Shenandoah Christmas Page 3

  In a matter of seconds, the dream became a nightmare, one Ben was still trying to escape. From the perfect life, he'd descended into a hell of pain and loss. Eighteen months later, he'd thought he'd climbed out of the pit, at least far enough to find a purpose in living, a willingness to keep trying. For a long time, he'd only functioned to

  take care of the kids. Nowadays, finally, he took care of himself, too.

  But maintaining this equilibrium demanded all his strength. He had nothing left to give to a new relationship. Especially one with a woman like Cait Gregory. A man could lose his soul in her shining green eyes. Ben knew he needed to hold on to what soul he had left.

  Still, he shouldn't flay other people because of his own inadequacies. Cait Gregory didn't deserve the way he'd treated her. And the injustice bothered him.

  So he put down the sandpaper and chair leg he'd been smoothing, dusted his hands and picked up the phone. Dave Remington's number was on his autodial list—had been since he'd arrived in town after Valerie's accident. Taking a deep breath, Ben punched the button.

  "Hello?" Not Dave's Virginia accent, or Anna's clear tone, but a siren's voice. "Hello?"

  He straddled a chair and braced his head on his hand. "Cait? This is Ben Tremaine."

  Immediate frost. "David and Anna have gone to bed. But if it's an emergency—"

  ' 'No. No, I called to... talk to you."

  "Really?" As brittle as breaking icicles. "Was there some aspersion you forgot to cast?''

  Strangely, he almost laughed. "I want to apologize. I acted like a jerk, in the grocery and at dinner. No excuses. But I am sorry. You didn't deserve it."

  "Oh." Cait sat speechless as she held the phone to her ear, trying to think of the right response. Part of her wanted to punish him, to keep Ben Tremaine groveling for a long time. Part of her wanted to spare him any further embarrassment.

  And part of her just wanted to keep him talking.

  «4'

  LYNNETTE KENT 33

  "That's...that's okay. No harm done. I've had my share of tough reviews over the years. I'll recover."

  "I'm glad to hear it. I imagine there are legions of fans out there who'd be after me if I slighted their legend." His voice held a smile.

  Gait found herself smiling in response. ' 'Probably not legions. Or a legend. Janis Joplin is a legend. I'm just a singer."

  "I bet you do a good version of 'Bobby McGee,' though."

  I've never covered that song."

  Why not? Your voice would be perfect."

  Her chest went hollow at the idea that he 'd noticed her voice. "Um...I don't know." Almost without her intent, the melody came to mind, and then the words about being free and being alone. The music possessed her, as a good song always did, and she sang it through, experimenting with intervals and timing. At the end, she was still hearing the possibilities, thinking about variations...until she realized how long the silence had lasted.

  Talk about embarrassed. "I— I'm sorry." She felt her face and neck flush with heat. "I—"

  "Don't apologize." He cleared his throat. "I was right—you're dynamite with that song. What do you have to do to get the rights to sing it?"

  "Pay big bucks, probably. I'll get my agent to investigate."

  "Good." He paused, and Cait could tell he was ready to say goodbye. "Well, I guess I'll let you go. I hope you know I really am sorry for...everything."

  "Forget it." She wanted to keep him on the line but, really, what did they have to talk about?

  "If you will."

  "Then it's done." She took a deep breath and made the break herself. "Good night, Ben."

  "Night... Cait."

  She set down the phone and rolled to her side on the bed, breathing in the lavender scent of Anna's pillowcases. Flowered wallpaper and crisp, frilly curtains, lace-trimmed pillows and old-fashioned furniture...the guest room reflected Anna's careful, caring personality, her love of beautiful, comfortable surroundings. After two solid months on the road, sleeping in anonymous motel rooms, Cait reveled in the luxury. If only she could sing her songs, and then come home every night to something like this

  She drifted off to sleep, into dreams she sensed but couldn't remember, and woke to the smell of coffee. That meant she'd overslept and left Anna and David to get their own breakfast. Of course, ten-thirty was very early on a Saturday morning for most musicians she knew to be out of bed. Cait considered this just one more example of the way she would never fit in with the normal, everyday routine her sister lived. Not to mention Ben Tremaine.

  Why bring him up, anyway?

  She found Anna alone at the table in the cozy kitchen, looking as if she hadn't slept very well.

  "Everything okay?" Cait poured herself a mug of coffee. "Are you feeling alright?"

  "Why wouldn't I be?"

  Cait blinked at the unusual sharpness in Anna's tone. "You look tired, is all."

  Her sister took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "Sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you. I guess you're right—I am tired."

  "Maybe we should have stayed home last night."

  "I'm as tired of staying home as anything else." Again, the harshness in her usually gentle voice.

  "Well, okay. I'll send you out on my next concert tour. You can ride all day and sleep in two or three hour snatches and eat lousy food two meals out of every three. I'll stay here and—"

  Anna laughed, as Cait had hoped she would. ' 'I get the message. The grass is always greener." She stared into her orange juice for a minute, then looked up as Cait sat down with her coffee and a sweet roll. "So what do you think about the Christmas pageant?"

  After talking with Ben, she hadn't given the pageant any thought at all. But she didn't need to. "I'm not the person to be in charge of a program like that. And you know it."

  I know you think so. I'm not convinced you're right." 'You need somebody who believes in—what's the phrase?—'the reason for the season.'"

  Anna lifted her eyebrows. "Are you an atheist now?"

  "N-no." Cait crumbled a corner of her roll. "But that's theology. Your program should have a director who likes Christmas."

  "Sweetie, it's been ten years. Don't you think you could start to forgive him?''

  The unmentionable had just been mentioned. "Has he forgiven me?"

  Now her sister avoided her gaze. "We...don't talk about you."

  Cait nodded. "Because I ceased to exist for him the second I refused to do what he told me to. What kind of father treats a child that way?'' 'He wanted so much for you—'' Without ever bothering to find out what I wanted for

  i i-

  i-

  4 41

  4 . '

  myself. And then he chose Christmas—of all times—to force a showdown."

  "I'm sure he's sorry."

  "I'm not sure of that. But I'm not sorry, either. He handed me the career I wanted by making it impossible for me to do anything else. If he can't live with my choice, can't connect with me in spite of our differences, then—" she shrugged "—that's his choice."

  Anna sighed. "Okay, forget about Dad. The Goodwill Christmas pageant would be a one-time commitment for you. Is that too much to ask?"

  "I wouldn't be any good at it, Anna. I could go through the motions, but that wouldn't produce the results you want."

  "You won't even try?"

  "I can't just try something like this. I either do it, or I don't. And I really would rather not." She took a fortifying sip of coffee. ' There are other churches in town. One of their choir directors could organize the pageant."

  "Mrs. Boringer at the Methodist Church is sixty-five and has really bad arthritis." Anna ticked off one finger. "John Clay, the Catholic priest, leads their singing, but he won't take on a project like this. And Lou Miller just accepted a job in a big church in Dallas, leaving the Baptists without a choir director at all. Our church is the only hope for this season. If we don't do it, Goodwill won't have a pageant...for the first time in forty-eight years."


  "So let David—"

  "David doesn't sing. You know that. We have to have somebody who sings."

  Cait saw the anxiety in Anna's face, the tension in her hands wrapped around the mug of tea. This kind of stress couldn't be good for the baby. And it would kill Anna to lose another baby.

  But.,.just the thought of involving herself in a Christmas pageant was enough to make her head pound and her stomach cramp. Cait closed her eyes for a second, swallowed back bile, then wiped her sweaty palms on her pa-jama pants.

  "Look, let's do this." A deep breath. "I'll get them started on Christmas songs. The story's still the same, right?" She watched Anna summon up a small smile. "Meanwhile, you can ask around, find a mom or a dad who's willing to do the actual staging and directing. And, who knows, maybe by the middle of December your baby will be here and you can direct the pageant yourself."

  Anna shook her head. "This isn't something we can put together in two weeks. Costumes, scenery, everybody learning their lines..."

  The details made Cait shudder. "First things first. We'll start with the music."

  And if I'm lucky, she thought, the music is as far as I'll have to go.

  The adult choir sang for the first time under Cait's direction in church on Sunday. Three sopranos, two altos and four men was not a very large group, but they all had pleasant voices, strong enough for the old familiar hymn she'd arranged and rehearsed with them.

  After the service, it seemed that every member of the small church stopped at the organ to compliment her. "What a pleasure," Karen Patterson said. "I'm so glad you're here to help us all out." She had her arm around her daughter Brenna, Maddie Tremaine's friend. "Brenna loves what you're doing with her choir."

  "I have a good time with them, too." Cait smiled at Brenna. "They sing very well for such a young group."

  Gray-eyed Brenna ducked her head, hiding a pleased smile.

  "That was just lovely." Peggy Shepherd put her arm around Cait's waist. "I almost called out 'Encore!' But I thought David might be insulted."

  Cait grinned. ' 'The sermon is supposed to be the main point, I think." Her father had always delivered powerful, intelligent—and often intimidating—messages. As far as she knew, he was still preaching, still cautioning his parishioners against the dangers of stray thoughts and wayward deeds.

  "A fine song," Harry Shepherd added. "One of my favorites."

  "That was beautiful, Miss Caitlyn!" Maddie appeared suddenly in the midst of the gathering. "Can we sing that song in our choir?"

  "Maybe you could. The melody, anyway." Cait felt, rather than saw, Ben Tremaine come to the edge of the group. He stood to her right, just out of her line of sight. She wanted to turn to greet him, but couldn't get up the nerve.

  Maddie swung on her arm. "Guess what we're doing this afternoon, Miss Caitlyn." Um...going swimming?"

  Of course not. It's too cold to swim. Guess again." Building a snowman?"

  'There's no snow." She said it chidingly, as if Cait should know better. "We're having a Halloween party. It's at Brenna's house, and we get to wear our costumes."

  "That sounds like so much fun. What did you decide to wear?"

  ' 'Zorro, of course. I got a hat and a sword and everything. And Shep's going to be Wolverine."

  t f

  < it

  i c

  t i'

  "Wow...that's great. What are you going to be, Brenna?''

  "An Olympic champion," the little blonde said softly.

  "Brenna has horses," Maddie confided. "She's got all the fancy clothes, so she just made a gold medal on a ribbon and she's all set."

  "What a great idea. Maybe you'll be an Olympic champion for real someday."

  "I hope so," Brenna said, with the intensity Cait remembered feeling at that age in her desire for a singing career.

  "I wish I could see all your costumes." She was beginning to wonder if Maddie would swing her arm right out of its socket. * 'Will you come trick-or-treating to Miss Anna's house?"

  The swinging stopped. "Why don't you come to the party," Maddie asked. "I'm sure it's okay with Brenna's mom. Isn't it?"

  Karen Patterson recovered quickly from her surprise. "O-of course. We'd be delighted to have you come by, Cait. As long as you can stand the noise twelve ten-year-olds will make."

  There was no graceful way out. "I think I can stop by for a few minutes, at least. Where do you live, Mrs. Patterson?"

  "Karen, please. We're kind of far out of town, but it's not hard to find. If you drive—''

  Maddie tugged on her arm again. "You don't need to drive, Miss Caitlyn. My daddy can bring you with us."

  As she turned to look at the man in question, Cait knew she only imagined that the entire group went completely quiet.

  His smile waited for her, rueful, a little embarrassed,

  maybe slightly annoyed. "Sure," he said, in that soft, deep drawl. "We'd be glad to take you to the party."

  How she wanted to refuse. But Maddie was staring up at her with wide brown eyes, silently—for once!—pleading. Shep stood just behind Ben, peeking around his dad's hip like a little mouse out of a hole. Cait thought she saw an expression of hope on his face, as well.

  She could brush off a grown man—had done it plenty of times over the past ten years. But disappointing a child was simply beyond Cait's strength.

  "That sounds great." She grinned at the children, avoiding even a brief glance at their dad. "What time should I be ready?"

  ties and dangerous voyages and lost loves. When Karen called the kids to the table for tacos and juice, Cait served food, wiped up several spills, and then led the children in a wild dance through the cold, crisp air, the last rays of the sun and the crackling leaves on the ground.

  "I'm sorry," she said to Karen as the kids began to leave. "I certainly didn't intend to take over your party."

  "Are you kidding? This is a Halloween they'll remember forever, and it happened at our house. Brenna is thrilled." Karen grinned. "Not to mention that in five years you'll have all the teenagers in Goodwill, Virginia buying your recordings."

  Cait laughed. "You uncovered my real motive—increasing sales."

  Standing nearby, Ben watched the remaining kids playing in the leaves and listened to the two women get to know each other. He hadn't participated in this kind of...easy...relationship, he realized, since moving to Goodwill. Although he knew most of the folks here by face and name, he didn't mix much with anyone but Harry and Peggy and, sometimes, Dave Remington. Valerie had been the social secretary in their partnership, keeping up with friends and family on his behalf. With her gone, he hadn't had the heart to continue the effort.

  Cait Gregory made socializing look like a pleasure...one he might want to share.

  She's a professional, he reminded himself. The woman makes her living charming crowds of faceless fans. Do you want to be just another star struck fool?

  For a minute, watching her laugh, Ben was tempted to answer yes. His life had been so somber for so long, now....

  Daddy." Maddie tugged on the sleeve of his sweater. Shep's not feeling good."

  He turned to see his little boy standing pale-faced and heavy-eyed behind him. Going down on one knee, he put a hand on Shep's forehead. "You do feel hot. Guess we'd better get you home and into bed with some medicine inside you."

  This was something else he hadn't done much of until Valerie's death. Sick kids terrified him. What if he missed the difference between a simple cold and pneumonia? Or fell asleep when their fever went too high?

  On a deep breath, he stood up again. He hadn't made a serious mistake so far, right? No reason to think this would be any different. There was always Peggy for backup, or Dr. Hall.

  Scooping Shep up against his shoulder, he joined Karen and Cait. "Wolverine here's a little under the weather. We need to be getting home."

  With four kids of her own, Karen reacted like the typical experienced mom—feeling Shep's forehead, thinking of practicalities. "There's a flu going
around at school— three kids weren't able to come today because they're sick. Some fever medicine and a couple of days' rest, then you'll be back to fighting evil, you superhero, you."

  But Cait's face mirrored some of Ben's uncertainty. "I'm so sorry," she murmured, almost crooned. She laid a hand along Shep's cheek. "It's no fun being sick, is it?"

  Lower Up stuck out in a pout, Shep shook his head. Then he sat up in Ben's arms, reached over, and practically threw himself into Cait's embrace.

  "Shep..." Ben felt his own face heat up. The woman didn't need a sick kid clinging to her. "What are you doing, son? Come back here."

  But Shep, who rarely gave adults much notice these days, stuck to Cait like a sand burr. Chuckling, looking

  panicked and pleased at the same time, she shook her head. "It's okay. I'll carry him to the car. Thanks, Karen—it was a great party."

  4 Thank you, Cait. Come over and visit sometime this week."

  "Sure."

  In the Suburban, Shep wouldn't let go of Cait until she agreed to sit in the back seat right beside him. Exasperated, Ben made sure Maddie had buckled herself in on Cait's other side before climbing into the front all alone.

  "Now I know how the president's driver feels," he commented, more to himself than anyone else, "waiting for the SAIC to get in beside him." They passed through the dark farm country like a shadow—the only movement or light to be seen for miles around.

  "SAIC?" Cait said.

  Ben mentally kicked himself in the butt. Was he showing off for her deliberately? "Sorry. Special Agent in Charge. The agent heading up any maneuver in which the president leaves the White House."

  "Anna said you were with the Secret Service. Quite a glamorous job."

  "Not unless something bad happens. Mostly it's planning, and more planning, then standing around waiting for the unplanned to occur."