The Patricia Kiyono Christmas Collection

by Patricia Kiyono

  The smile lighting her face wiped away any trace of doubt lingering. “Oh, that’s wonderful!” She reached up to hug him again, but he leaned in for a kiss. They clung tightly to each other, and he held on, showing her with every touch, every caress, how much he cherished her, and promising her the world. Promising her he’d be there with her, supporting her, caring for her, working with her.

  When they came up for air, he groaned. “Sweetheart, I’d love to continue this, but I’ve got to get to this meeting to pitch my idea. The board is meeting at one o’clock, which gives me enough time to get there, park, and get to the boardroom. If I’m lucky I’ll have a minute to hang up my coat.”

  Her tiny hands left the back of his head and came down the sides of his neck then traveled down his chest. “Call me and let me know how it goes?”

  “Sure. I thought I’d go to my apartment tonight and pack up some more things and bring them back here. But I’ll be back tomorrow. I can’t miss the pageant!”

  She rewarded him with a mock frown. “You’d better not, mister!”

  He leaned in for one more kiss then stepped outside. Turning back around, he asked again. “So you’ll marry me?”

  She nodded.

  “When? We’re not getting any younger, you know. I’d marry you today if I could.”

  “Whenever you say.”

  “Really? Tomorrow? The day after?”

  She laughed. “If we can pull everything together, yes.”

  He made a quick stop in the apartment for his keys then walked to his car, his heart a dozen times lighter than it had been before. Turning back to the house, he smiled at the vision of her in the doorway. Yes, he’d be back. Tomorrow.

  As soon as he reached the highway, Mike pressed the button to activate his blue tooth phone connection. He gave the phone contact and waited impatiently for the answer.

  “Matt Sikkema.”

  “Hey, little brother. She finally said yes.”

  “Really? That’s great. Congratulations. When’s the big day?”

  “Sunday, if we can manage it.”

  “Sunday is the pageant.”

  “Right. We’ll be all dressed up, and all our friends will be there.”

  Matt’s laughter bubbled through the line. “Good point. So what would you like me to do?”

  “Tell me what I need to do to make it legal.”

  “You need a marriage license. You can apply for it online now…”

  By the time Mike reached the state line, the brothers had ironed out most of the details. Kathy and Loretta had been pressed into service to arrange the rest, along with Helen’s sons and daughters-in-law.

  His wedding was arranged. Now all he needed was the bride.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  As usual, most of Zutphen gathered for the annual Christmas Pageant presented by the children of Zutphen Community Church. Since the new church still wasn’t complete, everyone filled the seats in the high school auditorium.

  Backstage, Matt patted his brother’s shoulder. “Are you ready for this?”

  “I think so.”

  “Did you pick up the license?”

  “Yes. It’s right here. Thanks for getting all of Helen’s information for me. And I know Kathy’s been busy making arrangements.”

  “It’s our pleasure. Nancy is all set with the flowers and all the other decorations. Mabel Groendyke took care of choosing the music, and the sound guy is all set in the booth, ready to play the music as soon as you give him a thumbs up.”

  Everything is set… except one piece of the puzzle.

  He took his place on the side of the stage, ready to go on. The butterflies in his stomach had nothing to do with the pageant, though. Acting the part of a dad reading a story aloud to his children was nothing next to the part he wanted to play.

  ~~~~

  Helen sat in front of the stage, waiting for the lights to dim. Pastor Sikkema had welcomed everyone and promised a fantastic program. He’d announced this year’s program would be Helen’s last, and asked her to stand so the congregation could thank her with applause. She’d risen, embarrassed at the attention.

  The younger children, under Joanie’s direction, sat on risers off to the side of the stage. They would provide the music. Two high-schoolers stayed with the children so that Joanie could conduct.

  As the lights dimmed, the actors took their places. Mike entered the stage and took his place in the wing chair placed off to the left, and the four students with speaking parts sat on the floor in front of him. Helen’s heart beat faster, as it did each time she saw the handsome man who’d entered her life so unexpectedly and filled her heart with positive thoughts and optimism. Thanks to him, she no longer thought of herself as just a mom, just a grandmother, just… a pageant director. She was anything she wanted to be, and more. And this wonderful man had asked her to marry him. What had she done to deserve it?

  The spotlight shone on the little family, and Mike cleared his throat, making the speakers squeal. He gave a start then opened his book. His script lay inside.

  “Everyone knows the story about what happened in the stable on the night Jesus was born. But what happened before that? Mary and Joseph had to travel from Nazareth, where they lived, to Bethlehem. They had to travel eighty miles by foot. If your parents drove that far, it would take them an hour and a half if they drove fast. And this was rough land, with lots of hills and rivers to cross. So the story I want to tell you today is about The Journey to Bethlehem.”

  At this point, the lights dimmed on the modern family and rose on the middle of the stage, where actors playing Mary and Joseph walked slowly across the stage. Another light shone on the younger students, who stood on the risers and sang a song Joanie had written about taking a long journey.

  After the song, the spotlight returned to the little family, and Mike continued his story. “There were all sorts of dangers along the way for the little family. They traveled with others, and they had to walk most of the way. How long do you think it would take you to travel?”

  Helen watched, transfixed, as the people on the stage brought her words to life. Mary and Joseph seemed to be taking their own journey: from the familiar to the place they needed to be. To the unknown. To where they belonged.

  She belonged with the man sitting on the stage. The man who had shown her what she was capable of. Why had she doubted it?

  The final song ended, and the congregation responded with a thunderous applause. Pastor Sikkema walked to the center of the stage and acknowledged Helen and Joanie and thanked the children for their participation. Helen sank back in her seat, thankful the program was done, yet a little sad. The high school students she’d recruited as stage crew came onto the stage and started to move things away, and those with the younger students ushered them off the stage. She didn’t pay much attention to what was going on until she focused on the pastor’s words.

  “So I hope all of you will stay for a little while. We have a very special event planned, and we’d like you all to be present for it.”

  Another event? What is he talking about? I just want to go home and crash.

  And then she looked more closely at the stage. The scenery for the pageant and the risers had been moved off and replaced with a white ivy covered trellis. Yards of white tulle trailed out from the trellis to the ends of the stage, and pots of poinsettia plants followed the trail. Paul and Jonathan had taken off their costumes and stood on one side of the trellis. Nancy and Bonnie stood on the other, each holding a long stemmed red rose.

  Mike appeared in front of her with a huge bouquet of red roses. “Did you mean what you said the other day?”

  “What-what I said?” What did I say?

  “You said you’d marry me any time, anywhere. Did you mean it?”

  She nodded, and swallowed. “Yes.”

  “Then marry me now. Right here, in front of our friends and family. I’ve got the marriage license, and Matt is all ready with the vows. All you have to do is join
me up on the stage and repeat what he says. Are you all right with that? If not, I can go up and make an announcement and ask everyone to come back. But that means I’ll have to go to the Seychelles by myself.”

  She laughed then. “There is no way I’m letting you go there alone. I’m not taking a chance on you finding some bikini wearing bimbo!”

  He chuckled. “That wouldn’t happen. But just to ease your conscience, will you come up and join me onstage?” He looked around at all the smiling faces in the auditorium. “I think our families and the rest of the congregation are waiting for your answer.”

  She answered him by standing and taking the bouquet. Together, they made their way up to the stage, while Handel’s “Air” from Water Music played through the speakers.

  Helen couldn’t wait to start this new journey.

  The Partridge and the Peartree

  by Patricia Kiyono

  Published by esKape Press

  www.eskapepress.com

  All Rights Reserved

  Copyright © 2015 PATRICIA KIYONO

  ISBN-10: 1940695732

  ISBN-13: 9781940695730

  Cover Art Design by For the Muse Design

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and/or persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are the property of their respective owners and are used for reference only and not an implied endorsement.

  Except for review purposes, the reproduction and distribution of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, without the written permission of the publisher is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book, other than for review purposes, please obtain written permission first by contacting the publisher at eskapepress@eskapepress.com.

  Thank you for your support of the author’s rights as provided for in the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976.

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  Acknowledgements

  It is due to the generosity of two talented women that this book is possible. Both are celebrated authors, but despite their busy schedules, they took time to help me get this story completed.

  Three years ago, Stephanie Michaels first helped me connect the dots and turned a hodgepodge of ideas into a coherent story. With the deadline looming on a call-out for regency Christmas tales, I had almost decided to give up. Without Stephanie’s help, this would still be a series of short, disconnected scenes.

  This summer, when I had the opportunity to re-release this book I wanted to fix several errors concerning regency era customs and language. Sherry Gloag graciously brainstormed with me and offered some excellent solutions. Her expertise on the regency era was invaluable and greatly appreciated.

  Writing is a solitary job, and even though we write about people we often forget to connect with them. The internet is a wonderful source, but it doesn’t have all the answers. Thank goodness for the generosity of people willing to share their talents and expertise!

  Chapter One

  Phillip Peartree, Tenth Duke of Bartlett, squinted as he scanned the titles on the dusty shelves of his favorite bookstore. He needed something new to read, something to help him relax and forget the depression weighing him down ever since he’d inherited his burdensome title. Phillip had been aware of his father’s extravagant tastes, but he’d had no idea about the extent of debt they’d caused. Debt that had become his worry and responsibility. In the two years since his father’s passing, the young duke had managed to satisfy most of his creditors by selling off part of his estate. By living frugally, sometimes even doing manual labor along with his staff, he hoped to maintain and improve what was left. Needing a respite, he’d decided to spend the holiday season in London, near his sister and nieces.

  London offered plenty of activities for an eligible bachelor, but the social whirlwind was something Phillip avoided. Not that he wanted to be alone. He’d always dreamed of having a contented, if not happy, life with a suitable mate. Ideally, he’d prefer to wed someone with charm, looks, and intelligence. His hand went to his face, tracing the scars left from the hunting accident that had changed his life several years before. How could he hope to win the hand of such a woman once she compared him to the good-looking members of the ton? There was no shortage of handsome single men who knew exactly how to converse with a woman, how to charm them, and how to woo them.

  So he lived vicariously through the characters in his books. They were his friends. Although he’d already read nearly every title on the shelves, he’d come to the quiet little shop, on the edge of town, hoping to find something new. There had to be something…

  “Oooof!”

  The missile hitting his abdomen doubled him over, knocking the breath from his lungs. When he recovered enough to straighten, his eyes focused on the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Had the punch to his stomach addled his brain, or did a halo surround the woman’s face? The lively young thing waved her arms as she talked, and it seemed her mouth moved as quickly as the rest of her. Shiny golden curls tumbled from her bonnet, and her deep brown eyes radiated with intelligence and purpose. Fascinated by the way her luscious lips formed words, he forgot to pay attention to what she was saying.

  The lips stopped moving, and her eyes widened. She must be waiting for him to reply, but he had no idea what she’d just said.

  “Er — pardon me, miss. I didn’t see you. I sincerely hope you’re not injured.” Spying a handful of books scattered near her feet, he quickly bent and retrieved them for her. “Here you are.”

  Her lovely brown eyes narrowed. Had he said something stupid? Sometimes he did, especially when he hadn’t followed the conversation closely. Since he’d lost most of his hearing in the accident that had disfigured his face, he’d learned to read lips quite well, but occasionally he’d get it wrong, much to the amusement of his cousins, who would tease him mercilessly.

  “I’m fine, good sir,” she said, taking the books he offered. “And I thank you for retrieving my books.” She took them and whirled away without so much as a goodbye.

  Phillip stood transfixed, staring after her.

  Slowly, common sense returned, and he sighed regretfully. Such a lovely woman would never consider a friendship, much less a courtship, with someone like him.

  Remembering his reason for entering the bookstore, Phillip continued to peruse the titles. At the back of the store, he located the section from which the lady had emerged. There he found an assortment of slender books like those she had dropped. They were children’s stories. Of course. She was married and probably had been there to purchase books for her children. He’d best forget about dreaming of a life with her.

  Chagrined, he moved on to the next section. His eye caught a familiar name from his youth. An elegantly bound volume held a collection of poetry by Robert Burns. He remembered his grandmother, when she still lived, sitting on a bench in the estate gardens, reading her own well-worn book of Burns’ poetry. Later, when she fell ill, Grandfather would go to her chambers and read to her, his gentle voice caressing the words as if singing a love song. Grandmother would lie back with her eyes closed, an ethereal smile lighting her face. It was his favorite recollection of his grandparents and the love they shared.

  Warmed by the memory, he picked up the volume, took it to the shop clerk, and purchased it.

  ~~~~

  Robert Townley, the duke’s valet, stayed close to his master, but not so close as to intrude. The duke managed to get around quite well on his own, reading lips and using his other senses, but he couldn’t hear warning shouts or the rushing carriag
es traveling the busy London streets. Though Robert hadn’t been instructed to do so, he’d made it his mission to protect Phillip whenever the young duke went out.

  Robert’s father and grandfather had both served the duke’s family. Robert himself had grown up on the estate, spending his youth with the young heir. He’d been allowed to sit in on Phillip’s lessons, never letting on that he was learning as much as Phillip. After Phillip left for Eton, Robert had continued his own education by reading the duke’s discarded newspapers and everything else he could get his hands on.

  When Phillip’s gun had misfired, leaving him scarred and deaf, he’d come home to convalesce, and Robert had been one of the few people he’d allowed in his rooms. The two men had forged a bond more akin to friendship than the usual relationship between servant and master. Now he noted Phillip’s dazed expression.

  What happened in that bookstore?

  He reached out a hand and lightly touched the duke’s sleeve to get his attention. “Your Grace?”

  Phillip blinked several times, seeming to bring himself into the present. “Yes, Townley?”

  “Is something amiss? Did something happen in there? You look rather… dazed.”

  Phillip sighed. “I suppose I do. I just caught a glimpse of heaven.”

  Chapter Two

  Lady Amelia Partridge paused outside the bookstore to put her new purchases into a leather satchel she’d borrowed from her brother. Edward hadn’t known about the loan, of course. But he was off on one of his hunting trips with his friends. She supposed she looked silly carrying it, but the books wouldn’t fit in her reticule, and she didn’t want all of London to know about her reading selections. The books were for some special children in her life, and she didn’t want to explain to her friends if they should happen to see her.