Miracles of all miracles! The man said thank you. “Better wait ’till you’re finished before you thank me. It’s been a while since I’ve cooked over an open fire. As a kid I used to love it. My dad would often cook in the fireplace during the winter. He called it ‘campfire night.’ Which basically meant Mom needed a break from the kitchen.” The memory brought a wry, twisted smile to her face.
Max grinned. Grace realized it was the first real smile she’d seen since arriving on his doorstep. His teeth were as bright as the snowcapped mountains. “Campfire night? Never heard of that.”
She explained, “Dad would take ground meat, potatoes, and whatever vegetable Mom had too much of, then he’d wrap the food in aluminum foil and toss it in the fireplace. Sometimes we’d do s’mores or popcorn for dessert. It became a family tradition of sorts. Dad built the fire, and we helped prepare the hobo packs. Maybe for lunch . . . if we’re still here,” Grace suggested. “Breakfast first though,” she finished.
Max looked at her as though he were contemplating a private memory, his face sobering with whatever thought swirled through his head. “I’d better get out of here before the road crew decides to leave. Breakfast is highly overrated anyway. Come on, guys, let’s go outside.” Both dogs leapt to their feet and raced to the door.
“But I thought . . .” Grace floundered.
“Yeah, I’m sorry. Take care of your girls. I’ll be back as soon as I check the roads. I’ll need that phone number.”
For a second Grace almost forgot she was stuck in the middle of nowhere with a man she wasn’t sure she even liked, plus two little girls whose mother must be frantic with worry. Mentally shaking herself, she focused on the here and now.
Flustered, she looked around for something to write on. “Is there a pen and paper?”
Max retrieved a pad and pencil from the kitchen drawer and gave it to her. She scribbled out the number with Stephanie’s name. As an afterthought she also added her mother’s cell-phone number. Who knew? They could be out looking for her right that very minute. Grace didn’t want to miss her one chance to let them know they weren’t in any danger. Well, the girls weren’t in any immediate danger, but she could be if she didn’t stop thinking about Max Jorgenson’s personal life and how it might mesh with her own.
“Miss Grace! Miss Grace!” both girls called in unison as they ran down the stairs. “Can we build a snowman? Look at all the snow outside!”
Grace glanced at Max, giving him an, Oh boy, this is where I could get into trouble look.
“I don’t know. We don’t have the proper clothes, remember how cold it is. I was about to make breakfast in the fireplace. How about you two give me a hand? I bet I can find some Christmas music for us to listen to while we’re cooking. How does that sound?” Grace asked, adding an extra dollop of cheer to her voice.
“Okay,” Amanda said. “But I would really, really rather build a snowman than cook. Just so you know.”
Grace burst out laughing. She was shocked when she heard Max’s slight laugh. She didn’t think he had it in him. Wrong again.
“I’ll try to remember that, kiddo. Now why don’t the pair of you run upstairs and get dressed. I’ll need your help in a few minutes.”
The girls raced upstairs, shrieking and laughing. Grace was thrilled to hear their childish gibberish because she knew it was a sign that they would eventually be fine despite the traumatic home life they’d only recently escaped. Kids bounced back quickly after tragedy struck. Too bad some of their lightheartedness couldn’t rub off on Max. Permanently.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him grab her keys where she’d left them, turn, and head for the front door, allowing the dogs to come inside after a quick but brisk run.
“Be careful,” she called out to his silhouette, framed in the sunlight. She watched him walk down the steps she’d used just hours ago.
Max Jorgenson was a loner, a wounded man who obviously wanted nothing more than to live his life here on this mountain in the middle of nowhere, undisturbed. So why did she feel the urge to count the minutes until he returned? Why did she feel as if a hummingbird’s wings fluttered against her rib cage when she looked at him? Telling herself it was nothing more than middle-aged lust, she stepped outside and removed a slab of bacon from the bag she’d placed there earlier that morning.
Grace couldn’t have predicted the last twelve hours if her life had depended on it. Reliable, steady, sure of herself, she remained coolheaded and in control of almost any situation she found herself in. Now she found her thoughts wandering and was having trouble focusing. The past few hours had been almost surreal. She’d never been in a situation where she’d felt so totally out of control. Until now. Saying a silent prayer that Max or someone would contact Stephanie, Grace returned to the kitchen to make breakfast.
Locating a radio station playing Christmas carols, she searched through the cupboards until she found a well-used iron skillet, which surprised her. Must be what he used for his bacon and eggs. Using a fork to pry the frozen bacon apart, she lined the frying pan with several slices. She found a cookie sheet and brought it over to the fireplace. Having placed the baking sheet on the logs, she waited until she could see that it was steady, then set the skillet on top. Within minutes the scent of bacon frying permeated the room. Grace realized she was hungry. “Girls,” she called up the stairs, “I need your help.” She didn’t really, but wanted to include them hoping it would take their minds off venturing outside in the freezing cold.
“Here we are! We don’t have a toothbrush, Miss Grace. Mommy tells us to brush our teeth first thing in the morning. And nighttime, too. But we can’t without a toothbrush. Do you think our teeth will fall out?” Amanda asked in one giant breath.
“No, I think you’ll be just fine. When we finish breakfast, we’ll clean our teeth with a washcloth and baking soda if we can’t find any toothpaste. That should do until we get you two home.”
“No! We can’t go home, Miss Grace! Mommy said Daddy might really hurt her bad next time,” Ashley explained, as tears filled her brown eyes.
“Oh, honey, I meant back to Hope House.” Grace steadied the skillet before standing up and taking the two girls in her arms. “Listen up. As long as you’re with me, I promise you’ll both be safe. Max is going to try to call your mother and tell her you’re okay. As soon as I’m able to get to the van, we’ll leave. Deal?” she asked.
“And we can still decorate the Christmas tree, right? Ashley says it’s only five more days till Christmas. Is that true?” Amanda asked, changing the subject so fast Grace had to pause to count the number of days in her head.
“Yes, that’s right. Five more days, and Santa will be here.” Grace still had gifts to buy, plus a tree to decorate. She hoped to be off the mountain in time to get everything ready before Bryce arrived Christmas Eve.
Amanda started to cry hard. Giant tears spattered on her dress. She hiccoughed a few times before she could talk. “But . . . we . . . won’t . . . be . . . home. How . . . will . . . Santa . . . know . . . where . . . to . . . find . . . us?” “He’ll find us, won’t he, Miss Grace? Mommy says he always finds little children. Right?” Ashley asked.
Some parents didn’t believe that instilling a false image of Santa was healthy. She’d seen it more than once when she was in practice. Grace was all about honesty, but in this case she couldn’t come up with one reason, professional or personal, why a child shouldn’t be indulged in such a fantasy. She’d believed in Santa Claus until she was twelve and remembered the disappointment when she’d learned the truth. But as her mother and father always told her, Santa Claus is alive and well. He just moves to your heart when you’re older.
“Absolutely! He’ll find you both I’m sure. Now, if I don’t get some help, I’m going to burn breakfast.”
She removed the skillet from the fire and took it to the kitchen. In minutes, she and the girls were seated at the table, munching on crispy bacon and soft white bread slathered with straw
berry jam. With both dogs acting as guards around the table, Grace laughed, watching as Ice-D and Cliff inhaled every morsel that fell to the floor.
Grace couldn’t remember the last time she’d enjoyed breakfast as much.
Chapter Seven
Max blasted down the mountain like a stick of dynamite. Slivers of ice zoomed past his head as he plowed through a snowbank. He couldn’t put sufficient distance between himself and Grace fast enough. He wanted her out of his house. And the kids, too.
Emotions he’d put on ice long ago were starting to thaw. He knew what that meant but didn’t want to acknowledge it, telling himself it was too soon. He’d felt guilty the moment he laid eyes on her. All thoughts of bachelorhood, the promises he’d made to himself would be null and void if she remained in the picture. Good thing she was just passing through.
He was halfway down Blow Out Hill when he spied Eddie’s shiny black Hummer parked next to a county snowplow. Thinking there could’ve been an accident at Maximum Glide, he twisted the throttle to wide open and the snowmobile skyrocketed recklessly to the bottom of the hill. He braked quickly, sending a shower of freshly packed snow shooting through the air like a blaze of fireworks.
He shut the engine off, leaving the keys in the ignition. He saw Eddie talking to a group of men gathered around the Hummer. Max shook his head. The man adored his ride, never missing an opportunity to pay tribute to the vehicle’s superiority over other four-wheel-drive transport.
Eddie saw him and waved. “What brings Muhammad down from the mountain in this kind of weather?”
Max gave a short laugh. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. Everything okay at Maximum Glide?” He wanted to tell Eddie three snow angels on a mission appeared on his doorstep last night, but thought that a bit too drastic even for Eddie. “A woman broke down somewhere around here late last night. Has a couple of kids with her and needs to get word to her family that they’re okay. You see any gray vans on the side of the road?”
“Place runs smooth as silk, thanks to me. Funny you should ask about the van. We”—he nodded to the group of men gathered behind him—“were just discussing whose turn it was for the next tow.”
“Don’t bother. I’m here for the van. Think it’ll make it up the mountain?” Max asked, assured Eddie would know.
“It’s front-wheel drive. It should. Want me to follow you in the Hummer, just in case?” he asked.
Max thought about it for a minute. “No, I think I can make it. You got your cell phone? I need to make a call.”
Eddie whipped his iPhone out of his jacket pocket. “Never leave home without it.”
Max took the scrap of paper from his pocket, eyeing the small, neat numbers. He could’ve sworn he smelled night-blooming jasmine wafting off the slip of paper. Shaking his head to clear it, he touched the numbers on the phone’s silent pad. Max would never get used to technology. This reminded him of something right out of Star Wars.
The phone rang twice before someone answered. “Hope House. This is Juanita.”
Hope House? Juanita?
“I’m calling for someone named Grace,” he said.
“Do you want to speak to her?”
“No, no. She wanted me to call and let someone know that she and the . . . girls were okay. She got lost last night on her way home from a play. The snowstorm, she couldn’t see to drive.”
“Thank God!” the woman said. “Where is she now? I’ll send Bryce after her. He arrived early this morning. He was so anxious to spend Christmas with her this year, he couldn’t wait until Christmas Eve.”
Max heard Juanita whispering to someone else. Most likely it was the girls’ mother. “Hello? Who is this? Where are my children?” Another woman. The mother. Right on the money.
“I . . . Grace wanted me to call you and let you know they’re safe.” Why did he say that? Of course they were safe. Why wouldn’t they be? “I’m on my way to get her van now. Your girls are at my house with her. They were making breakfast when I left.”
“Oh, I can’t thank you enough! I was sure Glenn had escaped somehow. When will you be bringing them back to Hope House?” the woman he now knew was Stephanie asked.
“She’ll be there as soon as the weather permits. She just wanted me to call. My phone lines are down. She said her cell-phone battery died.”
Max heard an intake of breath.
“Miss Grace would never allow her battery to die! That’s one of the first things she tells us when she issues our phones. Are you sure she’s all right? What did you say your name was?”
Issues our phones? Hope House? Why did that name sound familiar to him?
“My name is Max, and I assure you, Miss Grace was fine when I left her. As soon as she’s able to travel, she’ll be home. Tell Bryce not to be in such a hurry next time.” Max hung up the phone.
“Catch.” He tossed the cell phone back to Eddie.
“Easy, buddy, those things aren’t cheap. What got you so riled up? You look like you’ve just swallowed a spoon of vinegar. No, make that a glass. What gives?”
Bryce. What kind of name is that?
“Nothing, just point me in the right direction so I can get the woman’s van to her before Bryce has a . . . hissy fit.”
“Well, well. I’ll be a monkey’s uncle! It’s about time, don’t you think? I do believe Mr. Jorgenson is jealous!” Eddie roared with laughter.
“Look, Eddie, cut the crap. This woman is stranded at my place with two kids. I want her out of there as soon as possible. Just tell me where her van is, and I’ll be on my way.”
“Don’t get all whiney on me, man. Look, I’ll drive you to her van. I was about to leave anyway. We’ve got a group of ten-year-olds on the black diamonds today. I want to stay close by, just in case.”
“Thanks, Eddie.” And when had ten-year-olds started skiing on black-diamond slopes? He’d been at least thirteen before he even dared to ski on such challenging terrain, but when he did, as they say, the rest is history. Three years later he was on the U.S. Ski Team preparing for Olympic tryouts. He didn’t make it that year, but four years later he made Olympic history in Albertville, France, in 1992, when he won all the events in the Alpine competitions. He had five Olympic Gold Medals for his performance on the slopes. After the Olympics, he’d made millions off endorsements. He’d invested most of his earnings, so when he was ready to settle down, money hadn’t been an issue.
He’d met Kayla while sitting next to her on the ski lift at Maximum Glide. She was there with a group of female police officers from all across the state. She wasn’t like all the other women he’d dated, who wanted nothing more than to be seen with him in hopes their names would wind up on the front page of whatever rag made it their mission to catch “Colorado’s most eligible bachelor” doing something he shouldn’t. That lifestyle got old after a while. When he met Kayla, he was older, wiser, and ready to settle down. Their marriage was nice, easygoing. Max had begged her to quit her job, but she’d refused, telling him that her father and his father were police officers. She said it was in her blood. Feeling the same way about his skiing career, even though his father hadn’t expressed an interest in skiing, Max never asked her to give up her job again. If only he’d been more persistent, Kayla might still be alive. And they would’ve had a son or a daughter, as Kayla had just learned she was three months’ pregnant the week before she was killed.
If only. There were so many ifs.
“That’s it,” Eddie said, pointing to a gray Dodge van. “I assume she gave you the keys?”
“No, she didn’t. I took them this morning. Smart thinking, huh?” Max asked.
“Smart-ass if you ask me,” Eddie said dryly.
“I didn’t,” Max commented.
“Want me to hang around to make sure she starts?”
“That might be a good idea,” Max said, then went over to the nondescript van, inserted the key in the lock, and opened the driver’s side door. He put the key in the ignition, and the van started
up on the first try. “It’s running,” he shouted to Eddie. “Thanks, man. I owe you.”
Eddie stuck his hand in the air and waved before pulling back onto the road. Max saluted him as he passed.
Thankful for the front-wheel drive, Max drove the van up the mountain in record time as the roads were all clear. More snow was expected later, but if he were lucky, Grace would be long gone before it hit.
Something about his conversation with the girls’ mother struck him just then. Just exactly who was Glenn and where had he escaped from? Max was positive the woman had used that word.
“Escape.”
Could it be possible this Glenn had escaped from jail or prison? And was it possible his escape was the reason for the roadblocks? The more Max thought about it, the more he knew he was right. He’d lived in the area most of his life. The only time he’d witnessed a roadblock was on I-70 when there was a possible avalanche threat, or bad weather closed the pass.
Stepping on the accelerator, Max wasted no time plowing up the long drive to his cabin. If he were right, and this man Glenn had escaped, Grace and those two kids could be in grave danger. How or why he knew this, he didn’t know. He did know that if it was in his power to prevent another woman from dying at the hands of another human being, he would do so, no questions asked.
Racing up the steps to the cabin, Max yanked the door aside, unprepared for what greeted him.
Grace and the two girls were in the den, with Ice-D and Cliff flanking a small bearded man wearing the typical orange jail uniform. Both dogs were in attack mode, waiting for his command.
“Are you all right?” he asked Grace as he scanned the room.
She nodded, and that was when Max realized her hands were tied behind her back. Both girls were sitting next to her. Their hands weren’t tied, but Max saw thick tears streaming down both of their faces. His heartbeat quadrupled at the pitiful sight.
Not allowing another second to pass, Max walked over to the man, who he assumed was Glenn and who had his back to him, and snapped his fingers. Instantly, both dogs backed off but remained alert, low, threatening growls deep in their throats.
Coming Home for Christmas Page 13