A Midnight Clear (6 page)

What an utter disaster.

Just then, Aiden turned and ran back toward the front door. He threw himself into the corner where the wall met the door frame. He started rocking, banging his head against the wall with each forward motion. Then he began to sing “It Came Upon a Midnight Clear” in a breathless, terrified way.

Tom pushed himself up from the floor with some difficulty and hurried to Aiden's side, aching to touch him, to comfort him, to stop him from banging his head against the wall. But he held back. It was the hardest thing he'd ever done. He needed to do something. And then he remembered what Teri had done in the clinic. So he began to sing the Christmas carol, consciously slowing the song's rhythm so Aiden would slow down too.

A moment later, Teri came to stand beside him. She began to sing in a clear alto that complemented Tom's bass and Aiden's soprano. After a few times through, the music transformed itself from frantic to uplifting. Tom had been too busy to do much singing in the last few years, although he'd been in his high school chorus.

He'd forgotten how singing could sometimes feel precisely like praying.

I
don't like surprises. I don't like candles. Candles make my head feel funny.

Dr. Tom surprised me with the candles. I sang “It Came Upon a Midnight Clear” thirty-seven times before my head felt better.

Then we ate dinner. I ate mac and cheese. I like mac and cheese.

Then me and Mom and Dr. Tom took a walk to see the angels. The big Methodist angel told me I should go to the tree lighting.

I told Mom about the Methodist angel. She said, “We'll see.”

And then Dr. Tom said, “I can take him, if you're going to be busy.”

And Mom said, “We'll see.”

We went home at ten o'clock. Mom said it was too late to play piano.

I was mad at Mom. I went to my room.

She came in twenty-three minutes later and read me the story of “The Emperor's New Clothes” from the book
Andersen's Fairy Tales.
She said the story had an important lesson in it about telling the truth.

The people in the story were all liars. I don't like liars. I don't ever lie.

I told Mom I wanted to go to the Christmas tree lighting.

And she looked at me for thirty seconds before she said, “We'll see.”

She turned out the light.

I went to sleep.

T
eri had been responsible for decorating the town tree for the last four years. On the night of the lighting, she was crazy busy. But for the first time, she was also nervous. In fact, the butterflies in Teri's stomach had gone militant.

She was worried about the lights because she'd switched out the multicolored ones for plain white. And she'd done that because Tom was bringing Aiden to the lighting ceremony. She couldn't risk having any red lights on the tree this year.

Aiden had never wanted to come to the tree lighting before, and Teri had been happy to continue that tradition. But this year Aiden had changed his mind. He wanted to come. He was insistent. And Tom had taken Aiden's side, which she most definitely resented.

But then again, how could she resent Tom? For the first time in eons—maybe ever—a man had actually lit candles for her. Every time she thought about Aiden's reaction, she inwardly cringed.

Of course, Tom had rolled right along with the punches. There had been a moment when they were singing together when she'd almost felt as if they were a family.

Which was another reason for the queasiness in the pit of her stomach.

Tom had upset her equilibrium. She felt as if she were trying to balance while simultaneously walking about three feet off the ground. Tragically, she'd never been any good at gymnastics. A heart-breaking spill inevitably loomed in her future. Not to mention the fact that the members of the Christ Church Ladies' Auxiliary and the Methodist Altar Guild were sure to notice sooner or later. And since Lillian had stirred up a lot of dislike for Tom, that would be bad for her.

Oh, good Lord, what was she going to do? Falling for Tom Crawford was easy. He was like an answer to her prayers. No one should be so perfect.

And yet his kisses
were
perfect. The way he'd responded to last night's disaster had been perfect. And then he'd called this morning and offered to take Aiden to McDonald's for dinner and then bring him to the lighting ceremony later. And that was the perfect solution for managing Aiden.

Even worse, Aiden wanted to spend the evening with Dr. Tom. Although the allure might have had more to do with McDonald's fish sandwiches than Tom Crawford himself.

How could she say no? Aiden's father had never once offered to take Aiden anywhere. And besides, this year was supposed to be about tailoring Christmas to suit Aiden.

So she'd instructed Judy to hand Aiden off to Tom this afternoon.

Still, having Aiden attend the tree lighting was fraught with danger. The Davis High a cappella choir would be singing several secular holiday songs, none of which had any lyrics about angels. Aiden was likely to pipe up at any moment, singing “It Came Upon a Midnight Clear.” Or, worse yet, he might get upset because someone sang out of key.

Thank goodness Santa wasn't making a guest appearance. If Santa had been on tonight's program, she would have insisted that Aiden stay home.

As the hour of the lighting approached, her heart and stomach decided to instigate an internal riot. She refused to faint or hurl. That would be so unprofessional.

She took her place on the steps of city hall right next to Mayor Abernathy and County Executive LaFlore and tried to breathe deeply. Panic would not help. She still had to make sure the tree blazed into glorious light when the time came.

A group of almost a hundred people had gathered in the town square. Tom and Aiden stood in the front row, each of them wearing goofy, green-and-white-striped stocking hats. How on earth had Tom gotten her son to wear stripes?

She didn't know. But they looked like a couple of Santa's helpers. Not that she'd ever tell Aiden that. Her neck spasmed the moment Mayor Abernathy kicked the ceremonies off by introducing the Davis High choir.

Here it came. Aiden would misbehave. He would say something terrible.

The choir launched into a rousing rendition of “Jingle Bells” in four-part harmony.

She kept her gaze trained on Aiden, ready to jump into the fray the moment things unraveled. But nothing happened.

Aiden made no objection to the singing. In fact, he didn't seem to be paying any attention at all.

He stood as still as one of Elbert Rhodes's fiberglass angels, looking up at the twenty-foot blue spruce that had come all the way from Colorado. Teri glanced up but didn't see anything amiss. Except, of course, that a star topped the tree instead of an angel. Oh, boy.
Please, God, don't let him object to the tree-topper.

The choir finished their song, and Mayor Abernathy stepped to the mic. He welcomed everyone and then introduced Reverend Timothy Lake, who said a short prayer. And then the public school kindergarten class came up to the podium, where a dummy button had been set up.

The mayor and the kids counted down. “Three, two, one…” The kids pushed the dummy button, and Clay Rhodes, well hidden behind the tree, plugged in the power.

Thousands of white twinkle lights came on and illuminated swags of gold tinsel. The crowd applauded…for the most part. Teri heard a few voices of dissent.

The mayor leaned toward Teri. “I don't remember approving a budget for new lights.”

“You didn't. I paid for them myself.”

The mayor gave her the stink eye.

“I'm not charging the city for them, so don't worry.”

The mayor still looked perturbed, and it occurred to Teri that she'd probably lost this job for the foreseeable future. But it was worth it if Aiden could come to a tree lighting and not misbehave. She looked down at her son. He wasn't really paying much attention to the tree. He was still looking up. And Tom was smiling one of those I-told-you-so smiles as he gazed right into Teri's eyes.

For some reason, the look on his face annoyed her.

“The angel says I need to be here at midnight on Christmas Eve,” Aiden said.

Tom pulled his gaze away from Teri. “What?”

“It says I have to be here at midnight. You know, like in the song.”

“Is the angel up there?” Tom glanced up at the top of the tree. No angel, just a star.

“It was there. Didn't you see it? It was the Methodist angel.”

Tom hunkered down, feeling the pressure on his knee. He tried to look Aiden in the eye, but the boy didn't like making eye contact. From what he'd read, that was pretty common for kids on the spectrum. Seeing things that weren't there wasn't common though. Kids on the spectrum tended to be literal.

A tiny part of Tom wanted to believe that an angel would appear in the little town of Last Chance at midnight on Christmas Eve, even though believing something like that was insane. He was a doctor and a scientist. That side of him immediately began to wonder whether there was a medical reason for the boy's visions.

But Tom, the man, was more than a doctor and scientist. Once he'd been a little boy too. And that little boy, with his strong Catholic faith, had been willing to tell anyone who would listen that his guardian angel had been with him in the darkest days of his illness. He'd never actually seen the angel though. But seeing was not necessary for believing. He'd
known
the angel was with him.

“Well,” he said to Aiden, “I guess we'll have to come back here at midnight on Christmas Eve.”

Aiden nodded but didn't make eye contact. “I have to come. The angel said it was important.”

“What angel?” Teri asked as she joined them.

Tom stood up and faced her.

“What's this about midnight on Christmas Eve?” she asked.

“The angel,” Aiden said, “it told me I needed to be here at midnight. Like in the song. You think the angels will sing for me?”

“Maybe,” Tom said, even though Teri was giving him a deeply worried look that edged on annoyance. He'd definitely overstepped a boundary here. But what else could he say? He wasn't going to disabuse Aiden's faith in angels. He doubted he would succeed even if he tried.

Good grief, Tom was
encouraging
Aiden's angel fantasy. And as much as she was overjoyed that Aiden had behaved, she couldn't let this go on any longer.

“Aiden, there is no angel,” she said.

Her son looked at her. “You're a liar,” he said. “I don't like liars. I want to go home now.” He turned and headed down Chancelor Street toward home.

“Aiden, stop,” she said, chasing after him. She got a few steps before Tom grabbed her by the arm.

“Teri, why on earth did you say that?”

“What?”

“About the angel.”

“Because the angel isn't real. If he comes out here at midnight, he's going to be disappointed. It's not like with Santa. I mean, I can buy presents and fill stockings. But how can I possibly make an angel appear at midnight?”

“You can't. You just have to have faith.”

Teri had no answer for this. So she pulled her arm out of his grasp and followed Aiden.

Tom followed her.

When they got home, Teri unlocked the door for Aiden, but then turned to face Tom.

Her emotions reeled. She was so angry with him that her hands shook.

“You don't know me or my son,” she said.

“Look, Teri, I—”

“No, Tom, you've had dinner with us a couple of times. You bribed Aiden with McDonald's. But you don't live with him day to day. So you don't understand. If he goes to the town square at midnight he's going to be disappointed. Honestly—” Her voice broke. “It's hard enough with my family banishing me. I just need to have a reasonably calm and peaceful holiday. That's all I want. A calm holiday that Aiden can enjoy on some level. Going on a wild goose chase after angels doesn't sound like a calm and peaceful holiday to me.”

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—”

“Look, Tom, things are happening way too fast. I think we need to back off a little bit, you know? And I'm just not sure that encouraging Aiden about this angel is healthy.”

“Okay. I understand about you and me. It is happening fast. But the truth is, I'm deeply attracted to you.”

Teri's face heated. She was attracted to him. The wild, crazy, lonely woman inside wanted to throw open her door and let the man in. But she couldn't. She was Aiden's mother first. She had to protect her boy. “I'm sorry, Tom, really I am. Good night.” She tried to close the door on him, but he leaned in, blocking the jam.

“Teri, I understand why you need some time and space. I do. And I know you don't think I have the right to give you advice about Aiden. But I want you to think about letting Aiden go to the village green at midnight on Christmas Eve. It could be like the way you take him to Golfing for God instead of church on Sunday. Going to the green could be a substitute for midnight mass.”

“And what if nothing happens? What if the angel abandons him?”

“That's generally not what angels do.”

“And what, you're an angel expert?”

“No, but—”

“Good night, Tom.” She closed the door firmly in his face.

T
om had plenty to occupy his time over the next week. He worked overtime at the clinic on digitizing the medical records. It was a thankless job, especially since Dana, his assistant and the woman who worked with the records, was angry with him. Lillian Bray had definitely done some damage to his reputation.

Tom also introduced himself to Father Weiss at Saint Mary's Catholic Church, bought some items for his new apartment, finished his Christmas shopping, and mailed off a package of gifts to his mother, sister, and nephew in Framingham.

But being busy hadn't done one thing to drive Teri Summers from the back of his brain. She'd settled in there, like the snow on the Berkshires in late November. She wasn't going anywhere for a long, long time.

If she hadn't been a florist, he might have bought her a big bouquet of roses with an apology or something, not that he felt the need to apologize for anything. But giving flowers to a florist seemed kind of dumb. And as much as he wanted to bypass mass tomorrow and run into Teri at Golfing for God, that would be just a bit too much like stalking her or something.

No. He needed another excuse to bump into her. So he started buying lunch at the Kountry Kitchen. The café sat right in the middle of downtown Last Chance, across the street and one block north of Last Chance Bloomers. Flo, the waitress at the Kitchen, gave him less than friendly service, but he kept coming back every day, just so he could walk past Teri's shop every noontime.

She was in there. He knew this because he always stopped and looked in the window. He'd done that six days in a row. And she was still letting his calls go to voice mail.

This daily routine felt distinctly adolescent. Noontime was, without question, the best time of the day because he'd catch a glimpse of her. But he was getting nowhere fast.

A week after the tree lighting, he was sitting in the Kountry Kitchen picking at his barbecue sandwich when a woman with blond hair, brown eyes, and a voluptuous build slipped into the booth's facing bench. “Hey,” she said, “I'm Savannah Randall. I need to have a word with you.”

Tom tensed. Here it came, someone else who wanted to bawl him out about Mrs. Bray or explain to him how things worked in this town. The whole Lillian Bray situation, overlaid with his frustration over Teri, had left him feeling like a failure. He'd come here to serve these people. But they didn't want him here.

He forced a phony bedside smile. “What can I do for you, Mrs. Randall?”

“Not one blessed thing, Doc. It's what I can do for you.” She turned over her shoulder and called to the waitress. “Flo, can I have a Diet Coke?”

Flo gave Savannah a hard look and turned away, ignoring Mrs. Randall the way she frequently ignored Tom.

Mrs. Randall tossed her blond hair back over her shoulder. “Florreta, you hear me. Don't you ignore me. And don't you give me that look. Lillian went up to see a doctor in Columbia yesterday. And you know what? She's got arthritis in her knees and the doc's put her on some pills that actually work. Everyone in this town knows Doc Cooper gave her sugar pills. How on earth were sugar pills supposed to help her?”

Savannah turned back toward Tom with a grin. “Don't you worry, hon, folks will come around. In fact, I heard that Lillian's husband is grateful to you for insisting that she go see a specialist.”

A moment later, Flo came back with Savannah's Diet Coke. “Is what you said true?”

“It is. And y'all should quit talking trash about the new doc. I heard he graduated at the top of his medical class and could have been a surgeon but decided on family medicine instead.”

Flo gave Tom a small smile. “Really?”

He nodded. “I didn't have the heart for surgery,” he said. Another strike against him as far as Ma was concerned.

“You want some more sweet tea?” Flo asked.

“No, thanks, I'm fine,” he said.

Flo eyed Savannah again. “You here to give him advice?”

Savannah blushed to her hairline. “I'm just visiting with the new doc, Flo.”

“Uh-huh, I can see that.” She turned and walked away.

“Well,” Savannah said on a rush of air, “I guess the rest of the town is going to know that I dropped in to say hey.”

“Uh, yeah, I guess so. Thanks for making an announcement about Mrs. Bray. I'm happy to hear that she's getting the medical attention she needs.”

“Me too. But to be honest, that's not the only reason I dropped by. Honey, you need help.”

“I do?”

“Yes, you do. And I'm going to give you some. You see, the truth is, walking by Last Chance Bloomers and looking in the window every day is not going to get you what you want.”

So people had noticed his ineffective courtship of the town florist. That was slightly humiliating. “Okay, what should I do? I can't exactly send her flowers, can I?”

“Why not?”

“Because she's—”

“Buy them at the FTD florist in Allenberg and send them to her with something romantic on the card. Write the card yourself too. The note's the important thing. Teri needs more than a little shove to jump into the pool again. She's convinced herself that no one could ever be interested in her.”

“So I gather.”

She gave him a warm smile and reached across the table to pat his hand. “Everyone here loved Doc Cooper. And it's hard for folks to change. But I want you to know that I approve of you sending Lillian to see a specialist, and I approve of you telling Arlo Boyd he needs to go on a diet. And also, I'm bringing my aunt in next week for her annual checkup. She's getting real old. I'm worried about her.”

“Everyone gets old, Mrs. Randall.”

“Oh, for goodness sake, call me Savannah. And, really, Tom, when it comes to courting a woman, you just need to be persistent. Teri has built a wall around her heart and then dug a moat just to be sure. I can see you've already shaken the foundations of that wall. You just need to keep up the siege.” She leaned in again and spoke in a near-whisper. “And it's perfectly okay to play dirty.”

“Play dirty?”

“Go for her most vulnerable spot. The one thing she's foolishly trying to protect.”

“Aiden?”

Her smile lit up her face like a dozen flaming candles. “You are a very smart man. I'm a mother, Doc. I've learned the hard way that being a mother means letting go of your baby from the very moment he comes into your arms. If you do your job right, you have to let him take falls and experience disappointments and, well, help him grow up. That's hard for any mother. But a mother with a sick or special child—well, it's nearly impossible. And I have a strong feeling that you understand exactly what I mean.”

“You're talking about my childhood, aren't you? But how could you possibly know…”

Savannah pushed up from the table. “Don't ask me how I know things, Doc. I don't even understand it myself. But I have a strong feeling that your childhood will give you all the answers you need. God bless you, Doc, for seeing the truth about Teri. And Lillian.

“And welcome to Last Chance.”

Teri's front doorbell rang just as she was putting away groceries. It was 6:00 p.m. on the Saturday before Christmas. She was dog, dead tired. Everyone and their brother wanted their Christmas flower arrangements. She was sick to death of red roses, red carnations, and red poinsettias. In fact, she was starting to see red when she closed her eyes.

So it was kind of surprising, and maybe a little bit like falling into the Twilight Zone, when she opened her front door to find Jasper Wilkins, the delivery guy for her competition, standing on her porch holding a vase with a dozen white roses in it.

No red roses, red carnations, red holly berries. Just white roses.

“Hey, Teri,” Jasper said with a big, slightly toothless grin. “These are for you. Looks like you've got yourself a not-so-secret admirer—the new doc in town.” He handed her the vase. “Looks like you're in for a very merry Christmas.” He winked before he turned and headed back to his panel van.

Oh boy, everyone in town was going to know that the new doc had sent the local florist a dozen white roses. White, for goodness sake. Hell, she only ever used white roses in bridal bouquets.

Although she had to admit that a dozen white roses in a simple vase made a real statement. She put the flowers on her dining room table not knowing precisely what to think. No one had ever sent her flowers. Ever. Not even her ex-husband. Not on Mother's Day, or Valentine's Day, or their anniversary.

She hadn't ever expected flowers from anyone. She had the flower situation covered. She brought flowers home from the store. She grew flowers in her perennial border. She was the treasurer of the Last Chance Flower and Garden Club. Flowers were her thing. Guys knew this and stayed away.

But Doc Crawford was not like other guys. He wasn't staying away, was he? She stood there absolutely gob-smacked. Until this moment, she hadn't even realized what she was missing. All these years making arrangements for other people. Writing out romantic cards. Hell, helping clueless guys come up with romantic cards. And she'd never, ever been on the receiving end.

She plucked the small card from its plastic holder and opened it. The handwriting was bold, masculine, and just a tiny bit illegible. Betsy Ashworth, the owner of the FTD florist shop in Allenberg, hadn't written this card. Tom had written it himself.

Her pulse went erratic, just like it did every noontime when the man strolled down Palmetto Avenue and stopped to glance through the windows of her shop. He'd been doing this for a solid week, and as much as she didn't want to admit it, that daily moment when Tom walked by Last Chance Bloomers was the best moment of her day.

She read the card.

Love? Goodness, he'd signed the card with the L-word, and it made her heart pirouette in her chest and her mouth go dry.

Village green? No one in town referred to the town square as the village green. No one except Tom, the Yankee from Boston.

What was she going to do about this? She wasn't ready to fall in love with anyone. In her experience, romantic love was highly overrated. Not only had her ex been an idiot, but the guys who bought flowers from her were just as likely to send a dozen red roses to their mistresses as their wives. In fact, more so.

More important, she wasn't ready to meet him for an angelic experience. Chances were, a meeting like that would turn into one of Aiden's epic meltdowns. Not on Christmas Eve in the middle of town. Let Aiden have his annual Christmas meltdown in private this year. Isn't that what her family had wanted when they uninvited her?

No, she wasn't ready for Tom or the angels or the town square at midnight.

She picked up the flowers, ready to toss them in the trash. But she couldn't throw them away. They were so beautiful. So utterly thoughtful. And the man who sent them was kind and patient and knew how to kiss.

“Damn,” she muttered as she set them back down. What was she going to do now?

Teri did nothing about the roses, except maybe enjoy them in a clandestine way. And she might have enjoyed them even more if Tom had continued to stroll by the store. But on the following Monday, four days before Christmas, Tom didn't make his daily noontime trek to the Kountry Kitchen. And he didn't do it on Tuesday either. And he didn't call. Or show up unexpectedly. Or anything.

It was as if he'd disappeared.

Of course, she didn't call him to thank him for the flowers. She'd consciously decided not to do anything about them. And by doing nothing, she'd sent her own message to him.

She wondered if he was still planning to show up at the town square on Christmas Eve, like one of the characters out of that Nora Ephron movie,
Sleepless in Seattle
, where the hero and heroine agree to meet at the Empire State Building on Valentine's Day.

Unfortunately life was not like the movies.

But someone forgot to tell the members of the Christ Church Ladies' Auxiliary this fact. Those ladies seemed to think that life—especially when it came to romance—was exactly like the movies. And when Betsy Ashworth, the owner of Allenberg Flowers, mentioned the roses and the contents of the card (which she'd read, contrary to ethical business practices) to Millie Polk, it was inevitable that every busybody in town would know about Tom and Teri's clandestine meeting at midnight.

Now every customer who came through the doors of Last Chance Bloomers wanted to know if she was planning to meet “that Yankee doctor” at the town square tonight.

The majority of her customers thought it would be oh-so-romantic, even if he was from up north and talked funny. People's attitudes toward Tom were beginning to thaw, especially since that specialist up in Columbia had found something wrong with Lillian and put her on medicine that was actually helping her.

Of course the town might be warming to the new doc, but Lillian had lost a lot of face, so she wasn't all that keen on any of Last Chance's single ladies taking up with that new doctor. She didn't mince words when she bustled into the shop on Christmas Eve morning to pick up her centerpiece. “Teri, you cannot go meet that man at midnight. He's a Yankee, and you know he's going to leave in two years.”

“I have no idea what you're talking about.” This was Teri's standard reply to the question she had to answer at least ten times every day. She pulled Lillian's centerpiece out of the refrigerator.

“Piffle, of course you know what I'm talking about.” Lillian appraised the flowers. “Goodness, Teri, you've outdone yourself.” The centerpiece consisted of a swag of Douglas fir interspersed with sprigs of variegated holly and red glass balls. A wide, wired red velveteen ribbon looped on either side of a three-inch red cinnamon scented candle. She'd made about ten of these centerpieces over the last few days. They were quite popular this year.