Christmas in Texas

by Tina Leonard

  “Yes,” Capri said, changing Carter’s diaper. “We’re all very grateful about that.”

  Seagal looked at his wife. “Grateful?”

  She laughed. “Aren’t you?”

  “I was thinking that I was more blown away, knocked to my knees and charmed.”

  She smiled, swapping him Carter for Sara. “All that over cookies?”

  He handed Carter back to his mother. “I can change my daughter’s diaper,” he said, “and yes, that’s exactly how I feel about my wife.”

  He finished the diaper and picked his daughter up, making room for Carter in his arms, too. “I think they’re ready for their Christmas breakfast.”

  Capri fed the babies by the Christmas tree, enjoying the warm glow of the tree and the fire Seagal made in the fireplace. Then they put the babies on a blanket in front of the tree, and sat next to them.

  “It’s a lot of gifts for two tiny people,” Seagal said, looking at all the gaily wrapped boxes.

  “And something for you,” Capri said, handing him a present.

  He looked at his wife as she sat in her red satin bathrobe. Her eyes were shining with happiness—she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. “You already gave me these tiny bundles of joy,” he said. “And you.” He kissed her, giving her a taste of later, when he intended to kiss her thoroughly again. “Quite frankly, your text about the cookies and house key pretty much made my night.”

  “This is just a little something extra,” Capri said.

  He opened the box, pulling out a framed black-and-white photo of Capri and the babies sitting in front of the Christmas tree. He grinned. “How’d you know this is exactly what I wanted?”

  Capri smiled. “The babies told me.”

  “They’re pretty discerning children.” He took her hands in his, kissing her fingertips. “Capri, I never dreamed you would give me another chance. I know I haven’t been much for telling you how I feel, but I won’t forget in the future. I always thought you knew how I felt about you, but—” He kissed her fingertips again, then put them over his heart. “I know a marriage is stronger when the feelings are shared.”

  She smiled. “I think so, too.”

  He took a deep breath. “But I’m hoping for one more Christmas miracle.”

  She looked at him, her gaze questioning.

  “Our marriage is the most important thing in the world to me,” Seagal said. “Is there any chance you’d want to renew our vows? As you said before, we got married pretty fast. I’m not sure if you feel it was too rushed. As much as I was never one for talking much, I think saying our vows again would be a wonderful way for us to start off our new lives together.”

  Seagal thought his wife practically glowed with happiness. Capri moved close to him, and he pulled her onto his lap. “I’d love that,” she said. “Thank you for thinking of it.”

  “I’m trying out this new more romantic persona,” Seagal said.

  “And I’m impressed,” Capri said, kissing him.

  “You’re going to sidetrack me,” Seagal said, enjoying his wife’s lips. “And you don’t want to sidetrack me before I give you your present.”

  She looked at him. “I feel like you’ve given me so much, Seagal, not the least of which what you did for my flower shop. I can’t think what would have happened to my grandmother’s store if you hadn’t been so vigilant. I’m pretty sure I would have lost the business,” Capri said. “I can’t imagine it getting shut down by the DEA or whatever. All my grandmother’s hard work lost.”

  “Best to stamp it out while it was a small op,” Seagal said. “Although I have no doubt that the Bads will figure out a new game. I’ll be keeping a close eye on them in the future.”

  “Still, between my store and these beautiful babies, I feel like you’ve given me everything.” She leaned against his chest.

  “Now that we’ve established me as a bona fide Santa Stud,” Seagal said, “let’s see how this fits.”

  He handed her a tiny box wrapped in silver with a gold bow on top, so small she hadn’t even seen it resting on one of the branches. “When did you do this?”

  “After the bust.” He looked at his sleeping babies, then kissed his wife. “I guess I got so nervous when I realized you’d been in danger that I panicked. Apparently when I panic, I go shopping for my wife.”

  “Oh, Seagal,” she said, opening the box. “It’s so beautiful!”

  He smiled as she gingerly picked up the gold-and-diamond wedding band. “Merry Christmas, babe.”

  She gazed at him. “It’s a pretty spectacular present, Santa.”

  Taking the band from her, Seagal slid it onto her finger behind the diamond engagement ring he’d noticed she’d never taken off. “Well, Mrs. West, it occurred to me that a man gives his wife a wedding ring when he’s planning to marry her. If I ever forget to say the words, I hope you’ll know how much I love you when you look at this ring. Because I do love you. I always did. I will forever.”

  “That’s the Christmas present I wanted,” she whispered, and he kissed her, savoring the magic of holding his wife in his arms again. He smiled at his babies sleeping peacefully on the blanket, and the fire in the fireplace and the twinkling Christmas tree—and even the flowered sofa that somehow he’d grown to appreciate.

  It was a magical Christmas, the best he’d ever had. Because Christmas was in the heart, and his heart was with his family—where it had longed to be.

  * * * * *

  The Christmas Rescue

  Rebecca Winters

  Dear Reader,

  We’ve all heard the expression “When God closes a door, He always opens a window.” It’s a great saying. I’ve pondered it many times in regard to those things affecting my life as well as the lives of others. In this Christmas story, I decided to take two negatives and turn them into a positive.

  Christmas is supposed to be a time of happiness and joy when the world celebrates the birth of Christ. Yet what could be more negative than for a woman to be fleeing a terrifying situation at this time of year? And what about a man who would like to blot out Christmas from his consciousness after the pain another Christmas brought him?

  These people meet under the most unlikely circumstances involving a precious baby. You’ll have to read the story to find out that miracles do happen, even at the most improbable moment to two people who had a door close on them and definitely need a window opened.

  Enjoy!

  Rebecca Winters

  I’d like to dedicate this book to all law enforcement workers, firefighters, paramedics and hospital workers everywhere. These heroes and heroines sacrifice their lives and time year round, but especially during the holidays, in order to serve the rest of us.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Nine

  Excerpt

  Chapter One

  Have yourself a very Merry Christmas.

  The cheery holiday song serenaded Andrea Sinclair as she entered the car dealership, but it did nothing to ease her fear and anxiety. She was in a great hurry.

  “Pick out any model you want off the floor, and I’
ll wrap it up for you to drive home in half an hour tops!”

  At the sound of the salesman’s voice, Andrea jerked around, clutching her three-month-old son tighter. “Are you George?”

  “Oh—you’ve talked to him already?” He was clearly disappointed.

  “Yes. On the phone earlier. Could you let him know I’m here to get the Honda?”

  “Sure.” He walked away. In another minute she heard George being paged. “You have a customer waiting out in front.”

  Seconds later, a young man came bounding across the showroom floor. “You’re Andrea?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. I’ve got your Honda washed and ready to go. Where’s your Sentra?”

  “In the bay where they did the inspection. I left the title on the seat.”

  “Perfect. I’ll drive it around to the used-car lot. Just walk past these offices to the back and I’ll meet you out there.”

  She handed him her car keys. “Thank you so much. You have no idea how grateful I am.” Her voice shook despite her best effort to remain calm in front of him.

  “Hey—I made some money. It all helps this close to Christmas.”

  Christmas.

  Andrea couldn’t think of the holidays now. For three months she’d been living in fear of her husband. Escape was the only thing on her mind.

  She kissed Jack’s cheek. “Come on, sweetheart. We’re going for a ride.” Let’s pray we get a long way past the border before our junker car conks out.

  Outside, she saw to her relief George had parked her two-year-old car next to the nine-year-old green one she’d just purchased. That made it easier for her to transfer the car seat and her suitcase. The last thing to grab was the diaper bag.

  She noticed the rear windshield where the temporary permit had been stuck on; her license plates would come later. George motioned to her from the glassed-in office. While her baby son kept turning his head to look at everything, she signed the papers and in a few minutes was ready to go.

  “Good luck, Mrs. Sinclair. Merry Christmas.” He handed her the keys along with the dealership’s calendar for the New Year.

  “Merry Christmas to you, too. Thank you for everything.”

  In a rush, Andrea got Jack settled and strapped in to his car seat. After giving him another kiss and a plastic doughnut toy to bite on, she got in the front seat and started the engine. She was relieved when the car hummed smoothly to life. George had even filled the tank with gas. I owe him.

  The huge dealership sprawled across several lot lengths. She wound around to a place where nobody would notice her and pulled out the jaw-length brown wig she’d bought. Andrea pinned her pale blond ponytail on top of her head, then pulled on the wig. The change was so remarkable, even she didn’t recognize herself.

  Jack would probably start crying when he didn’t recognize her, but she didn’t have time to worry about that right now. She looked around, buckled up and then took off. After a few minutes she reached the 285 leading south out of Carlsbad, New Mexico, and headed for Texas.

  She’d tossed her old cell phone and had bought a new one that couldn’t be traced. No one could reach her now except her attorney, Sheila North. The older woman had warned her to tell no one her new number, not even her best friends. Andrea had been following her advice to the letter.

  Thanks to her, Andrea had a safe place to go. She glanced at the map she’d marked. Alpine, Texas, was her destination. If there were no problems with the car, she ought to be there by evening. It was only a three-hour drive. Though the sky looked grizzly and threatened rain, the bad weather didn’t bother her. She and Jack were finally leaving.

  She had a premonition Jerry would try to break in to her apartment tonight. He’d been harassing her with phone calls and emails, telling her no restraining order could stop him from talking to her. But she wouldn’t be there. Not ever again. He’d violated his supervised visitation rights for the last time.

  When he couldn’t find her car, he wouldn’t have any idea where she’d gone. She wouldn’t put it past him to threaten her friends if they didn’t break their silence, but it wouldn’t do him any good. Her friends knew nothing and Andrea had left no clues.

  Twice en route she pulled into a rest area, once to change Jack and another time to feed him. Each time, she removed the wig while she took care of him. Her little darling was being so good.

  Replacing her disguise, she got going. Now a heavy rain was coming down. After a few miles she saw the big sign she’d been waiting for at the side of the road. A cry of relief escaped her lips. Welcome to Texas. Drive Friendly—Texas Way.

  “It won’t be long now, Jack.” She consulted her map. When they came to Fort Davis, she’d buy dinner and gas up. Alpine wouldn’t be that much farther away. For a distraction, she turned on the radio and listened to the news. The weather forecast was predicting snow in the Davis Mountains. The newscaster said it was a rare occurrence and warned people in that area to be prepared.

  Andrea switched off the radio. So far there was only rain, but she was anxious to reach the next town just in case she ran into a blizzard. She’d stop at a drive-through for a hamburger and then feed Jack. If the weather got really bad, she’d find a motel for the night and drive on to Alpine tomorrow. Anxious as she was to put distance between her and Jerry, her first priority was her darling son, whose routine had been disrupted enough.

  The sky had grown dark as pitch, which might explain why there was little traffic going in either direction. She was slogging through a slushy downpour when suddenly snow started in earnest. Soon she came to the outskirts of Fort Davis; Alpine was only twenty more miles.

  Debating whether to stay here or go on, she spotted a convenience center at the next corner and pulled in next to the nearest pump. No matter what, she needed gas. A camper van pulled up to one of the other pumps.

  “I’ll be right back, Jack.” Reaching for her credit card, she jumped out into the snow. The temperature had taken a plunge; at this point, a motel sounded good. Anxious to finish her task and find lodging for the night, she’d swiped the card and started to release the gas nozzle when she was suddenly knocked from behind and thrown forward into the snow.

  * * *

  FLYNN PATTERSON DROVE his truck along 118 headed for Fort Davis. The violence of the elements matched his mood and kept sensible people off the roads. Visibility was bad, and he pulled over to the side of the road to adjust his windshield wipers so he could see. The snow hit him like an arctic blast, but he relished it. Anything to drive out the pain.

  Three days, and Christmas would be here. If he could just burrow into this freezing wilderness and not think until it was all over, he might survive to live again for another year.

  For what?

  If his psychiatrist heard him ask that question again, he’d tell him he needed to check in to the hospital for some intense therapy. His siblings would fall apart if they knew his state of mind.

  What do you mean if they knew, Patterson?

  No one talked about the Christmas season around him, not his family, not his friends or colleagues. The time of holiday cheer represented a loss to him too terrible to revisit. He was thankful that his married sisters lived in Houston and knew enough to leave him alone.

  While he drove, he could hear the chatter of the dispatcher taking calls at police headquarters. It kept him distracted. Flynn had just solved a big murder case near Van Horn and was officially off duty. He had one choice at thi
s point. Go home and get reacquainted with the three-quarter-full bottle of Jack Daniel’s in the cupboard.

  It would take the entire contents to blot out the pictures of his wife and daughter, killed on a commuter flight from Dallas to Houston two years ago.

  It had been only three days before Christmas....

  Pain welled from his gut, filling his eyes with tears. As he was attempting to choke them down, he saw something on his left that jerked him back to his surroundings. Snow had been falling steadily, but he’d noticed that a set of car tracks coming from the opposite direction had suddenly disappeared over an embankment.

  He did a quick U-turn and drove to the place where the tracks went off the road. They were almost buried now, but whoever had lost control of the car had to have done so in the past five minutes. He called Fort Davis for backup and gave the coordinates, then he turned off his engine.

  Pulling on his gloves, he grabbed his flashlight and stepped sideways down the deep culvert. An older-model green Honda had rolled several times and landed on its roof.

  Before he could reach the accident site, Flynn heard a baby screaming its lungs out. The cries came close to sending his heart into cardiac arrest. He flashed the light around. Glass was everywhere. The front passenger door had come off. Items from the car were scattered in the snow.

  He made his way to the open rear window and saw the baby upside down in its car seat. On instinct, he reached to feel the seat belt and undo it, allowing the baby to fall into his arms. Flynn clutched the terrified infant to his chest and raced up the embankment to his truck.

  Whipping off his winter parka, he wrapped the little boy in it—at least he assumed it was a boy by the blue jeans and baseball shirt he was wearing. Then he turned on the heat full blast while he examined him. By some miracle he didn’t see any blood, but hypothermia could have set in.