And the seams of Hope’s disinterest frayed as if she welcomed the silly distraction. “I don’t want to ask, but I’m going to. What are you doing?”
Chris tossed his cap on the dashboard and scrubbed his hands through his hair. “We’ve decided to rename Santa’s reindeer.”
“What’s wrong with the current ones?” she asked.
“Those are girly names.” Chris lengthened his words, pushing horror and shock into his voice.
Hope looked in the rearview mirror.
Joel wrinkled his nose. “Girls are stinky.”
Hope slanted a look at Chris.
He raised both hands. “Don’t look at me. Girls might be stinky.”
“I’m a girl,” Hope said.
“You’re Mom,” Joel announced. His voice was matter-of-fact, his tone as serious as a judge reading a guilty verdict.
“There you have it.” Chris leaned on the center console and lowered his voice to a rough whisper. “Even when you were a girl, I never found you stinky.”
“Even when I crashed landed into those full garbage cans,” she said. “And you had to pull an empty ketchup packet and smashed French fry out of my hair.”
“Even then,” he said.
The quiet intensity in his voice had her inner elf spinning as if wrapping herself up in the ribboned promise of his words. But listening to her elf wasn’t prudent. Hope hit her turn signal. “Do I get to rename a reindeer too?”
Chris leaned back, crossed his arm over his chest and consulted Joel. “Which one should we give her? Dancer or Donner?”
“Donner,” Joel shouted.
“You get to rename Donner,” Chris said. “Joel has supreme veto power. You’ll need his approval so you better come up with something good. Nothing girly.”
“No girls,” Joel said.
Hope turned onto Chimney Sweep Street and looked at the numbers for Mrs. Green’s house. “How about Gumdrop?”
Chris groaned. “That’s the best you got? Gumdrop.”
Joel slapped his hand on his forehead.
Hope slowed to read the mailbox numbers.
“Mrs. Green is one block down on the left,” Chris said. “Now we need a new name or Joel gets two pieces of pie after dinner.”
Joel cheered. “Pie.”
They did not have dinner plans. Only the deliveries and she’d handle those for her customers. “Fine, but Gumdrop rocks,” she said. “How about Wiggles?”
Chris leaned around his seat and fist bumped Joel. “Looks like more pie for you.”
Hope parked in Mrs. Green’s driveway. “Wiggles is cute. What’s wrong with that?”
“Everything.” Chris scratched his beard. “Reindeers don’t want to be cute.”
Joel shook his head. “No cute.”
“I think you’re cute,” she said to Joel.
Her son grinned at her.
Chris reached over, twisted her hair around his palm and tugged, drawing her focus to him. He said, “I think you’re more than cute.”
He’d always touched her hair: pulled on her pony tail in grade school, then tucked it behind her ears to check her face after every mishap in high school. Then unraveled it into his hands under the stars in Vegas as if she was a precious gift before pulling her into his embrace.
She met his gaze. He remembered too. It was there in his green eyes, steady and still on her. That tug spiraled through her, squeezing around her insides.
He released her hair. His knuckles slid across her neck before he moved back into his seat.
Her inner elf demanded she grab his hand, bring him back to her. Hope clutched the door handle. She didn’t want him. He wasn’t the plan.
“Stop changing the subject,” Chris said. “You need to give us a good name or else the boys get a whole pie for dinner.”
Hope looked over at Chris. “Dinner will not be pie.”
“That’s yet to be determined,” Chris said. “You wanted to play.”
Her inner elf jumped forward. Yes, she wanted to play and something more than a name game. Hope elbowed her elf out of the way and opened the door. “Doug.”
“Doug?” Chris repeated. Laughter shook his shoulders first, then burst free. Joel joined in and rocked forward in his car seat, holding his stomach as he giggled.
Hope smiled and then let the laughter bubble out of her, free and unrestrained. She pushed the door open all the way. “I win. Now you boys can top that while I do some girl work.”
~*~
Chris and Joel spent five minutes happily discussing Joel’s Christmas wish list before Hope returned and handed Chris a thermos.
He unscrewed the lid and inhaled. “Nothing better than spiked apple cider. I need to hang out with Mrs. Green more often.” And with his son. Being with his clever son was fast becoming better than just about anything. He glanced at Hope. He enjoyed being with her as well. The years were slipping away and it was as if they were young again. And he was happy to let them. Happy to think that he could have his own family full of love.
“You need to get your own.” Hope pulled out of the Green’s driveway. “Spiked apple cider is best by a fire with a pile of blankets and pillows to curl into.”
“There’s plenty to share.” Chris reached over, tucked Hope’s hair behind her ear the way he’d used to before he’d ruined things and told her he loved her.
Before he could consider sharing a fire, pillows and more Hope, she turned onto Chestnut Circle and drove toward a two story house at the end of the cul-de-sac.
“Why are we stopping here?” Chris twisted the cap on the thermos, trying to plug the sudden unease pooling in his stomach. “I never put the Walsh’s on the delivery list.”
“She had an order and wanted it delivered.” Hope pulled up to the curb next to the Walsh’s mail box.
In the front yard, two girls added hats to a family of snowmen. Their blonde curls bobbed and their laughter was as bright as their pink snow gear. Their mother tossed a red plaid blanket on her chair on the porch and headed down the walk toward their car.
Hope said, “Those kids are so precious.”
“There should be another one.” Two years later and his failure still gut-punched him. Even his voice sounded as bruised as his heart.
Hope’s brow wrinkled in confusion. “Another snowman?”
“Another child. Caden should be there building a snowman with his sisters.” Chris pressed his knuckles into his jeans to keep from ramming her gear shift into reverse.
“You were called to the accident?” Hope’s voice was as soft as the fleece scarf protecting her from the cold.
If only a patch of fleece was enough to protect him now. He nodded, one clipped, sharp motion. “I was too late. Mandy told me that night that she was leaving me because she was tired of living with an emotionless robot.” If he needed any more proof that he couldn’t have a family, it was here.
Mrs. Walsh peered inside the car. “Is that Sheriff Hayes?”
Chris got out. He was so cold he imagined he could make the wind itself shiver. “Hey, Susan.”
Susan smiled and wrapped Chris in a tight hug. A hug that lasted longer than a quick greeting. A hug that both gave and took strength. A hug that understood and forgave. “You’ve saved me a trip to the station.” And then she hurried up the walk.
“You don’t…” Chris couldn’t believe Susan forgave him. One of the girls fell into a snowman and they both laughed.
“You’re so clumsy.” The taller one dropped into the snow next to her sister and made a snow angel. “That was supposed to be Caden’s. He’s probably up in Heaven laughing at you.”
The younger sister formed a snowball from the fallen snowman. “The only thing Caden liked about snow was a good snowball fight.” She smashed it into her sister’s chest. “Isn’t that right, Sheriff?”
The taller one tossed a handful of snow into her sister’s curly hair. Shrieks of laughter swirled around the pair as the girls chased each other around the yard.
Susan took the box and set it in the foyer. “Without you, we wouldn’t have those two girls out there. We wouldn’t have their laughter, their hugs or their sunshine when we’re at our lowest.” Susan pressed a small red box wrapped in gold ribbon in his hand. “You were our angel that day at the pond. And the girls thought you might need one to look after you now.”
Chris squeezed the gift, trying to pinch off his pain and toss it away. It would take time, but there was a door open and on the other side stood Joel and Hope. “I can’t accept this.” But he glanced at the SUV. He wanted to.
“You will and every time you see it in your tree, you’ll be reminded than an angel watches over you.” Susan leaned up and kissed his cheek. “And you’ll know you did your job, Sheriff. You’ll know you saved a family and we thank God for you every day.”
She hugged him once more before rushing across the yard to inspect the snowmen at her daughters’ urging. Their warm laughter washed through Chris. The Walsh family was bonded by more than grief and pain, their love was strong and enduring. Chris tucked the box in his pocket. When he finally got a Christmas tree, it would be the first ornament he’d hang. He waved to the girls and climbed inside the car.
Chapter 9
An hour later, Hope held open the back door to her parent’s house to let Chris inside with Joel, who’d fallen asleep ten minutes after eating his drive-thru.
Hope closed the door and turned, bumping into Chris’ back. She peered around him and stilled. “Brady, you’re home.”
Her brother set a soda can on the island. His deep blue eyes looked darker, more like a storm tossed sea. “Yeah, a little while ago. I stopped at the store. Beth mentioned you had deliveries to make.”
“A few shipments arrived late. I promised to drop them off.” Coward that she was, she stayed behind Chris.
“Door to door service. That’s new.” Brady spun the can on the counter. His gaze shifted to Chris and Joel. “It looks like some other things are new too.”
“Where’s Joel sleeping?” Chris looked at her over his shoulder. “Your old room?”
“Upstairs on the right.” Hope reached for Joel. “I can take him.”
“Talk to your brother, Hope.” Chris adjusted Joel and headed out of the kitchen.
She hadn’t talked to her brother in several months. There’d been more arguing than talking in their last conversation and they’d both retreated to their corners, content to remain silent. Hope hung her coat on a kitchen chair. “Dad wants us to pick out a tree and have Christmas set up before they return this Friday.”
“You want to talk about a Christmas tree now?” The can crinkled in Brady’s hand. “Are you serious?”
“Yes, I am. I want to talk about making sure Mom and Dad have the perfect Christmas this year.” Her brother and she had spent too long judging each other’s decisions to have easy and open conversations now. “Who knows how many more we’ll have with them.”
“Is that why you finally told Chris the truth?” Brady asked.
“That’s not why I told him.” She tossed the car keys on the table like she’d tossed out a safe topic. But her brother refused to relent as usual.
“That’s why you kept Joel away from me the last few years. You knew if I saw my nephew, I’d recognize my best friend in Joel’s eyes and his face.” His sharp voice cut at Hope. “Then when you finally tell Chris, I don’t even get a courtesy call to tell me that the secret’s out.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Dad won’t live any longer if you finally tell the world the truth about Joel and let Chris make an honest woman out of you.” Brady waved his hand toward the staircase.
“You assume too much.” Hope strangled her hands with her scarf, trying to stick to the plan. “I’m only here through Christmas.”
“Then you return to the city and your regularly scheduled life?” Brady asked.
“Yes.” That was the life she’d planned. That life suited her. In the city she couldn’t be forgotten, not at Christmas tree farms or during Vegas wedding ceremonies. “What else am I supposed to do?”
“What about telling Joel who I am?” Chris stepped into the kitchen. “What about considering building a family with the father of your child?”
“You can’t go from a lifetime of proclaiming you don’t want a child to wanting one and expecting me to…” Hope tossed her scarf on the table and found her sternest lawyer voice. “You never wanted me. I was a tequila-fueled moment in Vegas.”
Chris walked up to the table and set his hand on the chair opposite her. “I have wanted you since I saw you swimming at the lake the year you filled out your bikini.”
“Dude.” Brady cringed.
“Stay out of this conversation, Sullivan.” Chris’ voice was hard. “My best friend? I’d have thought you’d figure out I was Joel’s father and find a way to tell me.”
A miracle happened. Brady backed off.
“I’m not asking you to give up being a lawyer,” Chris said evenly, capturing Hope’s gaze. “I’m asking you to consider that we have something worth fighting for. I’m asking you to put me on your list of possibilities for the future. I’m asking you…” He swallowed. “To look deep inside and see if loving me fits in your plans.”
“I fell for that line once before,” Hope whispered. “I stood with you in front of an altar.”
“And I was nervous and screwed up. I can’t tell you how sorry I am. I was thinking of all the people I’d have to tell about calling the wedding off, starting with Mandy.”
“I, Chris, take Mandy…” The words still hurt.
“It’s different now. We’re different now,” Chris said. “And there’s Joel.”
“Kids aren’t enough to keep two people together,” she said. “You know that all too well. You saw it today with the Stones. You lived it with your own parents.”
He rubbed a hand over his chest as if she’d landed a round house kick to his ribs. “I’m not my father.”
“No you aren’t your father and I’m not your mother,” she said. “But how long will it be before you put me second to the job? Love takes time to nurture. To grow. To…”
“To plan for.” He knew her too well. “So we don’t even try to be something more?”
He wasn’t saying he loved her. He’d fallen in love with Joel. Tonight they’d peeled back the years and found common ground in their son. But Hope was fooling herself if she believed chasing after love was the right thing to do. There was the new position at Dunn and Ford and Joel’s college fund to plan for. Those were sure things.
“Hope has always been trying to be someone else.” Brady opened a cookie tin and scowled before opening another as if looking for the sister he’d always thought she should be.
“I had to be someone else, Brady.” Hope grabbed the tin of star cookies from her brother.
Brady reached for her tin. “No you didn’t.”
“Yes.” She moved away from her brother. These were her wish cookies. And every year someone else ate them. Not this Christmas. “Yes, I did have to be someone else.”
“Why?” Chris asked.
“Because whenever I was myself, you all forgot me.” She faced her brother and held up the cookie tin. “Have you ever noticed that this tin was engraved with my name? It was a gift from Mom. She fills it every year with my favorite cookies.” Their mother had baked the star cookies for Hope since Hope had been around Joel’s age and had told their mother she’d wished on her cookie because it was too dark outside to see the stars.
Brady blinked at her.
Maybe her brother had noticed and it just wasn’t relevant enough. Nothing was relevant to her brother about Hope, but her secret. But the secret was out. Her brother was out of reasons to disapprove of her. She looked at Chris and said, “Even you forgot m
e.”
Chris gripped the chair and leaned forward. He looked like he wanted to deny her claim, but he closed his mouth when Brady interrupted.
“Is this about that tree farm incident when Mom and Dad left you at Holly Acres?” Brady smacked a tin against the granite counter and picked up his soda. “You have to let some things go, little sister. The past is in the past.”
“Really, Brady? Have you let the past go?” Hope asked. “Do you think the Crawford family has let the past go?”
Brady crushed the can and threw it into the trash. “We aren’t discussing me.”
“No, we never do,” Hope said. “You only want to stand in judgment of me and my decisions and the person I’ve become.”
“Look who’ve you become, Hope,” Brady said. “You’ve spent your life running. Away from your family. Away from Christmas Town. And now away from Chris. Do you even know what you’re running to?”
A life where she wasn’t an after-thought. A life where she wasn’t added as a side note or penciled in the margins. A life where she wasn’t temporary or a substitute. Or chosen because she’d given birth to a man’s child. “To the life I planned.” To the one she controlled.
“In the city,” Chris said.
Hope nodded and smashed the tin against her stomach, trying to block the disappointment in his voice from slicing through her. But there weren’t enough wishes to dull the ache inside her.
Chris nodded, the slightest dip of his chin that repeated like a song skipping over the same lyrics, only the truth tripped through Chris.
Finally he rubbed his hand under his chin. “I think we’re done here.”
Hope swayed and braced herself with her fingers on the table. Those were the words she’d tossed to Chris right before she’d gotten into the cab in Vegas. Right before she’d walked out of his life. “We need to talk about Joel.”
Chris looked at her and there was none of the warmth she’d seen in his eyes all day. “I’ll call you.”
His ice-dipped voice sent a chill crackling through her bones. She’d never been quite this cold. And never with Chris.
A Heartwarming Christmas: A Boxed Set of Twelve Sweet Holiday Romances Page 53