Callen rested his forearms on the edge of the table. “I stumbled into the adventure travel writing thing. I always wanted to be a serious reporter, covering world events, politics, things that mattered.”
“I remember.”
“The parent company of my publisher shifted me over to their lifestyle division temporarily. That’s why I’m here. But I have an offer from a news group in Florida as an investigative reporter that I’m considering.”
A bitter chill chased through her veins. “That’s great. Are you going to take it?”
“Maybe. But I’d be starting over from the bottom. I’m not sure I want to do that.”
“Starting over is never easy. Sometimes you have to take a few steps back before you can move forward.”
“Mommy, all done.” Lily lifted her small plate high in the air, sending the scraps tumbling into her lap and onto the floor.
“Good girl. You ate all your carrots and most of your casserole. I’m so proud.” Angie stood and cleaned up the crumbs with her napkin. “Are you ready for your cookies?”
Lily clapped her hands, grinning from ear to ear. Angie heard Callen chuckle softly as she moved to the counter for the sugar cookies.
Choosing a cookie from the plate, Lily offered it to Callen. Angie sat down, unable to look away from the warmth reflected in his blue eyes.
“For me? Thank you.” He took the cookie and placed it on the edge of his plate.
“You’re welcome.” Lily focused her attention on the pink sprinkles on top of her cookie, picking each one off and eating it.
Callen met Angie’s gaze, and a rush of heat stung her cheeks. He’d caught her staring. Not good.
“She’s a great kid. You’re lucky.”
“Blessed,” Angie corrected. Might as well start dealing with the issues. “She’s adopted. Her mother was my best friend.”
Callen raised his eyebrows. “What happened?”
“She died of cancer when Lily was three months old.” She closed her eyes briefly, remembering the rapid deterioration of her friend. “It happened so fast.”
“Is that why you dropped off the map? To raise Lily?”
Angie nodded, avoiding his penetrating stare. She picked up her plate and reached for Callen’s, too. “I promised her I’d take care of Lily, and I couldn’t do that on a tour bus. Or by exposing her to that world. I even changed my name to protect her. I have apple pie for dessert, or you can have more cookies.”
Callen grabbed the cookie off his plate as she lifted it. “Cookie first, then pie.”
Angie tried to focus on slicing the warm pie and placing it on the plates along with a dollop of ice cream. But her thoughts kept going back to the next part of her discussion with Callen. She’d told him about Lily. Would he accept that as her only reason for quitting the music business, or would his reporter’s sense press for more?
Picking up the plates, she started back to the table, only to see Callen bending over her daughter. Lily had fallen asleep, her little head rolled forward. Callen looked up. “I think we bored her.”
Angie set the plates down and moved to lift the little girl, but Callen beat her to it. “Show me where to put her.”
Hurrying ahead, Angie led the way to Lily’s room at the top of the stairs. Callen placed the sleeping child on the bed with a gentleness that warmed her heart. She covered Lily with a small quilt and kissed her cheek before tiptoeing from the room. Back downstairs, they resumed their seats at the table and tackled the pie.
“This is delicious, Angie. Did you bake it?”
“I did. I’ve become very domestic over the last three years.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“Thank you for helping with Lily. She doesn’t usually nap during the day anymore, but we played in the snow this morning. I think it wore her out.”
Callen held her gaze. “So, you’re in charge of the nativity. Does that mean I can get all the inside scoop for my article?”
Relief surged through Angie so quickly she was grateful for the solid chair beneath her. If she’d been standing, she might have collapsed. Her offensive approach had worked. Callen was satisfied and turning his attention to the nativity. She offered up a grateful prayer.
“Of course. You can follow me around all day if you’d like. I’m not working today, but I have a full schedule tomorrow. You’re welcome to tag along.”
“I think I’ll do that. A behind-the-scenes look will add a lot of human interest to the piece.”
Angie smiled, the first genuine one since Callen had walked into her house. “I’ll call you.”
Callen prepared to leave a short while later, and Angie walked him to the door. “It’s been good to see you, Callen.”
“Same here.” He shrugged on his coat and buttoned it up, pulling leather gloves from his pocket. “We have a lot to catch up on, Angie. I want to know everything that’s happened to you since you won that contest.” He looked into her eyes, holding her gaze.
His penetrating stare sent a shiver down her spine and a pang of guilt through her heart. She crossed her arms over her chest.
“I have a lot more questions, Angie. Things only you can answer.” Callen smiled and walked out, pulling the door shut behind him, leaving renewed tension in her chest.
Questions. He had more questions. Somehow she had to keep him from asking the wrong ones.
Chapter 3
Callen walked briskly down the front sidewalk of the Stoval-Mills house the next morning, one hand resting against his stomach. Edna had overloaded him with pancakes, genuine Maine blueberry syrup, and the fluffiest scrambled eggs he’d ever eaten. He normally didn’t indulge in breakfast, but the aroma wafting into the large dining room from the kitchen had been impossible to ignore. Plus, Edna had insisted she’d made the entire meal for him, since her other guests, a Canadian couple on their way to DC, had checked out.
Stopping at the end of the sidewalk, he took a moment to survey the area. The homes along Spruce Street were all charmingly unique. Some Victorian, others Tudor, a Colonial, and a Cape Cod. Last night the old houses had glowed with white Christmas lights outlining their windows and doors, and with candles flickering on sills. Today, the charm was still present, only in snowy drifts along evergreen shrubs, colorful wreaths adorning doors, and green garlands draped across eves and around posts. The sight took him back to his childhood in central Ohio and the small suburb he’d grown up in. Where Angie had grown up, too.
Callen shook off the old memories. He didn’t like to look backward. Only forward. No point in mulling over what had been. Pulling his phone from his pocket, he realized he still had an hour before meeting Angie at the green in the center of town.
Time to get a better lay of the land. The weather was warmer today, so all he needed was a heavy sweater. Freedom from winter coats and gloves lightened his steps and his mood. Or was he simply eager to see Angie again?
She’d changed. Her blond hair was now more of a warm honey color. Her hazel eyes were still as beautiful, but with a sadness behind them he’d never seen before. There was also a warmth about her, a peace that he didn’t remember. Motherhood had probably added that to her loveliness. He was conflicted about Angie being a mom. It surprised him, because she’d been so fierce in her desire to be a singer. Yet, it seemed perfectly natural for her to be raising a child. Watching her with Lily yesterday had seemed right.
Main Street was full of activity when Callen turned the corner, halting his introspection. The sun shone brightly, bouncing off the brick buildings lining the street, and calling attention to the elaborate garlands and the various Christmas ornaments adorning the storefronts and streetlights.
He strolled along the row of stores, glancing in windows, his appreciation for the town of Bethlehem growing with each step. How did a town that looked like a Thomas Kinkade canvas get the name Bethlehem? The baby Jesus would find nothing familiar here.
His wandering finally brought him to the green at the end of the block. After
waiting for a passing vehicle, he jogged across the street and headed toward the sprawling assortment of structures depicting the ancient city of Bethlehem. On one end stood a tan building resembling the inn. On the far end was a small rise with boulders, and in the center, the sloped-roof stable, complete with rustic manger and stalls for the animals.
So what made this nativity so newsworthy that he’d had to drive up from Boston to report on it?
“Callen!”
He turned toward the shout, smiling when he saw Angie jogging toward him. His memory flashed back to a winter day during Christmas vacation, an iced-over pond, and a stolen kiss behind a tree.
Her face was flushed a lovely pink and her hazel eyes sparkled with excitement. She looked like a little girl, with her jeans and long bulky sweater, feet wrapped warmly in winter boots. He tore his eyes from her face and gestured toward the display. “Nice. I wasn’t expecting something this elaborate.”
She chuckled softly. “It’s not the buildings that make it special, Callen. It’s who’s inside. Immanuel. Remember?”
Callen searched his memory for the meaning of the term, but it eluded him. But then a lot of his church exposure had faded away.
Angie started around the sets, motioning him to follow. “I need to check out some things. You can ask questions as I go.”
Only one question came to mind. Why did you vanish? But he sensed this wasn’t the time. She was in a friendly mood. He didn’t want to ruin that. “So how did this thing get started?” He pulled out pad and pen.
Angie stepped inside the stable and began inspecting posts, latches on animal pens, making notes on her electronic tablet. “It was Kate Walters, the town manager’s idea. She wanted to draw tourists here for the holidays and focus on the true reason for Christmas. What better than a live nativity?” She smiled over her shoulder. “When Hurricane Eleanor came through a few years ago, Bethlehem suffered a lot of damage. The town council canceled the event. But Pastor Mike and Emma Townsend pulled everyone together, and we started reviving the nativity in the middle of the devastation. The news picked up the story, and help and donations started pouring in. People came from everywhere to see the performance. It’s grown every year. Though this year attendance is down a bit.”
“So you’re in charge of the whole thing?”
“Kate still oversees everything. I’m more of a stage manager. Logan Franks wrangles the animals.”
“Aren’t most live nativities static? I mean, people and animals sit there while everyone walks by. What makes this one special?” He followed Angie as she walked around to the back of the stable, surprised to find a platform large enough for several people to stand on positioned above the stable roof, accessed by a narrow ladder. It looked dangerous, even though there was a safety rail around the edge to prevent falling.
“We don’t simply tell the story, we put the visitors inside it.” Angie wound her way through the electrical wires to a storage unit. She opened it to reveal an elaborate electronic system. “We have music, dialogue, scripture readings, and the angel’s song.”
“The angel sings?”
“Of course, silly. You know, heavenly hosts singing glory to God in the highest.”
“Right.”
Grabbing his hand, she tugged him along with her as she returned to the front of the stable. “We want our visitors to feel like they’ve been transported to the Holy Land. I want them to see and hear and experience that night when Christ was born. To be part of the miracle of His birth.”
Her enthusiasm made him smile and triggered a need to tease her. “Do the animals have speaking parts, too?”
She punched him in the arm. “No. But we do get them to kneel down at midnight.”
“Sure you do. So what about the platform in the back?”
“That’s where the angel stands, watching over the baby Jesus. We have a youth choir that sings, and for the finale an angel sings ‘Hark the Herald Angels Sing.’ “ Get it?”
She smiled up at him, and his heart flipped over in his chest. “Got it.”
“Good.”
“So are the actors townspeople, professionals, or what?”
“Townspeople. Actually, we’ve had so many wanting to participate that we’ve got a different cast for each performance. Every Saturday and Sunday in December.” She glanced at her watch. “I need to meet with the head of this weekend’s volunteers. You can tag along if you’d like.” She turned and started across the green.
“And you’re responsible for each cast? Sounds like a logistical nightmare. Getting one set of actors prepared would be hard enough.”
She smiled and shook her head. “Not really. Everyone is so enthusiastic, it makes my job easy. I’m truly blessed to have found a home here.”
Something in her tone, in her expression, set off alarms in Callen’s mind. He knew as sure as he breathed that there was more to Angie’s story than what she’d shared with him yesterday. He wasn’t a reporter for nothing. He was more determined than ever to get to the bottom of her story before his time in Bethlehem was done.
Angie bent and kissed her daughter goodnight then tugged up the Rapunzel comforter. “Sleep tight, Pumpkin. Mommy loves you.”
“I love you more.”
“I love you most.”
Lily giggled and snuggled down with her Rapunzel doll. The good-night ritual was the child’s favorite part of the movie, and Angie had to agree. She’d come to cherish the words. Her hand was on the light switch when Lily spoke again.
“Mommy, will we see the big man again?”
Angie’s throat tightened. She’d ended up spending the whole day with Callen, and he’d tagged along with her to pick up Lily from preschool. She’d promised her daughter pizza at Gino’s, and Lily had invited Callen to join them.
Fortunately, Lily had been very chatty, which left little time for Callen to ask questions. She’d made their escape as soon as possible, but Callen’s ease with Lily had elevated him to hero status. “I suppose so.”
“He’s like Flynn Rider.”
“He is, huh?” Angie inhaled slowly. Not even. The animated hero was charming, witty, and verbose. Callen was none of those things. Okay, he was charming, but his was a quiet, understated kind of charm. He was a man of serious temperament, a thinker, who measured his words, who studied people with his probing blue eyes and keen intellect.
“Night, Pumpkin.”
Angie made her way to her own room, thoughts of Callen swirling in her mind. Today had been one of the most enjoyable she’d known in a while. She loved her life, she was happy and content, but it had been a long time since she’d shared a day with a man. A man she’d cared about and seriously considered marrying before her career had taken off.
Changing into her sleep pants and tank top, she curled up in the chair in the alcove of her bedroom. Truth was, Callen had been on her mind a good bit over the last year. She’d wondered what he was doing, what exotic locale he was exploring, remembering things they’d done together so long ago. Wondering if he’d married.
Closing her eyes, she rested her head on the back of the chair.
Lord, what are you doing? Why did you bring him to my mind and then bring him here?
She really needed to get a grip. Callen could ruin her whole life if he uncovered her real reason for stepping away from singing. The fallout would be devastating. She’d have to move, uproot Lily—it might take years for the publicity to die down.
The logical thing to do would be to avoid Callen as much as possible, but the truth was, she liked spending time with him. She liked the way he made her feel attractive, and interesting, and she liked the way he treated Lily. She’d never realized how lonely she was until he stepped back into her life. Her feelings for him hadn’t died. They were as alive and well as she was.
Callen stared out his window at the street below. A light snow was falling, dusting the sidewalks with powdery flakes. Sometimes he hated being a reporter. It was too easy to conjure up all sorts of ba
d things people wanted to keep hidden.
Like Angie. She obviously loved her little girl and enjoyed being a mother. There was a peace about her he envied, but then, she’d always had a strong faith. So had he. Once. Somewhere along the road he’d drifted away. But there was something else behind Angie’s bright smile and friendly attitude. She’d been almost too helpful, throwing open the doors to the nativity event so he wouldn’t think about other things. She was hiding something from him. He just didn’t know what it could be.
They’d spent two full days together earlier in the week, meeting the people behind the nativity, learning the ins and outs of managing the large production, and meeting every committee chair, but he hadn’t heard from Angie in a couple of days. She wasn’t returning his calls or texts. He’d even stopped by the house, but no one had been home. Which only fueled his desire to find her and uncover what she was hiding.
Callen worked his jaw side to side. Tonight was the live nativity. She couldn’t avoid him there. And she couldn’t evade the truth forever. He’d get to the bottom of her story. Whatever she was afraid of, he’d make sure she was safe and protected. Seeing Angie again had torn the cover from his feelings. He still cared for her, more than any woman he’d ever met.
Chapter 4
C allen leaned one shoulder against the thick trunk of a winter-bare tree, watching Angie walk toward him from the now silent and dark nativity display. The field was still covered in a soft glow from the street lamps and the Christmas lights from the storefronts. None of which were as bright, in his opinion, as the smile on her face.
Her eyes sparkled, and he could sense her anticipation. “What did you think of our pageant?”
“It wasn’t what I’d expected.”
She blinked. “Oh. What had you expected?”
Callen shrugged. “Cheesy. Preachy. But it was very professional.”
Her smile widened, sending a new sparkle into her hazel eyes. “Good. The crowd was bigger tonight. I counted six people who stayed to speak with the pastor afterward.”
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