Holly, Ivy, & Intrigue

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Holly, Ivy, & Intrigue Page 11

by Celebrate Lit Publishing


  “Mrs. Bergmann’s driving skills are worse than mine, so that left Mr. Bergmann, Karen, and Jack. When Mr. Bergmann confessed to the crimes, I thought there wouldn’t be enough time for him to shoot at my door and make it to his place in time to give Liam keys to the car. And Mr. Bergmann is a great shot. If he’d shot at my brother, Liam wouldn’t have been among the living.” Brianna shuddered.

  Richard’s hand covered hers, and he leaned even closer to her.

  Brianna continued, “Bergmann was afraid the police would’ve figured Porter’s connection to Jack. So, he did his best to protect his son.”

  “And here I thought I was a PI.” Richard laced his fingers through hers.

  Her pulse skyrocketed. “I know how we do stupid things for those we love.” Like she’d done to protect Liam or rescue him from Jack.

  “I have to tell you something.” The expression of Richard’s dark eyes was guarded. “I… found your birth parents.”

  She jerked back in her bed. “You what?”

  Richard didn’t let her hand go. “You talked so much about how you’d love to have a family. Your birth father wants to see you.”

  A shiver went through Brianna’s body. “My father… My mother doesn’t want to hear about me or Liam?”

  Richard looked away. “I’m sorry. She doesn’t. Your parents went their separate ways before your dad knew your mother was pregnant. She married and had children. He married, as well, and has two daughters. He told them about you. They all want to get to know you better and spend holidays with you. Oh, and one of the daughters, Albina, is a lawyer.”

  A lawyer who could hopefully help Liam, though he wasn’t Albina’s half-brother. Brianna and Liam had different dads. That much she knew from her family history.

  Brianna tried to take in the news. “Have you ever… looked for your parents?”

  “I did. They wanted nothing to do with me.”

  “I’m sorry.” His touch gave her strength. Maybe this was the best gift from God she could ask for. She’d longed to spend Christmas with the family for so many years.

  “I’ll give it a try. If…” She hesitated. “If you’ll be there with me.”

  “Brianna…” Richard’s gaze became intense. The scent of his cologne drifted to her.

  Her heart was beating so wildly she thought it was about to break her rib cage. “Yes?”

  A knock on the door was followed by a nurse coming in.

  Richard shifted back.

  Brianna swallowed her disappointment.

  The moment was gone, and she was afraid she’d never get it back and even more afraid that she would.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Brianna scanned her father’s spacious living room, her gaze stopping at a nativity scene, placed on a side table.

  She sent up a prayer of gratitude.

  For being given the gift of salvation.

  For being alive.

  For finally having a family.

  Yes, she missed Liam with all her heart. But at least he was alive, and she finally realized it was time to stop raising him. The meeting with him that day had been difficult, heart-wrenching, even though her half-sister, Albina, had been present as his lawyer. But he seemed to mature. He said he had to take the responsibility for his actions. Though it was sad that it took something like this to change him, she had hopes of him finally turning into a responsible adult.

  God was working through his heart and soul.

  She sensed that in the openness of Liam’s gaze, in his squared shoulders, in the way he talked now, and she hoped with all her being that she was right.

  And God was working through her heart and soul, too, filling them with love and forgiveness.

  Brianna’s gaze locked with Richard’s. He was talking to her father, but she caught him staring at her several times. Her cheeks burned, and she looked away.

  Brianna’s half-sister, Albina, rushed to her and gave her a tight hug. “I’m so glad you’re part of our family! I always wanted to have another sister.”

  Brianna hugged her back awkwardly, adjusting to the idea of an instant family who’d surprisingly welcomed her with open arms. “Thank you for accepting me. Do you need help in the kitchen?” She’d asked that before, but had been told no, so she’d just brought a store-bought pecan pie.

  “No. Relax. Make yourself at home. Everything is done.” Albina waved to the table in the dining room that emanated delicious scents. “Except for turkey. Dad!” Albina yelled. “Turkey is probably ready.”

  Dad.

  Someday Brianna might call him that, too.

  The older man left for the kitchen.

  As Brianna took in the happy gathering, her heart squeezed until the pain left her breathless. The horrible loneliness without Liam and Karen shook her to the core. She’d tried to reach out to Karen several times, but her friend wouldn’t take her calls.

  If not for Brianna insisting on investigating Porter’s murder, Karen wouldn’t be suffering for what her brother had done. Brianna had a stab of guilt.

  “Blaming yourself for something that isn’t your fault again?” Richard’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

  “What do you mean?” Brianna asked even though she could guess the answer.

  Richard’s gaze held hers. “I know you well. You always blamed yourself for Liam going off the right path now and then. You blamed yourself when foster parents gave up on you and Liam, though it was usually Liam’s fault. Now you blame yourself for Karen’s pain, even though it’s her brother who caused it. You can’t control other people.”

  Brianna froze. How could she not realize it before? It was as if Richard clicked on a light switch, making her see in the darkness. “You’re right. Only God can change them. I can’t. I can just pray for them and be there for them when they need me.” She stepped closer to Richard. “Would you pray with me?”

  He’d gone to church with her today, and they’d sat in the pew with Brianna’s father, half-sisters, stepmother, and grandmother. While Richard hadn’t sung hymns along with the rest of the congregation, he’d listened attentively.

  Dear Lord, please help me lead Richard to You. In Jesus’s holy name. Amen.

  “Yes, I’ll pray with you. But not today,” Richard finally said.

  She’d take that.

  Her father returned, carrying a huge plate with the turkey that he placed in the middle of the table.

  “Everybody, let’s gather in a circle,” Albina said.

  People made a circle and held hands. Brianna slipped her left hand into Albina’s, and her right one into Richard’s. His fingers enveloped hers, and a new feeling filled her.

  Dear Heavenly Father, please give me and Richard a chance to be together.

  The prayer appeared in her mind unexpectedly.

  She couldn’t change Richard, change his ways.

  But God could.

  “Brianna, would you like to say grace?” her father said.

  Brianna gathered her scattered thoughts.

  “Dear Lord, as we celebrate the birth of Your Son, Jesus Christ, we thank You for the amazing gift of salvation. We thank You for all Your abundant blessings. We thank You for keeping us safe from harm. Please keep us and our beloved ones safe in Your care. Please bless this food. And… Please help people who are hurting, lost, and abandoned. Please help Karen and her family in this difficult time. We ask this in the holy name of Jesus Christ. Amen.”

  “Amen,” everybody else said.

  Richard said it, too.

  Brianna stilled, then smiled at him.

  As they walked to the table, he pulled the chair for her.

  “A woman can get used to such treatment,” Brianna said as she sat down. “I’m going to miss it when I leave.” Her throat constricted for a moment. Leaving Richard meant leaving her heart behind, and her rib cage squeezed.

  No, she shouldn’t feel this way.

  Today was a happy day, and she thanked the Lord for it.

  For tomorrow, she’
ll rely on God.

  “When do you leave?” Richard poured ginger ale, her favorite drink, into her flute.

  He really did know her well. She needed to make an extra effort to hide how much he meant to her. She knew now that occasional meetings and phone conversations weren’t enough any longer. At least not for her.

  Brianna took a sip of her drink. “Tomorrow. Albina invited me to stay longer, but I want to be there for Karen. Whenever she starts talking to me again. You know, I’ll miss you,” she blurted out.

  So much for hiding her true feelings.

  “Miss me? Maybe I can do something about that.” He smiled. “Would you like to eat?”

  Brianna scanned the table. “Hmmm. Turkey, of course. Mashed potatoes. Corn. A little stuffing. Salad…” She returned his smile. Some things might change, after all.

  Thank You, Lord.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  About an hour later, Brianna stared out the window in her father’s library and prayed. Worry about her brother pierced her heart.

  But she had her faith.

  Her newfound family and she celebrated the birth of Jesus Christ, and it filled her with joy and hope.

  Karen had called about fifteen minutes ago, and Brianna had slipped away to an empty room to take the call. Karen had apologized and had sobbed into the phone, and Brianna knew she needed to go back to comfort her friend. Brianna suppressed a sigh, already feeling the sharp pain of missing Richard.

  She prayed for Karen and her family.

  “Are you okay, dear?” Her grandmother’s voice reached her from the door.

  “Yes, of course.” Brianna turned around, still hardly believing she had a grandma.

  Her grandmother wobbled to her. “You must love books.”

  Brianna nodded. “I do.”

  The older woman perched up her glasses. “It’s a lot of fun to read about adventures. Let me guess. You’re a librarian.”

  Brianna gasped. “Good guess. I am.”

  “I thought I might find you here.” Richard entered the room.

  “Welcome to the family.” The older woman patted her hand.

  “Thank you.” Brianna’s heart warmed.

  “Merry Christmas!” The older woman headed out of the room.

  “Merry Christmas!” Brianna’s heart swelled in her chest as she realized she said those words to her grandmother for the first time. She recalled the elderly couple in the airport. Her dreams really had come true.

  Then Brianna turned to Richard. Just the sight of him made her pulse quicken.

  “Merry Christmas!” He smiled at her.

  “Merry Christmas!” She returned the smile.

  “You said you wanted to leave the day after tomorrow, so I bought tickets.”

  Brianna’s stomach tied into a knot as she looked at Richard. “Trying to get rid of me already?” Then it dawned on her. “Tickets, like in plural?”

  He nodded. “I’d love to join you for New Year’s. Of course, if I get invited.” He stepped closer to her.

  Their gazes met and held.

  Brianna forgot to breathe.

  “Well, do I?” He brushed a strand of hair away from her face.

  She did a sharp breath intake at his touch. “Do you what?”

  “Get invited?”

  “Of course.”

  He dipped his head. “We have a big problem, though. I don’t think I can be your big brother any longer.”

  “Why?” Brianna swallowed hard. Was he leaving her? But hadn’t he just said he’d wanted to join her for New Year’s?

  “Because what I feel for you isn’t brotherly feelings, and I can’t hide it anymore.” He studied her, as if her next words mattered to him very much.

  “Well, it’s about time!” Brianna slipped her arms around his neck.

  Richard chuckled, and when he drew her closer, time stood still.

  ~Thank you for reading.~

  Thank you for reading Holiday Pursuit. If you write even several words on Amazon or Goodreads, it will mean a lot to me. I’m grateful to every person who reads my books, and every review matters to me.

  If you liked Brianna’s story, I hope you might enjoy my other books.

  I do love hearing from readers, and if you email me at [email protected], or visit me on Goodreads, Facebook, or Twitter, you’ll make my day. For giveaways, news, and recipes, please sign up for my newsletter.

  Thank you very much for sharing your time with me and my books, and I hope we’ll meet again.

  Blessings,

  Alexa

  A HOLIDAY INTRUDER

  By

  Denise Weimer

  CHAPTER ONE

  Scrolling through the week’s receipts for The Flea An’Tweak on her computer, Kelsey Jordan released a sigh.

  “Here it is the last Friday in November, and I can choose between paying my December rent or my employee,” she mumbled. Her long, dark curls tumbled over her face as she dropped her head in a moment of defeat.

  She’d been in her new location on the square of the historic town of Dahlonega, Georgia, for less than a year, and she already stared failure in the face. Miners struck it rich in these mountains well before the California Gold Rush, but it didn’t look like Kelsey’s luck with the tourists and locals would pan out.

  “It’s gonna be okay, Kels.”

  The voice of her best friend and business partner made Kelsey look up. Angel Willingham stood in front of the register, her arms full of merchandise for the sidewalk table. Her wide, thin lips turned up in a wry smile, accented by her prominent nose and the swinging points of her strawberry blonde bob.

  “I never should’ve signed that long-term lease just to get on the square. I should have known antique stores aren’t like other businesses. If people keep seeing the same stuff, they stop coming back. And we don’t have cash flow to turn over big ticket items.”

  “But this is the first day of the holiday season with extended hours. Think of what’s ahead: the lighting of the square tonight, Santa, the Christmas parade and The Dahlonega Dash. Something every weekend. And look how cute the window is after I added the fabric snowflakes.”

  Kelsey turned her attention to the Christmas-themed dining room display in tones of gold and distressed white. Clear lights twinkled against the gray chill of the December twilight. “It’s great, Angel.”

  The table featured antique china and crystal as well as linens made from Angel’s stash of vintage fabrics, trimmed with tatting and lace from her own hand. The young woman’s skill with a needle, inherited from her Tennessee grandmother, had first caught Kelsey’s eye when they both set up booths at trade shows right out of college. When Kelsey acquired more space on the square, the first thing she’d done was ask her friend to set up Angel’s Fabriganza in a quarter of it.

  Satisfied, Angel nodded and started for the door.

  “Put some of your stuff out there,” Kelsey called after her. “Some of the knit scarves and hats.”

  Kelsey leaned back in her tall chair and stretched the taut muscles of her back. Glancing around, she agreed the store looked better than ever. She grouped similar items by type and color and added seasonal touches to her upcycled, shabby chic-style creations. But she didn’t want to burst her friend’s bubble by reminding her that all the cute stuff perched on furniture that hadn’t moved in months.

  She uncapped her water bottle and took a sip—but almost spilled it when Angel dashed back inside and grabbed her arm. “You need to do the sidewalk display,” the tall, thin girl insisted in a low voice that vibrated with excitement.

  Kelsey allowed herself to be led toward the door. “Why?”

  “Because the Jackson family just sat on the bench outside the shop.”

  “The Jacksons? … Oh.”

  Angel nodded. Last week she’d read Kelsey the obit for eighty-five-year-old Frank Turpin, Callahan Jackson’s stepfather. “They say his barn’s a picker’s delight.”

  Kelsey looked toward the sidewalk, where bank
branch president Callahan and his wife Margaret settled on the bench, sipping coffee. Their two grown sons, Trent and Tyler, stood nearby, their sandy heads and athletic physiques blocking Kelsey’s view of the 1836 brick courthouse central to the square. Trent’s blonde wife offered their two-year-old daughter a bite of fudge. Clad in a red coat, with curly pony tails tied with ribbon, the toddler leaned from her Uncle Tyler’s arms to accept the offering like a bird from its nest. The sight of Tyler’s handsome, laughing face clenched Kelsey’s stomach into a fist.

  “They’re so … intimidating.”

  “Didn’t you go to the University of North Georgia with Tyler?”

  Kelsey swallowed. “I wouldn’t say ‘with.’ We hardly moved in the same circles.”

  “I thought you said you arranged for Miss Hannah to tutor him.”

  Kelsey lived above Miss Hannah’s detached garage, but her connection to the retired English professor predated the contact with Tyler Jackson, UNG’s former star pitcher in danger of losing his baseball scholarship. It went back to the spinster’s intervention in the life of Kelsey’s father, when William Jordan had been an angry and rebellious cadet at the state-sponsored military and agricultural school then called North Georgia College. Miss Margaret was the reason Kelsey attended school in Dahlonega—and stayed after graduation—although her parents remained at Fort Hood, Texas.

  “I doubt he remembers that.”

  “Well, his mother is super nice. Talk to her.” Angel gave her a little shove.

  Kelsey’s stumbling arrival on the brick sidewalk attracted Tyler’s notice. “Hey,” he said with a brief smile, before he turned back around.

  Trent didn’t take his eyes off the university’s jazz band playing “Home for the Holidays” on the courthouse lawn, although he looked bored with the performance. Kelsey bit her lip. Figured. He never looked at anyone when he drove around town in his big “Chestatee River Excursions” truck. Everybody knew Trent continued his family’s tradition of success with his canoeing, kayaking and tubing company, and ever since graduation, Tyler worked with Trent.

 

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