Christmas Trio B. Debbie Macomber

That shouldn’t be such an impossible task, and yet …

      “I’m never going back to King’s,” Ned said in disgust.

      “Me, neither,” Mel spat. “If I ever go back to Cedar Cove, which is unlikely.”

      Frankly, Linc was of the same mind, at least as far as King went. The man had blackmailed him into paying for directions and then completely misled him. True, the sandwiches weren’t bad, but he’d overcharged for them. The old coot had an evil streak a mile wide. If he thought it was fun to misdirect them, then he had a perverse sense of humor, too. Perverse? Downright twisted!

      “Let’s find a phone that works,” Ned suggested, not for the first time. His brother had harped on that for the last half hour. Their cell phones were useless out here. But it wasn’t as if there was a phone booth sitting on the side of the road just waiting for them to appear.

      “Okay, you find one, Ned, and I’ll be more than happy to pay for the call.”

      Ned didn’t respond, which was definitely for the best.

      “What we need is a sign,” Mel said.

      Linc bit off another sarcastic comment. They needed a sign, all right, and it had better be one from heaven. He could only imagine what Mary Jo must be thinking. By now his sister probably figured they’d abandoned her, yet nothing could be further from the truth.

      “What’s that?” Ned shouted, pointing into the distance.

      “What’s what?” Linc demanded.

      “There,” Mel said, leaning forward and gazing toward the sky.

      Linc saw a flash of light. He pulled over to the side of the road and climbed out of the truck. He needed to stretch his legs, anyway, and the cold air would revive him. Sure enough, someone was setting off fireworks. The sky burst with a spectacular display of lights.

      “Wow, that was a big one,” Mel said, like a kid at a Fourth of July display.

      His brothers didn’t seem to appreciate the gravity of their situation. “Okay, it’s nice, but how’s that going to help us?”

      “You said I should find a phone,” Ned pointed out. “Whoever’s setting off those fireworks must have a phone, don’t you think?”

      “Yeah, I guess,” Linc agreed. He leaped back into the truck, his brothers with him. “Guide me,” he said and jerked the transmission into Drive.

      “Turn right,” Ned ordered.

      “I can’t!”

      “Why not?”

      “I’d be driving across someone’s pasture, that’s why.” Obviously Linc was the only one with his eye on the road.

      “Then turn as soon as you reach an intersection,” Mel told him.

      Linc had never liked taking instructions from his younger brothers. He gritted his teeth. As the oldest, he’d always shouldered responsibility for the others. He had no choice now, however—not that things had worked out all that well with him in charge.

      At the first opportunity, Linc made a sharp right-hand turn, going around the corner so fast the truck teetered on two wheels. It came down with a bounce that made all three of them hit their heads on the ceiling. “Now what?”

      “Pull over for a minute.”

      “Okay.” Linc eased to a stop by the side of the road.

      “There!” Mel had apparently seen another display in the heavens. “That star!”

      “Which way?” Linc asked with a sigh.

      “Go straight.”

      Linc shook his head. The road in front of him was anything but straight. It twisted and curved this way and that.

      “Linc,” Mel said, glaring at him. “Go!”

      “I’m doing the best I can.” He came to a straight patch in the road and floored the accelerator. If anyone had told him he’d be chasing around a series of dark roads, desperately seeking guidance from a fireworks display, he would’ve laughed scornfully. Him, Mr. Great Sense of Direction? Lost? He sighed again.

      “We’re getting close,” Mel said.

      “Okay, stop!” Ned yelled.

      Linc slammed on the brakes. The three of them jerked forward and just as abruptly were hurled back. If not for the seat belts, they would’ve been thrown headfirst into the wind shield.

      “Hey!” Mel roared.

      “Maybe don’t stop quite so suddenly,” Ned added in a voice that was considerably less hostile.

      “Sorry.”

      “Wait, wait, wait.” Mel cocked his head toward the sky. “Okay, continue down this road.” Mercifully it was flat and straight.

      “Here,” Ned said a minute later.

      Once more Linc slammed on the brakes, only this time his brothers were prepared and had braced themselves.

      “Look!” Ned shouted. “This is it. We’re here!”

      Linc didn’t know what he was talking about. “We’re where?”

      “The Harding ranch,” Mel answered.

      Then Linc saw. There, painted on the rural route box, was the name Cliff Harding. To his left was a pasture and a large barn.

      “I think I see a camel,” Linc said. He’d heard about people raising llamas before but not camels.

      “Are you sure?” Ned mumbled. “Maybe it’s just an ugly horse.”

      “A camel? No way,” Mel insisted.

      “I say it’s a camel.” Linc wondered if his brother’s argumentative nature had something to do with being a middle child. Ned, as the youngest, was usually the reasonable one, the conciliator. Whereas he—

      “A camel? “ Mel repeated in an aggressive tone. “What would a camel be doing here?”

      “Does it matter?” Ned broke in. “This is where Mary Jo’s waiting for us.”

      “Right.” Linc turned into the long driveway that led to the house and barn. The fireworks had stopped, but some kind of party seemed to be taking place, because the yard was filled with people. There was a bunch of little kids running around and the atmosphere was festive and excited.

      “There’s an aid car here.” Ned gestured urgently in its direction.

      “Do you think someone’s hurt?” Mel asked.

      “No,” Linc said slowly, thoughtfully. This was what he’d feared from the first. The minute he’d heard about Mary Jo’s dizzy spell he’d suspected she was about to give birth. “I think Mary Jo might have had her baby.”

      “But she isn’t due for another two weeks,” Mel said.

      Ned opened the truck door. “Instead of discussing it, let’s go find out.”

      A middle-aged woman approached as Linc got out of the truck. “You must be Mary Jo’s brothers,” she said. “I’m Grace Harding. Merry Christmas!”

      The woman looked friendly, and Linc appreciated the pleasant greeting. “Merry Christmas to you, too. Sorry for the delay …”

      “We got lost.”

      How helpful of Mel to point out the obvious.

      “Some guy named King gave us the wrong directions.”

      “King’s Gas and Grocery?” A man came up to them, extending his hand. “Cliff Harding.”

      “That’s the one,” Ned answered.

      Cliff