Love Inspired December 2014 - Box Set 2 of 2: Her Holiday FamilySugar Plum SeasonHer Cowboy HeroSmall-Town Fireman

by Ruth Logan Herne

  Max noted the location in his phone.

  “And you’ll need to fix the reins on the reindeer,” Charlie noted. “They’re blinking on one side and not on the other.”

  “Will do.”

  Taking opposite sides of the narrow park road, they examined the lighting display, away from the stream of cars. Between them they noted two other spots in need of tweaking, but all in all, the lights looked great and they were three weeks into the display.

  “Well done.” Charlie high-fived Max as they reached the end, but then he took a seat on a tree stump and breathed in and out, not gasping for air, but none too comfortable, either.

  “Dad.” Max dropped low instantly, concerned. He took his father’s hand and gazed into his face. “You okay? Should I get help?”

  “Winded is all. Give me a minute. Not used to walking much these days.”

  Max prayed that’s all it was, and when his father’s breathing eased, he nodded uphill. “I wouldn’t object if you brought the car down here, though. Your mother keeps warning me not to overdo it, then I do exactly that.” He slanted a grin to Max, a smile that alleviated some of Max’s worry. “Mostly to get a rise out of her because otherwise she’s way too bossy.”

  “I’ll get the car.”

  “I’d appreciate it.”

  Max hurried up the outside of the lighted display, through the trees. The park show required one-way traffic. That meant Max had to bring the car around the long way. He worried each minute, thinking of his father, out of breath, sitting on a stump, alone at the bottom of the park slope.

  When he finally swung into the small parking lot at the park’s southern tip, his lights picked up a group of people, hovering around the spot where he’d left his dad a quarter hour before.

  Adrenaline surged.

  Max bounded from the car and raced up the short incline.

  Zach Harrison turned and spotted him. “Hey, Max. It’s nice you guys were able to make it over here tonight.”

  Zach’s tone and expression said two things. First, that Max needed to calm down. Second, that everything was okay, and Max was overreacting.

  He took a deep breath and walked up to the group, pretending nonchalance. “How we doin’?”

  “Good!” The lights to their left brightened one side of Charlie’s face, leaving the other side in shadow, but the visible side looked all right. And his breathing sounded normal. Charlie looked up at him, made a face and swept the gathered group a look of pained patience. “The minute someone says the word cancer, you can’t breathe crooked without everyone sending up a panic flag.” He softened his expression and smiled up at Max. “But I’m glad you went to get the car. These treatments might help slow the beast inside, but they slow me down, too.” He stood and waved to the lighted park surrounding them. “We did okay, though. Right?”

  “It’s beautiful, Charlie.” One of the guys from the town highway department grinned his approval.

  “The best ever,” added an unknown woman. “I think these old-fashioned displays really help focus on the spirit of Christmas, the reason we celebrate. I like that it’s not a techno-show of lights anymore.”

  Charlie thumped Max on the back. “That’s the kid’s doings. When everything fell apart, our soldier got things back on track.”

  “Great job, Max!”

  “Thanks, Max.”

  “Not bad.” Zach fake-punched his arm, only it wasn’t all that fake. “And remember, they’re giving the trooper exam in February. You’ve got my vote, Max.”

  “I appreciate it. I think.” Max made it a point to rub his arm. “But right now I’m going to focus on running Campbell’s Hardware until Dad feels up to doing it himself. With no more side trips,” he promised his father. His commander had made it clear that Max was officially off the books for the remaining few weeks of his current military contract. “You guys are stuck with me.”

  “Good.” Charlie hugged him, and while Charlie had always been a hugger, this embrace felt different. As if he was ready to hand over the reins.

  Max hugged him back. While the small crowd dispersed, he and Zach walked back toward the car with Charlie. “How’d you gather the crowd, Dad? Did you fake a heart attack? Call for help? I’m gone fifteen minutes and you managed to throw a party in the woods.”

  “My fault,” Zach admitted. “I was doing a quiet patrol, saw him sitting there and pulled off. Before you know it, folks spotted us and wanted to pull out of line for the lights and talk to Charlie. I think we made Jake Menko’s job hard tonight. He’s on duty to keep things moving steady.”

  “Oops.” Charlie pretended to look guilty, but failed. “It was kind of nice, seeing folks out here. I spent a lot of nights checking lights in years past. And Max, I mean it when I say this is the best display ever.”

  Max accepted that with grace. “I’ll let Mrs. Thurgood know. She’s pretty proud of her son’s part in the whole thing.”

  “A deserving tribute.” Charlie shook Zach’s hand and climbed into his side of the car. “Thanks for hanging out with me, Zach. Kiss that baby boy for me, would you? And bring him around to see me.”

  “We will,” Zach promised. “He’s had a cold, and Piper is insisting we can’t make you sick.”

  “She’s right,” added Max. “Dad might be ready to take more risks, but tell Piper thanks for being sensible.”

  “Oh, she’s that all right.” Zach grinned their way. “Focused, driven, sensible, bossy...and really cute.”

  “A town trait,” Max muttered. He could take each of those words and apply them to Tina, and the fact that she was mad at him meant he needed to campaign in earnest. What better time than Christmas to win true love’s heart?

  He waved to Zach, backed the car around and exited the lower end of the park. As he passed Tina’s place, her lights blinked off. Two dark windows stared out, mocking him.

  Resolute, he hung a right and headed toward his parents’ house. He had Tina’s table and chair project to finish before Christmas. And once Tina was back to work on Monday, it would be harder to avoid him. In the meantime? He and his men had completed Operation: Mistletoe overseas, a mission that rescued two young women being held hostage by extremists in western Asia. The success of that endeavor said his skills at covert operations ranked high. Now?

  He had every intention of launching a successful Operation: Tina much closer to home.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Tina! How are you doing?” Zach Harrison’s sister Julia stopped into the sprawling festival food tent Sunday afternoon. Her two boys, Conner and Martin, gazed around the tent with hungry expressions.

  “I’m good, Julia.” Looking down, Tina focused on Zach’s two little nephews. “And I have a Christmas cake with your name on it, Martin. You, too, Conner. If it’s okay with Mom. Have you been good?”

  “Very.” Martin nodded with the seriousness of a six-year-old. “Conner was kind of a baby over at the ring-toss game because I got more rings on than he did, but then he said sorry.” Martin’s face said a simple apology didn’t quite make up for pitching a hissy fit in public.

  Tina fought a smile.

  “Well, you took two of my rings, so that made me madder than mad.” Conner glared at his older brother, and Tina had the distinct impression that before too long, Martin wouldn’t be nipping anything from his younger brother, because Conner had almost caught him in size already, despite their two-year difference.

  “Did not.”

  “Did so.”

  “Did—”

  “Stop. Both of you. Or no cake. Got it?” Julia directed a no-nonsense expression their way, a look that said the boys better shape up.

  They did.

  “Here,” she said as she handed over a deep box to Tina. “I was told to give this to you.”

  “Because?”<
br />
  Lacey Barrett began to help the next customer in line, giving Tina a moment to step aside. She opened the box, stared inside, then turned, puzzled. “It’s a crèche.”

  Julia nodded. “From the Holy Land.”

  “Olive wood.” Tina grazed a finger across the burnished wooden surface, confused. “But who?” Tina hauled in a deep breath as realization hit. “Max.”

  “The man certainly has good taste,” Julia noted as Lacey handed each of the boys a tree-shaped sugar cake. “I saw it on display at the high school, and then Max stepped up to the vendor, quiet and calm, plunked down a fistful of money and said, ‘This is the kind of Nativity set a family hands down for generations.’”

  A family hands down for generations.

  Tina’s heart pinched tight.

  Family. Her small family, mending. Maybe?

  His family, so strong, so loving, being torn by serious illness. And Max, sending her a beautiful, touching gift of Christmas, a hand-carved Nativity from the very land Jesus trod long ago.

  “I think you like it.” Julia smiled and Tina flushed.

  “It’s stunning. It’s...” Words failed her.

  “It’s the kind of gift a man gives a woman he loves,” Lacey noted once her customer left with a small box of apple fritters and two tins of cakes. “Looks like someone is staking a claim, Tina.”

  “Or has too much time and money on his hands,” she replied, but the old-world glow of the polished wood called to her.

  Was she being too stubborn, not letting him talk, unwilling to listen? Weren’t these the traits that got her family into trouble? The long silences, holding grudges, stepping back?

  A clutch of people came in, and business stayed steady the rest of the afternoon. By day’s end, when the last of the baked goods had been sent to the homeless shelter in Clearwater, Tina was bone tired. The short walk home, carrying the box holding the beautiful carved Nativity, gave her a few minutes to think. To pray.

  She was stubborn as a mule sometimes.

  The gift in her hand reminded her of Mary’s willingness to say yes to God. A young woman, asked to do the impossible, to carry the Son of God.

  Mary said yes and changed history.

  Let not your heart be troubled...

  The promise in John’s Gospel offered eternal life, but asked for belief. Was she careless in her belief? Did she voice it, but not live it?

  Sometimes.

  That thought troubled her, and as she moved up the walk, her gaze was drawn to her entrance into the house.

  A thick fresh wreath decorated her door. Festooned with bright red ribbons, clusters of berries and white twigs, the wreath looked like Christmas and smelled like a fresh walk in a piney wood.

  A card hung from the wreath, and Tina pulled it out, then stepped closer to the light. “It’s always more fun to come home to a cheerful door. Merry Christmas, Tina. With love, Max.”

  She scanned the area, half hoping he’d be there.

  He wasn’t.

  She placed her hand against the lush wreath, bright and welcoming, the velvet-soft scarlet bows nestled against spiny evergreen.

  Traditions.

  A traditional wreath.

  A traditional Nativity.

  Could he be wanting the very same thing she craved? A new normal with her? A chance to begin a new branch of the Campbells?

  She went inside, climbed the steps and pulled out her phone, then hesitated when the screen flashed on.

  She needed to be sure. Not about her own feelings. His disappearing act made her quite aware of how hard she’d fallen, how much she cared about Max Campbell.

  What she needed more than anything was to be sure of him. And that required a little more thought and probably more prayer.

  She reopened the crèche box, dusted a small side table and set up the beautifully glossed wooden Nativity.

  Timeless and prayerful, the image of that first cold Christmas touched her heart. Mary had said yes to a contentious request, then Joseph vouched for her when he could have turned his back and walked away.

  He hadn’t. He’d trusted. He’d believed.

  And that was something Tina needed to do more fully.

  * * *

  Max smoothed his palm over the finished patio tables, satisfied.

  They’d been knocked around in the fire at Tina’s cafe. Not burned, just singed, but smoke and water damage had joined forces against them. He’d dried them out, sanded them down and applied fresh summer-toned paint to each one.

  He’d variegated the chair spindles, mixing and matching yellows, greens and blues, until the final cheerful effect saluted nice weather and waterside dining.

  Would Tina love them?

  He hoped so. More than that, he wanted her to have a piece of the business she’d worked so hard to build. Something tangible to show her investment of time and effort.

  Four tables and sixteen chairs, a salute to her café. And to her. If she forgave him long enough for him to give them to her.

  He glanced up at the clock, disappointed.

  He’d hoped for a phone call tonight.

  He knew Julia had presented Tina with the glossed wooden Nativity. He’d gotten her Mission accomplished! text late that afternoon while he’d finished the last of Tina’s chairs.

  And Tina would have discovered the wreath he’d fastened to her door a few hours ago.

  Still no word.

  Stubborn? Or wary?

  Both, his brain reminded him. With good reason. She’s been hurt before and doesn’t have a whole lot of reason to trust people lately. Take it slow.

  The reminder hit home, but the last thing Max wanted right now was slow. He craved the dream he saw before him, just out of reach.

  Tina. A home. A family. A dog. Maybe two dogs.

  He grinned as Beezer nudged open the door of the garage workroom. “Hey, old guy.”

  Beeze yawned, eyed the chairs, then yawned again.

  “Time to head in?”

  The dog’s head bobbed in understanding, his tail beating a quick rhythm against the table leg.

  Max led the way out, turned to shut off the light and gave the tables one last look.

  Beautiful. Bright. Winsome. Like their owner. Now, if he could wear her down enough to bring joy back to those pretty gray eyes?

  He’d be a happy man.

  * * *

  “When’s Tina due in?” Earl asked Max shortly after noon.

  In forty-two minutes and twenty-nine seconds.

  Saying that would make him sound more desperate than a guy should ever admit to, so Max shrugged. “She’s on the schedule for one o’clock.”

  “Then I’ll wait and take my lunch once she gets here.” Earl lifted a box of parts and carried it to the repair area in the back room. “I’ll break down Dan Hollister’s snowblower in the meantime. Darn fool things cost an arm and a leg, then don’t work when you need them most. I’m a plow man,” he advised Max, and let the door swing shut behind him.

  I’m a plow man.

  Max grinned.

  He’d been away from country-speak too long. Military conversations tended toward concise speech, rarely more than was needed. Right now he wanted time to pass quickly, counting the minutes until Tina walked through that door.

  The store was atypically quiet. His mother had predicted that the rush of weekend shopping would give them a day or two of quiet time to recover, and Max busied himself with reorganizing the upstairs shelves. Displays had been jumbled over the hectic weekend, and his mother’s life would be easier if she could walk upstairs with her little scan gun later that day and order new stock automatically. Her task would be simplified if everything was back in order.

  “Max?”

 
Tina’s voice, behind him. He turned slowly, tamping emotion when what he really wanted to do was grab her up, kiss her like crazy and set a wedding date for soon.

  Very soon.

  Stifling rampant emotions, he faced her. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

  She shifted her gaze to the wide country stairs. “I just wanted you to know I’m downstairs. That way you can finish up whatever you need to do up here.”

  Polite. All business. Matter-of-fact. But he didn’t miss the fact that she had actually come upstairs to deliver the message when she could have simply called out from below.

  And that slight difference meant Tina Martinelli was maybe yearning—just a little—to see him.

  The realization put him instantly in a brighter mind-set than he’d been minutes before.

  He stepped forward, crowding her space. “Excellent.”

  She moved to go back down, but Max blocked her with an arm against the near wall. “That’s it?”

  “Yes.” She gave him a look that said he might be wise to move his arm.

  He had no intention of doing any such thing. “Really?” He edged closer, just close enough to see his breath ruffle her short hair. Close enough to watch her eyelashes flutter as she dipped her gaze. “Nothing else you want to say to me, Tina Marie?”

  “Probably nothing that won’t end up with me in jail. Men that take off for weeks without even the courtesy of a simple farewell or a note that says ‘see you soon’ don’t deserve a lot of leeway when they finally show up again.”

  He acknowledged her words in a straightforward fashion. “The army’s pretty tight on the ‘need to know’ rule. They called me up on coded orders with radio silence. If I could have said goodbye, I would have. I promise.”

  She scowled, but her frown didn’t look quite as intense as it had three days ago, and right now he’d take any hints of improvement he could get. “How about allowing me to make it up to you? I have tickets to the hottest gig in town and there’s no one else I’d rather spend Saturday evening with than you, Tina.”

  “We have a hot gig in town?” Her arched brow said he must be thinking of another town because the terms “hot gig” and “Kirkwood” weren’t exactly synonymous.