A Lake House Holiday: A Small-Town Christmas Romance Novel

by Megan Squires

  “Come on up,” Thomas O’Reilly said, not looking any more confident than Jolene felt. That did little to loosen the tight ball in her throat. “You two take the rear.” He pointed to Roger and Millie. “You take the front. Blankets are folded on the seats.”

  Jolene grasped onto the rails of the carriage. Even with her gloves covering them, she knew the whites of her knuckles were pushing through her skin, she held on so tightly. With a guiding hand on her hip, Luke helped hoist her into the open-air carriage. Once up, Jolene dropped into her seat like a sack of potatoes. A sack of panicked, terrified potatoes.

  “You okay?”

  “Mmm hmm. Yes, of course.” Her breath billowed out in front of her mouth, hanging in a frosty mist in the December night’s air. She wished she could be swallowed up in it; to disappear in a cloud of smoke and skip out on this grand, scary adventure. Poof! “I’m just great.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yes, completely.” Jolene pinched her eyes shut. She pretended not to notice the pair of fifteen hundred pound animals immediately in front of her. She had a difficult enough time trusting the engine in her car to get her from Point A to Point B, and the engine didn’t even have a mind of its own. It was a machine, programmed for its job and purpose.

  What if these two mammoth-sized animals decided they didn’t want to give one more silent, calm sleigh ride? What if this was the time of their planned revolt? Sure, she knew it was an absurd thought, but fears were often absurd. That was what made them so scary—the way the mind could twist out the what-ifs into valid, possible realities.

  Luke leaned in. “You’re sweating, Jolene.”

  “It’s kinda hot out, isn’t it? Does anyone else feel like it’s suddenly a bit hot? Like a rare winter heat wave or something?”

  Mildred answered, “It’s twenty-three degrees.”

  “My jacket must be really, really warm.” The excuse was thin, but Jolene clung to it. “I believe it’s one of those sub-zero types where you could be left in a snowstorm or blizzard and still be all nice and cozy. I think it’s the preferred jacket of Olympic skiers, if I remember correctly. I’m pretty sure one of them even endorsed it, like they got some sort of sponsorship out of it or something. I think I saw their picture at the store where I got it, those big cardboard cutouts, you know?”

  “Sounds like a bunch of hogwash if you ask me.” There Mildred was again with her unsolicited opinions.

  Luke flipped over his hand and pressed the flat back of it to Jolene’s forehead. She shrugged back into her seat to reclaim her space. “Just wanted to make sure you weren’t coming down with something,” he said quietly. “You do look a little pale.”

  “That’s just a new foundation I’m trying out. The gal at the makeup counter recommended getting two shades lighter for winter. Something about a new trend. Pale is the new tan, right?”

  Luke’s mouth crept into the sweetest grin. Jolene wasn’t fooling anyone, but she appreciated the fact that he didn’t continue pressing her on it.

  Closing her eyes again, Jolene pulled in a stinging breath. Cold air infiltrated her lungs. She held it there a moment—tight and burning—then released just as the horses jostled into motion, the carriage lagging a few seconds behind. Her eyes flew open with the jerky movement.

  In the same instant, Luke’s hand came down over Jolene’s knee in a small, silent gesture. But it wasn’t small to Jolene. It was the dropped anchor on a boat about to capsize from thirty-foot swells. It was the answer to a distress call, the reply to an S.O.S. It was safety in the eye of her crazy, fictitious storm.

  The large beasts lumbered forward at a walk. Jolene trained her ears to focus on the bells wreathed around their necks and the jingle that rang out with each step. If she could pretend it was Santa’s sleigh—if she could adopt that notion of magic in this very moment—then she wouldn’t be so afraid.

  But she felt her knee tremble, knowing Luke could sense it, too.

  “Here. Put this on.” Unfolding the heather gray blanket with one hand, he kept the other on her leg. “I know that’s an impressively warm jacket, but it doesn’t quite cover your legs. They still might be a little cold.”

  “Thank you.” She meant it as just a reply to this thoughtful gesture, but there was so much more threaded into those two words. Her head thanked Luke for his kindness, but her heart thanked him for the gift he’d given her at a time in her life when she’d felt so alone, so isolated.

  The gift of his company and friendship, such a welcome, early Christmas present. That present made her warmer than any winter blanket ever could.

  12

  Luke

  LUKE KNEW SOMETHING was off immediately. It was amazing how in tune he was to it. For the first few minutes of the ride he tried to ignore it, tried to convince himself that he was thinking or feeling something that wasn’t really there. But he couldn’t keep that up. Every step, the horses confirmed what he already knew.

  “Sir?” He leaned forward on the bench. He didn’t want to, but he had to take his hand off of Jolene’s knee. “Sir? Would you mind stopping the carriage for a minute?”

  Jolene looked like she was about to be sick. The whites of her eyes were as bright as the snow around them and her pallor had taken on a greenish hue, not unlike the tree back at the square.

  “Sir?”

  “Thomas O’Reilly!” Mildred cackled from the back. The horses halted instantly, causing the carriage to lurch wildly forward.

  Luke swung down from the carriage, his feet thudding against the icy ground. “Sir, I think your horse is lame.”

  “Lame?” Thomas repeated, gaping. “Which one?”

  Slowly, Luke approached the horse in question on the left, placing his hand on the high, arched wither. Almost instantly, the horse’s entire frame relaxed under his gentle touch, like he had healing powers pulsing through his fingertips. “I thought maybe he just took a wrong step back there, but he’s head bobbing and he’s pulling his right front. I don’t think it’s a good idea to keep him working, not with an injury like this and all the ice on the ground. What’s this big guy’s name?”

  “Cyprus. That one’s Cyprus,” Thomas said in a quivering tone. He switched the reins from one hand to two.

  “Hey there, Cyprus.” Luke bracketed the horse’s face with his two palms on its cheeks and brought their foreheads together in greeting. “I’m sorry you’re not feeling well, buddy. That can’t be comfortable at all now, can it?” He looked up at Thomas at the helm. “Your stable near here?”

  “Less than a quarter mile west.” Thomas pointed in the indicated direction. “Off Fern Road, behind the old church.”

  “You mind if I unhook him so Jolene and I can walk him back? I really don’t think he’s up for any more rides tonight. Best to let him rest up until we have a better idea as to what’s wrong.”

  “Not at all, not at all. You seem to have a much better mind for these animals than I do. This is my first year running the business and looks like I’m not quite as cut out for it as I hoped I would be.”

  “Nah, you’re doing just great.” With his fingertips, Luke scratched behind Cyprus’s fuzzy ear. “Sometimes they’re perfectly fine one day and then the next they come up dead lame. Horses are funny creatures that way. But I would feel better if we got him back to the barn and stalled up so I can take a look at him and see what might be bothering him. It’s likely nothing, but not a good idea to chance it.”

  Thomas was a man with a permanently worried look, but in that moment, relief relaxed his features. It was as though he was a student and his teacher had just said the class final had been cancelled. “That would be incredibly kind of you. But do you think Clara is strong enough to pull the carriage on her own? I’ve never driven with just one horse. Not sure I know how.”

  “She’s more than strong enough. That’s what these horses are bred for and I’m sure she knows the way. But I am going to have to unhook Cyprus and get the carriage rigged up for just her. Clara can fi
nish up this ride no problem, though I wouldn’t do too many more tonight. Best to call it an evening after Millie and Roger are all done.”

  Luke made quick work with the horses, untacking Cyprus and fitting a halter onto his long, angular face. Though his attention was fixed on the animals, there was a part of him focused on Jolene, too. He’d sensed her hesitation the moment he pointed out the carriage rides. Cyprus was lame, that was certain, but the chance to give Jolene an out and cut short their ride was a welcome opportunity. The last thing he wanted was to make her uncomfortable, especially after she’d gone out of her way to make sure his Merrylark stay was as comfortable as possible. Ending their excursion early was best for all involved. Plus, if he’d read the situation correctly, he figured Roger wouldn’t mind a little extra one-on-one time with Mildred.

  For Luke, it felt good to be needed in this way—to diagnose a problem and find a quick solution. His mother always joked that men were problem solvers by nature, that it was twisted into their DNA. He didn’t doubt that there was something deep inside a man that made him fit for this sort of work. The small swell of pride Luke felt expanding in his chest was confirmation of his mother’s lifelong assertion.

  And the soft look of adoration from Jolene was just the icing on the cake. He’d be fooling himself if he said he wasn’t attempting to impress her. Of course he was. But not in the way he used to try to impress women. Not like back in his younger days when he would race his lifted truck down the only main drag in town, just hoping one of the craning necks on the sidewalk belonged to a beautiful blonde girl. Or back when he and his buddies would try to outdo one another by stuffing down a few dozen spicy hot wings before succumbing to a pitcher of milk to calm the burn.

  He’d learned over the passage of time there was very little impressive about juvenile acts of stupidity.

  Acts of chivalry, though, that was different. Not that he was being incredibly chivalrous now; he wouldn’t go nearly that far. But doing something that actually meant something—something that took a bad situation and made it better—that was worthy and downright impressive.

  “Why don’t you hop down and we’ll take Ol’ Cyprus here back to the barn?” With his free hand, Luke reached up for Jolene’s. He wanted to keep their fingers intertwined but she dropped their grip the moment her boots safely touched the earth below. It wouldn’t have offended him if it was just that, but the two-foot sidestep she took to put additional space between them couldn’t go unnoticed. Luke recognized it, and he didn’t like it.

  His brow scrunched. “You okay?”

  “Yep.”

  It was a lie, thick and blatant, even in that short little word.

  “You sure?” he pressed. That added an extra twelve-inch gap in their proximity.

  Luke’s shoulders fell, his hopes right along with them. He looked over Cyprus’s long back up toward Thomas.

  “You’re all good to go. We’ll take Cyprus from here and meet you back at the barn.”

  “This is all so very much appreciated,” Thomas said, a few words catching on a stutter. “I’m not sure how it is that you came to Merrylark, but I, for one, am certainly glad you did.”

  Thomas’s appreciation, although nice, was not what Luke had hoped to gain.

  The first few hundred feet of their walk was noticeably quiet. Luke’s ear tuned into the uneven clopping of Cyprus’s hooves, just further confirmation that the poor animal was ailing. Horses came up lame at the ranch from time to time and the telltale sound of an offbeat gait was like a siren warning to Luke. He could read so much in it, could decipher the problem and know just how to approach the solution.

  He couldn’t do the same with Jolene.

  Something had turned offbeat between them, but Luke’s heart wasn’t in tune to what that something might be.

  Luke wanted to address the silence, but each time his mouth opened to speak, the words were trapped, like there were too many in it, all competing to come out but none knowing in which order to do so. He figured anything he did attempt to say would be jumbled and nonsensical because that was the current state of his muddled brain, and in truth, his heart, too.

  “It’s not too much farther up this road.” Jolene finally breached the forced quiet. “We’ll make a left at that tree and you’ll be able to see it. Almost there.”

  “Great,” was all he could form.

  Cyprus’s labored stride worsened with every step and Luke welcomed the idea that they could get him stalled soon. It was never good to press an animal to walk when it clearly pained him to do so. But Cyprus was as stoic a horse as Luke had ever met. Some creatures were just like that. They had this uncanny ability to perform through the pain. Do what was required of them despite it being uncomfortable.

  At that moment, Luke wondered if that was what Jolene had been doing this entire day. He knew it was a painful one for her and while she’d freely released her emotions that morning, she hadn’t opened up anymore about this anniversary or how it made her feel. He contemplated bringing it up, but that sort of conversation wasn’t one he knew how to start.

  “That’s it,” Jolene said, nudging her nose forward. “See that little glowing light from the barn? That’s where we’re headed.”

  Like Cyprus could sense their close proximity to home and the promise of relief, he quickened his pace, pulling against the lead rope in Luke’s grip and tossing his broad head up and down.

  Jolene froze.

  “You okay?”

  She stood stark still.

  “Jolene, what is it?”

  Cyprus tugged again, to the point of rearing. His front hooves lifted from the ground and bits of snow fell from his feathered legs as he stomped back onto the earth. Jolene paled.

  “Luke, I’m absolutely terrified—”

  “What Jolene? What is it?”

  “I’m terrified of—” She stopped short again and then her chest expanded with a huge breath. “Horses.”

  Now it was both Luke and Cyprus’s turn to freeze in place.

  “You’re afraid of horses?”

  “Deathly.” She scrunched her face and shut her eyes. “I’ve been imagining all of the many ways Cyprus was likely going to trample us to death the entire way here. I was on method number twenty-seven when he pulled that last little rearing stunt.”

  Though he fought it, a smile pulled at Luke’s lips. “You think Cyprus is going to trample us? Jolene, he’s a big teddy bear.”

  “That’s not at all reassuring. I also have a deep-seated fear of bears.”

  “Well, that’s actually not a bad fear to have. Bears can eat you. But I promise in all of my days, I’ve yet to meet a man-eating horse. They’re entirely vegetarians. Just a bunch of hay eating, harmless herbivores.”

  “I want to tell you that your reasoning has completely dissolved a lifetime’s worth of phobia, but sadly, I’m still just as scared and still just as anxious to get him put up for the night so we can get the heck outta Dodge.”

  Smirking, Luke pinned her with a stare. “Oh Jolene, that’s not going to happen. We’re going to conquer this fear of yours tonight. You’ve heard of immersion therapy before, haven’t you?”

  “You are not locking me and that animal in the barn alone.”

  “You’re right, I’m not.” Luke chuckled. “But I do want you to spend time with him. Sometimes our fears really aren’t what we think they are. Sometimes they are something else entirely.”

  “Pretty sure I’m deathly afraid of him.” Jolene’s index finger jutted out to point at Cyprus.

  “Please, just trust me.” There was an imploring tone in his voice and a look in his eye.

  Jolene assessed him for a labored pause, arms folded across her chest in unabashed defiance. Then, a sudden shift fell over her demeanor and she relented, “I trust you. Let’s see what kind of magic you can work on this crazy fear of mine.”

  “Hey, you are the one who said Merrylark was full of it.”

  “I did,” Jolene spoke through a s
mile. “And I believe it.”

  “Then I do, too.”

  13

  Jolene

  ADMITTING HER FEAR to Luke wasn’t as bad as she’d anticipated. If anything, she noticed how careful he became when guiding the horse around her, how he would take a purposefully wide berth, making certain there was no way a misstep could end in a smashed toe or foot. She could see how he’d slowed his motions, almost to show Jolene that Cyprus was capable of reciprocating the same calm and gentle movements he demonstrated.

  For the first time, Jolene was in awe of the great creature. Luke choreographed a dance between the two. It was almost beautiful. Almost.

  “Hand me a hoof pick?” Luke crouched down on the pine shaving floor, his legs tucked underneath him. “Should be right in that grooming bag.”

  “Can you describe what it is I’m looking for, exactly?” Fumbling through brushes and combs, Jolene pushed the items out of the way.

  “It looks like something you’d pick a hoof with,” he replied with a chuckle. Jolene noticed a wayward lock of hair that had fallen into Luke’s eyes, and when he tossed his head to shake it off his brow, her heart caught on a beat. He was undeniably handsome when in his own element.

  “Well, since I’d never willingly pick a hoof, I’m not sure what that sort of thing would look like.”

  “It looks like a tool.”

  That lock swept across his forehead again as he stayed hunched down on the floor, assessing Cyprus’s hoof in question. Jolene found herself staring. She peered into the grooming bag again and pulled out the only thing resembling a pick: a small, handheld metal thing with a curved hook at the top. “This?”