Chapter 13

The Last Day

11:25:39 p.m.

Holly Noel fussed with the corner of a ratty blanket covering her baby girl, Hope. Blessed or cursed with such a Christmassy name, Holly had endured a litany of stale jokes, stupid comments, snide remarks, and double meanings her whole life. Many times, she had contemplated changing her name but she'd always refrained, hoping people would give her a break no matter how small. She wanted to feel as proud of her name as her mother had been in naming her.

She was cold. Cold clear through and worried about keeping Hope warm. As she faced the end of her meager money, the reality of homelessness finally and frighteningly sank in. The diner was a stopgap. She knew she could take a rear booth, keep the baby warm, and maybe, just maybe, get a tiny bit of sleep. She must rest to gain the strength to take on tomorrow when nothing would have changed except the date.

The tiny child was so preciously good-natured that Holly still couldn't believe she was hers. The crushing disappointment of waking to discover her husband had run off in the middle of the night had been quickly replaced by a creeping horror. As Holly and Hope had been unable to pay rent, they had been forcibly evicted from their small apartment and all their furniture sold at auction to help reimburse the landlord for lost income.

With no relatives or close friends to take her in, Holly had become one of the forgotten ones. She and the baby had crept in back doors and searched out warm places where they could rest for a little while.

Occasionally kind passersby would slip bits of money into her hand as they briskly walked away without making eye contact.

Shelters were too dangerous for a woman and a baby. Perverts were everywhere, promising warm beds and clean sheets in exchange for certain "favors." Holly was exhausted, nearly penniless and scared beyond belief, as she made every possible attempt to make herself and Hope invisible in the busy diner. She feared being forced to bundle up her little girl and go back out into the cold.

For the tenth time, Holly counted the change in her hand. It wasn't enough even to buy a stale donut, and she silently wept. Across the street, the strange man on the wooden box watched and listened to her crying.

Touched by her plight, he might have intervened, but just then Holly heard a gentle voice, "Would it be all right if I sat on the other side of your booth, Miss? All the others are taken and I would so appreciate your letting me sit here."

Looking up into one of the kindest faces she had ever seen, Holly couldn't help but smile back and say, "Sure," as the man slid into the seat.

He was that indeterminate age that confuses people. He could have been thirty as easily as fifty-five, with full sandy colored hair and ruddy cheeks. His eyes were definitely blue, and he gave off an aura of sweetness that startled Holly for a moment.

"My name is Kent Conroy," he offered by way of explanation. "I saw you sitting back here in the very place I would most like to sit and hoped you would not think me awful if I asked to share your space." He turned then and ordered black coffee and the blue plate breakfast special: Two eggs, any style, three slices of bacon or two sausage patties, three pancakes or oatmeal, and fresh fruit. He chose the oatmeal.

As he finished, he added, "Please take this lady's order and put it all on one check. After all it's Christmas, and it's the least I can do for the gal who's sharing her space."

After giving her order to the suddenly solicitous waitress, Holly surreptitiously studied the man in front of her. His sandy hair needed a trim and his morning shave had worn off leaving a little stubble. His face was openly friendly and kind, but she could see the tiredness in his eyes. Though smiling, he'd had a hard day and she felt suddenly sorry for him without understanding why.

There was nothing special about his clothes except for their cleanliness. Although they were old and worn, somebody had taken pains to make sure they were clean and pressed.

As he sipped the hot coffee, she was free to inspect him without getting caught, and with a quick glance at his hands she confirmed no wedding bands. That gave her a sudden unexpected thrill. There was no tell-tale suntan ring, either, which gave away of wayward husbands, and his hands were clean and strong looking.

She couldn't make up her mind as to his age but guessed he looked older than his years, due perhaps to long days and short nights. That spoke well of him as a prospect, but Holly would never have admitted interest in that way.

Kent enjoyed the break from driving and explained that he was on his way to the town where he grew up in upstate New York. By his reckoning, he had about 10 hours of driving left at the pace he was making in the snow. He had determined that it was better to take a break, get some coffee, and decide whether to get a motel room and finish the trip in the daylight with better road conditions.

He realized how much he enjoyed talking to the woman before him. "So, where are you from? What do you do? Who's this beautiful lady with you? How old? What brings you out so late on a stormy night? Tell me everything! America wants to know!" His smile was as transparent as it was kind and she felt herself relax.

"Let's see..." She began. "I'm Holly. Hello. This is my daughter, Hope. She is my precious angel and a perfect child. We're ... between destinations which is why we're here. I am an administrative assistant, although I haven't worked since the baby was born.

Now. What about you? What do you do? Where is home? Are you traveling alone? I can be just as inquisitive," she said and actually giggled, wondering how long it had been since that had happened.

"Hmmmm ... I'm in construction back in Missouri. Everybody comes from somewhere and No Forks, Missouri, qualifies, but just barely. We have a population explosion going on currently. Two ladies are expecting and one is about to have twins, meaning three new residents. We just might break into double digits, although no one is taking bets yet. It's not that bad but it might as well be.

"My folks live in another small burg, Monticello, New York. It's just about 100 miles from here. What should take about two hours will probably take ten in this weather. I'm not sure that's a good use of time.

"It seemed so easy. Pick up 33 North from here, turn onto 209 at Stroudsburg, and shoot up 42 out of Port Jervis, but in this ... I don't know.

"And, yes, I'm traveling alone. No wife, no kids, and no ties to Missouri, which is why I'm free to travel on this forsaken, snow covered road trying to get back to Monticello in time for Christmas.

"There. I've told you far more than I intended and probably bored you to tears. Be careful of that. I can be brutally boring at times. You will have to recognize the symptoms and make me shut up."

He was smiling so brightly she couldn't help but smile with him.

Hope gurgled and broke the tension that suddenly rose between them. It gave Holly the chance to focus on her and not Kent before she made a fool of herself and begged for help. Holly knew she desperately needed help.

Kent wanted to keep talking. He felt a kinship with her that he'd not experienced before, and a part of him wanted to keep this conversation going for the rest of his life.