Silver Bells

by Fern Michaels

  Her green eyes, expressive like her mommy’s, glistened with emotion. “Even when it’s something that belongs to someone else? Something they weren’t supposed to touch?”

  “Accidents happen, Megan. Did you break something?”

  The tears that had been welling in her eyes overflowed onto her cheeks. “It was an accident, Mac. Don’t put me in jail. Please!”

  “No one is going to put you in jail, honey. I won’t let them.”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck, nearly squeezing the heart right out of him. “I didn’t mean to do it, Mac. I touched Mr. Iverson’s angel, and it fell over all by itself. And the arm broke off. And the halo, too. I was so scared he was going to get mad at me and hit me with his cane, like he said he was going to do to Tommy. So I picked up all the pieces and hid them so no one could find them.”

  “Where’d you hide the angel?” he asked. “I’d like to see it. I might be able to fix it and put it back where it belongs.”

  “Really?” She loosened her hold to search his face for sincerity.

  He tapped his finger on the tip of her lightly freckled nose. “I haven’t seen it yet, but even if it’s as badly broken as Humpty Dumpty, I’ll figure out a way to fix this whole mess for you. Okay?”

  Her smile lit up her face, and she wrapped her arms around his neck again. “When I heard you were a policeman and you were Mr. Iverson’s friend, I thought you would take me to jail.”

  “Nothing doing, sweetheart.” Mac held her close.

  “You’re the best police in the whole, wide world.”

  Mac didn’t know about that. But he sure liked having this little girl think so.

  Chapter Eleven

  The next day, Jillian stood beside the kitchen table and studied the broken ceramic figurine she and Mac had painstakingly repaired. Rather than return the angel broken, they’d decided to take it back to Mr. Iverson in one piece, although at one point, she hadn’t been sure that would be possible.

  Yesterday, they’d had trouble getting the pieces to attach properly, but the new glue Mac had purchased earlier today had worked much better than they’d expected. A little putty had filled in the gaps and holes, so if their luck held, they would be able to return the angel to Mr. Iverson before heading to Mulberry Park for Christmas Under the Stars.

  “I think it looks pretty good,” Mac said as he surveyed their handiwork.

  The paint was chipped and cracked in numerous places, but they’d left those spots alone. Instead, they’d only tried to match the white, gold, and flesh color to cover the putty and the places where they’d glued the arm and halo back together.

  Tommy tiptoed and craned his neck to assess the angel. “You can’t even see the broken lines anymore. That glue and paint you bought worked really good.”

  Jillian had no idea what Mr. Iverson would say when they returned his angel, but they’d done their best to repair the damage. She’d also made a batch of sugar cookies this morning—stars, bells, and Christmas trees—that she and the kids had frosted and decorated with candy sprinkles. She hoped their elderly neighbor would accept the platter of cookies as a peace offering, along with their apologies.

  Megan, who was kneeling on the seat of her chair and resting her elbows on the kitchen table, had closely watched their attempts to glue the angel back together. “Do I have to go with you when you take it back to Mr. Iverson? I’m scared. I don’t want him to get mad at me.”

  Mac placed a hand on the child’s shoulder. “Sometimes it’s hard to do the right thing, Megan. But if it makes you feel better, your mom, your brother, and I will be right there with you.”

  “Yeah,” Tommy said, “and Mac won’t let Mr. Iverson yell at you or anything.”

  “That’s right.” Mac glanced at Jillian and winked.

  What had she done to deserve a man like him? Not that she had him by any means. It’s just that they’d somehow become a team in the past couple of days.

  Of course, they hadn’t even broached the subject of how or even if he was going to fit into their lives. He’d just seemed to slide right in, as though he’d always belonged. And for the first time in ages, she was actually looking forward to Christmas.

  Thanks to Mac’s efforts, a fully decorated noble fir sat in the living room, surrounded by ten or twelve wrapped gifts. Lights adorned their front yard now, even though their decorations weren’t anywhere near as elaborate as those of most of the other neighbors.

  In spite of the comments he’d made about his inexperience with kids, Mac had proven to be wonderful with hers. He might not have had a paternal role model growing up, but he was a natural. In fact, he was everything she’d ever wanted in a father for her children.

  He was everything she’d ever wanted in a husband, too.

  The kiss they’d shared the night before last had turned her knees to Jell-O, just as all of his kisses had once done to her. But interestingly enough, they seemed to be pretending it hadn’t happened, and neither of them had dared to mention it again.

  Too bad, she thought, as she stole an appreciative glance at Mac. She’d love to throw her arms around his neck and kiss him again, although she wasn’t sure how to orchestrate something like that without being obvious.

  “There’s something else we probably ought to discuss,” Mac said, sobering and stepping away from the table.

  Tommy perked up, as he was prone to do each time Mac spoke. “What’s that?”

  “Do you remember that picture Mr. Iverson showed you of his wife?”

  The boy nodded. “Yeah, she was holding a dog that looked a lot like Princess Leia.”

  “Do you remember what he said happened to his dog?” Mac asked.

  “It ran away after Mrs. Iverson died.”

  Mac appeared to study the statue, and Jillian studied Mac.

  “Remember the day we brought the dog home from the park?” he asked both kids.

  “She was all dirty,” Megan said. “And we had to give her a bath.”

  “Yep. And that very first day, when we set her down in your front yard, she dashed off to Mr. Iverson’s house. She did the same thing when she got out later that day.”

  “Yeah,” Tommy said. “So what?”

  “Don’t you think that’s kind of weird?” Mac asked.

  Jillian tensed. Uh-oh. Did Mac suspect the kids’ dog had once belonged to Mr. Iverson?

  If that was true, their peacemaking efforts could blow sky high.

  “You mean like the two dogs and the kitty in Homeward Bound: The Incredible Journey?” Megan asked.

  Mac glanced at Jillian, a question in his eyes.

  “That’s the story of three lost pets that make their way home.”

  “Yes,” Mac said. “That’s what I’m thinking.”

  “But Princess Leia is our dog.” Megan sat up straight, although she still knelt in the seat of the chair. “Mommy said we could keep her.”

  Jillian couldn’t voice the words. Mac was right, of course. If the dog belonged to Mr. Iverson, they’d have to return it to him.

  Mac shifted his weight to one foot. “The only reason your mom told you that it was okay to keep that dog was because she thought it was a stray. She didn’t realize it might have an owner.”

  “But Mr. Iverson was mean to her,” Tommy said. “Remember? He pushed her away and called her a mangy mutt.”

  “You’ll find that things always work out for the best when you do the right thing,” Mac said, “even when doing the right thing hurts.”

  “Maybe our dog only looks like his dog,” Megan said.

  “You might be right.” But when Mac glanced at Jillian, she suspected that he had his doubts.

  “We can talk to Mr. Iverson about the dog later,” Mac said, as he picked up the figurine. “Let’s return the angel first.”

  Moments later, as they stood on Mr. Iverson’s porch, Mac held the angel in one arm and rang their neighbor’s bell with the other.

  Charlie Iverson answered the door wearing a g
reen flannel shirt, red suspenders, and a pair of black trousers. His gray hair stuck up in back, as Tommy’s sometimes did.

  “What’s all this?” He glanced at the plate of cookies Jillian held. When he spotted the angel, he brightened. “Where’d you find that?”

  Megan slid behind Mac and wrapped an arm around his leg.

  A heartfelt confession might be the right thing to do, but Meggie was only six and afraid, so Jillian made the plea. “My daughter was admiring your angel the other day, and it accidentally fell over and broke. She was so afraid that she’d get in trouble, she hid the pieces. And when Mac and I found out what had happened, we glued it back together.”

  Charlie peered at Megan and frowned.

  The child tightened her grip on Mac’s leg, but managed to say in a soft voice, “I’m sorry, Mr. Iverson. I didn’t mean to break it. I just wanted to see how the wings fit on her back. My grandpa is in Heaven, and before he died, he told me not to be sad ’cause he was going to have fun flying around the clouds.”

  Charlie merely chuffed, then took the angel from Mac and looked it over carefully.

  “It’s as good as new,” Mac told him. “No harm done.”

  The old man didn’t answer, and Mac nudged his arm. “Come on, Charlie. Tell Megan that you accept her apology. She’s afraid of you and thinks you’re a mean old man. Let her know that’s not true.”

  Charlie’s brow furrowed, and one side of his lip quirked up in an attempt to grin.

  “I suspect Grace has a pair of wings right now, too,” Mac added. “And knowing how much she loved children, she’s probably fluttering up a storm overhead, frustrated with you for not welcoming the new neighbors like she would have done.”

  Little Megan glanced up, as though wondering if there really was an angel looking down on them, and Jillian held her breath, hoping for the best.

  Charlie ran a hand over his head, just now figuring out that his hair was mussed. Then he inhaled deeply, slowly blew it out, and looked at Megan. “I’m not such a bad sort. It’s just that I’ve lost a lot this year, and I’m trying to hang on to whatever I can.”

  “We’ve lost a loved one, too,” Jillian said. “My dad passed away last year, so, like you, we’re facing a lonely Christmas.”

  “It’s tough,” Charlie admitted. “I’ll sure be glad when it’s all over.”

  Jillian offered the old man a warm smile. “I know just what you mean. Maybe it would help if we had Christmas dinner together this year. I’m fixing turkey and all the trimmings, and we’d love to have you join us.”

  Charlie’s eyes glistened, and he offered Jillian a weak smile. “Thanks, but I hate to put you out. I’ll just stay home and eat a TV dinner.”

  “Oh, you won’t be putting me out,” Jillian said. “It’s a huge turkey. Besides, I’m inviting Mac, too, and it would be nice if he had another man to talk to.”

  Charlie shot a glance at Mac, then shrugged. “Okay. I guess I can always save that TV dinner for another day.”

  “Good.” Jillian lifted the platter of cookies. “By the way, the kids and I made these for you.”

  As Charlie looked at the yellow stars and green trees, a tear slid down his craggy cheek. “I didn’t expect to have any homemade goodies this year.”

  “You know,” Jillian said, “that’s the nice thing about Christmas. We can usually expect a surprise or two.”

  As another tear slid down Charlie’s face, he swiped at it with a gnarled hand, then glanced at Mac. “Looks like there’s a new cookie lady on our street.”

  Jillian wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but Mac slid an arm around the old man’s shoulders and gave him a squeeze.

  After leaving the angel and the platter with Mr. Iverson, they all headed back to Jillian’s house. As soon as they got home, she was going to tell the kids to grab their jackets and to help her pack some lawn chairs and blankets in the car. It might be nice to arrive at Mulberry Park early. That way, the kids could play before the event started.

  As they stepped onto the sidewalk, Jillian noticed a familiar figure standing on her front porch, and her heart turned inside out. She slid a glance at Mac, as though he could somehow fix this awkward situation, too.

  “Daddy!” Megan clapped her hands, then dashed off to meet the guy who was supposed to be on a cruise with his new family.

  Chapter Twelve

  Mac hadn’t needed a crystal ball to figure out who’d shown up at Jillian’s house, and Megan’s enthusiastic response to seeing her daddy had only validated his assumption.

  “Jared?” Jillian asked, her voice indicating she was every bit as surprised to see her ex-husband as Mac was. “What are you doing here?”

  The tall, dark-haired man in his late thirties stooped to pick up his daughter. “I came to see you and the kids.”

  “I realize that,” she said, “but you’re supposed to be on a cruise.”

  “I flew back early.” Jared’s gaze drifted from Jillian to Mac. “Who are you?”

  Tommy, whose steps had slowed, didn’t appear to be as happy to see his father as his sister was. “This is Mac, our friend, the cop.”

  Mac knew he ought to reach out and shake the man’s hand, but he’d rather send him packing instead. Yet while he didn’t feel like making the first move, he did so anyway. “Mac Maguire.”

  “Jared Ridgeway.”

  An uncomfortable moment stretched between them, as they assessed each other like two adversaries with their hearts set on the same prize.

  Jared broke eye contact first and returned his attention to Jillian. “I…uh…got to thinking that I should come and see what was going on here. Megan was pretty upset when I talked to her on the phone the other night.”

  Can you blame her? Mac wanted to ask, but he clamped his mouth shut and crossed his arms instead.

  “We need to talk,” Jared told Jillian.

  Mac could understand that. Like it or not, they had children together. And over the next few years, they’d have a lot of reasons to talk. Of course, even when the kids grew up and went on to college, Jared and Jillian would still have to see each other at social events, such as graduations, weddings, christenings. So if Mac was going to be a part of her and the kids’ lives, he’d have to get used to times like this.

  “Can we talk later?” she asked. “The kids and I were planning a trip to the park.”

  “You can come, too,” Megan told her daddy. “It’s got a really fun playground, and we get to stay there even when it gets dark. We’re going to sit on blankets and drink hot cocoa and eat cookies and other good stuff.”

  Now things had really taken an awkward shift, and Mac realized he’d better give the man the privacy he undoubtedly wanted.

  “Listen, Jillian.” Mac uncrossed his arms and nodded toward his house across the cul de sac. “I’ve got some things I need to do, so I’ll see you later.”

  Her lips parted as though she wanted to object, but she didn’t. How could she?

  On the other hand, Jared seemed relieved that Mac was leaving, yet Mac didn’t feel so good about it. Still, it wasn’t his place to stick around.

  And he had to face the fact that it might never be.

  He watched as Jared placed a hand on Jillian’s shoulder and gave it an affectionate squeeze. The effect was so distressing that he had to look away. In fact, he couldn’t stay here any longer.

  As he turned to go, Mac overheard the other man say, “I started thinking about a lot of things after my call the other night. And I began to realize I’d made a mistake.”

  He’d made a mistake, all right. A big one. And while remorse was usually a good thing, the guy shouldn’t have left his wife and kids in the first place. Not when that wife was Jillian.

  Still, as she seemed to ponder the words her ex had said, and as Mac read between the lines of silence, he continued on his way, waiting for fate to slam into him once again. To take every last bit of hope he’d ever harbored and to dash it against a wall of reality.

&nb
sp; And reality sucked.

  No matter what he’d told himself over the past fifteen years, he’d never really gotten over Jillian. And he probably never would.

  He wanted to slam his fist into something rock hard and solid. Maybe the pain of tearing flesh and cracking bones could take his mind off a breaking heart.

  Yet he trudged on.

  “Let’s go in the house,” Ridgeway told his family.

  Mac supposed they did deserve some privacy, but he wasn’t about to stick around and listen to their discussion, even if he’d had the heart to.

  He was losing Jillian all over again, and he couldn’t help but kick himself for allowing it to happen.

  Why hadn’t he told Charlie he didn’t want to get involved in a neighborly dispute? Or why hadn’t he just broached the subject with Jillian, then gone about his own business?

  Instead, like a fool, he’d followed his heart. And now he was heading back to his house, determined to hold his chin up. But he wasn’t going to stay on Sugar Plum Lane another day. It might only be a fifteen minute drive to downtown San Diego, but it was a world away from Fairbrook.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the neighbor who’d been working on the ’56 T-bird was outside again. This time he was buffing a layer of Turtle Wax on the hood.

  When the older man glanced up from his work and noticed Mac, he shot him a friendly smile. “Hello, there. How’s it going?”

  Under different circumstances, Mac might have used the excuse to check out the man’s handiwork, to shoot the breeze about rebuilt engines and classic cars. But other than a brief nod and uttering, “Great,” Mac didn’t want to be bothered.

  Right now, he couldn’t care less about cars or neighbors or even being polite. All he could think of doing was to get out of Dodge with his pride still intact.

  It was time to pack up his stuff and head back to the loft apartment in the Gaslamp District. Maybe he’d just go ahead and list Ray’s house with the Realtor as a fixer-upper and sell it as is. That way, he wouldn’t have to stick around any longer.