Page 48 of The Sound of Sleighbells

“No need. I’ll just push the call button. Handy little gadget. Too bad I can’t take it home with me.” He turned his head to look at Ruth. “You look all in. Go home and get some rest. You, too, Judd. I’ve got good folks taking care of me here. I’ll be fine.”

“I’m not leaving until you’ve seen the doctor in the morning,” Judd said. “But you might as well go, Ruth. You’re tired, and you’ve left Skip and the girls at home. I’ll call you in the morning.”

With a sigh, Ruth gave in. Clearly, she wasn’t needed here. “All right, I’ll go,” she said, squeezing Abner’s hand. “You take it easy, friend.”

“You, too. And get some rest. I mean it, Ruth. You’ve been taking care of everybody but yourself.”

“Abner’s right,” Judd said. “Listen to him.”

She picked up her purse, which she’d left next to the chair. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Abner. And promise you’ll call me in the morning, Judd. All right?”

“I promise. Now, get going, Ruth. And be careful on the road. There’s supposed to be some weather moving in.”

“I’ll be fine.” She walked out the door, passing the nurse who’d been called. The elevator took her back down to the lobby with its shining tree and soothing carols. Taking a moment, she stood in front of the tree, inhaled its fresh scent, and willed the Christmas spirit to flow into her heart. But all she felt was a jumble of confusion. Judd’s kiss and her response, concern for Abner, worry over her children, Christmas preparations, fear of Digger and what he might do, tumbled over and over in her mind like clothes trapped in a dryer. And she couldn’t seem to make them stop.

“Isn’t this lovely, dear?” The silvery voice at her elbow startled her. An elderly woman—white hair, hunched shoulders, a cane in one hand and her purse over her arm—stood next to Ruth. “That aroma makes you feel Christmasy all over, doesn’t it?”

“I wish it did.” Something about the woman made Ruth feel the urge to open up. “I’ve been trying to get in a Christmas mood, but so far it isn’t working. I’ve got too much on my mind.”

“Haven’t we all, dear?” She smiled up at Ruth, deepening the wrinkles around her eyes. Her hair was perfectly coiffed. Her makeup was in place. She was dressed in gray slacks and a cherry-red cardigan. “Don’t worry, it will come. It always did for me, even in the hard times.”

“Are you here to visit someone?” Ruth asked.

“Yes. My husband. I always try to look pretty for him when I come.”

“You do look pretty.”

“Oh, pshaw! I’m an old woman. But as long as I look pretty to Carl, that’s all that matters. I’m Vera, by the way.”

“And I’m Ruth. If you don’t mind my asking, why is your husband here? Will he be going home soon?”

A shadow seemed to pass across the woman’s face. Then she rearranged her features into a smile. “He has congestive heart failure, and he’s too old for a transplant. But yes, he’ll be coming home tomorrow. The house is set up for hospice care. We’ll have one last Christmas together—even if we have to celebrate early.”

Oh, Vera, Ruth thought. But she sensed that the woman wouldn’t welcome pity. “How long have you been married, Vera?” she asked.

“Sixty-six years. And except for when Carl was in Vietnam, we’ve never missed a Christmas together. We’ve been blessed that way—and blessed to have one more. The tree is up, the music ready. I’ll be cooking food for friends and family to come, so Carl will be able to smell it, even though he can’t really eat.” She laughed, a brave little sound. “I’ve even got mistletoe hanging above the bed, because I want to give him lots of kisses.” Her voice broke on the last few words. She was strong, but not that strong.

“Carl will be waiting for me. I’d better go. Have a merry Christmas, Ruth.” Vera squeezed Ruth’s hand before she hurried off to the elevators.

Ruth watched the elevator doors slide shut behind the woman in the red sweater. She checked the urge to slap herself. Why was she whining when she had so many reasons to celebrate the holiday—three beautiful, healthy children, a decent job, a home, friends, and a man who would love her if she had the courage to let him. What was wrong with her?

But she knew the answer to that question. Over the years, she’d grown accustomed to feeling overburdened. Her joyless attitude had become a habit. Christmas had become just one more source of stress. Even decorating the tree with the children, taking the girls to the park, and shopping for presents had felt like chores to be checked off on her list.

It had taken a woman with a dying husband to show her the true meaning of Christmas.

As she fumbled for her keys, her throat tightened with emotion. She had worried her life away, and her family had paid the price. She had been a dutiful mother. No one could fault her on that. But where was her joy? Her laughter? When was the last time she’d allowed herself to loosen up and have fun?

She had made a promise to give her children the best Christmas ever—the tree, the presents, the food. Only one thing was missing—their mother.

Her problems were not going away. But something needed to change, and that change would have to be genuine.

Buttoning her jacket up to her chin, she walked through the revolving door and stepped out into the night. The lights around the parking lot cast shadows on the gleaming asphalt. Ink-black clouds hid the stars.

The wind that had blown all week was still, the night as quiet as a whisper. As Ruth walked down the row of cars to her station wagon, something cold and wet settled on her cheek. She looked up. Soft, white flakes were falling out of the sky. It was snowing.

Chapter Eleven

On Sunday morning Ruth loaded her children into the station wagon and took the road to Judd’s place. Abner would be leaving the hospital today. Judd had gone to Cottonwood Springs to pick him up and bring him to the ranch.

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