Holiday Wishes (5 page)

Chapter 5

They were still humming when the meal was over. She knew her daughter was a friendly, sometimes outrageously open child, but Clara had taken to Jason like a long-lost friend. She chattered away at him as though she'd known him for years.

It's so obvious, Faith thought as she watched Clara stack dishes. Neither of them noticed. What would she do if they did? She didn't believe in lies, yet she'd been forced to live one.

The other two paid little attention to her as they settled down with Clara's books. In the easy, flowing style he'd been born with, Jason began to tell her stories about Africa—the desert, the mountains, the thick green jungle that teemed with its own life and its own dangers.

As their heads bent together over a picture in Clara's book, Faith felt a flood of panic. “I'm going to go next door,” she said on impulse. “I have a lot of work backed up.”

“Mm-hmm.” With that, Jason dismissed her. A laugh bubbled in her throat until it ached. Grabbing her coat, Faith escaped.

They were more than toys to her. They were certainly more than a business. To Faith the dolls who filled her shop were the symbol of youth, of innocence, of believing in miracles. She'd wanted to open the shop soon after Clara had been born, but Tom had been adamantly set against it. Because she'd felt indebted, she'd let it pass, as she'd let so many other things pass. Then, when she'd found herself alone, with a child to support, it had seemed the natural thing.

She worked long hours there, to ease the void that even the love for her daughter couldn't fill.

In her workroom behind the store were shelves filled with pieces and parts of dolls. There were china heads, plastic legs and torsos. In another section lay the ones she called the sick and injured. Dolls with broken arms or battered bodies were brought to her for repair. Though she enjoyed selling and found a great creative thrill in making her own dolls, nothing satisfied her quite so much as taking a broken toy that was loved and making it whole again. She turned on the light and her radio and set to work.

It soothed her. As time passed, her nerves drained away. With crochet hook and rubber bands, with glue and painstaking care, she replaced broken limbs. With a bit of paint and patience, she brought smiles back to faceless dolls. Some were given new clothes or a fresh hairstyle, while others only needed a needle and thread plied by clever fingers.

By the time she picked up a battered rag doll, she was humming.

“Are you going to fix that?”

Startled, she nearly stabbed herself with the needle. Jason stood in the doorway, hands in pockets, watching her. “Yes, that's what I do. Where's Clara?”

“She nearly fell asleep in her book. I put her to bed.”

She started to rise. “Oh, well I—”

“She's asleep, Faith, with some green ball of hair she called Bernardo.”

Determined to relax, Faith sat down again. “Yes, that's her favorite. Clara isn't much on ordinary dolls.”

“Not like her mother?” Interested, he began to prowl the workroom. “I always thought when a toy broke or wore out, it got tossed away.”

“Too often. I've always thought that showed a tremendous lack of appreciation for something that's given you pleasure.”

He picked up a soft plastic head, bald and smooth, that grinned at him. “Maybe you're right, but I don't see what can be done about that pile of rags in your hand.”

“Quite a lot.”

“Still believe in magic, Faith?”

She glanced up, and for the first time her smile was completely open, her eyes warm. “Yes, of course I do. Especially at Christmastime.”

Unable to help himself, he reached down to run a hand over her cheek. “I said before that I'd missed you. I don't think I realized how much.”

She felt the need shimmer and the longing plead inside her. Denying both, she concentrated on the doll. “I appreciate you helping Clara, Jason. I don't want to keep you.”

“Does it bother you to have someone watch you work?”

“No.” She began to replace stuffing. “Sometimes a concerned mother will stay here while I doctor a patient.”

He leaned a hip against the counter. “I imagined a lot of things when I was coming back. I never imagined this.”

“What?”

“That I'd be standing here watching you stuff life back into a rag. You may not have noticed, but it doesn't even have a face.”

“It will. How did the report go?”

“She needs to do the final draft.”

Faith glanced up from her work. Her eyes were wide with the joke. “Clara?”

“She had the same reaction.” Then he smiled as he leaned back. The room smelled of her. He wondered if she knew. “She's a bright kid, Faith.”

“Sometimes uncomfortably so.”

“You're lucky.”

“I know.” With quick, skillful movements, she pushed the stuffing into place.

“Kids love you no matter what, don't they?”

“No.” She looked at him again. “You have to earn it.” With needle and thread she began to secure the seams.

“You know, she was out on her feet, but she insisted on stopping at the tree to count the presents. She tells me she had this feeling there's going to be one more.”

“I'm afraid she's doomed to disappointment. Her list looked like an army requisition. I had to draw the line.” Putting down the thread, she picked up her paintbrush. “My parents already spoil her.”

“They still live in town?”

“Mmm-hmm.” She'd already gotten a sense of the doll's personality as she'd worked with it. Now, she began to paint it on. “They mumble about Florida from time to time, but I don't know if they'll ever go. It's Clara. They just adore her. You might go by and see them, Jason. You know my mother was always fond of you.”

He examined a slinky red dress no bigger than his palm. “Your father wasn't.”

She grinned at that. “He just didn't quite trust you.” She sent him a quick, saucy smile. “What father would have?”

“He had good reason.” As he walked toward her, he saw the doll she held. “I'll be damned.” Charmed, he took it, holding it under the light. What had been a misshapen pile of rags was now a plump, sassy doll. Exaggerated lashes spiked out from wide eyes. Curls had been sewn back into place so that they fell teasingly over the brow. It was soft, friendly and pretty as a picture. Even a full-grown man could recognize what would make a small girl smile.

She felt a ridiculous sense of accomplishment at seeing him smile at her work. “You approve?”

“I'm impressed. How much do you sell something like this for?”

“This one's not for sale.” Faith set it in a large box at the back of the room. “There are about a dozen little girls in town whose families can't afford much of a Christmas. There are boys too, of course, but Jake over at the five-and-dime and I worked a deal a few years back. On Christmas Eve, a box is left on the doorstep. The girls get a doll, the boys a truck or a ball or whatever.”

He should have known. It was so typical of her, so much what she was. “Santa lives.”

She turned to smile at him. “He does in Quiet Valley.”

It was the smile that did it. It was so open, so familiar. Jason closed the distance between them before either of them realized it.

“What about you? Do you get what you want for Christmas?”

“I have everything I need.”

“Everything?” His hands cupped her face. “Aren't you the one who used to dream? Who always believed in wishes?”

“I've grown up. Jason, you should go now.”

“I don't believe that. I don't believe you've stopped dreaming, Faith. Just being with you makes me start again.”

“Jason.” She pressed her hands to his chest, knowing she had to stop what could never be finished. “You know we can't always have what we want. You'll leave in a few days. You can walk away and go on to a hundred other things, a hundred other places.”

“What does that have to do with right now? It's always right now, Faith.” He drew his hands through her hair so that pins scattered. Rich warm sable tumbled over his fingers. He'd always loved the feel of it, the smell of it. “You're the only one,” he murmured. “You've always been the only one.”

She closed her eyes before he could draw her close. “You'll go. I have to stay here. Once before I stood and watched you walk away. I don't think I can bear it if I let you in again. Can't you understand?”

“I don't know. I know I understand I want you so much more now than I ever did. I'm not sure you can keep me out, Faith.” But he backed away, for both of them. “Not for long, anyway. You said before I didn't have a right to all the answers. Maybe that's true. But I need one.”

It was a reprieve, it was space to think. She let out a long breath and nodded. “All right. But you promise that you'll go now if I answer?”

“I'll go. Did you love him?”

She couldn't lie. It wasn't in her. So her eyes were direct and pride kept her chin high. “I never loved anyone but you.”

It came into his eyes—triumph, fury. He reached for her but she pulled away. “You said you'd go, Jason. I trusted your word.”

She had him trapped. She had him aching. “You should've trusted it ten years ago.” He swung from the workroom and into the frigid night.

Chapter 6

Quiet Valley bustled with Christmas energy. From a jerry-rigged loudspeaker on top of the hardware store roof, carols rang out. An enterprising young man from a neighboring farm got a permit and gave buggy rides up and down Main Street. Kids, keyed up with lack of school and anticipation, shouted and raced on every corner. The skies had clouded over, but the snow held off.

Jason sat at the counter in the diner and sipped coffee while he listened to town gossip. Word was the Hennessys' eldest had the chicken pox and would be scratching himself through the holidays. Carlotta's was selling Christmas trees at half price and the hardware store had a sale on ten-speeds.

Ten years before, Jason would have found the conversations mundane. Now he sat content, sipping his coffee and listening. Maybe this was what had been missing from the novel he'd been trying to write for so long. He'd been around the world, but everything had always been so fast paced, so urgent. There had been times when his life as well as his story had been on the line. You didn't think about it when it was happening. You couldn't. But now, sitting in the warm diner with the scent of coffee and frying bacon, he could look back.

He'd taken assignments, a great many of them dangerous, because he hadn't given a damn. He'd already lost the part of himself he'd valued. It was true that over the years he'd built something back, inch by gritty inch, but he'd never found the whole—because he'd left it here, where he'd grown up. Now he just had to figure out what the hell to do with it.

“Guess they serve almost anybody in here.”

Jason glanced up idly, then grinned. “Paul. Paul Tydings.” His hand was gripped by two enormous ones.

“Damn it, Jas, you're as good-looking and skinny as ever.”

Jason took a long look at his oldest friend. Paul's hair was thick and curly around a full, ruddy face offset now by a bushy moustache. His bull-like frame had assured him a starting place on the offensive line. Over the years, it had thickened into what was politely termed a successful build. “Well,” Jason decided. “You're as good-looking.”

With a roar of laughter, Paul slapped him on the back. “I never expected to see you back here.”

“Nor I you. I thought you were in Boston.”

“Was. Made myself some money, got married.”

“No kidding? How long?”

“Seven years come spring. Five kids.”

Jason choked on his coffee. “Five?”

“Three and a set of twins. Anyway, I brought my wife back for a visit six years ago and she fell in love. Had a jewelry store in Manchester, so I opened one here, too. I guess I've got you to thank for a lot of it.”

“Me? Why?”

“You were always filling my head with ideas. Then you took off. It made me think I should try my hand at seeing a few places. In about a year I was working in this jewelry store in Boston and in walks the prettiest little thing I ever laid eyes on. I was so flustered I never imprinted her credit card. She came back the next day with the blank receipt and saved my job. Then she saved my life and married me. Never even would have met her if it hadn't been for you talking about all the places there were to see.” Paul nodded as his coffee was served. “Guess you've seen Faith.”

“Yeah, I've seen her.”

“Throw a lot of business her way, being as three of my kids are girls and all of 'em are brats.” He grinned and added two packets of sugar to his coffee. “She's as pretty as she was when she was sixteen and dancing in the town hall. Settling in this time, Jason?”

With a half laugh he pushed his cooling coffee aside. “Maybe.”

“Come by the house and meet the family, will you? We're just south of town, the two-story stone place.”

“I saw it driving in.”

“Then don't go out again without coming in. A man doesn't have many friends who go back to red wagons with him, Jason. You know”—he glanced at his watch—“seems to me Faith breaks for lunch about now. I've got to get back.” With a last slap on the back, Paul left him at the counter.

Thoughtfully, Jason sipped at his coffee. He'd been away ten years, a long time by any standard, yet everyone in town he ran into saw him and Faith as a couple. It seemed it was easy to blink away a decade. Easy for everyone, he added, but for himself and Faith. Maybe he could brush away the years, the time lost, but how could he ignore her marriage and her child?

He still wanted her. That hadn't changed. He still hurt. That hadn't eased. But how did she feel? She'd told him the night before that she'd never loved another man. Did that mean she still loved him? Jason dropped a bill on the counter and rose. There was only one way to find out. He'd ask her.

* * *

The Doll House was crowded with children. Noisy children. When Jason walked in, shouts and laughter bounced off the walls. Helium-filled balloons hugged the ceiling and cookie crumbs littered the floor. In the doorway of the workroom was a tall cardboard castle. Just in front of a shiny white curtain stood a puppet of Santa Claus and a green-suited elf. With a lot of chatter and exaggerated effort, they loaded a glittering golden sleigh with colorful boxes. Twice the elf fell on his face while lifting a box and sent the children into peals of laughter. After a great deal of confusion, all the presents were loaded. With a belly-bursting
Ho-ho-ho!
Santa climbed into the sleigh. Bells jingling, it rocked its way through the curtain.

To the clatter of applause, a series of puppets crossed the stage for bows. Jason saw Mrs. Claus, two elves and a reindeer with a telltale red nose before Santa took the stage with a ringing
Merry Christmas!
Jason didn't even realize he was leaning back against the door and grinning when Faith popped around the castle for a bow of her own.

But she saw him. Feeling foolish, she took another bow as the children clambered up. With the ease of a veteran kindergarten teacher, she maneuvered them toward the punch and cookies.

“Very impressive,” Jason murmured in her ear. “I'm sorry I missed most of the show.”

“It's not much.” She combed her fingers through her hair. “I've been doing it for years now without much variation.” She glanced over at the group of children. “It doesn't seem to matter.”

“I'd say it does.” He took her hand and brought it to his lips while a group of girls giggled. “Very much.”

“Mrs. Monroe.” A little boy with carrot-red hair and a face full of freckles tugged on her slacks. “When's Santa coming?”

Faith crouched down and smoothed at his hair. “You know, Bobby, I heard he was awfully busy this year.”

His bottom lip poked out. “But he always comes.”

“Well, I'm sure he'll find a way to get the presents here. I'm going to go in the back in a minute and see.”

“But I have to talk to him.”

The pout nearly did her in. “If he doesn't make it, you can give me a letter for him. I'll make sure he gets it.”

“Problem?” Jason murmured when she straightened up again.

“Jake always plays Santa after the puppet show. We give out a few little things. It's nothing really, but the kids depend on it.”

“Jake can't make it this year?”

“He caught the chicken pox from the Hennessy boy.”

“I see.” He hadn't celebrated Christmas in years, not since . . . since he'd left Faith. “I'll do it,” he told her and surprised himself.

“You?”

Something in her expression made him determined to be the best St. Nick since the original. “Yeah, me. Where's the suit?”

“It's in the little room off the back, but—”

“I hope you remembered the pillows,” he said before he sauntered away.

She didn't think he'd pull it off. In fact, five minutes after he walked away, Faith was sure he'd changed his mind altogether and continued out the back door. No one, including the group of kids with mouths full of cookies, was more enchanted than she when Santa walked in the front door with a bag over his shoulder.

He had the chance for one booming
Merry Christmas
before he was surrounded. Too stunned to move, she watched the children bounce and jump and tug.

“Santa needs a chair.” Jason sent her a long, intense look that had her swallowing before her feet could move. Dashing into the back room, she brought out a high-backed chair and set it in the center of the room.

“Now you have to line up,” she began, scooting children around. “Everyone gets a turn.” Grabbing a bowl of candy canes, she set them on a table beside the chair. One by one, the children climbed up on Jason's knee. Faith needn't have worried. She'd had to school Jake to make the right responses, and most important, not to promise and risk disappointing. After the third child had climbed down, Faith relaxed. Jason was wonderful.

And having the time of his life. He'd done it just to help her out, perhaps even to impress her, but he got a great deal more. He'd never had a child sit on his lap and look at him with complete faith and love. He listened to their wishes, their confessions and complaints. Each one was allowed to reach in the sack he carried and pull out one gift.

He was hugged, kissed with sticky mouths and poked. One enterprising boy had a good grip on his beard before Jason managed to distract him. Happy, they began to file out of the shop with their parents or in groups.

“You were great.” Faith turned her sign around after the last child had left to give herself a chance to catch her breath.

“Want to sit on my lap?”

Laughing, she walked to him. “I mean it, Jason, you were. I can't tell you how much I appreciate it.”

“Then show me.” He pulled her down onto his lap where she sank into pillows. She laughed again and kissed his nose.

“I've always been crazy about men in red suits. I wish Clara could have been here.”

“Why wasn't she?”

With a little sigh, Faith let herself relax against him. “She's too old for all this now—so she tells me. She went shopping with Marcie.”

“Nine's too old?”

She didn't speak for a minute, then moved her shoulders. “Kids grow up fast.” She turned her head so she could look at him. “You made a lot of them happy today.”

“I'd like to make you happy.” Reaching up, he stroked her hair. “There was a time when I could.”

“Do you ever wish we could go back?” Content, she let herself be cradled in his arms. “When we were teenagers, everything seemed so simple. Then you close your eyes for a minute and you're an adult. Oh, Jason, I wanted you to carry me away, to a castle, to a mountaintop. I was so full of romance.”

He continued to stroke her hair as they sat, surrounded by dolls and the echo of children's laughter. “I didn't have enough of it, did I?”

“You had your feet on the ground. I had my head in the clouds.”

“And now?”

“Now, I have a daughter to raise. It's terrifying sometimes to realize you're responsible for another life. Did you . . . ?” She hesitated, knowing the ground was dangerous. “Did you ever want kids?”

“I haven't thought about it. Sometimes I have to go into places where it's tough enough being responsible for your own life.”

She'd thought of that—had nightmares about it. “It still excites you.”

He thought of some of the things he'd seen, the cruelty, the misery. “It stopped exciting me a long time ago. But I'm good at what I do.”

“I suppose I always knew you would be. Jason.” She shifted again so that her eyes were level with his. “I am glad you came back.”

His fingers tightened when she rested her cheek against his. “You had to wait until I was stuffed like a walrus to tell me that.”

With a laugh, she wrapped her arms around his neck. “It seems to be the safest time.”

“Don't bet your life on it.” He pressed his lips to hers and felt hers tremble. “What's so funny?”

Choking back the laugh, she drew away. “Oh nothing, nothing at all. I've always dreamed of being kissed by a man in a beard wearing a red hat and bells. I've got to clean up this mess.”

When she rose, he hauled himself up. “The timing has to click sooner or later.” She said nothing as she gathered up bits of colored paper. Jason picked up his sack and glanced inside. “There's one more box in here.”

“It's for Luke Hennessy. Chicken pox.”

He looked at the box, then back at her. Her hair curtained her face as she pulled a sticky candy cane from the carpet. “Where does he live?”

Still holding the candy, she stood up. Some might say he looked foolish, padded from chest to hips, wrapped in red and with his face half concealed by a curly white beard. Faith thought he'd never looked more wonderful. She walked to him to pull the beard down to his chin. Her arms went around him, her mouth found his.

Her kiss was as warm as it always was, full of hope and simple goodness. Desire raced through him and settled into sweet contentment. “Thank you.” She kissed him again in friendship. “He lives on the corner of Elm and Sweetbriar.”

He waited a moment until he was steady. “Can I get a cup of coffee when I get back?”

“Yeah.” She adjusted his beard again. “I'll be next door.”