by Leah Atwood
“I’ll be right back,” he mumbled as he went in search of Nate. After a few minutes of looking for him, he spotted Nate on the other side of the tent attending to a customer. After Nate finished up, Alec explained the situation to him as they walked back toward his tree. Suddenly, Alec stopped in his tracks. He frowned as he looked around him. Where was his tree? Had he messed up somehow and headed back toward the wrong area?
Nate caught up with him. “Where is she?” Alec looked around for a woman with a fire red cap perched on her head. Nothing! Nowhere!
“I don’t know. She was just here. And the tree is gone,” he said, his mind whirling with the possibilities. The lovely stranger was gone. Disbelief flowed through him like a rushing river. Had she taken off with his tree?
“What’s this?” Nate bent down and picked up a crumpled envelope from the ground. The word “Nate” was scribbled on the front. Nate frowned and flicked the envelope open with his finger. He pulled out three bills and held them up. “Looks like she bought your tree,” Nate said.
“Stole it is more like it,” Alec snapped.
“Since she paid cold, hard cash for it, she didn’t really steal it,” Nate corrected, a sheepish expression etched on his face.
Alec glared at his friend. Was he defending Little Miss Grabby Hands? “It was mine. She knew I’d already purchased it. In my eyes, that’s theft.” Anger pulsed in his voice. He hated this feeling rising up within him. It wasn’t who he was or who he wanted to be. Hadn’t life as a soldier taught him that there were things way more important than this? Like the Bible told him, he wanted to be “quick to hear, slow to speak and slow to anger.”
Nate held up his hands. “I’m not about to argue with a soldier who’s bigger and stronger than me.”
The wounded expression on Nate’s face caused a feeling of remorse to bubble up inside him. None of this was his fault.
“Sorry, Nate. I didn’t mean to be sharp with you. If the tree hadn’t been meant for my folks I could probably laugh the whole thing off. After everything Pops and Mom have been through, I wanted to give them something to bring a little of the holiday spirit into their hearts. Something to remind them of family traditions.”
Because Dad might be sick again, and if he is, everything might change. And it scared him more than being in the line of duty on the other side of the world. That was his truth.
“No offense taken. Go take a look around. You’ll find something just as good,” Nate said in an upbeat tone. Alec knew Nate was probably right. There were other trees to choose from, but it bothered him that someone had bamboozled him when he’d been trying to do something nice. He’d been walking the Christian walk as his mother liked to say. And she’d taken advantage of that generosity of spirit.
“Who is she? Did you get a look at her? Do you know her name?” he growled.
“Yeah, I’ve seen her around town from time to time. She’s fairly new to Breeze Point though. I’m pretty sure she came here from overseas to live with her uncle.”
“Who’s her uncle?”
“Gene Kilcannon. And her name is Maggie, I think. Maggie Kilcannon,” Nate explained.
Alec knew Gene fairly well. He was a local fisherman who’d migrated to Cape Cod from Ireland a few years earlier. In a short period of time, he’d become a much-loved figure in the community of Breeze Point. Alec had never heard anything about him having a beautiful niece. It made sense since he’d detected a slight accent earlier. She was Irish.
Maggie Kilcannon. Somehow or other he was going to come face to face again with the feisty Christmas tree thief. And he would let her know in no uncertain terms that she’d done something underhanded. With a grunt of annoyance, he walked over to the selection of available trees. He was going to have to find another gem of a tree to bring home to his parents. He scratched his head. How had Maggie managed to carry the tree from the lot? For the first time, he noticed a trail leading from the area where the tree had been all the way to the sidewalk. Humph! Not only was she a crafty young woman, but she had a little muscle on her. Why in the world hadn’t she just picked out another tree?
He didn’t know what irritated him more. Her taking off with his Christmas tree or the fact that he found her beauty unforgettable.
**
Maggie Kilcannon’s stomach was in knots. Had she really just absconded with someone’s Christmas tree? With shaking hands, she pulled her uncle’s truck over to the side of the road and pressed her forehead against the steering wheel. What had she done? Yes, she’d left money for the tree when the man had walked away to get help, but it had still been wrong. Lord, forgive me. She’d done a rotten thing, but she’d been desperate. The kids at the hospital were counting on her to bring the tree to the annual holiday party at Breeze Point Medical. And having a small amount of money in her pocket meant her choices were limited.
That’s no excuse, Mags. The lilting voice of her mother buzzed in her ear. Her parents had taught her better than this, God rest their souls. And she’d let them down. Maggie knew they were sitting in Heaven looking down at her, making sure she was living her life the way they’d always imagined. A strong feeling of loss swept through her. Still, after all this time it hit her every now and again like a strong gust of wind knocking her over. She missed them each and every day. And some days, like today, she missed them more than ever.
Maggie looked down at the gold Claddagh ring that had once belonged to her mother. The fourteen-karat gold ring had been one of her mother’s most prized possessions. She ran her finger over the heart, crown and hands. Her mother had always said the ring represented friendship and relationships. She now felt thoroughly ashamed of taking ownership of the tree.
Biting her lip, she wondered if she should turn around and head back to the village green. No, she couldn’t do that. It would be too humiliating. She prayed Nate hadn’t seen her. What would Uncle Gene say if he found out she’d done something so sneaky? Maggie let out a ragged breath. For so long now she’d been on the right track. She’d even been going to church on a regular basis. She was starting to talk to God again. Little by little she was finding her way back to her faith.
It had been hard to forgive God for the death of her parents. It had been almost impossible to wrap her head around the fact that her life had been spared while theirs had not been. What part of God’s plan included her being an orphan and all alone in the world?
As if on auto pilot, she drove the truck to Uncle Gene’s house and parked in the pebbled, circular driveway. She smiled at the modest-sized, white colonial house decked out in festive holiday lights, a huge wreath on the front door and twinkling plastic candles lighting up all the windows in the house.
This was home, she thought. After years of running away from the pain of losing her parents, she’d finally accepted Uncle Gene’s invitation to move to Cape Cod to make a fresh start in America. It had been a painful decision to leave Ireland. It was the last link to her parents. The place where they’d all lived together as a tight knit family. The place where she’d lost them and buried them and grieved them. It was all she had ever known, but once her parents were gone, her life had become a whole lot smaller and lonelier.
But it was time she got herself together. At twenty-four years old, Maggie knew she needed to settle down, to plant roots, to fall in love for the first time, to plan her future. Being here in Breeze Point for the last year was a step in the right direction. It was a step towards home, hearth and a family of her own. For so long she’d been slamming doors on anything that might involve getting her heart bruised again. The man from the tree stand’s handsome face flashed before her eyes. He’d rubbed her the wrong way despite his classically handsome face. Those piercing blue eyes. The rugged features. His thick head of brown hair. A disarming smile. And the little cleft in his chin that was all kinds of adorable. It had been his air of cockiness that had pushed her over the edge. He seemed like the type who’d always gotten his way simply by flashing a killer smile. Too handsome
for his own good.
“Stop thinking about him, Maggie,” she grumbled as she let herself into the house.
“Stop thinking about who?” a deep voice boomed, causing her to take a step backward in surprise.
She pressed her hand against her throat. “Uncle Gene! You nearly scared the life out of me,” she said, breathing heavily now.
Her uncle was standing at the base of the staircase with a broom in his hands, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “It’s not as if I jumped out at you, lass,” he said, flashing a grin at her that reminded her of her own dear father. She’d long ago come to the realization that the loss of her parents would always be with her, like a permanent tattoo etched on her heart. Reminders were everywhere.
Oh, but it’s the price of loving, Maggie, my love. Her father’s voice reached out to her, enveloping her like a warm, fuzzy sweater. Today must be a day for reflection, she realized, since both her parents had spoken to her. She was at the point now where she welcomed their voices buzzing in her ear. It served as proof that they’d never truly left her. Their presence still lived on in her.
Uncle Gene wagged his eyebrows in her direction. “So who’s the lucky guy?”
“There is no lucky guy,” she protested.
“That’s not what it sounded like,” he teased. “Someone has gotten under your skin.”
“That’s what happens when you eavesdrop on people,” Maggie said in a light voice. “You misinterpret things.”
“Keep your little secret, Mags. I’ll find out soon enough. I hope you bring your young man by the house so we can look him over.” Uncle Gene’s rounded cheeks were practically bursting under the weight of his wide grin. “As a stand-in for your father, it’s my job to grill any suitors.”
“Stop teasing the girl.” Aunt Tamela’s voice rang out in the hallway. “She’s allowed to keep a few things to herself. She’s not a child anymore.”
Uncle Gene advanced towards his wife and gathered her up in an embrace. Aunt Tamela was as petite and blonde as her uncle was dark haired and broad. He placed a kiss on the bridge of her nose. “I was just having a little fun with her. Maggie can take a little teasing. She’s as tough as nails.”
Tough as nails. That’s how everyone in County Cork and her extended family viewed her. She was a survivor. She’d lived through a horrific tragedy without breaking into little pieces. On the inside she felt way more fragile and delicate than she’d ever admit to a single soul. She’d had to be in order to survive the worst life offered up. Sometimes she just wanted someone to take her in their arms and protect her from the scary things life threw at a person. For so long she’d been pretending she was invincible. Just once she wanted to fall apart at the seams. And have someone there with strong arms to catch her.
“Did you manage to get the tree?” her aunt asked, a look of hopefulness emanating from her soft brown eyes.
“Yes, I did,” she said. “In fact, it was the prettiest tree on the lot.”
Uncle Gene clapped her on the shoulder and beamed at her. “Wonderful, Mags. I knew you could do it. The kids at the hospital will be thrilled to have a real live tree with presents underneath it at the party.”
“Good girl,” her aunt praised. She clapped her hands together. “I knew you wouldn’t let us down…or the children.”
Although Maggie still felt a twinge of guilt about the tree, her aunt and uncle had brought things into perspective. The Christmas tree was for the kids at the cancer unit at Breeze Point Hospital. For almost a year she’d worked as a family liaison for the children in the cancer unit. Every day it was a humbling experience. In nabbing the tree, she hadn’t been motivated by selfish gain. She knew God wouldn’t appreciate her underhanded behavior at the tree lot, but she was certain He would be smiling down on this evening’s party and all the joy it would bring to a host of suffering children.
“Let’s get a move on,” Aunt Tamela said in a crisp voice. “The party starts promptly at seven. And we should head over there early to drop off the tree so the kids can decorate it at the party.”
Uncle Gene reached for Aunt Tamela and twirled her around the hallway. “I can’t wait to boogie on the dance floor to some disco music.” Maggie shook her head, hiding her giggle behind her hand. Uncle Gene had a silly sense of humor. And she loved him for it. Life had a wealth of sorrow in it. She’d seen enough of it to know that laughter was a healing balm.
Maggie headed upstairs to her bedroom and began getting dressed for the event. Being on the committee for the Caring for Kids group was one of the best things she’d ever done. Although it had been hard at first to be in the presence of so many gravely ill children, she’d soon learned how vivacious and brave they were. Despite their struggles, they had hopes and dreams they were determined to fight for. Tonight’s party would be a tangible way for her to give back to them. Local businesses had donated presents and food and a festive cake the size of Cape Cod. It would be a wonderful event.
She pulled a knee-length, emerald dress out of her closet and slipped it over her head. Although she was more comfortable in casual clothes, she thought too highly of the kids not to dress up for them. A pair of dangly earrings and a cute pair of heels made the outfit complete. Of course there was too much snow on the ground to wear the heels outside, so she would put them on once they were inside the hospital. She slipped on her snow boots and placed the heels in a duffle bag.
Thankfully, they arrived at Breeze Point Hospital with plenty of time to haul the tree in and place it the stand in the recreation room. Maggie smiled as she looked around at all the holiday decorations and sparkly lights. As the kids began to trickle in, several of them raced toward her and threw themselves against her for a hug. Never in her life had Maggie seen such upbeat, positive children. If there weren’t tell-tale signs of their illness, such as bald heads and tubes dangling from their arms, one would never imagine by their upbeat demeanor that they were gravely ill.
“Hey, Lincoln,” Maggie greeted one of her favorites. Linc was eight years old and suffering a recurrence of Neuroblastoma. With his mocha skin and chubby cheeks, Linc was very popular with the children and the staff. The adorable little boy slapped her hand in a high five. She let out a pretend cry of pain and shook her hand in the air as if he’d hurt her. “You’re getting stronger every day, buddy.”
Linc beamed at her. “I’m a super hero. Cancer can’t beat me.”
Maggie felt if her heart was about to burst out of her chest. Linc’s courage and resilience were awe inspiring. This little boy was incredible.
“Nothing can beat you, Linc,” she said, reaching in for a hug before Linc broke away and joined a group of kids who were hanging ornaments on the tree.
For the next hour Maggie mingled with the guests, hit the dance floor with the kids and ate way more red and green cupcakes than was healthy for her waistline. Maggie twirled around to the upbeat rhythm of Christmas tunes. She smiled as her father danced to disco tunes. A buzz rippled through the room as Santa Claus entered the room carrying a big red sack. The kids rushed to his side, practically knocking him down in their excitement. Maggie watched as each child took their turn sitting on Santa’s lap and being gifted with a present.
“Go on, Miss Maggie. It’s your turn to sit down on Santa’s lap and make a wish,” Lily suggested, her sweet little face lit up with a gigantic grin.
“Oh no,” she said with a shake of her head. “I’m too big to sit on Santa’s lap.”
“You’re never too big to sit on Santa’s lap. Ho Ho Ho,” shouted Santa as he patted his huge belly. Maggie darted a glare in Santa’s direction. Talk about encouraging the kids when she’d made it clear she didn’t want to participate. Way to go, Santa!
Nine-year-old Samuel placed his arms across his chest. “If you believe, that is.” Samuel gazed at her with a mistrustful look in his eye. He had emphasized the word if. He was one of those kids who was skeptical about everything. Already he was questioning whether Santa truly existed.
“Of course she believes,” Santa said, beckoning her over with a wave of his hand.
With all eyes trained on her, Maggie didn’t really have a choice but to head over toward Santa. Gritting her teeth, she gingerly planted herself on his lap.
“Tell him what you want for Christmas, Maggie,” Linc shouted out.
It didn’t escape her notice that Uncle Gene was clicking away at his camera, taking pictures of this humiliating moment. In her opinion, no one over the age of twelve should sit on Santa’s lap. She could see all the smirks of the adults in the crowd. A group of her co-workers were hooting and hollering. Even Aunt Tamela was hiding a smile behind her hand.
“So young lady, what are you hoping to see under your tree on Christmas morning?” Santa asked.
Maggie swung her gaze toward Santa and away from the crowd. Their eyes locked and held. Goosebumps popped up on her arm. Any confidence she might have possessed suddenly plummeted. She had the strangest feeling about whomever was decked out as Santa Claus. Whomever was behind the red suit, the big mustache, the glasses and white beard was making her a nervous wreck.
“I’m quite thankful for everything I have in my life. Although I would love a surf board,” she said in a teasing voice. The waves at Breezy Beach were conducive to wind surfing and surf boarding, although serious surfers only flocked to certain Cape Cod beaches to catch waves. Ever since she’d landed in Cape Cod she’d dreamed of riding the waves. Maybe someday it would happen.
“A surf board. That’s unique for Cape Cod.” The tone of his voice niggled at her. Familiar blue eyes stared back at her. No, it wasn’t. It couldn’t be. Not the good-looking man from Nate’s tree stand. Was her world really that small?
“So,” Santa drawled in a low voice meant only for her ears. “What makes you think you made the nice list? Considering you’re a tree thief and all.”