Miracle on I-40 (12 page)

It turned out that Santa had his own presents for Anna and Jon. Her arms full, Anna looked at Santa. “What about my puppy?”

Like I told you, that that there’s a special present, little Miss Anna. You can’t be haulin’ a puppy all over on vacation. You’ll be gettin’ it a bit later, when you’re on your way home.”

Lacey wished he had not promised an exact time. She cleared her throat in a disapproving manner, which was all the satisfaction she could allow herself.

“O-kay,” Anna said to Santa, with a trace of disappointment, but clear, trusting eyes.

Santa ruffled her hair, bid them all good-bye and climbed into his sleigh. With jingles and creaks and a thunderous
“Merry Christmas!”
he drove away.

Cooper stood beside Lacey and watched the wagon-sleigh be swallowed up by the night. He felt a tug on his coat. It was Anna.

“I told you there was a Santa Claus,” she said solemnly.

“Yes, you did.”

“Do you believe now?”

“Yes, I believe.”

“That’s why you got a present,” she said pertly, and broke into a run for the lodge’s lobby. “I want to open my packages!”

“Watch the steps, Anna!” Lacey called. Then she murmured playfully, “How do you suppose Santa knew where to find us?”

“Santa knows everything,” Jon said with his usual know-it-all expression.

* * * *

There wasn’t any time to be alone and talk, not in the way she wanted to talk to him. Not that she really knew exactly what she would say to him. She needed to thank him for the snow globe, but she could not seem to get the words out. Every time she thought of the gift, she felt awash with emotion and was afraid she might even start crying. It was silly, really, and probably it was best that the children were there all through a meal in the restaurant and then going to their rooms, which they were really lucky to get in the storm. In fact, the clerk said they were the very last two rooms, far in the back and a bit mildewy smelling.

At his door, he said, “Goodnight,” and across the hall at her door, she said, “Goodnight,” and they went into the rooms and shut the doors, each giving a resounding
clack!

* * * *

She kept looking at the snow globe. Shawn had given her a few presents, things like kitchen knives, a blender, a decorative tissue holder. Good grief, life had just moved along, day after day, and she had ended up here, a woman entering her thirties with no worthwhile romantic memories or gifts, until now.

Thanking Cooper took upper place in her mind. She sat on the side of the bed and reached for the phone to call his room and express her gratitude, which was the polite thing, after all.

Then she dropped her hand.

She did this same action  three more times, while the kids got their baths and played all around with their Christmas toys. They were higher than kites.

That Cooper did not call
her
began to annoy her. The least he could do was call, after she had given him a gift, too.

All of a sudden the phone rang and about scared her to death. She snatched up the receiver as if it were an emergency. It was Cooper, of course. If she had been alone, she might have danced.

After they exchanged hellos, there was a long pause, and then he said, “Are the kids asleep yet?”

“Oh, no...they’re too excited, what with a crash, a ride with Santa, and gettin’ their gifts. They might be awake all night.”

“Oh,” came the response and a sigh of the disappointed sort, which was gratifying. “I asked a couple of people down at the desk if they could tell me the name of our Santa. Thought I might send him some money, you know, for all the help. But it seems no one has heard of him.”

“Really?”

“Seems that no one knows of any Santa who goes around givin’ gifts to kids around here. I wish I’d gotten his name.”

She got up and moved to the window, putting distance between her and the children. They were so into their cutting up, though, they were not likely to hear. “I don’t think he wanted us to have his name. I asked, but he just put me off.

“I kind of like it like this, anyway,” she admitted, daring to add, “I’m awfully glad we came on the trip with you. I wouldn’t have wanted to miss this...but I hope your truck is okay. I wouldn’t want...”

“Oh, the rig’s fine. Just stuck. I’ve already been makin’ some calls. The storm is lettin’ up, and we’ll get back on the road quick as we can tomorrow. I’ll get you and your kids to your family, Lacey.”

“I know you will.” She had this moment where she realized she had forgotten the entire reason for the trip.

Then Anna flung herself and her big stuffed dog onto Lacey’s bed, saying, “Ma-ma...maaa-ma.”

“Just a minute, honey. Oh, not you, Cooper—I was talkin’ to Anna.”

Jon came and threw himself down beside his sister, and both children regarded Lacey with the expectancy of children requiring attention.

“I guess I better go. They’re gettin’ tired.”

Cooper said he would see her in the morning, and the line clicked dead before she hung up on her end.

Jon said he was hungry, and Anna asked to sleep with Lacey.

* * * *

The room was faintly lit by a light from the dim bulb in the bathroom that fell through the thin opening of the door and cut across the room. Anna slept deeply, with a little wuffling snore. In the other bed, Jon was a tangled knot somewhere beneath the blankets.

Lacey, curled on her side beside Anna, gazed at the snow globe. It sat on the nightstand, in front of the clock, which read one-sixteen. The glowing red digital numerals seemed to light the globe, like a prism.

Reaching out, Lacey gently shook the globe, then lay there watching the sparkles drift and float magically downward. The angel atop the tree shimmered as if alive.

* * * *

Across the hall, Cooper sat on the edge of his bed, working to change out the buckle on his belt for the one Lacey had given him. His belt was custom-made from a leather maker in Santa Fe; the tooled leather far more valuable than any of the buckles he ever used with it, which could be could be changed by a snap. Only the snap was proving resistant. Cooper had to pry it open with his knife.

He got the old buckle off and put the one Lacey had given him in its place. He gazed at it. Antiqued brass, it was inexpensive, but his style. She had bought him something that was his style, he thought, holding it out to look at it.

Memories marched across his mind of about the one hundred times over the past few years that he had gone into Gerald’s and Lacey had greeted him and served him his meal. She always smiled at him and asked how he was. He most generally answered, “Fair to middlin’. And you?” She would say, “Better than I ought to be,” in that chipper way and with that smile that lit up the room. She brought him everything just the way he liked it, waiting until his coffee cup was nearly empty before filling it again, telling him how the chili or the steak was that day. He had seen her cut her hair short and grow it out. He had seen her a hundred times plug coins in the jukebox, playing snappy tunes by Alabama and dancing across the room, and when she seemed melancholy, an old ballad by Don Williams to which she would hum. He had seen her habit of tucking her hair behind her ear, and the graceful way she walked, and the extra care she gave people.

It struck him that while he had not known particulars such as about a husband or children, he did know the woman. He didn’t know what to make of that thought.

He blinked and the memories vanished. He found himself staring at the belt buckle. Almost like it was a snake that might bite him, he tossed the belt aside on the bed and got up to find a cigarette. He had wanted one since supper but had determined to give them up. He figured six hours was long enough for a respectable start on no-smoking.

He had no sooner lit up than his gaze fell to a small sign on the wall: Non-smoking room. Alarm will sound.

Instinctively he looked upward and saw the smoke alarm, as well as the sprinklers. He sprinted to the window and threw it up and fanned the cold fresh air to help it inside, while he waited to see if an alarm would go off. After a few seconds, he relaxed and finished his smoke by puffing the smoke out into the cold, black night.

When he finished, he shut the window, and went to take a shower and get ready for bed.

* * * *

The next morning, up before dawn to start locating someone to get his rig back on the road, Cooper changed out the buckles on his belt again, returning to the old one. He reached into the trash can and got the box for the brass one Lacey had given him, put the buckle back into it, and tucked the box deep down into his duffle bag.

Ties that Bind

The next day the sun came out in a clear blue sky. The storm was gone as gone could be. Had it not for the snow and ice—snow drifted in some places to five feet, it was reported and shown on television—it would have been as if the storm had never occurred. The day was even warming so much that the snow began to melt on the pavement and dribble off roofs.

Lacey kept reminding the kids that it was Christmas day, but they had had enough of Christmas, having had all their excitement the previous evening. The day ahead definitely seemed anti-climactic, if not a total bore of having to travel more. Anna kept wondering dejectedly about her puppy, and Jon could not seem to be still.

For Lacey’s part, she kept thinking about the snow globe gift from Cooper and having some expectations. The first of these had been a little squashed, when her only contact that morning had been with Cooper in two rather quick and terse telephone conversations, in which he informed her that he was off to have the truck hauled back onto the road, and then to tell her he had succeeded and that there was absolutely no damage to it or the payload.

Their phone conversations were not at all satisfactory. They definitely did better when face to face, she thought, remembering his eyes on hers, and his lips, too.

Now, coming out of the lodge and blinking in the brightness, feeling the snow globe inside the tote bag thump against her side as she walked toward Cooper’s truck sitting down the hill from the lodge, Lacey’s expectations began to rise again.

He stood there beside it, waiting. His eyes were hidden behind dark glasses, his expression unchanging as the children ran up to him.

“We got sixty miles of single lane on the interstate,” he said, handing Anna up into the cab after Jon. “But after that should be smooth sailin’. We should be to your folks’ place by mid-afternoon.”

“Oh...good.”

He reached out for Lacey’s tote bag, and she handed it over to him. He threw it up into the cab, said, “We’d better get to it,” and started around the truck.

In a flash she was really mad. She had given him a gift, and he had given her a gift, not to mention he had kissed her and held her. He had given her plenty of reason to have expectation.

“Cooper.” With careful control, she gently closed the passenger door.

“Yeah?” At least his eyebrow rose up over his glasses.

Yeah?
She said, “I want to thank you for the snow globe. I love it...it’s beautiful.” That was all she could think to say.

“Uh, you’re welcome. Thanks for the buckle, too. It’s really nice.”

“You’re welcome.”

They stood there for a few seconds gazing at each other. She thought for a moment that he was going to say something more. But then he gave a sort of nod, and turned to head around the truck.

Lacey got up into the passenger seat and slammed the door, just as Cooper was slipping into the driver seat.

She was madder than a wet hen and embarrassed about it. Digging into her tote bag, she located her sunglasses and jammed them on her face.

* * * *

As the truck brought them ever closer to their destination, two things dominated her mind: greeting her father and saying goodbye to Cooper.

After the way she had acted, she felt really silly, and that made her act even stiffer. She was not a child. She knew about a lot of single men, especially truckers. They had women everywhere. It had only been one kiss—and even if it had been a really fiery kiss to her, maybe he kissed women like that all the time. The trip and then the storm had thrown them together in a fantasy world of close proximity. Giving her a gift was probably just getting caught up in the spirit of the holiday. Even if he had been having some sort of feelings for her, he had obviously changed his mind, which was his right, after all.

She felt so stupid as to almost cry, so she had to keep her face turned toward the passenger window.

The trip went perversely smoothly. For the first hour, confined to the one lane, driving was slowed, but when they hit the full two lanes, Cooper got up to full speed. He had to stop three extra times for Anna to go to the bathroom, and they spent a lot of time serenaded by Christmas tunes on the radio and pacifying the two voices that kept asking, “Are we there yet?”

Lacey’s nerves became tighter and tighter, so that when Cooper pulled the Kenworth off the highway exit for Pine Grove and asked which way, she fairly snapped at him.

“Just drop us over at that restaurant. I’ll call my sister to come get us.”

“Which way, Lacey?” he said in an exasperated tone.

“I’ll call my sister.”

“I’ll take you.”

He stared at her, and she stared back. Two faces of dark glasses staring down each other.

“Left,” she said. “Five miles.”

“Are we alll-most there, Ma-ma?” Anna said.

A lot had changed in Pine Grove in eleven years. Where she and Beth had once cut Christmas trees, a shopping mall had blossomed. Huffner’s Country Market was now a Super Save, and Fowler’s TV Repair had become Fowler’s Video Rental. Seeing this caused Lacey’s spirit to sink even further, although this was actually an improvement, because she was distracted from her hurt over Cooper’s lack of attentions.

Soon, however, the Kenworth was rumbling its way slowly down the wide street of the graceful old neighborhood where Lacey had grown up. It appeared little changed. The trees were taller, the bushes thicker, but all fit her memory, she saw with relief. Although, the big truck was definitely out of place, and Lacey worried about Cooper getting a ticket.