Read Making Spirits Bright Online
Authors: Fern Michaels,Elizabeth Bass,Rosalind Noonan,Nan Rossiter
Tags: #Fiction, #General, #Anthologies (Multiple Authors)
Making Spirits Bright (30 page)
Jo took Ava’s hand and ventured ahead, passing people she knew from the school and the grocery store. Her insurance agent beamed a smile at her, as did Mrs. Crisp, the librarian.
“What’s going on?”
“Over here, sport.” Bob Truman motioned her toward the desk, where he stood with his arm around his wife. Jo saw that the stairs, which swept in a curve over the desk, were covered with family members. Her siblings chatted with their spouses, and their kids elbowed and joked with each other.
“The good news spread like wildfire,” Irene said. “People heard that we’re buying the inn, and they came out to show their support.
“And I’ve been telling everyone that your brave action made it all possible, Jo. Not only did you help us raise the money to fulfill our dream, you’re keeping the family home in the family. Thanks, honey. We love you.”
“And we love the Trumans for keeping the inn open,” Carmine Giordano shouted out. “Let’s hear it for the Truman family.”
In the thunderous applause, Jo turned in a circle and tried to take in the many faces of the community she’d grown up with. This was her town, these people her extended family. She thanked God for showing her a way to keep it all intact.
“Jo ...” Molly grabbed her by the shoulders. “You didn’t tell me. You’re buying the house on Bull Moose Road? And Earl is selling the inn to your parents?”
Jo turned to her parents.
“Earl got back to Pops right away,” Irene said. “It’s a deal.” The tears that glistened in her eyes were now tears of joy.
“It’s wonderful!” Molly threw her arms around Jo, then around Irene and Pops. Thus began the hug fest.
“Thank you, everyone, for coming out on this snowy night.” Pops’s booming voice carried through the lobby as people began to talk and laugh in smaller groups. “And let’s remember the joyous event we celebrate this season, the birth of our Savior. Merry Christmas!”
“Merry Christmas!” came the chorus of friendly voices.
Jo hugged Tommy, who hoisted Ava into his arms.
“How about a Shirley Temple to celebrate? Huh?” he said.
“Oh, Tommy.” Jo winced. “The sugar and all that red dye. She’ll be bouncing off the walls for hours.”
“So? She’s going to midnight mass, right?”
Ava’s eyes grew wide. “Can I go, Mommy?”
“We’ll see.” Jo smiled as Tommy carried her daughter off, Ava waving over his shoulder.
“And Jo.” Tommy turned back. “You might own the garage, but the ’stang is still mine.”
“We’ll see about that,” she called after him.
When she turned back, Sam stood in her path, a wide swathe of red. Only, he had removed his head gear. Stripped of his hat and beard, he stood before her as Sam. Gorgeous, kind Sam. Great sense of humor. Sexy kisser. And, of late, her closest friend.
“Don’t go.” She pressed a fist to her mouth, then rushed toward him and grabbed his white fur lapel. “Please don’t go. I’ve fallen in love with you, Sam, and ... how often can a person get that lucky?”
“And you think you could love me as I am? Even when I’m not wearing that dorky cap?”
“Please ... I’ll burn that cap. I love the man you’ve become. An artist and mechanic. My personal therapist. A patient guy. A funny guy. Tell me you’ll stay.”
“I’ll stay, if you marry me.”
“What?”
“It’s not as if we just met, Jo. And you’re right about protecting Ava. If you’re going to bring me into your family, if she gets to know me, I want her to know she can count on me. I want to be her father. And I think she sort of likes me.”
“She’ll like you even more when she gets to know you.”
“I’m counting on it.” He plunked the Santa cap on her head and spoke into her ear. “And I’d like to give her some brothers and sisters.”
“Oh my gosh, I was thinking that, too!”
He lifted her into his arms and their lips met in a bold, heady kiss. “I love you, Jo,” he whispered as her feet left the ground.
“And I love you.”
When she closed her eyes to kiss him again, she saw herself and Sam as if from afar, two people embracing inside the Woodstock Inn. She imagined God watching over their little town, as if looking into a snow globe where love, comfort, and joy fell like snow.
And it was good.
Christmas on Cape Cod
NAN ROSSITER
Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above ...
—James 1:17
Chapter 1
“Dad, wake up!” There was a short pause and then the same soft voice whispered again with more urgency. “Dad ... Dad, wake up! We have to go find a tree! You said we had to get up early.” This time the plea was accompanied by gentle nudging and prodding. Asa Coleman opened one eye and squinted at the little face, which was inches from his nose. The face smiled. “Time to get up!” it announced cheerfully.
Asa closed his eyes, pulled his pillow over his head, and pretended to fall back asleep. He heard a small sigh of frustration and, from under the pillow, pictured the little boy standing in the middle of the braided rug with his hands on his hips, the arms and legs of his new pajamas rolled up to fit his small frame. To add to the boy’s dilemma, Asa let out a loud snore. Almost immediately, there was a determined tug on the blanket ... but Asa just pulled back and snored again.
It was quiet for a moment and he began to wonder what new plan was being hatched. He lay still, waiting, and felt the mattress press down under the weight of two small feet. He felt the two feet planting themselves firmly on either side of his legs and then he felt their weight shift as the small body leaned forward to take hold of the covers. Another moment passed and he could barely contain his laughter. But ... just as the unsuspecting perpetrator was about to give the covers a tremendous heave ... Asa threw off his pillow, spun around, and tackled him. The surprised boy giggled helplessly as Asa bounced him onto the bed and tickled him mercilessly.
“Stop, Dad! Dad, stop!” the squealing, squirming boy pleaded breathlessly. “I’m going to wet my pajamas!”
“What?!” Asa teased. “You mounted an attack on the enemy without going to the head first? What were you thinking, man?”
The little fellow giggled, shrugged, and sputtered, “I don’t know!”
Asa picked him up and set him on the floor. “Go ...” He watched the blond-haired boy run down the hall and wondered if he’d ever get used to being called “Dad.” He looked out the window and glanced at his bedside clock—not even six yet—Noah certainly was an early riser! Just then, he came running back down the hall, full tilt, and bowled his father onto the bed, attempting to return the tickle. Asa laughed, feigning surrender and protest, and tried to protect himself. Noah just giggled, truly believing he had the upper hand—until Asa turned the tables and the little fellow found himself on the bottom again, getting the worst of it.
“Hey, what’s the idea of waking up your old man before it’s even light out?” Asa interrogated playfully.
Noah was trying to catch his breath, and sputtered, “You said we had to find a tree!”
“And ... how can we find a tree in the dark?” Asa teased.
“Well, we have to have breakfast first,” Noah explained matter-of-factly.
“We do?”
“And you said we have to pack.”
“Pack what?” Asa continued to tease.
“Clothes ... and Christmas presents!” Noah answered with a beaming grin.
“Oh ... no need to worry ’bout that.... I think you’re just getting coal for Christmas.”
Noah looked dismayed.
“Well ... have you been good?” Asa asked with a serious face.
Noah nodded. “Mm ... hmm.”
Asa cupped his chin thoughtfully. “I don’t know ... I guess we’ll have to wait and see ...”
“You’re just teasing,” Noah said hopefully.
Asa shrugged, raised his hands palms up, and smiled. Then he sat on the edge of the bed and yawned. “So, what’re you making for breakfast?”
“Da-ad!” Noah moaned despairingly. “
You’re
making breakfast!”
You’re
making breakfast!”
“I am? Well, what am I making?”
“Hmmm,” Noah said, cupping his own chin in thought. “How ’bout French toast?”
“Are you goin’ to help?”
“Sure!” Noah said, hopping off the bed and pulling Asa by the hand. Asa slowly relented, stopping only to pull on his jeans, and then shuffled to the kitchen.
“First things first,” he said sleepily, reaching into the cabinet for the coffee.
“Okay,” Noah said, opening the fridge and taking out the milk, orange juice, and butter. “How many eggs?” he asked.
“Two.” Asa answered, absently measuring the coffee.
Noah balanced the eggs in one hand and then reached into the back of the fridge for a small jug of maple syrup.
“Gettin’ low,” he announced with authority.
“Is there enough for today?”
Noah shook the bottle and peered inside. Even though he couldn’t really see how much was left, he answered with optimism, “I think so.”
With the coffee perking cheerfully, Asa pulled out the pancake griddle, set it on the stovetop, and lit the burners. Then he reached for the bread. “How hungry?”
“Two,” Noah answered with a nonchalant shrug. Asa took out four slices of bread and Noah pushed an old oak chair over to the counter. Asa set the bowl in front of him and Noah looked up in surprise.
“Go ahead ... you know how.”
Noah grinned and reached for an egg, but, just as he cracked it, there was a knock at the door. He looked up and the eggshell fell into the bowl. With egg still dripping from his fingers, he hopped down and went to the door and opened it, smearing the knob in the process.
Maddie peered around the door. “Am I too early?” Then she answered her own question as she unzipped her jacket. “Actually ... looks like I’m just in time!”
Asa smiled at the rosy, freckled cheeks of his old friend and noticed that they were wet. “Is it snowing?” he asked.
“Just started ... but not too hard.” She closed the door behind her and then looked from her hand to the doorknob.
“Thank the chef,” Asa said, smiling and nodding toward Noah, who was back up on his chair, fishing out the eggshells. Maddie rinsed her hands and Asa handed her a steaming cup of coffee.
“Mmmm, thanks. I knew there was a reason I liked you!” She blew softly on the coffee and a cloud of steam rose around her face. “Noah said I had to be here
very
early if I wanted to help pick out a tree—so, here I am!”
very
early if I wanted to help pick out a tree—so, here I am!”
“Well, you’re here just in time for my world-famous French toast!” Noah announced happily, pouring milk into the bowl.
“Easy there,” Asa warned, watching the flow and wondering if Noah had picked up the phrase “world-famous” from his grandfather. He handed a third egg to him and took out two more slices of bread. “You should probably use a measuring cup,” he said, but Noah just shrugged and cracked the last egg. “
And
you should probably wash your hands!”
And
you should probably wash your hands!”
Noah nodded, wiped his hands on his pajamas, splashed the eggbeater into the bowl, and began to churn with all his might. While he was still churning, Asa trickled vanilla into the mixture and sprinkled cinnamon on the froth of bubbles.
Noah stopped and looked up at him with a serious face. “
You
should probably be using a measuring spoon ...”
You
should probably be using a measuring spoon ...”
Asa looked down at his little counterpart. “And
you
should be careful ... or you might get another tickle!”
you
should be careful ... or you might get another tickle!”
Noah grinned and continued beating, and Asa reached over his head for a sifter, which was kept on an old, chipped plate with a painting of Nauset Light on it. The purpose of the plate was to catch any confectioner’s sugar that fell through the screen bottom. It was something Asa had learned in the kitchen of his childhood, but, even so, every time he reached for the sifter, he wondered if all sifters were kept on old, chipped plates. Still holding it in his hands, he looked at Maddie. “Maddie, where do you keep your sifter?”
Maddie, who’d been sitting at the old oak table in the cheerful kitchen, sipping her coffee and watching them work together, smiled at the odd question. “On a plate, of course.”
“Does your plate have a chip in it?”
“Yup ... and a painting of the Franklin Pierce Homestead on it. I don’t think sifters work very well after they get wet. My mom washed hers once and, the next time she used it, brown rust sifted out.”
Asa smiled ...
mystery solved!
mystery solved!
Maddie stood up. “Here I am, not helping at all. Do you boys have a job for me?”
Asa glanced over his shoulder. “Want to set the table?”
“Okay,” she said. Maddie set out plates, napkins, and silverware, poured orange juice, and then stood by and watched as Asa showed Noah how to turn the French toast. She smiled at his gentle patience and thought,
He makes a good dad.
He makes a good dad.
While it was still on the griddle, Noah cut the French toast diagonally, and then he arranged it in layers on a plate. He started to hand the plate to Maddie, but Asa stopped him. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
Noah looked puzzled for a second and then his face lit up. “Oh, yeah! Snow!” He hopped down and sifted confectioner’s sugar onto Maddie’s French toast. “Just like at the hotel on Lake Sunapee!” he said with a grin.
“Thank you!” Maddie said, kissing the top of his head. “It looks absolutely yummy!”
She sat down to wait for them, but Asa said, “Go ahead, while it’s hot.” She picked up the syrup, noted the light weight of the container, and drizzled it sparingly on her plate. She took a bite and, with a full mouth, said, “Oh my goodness, Noah, this is the best French toast I’ve ever had!”
Noah looked up at Asa and beamed. “It’s world famous!”
After breakfast, Asa cleared the table and filled the sink with hot, sudsy water. Outside the kitchen window, patches of morning sun flickered through the trees and shimmered on the cold gray ribbon of river that wandered through the property. Tiny sparkles of snow danced in the chilly air and melted when they landed. Asa glanced up at the clock. “Noah, if you’re finished, you need to get dressed, make your bed, and pack up. Don’t forget warm socks and underwear—and the new pants and sweater for church tonight—In fact, why don’t you just make a pile and I’ll check it first.”
Maddie refilled her coffee cup, slipped the dish towel from the oven handle, and stood ready to dry. Noah brought his plate over to the sink and pulled on Asa’s shirt. Asa leaned down and Noah whispered, “Are we goin’ to have time to go to the Birdwatcher’s?”
Asa whispered back, “We will if we get going soon.”
Noah grinned and raced down the hall. Maddie looked at Asa questioningly, but he just smiled. “It’s a secret,” he said. They stood side by side, washing and drying, and since Maddie knew her way around the kitchen, she put everything away as she went. As she reached for the last juice glass, she looked over at Asa’s handsome face, lit by the sun. She recalled the many suppers and bottles of wine they had shared in his kitchen ... and sighed softly. Even though they had often talked into the night, Maddie had never been there for breakfast... and she’d never seen Asa’s face in the early morning sunlight.
As she dried the plates, she thought back to the rainy summer day when they’d first met. Asa had just finished his freshman year of college and Maddie had just graduated from high school. In the six years since then, they had both earned degrees in education. Asa had found a job almost immediately teaching English at the local high school; and Maddie, inspired by her brother Tim, born with Down syndrome, had focused on special education and had found a part-time position in the elementary school.
Noah’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “Da-ad ... got my pile!”
“Okay,” Asa called back, rinsing out the sink. “Be right there.” He smiled at Maddie. “Wish I could pack so quickly!” He dried his hands on the towel Maddie was holding. “Are you all ready, too?”
“Yup ...” she answered. “I packed last night.”
“Well,” he explained with a grin, “men never pack ’til the morning
of
...”
of
...”
“Well, you better hurry up.” As she finished drying the silverware, she listened to Asa and Noah reviewing Noah’s pile and, by the time she was hanging the damp towel back on the oven handle, he was lugging his duffel into the kitchen. He plopped it by the door with a thud. “All ready!” he announced matter-of-factly.
“Did you remember your dad’s present?” Maddie whispered.
“Whoops!” Noah exclaimed, and ran back down the hall.
Twenty minutes later, Asa had taken a quick shower, thrown some clothes in a bag, and was locking the cabin. Meanwhile, Maddie was helping Noah pile their bags beside two big cardboard boxes already in the back of Asa’s old Chevy pickup. “Must be lots of coal in these boxes,” Noah said loudly, trying to peer inside.
Asa came over and eyed him. “Those are for Grandma and Grampa.” At the mention of Noah’s parents, Maddie suddenly remembered two pies she’d made the night before, apple and pumpkin, as well as the ingredients for the special holiday drink recipe that had been passed down for generations through her Swedish family. She retrieved everything from her car, and Asa and Noah peered inside the pie carrier. In unison, they expressed their anticipation for a taste, but Maddie quickly closed the top and wedged it into a corner of the truck bed. Asa cushioned it with his bag and then looked in the bag of drink ingredients—port wine and dried fruit.
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