Upon a Midnight Clear Read online

  Now, being here with him, seeing his face, hearing his laughter again, hearing him say her name, had eroded the wall she had built to keep him out, to make certain that he—that no one—ever came close to her heart again. But it was no use, she knew.

  If anything, she thought as she sighed and punched her pillow, the past two days had taught her something she had suspected for years.

  If love is deep enough, true enough, it never dies. No matter what

  * * *

  Chapter Nine

  "What are we going to do today?" Evan pounced upon Cale from behind.

  "There is nothing to do," Eric whined.

  "Christmas is in two days." Evan counted on his fingers. "This is the worst Christmas ever."

  "How do you figure that?" Cale asked.

  "We're stuck in this dumb cabin. Santa Claus will never find us here." Eric's eyes widened at the realization.

  The twins looked at each other in horror.

  "No Christmas presents?" Evan whispered.

  "We don't even have a tree," Eric moaned.

  "I wish we'd never come here," Evan announced. "I want to go home."

  "We want to go home," Eric repeated.

  Just finishing up washing the breakfast dishes—Cale having made his world-famous gloppy eggs that morning—Quinn paused at the sink, then dried her hands on the towel.

  "Get your coats on, boys," she told them.

  The boys groaned in unison.

  "NO. Not a walk," Eric protested. "Daddy, don't let her make us go for a walk!"

  "We are going to build a snowman on the front porch," she told them. "There's plenty of snow. Come on."

  Without giving anyone an opportunity to protest further, she pushed the boys to the door and assisted Cale in getting them dressed for the outside. After bundling themselves up, Cale and Quinn led the twins through the front door onto the porch.

  "Quinn's right," their father told them, "there's more than enough snow for a good snowman."

  Soon the snowman began to take shape, and the boys wanted features for the frosty face. A pile of pinecones found under the snow in one corner of the porch supplied eyes, nose, and mouth. The boys admired their creation, but, cold and bored, now that the distraction had ended, they began to complain again.

  "We want a Christmas tree, Daddy," Evan told him solemnly. "If we have a tree and Santa does find us, he'll have a place to leave our presents."

  Cale had planned on chopping one of the small pines from the back to bring into the cabin. He hadn't counted on a blizzard. A Christmas tree wasn't too much for his sons to ask, he knew. Of course, if Val couldn't get here with their presents, there wouldn't be anything to put under the tree, but he'd worry about that later.

  "Guys, go inside with Quinn and warm up. I'll be in in a few minutes."

  "What are you going to do, Daddy?"

  "It's a surprise. Go on." Cale opened the door and shoved them through. "Maybe Quinn can make something hot for you to drink."

  "Sure, Cale, but what are you… ?" she asked as he scooted her through the door behind the boys.

  "You just go on." Cale motioned for her to follow behind his sons, and closed the door. He turned to the snowman and asked, "What would Christmas be without a tree?"

  "Well, boys, what do you think?" Cale stood the little tree upon its cut trunk and gave it a twirl.

  The boys looked at it in horror.

  "What's wrong?" he asked.

  "What's that?" They frowned.

  "This," Cale told them, "is our Christmas tree."

  "That's not a Christmas tree!"

  "That's a twig!"

  Crestfallen, Cale stepped back to take another look at the little tree he had chopped from where it had grown at the foot of the porch steps, trying to see it through his sons' eyes. It had been the only tree he could get to without running the risk of being lost in the storm.

  It was a bit… scraggly.

  "Why, that tree's just right," Quinn announced, having seen the look of disappointment cross Cale's face. "It'll be wonderful, once we decorate it You'll see, guys. It'll be perfect."

  "'We don't have any decorations," Evan wailed.

  "Then we'll make them," she told them. "Eric, get out that art kit of yours."

  "Oh, brother," the boys moaned joylessly.

  "Here." Quinn handed Eric a pair of scissors and a pile of construction paper. "You cut out strips, like this." She folded the paper into strips of equal width, then cut out the first two.

  From the art kit, she withdrew a container of paste and, removing the lid, told Evan, "And you can glue the strips together into a chain, see?"

  She demonstrated, then held up the two resulting circles. Cutting one more strip, she added the third circle and handed them to Evan.

  "We used to do that, Val and I did," Cale said softly from behind her. "With our grandmother. We never had anything on our tree that we hadn't made."

  Quinn turned to him, wanting to put her arms around him. From somewhere across the years, the old Cale had come back. She recognized every fiber of him now, recalled all the hurts he had shared with her, all the pain of his mother leaving and his grandmother dying, the shame of having a father who came home only when he had nowhere else to go.

  "We made things, too," she told him as she sorted through the pile of colored paper until she found the white. Sitting next to him at the table, she cut wide strips, then folded the strips into squares, over and over until the entire strip was little more than two inches wide. With the scissors, she clipped and trimmed, then unfolded the strip and held it up for him to see.

  "It's a chain of hearts," Quinn said simply, holding it out to him.

  He met her eyes from across the table, then reached out and took the simple gift she offered, his hand lingering on hers for just a moment.

  "Hearts are for girls," Eric said, looking over his father's shoulder.

  Cale frowned, and began to fold one of the white strips that Quinn had cut and laid upon the table. When the paper was nothing more than a square, he cut as he had seen her do, then held the paper up so that the hearts unfolded, as hers had done. Smiling, she took his chain and pasted it to the one she had made, and for a long moment, it seemed that time stood still, and they were alone.

  "Daddy, are you going to let her hang hearts on our tree?" Eric asked suspiciously.

  "I would let her hang whatever she wants on our tree," Cale said softly.

  "Boy," Evan grumbled, wondering what had gotten into his dad.

  "How might Christmas cookies look on the tree?" Quinn asked.

  "Christmas cookies?" The boys asked in unison. Now she had their attention. "Like the ones we made yesterday?"

  "Different ones today. Special ones to put on the tree," she told them.

  "Yea!" They clapped their hands, and the little demons turned back into little boys again.

  "You guys finish the chain," she instructed. "And while you do that, I'll make us some lunch and get stuff ready for cookies."

  "How long does the chain have to be?" Eric frowned.

  Quinn tried to gauge how long it would take her to make soup from a can and the first batch of cookie dough.

  "The chain should reach from the door to the sofa." She nodded, figuring that ought to buy her a little time and keep the boys occupied.

  Cale watched her later as she worked with his sons, as she rolled out the dough and patiently showed them how to cut shapes. He watched the small faces of the boys, so intent on learning the new skills, so pleased with their efforts, so eager for Quinn's attention and approval. Their faces were wonders to behold, the boys' and the woman's, and the simple joy of the scene settled around him. As the warmth of the day spread through him, it occurred to him that he could not remember the last time he had been this happy. He wanted to hold on to it with both hands. Instead he leaned against the counter and willed himself not to weep at the sight of the beautiful woman and the two beautiful boys who were busy cutting uneven stars out of