“And it is spooky looking, Daddy,” Paige said, eyes widening. “I looked in the windows before and didn’t see no headless horsemen or creepy monsters, but Jaley says they only come out at night.”
Jaley was Paige’s best friend, a child with a vividly overactive imagination. He could, however, understand why the house had gained a reputation. Peeling paint, sagging doors and filthy dormer windows that looked out like empty eyes through faded black shutters were creepy enough, but the overgrown bushes and vines and the sheer loneliness lent an air of doom to the place. More than one shaky teenager had been caught climbing in through a window on a dare.
But Paige’s comments had scared Lana’s little girl. Small like Lana with kinky curly beige hair, Sydney had stiffened, growing paler with each spooky word. She clung to Lana as if she was now afraid to go inside the house.
Davis put a hand on his daughter’s shoulder and squeezed, the signal he used in church to get her to stop talking. Paige hushed, shoulders slouching as her bottom lip protruded. She’d gotten the message.
“The house is not haunted,” he said firmly. “I told you that. Houses get lonely. All this one needs is a family.” And an enormous amount of work.
“Now it has one,” Lana declared, relief in her husky voice, though she tugged Sydney closer to her jean-clad thigh and soothed the child with a pat on the back.
“She’ll need some fixing up,” Davis said. “You know how some teenagers are when they know a house sets empty.”
He’d caught a few of them himself, usually on nights with a full moon or late in autumn just before Halloween when wind and dry, rustling leaves permeated the atmosphere.
Lana blanched, eyes widening as she swiveled her head toward the peeling paint and loose siding and then back to him. “The house has been vandalized?”
Hadn’t the woman considered the possibility?
“I haven’t been inside in a couple of years, since before your mother passed, but things had run down even then.” He didn’t say the obvious. Patricia Ross had two daughters and neither had come home to help their ailing mother. He couldn’t imagine being that coldhearted against your own kin. But then, Lana and Tess Ross hadn’t been the usual girls. Patricia’s brother had come from Nevada to bury her.
“Vandals,” Lana murmured, looking as if the weight of the house was on her shoulders. “Wonder what that will cost to repair?”
Regardless of his doubts about her, Davis’s natural compassion kicked in. He could help her out. He had the expertise. He was her neighbor. He fought the urge, but kindness won out in the end. Might as well give in to it now and save wrestling with his conscience later.
“I could take a look around the place if you want and give you a rough estimate.” That was all he planned. Just a quick walk-through.
“You do that sort of thing?”
The warm autumn wind lifted a lock of her hair and swirled it around until she had a spiderweb of brown matted on top of her head. She brushed at the nest, making it worse. He found the look charming and vulnerable. Davis was a sucker for vulnerable.
Tough-as-nails Lana Ross, vulnerable?
“I can,” he said. “Mostly, I lay tile but I’ve flipped a house or two. I can do a little of everything when the situation calls for it.” His face relaxed in a self-mocking grin. “In tile work, especially around here, the situation almost always calls for it. If I redo a shower, the floor beneath is inevitably rotten. Tile a floor? Bad joists.”
For the first time since his arrival, Lana’s pretty mouth curved. Just a little. “A true renaissance man?”
“Nowhere near that interesting, but I do know my way around a construction site.”
Renaissance man. Huh. Funny. Except when he had a trowel or a hammer in hand, he was as boring as vanilla pudding. Didn’t his sister remind him of that fact at least once a month? Jenny was forever trying to get him out into the world again. The dating world.
“Thanks for the offer, Davis,” Lana was saying, “but I guess we need to get settled in first and then figure out where to go from there.”
“Got it. Good plan.” She was blowing him off, rejecting his offer. Even though disappointment made his smile droop, Davis knew he should be glad about her refusal. He’d have no obligation now, no guilty conscience for not being neighborly to a woman and her daughter living alone.
Which brought him to another subject: Where was Sydney’s father?
As soon as the question settled in like good grouting mud, another followed. She’d never addressed Nathan’s oddball question about being married, and she and Sydney were moving in without any sign of a man. Recalling Lana’s teenage years, Davis thought the chances were very good the two were alone.
Copyright © 2013 by Linda Goodnight
ISBN-13: 9781460323298
COZY CHRISTMAS
Copyright © 2013 by Harlequin Books S.A.
Special thanks and acknowledgment are given to Valerie Hansen for her contribution to The Heart of Main Street miniseries.
All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.
www.Harlequin.com
The Soldier’s Gift
The holidays are right around the corner, but Captain Jake Tanner is struggling to find Christmas cheer. Having survived a devastating attack overseas, he has emotional scars that run deep. When Jake meets beautiful widow Emma Langford, his heart is unprepared for the feelings she inspires.
Training service dogs has taught Emma to recognize those in need. She wants to show Jake that a four-legged companion is the best therapy, but she’s afraid that the closer she gets, the more her own wounds are revealed.
Together, Jake and Emma will discover it takes a different kind of bravery to open themselves to love—and to healing.
Caring Canines: Loving and loyal, these dogs mend hearts.
“I didn’t think you wanted to get involved. What changed your mind?”
His gaze was riveted to hers. Intense. Compelling. “You.”
There was so much feeling behind that one word. She attempted a laugh that came out shaky.
“So you’re taking Shep?”
“Maybe. If we’re a good fit. I’ve been reading up on service dogs.”
She shooed him outside. “Then go see Shep.”
His chuckles lingered in the air as he left. The sound warmed her. She closed her eyes for a moment, immediately picturing the laugh lines at the corners of his eyes deepening and the edges of his mouth tilting up. The image sent goose bumps spreading over her. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms as though she could erase his effect on her.
Books by Margaret Daley
Love Inspired
*Gold in the Fire
*A Mother for Cindy
*Light in the Storm
The Cinderella Plan
*When Dreams Come True
Hearts on the Line
*Tidings of Joy
Heart of the
Amazon
†Once Upon a Family
†Heart of the Family
†Family Ever After
A Texas Thanksgiving
†Second Chance Family
†Together for the Holidays
††Love Lessons
††Heart of a Cowboy
††A Daughter for Christmas
**His Holiday Family
**A Love Rekindled
**A Mom’s New Start
§§Healing Hearts
§§Her Holiday Hero
Love Inspired Suspense
So Dark the Night
Vanished
Buried Secrets
Don’t Look Back
Forsaken Canyon
What Sarah Saw
Poisoned Secrets
Cowboy Protector
Christmas Peril “Merry Mayhem”
§Christmas Bodyguard
Trail of Lies
§Protecting Her Own
§Hidden in the Everglades
§Christmas Stalking
Detection Mission
§Guarding the Witness
*The Ladies of Sweetwater Lake
†Fostered by Love
††Helping Hands
Homeschooling
**A Town Called Hope
§Guardians, Inc.
§§Caring Canines
MARGARET DALEY
feels she has been blessed. She has been married more than thirty years to her husband, Mike, whom she met in college. He is a terrific support and her best friend. They have one son, Shaun. Margaret has been writing for many years and loves to tell a story. When she was a little girl, she would play with her dolls and make up stories about their lives. Now she writes these stories down. She especially enjoys weaving stories about families and how faith in God can sustain a person when things get tough. When she isn’t writing, she is fortunate to be a teacher for students with special needs. Margaret has taught for more than twenty years and loves working with her students. She has also been a Special Olympics coach and has participated in many sports with her students.
HER HOLIDAY HERO
Margaret Daley
God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.
—Psalms 46:1
To all our brave soldiers
who have kept this country safe.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Epilogue
Dear Reader
Questions for Discussion
Excerpt
Chapter One
Jake Tanner had pulled out the desk chair in his home office and started to sit when the front doorbell chimed in the blissful quiet. He would never take silence for granted again. A long breath swooshed from his lungs as he straightened and gripped his cane, then limped toward the foyer. Through the long, narrow window with beveled glass, he could make out his neighbor standing on the porch.
Marcella Kime found a reason to see him at least a couple of times a week. He’d become her mission since he’d returned home to Cimarron City from serving in the military overseas. A few days earlier she’d jokingly told him she missed her grandson, and he would do just fine taking his place. He still wasn’t sure what to make of that statement. He had returned to Cimarron City, a town he’d lived in for a while and visited often to see his grandma. Dealing with family, especially his father, the general, had been too much for him three months ago when he’d been released from the military hospital.
He swung the door open to reveal Marcella, probably no more than five feet tall, if that, with her hands full. “Good morning.” She smiled as she juggled a large box and a plate of pastries. He reached for the parcel.
“The Fed Ex guy left this late yesterday afternoon. I meant to bring it over sooner, but then I had to go to church to help with the pancake supper. You’re always home so I was surprised he couldn’t deliver the package.”
“Went to the VA hospital in Oklahoma City.”
“Oh, good. You went out.” She presented the plate of goodies. “I baked extra ones this morning because I know how much you enjoy my cinnamon rolls. I’m going to put those pounds you lost back on in no time. I imagine all those K rations aren’t too tasty.”
“I haven’t had MREs—meals ready to eat—in six months, and no, they aren’t tasty. In the hospital I was fed regular meals.” But he hadn’t wanted to eat much. He was working out again and building up his muscles at least.
“Oh, my. K rations certainly dates me. That’s what they were called when my older brother was in the army.”
His seventy-five-year-old neighbor with stark white hair never was at a loss for words. After she left, his head would throb from all the words tumbling around inside. He wanted to tell her again that she didn’t need to worry about him, that in time his full appetite would return, but she continued before he could open his mouth.
“I’d come in, but I have to leave. Saturday is my day to get my hair washed and fixed. It needs it. Can’t miss that.” She thrust the plate toward him. “I’ll come back later and get my dish.”
After placing the parcel on the table nearby, he took the cinnamon rolls from his neighbor, their scent teasing that less than robust appetite. “Thanks, Miss Kime.”
“Tsk. Tsk. Didn’t I tell you to call me Marcella, young man? Your grandma and me were good friends. I miss her.”
“So do I, Miss—I mean, Marcella.”
When she had traversed the four steps to his sidewalk, Jake closed his front door, shutting out the world. With a sigh, he scanned his living room, the familiar surroundings where he controlled his environment, knew what to expect. Even Marcella’s visits weren’t surprises anymore.
Jake balanced the plate on the box, carried it into his office and set it on the desk to open later. It was from his father and his new wife—a care package as they’d promised in their last call. Finally, they weren’t trying to talk him into coming to live with them in Florida anymore. He needed his space, and he certainly didn’t want to be reminded daily that he’d let down the general—he wouldn’t follow in his father’s footsteps. He needed a sense of what this house had given when he was growing up—peace.
He snatched a cinnamon roll as he sat in front of his laptop, his coffee cup already on his right on a coaster. While he woke up his computer, he bit into the roll and closed his eyes, savoring the delectable pastry. Marcella sure could bake. Before getting started in his course work for his Ph.D. in psychology, he clicked on his email, expecting one from his doctor at the VA about some test results.
Only one email that wasn’t junk popped up. He recognized the name, a message from the wife of a soldier who had served under him in Afghanistan. His heartbeat picked up speed. He should open it, but after an email a couple of weeks prior where he discovered one of his men had died from his injuries in an ambush, he didn’t know if he could.
His chest constricted. But the woman’s name taunted him. With a fortifying breath, he clicked on the message. As their commanding officer, it was his duty to know what happened to his men, even if he couldn’t do anything about it.
His comrade was going in for another operation to repair the damage from a bomb explosion. Her words whisked Jake back to that day six months ago that had changed his life. The sound of the blast rocked his mind as though he were in the middle of the melee all over again.
Sweat beaded on his forehead and rolled down his face. His hands shook as he closed the laptop, hoping that would stop the flood of memories. He never wanted to remember that day. Ever. The walls of his home office began to close in on him, mocking what peace he felt in
his familiar surroundings. He surged to his feet and hobbled around the room, dragging in breaths that didn’t satisfy his need for oxygen.
I’m in Cimarron City. In my house. Safe.
In the midst of the terror that day in the mountain village, he’d grasped on to the Lord and held tight as He guided him through the rubble and smoke to save whomever he could. But where was God now when he needed Him? He felt abandoned, left to piece his life together. Alone.
He paced the room, glancing back at the computer a couple of times until he forced himself to look away. Lightheaded, he stopped at the window, leaning on his cane, and focused on his front lawn. Reconnoitering the area. Old habits didn’t die easily.
He started to turn away when something out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. He swung back and homed in on a group of kids across the street—two boys beating up a smaller child.
Anger clenched his gut. He balled his hands as another kid jumped in on the lopsided fight. That clinched it for Jake. He couldn’t stand by and watch a child being hurt. Adrenaline began pumping through him as though he were going into battle, pushing his earlier panic into the background. He rushed toward the front door. But out on his porch, anxiety slammed into his chest, rooting him to the spot.
Jake’s gaze latched on to the three boys against the one, taking turns punching the child. All his thoughts centered on the defenseless kid, trying to protect himself. Heart pounding, Jake took one step, then another. His whole body felt primed to fight as it had when as a soldier he vied with the other part of him—sweat coating his skin, hands trembling, gut churning.
No choice.
Furiously he increased his pace until he half ran and half limped toward the group, pain zipping up his injured leg. The boys were too intent on their prey to notice him. When he came to a halt, dropping his cane, he jerked first one then another off the child on the ground. He tried holding on to the one he pegged as the leader while reaching for the third kid, but the boy yanked free and raced deeper into the park with the second one hurrying after him.
Love Inspired December 2013 - Bundle 2 of 2: Cozy ChristmasHer Holiday HeroJingle Bell Romance Page 21