but then she’d fallen asleep and now … they could be anywhere. They’d be furious and frightened. She felt a blast of guilt; her brothers might be misguided but they loved her.
“If you’ll excuse me a moment,” she said urgently. “I need to make a phone call.”
“Of course,” Grace told her. “Would you like to use the house phone?”
She shook her head. “No, I have my cell up in the apartment. It’ll only take a few minutes.”
“You might have a problem with coverage. Try it and see. By the time you return, the coffee and soup will be ready.”
Mary Jo went back to the barn and up the stairs to the small apartment. She was breathless when she reached the top and paused to gulp in some air. Her pulse was racing. This had never happened before. Trying to stay calm, she walked into the bedroom where she’d left her purse.
Sitting on the bed, she got out her cell. She tried the family home first. But the call didn’t connect, and when Mary Jo glanced at the screen, she saw there wasn’t any coverage in this area. Well, that settled that.
She did feel bad but there was no help for it. She’d ask to make a long-distance call on the Hardings’ phone, and she’d try Linc’s cell, as well as the house. She collected her coat and gloves and hurried back to the house, careful not to slip in the snow.
A few minutes later, she was in the kitchen. As Grace had promised, the coffee and a bowl of soup were waiting for her on the table.
Mary Jo hesitated. She really hated to ask, hated to feel even more beholden. “If you don’t mind, I’d appreciate using your phone.”
“Of course.”
“It’s long distance, I’m afraid. I’d be happy to pay the charges. You could let me know—”
“Nonsense,” Grace countered. “One phone call isn’t going to make a bit of difference to our bill.”
“Thank you.” Still wearing her coat, Mary Jo went over to the wall phone, then remembered that Linc’s number was programmed into her cell. Speed dial made it unnecessary to memorize numbers these days, she thought ruefully.
She’d have to go back to the apartment a second time. Well, there was no help for that, either. “I’ll need to get my cell phone,” she said.
“I can have Cliff get it for you,” Grace offered. “I’m not sure you should be climbing those stairs too often.”
“Oh, no, I’m fine,” Mary Jo assured her. She walked across the yard, grateful the snow had tapered off, and back up the steep flight of stairs, pausing as she had before to inhale deeply and calm her racing heart. Taking another breath, she went in search of her cell.
On the off chance the phone might work in a different location, Mary Jo stood on the Hardings’ porch and tried again. And again she received the same message. No coverage.
Cell phone in hand, she returned to the kitchen.
“I’ll make the call as quickly as I can,” she told Grace, lifting the receiver.
“You talk as long as you need,” Grace said. “And here, let me take your coat.”
She found Linc’s contact information in her cell phone directory and dialed his number. After a few seconds, the call connected and went straight to voice mail. Linc, it appeared, had decided to turn off his cell. Mary Jo wasn’t sure what to make of that. Maybe he didn’t want her to contact him, she thought with sudden panic. Maybe he was so angry he never wanted to hear from her again. When she tried to leave a message, she discovered that his voice mail was full. She sighed. It was just like Linc not to listen to his messages. He probably had no idea how many he’d accumulated.
“My brother has his cell off,” Mary Jo said with a defeated shrug.
“He might be in a no-coverage zone,” Grace explained. “We don’t get good reception here at the ranch. Is it worth trying his house?”
Mary Jo doubted it, but she punched in the numbers. As she’d expected, no answer there, either. Her oldest brother’s deep voice came on, reciting the phone number. Then, in his usual peremptory fashion, he said, “We’re not here. Leave a message.” Mary Jo closed her eyes.
“It’s me,” she began shakily, half afraid Linc would break in and start yelling at her. Grace had stepped out of the kitchen to give her privacy, a courtesy she appreciated.
“I’m in Cedar Cove,” she said. “I’ll be home sometime Christmas Day after I speak to David’s parents. Probably later in the evening. Please don’t try to find me. I’m with … friends. Don’t worry about me. I know what I’m doing.” With that she replaced the receiver.
She saw that Grace had moved into the dining room, setting the table. “Thank you,” Mary Jo told her.
“You’re very welcome. Is your soup still hot?”
Mary Jo had forgotten about that. “I’ll check.”
“If not, let me know and I’ll reheat it in the microwave.”
“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” she murmured. Even if it was stonecold, she wouldn’t have said so, not after everything Grace had done for her.
But as Mary Jo tried her first spoonful, she realized the temperature was perfect. She finished the entire bowl, then ate all the crackers and drank her decaf coffee after adding a splash of cream. As she brought her dishes to the sink, Grace returned to the kitchen. “My daughters will be here at six,” she said, looking at the clock. “And my daughter-in-law and her family should be back soon. We’re having dinner together and then we’re leaving for the Christmas Eve service at our church.”
“How nice.” Mary Jo had missed attending church. She and her brothers just seemed to stop going after her parents’ funeral. She still went occasionally but hadn’t in quite a while, and her brothers didn’t go at all.
“Would you like to join us?”
The invitation was so genuine that for a moment Mary Jo seriously considered it. “Thank you for the offer, but I don’t think I should.”
“Why not?” Grace pressed. “We’d love to have you.”
“Thank you,” Mary Jo said again, “but I should probably stay quiet and rest, like the EMT suggested.”
Grace nodded. “Yes, you should take his advice, although we’d love it if you’d at least have dinner with us.”
The invitation moved her so much that Mary Jo felt tears spring to her eyes. Not only had Grace and her husband taken her into their home, they wanted to include her in their holiday celebration.
“I can’t believe you’d want me here with your family,” she said.
“Why wouldn’t we?” Grace asked. She seemed astonished by the comment. “You’re our guest.”
“But it’s Christmas and you’ll have your … your family here.” She found it hard to speak.
“Yes, and they’ll be delighted to meet you.”
“But this isn’t a time for strangers.”
“Now, just a minute,” Grace said. “Don’t you remember the original Christmas story?”
“Of course I do.” Mary Jo had heard it all her life.
“Mary and Joseph didn’t have anywhere to stay, either, and strangers offered them a place,” Grace reminded her. “A stable,” she added with a smile.
“But I doubt those generous folks asked them to join the family for dinner,” Mary Jo teased.
“That part we don’t know because the Bible doesn’t say, but I have to believe that anyone who’d lend their stable to those young travelers would see