Shenandoah Christmas. Lynnette Kent

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ rejoiced in their presence. Their family had been a walking advertisement for the American dream.

      In a matter of seconds, the dream became a nightmare, one Ben was still trying to escape. From the perfect life, he’d descended into a hell of pain and loss. Eighteen months later, he’d thought he’d climbed out of the pit, at least far enough to find a purpose in living, a willingness to keep trying. For a long time, he’d only functioned to take care of the kids. Nowadays, finally, he took care of himself, too.

      But maintaining this equilibrium demanded all his strength. He had nothing left to give to a new relationship. Especially one with a woman like Cait Gregory. A man could lose his soul in her shining green eyes. Ben knew he needed to hold on to what soul he had left.

      Still, he shouldn’t flay other people because of his own inadequacies. Cait Gregory didn’t deserve the way he’d treated her. And the injustice bothered him.

      So he put down the sandpaper and chair leg he’d been smoothing, dusted his hands and picked up the phone. Dave Remington’s number was on his autodial list—had been since he’d arrived in town after Valerie’s accident. Taking a deep breath, Ben punched the button.

      “Hello?” Not Dave’s Virginia accent, or Anna’s clear tone, but a siren’s voice. “Hello?”

      He straddled a chair and braced his head on his hand. “Cait? This is Ben Tremaine.”

      Immediate frost. “David and Anna have gone to bed. But if it’s an emergency—”

      “No. No, I called to…talk to you.”

      “Really?” As brittle as breaking icicles. “Was there some aspersion you forgot to cast?”

      Strangely, he almost laughed. “I want to apologize. I acted like a jerk, in the grocery and at dinner. No excuses. But I am sorry. You didn’t deserve it.”

      “Oh.” Cait sat speechless as she held the phone to her ear, trying to think of the right response. Part of her wanted to punish him, to keep Ben Tremaine groveling for a long time. Part of her wanted to spare him any further embarrassment.

      And part of her just wanted to keep him talking. “That’s…that’s okay. No harm done. I’ve had my share of tough reviews over the years. I’ll recover.”

      “I’m glad to hear it. I imagine there are legions of fans out there who’d be after me if I slighted their legend.” His voice held a smile.

      Cait found herself smiling in response. “Probably not legions. Or a legend. Janis Joplin is a legend. I’m just a singer.”

      “I bet you do a good version of ‘Bobby McGee,’ though.”

      “I’ve never covered that song.”

      “Why not? Your voice would be perfect.”

      Her chest went hollow at the idea that he’d noticed her voice. “Um…I don’t know.” Almost without her intent, the melody came to mind, and then the words about being free and being alone. The music possessed her, as a good song always did, and she sang it through, experimenting with intervals and timing. At the end, she was still hearing the possibilities, thinking about variations…until she realized how long the silence had lasted.

      Talk about embarrassed. “I—I’m sorry.” She felt her face and neck flush with heat. “I—”

      “Don’t apologize.” He cleared his throat. “I was right—you’re dynamite with that song. What do you have to do to get the rights to sing it?”

      “Pay big bucks, probably. I’ll get my agent to investigate.”

      “Good.” He paused, and Cait could tell he was ready to say goodbye. “Well, I guess I’ll let you go. I hope you know I really am sorry for…everything.”

      “Forget it.” She wanted to keep him on the line but, really, what did they have to talk about?

      “If you will.”

      “Then it’s done.” She took a deep breath and made the break herself. “Good night, Ben.”

      “Night…Cait.”

      She set down the phone and rolled to her side on the bed, breathing in the lavender scent of Anna’s pillowcases. Flowered wallpaper and crisp, frilly curtains, lace-trimmed pillows and old-fashioned furniture…the guest room reflected Anna’s careful, caring personality, her love of beautiful, comfortable surroundings. After two solid months on the road, sleeping in anonymous motel rooms, Cait reveled in the luxury. If only she could sing her songs, and then come home every night to something like this….

      She drifted off to sleep, into dreams she sensed but couldn’t remember, and woke to the smell of coffee. That meant she’d overslept and left Anna and David to get their own breakfast. Of course, ten-thirty was very early on a Saturday morning for most musicians she knew to be out of bed. Cait considered this just one more example of the way she would never fit in with the normal, everyday routine her sister lived. Not to mention Ben Tremaine.

      Why bring him up, anyway?

      She found Anna alone at the table in the cozy kitchen, looking as if she hadn’t slept very well.

      “Everything okay?” Cait poured herself a mug of coffee. “Are you feeling alright?”

      “Why wouldn’t I be?”

      Cait blinked at the unusual sharpness in Anna’s tone. “You look tired, is all.”

      Her sister took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you. I guess you’re right—I am tired.”

      “Maybe we should have stayed home last night.”

      “I’m as tired of staying home as anything else.” Again, the harshness in her usually gentle voice.

      “Well, okay. I’ll send you out on my next concert tour. You can ride all day and sleep in two or three hour snatches and eat lousy food two meals out of every three. I’ll stay here and—”

      Anna laughed, as Cait had hoped she would. “I get the message. The grass is always greener.” She stared into her orange juice for a minute, then looked up as Cait sat down with her coffee and a sweet roll. “So what do you think about the Christmas pageant?”

      After talking with Ben, she hadn’t given the pageant any thought at all. But she didn’t need to. “I’m not the person to be in charge of a program like that. And you know it.”

      “I know you think so. I’m not convinced you’re right.”

      “You need somebody who believes in—what’s the phrase?—‘the reason for the season.’”

      Anna lifted her eyebrows. “Are you an atheist now?”

      “N-no.” Cait crumbled a corner of her roll. “But that’s theology. Your program should have a director who likes Christmas.”

      “Sweetie, it’s been ten years. Don’t you think you could start to forgive him?”

      The СКАЧАТЬ