Page 10 of Christmas in His Arms

8

RYAN

Ispent the better part of the early morning hours getting tables set up for the toy drive. With the labels made and placed in front of large blue barrels intended for donors to drop their toys, arranged according to the age range for the toys, my job was almost complete. The drive started in fifteen minutes, and I'd made it most of the morning without thinking too much about Carrie, but as noon approached, I found myself anticipating the sight of her face.

I walked past each of the tables and barrels one last time, making a sweep around the room to ensure things were done correctly, and as I passed a few ladies also helping set up, I overheard them speaking in hushed tones.

"Can you believe it, though? She's half his age. He could be her father."

"Does it surprise you? You know what they say he did to his wife's car…"

The second comment came from Judy Baker, a known town troublemaker. She never had any good intentions. When thatwoman opened her mouth, it was always to make someone else look bad and herself, by comparison, better. The words irritated me, but I couldn’t walk away and not find out what else they'd say. I hovered by the table pretending to straighten the stack of paper, printouts of the instructions for the drive volunteers who'd be arriving any minute.

"I heard that Bennett girl came back to town for her father, but someone said she's shacking up with Ryan now. He's gone over to Helen and Walt's a few times."

My chest tightened, and I took a deep breath to calm myself. I wanted to turn around and tell them off, but as I raised my head and looked in their direction, I saw Carrie walking through the doors with her head high and a warm smile on her face. The instant I saw her, I had no interest in squaring off with nosy women who knew nothing. I walked past them and straight to Carrie, who looked happy to see me.

"Hey, this place looks great! You did a good job." She tugged her gloves off and put them into her pockets, and I noticed the pink glow on her cheeks from the cold air.

"You look great," I told her, letting the compliment slip out. She blushed and her cheeks grew even rosier, but she didn't look away. I felt awkward for a moment but quickly pushed that away. "I, uh… Thank you for coming. I made some coffee. Would you like a cup?" I nodded at the refreshments table at the back of the sanctuary where Christmas cookies, cocoa, and coffee were being served. I'd set up the carafe earlier, and by now, it was done percolating.

"That sounds great. I'm so tired lately."

Carrie followed me to the refreshments, and by the time we got there, a few other women were getting their own snacks and drinks. Carrie looked a little nervous, slipping her coat off. She draped it over her arm and accepted a cup of coffee from me. Her eyes flicked over to the women who were whispering and then back to the cup she was doctoring up with cream and sugar.

"Some nerve, I tell you," I heard one of the women whisper. The other one scowled and made her own rude comments.

"Martha Jones would be appalled." The woman whose daughter died would definitely have felt things, but I doubted she'd be showing up today.

I also doubted that Carrie was feeling very comfortable now, so I whispered, "Let's go over there," and I nodded across the room where there were a few chairs situated. She followed me, and we sat down. The close proximity of so many people in the confining space put my nerves on edge. I hated that Carrie had to sit and listen to people talking about her, and I didn't like how they spoke of me either.

"I'm sorry you have to put up with that. I know what they're saying and I hate that they can't just get over it." My comment seemed to help take the edge off, and Carrie relaxed a little.

"You should never apologize for someone else being a jerk. I knew what I was getting into coming home to be with Dad and Mom. And I knew how people would treat me. It just stings. I was eighteen. It was ten years ago." Carrie's eyes roamed the room as she spoke, and she still had a smile on her face, one I was sure she'd practiced a lot over the years.

Being the mayor's kid was a lot like being the pastor's kid. Everyone expected a certain level of maturity and appropriatebehavior. Walt had probably put pressure on her to perform well in all things, as any father would, but with the added emphasis of being the "good girl". I knew he never meant to bring any harm to his family, but small towns like this ate people alive. Carrie never stood a chance at a normal life. She never got to just be a kid.

"Need to talk about it?" I asked her, hoping she'd open up.

She smiled sadly and shrugged. "I threw a party. Someone brought booze, though I didn't tell them to. It went really badly and there was an accident…" Her lip quivered, and her eyes welled up with tears. I could see the guilt she carried, and I knew I had to help her feel better before she broke down and gave the busybodies more to talk about.

"Let's go for a walk," I told her, and I stood up. I took her cup of coffee and set both of our cups on a table without caring whether they were in the way.

Carrie stood with me, already putting her coat on as we moved toward the front door and the coat rack where my coat was hanging. I slid my coat on, and we headed out the front of the church into the sunny but chilly air. She didn’t say anything as we descended the steps and turned toward the Christmas village being erected in the park adjacent to the church, but I heard her sniffling.

"You know, people still say I sabotaged Kate's car…" I sighed at my confession, and Carrie glanced up at me.

"That's horrible. Why would they say that?" Seeing the compassion in her eyes encouraged me. By focusing on my own trauma, she was able to let go of the heavy emotion she was feeling. I'd carry that pain for her any day.

"Well, it was no secret that Kate was upset with me. She wanted kids so badly, and I had no interest in it. She had a failed pregnancy, and it didn't affect me emotionally. I was actually relieved. I told her before we even got married that I didn't want kids. She just thought I'd change my mind. So when we divorced, it was so painful for her. The deputies said she was distracted while driving. Townsfolk said she was suicidal or that I did that to her car on purpose, cut the brake lines or something."

I still felt the sting of the gossip years later as if it were fresh. I knew how much it hurt when people spoke unkindly of you.

"I'm so sorry they said that." Carrie touched my arm softly, and we stopped walking and turned to face each other.

The Christmas village wasn’t quite finished, but at least for today there were no volunteers around to distract or interrupt us. We were far enough away from the church to have peace and quiet, and at this distance, I didn't even think people would know who we were. We stood between a decorated Christmas tree and a shed that had been decorated to resemble a bakery, with gingerbread decorations all over it.

"You know that feeling you feel right now toward me? Compassion for what I'm going through, anger for what other people have said or done?" I asked, stepping closer to her.

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