The Holiday Bride (10 page)

“My name’s Lucy,” she said, her voice coming out as a
squeak.

A slow smile worked its way across his handsome face. “That
so?”

“Lucy West. I’m a waitress at the diner downtown and live on
Ninth Street.”

Brown eyes sparkled with delight. “I never thought you were
much of a Bridget.”

“No.”

He studied her for a prolonged beat and for an insane moment
Lucy hoped that he might kiss her. She’d harbored the same wish under the
mistletoe. Although then, she hadn’t fully recalled that she had a fiancé.
There was no more denying that now.

“Shouldn’t we... You know?” he said, tilting his chin in the
direction of the tunnel.

“Yeah, right,” she said, stepping back so he could move
forward.

 
At the outdoor
skating rink, Justin reluctantly dragged himself onto the ice beside his
sister. In a gaggle of girls nearby, one young lady in particular had her eye
on the boy. Emma nudged Grant. “Look over there.”

“Where?” He craned his neck to spy the pretty brunette
giggling into her hand. “Well, I’ll be...”

“Do you think Justin has any idea?” Emma asked.

Grant chortled. “Seems like he’s going to now.”

Emma watched with amusement as the girl skated toward
Justin, puffy earmuffs framing the long brown hair flowing behind her as she
went. She tapped Justin on the shoulder just as he was about to break into a
stride. He turned to stare at the girl in surprise, his neck and the tips of
his ears reddening.

“Just like his father,” Emma said with a warm smile.

“Hmm,” Grant replied. “Looks like she’s asking him to
skate.”

Carmella stood between her brother and the girl, glancing
happily from one to the other. “Go on!” Emma heard her shout. “I’m going to
have cocoa with Grammy and Poppy.”

“I’ll come, too,” Justin said, racing after her.

The girl’s face fell. But then little Carmella took charge.
“Oh no you don’t,” she said, shoving Justin back on the ice. “Not enough cocoa
for you.”

Justin whirled to face the girl, his whole face beet red.

Grant laughed and then whispered to Emma, as Carmella
approached, “Good to see his sister didn’t let him chicken out.”

Seconds later, the girl held out her hand and Justin took
it, letting her drag him onto the ice.

“Looks like Justin’s got a girlfriend,” Carmella chirped,
trudging forward.

Emma and Grant looked at each other and grinned.

Mitch exited his SUV and stormed up the walk to the front
door of the Kinkaid house. Something funny was going on here, and whatever it
was, he was going to get to the bottom of it. He rang the bell and waited. Then
tried again. Nothing doing. Hmm. There was still a car in the drive. Maybe they
hadn’t heard him, he thought, deciding to use the knocker. Mitch checked his
cell for the time, guessing he’d already been standing here ten minutes.

Well, he sure didn’t come clear across town for nothing. He
laid his hand on the doorknob, turning it easily. Folks should really take more
precautions. Leaving your door unlocked these days could only invite trouble.

He tentatively pushed the door open and called inside, but
got no response. Maybe they were in the back or were watching television. He
walked a few feet indoors and yelled louder. It was then that he saw it, the
big gaping hole in the wall. “Sweet Merry Christmas! What’s
that?
Looks like somebody bombed this
place.” Or maybe that’s what this was, some sort of bomb shelter.
Yeah, I’m betting that’s right. This whole
setup just gets weirder and weirder.

He took a breath
and stepped into the darkness.

William laid his hands on the back of the old pegboard, once
meant to hold garden tools, and gently pushed. To his amazement, the pegboard
popped off in his hands. He grappled to catch it before it spilled forward,
then set it aside, leaning it against a nearby wall. “This is incredible,” he
said, looking around the crowded space. Cobwebs were everywhere inside the old
garden shed, several coating the lawn mower.

“Don’t do much yard work, do you?” Lucy asked.

He shrugged apologetically. “I hire a lawn service.”

“I must have remembered this place,” she told him with
growing confidence. “Even when nothing else made sense to me. William, this is
how I got in your house.”

“How long did you live here?” he asked in awe.

“Only until my parents died. I was twelve and a half.”

“Oh Lucy,” he said, his heart aching for her. “I’m so
sorry.”

Her eyes misted slightly. “After that, I went to live in a
group home. Everyone there was very nice, but it wasn’t the same.”

Of course, it couldn’t have been. How horrible for her to
have suffered that tragedy, and at such young age. “Didn’t you have any
brothers or sisters?” he asked.

“No, it was just me.”

No wonder she’d asked about having kids. Perhaps she wanted
the sort of family for herself that the fates hadn’t allowed her to have as a
child. William spoke past the lump in his throat, wishing he could find a way
to make things all better. He’d give anything to take away the pain in her eyes
at the memory of her loss. “So, it’s just you then? You’re all alone?”

She drew a breath and forced a brighter look. “No, I’ve got
Mitch.”

“Who’s Mitch?”

“That would be me,” a contentious voice said. “I’m the
intended.”

William spun in surprise as a stout, dark-haired man stepped
out of the passageway and into the crowded space with them.

“Mitch!” Lucy cried with alarm.

“Luce!” he answered, throwing his arms wide. “I thought I’d
lost you!” He pulled her into a hug, snug up against him. She shot William a
helpless look and his neck flushed hot. What could he do? He couldn’t possibly
break up the happy reunion.

“Did this fellow hurt you?” Mitch asked, when Lucy pulled
back. “Because if he did, I swear—”

“No, Mitch. Seriously. It’s not like that at all.”

“How is it, then?” he asked, suspiciously eyeing William. In
all of his thirty-eight years, William had never felt so entirely sized up.

William stuck out his hand, unsure of what else to do. “I’m
William Kinkaid.”

Mitch raised an eyebrow at him, then turned back toward Lucy.
“Is this on the level? This guy’s all right?”

“Yes, Mitch.” Lucy sighed heavily. “It’s a really long
story, but William had nothing to do with me coming here. He’s been nothing but
the perfect gentleman, I swear.”

“Let’s hope so,” Mitch said, turning to take William’s hand.
Before he could do it, he stopped. “Wait a minute... What about those, you
know...” He cupped his hands in front of his chest. “Jingle bell things.”

“That wasn’t William,” Lucy rushed to explain. “That was
Justin.”

“Justin? Was this some sort of threesome going on?”

“Mitch!” Lucy shouted in shock.

“Hold on one second,” William said, offended. “Justin is my
son.”

“All the worse!” Mitch’s temples bulged and Lucy reached up
to sooth them.

“Baby,
a lot has happened in this house, but nothing like that. The Kinkaids are a
very nice family. They were nothing but good to me.”

Mitch scowled, then shook his head. “Well, all right. If you
say so.” He started to take William’s hand again, but stopped. “No monkey
business, huh?” he asked Lucy. “Not even with this good-looking ape, here?”

She blushed bright crimson. “No, Mitch.”

“Well, good!” He gave her a quick peck on the lips that made
William feel slightly sick to his stomach. He’d naturally known all along that
Brid—uh, Lucy had a fiancé and another life waiting for her somewhere. He
just hadn’t realized how unsettling it would be to see it.

Finally, Mitch extended his grip. “Nice to meet you,
fellow,” Mitch said. “I can’t wait to hear this story.”

Emma and Grant entered the house holding fast-food bags and
sent the kids upstairs to change. As they approached the kitchen, Emma halted,
holding up a warning hand to her husband. Grant looked past her to William,
sitting glumly at the kitchen table. Emma glanced at Grant with a worried
frown. Something didn’t feel right in here. Plus, it was awfully quiet.

She put on her sunniest face and carted the burger bags to
the kitchen’s center island. “We stopped and picked up dinner on the way home.”

“Kids already ate in the car,” Grant added. “Justin ate like
a horse.”

William met his parents’ eyes with a sad gaze. “Thanks,
guys.”

“Where’s Bridget?” Emma asked.

William sighed and set his palms on the table. “Mom. Dad. I
have something to tell you.”

Grant walked over and took a seat as Emma slid into another
chair.

“What is it, son?” Grant asked.

“Her name’s not Bridget,” William answered, with red-rimmed
eyes. “It’s Lucy.”

“Well, Lucy’s a very nice—” Emma began.

“She’s gone.”

“Gone?” Grant was visibly surprised.

“Who’s gone?” Carmella asked, entering the kitchen.

William stared at his little daughter, hating to break the
news. “Bridget, honey. I found out where she lives and—”

“No!” Carmella cried, lunging toward him.

“Hang on, fuzz brain.” Justin had appeared and wrapped his
arms around her.

She glared at her father, tears streaking down her face.
“But it can’t be true!”

“Is it, Dad?” Justin asked, his brow creased in concern.

William pursed his lips for a remorseful beat before
speaking. “I’m sorry, kids. I wish—”

“But you promised!” Carmella shouted. “
Promised,
Daddy!”

He stood, stepping toward her, but she backed against
Justin, who held her tight. Emma’s heart broke at the scene. Everyone here was
falling apart, not the least of whom appeared to be her son.

“Pumpkin,” William said, his voice cracking.

“Don’t you ‘pumpkin’ me!” she said, breaking out of Justin’s
embrace.

Before they knew it she was through the door, her small
footfalls racing upstairs.

“I’ll go after her,” William told the others.

“Carmella, please honey, talk to me,” William said as she hunched
forward, burying her face in a pillow. He swallowed past the burn in his
throat. “I’m sorry, Carmella. Really, I am.”

“But you said she was my mommy!” her muffled voice returned.

William patiently removed the pillow and stroked her damp
cheek with his thumb.

“I never said that, sweetheart. You did. I only said I
believed in Santa.”

 
“But I don’t get
it.” Pain streaked her eyes, threatening to cleave William in two. “If
Bridget’s not her real name and Santa didn’t bring her... Then...” Her voice
faltered again. “There’s no Santa at all.”

“Now, hang on one second,” William said. “We don’t know
that’s so.”

“But you can’t believe. You just can’t. Especially not now.”

“Why not?”

“Because he didn’t bring you what you wanted, either.”

“How do you know what Daddy wanted?”

She stared at him with moistened eyes. “Because I’ve heard
you . . . crying at night.” William blinked, turning away. “You wanted
somebody, too. Didn’t you?”

“Yes,” he said in a whisper.

She reached out and touched his arm. “Then, there is no
Santa Claus,” she said softly. “And if there is, he let us both down.”

If that was the truth, then why did Carmella’s statement
ring so false in his heart? Maybe things hadn’t worked out as they might have,
but he would never call having had Lucy here a mistake. In fact, having her
presence in this house—even if for just a little while—had been the
greatest of gifts.

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” William said, pulling his
daughter into a hug.

****

Chapter Nine

Time passed painfully slowly for Lucy. Nothing about it
seemed to go right. When she got back to her tiny apartment, it appeared dark
and cramped, and absent of holiday cheer. All of the Christmas decorations,
including her miniature Christmas tree, were artificial. And each of her potted
plants had wilted. She’d never been much of a gardener, anyway. Something like
William, she supposed, noting the comparison only further dampened her spirits.

She hadn’t realized how attached she’d grown to him until
the time had come for her to go. He was just the sort of guy she’d always
dreamt of, almost like someone from one of those late-night TV shows. He was an
excellent father, too. He was good with his kids, loving yet firm. He was there
for them and they knew it, just as his parents remained there for him—and
vice versa. Lucy sighed, reliving her moments in that happy home. What the
Kinkaids had was a real family, and
family
was a feeling Lucy had nearly forgotten.

She sorted through the mail on the kitchen counter, hoping
to find something of interest among the solicitations and bills. She paused,
gripping a bright red envelope with no return address in her hands. It could be
a Christmas card. Or maybe... just maybe... something from the Kinkaids? Her
heart pounded as she recalled the gold flecks in William’s eyes. Him holding
her under the mistletoe... Their
almost
kiss. She slipped a fingernail under the seal and popped it, then pulled the
shiny red foil-covered card from its sleeve.
Hoping Santa’s good to you this Christmas
it said on the front. She
flipped it open to read the message inside.
And
brings you a bag full of joy.
Then, in his charming scrawl,
Gus.

Lucy’s heart warmed despite her frown. Of course it was from
Gus. He always ran a week behind and a dollar short. But he was the best darn
boss a girl could hope for. Lucy stared out the window at the drifting snow,
realizing how foolish she’d been.
 
Thinking she might actually hear from the Kinkaids in general. William,
in particular. Naturally, now that she’d gone, they’d all returned to their lives
as normal.