Page 16 of The Sound of Sleighbells

“Of course, I pitched in,” Jess said. “It was a group effort. Even Janeen with her cute little turkeys helped out.”

“She’ll be happy to hear you said that.”

“But I sensed something below the surface between you and Judd,” Jess continued. “I didn’t realize you already knew each other.”

“It was back in the day. I was in high school. He was a few years older—wild guy in a biker gang. He gave me a couple of rides on his Harley. But that’s water under the bridge now. Today was the first time we’d spoken in years.”

“Is that why you were worried about letting Skip spend time with him?”

“Not so much that. It’s just . . .” Ruth paused to think. “In spite of his dark past—or maybe even because of it—Judd is like the Pied Piper—the air of mystery, the trappings of success, the cowboy charm. And Skip is so hungry for a man’s approval. I don’t want him to get drawn in and end up being hurt. He’s already been hurt enough. You were there last year when Ed almost killed him.”

“Judd’s been a good neighbor. And I can’t imagine him hurting anybody—physically or mentally. He would have seen enough of that in prison.” Jess rinsed a plate and slipped it into the last space on the rack. “If you’d rather not have to bring Skip back out here in the morning, he could stay with us tonight. There’s an extra bunk in Trevor’s room.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Ruth said, meaning it. “But you know the boys wouldn’t get much sleep. And I like having Skip at home. He’s growing up fast, and soon I won’t have much control over him. But for now . . .” She shrugged. “I’ll take what I can get.”

“I understand.” Jess added detergent to the dishwasher, closed the door, and pushed the start button. “That storm isn’t letting up, and I’m sure your girls are tired. I can finish up here if you want to leave now.”

“You’re sure? I really do need to get them home.”

“No problem. Don’t forget your share of the leftovers. They’re in those plastic boxes in the fridge, the ones with the red lids.”

Ruth stacked the boxes in a paper bag and went to round up her daughters. She found Abner watching TV with Cooper. He gave her a smile. “Many thanks for your hard work, Ruth. You made an old man happy today.”

“And you made us all happy, Abner. Thanks for hosting a wonderful celebration—oh, and here’s your credit card.”

“One last thing,” he said, taking the card. “I invited Judd because I sensed you were uneasy about letting your boy spend time with him. Now that you’ve gotten to know him, I hope you’re feeling all right about it. He’s a good man.”

“Yes, thank you for telling me.” Abner didn’t know the truth, of course. Nobody did.

She found the girls, got them into their coats and out to the station wagon. As she buckled them into their booster seats, a stray thought passed through her mind.

Earlier, Judd had mentioned the damage to her vehicle. It had been no more than a passing comment. But now the question struck her. How had he known the station wagon was hers?

There had to be a simple explanation. She’d been working in the kitchen when he’d arrived. Had he assumed that only a single mother with three children would drive such an old beater? Had he made a lucky guess? Or was she looking at a puzzle with a missing piece?

With sleet battering the wagon, she’d drove home at a crawl, with the passenger-side wheels anchored on the graveled shoulder of the road. She was driving like an eighty-year-old, she knew. But with four balding tires and her little ones in the back, she couldn’t risk a skid.

By the time she pulled into the driveway, both the girls were asleep. At least the plastic wrapping over the broken window had held up. The interior of the vehicle was tolerably warm. Janeen woke up when she opened the door. Tammy was so deeply asleep that she had to be carried inside, undressed, and tucked into bed.

Janeen danced into the house and turned on the TV. “The Christmas cartoons are on, Mom. Frosty, Rudolph, Charlie Brown, and all the ones we like. Let’s make some popcorn and watch, okay?”

Ruth was dead on her feet, but she gave her daughter a hug and put a popcorn bag in the microwave. With the buttery aroma filling the air, they snuggled on the couch and watched the old animated features, singing along with the music. The Christmas season had begun.

* * *

Judd had given up hope of completing his own work. The two boys were eager to get busy on the harness, but they couldn’t start without his help. He began with a lecture.

“Your job,” he’d said, “is to get this harness ready in time for the parade. We want it to be beautiful, yes. But more important, it has to be usable. That means, first things first. Look at all the straps. Which ones should be fixed first—either because they’re worn through, or because the harness won’t work without them? I’ll be giving both of you pieces of colored chalk. You’re each to mark six straps that need to be fixed. We’ll worry about the rest later.

“One more thing before we start.” Judd had gestured toward the harness, which was spread on the floor. “The harness has two sides, one for each horse. They’re like mirrors of each other, and they need to balance. That means if you replace something on one side, you replace it on the other side, the same way and at the same time. So, everything you do will be double. Got it?”

“Got it!” Trevor exclaimed. “Let’s get started!”

“All right. Here’s your chalk. Red for you, Trevor. You take the right-hand side. Blue and the left side for you, Skip. Work together. The repairs will be easier if you can match the markings on both sides. Remember, stop when you’ve made six marks. Now, go.”

Judd stepped back and watched them work—Trevor making snap decisions; Skip taking his time to study the straps and how they fit together. He was slower than Trevor, but his choices were always good.

Despite having suffered more hardship than any woman deserved, Ruth had managed to raise a fine boy. And her little girls were charmers. If things had turned out differently, they might have been his children. But maybe that was just as well. Some men weren’t cut out to be fathers. Men like him.

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