The Christmas Piano Tree: What's Christmas without a tree? (A Kissing Creek novel Book 1)

by Bacarr, Jina

  Kristen’s stomach flip flopped. Could he be any more direct? Before she could say anything, Jared got out of the passenger side, the look on his face questioning. “What’s going on here, Kristen?”

  “Who the hell is he?” Mr. Carey sputtered, taken aback by the big man with the no-nonsense look in his eyes. Was it her imagination or did he lose his cool for a moment?

  “I’m a friend of Scott’s,” the sergeant answered before Kristen could say a word. God bless him. “We served on the front lines together in Afghanistan.”

  Minute by minute she was getting in deeper with her lie, but Kristen was grateful Jared picked up the story for her. Made it easier somehow. As if it was true.

  “I’ll have your money as soon as I get another job, Mr. Carey,” she said, and then explained how she’d been laid off. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jared give her a surprised look that turned to anger. Disbelief, then anguish. She knew his concern for her couldn’t be personal, but the look on his face had her wondering. No, she’d imagined it. He was upset because she was a soldier’s wife and military families looked out for each other.

  “Why are you no longer employed at the school?” the banker wanted to know, curious.

  “It’s just for the holiday season,” she lied, something that was getting easier for her. That didn’t make it right, though. She didn’t dare give him the real explanation. “I’m starting my own business, selling my baked goods at the general store.

  “I can’t wait,” he said firmly. “I want my money now,”

  “I understand, Mr. Carey, but I need more time,” Kristen begged. “Please. My Aunt Gertrude always made her payments early each month in cash—”

  Kristen stopped. Why did she feel like she had to explain anything to this man? He knew her aunt received her husband’s pension check every month, cashed it, and then paid her bills. What she hadn’t known until she returned to Kissing Creek was that Aunt Gertrude had refinanced the cottage.

  Mr. Carey snubbed her with a wave of his hand. “I understand you’ve got troubles, Mrs. Delaney, but business is business. I can’t let folks not pay their mortgage because they’re dead.” He handed her a piece of paper. “I had a feeling you wouldn’t pay up. This is for you, made out all legal and proper-like.”

  With her heart racing, Kristen scanned the paper. It was worse than she could have ever imagined. Downright soul-crushing. It was a demand letter based on the due-on-sale clause in her aunt’s refinancing contract. A pitfall the woman probably didn’t see or was conned into signing without fully understanding what it meant.

  She read the paper again and again, hoping it wasn’t, couldn’t be true. But it was. The Carey Bank was calling the mortgage due because the property had been transferred to her and she hadn’t kept up the payments. Kristen didn’t meet the exemption requirements because she wasn’t real kin.

  She crumpled up the letter. Closed her eyes for a moment and prayed for strength. She couldn’t take another setback. Not now. But she couldn’t give up. She had to make her case, for Rachel’s sake.

  “Mr. Carey, I assure you, I’ll make the payments as soon as I can,” she began, biting back what she really wanted to say to him. That he could take his mortgage and shove it. Instead, she finished with: “I know I can make money with my cookies and cakes. If you’ll just give me a chance—”

  “I can’t deposit chocolate chip cookies in the vault,” the banker said, his voice hard and cold. “I want cash and this is the only way I can get it, all signed and legal.”

  “Mr. Carey, please—”

  “No.”

  “I’d listen to the lady if I were you,” Jared said, taking long strides toward the man, forcing him to jump back like a frightened squirrel. He’d been silent up to now, listening, taking it all in before making a move. Kristen had the feeling he was just itching to put the banker in his place.

  “Tell this man to back off or I’ll call Sheriff Hogan,” Mr. Carey threatened, his fingers ready to dial the number on his cell phone.

  Kristen panicked. “Better do as he says, Jared.” She shot him a look that said he didn’t need any trouble with the sheriff.

  But the sergeant stood his ground, contemplating his next move, when—

  “Mommy, I’m cold,” said Rachel, reaching for her hand. Kristen looked down, surprised. No one had noticed the little girl tumbling out of the back of the SUV and listening to their every word. This wasn’t the first time she’d wiggled out of her seat belt and taken off without her. Kristen had spent twenty minutes looking for her last week in the discount store until she found her hiding in the toy department.

  “How many times have I told you, Rachel, not to go wandering on your own,” Kristen said, picking her up. She looked upward, thanking God for sending Rachel at just the right moment.

  The sergeant, however, was not backing down. Although she admired him for it, it also scared the hell out of her.

  “Why don’t we go inside and talk this over, man to man,” Jared said to the banker, an obvious threat in his voice not to give him any funny business.

  “The sheriff told me about you,” said Mr. Carey, wiping the sweat off his face in spite of the cold. “I’d be careful what I say, soldier, unless you’d like to spend your Christmas in a cold cell.”

  “It’s sergeant,” said Jared, squaring his jaw. “And I don’t take kindly to you talking like that to my best friend’s widow.”

  Kristen was taken aback. His best friend? Wasn’t that carrying the story too far? Scott lost a buddy awhile back, but when he was assigned to a new battalion he never wanted to talk about the men he served with, telling her it was better not to get too close.

  Speaking of too close, she had to separate the sergeant from the banker to diffuse a situation becoming hotter by the minute.

  Easy.

  She handed Rachel to Jared. By the sharp look in his eye, he wasn’t fooled by her tactic, but he could see the little girl was tired and faltering from the tension swirling in the air around them. She cradled her head into his shoulder and closed her eyes, letting out a long sigh. Poor baby, Kristen thought, pulling wisps of hair away from her face. She was all worn out.

  To make matters worse, the snow was really coming down now, landing on her cheeks, her nose. Another storm was coming with big, dark clouds moving in. Lightning struck in the sky, followed by thunder. They had to take shelter. Still, Kristen decided it was worth a try to appease the banker before he got back into his nice, warm Mercedes and drove away.

  “Why don’t you come inside and take a look at my aunt’s old piano, Mr. Carey?” she said, opening the front door to entice him. She hated the idea of selling the piano, but no one ever played it. The elderly lady insisted it stay just as it was the last time her husband sat down and ran his fingers over the keyboard and then slumped over, dead from a heart attack.

  Kristen walked inside and swept her fingers over the piano. Not a speck of dust. She had to smile. Aunt Gertrude wasn’t much of a housekeeper except when it came to that piano, insisting no one touch it but her, dusting and polishing it every day and putting clean doilies on the top lid.

  She’d kept it up out of respect for her aunt.

  “What would I want with an old piano?” Mr. Carey snarled.

  “It’s made from real wood, not pressed. It must be worth several hundred dollars.” Her gracious smile induced him to step inside, if only to get warm. “You could sell it on EBay for the back payments.”

  “That piece of crap?” He plunked down his finger on a yellowed key. It sounded so bad Kristen’s ears hurt. The banker laughed. “It’s no use to me. Burn it for firewood.” He pointed his index finger at her, his body shaking with anger. “I’m warning you, Mrs. Delaney. I want my money or out you go. Tomorrow.”

  Kristen clasped her hands over her chest. He was kidding, wasn’t he?

  “On Christmas?” she asked. “Where’s your holiday spirit?

  With a loud bang on the piano keys, Mr. Carey s
aid. “I’m not kicking you out today, am I?”

  The shock of his words sent Kristen into a downward spiral, one she never thought she’d come out of. Dizziness swirled in her head. Bile rose in her throat. She held her stomach, unable to stop that sick feeling from consuming her. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. What an awful man. She understood that he was in a bad mood because of the robbery, but surely the bank had insurance.

  What good would it do to harass a nobody like her?

  She couldn’t believe a few measly hundreds of dollars could make that much of a difference to a man who wore a Rolex.

  Unless it was a fake.

  Jared must have wondered that, too.

  He laid Rachel down on the tiny sofa, checked to make sure she was okay, and then turned to face the banker. Uh-oh, Kristen didn’t like this. He opened his fist and closed it tightly. He clenched his teeth and she swore he looked like he could tear the banker apart with his eyes closed.

  “When I was in Afghanistan, my unit picked up a tribal leader who had a big mouth like yours, Mr. Carey. He tried to trade a Rolex for arms, but I know a phony when I see one,” Jared said, indicating the man’s gold watch. “I’d get it checked out if I were you. Unless you want to get your hide fleeced.”

  “You don’t scare me, soldier.”

  “Like I said, it’s sergeant,” Jared repeated hotly.

  Kristen was dying by inches, her heart pounding in her chest so hard it was louder than the thunder booming overhead. Mr. Carey sensed trouble and mumbled he’d be back. Then he ran out the door.

  Kristen jumped in front of the sergeant and closed the front door before he could go after him. Snow flurries flew in and landed on the hardwood floor. It was cold out there and the temperature was dropping by the minute. It would be close to freezing tonight.

  She leaned against the door and heard the banker take off like a jackrabbit with his tail on fire down the ice-slicked road. Damn him. Something smelled to high heaven about this whole mess. Like why he showed up here today, thinking it was just Rachel and her. Easy pickings in his mind. Mr. Carey thought he could bully everyone in town. Not her. She wouldn’t leave here without a fight.

  But it wasn’t the banker’s threats that made her pulse race and her body break out in a cold sweat. She looked over at the tall military man willing to go to bat for a woman he barely knew. His deep, velvety voice apologizing for butting into her affairs, but he couldn’t stand by and let that tyrant take advantage of her. His eyes, which were fierce before, were now tender when they looked at her, waiting.

  She smiled, and then thanked him for his help.

  Was she okay? he wanted to know.

  She’d be fine, she insisted, just fine. They couldn’t throw her out without giving her a chance to have her day before the mortgage board, she said. Silently, Kristen hoped that was true. That Mr. Carey was bluffing, had to be, using scare tactics. She wasn’t afraid of him.

  But she was afraid of the sergeant. Not that he’d hurt her or Rachel. No, never, she was sure of it. Some things you just knew about a man.

  It was something else, something so righteous and good she never dreamed she could feel this way again about someone. Like a red holiday candle that burst into a blue-yellow flame when you lit it. Glowing bright for a little while.

  Then it flickered and went out.

  Leaving you in the dark.

  No, what she feared more than being homeless was having her heart broken.

  Chapter Six

  “Why didn’t you tell me you lost your job because of me?” Jared asked, the shockwaves still reeling through him.

  When he’d heard Kristen blurt out the news to that no-good banker, it was all he could do from busting the guy’s jaw. Somehow, his gut told him everything was connected. Mr. Carey showing up today demanding the back payments. The robbery. The bank trying to foreclose on her cottage. It was too coincidental for them not to have a common thread somewhere.

  Like the time he’d heard chatter about a possible strike on a military compound hidden in the mountains. Then the “lost” Afghan refugees showing up the next day at their base hungry and looking for food. Intel was more like it. He’d baited them with a little honey and then he and Scott and his unit followed them right back to their nest of insurgents and took them out.

  Jesus, Scott, back then whoever thought it would end up like this?

  But I made you a promise, old buddy, and I’ll die keeping it. Kristen is in a big mess, but she trusts me. I’ll get her out of it somehow. You can bet on that.

  Damn, it wasn’t fair. He was sitting here in this cozy cottage with this pretty lady and Scott wasn’t. He had to something about it. Kristen had already suffered enough. How could that woman at the school be so cruel-hearted? Tossing her out because she cared about the veterans. Putting together leftovers for a hot meal for men who were often lost in an endless dialogue with their Maker, questioning why they survived and their best buddy didn’t.

  It didn’t get any easier. Folks soon forgot that a veteran with wounds, both seen and unseen, needed more than a pill to get better. After the parades and church services were over, few people hung around to offer a smile and a hug along with a helping hand to the vets like she did.

  Kristen didn’t forget.

  God damn, she was an angel.

  But she could never be his.

  Not while Scott was still alive in her heart. And he would never do anything to change that, never take advantage of her. He owed it to his best friend.

  “I didn’t want to add to your troubles,” Kristen said honestly. She looked out the window, avoiding his gaze. It was clear to him by her slumped shoulders and quiet voice that she didn’t want to talk about losing her job. He respected that. He turned his attention to what had caught her eye. Outside the sky was filled with heavy, dark clouds gathering over the small town. He didn’t have much time left to fulfill his mission.

  He had no choice but to let his anger go and when he did, his body relaxed and the tension in him subsided. A twilight time descended upon him, but like so many times before, his emotions wouldn’t shut off. Instead, they went into overdrive. The docs said it happened that way to some patients with PTSD, especially guys like him who’d experienced the horror of brutal combat.

  That was when the headaches raged in his brain.

  Jared fought hard to control the painful throbbing in his head coming straight at him, the gray light that dulled his world. His face felt hot, sweaty. Not surprising, he was exhausted from his long trip, changing buses more than once so the doctors at the VA hospital couldn’t track him. He didn’t want anybody interfering with his mission.

  He tried to kick the pain in his head. Concentrate on why he was here. Forget his own needs. He was here to help her. But the mission was incomplete.

  Worse, he was up against an enemy he couldn’t fight. Time. He had less than a few hours to tell her what needed to be said, what Scott’s last words were, the secret he wanted him to tell her, but he couldn’t remember. Now she was out of work because of him. If he hadn’t been so insistent on hanging around, it wouldn’t have happened. Knowing what pain he’d caused her drained him further.

  That all changed when she turned and smiled at him. As if she knew what he was thinking and she forgave him for that. He shut down his gaze, stared at the floor. She wouldn’t be so quick to forgive if she knew he was keeping something from her. Another thing that had his brain wired and ready to explode was how long he’d be able to keep his hands off her. To hold her, comfort her. Heat surged through him. A sudden urge came over him to take her in his arms here, now.

  No, don’t do it. You promised…remember?

  He stared at her. It took all his energy not to touch her, hold her.

  “Weather’s changing,” she said, looking again out the window. “I imagine Kissing Creek is iced over by now and covered with snow.”

  “You mean there is such a creek?” he asked.

  She nodded. �
��Back in the early days, the first settlers came upon two creeks running side by side through the woods,” Kristen said as if she knew the story well. “The creeks come together down at the old mill. Legend says two lovers from feuding families sealed a peace treaty in that spot with a kiss.” Her warm, emotional voice led him to believe the place had special meaning for her.

  Did she go there with Scott? Two kids madly in love with each other, hankering for warm embraces and stolen kisses.

  That did it. No way was he going to stay around and mess up her life any more than he already had. He’d been wrong to come here, even more so for not telling her the truth about why he’d made the trek so close to Christmas. Now he didn’t know how. He’d dug himself in so deep, he’d never get out.

  “I’d better be moving on,” Jared said, grabbing his duffel bag and turning to leave. He couldn’t stay any longer, didn’t know if he could control his feelings. She was too tempting to a man who thought she was everything he ever wanted in a wife. If he ever remembered what Scott told him, and that was a big if according to the doctors, he’d make sure she received the message through official channels. It was the only way. He couldn’t bear to see her again and not tell her how he felt.

  Until then, he had some money saved. He’d get back to the base and wire enough to her bank to make her back mortgage payments. She’d never have to know it came from him.

  “What about the home-cooked meal I promised you?” Kristen said, disappointment darkening her eyes.

  “Don’t worry about me,” Jared assured her. “I’ll grab a peanut butter sandwich out of the vending machine down at the bus station.”

  “No, please stay. For Rachel’s sake,” Kristen said, covering his hand with hers. “And mine.”

  Again she touched him, but this time the effect was even more electrifying. Personal, downright sexy. He pulled in a deep breath. He couldn’t believe the effect her gesture had on him. Riveted him to the spot. He couldn’t move. The warmth of her hand set off a powerful need in him too long denied.

  The warmth of a woman’s touch.