The Christmas Children

“I sensed that someone had been in the house when I got here. I couldn’t lock that door, so I piled things around it before I went upstairs to bed. This man came in, stumbled over my booby trap and awakened me. I hit him with a poker. Is he going to die?”

His eyes twinkling, the police officer said, “Nope. It’d take more than a knock on his hard head to kill this man. Don’t you know who he is?”

“How could I?”

“This is Paul Spencer, Naomi’s brother.”

Carissa’s breath rushed from her mouth, and she dropped like a deflated balloon into the closest chair she could find.

Chapter Two

Still staring at the stranger spread-eagled on the floor, Carissa wrung her tiny hands and struggled to comprehend what Justin had said.

“I thought Naomi lived alone! Why would she exchange houses with me if her brother lives here?”

“Paul doesn’t live with Naomi. He works for a construction company that bids on jobs all over the world. He hasn’t been home for two years, and when he is here, he lives in the garage apartment behind the house. Naomi probably didn’t know he was coming home.”

Carissa stared at the tall, amazingly good-looking man, lying flat on his back. His dark skin had a weathered look, and his short brown hair, thinning a bit at the temples, had streaks of gray showing around his ears. A large blue knot had risen on his forehead.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Carissa said. “How can I face the man when he comes to?” Eager to justify her actions, she added, “But what would you have done if you’d thought he was a burglar?”

“Same thing you did, lady. Only I’d probably have shot him,” he added with a grin, patting the holster at his right hip.

Chief Townsend called for an ambulance and said, “I’ll keep him from moving until the medics get here. Don’t look so scared. You had no way of knowing who he was.”

When the prostrate man opened his eyes and started to sit up, Carissa dodged out of his range of vision. Townsend held him on the floor.

“Stay there, Paul. I don’t want you to move until the ambulance gets here.”

“What happened?” Paul said, a glassy expression in his dark eyes.

“I’ll explain later. You’ll be all right.”

Paul closed his eyes again, and Carissa whispered, “I’ll go upstairs and change. I’m going with you to the hospital.”

“There’s no hospital closer than Saratoga Springs, but we’ve got a clinic here in town. It’s small, but it’s a good one. The doctor there will be able to tell if he needs to go to the hospital.”

The ambulance crew was working with Paul when Carissa finished dressing, and she waited until they pushed the stretcher toward the door. In her own car, she followed the ambulance into town until it stopped at a small building adjacent to the police station.

The waiting room had several people in it, and Carissa and Chief Townsend weren’t able to sit side by side, which was a relief to her. She didn’t feel like talking. Townsend seemed to know everyone in the room, and he told them in detail what had happened to Paul. Carissa tried to block out their amused chatter at her expense.

What if she had seriously injured the man? She knew better than to strike anyone on the forehead. Her only excuse was that she was half dazed after being awakened from a deep sleep. Carissa picked up a magazine and turned the pages slowly. She had no idea what she was seeing, for her thoughts were on the strange chain of events that had brought her to Yuletide.

For twenty years Carissa had worked relentlessly building Cara’s Fashions—a line of casual clothing for tall women—into a prosperous business. She’d had no intention of selling, until the building where her corporate offices were located had to be razed for a road project. While she was searching for a new location, she was approached about selling her business.

She enjoyed her work, but the purchase price was high enough that Carissa seriously considered the sale. Considering led to selling, and within a few weeks, she was carefree for the first time in years.

When she was moving out of the office building, she uncovered an antique trunk that had been sent to her after her grandmother’s death fifteen years earlier. When she’d received the trunk, Carissa had put it in storage and forgotten about it, because she didn’t like to be reminded of her past. But when she saw the trunk again, curious about its contents, she opened the trunk and found keepsakes from the past—textbooks, school papers and items she’d collected in Sunday school. She’d dropped those in the trash can, but she’d looked long at a large, white, wooden key decorated with golden glitter.

She remembered when, at six years of age, she’d carried that key in a Christmas pageant. She’d worn a long white dress, and appearing on stage, she had addressed the audience: “I have the key to Christmas, and I’m looking for a lock it will fit.”

A first-century false-fronted village had been constructed on the stage with homes, a stable, an inn and several other businesses. She walked from door to door trying the key without luck, but when she found a lock that the key opened, a nativity scene was revealed. The Christ Child in the manger was Christmas personified, and Carissa had stood to one side while other church members presented the story of Jesus’s birth.

To close the program, Carissa had turned to the audience, saying, “I’ve found Jesus, the reason we have Christmas. Won’t you come to the manger and find Him, too?”

Carissa had known a close relationship with Jesus as a child, and the observance of His birth had been a special time. Her grandmother couldn’t afford to buy many gifts, and the church program had been the focal point of their Christmas. As the years passed, however, Christmas had gradually become commercialized for Carissa, a time when huge sales boosted her income, for Cara’s Fashions were popular throughout the United States and overseas. Carissa hadn’t been selfish with her income. In addition to contributing to many charities and churches, she’d provided freely for her grandmother until her death. Carissa had given generously of everything—except herself.

Her musings ended when the doctor entered the waiting room and asked for Chief Townsend. Carissa caught her breath, and cold sweat spread over her body. On trembling legs she moved down the hallway and peeped into a small room where Paul Spencer, eyes closed, lay on a hospital bed.

“He’s all right,” the doctor said, “and I don’t see any sign of concussion, but he’ll have a headache for a while. Exhaustion, more than anything else, caused him to faint.” He turned to Carissa, saying with a grin, “You’ve got a pretty hefty swing, lady. You ever play baseball?”

Her face flushed, but Carissa tried to answer lightly. “Several years ago, I played on a women’s softball team.” She turned to Justin. “I’m so embarrassed about this that I’ve half a notion to leave without unpacking my car.”

“Oh, Paul’s a good sport and he won’t blame you. He should have told someone he was coming.”

“He could be released,” the doctor said, “but he shouldn’t go to sleep for a few hours. Paul hasn’t slept since he left Europe, so somebody will have to keep him from dozing off. Since Naomi isn’t home, he can stay in the clinic the rest of the night.”

“He can come back to the chalet,” Carissa said. “I’m responsible for his injury, so the least I can do is watch over him for a few hours.”

“I’ll go in and explain the situation. He might not want to trust himself to you,” Justin said and guffawed. The doctor joined in the laughter, but Carissa failed to see any humor in the situation.

A few minutes later, she had to force herself to meet Paul Spencer’s brown eyes when he walked into the hallway.

“Carissa Whitmore meet Paul Spencer,” Chief Townsend said, humor still evident in his voice. “Although it seems you’ve met before.”

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Spencer.”

He shook his head and winced. “My fault! I should have let my sister know I was coming home. Our construction job had to shut down for a few weeks and I decided to come back to the States for Christmas. I tried to call Naomi when I landed at Kennedy. When she didn’t answer, I came on home. The keys to my apartment are in her house, and I intended to knock on the door to get her attention. But when I discovered the door wasn’t locked, I thought I could slip in without disturbing her and sleep on the couch until morning.”

“I’ll drive you back to her house now,” Carissa said. “The doctor thinks you need monitoring for a few hours. Since I knocked you out, I’ll feel better if I keep an eye on you.”

Paul agreed, and the chief of police accompanied them to the parking lot. An uncomfortable silence prevailed in the SUV as they drove through the business section of town. Carissa wasn’t used to driving on snow-covered roads, so she drove as slowly and as carefully as she could. Her silent passenger gave her the fidgets.

“I’m so embarrassed I could scream,” she said finally.

“I’m not embarrassed, but I am bewildered,” Paul said, “and it isn’t all because of the crack on my head. I’ve got some questions. What prompted Naomi to leave her home and business and take off for Florida, and how do you come into the picture? When I talked to my sister six weeks ago, she didn’t mention anything about leaving. Justin may have explained it to me, but my head was woozy, and I don’t remember what he said.”

“We’re almost to the house, and I’ll explain when we get there, if that’s okay. I’m not used to hazardous roads so I need to concentrate on driving.”

“I understand that. Take your time. I haven’t driven on snowy highways for years. I drove cautiously from Kennedy, and that’s the reason I was so late getting into Yuletide.”

When they entered the house, Carissa surveyed the disheveled living area with distaste. She’d replace the furniture and kitchen utensils later.

“Do you feel like a sandwich and maybe a cup of tea?” she offered.

“That might be a good idea. It’s been a long time since I’ve had any food, well, except for the pretzels and soda they served on the plane.”

“I’ll see what I can find. I’ve only been here a few hours, and I haven’t found my way around the kitchen yet.”