Meet Me Under the Mistletoe (3 page)

“What kind of gas mileage do you get with this engine?” one of the dads called to Jake.

“Only about four miles to the gallon, but this baby packs a tank that holds more than five
hundred
gallons of water.” Humor infused Jake’s voice as he patted the side of the red engine. “Plus, Betsy can fly like the wind when called upon.”

Amusing how men liked to name their vehicles—even a fire engine. Julia observed, through veiled lids, as the handsome firefighter lifted the smallest children and planted them safely on the sidewalk. Although they couldn’t weigh much, Jake obviously paid no mind to any pain caused by the pressure on his wounded shoulder and back. She watched as he led them around the truck, explaining where the other firefighters sat and their individual responsibilities when called out on a run.

In kid-friendly terms, he showed them a few pieces of the equipment and gave examples of how and when they might be used. The children were wide-eyed and curious, and Jake obviously loved his job as a Starlight legacy firefighter, coming into the department when his father retired. With ease and skill, he redirected an older girl, who’d been bossing a younger boy, by having her try to hold and aim one of the fire hoses. Then he told her how heavy it was when filled with rushing water. One boy tried to impress the others with his working knowledge of the engine, and Jake praised him for being so smart. He paid close attention whenever any of them had a question and tried to draw out the shyest of the bunch, a girl with red curls who hung on Jake’s every word. Good thing they were all bundled up, but the kids seemed enthralled with the tour and oblivious to the cold night air.

Another girl asked him where Sparky was, and Jake said the firehouse mascot was back at the station slumbering away and dreaming of Christmas treats. He explained how Dalmatians such as Sparky were ideal mascots in the days before gasoline-powered fire trucks. The breed was a natural friend to—and possessed a calming power—for the horses.

“Can I ring that?” Tyler tugged on the sleeve of Jake’s jacket and pointed to the shiny, silver bell topped with an eagle anchored above the engine’s right front bumper.

“I’m sure that can be arranged, Tyler James Sinclair,” Jake said.

Tyler laughed. “Don’t forget the rest of my name. It’s very important.”

Jake pretended to think about it. “The Tenth?”

“Third. After my grandpa, Tyler James Sinclair, Jr. I don’t get that part, but it’s a family tra…” he hesitated and shrugged. “Whatever that word is.”

“Tradition,” Jake said. “I like it. Your name sounds presidential.”

“That’s what Aunt Julia says, too.” Tyler gave her the cute grin that captured her heart every time.

“Your Aunt Julia sounds like a smart woman.”

Julia turned her head when Jake glanced her way. His charming dimple could easily become addictive. Her thoughts wandered to the woman who’d waited for him outside his front door. She found it odd how the woman—his ex-girlfriend, Nicole, according to Dylan—waited in the shadows, not stepping forward until Jake came outside. They’d shared a few words before Jake joined them in the car. He’d been subdued, but whether from Dylan getting after him, his obvious physical pain, or the brief exchange with Nicole—or all of it—she couldn’t know. A terrific guy like Jake surely had several women vying for his affection. Then again, it made no difference since
she
was supposedly taken.
What a mess I’ve made of everything.
A pang of guilt pierced her conscience. She rarely told a fib, even as a child, but now the lie she’d told to escape her family’s relentless matchmaking was snowballing fast.

Snapping to attention as the clear tones of the bell rang out in the stillness of the night, Julia listened as Jake told them how the bell was the forerunner of the modern siren, alerting others to move out of the street to allow them passage. Tyler’s endless fascination with the bell amazed Julia, especially since he visited the guys at the station at least once a week. When Tyler finished his clanging, Jake explained how fire bells across the country had taken on new significance since the events of 9/11. They’d become a symbol of freedom and the sacrifice of the brave New York City firefighters and others who’d lost their lives on that fateful day in America’s history.

Tears welled in Julia’s eyes; she always got sentimental when thinking about 9/11. Her gaze locked with Jake’s. She turned away, but not before she glimpsed the compassion in his expression. As much as anything, it was a shared understanding of the heartache, but also the joys of helping and protecting others.

Tyler ran over to Julia and threw his arms around her middle, hugging her tight. “Don’t cry, Aunt Julia. Wanna go get a cookie? That’ll make you feel better.”

Dylan and Hannah were doing a wonderful job raising her nephews, and what a blessing they were in her life. Julia sniffled and returned Tyler’s embrace. “That sounds like a delicious idea.”

“Sure does.” Jake thanked the kids and told them it was time to go inside with their parents for hot chocolate or cider and homemade cookies.

Julia turned to go. “Coming, Ty?” He huddled together with Jake by the bell, their voices lowered.
Wonder what that’s about?

“So, do you think my son’s gonna follow in his old man’s footsteps?” Dylan stopped beside her on the sidewalk, jogging in place to keep warm.

She hooked her arm through Dylan’s and leaned her head on his shoulder. “I think he might. And that’s a
very
good thing.”

****

“Jake,” Tyler said, his face scrunched into a frown, “I got a big favor to ask you.”

“What’s that? Need another Junior Firefighter badge?” Tyler had a tendency to give them away to the other boys in his Boy Scout troop or at school. Jake found it difficult to resist when any kid asked for a special favor, but especially
this
kid.

“Nah, nothin’ like that.” Big brown eyes, bright in the moonlight, searched his.

“Name it,” Jake said. “Then we’re going inside to get something hot to drink and Martha’s cookies.”

Tyler leaned close to whisper in his ear. “Will you kiss my Aunt Julia under the mistletoe?”

That was the last thing he’d expected to hear. Jake sucked in his cheeks and turned his head. It was either that or choke. “Oh, I’m sure she already has a boyfriend—or whatever—to do that back home, Ty the Third.”

The boy’s mouth downturned. “Then why does she seem so sad?” Smoothing his gloved hand over the bell, he appeared lost in thought but brightened a few seconds later. “If you kiss her, she’ll probably be happy. Don’t you think she’s pretty?”

“Yeah, I do, but that’s not the point, kiddo.” Jake searched his muddled mind for an appropriate response but came up empty.

Tyler waited with a puzzled frown. “I’ll visit the firehouse every day—even in the snow—and walk Sparky. Promise.”

“Never fear. Your relief is here,” Dylan called from where he stood talking with Julia. “You’ve paid your dues, buddy.” He winked at his son. “I’ll take over here. Go on inside and get warm.”

Great timing.
“That’s the most profound thing you’ve said all night.” Jake slapped Dylan’s shoulder as he passed by him.

“You’re just in time to finish decorating the tree, and then we’ll hand out the packages,” Dylan said. When Tyler protested, saying he wanted another tour of the engine, Dylan shook his head. “Your mom needs you inside to help. Now scoot.”

As he watched Julia take Tyler’s hand to go inside, Jake paused on the sidewalk. He hadn’t thought of the message in a few months, but meeting her brought it back full-force. The guys at the firehouse would think him certifiable if they knew how many times he’d listened to the voicemail she’d left for Dylan a few months before. Since no one else was around, he’d replayed it numerous times before writing her name and number on the blackboard. Then he’d erased the message, knowing he’d never forget it.

In the voicemail, Julia told her brother about a six-year-old boy named Brandon who’d been fighting leukemia. Jake thought Hannah had mentioned Julia was a nurse, but at the time, he couldn’t be sure. She said she hated leaving the message on the machine at the station, but she’d misplaced his new cell phone number. “I felt the overpowering need to call right now.” She’d hesitated, and he’d heard a small sob that socked him right in the gut. Jake had been riveted by her words, not sure what to expect.

“Brandon had a bone marrow transplant, and wouldn’t you know the donor was a firefighter. Now that sweet boy’s in full remission. God is so good, isn’t He? This is a boy the doctors said would never leave the hospital. I don’t really know why I felt the need to call and tell you right now, but maybe it’s because the donor…could easily have been you, Dylan.” She hesitated for a long moment. “Even though I have faith the Lord can heal—like with Brandon—when it actually happens, I realize what a miracle life really is, you know?” She sniffled. “Maybe I’m not making any sense, but I wanted you to know I’m very proud of you, and I love you. Call me soon and give me your new cell number again, please.”

Julia’s message stirred Jake’s heart. Crazy as it sounded—and maybe it had everything to do with not having a woman in his life—he’d tucked her words away in a special place inside him. The compassion and love in Julia’s voice—for the Lord and her brother as well as a little boy named Brandon—moved him in a way not much else could.

Jake raised his face to the sky. Airy snowflakes landed on his lids and kissed his cheeks.
Lord, I can’t believe she’s here
.
Give me the right words, and help me to not make a fool of myself.

4

The rush of warm air greeted Jake as he entered the building. Man, it felt good. The cold night hadn’t been good for his back and shoulder, but no way would he ever complain. Removing his jacket and hanging it on a hook inside the door, he focused on the tall Christmas tree. At least they’d sprung for a real tree this year instead of the old artificial one. Surprising, considering so many people had allergies these days. The scent of fresh pine was refreshing. Combined with the inviting aromas of hot chocolate, cider, and baked goods, it was beginning to look—and smell—a lot like Christmas, and he loved it.

Jake spied Nicole in one corner talking with Henrietta Watkins, Starlight’s self-proclaimed expert on everything. Why should he be surprised his ex-girlfriend had shown up here? Nicole was pretty stubborn and single-minded. When Henrietta made a weird cooing noise and waved to catch his attention, Jake pretended to have something in his eye. Turning aside, he prayed for someone to rescue him.

“Oh, Jake, honey!” Angie Goodwin said, flying toward him with a harried look. “I need your help.”

He mustered his best smile. He’d never been so thankful to see the longtime town clerk in his entire life.

“I need you to put Millicent on top of the tree, if you’d be so kind,” Angie said, lowering a shopping bag to the floor and pulling out the town treasure. “You’re the tallest man here, and the only one who can do it without a ladder. You might want to hold her from the bottom, though. She’s pretty delicate these days.”

“Sure thing.” Jake suppressed a smile as Angie handed him the angel, which had been around since he was a kid and definitely needed to be retired. One arm dangled and was in imminent danger of falling off altogether. Jake made a mental note to reattach it after Christmas, but it would require stitching, his least favorite fix-it project. Asking one of the ladies in the church sewing circle seemed a better idea. Being careful not to further sever Millicent’s arm, Jake reached for the highest bough.

“Afraid I’ll need the ladder, after all,” he said, lowering his arms. Was this tree taller than the artificial one or was he already shrinking? The ladder sat propped against a wall since it’d been used earlier when they decorated the tree. Jake flinched as he scooted it across the floor and perched himself on the lowest rung. Balancing Millicent on the top, satisfied she wouldn’t take flight, he stepped back down.

“Millie may be old, but she’s special. I can’t bear to replace her. So many memories.” Angie handed him a steaming cup of hot chocolate with a mountain of whipped cream—exactly the way he liked it—and a reindeer-shaped cookie on a napkin. As if he needed a reminder of reindeer. At least Julia hadn’t said a word about those stupid boxer shorts, but she must have seen them.
Thanks, Lord. Way to keep me humble
.

Angie’s brow furrowed with concern. “I heard you took a nasty spill at that fire over on Center Street, you poor man. Are you feeling better now?”

“A little but it’ll take time. This cold weather doesn’t help, but ‘tis the season.” Jake sipped the hot chocolate and nibbled the cookie. “Martha’s outdone herself this year. Tastes better than ever. Thanks.” He should stop by Martha’s Bakery and order her specialty Christmas cookies—a tradition in his family since he was a kid—and have them shipped to his parents.

“I’m making beef stew and biscuits tomorrow for supper,” Angie said. “I always have enough to feed an army, so don’t you worry about cooking.”

Jake hoped his smile conveyed his gratitude. “I appreciate that, Angie.” Except on occasional Sundays when he was invited for an after-church meal, he didn’t enjoy a home-cooked dinner as often now that his mom, dad, and sister lived in Florida year round. Even though he knew how to cook a few things—and the guys at the firehouse scarfed down his chili—cooking for one wasn’t any fun. Neither was eating in a restaurant by himself.

“Anything for our men in uniform. You do so much for the town, Jake. It’s the least I can do. I’ll have Harry bring some over for you. That’ll warm you up. Don’t forget.”

Angie wagged a finger at him, making him feel like a kid in school. “I won’t forget. I’ll look forward to it all day.”

After Angie moved on to her next task, Jake nodded at Charlie Davidson and Jon Marshall. From the corner of his eye, he saw Nicole chattering away with a couple of the ladies. She’d come back for him, or so she said. He wasn’t any good at discussing his feelings, and he sure didn’t know what to say to Nicole. His gaze fell on Julia, who was talking with Hannah. He tried not to stare. Maybe Dylan was right, and the time had come to jump back into the dating pool—headfirst or feetfirst was the bigger question, leaving his heart floundering in the middle. Even if he
wanted
to strike up a conversation with a woman, he’d probably turn into a pile of empty-headed, tongue-tied mush.