Tasha's Christmas Wish (9781460341315)

by Dunn, Sharon

  “I have a pen in my pocket,” Quinton offered.

  Tasha planted her feet. Better get this over with. “I’m not going to sign the contracts, Quinton.”

  His forehead furrowed. “You mean you want to think about it a little longer?”

  “No, I mean I’m not going to sign them, ever.” She lifted her hands and swept the expanse of the studio. “This is where God wants me to be. Through good times and bad.”

  Quinton’s cheeks turned red. “What are you talking about?” He tossed his coat off onto a nearby chair and smiled that charming smile. “You can’t be serious.”

  “I am.”

  He drew his eyebrows together, shook his head and then stared at her. “You don’t understand. You were what made Newburg Designs work. We’re going to go under if you don’t come back.”

  Tasha felt a twinge of guilt, but she stood her ground. “I didn’t realize the business was in that much trouble.”

  Quinton slumped down into the chair where he’d tossed his coat. “Oh, it’s not just you. Newburg made some foolish expansion decisions that really cost us. I advised her against it, but she wouldn’t listen. She doesn’t understand that she is no Vera Wang or Isaac Mizrahi.” Quinton’s lip curled back, revealing his perfect white teeth. “We can still make the business work. If you come back.”

  Sympathy flooded through her. Her words were gentle. “I can’t, Quinton.”

  “You don’t understand. I’ll lose my job, my car, my house.” He slumped over and ran his hands through his hair, resting his elbows on his knees. “Everything I’ve worked for.”

  “That may be true, and it may not be. Only God knows. You need to trust Him, Quinton.” She stepped toward him. “Sometimes when you have nothing, that’s when you see God clearly.” She touched his shoulder lightly.

  He jerked his head up. “‘You need to trust Him, Quinton.’” He raised his voice to falsetto, mocking her.

  His anger made her take a step back. “I’m only trying to help.”

  He jumped out of his chair and leaned toward her. “You can help me by coming back to Newburg.”

  “The perfect job, the perfect girlfriend, the perfect big church. Is that all that matters to you? Your faith is ankle-deep, Quinton. It’s all about appearances. And it will stay that way unless you can trust Him through hard times.”

  “Just come back to Denver, back to me.” He grabbed both of her shoulders with such force it took her breath away. His thumbs dug into her shoulders.

  “Quinton, you’re hurting me.”

  His eyes glazed over. “Just come back.”

  She tried to twist out of his hold. “Have you bothered to ask God why this is happening?”

  “I need you.” He clamped his hand around her shoulders like a vise.

  “Let go!”

  He shook her.

  “Stop it. Stop it!”

  She broke free with such force that she spun sideways. She fell, hitting her head on her worktable.

  Stinging pain sliced through her head. She crumpled to the floor. The shelf of dolls above her blurred.

  A door burst open and footsteps pounded across the concrete.

  Like a curtain descending, everything went black.

  * * *

  Philip could not contain his rage at what he had just seen. Tasha lay crumpled on the floor. He ran to help her up, glaring at the man who had caused her fall, her so-called boyfriend.

  “Did you hurt her?” Philip gathered her in his arms.

  “She fell.” The man spat the words out.

  “I think you’d better go,” said Philip.

  The man pressed his lips together and lifted his chin in defiance.

  “Philip.” Tasha blinked three times. Her gaze was unfocused. “How did you...get here?”

  The man moved across the floor and clasped Tasha’s shoulder. “Tasha, are you all right? I didn’t mean to—”

  “I said, I think you’d better go.” Philip’s voice was even more forceful. Clearly this guy was bad news.

  Footsteps, rapid and rhythmic, pounded across the floor. The door creaked open and closed.

  “Tasha, Tasha, look at me.” Philip couldn’t hide his concern.

  She pressed her eyes shut and then open, trying to focus. She touched her stomach. “I feel kind of nauseous.”

  “You must have hit your head.” He touched her forehead gently.

  He slipped his arms around her waist and pulled her to feet.

  “Whoa.” She rocked back on her heels.

  He steadied her by bracing her back with his arm. “Let’s get you in a chair.”

  He held her close, guiding her steps. Her soft floral perfume surrounded him. She drifted down into a chair. The mushy old cushions of the easy chair absorbed her. She seemed to relax a little.

  She touched her stomach and then her head. “I’m okay. I think I just must have...must have had the wind knocked out of me.”

  He studied her intently, still not willing to let go of the idea that she had a head injury. “How are you feeling?”

  “Kind of dizzy, and I’m having a hard time focusing.”

  Philip put his face right in front of her. Her pupils weren’t dilated. That was a good sign. Still, the other symptoms were a concern.

  “Tell me your name and birth date.” His forehead creased. He continued to study her, to stare at her like she was a specimen under a microscope.

  She laughed. “My name is Tasha. I was born on February 6. Mom said it snowed that day. Really, Philip, I think I’m fine.”

  “Good. Now grab my fingers and squeeze them tight.” He held his hands up, palms toward her, fingers spread.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Grab my fingers and squeeze them tight.” He moved his hand closer to her face.

  “My arms feel like I’ve fallen asleep on them, all tingly and heavy.” She wrapped her hands around Philip’s fingers. She squeezed tighter. “Oh, I get it. You’re doing the doctor thing.”

  “Right.” He touched her cheek with his open palm and stared into the depth of those beautiful eyes.

  She wrinkled her nose and pressed her hand over his. “That wasn’t a doctor thing. That was more of an ‘I like you’ thing.”

  “You caught me.” Heat rose up in his cheeks. “That was an ‘I like you’ touch.”

  “No, you don’t understand, Philip.” Her head wobbled on top of her neck as she tried to shake it. “I like you, too, Philip.”

  He smiled and shook his head. She was still a little dizzy from the accident. “I need you to stick your tongue out,” he said.

  “What?”

  “Stick your tongue out.”

  “Oh, right. The doctor thing.”

  His face was only inches from hers, close enough for him to take note of the smile lines around her mouth.

  He refocused his attention. “You don’t appear to have a serious head injury, but it might show up later.” He touched her forehead. She winced. “You do, however, have a nasty cut.” Again, he touched her face, this time with both hands. “Sit right here.”

  He retreated to the bathroom, where he ran some hot water and soaked a washcloth. He returned and placed the warm cloth on her forehead. “I’ll dress that cut. You need to be monitored for the next twenty-four hours.” He wrapped a blanket around her shoulders. “Why don’t you come back to Grace’s place with me? You can sleep on the sofa.”

  “I’m feeling a lot better,” she said.

  “I won’t take no for an answer. If a head injury is going to show up, it will be in the first twenty-four hours. Besides, I don’t want to leave you alone here. Your boyfriend might come back.” His voice tinged with bitterness.

  Tasha’s eyes grew wide. “He’s not my
boyfriend.”

  A weight lifted off his shoulders. “I’m glad to hear that.” For the first time since he’d seen her with that man, he felt like he could take in a deep breath. “Somehow I didn’t picture you as the type of girl who would put up with any abuse. It’s settled, then. You’ll stay the night at Grace’s.”

  “But I—”

  “It’s settled, then.”

  She brought her hand up in a weak salute. “Yes, doctor.”

  He knelt in front of her so she could look at him. “Now that we’re done with the medical stuff...and that guy isn’t your boyfriend...” He touched her arm in the delicate spot by her elbow.

  “I really do like you, Philip.” She let out a tiny laugh. “That...that just fell out of my mouth. The accident is making me silly. Normally, I wouldn’t be so bold.”

  He held her hands in his. “I’m glad it just fell out. One of us had to get brave enough to say it.”

  She leaned toward him. Her lips parted slightly.

  He gathered her into his arms and pressed his lips against hers. A rush of warmth flooded through him. His heart hammered in his ears. The softness of her cheek brushed against his face. He kissed her again, relishing how wonderful it felt to hold her. Philip took in a deep breath of her floral perfume and kissed her harder. Her hand fluttered on his neck. Released from the kiss, she gazed at him with brown eyes framed by thick lashes. He touched her soft curls. A dark thought crept up on him. We can’t make this work. I’ve met the woman of my dreams, but she lives here and I live in the city.

  He pushed the thought away and basked in the warmth and beauty of the moment, hugging her again.

  His hands brushed her back. Reluctantly, she pulled free of his hug. “I’ll just throw a few things in an overnight bag.” She took a moment to gaze at him before heading up to her loft.

  He touched her arm. “Are you still dizzy? Do you need help?”

  She smiled. “I’m fine. Be right back.”

  He could hear her opening and closing drawers. She leaned over the railing of the loft and shouted, “Philip, why did you come by anyway?”

  He gazed up at her. “I wanted to pay you for the dolls.”

  She laughed as she descended the stairs and grabbed a toothbrush out of the bathroom. “Of course, the money.” After grabbing her phone and stuffing all the items in a small bag, she walked over to him.

  He pulled his credit card out of his wallet and placed it in her open palm. “For a job well done.”

  She swiped his card and handed it back to him. “That officially ends our business relationship.”

  He gathered her into his arms and swayed back and forth. “I guess I’m out of excuses to come by and see you.”

  She brushed the hair off his forehead. “You don’t need an excuse.”

  He swayed with her, kissing her hair. What he would give to stay in this beautiful, sweet moment forever.

  Then practicality reared its ugly head. Would she be open to moving back to Denver? A business like hers could be set up anywhere. He had a thriving practice in Denver.

  Philip pulled out of the hug and looked at her. What was that he saw behind her eyes? The same doubts he had?

  Philip slipped back into his coat. Holding hands, they made their way toward the door. “If that guy wasn’t your boyfriend, who was he?”

  “A former business associate. I gave him some advice he didn’t want to hear. Hopefully, it will sink in later—when he’s not so angry.”

  “What kind of advice?” He twisted the doorknob and pulled the door open. The night was completely dark.

  “About learning to trust God through hard times.”

  “I understand,” said Philip.

  He helped Tasha into the passenger side of his Volkswagen.

  When they arrived at the quiet house, Philip retrieved some blankets from a hall closet and helped Tasha pull out the hide-a-bed.

  He touched her hair lightly and kissed her forehead. “As a precaution, I’m going to wake you several times during the night and check your responses.”

  “I feel okay, really.”

  He touched her lips with his finger “Let me be the doctor here.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Good night, Tasha.” He heard her soft reply as he made his way down the hallway to the guest room. He struggled with an unsettled feeling as he slipped beneath the covers. Tomorrow would be good. Mary would open her present and Tasha would see how important her work was. But after tomorrow, all he could see was uncertainty about their future together.

  Chapter 15

  The next morning, tearing paper, laughter and bright lights flashing in her face woke Tasha.

  “Airpane. Airpane,” Shawn screamed.

  A toy airplane streaked by Tasha’s face. Not only did the toy have flashing red lights, but it made takeoff noises—searing, earsplitting takeoff noises.

  Her head throbbed. Tasha checked her watch—5:00 a.m. Trying to shake off grogginess, she propped herself on an elbow.

  “Look what I got. Look what I got.” Damaris held up a set of books.

  “I hope I get a doll.” Mary picked up a package, read the label and discarded it.

  Travis sat in the corner, legs crossed, staring at a handheld game. His fingers pressed the controls as he whispered, “Got ’em. Got ’em. Take that.”

  Tasha yawned. “Are you guys supposed to be up this early?”

  “Sorry about that.” She heard Grace’s voice from the kitchen. “Christmas is the one day we make an exception about waking us up early.”

  Grace’s husband, dressed in a bathrobe and slippers, entered the living room. “Philip told me what happened. I’m glad he brought you over here. Sorry about the early-morning reveille.” He held out a hand to her. “I’m Gary, by the way.”

  Tasha sat up and shook his hand. Gary’s buzz cut and perfect posture suggested military service somewhere in the recent past.

  While the ruckus beneath the Christmas tree continued, Grace entered the living room with a steaming mug. “Coffee?” She winked at Tasha.

  “You read my mind.” Tasha wrapped both hands around the warm cup as she took it from Grace. She sipped, savoring the sweet liquid and allowing it to soak into her tongue before swallowing. Coffee in the morning was one of God’s blessings.

  Shawn giggled as he pushed a skateboard from behind the tree. “This for you, Travis.”

  Allowing the mug to warm her hands, she inhaled the rich coffee aroma. Gary settled into an easy chair. Grace sat beside him on the arm of the chair. Such a wonderful family. This felt like home.

  While the other kids tore open their gifts, Mary carefully unwrapped a box, opened it and pulled out a paint set. “Thank you, Aunt Grace.”

  Waking up with a big family on Christmas morning was a gift in itself. All her childhood longing for brothers and sisters, for a house full of people and laughter, was fulfilled in this scene. She set her coffee on the little table beside the hide-a-bed and a wave of sorrow swept over her. She planted her feet on the carpet and gazed at the children under the tree. It really was a dream. She and Philip could not maintain a relationship with such distance between them. Sooner or later, they had to face that reality. Visions of them trying to make a long-distance relationship work flashed through her head. Would they drag it out for months, pining for each other over the phone and then fighting because their time together was so short?

  Philip, dressed in a plaid bathrobe, entered the room carrying two doll-size boxes wrapped in gold paper and tied with silver ribbons. He gazed at Tasha.

  Taking in a deep breath, she looked away. It was so easy to get caught up in the whirlwind of physical attraction. Even now, as the warm feelings blossomed inside her, she knew it couldn’t work. Not unless Philip would move here.

&
nbsp; “Mary, these are for you.” Philip placed the boxes in her open arms. “They’re from me.” He glanced over at Tasha. “And from Tasha.”

  “Such pretty wrapping, and ribbons and bows, too,” Grace whispered. “You didn’t do that yourself, did you, Philip?”

  “I had my nurse help, sis. You know wrapping is not my forte.” He touched Mary’s cheek as she settled on the carpet with the packages in front of her. “And I wanted everything to look pretty for Mary.”

  Philip sat down on the floor beside his daughter.

  The other children stopped their frenzied package ripping and settled down to watch their cousin open her special gift. Mary slowly pulled the ribbon off with her long slender fingers. She tore the tape on each end and in the middle.

  Tasha’s breath caught in her throat; her heart pounded faster than a drummer at a heavy-metal concert. She resisted the urge to run from the room.

  Mary lifted the top of the box off and removed the tissue paper. Her head tilted forward, and she stared into the box.

  Tasha could have measured the time that passed with a sundial.

  Mary’s mouth formed a perfect O. “It’s me,” she whispered. “It looks just like me.”

  “Don’t keep it to yourself.” Travis crawled toward her. “Take it out so everybody can see it.”

  Cupping the doll in both hands, Mary lifted it out of the box. Tasha could have sworn the entire family gasped in unison.

  Grace drew a hand up to her mouth. “Tasha, it’s so beautiful.”

  “What a perfect likeness,” Gary commented.

  Philip rose to his feet. He stood beside Tasha, touching her back with his open hand. “Yes, yes, it does.”

  His touch made her melt, but she inched away from him slightly. They both needed to face reality.

  “Open the other one.” Damaris snuggled up beside Mary and pushed the box toward her. “Go on, open it.”

  This time Mary tore the paper. The wrapping lay in shreds on the carpet. Tasha felt a tightening in her chest as Mary lifted the top off the box.

  Mary’s face went white. Her mouth dropped open slightly.

  Tasha tugged at the collar of her bathrobe. Oh, no. It’s had the exact opposite effect on her that I intended. The doll has made her sad all over again.