A Christmas Peril (The Teacup Novellas - Book Five)

by Moody, Diane

  Cover design by OBT Graphix

  Front cover tree photo: © HannamariaH | iStockphoto.com

  Front cover “Lucy” photo: © FurmanAnna | iStockphoto.com

  Front cover couple: Harold and Lucille Hale

  This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of either the author or the publisher.

  A Christmas Peril │ Book Five of the Teacup Novellas

  Copyright © 2013 by Diane Moody

  All rights reserved.

  Tea with Emma

  The Teacup Novellas (Book One)

  Strike the Match

  The Teacup Novellas (Book Two)

  Home to Walnut Creek

  The Teacup Novellas (Book Three)

  At Legend’s End

  The Teacup Novellas (Book Four)

  The Christmas Peril

  The Teacup Novellas (Book Five)

  Other Titles from OBT Bookz

  From Author Diane Moody

  The Runaway Pastor’s Wife

  Blue Christmas

  Blue Like Elvis

  Confessions of a Prayer Slacker

  Of Windmills and War

  From Author McMillian Moody

  Ordained Irreverence

  Elmo Jenkins (Book One)

  Some Things Never Change

  Elmo Jenkins (Book Two)

  The Old Man and the Tea

  Elmo Jenkins (Book Three)

  The Elmo Jenkins Trilogy

  To Aunt Lucille

  “Never be afraid to trust an unknown future

  to a known God.”

  —Corrie ten Boom

  And the peace of God,

  which transcends all understanding,

  will guard your hearts and minds

  in Christ Jesus.

  —Philippians 4:7

  Prologue

  I peeked at the vintage clock on my bathroom wall. Mark would be here any minute. One thing I learned early on in our relationship is that UPS guys are never late. Ever. Which is why I’d made such a valiant effort these last few months to be ready whenever he arrived. My natural tendencies concerning punctuality lean more toward the slacker end of the spectrum. But maybe that’s part of all that “yucky, mushy love stuff”‌—‌stepping it up to do something nice for the love of your life. Going the extra mile with those little things that make him smile.

  So worth it. Mark’s smile is to die for.

  I brushed my teeth and took a swig of minty mouthwash before making a final check in the mirror. I couldn’t believe how easy this updo was. Ordinarily, my curly brunette head of horrors caused me grief upon grief whenever I tried something new. But I have to say, that Youtube tutorial was sheer genius. A twist here, a jaw-style barrette there, and voila! A feminine, elegant swoop of curls that surprised even me. I couldn’t wait to see Mark’s reaction. He’s the kind of guy who notices everything. I rather love that about him.

  I turned from side to side, pleased with the gorgeous dress I’d found at TJ Maxx a couple of months ago. I’d been shopping for a gift for Mark’s sister. Shelly’s a gifted architect who’s currently staying with Mark until the house she bought is ready. She recently moved here from Sydney, Australia where she’d designed several new schools. I wanted to buy her a welcome-home gift and found the cutest little teacup and saucer. Mark had told me how much she’d enjoyed my Teacup Novellas, so the set seemed like the perfect gift. It was. She loved it.

  That day, as I wandered through the clothes section on my way to check out, this amazing dress practically jumped off the rack, calling, “I’m yours! We’re perfect together!” Turns out, that little dress was right. She hit just below the knee and fit like she was made for me. I felt beautiful wearing her, and I’m fairly confident the feeling is mutual.

  Now, as I made one last check in the mirror, my gaze and my fingers both caressed the heart-shaped diamond necklace glistening against my skin. I smiled, thinking about the charming way Mark had given it to me. He’d delivered it early today like any other UPS box, but I had no idea it was from him until after he left. Nor that it held a little black velvet box with a tiny note tucked inside saying, “When this you see, remember me . . . I love you, Lucy, with all my heart.”

  Just thinking about it made my heart skip a beat. So unexpected. So perfect. I couldn’t wait to thank him with a kiss. Or three.

  But curiosity was killing me. How could he possibly have known my Aunt Lucille had a necklace exactly like this one?

  I turned to leave, startled that it was now 7:03. Where was he?

  I decided to wait on my front porch, so I gave Gertie a treat, grabbed my long winter coat, and said goodbye. I took a seat on one of my rockers, enjoying the brisk breeze on this first day of December just as my cell phone rang.

  Ah, he must have run into some traffic, I thought as I pulled my phone from my small clutch. But Mark’s picture didn’t fill the screen. It was my cousin.

  “Hi, Stephen,” I answered, gazing down the street.

  “Hey, Lucy! How are you?”

  “Good, thanks. And you?”

  “Awesome. Just wanted to let you know I got your email questions about Mom and Dad. You won’t believe what I found in the attic just now‌—‌Mom’s diary!”

  “Are you serious? Stephen, that’s fantastic!”

  “You’ll find everything you want to know and more. It reads like a love story‌—‌literally. Which is no great surprise since Mom was such a gifted storyteller. How about I FedEx it to you in the morning?”

  “Could you? I can’t wait to see it! But‍—‍” I paused, smiling. “Any chance you could send that UPS instead of FedEx?”

  “Well, uh, sure. I guess?”

  “See, there’s this delivery guy‍—‍”

  “Say no more, Lucy. Consider it done.”

  “Thanks, Stephen. You just made my day!”

  I’d just started outlining my next novella which would be loosely based on my Aunt Lucille’s life. Years ago she’d told me how she and Uncle Gary met and bits and pieces of their love story. Over the years, I’d forgotten much of it, and I needed to get my facts straight. Thus, my request to my cousin for help. The diary would be a gold mine of information.

  Even now, Aunt Lucille’s Christmas teacup sat perched on the shelf above my desk. She absolutely loved Christmas, and this particular teacup was part of a holiday setting for twelve she had always used throughout the month of December. I rarely glimpsed at the cup and saucer without a smile sliding across my face as I imagined the magical memories it must have witnessed through all those years.

  I blinked away my musings, glancing back at my cell phone. On its screen, the digital numbers showed 7:14. The teacup, the news from Stephen about the diary, and every other thought quickly slipped off my mental horizon as I wondered where Mark could be. It was so unlike him not to call. I placed a call to him, surprised when it rang several times then went to voicemail.

  Before I could leave a message, my brother pulled into my driveway and jumped out of his car.

  I stood. “Chad, what are you doing here?”

  He hurried up the steps toward me. “Lucy, have you heard from Mark?”

  “No, I just tried to call him, but‍—‍”

  “Let’s go inside,” he said, taking hold of my arm.

  I yanked it free. “Why? What’s going on?”

  He used his key to open the door. Gertie greeted us, barking and doing her usual h
appy dance.

  “GERT! Quiet!”

  “Chad, what is wrong with you?”

  He wouldn’t make eye contact with me. Instead, he made his way into my den and found the remote, clicking it on. I followed him, more than a little ticked at him for the way he was treating Gertie and me.

  “You’d better have a good reason for‍—‍”

  “Shhh,” he said, beckoning me with his outstretched hand as he clicked through the channels with the other. “Come here, Lucy.”

  “No. Not until you tell me what’s going on.” I folded my arms across my chest.

  He finally looked at me and did a double-take. “Whoa, Lucy. You look . . . beautiful.”

  I tilted my head just so and deflected the compliment.

  He blew out a huff and came to me. “Sis, you need to sit down.”

  I stepped back out of his reach. “Why? Just tell me why.”

  He palmed his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. See, I got a call from Gordo a few minutes ago, and‍—‍”

  “Why would Gordo call you?”

  My brother’s eyes jumped back to the television and he waved me over. “Because there’s been an incident this afternoon.”

  “An incident? What kind of incident?” I moved over so I could see the picture on the television.

  He pressed the remote, increasing the volume, as my eyes finally locked on the TV screen. A reporter stood in front of a row of houses in an affluent neighborhood.

  “The gunman apparently approached the UPS truck when it made a routine stop here on Waverly Drive at approximately 4:35 this afternoon‍—‍”

  “Mark?” My breath snagged on a heartbeat. My knees began to buckle. Chad grabbed me, helping me sit down on my sofa.

  The reporter continued. “He took the driver hostage, barricading himself and the driver in the back of the truck. We are told the suspect has a sawed off shotgun‍—‍”

  “NO!” I cried. “Chad, please tell me that’s not Mark!”

  He squeezed my hands in his and looked me in the eye. “Lucy, Gordo told me his boss called him off his route because they’d lost contact with Mark when this thing went down. It’s him, sweetie. I’m so sorry.”

  No, no, no! This can’t be happening . . . I stared at my brother as the reporter’s voice invaded the chaos roaring inside my head.

  “Police have had no direct contact with the hostage, though they tell us‍—‍”

  Suddenly, a barrage of gunfire erupted in the background. The camera swung around, clumsily trying to focus on the scene more than a block away as the reporter grappled for an explanation.

  “Noooo!” I stood back up and spun around, turning my back to the television, hands over my eyes.

  “Hold on, Lucy‍—‍”

  “SUSPECT DOWN! SUSPECT DOWN!” the reporter cried, as the gunfire abruptly ended.

  I turned back around just in time to see the SWAT team rushing toward the UPS truck like so many hornets buzzing the hive.

  “What about Mark?!” Chad shouted at the television screen.

  I grasped my necklace as a tear dripped off my chin. My prayers had no words, nothing more than frantic yearnings from the depths of my soul, crying out to God to protect my Mark. Chad stood, engulfing me in his arms. I’m sure he was trying to comfort me, but I’d never seen or felt my brother tremble before.

  The reporter rambled on, speculating first one thing, then the other. I wanted to slap her for blabbing on and on until she knew what happened. One of the SWAT team guys pointed to something and waved others over to the other side of the truck.

  “C’mon, guys!” Chad growled. “Show us the driver!”

  And then, as if they’d all heard my brother’s command, the same SWAT guy turned and gave a thumbs-up to those in the command vehicle along with a series of hand gestures like some third base baseball coach. A flurry of emergency personnel rushed toward Mark’s truck.

  Moments passed. I couldn’t find a breath. “Chad, is he‍—‍”

  “We’ve just received word the hostage is alive,” the reporter announced. “The UPS hostage is alive. Medical personnel are attending‍—‍”

  Chad grabbed my hand, pulling me toward the door. “Let’s go. They’ll take him to St. Michael’s. We can be there in ten minutes.”

  As we flew out to Chad’s car, I prayed this was nothing more than a bad dream. Maybe I was merely lost in some random drama playing out in my mind for a breathtaking scene in a manuscript. Because it couldn’t be happening. No way.

  My heart told me otherwise.

  Chapter 1

  “Lucy, wake up.”

  Someone must have duct taped my eyes shut. For the life of me, I couldn’t get them to open even though something or someone kept jostling me.

  “Lucy, c’mon. Wake up.”

  Well, that’s just weird. Why is my brother here?

  I tried again to pry open my eyelids only to squeeze them shut against the harsh, fluorescent-lit room. “Whoa.”

  “Sorry, Sis. My arm went to sleep and there was no way to move it without waking you.”

  I took a deep breath, then wished I hadn’t. The unique, pungent hospital scent coursed through my nostrils then raced into my brain, connecting the dots.

  Hospital.

  I startled. “How long have I been asleep? What time is it? Has the doctor been in? Is Mark still unconscious?”

  “Hey, take it easy.” Chad stood and stretched his arms over his head. “Oh man, am I stiff. I feel like a truck ran over‍—‍” He winced. “I can’t believe I just said that. I’m sorry, Lucy.”

  I stared at him, too tired to string together a sarcastic response. I looked around the waiting room. “Nothing yet?”

  “Not yet. I’ve got to go to the bathroom. Will you be okay?”

  “Go.”

  The clock on the wall showed the big hand on the six and the little hand on the two. It was still dark outside, but I wasn’t sure if it was 6:10 or 2:30.

  “Lucy!”

  Mark’s sister rushed across the waiting room toward me, her rolling suitcase in tow. “Shelly!” We embraced in an urgent, awkward hug. “I’m so glad you made it.” Shelly had been in New York submitting a proposal of some kind. I’d reached her shortly after we arrived at the hospital.

  She pulled back to look at me. “I took the last flight out of LaGuardia. How’s Mark? Have you heard anything? Can I see him?” Before I could answer she pulled me into another hug. “Oh, Lucy, tell me this isn’t really happening.”

  “I keep asking myself the same question. He’s in ICU. No, we can’t seem him yet, but soon, hopefully. We haven’t heard anything in the last couple of hours. Dr. Bradley told us Mark was still unconscious, but he seemed to indicate that was a good thing because they need to keep him sedated to allow the swelling in his brain to go down.”

  “Brain swelling?” she groaned. “I hear the words, but I can’t comprehend that this is my brother we’re talking about.”

  “Did someone say brother?” Chad returned, opening his arms to give her a bear hug. “How’re you doing, Shelly?”

  “Better now that I’m here, but I think I’m still in shock or something.”

  Shelly was four years older than Mark, but they’d clearly come from the same gene pool. While he stood six-four, Shelly had to stretch to make five-four. Otherwise, they had the same sable eyes, same contagious smiles, and same perfect skin tone that easily tanned. But where Mark’s sandy brown hair seemed forever sun-kissed with natural highlights, Shelly’s was a rich, natural blonde‌—‌the kind women spend fortunes for in salons. And it always looked perfect. Even now, with a pony tail tucked up under a pink ball cap and spilling out the back.

  While the physical resemblance was apparent, their personalities were nothing alike. Mark was smart, laid back, and charming. He loved to laugh, and the sound of his unrestrained guffaws was one of my favorite sounds in the world. He loved life, and everyone loved him. Shelly never knew a stranger either, but hers wa
s a more assertive personality. Not a control freak, but she definitely knew how to get things done and never shied away from a challenge. Which came in handy since she was a successful architect in a profession still dominated by men.

  “Ladies, let’s have a seat.” Chad grabbed Shelly’s suitcase and parked it behind the seating area where we’d kept vigil for the past seven or eight hours.

  Shelly tucked a leg beneath her and folded her arms across her chest. “My flight had Wi-Fi, so I was able to find the video footage online. I must have watched it twenty times, but I still can’t comprehend that the guy they wheeled into the ambulance was my baby brother.”

  “It’s surreal, isn’t it?” Chad rubbed his eyes. “But all things considered, it’s a miracle he wasn’t killed.”

  “Had to be a God thing. How else would you explain it?” Shelly shivered and rubbed her arm. “So catch me up. What’s the extent of Mark’s injuries?”

  “At this point, the main concern is the severity of his concussion,” Chad said. “No one seems to know how it is he fell out of the truck. Was he pushed? Did he try to escape? His feet and hands were bound, and his mouth was gagged with several yards of duct tape.”

  Shelly groaned again, closing her eyes.

  “Dr. Bradley said Mark’s right shoulder is also shattered,” I added, “which may indicate that his shoulder took the brunt of his fall before his head hit. Otherwise, his neck might have been broken.” I pressed another mascara-stained Kleenex against my eyes. “Last we heard, they were still checking for other internal injuries. But it’s his brain I’m so worried about. What if‍—‍”

  “Lucy, don’t go there.” Chad patted my knee. “We don’t know yet.”

  “Chad’s right,” Shelly said, grabbing my hand in both of hers. “Let’s just thank God Mark is alive and breathing, okay?”