A Merry Little Christmas (17 page)

“Is it that obvious? I guess I was staring a little. You’re right. I need something hot to wake me all the way up.” Better he believe that than the real reason. She watched her son trot off at Colt’s side, staring up at Colt as if he’d transformed into a superhero.

Yeah, she knew just how her son felt.

“Sugar, milk or coffee creamer?” Colt asked from a black marble countertop in a kitchen that looked as if it belonged in an interior design magazine. “I’ve got hazelnut or chocolate raspberry. Wait, you want the chocolate one, don’t you?”

Before she could answer, he pulled a bottle from the stainless steel refrigerator and slid it onto the counter in her direction.

“Wow!” Jeremy stared at the family room off the back of the kitchen. “Cool TV. It’s bigger’n me!”

“Don’t touch it, Wonder Boy.” Amanda caught him by the shoulder before he could smear that expensive-looking screen. She leaned to whisper in his ear. “Maybe it’d be best if you didn’t touch anything.”

“Not even the blueberry muffins?”

“Smarty.” She ruffled his hair and they smiled together.

Colton filled a tall, insulated travel cup with steaming coffee from the brew station and a mug for himself. He set both on the counter, watching mother and son. For the first time since he’d walked into this house, it no longer felt empty. For the first time in more years than he could remember, he didn’t feel empty. Without purpose. Alone.

He dug the carton of muffins out of the pantry, so fresh the scent radiated through the plastic box. He watched Jeremy’s eyes widen followed by another “wow.” What he felt was wow, too, but not for the baked goods.

Jeremy climbed onto the swivel chair at the breakfast bar and knelt on the cushion, twisting the chair back and forth. “Those are the biggest muffins ever!”

Amanda shook her head. “Sit. You know better than that.”

“These are the funnest chairs ever!”

“Fabulous. Sit on them the correct way.” Amanda settled into the chair beside him. “He’s apparently really excited to be here. Why are you here? You might as well tell me now.”

Colt slid a spoon across the counter and placed the tall cup in front of her.

“Bless you,” she said, upending the creamer into the steaming brew.

Yeah, she looked as if she’d had a rough night. This close up, before she’d taken the time to put on the finishing touches, like doing her hair, he could see the strain on her sweetheart face. Her porcelain complexion was nearly translucent with exhaustion, making the circles beneath her eyes as dark as bruises.

He wanted to protect her. To take care of her. To make her life easier. His spirit steeled with a resolve, something he’d never felt before. He wanted to ease the worry from her face and the sadness from her heart. He snapped open a grocery sack and slid the box of muffins inside. “There’s enough for Jessie and Vi, too.”

Her eyes shone with appreciation over the rim of the coffee cup. She inhaled her first sip and smiled.

Faith was a funny thing. He’d filled his life with so much work and responsibility and ambitious goals for success that his faith had gotten shoved to the side. Not forgotten, but it had become convenient. Going to church had become something he had time to do only on the major holidays every year. Christmas, Easter. He’d always figured there would be more time for attending church later in his life. Except there never had been. He’d simply become more wrapped up in his business, in being even more successful and too busy to sort out the reason why his life wasn’t working. Why he was growing more and more unhappy.

God had been nudging him along this path for some time now. Colton could see that clearly. Sometimes a man had to run himself out before he was ready to appreciate a slower, better path. A more purposeful life.

He poured a cup of chocolate milk for Jeremy and handed it to him. “Do you want to tell your Mom, or should I?”

“No, you can do it.” Jeremy grinned up at him. “She won’t get as mad at you.”

“Sounds like a fair deal to me.” He leaned back against the counter, crossed his arms over his chest and studied her. Her hair drying every which way, mussed by her hat and tangled by the wind. Her pink sweatshirt and worn jeans were nothing fancy, but lovely on her. She looked like home, like happiness, like hope on Christmas Eve. He liked that. A lot. “Jeremy somehow got the idea that I have a secret identity.”

“No, he didn’t.” She arched one brow, staring at him through the steam from her cup. “A secret identity? Who, exactly did he think you were?”

“Someone jolly.”

“Who flies with reindeer. Santa Claus. Of course. Tell me he didn’t give you a list of the toys he wants for Christmas?”

“He didn’t.”

“That’s a relief.”

“He wanted his little sister to get well.”

Amanda lowered her cup to the counter before she dropped it. There were a lot of things she and Jeremy needed to discuss when they got home, but his heart was in the right place. She so loved him for that, her good little boy. And at the same time, his request was a knife to her heart, a reminder of what she stood to lose.

Don’t look ahead. Just think about this moment.

“We have to go.” She scrambled to her feet. Vi was taking good care of Jessie, but Amanda needed to leave, as much for Jessie’s sake as for her own. She needed to be away from Colt. “Thanks for the coffee.”

“No, take it with you.”

“But the cup—”

“I’ll be at church. You can give it to me then.”

Amanda clutched the cup, determined to keep her true emotions from showing.
Please, God, help me here.
Her feelings for Colt were absolutely way too strong.

Somehow, she managed to get her and Jeremy to the door. She had her cup, she had her coat, she had her car keys. She could see Trusty Rusty parked out front. She ushered her son out into the snow, falling faster now, the wind feeling more cruel.

“Thank you, for being so good to him.” She feared her entire heart showed in those words.

Colt shrugged one wide shoulder easily, as if to say no big deal.

But it was a big deal to her. “If I don’t make it to church, Vi will take Jeremy for me.”

“Why aren’t you coming? Was it something I said?”

“No. It’s just that Jessie wasn’t feeling well, and I might decide to stay home with her instead. I’ll make sure Vi gets this back to you.”

“The cup’s not important. Your daughter is.”

She bit her bottom lip, as if to keep whatever she was about to say from spilling out. She pivoted on her worn hiking boots, stomped down the pathway after her son until she was more shadow than substance in the falling snow.

Colt heard Jeremy’s voice sounding far-off. “Yeah, I’m really sorry, Mom. But Colt ’n me, we already fixed it. We prayed for Jessie to be well in time for Christmas. We asked Jesus to help her.”

A car door shut, a startling sound in the hush of the winter storm. Colt watched the headlights snap on and the car head down the driveway. He watched until the red glow of taillights faded into shadow.

He was finally ready to give name to what he was feeling. To what was happening to him. He was falling for her, for gentle, caring, captivating Amanda.

The problem was, he didn’t know if he was ready for this. Or, more importantly, if she felt this for him. She had a very ill child, a child that she feared would soon need to be hospitalized. Who might not make it to Christmas.

Any hopes for a future had to be impossible. He prayed on it at church, where Amanda had not come. He prayed on it late at night, when another storm battered the house like hopelessness.

No answer came with the dawn. Just another day of wind and snow and bitter cold.

A
manda. Colt halted in midstride, his hand outstretched to push open the bookstore’s door. The nip of the bitter wind and the strike of the icy snow vanished as he drank in her welcome sight.

Her hair was drawn back into a tousled, last-minute ponytail, but the escaped strands curling down around her lovely face only made her look more dear. Her head was slightly bent over the new comic book, the gentle G-rated story of the latest adventures of Wonder Boy. She closed the softbound book and added it to the small stack she carried.

As if she could sense him standing there, she turned toward him, not surprised when their gazes met. Locked. A spear of sorrow sliced through him; it was her pain he felt. The fragments of her sorrow and broken hopes cutting deep.

He went to her. It wasn’t a conscious decision. It wasn’t even something he was aware of. Suddenly he was beside her and he’d folded her against his chest. She clung to him, her free hand curled tight in the fabric of his shirt, leaning against him tentatively, as if she were uncertain, as if she expected him to take a step back and leave her standing alone.

No way, lady. He tightened his hold on her, splaying a claiming hand at her nape. He could feel the graceful column of her neck, the bump of vertebrae against his palm. So fragile a woman, so Herculean her heart.

Tenderness blinded him. He breathed in the wholesome, vanilla scent of her shampoo and treasured the silken feel of her hair against the bottom of his chin. Yeah, he was falling for her—hard and fast. There was no stopping it.

“I’m sorry.” She pulled away.

It killed him to let her go. He wanted to protect her. He wanted to take away every drop of her pain. Overwhelming love struck like the leading edge of a full-scale blizzard, but when he would reach to draw her close again, she took a deliberate, almost frightened step away.

“I’m sorry.” She set her chin, determined. “I just had my feet knocked out from under me. I shouldn’t have—”

“No, it’s okay,” he told her, cutting her off before she said the words he couldn’t stand to hear—that she didn’t care for him, that she didn’t want him. “I noticed you weren’t in church yesterday. Jessie?”

Agony twisted her face. Answer enough.

Sorrow left him weak-kneed. “You were waiting on test results.”

She nodded, wrenching away. “Sh-she’s declining very rapidly.”

“She could go back into remission again, couldn’t she?” He waited but she didn’t answer. “There’s a chance, right?”

“Anything’s possible.” But in her heart, she knew the answer. Amanda fought to hold on. She would not break down. She would not give in. She had to be strong—for her children’s sake. “That’s why I’m here. We’re having Christmas early this year. So that Jessie has one more Christmas at home, in case—” She cleared the emotion from her throat. “In c-case she d-doesn’t—”

She couldn’t say the words. She refused to think the words. The possibility was too catastrophic to contemplate. Christmas might come too late for Jessie this year.

“Is that why you’re here? Buying presents?” he asked.

“For our celebration tonight. She has to go into the h-hospital tomorrow. The doctor said to take this last day and make it count.”

“Then let me help you to do that.”

Her rigid self-control broke at the weight of his hand on her back. The soothing connection, the solid feel of his strength made tears burn in her throat. Tears she would not let fall. One day left, that’s all she had to give her daughter before hospital beds, doctor’s visits, painful IVs and scary procedures. Isolation and progressing illness and no comfort anywhere. “I don’t see what you can do, Colt.”

“I can be here for you.”

Like a friend, of course, that’s how he had to mean that. But her heart shamefully wished for more. Needed more. “Do you want to come tonight? Jeremy would love to have you.”

“Even if I’m not a superhero?”

How did she admit that she thought him super enough?

He leaned closer still, so that they were nearly nose to nose, breathing the same air. “How about you? Do you want me there?”

Better stay away from that with a ten-foot pole. It was safer, less revealing, less vulnerable to stick to the facts, Amanda thought, as she moved a step back. “Turkey dinner’s at six-thirty.”

“Can I bring anything?”

“Just bring yourself.”

“No. I
will
help you. End of discussion.”

“But—”

“You should be home with your daughter, not running errands.”

The next thing she knew, he was holding the books that had been in her hand, and the lump of emotion that had been searing her throat was now blurring her vision.

“Great. And I have your list, too.” He rocked back on his heels, looking pleased with himself, radiating a strong essence of strength and uprightness. The kind of man who stayed when the going got rough.

To her, he was too good to be true. She couldn’t find the right words to tell him so; she could only gaze up at him and pray that her heart didn’t show. That she could find her way to the door and walk away from this man, so kind and dependable, who made her want to dream when she was all out of dreams.

Her footsteps sounded hollow as she headed to the door. “I have an account at most of the stores here in town. Just have them add those things to my tab. Maybe I should speak to—”

“I can handle it.” He cut her off, speaking so calmly and in command that she could see him running a company. She could see why he’d been so successful in life.

Yes, I can handle it, too, she told herself, her hand sliding to her mother’s cross. She would be strong enough. And if she wasn’t, then she would wing it. She would somehow get through, doing her best for her kids. For Jessie. She would give her a loving, wonderful Christmas before it was too late.

The bell above the door chimed merrily, strangely at odds with the bitter, heartless snow falling. Always, endlessly falling.

Amanda looked up from draining the potatoes at the sink, an odd awareness shivering through her. A few moments later distant headlights hovered in the darkness far down her driveway, growing closer until it became a big black truck lumbering to a halt in the meager reach of the carport’s lights.

Realizing all the water was gone from the pot and there was nothing pouring out but steam, she set the potatoes on a nearby trivet. Her attention remained on the man silhouetted in the faint glow of dash lights. She felt the brush of his gaze, of his sympathy through the darkness.

Why did he have such a hold on her heart? Even when she willed away her feelings for him, there they remained, tenacious and deep-rooted. Any affection for Colt was simply not allowed. Gratitude, yes. Friendliness, yes. Appreciation, yes.

Love? No.

“Let me add some milk and butter to those potatoes.” Vi shouldered close, searching through the drawers for the whisk. “The gravy’s bubbling, the beans are cooling. That leaves the potatoes, and I can whip them, if you want to go greet our esteemed guest. It was real decent of him to come help us celebrate.”

“Very.”

“He called me, you know. Asked a few things about gifts for the kids. Clothes sizes. What kinds of things they liked. And a few other things.”

“What other things? He had my list. Everything we needed to have for tonight was on it.”

“I suppose he has his reasons. I’ve never met anyone like him. He’s been a real help to us, hasn’t he? Jeremy’s heart has been less burdened, since you told me about their talk. It’ll be a shame when Colt heads back to California. Do you figure he’ll stay through the holidays?”

“No. I suppose he has his brother and friends to celebrate with.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Vi sighed, measuring milk from the gallon jug. She’d given up on her well-intended suggestions about Amanda needing a good man in her life.

They both knew she didn’t need romance; there was nothing she wanted more than for Jessie to live and see another Christmas. No, to see eighty more Christmases.
That’s
what she wanted, Amanda thought, and she’d trade anything, give up any happiness for herself for that to happen.

Although she’d already tried that bargain with God, too, to no avail.

Wiping her hands on a dish towel, she glanced over the counter separating the rooms, aching for the sight of her daughter. Jessie was wrapped in her favorite pink blanket, in her warmest flannel pj’s, although the woodstove kept the house toasty. She hugged Brittany Bunny with both hands, motionless in Uncle Ed’s arms. Her dear button face was so pale, she looked bruised.

My poor baby. Seeing her like this was simply another blade to her heart. Amanda tore her eyes away, willing down every sorrow. This was not the time for tears but for treasuring every moment she had with her child. Still, no matter how hard she tried, sorrow choked her.

Needing something to do until she could get her emotions back under control, she headed toward the kitchen door and hauled her coat from the rack. The freezing storm pummeled her, and she let it, glad to feel something other than sadness. Snow scoured her as she hurried down the freshly shoveled walkway.

Colt slammed his back cab door, balancing an enormous cardboard box in his arms. “What are you doing out here?”

“Coming to help you.”

“Some help you’re gonna be if you freeze. You’ve got no hat, no mittens.”

“Neither do you.”

“Yeah, but I’m tough. How about carrying the ice cream and pie? They’re in grocery sacks on the front passenger side.” He popped the door open. “I didn’t know there was such a thing as peppermint ice cream.”

“You apparently don’t know what’s important in life. Peppermint ice cream with chocolate sundae syrup is one of the best desserts in life. I thought a classy guy like you would know that.”

“Ice cream is one area where I’m lacking. I’m a workaholic. That leaves little spare time for dessert.”

“No dessert? That simply can’t be a good way to live.” She swept the bags from the floor mats, taking care to hold the bag with several pies in it level. “You know, we only need one pie.”

“They had a sale.” He shut the door and walked to keep her in his wind shadow. “I don’t know much about pies, either. I’m apparently lacking a lot.”

“Restraint, too? What is in that box? That’s a lot more than what was on my list. What did you do, go buy out the toy store?”

“Pretty much. You said you wanted to make this a good Christmas for Jessie, right?”

“Sure, but—”

“Merry Christmas.” He leaned close and closer still until they were eye to eye, nearly mouth to mouth.

Was he trying to kiss her? Startled by the idea, she took a step back.

He stared down at her with his dark eyes unreadable, silhouetted by the porch light behind them. He pushed open the door. “After you.”

Oh, so he’d been reaching for the doorknob, that was all, she thought as she stumbled through the doorway. He hadn’t been harboring romantic thoughts toward her. How embarrassing. Maybe it was because, under different circumstances in a different place in her life, she would fall in love with him to the very bottom of her soul.

She held the door, leaning on it a little for support, feeling her spirit stir as he shouldered into the kitchen.

Jeremy bounded into sight. “Colt! Colt! You came! You came!”

“Sure I did. Look what I’ve got. You want to help me put this under the tree?”

“You know who else brought presents on Christmas Eve Night?” Jeremy leaped toward the living room. “The Wise Men! We got the story on TV right now.”

Colt lumbered through the kitchen, excusing himself to Vi, who was holding the bowl of steaming homemade dinner rolls and had to wait for him to pass. “Goodness, is that all for the kids?”

Amanda nodded, unable to speak. As she shut the door, she could see Jessie perk up, her blue eyes sparkling with wonder as Colt knelt down before her, letting her peer into the box. The big man and little girl spoke, their words lost in the background noise.

Oh, how her heart ached with the sweetness. Amanda shrugged off her coat, snow sluicing to the floor mat.

Vi returned from setting the rolls on the table. “What a blessing. This is just what we all needed. This might be a last-minute celebration, but the spirit of the holiday, the goodness in men’s hearts, is reassuring, isn’t it?”

Amanda’s throat tightened and she couldn’t speak.

“Oh, what do you have there?” Vi took the plastic grocery sacks. “How many pies does that man think we need? Well, better too much than too little. Oh, there’s a chocolate cream. Bless him.”

He did seem heaven-sent.

Amanda made a place for the ice-cream cartons in the freezer, sending sidelong glances toward the living room. Ed had taken Jessie onto the floor, where she watched, her hands clenched with excitement, as Jeremy and Colt took the gifts from the box and spread them beneath the colorful, festive tree. Over them all, the treetop angel cast her light like a blessing, a shining hope, from above.

For one perfect moment, it was as if there was no such thing as cancer. As if such a horrible thing could never exist. Just the merry voices of children oohing and aahing over the beautifully wrapped presents topped by foil ribbons and bows. The flash of tree lights and the glint and gleam of ornaments.