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

by Bacarr, Jina

  In the heat of battle.

  No flag folding, no reverent words, no bugle blowing. Just the raw, ugly truth of death on the battlefield. He sucked in a sharp breath, flinching as surely as if she raked her nails up and down his bare arms.

  Her color went beyond pale, and then turned to a deathly white when he told her about Scott’s last moments and the anguish of seeing his buddy die, but not before he told him where her aunt had hidden her life savings.

  Jared kept his voice steady, his emotions on the down low, though it was the hardest thing he’d ever done. Harder than going out on patrol for five days in the desert with barely enough water to wet his lips, harder than tracking an invisible enemy hiding in a dark cave in the side of a mountain.

  Harder than seeing the heartache in his best friend’s eyes when he knew he’d never see his wife and child again. Because he had to relive it with her.

  And the pain was much worse the second time. Because now he knew her.

  Her rounded softness, her shiny hair, pretty mouth and waist so small he could wrap his hands around her.

  And he’d fallen in love with her.

  The wind howled outside the small cottage, whipping up white clouds of snow, but inside the lights from the Christmas piano tree glowed red and blue and green and gold. Shining on her face and making her cheeks glimmer. She’d put Rachel to bed with hugs and kisses, promising her that Santa would put her presents under the Christmas piano tree while her daddy watched from heaven, and then with fire in her eyes, Kristen asked him to tell her his story.

  The truth, she’d said. And it had better be good.

  “Scott was assigned to my battalion and we became fast friends,” Jared continued, drinking the strong, hot coffee she made. He’d noticed her hands had stopped shaking. “He talked about you and Rachel all the time.”

  “And Aunt Gertrude,” she pointed out, keeping her voice steady. She’d made it past the hardest part. Now she could heal, he knew, the God awful despair that sucked the life out of her lessening, the pain becoming more bearable.

  “Yes. He told me so much about spending every Christmas in Kissing Creek, I felt like I knew you and Rachel.” Jared took a breath. This was the hard part. He forced himself to go on. “When Scott lay dying in my arms, he told me about the money in the old piano. When I got here, I could see how you were struggling, so it was obvious you didn’t know it was there and I didn’t know how to tell you.”

  He didn’t mention the tricks his memory played on him until at last he remembered how Scott had breathed the words “her aunt put money in piano” after asking him to take care of his wife and child. Jared felt a strong moral code to fulfill his promise to his buddy. The soldier had saved his life during an ambush by enemy fighters. He owed him that.

  “I always wanted to know how Scott died, though at the same time I was scared, really scared to know the truth,” Kristen said slowly, adjusting the garland on the piano. “Thank you for telling me, for giving me the closure I never would have had without you coming here.”

  He nodded, his need to protect her surpassed only by his desire to love her.

  “I imagine my aunt was going to surprise me on Christmas and told Scott about it first,” she said, trying to smile. “I’d written to her that we were having money problems and she told me not to worry. Now I know why.”

  This time Jared did reach for her hand, but she pulled back. A wave of guilt washed over her face. He knew what was going through her mind. She was sitting here warm and comfy in the cottage they all loved, but the two people who had filled her heart with so much joy were gone.

  He was right. Her next words confirmed it.

  “All these months later, I can still see Scott’s sexy smile, the funny way he scrunched his face when he teased me, how I blushed when he kissed me,” she began, speaking more to herself than to him.

  He sat quietly, and listened. His therapy sessions has taught him that it wasn’t uncommon for someone to wax over special moments with a lost loved one, to try to hang on to those memories before they dimmed a little more each day.

  “And Aunt Gertrude,” she continued. “What a dear, fidgeting with the pots and pans in her kitchen, comforting me when my butter cake fell and when I burned my first ever batch of chocolate chip cookies. She was always there for me.”

  “Aunt Gertrude wanted you to be happy—”

  “Happy?” Kristen snapped back, as if such a thing was impossible.

  Now the anger would resurface, he knew, because there was no more hope, no more believing everyone was wrong, that Scott wasn’t dead, that he’d come home. The medics told him when they found him after the explosion, he was carrying his dead buddy on his back, mumbling to him, telling him to hang on. Then later in the hospital, he’d wake up at night drenched in sweat, racing through the hospital hallway looking for Scott.

  It had taken months of gut-wrenching therapy sessions to rid himself of the blazing lie that buzzed in his head day and night. To finally accept the truth that Scott was never coming back.

  He was dead.

  Jared understood that she had to go through the steps to heal, so he didn’t do a damn thing to stop her when she lashed out at him, right where it hurt.

  “And Scott? What did he want?” she said, her voice hoarse. “For me to fall for his best friend? Or did you come up with that idea all by yourself? Why didn’t you tell me you knew my husband before I acted like such a fool?” she said, gritting her teeth. “Why?”

  “You told the sheriff I knew Scott.”

  “I did that to save your butt from being hauled off for questioning.”

  “For what reason?” Jared asked, not understanding

  “The sheriff didn’t take too kindly to you showing up today. He couldn’t wait to get rid of you. You made it easy for him since you fit the description of the man who robbed Carey Bank today.”

  “How do you know I didn’t?” Her faith in him touched him. Deeply.

  She shrugged her shoulders. She calmed down. A little. “I just know, that’s all.”

  “So you lied to save me.”

  “Yes,” she said flatly. For some reason, she’d tried to protect him. “Silly of me, wasn’t it? You were lying to me all the time.”

  “That’s not true, Kristen, I—”

  Hell, she had him cornered. The dead silence of his past surrounded him like a cocoon. Choking him with a grip he hadn’t felt in months. Call it male ego, call it pride, but he refused to tell her what happened to him over there, how his mind shattered like broken glass when the IED hit and he threw his body over Scott’s and prayed.

  For both of them.

  The large boulder protected him from getting killed, but a whole mess of pain invaded his mind for a long, long time.

  He didn’t want her pity.

  “How do I know you didn’t come here to get my aunt’s money?” she accused him. “Make me fall in love with you, knowing I was easy pickings. The poor widow, lonely for a man’s arms around her.”

  “That’s not fair, Kristen. I admit I didn’t want to come here at first, get myself wrapped with my best friend’s wife while playing Mister Nice Guy. All that changed when I saw you standing in the snow, all fired up and ready to challenge me. I knew then you were a strong woman. And when I saw how you were with Rachel, kind and giving, I wanted to protect both of you.” He paused, and then heaved out a sigh. “Scott was a lucky man.”

  “Was he?” Kristen put her closed fists to her forehead. “He’s dead, Jared. He’ll never come home. Never. What do I care about money?” she cried, grabbing a wad and ripping off the string, then throwing the loose bills all over the floor. “Scott is gone…gone.”

  She started sobbing and ran from the room.

  He wanted to go to her, to comfort her, but he couldn’t. He never saw this coming. Never dreamed she’d get so upset after finding the money. But he understood. Scott wasn’t here to share it with her. Not to mention she was furious with him for lying to her.
As if that could change anything. Her pain was too raw to let another man in. She still wore her wedding ring, didn’t she? He’d been a fool to think she could fall in love with him.

  Hell, she left him no choice.

  He had to leave.

  His pride wounded, Jared closed up his duffel bag and let himself out the front door. He didn’t look back. He didn’t hear her crying anymore, sniffling. If he had, he’d run right back in there. It was obvious, wasn’t it? She didn’t need him. His job was done. Time to move on. He’d buy a ticket on the first bus out of here.

  Anywhere. What did it matter?

  He set a brisk pace down the road, pulling up his collar to keep out the cold. A heavy darkness lay before him and in his heart, but he had to fight through both if he was to survive. He’d never felt such a loss ping his soul in quite the same way. Like his world was off balance and he didn’t know how to set it back on course.

  His boots crunched on the freshly fallen snow, each step taking him farther away from the little cottage and the beautiful woman inside who had stolen his heart. And the little girl who believed he was Santa. He hated to disappoint her. He’d miss Rachel. The child had the same spunk and spirit as her mother.

  He stopped to blow on his hands to warm them and he thought he heard Kristen calling his name.

  Couldn’t be. Must be the wind.

  He kept walking.

  * * * * *

  The silence that filled the cottage after Kristen heard the door slam shut was the loneliest sound she’d ever heard in her life. She started to panic. A hollow feeling rattled inside her while a little voice in her head cried out to go after him.

  Why did she let him leave like that?

  She’d always love Scott, he was her high school sweetheart, but Jared had shown her that she could heal. Feel like a woman again.

  Heat filled her at the memory of his hands on her. There had been strength and desire in his touch, as if he could barely hold back from untying her apron, and then sliding her jeans down over her hips. His fingers finding his way under the elastic of her silky panties.

  It would have taken her less than a minute to make up her mind to let him.

  If she had been able to let go of the pain tearing her apart inside.

  She couldn’t. Not yet.

  She was still reeling from the incredible story Jared had told her, his soul-searching journey from halfway around the world to Kissing Creek, small town USA, to deliver a message to a woman he didn’t know, help a child he’d never seen.

  And make their Christmas a happy one.

  She passed by Rachel’s room, checking to make sure she was asleep, her tiny hands folded under her head, her soft breath barely a whisper. How like Scott she was, curious and always looking for the good in people. A tender thought touched her. He would live on in their child. She thanked God for that on this holy night.

  Christmas Eve.

  She shut the door.

  But what about her?

  Kristen was still accepting the final details of Scott’s death in waves that ebbed and flowed, at times crying fresh tears she’d thought were spent then flowed again, but accepting it nonetheless. That didn’t give her the right to act like a child, letting her emotions go and blaming Jared. For what? Because she didn’t have the courage to love again?

  No, she couldn’t let him go.

  She yanked open the front door and ran outside, calling out his name. No answer. He was gone. He’d walked out into the dark night and disappeared as if it were a doorway to another world.

  She’d been a fool to speak to him like she did, but she was hurt. Deeply hurt. Crumbling under the weight of everything gone wrong on this Christmas Eve. Yes, she had the money to make the back mortgage payments, something that would have made her giddy with joy this morning, but it didn’t seem as important as what she’d lost.

  The chance to love again with a good man, a soldier who thought not of himself, but of his buddy’s family.

  Why he didn’t tell her about the money in the piano at first, she didn’t understand, as if he was holding something back from her. Whatever it was, she wanted to know. Help him, if she could.

  She wanted to bring him back.

  This was something she had to do, knowing it would change her life. She believed it as surely as she believed in the magic of Christmas, Santa Claus, and her Aunt Gertrude. She let go with a long shiver. She could no longer keep her emotions bottled up inside her. As if all the unhappiness and despair of these past few months came pouring out of her soul.

  Tears slid down her cheeks. This time she almost expected them to turn into ice crystals. She was the snow queen with the cold heart. Thinking only of her own feelings and not giving the man a chance to explain himself. He had been out there in the desert, nearly blown apart, the smell of blood, fire, and death invading every pore.

  He saw Scott die.

  She had been spared that, something so horrible she couldn’t even imagine it. She’d begged him to tell her, but he had the sense not to listen to her plea and had worked hard to wrap words of comfort around her to keep her from feeling pain when he told his story.

  And what did she do? Attack him. Her words sharp and cruel.

  Oh, what was the use. All the excuses from here to forever weren’t going to change anything. Kristen could no longer pretend that her life wasn’t entwined with the sergeant’s.

  Her stomach did a somersault and flipped over not once but twice, making her dizzy. In some wild, unpredictable twist of fate, they had to meet and she had no one to blame but herself if she’d messed up what was written in the stars.

  She’d turned her back on him. Sent him out into a cold, bitter night.

  She never felt so alone.

  Not even when Scott was deployed. Now she had nothing but an emptiness worse than before because this time she’d sent him away without letting him know how she felt about him.

  Kristen bit her lip. She missed Jared already. His deep voice, his command of everything he did, powerful yet tender when he needed to be. How was she going to get him back? Rachel was fast asleep. She couldn’t bundle up her child and go searching for him in the dark, riding up and down every county road, shining her headlights at anything that moved. No, she had to be sensible. He couldn’t leave town right away unless he hitched a ride.

  Not likely. Who would be out on a night like this except Santa? She smiled. Wasn’t that how this whole thing began?

  Pacing and up and down on the worn rug, she made plans. When dawn broke, she’d wake up Rachel and together they’d head down to the bus station on Main Street and find Jared. She’d apologize and then ask him to join them for breakfast back here at the cottage. He would accept, he had to, he wouldn’t dare turn her down on Christmas morning.

  To make sure, she’d play to his softer side, tempting him with her cooking to the point where he’d be drooling so much he’d follow her anywhere. Her lips curved into a big smile. It would be wonderful, the three of them sitting around the kitchen table. Laughing, telling Christmas stories, thanking God for this wonderful day. She’d make rich chocolate-filled French toast topped with blueberries. And anything else the sergeant wanted.

  Did that include kissing?

  Oh, yes, she thought, imagining him pulling her into his arms and kissing her until she lost her breath. Her lips burned just thinking about it. Twisting her wedding ring on her finger, she felt no shame. She cherished the sanctity of her marriage with Scott, but she knew he was watching over them and that would make it all right.

  Feeling better, Kristen gathered up the ten, twenty, even hundred bills scattered on the floor and started stuffing them in her apron pockets. It still seemed too incredible to be true. How her aunt had the tenacity to sacrifice for years so Kristen could have a future. With her child and her husband. She never could have foreseen how it would turn out, though she would have understood and given her blessing.

  Her heart soared, like a haunting melody that took you so
mewhere you never planned to go, the beauty of the song lifting you up so high you couldn’t believe what you were feeling. That was how she felt about tonight and she wanted so to share the magic. She wanted to give something back to this wonderful woman who’d changed her life in every way, do something for her that would live on.

  That spirit guided her now as she thanked Aunt Gertrude over and over again in her heart for her generosity. Not only could she make her back payments on the cottage, she’d pay off the whole damn mortgage and open up a little pastry shop.

  She’d call it Gertie’s Goodies.

  And Jared?

  Kristen hesitated. She didn’t have an answer. That part of the puzzle wasn’t as clear in her mind and had a missing part or two. What she was thinking was unconventional and there were those in town who would take issue with the young widow cozying up to the handsome stranger.

  She pooh-poohed that idea. Let them talk. It might wake up a few old souls to the idea not to judge others but look at yourself first. God knows Kissing Creek could use some sprucing up with its sagging willow trees along Main Street, overgrown moss on the brick building housing the city hall, and old fashioned clock tower that stopped working when ladies still wore bonnets out shopping.

  But that was what she loved about it. The charm of a bygone era where folks sat on their porch on a hot summer night and went on sleigh rides in the winter. It was her home and she had no intention of letting anyone force her out. If Jared wanted to stay in Kissing Creek, she’d not discourage him—

  Knock. Knock.

  Her hand flew to her mouth as she dropped a handful of twenty dollar bills. They floated through the air as if in slo-mo before gently landing on the floor. She barely noticed. Her chest was so tight it hurt and she couldn’t breathe. Could it be—

  Jared.

  Oh, yes!

  Fussing with her apron and smoothing down her hair, Kristen raced to the front door and opened it, a big smile on her face and her arms open wide.