Page 11 of The Sound of Sleighbells

He made a habit of shopping early. It involved fewer people, shorter wait times, and less chance of running into someone he knew from the old days. Everyone who’d been around back then would know what had happened and where he’d been, and they’d probably want to talk about it—or they’d just nudge each other and stare. No thank you. Get in, get out, and get going—that was his mode of operation.

He was standing in front of the freezer case, perusing the Ben & Jerry’s display, when a rhythmic, thumping sound caught his attention.

At first, he ignored it. But then, as the sound paused, he happened to glance toward the end of the aisle, toward the meat cases. The woman, wearing a well-worn tan trench coat, her short, auburn hair curling over the collar, stood with her back toward him. But Judd recognized her erect carriage and the tilt of her head. He would have known Ruth anywhere.

She turned partway, showing him her profile as she hefted a plastic-wrapped turkey into her cart. She looked thin and tired, her expression showing strain. She used to say that he could read her like a book. That hadn’t changed.

But seeing him would only add to her stress—and to his. As she swung the cart in a different direction, he grabbed two half-gallon cartons of ice cream—vanilla and something else—out of the freezer and strode toward the front of the store.

At this hour, only one checkout was open. The line ahead of him was short, with most people buying just one or two last-minute items. This shouldn’t take long. A few more minutes, and he’d be on his way.

But he couldn’t stop thinking about Ruth. She couldn’t be having an easy time of it, with her abusive husband in prison and three children to support. No doubt she was sacrificing to give them a good Thanksgiving celebration.

What he did next was done without thought, but it felt right. As he presented his Amex card to pay for the ice cream, he spoke to the cashier, a girl barely out of her teens.

“There’s a woman in the store—tan coat, short hair—she’ll be buying a turkey and some other things. I need to go, but please put her charges on my card. Can you do that?”

“Maybe.” The girl looked doubtful. “If she was right behind you, it would be easy. But since there are other people in line, I’d have to run the card again, and you said you needed to leave.”

“Then let’s do it this way,” Judd said. “Just ring up an extra hundred dollars as cash on this purchase. That should cover what she’s buying. But don’t tell her who paid. If she asks, it was just a customer, and you don’t remember. All right?”

“All right.” The girl giggled. “This is fun!”

Judd carried the purchased ice cream out to his truck. Parked a few spaces away was an old brown station wagon with the rear window busted out. The shards clinging to the frame suggested the damage might have just happened.

A few weeks ago, a car like this one had passed him on the way to town. The driver, briefly glimpsed, had been a woman who looked like Ruth. Was this her car? It seemed likely. But he couldn’t wait around to find out. He could only hope that having her groceries paid for would make her holiday easier.

As he pulled out of the parking lot, Judd glanced in his rearview mirror. Ruth was just coming out of the store with her loaded cart. She was headed straight for the brown station wagon.

* * *

Ruth lifted each bag from the cart and placed it in the rear of her wagon. Broken glass littered the rug she’d laid over the worn-out carpeting. She would clean it up later. Right now, she needed to get to Abner’s and start on the turkey.

She would keep quiet about the theft of her groceries. And she certainly wouldn’t mention the Good Samaritan who’d paid to replace them. The grocery tally had come to $88.71—a generous gift. Ruth knew she should be grateful. But she was equally puzzled and disturbed. She’d seen no one she knew in the store. Did she look like a charity case? Or worse, was she being stalked? Would someone contact her, demanding a favor in return?

But she was overthinking things. This was a day of giving thanks. She should be grateful for what was likely a simple act of kindness.

It was almost eight when she pulled up to Abner’s house. She’d hoped to get the groceries unloaded before he saw the damage to her wagon. But she was out of luck. He was waiting for her on the front porch, his big shaggy dog at his side. By the time she had the tailgate down, he’d propped his cane against a chair and hobbled out to help her.

“Sorry to be late,” she said. “I had to stop at Shop Mart on my way here.”

“What the hell happened to your back window?” he demanded.

“I’m not sure. It was like this when I came out of the store.” It was a half truth. But she didn’t want to upset him.

“Did you call the sheriff?”

“There wasn’t time. I needed to get here. Don’t worry about it, Abner. I’ll just get the window replaced.”

“You’d better, or you’ll freeze. Feels to me like a storm’s blowing in.”

“I’ll be fine. And I can get these bags in by myself. You need your cane.”

“Stop fussing over me.” He’d picked up two bags and was headed back to the house. Ruth grabbed the turkey and caught up to steady him as he reached the front steps. She supported him until he’d gained the porch.

“I’ll bring the rest,” she said. “Then I need to get this turkey stuffed and in the oven.”

The morning flew past. With the eighteen-pound turkey stuffed, wrapped in foil, and cooking in the oven, Ruth started on the other dishes—potatoes to be peeled and mashed, green bean casserole, baked sweet potatoes, salads, and homemade cranberry sauce.

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