His Christmas Sweetheart

by Cathy McDavid

  “A special occasion?”

  “Not really.”

  But it was, and Sam must have figured it out for he readily agreed.

  Together they pushed the sleigh back into the empty stall where Will had been storing it. Moony, the pony in the neighboring stall, squealed and kick at the loud ruckus they created.

  A half hour later Will and Sam were seated at a table, Miranda taking their order. She gave Will’s shoulder the lightest of squeezes before leaving to fetch their beers. Not so much that anyone would think twice. Sam obviously saw it. He smiled and toasted Miranda when the beers arrived.

  “There’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you,” Will said once she left to wait on another customer.

  “What’s that?”

  Will talked, then. It was the longest and most revealing conversation he’d had in years. His entire story poured out, from the accident that had caused his parents’ deaths but spared him to how he’d come to live in Sweetheart. He also told Sam about his inability to leave town, apologizing for not accepting the council’s offer to pay for EMT training.

  Sam said nothing. Proving what a good friend he was, he simply listened intently while drinking his beer. When Will was done, he leaned back in his chair and stretched out his legs.

  “Well, the offer still stands,” he said. “If things change.”

  Will shook his head. “I doubt that will happen.”

  “Who knows? You’ve made a lot of progress recently. You’re seeing Miranda, interacting with people on a personal level, talking more. Maybe you should try leaving town again.”

  Sam’s point was worth considering.

  They returned to the ranch as the sun was setting. Will fetched Cruze, who’d been waiting in the barn, and they both jumped into his truck. Will intended to head for home and kill time until Miranda was off work. Instead he drove to the edge of town. Sam was right. Will had made significant progress, and he was convinced he could make it past the boundary with no problem.

  He continued to remain optimistic until he was an eighth of a mile beyond the Welcome to Sweetheart sign and was forced to suddenly pull off the road and bail out.

  If he hadn’t, he would have heaved all over his truck instead of on a snowbank.

  Chapter Twelve

  Miranda fell to her knees on the rug by her bed, her cell phone jammed to her ear. She’d gone to her suite when Mrs. Litey’s brother had called, for a bit of privacy. Please, God. This couldn’t be happening again. Not so soon. It had only been a week since Mr. Lexington’s son had moved him away.

  “I hope you understand,” Reverend Donahue said, compassion softening his voice but not the impact of the news he’d delivered. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate everything you’ve done for my sister. Considering how difficult she can be, I’m lucky you’ve taken care of her this long.”

  “She’s no trouble.” Miranda rested her forehead against the mattress.

  “I’m thinking of coming for her on the Monday after New Year’s,” the reverend went on. “Don’t want to cause you any inconvenience over the holidays.”

  Inconvenience? The man had just destroyed what was left of her business and possibly taken her home from her. How would she go on with only two residents left?

  She couldn’t. Even if she laid off Nell, the income from Babs and Himey wasn’t enough to cover even half her expenses.

  Miranda’s spirit crumbled like a sand castle consumed by the rising tide. She bit back a sob. It wouldn’t do to have Reverend Donahue hear her crying. He was so excited about the prospect of reuniting with his sister. A sister who had improved considerably over the past few months, enough that he felt capable enough caring for her.

  “What you’ve accomplished with her is nothing short of a miracle,” he said.

  “I can’t take the credit. Will Dessaro is responsible.”

  “The man she believes to be her late son?”

  “Yes. He’s wonderful with her.” A thought struck Miranda, and she sat straighter. It was grasping at straws, but she had nothing to lose. “Your sister’s going to miss him terribly if you take her to live in Carson City.”

  “I realize that, and I wish things were different. If I hadn’t so recently retired from the ministry, I’d be content for her to remain with you. Now that I have more time, I intend to dedicate myself to her. She helped put me through college. I wouldn’t have become a minister without her.”

  “Caring for someone with Alzheimer’s is more work than you realize. Without Will, she could regress.” Another desperate attempt to dissuade him. Unfortunately, he was having none of it.

  “I’m prepared. I’ll need something to keep my mind and body occupied. Retiring hasn’t been easy for me. I like being busy. Of course I’ll pay you for the entire month of January.”

  Like Mr. Lexington’s son, the reverend wasn’t going to give her the full thirty-days’ notice. Miranda didn’t call him on it. Why bother when her home and business were a fast-sinking ship? Another week’s income wouldn’t save either of them.

  How could this be happening? She’d worked so hard, sacrificed so much, done everything right to build Harmony House from the ground up. Then the fire had struck, causing a mass exodus of people from Sweetheart.

  “I’ll call later in the week once I’ve finalized the arrangements,” Reverend Donahue said. “And if you’d be kind enough to remind her daily after that, I’d appreciate it. I told her when we talked earlier, but she won’t remember.”

  “Certainly, I’ll remind her.”

  “Do you suppose there’s any chance this Will Dessaro would be willing to be there? It might make Leonora easier to handle.”

  “I can ask him. I’m sure he wants to say goodbye. He’s very fond of your sister.”

  “I’ll gladly reimburse him for his trouble.”

  She answered on Will’s behalf, certain he wouldn’t object. “Will wouldn’t take any money. Not for moving your sister.”

  “He sounds like a fine young man.”

  The reverend couldn’t have spoken truer words. Miranda was lucky to have fallen for such a good guy.

  And she had fallen for him. Thoroughly. He would be devastated to hear about Mrs. Litey. Both because he’d miss her and for Miranda, knowing what a negative impact it was going to have on her business.

  “I’ll let you go, Reverend.” Miranda sniffed. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could hang on.

  “I wish you the best, my dear. God bless you.”

  She was going to need all the blessings she could get if she had any hope of surviving this blow.

  Miranda allowed herself a few minutes before pulling herself together. After freshening up in the small bathroom, she headed downstairs.

  As if it mattered now. With only Babs and Himey left, there would be little need for thick walls and distance. Both were hard of hearing.

  She felt as if she carried a thousand-pound backpack down the stairs. If not for the railing, she’d pitch forward and tumble to the bottom.

  “What’s wrong?” Arthur asked the moment she stepped into the front room.

  Nell wasn’t here today, having taken the day off. Thank goodness. She’d be harder to fool than Arthur.

  “Nothing. Just tired.”

  “You look as if you just lost your best friend.” He came over to her and returned the portable transmitter she’d entrusted him with.

  Miranda didn’t wish to leave her residents alone, even for a few minutes. They each wore a transmitter which, when activated, would sound an alarm over the intercom system as well as alert the monitoring company to call 9-1-1. On impulse she’d left one with Arthur, too, before going upstairs.

  “Thank you.” She pocketed the transmitter, hoping he didn’t notice she’d ignored his comment.
>
  He trailed her into the kitchen. Miranda ground her teeth. She really didn’t want company right this minute.

  “I’m going to start paying you,” he said.

  “What?” She grabbed a tissue from the box on the counter and dabbed her nose.

  “My daughter told me you posted ads for adult day care on the bulletin boards at the community center and the First Community Church.”

  “Yes, but I didn’t intend for you to—” Miranda stopped herself. Hadn’t she hinted at him just a few days ago about compensating her?

  “I’ve been freeloading too long. Time I pitched in.”

  “Thank you, Arthur.” She was touched. Truly. But to be completely honest, it was too little, too late. Whatever amount he paid wouldn’t make up for the residents she’d lost. “That won’t be necessary.”

  “I insist.” He stood taller. “I pay my way.”

  “All right.” On impulse, she kissed his cheek. Compensating her was clearly important to him. And she had fed him a lot of meals since he and Babs had started seeing each other.

  He smiled and touched his cheek where she’d kissed it. “My, my! You won’t be telling Babs about that, will you? She’s a mite jealous.”

  “Better get back to her before she becomes suspicious.”

  He did, leaving Miranda with the solitude she craved.

  It was still too early to start dinner, so she fussed in the kitchen, rearranging cabinets and drawers and the pantry shelves. The busywork didn’t take her mind off her woes.

  At one point Miranda hugged herself, an arrow of fear piercing her. Her life was collapsing around her, and she was helpless to stop it.

  “Miranda, look!” Himey called from the front room.

  “You need to see this,” Arthur seconded.

  She wiped at her cheeks, not really surprised to find them damp, and hurried from the kitchen to see what was causing the excitement. In the middle of the room, she came to a sudden stop and stared out the window.

  Will was disembarking from a bright red horse-drawn sleigh. As she watched, he tethered the horse to the corner post of her neighbor’s fence. A light snow flurry had started at some point when she was in the kitchen and fell like powder. The scene could have come straight from the pages of a calendar or out of a storybook.

  “Oh, Will,” she muttered, her fingers clutching the fabric at her throat.

  Another time she would have been utterly charmed. As it was, her worries about her home and business cast a dark pall on everything.

  A moment later, he knocked at the door. Forcing a smile, Miranda let him in.

  “What’s this?” she asked. In the distance the horse bobbed her head, and a merry melody drifted toward them on the wind. “Are those jingle bells?”

  Will grinned like a kid on Christmas morning. “Get your coat. We’re going on a ride.”

  “Nell’s off work today. I can’t leave my residents alone.”

  “We’ll take them with us. There’s room for six in the sleigh. If we sit close.”

  “I don’t think Mrs. Litey will want to leave the house.” Speaking the woman’s name only served to remind Miranda that she would have one less resident in a matter of weeks.

  “Hey, are you okay?”

  Her reply was interrupted by Arthur.

  “I haven’t been on a sleigh ride in decades.” He pushed Babs’s wheelchair closer to the window. “You want to go, darling?”

  “Can we?” She fidgeted excitedly in her wheelchair.

  Himey was equally enthusiastic and came up behind Miranda, squeezing past her to view the sleigh. “Don’t see sleighs like these around much anymore. My dad had one when we were young’uns.”

  Miranda didn’t want to go. She was neither jolly nor merry. The pressure, however, was coming at her from all sides. Will, Arthur, Babs, Himey. Her chest hurt. Breathing was increasingly difficult and her temples throbbed.

  “Maybe tomorrow,” she said.

  Arthur, Babs and Himey looked stricken.

  Miranda didn’t like herself in that moment. She should put her personal woes aside and let Will take them all on a ride. Only she couldn’t make her mouth operate properly or her feet move from where they were glued to the floor.

  She wasn’t the only casualty in this situation. Poor Babs and Himey had no one nearby to take them in. Without her, they could end up homeless.

  “Miranda?” Will studied her face.

  She felt her skin heat under his gaze. “I can’t. I won’t,” she practically shouted. “No sleigh ride.”

  “Okay. We’ll go another day.”

  He placed a hand on her shoulder. The gesture should have consoled her. Instead his hand felt like a boulder, crushing her beneath it. Another minute and she was going to die. Already colors bloomed behind her closed eyelids.

  “Wh-what’s wrong? I c-can’t breathe,” she stammered.

  “Hold on, honey. I’ve got you.”

  Will supported her with an arm around her waist and murmured calming words. Hadn’t she done the same things to him when he’d had a panic attack?

  Oh, God! A panic attack. She was having one of her own, and it was awful.

  Her last thought as she surrendered to the attack was how did Will survive these?

  * * *

  “HERE, PUT THIS around you.” Will spread a blanket across Miranda’s lap.

  She was instantly warmer and slightly more in control. She wasn’t, however, less scared.

  “I’m not sure what came over me,” she said, still mortified by her breakdown.

  His arm circled her shoulder and he drew her snug against him. Someone must have given her a coat before she came outside and joined Will in the sleigh, but Miranda didn’t remember who. She looked up. The horse was still tethered to the post. Apparently they weren’t going on a ride, just sitting here.

  “Something has you rattled,” he said.

  That was an understatement.

  “Want to talk about it?”

  Miranda glanced at the house. “I should probably get back inside. Nell’s not working today.”

  “I think everyone will be okay for a few minutes. Besides, you can see them from here.”

  He was right. Three faces were peering out the window, watching her and Will. Only Babs was missing. She probably couldn’t maneuver her wheelchair to the window.

  “They must think I’ve lost it.”

  “They’re worried about you.” Will kissed her brow. “Like me.”

  She owed him an explanation. “I got a call from Reverend Donahue, Mrs. Litey’s brother. He retired a few months ago. Now that he has more time, and now that Mrs. Litey is doing better, he wants to take care of her.”

  “Not in Sweetheart, I take it.”

  “Carson City. He’s coming for her the Monday after New Year’s.” She rubbed her bare hands together, vaguely recalling that Crackers had chewed her last pair of gloves.

  Crackers! Oh, no. What would happen to her little dog? She started shaking again.

  Will covered her hands with his. “Oh, honey, I’m sorry.”

  His sympathy was sweet and kind. It also triggered a fresh wave of tears. “These things happen. It comes with running a business.” But did it have to come all at once?

  “It’s my fault.”

  That dried her tears. “What are you saying?”

  “If I hadn’t started visiting Mrs. Litey, she wouldn’t have improved.”

  “Don’t even think that way. What you did for her is wonderful. I’d rather she improve and go live with her brother than remain the way she was, miserable and making everyone around her miserable.” She could tell from his expression that he didn’t believe her. “Really, Will, it’s fine. The fire is to blame, not you.”

>   “What are your plans?” he asked after a moment.

  “I don’t have any yet.” She pressed her hands to her mouth. “Other than not losing my house.”

  “We won’t let that happen.”

  She noticed his use of the plural. That was his guilt talking. “This isn’t your problem. It’s mine.”

  “I’ll help you any way I can.”

  “Including teaching me to cope with panic attacks?” She shook her head, the irony not lost on her. Last week, she’d been the one teaching him. “I can’t believe that happened.”

  “It’s probably a one-time reaction to stress. I wouldn’t worry just yet.”

  As a nurse, she knew that. Even so, she felt no better.

  “I have to make a decision. Soon. My January payment is due in ten days and I don’t have the money for it.” Her temples pounded. A reaction to her momentary stress incident. Thinking was impossible.

  “Why don’t I talk to Sam’s wife? Or you can.”

  “About what?”

  “She and her mother researched federal grants after their inn burned. They could maybe point you in the right direction.”

  “Not sure that will do any good. Wanda from the grade school told me about an assistance program, and it turned out to be a dead end.”

  “Still might be worth talking to Annie.”

  “I don’t disagree, but applying for and receiving a grant will require weeks, if not months. I don’t have that kind of time.”

  “You could talk to the bank again. They may have other options.”

  “Like foreclosure? No, thank you.” She released a tired sigh. “I suppose I could take my folks up on their offer.”

  “You’re lucky they support you.”

  “I hate being the adult child who keeps running to their parents for a loan. Besides, the most they could afford to lend me would only get me through another month. With Arthur’s help, I might last six weeks.”

  “Arthur?”

  “He volunteered to chip in.”

  “He should.”

  Miranda glanced at the window again. There were four faces now. Babs had succeeded in joining the group and was staring out from the lower corner.