Merriest Christmas Ever Page 13

  The telephone rang again, and Gracie snatched it up. “Faith?”

  “No ma’am. This is...” It was a job, and Gracie was grateful. She had a business and home to worry about. Faithie had to grow up. It was just so hard…

  When the phone rang a third time, Gracie eyed it uneasily but picked up. “Special Effects.”

  “Hi, Ms. Special. Merett speaking. How would you like to go out with me after Kirsten and I return from sledding? To dinner. And uh...Christmas shopping.”

  It was all she could do not to whoop and holler. “I’d love to, Merett.”

  “I have Kirsten’s list. I’m taking your advice about things for her to look forward to. I’m taking her to The Nutcracker Suite next week.”

  Christmas shopping. The ballet. And sledding. Gracie longed to touch his cheek. Smooth his hair back. Stand on tiptoe and kiss his lips. Her dreams of helping Merett become the guy he-used-to-be were coming true.

  * * *

  Stomping the snow from his feet, Merett stepped inside Gracie’s house. “It’s still falling and piling up out there.”

  Gracie’s smile was as bright as the green sweater dress that skimmed her curves enticingly before meeting trim ankle boots. Golden hair drawn up on her head, curls spilling around her face, eyes sparkling—she was breathtaking. “Your ears will get chilly,” he said, curving his fingers gently over them.

  “Oo, your hands are cold. Don’t you like my hair this way?”

  “It’s beautiful. You’re beautiful.” Drawing her close, he closed his lips over hers, something he’d wanted to do all day. He tasted her mouth, her tongue, tightened his grasp on her shoulders, molding her body to his. He knew she could feel what she was doing to him, but he didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything except the taste, the wonderful sweet smell of her. Of Gracie.

  Wrapping her arms around his neck, she deepened her tongue against his. They clung to one another. He ran his hands down over her back, cupped her bottom. She whispered his name. If he didn’t quit, it would all be over before they started. Merett eased his mouth away and loosened his hold, regretfully. “We’d better go. We have shopping to do.”

  “I suppose.” She smiled, her lips soft and inviting, her arms still around his neck, her eyes glazed and accepting.

  “At eighteen, I’d have said the hell with everything else.” He rubbed noses with her.

  “Patience comes with age,” she teased, slipping her hands inside his coat and splaying them on his chest. He wanted her so much, he felt anything but patient. “And wisdom,” she added, moving her hands to tickle his ribs. “Or so I’m told.”

  “Just because I’m older than you, I’m not Father Time.” He captured her wrists. “You’re almost thirty.”

  Gracie turned up her nose. “If I hadn’t fallen for you-know-who’s black leather jacket and gotten married, I would have officially become a spinster on New Year’s Eve, like Mirabelle.” As the ghost’s name fell from her lips, Gracie’s smile disappeared. “Kirsten’s ghost had to be a dream.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Merett said. “She’s satisfied with what Mirabelle told her.” He chuckled and planted a kiss on Gracie’s lips. “And I learned something that’s put some qualms to rest.” She raised her eyebrows questioningly, and his answer was a kiss. A long, slow, sweet kiss that he hoped told her exactly what he meant.

  * * *

  Lazarus’ Department Store at a mall near Indy was crowded, and Merett drew Gracie close, tucking her hand in his arm. Rich perfume scented the air, and carols resounded joyfully. From their vantage point on the up-escalator, they could see people on the floor below, searching for just the right Christmas gifts. Tonight, with Gracie looking, touching, and sniffing, Merett felt some of the old magic. Her happiness was so infectious, a smile played around his lips.

  For the next two hours, they shopped for Kirsten. Jeans, plaid shirt, and red cable knit sweater. Yellow terry cloth robe. Disney-printed underwear. He’d boned up on all her sizes before leaving home. “Isn’t this lovely?” Gracie held a green velvet jumper up for Merett to feel.

  “Kirsten wrote on her list, ‘no pink or girlie stuff.’”

  “We haven’t bought anything pink, and this isn’t real girlie.” Gracie, who had already bought Kirsten several things, fingered the material. “She’d like this, I’ll bet.”

  It was obvious Gracie liked it, so Merett whipped out his wallet.

  She bought the blouse displayed with it, and a cute shoulder bag for Kirsten, before wandering over to the women’s department where she found some things for Faith and Hope. “That’s enough shopping,” Merett declared, taking her by the hand. “I’m starving.”

  “I guess we could come back and look at toys tomorrow.”

  “Gracie,” he said gently, “you’re shopping like there is no tomorrow.”

  Tightening the hold on her purse strap, she let him lead her from the store.

  In the Jeep, she leaned back in the seat. “When I was a kid with no money, I’d spend hours in Woolworth’s, watching people shop. The sight of all those toys and the aroma of chili sandwiches were magnificent. The store Santa would give me a candy cane, and I’d lick it until it was sliver-thin. It was a fairy tale world.” She sighed. “I got a little carried away shopping tonight.”

  Merett took her hand in his and kissed it, then drove them to an all-night diner he knew where they had the best chili sandwiches. Sloppy Joes, they called them. “I was going to take you to a steak house,” he half-apologized.

  Gracie shook her head blissfully, a tiny dribble of chili dribbling down her chin. “This is absolutely perfect.” She licked her lips.

  The booth was red vinyl, the overhead lights bright, and the jukebox turned too low to hear the words to the songs. But he and the guys from Ferndale High used to come here often, and he was surprised how good it felt to be back. A couple of his close friends were still around. Did they come here now? Were they married?

  Gracie pushed her plate away to raise the heavy root beer mug to her lips. Merett, sitting on the bench next to her, hugged her to him. He’d tried to push the sight of her as a child at Woolworth’s away, but it tugged at his heart. “It must have been hell, growing up poor.”

  She shrugged and stared into the root beer foam. “Hope and I had very few illusions, but Faith always wished for the sun, and expected to get it. I hated seeing her disappointed time and again. On a daily basis, as well as Christmas.” Gracie took a deep breath. “She called me today.”

  He gently massaged the back of her neck. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  Word by hesitant word, sentence by reluctant sentence, Gracie poured out the story. She carried around a heavy load of guilt. He tried to reassure her. “Faith wasn’t your responsibility.”

  “Let’s just say she shouldn’t have been,” Gracie said as they walked out into the cold night again. Snow crunched under their feet as they crossed the parking lot to the car. A frosty spider web iced the windshield so they couldn’t see out, and no one could see in. Pulling her into his arms, he kissed her. And kissed her. And kissed her. Until he thought he couldn’t breathe any more.

  When he walked her to the door, he touched her cheek. “I can’t come in tonight, Gracie. I just can’t. Do you understand?”

  She nodded and stood on tiptoes to put her arms around his neck for a quick hug. “Thanks for a perfect night, Merett.”

  A perfect night. A perfectly simple night, but Gracie had enjoyed it, and so had he.

  * * *

  Merett arrived home tired and confused, but oddly happy. The feelings he had for Gracie, like rays of sunshine penetrating darkness, warmed his heart. He’d known the heat of passion before, but gentle compassion was a stranger. He sat down on the edge of his bed. She’d put the past guilt behind her, she said, but she was wrestling with the future and the present, wanting the best for Faith.

  The phone rang, and he grabbed the extension. Would Gracie call him at midnight? He smiled, hoping to hea
r her voice.

  “Merett, old buddy. It’s Tom Hendrix. Didn’t wake you, did I?”

  Merett clutched the receiver. “No, but I am surprised to hear from you at this hour. What’s up?”

  “Half the city, and soon, you’ll be back among the night owls. My city reporter is leaving December thirty-first.”

  His breath caught in his throat. A job, opening up on Gracie’s thirtieth birthday. Now why should that pop into his head. “No kidding?”

  “Editor’s honor.” Tom chuckled. “And you have a job with me, beginning January uno. Want me to locate an apartment for you? Or do you want to fly out, stay with Tammy and me, and look for yourself?”

  “I…” Why now? For the first time in a year, he was glad to be here in Ferndale, ready to move on. This was his big chance to return to city life, smell the ink on hot stories, and prove himself. But he’d have to find someone to watch Kirsten, and he couldn’t work as late as he used to; she hated a sitter.

  Their old apartment would be available for sublet in January—he’d checked when Kirsten thought they had to move back. So she’d have familiar territory for a few months, but their former home would stir up memories for them both.

  “You fall asleep, Merett?”

  “Just reeling from the news, that’s all.” Merett scrubbed his hand through his hair. “I have to work through some things, Tom. Dad and Kirsten are going to take this hard. And I have to do something with the Reporter. I advertised it in a couple of papers but haven’t had any nibbles. Then I got the idea to modernize it.”

  “No need to do that now. You want to sell the rag? I can get you a buyer.”

  Merett told Tom he’d get back to him in a day or two.

  “You asked for a job, and I need a man like you. Now get your butt in gear. You don’t belong in a hick town, old buddy. I’ve heard from Waldo what a great job you do.”

  Merett nearly dropped the phone. “Then why didn’t he promote me?”

  There was a long silence on the other end. “You must have known that half the staff was related to his wife. Her daddy owned the paper, and he had to keep everyone in the family happy.”

  His friend Waldo had misled and betrayed him, let him knock himself out without telling him the truth. Merett didn’t know whether to be furious or elated when he hung up the phone. He hadn’t failed at reporting. He could work at a New York paper and excel. His old dreams could still come true, but there were issues and people to consider. The Reporter’s future and the employees. Kirsten. Dad. Mama. Of course, Mama wouldn’t know, but... The bird feeder was still in his trunk. Tomorrow… What?

  Staring out the window at the trees heavy with snow, Merett shivered. Gracie had put the tiny tree on his desk that sparked him to buy the feeder. Gracie brought out the good in him. He had been drawn to her when she had answered the front door that Christmas Eve fifteen years ago. And when he had kissed her a few weeks later, he had known that no matter what he felt for anyone else, he was half-in-love with her.

  But a few days later, Holly told him she was ready to go steady—news he’d longed to hear—and even though he suspected it was because he’d been too transparent about his feelings for Gracie, he’d placed his class ring on Holly’s finger.

  Soon afterward, the rush toward graduation and college acceptance set in, with Holly influencing him to go to IU, and deciding to go there, too. Gracie had three more years of high school, and though he sometimes thought about her after leaving Ferndale, he hadn’t expected their paths to cross again.

  Now that they had and he was more than half in love with her, he’d be a coward to walk away without resolution.

  Chapter Nine

  Sunday was dreary with clouds hanging heavy in the air, and a promise of snow, if you believed the weather predictions. Gracie returned home from church. Switching on lights as she moved through the dark house, she found yesterday’s mail unopened on the hall table. It was probably junk mail, but she’d sort it over.

  The kitchen wall phone jangled as she passed, and she jumped, sending the letters skittering across the floor.

  Hope spoke in hushed tones. “Something terrible has happened.”

  Gracie sank down onto the floor. She’d known this call would come sooner or later. “It’s Faithie, isn’t it? Something’s happened to her.”

  “Not Faith. Me.” Hope replied irritably, and then lowered her voice to almost a whisper. “It’s me who’s in trouble. I’m pregnant, Grace, and when Frank finds out, he’ll be furious.”

  Grace was angry at Hope for scaring her. Pregnant wasn’t bad when you wanted a baby. She scooped up her scattered mail and rose. “I thought you took birth control pills.”

  “I do. But you know how wretched I’ve been feeling, and on the outside-chance, I bought a home pregnancy kit, and it’s positive. What am I going to do?”

  “Maybe you should see Dr. Hiram.”

  “I’ve taken three of those home tests, and I know. I’m going to have a baby.”

  “A baby,” Gracie said softly. Three positives couldn’t be wrong.

  “Frank’s already asking what’s wrong. And when he finds out…” Hope’s voice shook. “I’ve lost weight from throwing up, and I’m sleepy all the time, and it’s hard to keep pretending I’m fine when I’m miserable. I was afraid you would notice something was wrong when I came to decorate.”

  Gracie had blamed Frank for them not visiting, and instead it was her sister who’d wanted to stay away. “You always confided in me before.”

  “I know, but you worry too much. I didn’t feel up to your fussing.”

  Hope used to like being taken care of. “I try to watch out for you, that’s all.”

  “I’m a grown woman, Gracie. You act like I’m still a kid. Frank babies me enough. I need space.” Hope paused. “What am I going to do?”

  “It seems that’s up to you. You’re an adult. And you have Frank.”

  “At the moment.” Hope sighed deeply. “You know I’d never have a you-know-what, but what will I do if he leaves?”

  She sounded so desperate Grace softened her tone. Pregnancy must be making her hysterical. “Frank loves you. He’ll get over this.”

  “You’re wrong. He doesn’t want… Oh dear, he’s coming in the door. Meet me at the Soda Shop tomorrow for lunch. Eleven-thirty to beat the crowd.”

  Gracie stared at the phone after Hope hung up. Being an aunt would be the next best thing to being a mother, but would Hope let her fawn over the baby? Or would she accuse her of smothering it, too?

  A sound, like water dripping, drew her attention. Cocking an ear, she followed the steady plop-plop to the drawing room. Opening the door, she gasped in dismay. Water was coming through the ceiling where the room jutted out, and the plaster around the hole looked ready to fall. A puddle on the hardwood floor was turning the varnish white. All the displays she’d set in the drawing room bore some trace of water damage. One particularly large red bow had bled onto a white paper maché pot, and when she picked it up, the pot crumbled in her hands

  Wondering what would go wrong next, Gracie looked up to see a woman across the yards hang a Christmas banner with a smiling Santa from her back porch. The big red letters on the banner spelled HO, HO, HO, and moving to the window for a better look, Gracie recognized the woman who hung it as Beryl Marcum.

  * * *

  “Careful, Kirsten,” Merett cautioned, as his daughter picked up a delicate ornament. “That was your grandma’s when she was a child.”

  Kirsten examined the bauble closely before hanging it with great care. “Are we going to see Gramma today, Grampa?”

  Merett answered for him. “I told Gracie that you and I would trim her stairway tree.” He’d tried to trade help, but she said she had urgent matters to attend to.

  Kirsten bounced happily, and then looked to her grandfather. “Gramma might be expecting us.”

  “I’ll visit her. Gracie is giving an open house next weekend, and I expect she needs help from you and your
daddy.”

  Merett had forgotten about the open house. Of course, she was busy.

  Each ornament he placed on the tree held a special memory. The bicycle built for two with Mr. and Mrs. Santa he had bought his parents with his first paper route paycheck. The basketball ornament they bought him the year the Ferndale Tigers went to state finals. The #1 they had bought when the Clarion was named “best high school newspaper in Indiana.” Gracie had helped them win that award, and he’d been thrilled when she won an honor for herself.

  Merett picked up a ceramic angel blowing a horn. “Where did that come from, Dad?”

  “Mama made it. Remember when she took that class from Mrs. Bottorff who runs The Pottery Barn?”

  Merett remembered bowls, mugs and toothbrush holders, but he’d forgotten the angel.

  “I want to hang the star,” Kirsten coaxed. “Please, with tinsel on it.”

  Merett boosted her into the air, and she put it in place. Harry pretended to blow a ceremonial horn. Merett plugged in the lights.

  “Let the festivities begin,” Kirsten called out.

  Fesvitivies. Looking at Kirsten’s face in the glow of the Christmas tree lights, Merett realized she’d been easier to get along with recently. And his father, who seemed to make demands, had eased up. Dad, in all fairness, had only been looking out for his son, and Merett might have done the same thing himself. He wanted a son he could teach to play ball and swim. A boy who would ask him to tie his tie, and pester for a car until he gave in. Like Dad did. In a rush of understanding, Merett clasped his father’s shoulder. Dad hadn’t spent a lot of time with him, but what he did spend was quality time, and their relationship was strong.