by Kristy Tate
“Are you in love with him?”
“This wasn’t about love, but yes. I’ve been half in love with Luke my entire life. But then I saw him with you. I saw the way he looks at you. And he’s smart. Even if I’d been able to trick him into marrying me, it wouldn’t be long until he grew to hate me.” She hung her head. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
Sophie skirted around the vomit-drenched fern and sat beside Paige. “Do you want to keep it?”
“I can’t be a single mom. I’m not like you.”
“I didn’t think I could be a single mom, either. I’m still scared. At least once every day I’m terrified that I’m somehow going harm him, or screw him up. But he loves me anyway.”
“I’m not ready.”
“What about the dad?”
“He’s…not worthy.” She closed her eyes and leaned back against the tree. “So not worthy.”
“He’ll still want to know.”
“I have a restraining order against him. I filed it even before I knew I was pregnant.”
“He was violent?”
She nodded. “And he was dealing.”
“Drugs?”
She looked away. “I didn’t know it. I found out later. All I knew was he was really, really rich…and he liked to spend money on me.”
“My nonna used to say that a man isn’t a financial plan.”
“I could really use a financial plan right now.”
“What about your parents?”
“They’ll flip. Well, at least my mom will. My dad might be okay.”
“You’re lucky that you have them.”
Paige slid a glance at her. “I don’t feel lucky.”
“You could make an infertile couple feel very, very lucky.” Carl’s quote from Isaiah floated back to her. “There’s beauty in ashes.”
“I don’t know what that means,” Paige said.
“I’m still learning, but I think it means there’s happiness even in sadness. My sister’s death was the most horrible thing that ever happened to me. Even worse than my mom’s death because I wasn’t prepared for it. But if Chloe hadn’t died, I would still be in a profession I hated and I wouldn’t have Jamison. Don’t get me wrong, I still miss my sister every day. I wish she were here, but—I love where I am and I love what I’m doing and the person I’m becoming. Her death was the catalyst for those changes.”
Paige dipped her head. “You’re a really good person,” she said softly.
“No, I’m not. I’m selfish, cranky, and sometimes just so tired and frustrated I want to scream. But beside all of that, it’s hard to imagine I could love Jamison any more than I do. Sometimes my love for him swells inside me until it’s so huge I think I’m going to break from the weight of it.”
Paige gave her a sad smile. “I’m not ready to give my life up for someone else.”
“But I don’t feel like I—“
“I know you don’t, but that’s how I’ll feel. I’m not you.” Paige stood and brushed off her pants. “I’m going to go home. I have to tell my parents. I can’t do this without them.”
Sophie pushed to her feet. “Wait. Before you go, what made you think that Luke would marry you?”
“He would. He’s a solid guy.” She studied Sophie. “You don’t know, do you?”
“Know what?”
“He was in the CIA. That’s why he couldn’t be here after the funeral.”
“The CIA… He was a spy?”
“You’ll have to ask him about it.”
“Is he… Would his job pose a risk to Jamison?”
“Like I said, you’ll have to ask him, but I doubt it. I don’t think he’d be here if it did. His job is what made him stay away.”
Paige turned back toward the house. Sophie didn’t really know what Paige would decide to do, but she suspected that Paige didn’t really know either. She offered up a silent prayer for the girl as she followed the sound of the ATV engines.
CHAPTER SIX
She found Luke and Mia in a small clearing. They both put their ATVs in neutral when they saw her.
“Did you find a tree?” Luke yelled above the roar.
She shook her head.
“Have you seen Paige?” Mia said.
Sophie pointed in the direction of the house.
Mia nodded, revved her ATV and took off after her friend.
Luke killed the engine on his ATV. “If I promise to go slow, will you go for a ride with me?”
“Maybe, but first I have to ask you something.”
“What?”
He slid off the ATV and came to stand in front of her.
“Will you be honest?”
He touched her hand and tingles ran up her arm. “Of course.”
“I’ll tell you my secret if you’ll tell me yours.”
“Did the nightmares give me away?”
“Paige told me you retired from the CIA.”
He nodded.
“Is Jamison in danger?”
“I wouldn’t be here if he was.” He laced his fingers through hers. “What’s your secret?”
“I can’t have children.” She swallowed. “I know everyone thinks I’m so noble by giving up my law career to take care of Jamison, but really, I wasn’t being noble at all… He was my last chance for something I wanted most of all.” She looked at him through eyes blurry with tears. “I had uterine cancer and lost…all my…” She waved her hand in front of her belly. “The guy I was dating, the guy I thought I was going to marry and spend the rest of my life with, he wasn’t interested in me after I lost…everything.”
Luke grabbed her and pulled her close. “He was the loser,” he whispered in her ear. “He was the one who lost.” He kissed the top of her head.
“I went into family law because I thought I could save families when all I wanted was one of my own… I became disillusioned really fast.” She pulled away from him and lifted her chin. “Jamison is my family now.”
“And me,” he said. “I’m here, too.”
She sobbed and he held her close. “I’m not going anywhere,” he promised. His lips sought hers and he kissed her long and deep.
“If you want more children, we can always adopt.”
She wondered if his words were as much of a surprise to him as they were to her.
One year later
“They’re here! They’re here!” Jamie bounced in front of the window while Atticus wiggled beside him.
“Shush, sweetie, you’ll wake your baby sisters.” Sophie glanced out the window and watched Mia, Paige, and a young man climb from Mia’s Honda.
Luke came to stand beside her. “Another man in the family?”
“I don’t know,” Sophie said as she watched Mia lace her fingers with the tall, lanky young man. “Does he look worthy?”
“He better be,” Luke growled.
“Big brothers,” Sophie said. “I always wanted one. Do you think Jamie will be as protective of his baby sisters?”
Luke kissed the side of her temple. “He will be. I’ll teach him how to shoot.”
“That’s scary.”
“Not as scary as some yahoo messing with our baby girls.”
The door flung open and Mia and Paige burst into the room. The young man hesitated in the doorway while Sophie and Luke took turns hugging Mia and Paige.
Paige glanced around the room. “Are the twins awake?”
“They’re sleeping,” Sophie said. “But you can go and check on them if you’d like.”
Paige flushed and sprinted up the stairs.
“Sophie, Luke, Jamie,” Mia said, her voice quivering, “this is Jacob.”
Jacob stood before them and seemed uncertain what to do with his hands until Sophie drew him into a hug.
“Merry Christmas,” she said. She drew him a little closer before whispering in his ear, “and welcome to the family.”
Jacob flushed as he pulled away.
Jamie peered up at him. “Are you Mia’s boyfriend?”
“Yeah, I am.” He laughed. “You don’t know how good it feels to say that.”
Mia bumped her shoulder against his and the two grinned at each other.
“Are you going to marry her?” Jamie asked.
Jacob’s flush deepened.
Luke scooped Jamie up into his arms and ruffled his hair. “Jacob probably doesn’t know the answer to that yet.”
“Why wouldn’t he know?” Jamie asked.
In a decided effort to rescue the situation, Mia took Jacob’s hand. “Come on, I want you to meet Sarah and Amelia. They’re not as nosy as my nephew.”
Luke draped his arm around Sophie as Jacob and Mia bolted up the stairs.
“This is everything I want,” Sophie said, settling against Luke. “You, Jamie, the babies.”
“Me, too,” Luke said. “You’re everything I never knew I always wanted.”
Voices floated from upstairs, reminding Sophie that not only was her home full, but also her heart.
Thanks so much for reading Baby Blue Christmas. If you enjoyed this novella, I hope you will consider writing a review. If you’d like to be notified of free books and new releases, please sign-up for my newsletter at http://kristystories.blogspot.com/2017/01/sign-up-for-my-newsletter-and-get-free.html.
Also, if you enjoyed Baby Blue Christmas, you will probably also enjoy:
The Little White Christmas Lie
An accident drew them together, a lie ties the knot.
A novel by Kristy Tate
Copyright © 2015
Praise for Kristy Tate
I am a lover of all books, some I've liked and some not so much, but I have to say I am in love with this book.
*
I loved this book. It was fun to read, the characters were wonderful. You hoped that the guy would get the girl. I can't wait to get the next book.
TO GRANDMOTHER’S HOUSE WE GO
Millie sat at the window of her Brownstone apartment watching shoppers scurry down New York’s busy streets. Head-lights, streetlights, and the just-hung Christmas lights sparkled on the slowly drifting snow.
“Meow,” Byron cried as he jumped into Millie’s lap. He settled down with a purr.
“It’s just you and me this year.” Millie ran her fingers through the cat’s thick fur. She tried telling herself she needed the solitude, she deserved a respite from her demanding career, and she didn’t have the time or the energy to devote to cultivating meaningful relationships, but the longer she sat at the window watching everyone else pursue their Christmas with such purposefulness and pleasure…
No, that couldn’t be right, could it? There had to be a few Ebenezers in the crowd. She couldn’t be the only one wishing Christmas would pass her by. Leaning back into her wingback chair, feet propped up on the ottoman, she closed her eyes. It was just so embarrassing…
How could she, one of the world’s most beloved romance writers, be alone for the holidays? Again? She’d taken a cruise to the Holy Land last year, thinking what could be more spiritually uplifting than Christmas in Bethlehem? But it had been a tour full of senior citizens complaining about their food and hotel beds. At least it had been better than the Christmas the year before with Liam in Monaco.
Refusing to think about Liam, Millie stood, knocking the sleeping Byron to the floor.
He complained loudly while arching his back and stalking away.
“Maybe this year we’ll just stay home,” Millie announced to no one since Byron had twitched his tail and disappeared into the next room.
Her landline’s shrill ring broke the silence. She studied the phone. She’d been meaning to shut off the service for months, but just hadn’t gotten around to it. Or at least that’s what she told herself. The truth was, it was her mom’s voice on the answering machine, and Millie couldn’t bring herself to throw it away, even after all these months.
Millie listened to her mom ask the caller to leave a message. No one who really wanted to talk to Millie ever used the landline. Her friends and business associates always called her cell…well, they usually texted or sent her an email. No one, other than scam artists and telemarketers, called her landline. Millie stood in the center of the apartment where she’d lived as a child, waiting.
“Hello? Camille? Hello?” An elderly woman’s voice warbled through the room. “You probably don’t remember me, but I was a friend of your Grandmother LaDonna. My name is Joy Baker.”
Joy Baker. Millie didn’t recall her grandmother ever mentioning a Joy Baker, and that was the sort of name she would have remembered because she really liked baked goods, and a joyful baker seemed like a good person to know.
“Anywho, I was hoping you’d give me a call. LaDonna told me you are a writer, and I have a little business proposition for you.”
Millie frowned at the phone, debating. Her head told her this happy baker person was probably a crook, but her lonely heart urged her to pick up the line.
Joy heaved an audible sigh. “I know you don’t know me…but I also knew your Grandpa Horace and your Uncle George. I run a little inn out here in Chickory, New York, and, well, it could use some publicity. I just thought maybe if you’d like to come and stay—” Click.
The answering machine only allowed a few seconds per message, which often took the callers by surprise. Millie smiled, wondering if this joyful baker was on the other end of the line, still yammering, completely unaware she’d been silenced mid-sentence.
Millie honestly couldn’t remember her mom, grandparents, or her Uncle George ever mentioning this Joy Baker, or Chickory, but the information tickled in the back of her mind. She settled down on the sofa and pulled her computer onto her lap.
Seconds later, images of an upstate village with a church on every corner flashed on the screen. A springtime shot showed the town green’s gazebo surrounded by tulips and crocus. Another image had the gazebo decked in autumn’s bright fallen leaves. At this time of year, Millie knew there would be a blanket of snow. And sure enough, she soon found images of Chickory, New York in full Christmas glory. It looked like a picture perfect place to spend the holidays…if you had someone to share it with.
Millie closed her eyes against the flashing recollections of her grandparent’s home in upstate New York. Sledding with her bright cheeked mom and dad, hanging the lights with her Uncle George, Aunt Helen, and little Midge, the poodle.
Ring. Ring.
The phone. Millie poised her fingers above her keyboard waiting. Once again, her heart told her to pick it up, but her sensible voice kept her in her chair.
“Oh dear,” Joy Baker’s voice floated back into the room, “I must have been cut off. Now, as I was saying, the old house belonged to my grandparents and their parents before them, and I’ve recently converted it into an inn. It’s just beautiful, if I do say so myself. My niece, Lorraine, is an artist and she’s made the whole thing just as cute as a button from the attic to the basement, but the thing is—” Click.
Millie typed in lodging, but the closest place to stay was a Motor Motel fifteen miles down the parkway.
If Joy Baker didn’t even have a website no wonder her inn was failing. A place could be cute right down to its cement foundation, but if no one knew it existed, it would always be empty.
The word empty made Millie cast a glance at her calendar. She had half a dozen parties penciled in, but not one of them filled her with anything other than dread. And the most dreadful one of all was happening tomorrow night. The annual Book Bash. Simone Shusterfield hosted it every year at her South Hampton mansion. Simone liked to collect writers and artists the way some rich old ladies collected designer purses and pedigree poodles. Her publisher insisted she attend, barring raging illness or a family calamity. But Millie didn’t have any family…or did she?
Could this Joy Baker count as an old family friend? And could her failing business be called a calamity?
Millie smiled. Of course, she wrote fiction for a living. She could make up anything she wanted to. She did i
t every day. And she got paid for it. And if she could think of a reasonable excuse to avoid Simone’s party and not have to watch Liam kiss his beautiful fiancé beneath the mistletoe, then she would go to Chickory, or just about anywhere.
Ignoring the frantic be-sensible-voice in the back of her mind, she looked up the distance. If she took the early morning train to Scranton, she could rent a car from there and be in Chickory by noon. She didn’t even have to stay the night. She’d just stay late enough to ensure she’d miss the party.
Her sensible voice scrambled for reasons to stay in the city. What if there’s a blizzard and she’s trapped there for weeks? What if this Joy Baker is a serial killer? Who’s going to take care of Byron if something should happen?
Telling her sensible self to shut up, Millie reserved a rental car in Scranton. Picking up her phone, Millie shot her friend and neighbor, Dorie, a quick text. Dorie’s daughter, Amber, often cat-sat Byron when Millie traveled. Then she headed for her closet, pulled out her overnight bag, and dusted it off.
The next morning, she had to run to catch the nine-fifteen from Grand Central. With her bag slung over her shoulder and banging against her side, she slipped into the train seconds before the doors slid shut. Taking a deep breath, she headed for the one available seat. At this time of the day, most of the commuters were students, retirees, and mothers with children.
The only vacant seat was next to a man about her age, early thirties, with wavy brown hair. He had a strong jaw, a thick dossier in one hand and a red pen in the other. Unless he abandoned his place on the aisle, she’d have to crawl over his long legs to get to the window seat.
Their eyes met, and for one small moment, the world around her froze, like a black and white photograph. The train lurched, sending Millie onto the man’s lap.
“I’m so sorry,” Millie said, scrambling over him and pulling her bag with her.
“It happens,” he said, “although not very often, and almost never unless I’m wearing a Santa suit.”