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

by Ruth Logan Herne

  She gave him an odd look but didn’t press him for details. That was a good thing, because Scott was a very sore subject for all of them, and Jason didn’t want anything to spoil this evening for his family.

  Before they got started, Dad and Paul muscled Granddad’s bed through the wide archway, parking it in front of the fireplace so he could supervise. The tree had always been his responsibility, and this year was no exception. Dad might have been the one on the ladder, but Granddad was in charge of telling him where the long strings of lights needed to be adjusted.

  When they finally met his approval, Dad handed him the remote. “You do the honors, Pop.”

  “You checked all those bulbs?” he demanded.

  “Every last one,” Dad assured him with a chuckle. “Just like you taught me.”

  “All right, then.”

  He flipped the switch, and the massive tree shone with every color in the spectrum. It had gotten darker outside, so the lights were reflected in the angled glass of the bay window, enhancing the effect.

  “Oh, kids,” Gram breathed, “it’s beautiful just like this.”

  They stood and admired it for about two seconds before his nieces and nephews dived into the ornament bins, snatching up their favorites and clamoring for Chelsea to put a hook on each one.

  “I’d better go help her,” Amy said, edging toward a small chair.

  “Not trying to get away from me, are you?” Jason teased.

  “Not a bit. In fact, I was hoping you might walk me home later.”

  “Hoping?” he echoed in mock disgust. Thickening his usual Virginia accent, he went on. “I’m a Southern gentleman, Miss Morgan. I’ve got no intention of letting you go off alone in the dark.”

  Picking up on his tone, she batted her eyes up at him. “I have always depended on the kindness of strangers.”

  “Blanche DuBois, Streetcar Named Desire.” Judging by her delighted reaction, she hadn’t expected him to know the reference. Grinning, he added, “Except I’m not a stranger.”

  Suddenly, her demeanor shifted, and her eyes darkened somberly. “But you’re very kind, even to a demanding woman who drives most people crazy. That means more to me than you can possibly know.”

  Standing on tiptoe, she kissed his cheek and left him with a dazzling smile that drove deep into his heart, leaving behind a warm trail he suspected wouldn’t be fading anytime soon.

  Chapter Seven

  By the time they were finished decorating the Barrett homestead, Amy knew each family member by name and was actually starting to feel like one of them. It wasn’t hard to envision these generous, caring people giving an adopted child not only a home but a boisterous extended family. To her surprise, no one asked a single awkward question about what might be going on between Jason and her. She wasn’t sure if that was because they were too polite to pry or if they already knew everything from the gossip flying around town.

  Probably the second, she mused with a smile while she and Jason said their goodbyes. Aunt Helen stood proudly at the center of the local news chain, and while she’d never embarrass Amy, the chatty woman wasn’t one to hold back anything juicy, either. And in a small, close-knit town like this, nothing was juicier than the prospect of a blossoming Christmas romance.

  “Headed out?” Paul asked, holding up Chelsea’s sweater for her to slip into.

  “Yeah.” Jason’s grumbling was totally spoiled by his troublemaker grin. “The boss wants me in extra early tomorrow.”

  Paul held up his hands in defense. “Hey, don’t hassle me. If you weren’t so good on the lathe, you’d get more time off.”

  Their good-natured argument continued while the four of them made the short walk through town to Arabesque. On the way, Jason asked Chelsea, “How’re things going at your new place?”

  “You mean, our old place,” Chelsea corrected him, then explained to Amy, “We bought the old Garrison house on Ingram Street.”

  Amy searched her memory for the location. “You mean the one on the other side of the square?”

  “That’s the one,” the newest Mrs. Barrett confirmed with a sigh. “It’s a mess, but the price was right.”

  “Now we know why,” Paul added grimly. “I thought the home inspector was kidding when he said the only good things were the foundation and the roof.”

  “Underneath all the ugly, it’s still a lovely house,” Chelsea assured them. “We just have to get it there.”

  Busy as they were at the mill, Amy admired their willingness to put so much effort into reclaiming the stately old Colonial. She was about to tell them that when she noticed Paul had stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and was staring at a pickup parked outside the Whistlestop. Because all the streetlights were on for holiday shoppers, it was easy to make out that it was dark green, with Idaho license plates. On the back bumper was a faded sticker that read “Ladies love country boys.”

  “Hey, Jason,” he commented in a curious tone. “Isn’t that your truck?”

  Looking over, Jason scowled. “Sure is. They must’ve changed out the Oregon plates so the cops couldn’t find it.”

  “So either Billy’s here—”

  “—or Rachel,” Jason finished for him as the driver’s door swung open and a petite—and very pregnant—woman stepped out.

  Flipping long auburn hair over her shoulders, she arched her back in obvious discomfort and scanned the tiny business district with a helpless look. When her eyes landed on their group, they lit up with what Amy could only describe as joy.

  For someone as front-heavy as she was, she moved pretty fast, and before anyone could react, she’d thrown herself at a flabbergasted Jason.

  “Oh, Jason!” she choked out in a half sob. “I’m so glad to see you.”

  Moving like a man in a trance, he peeled her arms from around his neck and gently pushed her back. “How’d you find me?”

  “I stopped in one of those internet cafés out on the highway and looked you up online. There’s a bio of you on the Barrett’s Mill Furniture website, and it was updated a couple weeks ago, so I was hoping you’d still be here.”

  The wonders of modern communication, Amy groused, wondering how Jason was going to handle this bizarre—and delicate—situation.

  Giving his ex a disapproving once-over, he asked, “How’s Billy?”

  “Gone, months ago,” she replied, her face twisting in anguish. “As soon as he found out about the baby, he was done with me. Hey, Paul,” she added, as if she’d only just realized they weren’t alone.

  She didn’t even glance at Chelsea or Amy, and Chelsea raised a disapproving brow. Paul settled an arm around her shoulders in an obvious attempt at keeping the peace. “Rachel McCarron, this is my wife, Chelsea.”

  She giggled at that, then seemed to register his somber expression. “Oh, you’re serious. Sorry about that,” she told Chelsea. “Back when I knew him, Paul wasn’t exactly the marrying type.”

  Her thoughtless comment hung in the night air, which was growing chillier by the second.

  Finally, Chelsea broke the tension. “We’re on our way home, so we’ll see you two later.” She hugged both Jason and Amy, pointedly leaving out their unwelcome visitor. Wrapping Paul’s arm around her shoulders, she angled him away and headed cross-lots to their house.

  Sighing dramatically, Rachel watched them go. “She doesn’t like me.”

  Chelsea adored Jason, and knowing what this woman had done to him couldn’t sit well with her. Amy would be amazed if Chelsea’s opinion of Rachel McCarron ever came close to thawing.

  In truth, she hadn’t been all that crazy about Jason’s former fiancée even when Rachel was a distant memory for him. It had never occurred to Amy that they might actually meet someday. Or that she’d be pregnant and evidently in need of help. Then it hit her: Jason hadn’t int
roduced them. After asking about Billy, he’d gone completely silent, as if he couldn’t come up with anything more to say. Sadly, Rachel didn’t share his affliction, but chattered along about this old friend and that one in a desperate attempt to fill the awkward silence.

  When she finally stopped for breath, Amy seized what might be her only opportunity to air what she was thinking. Tapping his shoulder, she gave him a cool look. “Could I talk to you a minute?”

  “Sure. Excuse me, Rachel.”

  Now he remembered his manners, Amy seethed while they moved a few yards away. She didn’t know why she was so upset about his unexpected reunion with his ex, but her temper was simmering just beneath the surface, threatening to flare into an blistering tirade. Determined to avoid embarrassing them both, she took a deep breath to regain her composure.

  Gazing down at her, he frowned. “What’s wrong?”

  “What’s wrong?” she echoed furiously. “Are you serious?”

  Patient as he usually was, she was stunned by the flash of anger in his eyes. “Look, this is a shock to me, too. You’ll have to cut me some slack.”

  Most of the time, she gave in when people spoke to her that way. Then later, when she had a chance to think it over, she regretted allowing them to wipe their feet on her like some kind of doormat. Not this time, she vowed, pulling herself up to her full height and glaring at him for all she was worth. “By all means, take as much slack as you need. Good night.”

  Pivoting on her heel, she started across the street to where the cheery windows of Arabesque beckoned her inside where things still made sense to her. It was a fantasy, of course, but it was hers, and it was calling to her like the beacon marking a safe harbor.

  Before she could reach it, Jason caught up with her and gently grasped her arm. When she yanked it free, he put up his hands in deference to her temper. “I shouldn’t have done that, and I’m sorry. Please don’t go off this way.”

  “What way?” she spat defiantly.

  “Mad.”

  Stepping into an empty parking space, she folded her arms and scowled up at him. “Mad doesn’t begin to cut it, mister.”

  “I’m confused. It’s not my fault Rachel’s here, y’know. I didn’t ask her to come.”

  Clueless, she ranted silently, shaking her head. “Then I’ll explain it to you. Paul introduced Chelsea to Rachel, but you left me standing there like the invisible woman.”

  By the startled look on his face, her complaint was news to him, and he hung his head like a woebegone hound. “I’m sorry. She caught me off guard, and my brain just shut off.”

  He looked so ashamed, she didn’t have the heart to go on being angry at him. She understood his reaction, because she’d felt the same when she’d run into Devon shopping in Manhattan with his new girlfriend. Uncomfortable didn’t even begin to describe the scene, and she recalled her tangled emotions vividly enough that she opted to give Jason a break.

  “I guess I understand,” she said, ducking to look at him. “And I apologize for overreacting.”

  His features brightened immediately.

  “It’s over between us, I promise. And that baby’s not mine.”

  She’d figured that out for herself from their exchange about the absent Billy, but she appreciated him having the courage to meet the sensitive issue head-on. “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m not sure,” he confided with a glance over to where Rachel stood waiting for him. “I’m guessing she needs somewhere to go, or she wouldn’t have come all this way.”

  “What about her family?”

  He grimaced. “She’s from Iowa, and her parents are the conservative, buttoned-up type. They’re probably not real thrilled with her right now.”

  Despite her initial reaction to Rachel’s surprise visit, Amy couldn’t help feeling sorry for her. Alone and pregnant, she’d driven across the country to the one person she thought she could count on. That it was Jason didn’t surprise Amy in the least. That was the kind of guy he was, after all, and she’d certainly benefited from it herself.

  Taking her hand, he fixed her with a pleading gaze. “It’s a lot to take in, but I hope you can get your head around this. My no-good father left my mother to deal with her pregnancy and a baby when she was sixteen years old. If it hadn’t been for the Barretts, who knows what would’ve happened to me? If Rachel needs my help, I’m gonna give it to her. It’s the right thing to do.”

  While she still didn’t like the situation one bit, Amy sensed he was appealing to her as a friend. Determined not to let Rachel get to her, she tamped down her irrational objections and did her best to appear calm. “I’m going home now. I’ll be in my office doing the books, if you want to talk later.”

  He flashed her a little-boy grin. “Thanks.”

  With a quick “You’re welcome,” Amy gladly finished her walk to Arabesque. Fighting the urge to glance back at them, she unlocked the door to her apartment just as the vintage rotary phone on the counter began ringing. “Hello?”

  “Who’s that pregnant girl out there with Jason?” Aunt Helen demanded breathlessly.

  “Are you using Uncle Fred’s high-powered binoculars again?” she chided. “You know they’re meant for bird-watching and spotting deer, right?”

  “He’s sound asleep, so he won’t be missing them. Are you going to answer my question or not?”

  Knowing she’d get the information one way or another, Amy decided to be helpful. “Rachel McCarron, his ex-fiancée from Oregon. And before you ask, the baby’s not his.”

  She gave a very unladylike snort. “Of course it’s not. He’d never leave the mother of his child to fend for herself like that.”

  While her aunt launched into a melodramatic assessment of other local couples in dicey situations, Amy was astonished to discover she didn’t doubt his claim for even a single moment. As a performer, she’d learned to be wary of people’s intentions, never taking anyone at face value because most of the characters around her were superb actors. Because of that, she had a hard time believing anyone until she’d known them for a long time.

  Somehow, Jason had earned her trust very quickly, and she took it on faith that he was being straight with her.

  An interesting change, she thought while she mmm-hmmed and uh-huhed at the right spots in their one-way conversation. She didn’t know the dictionary definition of faith, but she understood it basically meant believing in something you couldn’t see or touch.

  She believed Jason, but did she also believe in him? She hadn’t considered that before, but she had to admit she probably did. She certainly felt he’d been honest with her, right from their first meeting through tonight. He was funny and sweet, and he had a way of making her feel special without saying a word.

  “Don’t you think so?” Aunt Helen asked, finally dragging Amy back into the discussion.

  “Absolutely.” Since she hadn’t heard the question, she hoped her response made sense.

  “A good boy, through and through. And from what Olivia tells me, he really likes you. You could do worse.”

  I have, Amy thought grimly. But over the past few days, Jason had convinced her she deserved better, and at some point she’d started to agree with him. “Aunt Helen, I hate to cut you off, but I really should get going on the books.”

  “Oh, listen to me, rattling along when you’ve got work to do. You go on, and I’ll see you soon.”

  Adding a noisy air kiss, she hung up. Amy disconnected with a relieved sigh. She adored the woman, but an extended chat with her could be exhausting. Normally, she detested opening her bookkeeping program and logging everything in, but after the hectic day she’d had, she was actually looking forward to sitting down at her desk for some Mozart and number crunching.

  * * *

  After watching Amy to make sure she’d gotten inside a
ll right, Jason cast a hesitant look over at Rachel. For the life of him, he didn’t know what to say. Jamming his hands into the pockets of his jeans, he trudged back to where she was waiting, searching his uncooperative brain for a way to start a conversation he’d never anticipated having. When she took off nearly a year ago, it had taken him a while to accept she was really gone. Once he did, though, he’d assumed he’d never see her again.

  But here she was, and he had to come up with a way to deal with it. Inspiration struck, and he asked, “Are you hungry?”

  “Starving,” she replied in a voice tinged with desperation. “I put the last of my money in the gas tank this morning.”

  Jason had a hard time accepting that someone in her family wouldn’t at least send her some cash. “Do your parents know about the baby?”

  “Sure they do. They offered to help me ‘take care of it.’” She spat the words with disdain. “When I refused, they told me never to call them again.”

  The bitterness in her voice wavered, and her dark eyes filled with tears. Jason wondered if his mother had faced the same heartlessness from her own family and gave him up to make sure he’d be raised by people who would always love him, no matter how badly he messed up.

  His instinct was to gather Rachel into his arms and comfort her, but he didn’t want to create the wrong impression for her or the curious eyes he assumed were watching this little drama unfold. Instead, he took her hands and gave them a reassuring squeeze.

  “Rachel, look at me.” When he had her attention, he steeled himself against her tears and tried to think practically. “First, we’re gonna go inside and get you something to eat. Next, I’ll find you a place to stay the night, and tomorrow we’ll figure out what to do.”

  Sniffling, she blinked up at him in obvious confusion. “You mean, you’re going to help me?”

  “Did you come all this way thinking I wouldn’t?”