The Forest Ranger's Christmas (9 page)

“You’re welcome.” He released her hand and took the socks. Then he led the way past the stacks of books and down a short hallway to a conference room set up with desks and chairs. Several people, including Gracie, sat waiting quietly, their gazes trained on Josie as Clint escorted her to where Gramps sat off by himself, frowning.

Gracie waved and grinned. Josie smiled, then settled in her seat, resting her hands in her lap. Clint seemed so encouraging and confident. Not at all like Edward. Somehow she knew Clint wouldn’t let Gramps fail. And that knowledge brought her a modicum of peace.

She stared straight ahead while Clint stepped to the front of the room and picked up a book. The front cover showed a young woman hugging an elderly lady, both with giant smiles on their faces. The title was
Teach Someone to Read.

As Clint had them each introduce themselves, Josie told herself she could do this. With two advanced degrees in the sciences, she was educated and knew how to read. Surely she could help Gramps learn. How hard could it be?

And that’s when she realized she was just as petrified of this process as he must be. With one big difference. Josie knew what Gramps was missing. And no matter what, she was determined to help him with kindness and compassion. Nothing else mattered right now.

* * *

“To begin, let’s run through the alphabet.” Clint stood at the front of the classroom with a welcoming smile. Three students and their tutors gazed back at him. Frank was new, but Clint knew what to do to start him off right. Josie could help. Yet her presence made Clint nervous as he directed everyone to open their reading manuals.

Picking up a pointer stick, he indicated an
A
on the dry-erase board. He spoke the letter out loud, then had the class repeat it, eventually moving sequentially through the entire alphabet. Frank blinked nervously, his gray eyes narrowed on the letters as though they were some strange puzzle he must figure out.

“Now, let’s break up into our learning groups and go to work.”

Clint joined Josie and Frank. Gracie followed him, huddling close against Josie’s side. The woman accepted the child’s presence without question, and Clint couldn’t help thinking the two had become inseparable.

The other students and tutors already knew what to do. He figured Josie needed some guidance if she was to help her grandpa effectively.

Pulling a chair up to their desk, Clint leaned close, speaking in a subdued voice that wouldn’t disturb the other students. “Frank, can you tell us a little about your life as a child?”

The older man studied the eraser on the end of his pencil, thinking it over. “Well, I was six when my daddy died. Mother took in washing to make ends meet. I was the eldest and times were tough. At first I looked after my younger brother, Bert. Then I started working at the mine to help Mother put food on the table.”

Josie blinked, and a sad, strangling sound came from her throat. “I never knew any of this, Gramps. What did you do at the mine?”

“I started out as a water boy. Mother always planned to send me back to school one day, but it never happened. I guess I got less than a first grade education. Not much, I know. But times were awful hard back then.”

“I’m sorry, Gramps.”

He patted Josie’s hand. “Don’t be, muffin. No sense in regretting our lives. We just need to learn from things and move on. There’s been a lot of good in my life, too.”

Clint liked Frank’s attitude. He remembered his own shock after he’d married Karen and discovered she couldn’t read. But that wasn’t the worst of it. When he’d learned that she also suffered from chronic depression and bipolar disorder, he’d been discouraged. But he’d loved his wife and had tried to help.

It hadn’t been enough. And his failure still caused an ache in his heart.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me all this?” Josie asked.

“Dropping out of school wasn’t something I wanted to talk about,” Frank said. “But it wasn’t all bad. My family was poor, but we were close and looked after one another.”

“I vaguely remember Uncle Bert,” she said.

A solemn smile creased Frank’s face. “Bert was a good brother. We loved each other dearly. People do what they gotta do to help each other survive.”

Clint figured that was true. He thought about Karen and how she’d coped with the abuse she’d suffered during her youth. As an adult, she’d hidden her sorrow locked deep within her heart. On the surface, she’d appeared happy and normal. But inside she’d simmered with rage and insecurity. As time passed, her anger had burst forth and she’d never been the same again. Unable to forgive. Unable to heal.

Clint shook his head, focusing on Frank. “What are you interested in reading?”

A hopeful smile curved his lips. “I’ve always wanted to read the Bible. And the newspaper. You think that’s possible?”

“Absolutely. Once you learn to read, there’s nothing you can’t do.”

“I can teach you the alphabet song. It’s easy, Grandpa Frank,” Gracie offered.

Frank smiled at the child. “I’d like that, sweetheart.”

Hmm. That might be a good idea. Due to lack of child care, Clint had to bring Gracie with him to the reading program at night. She was an obedient child and it posed very little problem. And Frank responded so well to Gracie that he might actually see part of this learning process as a game if Gracie taught him a few things.

For the next few minutes, they sang the alphabet song together. Frank joined in, and after going through it numerous times, he had it down pat.

Conscious of Josie watching them, Clint had Frank write his name. Pressing his tongue against his upper lip, Frank held the pencil between his fingers and etched the letters in a tidy cursive with very little flourish.

“That’s nice, Gramps. You have lovely penmanship,” Josie praised. “And I think you’re holding the pencil correctly. How did you learn to sign your name?”

Frank beamed. “Ma taught me. She also taught me words like
danger
and
stop,
so I wouldn’t get hurt at work. She tried to teach me more, but we were always so busy that we finally just let it drop.”

Clint appreciated the way Josie praised her grandfather. Frank needed reinforcement. Inwardly, Clint thought about how hard life must have been for the elderly man. Working at the mine at such a tender age, he’d never had a real childhood. Too much responsibility for such a young kid.

Just like Karen. With the exception that Frank had kept his faith and lived a full, happy life.

Clint glanced at Josie, wondering if it had been the same for her. Oh, she’d had educational opportunities, that was true. But she’d lost both her parents too young. Frank had told him how hard Josie had worked to put herself through college. Studying all the time. Earning scholarships to pay her tuition. Working side jobs to pay the rent. That could put a lot of pressure on a young woman, but it also built character and a good work ethic. Josie had succeeded, and Clint was proud of her accomplishments.

But she’d lost her faith somewhere along the way.

“Life can be so unfair, but you never complain,” Clint said.

Frank shrugged. “What’s there to whine about? God is so good to me. And I don’t want to ever forget that.”

Looking up, Clint saw Josie listening intently, her forehead creased with thought. He did some thinking of his own. With Frank’s example to inspire him, he made a silent vow to complain less. To be more grateful for the people and opportunities life brought his way.

By the end of the evening, Clint had provided Frank with eight slim books written for beginning readers. “This is just a loan. Take them home and read them with Josie several times. When you bring them back next week, I’ll give you some different ones.”

Frank’s brows darted upward. “Read them?”

“Yep. She’ll help you get through each one. Sound out the letters of the words. I have a feeling it’ll come fast for you.”

Josie nodded, flipping through the pages of a rudimentary book about a man hitting a ball with a baseball bat. “None of the words in these books is over three letters, Gramps. That should make it easier for you to sound them out. I’ll make sure we read and write together every night. Or no dessert after dinner.” She flashed an impish grin at her grandfather.

Frank gave a mocking frown. “Well, I don’t know if I like that.”

As Clint walked Frank and Josie out to their car, Gracie waited inside. The cold night wind struck him like a polar vortex. They each zipped up their coats, their breath puffing on the air, their noses red.

“Thanks for your help, Ranger,” Frank said.

“Yes, thank you very much,” Josie chimed in.

Clint met her eyes. “You’re welcome.”

He wanted to say something more, but didn’t know what.

“Bye, Grandpa Frank,” Gracie called from the doorway, waving one of her fluffy red gloves.

“Good night, sweetheart. See you later,” Frank returned.

Gracie had hugged Josie earlier, a content smile on her face. As if they were close, and family. But they weren’t. Clint had to remember that.

And then the Rushtons were gone. As Clint watched them climb into Josie’s car and drive away, a warm, buoyant feeling settled in his chest. He’d enjoyed tonight and felt good about what they’d accomplished. Frank had a long way to go yet, but they would help him. Above all, Clint didn’t want him to get discouraged.

“I still think you should ask Josie out.” Standing on the curb, Gracie looked up at her dad.

Clint heard her, but didn’t respond. He shuffled one foot against the black ice and stared down the vacant street.

Gracie slipped her hand into his and he squeezed it tightly. The two of them had each other, and she was his entire world. But he still felt empty inside. As if he was just going through the motions and missing something important in life.

During their reading time, Clint had forgotten his sad past and the way Karen had died. He could almost pretend he hadn’t failed her. And he found himself wishing Frank was Gracie’s real grandpa and Josie was...

What?

A friend. That’s all she could ever be. Yet in his heart of hearts, Clint wished they could be so much more.

Chapter Nine

J
osie shivered in the cold car and flipped the defroster on high. The crackling of ice sounded beneath the tires as she pulled out of the parking lot. Looking in her rearview mirror, she saw Clint and Gracie standing together on the sidewalk, holding hands.

A strangled cough rose up in Josie’s throat. She liked the forest ranger and his little girl. A lot. Maybe too much. She liked the way Clint had patiently tutored Gramps. The way he spoke so kindly to each of them as he’d explained what they must do. The way his warm eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled.

Shaking her head, Josie focused on the slick road. Gramps sat bundled in his heavy coat as he gazed out the windshield, subdued and quiet.

“You did well tonight, Gramps,” she said.

He made a growling comment in the back of his throat.

“What was that?” she asked politely.

“I’m never gonna learn to read.”

“Of course you are. Don’t be so pessimistic.” She spoke in a buoyant tone, trying to be positive. Trying to mimic Clint’s optimism.

“I’m too old,” Gramps said.

“You’re never too old to learn. That’s a fallacy. Instead, why don’t you try to have fun? You’re not alone in this. Clint and I are gonna help. And Gracie, too.”

No, they weren’t alone anymore. Funny how she’d come to rely on the enigmatic forest ranger so quickly. Without coming on too strong, Clint seemed to know just what to say to steer them toward success.

The sound of the engine and gushing air from the heater filled the void of silence. Gramps stared out the dark window, his profile etched with vulnerability.

“You really think so?” he finally asked in a contemplative voice.

“I know so.” Her heart gave a powerful tug. He needed her strength to face this great hurdle.

Reaching across the seat, she folded her fingers around his hand, giving him comfort the only way she knew how. “It’s going to be okay, Gramps. I promise.”

He squeezed her hand and nodded, speaking in a voice roughened by emotion. “Of course it is, muffin.”

She chuckled, noticing how he squinted as they passed a bright streetlight.

“Are your eyes hurting you?” she asked.

“No.”

But she wondered if he would tell her if they were.

“I think I’ll make you an appointment to see about getting you a new pair of glasses. We can drive into Bridgeton to see an eye doctor. You’ve used the same reading glasses for years and years,” she said.

Another grumble emitted from Gramps’s chest.

Before he could argue, she hurried on. “And I think I’ll make Grandma’s lasagna for dinner tomorrow night. How would you like that?”

His face brightened just a bit. “Sounds good. I haven’t had Ma’s lasagna since she passed. How long did you say you can stay with me, honey?”

She glanced in her rearview mirror as she flipped on her blinker and made a right turn. “As long as it takes.”

“As long as what takes? You didn’t get fired, did you?”

She whipped her head toward him. “No, of course not. I simply had a lot of vacation time saved up, and I intend to use every bit of it.”

She needed this break. Had hungered for it, in fact. When the time came, it would be so difficult to go back to her lonely existence in Vegas, but she’d have to. Like everyone else, she had bills to pay. And knowing Gramps wouldn’t be going with her made her feel lonelier than ever.

* * *

The moment Josie and Frank stepped into the cultural hall for choir practice on Saturday night, Clint’s senses hiked into overdrive. Standing at the front of the stage with Tom Baker, he cleared his throat, feeling suddenly out of sorts.

“There you are, Frank. We’ve been running through that new song I told you about.” Carl Wilkins, the director, waved him over.

Dressed in her winter coat and black fluffy earmuffs, Josie carried a large basket to the front row of the auditorium. Several choir members sitting there greeted her. She smiled and answered their questions, hugging a couple of the women. They were all friends of Frank and Viola Rushton. No doubt Josie knew them from her visits home.

Her pale skin gleamed in the dim light, radiant and angelic. She lifted the muffs off her head and shrugged out of her coat, revealing a beautiful red sweater beneath. It framed her pale, flawless skin perfectly. Her black jeans fit her legs and hips to perfection. Her clean hair bounced against her shoulders. As she folded her coat and set it aside, her long lashes swept downward. How could a woman have such beautiful, expressive eyes?

Clint’s throat tightened, dry as sandpaper, and he swallowed. Seeing Josie so feminine and lovely caused his insides to churn, like a long lost memory he couldn’t let go of. He’d almost forgotten the intimacy of being with a woman. The hushed voices and soft kisses in the middle of the night.

A giddy rush of adrenaline coursed through his veins. He felt like a schoolboy about to ask the prom queen for a dance. Oh, yes. He’d love to ask Josie out on a real date. And then what? What if they fell in love?

Wearing blue coveralls and a blue flannel shirt, Frank lumbered down the aisle before stepping up onto the stage.

Carl handed him some sheet music. “Frank, you’ll be singing bass, Tom will sing tenor and Clint will sing baritone. Let’s take it from the top.”

Clint glanced at Frank, who calmly stared at the pages in his hands. He showed not a single glimmer to indicate he couldn’t read the words before he lowered the sheets. “I’m afraid I forgot my glasses. I can’t read this.”

Oh, yes. Frank was good at this. He’d spent a lifetime hiding his disability.

“I’ll help him,” Clint offered.

Carl nodded at Helen, who sat behind the piano on the side of the stage. When Carl lifted his hands in the air to direct the song, Josie sat up straight, her face creased with concern. She glanced at Clint, her eyes filled with pleading. And without asking, he knew exactly what she was thinking. She didn’t want to reveal Frank’s secret and embarrass him. Neither did Clint.

They shared a significant look no one else noticed. Clint inclined his head and gave a little calming motion with his hand, offering reassurance the only way he knew how. She sat back, seeming to relax.

Trusting him.

“I think it would help if we play through the piece and say the words together just once,” Clint suggested.

A look of impatience crossed Carl’s face, but he nodded. “Oh, all right.”

Nodding at Helen, Carl indicated that she should play the music. As the dramatic notes filled the stage, the men spoke the words out loud together, keeping time with the rhythm.

“Don’t go too fast during the second measure,” Carl interrupted. “This is a reverent song. Almost a lullaby. I want you to sing nice and slow.”

They began again, the men holding the chords in perfect harmony. And when they finished, a moment of profound silence filled the auditorium.

“I think I’ve got it” Frank broke the quiet.

“Good. Let’s take it from the top, then.” Another nod at Helen, and Carl led them through the song twice more.

By the third time, the song went more smoothly—a beautiful, worshipful piece about the three wise men coming to visit the baby Jesus the night He was born.

Frank didn’t need to be told the words twice, and Clint silently noted that the man had an amazing memory. Probably a skill he’d gleaned over the years in order to accommodate his illiteracy.

As he sang, Clint glanced up and saw Josie studying them. Sitting at the front of the audience, she looked up at him. He stuttered and felt suddenly awkward. His voice wobbled and he missed his notes. He’d never felt nervous singing before, but with Josie’s eyes boring into him like a high-speed drill, his hands shook and felt cold and clammy.

“No, no.” Carl tapped the music stand with his pointed baton. The piano stopped abruptly. “Clint, you need to concentrate on your notes more. You’re off tonight.”

He certainly was.

“Sorry. I’ll do better.” He flashed a nervous smile, but inwardly, he was trembling. What was it about Josie that disconcerted him so much?

They went through the song one more time. Clint refused to look at Josie, which helped him concentrate. It wasn’t perfect, but he made it to the end.

“Practice at home,” Carl ordered. Then he turned toward the auditorium, where the chorus members sat waiting. “Okay, let’s have everyone come on up and take your places.”

Josie stood with the rest, looking uncertain as she picked her way among the crowd.

“Josie!” Gracie ran over and took her hand.

Smiling widely, Josie leaned down and spoke to the little girl, but Clint couldn’t hear their words. When they came up on stage, Gracie joined the other children, while Josie stood nearby. Clint tried to focus on the director as he told them each where he wanted them situated for the opening number.

“Thanks for covering for Gramps.” Josie spoke next to him, whispering for his ears alone.

“You’re welcome. You doing okay?” Clint murmured.

“Yes, I’m fine.” She glanced at him, clutching her hands together.

“How did your conversation about moving to Las Vegas go with Frank?”

“He’s still a bit upset, but I think he’s forgiven me.” She spoke low, her gaze focused on Carl.

“Did you two work everything out?”

“He’s not leaving Camlin, if that’s what you mean. But we certainly haven’t worked everything out. I need to find someone to bring in meals for him once I’m gone. He’s been living on oatmeal, cookies and chicken noodle soup.”

He felt her pain. From the deep creases in her forehead, fretting over her grandfather was starting to take its toll on her.

“I’ll ask around for you. We’ll find someone. How’s his reading coming along?” Clint asked, trying to hold his sheet music steady.

“Good. He’s trying hard. In fact, I’m surprised at how fast he’s learning. He’s memorized the alphabet and the sounds each letter makes, and we’ve started putting them together into small words. The flash cards you gave us help a lot.”

Clint nodded, liking this news. “Have you seen the light bulb flash in his eyes yet?”

She tilted her head and he caught the tantalizing lemony scent of her hair. “What do you mean?”

“Usually when people start learning something new, a light clicks on inside of them and it shows in their eyes. It’s like they’re all aglow with happiness.”

“Hmm, I’ve mostly just seen a lot of frustration and grimaces from Gramps.” She laughed, the sound charming.

“Don’t worry. It’ll happen soon enough.”

Clint remembered seeing that light click on in Karen’s eyes when she’d read her first beginner’s book and actually understood the simple story. It had been the highlight of her education, all because she could now read rudimentary words and comprehend them. That was before Gracie was born. Karen had even talked about taking a college course, and he’d encouraged her. But she never did. Her insecurities had gotten the better of her.

“You don’t know someone in town that I can pay to go in and clean Gramps’s house once a week, do you?” she asked.

“As a matter of fact, I do. Rachel Burdett cleans my house. Since she lives right across the street from Frank, I’m sure she’d—”

“Ahem!”

He looked up. Carl stood at the front of the stage, tapping his foot impatiently as he glowered at them with disapproval. All eyes were trained on them. A couple of men chuckled and nudged each other, while the women tossed Josie knowing glances. Since Clint was a highly eligible bachelor, no doubt they were conjecturing over whether he was interested in Josie. And he was. But not in the way they thought. This was just a friendship, nothing more.

Clint swallowed and gave an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, Carl. What did you say?”

“Can you stand over here with Frank and Tom, please? Then you’ll be ready for the wise men number when it’s time.” Carl pointed a stiff finger at the floor.

Clint tossed a meaningful look at Josie. “We’ll talk about this later.”

“Okay. Thanks.” She nodded and he stepped away.

As Carl led the choir through a series of simple Christmas carols, Clint stood beside Frank and sang his parts. From all outward appearances, he was focused on what he was doing. But inside, he felt the thrum of electric shock currents zipping through his arms and legs. He found himself glancing repeatedly at Josie. From his peripheral vision, he was conscious of her every move. Of her innocent expression as she sang the chorus to “Silent Night.” He caught the high, clear melody of her voice during “O Little Town of Bethlehem.” Being near her wasn’t getting any easier.

* * *

Clint was watching her again. Josie could feel his eyes on her as she carried her basket of snickerdoodles to the refreshment table following practice. She knew it without looking his way, probably because she’d been watching him, too. Every chance she got. Surreptitious glances when she didn’t think he was looking. Feasting her eyes on his clean-shaven face and slicked-back hair. And she didn’t understand her obsession with the guy. He wasn’t special. Not so unique.

Who was she kidding? He was gorgeous, kind and wonderful. And hands off for her. He had a child to think about. He wouldn’t be interested in the likes of her.

Or would he?

When they’d finished their practice, the choir members headed toward the outer foyer for the cookie exchange. Josie reached inside her basket, lifted out a paper plate filled with soft cookies, and set it on the table. She then carried her basket to the sampling tables, where red and green cloths had been laid out, and chunky pinecones, Christmas ornaments and candles served as centerpieces.

A dull roar of happy chatter filled the air along with the crisp aroma of cinnamon and cloves. Kids raced among the crowd to attack the refreshments, their mothers calling for them to slow down.

Josie lifted a silver tray of cookies out of the basket and set it on the table. As she tugged off the plastic wrap, she bumped into someone.

“Excuse me.” She jerked around and found herself gazing up into Clint’s expressive eyes.

He stood close. Too close. And she stepped back.

“Sorry. It’s rather crowded in here.” He gave a nervous laugh.