So, in saying that…Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night.
About the Author
Amanda Lanclos is a small town girl from Louisiana who has a passion for love and books. She is the author of the Wounded Souls Series, the Unwavering Faith Series and the Garrison Brothers.
When she isn’t being a mother of two children and a wife to her amazing husband, she’s often found on her computer or with a nose in a kindle or book. She has always had a fascination for books and doesn’t believe that will ever go away.
Books by Amanda Lanclos
The Wounded Souls Series
Irreparable
Inconsolable
Unbelievable
Undeniable
Unexpected
Inevitable (Coming Spring 2018)
Untamable (Coming Fall 2018)
The Unwavering Faith Series
Guided by Faith
Saved by Grace
Broken Together (Coming Summer 2018)
The Garrison Brothers
Who I am With You
High on Loving You (Coming Spring 2018)
Copyright © Chelsea Camaron 2017
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of Chelsea Camaron, except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976.
This is a work of fiction. All character, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
1st edition published: November 1, 2017
Editing by: Asli Fratarcangeli
Formatting by: Silla Webb
Thank you for purchasing this book. This book and its contents are the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be reproduced, copied, and distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes.
This book contains mature content not suitable for those under the age of 18. Content involves strong language and sexual situations. All parties portrayed in sexual situation are over the age of 18. All characters are a work of fiction.
This book is not meant to be an exact depiction of a motorcycle club but rather a work of fiction meant to entertain.
***Warning: This book may contain graphic situations that may be a trigger for some readers. Please understand this is a work of fiction and not meant to offend or misrepresent any situations.***
To my nephew: you are a light in my life. Since before you were born, I prayed for you, wished for you, dreamt about you, and loved you. My wish for you is a life of love, happiness, and don’t ever let anyone hold you back. You are a bundle of energy, emotion, and all things right when sometimes we are surrounded in so much wrong in the world. I will always be here for you. Family is everything.
December 1st
Every snowflake is unique.
The sky is not filled with some gorgeous light of a new day. In fact, the air is thick, cold, and unforgiving. It matches my soul at the moment. Snow will be pouring down soon, I can feel it in the air. Jameson, Vermont, our small town, in the winter is frigid at times. Maybe it’s not the air that’s so cold but the feeling of my heart.
The Lincoln town car slows down and stops behind the Hearse. I squeeze my sister Lindsey’s hand as a comfort and reminder that as much as she feels alone, in this moment, she isn’t.
My nephew sits on the other side of her, most likely still trying to process what has happened. Keegan turned nine this past summer. They say children are resilient but really, what more can one person take? I am twenty-nine years old and completely shattered. How can anyone expect him to get through all of this?
In the last eleven months, my mother passed away from cancer, then my father, two weeks later, from a heart attack, as if that loss wasn’t enough, their cat, Petunia, didn’t adjust to the shared custody agreement Lindsey and I had – she took off out the door behind Keegan one day and the next time we saw her, she had been hit by a car in front of my parents’ previous home. We can only assume she was homesick and looking for our parents.
Ten days ago, on a simple training exercise with his unit, my brother-in-law died in a helicopter crash leaving my sister, Lindsey and their young son, Keegan, behind.
Thanksgiving didn’t happen for our family because honestly, Lindsay and I couldn’t find much to be thankful for other than each other and Keegan. I get it. We are wrong for the bitterness.
It can always be worse, we both have to remind each other and ourselves of that fact.
But this … this is hard. And to have those men in uniform show up just days before Thanksgiving, days before Kyle would be home on the holiday time off the Marines gave him, and days before my sister could tell him that she was ready to try for a second child that Kyle had been asking for, it just makes everything more difficult. There will be no second baby for my sister and her husband. Keegan will be the only product of their love. There was no way we could celebrate a time of thanks when we had simply lost too much.
Does that make us bad people? I don’t think so. Does it make us human and full of raw emotions? Absolutely.
Ten days ago, our world changed once again. The mourning process isn’t easy normally, but with Kyle’s situation there was time needed to “process him and his belongings,” the military said. Lindsey thinks they were trying to sort out all of the victims’ family and the bodies. There was not a single survivor from the crash so I am sure there was a lot of things for them to handle on top of the investigation to determine what actually happened.
The answers we seek we will most likely never know. The documents of the crash are classified, only adding to our mourning. We won’t ever know what caused Kyle to be taken from his wife, his son, and our family.
I can’t say if having his body sooner, or having this service, days after the accident, would change a single thing about the way we feel right now or not. We didn’t have that option so we take what we get and try to push through.
I wish I could say we had some large extended family to be some sort of support system. We don’t, though. Our grandparents passed away before we were born so Lindsey and I are left leaning on one another now.
The car door opens and I swallow back the emotions threatening to drown me where I sit. Sliding out, I stand and wait for my sister and then Keegan before we follow our military escort to the graveside.
The service is a whirlwind of one tradition to another. Everything laced in history and respect for their fallen brother. The Navy Chaplain who performed the service actually requested it. Apparently on one of the many deployments Kyle made, he met this particular Chaplain. According to what Lindsay said, he held Kyle in a high regard, even if he was a Jarhead – the man did make those jokes in his opening. All in all, though, the man made it clear there were very few men with Kyle’s integrity, courage, commitment, and honor.
He should tell the world. I don’t have a single negative thing to say about my brother-in-law. I don’t know anyone who could say something bad about him. Lindsey and Kyle met when they were still in diapers and I wasn’t even thought of. Side-by-side the two of them grew up together, fell in love, and built this life.
Lindsey being Lindsey and wanting to be near our family, she let her husband work away from home. Kyle joined the Marines while allowing her to stay here to be with our parents who were aging, and then when I graduated from college she was here to help me start my business. Their love was strong enough to withstand any distance, they both always said. So even though, they only had weekend visits, and holiday leave time, Kyle always made the best of it. Every single day, he would video call Keegan and do his homework with him, read to him, and talk about anything and everything under the sun. When bed time came if Kyle was away, he made sure before he left that there was a new recording in this bear he found to say goodnight and I love you t
o his son.
My feet falter as my heels get stuck in the ground as we walk away from the graveside. Twenty-one-gun salute, the playing of Taps, the presentation of the flag, it was all painful. Lindsey looks back to check on me, while holding the folded flag tightly to her chest.
The two men, all I could do was stare at their white glove covered fingers as they first folded it in half, then in half again before pulling the old red, white, and blue tight. The one Marine stood absolutely still holding the flag while his comrade continued to make the triangles until it was to the place they could tuck the ends and seal the flag closed. The very flag that was draped over Kyle’s casket to cover the Marine for his service to our country.
As emotional as it was to have that flag presented to my sister on behalf of the President of the United States of America and the Marines, it doesn’t touch what I feel thinking of my nephew and the things he has to hold onto for his dad. No, nothing hits me as hard as thinking of that bear right now. Lifting my head to the sky, I don’t speak but I silently pray.
“Please don’t let that bear ever break and erase the sound of his daddy’s voice.”
I feel the heat of my tears trickle down my face as I follow my sister holding her son’s hand and we slide back into the car.
The men in their uniform make no movements right away. They respect our time and allow us to get comfortable. They show no expressions on their faces. There isn’t a sadness exactly, but a somberness in their expressions.
The one thing that stands out most, though, is the respect they carry themselves with for Kyle. Through the entire service, they never faltered.
I can only hope that for the rest of Keegan’s life, Lindsey and I never falter for the little boy who has lost half of his world.
December 12th
Everything gets better in time … or with wine.
“I have an idea!” Lindsey says with a huge smile from across the dinner table.
“Hit me with it,” I tell her swirling spaghetti around my fork.
“Well, every year when Kyle got leave for Christmas, he always did a Toys for Tots rotation at the toy store in Bingham in his full dress blues uniform.” I nod for her to continue. “I have a set of kid’s blues for Keegan. So I think this year, we should write our lists to Santa and mail them off at the big mail box they have that shoots direct to the North Pole and spend an hour donating our time to the charity along with some toys.”
I see the tears fill my sister’s eyes. Looking over to Keegan, my heart splinters with the hope in those deep blue depths. The mail box doesn’t shoot directly to the North Pole but it’s something Kyle always told Keegan. This is an opportunity to keep a memory alive.
Instantly, I nod. “Guess we need to make our wish lists for good ole Saint Nick.”
Keegan jumps up from his chair and rushes to me wrapping his hands around my neck. “Aunt Tins, you’re gonna love giving back!”
Lindsey watches us as the tears flow down her face now in streams.
“My daddy always took me with him. We have to stand real still. It’s to honor the men in the uniform that came before us. If a child needs some help, only then do we break stance because we are here to protect and serve.” Keegan explains his previous times with his dad.
Times he will never have again.
I swallow back my tears. “Sounds like we have an important job to do then.”
“First, we gotta write our lists,” Keegan rambles as he takes off to his room.
Immediately, I look to my sister who has this glisten in her eyes of pride for this family tradition her husband had with their son. “Okay sister, what do we put on these lists?”
Lindsey smiles at me, “our Christmas wishes, duh.” She winks at me. “Adult style of course.”
“Yeah, and what should we put on them, feeted pajama’s?” I joke back lifting my glass of wine.
“Have a few more glasses and settle in for the night. We don’t have to rush. We can make this silly and fun. No one will see the lists anyway.”
This is the first time since just before Thanksgiving when the uniformed Marines showed up at her front door that Lindsey actually seems like she is living. We have all been going through the motions. If this gives my nephew something normal in a shit storm of chaos, then I will gladly make lists to Santa every year for the rest of my life.
Keegan returns with paper, pencils, and a box of markers. He places the paper in the middle and hands the markers to me. “Aunt Tins, you might wanna color yours. It’s been a while since you have written to the jolly man. He might need something to remember you need to move to the good list from the naughty side.”
I gasp. “Keegan Rosswell Miller, I’ll have you know, I give Santa my Christmas list every year. I told you I email that direct to the fat man in the suit every year.”
He smiles at me with his crooked bottom teeth, “Aunt Tins, you really shouldn’t email Santa. He has elves who get your lists then. He doesn’t get to read them. Plus, you shouldn’t call him the fat man in the suit.”
“Really and why shouldn’t I?” I try to lighten my own mood so Keegan doesn’t feel me break apart right in front of his eyes.
“Daddy said the real Santa had a rounded belly because he had a good woman in Mrs. Claus. She cooked so good he couldn’t help but to eat. He wasn’t as big as the men fillin’ in for him at the mall, but he had a good woman and needed a little extra to keep him warm since it’s cold where he lives.”
“Your daddy definitely had an explanation for everything.” I smile to Keegan.
“Yup, and he never let me email Santa. Only Momma tried that.”
I look to my sister who is now full out laughing at me. “I’ll have you know every email I’ve sent gets a response.”
He rolls his little eyes at me. “One of those generic ones. Daddy always said we gotta write the man a real letter and make it big so he didn’t have to strain with them little glasses Santa wears. And one year, Momma lost my list, she said she would email it … we got a reply too and ya know what, Aunt Tins?”
“What Keegan?”
“That’s the year Santa forgot my water guns for the summer!”
I put my hand over my mouth in shock knowing that my sister did indeed lose his list and in her panic asked Keegan to help her send an email … an email to a made up account that I quickly set up after her frantic text. I was the one who sent him back a generic email acknowledging his email. Only in my sister’s panic she left off water guns so when we pulled the email back up there was no water gun on the list. Something my nephew apparently never intends to let Santa off the hook for forgetting.
“Daddy said, always write my letter myself so Santa can see my handwriting getting better. Put the stamp on the top corner and drop it in the box with a smile because Santa wants us to be full of joy,” he winks at his mother only it is more of a blink because he still hasn’t mastered the one-eye wink, “and cookies.”
Well, Santa I can never deny this little boy in front of me so it’s a letter and cookies you will have Mr. Claus.
Two hours later, my sister and I have finished off a full bottle of wine.
“Looks like I’m crashing here tonight, Linds.”
She smiles as she picks up Keegan’s Christmas list. “Good, you can help me plan where to hide this in your townhouse till Christmas.”
Like any good sister would, I slide over beside her on the couch and we make a plan.
With the buzz building into full on intoxication suddenly Lindsey has this paper turned over in my hand with a pen.
“Okay Tinsley, your turn.”
I shake my head. “What am I supposed to ask Santa for?”
“You need a man.”
I give off a huff. “Yup, mail order husband sign me up.”
“It might go better than that last guy you dated.”
Covering my face in my hands I hide my embarrassment. “He was nice. He just had some things to sort out in life.”
“Tins
ley, he was on house arrest living at his momma’s. You don’t need that kind of baggage in your life.”
I nod my head because she’s right. The problem is the Kyle’s in life are few and far between. My track record with men hasn’t been good and the one time I allowed myself to love, I got wrecked when he cheated on me with someone I considered a friend.
“Well, I guess Santa is my best option for matchmaking at this point.”
She laughs, “exactly.”
On a giggle I start the letter.
Dear Santa,
You jolly fella with your rose colored cheeks and round belly, living it up with your wife and all those cookies … if you could find an ounce of your magic to give this broken-hearted over all the fairy tales girl one night with my every book fantasy come true, I promise I’ll be good.
Signed,
Tinsley Parker
Scorned and scattered, drunk and without hope.
I hand the paper to my sister who reads it. She grabs the pen from me and taps it on her chin. “Okay, you describe your number one book boyfriend and I’ll write the details.”
Laughing, I go along with it. After all, this isn’t getting mailed anywhere.
“Let’s see, you know I love those bikers written by Ryan Michele, especially Stiff from Vipers Creed.” Just the thought has me ready to reread that book over again. “So I need a biker. Yes, Santa, bring me a biker! I want him to be tall, built.”
“I get you love Ryan Michele’s books but really, out of all the book boyfriends you have, you choose a biker?” Lindsey asks still tapping the pen. “What about a man in uniform?” She gets this dreamy look in her eyes, “Kyle was so sexy in his dress blues.”
“Okay, how about a Marine biker.” I specify while she scribbles it down.
“Tall, in shape, Marine man, biker. What else?”
Hmmm, I think. “Alpha.”
She laughs, “I love an alpha male too. We need to pick a new series to read soon, sister!”
I nod my head and being so drunk, I take my focus back to my dream man wish from dear ole Saint Nick. “He has to love family. He has to love an independent woman. I may not have a glamorous job, but it’s a job I love. I don’t want to be supported financially by a man. I want someone who believes in me. He has to know what he wants and not hold back. If he wants to kiss me, he’ll kiss me. If he is all in, he’ll simply say it and there won’t be silly games and unspoken things between us.”
Mrs. Claus Page 4