Christmas in the Air by Irene Brand Page A

ever had,” Eric said, with an apologetic look toward Roxanne. “When we’ve eaten with you on Christmas Day, Mom, I’ve never really been hungry. I was hungry today.”
    Roxanne laughed at him. “No need for an apology. I agree with you.”
    They were sitting around, relaxing after the meal, when Quinn stood suddenly. “Do you hear what I hear?”
    And Sean broke into the lyrics of a traditional song. “Do you see what I see?”
    Quinn shook his head. “No, I’m serious. I hear a tractor.”
    They all rushed out on the porch as a huge tractor plowed to a noisy stop before the steps. A burly farmer, dressed in a red woolen coat with a knit cap pulled over his ears, jumped down from his enclosed cab.
    â€œI thought there must be somebody stranded over here,” he said. “I heard bells ringing in the night and thought Santa’s Rudolph had a bell around his neck.” He laughed heartily at his joke. “But I got to studying on it this morning, and I told my missus I’d better have a look-see.”
    The fog had lifted slightly, and he glanced toward the snowbound vehicles. “Looks like you had trouble. Anybody hurt in the accident?”
    Recognizing the farmer, Quinn stepped forward.
    â€œWhy, Quinn Damron, what are you doing here?” the farmer exclaimed.
    Quinn shook hands with him. To his companions, he said, “I’ve been to Mr. Dunlow’s farm several times, doctoring his animals. He lives over near the interstate, so the bell carried a long way.”
    Briefly, Quinn explained what had happened to them, how they’d taken shelter in the church, and he introduced his companions. Quinn said, “Come inside, if you have time.”
    â€œI won’t come in, but is there anything I can do for you? You got anything to eat?”
    Quinn motioned to the upended truck. “We’ve had plenty of food, because that’s a grocery truck. Depending on how long we’ll be here, we may run out of fuel. Are the roads being plowed now?”
    â€œYes, the interstate is pretty well cleared, and if the sun shines like they’re predicting for the afternoon, there will be some thawing.”
    â€œThen we can last through the rest of today and tonight,” Les said, stepping from behind Allen.
    â€œHi, there, Lester,” Dunlow said. “How’d an old-timer like you get stranded in a snowstorm?”
    Les shrugged his shoulders. “The best of us makes mistakes sometime, Dunlow, although in light of the fellowship we’ve been havin’, I’m not sure this was a mistake.”
    â€œWell, you do look hale and hearty,” Dunlow said. He reached in his tractor and pulled out a chain saw.
    â€œI’ll see to it that you’re plowed out as soon as possible,” the farmer said, “but there’s no reason for you to be cold.” He motioned to a dead tree along the roadbed, not far from the church. “I’ll saw that tree up for you, and you won’t run out of fuel.”
    More optimistic now that they knew rescue was near, they laughed and joked as they followed Dunlow to the tree. He quickly felled the tree and cut it into lengths that would fit the stove. The snowbound travelers carried the wood to the woodshed and several armfuls into the church, singing as they worked. The extra exertion made Livia feel warmer, and she was perspiring before the last chunk of wood was taken inside.
    Before Dunlow climbed back on his tractor, he said, “We’ve been using our telephones right along, andsoon’s as I get back, I’ll report your whereabouts to the state road workers. Do you want me to call your families and tell them you’re all right?”
    â€œThat would be wonderful!” Livia exclaimed. “Our families don’t have any idea where we are, and I get no cell phone reception out here.”
    â€œMy wife likes to talk on the phone, ’specially