Falling Like Snowflakes (28 page)

The pastor took the platform, and the crowd became reverently quiet as he gave an invocation.

Beside her, Micah took her hand, and she squeezed his tight. She drew in a breath and released it silently in a long exhale.
Just a night of peace, God. A quiet time to reflect on this holy night. To be thankful for our blessings and Your continued guidance.

When the prayer ended they sang songs—Christmas carols so familiar no one needed a hymnal. One song fed into the next, the organ resounding boldly, voices joined in sweet harmony.

She looked around the crowd at the faces, many of them now familiar. Sheriff Colton on the aisle two rows up, a head taller than everyone else. Marty Bennington, the horseman, Margaret Lefebvre who ran the Primrose Inn. And there was Frumpy Joe and his wife, Charlotte. Noticeably absent was Paige. She'd driven down to visit friends in Portland for the holiday.

When the music faded, the crowd was seated, and Pastor Daniels began reading the story of Jesus' birth in a clear, strong voice. She liked that he didn't stop to teach or embellish. When he reached the end, he closed his Bible and let the scripture speak for itself. The organist played through the gentle chords of “Silent Night,” the congregation joining in. When the last strains had
drifted away, they trickled from their pews, an awe-filled silence leading the way.

Eden kept Micah close, and Beau's hand settled on the small of her back. Even through her coat, his warmth seeped into her skin. In the quiet reverence of the magical night, she couldn't help but wish . . .

No.

She wasn't a child wishing for the impossible. She was a grown woman with responsibilities and needs. A need that beckoned her miles from here to a place she could call her own. A place where she could find quiet and peace. A place she could put down roots, become self-sufficient, and make her own decisions.

The crowd tightened as they funneled out the door. She was jostled into Beau, and her elbow connected with something hard at his side. As he raised his hand to hold the door for her, his coat rode up, revealing a holstered gun.

The weapon, gleaming and metallic, shattered her peace. A gun had started this whole mess. A gun had stolen Micah's father from him. She could still see the bright splatter of blood on Micah's cheek, on his favorite Superman T-shirt. His father's blood.

Beau tugged down the jacket as she met his sharpened gaze.

At the house, Micah darted for the porch, eager to open a present, while Zac helped Miss Trudy from the car. Eden huddled deeper into her coat as Beau walked beside her toward the house.

Her eyes cut to him as they climbed the porch steps. She stopped in front of the door, taking his arm.

He paused, twin pools of black coffee staring back.

“I don't like guns, Beau,” she said.

He gave her a long, searching look. “I don't like being unprepared.”

“You said the sheriff's contact was trustworthy.”

“And I believe that.” His voice rumbled quietly in the cold night air, his breath vaporizing between them. “But there are still people out there who want you and Jack dead. I won't live in denial. If they come, I'll be prepared. I won't stand by while people I care about are hurt. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if anything happened to you.”

His words were firm and sure, his posture confident and ready. He was in full deputy mode, and she realized with surety that he'd been a fine officer of the law.

“All right?” he asked.

If she was going to trust him to help keep them safe, she couldn't take away his tools—as much as those tools might frighten her.

“All right.”

It was after midnight by the time she got Micah bathed. His eyes were sleepy, but his body was restless. She tickled him and wrestled with him as he scrambled into his pajamas. He wore a mile-wide smile by the time she dropped him into bed with a bounce.

She was ready for bed herself. Beau had promised to set the presents under the tree for Micah to find in the morning. She'd bought a little something for everyone. She was so grateful to the Callahans. Despite the circumstances it was turning out to be a wonderful Christmas.

She flipped off the light and crawled into her own bed, easing over to the edge as she listened to Micah's brief prayer.

“Dear God, thank You for my new art set. I know it's from
Santa, but I love it so, so much. Thank You for Mommy and Beau, and Miss Trudy, and Zac. And Riley too. Amen.”

“Amen.” She squeezed his hand. “Now you better go to sleep or Santa won't bring you the rest of your presents.”

“Did you set out the cookies?”

“Of course.”

“And the milk?”

“It's on the mantel.”

“Mommy?”

“Hmm?”

“I'm worried about tomorrow.”

She thought of the stress she'd been under since Beau and the sheriff had discovered their secrets. Maybe she hadn't been so good at hiding it. Or maybe she wasn't the only one who had seen Beau's gun.

“About what, honey?”

“'Member when I sat on Santa's lap?”

“Yeah . . .”

The ticking of the clock filled the silence. She made herself wait for him, giving him time to form his thoughts, his words. It took a little longer now.

“I don't want to go home anymore,” he said.

She opened her eyes, remembering his wish. Even after their talk, she'd worried he wouldn't understand.

Hope buoyed her spirits. “You don't?”

He shifted on the air mattress. “I want to stay here. I like it here. With Beau and Miss Trudy. I could help on the farm. Beau said they make maple syrup in the spring. I can put it on my pancakes.”

“Oh, sweetie . . .”

“In the summer he mows and cuts the trees with sharp knives. I can't help with that, but I can clean up his mess. Beau said he helped his dad when he was my age.”

“Baby . . . we can't stay.”

“But I want to,” he whined.

“I know but—”

“Don't you like Beau and Miss Trudy?”

“Of course I do. But, kiddo, this isn't our house. We don't—”
Belong here
, she started to stay. But that wasn't true. She did feel as if they belonged here.

No
.
They belonged in Loon Lake where the perfect little cabin, nestled in the woods, awaited.

“Can we stay? Please?”

“Honey . . . it's late. And you'll want to be up early to see what Santa brought. Let's get some sleep. We'll talk about this later.”

She thought he might argue, but the long day must have finally taken its toll. He lay still, and soon his breathing was deep and even. Long after that, Eden stared at the darkened ceiling, wondering what their future held.

Chapter 31

S
anta came!”

Beau bolted upright on the couch at the sound of Jack's voice, his heart thudding like a jackhammer.

The boy scampered down the steps in his Superman pajamas in the predawn light. He jumped the last two steps, ran to the tree, and skidded to a stop.

“Look, Beau!”

Beau rubbed the sleep from his eyes, dredging up a smile. “I see, bud. Looks like you've been a good boy this year.”

“They're not all for me, silly.” Jack got down on his hands and knees and began snooping.

“I reckon not. I've been good, too, you know. Is your mom awake?”

“No, but she said I can come down when it's light out. I waited and waited, and it's light out now.”

Beau's lips ticked up. Jack had a generous definition of “light.”

Jack was back on his feet, climbing up on the hearth. He pulled the plate off the mantel, his brown eyes going wide. “He ate my cookies!”

“Of course he did.” And they were tasty. “Let's get you a bowl of cereal, then I'll call Zac. We can't open presents until the whole family's here.”

Jack's face fell.

Beau chuckled, ruffling the boy's sleep-mussed hair. “It won't take long. You'll see.”

Forty-five minutes later, his family was gathered in the living room. On the floor Jack tore off paper as fast as his hands could fly. Christmas carols played on the radio, and a fire crackled and popped in the background.

It had been years since they'd had a Christmas like this. It was long overdue, he realized. For a moment he pictured his dad in the corner recliner, his feet kicked up, watching the chaos of Christmas morning. He remembered the way his dark eyes sparkled a moment before his lips turned up. Remembered the deep chuckle that followed. From across the room, he could almost see his dad giving his famous two-finger salute.

“This one's to Jack, from Santa.” Zac pushed the gift toward Jack.

Beau watched as the boy opened the gift he'd gotten him.

As the last of the paper fell away, a smile lit his face. “A tool kit!”

“Wow, that's awesome.” Kate helped him open the box. “Someone must've told Santa what you wanted.” She shared a smile with Beau.

She looked as fresh as a spring morning in her yoga pants and faded pink T-shirt. Her face was freshly scrubbed, her silky blonde hair flittering around her pretty face. Where was the mistletoe when he needed it?

Jack pulled out the working plastic screwdriver, sized for a small boy. The tool whirred into action.

Zac had gotten Jack a Patriots jersey, and Aunt Trudy had made
him a Superman cape. It was already tied around the kid's neck. Aunt Trudy oohed and aahed over the leather Bible cover Kate had bought her and seemed pleased with the Knitting Nook gift certificate from Beau.

Zac opened a black sweater from Aunt Trudy and a wallet Riley had left for him. He'd gotten Beau a quality pair of work boots he'd eyed in L.L.Bean weeks ago when they'd made a trip into Ellsworth.

Beau waited patiently for Zac to reach the bright red box near the tree stand. When he finally did, he read the tag and handed it to Kate.

“This one's for you, Kate. From Beau.”

Across the room, Kate read the tag. Her gaze bounced off his, a little smile tilting her lips as she peeled off the paper. The room seemed to shrink to only the two of them, the carols and chaos fading away. Her fingers worked the tape until the paper was gone, then she unfolded the flap of the white box. She lifted the gift from its nest.

Aunt Trudy was exclaiming over a gift she'd just unwrapped, but Kate's eyes were fixed on the snow globe, her lips parting just before they tilted upward in a nostalgic smile. She tipped the globe upside down, gave the wind-up key a couple of twists, then turned the globe upright, watching the snow fall past the golden angel inside. Her smile widened.

Beau could barely hear the plinking notes of “Let It Snow,” but Kate's smile was all that mattered.

Her eyes cut to Beau. He sensed the movement all around them, but he saw no one but Kate. Her beautiful honey-brown eyes, her sweet spirit, her quiet strength.

“Thank you,” she mouthed as she pulled the globe to her chest, her eyes filling.

The moment lingered, and his chest seemed to open, yawning wide. His lungs constricted until his next breath seemed impossible. This woman made him come undone. He was more than attracted to her. She'd found a way into his heart. He knew in that moment, with a surety that shook him to his core, that he loved her.

The thought slammed into him with the force of a snowplow. How could it be? Love didn't happen this fast. Did it? In a matter of weeks?

Kate tilted her head, something shifting in her eyes as she searched his face.

He fixed a smile on his lips and let out his breath when she broke eye contact.

She tucked the globe carefully into the box and dropped the wrapping paper into the waiting bag.

When they were finished with the presents, Aunt Trudy pushed to her feet, hobbling. She held out a trash bag. “All right, let's clean this mess up.”

Bright shreds of paper and cockeyed boxes littered the room. They went into action, the carols keeping things festive. Beau picked up a silver bow near Kate and stuck it on her head.

“Thank you,” she said, beaming.

He held out a bag while Jack stuffed it with wads of wrapping paper. He could smell the yeasty aroma of the cinnamon rolls Kate had slid into the oven awhile ago, and his stomach gave a deep grumble. Across the room, Kate dumped an armload of paper into a bag Zac held.

He was so aware of her. Even when he wasn't looking at her, his sensors followed her like a beacon.

“Mistletoe.” Aunt Trudy pointed at the ceiling above Kate and Zac. “Lay one on her, Zac.”

Beau's heart gave a hard squeeze as his brother made a big deal of sweeping Kate into his arms, dipping her backward, and laying a loud smooch on her cheek.

He heard Aunt Trudy applauding and Jack giggling, but he couldn't tear his eyes off of Zac and Kate. He wanted to rip his brother's hands off of her. He reminded himself that it meant nothing. That Zac was still in love with Lucy.