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

by Bacarr, Jina

  “I prayed you’d come back—” she began, and then stopped dead when a tall, shadowy figure slid into view. Her eyelids fluttered, not believing what she saw. A man wearing a heavy parka, dirty, torn jeans, and smelling of whiskey and sweat stood on her front step, gawking at her while he picked his teeth. He disgusted her.

  “Ain’t you a pretty little thing,” he said, spitting on her entryway.

  “Who are you?” she said, her voice shaking. “What do you want?”

  “How ‘bout asking me in? It’s cold out here.”

  “I don’t know you. Go away,” she yelled with more courage than felt. This wasn’t happening, couldn’t be. She’d close her eyes and when she opened them it would all be a bad dream.

  God, please.

  “You wouldn’t leave a man out here to freeze, seeing how cozy it is inside.”

  He poked his head through the door, his eyes lighting up when he saw the money scattered on the floor.

  “I—I can’t let you in. Try the bus station,” she urged him. “You can find shelter there.” Jared was probably there by now. He’d know how to deal with him.

  Then, with her heart thundering in her chest, she tried to slam the door but he jammed his foot inside.

  “Not so fast, little lady,” he snickered. “You and me have some business to discuss.”

  Before she could stop him, he barged through the door and grabbed her around the waist, pulling her off her feet with a violent jerk. A sudden chill came over her as a wild flurry of snowflakes blew in through the open door and landed on top of his spit. He paid it no mind and kicked the front door shut with his boot. The loud noise made her grit her teeth with an intensity that set her on edge. She was trapped here with him.

  Alone. Jared was gone.

  “Let me go!” Kristen yelled. Tears burned her eyes as she struggled to free herself, but his grip was strong and tight.

  Dear God, who is he?

  A light-headed dizziness threatened to overtake her, but she kept her head. Her heart was still beating because she felt the blood rushing in her ears, but for how long? The man suggested an intimacy with his words as well as the fierce, hungry look in his eyes that made goose bumps rise on her skin. She let out her breath slowly. She needed to get control of herself, not let him feed on her fear.

  He had other ideas.

  In a terrifying instant, whatever happiness she’d felt turned to the most paralyzing fear she’d ever known when he pulled out a knife and held it against her throat.

  Her heart stopped.

  I won’t give up. I’ll fight him. I have to. For Rachel’s sake.

  “You won’t get away with this,” she managed to sputter. “Let me go.”

  “Keep your mouth shut.” She swore its sharp edge pricked her skin when she heard him say in a raspy voice, “If you scream, I’ll kill you.”

  Chapter Ten

  The stable was as silent as a tomb. Dark, quiet.

  Jared threw down his duffel bag and plopped down onto the plush red velvet seat in the sleigh and tried to catch his breath. He brushed off the wet snow on his field jacket and leaned back on the seat, trying to figure out what went wrong with Kristen. Why she took it upon herself to protect him on one hand and got so damn angry on the other because he’d lied to her.

  He was wrong not to tell her the truth, but she didn’t understand. She wasn’t over there, didn’t live through what he lived through. Taken the emotional hit of seeing his best buddy die in his arms. He didn’t want to feel that again and pushed it far back in his mind. So he’d taken the coward’s way out and clammed up. He figured he could play Santa and make her happy by finding the money her aunt left her, and that would be it.

  Hell, that was just the beginning.

  He never planned to want to help her so badly he forced himself to remember every detail, every moment of that dark day.

  It nearly killed him.

  But he couldn’t take the guilt that he was here with her and Scott wasn’t, so he walked away from her. Now the small steps he’d made in healing what he thought could never be healed were ripped from his soul. The headaches came back. Mind-blowing pain that pushed up behind his eyes and held his head in a band so tight his face was numb. So he sought shelter back here at the school where it was warm and dry.

  And safe.

  No triggers here to set him off, loud noises, smells, strange voices. A perfect place to stay until morning when the pearly fog lifted, then he could trek back into town and head for the bus station. The two-lane highway had led him back here, his sharp eyes taking note of the way. Habit, he knew. He’d never let go of soldiering, but he had a whole lot of adjusting to do to transition back to civilian life.

  He wouldn’t admit it before, but after the fouled-up mess he’d made with Kristen, he was ready to follow the treatment program the doctors had ordered to get his discharge. He needed help, needed it badly. He’d lost sleep, pushed everyone away. It wasn’t easy to put the war behind him. No one wanted to talk about it, including him. He’d shut himself off from everyone, everything but his fearsome memories. Staying isolated, alone.

  Damn, he wouldn’t have gotten any treatment for his PTSD if a concerned nurse hadn’t found him wandering the hallways looking for Scott.

  He never would have asked for help on his own.

  Too proud are you, soldier?

  Yeah, proud and stupid.

  Not anymore. Did a pretty, ponytailed blonde in a ruffled apron and jeans have anything to do with that?

  He wasn’t giving up on her.

  And not just because Scott asked him to take care of her. The woman had gotten under his skin. When she looked at him, he saw a fire in her eyes that made him respond to something that went beyond sex. A need to reach out and say what was on his mind, get rid of the hurt that festered inside him, like a wound that never healed.

  He got the uncanny feeling that she understood what he was going through, that she cared about him. For the first time he felt something lacking in his life.

  He’d been alone too long, not sharing his feelings with anyone. She stirred his need to reach out, let go of the terrifying things he’d seen and rebuild his life, one step at a time. He hadn’t been able to talk about his experiences in Afghanistan with his family. With her, he could. Why, he didn’t know. She was different somehow and he liked that.

  Still, he’d been wrong not to control his emotions around her, and then slink away without telling her how he felt. That she made things right again when no one else could. If he couldn’t be honest with her, his best friend’s wife, the woman who’d captured his heart, then who could he talk to?

  That convinced him he did need help.

  When he got a firm grip on himself and what happened to him in Afghanistan, Jared hoped she’d forgive him.

  If only he hadn’t been so stubborn, he wouldn’t have left, but he’d soon change that. Nestled in the forested land near the mountains, Kissing Creek was a place where a man could set down roots if he had mind to once he found his way back home. Here he could live a life worth living without the fears of what happened over there taking over his mind.

  A pleasant ache swept over his chest, his heart slowing down to a normal pace. He pictured the three of them, Kristen, Rachel, and himself next Christmas doing the piano tree again along with a big fir. There wasn’t anything wrong with them having two trees, right?

  Closing his eyes, a pleasant holiday warmth went through him, like sucking on sweet candy canes and spicy cinnamon sticks—

  “Put your hands up,” ordered a woman’s voice.

  What the hell—

  Before he could react, someone turned on the lights. He blinked a few times, trying to adjust.

  “Let me explain,” Jared said, raising his hands.

  “Look, sister, it’s him,” a second woman blurted out.

  “Who?”

  “Santa Claus.”

  Jared grinned. The Oakes sisters. He was never so happy to see anyone.
He lowered his hands. No doubt they thought he was a prowler.

  “Sgt. Jared Milano, ladies.”

  “So Mrs. Delaney tossed you out,” Miriam said with a smirk. “I’m not surprised.”

  Jared cleared his throat. He decided not to give away the real reason for his leaving. He’d like to keep that between Kristen and him. “She’s a mighty fine cook, ma’am. Too bad you let her go.”

  Miriam wasn’t going to let him get away with that. “I imagine it was more than her cooking you were interested in.”

  “She’s a beautiful woman, but she’s also my best friend’s widow,” he said in a steady voice. This time he said it with more passion than ever before. For months he’d avoided allowing any emotion into his voice, afraid to feel again. Not anymore. He could see the shock, the respect, the acceptance on their faces. Two sisters so very different but alike in their surprise. “It was his dying wish that I look after her and Rachel.”

  “Oh…” Betty Ann gushed, her hand going to her mouth.

  “You expect me to believe that story?” said Miriam, lifting a brow.

  “Yes, ma’am, because it’s the truth.” Jared explained to the women what happened in Afghanistan, amazed that telling story again and reliving those last moments helped break its power over him. In a voice calm and steady, he related how Scott saved his life, and then the enemy attack where he was mortally wounded.

  “I believe him, sister,” said Betty Ann, smiling at him.

  “You believe in the tooth fairy,” Miriam said, and then turned back to Jared. “If it is true, then why did she throw out?”

  “So folks around here wouldn’t talk,” he lied. Why not protect her reputation if he could? “I aim to return to the hospital to finish my rehabilitation from my wounds, then I’ll be back.” That wasn’t a lie if Kristen would listen to reason.

  “Sorry if we caught you by surprise, Sergeant,” Betty Ann said, giggling. “I told my sister not to worry. Who would come out on a night like this except Santa?”

  “No problem, Miss Oakes,” Jared said, smiling at her. “It’s my pleasure to see you again even if I’m not wearing my red suit.”

  “You can’t be too careful these days,” Miriam said, and then she explained how Zeke came running up to the main house saying he saw somebody sneak into the stable. Just his luck the handyman woke up from his drunken stupor to see him pick the lock.

  “Especially since the sheriff has been warning everybody around here to be on the lookout for that bank robber on the loose,” Betty Ann finished.

  “What do you mean?” Jared asked, an alarm going off in his head. “I thought he hightailed it out of town with the bank’s ready cash.”

  “Guess not. The sheriff got a report from a local farmer who said he broke into his trailer and tried to rob him,” Miriam said, “but he ran him off with his shotgun.”

  “He was headed in this direction,” Betty Ann added, her voice wavering.

  “He’d have to go by the old mill first,” Jared said, calculating in his mind the route he’d taken to get here.

  Oh, shit.

  Kristen’s cottage was smack at the end of the road, lit up like a Christmas tree, all red and green and gold, making it easy to spot if someone was hiding in the woods.

  The thought made him turn cold.

  A nagging, ugly feeling born of instinct told him what he didn’t want to know. Earlier when he was looking for Rachel, he had the uncanny notion someone was watching him, waiting. He didn’t put it all together then seeing how he was so focused on finding the child, but he wouldn’t be surprised if what he’d heard was a man’s heavy foot stepping on a fallen branch. Then later when he left the cottage, he also felt eyes on him, but he thought it was Kristen.

  He went over again in his mind every detail, pulled between what happened out in the snow and what happened at the cottage, calculating the time he left Kristen and how long he’d been at the stable. Every minute counted, dragging his nerves through the fires of hell, praying he was dead wrong, but having the damnedest feeling he wasn’t. If the bank robber hadn’t come this far, the soldier couldn’t stop an unsettling fear from creeping into every fiber of his being.

  If Jared was right and someone was watching the cottage, he’d no doubt seen him leave.

  That would mean—

  “Tell the sheriff to meet me at Kristen’s cottage pronto,” he ordered with the authority of a commander in the field. He shoved aside his fatigue, his fears. Only one thing counted: get to Kristen and get to her now.

  “Why, Sergeant?” asked Miriam, concerned.

  “Kristen and her child are in great danger.”

  * * * * *

  “I won’t scream. I promise,” Kristen said, forcing the words out in a whispery voice. She choked on her own saliva. She couldn’t help it. The nauseating smell coming from the sweaty man made her dizzy. Only anger and a deep need to survive kept her from fainting, but she was determined not to panic.

  Instead she concentrated on keeping her wits about her.

  “That’s better.” Panting hard, the man lowered the knife away from her throat. “I wouldn’t want to mess up this nice place you got here.”

  “You creep,” Kristen muttered under her breath.

  She was so terrified she nearly collapsed when he let her go. She was badly shaken by his sudden appearance and hugged herself to stop shivering.

  This is a bad dream, so wake up!

  She couldn’t.

  The wind blew hard outside, rattling the windows as if to warn her, but it came too late. Her aching muscles where he’d grabbed her relayed loud and clear this was all too real. A cold emptiness seeped through her pores and settled in her. She wanted to cry. A deep sense of loss she wouldn’t have believed possible took over her soul and drained her so bad she didn’t shed a tear.

  Jared was gone.

  She barely knew the man, yet she missed his strength and his ability to make quick decisions. The funny way his eyes twinkled when he rubbed his beard. How he made her laugh. The cold, dark determination in his gaze when Rachel ran away, and then the warmth lighting up his face when he brought her home. He’d taken to her as if she was his own daughter.

  Oh, my God. Rachel.

  Please, God, let stay asleep, warm in her bed and out of danger.

  Kristen glanced back at the intruder. He was staring at her, giving her time to realize she had nowhere to go. She was his prisoner. What a fool she was. If she hadn’t been so mad crazy to see the sergeant again, she wouldn’t have opened the door.

  If only she had listened to what he was saying and not let her pride get in the way. He was a brave, good man and, okay, so he lied to her. Big deal. The man had a heart. He’d nearly died fighting for his country and lost his way. Somehow she knew coming to Kissing Creek was the first step in him finding his way back home. She wanted to be there for him when he did. First, she had to deal with this jerk and get him out of her house.

  But how? She was no match for him.

  “What do you want?” Kristen asked, her voice hard, cold.

  “That’s better. Now that we understand each other, we can get down to business,” the man said in a calmer voice, though still waving his knife around. He pulled the hood off his head, brushed off the snow on his heavy parka, and looked around. He was a big man and resembled a grizzly with a scraggly beard. Surprising, his face was pale, his cheekbones gaunt, but his eyes drilled right through her with an intensity that chilled her.

  He took a quick survey of her cottage, looking inside the piano, picking up five and ten dollar bills, smiling. How did he know about the money? He must have been watching them through the window. That thought made her feel violated and sick.

  Then, warming himself by the fire, he said, “Gather up the money and put it into a plastic bag.”

  “What if I refuse?” Kristen said, stalling. A queasy feeling hit her. She could no longer think about herself, but the years of sacrifice her aunt had made to give her a sense of s
ecurity.

  To see this monster steal it for his own pleasure was maddening.

  Are you crazy? Give the man what he wants.

  “I’d hate to see your pretty face cut up,” he said, his eye twitching. She cried out when he grabbed her by the hair and laid the cold blade against her cheek. No, please. A shiver of fear rippled up and down her spine. “Then no man will look at you.”

  Laughing, he slammed her down onto the rug. She hit the floor hard, striking her shoulder on the edge of the sofa as she went down. A rippling current of pain went through her. She groaned in agony, but the man merely shrugged.

  “Get to work.”

  “You won’t get away with this,” Kristen said, pulling herself up to her knees. “My husband will be back soon.” Rubbing her hurt shoulder, she grabbed a reusable grocery bag while looking around for a weapon. Something, anything. She had to get rid of him, but how?

  He scowled at her, his upper lip snarling. “Can it, sister. Your old man ain’t coming back tonight, not after the way you two were yelling and hollering at each other like two critters scrapping over a dead carcass.”

  “How did you—”

  He smirked. “I had a front row seat out there in the cold.”

  So she was right. He was watching her.

  “Why, you disgusting peeping Tom.”

  Grinning, he snuggled up to her, making her cringe, and then cupped her chin in his hand. She fought back the urge to bite him when he brushed her lower lip with his calloused fingers. “I like it better in here. It’s nice and cozy and the company is might pretty.” He gave her a look that chilled her. “Too bad as soon as I get the money, I’ll be moving on.”

  “What are you doing in this town anyway?” she said, keeping up her courage. She was on her own. She kept digging for answers while she came up with a plan.

  Keep him talking. Don’t show fear.

  “No more questions,” he ordered. “Shut up and start filling that bag.”

  He let her go and shuffled his feet through the money scattered on the floor, tossing bills up into the air like he was throwing confetti.