Ruth Herne - His Mistletoe Family

“I feel pushed to hurry,” Haley confessed, knowing LuAnn would somehow understand. “To achieve. To succeed.”

“I think that’s why the Psalms talk so much about patience.” LuAnn’s voice blanketed her. Warmed her from within. “To wait on the Lord. To stand strong and steadfast. But no one said it would be easy.”

Haley got that, but right now, with two little souls suddenly dependent on her, a fledgling business to run and rising concern over the absence of that second bank draft in her business account, letting go and letting God proved to be a difficult concept. Maybe impossible. But once things settled down...

“Get some sleep,” LuAnn advised. “Charlie will be there first thing.”

“Thank you, LuAnn.”

“You’re welcome.” LuAnn paused, but didn’t hang up the phone. In a voice that sounded a touch off, she went back to the beginning of their conversation. “Did you really say that Brett made the boys chicken nuggets?”

“Yes. He totally saved the moment because I was facing mutiny.”

“And Brett’s our go-to person to defuse mutiny, that’s for sure.” LuAnn’s tone mixed satisfaction with amusement. “Good night, dear.”

“Good night.”

Haley disconnected the call, grabbed the quilt she’d bought at Maude McGinnity’s shop last summer, snugged her head into a not-so-comfortable throw pillow and promised herself a shopping trip soon. At least for a decent pillow to avoid the sore-neck headache she contended with today.

She’d get through tomorrow. Then Sunday. On Monday she’d hand over the reins of the co-op to one of the more experienced merchants and tackle the ever-growing to-do list, slightly annoyed that none of the tasks could be accomplished on her smartphone:

Sign Tyler up for school.

Find day care for Todd.

Talk to the bank officer and trace the delay on her loan.

Shop for food as funds allowed.

The fire inspection. She’d forgotten that the co-op was scheduled for another fire inspection Monday because the new wing was near completion. And with a busy weekend facing her, she didn’t have extra time to make sure everything was perfectly spaced for the inspector.

But she’d have to because that was her job. She’d stay late Sunday and ask the merchants to check their own areas. Would they do it with her diligence?

Some would, some wouldn’t. But with time growing short, she’d have to trust them to police their own areas for fire safety rules. The old showroom area had burned once, under suspicious circumstances, twenty years ago. She had no intention of letting her grandfather’s legacy burn again.

Chapter Four

Brett’s phone buzzed him awake shortly after 2:00 a.m. on Sunday morning, which made perfect sense because the bars closed right about then. He dragged himself awake, hating to take the call, knowing he had no choice. “Hey, Mom.”

“Brett.”

His throat tightened. His heart pinched. He knew that slur, that tone. “Where are you?”

“I’m home.”

That might or might not be true. “Do you need a ride?”

“To where?”

He refused to sigh even though they’d traveled this ground often enough. “Home.”

“But I am home.”

The sound of raindrops and the movement of the occasional car said she wasn’t. She needed a ride and was ashamed to ask. But she knew if she called, he’d figure it out. He always did. “I’ll be right there. Which road are you on?”

She breathed deep, the sensitive mic telling him she was moving. Turning, maybe? Finding her bearings? “I’m near the library.”

“In Wellsville?”

“Yes.” The lisped word drained energy from his meager middle-of-the-night stash. “It’s raining.”

Pouring, actually. He grabbed a heavy jacket from a hook, his keys and a blanket to warm her. “I’m on my way. Go up the library stairs and wait. The rain can’t soak you there.”

“Okay.”

She wouldn’t do it. She’d be afraid someone would come along in the shadowed overhang. Find her. Make trouble. No, she’d feel more secure out by the street, with streetlights guiding her way, despite the teeming rain and lack of cover.

She hadn’t called him in weeks. He’d hoped things were better. And he knew she’d gone to AA a couple of times, but he also knew overcoming addiction was hard work. Many a soldier under his command had fought addictive behaviors. Some succeeded. Some didn’t.

But his mother’s angst and depression made her a prime candidate, and she’d resumed old habits once his younger brother Ben had died in a military chopper training run over rugged California mountains.

Ben gone.

Joe gone.

And his mother had no one but him around to help pick up the pieces. She only called when desperate, but maybe this time he could make a difference. Maybe this time...

He headed through Jamison, the picturesque little town buttoned up for the night. The Highway Department had strung lights and affixed wreaths on old-style lampposts. The whimsical effect proffered charm and invitation, and Jamison specialized in charismatic appeal. But tonight the prettiness of the Christmas season mocked him. He’d let down his son. His brother. And his mother wanted little to do with him most days.

But that hadn’t changed much in four decades, so he wasn’t exactly looking for a miracle. More like peace of mind. Atonement.

He pulled up to the library fifteen minutes later and found no sign of Joanna Stanton anywhere.

He parked the SUV, climbed out and took the library steps at a quick clip, but no one waited under the overhang.

“Mom?”

He kept his voice soft and low. The neighbors living along North Main Street wouldn’t appreciate being awakened at three in the morning. “Mom?”

Nothing.

He took out his phone and punched in her number on his speed dial.

“Hellooo?”

“Mom, where are you?”

“Who is this?”

Brett hauled in a breath, looked around and still couldn’t find her. “It’s Brett. You called me for a ride. I’m here at the library in Wellsville. Where are you?”

She hiccupped. “In Wellsville? At this hour? Why?”

“Because you called me.”

“Did I?” A long pause stretched thin before she spoke again. “Oh, I got a ride, but thank you very much for calling.”

Click.

She got a ride?

From whom?

And where was she now?

He climbed back into the SUV and headed toward her apartment complex on the north side of town, then idled the engine outside, debating a course of action.

No lights. No movement.

He rang the bell, but wasn’t sure how far to go. Was she in there, passed out? Had some good Samaritan taken her home? Or had she decided to spend the remainder of an awful night with someone from the bar?

He had no way of knowing, and not enough information to call 9-1-1. His mother was a grown woman with choices. He wished she’d make better ones, but that hadn’t happened while he was growing up. And her fifteen-year stint of sobriety had ended with Ben’s death.

He got back into the SUV, drove home, gave up on the idea of sleep, stared at his bookshelves and moved right past the row of books on how to be a better person, settled on a new action thriller and pretended his mother was safe and sound in her apartment, cozy and warm.

It was a form of make-believe he employed in childhood. It didn’t work any better now that he was a man.

* * *

No way would she make it to the church on time. Or even close, Haley determined as the boys took forever to get ready.

“Do we haaaaave to go?” Tyler whined. “I’d rather stay home and play with toys.”

“Me, too.” Todd plunked himself down and sent her a most serious look. “I don’t want to go to stupid old church. Ever.”