A Heartwarming Christmas: A Boxed Set of Twelve Sweet Holiday Romances

by Melinda Curtis

  Inside the office, Sam’s mother stood at the window, sipping a mug of hot chocolate as she watched her son brush the horse. She raised her mug. “Great chocolate.”

  “Thanks, Wanda. I got the recipe from my mom.”

  Wanda nodded toward the window. “I can’t believe how much Sam has improved. You have to be the best speech therapist ever!”

  “I know,” Amy said and immediately shook her head. “Oh, wait--I didn’t mean I’m the best therapist. The other therapists here would get the same results. And I do think by the time school starts next fall, he’ll be ready for first grade.”

  “I don’t know how to thank you, Amy…or should I call you Doctor now?”

  “Amy. Please.” She’d worked hard for her PhD, but calling her Doctor seemed pretentious, especially when she was mucking out stables. The horse did most of the work in this case, anyway.

  Wanda opened the office door. “We’ll see you next week?”

  “Definitely. Teri will be working with us so my leaving won’t be such a change for Sam.”

  The boy’s mother looked as though she wanted to say more.

  “Sam works well with her,” Amy said quickly. “And Teri will be running the clinic here—my sister has agreed for it to remain at the farm, so it won’t move. It’ll be all right.”

  “I hope so.”

  “You’ll see.” Amy gave a reassuring smile.

  Wanda frowned. “I just don’t see how you can leave Christmas Town. Won’t you miss it terribly?”

  Amy breath hitched in her chest. She loved the town where she’d been born. Who wouldn’t? No place did Christmas like Christmas Town, Maine, where from Thanksgiving to New Years, Santa arrived at promptly three o’clock every day in a sleigh pulled by two giant Clydesdales. And she’d miss finding Elmer the Elf wherever Posey, the owner of the diner with the same name, had hidden him.

  But to work along side Dr. Topliff and learn from one of the best speech pathologist in the country would be worth the sacrifice. And at least she wouldn’t see pity in the eyes of every person she ran into.

  “I’ll be back for visits,” she said as the phone rang. She waited until the door closed before picking up the receiver. “Kids Speak. How may I help you?”

  “Amy, this is Carl Phillips at the elementary school. I have a child transferring in with selective mutism, and I’d like to schedule a time for you to see her.”

  Amy’s heart sank as she pictured the older man on the other end of the phone. “Oh, Carl, I’m not taking on new patients. I’ll be leaving after the first of the year.”

  “So it’s definite that you’re going to Texas?”

  “Not a hundred percent, but close.” The Dean of Speech, Language, and Hearing Sciences had assured her she was a shoo-in.

  Silence stretched on the other end of the line.

  “Are you still there?” Amy asked.

  “I’m here. Just trying to figure out where to go next. You have the only clinic in the area with experience in selective mutism. Would you at least evaluate the child? I have an appointment with the father in an hour, and I’d like to have something to offer him.”

  Amy stared out the office window at Sam as he wrapped his arms around Ginger’s neck and buried his face in her mane. What would it hurt to just talk with the father? “What’s her name?”

  “Elizabeth Bradford. She just moved here with her father from West Virginia.”

  “How about the mother?”

  “There’s no mention of her.”

  Selective mutism was an anxiety disorder, and the mother’s absence could well be the root cause. Amy glanced at her schedule. One of the other therapists could see her first patient… “I can see the father tomorrow at nine. Let me know if that will work. After I talk with him, I’ll make a decision about seeing the child.”

  “Thank you!”

  Amy clicked the phone off, misgiving already making inroads. She brushed them aside. It was only a decision whether to assess the child, not a commitment to treat. Except, she was the only speech language pathologist in the area who had successfully treated the disorder. And the opportunity to follow up with another case didn’t happen that often.

  It was one of the reasons she had sent her resume to the university in Houston. Not only would she be teaching, but she would work at their clinic that drew selective mutism patients from all over the country with their innovative programs that included hippotherapy. Definitely a plus, since not everyone in the field of language education believed in the power of using equine therapy with speech patients. She looked up as the door burst open.

  Teri held up her iPad. “Hey, I found someone to be your escort to the pageant Christmas Eve…and maybe even to Chloe’s wedding.”

  ~*~

  Mark Bradford took his daughter’s hand and climbed the steps that led inside the brick building. “I went to school here,” he said, glancing down. “And now you’ll be going.”

  She stared at him with blue eyes that reminded him of her mother’s, but she said nothing. Not that he expected her to. She hadn’t said a word around him since he’d known her. He straightened his shoulders. “Are you ready, Lizzy?”

  She showed no reaction to his nickname for her, just nodded. At least she communicated with him now.

  As they walked down the hallway, memories of past trips to the counselor’s office flashed through his mind like a slideshow. The time he got into a fight with an older kid who was picking on his best friend, another time when he’d gotten caught with a frog in his pocket…the time he was failing English. No, trips to the counselor’s office were not fun times growing up in this school.

  Today he wasn’t looking for fun, just answers and help. He noted the name plate before knocking on the door. Mrs. Reagan had been replaced by a Carl Phillips. The name rang a bell.

  “Come in.”

  Mark entered at the invitation. No wonder he recognized the name. Carl Phillips had been assistant principal when Mark graduated fifteen years ago. The man had to be nearing retirement age. Mark extended his hand. “Good afternoon, Mr. Phillips. Good to see a face I remember.”

  “Glad you’ve come home, Mark. I always liked you when you were a student here.”

  He didn’t tell the counselor it hadn’t been by choice. Mark had needed family to help raise his daughter, and his mother wasn’t leaving Christmas Town. “I appreciate you seeing me on such short notice.”

  “Not a problem.” Mr. Phillips gaze shifted to Lizzy. “And I guess this is Elizabeth?”

  “Yes, I wanted you to meet her.” He pulled her forward and waited, not quite sure what he hoped would happen. Maybe that whatever held his beautiful daughter mute would release its hold on her.

  When she simply blinked, Mr. Phillips smiled and pointed to the set of chairs across from his desk. “Why don’t you have a seat?”

  Once they were sitting, the counselor pulled out a folder. “Elizabeth’s records arrived from the kindergarten in West Virginia.” He turned to her. “It says you are a very good student.”

  A tiny smile crossed her lips, then disappeared.

  Phillips folded his hands. “I’ve asked one of the kindergarten teachers to take you to the classroom. Is that okay with you, Elizabeth? That way you can see where you will be next week.”

  She lifted her shoulders in a shrug so fleeting Mark almost missed it. Evidently Phillips didn’t because he leaned forward and spoke into the intercom.

  “Ms. Jenkins would you please come and get Elizabeth Bradford?”

  Once they were alone, Phillips turned to Mark. “Have you taken her to a psychologist?”

  “Yes. He believed the mutism was caused from Lizzy being in the accident where her mother died. According to the other grandparents, Lizzy hasn’t spoken since.”

  The counselor nodded. “I’m sorry about your wife.”

  Mark pressed his lips together. “Me, too, but Rachel was my ex-wife.” He wasn’t certain he wanted to tell Carl Phillips he hadn’t even kn
own Lizzy existed until after the accident. “I haven’t totally settled on starting Lizzy next Monday. I thought it might be better to wait until after Christmas, and let her stay with my mom while I’m at work. It would give Lizzy more time to get adjusted to Maine and her new surroundings.”

  “Attendance in kindergarten isn’t mandatory in Maine,” Carl said, nodding. “And with Christmas break in just three weeks, it would mean one more change for Lizzy, so I tend to agree with you.”

  Mark leaned forward. “Do you think you can accommodate her problem?”

  “We have an excellent special needs program here.” Carl’s assurance was firm. “And, Elizabeth isn’t the first child with selective mutism we’ve had here.”

  “Really?” Selective mutism was extremely rare, and it offered him hope that Lizzy could be happy here if the school was familiar with the problem.

  “Christmas Town was fortunate to have a speech pathologist who tried something different with that child and got remarkable results.”

  “You said was fortunate. Is the therapist no longer here?”

  “Oh, she’s here, just not for long.”

  “What do you mean?”

  A frown crossed his face. “She’s leaving Christmas Town for Texas and an opportunity to teach and work with specialists in child language disorders.”

  His hopes crashed. “Do you think she will see Lizzy before she leaves?”

  Phillips selected a pen from the many on his desk and wrote on a note pad. “She’s agreed to see you in the morning at nine. Can you make it?”

  He’d already taken off early this afternoon from his job at the timber company. No matter. Hopefully, they would understand. “I’ll be there.”

  Phillips tore out the sheet and handed it to him. Mark stared at the name. Amy Logan. Amy Logan? He raised his gaze. “Is this—“

  A grin spread across the counselor’s face. “Yep. Prom queen to your prom king. Married and divorced. She has her own speech therapy clinic at the farm the dad left her and her sister.”

  An image of Amy came to him, not as Prom Queen, but dripping wet, her dark hair plastered to her head after being thrown into a pond by her horse. Even wet and bedraggled, she’d been beautiful, and his tongue had stuck to the roof of his mouth, keeping him from telling her how he felt. But she’d wanted him to give up the band. And then she married Kevin.

  Maybe Lizzy had inherited her speech problems from Mark. He tucked the address in his pocket—he knew where her clinic was. And he wasn’t waiting until morning.

  Chapter 2

  Amy counted to ten. What was it with her assistant? She had more than three weeks to get her own date to the annual pageant—if she went. And who said she had to have a date for Chloe’s wedding in two days? “And pray tell, Teri, whom did you find?”

  Teri folded her arms across her chest, her hazel eyes dancing as she managed to not laugh. “Don’t talk to me in that tone of voice. I’m only trying to help. You know how your mom wants grandchildren. Besides, you really don’t want to show up at the pageant alone.”

  Her assistant was right on both counts. If she did, the very next day half a dozen of her mother’s friends would be trying to set her up with their son, or nephew. It was one of the reasons she hadn’t gone since the divorce.

  And as for the grandchildren her mom wanted…his sister Lia would have to be the one to provide them.

  “You can probably get away with going alone to the wedding, though.”

  “I appreciate that,” she said with a shake of her head. Now she knew how Lia felt when Amy tried to set her up with the local vet. “I’m perfectly capable of getting to the pageant by myself, if it comes to that.”

  “You know how people talk, and don’t sidetrack me. I found a guy on this dating website. He lives in the next county over and will be here in thirty minutes for you to interview.”

  “What?” Amy blinked. “You get on-line or on the telephone and stop him from coming. I’m not talking to him.”

  “Why not?” Her petite friend held her iPad for Amy to see the photo she’d pulled up.

  The man was handsome, in a rough sort of way. Square jaw, brown hair cut in a buzz style, brown eyes that were not too narrowly set. “Why would someone who looks like that be on a dating website? It’s probably not even his photo.”

  “Just talk to him. Maybe he’s like you—a workaholic.”

  “Is our next rider here?”

  “Not coming, so you’ll have time to talk to…” Teri glanced at the paper. “Tom Smith.”

  “Probably isn’t his real name, either. Why did Billy’s mom cancel?”

  “She called and said he had the sniffles, and she didn’t want to get him out in the cold, even with the heated barn. And she didn’t want to expose us to whatever he has this close to Christmas.”

  A mom with sense. That didn’t always happen, and Amy didn’t know how many times she’d gotten a virus because the mom insisted on the child having a session. “Okay. And if Tom Smith doesn't get your message, when he arrives, you handle it.”

  “No problem.”

  Yeah, right. Teri would probably disappear and leave her to deal with him.

  Twenty minutes later, a faint Hello, anyone here? reached Amy’s ears. She glanced at her watch. Tom Smith was early. And as she expected, Teri was nowhere in sight. She closed the folder she was making notes in and opened her office door. “Back here,” she called. She was going to kill Teri.

  The man came into sight. He did look somewhat like his photo, but really more handsome…and familiar. Then she noticed the child lagging behind him with a death grip on his hand. He brought a kid with him? She walked toward them. “I’m Amy Logan. And you must be the man my assistant told me about. I’m sorry she wasted your time, but—”

  She halted at the disappointment on the man’s face. “Really, I do apologize, but I can assure you, it simply wouldn’t work out, and it was only for one date. Well actually two—my friend is getting married, too. But I’m leaving—”

  She was babbling and stopped in mid-sentence to catch her breath. Suddenly it dawned on her…change the buzz cut to shoulder-length brown hair…“Mark? Mark Bradford, is that you?”

  He laughed. “I take it you thought I was someone else?”

  “Yes.” She shook her head. “I mean, no…well, maybe. You cut your hair.”

  He ran his free hand over his head. “Yeah. When I left the band and got a job in Corporate America.”

  The band. Mark had been her first love, but his had been the band. “You left the band?”

  Mark glanced at the small girl with golden curls beside him, then back to Amy. “Had to grow up sometime.” He cocked his head. “Who’s getting married?”

  “Chloe.” And now he knew she didn’t have an escort for it.

  “Chloe Wright is getting married? Who—”

  “Ted Lincoln.”

  Ginger stuck her head over the stall door and nickered, and the child beside Mark inched toward the horse. Amy took a carrot from the bucket. “Would you like to give her a carrot? Just put it in the palm of your hand.”

  The child glanced toward Mark, a question in her eyes, and he nodded. “Watch your fingers, though.”

  Silently, she took the carrot and without letting go of Mark’s hand, held her other palm up to Ginger. The mare stretched her neck and gently nibbled at the carrot.

  “Let’s get closer, Lizzy,” Mark said and without a word, they moved nearer to the stall.

  The tenderness in his voice spoke volumes, but their relationship seemed strained. Amy gave him a sidelong glance. Lizzy. Elizabeth. Amy shifted her gaze from Mark to the girl. Surely this wasn’t the child the school counselor called her about, the one with selective mutism.

  It couldn’t be. She instinctively touched her stomach. Mark didn’t have a child, at least she hadn’t heard about one. But Lizzy had Mark’s dimple in her chin, and there was something about her eyes and the way she looked out of them that was all Mark… />
  Amy tilted her head. “So, why are you here?”

  He nodded toward Lizzy. “This is my daughter, and we need your help.”

  ~*~

  Mark swallowed, waiting for Amy’s reaction. He hadn’t expected her to still be so beautiful, and he was pretty sure she didn’t know he had a daughter. When she simply nodded, tension eased from his muscles.

  “I was expecting you in the morning. Well, not you, but someone. I had no idea you had returned to Christmas Town.”

  “Yeah. I needed Mom to help out with Lizzy, and she couldn’t come to me.”

  “I imagine not. Hold on, while I text someone to come and stay with Lizzy while we talk.”

  Her fingers flew over her phone, then she turned to his daughter. “Would you like to brush Ginger? She’s very gentle.” Not waiting for Lizzy’s answer, Amy grabbed a halter and slipped inside the stall. Soon, she led a fat pony into the hallway. “Ginger is going to be a mom soon,” she said, hooking the mare in the crossties.

  The only coloring books Lizzy wanted had horses or ponies in them, but he wasn’t sure how she’d react to a breathing pony much bigger than she was.

  He needn’t have worried. Wide-eyed, Lizzy loosened the stranglehold she had on his hand and stepped next to the pony to pat her shoulder.

  Mark turned as a slender redhead approached.

  She gave him a double look and blinked. “When did he—?”

  A chuckle came from Amy. “You better be glad this isn’t Tom Smith, even though he kind of looks like the photo,” she said. “Lizzy, Mark, this is Teri.” Amy knelt beside Lizzy. “Can Teri help you with brushing Ginger?”

  Lizzy’s panicked eyes speared him. “I’ll just be in the other room, and if you need me, Teri will let me know,” he said. “Okay?”

  With a tug-of-war playing out in her face, Lizzy looked from him to the pony, then at the assistant who held out her hand. His daughter clearly wanted to brush Ginger. The pony stamped her foot.

  “See,” he said, “she wants you to groom her.”