“He bought you a bakery?” her mother asked.
“No.” Grace sniffled. “He opened a door.”
Betsy grasped Grace by her shoulders and started shaking her like a ragdoll. “We have to get you to Mistletoe before it’s too late.”
A forceful knock sounded at the door. “Are you gals still in there?”
Suddenly remembering why they were standing in a church wearing uncomfortable mint green bridesmaids’ dresses, Grace’s optimism plummeted once again. “This is your wedding, Danielle. I have to be here—”
“Are you crazy? Betsy’s right. We have to get you to the airport.”
“Absolutely,” Grace’s mother agreed. “Betsy, bring your car around. Danielle, get on your phone and find a one-way ticket to Seattle and a train ticket to Mistletoe. You can put it on my card.”
Grace watched in rare astonishment as her mother took charge, and Betsy, in all her unique grandeur, rendered a salute before tearing out through the back door in her bridesmaid’s dress, white sash, and her black ankle boots.
A second later, Grace’s mother grabbed her wrist and hauled her out the back door. Danielle joined after she stuck her head out of the front door and yell down the aisle. “Trevor, I love you, baby, but I owe Grace to get her to a dance. I’ll be back in thirty minutes. Everyone sit tight.”
Trevor yelled back, “But we’re already naming our kids after her. Isn’t that enough?”
Outside, Betsy honked her midnight blue Chevy. Grace, her mom, and Danielle piled inside, the white fluff of Danielle’s wedding dress drifting into the front seat. It was hard not to laugh as the adrenaline of three crazy women charioted Grace away, belting out the lyrics to Jefferson Starship’s “Nothing’s Gonna Stop Us Now” on the freeway.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Grace knew she’d be late when they had to fly around a storm heading into Seattle. To make matters worse, she’d misplaced her phone with everyone’s numbers. She’d tried calling Betsy on a payphone at the airport, but she went straight to voicemail. With the hour growing late and too anxious to wait for the train, she decided to max out her own credit card and rent a car that would take her to Mistletoe. Only, she didn’t foresee having to drive through blizzard-like conditions, slowing her further.
Knowing she’d missed the dance, she stopped by Hearth’s Gate, hoping to see Ayden’s truck parked in the circular driveway. No one was home. Despite believing she was too late, Grace drove to the empty Christmas Eve Eve Dance hall, the parking lot deserted except for a lone snow-covered car. She parked near the front entrance and braced for the frigid air to hit her in the face. Determined to see this through, she trudged over several inches of unplowed snow, lifted her gloved hands to the silver doorknob, and tugged. Locked.
A sob tore from her throat, her heart refusing to give up so soon. She yanked one more time and then smacked the door hard with the palm of her hand. It wasn’t supposed to end this way. He was supposed to be waiting for her, and they were supposed to live happily-ever-after, with a few arguing ups and downs, of course. Now, she had no doubt he’d already booked a flight to the Caribbean. He’d never want to see her again.
She half-laughed, half-scoffed at her own romantic conclusion. At last defeated, she turned and fell against the door, watching her breath transform into white puffy clouds before her. This was the end, the last page of her and Ayden’s love story. Still, she wouldn’t go back and change meeting him. She found her voice and she’d come to realize that she’d used Danielle and her mother to keep from taking chances or moving forward.
“Well, look at who we have here?”
Grace pushed away to find Mr. and Mrs. Hawthorne huddled together in thick coats and mittens.
She tried to smile, but she ended up biting her lip to keep from crying. “I, um, was invited to the dance, but I think I’m a little late,” she said with a tear-filled laugh.
The two people glanced at each other before Mr. Hawthorne left his wife’s side to take a few keys from his coat pocket. He then moved his attention to the magnificent and twinkling sky. “As long as the moon is above us, you’re not too late.”
Grace shifted out of the way to let him open the door. Was it insane to want to take a peek into what might have been?
“Go on, Grace,” Wilhelmina coaxed.
Grace exhaled slow and nodded. “I’ll only be a moment.”
The woman gave Grace a gentle pat on the shoulder before her husband scooted ahead to flip on a few lights.
Grace hesitated, noticing how strings of mistletoe dangled from the timbered rafters. At the end of the hall stood a tall gray and white stone fireplace and a twelve-foot Christmas tree. Behind her, Mr. Hawthorne flipped on a few more switches, one of them turning on the multi-colored blinking lights wrapped around the live branches.
Mesmerized, Grace sauntered forward, drawn to three presents sticking out from the bottom of the tree. When she halted, Wilhelmina ambled to stand beside her.
“He left them for you.”
“Who left—” Grace didn’t have to finish her thought.
Her stuttering inhale echoed through the empty hall. “Can you give me a few minutes?” she said, the woman nodding with a sad smile.
Grace cautioned her steps, wondering if it might be a better idea to turn around and leave. Was it torture to want to know what might have been if she’d been there on time or if he’d stayed just a little while longer?
Regardless, she continued forward, lured by the magic of the tree and the mystery of the three presents Ayden had given her. Like a child, she bent and tucked her legs underneath her, stretching for the square package first. It was heavy and uneven, her hands shaking as she unwrapped the gift to reveal the snow globe she’d admired in Hawthorne’s.
Grace lifted the present and shook it slightly, watching the white flecks float around the log cabin with the lit window.
“There’s two more,” Mr. Hawthorne said.
Grace sniffed and nodded. This time, she took less time to open the present, tearing through the long box to find the blanket she’d wrapped herself in so many times at Hearth’s Gate.
“Ida made me one just like that.” Wilhelmina blinked back a tear.
Mesmerized and overwhelmed, Grace wrapped the gift around her shoulders. It smelled like Hearth’s Gate, woodsy and comforting.
“One more.” Mr. Hawthorne’s wrinkled finger pointed to the last gift.
Grace stared at the small rectangular box certain it was a bracelet or necklace of some kind, a peace offering perhaps. She reached out her hand and then withdrew it. “I can’t open it,” she whispered.
“You might want to try.”
Grace twisted in the direction of the entryway, her eyes blinking, her heart hammering at Ayden’s surprising form. “Ayden?” she said on a joyous sob.
“Did you come to return my shirt?” he asked with a smirk.
She stood, and he met her in a few determined strides, sweeping her up in a powerful and possessive embrace.
“God, it feels good to hold you again,” he whispered, his grip tight, his heart thumping hard against her chest. His gaze raked over Grace’s face, possessive and beguiling.
He sat her down and captured her mouth in a kiss that jolted every nerve in her body. She closed her eyes, her world tilting and spinning under his soft and slow persuasion. He cupped her head and deepened his kiss, the moment sweet, passionate and tender. It was not the end, but a glorious beginning of infinite possibilities and chapters.
He pulled away from her slightly, and she opened her eyes to find him staring at her, his dark blue eyes glinting and amorous.
“I thought I’d lost you,” she said, touching his stubbled face.
“When I thought you weren’t going to show, I wanted to quit Mistletoe and never look back. I drove around for a while, realizing I couldn’t give up on us that easy.” He hesitated to add, “Your timing needs some work, though.”
Grace laughed and then sobered to the m
oment.
“What’s the matter?” he asked, his warm breath brushing across her wet lips.
“That this is some wonderful dream, and soon I’m going to wake up and realize you and this place are one big figment of my imagination.”
He smirked, seeming to remember what she said when they first met each other. “In case you’re right, I need you to open one more gift.”
He pulled away, locked her hand in his, and led her back to the Christmas tree. He lifted the last present, offering it to her. “Maggie helped me pick it out, so I hope you like it.”
“You didn’t have to—”
“No, I didn’t have to…I wanted to, Grace.”
Again, expecting a necklace or bracelet, a peace offering of sorts, she sucked in her breath when her gaze caught the glittering shimmer of a silver diamond engagement ring. She brought her hand to her mouth and felt the trickle of quiet tears on her fingers.
“It’s perfect,” she whispered.
He leaned over to kiss her again when the roof opened up and speakers crackled with Grace’s favorite Christmas song, “Silver Bells.” He presented her a cocky grin before pulling away and offering her his hand.
“To make this official, we have to share a dance.”
She sent him a curious smile. “Does this have anything to do with the Mistletoe legend?”
He nodded and grinned, making her stomach flutter in all different directions. He then pulled her against him.
“The story goes,” he said, his mouth pressed to her right ear. “That the person you invite to dance under the Mistletoe moon on Christmas Eve Eve will be yours forever.”
She drew back. “Forever? Are you sure this is what you want, McCabe?”
He thought for a moment, on purpose. Then he chuckled and kissed the top of her nose. “Of course. I don’t waste wishes.”
His confession astonished her. “You…wished this?”
He bobbed his head. “Not at the official tree lighting, but at Maggie’s, although I wished for you to find the man who deserved you. At the time, I didn’t think that man was me.”
Her heart melted at his confession. “That was very sweet.”
His arms tightened around her waist. “So, what was your wish?”
“Do you mean, what was my wish before you kissed me and made me forget about making one?”
His eyes narrowed. “There was a method to my madness. And since you’re here with me and not Rick, I believe it worked.”
She drew back. “Speaking of wasting wishes—” She smirked at him. “No…I wished…for Kyle to be able to come home for Christmas. I’d spent too may holidays without my father, I just couldn’t imagine Collin and Ciara without theirs for the holidays.”
Ayden stared at her for a moment before his hands cocooned her face and he kissed her for a long, glorious heartbeat. Then he pulled back and smiled. “By some miraculous reason, Kyle’s unit came back early from their deployment. They arrived last night.”
Grace blinked in astonishment. “Really? He’s…he’s home?”
Ayden brushed his lips across the tip of her nose. “And so are you.”
She beamed. “I saw the pictures. Does this mean you’re not selling Hearth’s Gate?”
“Yes, I figured if we’re planning on having eight kids, we’ll need a pretty big place to raise them.”
She gawked at him. “Eight?”
He nodded and grinned down at her. “Five boys and three girls.”
Grace giggled inside his arms. “Oh, you’re so off on the ratio of sons and daughters.”
“You’re right. Six boys and two girls, both with two-syllable names and beautiful hazel eyes.”
She opened her mouth to argue when he silenced her with a kiss.
A word from the author…
I was born in historical Appomattox, Virginia. After graduating from high school, I joined the military and served five years in the active duty Army. After leaving, I decided to go into the Ohio Air National Guard, where I retired as a Master Sergeant in 2011. In case you were wondering, I have never flown a plane. After getting lost on my way to the recruiter's office, I was highly discouraged from navigating one.
I admit, I am an avid Jane Austen fan and try to incorporate her in my books, in one way or another. This dream of writing with Jane sometimes is an exciting adventure that may take me as far as the stars or as close as my computer.
When I'm not writing, I'm spending time with my husband and two boys, ages thirteen and ten. Without their sacrifice and understanding, I would never have been able to pursue my passion of writing or my accomplishment of becoming a published author.
No matter what I write and read, there always has to be a happy ending.
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