The Christmas Clock and A Song For My Mother - Kat Martin Page 0,26

betrayal she had dealt him and the years he had lost. Maybe he would make her fall in love with him again and then leave her.

The panic expanded into fear, tightening as he walked to the door. Then he turned and smiled down at her in that soft way he used to but hadn't since her return.

“I'll see you tonight,” he said.

And Syl was more afraid than she had ever been before.

8

October ended cold and November rushed in with a vengeance. Floyd stood warming his hands over the old pot-bellied stove in his workshop. The wind was blowing outside like ‘ol Billie hell and the squat iron stove couldn't seem to throw off enough heat. He could use a hot cup of tea, he thought, and couldn't shake the image of Doris looking so pretty, bringing a steaming mug out to him.

Funny... that afternoon had popped into his head a dozen times and he couldn't quite figure out why.

“Mr. Culver?”

It was little Teddy Sparks. Poor kid was staying in some kind of temporary foster home until they could find him a permanent placement. Joe Dixon had made an application, Sylvia had said, but with his record, everyone put the odds against him. Too bad, that Joe had turned his life around, become an upstanding citizen and an asset to the community. And it was clear he loved the boy.

“Come on in, Teddy.”

A couple of times a week, Teddy's foster mother dropped him off to spend a couple of hours with his grandmother. The visitation had been ordered by the court since there was a lady at Lottie's now to watch out for both of them but Floyd wasn't sure how long it was going to last.

Lottie's memory was failing fast now and Floyd wondered if she actually even recognized the boy. Teddy usually only stayed an hour or so, then came over to see Floyd in the shop before his foster mother, a sour old gal named Elmira Mack who seemed older than she really was, picked him up.

“Hey, slugger, how you doin'?”

“Doin' okay. Gramma's not so good, though. She doesn't like having that lady in her house.” He smiled. “She's always glad to see me, though.”

“I'll bet she is.”

“The lady, Mrs. Williams, she made us some chocolate-chip cookies, and we ate 'em with a glass of milk.”

“That's good, Teddy.” Floyd figured maybe Lottie was just glad for the company, even if she wasn't sure who the boy was.

Floyd turned back to the birdhouse he was sanding and Teddy walked over to watch. “I wanna buy one of those for Miss Winters. I want to give it to her for Christmas.”

“I thought you were saving your money to buy that clock for your grandma.”

“I already got enough for that. Joe said he'd go down and pick it up for me, keep it for me till Christmas.”

Floyd smiled, liking the boy, thinking maybe he and Doris ought to take him. But damned, even if they passed muster, he was just too old to raise an eight-year-old kid. “So, which birdhouse you want?”

There was a shelf of them ready for delivery to the store. Each one was different, with a separate personality, or so it seemed to Floyd, which was why he enjoyed making them so much.

Teddy looked each one over with the scrutiny of a real horse trader. “I’ll take that one up there.” He pointed to the third house over.

“This one here?” Floyd set the birdhouse down on the table and Teddy examined it closely.

“It looks a lot like Joe's house.”

“Ya think so?”

Teddy grinned. “I like the way this little branch pokes out for the birds to sit on.”

“Yeah, so do I.”

Teddy ran a finger over the peak of the roof. “There's only one thing wrong with these houses.”

Floyd frowned. “Yeah? What's that?”

“They're all just brown.”

“They're made out of wood; what other color would they be?”

Teddy shrugged his thin shoulders. “You could paint 'em, make 'em all different colors. I bet Mrs. Culver could make 'em look real nice.”

Floyd just grunted. “Well, this one's brown. You want it or not?”

Teddy nodded.

“You gonna take it with you or you want I should set it over here until it's closer to Christmas?”

Teddy's enthusiasm slipped away. “I don't have any place to keep it. I'd better leave it here.”

“No problem.”

Teddy pulled out a small wad of crumpled-up one-dollar bills and paid for the birdhouse. Floyd cut the price to the cost of the wood but didn't let on. He wrote Teddy a receipt