A Valley Ridge Christmas. Holly Jacobs
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between her burgundy barn coat, the edge of her robe and her tan boots, but there was no one around to notice as she nipped out the side door and marched along the house to the small shed at the end of the driveway where she stored her wood.
She piled as many logs as she could manage into her arms and hurried back inside. God bless Mrs. Anderson’s sense of thriftiness and nostalgia. The former town librarian had done so much for her, and taught her a lot, as well. The woodstove still sat in the corner of the kitchen. Maeve dumped her load of wood in the wood box and opened the stove’s door. She didn’t use it often, but given the fact that she lost power at least once a winter, she’d had enough practice to make short work of starting a small fire inside it. She left a few of the logs for backup and took the rest to the basement where another wood burning stove was hooked up to the house’s heating system. Her house was small enough that between the two stoves she’d stay warm.
It took two tries to get the basement stove’s fire going, but she finally managed it. She went back upstairs and put the old percolator on the top of the stove in the kitchen, then went back outside to bring in more wood.
She’d made two more trips when the wind died down enough to allow her a bit of a view. Normally she looked out at some old oak trees that marked the edge of her property and, beyond them, a small stone wall, then the library parking lot and the library itself. Today, a ratty-looking RV blocked her view of the library.
The parking lot was a smart place to pull over. She listened and couldn’t hear anything. She wondered if someone had abandoned the RV, or if the occupants were still inside. If they were inside, they might not have heat. She wasn’t sure how the heating system on an RV worked. Even if they did have heat, how insulated could an ancient RV be? She’d barely asked herself the question before she made her decision.
She put her load of wood in the house, then went back outside and trudged across the parking lot.
She knew that Dylan, who was a friend—or at least friendly—and a cop, would give her a stern lecture about knocking on a stranger’s door, but there was no way she was going to let someone freeze to death steps away from her house. The snow was even higher in the parking lot. It fell into her boots as she broke a path. Later, she’d clear the lot and her driveway, but for now, she continued on.
She knocked on the RV’s door and a small boy dressed in a snowsuit toddled into view. A tall man with blond, thinning hair, wearing a coat came after him. He eyed her a moment, and then opened the door.
“Hi. You look like you could use some hot coffee and a warm place for your family.” He didn’t respond, so she smiled and said, “I’m Maeve Buchanan. I live in the house next door.” He still made no response, so she added, “I have a woodstove going and the coffee’s hot.”
The man glanced over his shoulder and an equally bundled woman with a thick brown braid trailing under her hat came into view. “Excuse my husband. He doesn’t function before seven, and even after that, manners aren’t his strong suit. I’m Josie, he’s Boyd and that little one is Carl, and we’d be very appreciative of someplace warm. The propane ran out about a half hour ago and it’s starting to feel like an ice chest in here.”
Maeve smiled. “Well, grab what you need and follow my path across the parking lot. I’ll make some oatmeal.” Maeve smiled one more time at them before turning and following her track back across the lot.
She could hear Josie telling her husband that she was going to see to it that Carl had more manners than his father.
Maeve didn’t envy Boyd, because she doubted that the scolding had stopped, even when she couldn’t hear it any longer. She hurried back inside, took off her coat and boots, and slipped on her fuzzy slippers.
She rarely greeted guests in her flannel pajama bottoms and robe, but she doubted the upstairs had warmed enough to make changing comfortable. She decided that given the circumstances, she wasn’t changing yet.
Moments later, her guests arrived. Boyd had Carl in one arm and his free hand on Josie’s elbow. Maeve hurried over and let them in. “Welcome. You can hang your coats out here. The kitchen’s warming up nicely.”
As Josie took off her coat, Maeve couldn’t miss what the bulky winter coat had disguised. Not only was her guest pregnant, she was very pregnant. “Oh, my, you come right in and sit down.”
She hurried into the living room and pulled Mrs. Anderson’s rocker into the kitchen next to the stove. “Here you go. You sit here and warm up.”
“Thank you for the invitation,” Boyd said formally.
Maeve wanted to laugh because she was pretty sure that Josie had fed those words to her husband. But she simply smiled and said, “You’re welcome. It’s the least I can do.”
“It’s a lot more than most would,” Josie said. “We were so thankful to find your town and the parking lot last night. It was the worst weather I’ve ever been out in. The little man—” she mussed her son’s hair as he climbed up on her lap “—slept through the whole thing.”
“We’ll be out of your hair as soon as I can get out and buy more propane,” Boyd hurried up and added.
“Really, it’s fine. It’s not as if I planned on doing anything but hibernate inside today,” she said. “So, where are you all heading?”
The four of them sat down at the table, and Josie told their story over a breakfast of oatmeal and toast.
From that one question Maeve learned that the small family was heading to North Dakota, which was supposed to be experiencing a job boom. She learned that Boyd could do anything if he set his mind to it. He’d worked construction, and then worked at a plastic plant where he’d been a manager.
Maeve learned that Josie and Boyd had started dating in high school and married right after they’d graduated. Boyd had gone to work and Josie had gone to the state university campus in Plattsburgh. Josie had almost finished her degree when she had problems with her first pregnancy and had taken time off. She’d been heading back to school to finish her final term when she’d gotten pregnant with the new baby and, given her problems with Carl’s pregnancy, she decided to wait until after the baby was born to go back to school and get her degree. “But I’m going to finish,” she announced with such conviction that Maeve was sure she would.
The snow had eased up a bit, but the wind continued to blow fiercely. Maeve stood. “I’d better put some more wood in the stove in the basement.”
“May I bring in more wood for you?” Boyd asked.
“That would be a huge help,” Maeve said. “It’s in the small shed at the back of the driveway.”
He nodded, put on his coat and boots and headed out.
“Thank you for giving him something to do,” Josie said as Boyd shut the door. “He hates feeling as if he’s taking a handout.”
“I’m pretty sure sharing a woodstove and some oatmeal doesn’t constitute a handout. It’s merely the neighborly thing to do. It’s nothing.”
“Not to you, but it means a lot to us. I was so worried about Carl. It was freezing in the RV. Let Boyd help. He’ll feel better about taking advantage of you.”
Maeve snorted. “Well, there was no advantage taken, but if I can get out of carrying in wood, I’m glad to oblige.”
Josie laughed. “He’s generally much friendlier. But between losing his job, then the house, and worrying about me, the new baby and Carl...it’s taken a toll.”
That explained why they were heading to North Dakota at the start of winter. The Lake Erie region was known for its harsh winters, but North Dakota was colder by far.
Maeve sensed that Boyd wouldn’t have appreciated his wife sharing that part of things. “Well, when we’re in the midst of a storm like this, the more the merrier is what I say.”
After the stoves were both loaded, she left the