Christmas in Icicle Creek
Danni Lee Nicholls
Copyright © 2018 by Danni Lee Nicholls
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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Christmas in Icicle Creek
Noelle Foster has always wanted to travel the world and work in exotic locales. But after a painful break up with her boyfriend, Kendall, she leaves her dream job on the Big Island of Hawaii and moves back to her hometown of Icicle Creek.
Tristan Burke was living the high life in the desert southwest until his best friend, James ran straight into the arms of the law. Now, James is sitting in prison, and Tristan has returned to Icicle Creek with a dark secret and a suitcase full of guilt.
When Tristan and Noelle come together over a lost puppy, Tristan finds his first spark of happiness in years. With tender patience, he coaxes Noelle into a fragile and shared happiness until a shocking and devastating betrayal pushes Noelle to flee back into Kendall’s arms while threatening to put Tristan in a jail cell of his own making.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Invitation
Also by Danni Lee Nicholls
About the Author
Chapter 1
Bending her knees, Noelle crouched in the late September snow. Holding out her hand, she coaxed her ten-week-old golden retriever puppy, Sampson, to join her. Sampson needed little encouragement as he bounded toward Noelle with happy enthusiasm, knocking her down in the snow. Laughing with cheerful delight, Noelle wrestled with the pup in his first flurry of autumn. The pup broke from her and raced around the yard in large zooming circles, leaving paw prints in the wet snow.
Noelle joined Sampson in a game of chase, causing the puppy to run even harder in his effort to catch Noelle. When she could no longer hear his happy panting, she stopped just in time to see Sampson veer off his course and move to the far end of the yard.
Alarm filled her as she hurried to where Sampson was squirming between the new snow and the wire mesh fence. She rushed to catch him, but Sampson was too fast. Maneuvering out of the yard, the pup ran at full tilt into the field that banked up against Icicle Creek.
Panic clawed at Noelle as she hurriedly began climbing over the frail wire fence. She called after Sampson, but the puppy didn’t break stride. Desperation mingled with panic as she slipped and fell in her efforts to clamber over the fence. Rising to her feet, she hurried on as Sampson became a small dot, moving farther away from Noelle and closer to the creek.
She pushed at the rising feeling of anxiety that tightened her chest and focused on Sampson’s paw prints until they were obscured by darkness and falling snow. She slowed along the banks of the Icicle Creek and peered at the darkening frothy water. She called his name over the frosty landscape. Did Sampson fall into the water? It was unseasonably cold and wet for late September, and the creek was moving fast due to early fall rains. Dread swelled within her as she watched the fast-moving water.
“Sampson!” Noelle called.
Nothing.
Noelle stumbled along the creek and continued to call, but Sampson did not yip or bark in return. The only reply was the sound of cold water rushing over rock and the slight breeze on the snow as hushed branches brushed up against each other.
She willed the tears away. She needed to pull herself together as the last of the wintery blue light began to fade from the day. Turning on the flashlight from her cell phone, Noelle studied the snow along the banks of the creek. In the thick storm, there was no indication that Sampson had even passed this way.
The chime on her phone pulled Noelle’s attention from her search. A text from her mother. Where was she? Her mom had checked in the backyard but couldn’t find Sampson or Noelle. Had she taken the pup for a walk? Dinner in five minutes.
Noelle bit her lip and despair expanded in her chest, leaving little room for air. How could she tell her family she lost Sampson? The pup was a gift to her from her little brother, Cory. He’d wanted to give her something special that would make her smile after a tough couple of years. For Noelle, it was love at first sight. Sampson’s bright and mischievous personality was the perfect reminder that all was not lost in spite of her life refusing to turn out as she’d expected. But now, that little bundle of happiness was as lost as her future.
Noelle took a frazzled breath. Better to tell her family the truth now. Quickly, she texted her mother that Sampson was lost and she was looking for him along the banks of Icicle Creek.
Her mother’s reply was quick. Dinner could wait. She’d round up the family and they would help in the search.
Relief surged through Noelle. Surely with everyone searching, they would find Sampson before too long. She turned back to the banks of Icicle Creek, shining her phone’s flashlight along the water’s edge. In the distance, she heard her family, and comfort seeped through Noelle’s worry. The deep bellowing voice of her father carried over the snowy fields while the thinner, sweet voice of her mom seemed to be whisked on the snowy breeze. Cory’s voice joined their parents with a sharp staccato.
Noelle rallied at the sound of her family. Sampson would hear all of them, or at least one of them. The voices seemed to move in different directions, with her brother’s voice heading in her direction. Noelle tried to smile as her little brother’s flashlight beam found her.
“Hey, Nissy,” Cory said, calling her by her childhood nickname as he hurried down the embankment toward the water. “Any luck?”
Noelle shook her head. “No.” Her voice wavered as tears threatened. She looked up from her search as guilt and fear mingled like the waters she was searching. “Cory, I’m so sorry. It all happened so fast.”
Cory pulled her into an awkward brotherly hug. “I don’t blame you, Nis,” he said. “But Sampson sure is in trouble when we get him home. Puppies are notorious for being little troublemakers.”
Noelle laughed in the middle of her sob as she pulled her brother into a hug, appreciating his seventeen-year-old humor. “Thanks,” she whispered.
Cory pushed at his sister a little. “Mom and Dad split up, with Dad sticking close to the creek in the opposite direction of us and Mom heading toward the road.”
A cold sweat broke over Noelle, sending a shiver down her spine. “I didn’t even think about the road.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll find him,” her little brother said.
Noelle and Cory worked creek-side, taking turns calling for Sampson. She heard the sound of her mother’s and father’s voices ebb and flow, depending on everyone’s location and the breeze, which w
as beginning to become more fitful as evening fell.
Hours later, Noelle and Cory were miles from home and without any sign of Sampson. She was soaked and chilled, and hunger ebbed away her energy as discouragement burrowed into the pit of her stomach. She leaned into her brother as he put his arm around her and a fresh batch of tears refused to be denied.
Wiping her eyes and nose with her sleeve, she texted her mother with the bad news and received the same. Sampson was nowhere to be found.
Noelle sobbed in earnest. Her brother pulled her in close as they turned to go home. “He’s a resourceful little dude,” he said. “He’ll hunker down somewhere for the night, and he’ll either come home in the morning, or we’ll find him once it’s daylight.”
Noelle sniffled and tried to smile. She clung to her brother as exhaustion and the chill of the cold, snowy evening drained every ounce of strength and hope from her marrow. If she was so cold and miserable, Sampson must be freezing. The thought of Sampson crying in the cold snow almost sent Noelle to her knees, and she leaned against Cory as they pushed through the intensifying storm.
Winding their way home, Noelle and Cory continued to call for Sampson, but there was no sign of him. When they got home, they found all the lights were blazing. In their hurry to look for the pup, no one had bothered to turn out any lamps. It was a welcoming sight, but Noelle found little comfort. Puppy toys were strewn across the floor and Sampson’s water dish sat in the corner with his bowl full of kibble. “He must be starving.” Noelle started to cry again. “This is all my fault.”
“Oh, honey. We’ll find him,” Noelle’s mother, Becky, said as she pulled her into a warm hug. “Or someone else will. He has his tags, and he’s chipped, so we’ll get him back one way or the other.”
Noelle clung to that dim light of hope. Her parents’ calm demeanor settled her for the moment, and she offered a quick prayer that her mother was right.
But that hope grew dim as the night wore on. Noelle checked around the outside of the house several times, hoping Sampson found his own way home. With each trip outside, her misery piled up like the snow drifting against the house. By two in the morning, all she found was deepening snow and fitful squalls. Each draft of wind caused her to shiver with both cold and sharpening worry. It would get down into the low thirties tonight, and Sampson was so small. He had no reserves for such cold.
Still dressed and with her boots on, Noelle sat on the couch and said good night to her parents as they headed to bed. Cory sat next to her with the TV on mute. Her ears strained to hear any tiny sound of Sampson above the gathering storm.
Holding the remote, exhaustion overcame her as the earlier adrenaline drained away, and she was left with the deepening dread that she would never see Sampson again. The picture of him lost in the dark snowstorm was almost more than she could bear.
When Cory had handed her the little ball of fluff for the first time, the torn pieces of her heart had begun to knit together in the sweet nurturing the pup required and the innocent love he offered. Now, he was gone, and it was her fault. If he didn’t come home, she would never be the same.
Chapter 2
The following morning, Tristan trudged through the fresh snow as the burden of fatigue pulled at his body, making his eyelids heavy. Still, he was grateful to see the storm tapering off in the pearl gray of dawn. He and his mother—along with their employee, Fernando, and his wife, Rosina—had been up most of the night, keeping the snow from his apple trees by gently brushing the branches with brooms. Although his Gala apples were harvested and tucked into storage at the warehouse, his trees were still carrying a full canopy of leaves. It was not yet time to prune them, and the added weight of wet snow could cause branches to break. At the very least, this storm could ruin next year’s crop. If the damage was severe, it could take out several trees. But with everyone’s efforts, his trees were safe. He inhaled a sense of relief and blinked hard, trying to chase away the exhaustion.
Tristan wondered if this cold snap was an omen of things to come. Was it going to be an early winter? Snow in the last days of September was not unheard of, but it was an oddity.
Rubbing his face with his hands, Tristan pressed himself awake as he stopped and gazed over apple orchards that rose and fell with the hills. A faint whisper of pride drifted through him as he took in the land and apple orchards that met Icicle Creek before jumping to the other side. His family’s land for generations was now his and his mother’s responsibility.
Nothing stirred within Tristan’s gaze, except the creek that flowed gently through Burke’s Orchard. In spite of the early fall rains, the creek did not hurry through the Burke property. He watched as it lingered in one of the best swimming holes along its path, its greenish-blue water tinged with gray, swirling in eddies and meandering against the white banks of freshly fallen snow.
A smile touched Tristan’s lips as he recalled sun-drenched memories of summers spent swimming with his high school friends. His mom would cook a ton of food and he would hang out with his friends all day while his dad worked the orchard.
Tristan turned from the view as the cheerless cloud of his present reality drifted over the sunnier moments from his teenage years. His life was no longer carefree. It’d been years since he’d swum in these waters.
Taking in a deep breath, Tristan chalked up his dismal thoughts to the fatigue. But he didn’t have time to dwell on them or his exhaustion. He still had morning chores waiting for him. Filling his lungs with cold, sweet air, he turned toward the barn. The door was cracked open to give Alley-Cat, their barn cat, access during the night. But the opening appeared a bit wider, putting Tristan on guard. He listened carefully and heard the horses greet him. Their soft nicker was both an invitation and a request for breakfast. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.
Moving into the barn, Tristan rubbed his hands together in the murky light before turning on the overhead bulbs. Looking over the bales of alfalfa, he noticed a wet ball of fur curled up in a nest of hay.
Tristan blinked to make sure he was seeing the puppy, but the little one didn’t budge. Glancing up several rows of stacked hay, Tristan saw Alley-Cat perched. Tristan gave the cat a questioning look. She peered at him with a stare that could cut through wood. Alley-Cat was not happy with this interloper who’d taken over her precious bed.
Tristan turned his concern toward the still and wet pup. Was it alive? Moving closer, Tristan noticed the rise and fall of the little one’s chest while it slept. Quietly, Tristan sat beside the puppy. It opened its eyes and gave Tristan a sleepy yawn before placing its chin on Tristan’s thigh and closing its eyes.
A warm glow flickered in Tristan’s heart. “Whoa, wait a minute there, little one,” Tristan whispered. “How did you get here, and who do you belong to?”
The puppy opened its eyes and looked into Tristan’s before giving him another yawn and standing. It shook itself off and looked around the barn before its eyes rested back on Tristan.
“Alley-Cat is not happy with you,” Tristan said.
The puppy seemed to understand Tristan’s words and gave an inquiring look toward the cat, who hissed at it in greeting.
“See what I mean?”
The puppy didn’t seem to care, as it flopped down and curled against Tristan’s leg with a deep sigh.
Tristan resisted the urge to stretch out next to the puppy and join it in slumber. Instead, he picked up one of the puppy’s large paws and rubbed it between his own fingers. “Your nap is over, little one,” he said gently. “I bet somebody is missing you.” Tristan picked up the pup and cradled it with one arm as the ball of fur cuddled against Tristan without any resistance. This little one was a boy. Tristan flipped the tags over in his fingers. No name appeared. Only an address and a phone number.
“Well, I think it’s time for a special delivery. What do you say?” Opening his coat, Tristan placed the puppy inside. The pup gave a sigh of contentment and burrowed into the warmth, looking up at Tristan with sleepy eyes.
Tristan savored the cozy affection, and he wished once again to snuggle with the little one and fall asleep with the puppy tucked against his chest, but he pushed himself to a stand.
Walking through the back door into the kitchen, the smell of bacon, hash browns, eggs, and toast made from fresh bread washed over Tristan while the puppy’s nose twitched with happy anticipation.
His mother handed him a cup of coffee. Then she stopped. “What?”
“I know,” Tristan said. “He was in the barn, curled up in Alley-Cat’s bed.”
“Oh, I bet that made him popular,” his mother laughed.
“Well, I thought it was pretty cute, but Alley-Cat had a different opinion.”
“Who does he belong to?” his mother asked.
Tristan shrugged. “I don’t know, but he’s got tags with a phone number and address.”
“Are you going to call?”
Tristan thought for a moment. “No. I think I’m going to take him home. I want to make sure he didn’t escape from a bad situation.”
His mother smiled as she flipped over the tag and read the address. “That’s unlikely.” She pushed the tag toward Tristan. “He’s from River Bend Road. Nice homes on that side of town.”
Tristan gave his mother a level look. “Abuse can happen anywhere.”
“True enough.” Carolyn looked up at her son. “I think you’ve grown attached to this little one within the space of five seconds.”
Christmas In Icicle Creek: Home For The Holidays Page 1