A Kiss in Winter Page 8

  Some of the wrinkles disappeared from the lady’s mad-looking lips. “Do you know what was wrong with your mommy? Had she been sick long?”

  “She had a broken heart. Jared went back to his real family last week and it broke her heart. She usually gets better…” Caroline snapped her mouth shut. She was saying too much. Mommy didn’t like her to tell strangers about their “personal life.”

  One of the policemen came out of the bedroom. He had a brown glass bottle in one hand and a plastic medicine container in the other. He showed them to the lady and the wrinkles came back around her mouth. She got up and went to the policeman. They whispered to each other for a long time. Caroline heard the lady say, “It’s Christmas, for God’s sake!” Then she said something about rules. Finally, the policeman nodded and the lady came back.

  “Caroline, you’re going to come with me,” she said, not looking mad at all now. She just looked sad.

  “I can stay here. I’ll be fine.”

  “I know a family who would like you to spend Christmas at their house. They have another boy without a family staying there, too. You’ll like it.”

  “And then what—after Christmas?” Butterflies mixed with hunger and Caroline’s stomach felt awful.

  “Well, we’ll figure that out later. But tomorrow is Christmas and they’d really like to have you with them. Mrs. Rogers said she’s making turkey and pumpkin pie for dinner.” The lady looked almost nice now.

  Caroline’s empty stomach started doing her thinking for her. She’d run out of peanut butter yesterday. “I suppose I could go for one day.” She decided she could always run away later, before they took her to the orphanage. She couldn’t run away now; everything would be closed on Christmas Day; she might freeze to death.

  “Good. Now let’s get your things together and we can go.”

  Ten minutes later, Caroline stood at the door with her clothes and toothbrush in a shopping bag. She looked around the apartment. “What about Mommy?”

  The lady put a hand on Caroline’s shoulder. “The policemen will take good care of your mother. She would want you to go to stay with Mr. and Mrs. Rogers; they’ll take good care of you.”

  Caroline looked up at the woman. “I can take care of myself.”

  “I know. But it’s Christmas. She wouldn’t want you to spend Christmas alone.”

  Caroline’s eyes prickled like they wanted to cry. She squeezed them tightly closed until they stopped prickling. “Okay.” They went out the door.

  Just before they started down the stairs, Caroline ran back into the living room and picked up the paper Christmas tree.

  The ride to Mrs. Rogers’s house was long. They left town and traveled down a dark country road. Caroline grew increasingly tense. It had all been a trick to get her into the car. There was no nice lady who wanted her to spend Christmas at her house; Caroline was going to the orphanage after all. She didn’t know where an orphanage was, but it was surely along a dark country road like this one. She was just trying to figure out an escape plan when they turned onto a long driveway.

  Caroline was afraid to look where they were headed, but made herself sit up straighter in the backseat and look out the windshield.

  If this was an orphanage, it was sure different from any she’d seen in movies.

  The first thing she noticed when she walked through the front door was how warm it was. It had been windy and raining for two days and she’d had to wrap up in an afghan as she’d worked on her Christmas tree. But here it felt like summer. The second thing that struck her was the smell of something baking, sweet and spicy at the same time.

  Her mouth watered.

  The services lady said, “Caroline, I’d like you to meet Mrs. Rogers. This farm belongs to her and Mr. Rogers.”

  Mrs. Rogers stood there with a big smile on her face and a dishtowel with reindeer on it in her hands. Her hair was really clean and shiny. She looked nice. “Hello, Caroline.”

  “Hello,” Caroline said, just now beginning to let go of the idea that she was being dropped off at the equivalent of a kids’ prison.

  Mrs. Rogers put a hand on Caroline’s shoulder. “We’re so happy you could come and share the holiday with us.”

  She took Caroline’s coat. Caroline transferred her tree from one hand to the other to keep from putting it down. Thank goodness Mrs. Rogers didn’t ask about Caroline’s mother. She didn’t want to talk about that.

  Then Mrs. Rogers took the shopping bag from the services lady, who was leaving, and said, “Come on in the kitchen. James is back there helping me make gingerbread men.”

  Caroline’s mother had promised they’d make gingerbread men—but she promised that every year. Caroline’s eyes prickled again.

  In the kitchen, a boy who looked like a fourth grader was pressing raisins into gingerbread men on a cookie sheet.

  “James, this is Caroline. She’s going to have Christmas with us.”

  The boy looked up and waved, then bent his head back over his work.

  “Would you like to wash your hands and decorate some cookies?” Mrs. Rogers asked Caroline.

  She hesitated. It seemed wrong to be decorating cookies when her mother…

  She stepped closer to the kitchen counter. There were red and green sugar crystals, and silver balls, and raisins, and white frosting, just like in the TV commercials.

  “What a beautiful tree,” Mrs. Rogers said, pointing at the paper Caroline still gripped in her hand. “May I hang it up?”

  Caroline looked at her paper tree, then back through the door to the living room at the tall Christmas tree with gold lights and glittery balls. She felt embarrassed.

  “Please?” Mrs. Rogers asked.

  Slowly, Caroline handed over the tree.

  Mrs. Rogers taped the tree right on the center of the refrigerator door. “Lovely! Mr. Rogers will be so impressed when he gets back in from the barn.”

  And he was, but not in a fake way. He was really, really tall and he smiled almost as much as Mrs. Rogers did. And the most amazing thing was he didn’t seem to mind having kids around. Caroline watched him secretly as she ate the ham sandwich Mrs. Rogers made for her. He and James played Battleship at the kitchen table—and it had been Mr. Rogers’s idea.

  When Mrs. Rogers had her “all settled for the night,” Caroline was certain she’d never be able to fall asleep for worrying about the orphanage. Most kids would say they couldn’t sleep because they missed their mother; but Caroline actually felt… relieved. She was a very bad girl for feeling that way. She was sure to be punished if anyone found out.

  Even though worry needled her, the bed was so soft and so warm, and for the first time today she wasn’t hungry. Her eyes grew heavy as she listened to the muffled voices of Mr. and Mrs. Rogers downstairs. She let go of her fear and fell into a safe sleep.

  It must have been hours later that she awakened. The house was quiet and it was still dark outside her window. Some time after that, she heard James run down the hall and knock on a door. Then she heard Mr. and Mrs. Rogers’s happy voices. How could they be happy when they’d been awakened before daylight?

  Then she remembered it was Christmas.

  Feeling left out, even though she knew she was here unexpected and shouldn’t, she decided to stay in bed until after they’d done their Christmas morning stuff. Last year her mother’s boyfriend, Greg, had given her a big stuffed dog. Mommy had thrown it away after Greg broke her heart.

  Then someone knocked on her door. Mr. Rogers called, “Caroline? Time to see if Santa came!”

  Of course Santa hadn’t come. There was no Santa. And Caroline had shown up last night after all of the stores had closed. She reconsidered her opinion of Mr. Rogers. Maybe he was mean after all.

  She pretended not to hear.

  Then Mrs. Rogers peeked in. “You are awake!” She came in and closed the door behind her. She sat on the edge of the bed. “I know you’re sad, Caroline. And that’s okay. But maybe you can take a break from being sad
for just a few minutes and come downstairs with us. We’re going to have coffee cake in the living room by the tree.”

  It seemed mean of them to have her watch while they opened presents. But she got out of bed anyhow. She was hungry again.

  They all went down to the living room. Mr. Rogers started a fire in the fireplace and Mrs. Rogers brought in a tray with coffee cake and milk. Caroline sat in a chair, trying not to look at all of the brightly wrapped presents under the tree.

  “Why, look here,” Mr. Rogers said. “Santa did find you, Caroline!”

  She raised her eyes to where he stood in front of the fireplace. There, tacked next to a normal fuzzy red Christmas stocking, was a big white-and-gray work sock, bulging and saggy from the weight of whatever was inside.

  He took down the makeshift stocking and handed it to Caroline. She felt like she had a big glob of peanut butter sandwich stuck halfway down.

  He handed the other stocking to James, who laughed and shouted as he pulled things out of it.

  Mrs. Rogers said to Caroline, “Go ahead and see what’s in yours, then we’ll open presents.”

  James was hopping around the room flying a toy fighter plane, making engine and machine-gun noises with his mouth.

  Caroline slowly reached in the sock and pulled out a new deck of cards wrapped in cellophane, a giant Hershey bar, and a harmonica.

  “Hey! I asked for a harmonica.” James stopped jumping.

  “James,” Mr. Rogers said in a firm voice.

  James looked as if Mr. Rogers had smacked him.

  “Here, come sit on my lap while Caroline finishes her stocking.”

  James did. Caroline thought it was funny to see a boy as big as James sitting on a man’s lap. But James looked happy about it.

  Once her stocking was empty, they moved on to presents. Caroline had been shocked when Mr. Rogers stacked three packages wrapped in Santa paper in front of her.

  She’d never in her life gotten three wrapped presents!

  She opened the smallest one first. With an indrawn breath, she couldn’t believe what she held in her hands. A camera—with a flash. And it was new, in the box, not one they’d had lying around. In another package were six boxes of film. She was so wrapped up with putting the film in the camera and taking pictures that she forgot to open the last one until everyone else was finished opening and Mr. Rogers reminded her she had one more.

  Caroline opened it, keeping her camera tucked in her lap. The last gift was a photo album with plastic pages that peeled up so it would hold any size picture.

  Mr. Rogers said, “As soon as you finish up your first roll of film, we’ll take it to be developed. Then you can start filling the album.”

  Caroline sat in the dark in the house on Butler Street, fingering the gold heart around her neck. “Oh, Daddy,” she breathed, tears coursing down her cheeks. She’d finished the first two rolls that day, and her father had taken her into town the very next morning, just as he’d promised. She never did figure out how they’d managed to scrape together gifts for the unexpected child. But her entire life had changed that Christmas Day.

  Shame settled on her shoulders, heavy and hot. She’d been given a second chance, blessed with a family long after she’d given up on a life like other kids’. And for the past year, she’d been counting the days until she’d be free of that family. She’d taken on the responsibility, but had shouldered it with an eye toward escape.

  She hurried to her studio. Flipping on the light, she dug deep in the closet and pulled out that photo album. She took it into the kitchen, grabbing a tissue to blow her nose on the way. For the next hour, she turned the yellowed and brittle pages, looking at her life through the camera of an eight-year-old child.

  Her need to feel connected with family grew thick. Macie’s curfew wasn’t until midnight, two hours away. She picked up the telephone and called Sam.

  His dorm room phone rang until it went to voice mail.

  He’d had a couple of days to adjust; just as she’d hoped, he was probably out having a ball. She’d known that once he got there he’d change his mind.

  She dialed his cell.

  He didn’t pick up.

  She convinced herself that was good news. He was with new friends, probably someplace that was too loud to hear his cell. Then his voice mail answered, “Hey, this is Sam. If you’ve got something to say, do it.”

  Hearing the sound of Sam’s easygoing voice, Caroline suddenly missed him even more. She missed his wild heart and his unbridled spirit, those things she’d been working for years to tame.

  “It’s Caroline.” She paused, unsure about her approach; assume things are healing themselves, or a serious we need to talk? She straddled the two. “Just calling to say I miss you. Give me a call tomorrow and we’ll talk.”

  She disconnected the call.

  Time to stop wallowing. She’d been given too much to wallow. She went into her studio to review the proofs of the McEntyre wedding.

  It was one a.m. Where in the hell was Macie?

  Caroline gripped the cordless phone in her hand and looked out the front window yet again, feeling like the dark street was becoming the proverbial watched pot. She paced around the living room and called Macie’s cell, only to hear it ringing in her bedroom.

  Macie wasn’t supposed to go out at night without her phone. Caroline was just debating whether “forgetting” the phone had been deliberate when she heard that boy’s little car buzz up in front of the house.

  Caroline moved to the front door.

  A car door slammed. Caroline waited for the sound of the second door, her hand on the doorknob, ready to rip the door open the instant Macie and that boy set foot on the porch.

  No sound of a second car door.

  With her heart doing an angry tap dance in her chest, she moved to the window.

  Macie stood on the parkway grass with her elbows perched on the passenger window as she leaned back into the car.

  Caroline dashed for the front door. If that little bastard thought he was going to bring Macie home an hour after her curfew and just drop her off on the curb like trash…

  As Caroline yanked the door open, the car shot away.

  Macie came bounding up the steps, as if everything was fine… better than fine, she looked exuberant.

  “Where—”

  “Oh, my God, Caroline, you wouldn’t believe it!”

  Caroline gritted her teeth to keep from screaming.

  Macie brushed past her and kept talking, seemingly oblivious to Caroline’s anger. “Caleb talked the Ferris wheel guy into giving us one more ride… they had been ready to close up, even the lights were off… but I’d told Caleb how much I love the Ferris wheel and—”

  “It’s one o’clock. The carnival closed two hours ago. You’d better have—”

  “I’m trying to explain. The Ferris wheel broke down… well, actually, the guy said it was a broken cable or a wire or chain or something… Caleb and I were stuck at the top forever. They tried to fix it, but they couldn’t. Finally a fire truck had to come and we climbed out and down the ladder.”

  This was even better than the dog ate my homework.

  “You don’t believe me!” The look on Macie’s face was a mix of shock and condemnation.

  The gleaming point of Caroline’s anger dulled. “No one could make up a story that far out. But you should have called.”

  “I forgot my phone.”

  “So I noticed. I don’t pay for that phone so it can lay in your room.”

  “I know. Sorry.”

  “Doesn’t Calvin have a phone?”

  “Caleb. His name is Caleb. And yes, he does. He left it in his car. He didn’t want to lose it when we were on the rides.”

  “How responsible of him.”

  “Why are you so down on him? You don’t even know him!”

  Caroline closed her eyes and drew a deep breath. “I’m not.”

  “Yes, you are. You’re mad because I didn’t go to the fa
ir with you.”

  “No,” Caroline said slowly. She was used to this kind of conversation with Sam, but Macie usually had better sense. “You’re an hour late and out with someone you barely know. I was justifiably worried.”

  “You don’t need to worry about me. I can take care of myself.”

  “Don’t get snippy with me.”

  Macie slowly shook her head, as if Caroline were the most unreasonable person on the planet. “I’m going to bed. Good night.”

  Caroline thought, If Mr. Smooth Talker hadn’t wormed his way into another ride, none of this would have happened. She’d bet if it hadn’t been a stalled Ferris wheel, it would have been something else. She had a feeling that tonight was the first of many unsettled nights to come.

  Now both of her siblings were pissed at her.

  She muttered as she moved through the downstairs, turning out the lights, “There had better be something about a fire rescue at the Ferris wheel in the paper tomorrow or this conversation isn’t over.”

  The next afternoon, Macie brought in the paper from the front porch and snapped it down on the kitchen counter in front of Caroline. It was folded so the story “Ferris Wheel Sabotaged at County Fair” was right on top.

  “There,” Macie said. “Proof in black and white. Now you don’t have any reason to be nasty about Caleb.”

  “I wasn’t nasty about Caleb. I was nasty because you were late and you didn’t call.”

  “You can’t be nasty about that now either. See, it says right here, ‘Two teenagers were trapped at the top for over an hour.’ I could hardly fly down.”

  Caroline massaged her throbbing temples. She hadn’t slept well in three nights; she was considering decapitation as relief. She didn’t admit to herself that it wasn’t Macie who’d been the cause of her restlessness last night. Once she was home and safe, with a reasonable explanation, Caroline let that particular problem go. It had been Mick Larsen troubling her sleep last night.

  “Okay. I won’t apologize for being worried, but can we call a truce? I don’t like it when we’re like this.”

  The wrinkle left Macie’s brow and her expression lightened. “Truce.”