Page 17 of The Sound of Sleighbells

Judd was still recovering from the impact of facing Ruth today. She’d been a beautiful young girl. Now she was a beautiful woman. Her finely etched features seemed barely touched by the years, but strength and sorrow shone in the depths of her expressive eyes. Her work-worn hands told a story of courage and survival.

According to Abner, she’d been single for almost a year. Maybe there was a chance . . . But Judd killed that idea before it could take root. The wild young man on the Harley and the beauty who’d ridden behind him, with her hair flying in the wind, were long gone. Two careworn people had taken their places. No chance, Judd told himself. Too much time had passed, too much regret, and too much pain.

“I’ve got six!” Trevor said.

“Hang on, I’m almost finished,” Skip muttered. “There, it’s done.”

“Good choices,” Judd said. “Now, working together, pick one strap on each side—the same one—to replace. Then I’ll walk you through the process. You’ve got a big job ahead of you.”

“What about the bells?” Trevor asked.

“Keep them safe for now. The harness has to come first. If we run out of time, the bells will have to wait. Understand?” He glanced at the boys. They nodded. “Good. Now, let’s get started.”

* * *

At nine o’clock, when the Christmas shows ended, Ruth turned off the TV and tucked Janeen into bed. By nine thirty, she’d begun to worry. The storm was still raging outside, and Skip hadn’t come home. Maybe he’d decided to spend the night with Trevor. But wouldn’t someone have called her?

Were the boys still working at Judd’s? Could they be stranded somewhere in the storm?

Worried, as only a parent can be, she watched the second hand creep around the face of the wall clock. Maybe there’d been an accident on the road. Perhaps if she turned on the TV again, she’d get some news.

She recalled that long-ago night when the police had come to tell her Tom had been killed—the feeling that somehow it was a mistake, and that any minute he would walk through the door and everything would be fine. What if the same thing were to happen again?

Stop it! She told herself. She was working herself into a frenzy over nothing. Forcing herself to sit down, she picked up a novel from the coffee table and found her place.

It was after ten when she heard the roar of a big vehicle turning into the driveway. Dizzy with relief, she hurried out to the porch. A black pickup with oversized tires had stopped behind her station wagon. Skip was climbing out of the passenger side. As he ran around the truck to the porch, the driving sleet plastered his hair to his head. Slicking it back with one hand, he opened the door and went inside, leaving Ruth on the porch.

The driver’s side window came down. “Sorry to get him here so late.” Judd’s raised voice could be heard above the storm. “The boys were working, and we lost track of time.”

“I was worried about the roads, that was all,” Ruth called back. There was something oddly familiar about that truck, and suddenly she knew why. It had been parked a few spaces away from her that morning, in the Shop Mart parking lot. And she’d noticed it leaving when she came out of the store. The Good Samaritan who’d paid for her groceries had to be Judd.

If that was true, she wasn’t about to let him get away without settling things between them.

“Come on in,” she heard herself saying. “I’ll get you some coffee and leftover pie to fortify you for the trip home. And I have something to say to you.”

“Sounds good to me.” The truck door opened. Long, boot-clad legs emerged and slid to the ground. “Even with four-wheel drive, that highway was tough going.”

Maybe asking him in had been a bad idea. But it was too late for Ruth to regret her invitation. He strode onto her porch, moisture dripping down his canvas coat.

“Wait.” He slipped off the coat and shook it lightly. “I’ll just leave this out here, so it won’t drip on your floor.” He hung the coat over the back of an Adirondack chair that Ruth had been too busy to put in storage. She ushered Judd inside and closed the door behind them.

Skip had gone back to his room, leaving them alone in the kitchen. Ruth measured coffee and water and switched on the coffeemaker. As she turned away, the back of her hand accidently brushed his sleeve, and a shimmer of warmth passed over her skin. She struggled to ignore it.

“The coffee will be ready in a minute.” She was babbling, filling the awkward silence with empty words. “How about some pie? Your ice cream got left at Abner’s, but I can give you a choice of apple or pecan.”

“Never mind the pie,” he said. “I don’t plan to trouble you long. But you mentioned that you had something to say to me. Please feel free to say it now.”

“All right.” She took a deep breath. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I believe I owe you eighty-eight dollars and seventy-one cents for groceries. I’m going to write you a post-dated check to hold until Monday. After that, I expect you to cash it.”

For an instant he looked startled; then he shook his head. “What if I were to tell you I don’t know what you’re talking about?”

“Then I’d tell you that you were lying. I saw your truck parked a few spaces away from me this morning. And when I came out of the store, it was just pulling out of the parking lot. It was a nice gesture, Judd, but I can pay my own way. I don’t take charity.”

“Oh?” One eyebrow tilted upward. “Is that why you want me to hold the check until Monday? Were you going to write a rubber check to the store and hope it didn’t bounce before you got paid? What am I missing here, Ruth?”

The coffee was ready. Remembering he liked it black, Ruth handed him the steaming cup. “I don’t owe you an explanation,” she said.

“That sounds to me as if there’s something to explain.” His stern expression softened. “There’s a story here. And I’m not leaving until I hear it.”

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