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“I know. I take it that Chris is still there with you?”
“You bet he is. I don’t know what I would have done without that boy this afternoon. He was right there helping me with Freda as calm as you please just like he was a growed up man and knew exactly what to do. I was downright impressed by the way he kept his head and all. That son of yours is growing up real fast.”
“I know.”
“I never realized it until we was helpin’ to get Freda in my truck, but that dang kid is almost as tall as I am,” Roy said, his amazement plain. “When did that happen?”
“I noticed the same thing a day or so ago, Roy. I guess that’s what happens when you keep feedin’ ’em.”
“I keep threat’ning to put a brick on his head, but it don’t seem to do much good.”
Bret looked at his watch. “How much longer do you intend to stay at the hospital?”
“Until the doctor tells me what these last X-rays show. Then I’ll take the kid out and buy him something to eat before we head home.”
Bret massaged his forehead, absently noting a headache he hadn’t been aware of until now. “Sounds like a good plan to me.”
“At least we managed to get that tree set in its stand before Freda fell. Maybe you and the girls can get the thing decorated and help keep ’em entertained that way. They were real upset over Freda, you know.”
“Yes, I know. But they handled everything very well. Brenda’s feeding them now.” He sighed, resigned to the inevitable. “Yeah, you’re right. I guess I’ll get up in the attic and find those decorations.”
“Fine. Then we’ll be seeing you after a while.”
“Tell Freda I’m really sorry about the accident. Tell her I’ll be up to see her in the morning once I get the kids off to school.”
Bret hung up and stared at the phone. A broken leg, at least. Maybe something even more serious. Why did something like this have to happen? It didn’t make any sense. None of it. Now Freda was in the hospital, suffering, and he was here at home trying to figure out what to do next.
The three older ones were in school during the day, at least until Christmas break. He would just have to take Travis around the ranch with him, or postpone his work until he could find someone to come in and look after the boy.
Who could he find, especially at this time of year? Everybody was busy with their own families.
He dropped his head into his hand and sat there at the desk, trying not to feel his weariness. He still had to get upstairs and find those blasted decorations, help the kids decorate the tree, give Travis his bath and make sure the girls got to bed at a decent hour.
“Oh, Patti,” he whispered. “I need you so much.”
As though aware of Bret’s feelings, Rex padded into the office and rested his head on Bret’s knee.
Bret straightened and looked down at the dog. “Did you come in here to comfort me?”
The dog thumped his tail.
“Freda’s the one who needs some comforting, poor thing. The rest of us are doing just fine.”
He wasn’t at all sure Rex looked convinced, which wasn’t surprising, since Bret didn’t know exactly what he was going to do without a housekeeper.
He would just have to take it a day at a time rather than worry about a future over which he had no control. He pushed himself out of the chair and stroked Rex.
“C’mon, old man. We both need to get a move on. We’ve got a full evening ahead of us.”
Bret headed toward the hall bathroom to wash up before finding out what Brenda had made them for supper.
As soon as supper was finished and the kitchen cleaned, Brenda offered to give Travis his bath while Bret found the decorations. Something had happened where his two oldest children were concerned, Bret realized as he pulled the ladder to the attic down from the ceiling and began to climb. Freda’s accident had caused him to look at Chris and Brenda in a new light. Both of them had stepped in to help—Chris assisting Roy in getting Freda to the hospital and Brenda looking after the younger children.
They’d shown a surprising maturity that deeply touched him. Brenda was attempting to keep to a familiar routine in order not to alarm Sally and Travis any more than was absolutely necessary.
Bret knew that he could do no less. He was actually thankful to have the tree to trim, which should keep the children occupied until their bedtime.
Once he was in the attic, Bret mentally blessed Freda for keeping the storage area neat and orderly. The Christmas decorations were labeled and waiting in one of the corners. He carefully stacked the boxes and managed to get down both flights of stairs without mishap.
By the time the children came back downstairs from getting their baths and dressing for bed, he’d tested and strung the lights.
“We always have hot chocolate when we decorate the tree,” Sally said pointedly. “Can we make some hot chocolate?”
“Uh, well—I’m not sure if we have the time to—”
“Don’t worry about it, Dad,” Brenda said. “I’ve got it ready to heat.” She grinned at him, looking calm and in control of the situation. “I’ll get it ready while you ride herd on these two.”
He began to sort through the boxes, opening them and arranging them around the tree.
“Oh, Daddy, look!” he heard Sally say behind him. “Our angel! Isn’t she beeootiful?”
Bret glanced down at the battered box that continued to hold the Christmas tree angel. Her dress no longer stood out quite so stiff and shiny. Her wavy hair could stand a good brushing, but her deep blue gaze was as potent as ever. He’d never before or since seen a doll with so much character in her face. The little angel remained a symbol for Bret of another lifetime…a time when he’d been young…a time when he’d actually believed in happy ever after.
He was glad Patti had insisted they keep their angel. She stirred bittersweet memories, but the memories were a part of who he was.
He watched Sally reverently lift the little angel from the box and carefully smooth her dress where it had been mussed from being packed away for the past year. Sally looked up and saw him watching her. She smiled and once again he saw Patti’s smile in their daughter’s face.
“Here, Daddy.”
He took the angel even while he said, “Not yet, honey. Remember we put her on the tree the very last thing, after everything else is hung, just before we turn on the lights.” He didn’t point out to her that he’d already made sure all the lights were working first.
He glanced down at the angel in his hands. He couldn’t seem to take his gaze away from her while the children quickly hung their treasures from Christmases past. He carefully smoothed wisps of hair away from her cheek before gathering the soft fluff of hair in his hand in an effort to subdue some of the curls.
She had such a wise look, as if she understood him and the pain that he perpetually carried in his heart. Bret knew he must be losing his wits to have such a strong reaction to a doll, even if she was supposed to be an angel!
He placed the angel on the mantel and turned to help Travis. Picking him up, Bret pointed out some of the higher branches that still needed decorating.
“Dad?” Brenda asked, carrying a tray with cups into the room and setting them down on the coffee table. “Did you find out how Freda’s doing and when Chris is coming home?”
“Chris probably won’t be home until late. He and Roy plan to wait at the hospital until the doctor finishes with all his tests.”
“Was her leg broken?” Sally asked.
“’Fraid so, sugar,” Bret replied.
“Well, who’s supposed to look after us?” Sally asked. “What are we going to do without Freda?”
Bret readjusted Travis’s weight on his hip, handed him a tiny rocking horse and waited while small hands arranged the ornament to a three-year-old’s satisfaction before he answered. “It seems to me that we managed quite well last summer when Freda went to visit her sister for a few days, didn’t we? None of you starved to death.”
Brenda giggled. “Maybe so, Dad. But you really looked silly wrapped up in Freda’s apron making pancakes.”
Sally chimed in. “And you got real mad that time when you burned the biscuits you’d made for supper.”
Bret forced himself to smile at the girls, recognizing their teasing was a way to lighten the atmosphere. “Okay, so maybe I need a little more practice. This will be a good time. According to the weather report, it’s going to be too bad for me to work outdoors for the new few days, anyway.” He looked down at his son who was still in his arms. “Travis and I’ll find something to keep us busy, won’t we, pardner?”
“Will Freda be here for Christmas?” Travis asked.
Since Travis seldom spoke they all looked at him in surprise.
Bret hugged his son a little closer to his chest. “I hope so, son, but it’s too soon to tell just yet.”
“School’s out next Friday, Dad.”
“I know, Brenda.”
“Then we’ll be here all day long for two weeks,” Sally pointed out.
“I know.”
There wasn’t much to add to the conversation and for the next few minutes each of them concentrated on the tree.
Eventually, Brenda said in a subdued voice, “I wish we could go see Freda and let her know how much we miss her and how sorry we are she got hurt.”
“Maybe we can, sweetheart,” Bret replied. “I’ll talk to the doctor tomorrow to see when he thinks she can have visitors.” He glanced at the clock. “In the meantime, it’s way past time for you to go to bed. School isn’t out for the holidays yet.”
“But Dad—”
“We have to—”
Brenda and Sally spoke at once, but it was Travis who was the most emphatic.
“You forgot the angel,” he said with a great deal of indignation.
Bret stepped back from the tree and studied it. All the ornaments were hung…everything was in place…except for the angel.
“Sorry, gang,” he muttered, leaning over and setting his pajama-clad son on the floor. He reached for the angel and carefully smoothed her dress and hair once more, then stepped on a nearby footstool so that he could reach the top of the tree.
With an ease from years of practice he attached the angel to the tree so that she faced the room. Then he climbed down from the footstool, walked over and turned off the overhead light, leaving the room in shadows. He returned to the tree and flipped on the switch.
The tree immediately came to life with a multitude of tiny lights flickering and twinkling among the scented branches.
“Oooh,” Travis sighed softly. The girls took each of his hands and stared at the tree in awe.
Finally Brenda said, “I wish Chris could have been here. This is the first Christmas he hasn’t helped us decorate the tree.”
“I know, honey,” Bret replied. “I miss him, too, but Roy says he was a real help today. At least he helped to choose the tree.” He was silent for several moments, as they enjoyed the magical sight before them. His gaze returned to the angel who presided over the tree like a benevolent reigning monarch.
She’d been a part of this family for as long as there had been a family. Somehow having her with them once again gave him a sense of peace and a degree of normalcy to the unusual day. Nothing seemed quite as bad as before.
Brenda was the first to turn away, still holding Travis’s hand. “You want me to put Travis to bed, Dad?”
“Thank you, honey, but Travis and I’ll manage just fine, won’t we?” Bret replied, smiling at his son. He held out his hand to Travis, who took it with a nod.
Spending time with Travis was always a pleasure to Bret. He enjoyed looking at the world through a three-year-old’s eyes. The girls were patient with their little brother, but he didn’t want them to feel overwhelmed with the responsibility of looking after him.
No matter how tired or sore Bret was each evening he made a point of spending the last hour of Travis’s day with the boy.
His youngest scampered up the stairs, no doubt racing ahead to find a story for Bret to read to him while the girls chattered about school as they left the room. Bret decided to leave the tree lights on for Chris when he came in. Roy would probably wait until morning to give him an updated report from the hospital. Bret knew he wouldn’t sleep until he heard Chris come in, anyway.
By the time Bret heard Chris come up the stairs, Travis had fallen asleep—his giraffe tucked next to him.
Pausing in the doorway of his own room, Bret watched his oldest son come down the hallway toward him. Roy was right. Chris was growing fast, and not only in height. He was losing his boy-child look. His face appeared to be changing—his features looked sharper and more defined.
“How’s it going, Dad?” he asked, following Bret into the room and sprawling out on the bed with a sigh.
Bret began to unbutton his shirt. “All right. How’s Freda?”
“She was asleep when we left. The doctor gave her something for the pain. She’s got a nasty sprain in her left ankle—probably caused when she tried to stop her fall—as well as a broken right leg. I was glad they gave her something. I could tell she was really hurting when we took her in, but she wouldn’t complain.”
“Did the doctor have any idea when she’d be able to leave the hospital?”
“He wants to keep her at least a week, maybe longer. He said they may put her leg in traction because—” He paused because Travis was trotting down the hallway toward them.
“I thought you were asleep,” Bret said gruffly, shaking his head.
Travis ignored him and made a beeline for his brother. “The angel’s here,” Travis announced to Chris, crawling up on the bed beside him.
Chris glanced at Bret with a question in his eyes.
“We spent the evening decorating the tree,” Bret explained.
Understanding flared in Chris’s eyes. “Oh! So the angel’s here, is she?” he asked Travis, pulling him over to hug him. “Were you glad to see her?”
Travis nodded vigorously. “She always talks to me.”
Chris’s eyes met his dad’s before he smiled at Travis and said, “I know, Travis. She used to talk to me, too.”
Travis frowned. “Doesn’t she talk to you anymore?”
Chris thought about that for a moment. “Good question. Maybe I haven’t been listening as close as I used to,” he admitted.
“C’mon, son,” Bret said, picking Travis up and carrying him back to his bedroom. “It’s way past your bedtime.” He tucked him into bed once more, gave him a kiss and closed the door behind him.
He found Chris waiting for him in the hallway.
“What are we going to do now, Dad?”
“We’ll manage somehow, son. I’ll keep Travis with me. You and the girls are old enough to look after yourselves.”
