Free A Christmas Peril (The Teacup Novellas - Book Five) by Diane Moody Page A

Craig
practically had to pry me out of his embrace.” She looked across the table at Gary , her eyes glistening. “And I admit, I’m
not sure I’ll do any better on Wednesday when you leave, son.”
    Gary stood, rounding the table to give her a
hug. “Ah, sure you will, Mom. You and Dad will finally have some peace around
here.”
    “That’s
for sure,” Mr. Reynolds teased.
    “Who
knows, maybe you’ll both take up some new hobbies. Like ice hockey. Or maybe javelin
throwing. Hot air ballooning?”
    “Very
funny,” Mr. Reynolds said dryly, laughing with us.
    The
easy conversation continued for the rest of the meal, then Gary and I did the
dishes. (Of course!) Later, Mrs. Reynolds played the piano as the four of us
sang Christmas songs. After a few of the more festive tunes, she played the
introduction to “O Holy Night” ‌—‌ my
favorite carol. Halfway through the first verse, Gary ’s father took a seat in his easy chair,
pulling his handkerchief from his pocket. He wiped his eyes and nose and
glanced up at me with a trembling smile. Finding it impossible to sing, I
slowly made my way to the sofa next to his chair. I clasped my hand over his
and tried to smile.
    As Gary ’s voice swelled with the reverent,
beautiful lyrics and melody, I swallowed hard. I’d never heard anything so
beautiful in my life. Just then, I noticed a tear streaking down his mother’s
face as she continued to play. Gary never stopped singing, but moved to
stand behind her, his hands resting on her shoulders.
    I knew
his parents’ tears had little to do with that unforgettable melody or their
son’s incredibly talented voice, and everything to do with him heading back to
war. An odd feeling descended over me, as though I were imposing on an intimate
family moment. I looked away, focusing on the gaily decorated tree in the
corner of the room and the Zenith console radio on the far wall. I imagined the
Reynolds listening to evening broadcasts filled with news of the war, and
wondering if their sons were safe. And I tried to imagine what it was like to
have not one, but two sons so far away in harm’s way.
     
    “Fall
on your knees!
        O
hear the angel voices!
    O
night divine,
        O
night when Christ was born;
    O
night divine, O night, O night Divine.”
     
    I
closed my eyes, trying to banish my worrisome thoughts and simply live in the
moment.
    Later,
as we said our goodbyes, I knew something inside me had changed. Maybe it was
being in Gary ’s home or being a part of the impromptu
singing around the piano. But considering I’d only known the Reynolds for a
couple of hours, I felt strangely at home in their presence. The thought gave
me pleasure.
    Over
these last couple of days, Gary ’s approaching departure has consumed me.
On Monday, he accompanied me on my commute to Northwestern where he strolled
the campus while I attended classes. That evening we had dinner at the
Continental Room at Stephens Hotel .
Afterward we went dancing, and I prayed the night would never end. Oh my, can
my lieutenant dance!
    This
morning (Tuesday), I couldn’t bear the thought of sitting in class, and for the
first time in my life, I skipped classes so I could be with him.
    He
tried valiantly to distract me, filling our time with visits to the Field Museum of Natural History and the Adler Planetarium. But even fossil relics and
celestial stargazing could not still the dread and angst I felt deep inside
with each passing moment.
    We
spent the rest of the evening here at home where Mother and Father graciously
gave us time alone in the parlor. I could never adequately put on paper all the
things we talked about ‌—‌ or
the many kisses we shared in those final hours together. As my tears began to
fall, he busily wiped them away, cradling my face in his hands.
    And what
he said next quite literally took my breath away ‍—
    “Marry
me, Lucille,” he whispered. “Promise you’ll wait for me and meet me at the
altar as soon as I