Mistletoe Prayers Page 6

  “No.” The word came out too sharply. He didn’t talk about his family, but he couldn’t hurt Annabel’s feelings just because it was such a sensitive subject. “I mean, I don’t remember them. My mother’s parents died when I was small, and my dad’s parents…” It took a second before he could go on. “My father fought with everyone, including his family. I don’t re member ever meeting them.”

  He’d never realized how odd that sounded, especially to someone like Annabel, who was surrounded by family. Maybe every kid grew up thinking his life was normal, no matter how odd it was.

  If his grandparents had been around, would it have made a difference? Would they have seen what was going on, have intervened to make it better?

  He’d never know.

  They were nearing the ticket station, and a line of customers already extended down the street. In a moment, this quiet conversation would be over.

  He felt the pressure of Annabel’s hand on his arm.

  “I’m sorry.” Her voice filled with warmth and caring—the same warmth and caring that flowed from her to every hurting animal or hurting child. “I didn’t realize you had so little family.” She squeezed his arm. “You can share ours, you know. They’re already crazy about you.”

  “Thanks.” It was just a joke, and he ought to treat it that way. But all Annabel’s goodness seemed to be wrapping around his heart, and he couldn’t.

  He couldn’t because he cared about her, and the thought scared him to death.

  “Annabel, are you putting that dough in the pan or playing with it?” Mamma’s voice was a little tart, which wasn’t unusual late in the evening of the Bodine women’s annual Christmas cookie baking.

  Mamma had the largest kitchen, so she always offered to host. The room was still crowded, even though they’d overflowed into a table in the family room for icing cookies.

  “I’m doing it, Mamma.” Annabel focused on rolling the cream cheese dough into tiny balls and pressing them into the miniature muffin pans.

  “I’ll give you a hand, Bel.” Amanda appeared next to her, wiping her hands on a paper towel. “If I have to frost another sugar cookie, I’ll scream.”

  “Just remember how much everybody loves them. Including you.” She moved over, giving her twin space to work with her on the pecan tassies.

  “I’ve tasted too much frosting,” Amanda admitted. “I went past the sugar rush and straight to exhaustion.”

  “It’s a busy time of year at the paper, isn’t it? Why didn’t you beg off? Mamma would have understood.”

  Amanda grinned. “She would not. And anyway, I couldn’t stand missing this.” She glanced across the kitchen, affection wiping the tired look from her eyes.

  “It is a special Christmas tradition.” All the aunts, Mamma, her twin, the female cousins…everybody tied together by bonds of love, blood, family. She couldn’t miss it, either. “I’m glad Ross was willing to spare you tonight.”

  “Ross knows better than to tread on any Bodine family traditions.” Worry touched Amanda’s face, wrinkling her forehead. “I do wish he and Daddy got along better. I don’t know what Daddy’s going to say when we set a wedding date.”

  Despite her hands being sticky, Annabel gave her twin a hug. “He’ll be fine. You know that, don’t you? Anyway, I think the truth of it is that he and Ross enjoy arguing. I do believe they pick different sides of every issue just for the sake of debating it.”

  “You might be right at that.” Amanda’s brow smoothed out. “I hope so, ’cause I have my heart set on a spring wedding, no matter what anybody thinks.”

  “Oh, Manda.” Annabel had to stop and hug her again. “I’m so glad.”

  “Well, you’re my maid of honor, don’t forget.”

  “I won’t.” She blinked back tears. “We made that promise when we were five, and I’ll never forget.” They’d attended their first wedding, just barely able to understand what all the fuss was about, but once they’d figured out the roles, they’d agreed.

  “Don’t say anything, okay? I want to get Daddy in a really good mood before we tell him.”

  She thought Amanda was worrying unnecessarily, but she nodded her agreement.

  “You’re okay with this, aren’t you? I mean, it doesn’t upset you, thinking about my wedding?”

  For a moment she actually didn’t know what Amanda meant. Then understanding flooded in. “You mean because of Foster? Don’t be silly.”

  “Well, you don’t talk about him anymore, but I thought you might still be hurting, especially at this time of year.”

  “I thought it would bother me,” she said the words slowly, trying to understand what had changed. And why. “I mean, I’ve been over Foster for a while now, but it still hurt.” She pressed the last round of dough into the pan. “I guess it was the whole idea that I’d been so wrong about him. I was humiliated, but it was more than that. I thought I couldn’t trust my own judgment.”

  “And now?”

  “And now…well, I think I understand myself a little better. Isn’t that what Miz Callie always says? That the past is for learning from?”

  Amanda nodded. “I guess so. It’s just a shame it had to hurt so much.”

  She thought of Travis, who had surely been hurt more than she had. “Yes. It is.”

  Amanda picked up the pan that contained the pecan filling and set it where they could both reach it. “Does Travis McCall happen to have anything to do with your recovery, by any chance?”

  She wanted to deny it, but her twin would know instantly if she lied. “Maybe,” she admitted. “Seeing him pitch in at the farm, fall in with all our crazy family traditions without a whimper…well, I started off entertaining him with the selfish notion of keeping my mind occupied and off Foster, and I ended up comparing Foster to him. And believe me, Foster came in a distant second.”

  “True, so true.” Amanda giggled. “I can’t picture Foster getting manure on his shoes or wrestling with a donkey.”

  “This hasn’t been easy for Travis.” Now that she’d let herself think about him, she couldn’t seem to shut Travis out of her mind. “I mean, coming in to a family like ours, adapting to our traditions, especially when he’s facing big changes in his own life…”

  “You don’t need to convince me.” Her twin was looking at her with something speculative in her eyes. “I agree. He’s one of the good guys.”

  “Yes. He is.” All of a sudden her heart seemed to split wide open, and she recognized the truth. She didn’t just admire and care about Travis. She’d gone and fallen in love with him.

  Chapter Six

  She had to be careful, Annabel told herself a few days later at the farm. Very careful, so that Travis wouldn’t guess her feelings for him. That would be awkward, to say the least. He was Luke’s friend—her friend now, too. She couldn’t do anything to ruin that. Maybe, eventually…

  She resolutely turned her attention back to the children. She’d gathered them around Toby, the donkey.

  “Now I want you to notice something.” She looked around the circle of small faces. “See this marking on the donkey’s back?” She traced the crossing stripes of paler fur. “What does it look like?”

  “A cross,” Charlie said, the words bursting out. “It looks like a cross, doesn’t it, Miz Annabel?”

  “That’s right, Charlie. It looks like a cross.”

  “I was gonna say that.” Kyle’s face clouded. “I was gonna say it, but you butted in.”

  She put her hand on the boy’s shoulder, touching him gently, and Kyle subsided. She couldn’t look at him any longer without remembering Travis’s suspicions, without worrying about it, praying she’d find a way to help.

  “I could see that you knew it, too, Kyle. Why do you suppose the donkey has the mark of a cross on his back?”

  No one spoke for a long moment. Then Mandie, leaning forward in her wheelchair, raised her hand. Annabel nodded at her. “Why do you think, Mandie?”

  “Because a donkey carried Mary t
o Bethlehem?” She sounded uncertain.

  “That’s right.” She traced the lines again. “I don’t know if it’s true or not, but that’s what people have believed for a long time. That because a humble donkey carried the mother of Jesus, he received the mark of the cross on his back.”

  She sensed, without even looking his way, that Travis had joined the group. She was in a bad way, to be so aware of him that her skin seemed to tingle when he came near.

  “And this donkey is going to be in the Nativity,” Charlie said. “I am, too, and I’m gonna be a shepherd.”

  “Me, too,” Kyle said quickly.

  “That’s right. And I hope all the rest of you will tell your parents about it so they can bring you to see it. I have some flyers, and I’ll give you one before you leave today.”

  Several heads nodded, and she hoped the parents would follow through. It was far too easy to get caught up in all the other traditions that surrounded Christmas and forget the reason for the celebration.

  “Toby is going to carry the girl who plays Mary in the Nativity, so I thought we might practice letting him give you a little ride today. We’re not putting a saddle on him, just a blanket, so if that sounds scary, you don’t have to do it.”

  “I want to.” Mandie lifted her hand.

  Her mother bent over her, looking distressed. “Mandie, I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

  “I’ll hold her,” Travis said quickly. “I can lift her off easily if need be.”

  Annabel looked at the child’s mother, eyebrows lifting in a question. It must be a constant struggle with a child like Mandie to let her try the things she wanted to do.

  She got a reluctant nod in return. “All right. Thank you.” The thanks were directed toward Travis, who was already bending over Mandie.

  “I want to do it next,” Kyle insisted.

  “No, me.” Several voices spoke together.

  “Everyone who wants to can have a turn as long as Toby agrees,” she said solemnly. “Remember how hurt his back was when he first came here? We have to treat him gently. Don’t forget that.”

  That seemed to satisfy them, and everyone watched while Travis settled Mandie gently on the donkey’s back. He held her with both hands, and she gripped the donkey’s neck. Glancing at Annabel, he gave a slight nod.

  Make it a short ride. She could almost hear him say the words. They seemed to be on the same wavelength. She stepped forward, leading Toby with a hand on his halter.

  Toby stepped out agreeably enough. Mandie was so light that he probably scarcely felt her weight on his back. They walked a dozen steps, then turned and came back without incident.

  “Good job.” Travis lifted Mandie and helped her down, and the gentleness in his face and his touch seemed to grab Annabel’s heart and wring it. Yes, she had it bad.

  Please, Lord… That prayer tapered off to nothing, because she didn’t know what she wanted to pray. Please make him love me? No, she couldn’t ask that.

  One after another, the children who wanted to had their short rides. Annabel turned them over to one of her helpers as they finished, relieved that it had gone without incident.

  “What do you think?” Travis asked when the last child had finished. “Is Toby ready for his big role?”

  “I hope so.” She rubbed the donkey’s nose, trying not to react to Travis’s nearness. “We don’t have much more time. I actually turned down the offer of a mule.” She ran her fingers over the cross. “Somehow that just wouldn’t seem right.”

  “Sentimental,” Travis said, but there was teasing laughter in his voice. “I always knew you had a sentimental streak.”

  “Guilty,” she admitted. “I know it’s the message of the Nativity that’s important, but I’d be disappointed if Mary didn’t come in on a donkey. And if there weren’t three wise men, even though I know the Bible doesn’t actually mention three.”

  “It doesn’t?” He started to lead Toby toward the barn, and she walked with him.

  “Nope. Three gifts are mentioned but not three kings. And yet we’re all so convinced that there were three that we’d be upset at any other suggestion.”

  “As you say, it’s the message that’s important. I remember…”

  He let that trail off. Had he been about to confide something personal?

  “What do you remember?”

  He shrugged. “Just thinking of the first Christmas pageant I ever attended. I was staying with…with some friends, and they took me. I was totally awed.”

  It took an effort to keep her feelings from showing in her voice. “I hope that’s what we can do for some child or adult with the Living Nativity. Show them the awesome nature of God’s gift of the Christ.”

  He seemed touched, and he put his hand over hers. “I hope so, too.”

  Maybe someday. She found herself thinking that again. Maybe someday Travis would look at her and see love.

  The afternoon slipped away, her time working with the children too short, as always. Annabel couldn’t help wishing these sessions were longer. They were doing good work with the children; she was convinced of that. It was just sometimes tough to show quantifiable results.

  She’d just supervised the pickup of the youngest children. She headed back to the barn, intent on making sure that the older kids had done the assigned cleanup work before their van arrived.

  An angry shout alerted her, and she headed for the barn at a run, reaching it in time to see Travis pulling Kyle and Charlie apart. Again.

  Her heart sank. She’d thought Kyle’s behavior had begun to improve. It looked as if she’d been wrong. What was she going to do? She couldn’t have him here with the other children if he continued to start fights.

  “What happened?” She pulled Charlie to her side, since Travis still had his hand on Kyle’s shoulder. “I can’t believe you two are fighting again.”

  “Not my fault.” Charlie’s words seemed to wobble on the edge of tears. “I didn’t mean to push Kyle. It was an accident, honest. I’m sorry.”

  “Okay, Charlie.” She ruffled his hair. “Why don’t you run over to the kitchen and get a drink of water? The van will be here soon.”

  He nodded, sniffling a little, and darted out of the barn.

  Annabel turned to Kyle, sending up a fervent prayer for guidance. “Kyle, what’s going on?”

  Kyle’s face was set in angry lines. “He pushed me.”

  She knelt in front of him, meeting his eyes. “You heard what Charlie said. He didn’t mean to do it. It was an accident. Do you think he was lying?”

  “Maybe.” His bottom lip shoved out. “I don’t know. Guess not.”

  “Then why…”

  “I think I know why.” Travis’s voice was rough with emotion. Hands on Kyle’s shoulders, he turned the boy to face him. “You feel mad inside all the time. You want to hit before somebody hits you.”

  “Travis.” She put a warning in her voice, but he didn’t even glance at her.

  Kyle stared at the floor. “Maybe.”

  “Hitting isn’t right,” Travis said. “Especially not when somebody hurts an animal, like Toby. Or a kid, like you.”

  “Travis, don’t.” Alarm swept through her.

  “That’s it, isn’t it?” Travis didn’t seem to hear her. “Your dad hits you, doesn’t he, Kyle? Tell me.”

  Kyle stared at him, eyes wide. Then he spun away from Travis’s grip. “No!” he shouted. “Don’t you say that! Don’t you ever say that!”

  He ran from the barn and kept on running toward the waiting van.

  For a moment, Annabel slumped back on her heels, feeling as if someone had hit her. Then anger propelled her to her feet.

  “How could you do that? You didn’t have the right to interfere in this. I told you Pastor Tim was handling it.”

  Travis’s hands clenched into fists. His face tightened into a forbidding mask. “I had to.”

  “No, you didn’t have to.” Frustration battled pain as she tried to think of all the thi
ngs that could happen as a result of Travis’s words. “Don’t you understand what you’ve done?”

  “I’ve given that kid a chance—”

  “He denied it. You heard him. And if he tells his parents, they’ll pull him out of the program, and any chance I have of helping him will be gone. They’ll probably blame Pastor Tim, as well. And if they complain to my board—” she stopped for a moment, not wanting to even consider that “—I could lose my backing. I could lose my whole program because of this.”

  It was as if he couldn’t absorb what she was saying to him. “I’m right about Kyle. I know I’m right.”

  She threw up her hands. “How?” she demanded. “How do you know that you’re right, Travis?”

  Life seemed to come back into the bleakness of his face. His mouth twisted in pain. “Because it happened to me, okay? I know because I lived it. My father beat me every day of my life, until the law finally took me away from him. I know the signs. I know.”

  Shock and pain fought for control of her heart. “Travis, I…I don’t know what to say.” She reached toward him. “I…”

  “Don’t say anything.” He ground the words out. “Don’t. I can’t talk about it.”

  And like Kyle, he turned and left her there.

  Travis took the chair Pastor Tim indicated in his study. He sat stiffly on the edge of the chair, feeling as if his hands were too big and his body too awkward. Annabel had nodded when he came into the room, her lips curving in a stilted smile.

  Well, he couldn’t be surprised at that. She hadn’t spoken to him since that explosion at her barn the previous day. It had been Pastor Tim who’d called, asking him to come in to discuss Kyle’s situation.

  He’d had to agree. No way out of it. He’d done this thing, and while he still felt that someone had had to confront Kyle, he’d begun to wonder if he’d been the right one to do it.

  Or to do it the way he had. His stomach twisted at the thought of Annabel’s words, at the pain in her face. He hadn’t thought about her. He’d only known that the kid was a mirror, showing him his own face at that age. And he’d had to break through that.