by Jody Holford
“Don’t be scared,” she answered, going up on tiptoe to take a kiss. He smiled at her when he pulled back, his eyes eager. He led her through the well shoveled path to his house and stopped when she pulled her hand from his and stared at his house.
“You have Christmas lights,” she stated, looking up at the twinkling, multi-colored lights. Had she not stopped walking, she would have stumbled at the expression of hope and happiness on his face. His eyes were crinkled at the corners, his grin eating up most of his face.“C’mon. That’s not all,” he answered, holding out his hand again, waiting until her fingers curled into his firmly.
He turned to look at her when she gave a small gasp of delight when he pushed his door open. A pathway had been created through the fake snow that covered his dark wood floors. Christmas music played just loud enough to be heard over the whir of the motor inflating a five foot plastic snowman in the corner of his living room. It waved at them in ripples with one hand while the other gloved hand held a black hat that attached to its side. In the corner beside the fireplace, a tree close to the size of her own stood, covered in a variety of ornaments and garland and lights of all colors. An angel sat smiling down at them from the top. Stocking hangers and character stockings hung from the mantle. There was a Donald Duck one and a Goofy. A giggle bubbled up in her throat at the sight of them and she was almost positive that Sam’s cheeks colored.
“Uh, the selection at Wal-Mart thins out considerably by Christmas Eve,” he mumbled, looking at the mantle, his hand still holding hers tightly.
“When did you do all of this and why?”
He pulled her closer so they were huddled in the door frame with a Christmas Wonderland surrounding them. He glanced up and her eyes followed his to see mistletoe hanging over their heads. This time, it was a full blown laugh that left her along with pressure that had been steadily building in her chest repeatedly over the past two days.
“So you could kiss me?” she teased as he leaned down to do just that.
“That too, but mostly because I wanted, needed, to do something to show you that what matters to you matters to me. To show you how much you matter to me.,” he said.
“But you don’t even spend Christmas here. You said it was a waste of time to do all this,” she said, gesturing widely to the spectacular display.
“Nothing that makes you happy, makes you smile the way you did when we stepped in here is or ever will be a waste of my time,” he promised, making her tears fight for an encore.
“When?”
“All night,” he admitted with a shrug.
“You stayed up all night to do this?” she pressed, looking around again.
“I had a bit of help,” he said. Her eyes whipped back to his questioningly.
“Kyle, Jordan and your dad snuck out to help me after you went to bed,” he told her. She pressed her hand to her chest, feeling short of breath.
He led her inside, shut the door and gently nudged her down on the couch before sitting beside her, turned so they were facing one another.
“Asking for help didn’t make me weaker. It didn’t make me less intelligent or incapable. If anything, when you ask the people you care about, who care for you, to help you or support you, it makes you the opposite of all of those things. Asking for their help was a hell of a lot harder than accepting the fact that I needed it, I can tell you that. I didn’t think they were going to help me at all but they came around and once they agreed, I wasn’t sure how I ever planned to pull it off by myself,” he explained.
She looked around the room and tried to imagine her dad and Kyle and Sam putting up the giant, fake tree, hanging garland, scattering phony snow. It was hard to picture them doing it but not their reason. They loved her, all of them and wanted her to be happy.
Sam stared at her while she imagined them here, working together, just to make her Christmas special, to help Sam make things right with her so she would be happy. They’d stepped on her toes a thousand times in her life, but this time, what if they’d stayed out of it the way she’d always told them to do? Her eyes watered and she chewed the inside of her cheek.
“Hey,” Sam turned her face toward his, rubbed his fingers over her cheek. “Don’t you want your presents?” She gave a watery laugh that sounded more like a sob.
“You got me presents? Like more than one? I didn’t get you anything,” she answered.
“You’re all I want. For Christmas or anything else. You’re it,” he replied, kissing her, nipping lightly before sliding his tongue along her lips, making her sigh. He left her to seek something from under the tree. She pulled her legs up, crossing them and waiting like, she thought giddily, a kid on Christmas. He returned with two boxes, each wrapped beautifully in shiny silver paper. One was slightly larger with a purple ribbon around it and the other was not only smaller, but flatter, the shape of a book, with a green ribbon tying it closed. He put the smaller one on her lap.
The lid lifted without untying the ribbon. Nestled in tissue paper was a distressed, brown-leather journal with a tie fastener. She looked up into Sam’s concentrated gaze.
“For memories of your own,” he said bashfully. She leaned over the box and kissed him softly.
“I think I’ll start with this one,” she answered.
Her fingers fumbled with the ribbon on the second present, as she tried to undo the knot. Taking a deep breath, she focused on pulling gently so the ribbon pulled into a long strand. Her heart beat faster as she lay it aside and put both hands on the lid of the box. Sam’s eyes watched her, his lips firmed in a straight line. Lifting the lid and placing it aside as well, she was greeted with envelopes. She looked up at him and he nodded as if to say “Go ahead”. She pulled an envelope, there seemed to be several. Her fingers shook as she pulled at it, tearing it slightly at the back. She pulled out a folded slip of paper and opened it, bit her lip hard enough to hurt when she saw her dad’s handwriting.
December 25th, 2012
Sophia always smelled like strawberries. It didn’t matter the season. She used a strawberry scented shampoo that I noticed the first time we met. She laughed when I said I liked the smell since she knew that I didn’t like strawberries. Your mother could change my mind about anything, make me like what I thought I didn’t, need what I thought I didn’t even want. To this day, the smell of strawberries creates makes my heart ache for her.
Anna shook her head, murmuring unintelligible words, tears clouding her vision as she pulled the next envelope and ripped this one open.
December 25th, 2012
I was 12 when mom got sick. I was at an age that I knew something was wrong and knew what cancer meant but didn’t really know what it meant for us. On a particularly bad day, dad told me to just leave her and let her rest. I’d had the worst day. I got cut from the baseball team. Dad went into the office for a bit. I was to keep an ear out for mom. When I heard her, I went running. She was resting so I figured she’d only call if she really needed me. She looked pale but she was smiling and she patted the side of the bed softly. I told her she was supposed to be resting. She held out her hand and said “What’s more restful than spending time with my boy?” She insisted I tell her about my day.
Sam really hoped this didn’t backfire. He couldn’t shake the relief that kept coming in waves. He’d feel calm and then the reality of how close he’d come to losing her made his stomach turn. He watched as the tears filled her eyes and poured over in streams. Had he miscalculated? She put her brother’s memory, then her father’s into the box without looking at the half dozen others he’d pleaded with them and his mother to write. She put the box on the table and, with his heart sinking toward his shoes, he was unprepared for her to launch herself at him, full body. She sobbed into his neck, clinging to him, crawling into his lap.
“Hey,” he crooned, smoothing his hand down her hair, over her shaking back. She pulled her face out of his neck reluctantly and looked down at him with her tear stained face.
“I can�
��t believe you did this,” she stuttered.
“Can’t believe-good or can’t believe-I’m-in-the-doghouse-again?” he asked, trying to wipe some of the tears off her face. She kissed him, leaking tears over his face, laughing, crying, and driving him crazy.
“Can’t believe you gave me everything I wanted for Christmas and so much more. You gave me more pieces of her and I don’t know how you did that but this is the,” her voice broke and fresh tears streamed, “best gift I’ve ever been given.”
He pulled her in, tears and all and kissed her hard, his heart back where it belonged: in her hands.
“So, I’m covered for a while then,” he smirked when she leaned over, grabbed a tissue from the end table and wiped her eyes.
“Oh, I’d say you’re good for a really long time,” she laughed, the sound mending something in him that had broken.
“Then I shouldn’t worry about what I was thinking of getting you for Valentine’s Day?” he asked.
She scrunched her eyebrows together in that cute way that never failed to make him smile from the inside.
“What were you thinking?”
“Hmmm,” he murmured, running his index finger along the ring finger of her left hand, his eyes never leaving hers. “I think I’ll keep it a surprise.” He saw the confusion first, then the possibility of understanding when her eyes widened. She sucked in her breath and smiled so bright she outdid the lights on the tree.
“Sam,” she whispered.
“I love you, Anna. Forever. That’s six.”
Anna watched as Sam slept soundly, her bright blue, very girly sheet low on his very defined and utterly male waist. The sight made her heart and her hands twitch. She moved quietly to the side of the bed and leaned over him.
“Just one kiss,” she whispered, closing the distance. She squealed when his arms came up around her and yanked her down onto his chest.
“You can’t have just one,” he mumbled gruffly. Anna laughed as he flipped her onto her back.
“That’s all I have time for,” she smiled, sighing at the way he nipped lightly at the underside of her jaw. He stopped abruptly and looked down at her outfit.
“You’re dressed!”
“Yes, I do occasionally get dressed,”
“In pajamas,” he smirked. She poked him in the side making him grab her hand and entwine it with his as he leaned in to take more than one kiss.
“Sam,” she said breathlessly, “I have to go to work and now I probably have to fix my hair.”
He smiled against her lips even as he moved off of her and pulled them both up to a sitting position.
“Yeah, I guess you do,” he answered so glumly Anna laughed. She ran her fingers through his messy hair, which was indeed, soft to the touch.
“I left you a belated Christmas gift.” His eyes perked up.
“Oh yeah?”
Getting off the bed, she straightened her pale pink blouse and ensured all the buttons were closed tightly. Seven-year olds were incredibly observant.
“Yeah. Something to show you how much I need you,” she smiled. He stood, his boxers snug on his hips making her forget her train of thought.
“Hmm. I like the sound of that,” he murmured, drawing her close. “Is Kelly picking you up?”
“Yes, which means I really need to go. She’ll be here any second.”
He looked down at her with the affection and love she felt for him and she knew that the best was yet to come.
“I love you,” she whispered, going on tiptoes.
“I love you back. Forever,” he replied sweetly.
Sam waited until Kelly had honked and Anna had hurried out the door before making his way down the hallway. She didn’t need to know that the thought of her leaving him a gift that “showed how much she needed him” had made his heart pound in anticipation. He hadn’t slept a night in his own bed since Christmas and today he was calling the landlord to give his notice. He’d told Anna that last night, feeling nervous even though he knew they were on the same page. Her response, tackling him on the bed and promptly removing his clothing, had erased any nerves he felt and assured him that she was completely on board. As he moved past the living room, he noted that without the tree, there was plenty of space for some of his furniture. His mouth watered when he inhaled the scent of the coffee that was waiting for him in the kitchen. There was an envelope with his name leaning against a coffee cup. He was certain he’d never smiled as much in his life as he had since she’d moved to town. He took the envelope and ripped it open. As he read through the contents, the room filled with his laughter.
Sam,
I’m giving you something that I’ve never wanted to give to any other man. This is a list of all the things I’ll need your help with:
•Taking down the lights
•Washing the outside windows
•Putting in a garden when the snow finally melts. (It does melt right?)
•Painting the house (you can help me choose the color too)
•Fixing the porch step
There’s more but that’s all I have for now. Of course, there’s no rush since we have forever.
A
Falling for Home
Figuring out how to move forward means she has to go back.
Lucy Aarons never thought she’d tire of travelling the globe taking photographs but when she comes home to the small town of Angels Lake for a visit, she’s, surprisingly, not eager to leave.
Part of that might be due to the sexy, sweet Sheriff who lives next door to her parents.
Alex Whitman has only ever wanted three things: to have roots, to be a cop, and to win Lucy’s heart. He’s managed two of the three and now that Lucy is home, he plans to pursue the third.
After being gone for years, Lucy is trying to figure out where she belongs in her large family. What she discovers turns her world upside down.
Alex is trying to live in the moment and enjoy whatever time he has with Lucy before the wanderlust kicks in again, but the more time they spend together, he wonders how he’ll ever let her go.
It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are.
e.e. cummings
Chapter One
Lucy slid one hand slowly along the firm edge, tracing every bump and dip. With her other, she reached into her pocket and pulled out her iPhone, hoping the light would give her a better look at the path her fingers followed.
“Son of a bitch! Where is it?” She stretched onto the balls of her feet, trying to inch her fingers along the grooves of the brick siding. For her whole life, her parents had kept a key tucked in a corner where the porch met the house, but now, when she wanted to get in without waking anyone, it was nowhere to be found. The weak sliver of moonlight wasn’t helping any more than the narrow beam of light from her phone. She crept along the narrow garden path, careful not to step on the raised flowerbeds. Lucy kept her eyes wide, hoping to see the flash of silver that would let her into her childhood home and out of the night’s crisp air.
The breeze blowing off the lake sent chills up her arms and she shivered. She decided to retrace her steps in case she’d passed it. Her boot caught on the branch of one of her father’s beloved magnolia bushes. Stumbling, Lucy juggled her phone for a second before losing her grip entirely and dropping it into the dirt. As she crouched down in the shadows to find it, she realized she was going to have to do what a normal person would have already done and knock on the door. Cringing, she patted the damp soil, hoping the phone wasn’t far. A sharp, low, masculine voice startled her from behind. “You’re going to stand up real slow and turn around with your hands up.”
Lucy closed her eyes and pulled herself out of her crouch, wondering if this night could get any worse. Her legs cramped as she straightened, reminding her that she was no longer the eighteen-year-old who had lived here ten years ago. She gave her eyes a second to adjust to the darkness. There’d never been much crime in Angel’s Lake, but her heart still drummed fiercely as she turn
ed, shaking her head at her bad luck.
“Nice and slow,” the tall, broad-shouldered man repeated. Her pulse kicked into overdrive when she saw he was pointing a gun at her. Mind racing, her chest tightened.
“Hands up,” he said. When her eyes left the gun for a split second, she noticed the Angel’s Lake Police Department patch on the chest of his bulky jacket. Knowing he was an officer didn’t help to settle her nerves, though, and another shiver raced through her body. She couldn’t quite make out his features, but he had a good foot on her height wise, even though she was standing as tall as she could. Her back stiffened from trying to keep still, and she really wished he would speak. Or give her his jacket.
“It’s okay. I live here,” she said, her voice higher than usual. She would have been embarrassed by its squeaky sound, but the raised gun counteracted her pride.
He shined a flashlight into her eyes, blinding her. “Nice try, lady, but I live next door, so I know you don’t.” She squinted and held her hand in front of her eyes as she stepped forward.
“Freeze.”
She froze. There wasn’t a person alive brave enough to ignore that one-word growl. “You don’t understand,” she tried again, staying still. “This is my parent’s house!”
“Sure it is. You thought you’d just creep around in their bushes before going inside?” he asked as he stepped toward her and lowered the flashlight. He gripped her upper arm and tugged her out of the flowerbed.
“Hey! Get your hands off of me,” she demanded. “This really is my parent’s house!”
“Prove it. What’s your name?”
“Lucy! Lucy Aarons,” she yelled, trying to wriggle free of his grasp.
He stopped abruptly and then used his grip on her arm to spin her around. The moonlight cast a thin glow over a face that was vaguely familiar. His square jaw had a hint of stubble and his dark eyes bore into hers. Where did she know him from? He arched an eyebrow at her obvious inspection. He lowered the gun but his steady gaze held her just as still. He emanated heat, and she had to stop herself from stepping closer to absorb it. She’d done enough to embarrass herself for one evening.