Fruitcakes and Other Leftovers & Christmas, Texas Style Page 14

  He crumpled the pillow over his ears and blocked out the night sounds. What kinds of varmints were out there? What had he ever found so fascinating about this job?

  “ARE YOU eating in tonight?” Harriet put a pan of something resembling hash into the oven, and closed the door.

  “Yes. Are you sure Russ hasn’t called?” Beth glanced at the silent phone. He’d been in Washington over a week, and she hadn’t heard a word from him. Not one word. She picked up the phone and checked for a dial tone. The instrument seemed to be in proper working order. Hanging up, she stared at the receiver. Was he playing mind games with her? That wasn’t his style. She couldn’t call him—she had no idea where he was staying.

  “Called?” Harriet thought a moment. “No…that nice fellow, David, called. He asked about Jasper—he’s very fond of that animal.”

  “Did you tell him not to worry, we’re taking good care of Jasper?” At the sound of his name, the big dog stood, stretched, and walked to Beth to be petted.

  “I told him Jasper was fine.” Harry scurried around the kitchen singing “Here Comes Peter Cottontail,” as she took dishes from the cabinets.

  Beth cupped the dog’s face in her hands. “You miss your family, don’t you, ol’ guy?” she whispered under her breath. “I miss someone, too. It hurts doesn’t it, boy?”

  “He knows we’ll take care of the dog. He said something about going somewhere, I think downtown.”

  Beth frowned. “What? Dave and Carol are going somewhere else? Try to think, Aunt Harriet. Exactly what did David say? Did he mention Russ?”

  “Or coming back—I’m not sure. No…I’m sure he said he was going—going to be gone for… oh, wait. No, he said—”

  “Never mind, Aunt Harry.” It didn’t matter, anyway. She had plenty of time to take care of Jasper and check on their house. “What are we having for dinner?”

  “Beef curry. That David’s such a nice man—always so pleasant to visit with.”

  Biting her lower lip, Beth sat down in the breakfast nook, and reached for an apple to peel. Where was Russ? What could possibly keep him from calling her? She couldn’t call his office. She couldn’t call his hotel. He’d left in such a hurry and she had no numbers and no information about how to contact him.

  But he promised to call. No job, no matter how secretive it was, filled a man’s every spare moment. She bit back tears. The night he’d gotten the order to leave—what was it all about? He said he’d explain when he phoned her. He had insisted that he loved her, that they could work out a long-distance relationship—

  Beth, grow up. You believed him because you desperately wanted to believe him. Just as you desperately want to believe that he loves you, and that he meant every word he said that night. You want to believe that he cares for you, that the night before he left wasn’t just a reactionary impulse—one last fling with ol’ Beth, before he left Morning Sun for Washington and a new exciting, adventurous job.

  No. It wasn’t that she wanted to believe him, she would not accept that Russ was deceitful. Relationships were built on mutual trust; she trusted him, refused to believe he would be that big of a jerk. There had to be a plausible explanation why he hadn’t called yet. She just needed to talk to him to know that explanation!

  “Cake, dear?”

  “No thanks, Aunt Harry.” Beth bit into the tasteless apple, swallowing back tears. But if he did love her, he wouldn’t let this much time pass without calling her to let her know where he was staying. Grow up, Beth, she told herself. You’re still Harriet Davis’s niece.

  THE PLANE TOUCHED down on the narrow landing strip, the big engines reversing as the jet screamed down the runway. Russ retrieved his bag from the overhead bin and exited the plane, his eyes searching for a bank of phones. He had called Beth a dozen times today and every time, he’d received a busy signal. Twenty minutes between planes. Hang up the phone, Harry.

  At last! He counted the rings. One, two, three times. Be home, Beth, he prayed. Pick up, pick up, pick up. Four, five, six. He eyed the clock. Thirteen minutes and six gates before his connecting flight left.

  Seven, eight, nine.

  Hanging up, he considered missing the plane. Why not? In the mood he was in, the last place he wanted to go was deeper into South America. His eyes located the front door and he thought about escape. Walk out, walk away from a position it took him years to achieve? He had all the money he would ever need. Was he nuts? There were men whose lives depended on his decision. He couldn’t walk out on them.

  He sprinted the six gates to the connecting flight. They called for early boarders. He wasn’t carrying a weapon this time, so he didn’t have to preboard. He fumbled in his pocket for the bookstore number. He should have tried that number anyway. “Please, God—let her be there. He jabbed the numbers into his cell phone. The phone rang. One ring, two.

  The early boarders were on, rows twenty-six through thirty were called. He was aisle, row eight.

  Three rings, four, five.

  Beth’s voice came across the wire. “Hello, you have reached The Readers’ Nook. Our hours are nine to five, Monday through Saturday. Visit us for your holiday book buying needs. If you wish to have your call returned, please leave your name and number after the tone.”

  Beep.

  “Beth? Honey? Look, I’m in Colombia, and an emergency’s come up. I’m on my way farther south. I love you—God, I love you. I’ll call again. I should be back in the States soon—maybe three, four days, if everything goes smoothly.”

  Final boarding call.

  “Beth, look, I’ve been thinking. This job isn’t working out. All I can think of is you in Morning Sun, me flying all over the world.” He was running toward the portable stairway propped against his plane.

  “This isn’t any way to live. I want to be with you. Until I met you, I didn’t know the meaning of the word, love. But I do now—I love you, Beth. With every ounce of my being, and I want us to be together.” His voice broke, and he sucked in a deep breath as he raced up the stairs. Hell of a life—pouring out his guts to an answering machine, but Beth had to know how he felt. For the first time in his life, he wanted to be somewhere other than where he was. The door slammed behind him.

  “We’ll talk about it when I call again.” Other passengers stared at him as he made his way down the aisle talking on his phone.

  He clamped the receiver under his jaw and swung into his seat. “Hey! I’ll be back in a few days. I’ll call you the minute I land—try to be around, Beth. I need to hear your voice.” He pressed the End key and sank back into his seat.

  BETH UNLOCKED the bookstore and flipped on the lights. Snow was coming down again. The wind was blowing gale force, and the weatherman had announced that road conditions were deteriorating by the hour.

  “I might as well not even open today,” she called as Harry trailed her into the back room. If she’d had any idea the roads were so slick she wouldn’t have attempted to come in, herself.

  “I wouldn’t if I were you. No one’s going to risk driving today, even if Christmas is a week off.” Harry picked up a feather duster. “Think I’ll just tidy up a bit while you do whatever you need to do.”

  “Thanks. Can you dust the front reading area? I’ve been so busy I haven’t touched it all week.”

  “Certainly.” Harriet went off in search of dust. In a few minutes, she called. “Beth, you have phone messages.”

  Russ! Beth’s heart flew to her throat. Finally!

  “I’ll listen and write them down for you,” Harriet said.

  Beth froze. No. No! “No, Aunt Harry! I’ll get them!” She darted out of the back room, racing to the front register.

  “Let’s see…messages…push answer…ooops!” Aunt Harry’s hand flew to her mouth.

  Beth’s heart sank. “Aunt Harry, you didn’t.”

  Harriet smiled weakly. “I wish they wouldn’t put the answer button so close to the erase button.” She looked genuinely contrite. “That’s so confusing.”
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  Beth wanted to sit down and bawl like a baby. Had Russ called?

  “How many messages were there, Aunt Harry?”

  “Oh, let’s see…two. There were two.” She patted Beth’s arm. “I’m sure if it’s important, they’ll call back. Probably just someone wanting to know if you have a certain book.”

  Or someone just wanting to say he was missing her.

  Sinking onto a chair, Beth bit back tears. What if Russ tried to call and left a message? Maybe he called the house! Her spirits lifted.

  “I’ll call the answering machine at the house and see if there are any messages at home.” Beth dialed, then entered the answering machine’s security code. Busy signal.

  “Aunt Harry, did you leave the phone off the hook again?”

  “Yes. Zoose from Mercury’s been calling again.”

  Hanging up, she vowed if she ever saw Russ Foster again, she was going to…to… Oh, Russ. Where are you? Are you hurt? Are you lying in some snakeinfested jungle? You better be dying of something if you’ve lied to me and broken my heart.

  Have you been captured by a drug lord?

  Then her temper flared.

  Russell Foster, where are you!

  RUSS LIFTED a glass of Coke, halfway listening to the conversation going on around him. Rain pelted the Quonset hut. The smell of vegetation was thick in the air. Where were the holiday smells? He wanted to smell spiced cider, evergreen trees and cranberry candles. If he closed his eyes, he could almost smell the fireplace, hear the crackle of the fire, feel Beth’s smooth skin beneath him. He could almost taste her. A glass clinked on the counter.

  “Happy holidays.”

  A pretty, young, dark-skinned waitress pushed another drink in front of him. “Holidays?”

  “Feliz Navidad.”

  She smiled and nodded. “To you, also. Will there be others in your party, sir?”

  “Yes, four others.”

  The waitress left, and Russ stared at the rain outside the open window. Beth consumed his thoughts. Where was she right now? He pictured Harriet’s front room littered with winnings, the smell of baked bread permeating the house. The thought of a Christmas tree on a toy wagon brought a smile to his lips and a stab to his heart.

  He had tried every chance he got to call, and every time, the line had been busy. Maybe the telephone lines were down to the house. There could have been enough ice to break the connecting line to Beth’s house. His gaze dropped to his drink. What was he doing here? Why wasn’t he there in Harriet’s parlor, drinking eggnog made from who-knows-what, spending the holiday with the woman he loved?

  Good Lord, he had enough money and investments to retire if he wanted to. He’d have to invest wisely, but he didn’t even have to consider a desk job. What if he didn’t have a cent to his name? He’d give it all up to be with Beth.

  Whatever possessed him to be sitting in a shack somewhere in South America doing a job he no longer wanted to do? Was it stubbornness? Tenacity? The unwillingness to give up something he’d worked hard to achieve? A man his age didn’t retire—he would be a fool to give up his benefits.

  Be a fool, Foster. A fool for love, for happiness. Get a life.

  Emotions warred inside him. How easy it would be to listen to that still, small voice. He was lonesome, he wanted Beth. He needed more than retirement and a hefty 401K when he reached the age of forty-five.

  He looked around the hut. Strangers sat alone at the bar. They were just like him. There was nothing here he wanted.

  And nothing in Washington interested him. What he wanted was in Morning Sun. In that little town lived a woman he loved and a brother and sister-in-law he needed to form a family bond with. There was even an aunt that he was very fond of.

  “You’re nuts, Foster,” he muttered, almost afraid to let the realization of what he was about to do sink in. “You’ve really lost it.

  “Waitress?”

  The young girl came to the table. “Yes, sir?”

  “Thanks.” He laid a twenty on the table. “Keep the change.”

  The decision was made. He ran back to his room. He was calling one more time. Then he was catching a plane and going home.

  The phone rang four times before an unfamiliar man’s voice answered.

  “Hello?”

  “Is Beth Davis there?” He glanced at the number on the paper. Did he misdial?

  “No, who’s this?”

  “Russ Foster. Who’s this?”

  “This is George! How are you? Heard you went up to Washington.”

  Russ smiled. “I’m fine, George. I’m calling from South America.”

  “From where?”

  “South America.”

  “Good heavens! Do they have telephones down there?”

  “Yes, they do. Where’s Beth?”

  “At the hospital! Harriet slipped on a patch of ice on the front porch steps, wrenched her back somethin’ awful. Shouldn’t have been out there a’tall. I told her, but she’s a stubborn woman—”

  “Is she hurt?”

  “Well, yes, she’s hurt! Wouldn’t be in the hospital if she wasn’t hurt, would she? That Jasper dog broke her fall. Didn’t do him no good, either. Never heard such a commotion. They’re both over at the hospital getting treatment. Well, no, that’s not right. Jasper’s at the vet, and Harry’s in the hospital.”

  Russ grinned. Good old Jasper!

  “Then it’s not serious?”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t know,” George said. “Like I said, they’re at the Emergency Room right now. I had to watch the cake she had in the oven, and take the dog to the vet. I’m getting ready to go over there. Be glad to tell her you called.”

  “No, don’t tell her, George. I’m flying home tonight.” Thunder shook the ground, and he spoke closer to the receiver, packing his bag as he talked. “If I can get a plane, I’m coming home. I want to surprise Beth!”

  George chuckled into the receiver. “You’ll surprise her all right. She’s been waitin’ for you to call. Mad as an old settin’ hen, she is.”

  Russ zipped his bag and glanced around the room to see if he had forgotten anything. “I called. Didn’t she get my message—” The phone line went dead.

  No—no! He shook the receiver and smacked the cradle. He couldn’t get another dial tone.

  “Damn.” He stuffed the palm-size instrument into his jacket pocket and slammed out the door.

  10

  “Now, AUNT HARRY, calm down,” Beth soothed. “George will take care of the cake. I’m sure of it.”

  The image of Harriet taking a nasty spill and landing on Jasper replayed through Beth’s mind. How could a woman her age take such a tumble and not break something?

  “Oh, I’m a foolish old woman. I should never have been up there in the first place,” Harriet fussed. “A woman my age should not stand on the porch railing.”

  Beth fluffed her pillows. “That’s true, what were you doing up there anyway?”

  “I wanted to check the bird feeders for myself. For some reason, the birds just aren’t coming around.”

  “It’s December, Aunt Harry. The birds will return in the spring.”

  Beth had reached the front door just in time to see Harriet lean forward, then back, arms flailing wildly, forward and back, forward until she’d disappeared from view. She’d heard Jasper yelp. Aunt Harriet had straddled the dog and rode down the steps in a flurry of legs and paws, Aunt Harry landing on top, Jasper on the bottom.

  George had turned up the walk just as Harry had taken her fall. Beth had shouted for him to call an ambulance. She had been certain Harriet had broken her back. Racing back into the house, she’d jerked the afghan off the couch, and gingerly had made her way down the steps to where Harriet had lay sprawled in a snowdrift alongside Jasper.

  She’d wrapped the cover around Aunt Harry, and George had rolled his coat under her head.

  “Don’t just stand there gawking, you two. Help me up from here.”

  “Oh, no you don’t. You’
re lying right where you are until help arrives. We’re taking no chances on injuring you by moving you. Are you warm enough?” Beth had anxiously patted her aunt’s head while George had paced, beating the snow into ice around the downed woman and subdued dog.

  The ambulance had finally arrived to collect Aunt Harry. After some discussion, she had persuaded the drivers to check Jasper before they’d taken her to the hospital.

  “Looks like his leg may be broken, ma’am. I’d have him checked out,” an attendant had told Beth.

  “I’ll take the dog to the vet,” George had promised.

  Harriet had smiled. “That’s sweet of you, George.” She had allowed herself to be lifted onto a stretcher and loaded into the ambulance.

  “Take care of Jasper, and be sure to take that fruitcake out of the oven.” Harriet had eyed the young attendant. “And there’ll be no red lights and sirens, young man.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She had been still issuing orders to George when the ambulance doors had slammed and she’d been off to the Emergency Room. Beth had followed behind in her car. Due to the holiday, Emergency had been filled with people.

  Orderlies had transferred Aunt Harry to a gurney and had put her in a treatment room, alongside a young, vocal woman who had complained of a pain in her side. Three hours had passed, and the woman had become a pain in their sides. Beth’s anxiety had grown.

  “I’m just fine,” Aunt Harry had assured her, though it had been clear to Beth she’d been in considerable discomfort.

  “I know, but I want a doctor to confirm that.”

  She’d made another trip out to the desk to see when someone would be able to examine Aunt Harry. They’d remained in Emergency throughout the night Others with more extensive injuries had been treated and admitted. Christmas morning had dawned, and Harriet had been tested, X-rayed, prodded and poked.

  Finally, midafternoon Christmas Day, the hospital had admitted Harry for observation. Beth had helped her settle into a pretty room overlooking a small frozen lake. A nurse’s aide had brought in a tray full of Christmas dinner with turkey and dressing and all the trimmings.

  George arrived around four, assuring Aunt Harry that her fruitcake had come out of the oven just fine. Jasper was at the vet’s, and yes, he’d remembered to turn off the oven.