A Riverwalk Christmas: Four-in-One Collection

by Elizabeth Goddard, Martha Rogers, Lynette Sowell

  What was going on? Had he arranged this just for her? Her pulse increased at the sight of him. Tears streamed down her face.

  With his actions, he melted her heart as though it were a candle, the flame his love.

  Thank You, Lord. She couldn’t have asked for a better Christmas gift than to see Joshua announcing that he loved her to the world.

  The mariachi band started their music back up, this time playing softly. Soon enough she recognized the tune, “Si Nos Dejan,” “If They Allow Us.”

  “If they allow us, we will love each other a lifetime,” she sang under her breath in English, though the band sang it in Spanish.

  Ecko was more than familiar with tune. She recalled an article she’d written—the song was used as a proposal.

  She took a step toward Joshua. Was he proposing to her? Each step came faster, and as she drew near, she could see the love in his eyes and hear the words of his voice—a beautiful singing voice. She hadn’t known him long enough to hear it.

  Joshua placed his hand over his heart, and Ecko stopped short, so stunned was she. He was proposing—he was really going to do this. Swaying back and forth, his melodrama would almost have been comical if she didn’t adore him so much. To give him room, people eased away from him on all sides. Ecko could see the river mere inches behind him.

  Would he go down on one knee now?

  She closed the distance between them, wanting to be there to answer, though she hadn’t given much thought to what that might be yet. But, with the way she loved him, she doubted it required much thought.

  Finally, she stood face-to-face with the man she loved. “Joshua,” she said, feeling breathless. “I love you, too.”

  Joshua grinned. She thought he would lean in to kiss her.

  Instead, he took a step back.

  Cold water engulfed him, taking his breath away. He drew in an untimely gulp of water and felt the pain in his nose. Coughing and sputtering, he stood, almost instantly going numb with the bite of the San Antonio winter. What had just happened?

  Idiot! He had planned to go down on one knee and propose to the woman of his dreams. Wanting to make things right with Ecko, he knew in his heart that a romantic Christmas proposal would heal them both. But Ecko had stood so close to him—oh, so close—he could have kissed her. Instead of going down on his knee, he took a step back.

  As he caught his breath and shook the water from his hair, smiling faces hovered over him as hands reached into the river and pulled him out. Ignoring his protests, Ecko hugged him to her.

  Against his ear, she whispered, “Yes, my love, yes.”

  Shivering, he could barely respond. In his peripheral vision, he spotted Marcy, throwing towels around each of them.

  “Hurry inside, you two,” she said.

  Before he took a step, he gained control over his chilled body. “Did you hear that?” he announced. “She said yes!”

  The crowd cheered and applauded. The mariachi band began again, this time playing “Gloria in Excelsis Deo”—“Glory to God in the Highest.”

  Joshua couldn’t agree more as he tugged his bride-to-be close, and together, they escaped the night into the restaurant and Marcy’s nurturing.

  He would never regret having a second chance to fall into the San Antonio River.

  Epilogue

  Mmmm. Ecko drew in the aroma of the cinnamon rolls she’d placed in the oven to bake. By the smell of them, they were close to being ready. Joshua always loved the smell of cinnamon when he came home. Since this was his busy season, he wouldn’t be home until late and hadn’t wanted her to cook dinner. Instead, he assured her he would bring takeout with him. Still, she loved to think how it made him feel to come home to something freshly baked.

  And to come home to his new wife.

  “Italian, Mexican, or Chinese?” he’d asked.

  “Surprise me,” she’d said. Oh, but her mind was drifting from the task at hand.

  Knitting her eyebrows, she stared at the page and finished typing the last line of the human interest article she’d been working on regarding Tommy Hernandez, of the Hernandez-owned La Cocina del Rio.

  Tommy has reached his goal of walking again and looks forward to finishing his Associate degree in Computer Information Systems. He’s a testimony to the fact that someone’s past doesn’t dictate their future.

  Pressing her hand into the small of her back, she waddled into the kitchen to check on the cinnamon rolls. She tipped the oven door open to peek at the rolls. “Hurry up, will you?” Her mouth was watering already. Plus, she wanted them ready and waiting for him.

  He was working to complete a huge light display for a downtown bank. She was so proud of her husband.

  Her husband.

  She released a contented sigh, marveling at the way things had turned out. A photograph of her and Joshua on their wedding day was stuck to the refrigerator door. Ecko ran her finger over it.

  A year ago she’d come to San Antonio, hoping to land a job to keep her near Daddy. But the Lord had so much more in mind for her. Though she’d not taken the job offer, she’d found that she loved freelancing, writing what she wanted and when she wanted. There were plenty of heart-wrenching and life-changing stories out there to draw an editor’s attention.

  Ecko tugged the photo from the refrigerator door and held it to her heart. Much more important than her career, she’d fallen in love, and what a whirlwind romance it had been.

  “That man is still sweeping me off my feet.” She spoke softly to the child inside.

  From behind, arms wrapped around her bulging waist.

  “I hope so. I have plans to do just that tonight,” Joshua said, whispering into her ear.

  Tingles crawled over her, and she rested her head against his shoulder. “Mr. Sheppard, how did you get in without me hearing you?”

  “I have a key, and you were talking to yourself, Mrs. Sheppard.”

  She giggled, enjoying his loving embrace. Turning to face him, she wrapped her arms around his neck, but she couldn’t get nearly as close as she wanted with her middle protruding as it was.

  “And what do you have planned?”

  “It’s our anniversary, don’t you remember?”

  Ecko frowned. “But we were married in February, not December. What are you talking about?” Her father and Joshua’s mother had wed the day after Christmas as planned, and Ecko wanted to give Daddy and his new bride their special day. She and Joshua waited a whole two months—an eternity!

  “It’s the anniversary of the day I proposed to you.” He drew near, close enough to kiss her, and spoke softly. “And if we don’t get out of here now, we may not leave.”

  “Ah, you mean the second time you fell into the river because of me.” She snuggled her head against his chest, smiling at the memory.

  “The third time I fell, actually.”

  Ecko drew back to search his dark eyes. “What are you talking about?”

  “I fell the first time I met you, and then again when I fell in love with you. So, my proposal is the third time that I fell because of you.” Releasing her completely, he winked, then grabbed the pot holders and tugged the rolls from the oven.

  Ecko almost cried. “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry.”

  “They’re only a little burnt. But they can wait. I thought it would be nice to have dinner at La Cocina del Rio.”

  “You’re so sweet,” Ecko said and nuzzled his neck. His thoughtfulness flooded her heart with joy. Again, she thought she might cry. Joshua was probably tired of seeing her tears. It was only the hormones, she was sure. “But, I certainly don’t want to see a repeat of you falling into that river.”

  He pressed his lips against hers. “Not a chance of that tonight.”

  A sudden tightness, then a deep ache rippled through Ecko’s abdomen. She backed from Joshua and bent forward. Wrapping her arms around her belly, she moaned. “No, not a chance of that tonight. Not if Little Josh has anything to say about it.”

  ELIZABETH G
ODDARD is a seventh-generation Texan who recently spent five years in beautiful Southern Oregon, which serves as a setting for some of her novels. She is now back in East Texas, living near her family. When she’s not writing, she’s busy homeschooling her four children. Beth is the author of several novels and novellas. She’s actively involved in several writing organizations including American Christian Fiction Writers (ACFW) and loves to mentor new writers.

  Find out more about Beth at www.elizabethgoddard.com.

  KEY TO HER HEART

  by Martha Rogers

  Dedication

  To my ACFW encouragers and mentors DiAnn Mills, Kim Sawyer, Lena Nelson Dooley, Deborah Raney, Brandilyn Collins, and Connie Stevens because you believed in me and prayed with me to bring me to this point.

  To my crit partners Janice Thompson, Linda Kozar, and Kathleen Y’Barbo.

  And as always, to my husband, Rex, for his patience, understanding, and support.

  Chapter 1

  The ledger book closed with a thud. What a mess. Valerie Murray needed more than four years of business classes at the university to fix this hodgepodge of numbers. Half of Aunt Cora’s notations and entries were like a foreign language. Apparently, her aunt knew nothing about computers and spreadsheets. Ever since Uncle Will’s death, Cora had tried to take care of the books, but she sorely lacked her husband’s business knowledge. No wonder she wanted to get rid of the shop and had handed over the lease to Val.

  Val closed her eyes and massaged her temples. She needed help and needed it soon or Cora’s Cards and Gifts would be closed by Thanksgiving if not sooner. The numbers she could work out on her laptop, but the inventory, invoices, and sales figures would take weeks to translate.

  Aunt Cora had warned that she had trouble keeping up with the accounting, but Val had no idea of the quagmire produced by poor records, missing receipts, and cryptic remarks. How her aunt managed to keep the store going for the past few years posed a big mystery at the moment and one Val would have to solve in a hurry if she wanted to stay open.

  She pushed back from the desk in the cramped office and wandered out into the store itself. This had been one of her favorite places as a young girl. The gifts on display now reminded her of those wonderful afternoons she’d spent helping out when in high school.

  It’d been only three days since Aunt Cora handed her the keys and smiled. “I know how much you loved this place when you were a child, and if anyone can take care of it, it’s you.”

  There had been no time for her to look over the merchandise in those three days with anything more than a cursory glance, but now she bent closer to scrutinize the items more closely. They looked exactly like the figurines from those days. Val gasped. Surely her aunt hadn’t kept inventory around that long. As much as she loved all the angels in the special display, some of them had to be nearly ten years old, if not fifteen. No wonder the store was sinking. This place needed a thorough inventory check. She should have thought of that sooner, but the garbled books took so much time to decode.

  She wished Uncle Will were still around to help her, but then Aunt Cora would not have given up the store. Her aunt and uncle had managed the store quite well until his death four years ago. He’d taken his nights and some weekends to oversee the business out of love for his wife, and she been the one to work with customers and merchandise.

  With a nod to the lone salesclerk on duty, Val scurried back to the office and began rummaging through the piles of papers there. After an hour of sorting and stacking, some semblance of order began to take shape. Not to her surprise, some of the invoices did date back ten years ago, around the time she had left to attend college, and a few further back than that. She tapped her chin with her pen. Surely Uncle Will had seen to it that new merchandise was ordered.

  She delved back into the stack, but the more papers and receipts she found, the more dismay filled her. The first thing in order was to evaluate the inventory, check it against the invoices, and determine when Aunt Cora last ordered new merchandise. The only current bills to be found were those for the cards. At least those were kept up-to-date, but Val had to decide what to do with the old cards she’d found in the storeroom.

  Susie poked her head around the door. “Miss Murray, there’s someone here to see you. Actually he asked for Mrs. Bennett, but I told him she wasn’t here at the moment, so he asked to see the manager. I guess that’s you.”

  Val shook her head and blew out her breath. “Please call me Val. Miss Murray makes me sound as old as my aunt.” Then she bit her lip. Surely one of Aunt Cora’s creditors hadn’t come to demand payment for a delinquent bill. “Tell him I’ll be right out.”

  One glance back at the ledger affirmed she had no money to pay a large bill at the moment. Aunt Cora, how could you have made such a mess?

  She squared her shoulders to meet whatever faced her in the shop. When she stepped through the door, she spotted a tall man in a tan knit shirt. Her shoulders relaxed. Probably just a customer. She pasted on a smile and headed toward him. The man turned around … and Val’s world turned upside down. Colt Jamison was back in Texas and standing in her store.

  When he had left with no explanation five years ago, her heart had broken, but she had managed to glue the pieces back together. Seeing him now, smiling as though the five years didn’t exist, caused a rumble of anger to begin deep inside. Val clenched her fists and pressed them to her sides in order to control her emotions. She had loved him so much, but with no letters or attempts to contact her the first year, she’d locked her heart against ever being hurt like that again.

  Colt’s heart jumped and his nerves tingled as he locked gazes with Val Murray. She was the last person he expected to see in Cora Bennett’s shop. He had expected to run into her before he left town, but he wasn’t prepared for it to be so soon. He searched her face for any of the feelings he had once seen there, but now only a mixture of surprise, wariness, and distrust filled her features. He could hardly expect more since she hadn’t answered any of his letters.

  “Hi, Val, I had no idea you worked here. I thought you were still in Dallas.” He glanced beyond her shoulder. “Where’s your aunt?” He had a thousand other questions for her, but that was the only one to make it out of his mouth.

  “I don’t just work here. I own the place now. Aunt Cora retired and handed it over to me.” Her gaze narrowed. “What are you doing in San Antonio? Did New York lose its glamour?”

  Now that Cora Bennett didn’t own the store, he wasn’t sure how to answer her questions. He pulled a folded letter from his pocket but then decided not to reveal its contents to Val. “Just wanted to check up on an old friend.” No need for her to know he’d quit his job to come back because of her aunt.

  “Aunt Cora has retired, and I imagine she’s with some of her friends playing bridge, or she’s volunteering for some project at church.”

  Her words carried no welcome, only disinterest, and he shook his head. “That’s Aunt Cora, always busy.”

  Val glanced at her watch. “I have a lot to do, so if you’ll excuse me.” She turned to leave.

  “Val, wait. How’s the store doing?” It couldn’t be doing well according to Cora’s letter, and the place looked just the same as it had five years ago when he left. But he wasn’t ready to let Val go yet.

  She hesitated a moment and tilted her head as though contemplating an answer. Finally she shrugged. “I’m not sure. The books are a mess, and I’m trying to decipher all of her codes and notations.”

  The contents of Cora’s letter burned in his memory. She had asked for his help, but at the moment he didn’t think Val would be very accepting of that fact. Still he had to offer. “Would you like me to take a look at them?”

  She stared at him for a moment, indecision in her eyes. “I don’t know what you’ll find that I haven’t, but a fresh look may help.” She turned on her heel and beckoned him to follow her. “Everything’s in the office.”

  The stacks of papers and piles of f
olders that greeted him brought forth a long, low whistle. “Wow. You do have a mess on your hands.”

  Val handed him a stack of files. “See if you can put these in any kind of order, and I’ll work on the ones here.” She picked up another stack and sat down at her desk.

  Colt moved papers from another chair and settled himself for the task ahead. They worked in silence for a few minutes before he sensed a movement beside him. He glanced up and caught her looking at him. For one brief moment, pain glittered in her eyes and burned through to his very soul. Then a veil dropped over her eyes and covered any emotion he may have seen.

  He blinked then returned to his task. If he kept looking at those amber-flecked brown eyes, his mouth might speak before his brain could think, and he wasn’t ready to open those old wounds yet.

  “How’s your job in New York?”

  Colt’s heart jumped in his chest, and his throat closed so that he couldn’t speak. After a moment he said, “I’ve been with an advertising agency there.” That much was true, but now was not the time to reveal the rest.

  “Then you’ve been using your creative juices to sell stuff.”

  He nodded and shuffled a few papers. “I guess you could look at it that way. I take a product and build a campaign around it with slogans and ads for television or magazines, but all my artwork is done on the computer.”

  “You should have been a salesman with your ability to talk people into doing whatever you wanted them to do.”

  The acid in that remark cut through Colt like etching on glass. Her hurt went deeper than he’d imagined. Perhaps that was the reason she hadn’t answered his letters, but he couldn’t ask about that now. He didn’t want a second rejection. “Is that what I did? I thought y’all just wanted to have a good time.” The words hung in the air, and he wanted to snatch them back and stuff them where they’d never be heard again.