“Oh, Rob…”
“Mercy sakes!” Flossie screeched. “Look at it! Look what they’ve done!”
Claire stepped into the parlor and gasped. A wonderland of twinkling white lights, chandeliers draped in gold ribbon, swags of pine branches and the fragrance of sweet cinnamon and nutmeg, the room fairly cried out, “Merry Christmas!” A fire crackled on the grate, while Homer and Virgil stretched out before it like a pair of indolent sultans.
“My kitties!” Flossie cried, tottering over to them in Claire’s high heels. “Aw, look at you pretty cats! I bet you feel happy today, don’t you?”
As her aunt knelt to stroke the pets, Claire felt Rob’s arms come around her. Standing behind her, he whispered in her ear, “You missed the best part.” Then he turned her toward the bay window, where a huge tree towered to the ceiling. Covered in colorful ornaments, ribbons and gold garland, it glittered with hundreds of tiny white lights. “Jane Henderson and some of the ladies cooked up this surprise last night. Jane and Mrs. Bloom headed the committee. The investigation was complete, so I gave my permission and helped them bring in the tree. They came over here before church to set everything up.”
“I can’t believe it,” Claire whispered back. “All the work they’d already done on the house…and now this room…and the museum, too. Rob, why?”
“I think you infected the whole town with the Christmas spirit.”
“Me? I was just trying to keep you from throwing Aunt Flossie out.”
“So she wouldn’t have to live with you.”
Reveling in the warmth of his arms around her, Claire leaned her head back against Rob’s chest. Though she knew she shouldn’t enjoy his presence so much, she couldn’t help herself. Maybe this was all she would have of him—a few hugs and the occasional impulsive kiss—but she would drink it in like cold water on a hot day.
“I can’t deny it,” she said. “I had the worst attitude.”
“God can take the worst and turn it into the best. You taught me that a long time ago. And you showed the rest of the town by tackling the whole Flossie Ross problem head-on.”
“Don’t call her that, remember? Flossie Ross—we hate that name.”
He chuckled. “You two are quite a pair. I think she’ll be willing to move back in once we fix a few rooms upstairs just for her. With the museum on the main level, she’ll have plenty of company, and no one will let a cat through the front door.”
Claire closed her eyes, soaking up his presence and thanking God for miracles large and small. “You’ve been wrong about only one thing, Rob,” she murmured. Fighting tears, she forced herself to speak her heart. “You said the tree was the best part. It’s not. This is.”
Silent behind her, he tightened his arms around her waist and rested his cheek against her head. Carrying a cat, Flossie walked across to the table that held the jeweled music box. When she lifted the lid, the notes of the hymn drifted through the room.
“‘Silent night,’” Flossie began to sing. “‘Holy night. All is calm, all is bright…’”
“Claire, you challenged me to be more open with people,” Rob said in a low voice. “To be more open with you. I’ve watched you change as you opened up to your aunt. And even Flossie changed as she finally let you in. The thing about me is just that I—”
“It’s okay, Rob. You don’t have to say anything.”
“I want to talk. But I don’t know if you’ll want to hear what I have to say.”
Claire struggled to hold back the tears that threatened. “Go ahead and be honest. I’m your friend, Rob.”
“You’re my friend, that’s true. But…” He let out a breath that was warm against her ear. “But, Claire, I love you. I’ve loved you from the moment I walked into the gym and Mr. Jackson handed me the name of my partner and I saw it was you—a skinny freshman with red hair that stuck out in strange directions and a sharp tongue and a heart that was bigger than any I’d ever known. I loved you way back then, but I was too thick to admit it—okay, I was as dumb as a Missouri mule and twice as ornery. Doing things my own way took me down the wrong path, just as you said it would. But God saved me and brought me to Him and gave me a reason to live again. And then He put you back into my life. Claire, I know you just see me as a friend, and you’ve been through all that pain in the past, and you’ve worked hard to make a new life for yourself, but—”
“But if you don’t kiss me right now, Robert West,” she said, turning in his embrace and throwing her arms around his neck, “I don’t know what I’ll do.”
Without waiting, she stood on tiptoe and kissed him with every ounce of feeling that had been building inside her for so long. “Oh, Rob, I love you, too. I love you so much I’m about to burst with it!”
“Claire, are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure. You know I always speak my mind.”
“Then I want you to have my heart,” he said softly. “Just take it and hold it and keep it safe forever. Will you do that?”
She searched his eyes. “Forever?”
“I want you to be my wife, Claire. I know it’s sudden, and I don’t mind if you take your time—”
“Yes!” she cried, the tears at last spilling down her cheeks. “Yes, I want to be your wife, now, always, forever!”
With a burst of laughter he caught her up in his arms and swung her around. “Do you mean that? Oh, girl, I’ve been going crazy over you!”
“Rob, this is too much! I can’t believe—”
“Here we go again,” Flossie cut in as she hobbled across the room, shaking a finger at them. “Spooning right here in public. Kissing and giggling and whatnot. Let me tell you something, young man. You’d better have honest intentions toward my niece. She’s a fine girl, and I mean to protect her from the likes of scalawags and scoundrels.”
Claire and Rob stared at Flossie for a moment, and then they swept her into their hug. As the three turned around and around in the parlor, the music box mirrored their movement—shepherds and kings circling the holy infant, so tender and mild. Through Him, promises made would be kept. Miracles begun would end in completion. What was broken would be made whole. And one day, the whole world would sleep in heavenly peace…sleep in heavenly peace.
CHRISTMAS MOON
Gail Gaymer Martin
“’Twas in the moon of wintertime
When all the birds had fled,
That God, the Lord of all on the earth,
Sent angel choirs instead.
Before their light the stars grew dim,
And wond’ ring hunters heard the hymn:
Jesus your king is born!”
—Jean de Brebeuf, traditional carol
To my husband, Bob, who has given me more than I could ever return. He is my support, my cheerleader, my housekeeper, my cook, my laughter, my love. Thank you, Lord, for this wonderful gift.
Chapter One
“Rose…I want you to marry me.”
Rose Danby’s spoon clanged into the sink as she spun around to face her employer. She searched his face, expecting to see a grin, but he looked serious. He was handling the joke with the skill of a stand-up comedian.
“So…what’s the punch line?” Rose asked.
Paul Stewart faltered. “It’s not a joke. I was thinking that—”
“It’s not a joke?” She felt her forehead rumple like a washboard. Not that she wouldn’t want to marry a man as kind and handsome as her employer, but she was his twins’ nanny. “What do you mean it’s not a joke?”
His gaze searched hers. “I’m sorry. I shocked you.” He moved closer. “It just makes sense.”
“It makes sense to you, maybe, but I don’t get it.”
He glanced over his shoulder before refocusing on her. “Are the twins sleeping?”
She nodded. “They went to bed about an hour ago.”
A relieved look settled on his face, and he pulled out a kitchen chair. “Could we sit and talk?”
Talk? She felt her legs tremb
le and realized sitting was a wise move. Before she took a step, the teakettle whistled. “How about a cup of tea…while we chat?”
Without waiting for an answer, she moved to the stove and pulled the water from the burner. Talk? What more could he say after his “I want you to marry me” line?
Rose made the tea with as much speed as her shaking hands could manage, then set a mug in front of him and sat across from him with her own. “What’s this about?”
He raised his focus from the cup to her face. “I’ve been asked to take a transfer. Told is more accurate.”
“Transfer?” Her world spun out of control. What would she do? She had taken this position more than a year ago after a romantic fiasco. She wasn’t ready to find another job. “You mean transferred out of L.A.?”
He nodded, then refocused on the tea.
“Transferred to where?”
“Minnesota.”
She felt her breath escape. “Minnesota?”
He inched his gaze upward. “To Little Cloud.”
“But why? I don’t understand.”
“One of our branches is having serious problems. They’ll give me two years to troubleshoot or close the place.” He rubbed the back of his neck, then shook his head slowly. “That’s why I need you. The kids need you.”
The kids. What would life be like without his four-year-old twins? Ice edged through her veins. Though she had a huge challenge with Paul’s daughter, Kayla, Rose loved the children. Kayla had been born a quiet child, and her brother, Colin, had taken over for her. She mainly communicated through Colin and occasionally her father. But Rose had finally made progress. What would happen if they moved away? Kayla needed her. They both did, and she needed them, but… Her thoughts were a jumble, but one thing was clear.
“I can’t marry you, Paul.”
Though she spoke the words, the vision of being in Paul’s arms rose in her mind. She had dreamed it before, then scolded herself for being so foolish. She was the nanny. The dinner maker. Even the thought of another employer-employee romance made her recoil.
His brown eyes sparked with concern. “But I can’t go without you, Rose. I can’t find someone to care for my kids and handle a floundering corporation without help.”
“You didn’t ask me to help. You asked me to marry you. They’re different.” A deep sigh escaped her. She longed to say yes, but she was a Christian—a woman who knew love and commitment were what the Lord expected for marriage.
She shook her head. “I can’t leave Los Angeles, and I can’t marry someone who doesn’t love me.” Old memories tore through her and left her reeling.
“I thought you loved the kids.”
“You didn’t ask me to marry the kids. I love them with all my heart. The thought of losing them kills me.” Tears rolled from her eyes.
He knelt beside her. “Don’t cry. Please. I made a terrible mistake asking you to marry me. I know you’re a Christian woman, and I thought marriage would be the only way you’d agree to come with us.”
Angry at her uncontrolled emotion, she grabbed a napkin from the holder and daubed her eyes. “You’re an executive. You’re strong and persuasive. Tell them you can’t drag your kids that far away. They’ll have to listen to you.”
“And if they don’t?” He rose and rested his hand on the back of her chair.
She lifted her eyes to his stress-filled face, trying to contain the ache in her heart. “They’ll listen, Paul. They have to.”
Chapter Two
Rose…I want you to marry me.
The words still echoed in Rose’s ears two months later as she looked out the patio window of the lovely Victorian house that Paul had rented in Little Cloud. The setting was perfect for the twins—large yard, woods, creek, freedom. She watched them playing in the leaves, still amazed that in October trees had already turned colors.
Since arriving, she’d reviewed why she had finally agreed to come. But the answer was easy. The separation from the children had been dreadful. At night she would look at the moon and tell herself the same moon was hanging over Little Cloud, Minnesota, but the thought hadn’t given her comfort as much as it had accentuated her isolation.
The children had become her life. After three weeks of Paul’s pleading, she had agreed to relocate, and her fantasies had grown, with herself as mistress of a lovely home in Little Cloud—Paul coming home to dinner and telling her about his difficult day.
Then reality had set in. Things hadn’t changed at all. As always, when Paul arrived home she returned to her quiet apartment. He had kept his promise—their deal, he called it. Not only was the apartment waiting when she arrived, but he’d bought her a new car.
Rose pulled her thoughts back to her task. She unloaded another carton of kitchen equipment and piled the empty box along with the others. She’d discovered the boxes in the back entry, waiting to be unpacked.
Time was fleeting, and Paul was late again. Even if he ate warmed-over meals, she had to feed the children.
Rose set the boxes aside while she checked the casserole in the oven, then called the children inside. They scampered through the doorway with leaves clinging to their clothes and dried grass on their shoes.
“Don’t move,” Rose said.
Colin stopped, then halted Kayla by the patio door.
“Look at your shoes,” she said, heading for the broom. When she returned, Colin giggled.
“Shoes off and shake your jackets outside before you go upstairs…or I’ll use this broom to shoo you back outside.”
Colin dodged her teasing and even Kayla grinned as they slipped off their things and darted up the stairs.
Rose chuckled at her ploy. She used the broom as an idle threat. The twins would laugh when she grasped it and gave them a warning, but she’d learned they would usually do as she asked.
She swept up the debris and put away the broom. Then remembering Kayla’s tangled hair, Rose headed for the staircase. “Kayla, please bring down your brush.” If Kayla didn’t respond, she prayed Colin would bring it.
In minutes, the children’s footsteps reverberated on the stairs, and Colin arrived with Kayla’s hairbrush.
“Thank you,” Rose said, giving him a quick hug.
“Kayla, please come here.”
Rose looked at the four-year-old and waited.
“Kayla, please.”
The girl didn’t move.
Rose’s stomach twisted. Since their relocation the child had reverted to her old self before Rose had become their nanny. “Colin, please talk to your sister.”
He repeated Rose’s request, and without hesitation Kayla crossed the room and sat beside Rose.
She dragged the hairbrush across Kayla’s long hair while the little girl sat statue-still. Rose wanted to take her in her arms and hug conversation out of her, but she’d tried that before and Kayla hadn’t responded.
The day Rose had arrived in Little Cloud, Kayla had clung to her like moss to a tree trunk, but when it came to speaking, Rose never knew what to expect. She wondered if the child feared she’d leave again.
The thought broke Rose’s heart. One day she would leave when Paul had no need for her anymore. A new panic jolted her. What did she have to go back to? She’d forsaken everything to make the move.
As Rose continued brushing Kayla’s hair, static lifted the strands like magic fingers. “Look, Colin.”
“She looks like a long-haired porcupine.”
“I do not,” Kayla said.
Rose heard curiosity in her voice. “Yes, you do. Colin’s right.” Praying it would work, Rose lifted the hand mirror in front of Kayla. “See for yourself.”
Kayla giggled. “I do.”
The child’s words thrilled Rose. “But you’re a very pretty porcupine.”
Kayla looked at Rose—her smiling brown eyes so like her father’s—and grinned.
Rose put down the hairbrush while an unexpected concern filled her mind. Kayla had begun preschool, and Rose prayed the other c
hildren weren’t making fun of her and the teacher hadn’t lost her patience. If so, Kayla could slide back even further. Maybe that’s what was happening to her now.
The casserole’s aroma filled the kitchen, and in moments the children and she were around the table, saying a blessing before they ate.
Time ticked past, and Rose finally sent the children to bed without seeing Paul. The scenario broke her heart.
The moon had risen high over the trees when Rose finally heard Paul’s car pull into the drive. She stood and headed for the kitchen. He stepped through the doorway the same time she did.
“You look terrible,” she said, witnessing the stress on his face and the tired look in his eyes.
He dropped his briefcase on a kitchen chair and gave a one-shoulder shrug. “I’m okay. The place is too laid-back for a well-run corporation. I’m trying to get the hang of their politics before implementing changes.”
She moved to the refrigerator and brought out his dinner plate covered with plastic wrap. “How much longer will this go on?”
He shook his head and sank into a chair. “I don’t know. It’s taking more time than I planned, but I hope it ends soon.”
“So do I.” Rose slid the dish into the microwave and pressed the buttons.
“I’m sorry, Rose. I know this cuts into your time.”
Her time? Rose’s life revolved around this family. She had no life of her own. She wondered if he really understood. “It’s not me I’m thinking of, Paul. It’s the kids. They miss you.”
“I know they do, and I miss them.”
Rose looked at his expression and wished she’d kept quiet.
Chapter Three
That Christmas Feeling Page 11