by Susan Page Davis, Darlene Franklin, Janelle Mowery, Lynette Sowell
“But you brought liquor with you.”
She bowed her head. “I held one bottle back. Then yesterday, after shopping and taking a nap, I felt thirsty.”
But she’d poured everything out here and cleaned house, in a manner of speaking. “Why didn’t you come find me, or find someone else?”
“I didn’t want to ruin anyone’s Christmas. The Goudreaus seem like happy, positive people. I felt like I didn’t belong there, no matter what I tried.”
“Mom, your perception is wrong. They didn’t even know I was coming; Armand didn’t tell them. Sure, they were surprised at first. But they accepted me anyway.” Right now, he missed Marcella so bad, and it hurt worse than a toothache.
His mother returned to the kitchen table and sank back onto her chair. “So I ruined Christmas.”
“It’s still fixable, you know.” Or so he hoped. But the idea of facing them all again, after what happened last night …
“Well, if we go back, I’m not going empty-handed.” Mom slapped the tabletop with both hands. “I’m going to make cinnamon rolls.”
“Cinnamon rolls?”
“Of course. Don’t you remember? I used to make them for us on Christmas morning. I’m a disaster in the kitchen, but I know how to make good cinnamon rolls. I can do that much.” She darted toward her tiny pantry and started pulling out flour and sugar. “It won’t take long.”
A flash of memory exploded in his mind. Seven years old, and Dad had left them. No Vance, either. And no money. He padded along in footed pajamas to the kitchen, trailing the scent of warm, buttery cinnamon.
“Cinnamon rolls, Shawnie. Fresh out of the oven. And we can eat the whole pan together. Just you and me. “
His mom pulled eggs from the refrigerator, and butter. “My pantry’s skimpy. But I can bring them this much.”
Sean’s throat burned as his mother scurried around. He didn’t think he had any good Christmas memories with his mother. But here it was, in the form of cinnamon rolls.
They had a long way to go, but today, Christmas Eve, was a fresh start. Like a new blanket of snow.
The trees cast long slanted shadows across the lawn of Barncastle Inn. Marcella looked out toward the frozen pond beyond the grove of trees. “He’s not coming back.”
Amity joined her at the window. “I don’t know what to say except I’m sorry. I hate to say it, but maybe his mom going off like that in front of everyone was a blessing in disguise. Sometimes we need a little shock to make a change. I know that Memé and Pepé have been busy, making up for lost time with each other.”
Marcella nodded. “I don’t even have his cell phone number.”
“Pepé probably has it.”
“I don’t want to bother him and Memé. And I don’t know what I’d say to Sean. I want to believe him, that he didn’t know about the will.”
“If he was just out for the money, he wouldn’t have come here,” Amity said.
“I hope not. I’m so embarrassed, though, that this all happened in front of Jayne and her family, and half their town.” Marcella went over to the mirror at the vanity to touch up her makeup. They needed to be down at the barn in thirty minutes, to run through their rearranged songs, without Sean. The transposition hadn’t been so bad. But it wouldn’t be the same without him, without his rich baritone.
“Jayne said she didn’t know exactly what was happening. Most of the crowd thought it was part of the show, that shewas a long-lost mother proud of her war hero son. I’m glad I started playing the piano, so nearly everyone missed the part about Pepé and the will.” Amity finagled her way to see herself in the mirror as well. “Pete and I had lunch with Jayne and Luke today. We’re planning to keep in touch after Christmas, since the kids got along so well. And you know what? They even prayed with us about Sean and his mother and our family situation.”
Marcella blinked hard and found a tissue. She didn’t want to cry and muss her makeup. The Barncastle Inn was more than a massive, elegant home. Love filled every corner. Maybe that’s why special things happened here this Christmas.
Please, God. Let Sean come back. Even his mother. If he’s going to be in my life, she probably will be, too.
“You look perfect.” Amity gave her a shoulder hug. “Smile. Tonight’s performance will be the best ever. And then later, we’ll go into town for the midnight candlelight service at Jayne and Luke’s church. The kids get to open one present when we get back here. And then, Christmas. We did it, Cellie. Memé, Pepé, Christmas.”
She nodded. “Maybe we didn’t have as much to do with it, though.”
Only one more thing would make her Christmas complete.
Unbelievable. Sean hit the brakes, and his mother’s car slowed to a crawl. Just over the Vermont border, a four-car pileup had shut down northbound Route 91.
“Those poor people,” Mom murmured as they passedthe scene, directed onto the shoulder of the road. “Christmas Eve, too.”
The scent of cinnamon rolls filled the car, and Sean’s stomach rumbled. “Lord, guide the rescue workers, touch all the families involved in that accident. Thank You for protecting us tonight.”
He prayed aloud, not caring if his mother objected. She didn’t.
“I’m proud of you, Sean,” was all she said. “I wish I could believe like you.”
“I hope you do, one day.”
He took the Route 9 exit. Not long now, and they’d be back at the Barncastle. He glanced at the clock on the car. Six-thirty. Maybe he’d make it in time for the finale, the one that had been ruined last night. Just in case, he’d donned the vintage uniform he’d worn last night.
Because he and his mother weren’t running away anymore. He couldn’t hide, and to her credit, Mom wouldn’t either. Hopefully the Goudreaus would accept them back. The thought of facing Marcella’s father made his nerve falter a bit. What man wanted his daughter to be with a man who had a load of baggage?
They negotiated the traffic circle in Castlebury center, empty except for a few other vehicles on the road. Everyone was either snug in their homes or with family. So was he.
The Barncastle’s lights welcomed them as they turned into the driveway. He squeezed the car into the last remaining parking space. A figure was walking across the parking lot.
Luke Gilbert met them at the car. “You’re back. Welcome, welcome. Both of you.” He shook Sean’s hand.
“I brought cinnamon rolls for you and your family.” Mom held up the pans. “I’ve got more in the car. I baked all afternoon.”
Luke nodded. “Well, thank you. I know we’ll enjoy them.”
“Did I miss the program? Is it over yet?” Sean asked.
“No. I think Marcella is doing her last speech before the finale.”
Exactly where she was last night when the whole thing fell to pieces.
“Cool.” Sean tugged on his tie.
“Go get ‘er, Shawnie,” Mom called after him as he quickened his steps.
He could hear Marcella’s voice, talking about Christmas. A few flakes descended from above. Sean smiled as he tugged on the door. The barn door slid open, and a few heads turned.
Marcella froze onstage, her voice silenced. Snow fell around Sean and some flakes drifted into the barn.
Sean strode up the aisle. Marcella left the stage, the red skirt of her gown swishing the floor.
He took her in his arms. “I’m back.”
“You’re back.”
“I’m sorry I left,” he whispered in her ear as he hugged her. Applause drowned out his voice.
“We’ll work it out, just like Memé and Pepé have,” she whispered back as he released her.
Amity started the introduction for “White Christmas,” thankfully, in Sean’s key. He flashed her a grateful glance.
“We have a lot to talk about.”
Marcella nodded. “We’ll talk. After the song.”
“Merry Christmas, Marcella.” He knew she’d love the gift he’d found for her, a snow globe of a castle that
looked very much like the inn, all decorated for Christmas, with a music box in the bottom that played “White Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas, Sean. And I love you.”
“I love you too, Cellie.”
With that, he took her hands in his own, and they began their duet.
Lynette Sowell is the author of five novellas and five novels for Barbour Publishing and Heartsong Presents. She divides her time between editing medical reports and chasing down stories for her local newspaper. But she also loves to spin adventures for the characters who emerge from story ideas in her head. She hopes to spread the truth of God’s love and person while taking readers on an entertaining journey. Lynette is a Massachusetts transplant who makes her home in central Texas with her husband and five cats, who have their humans well trained. She loves to read, try new recipes, take Texas road trips, and spend time with her family. You can find out more about Lynette at www.lynettesowell.com.
WHERE YOUR HEART IS
Janelle Mowery
Dedication
To my parents, who raised me to understand and celebrate the true meaning of Christmas.
But lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven.
MATTHEW 6:20 KJV
Chapter 1
Stephanie Minter gripped her sword with both hands and prepared for the enemy’s next strike. The two swords slammed together and made her hands tingle. She flipped her wrists and blocked the next hit. She spun around and swung her sword, only to be blocked.
Arms tiring, she changed her stance for better balance then dipped the point of the sword toward the ground to fend off another attack. She slashed at the enemy, thrusting several times, forcing her foe backward. With the advantage on her side, she kept swinging. Another thrust or two and she’d win.
A second adversary joined the first. The two swung at her, each taking turns, backing her one step at a time as she parried each strike. Then her heel caught on something. She lost her balance and plummeted to the ground. They were on her faster than she could blink, standing over her, the tips of their swords ready to plunge into her. She dropped her blade and held up her hands.
“You win.”
The older of the two leaned closer. “So you’ll come with us?”
Another voice called from a distance. “You all packed and ready, Stephanie?”
Jennifer and Brandon Tolliver glanced up at their father, then speared her with their eyes. “You’re going?”
She grinned. “Yep, my bags are already in the SUV.”
The two kids shared a glance. “Why didn’t you tell us instead of making us fight you?”
“I wanted to see how much you’ve learned about sword fighting.”
“Oh, man …” The nine- and seven-year-old voices blended in outrage.
Two hours later as they neared the Barncastle Inn, Stephanie tried to hold on to her smile. Both children were using her arms as pillows. Sleep was a luxury she hadn’t enjoyed since she accepted the invitation to join Steve and Emily Tolliver and their children for Christmas vacation. The holidays would have been the perfect time for a break from her role as nanny, but she’d come to love the children and didn’t feel the need for some time off. Not to mention how much the children had begged her to come along.
The only cloud on the trip would be if Jayne Barncastle remembered her as the woman who broke her cousin’s heart. At least Matt wouldn’t be there. Last she heard, he still had his carpentry business in Pennsylvania. Just knowing Jayne was his cousin was painful enough. Seeing Matt would hurt too much.
Matthew Raynor. She still remembered every crease, crevice, and smile line on his face. But it was his eyes that had weakened her knees from the moment they met. If she hadn’t run off to New York to make a name for herself in the photography world, they’d probably be married by now.
She did her best to push him from her mind and take in the scenery. Vermont was beautiful. And the farther they drove, the more she fell in love with the state.
“There’s the sign for Barncastle Inn. Only another mile and we’ll be there.”
Steve sounded tired as he reached for his wife’s hand. He needed a break from his corporate law business as much as Emily needed one from her interior design job while she carried their third child due in a few months. Stephanie planned to do as much as possible with the children to give the parents a rest.
They wound through trees for several minutes before the inn could be seen, and when Stephanie caught her first glimpse, she craned her neck several times trying to keep it in view. She roused Jennifer and Brandon, then pointed so they could see what looked like a castle.
Brandon crawled across her lap. “Whoa, look at that!” They squealed and pressed their noses against the window. Without a doubt, this would be a Christmas they’d never forget. And if the exterior was any indication, they were going to love this place.
As soon as Steve unlocked the doors, the kids had theirs open and all but fell outside into the snow while shoving their arms into their coat sleeves. Stephanie almost stepped on them in her haste. They stared at the inn until the front door opened and a woman wearing a bright smile descended the porch steps. She held out her hand to greet the parents.
“Welcome to Barncastle Inn. I’m Jayne Gilbert.”
Steve interrupted his stretching to shake her hand. “Steve and Emily Tolliver.” He placed his hands on the kids. “And this is Jennifer and Brandon, your friendly neighborhood pirates.”
Jayne laughed and bent to meet them. “I’m guessing it’s more like Blackbeard or Black Bart. And you—“she touched Jennifer’s cheek”—could be the rough and tumble Anne Bonney or maybe the slightly sweeter Grace O’Malley.”
Jennifer’s eyes widened. “There was girl pirates?”
“There sure were. Several of them. Most were pretty rough. Some say downright ferocious.”
“Can I be a nice pirate?”
Jayne smiled. “Absolutely. You’re a pirate, and most of the time, pirates do what they want.”
Brandon grinned and rubbed his chin. “I’ll be Blackbeard. He sounds tough. Do ya got any whiskers I can wear?”
Jayne ruffled his hair. “I’m sure we can come up with something. And Jennifer, we have some clothing for you that most women pirates wore. I think you’ll both have a lot of fun with all we have planned.”
Steve opened the hatch of the SUV. “But you can’t get started until we get everything carried into our rooms.”
“Ugh.” Both kids’ shoulders slumped.
In an effort to get things moving, and if she were honest, get away from Jayne before she was recognized, Stephanie stepped forward and grabbed her bag. “The sooner we hurry, the sooner we can look around.”
“That’s right.” Steve stopped her from leaving. “Jayne, this is our nanny I told you about, Stephanie Minter.”
She couldn’t tell if the look on Jayne’s face was one of familiarity or a struggle to remember where she’d heard the name, but Jayne extended her hand anyway. “Nice to meet you. I hope I can count on your help with some of our skits.”
“That’s great, and I have a few ideas I’d like to run past you, maybe work them into your plans.”
“Good. We’ll get together after everyone is settled and has a chance to look around.”
A gust of wind blew up from the lake, making everyone pull their coats tighter. Jayne shoved her hands into her pockets and nodded toward the house. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll get you out of the cold and into your rooms.”
As they headed up the walk, Stephanie took in as much of the stone exterior as she could, taking snapshots with her mind. Matt had told her about the place, but this was so much more than she ever imagined. She couldn’t wait to explore.
She hustled to catch up to the group. It looked as if Jayne had gone all out decorating for Christmas, yet managed to add touches of pirate lore for the sake of the Tollivers. From the top of the stairs, Stephanie glanced over the railing and gasped at the sight of the huge Christmas
tree.
“Jayne, this place is beautiful.”
“Thank you, Stephanie. All the decorations you see have been collected over the years, mostly by my mother. She’s always had great taste. She helped me put all this together.”
Brandon ran his fingers along the handrail. “Do we get to slide down the banister? Didn’t pirates do that?”
Emily covered her face with her hand. “No, Brandon, you don’t. You’d ruin all the garland wrapped around the railing.” She looked at Jayne. “I’m sorry.”
Jayne laughed. “Not a problem. It just proves he’ll like the planned activities.” She flipped through a ring of keys and motioned to a door. “This is the Library Suite, now named the Jolly Roger. Steve, you and Emily will be in here. I believe you’ll find it large enough for your children to visit whenever they want as well as private when you want to be alone.”
She opened the door and led them inside. Through all the oohs and aahs, envy struck Stephanie in a big way. She could lose herself in this room. She just might have to visit Barncastle Inn again on her next vacation and ask for the Library Suite, though she doubted she could afford a corner of the basement.
Jayne headed down the hallway and pointed at the doors to the next two rooms. “The Barnacle is for Brandon and The Parrot is for Jennifer.” She opened each door for the children and smiled at their squeals and shouts. “I guess that means they’re acceptable.”
Stephanie laughed. “We may not see them for a while.”
If that’s what Jayne did for the Tollivers, she couldn’t wait to see her room. Just across the hall from the children’s room, Jayne motioned to a door with a large colorful feather attached with a placard stating, THE PLUME. Jayne opened the door.
“I hope you’ll be comfortable in here.”
Stephanie stepped inside and held her breath. The blend of Christmas garland and other decorations with the fluffy feathers attached to long green and red swags added vibrant color and life to the room. She could be celebrating the birth of Christ on a tropical island. The children would have to drag her out or come for a visit if they wanted to spend any time with her.