by Various
“She’s a treasure.” How on earth would they have coped for this long without her, in fact? “Have you seen Dad today?”
“No.” Lucy watched him sit down at the table and begin to eat ravenously. “Miriam found some old boots and coats and Jamie and I walked as far as the village.” She smiled at him. “There was the prettiest Christmas tree in the square and lots of children were making this huge snowman. It was ages before I could persuade Jamie to stop staring and come home.”
She had the loveliest voice, James thought, with the promise of laughter bubbling just beneath the surface. Along with the good food and the warmth of this kitchen, it was chasing away any trials that his long day had presented. When he took his empty plate to the sink, Lucy followed him with a mug that needed rinsing.
He had to ask. “Did you call the embassy?”
She nodded. “You were right. They’re not likely to be able to get anything sorted until after the New Year. Not unless it’s an emergency.”
James glanced down and caught her gaze. “It’s not, is it?”
She didn’t look away. “No. I … could go to a hotel, though. I doubt that your father wants us to stay here in the house.”
“Maybe not. But I do,” James said softly.
He did. He wanted them both to stay. So much so that it took him by surprise. Just like the way he couldn’t stop watching Lucy. The way the light was reflecting in golden streaks in her hair. He was standing close enough to her to feel a warmth that had nothing to do with the nearby coal range. And he could smell a scent that stirred a long-forgotten memory. Or was that desire?
It took a supreme effort not to allow his head to bend so that he could kiss Lucy on the lips. It also took several seconds to tune in to the words coming from those lips.
“ … only three days away,” Lucy was saying. “Miriam tells me you’ve got heaps of decorations in the attic.”
“What?” Understanding what she was talking about was more effective than a cold shower could ever have been.
“If we’re going to stay here,” Lucy said patiently, “I want Jamie to have a proper Christmas. With a tree and presents. And decorations.”
An image flashed into his head. He was beneath the twinkling lights of a Christmas tree. Giving a gift to a small boy.
His son.
The image of a happy, family occasion.
James backed away. “No …” The word was agonized. “I’m sorry, but that can’t possibly happen.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
HE LOOKED as if she’d just delivered a physical blow.
How could anyone be so horrified at the idea of a Christmas tree with gifts beneath it? Colored lights and decorations?
A moment ago Lucy could have sworn that she had found a new connection with James. The warmth she’d seen in his eyes had prompted her to say that if she was going to stay here, she wanted to make it a real Christmas for Jamie.
She had even thought that James looked like he wanted to kiss her. And, heaven help her, she had wanted him to.
And now this strange reaction?
“What’s wrong, James? What am I missing here?”
“We don’t do Christmas in this house anymore. My mother,” he said, his voice cracking, “was killed in a car crash on Christmas Day. Three years ago.”
“Oh, my God …” Lucy felt frozen to the spot. Appalled at how insensitive she had been. To lose a beloved family member on Christmas Day? It was unthinkable.
“I was out at the clinic with Dad,” James continued, holding her gaze. “Stitching up Johnny Begg’s knee after he’d fallen off his new bike. One of the downsides of running an old-fashioned family practice is the amount of on-call you have to do, but we were lucky. Mum was the practice nurse so she understood. She was driving to another call when the accident happened. We came across it on the way home. My father tried to save her but … he couldn’t.”
Her eyes were still locked with his. She sensed he needed to talk about it. To make her understand.
“When we finally got home,” he continued softly, “we found the lights still twinkling on the damn tree and all the presents still waiting to be opened and that … that was the first time I ever saw my father cry.”
Lucy bowed her head for a moment. No wonder they didn’t want any reminders of Christmas in this house. How awful that the holidays, a time that should be filled with family and celebration, were instead a time of renewed grieving.
“Neither of us wanted to have Christmas on that first anniversary,” James said, “but I thought things would come right. And then … last year, I suggested we get the tree out, and Dad just went and shut himself in the library. It wasn’t till hours later that we realized he’d disappeared. We finally found him, sitting in the snow on the side of the road where the accident had happened. He had to be hospitalized for hypothermia and … he said he hadn’t wanted to be rescued. He’d wanted to die there.”
“Oh …” Without thinking, Lucy stepped forward and put her arms around James, her heart breaking for him and his family. “I’m so sorry, James.”
He let her hold him. She could feel his surprise as his body tensed but then he relaxed as he at last accepted the comfort a hug could bring. The relief. How long had it been since this man had been hugged?
His arms tightened around her.
Lucy had no idea how long they stood there, his heart beating beneath her cheek, his head bent to press against her hair.
They didn’t hear Miriam coming back into the kitchen until she said, “Oh … my!”
CHAPTER TWELVE
“IS SOMETHING wrong, James? What’s happened?” Miriam asked.
“Nothing’s wrong.” James let go of Lucy instantly. His arms felt curiously empty as he turned away from Lucy to face the housekeeper. “I was just telling Lucy about Mum.”
“Ach …” The sound was one of understanding and sympathy.
“And why we couldn’t put a Christmas tree up for the little lad.”
“It’s okay,” Lucy said. “I do understand. I’ll just take him back to the village so he can see the tree there again. He’s probably too young to remember, anyway.”
Miriam appeared unconvinced. “It’s no’ right,” she murmured. “No’ for the bairn.” Then her face brightened. “What about a wee tree? A secret one in your room?”
James looked to Lucy to gauge her reaction to the idea and saw the tear streaks on her face. She had cried … for him?
But he also recognized the spark of hope in her eyes, making them glow. The plea in them as she caught his gaze.
He wanted to make her smile.
Actually, he wanted to pull her into his arms again and feel her softness and warmth and … caring, but this was better than nothing.
“I’ll find a wee branch of a spruce,” he told her. “Miriam will have an old bucket somewhere and she can bring down a box of decorations for you tomorrow.”
Lucy’s smile was like the sun coming out. She stood on tiptoes and flung her arms around James. She kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you so much.”
And then she was gone, leaving James in the kitchen with Miriam. The older woman was also beaming.
“What a pet,” she said. “Isn’t she, James?”
“Aye.” He was still watching the door through which Lucy had disappeared. “She is that.”
Lucy hadn’t even seen Douglas Cameron since that first evening in the library. So it was a stroke of very bad luck that their paths crossed the next day just as she was coming down from the attic with the overflowing box of Christmas decorations in her arms. James had gone out on a call hours ago and she hadn’t wanted Miriam climbing up and down the attic steps.
She froze when she saw a scowling Douglas. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m … sorry …” Lucy stammered. “I didn’t want to upset you, Dr. Cameron. It’s just that … I wanted Jamie to … to have a Christmas tree. He’s only little, and …”
“No … no.
” Douglas suddenly looked pale.
“Just in our room,” Lucy added desperately. “You won’t have to even see it. It’s only a small branch that James cut for us… .”
But Douglas didn’t seem to be listening. He was walking away from Lucy. Toward the room she was sharing with Jamie. By the time she caught up with him, he was standing in the doorway, looking at the tiny, lopsided branch anchored in a bucket of sand.
Lucy held her breath as the silence grew.
“That’s no’ a Christmas tree,” Douglas finally muttered. “It’s a twig. What was the lad thinking?”
He spun arond and marched down the stairs to where Jamie was in the kitchen with Miriam. For a long moment, Douglas paused at the threshold, watching the small boy who was sitting silently at the table with a glass of milk in front of him. Then Douglas turned again and soon after they heard the sound of the back door slamming.
“Where’s he going?” Lucy asked anxiously. “I’m so sorry, Miriam. I never thought for a moment that—”
“He’s in the shed,” Miriam reported, staring out the window. “No … there he is. Heading for the forest. With an ax.”
James was late getting home again that night.
As he walked up to the door, he pulled up short. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. There was a wreath of holly on the front door. He stepped into the hallway, where a flash of coloured lights spilled through the library door.
In the library, a huge tree was standing in a corner with boxes of decorations strewn around it, waiting to be attached to the branches. Lucy was sitting cross-legged in the midst of the decorations, unwrapping colored balls and silver bells.
“Out of the way, lad,” Douglas said from behind him.
He stepped aside to let his father come into the room with yet another box, but the older man stopped in front of James and shoved the decoration into his hands.
“She wanted the wee lad to have a proper Christmas,” Douglas growled. “See to it, James. I’m going to bed.”
Bemused, James stared at Lucy.
“Would it be all right if we waited until tomorrow?” she asked. “Miriam said you’ve got a day off for once and it would be really great if Jamie could get to help decorate the tree.”
Of course it was all right. Better than all right. Looking around him, he couldn’t help but think that what he was witnessing here was no less than a miracle.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
JAMIE was very busy.
He might not be saying anything or smiling as he trotted back and forth across the library carpet, but he seemed content to fetch the ornaments that Douglas fished out of boxes and examined for faults from his position in the winged chair.
Jamie presented them to Lucy, who either attached them to the lower branches of the tree or handed them to James, who was on the ladder.
The fire crackled in the grate, and when Miriam came in with hot chocolate and cheese scones, fresh from the oven for morning tea, she was humming a Christmas carol.
“Och, the tree looks grand,” she pronounced.
“Aye …” James peered down through the branches and smiled at Lucy. “It does.”
There was a warmth in that smile that gave Lucy the most delicious tingle.
Oh, my, she thought, channeling Miriam. He’s … gorgeous.
Not a Grinch at all. Maybe joy, along with Christmas, had been banished from this house, and as both returned, she was getting a glimpse of what these people were really like.
This was the first time in her life that Lucy was going to have a winter Christmas with snow instead of blazing sunshine, keeping close to a roaring fire instead of picnics on a beach.
So why did she feel like she was at home?
Miriam was still admiring the tree. “It needs something underneath it.”
“I know, it does.” Lucy bit her lip. “I’ll go into the village this afternoon and find something I can wrap up for Jamie.”
James watched Lucy eye the snow-covered landscape outside and then swing her gaze to where Jamie was now sitting by the warmth of the fire at the foot of the winged chair, playing with a length of tinsel.
James’s eyes followed hers and something caught in his chest as he looked upon the silent little boy. He needed protection, this lad. Some happy memories. That idyllic father-son image of handing Jamie a gift returned, stronger this time. He wanted to give Jamie something this Christmas. But what? He knew as much about what a toddler might like as he did about being a father.
Lucy would know.
“I’ll come into town with you,” he heard himself saying aloud. “I need to do a spot of shopping myself. Let’s go now.”
Lucy looked startled but then she seemed to catch her breath and the tilt of her head was encouraging.
“Come on, Jamie,” she said. “You can go with us.”
Jamie looked at her. Then at James. He shook his head.
Did the anxiety over their evolving relationship go both ways? Curiously, the notion was disturbing. James had always been confident that he’d be a good father … one day. But he hadn’t been to Jamie. Maybe the little boy could sense there was no point getting attached. On either side.
“Leave the lad be,” Douglas muttered. “He’s fine where he is.”
Strangely disappointed, James led Lucy outside.
The gleam of a pale winter sun prompted them to walk rather than drive to the village, crunching through snow and blowing clouds of steam with every breath.
When Lucy’s boot slipped on an icy patch, James caught her before she fell, and it seemed the most natural thing in the world that he kept hold of her hand after that.
They were both wearing gloves but it might as well have been skin against skin. Lucy could feel the warmth of his hand and its strength. They fell into step with each other as if they’d known each other forever.
Taking a shortcut to the village, James led her into a patch of forest that entranced Lucy.
“Oh …” She pointed at an overhead branch. “Is that … mistletoe?”
“Aye.”
“Real mistletoe.” Lucy stopped and stared. “I’ve only ever seen the plastic variety.”
Her delighted smile faded as her gaze shifted to James. He was smiling down at her but soon his smile faded, too. For a long, long moment they simply stared at each other.
And then James bent his head and kissed her.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
IT WAS traditional, wasn’t it?
Lucy was so delighted at seeing real mistletoe that James had kissed her without really thinking about it. He had only meant it to be a token. A quick, friendly sort of kiss. But whatever his agenda had been, it went out the window the moment his lips touched hers.
She was so soft … and delicious. And … desirable.
The kiss went on far longer than it should have. When Lucy made a tiny sound that inflamed his desire to dangerous levels, James finally pulled away.
In the silence that followed, they could hear the soft whoosh of a nearby branch letting go of its snow.
He cleared his throat and tried to smile. “There,” he said lightly. “That’s how real mistletoe earned its reputation.”
Lucy’s eyes were wide. And very blue. “Magic,” she murmured.
“We’d better go and hit the high street before we freeze.”
That made her smile. “Do they take credit cards in Ballochburn?”
Lucy had her work cut out for her that evening to persuade Jamie to go to bed. The pyjama-clad boy sat stubbornly in the library, still clutching the length of tinsel—though it was more than a little bedraggled now after having recently been in the bath with him.
“If you go to sleep now,” Lucy told him, “I’ll take you into the village tomorrow. There were puppies in the post office—a whole box of them!”
That seemed to do the trick. Lucy gathered up the silent little boy and his tinsel snake and took them upstairs.
She hid herself away in the drawing room opposite
the library after that. She’d stashed the gifts she’d purchased in the village there after they’d returned, and now she brought them out to be wrapped in bright-colored paper and tied with pretty ribbons. The task was time-consuming and the unused room was somewhat drafty and decidedly cold, but Lucy only had to think back over her day to feel a glow that was warm enough to keep her happy.
The picture-postcard scenery.
The friendliness of the villagers.
That kiss …
Oh … yes. That did it every time. The memory created a heat that spread from deep within her to curl her toes and make her fingers tingle.
Only, she hadn’t seen James since Miriam had turned up in the village to deliver some messages and had given Lucy a ride home with all her parcels.
Was he avoiding her? Regretting having walked with her to the village?
Regretting kissing her?
The shiver that went through her was probably due only to the temperature in this room. That would explain the sudden urgency Lucy felt to return to the warmth of the library.
It was only when she saw James sitting on the couch near the Christmas tree that she realized the real reason for that urgency.
She wanted to be near this man.
He looked up from the medical journal he was reading and smiled at her.
God help her, but she wanted him to kiss her again.
The smile should have been enough. It had to be enough, because James quickly turned his attention back to the journal he was holding.
“Interesting article,” he murmured. “Lamenting the disappearance of traditional general practice in favor of ‘supermarket’ community medicine.”
It was a subject dear to Lucy’s heart. She nodded. “It’s the same at home. A dozen doctors, a physio and a pharmacy, all in the same building. Patients holding a ticket and waiting their turn. Numbers instead of people.”