“I don’t get this. What is this about? This is addressed to Santa Claus.”
“I know about your secret identity! I haven’t told no one. Honest! You gotta read the letter.”
“All right, let’s head in and I’ll call your mom. Then I’ll take you home. You can explain on the way there.”
“No! You can’t. Mom can’t know.”
“We have to tell your mom.”
“But it’s a secret. If I tell, then the wish won’t come true. You gotta read the letter. Please.” Tears stood in the boy’s eyes.
What could be so important? Colton thought about Jeremy’s sick little sister at home, and the strain that had to put on his family, and didn’t know what else to do. “Okay, buddy. I’ll take a look.”
“I wrote it real good an’ everything!” Jeremy watched, face scrunched in worry, hands fisted, as if everything in his world rested on what was inside the envelope.
Colt lifted the flap. A single sheet of grade school ruled notepaper was folded in a perfect square. So much care in those folds. So much hope and anticipation on the boy’s face.
He shook open the paper and studied the words neatly printed in crayon, Jeremy’s Christmas letter.
Dear Santa,
I don’t want no toyz. Here’s what I want. Can you make Jessie well? An fix Mom’s sad heart?
I ben good.
Jeremy.
Jeremy fidgeted, his hands clasped as if in prayer, silently pleading up at him with all his might.
Okay, the letter wasn’t what he’d been expecting. Not by a long shot. And it was killing him. Colt knelt so he was eye level with the boy. “You think I can afford to make your sister well? Is that what you’re asking?”
“You can fly around the entire world in one night. That’s like a miracle. I know your elves are busy packing your sleigh, but my mom is awful sad and my sister is awful sick. They need a miracle awful bad.”
“Do you think I’m Santa Claus or something?”
“I know it’s a secret. But you said you had reindeer so you can fly.”
“That wasn’t what I meant. I’m just a man. That’s it. I’m not Santa.” He hated saying the words that brought more tears to the boy’s eyes. Remembering Amanda’s words from last night, we all need heroes in our lives, had him taking the boy by the shoulder, bridging the distance between them. He said the only thing he could. “Maybe you’d better worry about what’s real.”
“You mean Jesus?”
“Why don’t you try asking Him for these things? In prayer.”
“But I done that. And Jessie’s gettin’ sicker. Mom was cryin’ last night.”
“All you can do is ask, buddy. The rest isn’t up to us. We just have to trust Him, and do the best we can from there. That’s not easy, is it?” The heartbreak on the boy’s face was destroying him. “Tell you what. You come up to the house with me. We’ll give your mom a call to let her know where you are, and then we’ll pray for these things together. Is that a deal?”
Two watery tears hung on Jeremy’s cheeks. He hung his head and nodded.
What I would give to be able to make this list come true, Colt thought, because he was getting pretty fond of Jeremy. He hadn’t met a nicer boy. “C’mon, buddy. I got blueberry muffins from the bakery. You like those?”
A single nod. The boy’s chin was still bowed, staring hard at the scuffed toes of his boots. He gave a watery sigh as the first flakes began to fall, airy as spun sugar, as pure as grace.
The man and boy headed to the house side by side.
Amanda left Trusty Rusty parked in front of Colt’s garage doors and climbed the front walkway. The snow was midcalf deep; apparently Colt hadn’t found time to shovel his walk. Two pairs of tracks marred the path to the grand front door. One pair of boots was man-size; the other was her son’s.
When she’d stepped out of the shower to Vi banging on the door, panic had shot through her like semiautomatic gunfire. She’d thought something was wrong with Jessie and, wrapped in a towel, dripping water all over the bathroom floor, she’d wrenched open the door. Colt had called to say that Jeremy was at his house and that he’d drive him back in a bit.
The adrenaline had worn off in a rush, leaving anger in its place. Anger that fueled her as she trudged up to the front door. She lifted her frost-nipped hand to the lighted bell on the side panel, when she saw them through the window. Colt and her son, side by side on a big leather sectional, heads bent, hands clasped in prayer.
Anger slid right out of her like the snow against her coat. Jeremy knew better than to run off like this. He’d snuck out of the house when he was supposed to be getting dressed for church. She wanted to stay furious with him, but he looked so little, just a little boy, her little boy, his head bowed so solemnly, his hands clasped so tightly his knuckles were white. His hair was mussed, a cowlick stuck straight up from the crown of his head. He had a sweatshirt pulled on over his flannel superhero pj’s. She melted, and the last tendrils of anger and adrenaline faded away, leaving her exhausted. Of body, of heart, of spirit.
She waited until the prayer was over. Jeremy’s head was the first to bop up. She knocked her knuckles against the windowpane. When Jeremy’s gaze darted toward the sound, his eyes rounded with an “uh-oh” look.
Uh-oh was right. She avoided Colt’s gaze and stepped out of his sight. The memory of last night streaked into her thoughts. How he’d curled a strand of hair behind her ear, an intimate, caring thing to do. He was a big mountain of a man, who made her want in the sweetest of ways.
Danger, she reminded herself and forced down that wish. Willed away those memories from last night. The door swung open and there was Jeremy, with dried tear tracks on his cheeks. She crumpled inside. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah, Mom.” Jeremy rolled his eyes as she pulled him into a hug.
Tough again now that whatever had been troubling him was soothed over because of the man hanging back in the foyer. Dressed casually in a wash-worn pair of jeans, a black V-neck T-shirt, and gray athletic socks on his feet, he didn’t look like a man who could pay cash for this house. Although, she knew he could. If she imagined him in a suit and tie, she supposed that he’d outclass this lovely home, without a doubt.
She released hold of her son. “We’ll talk about you running off later. When we get home.”
“But then we gotta go to church.”
“Then when we get back from church. There’s no getting out of this, young man.” She smoothed down his cowlick.
“Aw, Mom.” Whatever sadness had caused those tears was gone. What had driven him here? she wondered. Whatever it was, she was grateful to Colt for fixing it.
It was sure hard to keep from really liking that man. She straightened, hardly aware of the cold blowing at her back or the snow slipping down her hat and behind her coat collar as Colt approached. Her tongue stumbled over itself trying to find the right words. “I’m sorry he bothered you.”
“Not a problem.”
She took one look at Colt, really saw him, the amused grin curving the corners of his hard mouth, the humor brightening his eyes and softening the lean angles of his handsome face. He towered over her, looking like a magazine ad.
And she looked like…Oh, no. Her hand flew to her head. “I’m a mess. I didn’t even dry my hair. I think I combed it.”
Stop babbling, Amanda.
“You look fine. Come in before your hair freezes. It’s looking crisp.”
“Oh, probably.” Was she really talking about her hair? Apparently. It was easier to do that than to speak of the truth that was rising like the sun between the patches of snow clouds. Her feet seized control and forced her forward into the foyer. The door shut behind her, thanks to Jeremy.
The silence grew louder with every step that Colt took closer. She didn’t know if it was the longing in her heart or the fear that he wasn’t feeling this for her, too, that scared her more. Quick, she had to find something to say. Anything to break the silence. To
restore a normal equilibrium. “This is a beautiful house.”
“Thanks.”
She didn’t think she’d ever been in such a luxurious place. That was probably imported marble beneath her feet, from some faraway country she’d only read about in books. It certainly looked as if he was doing very well in life. “What is it that you do for a living?”
“I’m in the computer industry.”
Well, that explained it, but she had a little girl waiting for her at home, a son who needed a serious sit-down talk, and more things on her to-do list than she could possibly do. She should not be wondering about Colt. Thinking about his life. Wondering if this was one-sided and she was alone in her feelings, or if he felt this secretly, too.
It didn’t matter. There were too many reasons why there could never be more than friendship between them. This house was proof of that. Their modest cabin would fit in the space of that living room and the dining room, which she could see through elegant French doors.
Best to get back to her life. “C’mon, kiddo, let’s let Colt get back to his peaceful morning.”
“But what about the muffins?”
Colt stalked closer. “Yeah, what about the muffins?”
“Muffins?” She felt as vulnerable as a wild bunny in front of a towering bear. She wasn’t in mortal danger; no, it was only her heart. She was going to start wishing for the impossible any moment.
Leave, Amanda, before it’s too late.
Unfortunately, her feet stayed glued in place.
“I promised Jeremy access to the blueberry muffins stash.” Colt held out his hand, his palm wide and capable looking, a silent invitation. “A promise is a promise.”
Too late. Her hand found its way to his. They were palm to palm, and her soul sighed. He felt so solid and steady, so close, she no longer felt so utterly alone. “I—I’ve got to get b-back to Jessie.”
“Then we’ll pack the muffins to go.”
Amanda realized her hand was still resting on Colt’s and pulled away. Alone, again.
“You look like a woman who hasn’t had her first cup of coffee. Follow me.”
“Is it that obvious? I guess I was staring a little. You’re right. I need something hot to wake me all the way up.” Better he believe that than the real reason. She watched her son trot off at Colt’s side, staring up at Colt as if he’d transformed into a superhero.
Yeah, she knew just how her son felt.
“Sugar, milk or coffee creamer?” Colt asked from a black marble countertop in a kitchen that looked as if it belonged in an interior design magazine. “I’ve got hazelnut or chocolate raspberry. Wait, you want the chocolate one, don’t you?”
Before she could answer, he pulled a bottle from the stainless steel refrigerator and slid it onto the counter in her direction.
“Wow!” Jeremy stared at the family room off the back of the kitchen. “Cool TV. It’s bigger’n me!”
“Don’t touch it, Wonder Boy.” Amanda caught him by the shoulder before he could smear that expensive-looking screen. She leaned to whisper in his ear. “Maybe it’d be best if you didn’t touch anything.”
“Not even the blueberry muffins?”
“Smarty.” She ruffled his hair and they smiled together.
Colton filled a tall, insulated travel cup with steaming coffee from the brew station and a mug for himself. He set both on the counter, watching mother and son. For the first time since he’d walked into this house, it no longer felt empty. For the first time in more years than he could remember, he didn’t feel empty. Without purpose. Alone.
He dug the carton of muffins out of the pantry, so fresh the scent radiated through the plastic box. He watched Jeremy’s eyes widen followed by another “wow.” What he felt was wow, too, but not for the baked goods.
Jeremy climbed onto the swivel chair at the breakfast bar and knelt on the cushion, twisting the chair back and forth. “Those are the biggest muffins ever!”
Amanda shook her head. “Sit. You know better than that.”
“These are the funnest chairs ever!”
“Fabulous. Sit on them the correct way.” Amanda settled into the chair beside him. “He’s apparently really excited to be here. Why are you here? You might as well tell me now.”
Colt slid a spoon across the counter and placed the tall cup in front of her.
“Bless you,” she said, upending the creamer into the steaming brew.
Yeah, she looked as if she’d had a rough night. This close up, before she’d taken the time to put on the finishing touches, like doing her hair, he could see the strain on her sweetheart face. Her porcelain complexion was nearly translucent with exhaustion, making the circles beneath her eyes as dark as bruises.
He wanted to protect her. To take care of her. To make her life easier. His spirit steeled with a resolve, something he’d never felt before. He wanted to ease the worry from her face and the sadness from her heart. He snapped open a grocery sack and slid the box of muffins inside. “There’s enough for Jessie and Vi, too.”
Her eyes shone with appreciation over the rim of the coffee cup. She inhaled her first sip and smiled.
Faith was a funny thing. He’d filled his life with so much work and responsibility and ambitious goals for success that his faith had gotten shoved to the side. Not forgotten, but it had become convenient. Going to church had become something he had time to do only on the major holidays every year. Christmas, Easter. He’d always figured there would be more time for attending church later in his life. Except there never had been. He’d simply become more wrapped up in his business, in being even more successful and too busy to sort out the reason why his life wasn’t working. Why he was growing more and more unhappy.
God had been nudging him along this path for some time now. Colton could see that clearly. Sometimes a man had to run himself out before he was ready to appreciate a slower, better path. A more purposeful life.
He poured a cup of chocolate milk for Jeremy and handed it to him. “Do you want to tell your Mom, or should I?”
“No, you can do it.” Jeremy grinned up at him. “She won’t get as mad at you.”
“Sounds like a fair deal to me.” He leaned back against the counter, crossed his arms over his chest and studied her. Her hair drying every which way, mussed by her hat and tangled by the wind. Her pink sweatshirt and worn jeans were nothing fancy, but lovely on her. She looked like home, like happiness, like hope on Christmas Eve. He liked that. A lot. “Jeremy somehow got the idea that I have a secret identity.”
“No, he didn’t.” She arched one brow, staring at him through the steam from her cup. “A secret identity? Who, exactly did he think you were?”
“Someone jolly.”
“Who flies with reindeer. Santa Claus. Of course. Tell me he didn’t give you a list of the toys he wants for Christmas?”
“He didn’t.”
“That’s a relief.”
“He wanted his little sister to get well.”
Amanda lowered her cup to the counter before she dropped it. There were a lot of things she and Jeremy needed to discuss when they got home, but his heart was in the right place. She so loved him for that, her good little boy. And at the same time, his request was a knife to her heart, a reminder of what she stood to lose.
Don’t look ahead. Just think about this moment.
“We have to go.” She scrambled to her feet. Vi was taking good care of Jessie, but Amanda needed to leave, as much for Jessie’s sake as for her own. She needed to be away from Colt. “Thanks for the coffee.”
“No, take it with you.”
“But the cup—”
“I’ll be at church. You can give it to me then.”
Amanda clutched the cup, determined to keep her true emotions from showing. Please, God, help me here. Her feelings for Colt were absolutely way too strong.
Somehow, she managed to get her and Jeremy to the door. She had her cup, she had her coat, she had her car keys. She could see Trusty Rus
ty parked out front. She ushered her son out into the snow, falling faster now, the wind feeling more cruel.
“Thank you, for being so good to him.” She feared her entire heart showed in those words.
Colt shrugged one wide shoulder easily, as if to say no big deal.
But it was a big deal to her. “If I don’t make it to church, Vi will take Jeremy for me.”
“Why aren’t you coming? Was it something I said?”
“No. It’s just that Jessie wasn’t feeling well, and I might decide to stay home with her instead. I’ll make sure Vi gets this back to you.”
“The cup’s not important. Your daughter is.”
She bit her bottom lip, as if to keep whatever she was about to say from spilling out. She pivoted on her worn hiking boots, stomped down the pathway after her son until she was more shadow than substance in the falling snow.
Colt heard Jeremy’s voice sounding far-off. “Yeah, I’m really sorry, Mom. But Colt ’n me, we already fixed it. We prayed for Jessie to be well in time for Christmas. We asked Jesus to help her.”
A car door shut, a startling sound in the hush of the winter storm. Colt watched the headlights snap on and the car head down the driveway. He watched until the red glow of taillights faded into shadow.
He was finally ready to give name to what he was feeling. To what was happening to him. He was falling for her, for gentle, caring, captivating Amanda.
The problem was, he didn’t know if he was ready for this. Or, more importantly, if she felt this for him. She had a very ill child, a child that she feared would soon need to be hospitalized. Who might not make it to Christmas.
Any hopes for a future had to be impossible. He prayed on it at church, where Amanda had not come. He prayed on it late at night, when another storm battered the house like hopelessness.
No answer came with the dawn. Just another day of wind and snow and bitter cold.
Chapter Seven
Amanda. Colt halted in midstride, his hand outstretched to push open the bookstore’s door. The nip of the bitter wind and the strike of the icy snow vanished as he drank in her welcome sight.
A Merry Little Christmas Page 17