Home for the Holidays

by Debbie Macomber

  “Will you return the favor?”

  It took a moment for the implication to sink in, and even then Cait wasn’t sure she should follow the trail Joe seemed to be forging through this conversation. She leaned forward and rested her hands on the edge of the desk.

  “I’m destined to be an old maid,” she said flippantly, although she couldn’t help feeling a sliver of real hope.

  “You’ll never be that.”

  Cait was hoping he’d say her beauty would make her irresistible, or that her warmth and wit and intelligence were sure to attract a dozen suitors. Instead he said the very thing she could have predicted. “We’re already married, so you don’t need to worry about being a spinster.”

  Cait released a sigh of impatience. “I wish you’d give up on that, Joe. It’s growing increasingly old.”

  “As I recall, we celebrated our eighteenth anniversary not long ago.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. All right,” she said, straightening abruptly. If he wanted to play games, then she’d respond in kind. “Since we’re married, I want a family.”

  “Hey, sweetheart,” he cried, throwing his arms in the air, “that’s music to my ears. I’m willing.”

  Cait prepared to leave the office, if not the building. “Somehow I knew you would be.”

  “Two or three,” he interjected, then chuckled and added, “I suppose we should name the first two Ken and Barbie.”

  Cait’s scowl made him chuckle even louder.

  “If you prefer, we’ll leave the names open to negotiation,” he said.

  “Of all the colossal nerve…” Cait muttered, moving to the window and gazing out.

  “If you want daughters, I’ve got no objection, but from what I understand that’s not really up to us.”

  Cait turned around, crossing her arms. “Correct me if I’m wrong,” she said coldly, certain he’d delight in doing so. “But you did just ask me to marry you. Could you confirm that?”

  “All I want is to make legal what’s already been done.”

  Cait sighed in exasperation. Was he serious, or wasn’t he? He was talking about marriage, about joining their lives, as if he were planning a bid on a construction project.

  “When Paul asked Lindy to marry him, he had a diamond ring.”

  “I was going to buy you a ring,” Joe said emphatically. “I still am. But I thought you’d want to pick it out yourself. If you wanted a diamond, why didn’t you say so? I’ll buy you the whole store if that’ll make you happy.”

  “One ring will suffice, thank you.”

  “Pick out two or three. I understand diamonds are an excellent investment.”

  “Not so fast,” she said, holding out her arm. It was vital she maintain some distance between them. If Joe kissed her or started talking about having children again, they might never get the facts clear.

  “Not so fast?” he repeated incredulously. “Honey, I’ve been waiting eighteen years to discuss this. You’re not going to ruin everything now, are you?” He advanced a couple of steps toward her.

  “I’m not agreeing to anything until you explain yourself.” For every step he took toward her, Cait retreated two.

  “About what?” Joe was frowning, which wasn’t a good sign.

  “Paul.”

  His eyelids slammed shut, then slowly raised. “I don’t understand why that man’s name has to come into every conversation you and I have.”

  Cait decided it was better to ignore that comment. “You haven’t even told me you love me.”

  “I love you.” He actually sounded annoyed, as if she’d insisted on having the obvious reiterated.

  “You might say it with a little more feeling,” Cait suggested.

  “If you want feeling, come here and let me kiss you.”

  “No.”

  “Why not?” By now they’d completely circled her desk. “We’re talking serious things here. Trust me, sweetheart, a man doesn’t bring up marriage and babies with just any woman. I love you. I’ve loved you for years, only I didn’t know it.”

  “Then why did you let Paul take me out to dinner?”

  “You mean I could’ve stopped you?”

  “Of course. I didn’t want to go out with him! I was sick about having to turn you down for dinner. Not only that, you didn’t even seem to care that I was going out with another man. And as far as you were concerned, he was your main competition.”

  “I wasn’t worried.”

  “That wasn’t the impression I got later.”

  “All right, all right,” Joe said, drawing his fingers through his hair. “I didn’t think Paul was interested in you. I saw him and Lindy together one night at the office and the electricity between them was so thick it could’ve lit up Seattle.”

  “You knew about Lindy and Paul?”

  Joe shrugged. “Let me put it this way. I had a sneaking suspicion. But when you started talking about Paul as though you were in love with him, I got worried.”

  “You should have been.” Which was a bold-faced lie.

  Somehow, without her being quite sure how it happened, Joe maneuvered himself so only a few inches separated them.

  “Are you ever going to kiss me?” he demanded.

  Meekly Cait nodded and stepped into his arms like a child opening the gate and skipping up the walkway to home. This was the place she belonged. With Joe. This was home and she need never doubt his love again.

  With a sigh that seemed to come from the deepest part of him, Joe swept her close. For a breathless moment they looked into each other’s eyes. He was about to kiss her when there was a knock at the door.

  Harry, Joe’s foreman, walked in without waiting for a response. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen Joe—” He stopped abruptly. “Oh, sorry,” he said, flustered and eager to make his escape.

  “No problem,” Cait assured him. “We’re married. We have been for years and years.”

  Joe was chuckling as his mouth settled over hers, and in a single kiss he wiped out all the doubts and misgivings, replacing them with promises and thrills.

  Epilogue

  The robust sound of organ music surged through the Seattle church as Cait walked slowly down the center aisle, her feet moving in time to the traditional music. As the maid of honor, Lindy stood to one side of the altar while Joe and his brother, who was serving as best man, waited on the other. The church was decorated with poinsettias and Christmas greenery, accented by white roses.

  Cait’s brother, Martin, stood directly ahead of her. He smiled at Cait as the assembly rose and she came down the aisle, her heart overflowing with happiness.

  Cait and Joe had planned this day, their Christmas wedding, for months. If there’d been any lingering doubts that Joe really loved her, they were long gone. He wasn’t the type of man who expressed his love with flowery words and gifts. But Cait had known that from the first. He’d insisted on building their home before the wedding and they’d spent countless hours going over the architect’s plans. Cait was helping Joe with his accounting and would be taking over the task full-time when they started their family. Which would be soon. The way Cait figured it, she’d be pregnant by next Christmas.

  But before they began their real life together, they’d enjoy a perfect honeymoon in New Zealand. He’d wanted to surprise her with the trip, but Cait had needed a passport. They’d only be gone two weeks, which was all the time Joe could afford to take, since he had several large projects coming up.

  As the organ concluded the “Wedding March,” Cait handed her bouquet to Lindy and placed her hands in Joe’s. He smiled down on her as if he’d never seen a more beautiful woman in his life. Judging by the look on his face, Cait knew he could hardly keep from kissing her right then and there.

  “Dearly beloved,” Martin said, stepping forward, “we are gathered here today in the sight of God and man to celebrate the love of Joseph James Rockwell and Caitlin Rose Marshall.”

  Cait’s eyes locked with Joe’s. She did love him, so muc
h that her heart felt close to bursting. After all these months of waiting for this moment, Cait was sure she’d be so nervous her voice would falter. That didn’t happen. She’d never felt more confident of anything than her feelings for Joe and his for her. Cait’s voice rang out strong and clear, as did Joe’s.

  As they exchanged the rings, Cait could hear her mother and Joe’s weeping softly in the background. But these were tears of shared happiness. The two women had renewed their friendship and were excited about the prospect of grandchildren.

  Cait waited for the moment when Martin would tell Joe he could kiss his bride. Instead he closed his Bible, reverently set it aside, and said, “Joseph James Rockwell, do you have the baseball cards with you?”

  “I do.”

  Cait looked at the two men as if they’d both lost their minds. Joe reached inside his tuxedo jacket and produced two flashy baseball cards.

  “You may give them to your bride.”

  With a dramatic flourish, Joe did as Martin instructed. Cait stared down at the two cards and grinned broadly.

  “You may now kiss the bride,” Martin declared.

  Joe was more than happy to comply.

  WHEN CHRISTMAS COMES

  For my cousin Paula Bearson, with gratitude.

  And special thanks to writer and friend Ann DeFee.

  Chapter One

  “What do you mean you won’t be home for Christmas?” Emily Springer was sure she couldn’t have heard correctly. She pressed the telephone receiver harder against her ear, as though that would clarify her daughter’s words.

  “Mom, I know you’re disappointed….”

  That didn’t even begin to cover it. Emily had scraped and sacrificed in order to save airfare home for her only daughter, a student at Harvard. They always spent the holidays together, and now Heather was telling her she wouldn’t be back for Christmas.

  “What could possibly be more important than Christmas with your family?” Emily asked, struggling to hide her distress.

  Her daughter hesitated. “It’s just that I’ve got so much going on during those two weeks. I’d love to be home with you, I really would, but…I can’t.”

  Emily swallowed past the lump in her throat. Heather was twenty-one; Emily realized her daughter was becoming an independent adult, but for the last eleven years it had been just the two of them. The thought of being separated from her only child over Christmas brought tears to her eyes.

  “You’ve got all the neighbor kids to spoil,” Heather continued.

  Yes, the six Kennedy children would be more than happy to gobble up Emily’s homemade cookies, candies and other traditional holiday treats. But it wouldn’t be the same.

  “I was home a few months ago,” Heather reminded her next.

  Emily opened her mouth to argue. True, her daughter had spent the summer in Leavenworth, but she’d been busy working and saving money for school. If she wasn’t at her library job, she was with her friends. Emily knew that Heather had her own life now, her own friends, her own priorities and plans. That was to be expected and natural, and Emily told herself she should be proud. But spending Christmas on opposite sides of the country was simply too hard—especially for the two of them, who’d once been so close.

  “What about the money I saved for your airfare?” Emily asked lamely, as if that would change anything.

  “I’ll fly out for Easter, Mom. I’ll use it then.”

  Easter was months away, and Emily didn’t know if she could last that long. This was dreadful. Three weeks before Christmas, and she’d lost every shred of holiday spirit.

  “I have to hang up now, Mom.”

  “I know, but…can’t we talk about this? I mean, there’s got to be a way for us to be together.”

  Heather hesitated once more. “You’ll be fine without me.”

  “Of course I will,” Emily said, dredging up the remnants of her pride. The last thing she wanted was to look pathetic to her daughter—or to heap on the guilt—so she spoke with an enthusiasm she didn’t feel. Disappointment pounded through her with every beat of her heart. She had to remember she wasn’t the only one who’d be alone, though. Heather would be missing out, too. “What about you?” Emily asked. Caught up in her own distress, she hadn’t been thinking about her daughter’s feelings. “Will you be all alone?”

  “For Christmas, you mean?” Heather said. Her voice fell slightly, and it sounded as if she too was putting on a brave front. “I have friends here, and I’ll probably get together with them—but it won’t be the same.”

  That had been Emily’s reaction: It won’t be the same. This Christmas marked the beginning of a new stage in their relationship. It was inevitable—but Christmas was still Christmas, and she vowed that wherever Heather was in future years, they’d spend the holiday together. Emily squared her shoulders. “We’ll make it through this,” she said stoutly.

  “Of course we will.”

  “I’ll be in touch soon,” Emily promised.

  “I knew you’d be a trouper about this, Mom.”

  Heather actually seemed proud of her, but Emily was no heroine. After a brief farewell, she placed the portable phone back in the charger and slumped into the closest chair.

  Moping around, Emily tried to fight off a sense of depression that had begun to descend. She couldn’t concentrate on anything, too restless to read or watch TV. The house felt…bleak. Uncharacteristically so. Maybe because she hadn’t put up the Christmas decorations, knowing how much Heather loved helping her.

  They had their own traditions. Heather always decorated the fireplace mantel, starting with her favorite piece, a small almost-antique angel that had belonged to Emily’s mother. While she did that, Emily worked on the windowsills around the dining room, arranging garlands, candles and poinsettias. Then together, using the ornaments Emily had collected over the years, they’d decorate the Christmas tree. Not an artificial one, either, despite warnings that they were safer than fresh trees.

  It sometimes took them half a day to choose their Christmas tree. Leavenworth was a small Washington town tucked in the foothills of the Cascade Mountains, and it offered a stunning array of firs and pines.

  This year, without Heather, there would be no tree. Emily wouldn’t bother. Really, why go to that much effort when she’d be the only one there to enjoy it. Why decorate the house at all?

  This Christmas was destined to be her worst since Peter had died. Her husband had been killed in a logging accident eleven years earlier. Before his death, her life had been idyllic—exactly what she’d wanted it to be. They’d been high-school sweethearts and married the summer after graduation. From the start, their marriage was close and companionable. A year later Heather had arrived. Peter had supported Emily’s efforts to obtain her teaching degree and they’d postponed adding to their family. The three of them had been contented, happy with their little household—and then, overnight, her entire world had collapsed.

  Peter’s life insurance had paid for the funeral and al lowed her to deal with the financial chaos. Emily had invested the funds wisely; she’d also continued with her job as a kindergarten teacher. She and Heather were as close as a mother and daughter could be. In her heart, Emily knew Peter would have been so proud of Heather.

  The scholarship to Harvard was well deserved but it wasn’t enough to meet all of Heather’s expenses. Emily periodically cashed in some of her investments to pay her daughter’s living costs—her dorm room, her transportation, her textbooks and entertainment. Emily lived frugally, and her one and only extravagance was Christmas. For the last two years, they’d somehow managed to be together even though Heather had moved to Boston. Now this…

  Still overwhelmed by her disappointment, Emily wandered into the study and stared at the blank computer screen. Her friend Faith would understand how she felt. Faith would give her the sympathy she needed. They communicated frequently via e-mail. Although Faith was ten years younger, they’d become good friends. They were both teachers; Fa
ith had done her student teaching in Leavenworth and they’d stayed in touch.

  Faith—braver than Emily—taught junior-high literature. Emily cringed at the thought of not only facing a hundred thirteen-year-olds every school day but trying to interest them in things like poetry. Divorced for the past five years, Faith lived in the Oakland Bay area of San Francisco.

  This news about Heather’s change in plans couldn’t be delivered by e-mail, Emily decided. She needed immediate comfort. She needed Faith to assure her that she could get through the holidays by herself.

  She reached for the phone and hit speed dial for Faith’s number. Her one hope was that Faith would be home on a Sunday afternoon—and to Emily’s relief, Faith snatched up the receiver after the second ring.

  “Hi! It’s Emily,” she said, doing her best to sound cheerful.

  “What’s wrong?”

  How well Faith knew her. In a flood of emotion, Emily spilled out everything Heather had told her.

  “She’s got a boyfriend,” Faith announced as if it were a foregone conclusion.

  “Well, she has mentioned a boy named Ben a few times, but the relationship doesn’t sound serious.”

  “Don’t you believe it!”

  Faith tended to be something of a cynic, especially when it came to relationships. Emily didn’t blame her; Faith had married her college boyfriend and stayed in the marriage for five miserable years. She’d moved to Leavenworth shortly after her divorce. Her connection with Emily had been forged during a time of loneliness, and they’d each found solace in their friendship.

  “I’m sure Heather would tell me if this had to do with a man in her life,” Emily said fretfully, “but she didn’t say one word. It’s school and work and all the pressures. I understand, or at least I’m trying to, but I feel so…so cheated.”

  “Those are just excuses. Trust me, there’s a man involved.”

  Not wanting to accept it but unwilling to argue the point, Emily sighed deeply. “Boyfriend or not,” she muttered, “I’ll be alone over the holidays. How can I possibly celebrate Christmas by myself?”