by Rachel Lee
The words pierced her, causing her to release something that was nearly a sob. “Me too,” she said, then crawled down the couch until she could climb into his arms. “Me too.”
The tears began rolling down her face but she didn’t wipe them away.
It was, in some sense, almost like being reborn. And it hurt every bit as much.
Later they ate stew, snuggling together before the fire. Then, as if pulled by the same need, they returned to the bedroom. Noel wanted to take his place on the bed, but they persuaded him to stay off as they indulged again in the wonders of lovemaking.
Melinda grew increasingly convinced that life had never been so beautiful.
Later, as night claimed the world and the storm rebuilt beyond the walls, they remained snuggled naked together in the bed, offering gentle touches, laughing when Noel burrowed into the blankets, then tossed them with his nose as if they were snow.
They talked, building bridges, about little things that would interest no one else. About childhood memories, about parents and friends, about hopes and dreams.
It was the latter subject that finally brought some sobriety, as they realized their dreams were few.
“That’s sad,” Melinda finally said. “We ought to have some hopes for the future that don’t involve everything staying the same forever.”
“I know. Maybe you want to be a chief ranger yourself?”
“The odd thing is that I haven’t even thought about it. I’ve been like a mole contentedly buried in my little hole here. I guess I ran away from everything. Very different from you.”
“Not really. I ran into something, I guess. Always wanted to be in Special Ops. But once I got there, I discovered I had to start running from everything else. Everything that could soften me in any way.”
She nodded, her head resting on his shoulder so he could feel it. “I can identify with that.”
“There are all kinds of walls you have to build.”
“For self-protection,” she said.
“Exactly. I guess we tore a few of them down.”
“We did,” she agreed. “And I’m not sorry. I just think it’s sad that neither of us is looking for anything different or special tomorrow.”
He turned onto his side, drawing her close. “I just found something special, and I don’t want to let it go.”
She drew a sharp breath and tilted her head, trying to read his face by the light of the oil lamp.
His expression was totally serious. “I’m not asking anything right now except that you think about this, okay? No pressure. It’s too early to answer anyway.”
Her heart slammed. “What?”
“I think I’m falling in love with you.” He pressed his finger to her lips before she could say anything. “Don’t answer. We haven’t known each other long enough to be sure of it. Either of us. But I know where my feelings are headed. I just want you to think about it. I’ll think about it, too. Let’s nurture what we’ve started and see where it goes. That’s all I’m asking.”
“Okay,” she breathed around his finger. “Okay.”
“I mean, I have to go back to Afghanistan, again. Just once more. That’s not something you want to commit to unless you’re very, very sure. So…just think about it. About your own feelings, okay?”
She nodded. “I will. I promise. I’m starting to feel—”
“Shh. Don’t say it, Mel. It’s way too soon. Way too soon.”
“Okay.” Then she closed her eyes and wiggled even closer. If these few days were all she had, she wanted every single moment of them.
Because this was the best thing life had ever brought her.
Chapter 11
Christmas Eve morning finally arrived a week later, dawning with a crystalline blue sky bright enough to bring tears to the eyes.
Noel started the day with howling and frantic dancing by the door. Jon and Melinda both immediately pulled on their cold weather gear. They did everything together now, even walking the dog.
But as Melinda reached for her sunglasses, she realized there was something different about Noel’s behavior. She reached out swiftly and touched Jon’s arm.
“What?” he asked.
“Something’s wrong.”
“Why do you say—” But before he finished the sentence, there was a thud against the side of the cabin, as if something had fallen into it. Noel’s frenzy built.
“What’s out there?” Jon asked.
“My truck and snowmobile.”
“Stay here.”
“No way.”
Their eyes met and spoke silently. They were both thinking about the escaped bank robber.
“I have a gun,” Melinda said.
“Get it. But I’m going out first.”
“He’s armed.”
“That’s nothing new. I’ll go around to the right, you circle from the left with the gun.”
“Okay.” The agreement was hard to make, but she understand what he wanted, and why.
When she went to get the gun, she put Noel in the bathroom, and closed the door against his howls and his puppy growls.
They opened the cabin door as silently as possible. Jon waited until Melinda had disappeared around the other side of the cabin, then began to walk toward the lean-to carport, allowing his booted feet to crunch on the snow. The last thing he wanted to do was to startle the guy. This time he didn’t think silence would be his friend.
As he rounded the corner of the cabin, the first things he noted were the silence and emptiness. No other person was in sight, but in the same instant he saw that the snowmobile had been moved. The tracks behind it were as fresh as yesterday’s snow.
Someone had been trying to steal it. A quick survey told him where the best hiding places were, and an instant of evaluation indicated which one would be smartest.
In that instant he leapt into action with the speed that had saved his life on more than one occasion.
At a run he jumped on the hood of the SUV, crouched as he crossed its roof, then jumped downward on a startled man.
He knocked the guy back on the snow, but it didn’t end there. A gun appeared in the robber’s hand, and they wrestled for it, rolling in the snow, each man trying to get the upper hand. Jon held the guy’s wrist in a vicelike grip, knowing that whatever else occurred, he couldn’t allow the man to take air.
Jon grunted as a knee caught him in the stomach, but the pain only seemed to make him stronger. “Drop it,” he said to the robber. “Drop it or I’ll kill you.”
Another twist and he had his other arm right across the guy’s throat, pressing hard until the gunman’s eyes began to bulge.
“Drop it!” Melinda’s voice came from the back end of the carport. “I’ve got a gun, and I’ll blow your head off.”
Her voice was as smooth and cold as ice. She meant it.
Slowly, eyes still bulging, the man dropped his pistol into the snow. Freed of that threat, Jon moved swiftly, turning the man over, holding him down with a knee to his back and his wrists pinned.
Then he spoke, breathing heavily. “Get the gun, Mel. Get the gun. Then go radio Nate. I think we’ve got his bank robber.”
Without a word, Mel grabbed up the gun and ran for the radio inside.
“I didn’t rob any bank,” the guy said. “Man, my cheek is freezing!”
“It’s going to keep freezing until the sheriff gets here. And we’ll let him decide what to do with you.”
Melinda returned five minutes later with some rope. “Nate’s on his way. You want to tie him up?”
Jon looked up at her and grinned when he saw she was still armed. “Yeah. It’s a helluva Christmas present, huh?”
At that Mel laughed, reacting to the adrenaline rush. “One helluva present. Especially for the teller he shot.”
Chapter 12
Christmas Eve itself arrived with light snow, picture-perfect flakes that could have adorned a postcard. Tomorrow they would go to the Tates’ and share dinner with that big, b
ustling family, but tonight was quiet and their own.
The tree glowed brightly, lit up by the generator, but otherwise they continued to rely on oil lamps and the orange gleam of the stove. Christmas carols played on Melinda’s battery-operated player, carols she had chosen for their quietness and mood. “Silent Night” never failed to fill her with a wonderful sense of peace.
Jon had wedged himself into a corner of the couch, and Melinda lifted her legs onto the cushions and leaned back against his chest. He kept his arm around her shoulders, just under her chin.
Noel, happy and sleepy after a Christmas meal of liver mixed with dog food, had chosen his favorite spot near the stove to sleep.
“I have a gift for you,” Jon murmured as the strains of “Silent Night” gave way to a choral version of “The First Noel.” “I hope you don’t mind.”
“Why would I mind?” But that reminded her of the gift she had for him, one she was uneasy about, because in a way it seemed so presumptuous. It also wasn’t very much, but she didn’t know what he could possibly take back to Afghanistan with him.
“You never know,” he answered. “Let me get it.”
“No,” she said. “Mine first.”
He laughed. “Okay, then.”
She climbed off the couch and went to the tree. There were packages for Noel, too. When she and Jon had gone to town a few days ago, they’d both had the same thought: rawhide bones and a few squeaky toys for the dog. But those could wait.
First she handed him an unwrapped tin of butter cookies. “You mentioned always liking these. Maybe you can eat them on your way back.”
“This is so nice,” he said, and there was no mistaking his honesty. “It’s been a long time.” He didn’t wait but opened the tin and popped a cookie into his mouth. A smile creased the corners of his eyes as he gave her a thumbs-up.
Her heart was beating more rapidly now, so she waited a few seconds before finally reaching for the red envelope on the tree. She had intentionally avoided putting his name on it, so he wouldn’t guess it was for him.
He accepted it, a question in his eyes. He tore the flap open carefully and pulled out a card that said something mushy. “This so nice….” His voice trailed off as he opened the card and something slipped out.
He picked it up slowly, looking at it. It was a laminated pocket photo of Melinda.
She waited, but he just kept staring at it. She cleared her throat finally. “I thought the lamination would help protect it over…over there.”
“It will,” he said huskily. “God, you’re beautiful. I can hardly wait to show you off.”
Her cheeks heated. “I didn’t know what else you could take with you….”
His gaze caught hers. “Quit trying to apologize. This is exactly what I wanted. I just didn’t know how to ask for it. Thank you. This means the world.”
She relaxed then, for there could be no doubting his sincerity. He stared at the photo a little longer, then slipped it in his breast pocket. “I’ll always keep it right here, by my heart.”
He held out his arms, and she crawled back into them, her face against his chest, feeling happy, so happy.
“Thank you,” he said again, and kissed her.
They were distracted only by the sound of Noel yawning and scratching himself. Slowly they pulled apart, gazing deeply into each other’s eyes.
“Now it’s my turn,” Jon said. His eyes almost seemed to dance, but she could sense nervousness there, too. The way she had been feeling.
He moved her gently to the side and went to his jacket. He stuck his hand in the pocket and removed a small box with a ribbon on it. She caught her breath, because things that came in boxes like that were generally a lot more expensive than a laminated photo.
He sat beside her, the beribboned box in his hands. “This is something I want you to have, regardless of what you may decide about us with time.”
“What do you mean?”
“I told you I was falling in love with you but we needed time to be sure.”
“I remember.”
“I’m pretty sure, but maybe you aren’t.” He tried to smile but looked strained, as if he were worried. Slowly, almost reluctantly, he lifted the lid from the box, and revealed a ruby and diamond ring.
“Oh my!” she gasped.
“You can take this as a friendship ring if you want,” he said quickly. “Or…or as something more. Because I’m sure how I feel about you, Melinda. I’m in love with you. I want to come home to you. But I realize you might not feel the same. So just wear this because we’re friends.”
Before she could speak, he slipped it onto the ring finger of her right hand.
She held it up, looking at it, then looking at him. “Jon, I…I don’t know what to say. This is so beautiful! I’ve never been given anything so precious.”
“You don’t have to say anything,” he said quickly. “Just enjoy it.”
“How could I not enjoy it? But there’s something you need to know.”
He nodded, growing solemn. “And that is?”
“You forgot to look at the back of the picture I gave you.”
His brow knitted, then he reached into his pocket, bringing out the photo and turning it over.
Slowly his face relaxed and a grin began to spread from ear to ear.
“You love me,” he said.
“Absolutely,” she agreed. Then she pulled the ring from her right hand and put it on her left.
He threw back his head and laughed, waking Noel, who immediately jumped up between them, his tail wagging. It was his own fault he got squeezed between them when they embraced.
“I didn’t dare hope,” he said.
“Me either.”
“It won’t be easy.”
“No, but I’m patient,” she answered. “I’m happy here, and until you’re finished over there, well, that’s just how it will have to be.”
Noel squeaked and wiggled out from between them. Neither of them noticed.
Jon raised a hand to her hair, touching her as if he couldn’t believe his senses.
“For now,” Melinda said seriously, “this is probably the best way for both of us. I don’t know that I’m ready yet for a normal life.”
“Me neither,” he admitted. “When I come home, I don’t know how fast I’ll get myself back together.”
“We’ll work on it together,” she promised him. “That’s what we do for people we love.”
He pulled her close again, burying his face in her shoulder. “You’re the best Christmas present in the world, Mel. The best. I love you so much!”
“I love you, too.” She clung to him, happy, so happy, for the first time in memory. She could face the long lonely days with the memory of right now.
A sharp bark pulled them apart. Noel stood by the door, tail wagging, gaze demanding.
“You know,” Jon said, “he has amazing timing.”
“He sure does.” But as she watched Jon pull on his jacket and pick up the leash, she suddenly realized something. In his own way, Noel had helped bring them together by lowering their first line of defense. Smiling so broadly that her cheeks hurt, she watched the dog prance as Jon began to open the door.
“You’re the best, Noel,” she said quietly.
Jon looked at her with an arched brow.
She added hastily, “Second to you, of course.”
They were both laughing as he and the dog stepped out into the magic of Christmas Eve.
CHRISTMAS AT HIS COMMAND
Catherine Mann
To my children, my miracles. Thank you for making
every Christmas come alive with your joy and wonder,
no matter how old you grow!
Acknowledgments
I had an absolute blast traveling to another country (in my mind!) for Christmas with this novella. While I’ve had the pleasure of visiting Germany, my trip there came during the summer months, so I owe a huge debt of gratitude to my friends overseas for sharing their holi
day experiences with me.
To my dear pal in Germany, Kris Alice Hohls, thank you for the delightful tales of Christmas in your home. And many thanks as well for those awesome sugar cookies back in Denver! You rock!
To my newfound friend in Bavaria, Christine Spoel. Thank you for the enjoyable times we had while you and your charming family lived in the States. I delight in our continued friendship—as well as the fun Christmas packages you send each year generously loaded with local holiday delicacies!
To my longtime air force buddy, Katherine Dunn. Thank you, thank you, treasured friend for detailing your experiences from being stationed in Germany and spending Christmas in Bavaria. We’ve shared so many travels over our near twenty years of knowing each other. I just wish we could have walked together along those holiday vendor stalls you so beautifully described! Oh, the damage we could have done to our credit cards!!
Merry Christmas! Fröhliche Weihnachten!
Chapter 1
General Hank Renshaw hadn’t often seen a man’s hand down the bra of esteemed senator, Ginger Landis.
Of course, as he stood astounded in the doorway of the VIP lounge in the tiny airport on the Bavarian border, he couldn’t recall a time he’d ever seen his longtime friend Ginger’s underwear at all. Much less with a man’s hand slipped inside.
Hank slammed the door closed so nobody else would snag a view of what now filled his eyes.
Technically, the security fellow wasn’t groping around inside her satiny camisole thing. Ginger had taken off the jacket to her Christmas-red power suit so the reedy guy in a black coat could outfit her with the latest listening device for her upcoming meeting with the German Chancellor and Minister of Arts as well as the Vice-Chancellor of neighboring Kasov. All a part of a holiday goodwill trip across Europe, ending on Christmas Eve at a medieval castle with chapel ruins set to be rebuilt. Ginger would be donating an heirloom from her family’s antique art collection, a small but priceless porcelain crèche.