This was what the Sparkle books did for people. It was what she did for people. All this time she had felt so uncomfortable with her unexpected success, afraid to relish it, unable to shake the feeling that she didn’t deserve it.
She had a gift for storytelling. Her mother and father had nurtured that gift her entire life, but especially when their family had been held captive in Colombia.
Tell us a story, CeCe, her father would say in that endlessly calm voice that seemed to hold back all the chaos. He would start her off and the two of them would spin a new tale of triumph and hope to distract the others from their hunger and fear. She told stories about dragons, about a brave little mouse, about a girl and a boy on an adventure in the mountains.
Tears welled up as she remembered how proud and delighted her parents had been with each story. Maybe that was another reason she’d struggled to accept her Sparkle success, because they weren’t here to relish it with her.
Yes, it would have been wonderful. She would have loved to see in the pride in their eyes, but in the end, it didn’t matter. Not really. Her sisters were here. They were infinitely thrilled for her, and that was enough.
More important, she was here. She had a gift and it was long past time she embraced it instead of feeling embarrassed and unworthy anytime someone stopped her to tell her how much her words meant to them.
“Excuse me,” she mumbled to him, needing to get away. Just as she turned to escape, her niece, Louisa, came out of the dressing room holding a book.
“Aunt CeCe, do you know where Olivia went? We were talking about The Best Christmas Pageant Ever. She’d never read it, and I told her I got an extra copy at school and she could have it. I want to make sure I don’t forget to give it to her.”
She turned away from Flynn, hoping none of the glittery tears she could feel threatening showed in her eyes.
“She’s probably in the dressing room.”
“I don’t think so. I just came from there and I didn’t see her.”
“Are you looking for Olivia?” Barrett asked, joining them from the boy’s dressing room. “She left.”
She frowned at her nephew even as she felt Flynn tense beside her. “Left? What do you mean, she left?”
He shrugged. “She said she wanted to go see something. I saw her go out the back door. I thought it was kind of weird because she didn’t even have a coat on, just her angel costume.”
Celeste stared down at the boy, her heart suddenly racing with alarm. The angel costume was thin and not at all suitable for the wintry conditions in the Idaho mountains. Even a few minutes of weather exposure could be dangerous.
“How long ago was this?” Flynn demanded.
“I don’t know. Right after we were done singing. Maybe ten minutes.”
“She can’t have gone far,” Celeste said.
“You don’t know that,” Flynn bit out.
He was right. Even in ten minutes, the girl might have wandered into the forest of pine and fir around the ranch and become lost, or she could have fallen in the creek or wandered into the road. In that white costume, she would blend with the snow, and vehicles likely wouldn’t be able to see her until it was too late.
Her leg still wasn’t completely stable. She could have slipped somewhere and be lying in the snow, cold and hurt and scared...
Icy fingers of fear clutched at her, wrapping around her heart, her lungs, her brain.
“We can’t panic,” she said, more to herself than to him. “I’ll look through the lodge to find her first, and then I’ll get Rafe and everyone out there searching the entire ranch. We’ll find her, Flynn. I promise.”
Chapter Thirteen
He heard her words as if from a long distance away, as if she were trying to catch his attention with a whisper across a crowded room.
This couldn’t be real. Any moment Olivia would come around the corner wearing that big smile he was beginning to see more frequently. He held his breath, but she didn’t magically appear simply because he wished it.
Cold fear settled in his gut, achingly familiar. He couldn’t lose her. Not after working so hard to get her back these past few months.
“We’ll find her, Flynn,” Celeste said again, the panic in her voice a clear match to his own emotions.
She cared about his daughter, and he had been so very mean to her about it. He knew he had hurt her. He had seen a little light blink out in her eyes at his cruel words.
Her progress or lack of progress is none of your business. She’s my daughter. I get to make those choices for her, not some small-town librarian who barely knows either of us.
He would have given anything at that moment to take them back.
He didn’t even know why he had gotten so upset seeing Olivia up onstage—probably because he still wanted to do anything he could to protect her, to keep her close and the rest of the world away.
He didn’t want her to become like her mother or his, obsessed with recognition and adulation. At the same time, he had been so very proud of her courage for standing in front of strangers and singing her little heart out.
None of that mattered right now. She was missing and he had to find her.
He hurried to find his coat, aware of a bustle of activity behind him as Rafe jumped up, followed by Hope and Faith.
The instant support comforted him like a tiny flickering candle glowing against the dark night in a window somewhere. Yeah, they might be temporary visitors in Pine Gulch, but he and Olivia had become part of a community, like it or not.
Celeste’s brother-in-law stopped for an instant to rest a hand on Flynn’s shoulder on his way to grabbing his own coat off the rack. “Don’t worry, man. We’ll find her. She’ll be okay.”
He wanted desperately to believe Rafe.
He couldn’t lose her again.
* * *
They would find her.
A frantic five-minute search of the lodge revealed no sign of one little girl. She wasn’t in any of the bathrooms, the kitchen area, the closed gift shop or sitting beside any of the senior citizens as they enjoyed their meal, oblivious to the drama playing out nearby.
Rafe texted Celeste that he had searched through the barn with no sign of her. Faith and Hope had gone up to the house to see if they could find her there. Rafe told her he wanted to take a look around the reindeer enclosure for a little blond angel next and then head for some of the other outbuildings scattered about the ranch.
As soon as she read the word angel, something seemed to click in her brain. Angel. She suddenly remembered Olivia’s fascination the other night with the angel above the little chapel in the Christmas village.
Excitement bubbled through her, and she suddenly knew with unshakable certainty that was where she would find the girl.
She grabbed her coat off the rack—not for her, but for Olivia when she found her—and raced outside without bothering to take time throwing it on.
Though Hope and Rafe had elected to close the rest of the ranch activities early that night—the sleigh rides, the sledding hill, the reindeer photography opportunities—because all hands were needed for the dinner and show, they had chosen to keep on the lights at the Christmas village for anyone who might want to stop and walk through it.
She nodded to a few families she knew who were enjoying the village, the children wide-eyed with excitement, but didn’t take time to talk. She would have to explain away her rudeness to them later, but right now her priority was finding Olivia.
When she reached the chapel, she nearly collapsed with relief. A little angel in a white robe and silver tinsel halo stood in front of it, hands clasped together as she gazed up at the Madonna, the baby and especially the angel presiding over the scene.
Before she greeted the girl, Celeste took a precious twenty seconds to send a g
roup text to Flynn, her sisters and Rafe to call off the search, explaining briefly that she had found Olivia safe and sound at the Christmas village.
With that done, she stepped forward just in time to hear what the girl was saying.
“Please tell my mom I don’t want to be sad or scared all the time anymore. Do you think that’s okay? I don’t want her to think I don’t love her or miss her. I do. I really do. I just want to be happy again. I think my daddy needs me to be.”
Oh, Celeste so remembered being in that place after her parents had died—feeling so guilty when she found things to smile about again, wondering if it was some sort of betrayal to enjoy things like birthday cakes and trick-or-treating and the smell of fresh-cut Christmas trees.
She swallowed down her emotions and stepped forward to wrap her coat around Olivia. As she did, she noticed something that made her break out in goose bumps.
“If it means anything,” she murmured, “I think your mom heard you.”
The girl looked up. Surprise flickered in her eyes at seeing Celeste, but she gave her a tremulous smile and took the hand Celeste held out. “Why do you think so?”
“Look at the star.”
Sure enough, the star above the chapel that had been out the other night flickered a few times and then stayed on.
Celeste knew the real explanation probably had to do with old wiring or a loose bulb being jostled in and out of the socket by the wind. Or maybe it was a tiny miracle, a sort of tender mercy for a grieving child who needed comfort in that moment.
“It is working,” Olivia breathed. “Do you think my mom turned it on?”
“Maybe.”
The star’s light reflected on her features. “Do you...do you think she’ll be mad at me for being happy it’s Christmas?”
“Oh, honey, no.” Heedless of the snow, Celeste knelt beside the girl so she could embrace her. “Christmas is all about finding the joy. It’s about helping others and being kind to those in need and holding on to the people we love, like your dad. I heard what you said to the angel, and you’re right. It hurts his heart to see you sad. Dads like to fix things—especially your dad—and he doesn’t know how to fix this.”
“When I cry, he sometimes looks as if he wants to cry, too,” she said.
Celeste screwed her eyes shut, her heart aching with love for both of them. She didn’t know the right words to say. They were all a jumble inside her, and she couldn’t seem to sort through to find the right combination.
When she looked up, the peaceful scene in the little church seemed to calm her and she hugged the girl close to her. “It’s natural to miss your mom and to wish she was still with you. But she wouldn’t want you to give up things like sleigh rides and Christmas carols and playing with your friends. If that angel could talk, I think that’s exactly what she would tell you your mom wanted you to hear.”
Olivia seemed to absorb that. After a moment she exhaled heavily as if she had just set down a huge load and could finally breathe freely. She turned to Celeste, still kneeling beside her, and threw her arms around her neck.
That ache in her chest tightened as she returned the embrace, wondering if this would be her last one from this courageous girl she had come to love as much as she loved her father.
“Thanks for letting me be in the show,” Olivia said. “It made me really happy. That’s why I wanted to come out here, to see if the angel could ask my mom if it was okay with her.”
Celeste hadn’t known Elise Chandler, but from what little she did know, she had a feeling the woman would love knowing her daughter enjoyed entertaining people.
“I’m glad you had fun,” she answered. “Really glad. But you scared everybody by coming out here without telling anyone. In fact, we should probably find your dad, just to make absolutely sure he got the message that you’re safe.”
“I’m here.”
At the deep voice from behind them, she turned around and found Flynn watching them with an intense, unreadable look in his eyes.
Her heartbeat kicked up a notch. How much had he heard? And why was he looking at her like that?
Olivia extricated herself from Celeste, who rose as the girl ran to her father.
Flynn scooped her into his arms and held her tight, his features raw with relief.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you where I was, Daddy.”
“You know that’s the rule, kiddo. Next time, you need to make sure you tell me where you’re going so I know where to find you.”
“I will,” she promised.
As he set her back to the ground, her halo slipped a little and he fixed it for her before adjusting Celeste’s baggy coat around the girl’s shoulders. “I’ve been worried about you, Livie.”
He didn’t mean just the past fifteen minutes of not knowing where she was, Celeste realized. He was talking about all the fear and uncertainty of the past three months.
Her love for him seemed to beam in her chest brighter than a hundred stars. How was she going to get through all the days and months and years ahead of her without him?
“I don’t want to be sad anymore,” Olivia said. “I still might be sometimes, but Celeste said the angel would tell me Mom wouldn’t want me to be sad all the time.”
His gaze met hers and she suddenly couldn’t catch her breath at the intense, glittering expression there. “Celeste and the angel are both very wise,” he answered. He hugged her again. “You’ll always miss your mom. That’s normal when you lose someone you love. But it doesn’t mean you can’t still find things that make you happy.”
“Like singing. I love to sing.”
He nodded, even though he did it with a pained look. “Like singing, if that’s what you enjoy.”
The two of them were a unit, and she didn’t really have a place in it.
She thought of his words to her. She’s my daughter. I get to make those choices for her, not some small-town librarian who barely knows either of us.
They stung all over again, but he was right. For a brief time she had been part of their lives, but the time had come to say goodbye.
“Since you’re safe and sound now, I really should go,” she said with bright, completely fake cheer. “Why don’t you hurry back to the lodge and change out of your angel costume, then you can grab some dinner?”
“I am hungry,” Olivia said.
She smiled at the girl, though it took all her concentration not to burst into tears. A vast, hollow ache seemed to have opened up inside her.
“I’m sure Jenna McRaven can find both of you a plate. It all looked delicious.”
“Good idea.”
“I’ll see you both later, then,” she answered.
Even though they would be heading in the same direction, she didn’t think she could walk sedately beside him and make polite conversation when this ache threatened to knock her to her knees.
Without waiting for them, she hurried back toward the lodge. As she reached it, the lights gleamed through the December night. Through the windows, she saw the dinner still in full swing. Suddenly, she couldn’t face all that laughter and happiness and holiday spirit.
She figured she had done her part for the people of Pine Gulch. Let her sisters handle the rest. She needed to go home, change into her most comfortable pajamas, open a pint of Ben & Jerry’s and try to figure out how she could possibly face a bleak, endless future that didn’t contain a certain darling girl and her wonderful father.
* * *
By another Christmas miracle, she somehow managed to hold herself together while she hurried through the cold night to her SUV, started the engine and drove back to the foreman’s cottage.
The moment she walked into the warmth of her house, the tears she had been shoving back burst through like a dam break and she rushed into her bedroom, sank onto her
bed and indulged herself longer than she should have in a good bout of weeping.
She was vaguely aware that Linus and Lucy had followed her inside and were watching her with concern and curiosity, but even that didn’t ease the pain.
While some part of her wanted to wish Flynn had never returned to Pine Gulch so that she might have avoided this raw despair, she couldn’t be so very selfish. Olivia had begun her journey toward healing here. She had made great progress in a very short amount of time and had begun regaining all she had lost in an act of senseless violence.
If the price of her healing was Celeste’s own heartache, she would willingly pay it, even though it hurt more than she could ever have imagined.
After several long moments, her sobs subsided and she grew aware that Lucy was rubbing against her arm in concern while Linus whined from the floor in sympathy. She picked up both animals and held them close, deeply grateful for these two little creatures who gave her unconditional love.
“I’m okay,” she told them. “Just feeling sorry for myself right now.”
Linus wriggled up to lick at her salty tears, and she managed a watery smile at him. “Thanks, bud, but I think a tissue would be a better choice.”
She set the animals back down while she reached for the box on the table beside her bed.
She would get through this, she thought as she wiped away her tears. The pain would be intense for a while, she didn’t doubt, but once Flynn and his daughter returned to California and she didn’t have to see either of them all the time, she would figure out a way to go forward without them.
She would focus instead on the many things she had to look forward to—Christmas, the new book release, the movie production, a trip to New York with Hope to meet with their publisher at some point in the spring.
With a deep breath, she forced herself to stop. Life was as beautiful as a silky, fresh, sweet-smelling rose, even when that beauty was sometimes complicated by a few thorns.
She rose and headed to the bathroom, where she scrubbed her face in cold water before changing into her most comfortable sweats and fuzzy socks.
A Cold Creek Christmas Story Page 17