A Merry Little Christmas (Songs of the Season) Read online

How could Franny, of all people, think that of herself? “No, it’s a sign of the best character. To grieve for those you lost, those you loved. It’s okay to miss them.”

  “It’s just harder right now because Thanksgiving and Christmas are coming. Makes me miss them all the more.” Franny looked up at him and then rested her head against his shoulder. “I’ve always tried to hold back the tears. I was always afraid that if I started to cry, I might never stop.”

  “You may cry on my shoulder any time you want.” Charlie wrapped his arm around her. In fact, he wouldn’t mind staying that way for a long time to come. She felt sturdy next to him, which was an unusual sensation, but fascinating and appealing. Most of the women he’d held over the years were a bit too flimsy, in his opinion.

  Charlie suddenly wondered if women were trained early in life to become helpless around men. Deep down, maybe some of those ladies wanted to play baseball or manage a company or run for president. Franny could be one of those women. “When I think about all you’ve done, I am amazed. To become a farmer at such a young age and after such a great loss…to succeed in a profession that hadn’t previously been open to women…I think you are the bravest person I’ve ever met.”

  “Really?” Franny eased away and looked at him, her lovely eyes glistening with mist and joy.

  “Yeah.” He nodded. “That’s what I think, for what it’s worth.”

  “I’ve only known you for a day, but it’s worth a lot.”

  A moment of quiet, of sweet tranquillity, settled between them.

  Far above them, a bird’s sharp call pierced the air. They both looked up and watched the hawk glide and swoop on unseen currents far above them as if no care or burden on earth could touch it.

  “It’s a red-tailed hawk,” Franny whispered. “They say they’re common in Oklahoma, but I don’t think it looks common at all. It’s looks rare and splendid to me.”

  Charlie looked over at her and smiled. Then his thoughts drifted back to the sign and the reason for their presence by the pond. “By the way, we destroyed Payton’s sign, and I get the impression he’s not going to take this well. So is he going to force the sheriff to put us in jail?”

  Franny shot him a surprised look. “You’re not scared of Payton too, are you?”

  “No.” Charlie shrugged. “I just need to know if I’m going to miss my spring planting because I’ll be in prison.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Franny saw the twinkle in Charlie’s eyes and gave him a good shove.

  He put up his hands with pretended injury. “I surrender.”

  They laughed. What a relief to know he was joking. She would hate to think that there would be one more farmer around Hesterville who lived in fear of Payton Dunlap. “By the way, nobody’s going to jail. It was the mayor’s wife who called to tell me about Payton’s sign.”

  “Well, the spring planting is safe, then.” He grinned.

  Franny rose from the ground and dusted herself off. “We did such a good job with the sow and her babies that I think we deserve a break. It’s warmed up some, so maybe there’s a slight chance the fish are biting. A mess of catfish would be nice for supper.”

  “You have some fishing equipment with you?”

  “No farmer worth her salt goes anywhere without fishing gear.” Franny ran back to the tractor and promptly returned with two cane fishing poles and a tackle box.

  Charlie took one of the poles and helped her untangle the lines. “I can’t believe you keep this with you.”

  “Something my daddy taught me. Love God, work hard, and always make time for fishing…even if it’s more about the sittin’ than the catchin’.”

  Charlie finished unraveling the lines and handed her a pole. “I would have liked your dad.”

  “He would have liked you too.” Franny opened the tackle box.

  “Yes, but from what you’ve told me, I think your dad must have liked everybody.”

  “He didn’t like Payton Dunlap. But you? I know both my parents would have liked you. And Uncle George too.” She wanted to say how much she liked him as well but thought that comment might still need some simmering.

  Franny handed Charlie a red-and-white bobber, and with furtive glances, she watched him as he fumbled with his line, trying to figure out where the bobber should go. She smothered a grin. He surely didn’t mean to, but with every smile and every heartfelt conversation he was making it harder to say good-bye. And when he put his arm around her, Franny felt as if she might not be able to move. Right there under the curve of his arm felt like home, and she couldn’t imagine how the city with all its music and light and energy was going to compete with the pleasure and wonder of being with Charlie Landau.

  How can this be? Lord, how can I feel these things in such a very short time? Have I been starved for male company? Am I that pathetic? All I know is, the next three weeks are going to vanish like dandelions in the wind.

  Charlie looked into the tackle box. “You don’t have any lures.”

  “I do. You’ll find some worms in that can of dirt. Catfish are smart enough to know the difference between a real meal and a fake one. Or at least that’s what my daddy always said when I was little.” Franny grabbed a worm out of the can, jiggled off the dirt, put him on the hook, and swung the pole outward, making the worm fly toward the surface of the water.

  Charlie glanced up from his work, smiling.

  “What is it? Haven’t you ever seen a woman bait a hook?”

  Charlie laughed. “Not in my life.” He swung his line into the water and eased down onto the grass.

  Franny leaned back against a fallen log and sighed. “There now. Doesn’t this feel right?”

  Charlie gave her a long and leisurely gaze. “It does indeed, Franny.”

  Any more double entendres or gazes like that and she would be in serious trouble. She tried to shake off the swoony feeling darting around her heart like a dragonfly. Time to change the temperature.

  “And most women I know wouldn’t sit in the grass either, because they’re afraid of snakes.”

  “Actually, I had a pet snake when I was twelve. I used to bring him into the kitchen to let Momma have a look. It used to scare the woozoos out of her.”

  Charlie laughed. “Now, Franny, I’m surprised at you, tormenting your poor mother that way.”

  Franny sighed. “I have a lot of regrets.”

  “I do too.”

  “What do you regret?”

  “Not meeting you sooner,” Charlie murmured.

  Oh my. Did he really say what she thought he said, or was he just being as smooth as a record needle gliding on vinyl? “I’ve told you about my parents. I’d love to know more about your people. Are you lucky enough to still have your grandparents with you?” Franny asked.

  “I have one grandfather left on my mother’s side,” Charlie replied. “But he lives abroad. We’ve never been close. Do you have any grandparents still living?”

  “No, I’m sorry to say, they’ve all passed on.”

  “That’s too bad. I think you would have made an ideal granddaughter to spoil.”

  “Thanks,” Franny said. “I noticed you haven’t said anything about your mother.”

  Charlie seemed to drift far away but finally said, “My mom died when I was little, so I was raised by a nanny.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “I don’t have very many memories left of my mother, but what I do have are good ones. I remember her smile…and her fragrance. When she tucked me in at night, I remember always looking into her eyes. They were so clear and pretty. I used to call them ‘the wide blue yonder.’ There was such love in those eyes. And she smelled like…well, I’m not sure of the scent, but it was as sweet and soft as she was.”

  “That’s lovely, the way you remember her.”

  Charlie smiled but said no more on the subject.

  Franny gave her pole a slight tug, trying to entice the fish. “So it’s just you and your dad, then?”

  �
�And my brother, who’s three years younger than me.”

  “A brother. How wonderful. I always wanted a brother or sister to get into mischief with.”

  “It’s a great thing, but my father kept some pretty tight restraints on us. I should say, he had Nanny make sure there was little room for mischief…or fun.”

  “That doesn’t sound good. So, you and your brother didn’t go fishing with your father?”

  Charlie’s shoulders sagged. “We did once. Never went back.”

  “What happened?”

  “My father…he isn’t really a fisherman, but my brother and I begged him for so long that he finally relented. My father couldn’t just take us fishing like this. He had to rent a big boat and a guide with all the best equipment. What should have been fun turned out to be…well, my father’s discontent.”

  Charlie winced. “Anyway, after all the trouble he went to, we caught nothing. He was furious, since he liked to win at everything, even if the victory was over something as unassuming as a fish. The boat came to the dock and, well, as he stormed off I heard him say, ‘We don’t need to go fishing. I can afford to have fish flown in and served to us like kings.’ And that was the first and last time the Landaus ever went fishing.”

  “Oh my.” Franny’s heart ached for the little boys who never knew the joy of fishing with their dad. “It must have hurt your heart…then and now.”

  “The pain does ease with time, but my father isn’t the easiest man to love even now. He’d rather be revered. The honorable Landau—he craves it like some people do the bottle. I honestly don’t know how my mother put up with him all those years she was alive, but she did. And I wondered how she could have fallen in love with him. I know they met in college and married after graduation. Maybe he had some joy back then. Maybe having kids made him angry somehow.”

  Franny reached over and touched Charlie’s arm. “I wish I could make it up to you.”

  “You are, Franny.”

  The look he gave her could defrost a freezer. Be careful, Franny. She turned her attention back to the water.

  “Look, I think I caught something!” Charlie lifted his pole…and there dangling on the end of his line was an old shoe.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Charlie set Franny’s last suitcase in the back of the pickup and closed the tailgate.

  “Thank you for helping me load my belongings,” Franny said. “I appreciate it.”

  Charlie dusted off his hands. “You’re welcome. Glad to be of service.”

  After three weeks of “heart-gathering,” as her momma would have called it, and after sharing a warm and wonderful Thanksgiving, why were they both acting like they’d just met? Perhaps Charlie was trying to sever feelings to make the farewell easier. But letting go of Charlie now was going to be anything but easy. “Well, I guess I’d better go.”

  Charlie came around to the driver’s side and opened her door. “So, are you sure this jalopy is going to make it all the way to Oklahoma City?”

  Franny ran her hand along the window glass of her old International pickup. “My daddy said old Gertrude here should last fifty years.”

  Charlie didn’t look convinced.

  “The truck won’t break down. I promise. I’m more worried about that old rattletrap you bought from Farley to chase back and forth into town with.”

  “He guaranteed it for at least a month and a half.”

  She grinned.

  Charlie glanced at the sky. “Looks like a storm later. You’ll be careful, won’t you?”

  “I will.” She’d seen the clouds earlier and had wanted to postpone her trip, but staying would only prolong the pain. The three weeks were up, and they’d made no commitments to each other of any kind. They were both free to make it on their own now.

  “Are you sure you have everything you need?” Charlie asked. “Really sure?”

  Was there a deeper meaning to his question? Oh, how she wished there were. “I should be fine. I appreciate your letting me store my things here until I get a job and an apartment.”

  Charlie nodded. “Glad to do it.”

  “Well.” Franny rubbed her hands together. “You’ve got my aunt’s telephone number in the city in case something goes wrong here. So, that’s good.” She looked at him—really looked at him this time, since she wasn’t sure when she’d see him again. “I have faith in you, Charlie. You’ll make a fine farmer. And Farley Hansen is a hard worker. He’ll give you some good part-time help until you get things under control.”

  Charlie clutched the back of his neck. “You know, you should have called your aunt so she knows you’re coming. What if she traveled somewhere for Thanksgiving and she’s not back home yet?”

  “I don’t think my aunt has taken a trip since the last World War.” He was being such a mother hen and Franny loved it, but then, maybe he was just saying and doing what any close friend would say and do. “I didn’t call Aunt Beatrice because I wanted to surprise her. She always said I could stay with her if I ever came to the city. If she’s not at home, I have enough money to stay in a motel until I get settled. I’ll be fine, especially now that I have extra money to live on. Thanks to you, Charlie.”

  “You taught me how to run a farm in three weeks. You were worth a lot more than what I gave you. I probably cheated you.”

  “I wouldn’t have taken a dime more.” What was with all the money talk? Even though they hadn’t been out on any formal dates, they’d been growing closer by the day. All she could think of now was a good-bye kiss. “Charlie?” Why wouldn’t he kiss her?

  He took a step closer to her. “What is it?”

  “Do you really think somebody at one of the radio stations will hire me?” Why can’t I at least kiss him on the cheek? She could run a farm, survive all kinds of drought and hardship, and even stand up to the likes of Payton Dunlap, but in matters of romance she felt as sturdy as soap bubbles in a dishpan.

  Charlie looked disappointed with her question. “You’re smart. You learn fast. You have more charm than should be legal. Any radio station would be lucky to have you.”

  “Really?” Franny raised her shoulder in a shrug. “I hope they think so too. It’s what I’ve dreamed of for a long time.”

  “I’ll pray for God’s very best for you.”

  Franny couldn’t ask for anything finer, except it would be even more wonderful if the dream could include Charlie.

  “And I need to say…that you look beautiful.”

  Franny opened her coat, did a little twirl in her navy polka-dot dress, and touched her gloved hand to the pillbox hat sitting on her head. “I found it in Lancaster. It’s a whole lot better than those print dresses I sewed. I looked like a feed sack in those things. Don’t you think?”

  “No, you most certainly did not.”

  “So, you really do like the dress?”

  “I do.”

  “And I have on eyeliner and pink lipstick. I hear that’s what the women are wearing now.”

  “I believe they are, but I’m no expert.” Charlie smiled.

  Oh, that Charlie smile. She already missed him and she hadn’t even left yet. “Please say good-bye to Henry again. He’s asleep by the floor furnace, but I’ve already given him an extra breakfast and at least ten hugs. I hope he understands that I need to get settled before I can bring him with me.”

  Charlie kicked at a clod of dirt, breaking it into pieces. “He’ll miss you, but I think he’ll understand.”

  And was that how Charlie felt? He would miss her but he understood? It sounded so down-to-earth, so maddeningly sensible. “Thanks for taking care of him. Henry will keep you from getting too lonely out here. He’s always helped me.”

  Charlie stuffed his hands into the pockets of his overalls. “Happy to do it. He’s a good dog.”

  She stood there by the door of the pickup for a moment longer, not wanting to go, not wanting to say the actual good-bye.

  “I will miss you, Franny girl.” Charlie gave her chin an affecti
onate pat—a gesture she’d gotten quite fond of over the last three weeks.

  “I will miss you too, Charlie boy.” Her eyes burned with mist. Her emotions were so close to the surface that she’d have to leave or risk making a blubbering fool of herself. She covered her mouth with the backs of her fingers so he wouldn’t see her chin quiver.

  Charlie stepped forward then and pulled her into his arms. Even though the embrace felt loving and oh-so-tender, it also felt final. Like the last hug. A real good-bye. Franny pulled away when she could stand the thought of it no longer.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Charlie watched as Franny drove off in her little turquoise pickup, as she sped down the long lane, and as she disappeared over the hill in a cloud of red dust.

  The wind kicked up, blowing dirt into his mouth. He spit out the grit, not caring how ungentlemanly he looked. He had no one to impress now. The windmill groaned in agony. My sentiments exactly.

  Charlie trudged toward the house simply because he felt like trudging. He was not in a good mood, and his disposition was bound to get fouler as the day progressed. Franny was no longer with him. He had a whole day’s work ahead of him, but it didn’t matter. He was going to have a mug of coffee and grumble for a while.

  Once inside the glassed-in porch, he gave the cistern a few rough cranks and filled the water bucket. When he set the bucket down in the kitchen, he stubbed his toe on a pickling crock, which made him stumble backward straight into the bucket, overturning it and making water go pretty much everywhere. Guess I have a heavy touch today as well as a heavy heart.

  After mopping up the mess, he made some coffee and sat down in the chair with a thud. Henry looked up from his pillow by the furnace with big woeful eyes. Henry knew Franny was gone. Dogs were smart that way. He grieved too. Henry just wasn’t as noisy about it.

  “Everything’s all right, boy. Well, no, it isn’t. I’m not going to lie to you. Henry, it was all my fault. I should have given Franny flowers today and a note for her to read later, to tell her what she’s come to mean to me. And to tell her that yesterday was the best Thanksgiving Day I’ve ever known, and that Christmas without her is going to be the loneliest. With other women, I’ve always given flowers and chocolates. But Franny is different. I don’t know, she’s kind of like this celestial being, and you don’t give earthly gifts to angels. They have no use for them.”