1225 Christmas Tree Lane (15 page)

“I know it's none of my business, but who was that?” Dave asked Beth.

“His…friend,” Beth said.

Emily looked at Dave just as he turned to look at her. So the rumors of a female companion had been correct, and for some reason this woman had stayed back at the B and B. There were more obstacles to a reconciliation between Beth and her ex-husband than either of them had guessed.

“Did you see the way Dad looked at Mom during the service?” Bailey whispered to her sister in the darkened bedroom. Sophie was in the twin bed next to hers. Although she'd turned out the lights several minutes ago, Bailey was too excited to sleep.

“Yes, I know but—”

“They're falling in love all over again,” Bailey broke in. “I can
feel
it.”

“Well, maybe, but…”

“But what?” Bailey muttered. Sometimes her sister could be so…negative. Well, she refused to allow Sophie's skeptical remarks to dampen her good feelings.

For a time it seemed that everything they'd planned was about to fall apart. Then, at the very last minute, their father had shown up at the church…alone. It'd been perfect. Just perfect.

Bailey hadn't asked about Danielle and neither had Sophie. Their dad had slipped into the pew next to Beth, and their mother had smiled over at him and…

Oh, it'd been sheer bliss. Love radiated between them. If this were a movie, a crescendo of music would have burst forth, and there would've been joyful singing in the background. Actually, there
was
music, but it had come from the church choir. Still, the effect was pretty satisfying.

“Can I talk now?” Sophie asked impatiently.

“Oh, all right.”

“I have a question.”

“Ask away.” Bailey sighed, suspecting that Sophie was going to ruin Bailey's Christmas Eve by casting doubt on the likelihood of their parents reuniting. Her father had introduced Danielle as a “friend.”
They
were the ones who'd made the assumption that she was more than that.

“What about when Danielle phoned? Dad left in a mighty big hurry after that.”

“Yeah, I know,” Bailey admitted with more than a little reluctance.

“He's still at Danielle's beck and call.”

“But we can't be sure of all the circumstances and—”

“There are no
buts
here,” Sophie fumed. “I don't know what Dad sees in Danielle, but there's obviously something.”

“Whatever it is, I trust Dad to do the right thing.” Bailey rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. Leave it to Sophie…. Now she was worried again. Their father was smart—she hoped. Deep down, she couldn't believe he was involved with Danielle. In fact, the more she thought about it, the more certain she was. He might have brought Danielle with him, but from the moment he arrived Kent only seemed interested in Beth. Danielle was far more attached to her cell phone than she was to their father.

“Mark my words, Dad doesn't care about Danielle,” Bailey insisted in a confident voice.

Sophie sighed loudly. “I wish I could believe that.”

“Maybe we should help him along.”

“Bailey, no!”

“No?”

“No,” she repeated. “If we step in now, it'll just complicate everything. Dad has to do this on his own. Otherwise, we'll sabotage the whole reconciliation.”

Bailey slowly absorbed her sister's words. Although
Sophie was younger—and not studying psychology—she could occasionally be really smart. “Have you ever thought of going into diplomacy? You'd be great.”

“You think so?” Sophie loved getting compliments.

Well, everyone did, but her sister was so transparent. She made no effort to hide how much she enjoyed hearing nice things about herself. Bailey could almost see Sophie's self-congratulatory little smile.

“Trust me,” Bailey said, returning to the subject at hand. “Mom and Dad are going to remarry. I can feel it.”

“Well…we can wish.”

“Oh, come on,” Bailey urged. “
Believe
it.”

“You really buy into that positive thinking idea, don't you?”

“Yes,” Bailey concurred. “And you should, too.” In her opinion, it would go a long way toward raising Sophie's spirits.

“I'll consider it,” Sophie said.

Pulling the sheet and blanket up over her shoulder, Bailey shifted onto her right side, her back to her sister. Despite Sophie's pessimism, Bailey believed with all her heart. She remembered the look her parents had exchanged in church that night. The look of love, of regret and the promise of reconciliation.

Tomorrow morning, when it was Christmas, the biggest and best present wouldn't be under the tree. It would be the fact that her parents still loved each other and wanted to remarry.

On Christmas Day, they'd finally acknowledge their feelings, and the rest of their lives would begin.

Bailey was sure of it.

“Merry Christmas,” Bruce Peyton whispered as he drew Rachel into his arms.

Smiling, Rachel arched her back and yawned. “Is it morning already?”

“It sure is. I've got coffee brewing and Jolene's up.”

Rachel turned her head to look at the clock. “Bruce, it isn't even eight.” She could easily have slept another hour. Or two.

“I know, but Jolene's anxious to get to the presents.”

With some effort, Rachel sat up. She was noticeably pregnant now and the baby was more active every day. Thankfully the worst of the morning sickness had passed.

The pregnancy had been unplanned and Jolene, her thirteen-year-old stepdaughter, hadn't yet adjusted to her father's remarriage when she was forced to deal with the news about the baby. The marriage itself had resulted in a difficult transition for the girl, but the pregnancy complicated everything that much more.

Her relationship with Jolene had grown tense. The stress became too much for Rachel and eventually she felt she had no choice but to move out of the family home. Only recently—just weeks ago—had she returned.

The counseling sessions had helped a great deal and they were learning to coexist and work together as a family. Rachel was excited about spending Christmas with her husband and stepdaughter. She and Jolene had planned the dinner menu together and they'd spent most of yesterday in the kitchen, preparing vegetables and side dishes and dessert.

During the afternoon they'd also made a breakfast casserole to put in the oven Christmas morning while they opened gifts. And Jolene had baked her first cinnamon rolls from scratch. Rachel hadn't told her, but this was her first experience, too. The rolls had turned out well, if Bruce's lavish praise was anything to go by.

All the while, Poppy, their new dog, had lounged in
the warm kitchen, with occasional bursts of activity and escorted trips to the backyard.

“Would you like tea in bed?” her husband asked her.

“I'd love some.”

“And I'd love to bring you some,” he said, grinning. “In fact, I'll do anything. I'd stand on my head in the middle of the street in a snowstorm if it meant you'd be with me every Christmas morning for the rest of my life.” Leaning forward, he pressed his lips to hers. “Merry Christmas, my beautiful wife.”

“Merry Christmas, my silly husband.”

“I'll be back in a minute with your tea.” Bruce kissed her again, and then he was gone.

Rachel sat up in bed and rearranged her pillows. She held one hand over her stomach, letting her unborn daughter know how much she was loved. Next Christmas, this little one would be crawling around, eager to tear open packages. Rachel closed her eyes, savoring the vision of all the wonderful things the next year would hold.

Bruce returned with a steaming cup of tea, which he handed her just as Jolene burst into the master bedroom, carrying Poppy.

“Rachel, you're awake, aren't you?”

“I'm getting there.”

“Hurry up,” the girl said, holding the puppy close to Rachel. “There are gifts out there just waiting to be opened.”

“Okay, okay,” Rachel said, squinting as Poppy licked her face. “Give me five minutes.”

“That long?” Jolene whined, and then laughed out loud, sounding young and carefree.

“You're certainly in a good mood,” Bruce teased, hugging his daughter.

“Daddy, it's Christmas. Everyone's in a good mood on Christmas Day.”

If only that was true. Memories of her childhood drifted into Rachel's mind. After her mother's death, she'd gone to live with an unmarried aunt who'd seen Christmas as a commercial wasteland and refused to partake in anything so frivolous. There'd been no tree, no presents. It was just like every other day, except that Rachel didn't have to go to school.

She'd listened attentively as her friends told of their wonderful holidays and longed for the time when she'd celebrate Christmas with a family of her own. And here it was, unfolding right before her eyes.

Setting her mug aside, she tossed back the covers and slid out of bed. “Did someone say something about presents?” she asked.

Jolene placed Poppy on the floor, grabbed Rachel's hand and led her into the living room. “I put the casserole in the oven.”

“Great. Did you preheat it to three hundred and fifty degrees first?”

“Yes, I did.”

“You're going to be a terrific cook.”

“I already am,” Jolene said. “I made dinner the whole time you were gone and I did a good job, didn't I, Dad?”

“Yup.” Bruce joined Rachel on the sofa. “Unfortunately, I didn't have much of an appetite.”

Jolene sighed. “All he could think about was you and the baby.”

“But Rachel's with us now, and that's what matters.”

“Hey,” Rachel said, “are we going to sit around all morning discussing the past or are we going to open gifts?”

Her question got the desired results. “Open gifts!” Jolene said with renewed energy.

Rachel went back to the bedroom for her robe and tied it loosely about her waist as she slipped her feet into fuzzy slippers.

Bruce had a nice fire going in the fireplace, and Poppy lay stretched out in front of it, snuffling in her sleep. The radio was tuned to a station that played Christmas
music without any commercial interruptions. The casserole was baking in the oven, and the scent of bacon and cheese wafted into the room. This was as idyllic a picture as Rachel could ever have conjured up in some blissful fantasy.

“Who gets to open a gift first?” she asked, settling onto the sofa with her husband.

“I have to sort through them all before we open any,” Jolene said. “I'll hand everything out and
then
we open them. One at a time,” she ordered.

“Then get to it, girl,” Bruce said with a laugh, reaching for Rachel's hand.

Jolene walked over to the lighted tree, which they'd just finished decorating yesterday, and got down on all fours, rooting through the gifts. She pulled one out and sat back, checking the name tag.

“This one's for Dad,” she said and, stretching forward, passed it to Bruce.

He held the rectangular package close to his ear and shook it. “Who's it from?”

“Rachel,” Jolene said. “Looks like a shirt to me.”

“Don't spoil the surprise.”

“Dad, it's obvious.” Jolene grinned from ear to ear.

She disappeared again, foraging under the tree.

“What are you looking for now?” Bruce asked, setting the box at his feet.

“A special gift,” Jolene said, her voice muffled.

“Who's it for?”

“Rachel, from me.”

“Oh, I love getting gifts.” Rachel smiled at Bruce. Considering the months of tension between her and Jolene, she was pleased that her stepdaughter was so eager to give her presents. She leaned her head against her husband's shoulder. This was what she'd always hoped Christmas would be like, surrounded by people she loved and who loved her.

“Here it is,” Jolene announced, scooting out backward from beneath the huge tree.

Rachel took the package from her. It was the size and shape of a shoe box.

“Can Rachel open it now?” Jolene asked her father. “Even though that's not the rules.”

“That's up to Rachel.”

Jolene looked at her, eyes dark and serious. “Will you, Rach?”

“If you want me to.”

“I do.” She sat on the floor as she waited for Rachel to unwrap her gift.

“I made it myself,” Jolene said, her eyes bright as she bit her lower lip. “I hope you like it.”

“I'm sure I will.” Rachel carefully slid the ribbon off and peeled back the decorative paper. The box had, indeed, held Jolene's new gym shoes. Rachel lifted the lid and stared down at a white hand-knit baby blanket, enfolded in pink tissue. Rachel hardly knew what to say. “You…you knit this yourself?” She drew it out, marveling at the complexity of the design.

Jolene nodded. “We learned how to knit in an after-school class. I bought the pattern and the yarn at that craft shop downtown, the one where Mrs. Flemming works. I worked on it every day. I made a lot of mistakes,” she admitted. She hurried to Rachel's side, kneeling in front of her. “See? Here's one.”

It was so small Rachel had to squint to see it.

“There are other mistakes, too.”

“Oh, Jolene, it's
perfect.
” Rachel struggled to hold back tears. “I'll bring your sister home from the hospital in it.”

“You will?”

Rachel leaned forward and brought Jolene toward her, kissing her hair. “I'll always treasure it, because you made it for me and the baby.”

“Don't tell me you're both going to get all weepy on me,” Bruce groaned.

“I might,” she said, struggling to hold back the tears.

Jolene raised her arms and wrapped Rachel in a big hug.

“I love you, Jolene,” Rachel whispered.

“I love you, too… You're going to be a great mother.”

Bruce put his arms around them both. “She already
is
a great mom,” he said.

Jolene nodded and met Rachel's eyes. “Yes, she is.”