Yuletide Hearts

by Ruth Logan Herne

  “I barely know the guy,” Callie protested.

  Hannah leaned closer, grinning. “I think that must be one of their special gifts, honey. And I can’t say I’m a bit sorry. But because they are aggravating, industrious, somewhat know-it-all men…”

  “With a great sense of humor.”

  Hannah acknowledged that with a brisk nod. “Call me if you need me. Or if you just want girlfriend time.”

  “Aren’t you busy planning a wedding?”

  Hannah laughed and lowered her voice as others approached. “Dana took over.”

  Callie grinned. Jeff’s mother was well-known throughout town, a pillar of the community, a stalwart, God-loving woman unafraid to get dirty or put her hand to any task.

  “Leaving me free to teach science.” Hannah tipped another smile Callie’s way. “And see my fiancé.”

  “Perfect.”

  “It is.” Hannah gave Callie’s hand a light squeeze. “And Matt, well…” Her smile deepened. “Dana raves about him, and I’d trust her opinion on anything. I’m just getting to know him myself, but he seems like one special guy.”

  Callie didn’t need that reminder. Still, it was nice to see the approval and appreciation in Hannah’s eyes because Matt was sharing their home, their food, their table. She faltered, then dropped her gaze to Hannah’s hands, Hannah’s soft skin tweaking her. “Do manicures help?”

  “Help?”

  Heat rumbled up from somewhere deep inside Callie. Not that she cared about what her hands looked like, but soft skin, pretty nails…

  “My hands take a beating,” she confessed. As committee members started to settle into seats, she held up her hands. “Construction work is tough and this cold, dry weather isn’t exactly friendly to the skin.”

  Hannah tilted her head, smiled and winked. “You need a little Meredith time.”

  Callie frowned. “Jeff’s sister?”

  “Jeff’s sister ran a posh spa in Maryland until a month or two ago. Let me set up an appointment for you.”

  Callie shook her head. No way could she justify spending money on a frivolity like that when cash was so tight.

  “And don’t worry about the money,” Hannah added as if reading her mind. “Meredith’s a sweetheart and she’ll do it just to help her brother’s friend. We can do it at Dana’s place. Or mine.”

  “Um…”

  Hannah’s laugh said she realized she’d railroaded Callie and didn’t care. Callie had never met Meredith Brennan, but she knew Hannah. Trusted her. She had a hard time imagining people spending hard-earned money on fancy nails, a true skeptic when it came to anything construed as froufrou.

  Except a great pair of heels. Those she understood.

  The press of committee members pushed her back into meeting mode, a good thing when talking about Matt just made it easier to think about Matt. Better for both of them to keep him out of sight, out of mind.

  And definitely better from a paycheck perspective.

  “I think the rain will shut down roofing tomorrow,” Matt announced the next evening. He set two bags of groceries on the counter and laughed when Jake zeroed in on the Christmas tree snack cakes.

  “I love these!” Jake exclaimed, eyes wide. “Mom, can I—”

  “First, no, it’s too close to supper. And second, they’re Matt’s, not ours.”

  “Rule number one,” Matt said. “Any food I buy is up for grabs.”

  “Sweet.” Jake mimicked Matt’s grin and Matt high-fived him like they’d put one over on her.

  “Still, not before dinner. Either of you.”

  Matt sent her a look across the room, a look that said more than words. He gripped Jake’s shoulder and nodded toward the homework table. “If you’ve got homework, I’d be glad to help.”

  “Sure.”

  “He’s been here two days and already he’s replacing me?” Callie asked Jake, a hand to her heart, feigning hurt.

  “That way you can have some downtime after supper,” Matt advised. “Maybe we can play Yahtzee. Or UNO.” He scanned the game shelf. “But watch out if you take me on in war.” He pumped up his chest and drew his shoulders back. “Me being a soldier and all.”

  “Mom was a soldier, too,” Jake chattered as he pulled his agenda and binder out of his book bag and laid them on the window table. “So was my dad.”

  Callie kept her wince hidden, but something about Matt’s analytical gaze said he saw too much. He carried the discerning air of a marine, and while that should be a comfort, Callie didn’t need anyone discerning too much. Not now, not ever.

  She lifted the soup pot lid and breathed deep before spearing a carrot. “Almost done, so you guys have about fifteen minutes. Because I’ve been replaced, that is.”

  “Only temporarily.” Matt flashed her a teasing grin, but his words reminded her this was a short-lived setup, not a permanent convenience.

  She’d tried ignoring him for the first twenty-four hours he lived there.

  Fat chance.

  Then she tried treating him like a brother.

  That didn’t even come close to working.

  Friends, she decided that morning. Good friends.

  They’d worked side-by-side all day and now had only two houses left to roof. With Thanksgiving approaching, the guys would need time to be with their families.

  The weather forecast didn’t look great, and each day meant the odds against them were growing. They needed two solid days, maybe three of decent weather.

  God, please, asking you to govern the weather seems a little bossy with all you’ve got going, but please… Help us get these last two homes covered.

  “If it’s raining we can install windows.”

  Matt nodded, pointed out a problem to Jake and turned her way. “Exactly what I was thinking. That way we don’t lose time and prevent further damage. And the Tyvek wrap will help keep external walls from getting damaged over the winter if we can’t side them right away.”

  Not getting them sided would disappoint him. He’d laid out his plans the first night in their house, showing the time line to Hank and Callie after Jake had gone to bed.

  Hank had eyed the plans and made a skeptical face. “It works if everything goes perfectly.”

  “Exactly.”

  “So if it doesn’t,” Hank continued, turning a frank look Matt’s way, “We prioritize. Roofing. Tyvek. Windows. Get them sealed as best we can. Then interior work over the winter won’t suffer damage.”

  “And with a four-month window to get the Tyvek covered,” Matt observed, “we can apply siding when the weather starts to ease.”

  “Yes.” Matt’s respect for the manufacturer’s guidelines earned him Hank’s approval. “Warranties remain in effect and the town doesn’t cite us for not following code.” Hank’s expression changed as he realized what he’d said. “You, I mean. Not us.”

  Matt had offered him a straight look. “I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you, Hank. Your vision. Your plans. Your project. Having you on board makes my life a whole lot easier right now. I’d be foolish not to realize that, and I finished being foolish a long time ago.”

  Matt’s words eased her father’s strained expression, and Callie blessed him for guarding the older man’s ego. Hank’s self-esteem had taken a beating these last two years, first from a debilitating and somewhat embarrassing illness that left him wearing a colostomy pouch, followed by losing the business he’d spent thirty years building. And because Callie had worked for Hank’s company, the double loss of income spelled near disaster.

  Matt’s investment in Cobbled Creek changed all that.

  His presence in their home was changing more than her business perspective, but she’d made a firm decision to keep her distance. Her father and son had been through enough, and adding romantic drama to an already-tense life would be foolhardy. Hadn’t Matt just mentioned how he’d stopped doing foolish long ago?

  Well, so had she, about the time Dustin walked out leaving her with an eight-month
-old baby and little money.

  Matt’s engaging laugh drew her attention to the man and boy profiled in the window, heads bent as Jake worked out a word problem. Matt fist-pumped when Jake got the answer right, and Jake’s answering grin reaffirmed what Callie had shared with her father the week before. Jake didn’t know his dad enough to miss him, but he missed having a dad. That was evident in the shine he took to Matt, the way he tried to emulate Matt’s moves on a house. If she wasn’t careful, Jake would fall in love with the square-shouldered, sturdy builder and have his heart broken once Cobbled Creek was complete.

  She couldn’t let that happen, but she couldn’t deny Jake the chance to hang with Matt, talk with him. Chat with him. Matt’s positive influence was good for Jake. She recognized that. And while life handed out good and bad, some rough turns could be character-building. A boy didn’t grow to be a man without scraping a few knees, and Jake was no exception.

  “Done.” Matt grinned at the boy, satisfaction lighting his face.

  “Done.” Jake echoed, exuberant. He glanced at the clock. “And we did it quicker than Mom does. She talks a lot.”

  “I do not.”

  Matt held his hands up in surrender, his eyes bright with humor. “I didn’t say it.” He jerked a thumb Jake’s way. “He did.”

  “’Cause it’s true,” Jake added as he put his notebook away.

  “She’s mighty quiet on those rooftops,” Matt noted as he withdrew plates and bowls for the table. “Hard to imagine her a chatterbox here.”

  Callie sent him a faux-withering look. “I talk as needed.”

  “And then some,” offered the boy.

  “Jake.”

  He laughed and dashed off to the living room to call Hank and Buck.

  Callie eyed their study table and shifted her gaze to Matt as she piled biscuits into a napkin-lined basket. “He might be right. I tend to go overboard, always explaining. Showing him the whys and wherefores.”

  “That’s not a bad thing.” Matt took the basket from her, lifted it to his nose and breathed deep, appreciation brightening his dark eyes. “These smell wonderful.”

  She grinned. “Good change of subject.”

  “I do what I can, ma’am.”

  Callie paused, one hand reaching for the soup kettle, Matt’s words and tone sparking a memory of life in the service. Soldierly reparté.

  “You okay?” Matt gazed at her, puzzled, a brow thrust up.

  “Fine.” Callie shrugged, grabbed the soup with both hands and shook her head. “Just a déjà vu moment.”

  Matt set out spoons and butter knives like he’d been setting tables all his life, but the look he sent her was only half-teasing and not at all unappreciated. “Cal, trust me on this. If we’d met before, I’d have remembered.”

  She felt the blush rise from her chest, staining her face and neck, and despite her best military ways, she couldn’t tamp it down. “Artful flattery, marine.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He smiled across the table as the older men lumbered through from the living room. “Two tours in Iraq taught me to plan for the future but live in the moment.”

  “Good advice, son.” Hank nodded approval as he sank into the chair, breathing deep. “Cal, this smells wonderful.”

  “It does,” Buck chimed in. “And I grabbed some ice cream this morning. It’s in the freezer on the porch. I thought someone might like a sundae tonight.” He targeted Jake with a grin of appreciation. “There’s fudge sauce in the cupboard ’longside the sink. And whipped cream in the fridge.”

  Jake beamed. “Thanks, Buck. I thought you forgot.”

  “No, sir, I did not.” Buck ladled his bowl of soup, set it down and passed the ladle on to Hank. “When this old soldier makes a promise, he keeps it and you worked hard to make that honor roll.”

  “He sure did.” Hank smiled approval at the boy. “Hard work pays off. Got your homework done already?”

  Jake waved toward Matt. “Matt helped me while Mom finished supper.”

  “Ah.”

  Her father’s partial word said a lot, maybe too much, but Matt took it in stride. “The smell of this soup prevailed on me, sir. A good Marine does what he must to facilitate great food.”

  “Amen to that,” added Buck. “And speakin’ of amens, if you’d bless this food, Hank, we could commence to eatin’ and I for one am mighty hungry after workin’ rooftops all day.”

  Hank offered his typical short, clipped blessing and Callie sent him an “Are you kidding me?” look.

  He grinned and dipped his spoon into his soup. “No need to look at me like that, daughter, I spent my day praying on that rooftop. God understands short and sweet as well as he does long and drawn out.”

  “Can’t have the biscuits cooling off,” Matt chimed in reasonably.

  “Would be a cryin’ shame,” added Buck as he slathered butter across his. “Though Callie’s biscuits are fine hot or cold.”

  “A good selling point,” Matt noted, grinning.

  “Yet totally unnecessary when nothing’s on the market.” Callie kept her tone light but directed a pointed gaze at Matt.

  “Duly noted.”

  “Good.”

  “Did they come and switch up those shingles for number thirty-one?” Hank asked Matt, shifting the subject to Cobbled Creek, a change Callie welcomed.

  “First thing in the morning. I’m glad you caught the mistake, Hank.” Matt shook his head. “I can’t believe I almost missed it.”

  “The three and the eight in the code looked mighty similar, but gray shingles in the midst of all these other homes?” Hank made a face. “That would have been bad. This way they’re here in time and we don’t waste a day. If the rain holds off.”

  “And I can be here only Monday and Tuesday next week,” Buck explained, his tone reluctant. “We’re headin’ down to the daughter’s place for Thanksgiving and won’t be back until Saturday. Mother’s got to have her shopping day with Jeannine while Bob and I hang out with the kids on Friday.”

  “Family time’s important.” Callie smiled at Buck, then shoulder nudged him lightly. “And you know you love wrestling with those boys.”

  “Though they’re too big for that now,” Buck admitted. “Tim’s in sixth grade, and Tyler’s a freshman in high school this year. Seems funny to have them that grown.”

  “Family is meant to be enjoyed,” Hank assured him as he went back to the soup pot for seconds. “The good Lord wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  Hank’s choice of expression struck Matt.

  Nothing in his family had been enjoyable. Hank’s words shone a new perspective on his parents’ choices. Neither one held any belief system holy or sacred, neither one invested time in anything but themselves. Matt hadn’t known the warmth of a candlelit church service until Gus took charge of him, and it took the rough stint in juvie to put him back on track.

  But he’d done it. Finally. With help from his beloved grandfather.

  He felt Hank’s gaze on him, measuring. Assessing. That single look said Hank knew his past and understood his present, and Hank wouldn’t have invited him to live under their roof if he didn’t trust him, right?

  But Hank knew Matt’s stepfather, which meant he knew the clutch of drama surrounding Matt’s parents. The two fathers left a legacy of drinking, gambling and womanizing. It wouldn’t be a big leap to wonder if Matt carried either man’s hard-hitting characteristics. Half the town knew Matt had been headed full-bore in that direction as a young man.

  He’d stopped that train of self-destruction, but folks had long memories. His past would intrude on the present, which meant he had to make the here and now as pristine as possible, no hassles, no hurries, no mistakes.

  And sitting at the Marek table, Matt never wanted anything more.

  “Uh-oh.”

  Callie peered at Hank as she shimmed a window from the inside while Hank and Buck adjusted the outside the following afternoon. “What?”

  Hank jutted his chin toward th
eir house, visible through the back opening. “Don’s here.”

  Callie followed his gaze. “And that’s bad because?”

  Her father made a face, then pushed out a breath that sounded long overdue. “He’s Matt’s father.”

  “He’s…” Callie paused, squinted toward the window, then faced Hank. “He’s what?”

  “Matt’s father. Stepfather, actually. In a convoluted weird kind of way.”

  “You either are or you aren’t,” Callie corrected him. “It’s a legal term. So, is he or isn’t he?”

  “Is he or isn’t he what?”

  Perfect. Just perfect.

  Callie turned toward Matt’s voice, mad at herself for talking about him when he wasn’t there. Except he was there.

  “Don’s at the house.” Hank pointed toward the road. “I was just explaining to Callie…”

  “No sense explaining what can’t be understood.” Matt rubbed his hands against his jeans, two wet stripes darkening the denim. “I lived it and I still don’t get it.”

  “I’ll go talk to him,” Hank said. He made a move toward the door and Matt caught his arm.

  “I’ll do it.”

  “But you said—”

  “I know.” Matt studied the view beyond the window, the older man climbing out of his truck, heading toward the house. “But there’s no time like the present to have this said.”

  “You sure?”

  Matt shook his head and made a face. “Not by half, but I’ll do it anyway.”

  He strode out the door, climbed into his truck and drove the quarter mile, wind-whipped rain beating on his truck, the wipers slapping up and down in furious fashion. Callie turned toward her father. “I don’t get it.”

  “Neither do I,” Hank admitted. He turned his attention back to work. “But it’s Matt’s story to tell. I just happened to know some of it.”

  She sent her father an incredulous look. “You’re not going to explain this?”

  “Nope. Sorry. Gotta ask him.”

  That wasn’t about to happen. She’d managed to keep personal conversations to a minimum so far and…

  So far? You’re on day five. Not exactly world record pace.