“Jace?” she whispered, her heart recognizing him before her mind did.
“Jace!” She rushed down the stairs and met him on the walkway, her heart pounding in her chest. The last she and her family had heard, he was still in Germany trying to recover enough from surgery to make it home.
She stopped inches away from the walker, afraid to touch him. She wasn’t sure where he was injured or how badly he hurt.
“Jace,” she said for the third time, and he smiled, his eyes deeply shadowed.
“This is the first time I’ve ever known you to be speechless, kid,” he said, his voice raspy and rough.
“I can’t believe you’re here. We thought you were still recovering.”
“I am. I wanted to do it here.” He released his hold on the walker and pulled her close. “I’m glad to see you’re recovering, too.”
“Wait until Mom and Dad see you! All they’ve done is worry about you and wonder when you’re coming home.” Arden kept her hand on his arm as he held onto the walker again. He was trembling, and she assumed it was from pain and fatigue, but he managed to shuffle along the snowy sidewalk. Silas walked closely behind him.
“You should have had them drop you off in front of the house,” she said as they continued up the walkway.
“They tried. I refused. I won’t get better letting everyone baby me.”
“It’s not babying. It’s smarts.” Silas spoke for the first time.
“We’ll see if you say the same if you’re ever the one walking around with a metal cage holding you up.” They made it to the steps and Arden hurried to open the front door.
Warmth drifted out. Voices. Someone asked about the open front door and the next thing she knew, her family was there, peering out, seeing Jace. The explosion of noise and joy was deafening, and she stepped back, making room for her parents and three other brothers.
Her father grabbed the walker, and her brothers flanked Jace. He made it up the five steps like an old man with achy bones, but he made it.
She let them move past, stepping farther back to give them more room. She bumped into Kane’s familiar warmth.
“Are you happy?” he whispered in her ear.
“There are no words to describe how I feel right now,” she responded, her eyes burning with something that was beyond happiness or joy. This was home and family and Christmas and love, every color and sound and scent vibrant and beautiful and heartrending.
“Speechless again?” he teased gently.
She turned in his arms, looking into his dark eyes. “Yes, but it’s probably not something you should get used to.”
He laughed and leaned down to press a quick kiss to her lips.
“Thanks for the warning.” His gaze dropped from her face to her carefully chosen outfit. She’d spent hours deciding what to wear. She’d tried on a few dresses and even borrowed one of Laney’s skirts. She’d put on blouses and cardigan sets and a dozen other things that just didn’t feel right.
In the end, she’d opted for black jeans and the Christmas sweater she’d bought on clearance last January.
She tensed as Kane’s gaze lingered on the fuzzy yarn Christmas tree, tiny blinking lights, pom-pom Christmas balls.
His gaze finally lifted, and he met her eyes with a sweet, tender smile that took her breath away. “Thank you,” he said.
“For what?”
“Not disappointing me. You look exactly like Christmas should, Arden. And you are absolutely the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”
She probably should have responded, but she was speechless again. When he took her arm and walked her inside, she still wasn’t sure what to say.
She’d always been the DeMarco boys’ sister, the tough little girl who never backed down from a fight. She’d been the computer geek, the bookworm, the quirky woman who wore odd holiday sweaters, but she’d never ever been beautiful.
Until now.
* * *
Arden lit up the room. And not because of the flashing lights on her Christmas sweater. Her smile was bright and real and so beautiful it stole Kane’s breath.
Every. Single. Time.
He watched as she moved around the room, hugging her mother and her father, sharing their joy in her brother’s homecoming. There was no artifice with Arden. Everything she felt was painted in a million nuances on her stunning face.
She glanced his way, and her cheeks went pink, her eyes sparkling. She was what he’d been looking for since he was a kid. The port in the storm. The place to come home.
“Now is as good a time as any,” Silas said quietly, catching Kane’s eye.
“What are you talking about?”
“Ask her what you need to while her family is around. Make it a memory they all can share. That’s what she loves most. Aside from you,” Silas continued, his gaze turning to Arden.
“You’re making a lot of assumptions, Si.”
“Are any of them wrong?”
“No.”
“So get to it. I’m starving, and if you start making your declarations of undying love at the dinner table, all the smarmy sweetness of it might kill my appetite.”
Kane went.
Not because Silas had told him to, but because he’d been right—Arden was all about family and memories, tradition and home. She turned as he approached, her smile as bright and tremulous as the shimmering tinsel on the tree.
“We forgot something,” he said, and she glanced around, frowning.
“We did?”
“The mistletoe?”
“It’s okay. I think Rose has forgotten.”
“Maybe, but I haven’t.” He took her hand, tugging her to the doorway where the shiny plastic mistletoe hung.
“But I’m thinking we shouldn’t switch it out,” he said. The room seemed to go quiet, the conversation fading as he looked into Arden’s bright blue eyes.
“Why not?”
“Logically speaking,” he began, and Arden grinned.
“Isn’t that my line?”
“Logically speaking,” he continued, pulling a small box from his pocket, “plastic mistletoe is better than the real stuff because it lasts forever. Like God and eternal life. Like love.” He opened the box and showed her the antique ring he’d found in a little shop in DC.
“Kane—”
“It’s just a promise. From me to you. That I will always be there when you need me. That when you’re ready, there will be another ring and a wedding and all the things that go with forever.” He took out the silver ring, a beautifully crafted dove in the center of a jeweled cross.
“It’s...beautiful,” she said. Her voice trembled, and he knew she felt what he did—the solemnness of the moment, the power of the bond they’d created together.
“Beautiful and unique. Like you. When I saw it, I knew it belonged on your finger. If you’ll wear it.”
“It’s the only logical thing to do.”
Someone laughed, but Kane was too busy looking into Arden’s face. Too busy watching a tear slide down her cheek to wonder who it was.
“Don’t cry,” he said.
“Sometimes, there’s just too much happiness to contain,” she responded. She held out her right hand since her left arm was still in a sling. He slid the ring on her finger.
“I love you.” He wiped the tear from her cheek. “Today and always.”
“I love you, too,” she replied.
“Then kiss already!” Aunt Rose crowed. “The mistletoe might be fake, but the love’s sure not!”
Arden laughed, and Kane leaned down, capturing her joy with a kiss that promised everything he wanted to give her—love, family, happiness. Home. For now and for always.
* * * * *
If you loved this story, don’t m
iss Mary Ellen Porter’s first heart-stopping romance
INTO THIN AIR
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Keep reading for an excerpt from CHRISTMAS AMENSIA by Laura Scott.
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Dear Reader,
Off the Grid Christmas was especially fun to write because it gave me the opportunity to take a quirky, socially awkward genius and have her save the world and find true love in the process—and who doesn’t like it when the underdog saves the day and gets the guy?
At its core, Arden and Kane’s story is about embracing the things that make you different and understanding that it’s those differences that make you distinctive in God’s eyes. This doesn’t mean you can’t change or evolve; it simply means you should recognize that you have been made uniquely capable of fulfilling the purpose God has for your life.
It’s also a story about faith and forgiveness. God offers forgiveness to those who seek it, yet—like Kane—some of us struggle with letting go of our mistakes. Forgiving is not about forgetting; it’s simply about putting the past behind us and moving forward in God. We must fix our thoughts on what is good because dwelling on regrets drains us of the strength we need to become the person God wants us to be.
Mary Ellen
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Christmas Amnesia
by Laura Scott
ONE
Assistant district attorney Madison Callahan hesitated on the concrete steps of the Milwaukee County Courthouse, shivering in the cold breeze coming off Lake Michigan. Had she heard something? Or was she letting her imagination run wild?
Working late and leaving at nine o’clock at night wasn’t unusual, but for some undefined reason she hesitated. Giving herself a mental shake, she continued down the stairs, careful to avoid any icy patches.
When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she instinctively headed toward the reassuring streetlight, digging in her purse for her phone. Normally she walked the three-quarters of a mile to her condo, but since the hour was late, she decided to pull up the ride-sharing app on her phone.
She was moments from confirming her pickup location for her ride when strong arms yanked her backward, causing her to drop the phone. She sucked in a breath to scream, but the arms tightened crushingly around her. The sharp edge of a blade pressed painfully against her throat.
“Drop the case or you will all die, including the two old ladies in the house on the hill.”
Maddy froze, her mind grappling with what was happening. Two old ladies had to be referring to her mother and grandmother, but how did this guy know where her family lived?
She forced herself to speak. “Did Alexander Pietro send you?”
The blade pressed deeper, causing her to suck in a harsh breath from the sharp pain. Something warm trickled over her skin. Blood? Was this man going to slit her throat right here?
Headlights swept over the road, brightening as a vehicle approached, but before she could be relieved that help had arrived, the man holding her suddenly gave her a hard shove, causing her head to crack soundly against the solid steel of the light post.
Pain exploded in her temple and she felt herself falling, arms flailing as she sought to break her fall. Her last fleeting thought was that she needed to find a way to keep her mother and grandmother safe. If anything happened to them, she’d never be able to live with herself.
* * *
“Ma’am? Can you hear me?”
She moaned and blinked, the light overhead painfully bright. Her head was pounding so hard she thought she might throw up. “Yes,” she croaked. “I can hear you.”
“That’s good.” An older guy, with salt-and-pepper hair and thick black-rimmed glasses, filled her field of vision. He was blurry initially, but then became clear. “Can you tell me your name?”
“Huh?” Moving her head hurt too much, so she stared at the man. He was dressed in green scrubs, a stethoscope wrapped around his neck.
“Your name,” he repeated patiently. “There wasn’t any ID found at the scene.”
She opened her mouth, then shut it again. Of course she knew her name. Didn’t she? The pain in her head quadrupled and she winced, closing her eyes and swallowing hard, willing the contents of her stomach to stay put.
Panic gripped her throat, making it impossible to breathe. Why couldn’t she tell this man her name? What was wrong? Could it be that the pain was making her confused?
Forcing her eyelids open, she stared at the stranger looming over her. Concern darkened his gaze.
“We need to get a CT scan of her brain,” he said to someone nearby. “Make sure there isn’t any intracranial bleeding.”
If pain was a good way to judge potential bleeding, then she was all for the brain scan. But even as the hospital staff wheeled her over to the radiology department, she couldn’t ignore the strange sense of urgency that weighed heavily on her chest. She needed to get up and out of here; there was something very important for her to do.
But what? There was nothing but a dark void where her sense of self should have been.
Not just her name, but all of her memories were missing, lost in the swirling vortex of black pain.
Thankfully the scan didn’t take long. As she was being wheeled through the hallway back to the ER, at least what she assumed was an ER, a handsome man wearing a navy blue police uniform caught her gaze.
“Maddy? You’re the mugging victim? What happened?”
She stared at him for a moment, hoping she’d recognize him. For some weird reason, the dark navy blue MPD uniform was reassuring.
Wait, MPD? Milwaukee Police Department? How did she know what the initials stood for? Why not Minneapolis or some other city?
No clue.
“Maddy,” he said again, crossing over and reaching for the side rail of her gurney. “What happened? Are you all right?”
It took her a long second to realize this man seemed to know her. “Maddy?” she echoed with a frown. “Is that my name?”
The officer’s face paled with alarm and he kept pace with the orderlies who were currently pushing her through the hallway. “You don’t know your name? Do you recognize me?” he asked.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured, feeling as if she was letting this guy down. She hoped he wasn’t her boyfriend or someone she’d once dated. He was attractive, with his short blond hair and deep brown eyes, and she could easily imagine herself dati
ng a guy who looked like him. “My head hurts.”
“Officer, you can’t come into her room,” the orderly said.
“Just try and stop me,” the cop said, his features etched in a fierce scowl. “I’m here to take her statement.”
“I’m getting Dr. Wagner.” The orderly disappeared, leaving her alone with the officer.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“Noah Sinclair,” he said, his gaze expectant as if the words would spark some sort of memory.
They didn’t.
“You’re with the Milwaukee Police Department, aren’t you?” she asked.
“Yes. Maddy, I need to understand what happened. Who did this to you?”
“I don’t know what happened.” Boy, was she sick and tired of saying that! “All I know is that I woke up here, in the hospital with a skull-splitting headache.”
“Listen, how about I call your brother? I’m sure once you see Matt, your memory will return.”
Brother? It seemed wrong that she couldn’t remember a brother. Although maybe she wasn’t close to her family. For some reason she couldn’t explain, she didn’t want this cop calling anyone on her behalf.
“No. Please, don’t.” Reaching up, she managed to grasp his wrist, the warmth of his skin oddly reassuring. “I—Just give me a few minutes, okay? I’m sure I’ll remember everything soon enough.”
Officer Sinclair’s deep brown eyes held indecision. She tightened her grip.
“Please. I need some time.”
He glanced down at her hand on his arm, then lifted his gaze back to hers. “Okay, I’ll hold off for now. But I hope that doctor comes back soon. I have a few questions.”
“Thank you.” Her hand slipped from his arm and she closed her eyes in an attempt to clear her mind. Her poor brain cells were scrambled like eggs. All she needed was a little rest.
Off the Grid Christmas Page 20