Chapter 2
Russ’s sister, Janet, and her girls were already at Margy’s house, waiting on her husband, Mike, to finish at the farm.
Christmas Day or no, the cows needed milking.
Ethan’s cousins treated him like their own living baby doll, and with Tiny—Christine—and Rose sharing the day with them, Clare didn’t feel too guilty about leaving him behind while they drove to Albany.
“It won’t be dinnertime for hours yet; you have plenty of time to visit your friend and get back.” Margy waved them off. “I’m teaching Christine how to make a parsnip, mushroom, and barley wreath. You’re going to love it!”
“Take me out and shoot me,” Russ said when he got behind the wheel.
“Don’t worry. Your sister told me Mike’s bringing over a whole roast beef when he comes.”
The Northway was fast and clear, just a few cars with wreaths hanging off their hoods or reindeer antlers over their windows.
Even the Albany Medical Center looked festive, with aides wearing Santa hats and elf ears, and secretaries in jingle-bell necklaces.
As they entered the elevator to the step-down unit, Clare caught sight of a pile of elaborately wrapped presents beneath a tree in the lobby.
She sucked in her breath and clutched Russ’s hand.
He squeezed back. “We may have to make it our tradition to leave all our gifts unwrapped.”
“Agreed.”
They paused outside Paul Terrance’s room. Russ sniffed. “Is that … Peking duck?”
They entered, to find Yíxīn Zhào sitting in the easy chair next to Paul’s bed, an array of soups, dumplings, savory pancakes, and, yes, duck spread out on his rolling table.
“Well.” Clare grinned. “I always wondered what Chinese people ate on Christmas.”
Yíxīn unfolded herself from the chair and walked over to give them both a hug. “I’m trying to convince my family to go out for burgers and fries on the Lunar New Year, but it’s an uphill battle.”
“Hey.” Paul’s voice was weak, but cheerful. “Glad to see you two. How’s Hadley and, um, Kevin?”
“She’s working today, but sends her love.” Russ shook his hand, cautious not to dislodge the taped-on IV. He dragged the lone wooden chair toward the bed and motioned for Clare to sit, before hoisting himself onto the window ledge.
“May I?” Clare reached for a scallion pancake.
“Please. Yíxīn overestimated my appetite a bit.”
“My mom believed stuffing me with food was the cure for everything.” Yíxīn plucked a dumpling from its box.
“Even a gunshot?” Paul laughed thinly.
“She’d add ginseng root and an acupuncture appointment for that.”
Russ shifted. “Have you given your statement to the Albany PD?”
Paul nodded carefully. “Though I didn’t have much to add. I was in and out of it after getting shot.” He glanced at Yíxīn. “I mostly remember her screaming and sobbing and throwing herself on me.”
“I felt sorry for you. A lonely man who lives like a bear in the woods.”
He smiled a little. “You know, that’s my clan sign. The bear.”
Russ leaned forward as if he was going to fall off the window ledge. He stared at Paul. “The bear.”
Paul nodded. “The bear.”
Clare looked at Yíxīn, puzzled, but the lawyer shrugged. “I also gave my statement, thanks for asking.”
“Did you get in trouble with your boss?” Russ leaned over her shoulder to grab a piece of the duck.
“He wasn’t very happy to find out I’d been running an unauthorized investigation using confidential legal files. But once the Times-Union did its big story and featured a profile of me, he calmed down.”
Clare was impressed. “I missed that. They did a profile of you?”
“Yep.” Yíxīn popped the dumpling in her mouth.
“However did they know to approach you?” Paul’s question was suspiciously exaggerated.
“Tipped off, I guess.” She raised her hands. “It’s a mystery.”
“Speaking of which.” Russ switched to his serious voice. “I’m sorry we weren’t able to get confirmation of who killed your uncle.”
“Pretty sure whoever it was died in that crane. I’m satisfied.” Paul paused. “Reasonably satisfied.”
They were all silent for a moment. “How many of them are still out there?” Clare asked.
“Too many.” Russ shook his head.
“And how many of them are law enforcement? Or protected by law enforcement?” Yíxīn looked back and forth between the two cops.
“Too many,” Paul rasped.
Clare braced her elbows against her knees and raised her chin toward her husband. “Does this make you feel more like getting back into policing? Or less?”
“I don’t know.” For a moment, he looked every one of his fifty-some years.
“You’re good in the woods, Chief. Real good.” Paul shakily reached for a plastic cup of water. Clare snatched it and held it for him. “You should think about applying to the DEC. Lord knows we need experienced officers.”
Russ leaned back against the window with a considering expression. “He’ll think about it after consulting with me,” Clare said firmly. “Consulting extensively.”
“Hey.” Paul pointed to the view beyond. “Snow.” He was right; fat flakes were beginning to fall. “Looks like Christmas.”
“That it does.” Clare stood. “That’s also our cue to leave. We’re expected at Russ’s mom’s house for dinner.” She exchanged hugs and kisses all around, firm and tight for Yíxīn, feather-gentle for Paul.
“Take care of each other, hmm?” Russ nodded at Yíxīn, then Paul.
“There is no each other.” Yíxīn crossed her arms.
“We’re way too different,” Paul laughed.
“Oh, I understand. Kind of like a priest and a cop.”
They left the younger two looking thoughtful.
On the ride home, Clare felt like they had been given a small slice of time for just them. The truck was warm and cozy, and there was nonstop Christmas music on the radio, and the snow falling enclosed them just enough to seem magical, and not so much to have to worry about the drive.
“Would you really think about what Paul said?”
“You mean, go to work for the DEC? Become a ranger?” He glanced at her. “I dunno, how do you think I’d look in a green uniform?”
She nudged his shoulder. “Seriously.”
“Seriously, there’s a part of the idea that’s tempting. I do like the outdoors, as you know…”
“Yes, I recall our ice-fishing honeymoon.”
“And I’ve spent my entire adult life in law enforcement, first in the military and then as a civilian. It’s what I know.”
“Umm-hmm.”
“But … why should I keep on doing that? Just because it’s known and safe? You didn’t. You left the army to become a priest. That’s a hell of a switch-up.”
“True.”
He paused. “Do you … do you want me to find another job in law enforcement?”
She rested her hand on his shoulder. “I want you to find out what you want to do. Whether that’s carrying a badge or carrying a baby or, I don’t know, becoming a carpenter. You’re good at that, and you love working with your hands.”
“You wouldn’t be disappointed.”
“Oh, Russ.” She tilted her head back. “We’ve both disappointed each other in all sorts of ways since we first met, but I can guarantee that would never be one of them. Would you rethink our marriage if I left the priesthood? Love me less if I wasn’t in the National Guard?”
“Of course not. That’s—” He paused. “Silly.”
“It is. So what do you want to do?”
He drove in silence for a while. “You preached an Easter Eve sermon once.”
“Holy Saturday.”
“This was that time—the first time I told you I love you.”
“Oh, I remember that.”
“You said, ‘I want to walk the road with you, so new and so unexplored, and see what miracles unfold before us.’”
“Yes.” Her voice was husky. She coughed.
“That’s what I want right now. To walk beside you—you and Ethan—and see what unfolds before us. Open and without expectation.” He tilted a smile toward her. “I know it’s a different holiday, but Christmas seems like a great time to start.”
She sat in the warmth and the music and his smile. “I think you’re right, love. I think Christmas is a good time to start.”