A Gift to Last Page 0,25

Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to see a counselor, either."

"Yes," she whispered.

Over the phone Matt heard a chorus of background shouts.

"Your parents just arrived," Pam told him.

"Let them wait. I want to say Merry Christmas to my wife."

CAN THIS BE CHRISTMAS? Chapter Eight

"Silent Night"

C athy made up a small bed for herself using the blankets and pillows the VFW Women's Auxiliary had distributed. By all rights, she should be exhausted. She'd been up since dawn and the day had been filled with uncertainty and tension.

Instead, she lay with her eyes wide-open, mulling over the events of the past twenty-four hours. Apparently she wasn't the only one having difficulty sleeping. Matt, the sales rep, had carefully made his way across the darkened room and used the phone. It could be her imagination, but his steps seemed lighter on the return trip, as though his mood had improved. Cathy felt pleased for him. She'd lost patience with him earlier, and later...well, later, he'd proved to be an ally and a friend.

She'd witnessed more than one transformation today. The young sailor had been nervous and excited about this trip home; he'd chattered like a five-year-old when they'd first started out.

Then troubles developed, and he'd withdrawn into himself. But over the next few hours, Cathy had watched as Len recovered from his disappointment and frustration. Before the night was over he'd been an encouragement to others.

Nick and Kelly, the young couple with the newborn, were struggling to be good parents and still hold on to the closeness they'd once had in their marriage. Those two reminded Cathy of Ron and her about thirty years ago, after the birth of their first daughter. Eventually, like most couples, Nick and Kelly would learn to work together and ease gracefully into parenthood.

Sam and Louise had kept to themselves all day, offering no advice and little comment until Cathy shared her shortbread cookies. It was then that they'd kindly come forward and contributed their oranges. Later Sam had read the Christmas story from the Bible in a way that had stirred her beyond any Christmas Eve church service she'd ever attended.

She thought again of Matt McHugh. In the beginning he'd been quite disagreeable. Easily irritated, his few remarks cynical. One would assume that as a seasoned traveler he'd be better able to deal with frustrations of this sort. Unfortunately that wasn't the case until...Cathy couldn't put her finger on the precise moment she'd noticed the change in him. About the time they'd decorated the tree, she decided, when he'd opened his briefcase and started folding and clipping memos into paper snowflakes. She'd sensed a genuine enthusiasm in him from that point on.

Cathy had been just as affected by the unusual events of this Christmas Eve as her fellow passengers. That morning, when she'd phoned for a taxi in the middle of the snowstorm, she hadn't been looking forward to the trip. She'd dreaded it less, however, than spending the holiday alone in the house where she'd lived all those years with Ron.

She'd known Christmas would be difficult. After living first with the approach of death and then the aftermath of it, she'd anticipated nothing but pain and loneliness during the Christmas season. And she'd been right. But today, for the first time since standing over her husband's grave, she'd experienced what it meant to be alive. Sharing, encouraging, laughing. Damn, but it felt good.

"Are you awake?" Matt whispered from the bench directly across from her.

"Yes. You, too." She smiled at the obviousness of the comment.

"I just spoke to my wife." He sounded excited. "It was the first time we've connected all day."

"I imagine she was relieved to hear from you."

She saw his nod, and then he said the oddest thing.

"You loved your husband very much, didn't you?" he asked, sitting up and leaning toward her, bracing his elbows on his knees.

"Yes." Her voice wavered slightly, surprised as she was by his question and the instant flash of pain it produced.

"I want my wife and me to have the same kind of relationship you did with your husband."

The comment touched her heart. "Thank you," she whispered, warmed by the praise of this stranger who'd become her friend. "How'd you know...I didn't mention Ron, I don't think."

"Ah, but you did," he said quietly, nestling against his pillow. "You told Kate about the dollhouse your husband built for his granddaughters. It was easy to read between the lines and...well, I could see this Christmas was difficult for you."

"It's