He smiled. “Hi there, Nicole. I’m not all that sure I found him, but yeah, here he is.”
Relief and joy and gratitude collided into a huge pile of emotion that couldn’t be—shouldn’t be—ignored. She threw herself at him, wrapped her arms around him and held on just as tightly as she had with Roscoe. “You found him, Parker,” she repeated in a sob, her face pressed against his coat and her words colliding into one another. “You found him and you brought him home. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
“Aw, Nicole, you’re welcome,” he said, his voice low. “Truth is, I didn’t so much find him as he found me, almost as if he knew where to be at the precisely right moment.”
“Really?” She retreated a few inches, wiped her tears. “That’s a story I need to hear. Let me get him inside so I can look him over and... I’m just so happy you found him.”
“Me, too. And, Nicole?” he said, still holding on to Roscoe’s collar with his right hand. “You have a little something—” he rubbed his other thumb over her chin “—right here.”
“Spaghetti sauce, I’m guessing.” His touch, as light and quick as it was, brought forth another round of shivers. “Um. I only had a few bites before decorating my porch, and I have enough for a few more servings. Have you eaten? I’ll feed you dinner and you can tell me how you found Roscoe. Unless... Is your sister expecting you?”
“I have an hour or two, and dinner sounds good.”
Anticipation caused a delicious flurry of warmth in her belly. To hide her reaction and to stop herself from doing something really crazy—like planting a kiss on his lips—she retrieved her plate and fork from the porch and then motioned for Parker to follow her inside.
My Fair Lady was still playing. She turned it off with a flick of the remote and, once everyone was in the kitchen, put her dirty plate in the sink. Roscoe rushed his food and water bowls, attacking them with a vengeance, while Parker took off his coat and leaned against the wall, saying, “First things first. Check over your dog. Make sure he’s okay.”
Nodding, Nicole sat on the floor and waited for the dog to finish eating. While she waited, she tried to think of something to say to Parker, other than more thank-yous, but failed. When her dog seemed to have his fill, she said, “Come here, Roscoe, let’s see the damage.”
He huffed loudly, as if in exasperation, but padded to her in slow, even movements. She started with his head, carefully moving her hands over his body and then to his legs and paws, searching for any bumps or cuts. Other than his obvious exhaustion and losing a few pounds, he seemed in pretty good shape. Better than she would’ve expected.
She gave him another tight hug. “I think you’re okay, but to be absolutely sure, we’ll go see the veterinarian this week. And a bath later tonight, buddy, along with some brushing time.”
Another huff, this one louder than the last, before he gave in to his exhaustion and crumpled on the floor, closing his eyes. Based on the dog snores, he fell asleep instantly.
“Tired dog,” Parker said. “Wonder how much walking he’s done over the past few days, who he has met and what he has seen. Quite the explorer, your Roscoe.”
Releasing a sigh, Nicole stood and washed her hands. “Yeah, and his wanderlust nature has just earned him house arrest for the next good long while. He’ll have to make do with exploring the backyard until I forget about this experience.” If she ever did. Her earlier fear returned, washing through her with acute ferocity. “He scared me. I was beginning to think...”
That she’d lost him. Forever.
“I know. But he’s here, safe and sound.”
Retrieving two clean plates from the cupboard, she let the truth of that sink in. “Yes, and that’s all that matters. Tell me how you found him? I’ll get our dinner as you do.”
So, while Parker explained the events that led to Roscoe’s rescue, she filled their plates with pasta and sauce, microwaved them one at a time and, every now and then, asked him a question. It was rather extraordinary, how he’d happened to be in just the right place at the right time. That Roscoe hadn’t run off again as Parker approached, and that the dog had so easily followed him to his car. To Nicole, in her frame of mind, a miracle had occurred.
“I’m so glad you knew what he looks like,” she said, bringing their plates to the table. “What do you want to drink? I have water, milk and raspberry iced tea. Pick your poison.”
“Milk is good, and thank you, Nicole.” Parker sat down at the table. “This looks delicious. I saw, when I came in, that you were watching My Fair Lady. We can do that, if you want, while we eat. Or we can talk. You get to choose, since you cooked.”
She wanted to talk to this man for hours, but she was also exhausted, drained and afraid of what she might say in her current state. So, she went with the safe, if cowardly choice. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to just veg in front of the TV. We can watch something else, though.”
“I can’t stay for the entire movie, but I’m fine with My Fair Lady.” He stood, with his plate and milk in hand, and walked toward the living room. Over his shoulder, he said, “Haven’t seen that one in a while, but it was one of Bridget’s favorites. And the girls love The Sound of Music. Bet they’d enjoy this one, too.”
“Oh. They probably would.”
When they entered the living room, he chuckled before choosing one of the chairs. “You need a couch, Nicole. Something large and comfortable, so you can curl up.”
“I know,” she said. “I keep meaning to buy one, but something else always seems to interrupt that plan.” Like her dog running away.
For the next hour or so, they ate their dinner and sat in companionable silence, watching Audrey Hepburn and Rex Harrison do their thing. It wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable in any way, and by the time Parker had to leave, she wished she’d chosen conversation over the movie. Wished she’d taken the opportunity to get to know him better, rather than the easy way out.
Well, maybe there would be a next time.
At the front door, she thanked him again for bringing Roscoe home, asked him to give the girls the good news, and for about five seconds, she had the wild wish that he’d kiss her. Of course, he didn’t. Just smiled and nodded and told her to have a good night.
And then he was gone. She watched as he pulled out of her driveway, her thoughts jumping every which way. She liked Parker Lennox. A lot. And maybe, just maybe, she shouldn’t rule out the possibility of another miracle. Two more, to be exact.
Hope for the best. Why not?
Chapter Six
Sitting with the other parents in the school auditorium, Parker waited for the girls to take their turn at the rescheduled Christmas play tryouts. Like last Friday, he’d picked them up from school and taken them to Fosters Bar and Grill for dinner before returning here. Unlike last Friday, he did not have a near collision with an angel and her dog.
It was crazy, to think of all that had occurred within the past seven days.
Since Monday evening, when he’d left Nicole’s, they’d texted here and there throughout the rest of the week. Nothing serious, all light, but he looked forward to and enjoyed the contact. Tonight, also unlike last week, she had chosen to leave Roscoe at home, which did not surprise him. Other than the visit to the vet, Nicole had kept the dog under house arrest, just as she said she would. She seemed, to Parker, a woman who meant what she said and said what she meant.
He liked that, too, as he’d never been a fan of mixed messages.
They had arrived at the school early enough for Parker to get a front-row seat, which meant he could easily see and hear everything that took place onstage. Watching Nicole, who had chosen to forgo the angel getup for a pair of jeans and a pink turtleneck, and knowing her as he now did, he recognized her nerves when she first approached the microphone to address the kids and their parents. Her voice shook, just a li
ttle, when she explained the change in play choice for this year. Everyone seemed on board and excited about presenting A Christmas Carol using fairy-tale characters, and the longer she spoke, the more comfortable she became. By the time the actual tryouts started, she’d found her groove.
So, he kicked back and enjoyed watching the kids as one after another stepped into the various roles up for grabs. Well, two roles per character, really, since the kids would have to pull off playing Rumpelstiltskin as Ebenezer Scrooge, Pinocchio as Bob Cratchit, Snow White as the Ghost of Christmas Past, and a variety of other dual personalities.
He leaned forward when he heard Erin’s name called. With the change in play, he didn’t know which role either of his girls would want, but he guessed one of the princesses. At least now, he didn’t have to worry about only one of his daughters becoming an angel. Now he had to hope that they both weren’t aiming for Snow White or Red Riding Hood.
Nicole had Erin read the same handful of dialogue the other kids before her had read, and she handled it like a pro. She articulated well and spoke in a loud, clear voice, even adding some personality to her tone when called for. And he thought of Bridget, as he did often where the girls were concerned, and how she would be grinning ear to ear and beaming with pride. She’d nudge his side and say something like, “That’s our daughter up there! Look at her!”
Loss kicked him squarely in the gut, at the unfairness of it all. Bridget deserved to be here, and their girls absolutely deserved to have their mother.
Three kids followed Erin before it was Megan’s turn, and again, Parker leaned forward in anticipation and pride. Megan was obviously more nervous than Erin had been, but she was also several years younger. At first, she spoke so low that her voice was barely audible from Parker’s position. By the third line of dialogue, though, he could hear her just fine. And when she was done, she smiled big and bright before dipping into a perfect curtsy and sashaying off stage.
“Ah, Bridget,” Parker whispered. “They were incredible. You would have loved this.”
Five minutes later, the girls silently took the seats on either side of him, and together they watched the rest of the tryouts. On the way over, they had decided to stay until the end, even though they could have left now that the girls were done. Parker was pleased, because staying meant he could talk with Nicole, and his daughters, well, they were just excited to be here.
Within another thirty minutes, tryouts were over and everyone was leaving, ready to start their weekend. Parker, with Erin and Megan following, joined Nicole on the stage. She looked up as she tucked the script pages and her notebook into a blue-and-white-striped tote bag.
“Need help with anything?” Parker asked, noticing right off that she looked tired. Happy, though, too. So, the good type of tired. “We have six hands, ready to do your bidding.”
“All I need is for these four chairs to be folded and returned backstage,” Nicole said with a smile directed at Erin and Megan. “Think you girls can handle that? I’ll even offer a reward. Ice cream and a visit with Roscoe at my house when you’re done, if your dad agrees.”
“Yes!” Megan said, already folding a chair. “Please, Daddy? Ice cream and Roscoe!”
“He’ll say yes.” Erin folded a chair. “He likes Miss Bradshaw.”
“Daddy? Yes, please?”
Parker laughed. “Yes.”
Megan squealed and Erin gave her sister an I-told-you-so look as they walked toward the back of the stage, each lugging a chair behind them.
“So, you like me, huh?” Nicole asked. “Or is it really all about the ice cream?”
“Depends,” he deadpanned. “What flavor of ice cream are we talking about? Makes a difference, you know. Vanilla, then you’re definitely the reason I said yes.”
She grinned and dipped her head, hiding her eyes. Too bad. He loved seeing her eyes when she smiled. They seemed to sparkle. “Good to know I’m more interesting than vanilla.”
“Oh, without a doubt. Now, chocolate on the other hand... I’d have to give it some consideration. Might be a tie.” He waited a beat, hoping she’d glance at him. When she didn’t, he continued with “And strawberry is my favorite. Tell me you have strawberry ice cream, and we have a real dilemma on our hands. Ranking-wise, that is.”
“Sorry,” she said, just as the girls returned to grab the last two chairs, “no strawberry. But I am curious what your thoughts are on chocolate peppermint swirl or cookies and cream.” Now she tipped her chin, and their gazes met, and there was that fire. He wanted to get her alone, explore what that fire meant. Where it might take them. “Ranking-wise, that is.”
He was this close to teasing her more but decided not to. This mattered, what he said here, even in such a light moment. “Right at the top, Nicole, whatever the flavor of ice cream. Erin was right. I do like you. Quite a bit, actually, and I was wondering if you’d—”
“The chairs are put away!” Megan said, running onto the stage with her sister. “So we’re ready to meet Roscoe and have ice cream. Do you think he’ll play with us, Miss Bradshaw?”
“Um. Yes, of course he will,” Nicole said, her gaze remaining locked with Parker’s. Curiosity and something else—interest perhaps?—slipped into her expression. A rosy pink blush appeared on her cheeks, and the air between them seemed to crackle with electricity. She bit her lip, a little action that instantly drove Parker ten ways of crazy. She blinked and focused on Megan. “Roscoe will probably wear you girls out, he likes to play so much.”
Happy and excited, Megan ran down the stage steps to get her coat from her seat. Erin, after a moment’s hesitation, did the same. “Well, I guess they’re ready,” Parker said to Nicole. He held his hand toward her. “Shall we? And thank you, by the way, for the invitation.”
“We should. And you’re welcome.” She didn’t put her hand in his, but instead, she gave him the tote bag, which broadened his smile. “It is the very least I can do.”
“Nah. You don’t owe us anything.” They joined the girls, and together all four walked out of the building into the parking lot. “Team Lennox, remember? Helping is part of the deal.”
“Well, then, so is ice cream,” she said when they reached her car. Retrieving her tote bag, she tossed it in the back seat. Then, “I’ll see you guys in a few minutes!”
“Okay, Miss Bradshaw!” Megan tugged on Parker’s hand. “Let’s go, Daddy!”
They returned to their car, and once everyone was buckled in, Parker turned on the engine and followed Nicole out of the parking lot. “So, you both did an incredible job at the tryouts,” he said. “I’m very proud of you, and I know your mom would be, too.”
“She is,” Megan said with absolute authority. “She watches us from heaven, you know.”
“Does she, Daddy?” Erin asked. “For real, I mean. Can she do that?”
Parker released a breath. A pat answer wouldn’t do, so he did the best he could with “No one can say for sure, pumpkin, but I can tell you this...if there is any way for your mother to watch over you girls, trust me, she is. She loved you fiercely, with every bone in her body.”
“I know she watches us,” Megan said. “She wrote that in her letter to us.”
Bridget had written a handful of letters to her family before her death, most of which they’d already read, and whenever the girls asked, they’d read again. But there were a few that Bridget had wanted saved for specific occasions: each of the girls’ eighteenth birthdays, their first day of college, their wedding days and the births of their first child.
Those letters, Parker had locked away. He would honor her wishes by waiting, and he hadn’t even broken the seals on the envelopes. They were from Bridget to her daughters, to be read by them when the time came, and not by him just because he was their father.
“But what if she wrote that because she wanted it to be true, and not bec
ause she knew it was true?” Erin asked. “She might have wanted it so much that she believed it.”
His eldest daughter, far too wise, too introspective for her age.
“I can’t answer that, sweetie,” he said, wishing he could give her the definitive response she needed. But he wouldn’t lie. “I like to believe she’s with us, all of the time.”
“Yeah, like Santa Claus,” Megan piped up. “If he can see whether we’re good or bad, then Mommy can watch us every day, too. She saw us, Erin. I know it!”
“But Santa isn’t even real,” Erin said. “So—”
“He is too real!” Megan’s voice broke. “Tell her, Daddy.”
Wow. This conversation had spiraled fast. “I think it’s about what you believe,” Parker said, choosing his words carefully. Breaking his youngest daughter’s heart didn’t appeal, and he figured she had a year or two of Santa-filled Christmases left, if he could handle this correctly and one of her friends didn’t spill the beans, like one of Erin’s had this past Christmas. “When you believe, a sort of magic happens, and in that magic, I think anything can happen.”
Both girls were quiet for a few seconds. Then Erin said, her tone wistful, “So if we believe that Mommy can see us and hear us and be around us, maybe she really can?”
“I think that sounds about right, but what do you think?”
“I believe,” Megan said. “Erin?”
“I...I...I think that Mommy really liked seeing us try out tonight.”
Megan sighed a happy sigh. “That’s what I think. And now she’ll get to see us playing with Roscoe and eating ice cream at Miss Bradshaw’s! She’ll like that, too.”
Their Christmas Angel Page 7