A Cold Creek Christmas Story

by RaeAnne Thayne

  “Did someone eventually pay the ransom?”

  She shook her head. “That was never one of the options. Juan Pablo was just too stupid or too blinded by greed to realize it. Instead, after we had been held for several weeks, a team of US Navy SEALs mounted an early-morning rescue.”

  She paused, her head bowed and her dark curls hiding her features. When she spoke, her voice was low, tight with remembered pain.

  “The rescue wasn’t a complete success. My father was...shot by Juan Pablo’s rebels while we were trying to escape. He died instantly.”

  “Oh, Celeste. I’m so sorry.”

  “You can see why I feel great empathy for Olivia and what she’s going through. Seeing a parent die violently is a trauma no child should have to endure.”

  “I completely agree,” he said. “Again, I’m so sorry.”

  She lifted one shoulder. “It happened. I can’t change it. For a long time, I struggled to deal with the injustice of it all. My parents were only trying to help others and my father paid the ultimate price for his benevolence. I can’t say I’ve ever really found peace with that or ever will, but I’ve been able to move forward. For what it’s worth, I freaked out at loud noises for a long time, too. Probably a good year or two after the accident.”

  “You seem to handle them fine now.”

  She gave a small laugh. “I wouldn’t be a very good children’s librarian if I couldn’t handle a little noise, believe me. I would have run screaming into the night after the very first story time.”

  “So how did you come to live with your aunt and uncle?” he asked.

  She shifted her gaze to his for only a moment before she looked out the windshield again, as if she couldn’t quite bear to make eye contact while she told the rest of the story.

  “In possibly the cruelest twist of all, our mother was diagnosed with cancer shortly after we were rescued from Colombia. She had been sick for a while but hadn’t sought the necessary medical care. She’d apparently suspected something was wrong before we were taken and had made an appointment for tests in Bogota in the days right around our kidnapping—an appointment she couldn’t make, for obvious reasons. It was...an aggressive and deadly form of cancer. Largely because she didn’t get the treatment she needed in a timely manner, she died four months later, after we came back to the States.”

  Unable to resist, he reached for her hand and held it in his for a moment, wishing he had the words to tell her how much he admired her.

  So many people he knew would have pulled inside themselves and let the tragedy and injustice of it turn them bitter and angry at the world. Instead, she had become a strong, compassionate woman who was helping children learn to love words and stories, while she wrote uplifting, heartwarming tales where good always triumphed.

  She looked down at their joined hands, and her lips parted just a little before she closed them and swallowed. “After our mother died, Uncle Claude and Aunt Mary opened their home and their hearts to us, and we’ve been here ever since.”

  “And thus you entered the world of Christmas extravaganzas.”

  This time her laugh sounded more natural—a sweet, spontaneous sound that seemed to slide through his chest and tug at his heart. He liked the sound of her laughter. It made him want to sit in this warm car with her all night while soft Christmas music played on the stereo and snow fluttered against the windshield and his daughter slept soundly in the backseat.

  “There was no Christmas Ranch before we came here. Uncle Claude had the idea a year later. My sisters and I share the theory that he did it only to distract us because he knew the holidays would be tough for us without our parents, especially that first anniversary.”

  “You were kidnapped at Christmastime?” That only seemed to add to the tragedy of it, that people could cruelly and viciously use an innocent family for financial gain during a time that was supposed to be about peace on earth and goodwill toward men.

  “Yes.” She leaned back against the seat and gazed out at the snowflakes dancing against the windshield. “My mother and father would try to keep up our spirits during our captivity by singing carols with us and encouraging us to make up Christmas stories.”

  “Ah. And you’ve carried on their storytelling tradition.”

  “In my feeble way, I guess you’re right.”

  “Not feeble,” he protested. “Sparkle and the Magic Snowball is a charming story that has captured the hearts of children and parents alike.”

  She looked embarrassed. “Mostly because of Hope and her beautiful illustrations.”

  “And because the story is sweet and hopeful at a time when people desperately need that.”

  She shifted in the seat, her cheeks slightly pink in the low light.

  “I never expected any of this. I only wanted to tell stories to my niece and nephew. I don’t know if I would ever have found the courage to submit it to a publisher. I didn’t, actually. If not for Hope, all the Sparkle stories would still be in a box under my bed.”

  He released her fingers, not at all sure he liked this soft tenderness seeping through him. “Your parents would be so proud of you. Who would have guessed when you were sharing stories with your parents and sisters while you were all hostages during a dark Christmastime that one day you would be a famous author?”

  “Not me, certainly.”

  “Does writing make you feel closer to your parents?”

  She stared at him for a long moment, her eyes wide. “I... Yes. Yes, it does. I never realized that until right this moment when you said it. Sometimes when I’m writing, I feel as if they’re with me again, whispering words of comfort to me in the darkness.”

  It would be easy to fall for her. Something about her combination of vulnerability and strength tugged at him, called to him in a way no other woman ever had.

  He didn’t have time for this, he reminded himself sternly. His daughter needed all his attention right now while she tried to heal. He couldn’t dilute that attention by finding himself tangled up with a lovely librarian, no matter how much he might want to be.

  “I had better go,” she said after a moment. Did she also sense the growing attraction between them? Was that the reason for that sudden unease in her expression? “You should get a certain exhausted birthday girl home to her bed. Besides that, Linus and Lucy are probably wondering what in the world I’m doing out here for so long.”

  “Of course.”

  With far more reluctance than he knew he should feel, he opened his door and walked around the vehicle through the lightly falling snow to her door.

  The December night smelled of pine and smoke from a fireplace somewhere close. The familiar mingle of scents struck deep into his memories, of the happy times he used to spend here with his grandmother. She had been his rock, the one constant support in the midst of his chaotic family life.

  He breathed in deeply as he opened her car door. As they walked to her house, he realized with shock that this was the most peaceful he had felt in weeks, since that horrible day when he’d pulled up to Elise’s house to find sirens and flashing lights and ambulances.

  “You don’t have to walk me to the door, Flynn. This isn’t a date.”

  He suddenly wished it had been a date, that the two of them had gone to dinner somewhere and shared secrets and stories and long, delicious kisses.

  If it had been a date, he possibly could give into this sudden hunger to kiss her at the doorstep, to finally taste that lush mouth that had been tantalizing him all evening.

  “I want to make sure you don’t slip,” he said. It wasn’t exactly a lie, just not the entire truth. “Ice can be dangerous.”

  She said nothing, though he thought her eyes might have narrowed slightly as if she sensed he had more on his mind than merely her safety.

  They both made it up the steps w
ithout incident, and it only took her a moment to find a key in her purse.

  “Good night,” she said after she unlocked her door. “Thank you for including me in Olivia’s birthday celebration. It was an honor, truly.”

  “We were the lucky ones that you agreed to come. It was a dream come true for her, sharing delicious pizza with her favorite author.”

  “I imagine her dreams will become a little more lofty as she gets older, but I’m happy I could help with this one.” She gave him a sidelong look. “I hope I see her at the rehearsal tomorrow for the Christmas program. She really seemed to be interested in participating, and we would love to have her. Don’t worry. She’ll have fun.”

  Damn. He had almost forgotten about that. The peace he had been feeling seemed to evaporate like the puffs of air from their breaths.

  “Don’t plan on her,” he warned.

  “Why not?” she asked with a frown.

  He raked a hand through his hair. “She’s been through a brutal experience. Would you have been ready for something like this right after your own trauma?”

  “I don’t know,” she admitted. “But if I expressed any interest at all, my aunt and uncle would have been right in the front row, cheering me on.”

  “I’m not your aunt and uncle,” he said, with more bite in his voice than he intended.

  She froze for just a moment, then nodded, her sweet, lovely features turning as wintry as the evening. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I overstepped.”

  Her words and the tight tone made him feel like an ass. She was only trying to help his child.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I just can’t see how getting up in front of a bunch of strangers and singing about peace on earth will help a young girl suffering from PTSD.”

  “I suppose you’re right. I will say that my parents firmly believed a person could ease her own troubles while helping others—or at least trying to see them in a different light. Living here with Uncle Claude and Aunt Mary only reinforced that message. They started The Christmas Ranch so my sisters and I could find comfort in the midst of our own pain by bringing the joy of the holidays to others. It worked for us. I guess I was hoping it would do the same for Olivia, but you’re her father. It’s ultimately your decision.”

  Talk about backing a guy into a corner. What was he supposed to do?

  Olivia had expressed a desire to participate, the first time anything had sparked her interest in weeks. He certainly had the right as her father to make decisions about what he thought was best for her, but what if he was wrong? What if she truly did need this? How could he be the one to say no to her?

  “Fine,” he said reluctantly. “I’ll bring her tomorrow. If she enjoys herself, she can come back. But if I believe this is at all stressing her, I’ll immediately put an end to it.”

  She smiled and he was struck again by how lovely she was. Behind her quiet prettiness was a woman of true beauty; she just seemed determined to hide it.

  “Oh, that’s wonderful. We’ll be thrilled to have her. We’ll see you tomorrow afternoon, in the main lodge at the ranch. Do you know where it is?”

  “I’ll figure it out.”

  “Excellent. I’ll see you both tomorrow, then.”

  He knew that idea shouldn’t leave him with this bubbly anticipation.

  “Good night. Thanks again for having dinner with us.”

  “You’re welcome. It was truly my pleasure.”

  He started to leave and then, prompted by the impulse that had been coursing through him all evening, he reached forward and kissed her softly on the cheek, the light sort of kiss people gave to even their casual acquaintances in California.

  She smelled delicious—of laundry soap and almonds and some kind of springtime flowers. It took him a moment to place her scent. Violets—sweet and fresh and full of hope.

  Instantly, he knew this was a mistake, that he would be dreaming of that scent all night.

  Her eyes, wide and shocked behind her glasses, were impossibly green. It would be easy—so very easy—to shift his mouth just a few inches and truly kiss her. For an instant the temptation was overwhelming, but he drew on all his strength and forced himself to step away.

  “Good night,” he said again. To his dismay, his voice sounded ragged.

  “Yes,” she answered with a dazed sort of look that he told himself was only surprise.

  He didn’t give himself the chance to explore if that look in her eyes might have some other source—like a shared attraction, for instance. He just turned around and headed down the steps of her porch and toward his vehicle and his sleeping child.

  * * *

  When she was certain Flynn was in his car, driving back down the lane toward the main road, Celeste moved away from the window and sank into her favorite chair. Lucy—all sleek, sinuous grace—immediately pounced into her lap. She took a moment to pet the cat, her thoughts twirling.

  For a moment there she had been almost positive Flynn Delaney had been about to really kiss her. That was impossible. Completely irrational. She must have been imagining things, right?

  Why on earth would he want to kiss her? She was gawky and awkward and shy, more comfortable with books and her fictional characters than she was with men.

  They were from completely different worlds, which was probably one of the reasons she’d had such a crush on him when she was a girl. He represented the unattainable. His mother was a famous movie star, and he was certainly gorgeous enough that he could have been one, too, if he’d been inclined in that direction.

  He had been married to Elise Chandler, for Pete’s sake, one of the most beautiful women on earth. How could he possibly be interested in a frumpy, introverted children’s librarian?

  The absurdity of it completely defied reason.

  She must be mistaken. That moment when he’d kissed her cheek and their gazes had met—when she’d thought she’d seen that spark of something kindling in his gaze—must have been a trick of the low lighting in her entryway.

  What would it have been like to kiss him? Really kiss him?

  The question buzzed around inside her brain like a particularly determined mosquito. She had no doubt it would have been amazing.

  She was destined never to know.

  She sighed, gazing at the lights of her little Christmas tree sparkling cheerily in the small space. If she weren’t careful, she could end up with a heart as shattered as one of the ornaments Lucy liked to bat off the branches.

  It would be so frighteningly easy for her to fall for him. She was already fiercely attracted to him and had been since she was barely a teenager. More than that, she liked and admired him. His devotion to Olivia and his concern for her were even more attractive to Celeste than those vivid blue eyes, the broad shoulders, the rugged slant of his jaw.

  If he were to kiss her—truly kiss her—her poor, untested heart wouldn’t stand a chance.

  After a moment she pushed away the unease. This entire mental side trip was ridiculous and unnecessary. He wasn’t interested in her and he wouldn’t kiss her, so why spend another moment fretting about it?

  Still, she couldn’t help wishing she never had encouraged him to allow Olivia to participate in the Christmas program at the ranch. He was only here for a few weeks. The likelihood that she would even see the man again would have been very slim if not for Olivia and the program, and then she could have let this hopeless attraction die a natural death.

  No worries, she told herself. She would simply do her best to return things to a casual, friendly level for his remaining time in Cold Creek.

  How hard could it be?

  Chapter Seven

  Dealing with thirty jacked-up children a week before Christmas was not exactly the best way to unwind after a busy day at work.

  Celeste drew in a
deep breath, let it out slowly and ordered herself to chill. The noise level inside the two-story St. Nicholas Lodge was at epic levels. In one corner, a group of third-grade boys tossed around a paper airplane one of them had folded. In another, two girls were singing “Let it Go” at the top of their lungs. Three of the younger boys were chasing each other around, coming dangerously close to the huge Christmas tree that was the focal point of the lodge.

  All the children were so excited for Christmas they were putting off enough energy to power the entire holiday light displays of three counties.

  How she was supposed to whip this frenzy into organized chaos she had no idea.

  “Whose crazy idea was this again?” her sister said, taking in the scene.

  She sent Hope an arch look. “Go ahead. Raise your hand.”

  Hope offered up a rueful smile. “Sorry. It seemed like a fun idea at the time, a way to keep the local kids engaged and involved and give their parents a little break for shopping and baking, with the payoff of a cute show for the senior citizens at the end. I suppose I didn’t really think it through.”

  “How very unlike you,” Faith said drily from Celeste’s other side.

  Faith’s presence was far more of a shock to Celeste than the wild energy of the children. Their eldest sister was usually so busy working on the cattle-raising side of the business that she didn’t participate in many activities at The Christmas Ranch.

  Perhaps she had decided to stop by because Louisa and Barrett were participating. Whatever the reason, Celeste was glad to see her there. The past eighteen months had been so difficult for Faith, losing her childhood sweetheart unexpectedly. It was good to see her sister reaching outside her comfort zone a little.

  “I guess I didn’t expect them all to be so...jacked up.” Hope couldn’t seem to take her gaze away from the younger children, who were now hopping around the room like bunny rabbits.