left the table, but she paused in the doorway of the kitchen, looking back at Skyler. Her throat ached and her answer came out sounding hoarse and raspy. “You’re a good friend, Skyler Hollis. Do you know that?”

  Skyler said nothing at all. After watching him for a silent, painful moment and wishing that things could be different, she hurried upstairs to get dressed.

  “I’d like it better if David was taking us,” Toby grumbled when Holly stopped by his room to ask him to get ready to go and find a Christmas tree.

  So would I, Holly thought sadly, but she said, in a voice that quivered just the slightest bit, “Please don’t be difficult, Toby. We need a dose of fresh air, you and I, and we’re going to have it. Get ready, please. Skyler is treating us to breakfast.”

  Glumly, Toby went about obeying. Just as glumly, Holly went on to the bathroom to take her shower.

  * * *

  The day with Skyler was, for Holly, a bittersweet experience. They were two people who knew that their relationship was going nowhere, and were trying to be cheerful despite it. All the same, it was a pleasant day, at least for Holly, giving her the time she needed to paste herself back together and think.

  During breakfast she pondered Craig’s cocaine problem and his threat to take Toby away. While she was frightened by the things her brother had said, she began to suspect that the part about stealing his son was just hysteria. Deluded though he was, Craig couldn’t possibly believe that he would be capable, under the circumstances, of taking care of a child.

  As for the cocaine, well, while it was certainly a horrible shock, it did explain a lot about Craig’s treason. And that’s what it was; Holly forced herself to accept the fact. It was treason.

  After that, she was unable to finish her hearty breakfast, no matter how much a subdued Skyler might urge her. But what she had already eaten helped Holly considerably. She felt stronger, better able to cope.

  Toby, too, was coming out of his curious mood, however reluctantly. He enjoyed eating in restaurants even when it involved spending time with Skyler.

  When they left the restaurant, snow falling all around them and with an easy day ahead, Holly was able to put most of her problems out of her mind and chat with Skyler. Toby sat in the back seat, armed with a pocket trivia game, shouting out an occasional question.

  Skyler, in Holly’s view, was uncommonly patient. “The Lone Ranger’s uncle!” he called out once, in exuberant answer.

  “Wrong,” said Toby smugly, in the often-insensitive way of children. “It was Pinky Lee!”

  Skyler rolled his eyes and tossed Holly a beleaguered look. She laughed because if she hadn’t, she would have cried.

  After an hour and a half of trivia, they reached the dairy farm owned by Skyler’s parents. The Hollises were friendly people, and they greeted both Holly and Toby with comforting warmth. Hanging behind them, though, on the porch that stretched all the way around that carefully painted, solid old Victorian house, stood a young woman Holly had never seen before.

  “Hello, Mary Ann,” Skyler greeted the guest somewhat self-consciously. “How are you?”

  A fetching blush rose in Mary Ann’s pretty cheeks. “I’m all right. You?”

  Skyler risked one broken glance at Holly and cleared his throat. “I’ll get by,” he answered gruffly.

  Holly looked at Mary Ann again and hoped devoutly that Skyler would fall in love with her, here and now. It was obvious that the dark-haired, blue-eyed woman adored him—perhaps she and Skyler had grown up together and perhaps Mary Ann had always cared for him....

  She brought herself up short. Fantasies. She was just weaving fantasies in hopes of making it easier to end her own relationship with Skyler.

  “Mary Ann and I found some real good trees,” Skyler’s father announced cheerfully, and a glance at his leathery, good-natured face told Holly that he knew more about his son’s relationship with the city lady than he was letting on.

  Again Holly felt guilty. It was going to be so hard, telling Skyler she didn’t want to see him anymore, even though he must certainly have guessed it from their conversation that morning.

  After a round of coffee in the huge, high-ceilinged farmhouse kitchen—Toby, of course, had hot chocolate—everyone except Mrs. Hollis set out for the woods.

  It was a bracingly cold day, and here in the country the snow was cleaner and, alas, deeper, making the jaunt to the woods rather hard going for Holly. Flinging back an occasional polite look, Mary Ann kept to the lead with Skyler and Toby.

  Wearing high rubber boots and a heavy, plaid woolen coat that smelled pleasantly of tobacco smoke and hay, Mr. Hollis stayed beside the lagging Holly. Something in his manner inspired confidence, and Holly, feeling an innate need to talk with someone older and wiser, ventured, “Mary Ann and Skyler must have known each other for a long time.”

  Mr. Hollis smiled. “Since kindergarten,” he replied, keeping his voice low, as Holly had, so that no one else would overhear. “I’m afraid it’s pretty obvious that Mary Ann has her cap set for him. ’Bout broke her heart when he went away to the city to start that store of his. Mine and Mother’s cracked a bit, too, as it happens.”

  Holly was saddened. Skyler was the Hollises’ only son, though he did have one sister. Probably, his parents had hoped that he would want to take over the family farm someday. “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “Ain’t your fault,” came the quick reply, and a smile lighted the older man’s eyes as Mary Ann picked up a handful of snow and flung it at Skyler, who shouted in good-natured protest and then returned the volley.

  Toby, never one to stand on the sidelines, gathered up ammunition of his own and joined the battle.

  “Mother was real pleased with that cookbook you sent up, the one with your autograph in it. She shows it to all her friends.”

  Holly didn’t know what to say to that, beyond “thank you”; she wedged her hands into the pockets of her old coat and sighed, slogging grimly along in the wake of the escalating snow war up ahead. Skyler’s, Mary Ann’s and Toby’s laughter mingled, a bright song in the chilly, snow-flecked air.

  “That’s a fine boy you have there,” Mr. Hollis persisted. Perhaps he sensed her need to talk and her paradoxical difficulty in doing so.

  “Thank you. Toby is actually my brother’s son, but I forget that most of the time, he seems like my own.”

  “Reckon if you take care of him and love him, then he is your own. It’s the day-to-day of it that matters, you know.”

  “Yes,” Holly agreed, thinking of Craig, remembering when he had been a fine father to Toby. But that had been several years ago, before Craig’s wife, Allison, had died. Before his habit had driven him to sell out his own country.

  “You don’t say much, do you?”

  Holly laughed. They were almost out of the pasture and into the stand of pine trees and Douglas firs that was their destination. “I’m usually more sociable,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

  “No need to be sorry.” He paused and caught her elbow in his strong, work-worn hand. His eyes were kind as they touched Holly’s f
ace. “A person’s got to follow their heart, Miss Llewellyn. And sometimes it don’t lead where they’d like it to, but they gotta go after it anyway.”

  So he did know that the relationship between her and Skyler was over. If it had ever really existed at all.

  “I’m hoping that Skyler will find someone else soon,” she said, her voice trembling a little. Cool snowflakes collected on her eyelashes and chilled her cheeks, and Holly glanced ahead at the laughing Mary Ann. “Maybe...”

  Mr. Hollis looked pleased, and he gave a guffaw of laughter. “Maybe so,” he agreed.

  As if to lend the theory credence, Skyler lunged at a gleefully shrieking Mary Ann and threw her down into the snow, rubbing a handful in her face. She came up sputtering and laughing, making exuberant threats. Toby, having watched all this with mingled delight and uncertainty, hurled a questioning look back at Holly.

  It’s all right, she told him with her smile, and his face was again alight with the joys of the day.

  There was a bewildering array of trees to choose from, but Holly, her jeans snow-sodden to her knees, was not inclined to be persnickety. Skyler shook out a fragrant fir that stood about seven feet tall and appeared to be symmetrical, and she nodded in answer to the question in his eyes.

  Mr. Hollis handed over the small hatchet he carried, saying he was “too derned old” for such carryings-on, and Skyler chopped down the tree.

  With Toby frolicking at his heels like a puppy—for this was proof that Christmas, that most elusive of childhood days, was truly coming—Skyler began dragging the tree back toward the house.

  “Don’t you want a tree for yourself?” Holly asked him, ignoring the territorial looks from Mary Ann. These, she supposed, were her just due for falling into step beside Skyler.

  “I’ll get one another time,” he said softly.

  Holly knew then that he had contrived the whole idea of tracking down a Christmas tree for her benefit; after all, it was still three full weeks until the holiday. He had seen how upset she was, sensed that she was frazzled and overwrought, and tried to help.

  A feeling like love but sadly different twisted in her throat. “Thank you, Sky,” she said gently.