“For…” Tristán glanced at his watch. “Thirty minutes. You have to get ready for church soon. It’s Baby Jesus’s birthday, remember?”
“Uh-huh. He’s in a manger in swatting clothes with his mama and daddy.”
“Swaddling cloths. But yes, you can go play for a while.”
Sadie jumped off her chair and headed for the living room. Then she caught herself, came back to the table and removed her plate, and tiptoed up to place it in the sink. She checked her father’s face for a quick approval, and got it. She hurried off to her pile of presents.
“Gosh, she’s a great kid. You hit the jackpot there.” Jillian began to clear the table.
“Nope. You cooked, I clean up. I think it’s a relationship rule.” He kissed the tips of her fingers on both hands. “Besides, you asked for time to go home and change. Now’s your chance. And I think you said something about presents?”
“Hmm…presents, huh? I’ll have to check under my tree. Sacred Heart fills up fast on holidays, so we should get to the church a little early.”
When she tried to leave, Tristán waylaid her several times on the way to the door, with steamy kisses. Not that she minded. She had a hard time trying to keep her hands off him. “I’ll see you in a few,” she managed as she edged her way out the door.
****
Jillie hadn’t been gone but a few minutes when the phone rang. “Hey, Ross,” Tristan said, his hands still dripping bubbles from the kitchen sink. “Merry Christmas. What’s going on, buddy?”
“I thought I’d call and wish you the same. I hear you got a double dose of snow up there. Still shoveling out?”
“Yeah, it’s great. Sadie and I plan to make a snowman when we get back from church.” He toweled off the bubbles and poured himself another cup of coffee. He leaned back against the counter. “How have you been? Any news on Last Bluff?” He heard a slight intake of breath on Ross’s end.
“Nothing that would involve you legally. You were within your rights to leave, as are any of the members. They’re interviewing new talent to replace you now. I guess they thought you’d come back after the reality of what you gave up sank in.” Ross cleared his throat. “Have you changed your mind? I can pull some strings—”
“Don’t bother, Ross. I’m happy here, and more importantly, Sadie is ecstatic. That’s all that matters to me.”
“I get it,” Ross said. “I just wish I had half your guts. The crew thought you’d go out on your own, including me. No one expected you to move to Green Earth, Minnesota, population 4,361.”
“How—”
“I looked it up.”
“I thought you lived and breathed the music business.” Tristán sat at Abuelita’s old wooden table. He could hear Sadie talking to her new dolly as if she were the mother and the American Girl doll were her child. His heart told him he was right where he should be for both of their sakes.
“Yeah, well…I feel different lately. Can’t put my finger on it.” He blew out a breath. “How is that cute little schoolteacher you moved all hell and high water to go back to?”
“You mean Jillie?”
“Who else would I mean? You’ve been telling me stories about the woman for years. She isn’t married or engaged or something, is she?”
Tristán laughed. “Would serve me right if she was, wouldn’t it? No, and as a matter of fact, we went out on a first date last night.”
“Quick moves, dude. So I take it she forgave you for leaving her flat eight years ago.”
Tristán allowed himself a moment of guilt. “I think so, maybe…even if I don’t deserve it. I greased the skids by playing piano for her school’s Christmas concert.”
Ross’s belly laugh came across the line. “You…playing at a kid’s Christmas shindig? That’s rich. I suppose Sadie is enrolled at the school.”
“Not yet, next year. But she’s a shoo-in since I volunteered when they were in a pinch.” Tristán took a leap and asked Ross a question. “Hey, have you started seeing anyone?”
“No. Still trying to get my head around what I should do with the rest of my life. No sense bringing someone into my mess until I figure it out.”
“But you haven’t dated since Victoria. Almost a year now, right?”
“I know.” Ross hesitated before elaborating. “Lately…I’ve been…unsettled. I guess that’s as good a word as any. Come to think of it, I might have caught it from you.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, is this how you felt when you made the big decision to leave Last Bluff? The thrill is gone for me. Sure, the money is great, but there must be more—in life, I mean. More things that make you happy than just your job.”
Ross’s words made Tristán think back. “Yeah, but I sank that low a long time before I did something about it. Sadie was the deciding factor. If it weren’t for her, I’d still be banging the keyboard and wondering why I wasn’t happy.”
“What about Jillian Magee? Are you planning to ask her to marry you?”
“When you find the one, it changes everything. But I don’t think she would say yes yet. I’m working on it. Why don’t you come for New Year’s Eve and see for yourself? Sadie is nuts about her Uncle Ross, and I’d like you to meet Jillie.”
The line went silent until Ross answered glumly. “I’d be a third wheel just when you two are getting reacquainted.” Then he chuckled. “But since no woman is immune to my many charms, I might be able to steal her away from you.”
“Good luck with that,” Tristan begged to differ. “But, hey, why take the chance Jillie would succumb to your debonair ways, right? I’ll find you a date.”
“Uh-uh. No way. A blind date? On New Year’s Eve? Are you crazy? There isn’t anything more awkward than a blind date on New Year’s. You know, the end of the night—the big finale, the kiss? Jeez, dude. Am I that pathetic?”
“Hmm…okay, I’ll tell the gorgeous, black-haired, gypsy princess I had in mind for you that you’re busy beating them off with a stick.”
“Okay. You’ve got my attention. You said gorgeous, right?”
“Yep. That’s right, my friend, and because I love you, I picked out one who is also great company. I know I can trust her with you.”
“And how did you meet this amazing woman without making the love of your life jealous?”
Tristán could hear the beginning of a bit of doubt in Ross’s voice. He laughed and said, “Cleo is one of Jillian’s best friends. She’s great. And we met when I pitched in for the Christmas play. She’s the drama teacher at Sheridan School.”
“Sounds interesting. Okay, you can count me in, but what if I come midweek, spend a few days, so I can meet the gypsy princess before the big holiday? That way I can ask her myself if we’re both interested.”
“Sounds like a plan. Trust me, you’re interested. I can’t speak for Cleo, though.”
“Funny. Cleo, that’s her name?”
“Cleora Butterfield.”
“That’s a mouthful. So…I’ll let you go make your snowman, and Tris…I’m glad you’re happy now. I think the move was the right one for you, and Sadie. I hope things work out with Jillie.”
“Me, too, bud. I’ll see you midweek.”
After Tristán hung up the phone, he stepped into the living room, where Sadie played. He sat cross-legged nearby and picked up a puzzle piece. “I think this piece goes over there, honey, on the corner.” He handed her the piece and dropped a kiss on the top of her head.
****
The brisk wind hit her full force. Jillian pulled up the collar on her coat. Luckily, she had only to walk across the street, but it was time enough to contemplate the last few weeks. Most of it was a blur. Melah, Tristán, Sadie—all the drama, the dreams. Would her life ever be the same after this?
The man she’d loved since she was five years old had just told her he loved her. Tristán had to know that meant marriage for a girl like her. She would gain a daughter and the possibility of more children. Maybe even a couple of
dark-haired boys—at least one of them would have to have three dimples.
By the time, she turned the key in the lock, she had her entire life planned, and it looked pretty darn good. She angled off her snowy boots on the foyer rug and hung her coat on the rack. Buster trotted over and butted his head gently against her calf. “Who are you and what have you done with my cat?” Jillian asked, reaching down to scratch Buster behind the ears. “No biting because it’s Christmas Day? Okay, c’mon. I’ll feed you—maybe there will be an extra treat to celebrate Jesus’s birthday.”
After feeding Buster, she turned up the thermostat, mumbling to herself about the chill in the house. She never got cold when she was on an adventure with Melah…
Why hadn’t she told anyone about the woman yet? Was she worried her friends would think she was nuts? No, she never doubted they would believe her. Maybe she wanted to keep the truth to herself for a while, just until she made sense of it. But for now, she’d better shake a leg or risk being late for church.
A hot shower helped. Jillian toweled off and padded to her closet to choose something to wear. Navy slacks and a creamy, woolen sweater would do. Later, she could change into jeans to help build Frosty the Snowman with the love of her life and his daughter. She held the lovely thought close to her heart.
As she was about to walk out the front door, the phone rang. She picked it up and glanced at the mantel clock for the time. She still had thirty minutes before they had to leave for Sacred Heart. “Hello,” she said. The person on the other end of the line hesitated.
“Hello,” she repeated, “who is this?”
“Jillie. It’s me. Melissa.”
Mel’s voice sounded rough, hoarse, like she’d been crying. “Mel. Is something wrong? Talk to me. Just tell me quick.” Jillian’s thoughts went to Brad. God, no. Had something happened to Brad?
“Nothing’s wrong, Jillie. Everything is just right. Perfect, in fact. Merry Christmas.”
Jillian let out the breath she was holding. “Don’t do that to me again, Mel. I almost lost my breakfast. Now, what’s up? I need to leave for church soon. Oh, and Merry Christmas right back at you. Is Wendy enjoying Christmas morning?”
“She is, along with Brad’s parents and mine. But that isn’t what I called about. I have some news.”
“It must be good news, or your tone would be different. So spill.”
She heard Melissa take a deep breath. “Brad’s on his way home. He’s been discharged. He’s been injured—but it’s not life-threatening. He’ll be here in a couple of days.”
“Mel. I’m so glad, so glad he’s all right and coming home. Wendy must be ecstatic. Brad’s parents, too.”
“That isn’t the only reason I called. I can’t get my head around it yet, but I thought you would appreciate the story.”
“Huh? What story?”
“Remember I told you Brad was deployed on a covert mission away from the base?”
“Yes, but he said it was low risk—the Aunt Polly code.”
“Right. Well, when Brad’s team searched for enemy combatants in an old, abandoned apartment complex, they came across a large store of explosives. They were about to disarm the bombs when they started to take enemy fire. They were pinned down and outnumbered—amid a pile of explosives. If even one of the bullets hit the stash, they’d all be blown up.”
“Oh, Mel. I’m so sorry, but he’s on his way home, so this story has a happy ending. Keep talking. I just hope no one in his unit was hurt.”
“They moved away from the south end of the complex just in time. A stray bullet detonated the explosives. No one was hurt, but they could barely see in the thick smoke. Fire was everywhere. They struggled to find a way out. They knew the enemy would enter the complex at any moment to finish the job if anyone was still alive.”
“Terrible. Terrible. We can’t imagine, can we, Mel? Continue.”
“You’ll never guess, Jillie.” Melissa paused to laugh—the sound a soothing balm to Jillian’s ears.
“Keep talking. Don’t keep me in suspense.”
“They were searching for a way out, but the smoke was thick as mud. They could hardly breathe, much less see more than one foot ahead of them. At one point, they stopped to get their bearings, and a figure appeared around a corner, a woman. They all drew on her, but Brad said the woman looked different. No hijab. She wore bib overalls. After he thought about it, Brad realized they were Carhartt overalls. Crazy, huh?”
Jillian sucked in a breath. Goosebumps popped up everywhere. “Keep going, Mel. Hurry.”
“Well, she crooked a finger at Brad and said they should follow her—in an American accent, one that Brad recognized.”
“Let me guess. New Orleans? Did she have dreadlocks?”
“How—”
“Never mind. Just finish the story.”
“Long story short, the woman led them out of danger. They were able to get out of the complex and come in behind the enemy and capture the whole group. But they took a lot of fire, and Brad was injured, along with a few others. Even though they were outnumbered three to one, his unit didn’t lose anyone.”
“What happened to the woman?” Jillian asked cautiously.
“She just disappeared. Brad said he saw her and…poof. That’s the word he used—poof.”
Jillian collapsed onto her sofa. She took stock of her Christmas tree, the lights gleaming like jewels, a few homemade packages still left on the tree skirt. She drew in the aromatic balsam scent and smiled at the old wooden manger cradled beneath the tree, a gilded papier mâché angel trumpeting above.
Christmas miracles. They happen every day.
“Are you sitting down, Mel? I have something to tell you.”
A word about the author…
Annalisa Russo, a Midwest girl who grew up in an overpopulated first-generation Italian family in the ’burbs of Chicago, published her first historical romance, Rags to Rubies, in 2012. Her historical novels chronicle the lives of Italian immigrants in the 1920s and now include the four-book series The Cavelli Angel Saga. She is hard at work on another historical, A Girl’s Best Friend, slated for release in 2018. On a personal note, along with a passion for reading and writing, Annalisa enjoys gardening, cooking for company, and frequently invents reasons for traveling. The mother of two grown children, she inherited a narcissistic tabby named Buster who really runs the show.
Annalisa loves to hear from readers, so visit her website at: www.annalisarusso.com. and sign up for her newsletter to receive The Cavelli Family Cookbook free of charge!
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All Hearts Come Home for Christmas Page 13