Page 58 of The Sound of Sleighbells

“What do I have that he’d want?”

“What does a terrorist want? To scare you? To control you? Take this seriously, Ruth,” Judd said. “I’ve got a pistol in my truck. I want you to take it and keep it close. If he tries to get into your house, you have the legal right to use it.”

Ruth sighed. “All right, Judd. I’ll take your gun for the sake of my children. But this isn’t why I came here tonight. After supper, we were going to deliver an early Christmas surprise to some people up in the trailer park. It was going to be fun, but now . . .” She shook her head.

A beat of silence passed before Judd spoke. “I could use a good time myself—and I’d be worried about you going up to that place. Let me take all of you to Buckaroo’s for supper. Then I’ll help you deliver your surprise.”

“Yay!” The girls jumped up, cheering, before Ruth could decline the offer. Skip had switched off the remote and was on his feet. “Hey, that sounds cool! Thanks, Judd. I’m starved.”

Judd pushed away from the table and stood. “Abner, I’d be glad to bring you something on my way home.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Abner said. “I’ve had so many food deliveries from kind friends that, if I were to eat everything, I wouldn’t be able to fit into that Santa suit.”

“Does that mean you’re planning to be our Santa?” Skip asked.

Abner laughed. “You’re danged right I am. I might need a little help getting in and out of the sleigh, but I can’t disappoint the kids. You folks go on now. Have a good time.”

Ruth drove her station wagon home with Judd following. Parked in the driveway, she let her children out to climb into Judd’s truck and went around to get the shopping bags. In her purse was an envelope with $100 cash in it that she planned to slip into one of the bags before the delivery.

Judd had the back of the truck open. He helped her load, giving them a moment alone. “Are you going to tell me who these needy people are?” he asked, looking down at her.

“A poor single mom who just lost her job. I was talking with her son at school. Something he said made me realize that she was the one who broke my window and stole my groceries. Can you imagine the desperation it would take to do that? Don’t say anything to my children. They don’t know.”

He nodded. Then his gazed softened. “I love you, Ruth,” he said.

The words caught her off guard. Her pulse lurched. “Don’t, Judd—”

“Fine. Let’s go.” He turned away, leaving Ruth to ponder what she’d just done to him. Would she ever hear those three precious, frightening words again? In time, she might be ready. But Judd was a proud man. She might have just thrown away her last chance.

* * *

Buckaroo’s was busy at this hour, but the round corner booth was free. Judd seated everyone, making sure that Ruth would not be looking directly at him. Once again, he had made a fool of himself. When would he learn to keep his mouth shut?

Ruth’s children were happy. For now, that was all that mattered. Buckaroo’s holiday decorations had changed little since the 1960s—the string of old-fashioned lights above the counter, the goofy Christmas novelty songs played on aging speakers, and the aroma of food that was always good. At Judd’s insistence, they ordered everything they wanted—burgers, fries, and shakes. While they waited for their food, they sang along with “Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer.”

Ruth had ordered coffee and pie. When her food arrived, she nibbled at it. When Judd gave her a sidelong glance, she didn’t meet his eyes. Once more he cursed himself. He needed to remember that Ruth had been brutalized in her previous marriage. She needed time to trust again—but what if she never did?

* * *

They finished their meal and left with the children in high spirits. Now all that remained was to deliver the surprise. Ruth gave directions from the back seat, where she kept a firm hold on her daughters. Skip, who would deliver the bags, sat in front on the passenger side.

The trailer park lay along an unpaved street at the eastern edge of town. The lot was weedy, the trailers more of the size for camping than for living. The cars parked next to them were beaters, some with their hoods raised. The place was a hangout for transients and addicts. It definitely didn’t look safe.

“There it is, number 17 with the lights on.”

Judd parked on the far side of the road. Skip climbed out of the truck. “Wait!” Ruth passed the envelope of cash to him. “This goes in one of the bags.”

Judd had gotten out, too. The newly risen moon was bright enough to see him in the side mirror as he took the envelope from Skip, pulled several bills out of his wallet, slipped them into the envelope with Ruth’s money, and sealed the flap.

“Don’t tell your mother.” With the window down, Ruth could make out the words as he gave the envelope back to Skip. The two of them took the shopping bags, walked across the street to the small yellow trailer, and laid them on the concrete stoop. After Skip knocked on the door, they melted into the shadows and waited.

The metal door opened. Robert stood in the rectangle of light. “Mama!” he shouted. “Something’s here! Maybe it’s our miracle!”

The woman who appeared beside him was slightly overweight with stringy, dark hair. She was dressed in ragged jeans and a baggy, faded sweatshirt. “Here, out of the way. I’ll get those.” She swept the bags up in her arms and closed the door. What was happening inside the trailer now could only be imagined.

Judd drove them home and let everyone out of the truck. Skip had a key to open the door for his sisters. The night was cold. Ruth was about to follow her children into the house when Judd said, “Wait, Ruth.”

He came around the truck and pressed something cold and heavy into her hand. It was a small pistol. “It’s loaded,” he said. “I don’t have to tell you to be careful. Just keep it handy in case you need it.”

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