Gail Martin - Upon a Midnight Clear

Grace’s compressed features gave way to a grin. “Can’t do much, I suppose. I just worry. Your sister lives thousands of miles away. Kenneth is useless. Sons don’t care much about their mothers.”

“If you need Ken, he can be here in a minute. But you have to call him and let him know. Men just aren’t as attentive as women.” Guilt swept over her. She hadn’t been very attentive, either. And Grace was right—though she wasn’t ready for the grave, they had celebrated her sixty-fifth birthday. And no one was getting any younger.

A sudden feeling of tenderness swept over her. She was her parents’ “surprise” baby. At the age of forty, Grace had her “babies” raised. Patricia was fourteen, and Ken, eleven. Then came Callie, who was soon deemed the “little princess.” All her parents’ unfulfilled hopes and dreams were bundled into her. She had let them down with a bang.

A heavy silence hung in the room as Callie placed the last few items in her luggage. When she snapped the locks, she turned and faced her mother. “Well, I guess that’s it. I may need a few other things, but I’m not that far away. And at this point, I’m not sure how long I’ll be needed.”

The words caught in her throat. Already, the face of Nattie loomed in her mind. Her greatest fear was beginning to take shape. This child would continue to linger in her thoughts when her job was completed in Bedford. And could she walk away from another child? She prayed she could handle it.

Grace stood at the doorway, her hands knotted in front of her. “You’ll be coming back occasionally? So I’ll see you once in a while, then?”

“Well, sure. I’m not chained to the house. At least, I don’t think so.” She grinned at Grace, trying to keep her parting light. Most of her previous patients had lived in the area. Living in Bedford would make trips home a bit more complicated.

Grace heaved a sigh and lifted her smaller bag. Callie grabbed the larger piece of luggage and followed her mother down the stairs and out the door.

As Callie loaded her car, she shuddered, thinking of her dream the night before. She drew the chilled, winter air through her lungs, clearing her thoughts. She stood for a moment, staring at the house where her parents had lived for most of her life, remembering…

When she returned inside, Grace had lunch waiting on the table. Seeing the food as another attempt to delay her, Callie wanted to say “no, thank you,” but she had to eat somewhere. Noting her mother’s forlorn expression, she sat at the table.

“Thanks, this will save time. I should arrive in Bedford in the mid-afternoon, if the weather cooperates. I’ll have a chance to get settled before dinner.” She bit into her sandwich.

Grace raised the tuna salad to her lips, then lowered it. “Are you sure you’re safe with this man, Callie? He saw your references, but did you see his?”

Callie understood her mother’s concern. “I think seeing his daughter is reference enough. He’s not an outgoing, friendly man. I saw so much sadness in his eyes. Anyway, he has a full-time housekeeper who lives in. She looked comfortable enough. Though once I’m there, I imagine she’ll enjoy having the opportunity to go home.” Callie sipped her tea.

“You mean you have to keep house, too?”

Callie choked on her sip of tea. She quickly grabbed up her napkin to cover her mouth. “No, Mother. Agnes is from the community. She’ll be able to go home and visit her family. Since I’m there, she won’t have the responsibility to be the nanny. That’s all. He says I’ll have my own suite of rooms—bedroom, private bath and a little sitting room. And I’ll have dinner with the family. Now, don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”

Grace raised an eyebrow. “What kind of business is this man in to afford such a big home and all this help?”

“Limestone quarries and mills. They’ve been in the family for generations. His grandfather opened a quarry in the middle eighteen-hundreds, I think. Eventually his father took over.”

“Family business, hmm? Must be a good one to keep generations at it.”

“It is. I was really amazed. I picked up some brochures at the Chamber of Commerce office on my way out of town. So many famous buildings were made with Indiana limestone—the Pentagon, the Empire State Building, lots of buildings in Washington, D.C. So I’d say the family has enough money to get by.”

Grace grinned. “To get by? I’d say. One of those aristocratic families…with money to throw away.”

“Not really. It’s a beautiful house, but David seems down to earth.”

“David? What’s this ‘David’ business?”

“Mother.” Callie rolled her eyes, yet heat rose up her neck at her mother’s scrutiny. “Since we’re living in the same house, I suppose he thought ‘Miss Randolph’ and ‘Mr. Hamilton’ sounded too formal.”

“A little formality never hurt anybody.”

“I’m an employee, Mom. And he has no interest in me. The man’s not over the death of his wife.”

“Accident?”

Callie’s brows knitted. “I don’t know. He didn’t say, and I didn’t ask. I’d already asked too many questions for someone who was supposed to be the person interviewed.”

“Never hurts to ask questions.”

“I’m sure I’ll find out one of these days. And I don’t expect to be with him much. Mainly dinner. He’ll be gone some of the time, traveling for his business. I’m there to be with Natalie. Nattie, they call her. She’s a beautiful child.”

“Just keep your eyes focused on the child, hear me?”

Callie shook her head. “Yes, Mother. I think I’ve learned to take care of myself.”

She caught a flicker of reminiscence in Grace’s expression, and froze, praying she wouldn’t stir up the past. Grace bit her tongue, and Callie changed the subject.

“The area is lovely there, all covered with snow. And imagine spring. The trees and wildflowers. And autumn. The colored leaves—elms, maples, birches.”

An uneasy feeling rippled down her back. Would she see the autumn colors? Nattie needed to be ready for school. If the child was back to normal by then, her job would be finished.

“It’s snowing,” Grace said, pulling Callie from her thoughts. “And hard.”

“Then, I’d better get moving.” Callie gulped down her last bite and drained the teacup.

Without fanfare, she slipped on her coat and said goodbye. She needed to be on her way before she was snowbound. Time was fleeting, and so was her sanity.

David sat with his face in his hands, his elbows resting on his large cherry wood desk. The day pressed in from all sides. Callie should arrive any time now. He’d expected her earlier, yet the uncooperative weather had apparently slowed her travel.

The day of her interview lingered in his memory. Though Nattie had responded minimally to Callie’s ministrations, David was grateful for the most insignificant flicker of interest from his daughter these days. Callie had brought about that infinitesimal moment.

The major concern that lodged in his gut was himself. He feared Callie. She stirred in him remembrances he didn’t want to face and emotions he had avoided for two years. His only solution was to avoid her—keep his distance.

Though often quiet, Sara had had her moments of liveliness and laughter. He recalled their spring walks on the hill and a warm, sunny day filled with play when she dubbed him “Sir Knight” with a daisy chain she’d made. Wonderful moments rose in his mind of Sara playing pat-a-cake with Nattie or singing children’s songs.

If he let Callie’s smiles and exuberance get under his skin, he might find himself emotionally tangled. Until Nattie was well, and he dealt with his personal sorrow, he had no interest in any kind of relationship—and he would live with that decision. But he wished wisdom had been his gatekeeper when he’d extended her the job with such enthusiasm.

On top of it all, today they would celebrate Nattie’s sixth birthday. Tension caught between his shoulder blades when he pictured the occasion: a cake with candles she wouldn’t blow out, gifts she wouldn’t open, and joy she wouldn’t feel.

David was reminded of the day Sara had surprised him for his birthday with tickets to see Shakespeare’s darkest, direst play, King Lear. Yet, he’d accompanied her, looking pleased and interested so as not to hurt the woman he loved so deeply.

But Nattie would not look interested to please him. She wouldn’t say “thank you” or force a smile. The lack of response for the gift was not what hurt. She appeared to feel nothing, and that tore at his very fiber.

His wife’s death had been no surprise; Nattie’s living death was.

Rising from his chair, David wandered to the window and pulled back the draperies. The snow piled against the hedges and mounded against the edge of the driveway. Lovely, pure white at this moment, the snow would soon become drab and monotonous like his life.

A flash of headlights caught the mounds of crystal flakes and glowed with diamond-like sparkles. David’s heart surged, and for a heartbeat, he held his breath. Dropping the edge of the drapery, he spun toward the doorway. She would need help bringing in her luggage. He could, at least, do that.

Callie climbed the snow-covered stairs with care and rang the bell. When the door opened, her stomach somersaulted. Her focus fell upon David Hamilton, rather than Agnes. “Oh,” she said, knowing her face registered surprise, “I expected Agnes.” Her amazement was not so much at seeing him at the door as feeling her stomach’s unexpected acrobatics.

“I was keeping an eye out for you, concerned about the weather.” His face appeared drawn and serious.

“Thank you. The drive was a bit tense.”

He stepped back and held the door open for her.

She glanced at his darkened face. “I hope nothing is wrong. You look…” Immediately she was sorry she had spoken. Perhaps his stressed appearance had to do with her—hiring someone “so young,” as he had continually reminded her.

“I’m fine,” he said, looking past her toward the automobile. “Let me get my jacket, and we can bring in your luggage.”

He darted to the entrance closet, and in a brief moment, joined her.

Heading down the slippery porch stairs, Callie’s eyes filled with his Titan stature. In her preoccupation, her foot missed the center of the step and skidded out from under her. She crumpled backward, reaching out to break her fall.

David flung his hand behind her and caught her in the crook of his arm, while the other hand swung around to hold her secure. “Careful,” he cautioned.

Captured in his arms, his gaze locked with hers, she wavered at the sensation that charged through her. She marveled at his vibrant hazel eyes in the dusky light.

“Be careful. You could get hurt,” he repeated, setting her on her feet.

She found her voice and mumbled a “thank you.”

Capturing her elbow, he helped her down the next two steps. When she opened the trunk, he scanned its contents.

“I’ll help you in with the luggage,” he said, “and I’ll come back for the rest.”

She nodded. Hearing his commanding voice, she couldn’t disagree. He handed her the smallest case, taking the larger himself, and they climbed the steps with care.

Once inside, David set down the larger case and addressed Agnes, who was waiting in the foyer. “Show Callie her rooms, please. I’ll carry in the boxes and bring them up.”

Agnes nodded and grabbed the larger case. But when David stepped outside, Callie took the case from her. “Please, let me carry this one. It’s terribly heavy.”