One Night Before Christmas. Robyn Grady

time is right.”

      Leo snapped out of his fog and nodded, staring at the baby. “You don’t think it will be too cold?”

      “I have a snowsuit to put on him. That should be plenty of insulation for today. I’ll get the two of us ready. If you don’t mind going out to the shed, you can get the ax. It’s just inside the door.”

      “You have an ax?” He was clearly taken aback.

      “Well, yes. How else would we cut down a tree?”

      “But you told me you haven’t had a Christmas tree since you’ve been here. Why do you need an ax?”

      She shrugged. “I split my own wood. Or at least I did in the pre-Teddy days. Now I can’t take the chance that something might happen to me and he’d be in the house helpless. So I pay a high school boy to do it.”

      “I’m not sure how wise it is for you to be so isolated and alone. What if you needed help in an emergency?”

      “We have 911 access. And I have the landline phone in addition to my cell. Besides, the neighbors aren’t all that far away.”

      “But a woman on her own is vulnerable in ways a man isn’t.”

      She understood what he wasn’t saying. And she’d had those same conversations with herself in the beginning. Sleeping had been difficult for a few months. Her imagination had run wild, conjuring up rapists and murderers and deviants like the Unabomber looking for places to hide out in her neck of the woods.

      Eventually, she had begun to accept that living in the city carried the same risks. The only difference being that they were packaged differently.

      “I understand what you’re saying,” Phoebe said. “And yes, there have been nights, like the recent storm for instance, when I’ve questioned my decision to live here. But I decided over time that the benefits outweigh the negatives, so I’ve stayed.”

      Leo looked as if he wanted to argue the point, but in the end, he shook his head, donned his gear and left.

      It took longer than she expected to get the baby and herself ready to brave the outdoors. That had been the biggest surprise about keeping Teddy. Everything about caring for him was twice as complicated and time-consuming as she had imagined. Finally, though, she was getting the hang of things, and already, she could barely remember her life without the little boy.

       Eleven

      It was the perfect day for an excursion. Since men were still working at the cabin removing the last of the tree debris and getting ready to cover the whole structure with a heavy tarp, Phoebe turned in the opposite direction, walking side by side with Leo back down the road to a small lane which turned off to the left and meandered into the forest.

      She had fastened Teddy into a sturdy canvas carrier with straps that crisscrossed at her back. Walking was her favorite form of exercise, but it took a quarter mile to get used to the extra weight on her chest. She kept her hand under Teddy’s bottom. His body was comfortable and warm nestled against her.

      Leo carried the large ax like it weighed nothing at all, when Phoebe knew for a fact that the wooden-handled implement was plenty heavy. He seemed pleased to be out of the house, whistling an off-key tune as they strode in amicable silence.

      The spot where she hoped to find the perfect Christmas tree was actually an old home site, though only remnants of the foundation and the chimney remained. Small weather-roughened headstones nearby marked a modest family cemetery. Some of the writing on the stones was still legible, including several that read simply, Beloved Baby. It pained her to think of the tragic deaths from disease in those days.

      But she had suffered more than her share of hurt. She liked to think she understood a bit of what those families had faced.

      Leo frowned, seeing the poignant evidence of human lives loved and lost. “Does this belong to you?” The wind soughed in the trees, seeming to echo chattering voices and happy laughter of an earlier day.

      “As much as you can own a graveyard, I guess. It’s on my property. But if anyone ever showed up to claim this place, I would give them access, of course. If descendants exist, they probably don’t even know this is here.”

      One of the infant markers caught his attention. “I can’t imagine losing a child,” he said, his expression grim. “I see how much Luc and Hattie love their two, and even though I’m not a parent, sometimes it terrifies me to think of all the things that happen in the world today.”

      “Will you ever want children of your own?” Her breath caught in her throat as she realized that his answer was very important to her.

      He squatted and brushed leaves away from the base of the small lichen-covered stone. “I doubt it. I don’t have the time, and frankly, it scares the hell out of me.” Looking up at her, his smile was wry. But despite the humor, she realized he was telling the absolute truth.

      Her stomach tightened in disappointment. “You’re still young.”

      “The business is my baby. I’m content to let Luc carry on the family lineage.”

      Since she had no answer to that, the subject lapsed, but she knew she had been given fair warning. Not from any intentional ultimatum on Leo’s part. The problem was, Phoebe had allowed her imagination to begin weaving fantasies. Along the way, her heart, once broken but well on the way to recovery, had decided to participate.

      The result was an intense and sadly dead-end infatuation with Leo Cavallo.

      She stroked Teddy’s hair, smiling to see the interest he demonstrated in his surroundings. He was a happy, inquisitive baby. Since the day he was born, she had loved him terribly. But this time alone, just the two of them, and now with Leo, had cemented his place in her heart. Having to return him to his parents was going to be a dreadful wrench. The prospect was so dismal, she forced the thought away. Much more of this, and she was going to start quoting an infamous Southern belle. I’ll think about that tomorrow.

      Leo stood and stretched, rolling his shoulders, the ax on the ground propped against his hip. “I’m ready. Show me which one.”

      “Don’t be silly. We have to make a careful decision.”

      “This is the world’s biggest Christmas tree farm. I’d say you won’t have too much trouble. How about that one right there?” He pointed at a fluffy cedar about five feet tall.

      “Too small and the wrong variety. I’ll know when I see it.”

      Leo took her arm and steered her toward a grouping of evergreens. “Anything here grab your fancy?”

      She and Leo were both encased in layers of winter clothes. But she fancied she could feel the warmth of his fingers on her skin. A hundred years ago, Leo would have worked from dawn to dusk, providing for his family. At night, when the children were asleep in the loft, she could see him making love to his wife on a feather tick mattress in front of the fire. Entering her, Phoebe, with a fire, a passion he had kept banked during the daylight hours. Saving those special moments of intimacy for the dark of night.

      Wishing she could peel out of her coat, she stripped off her gloves and removed her scarf. The image of a more primitive Leo was so real, her breasts ached for his touch. She realized she had worn too many clothes. The day was warm for a winter afternoon. And thoughts of Leo’s expertise in bed made her feel as if she had a fever.

      She cleared her throat, hoping he wouldn’t notice the hot color that heated her neck and cheeks. “Give me a second.” Pretending an intense interest in the grouping of trees, she breathed deeply, inhaling the scent of the fresh foliage. “This one,” she said hoarsely, grabbing blindly at the branches of a large Fraser fir.

      At her back, Leo stood warm and tall. “I want you to have your perfect Christmas, Phoebe. But as the voice of reason I have to point out that your choice is a little