The fire crackled and popped, sending sparks shooting upward into the chimney. Angie shifted position beside him on the sofa, bringing her closer to his side. He wanted to believe she’d done it on purpose, but he didn’t want to overstep any boundaries.
She took a sip from her mug and glanced at him. “Thank you for reading to Lily. She loves bedtime stories.”
“I think she just likes the attention.”
“You’re probably right. Especially male attention. I worry that she’s missing out on a father figure. My dad was a big influence on me. I want that for her.”
Callen set his jaw, searching for the right words. Before he could find them, Angie reached out and touched his arm, sending a current of awareness along his nerves.
“I’m sorry, Callen. I know how much you missed having a father. I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.”
He shook his head and placed a finger on her lips. “You’re right to want a father for Lily. I’ve accepted that the only father I’ll know is the one in heaven. I’m okay.”
She smiled. “At least you picked the best dad ever.”
Her smile, the brightness in her eyes, was his undoing. He grasped her shoulders and slowly pulled her closer. He bent his head, unable to take his gaze from her lips. Gently he kissed her, gauging her response. It had been so long. Yet the memory was so fresh, so familiar. He pulled her closer, tasting deeper, aware of her arms sliding around his waist.
All his old feelings and needs surged through him with frightening speed. He pulled away, catching his breath. “I’d better go.”
She didn’t speak, only nodded and touched her lips with her fingers.
He started to go then turned back. “I had the ring in my pocket.”
“What?”
“The night you won the contest. We were supposed to have dinner. You called me with the news. I didn’t see you until the next day when you were boarding the plane for Nashville.”
Angie gasped, her eyes moist. “Oh, Callen. I didn’t know. I’m so sorry. I—”
“I wanted you to have your dream, Angie. That’s all that mattered.” He touched her cheek lightly then turned and left, grateful for the icy cold wind that greeted him and cleared his mind. He’d just made a big fool of himself. A very big fool.
The utter stillness of the air, signaling a heavy snowfall, greeted Angie when she awoke the next morning. Not that she’d slept much. Thoughts of Callen and the kiss they’d shared had kept her tossing and turning for hours. Being in his arms again had unearthed memories—sharp, vivid ones that had roused every nerve in her body.
She’d loved him. No one else had measured up. But she’d been so focused on her singing career, so obsessed, that she’d never fully acknowledged her feelings. There’d been plenty of time. Once she made a name for herself she’d be free to have a life with Callen. It never occurred to her at the time that her choice was either/or.
“I had the ring in my pocket.” His words reverberated in her head, each revolution stinging like an angry wasp. Angie rolled onto her side, staring out the window. Snowflakes as large as dimes drifted down. The beauty did little to lighten her mood. How different her life would have been if she’d waited for the Lord’s plan to unfold instead of taking matters into her own hands.
Reaching for her Bible on the nightstand, she slid her finger to the bookmark and pulled open the pages to Luke. “Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies? Yet not one of them is forgotten by God.” She loved these verses. They told her that God was involved in all the details of His creations, especially His children.
So, did that mean He’d brought Callen back into her life for a reason? Was the Lord trying to work something out with her old love? What if she had made a different choice? Then she never would have known the truth about her dream, the good and the bad. She’d never have met Nell, or have her precious Lily. She would never have come to appreciate her life, or found Bethlehem.
So what did she do now? Callen would be here for another week. Should she avoid him or enjoy him while he was here? Should she admit she still loved him? No. She couldn’t do that without telling him the full truth. And what Pandora’s box would that unleash?
Throwing off the covers, Angie padded to the bathroom to get ready for the day. Pouring her prescription mouthwash into a glass, she gargled gently. Lily would be up soon. Dealing with Callen wasn’t an option today. She had a list of things to do that would keep her busy this morning and then a couple of online classes this afternoon. She’d deal with Callen tomorrow.
Chapter 6
Callen took a swallow of his hot cocoa and stared at his laptop. The edits had arrived for his last travel book, and he dreaded going over them. He’d started transcribing his notes for the Bethlehem feature. It wasn’t going well.
Leaning back in his desk chair, he closed his eyes, searching his heart. What if his only talent was lightweight travel stories? What if he didn’t have what it took to be an investigative reporter? Angie had achieved her dream, only to find it was a nightmare instead.
He was standing at a crossroads with no clear signpost to direct his way. What did he want to do with the rest of his life? A vision of a tiny teapot and dark hair in ponytails came to mind. He’d never allowed himself to consider having a family, but since coming to Bethlehem, he’d thought of little else.
His cell tone blared into the quiet and he scooped it up, setting his jaw when he saw his boss’s name displayed. “Marty, I’m on vacation. I’ll have the piece ready by the deadline.”
“I know. This is something different. Are you still considering that Clearwater job?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Well, what if I could give you a better offer?”
“For instance?”
“The chief is looking for someone to fill Harrison’s shoes. I thought you might be interested.”
Bob Harrison was one of the top journalists with the agency. “Where’s Harrison going?”
“He’s retiring. His wife has cancer and he wants to be there to care for her.”
“So are you offering me his job?” Callen’s mind filled with the possibilities. He’d be in Boston. Close to Angie and Lily.
“Well, in a way.”
His vision crumbled. He should have known better than to let his imagination run away with him. Especially where Marty Kramer was concerned.
“The chief wants to see some proof of your ability to uncover a story. You know, something other than the best places to zipline in Belize.”
A stab of resentment pierced Callen’s chest. He was proud of his work. It might not be hard-hitting investigative journalism, but he’d earned a measure of respect in his field. “Such as?”
“I don’t know. Isn’t there something going on up there in Maine that’s newsworthy?”
Angie’s face came into his mind. He chased it away. “No.” There was a long silence on the other end of the connection, making Callen’s antennae vibrate.
“Are you sure?”
“What are you getting at?”
“We got wind that there might be a celebrity hiding out up there. Someone big.”
Callen’s heart chilled. Who had given Angie away? She trusted these people. “You’re nuts, man. I’ve been all over this place, talked to dozens of residents, and there’s no one here that anyone would be interested in. Oh, wait. The owner of the place I’m staying has a cow pitcher collection. She’s pretty famous around here.”
“Very funny. Look, word is that singer, Silky, is somewhere up there. Just keep your eyes open, okay? If you could track her down, find out why she dropped out of sight, dig up the dirt on her, this job would be a slam dunk. I’m just sayin’.”
“I’ve got to go. I have real work to do. Trust me, there’s nothing worth reporting from this backwater town.”
Callen ended the call, resting his head in his hands. He had to talk to Angie. She had to know. He couldn’t betray her. But if the truth had to come out, then maybe he should be th
e one to break the story. That way he could control the information.
And what if he did? Would a career in investigative journalism be everything he’d imagined?
The box of crayons scattered on the kitchen table made Angie think of spring, even though the coloring book was titled Santa’s Christmas Eve. Reaching for a yellow one, she colored in the star on top of a Christmas tree.
“You color good, Mommy.”
Angie smiled at her daughter. “Thank you. I like your picture. Purple ribbon on that box is very nice.”
Lily nodded. “I want Santa to put purple bows on all my presents.”
“You do? Well, you’ll have to ask him when we visit him.”
“ ’Kay.” Lily leaned closer to her coloring book, scribbling furiously.
Angie closed her eyes briefly, offering up a thankful prayer. Her life now was so much richer, more abundant than she’d ever imagined. How could she have thought that fame and fortune could satisfy the longing in her soul? She loved her life here in Bethlehem. She loved the cozy colonial house with its fireplaces and generous yard for Lily. She loved the town and its people. Her church family supported her in so many ways, and next summer, she’d earn her degree and start planning a business of her own.
Her life was perfect.
The image of a pair of sky-blue eyes came to mind and she stopped coloring, staring idly at the outline of the Christmas tree she’d been working on. Callen. Having him back in her life, even briefly, had felt so natural, so right. How could that be after so much time? Yes, she’d loved him. Yes, she’d thought about marrying him, but back then, all she could see was herself on a stage, winning awards for her singing and getting a recording contract.
So why had the Lord brought him back into her life now?
“Mommy, when are we going to put up the tree?”
With a heavy sigh, Angie turned her attention back to her daughter. “Soon. I promise.” It wasn’t that she didn’t like Christmas. It was her favorite time of year, but tackling all the decorating alone was exhausting. She’d gone as far as pulling the boxes from the attic, but they were still sitting in the upstairs hallway. She’d even bought the tree, but it was still in the garage where Simon had left it after he and Edna had taken her and Lily to the tree farm. “We’ll put it up soon, sweetheart.”
“Today?”
Angie chose a red crayon for the ornaments on the picture and filled them in. “We’ll see.” There was no reason not to do it today. Her classes were finished until after the new year. She had her duties for the nativity down to a science. Other than a few church obligations and playing with Lily, she had no real responsibilities to worry about.
“We could ask Misser Grant to help us. He could reach the star, and we wouldn’t have to use the ladder.”
A rush of warmth charged through Angie at Lily’s suggestion. The idea of Callen decorating the tree, being part of their tradition, impacted her like nothing else had in a long time. Mentally she scolded herself for entertaining such an absurd notion. Clearly their old feelings were still there, churning just below the surface, but how much of that was merely memories of old love, and how much was genuine attraction based upon the people they were today?
“Please, Mommy? I like Misser Grant.”
“I do, too.” Saying the words aloud sealed her fate. “All right. I’ll ask him.”
She reached for her phone, trying not to think about how disappointed she’d be if he refused.
Callen pulled his rental car into the driveway of Angie’s large white colonial and turned off the engine. His thoughts swirled in his head like the snowflakes outside. What would it be like to park in this space every night, to look forward to going inside and finding his wife and child waiting to greet him?
He rubbed his forehead and opened the car door, bracing against the wind and cold. Why had Angie invited him to participate in such a personal family event as decorating the tree? He knew what he wanted the answer to be, but that was taking a giant leap over logic and landing smack dab in wishful thinking.
He knocked on the door, shifting his weight anxiously, trying to tamp down the hope floating in his chest with a healthy dose of reality. The door opened and he had to shift his gaze downward. A pair of bright brown eyes smiled up at him.
“Mommy, he’s here. Misser Grant is here.” Lily bounced up and down and clapped her hands together then waved at him with a big smile.
Her excitement squeezed his heart, creating a strange, unfamiliar sensation in his gut. No one had ever been that happy to see him. Ever.
Angie appeared around the door, waving him inside. “Hurry before you freeze to death.”
Not a chance. His whole being was warm and tingling. He shrugged off his coat, hanging it on the hall tree.
“Hurry, Misser Grant.”
Lily took his hand, tugging him into the large living room. He didn’t see a tree. Only an empty spot where it would apparently stand. “Where’s your tree?” Had he misunderstood?
Lily pointed toward the far wall. “It’s out there.”
Angie tucked her hair behind her ears and smiled. “I left out the part where you’ll have to carry the tree in from the garage.”
The sheepish look on her face made him smile. As if that would have mattered. “I think I can handle that. Lead the way.”
Lily darted like a rocket through the kitchen and out into the garage. The tree was sitting near the back. An eight-footer, if he wasn’t mistaken. His thoughts traveled back in time to the one year he and his mother had splurged for a live tree. His best Christmas memory.
He glanced at Angie. “You have a blanket or something to wrap around this? It’ll leave needles all over the house otherwise.”
She smiled and shook her head. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll clean it up later. Lily will burst if we put this off much longer.”
When the tree was securely in the designated spot, Callen stood back to make sure the best side was forward and the tree perfectly straight. Lily hugged his leg.
“Thank you, Misser Grant. Can we hang the bulbs now?”
Angie laughed. “No, Pumpkin. First we have to get the boxes down and put the lights on. Then the garland, then the ornaments.”
Lily’s long, mournful groan was too adorable. Callen rested a hand on her head. “I’ll hurry. I promise.”
Angie steered her daughter toward the kitchen. “In the meantime, I have some stars that need tons of glitter. Why don’t you work on those while Mr. Grant and I get the boring stuff done?”
Within a few minutes, the boxes were transferred from upstairs to the floor in front of the tree, and Callen was untangling and testing strands of lights.
Angie stopped at Callen’s side. “This was always the most frustrating part for me growing up. It seemed like my dad took forever putting the lights on. I could never understand the big deal. Toss them on the branches and let’s get to the fun stuff. Now that I’m grown, I can see why he wanted the lights to be evenly spaced, and I’m sure my mom wanted them just so. She was persnickety about her tree. Everything had to be perfectly placed.”
Callen plugged in the last string of lights, satisfied that all the bulbs were working. “So does this mean I have to get your approval for each string of lights? I could be here all night.”
“Normally, I’d say yes, but I think we’ll go for quick and easy before Lily explodes.”
Draping the strings of lights didn’t take long when he didn’t have to worry about the placement. He stepped back and gave Angie the signal to press the switch on the electrical strip holding the plugs. The tree glowed, with not a dead bulb to be found.
Angie inhaled softly. “Oh, Callen, it’s beautiful.”
She moved closer, slipping her arm through his. A lump formed in his throat.
“Don’t you love decorating a tree?”
“Hard to say. We usually had a two-footer. The kind that comes out of a box.” The words slipped out without thinking. He wished he could call them
back. He didn’t want to spoil the evening.
She squeezed his arm more tightly. “Then I’m glad Lily and I will be the ones to introduce you to the joy.”
Callen looked down into her hazel eyes. What had she said earlier about perfect placement? Right now, standing near her, in this house, seemed like perfect placement to him.
Angie suggested a quick break for cocoa and cookies, and Callen heartily agreed. He needed a diversion from his thoughts. Lily had completed her glitter stars and was eager to hang them. It was all they could do to hold her back while they hung the garland.
Callen tucked the last strand of gold and red around the lower branches while Angie opened the ornament boxes, reminding her daughter that some were made of glass and to handle them carefully.
The midafternoon sun was starting to fade, increasing the warm glow in the room from the fire on the hearth and the twinkling lights of the tree. Only one thing was missing from this Norman Rockwell portrait. “I think we could use some Christmas music. How about it, Angie? Maybe a little Rudolph or some carols?”
Callen looked over at her. She was helping Lily unwrap one of the ornaments. For a moment he thought he saw fear flash through her eyes. He quickly dismissed the notion as a quirk of the low lights. Of course a singer would want music. The Angie he knew always had music playing.
Quietly she moved to the CD player and pressed a button. Strains of “O Holy Night” filled the air, completing the scene. Callen let himself sink into the moment. He laughed at the way all of Lily’s additions to the tree were hung at her eye level, making the decorations decidedly bottom heavy. He and Angie would rearrange them later.
The familiar tune of “Here Comes Santa Claus” began, and Lily sang out happily. He joined in, though more quietly. He had a reasonably good voice, but he’d always felt intimidated by Angie’s powerful set of pipes. Her voice could stop your heart with its passion.
Angie’s voice. He hung the last ornament and turned to look at her. She was picking up stray pieces of tissue paper that had held the ornaments. The tree was almost done. The music continued to play. But Angie wasn’t singing.
Christmas Comes to Bethlehem - Maine Page 23