His Holiday Heart

by Jillian Hart

  “I can’t be the man you need, Lucy.” The pain clouding his eyes was real. He truly believed this. “Believe me, I want nothing more than to love you the way you deserve to be loved. With all a man’s heart and soul. With everything he has.”

  That was how she wanted Spence to love her. It was her prayer now, even as she saw the truth. He would not love her like that. She had pushed him by taking him to the hospital. She had convinced herself that she had seen a deeper side to Spence McKaslin, but that wasn’t right at all. No, what she had seen was him doing his best in a situation, that was all. He had been trying, he really had, but it was not who he was down deep. She had been wrong.

  Maybe that hurt the most. She drew in a gasp of air, trying not to let him know. Her spirit felt crushed, her soul nothing but fragments. Her heart without his love would never be the same.

  “I can’t give you what I don’t have.” Spence sounded broken, too. “It’s killing me, because I want—” He rubbed the back of his neck, gazing off at the dark store sign in the window in front of them. “I want a life with you. But I’m not enough, Lucy. I don’t have a heart to give you.”

  Tears scorched her eyes. She popped open the door, desperate for some fresh air. As the cold wind pummeled her and snowflakes beat against her coat sleeve, she saw that he was hurting, too. The shadows had returned to his eyes, darkening them, darkening him.

  “Do you understand me, Lucy?” His bark was more plea. His grimace was entwined with defeat.

  He was telling the truth. Shock battered her. Disappointment left nothing of her dreams but smoke and ashes. Her throat burned with unshed tears, but she was able to force out words. “You don’t want me.”

  “No, that isn’t it at all.” Agony twisted across his handsome face. “You shouldn’t want me. I’m doing the right thing for both of us.”

  “The right thing? How can you say that?” Snow needled her face; at least she was sure it was snow. “You aren’t even going to try, are you? You say you don’t have any heart, but that’s not true. I saw it, Spence. I know who you are down deep.”

  “You’re wrong, Lucy. You can’t put me in a Santa suit and expect a miraculous change. I know that’s what this was about. You’ve been very straightforward about it. I have to give you credit for honesty. But the spirit of the season is not going to change me. You can’t change me.”

  “No, only you can do that. You’re right.” Maybe she was seeing the very last bit of Spence McKaslin, the part he kept carefully concealed all this time—the bitter man who refused to accept love.

  Anger rolled through her. He could just let true love slip away? A rare and blessed gift that only came around maybe once in a person’s life. That meant that it was nothing to him. That she was nothing to him.

  “Fine. You win.” She slid to the ground. “I’m out of your life.”

  “Lucy, you’re upset.”

  “That’s not surprising, and you know it.” She drew her things to her. “You kissed me, Spence. You made me think—” that you loved me. Her voice threatened to break, so she didn’t say it. She couldn’t.

  “Lucy, I’m doing the responsible thing here. You will see that in time. I don’t want to mislead you.”

  As if the kisses hadn’t done that? As if his tenderness and loving care hadn’t roped her heart to his? She understood this man too well. This had happened to her before. She snatched the cup of tea from the holder. The cup singed her fingertips, but she hardly felt it. What she did feel was his hopelessness. It crept toward her like darkness, one bleak inch at a time.

  “You will see that I’m right.” He tried to reassure her or perhaps it was himself he was trying to reason with.

  “If that’s what you believe, then I’m sure you are right. I don’t want a man who doesn’t want me more than his own life. Life is too short, and love is too important.” With her soul aching and her battered heart in hand, she shut the door.

  Her last image of Spence was of the big loner of a man sitting military straight behind the wheel, tortured with pain and shrouded by darkness, by a heart that refused to accept love.

  I can’t give you what I don’t have. His words thundered through her head. She had been wrong to trust him. He had disappointed her. Worse, he had broken her heart. There was nothing left to do but leave.

  Agony kicked through her like a migraine setting in. She ripped her gaze from his. As she headed straight for her car, wetness streaked across her cheeks. She hoped it was snow, because she did not want it to be tears.

  He couldn’t go home. He couldn’t face the loneliness that was without end. If he couldn’t trust Lucy, then he couldn’t trust anyone. It was that simple. He didn’t know how to get past the panic and the doubts. Even if he could, then that still left one truth too painful to face. So he drove through the storm to Rebecca’s condo, first, glad he still had the snow shovel in the back of his truck, from when he had first shoveled out Lucy’s car.

  Remembering made him smile and warmed the icy places within him. Man, he was a fool. He had broken off things with the only woman he would ever love. He didn’t need to be able to see into the future to know that. He’d done the right thing. It was best to take this hit now rather than take a bigger one later, when he was even more in love with her. It was better to play it safe than to have the unavoidable truth rise up to destroy him. Because that’s what it would do to him when Lucy figured out that she couldn’t really love him. No one could. It was just a fact.

  He swung into the condominium complex where Rebecca lived. Snow was really coming down now, but when he pulled to a stop in front of his baby sister’s walkway, it had been recently shoveled. The front blinds were closed, but light blazed behind the slats. Chad had probably walked over to clear her walk, and the two lovebirds were probably sharing a cup of hot chocolate.

  Good. He was glad for the two of them. Rebecca had found a dependable man to love her. That’s what mattered. Rebecca was a great kid; she deserved the kind of man who looked out for her and who took her care seriously. Spence nodded approval and swung his truck around. There was no sense heading up the hill to Ava and Brice’s ritzy house. They had a company come to regularly remove their snow. Aubrey and William lived over an hour’s drive from town in the mountains. William had a plow attachment for his truck to clear his mile-long driveway.

  When he turned onto Danielle’s street, he could see all the outside lights shining down on Jonas, shoveling the walkway while that silly dog they’d adopted ran in circles, frolicking in the snow. Spence thanked the good Lord that Jonas was able to take complete care of his family again and tried not to feel hurt that he was no longer needed. He turned the truck around in the intersection. Normally he would stop by and visit for a while, but he was hurting too sorely and Dani, bless her, would notice and try to figure out why.

  As he drove through the town streets decorated with bright Christmas stars and flashing candy canes and silver bells, he thought of past Christmases. He thought of the wonder and grace of the church service, of the excitement of the mounds of gifts beneath the decorated tree, of the delicious aroma of a ham baking while Dorrie puttered in the kitchen, happy knowing that they were all together, a family.

  The trip out to his grandmother’s was dicey, and he did everything he could to keep Lucy out of his mind. He refused to let a single image into his head of her little green car trying to navigate country roads. What if she was having trouble? He resisted the urge to call her and see if she had reached home safely. What was wrong with him that he couldn’t turn off his worry and his love for her and go about his life like business as usual? He was pathetic, that’s what. Only a weak man could not control the direction and tides of his heart.

  He pulled into Gran’s driveway. Her house was dark. She was an early-to-bed, early-to-rise sort of lady. The driveway was already neatly plowed and the walkway carefully shoveled and deiced. Caleb, Spence realized, Lauren’s husband, must have just finished up. They lived up the road. Turning his
truck around, he headed for home.

  Katherine’s driveway was unshoveled. Finally. He pulled to a stop at the curb and realized the house was dark. Not a single light shone anywhere. If he squinted, he could just make out a set of tire tracks from the garage door to the road, filling up with snow.

  A bad feeling crawled through his stomach. If something was wrong, he thought, then someone in his family would have called him, except for the fact that he had turned off his cell hours ago. He hadn’t wanted any of his sisters calling him and realizing that he was out with Lucy.

  He jabbed on the power and waited what felt like one hundred and two years before the phone was functional. He scrolled to his messages. He had twelve voice mails. He hit call, his heart pounding as he pulled the truck away from the curb.

  “It’s me, honey.” Dorrie’s voice sounded strained. “Katherine’s on her way to the hospital. Jack’s riding in the ambulance with her. I’m going to take Hayden with me to the emergency room. You’ll meet us there?”

  Ambulance? He turned to stone. Fear beat with enough force to break granite. He listened, driving on autopilot. There was a beep and another voice. This time it was Danielle’s. “Spence? I’m heading for the hospital now. I thought you would want to know that Katherine is being prepped for surgery. I don’t know how bad it is, but they are afraid for the baby. Call me when you get this.”

  The beep that ended the message felt like a final tone from a heart monitor. He checked the time. Dani’s call had come less than an hour ago. Surely everything was okay, right? He couldn’t stand to listen to the rest of the messages. He hit Dani’s cell number and nearly drove through a red light.

  He hit the brakes, slid to a stop and drew in a shaky breath. He had to calm down. Tonight had been one bummer of a night. He prayed it wasn’t about to get worse.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Here you are, Dorrie.” Lucy set tea on the end table in the small waiting room. “The cafeteria had limited choices.”

  “It’s fine, dear, don’t you worry.” Dorrie sniffed, somber and teary-eyed. “It’s something hot to soothe my nerves. Thank you for fetching this for me. It was good of you to come.”

  “Danielle called, so I came. It’s that simple.” Lucy had been halfway home fighting the roads and tears when her cell phone rang. She eased into a chair on the end row next to Dani. “Katherine is a good friend to me. Of course I had to come.”

  Most of the family had shown up. From Gran to Rebecca’s fiancé, Chad. Aubrey and William were still on the road. Only Spence was missing.

  “It’s been so long. Why haven’t we heard?” Dorrie toyed with the tea bag. “Something’s gone wrong, I know it. Katherine was not in good shape. My poor little girl. I hate sitting here. I can’t do a thing for her.”

  At her side, John McKaslin slipped his arm around her shoulder and drew her to his strong chest. “Jack promised to tell us the minute he has any news. All we can do is wait and pray. That’s what Katherine needs right now. Our prayers.”

  “You’re right, John. Look at me. I’m falling to pieces.”

  “I’m right here with you, sweetheart.” He kissed his wife’s cheek tenderly.

  Lucy melted. Sweet, true love: What could be more important? She wrote about it in the quiet of her study, tapping out happily ever afters through long daily stretches of lonely work. True love was her dream and her only Christmas wish. It was impossible now.

  She thought of Spence and how he had driven away the moment she had gotten her car started, as if eager to be rid of her. She had not imagined his feelings. He simply hadn’t felt as strongly—certainly not strongly enough to overcome what haunted him. Sadness crashed through her with tidal wave force.

  Don’t think about it, Lucy. She banished all thoughts of Spence from her mind. She had to hold it together until she was home alone. She would not fall apart in front of his family. Her heart was shattered, but her sadness was nothing when compared to the reason they were gathered here, waiting for news. Katherine’s welfare and her baby’s life were paramount.

  “Spence!” Dorrie’s face lit. “There you are. I was just starting to worry about you, too.”

  “No need to worry about me.” Spence strode into the room, a mountain of a man dusted with melting snow. His face was granite, his jaw clenched, his hands fisted. “Katherine? The baby?”

  “No word.”

  Dorrie’s voice sounded far away, as if from a distance. Lucy kept her head low, fighting not to look at the man who had coldly rejected her an hour ago. His words kept replaying in her head. I don’t have a heart to give you. The spirit of the season is not going to change me. You can’t change me.

  But I have already given my heart to you, she thought, hating that her gaze went to him, always to him, against her will, against all hope. He looked like strength and decency and everything good in a man as he sank into an empty chair and buried his face in his hands. He sat still as iron. He didn’t even appear to be breathing.

  Nor was he aware that she was in the room. Ouch. She released a deep, slow breath, letting the pain escape. The waiting room now felt too small. Spence’s presence seemed to be shrinking it, and seeing him was like looking at another wedding she wouldn’t have, another love she would never know, a family she would be forever without.

  She grabbed her coat and her bag and stood.

  “No, don’t go.” Danielle’s whisper came quietly. “He needs you to stay.”

  “He? You mean Spence?” She remembered the man who had kissed her with untold gentleness, the man who now seemed a stranger. “No, he doesn’t need me. He never will. I came for Katherine.”

  “Then stay for Katherine.”

  “I’ll head down to pray.” Serious prayer seemed to be in order for all that had gone wrong this day. “Please call me if you hear any news.”

  “Of course.” Tears stood in Danielle’s eyes. Maybe it was her fear for her sisters or maybe her brother.

  Lucy, unable to say what she felt, slipped down the aisle. She nodded to Dorrie, John, Ava and Brice as she passed. Rebecca lifted an eyebrow in a silent question.

  “Chapel,” Lucy whispered, not to disturb Lauren and Caleb, who were broth praying.

  She had reached the last chair where the big man didn’t move. She felt him watching her as she slipped past. Her soul cracked into tiny bits as she walked away from him. What she would give if he would have reached out to her and told her that he needed her. She wanted nothing more than for Spence to be the man she had fallen in love with.

  But he wasn’t. She stood in the wide archway with her back to the corridor for one final look at him. For all his strength and outwardly giving nature, he was a scrooge at heart. Everyone had been right about that. He had not truly loved her.

  If only she could say the same. She padded into the long, empty corridor, feeling every step she took away from him. Loneliness wrapped around her. Bleakness filled her. All hope was gone, but not her love for him. No, that remained like a bright beacon that would not fail.

  She acknowledged that it was a cruel twist of irony as she walked the echoing hallway, more alone than she had ever been.

  “Spence, are you all right?” Rebecca slipped into the chair beside him and sidled up close enough that her shoulder bumped his, an act of comfort.

  He stiffened. He didn’t accept comfort, not even from his family. “I’m worried about Katherine and her baby.”

  “You’re taking this awful hard. Don’t get me wrong, I’m scared. But this is a really good hospital, and she has the best doctor in town. I know with God’s help they are doing everything they can for her and the baby.” Rebecca’s hand settled on his mid-back, another act of comfort from little sister to big brother.

  He shrugged away from her. He didn’t need anyone or anything. Really, he didn’t. He especially didn’t need to walk in here and see Lucy Chapin sitting with his family. Or to watch her leave because he came into the room. The look on her face—

  He scre
wed his eyes shut, fighting to keep from seeing the bleak misery on her face.

  He’d done that to the one woman he had ever loved, to the woman he loved more than his life and with everything he had. He had wanted to reach out to her, but how? Even if he could figure that out, he had blown it with her. She probably hated him. He didn’t blame her. He pretty much felt that way, too.

  “Jack.” Dorrie was already on her feet and rushing across the room.

  “Katherine’s fine. The baby’s fine.” Jack looked exhausted as he held out his arms and wrapped Dorrie in them. Dorrie’s sobs of relief filled the room. “Our son weighs nine pounds, two ounces. They tell me he’s perfect.”

  Everyone gathered around Jack. The sisters asked questions. What color is his hair? Who does he look like?

  Spence felt frozen in place. His anxiety for Katherine hadn’t left him. He felt more tied up than ever. His chest felt so constricted that he wasn’t sure if he would ever breathe normally again. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to be. He ought to be able to feel happy about this, to feel relieved, to feel something, anything, besides the suffocating grief on Lucy’s face.

  He had hurt her more than he’d ever intended. And why? That’s what he didn’t get. Sure, he was hurting as if someone had taken a fireman’s ax to his soul, but that was because he was in love with Lucy. Of course ending things with her had hurt. So, why was she in agony?

  Because maybe she had really been deeply in love with him. That realization came in a quiet, impossible voice. That was hope talking. That was his deep-seated wish for Lucy to love him; that was all and nothing more. It was his dreams talking, not hers. There was no way that anyone could love him that much.

  “Are you all right, Son?”

  He straightened up, surprised to find his dad seated beside him. “Just a long day.”

  “It’s been quite a worry, but everything is all right. Looks to me like something else might be bothering you.” Dad was a kind man, always with little to say but patient when it came to listening.