Wrapped Up in Christmas Joy

by Janice Lynn

  Table Of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Dilly Duchess Potatoes

  About the Author

  Sneak Peek of Christmas Charms

  Wrapped Up in Christmas Joy

  Copyright © 2020 Janice Lynn

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereinafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The Quilts of Valor Foundation, discussed in this story, is very real. Its mission

  is to cover service members and veterans touched by war with comforting and

  healing quilts. As of March 2020, over 250,000 QOVs have been awarded

  to service members and veterans. To learn more about the Quilts of Valor

  Foundation or to donate to their cause, please visit https://www.qovf.org/.

  The Quilts of Valor Foundation has generously provided a free quilt pattern designed by Dennis L. Taylor. For the pattern “A Hero’s Weave,” click here.

  Print ISBN 978-1-952210-03-7

  eBook ISBN 978-1-952210-04-4

  www.hallmarkpublishing.com

  In loving memory of Josh, Erin, & Sawyer Kimberlin

  #SawyersSong

  Chapter One

  “I’ll pay somebody fifty bucks to take my place,” Cole Aaron offered his fellow firefighters at the Pine Hill Fire Department.

  What were the odds that he would be the one to pull the “winning” green candy cane from the fuzzy red stocking he and the guys had passed around? Not that he felt like he’d won anything. If anything, getting stuck in the role of Santa felt like a huge mistake. Did they really think it was a good fit for a former tough-guy Marine turned firefighter to dress up as Santa in the Pine Hill Christmas parade?

  He didn’t have any Christmas cheer whatsoever. Christmas generosity, perhaps, such as when he’d offered to pay for poinsettias for the nursing home residents—but trying to make up for all the bad things you’d done in life didn’t suddenly make you qualified to be Santa.

  “This one is all you…Saint Nick,” Andrew snickered.

  Of course, his best buddy Andrew would find humor in the idea of Cole donning a red suit, fake belly, white beard, and wig. Had the roles been reversed Cole would be cracking up, too. Only, Andrew hadn’t gotten the short end of the stick, er…candy cane, in the “Who Gets to be Santa on the Rescue Truck for the Christmas Parade?” lottery. Cole knew they should have gone with rock, paper, scissors. He was good at that.

  He turned to Ben, another of his close friends.

  “Don’t look at me,” Ben advised, continuing to help Jules and another firefighter decorate a ten-foot tree to “give the fire station a festive spirit,” as the chief had put it. The Christmas music blasting over the intercom system all week had also been Chief’s idea. As if to taunt Cole, “Santa Claus is Coming to Town” came on.

  The guys all snorted with laughter.

  Cole groaned. “I look nothing like Santa.”

  “Which is what that’s for.” Andrew gestured to the red suit Chief had sat on the table where Cole had been doing a crossword puzzle just minutes before, trying to ignore how Christmas was taking over his beloved firehall. “Come on. You know red’s your color.”

  Glaring at his best friend, Cole peeled the plastic wrapper off the offending green candy cane and stuck the end in his mouth. Yuck. He couldn’t even determine if it was green apple, watermelon, spearmint, or some horrible combination of all three. It certainly didn’t taste like peppermint or anything to do with Christmas.

  “That bad, eh?” one of the other firemen asked, looking just as amused as Andrew and Ben. The entire crew found it funny that the new guy had to be Santa. Or maybe they were all just ecstatic they weren’t the one stuck with having to put on the red suit and go around saying, “Ho, ho, ho. Merry Christmas.”

  Not Cole’s idea of a good time, either.

  Any of the other crew members would be more qualified than Cole to spark the magic of Christmas for the kids at the parade. He suspected most of the guys would even like playing Santa, but were enjoying ragging him too much to step in.

  Cole hadn’t even celebrated the holiday in years. How was he supposed to pull off being Santa to this full-of-Christmas-spirit small Kentucky town?

  “Not nearly as bad as having to wear that.” To prove it, he stuck the tip of the candy back into his mouth—and immediately regretted doing so. It should be against the law for candy canes to come in any flavor other than peppermint.

  Or for guys with tainted souls to play the ultimate Christmas good guy.

  “Come on, Cole. Model the suit for us,” Jules said from where she stood on a stepladder placing an ornament of a Dalmatian in a fire helmet on the tree.

  Ben handed another ornament up to Jules as he added, “You do need to make sure the costume fits.”

  Glaring at his coworkers, Cole bit off a piece of the candy and crunched the disgusting stuff between his teeth.

  “Ben’s right,” Chief confirmed, his salt and pepper mustache curling upward as he rocked his six-five frame back on his heels. “Last year, the pants had to be hemmed for Bob. I suspect you’ll have to have the extra length let back out.”

  “Or maybe Bob should just be Santa again this year,” Cole mumbled, wondering how long the candy’s bad taste would linger in his mouth.

  “His daughter is expecting her first baby that week,” Chief reminded, his brown eyes twinkling with humor, as well, beneath his bushy brows. “Bob will be in Connecticut to meet his grandchild.”

  There was that.

  “I’ll be in my office—I have a meeting in a few minutes.” His gaze connected with Cole’s. “But for the record, I couldn’t have chosen anyone better to be the department’s Santa. You’ll do great.”

  Cole wasn’t the type to argue with his boss, nor did he usually feel the desire to do so. But, for once, he longed to list all the reasons Chief was wrong.

  Instead, he sighed.

  Whether he wanted to or not, he was going to be Santa in the Pine Hill Christmas parade. Santa should be some happy, jovial fellow, not a former Marine who’d done things that still haunted Cole’s dreams.

  No one else at the firehall battled the demons Cole fought.

  Thank God.

  Cole was proud to have been a Marine, proud of the brotherhood he’d belonged to. He would die filled with love for the good ole US of A and pride that he’d served his country with all his heart. But when it came to the things he’d done…

  There was no pride in himself, nor should there be.

>   “Put on the suit,” Andrew repeated, barely able to contain his laughter as all the crew began chanting along with him.

  “I’ve heard about taking advantage of the new guy, but this,” he held up his putrid green candy cane, “is ridiculous.”

  “Hey, I think it’s cool you get to be Santa,” Ben said, and Cole had no doubt he meant it. Cole’s friend would have jumped at the chance to take the role if he’d drawn the green candy cane. Ben always smiled, was friendly to everyone, and would make a great Santa.

  “Just think, all the kids are going to love you,” his friend continued.

  Not one of Cole’s life goals. Not that he wanted kids to dislike him—far from it. He just didn’t think much about kids one way or the other. He certainly had no plans to ever have any of his own.

  No way would he ruin a kid’s life by giving him or her a dad as messed up in the head as he was.

  Cole still marveled at the life he’d made in Kentucky, at how much he had changed from the civilian drifter he’d been when he’d signed up for firefighter school. Working as a firefighter had given him purpose, and coming to Pine Hill to move into the farmhouse his late uncle had left him had given him a home. The Marines had been his family for more than a decade, and now he belonged to a second family, too. But at times like these, he questioned the motives of his brother firefighters. They sure liked to push him out of his comfort zone, and if he didn’t know better, he’d think they’d rigged the stocking draw.

  Regardless, being Santa in the parade was what was expected of him. Cole would do his job, and he’d do it well. Never again would he be the weak link of his team.

  “Fine. I’ll put on the suit. But if I catch any of you with your cellphones out taking pictures, I refuse to be held responsible for my actions.”

  Andrew grinned. “Just be sure to say cheese when you come back out.”

  “Instead of ‘ho, ho, ho’?” Cole shook his head. “Not happening. If I’m going to do this”—and it looked as if he had to—“then I’m going to do it right, so every one of you clowns better straighten up if you want to stay off the naughty list.”

  At six foot one, Cole was a good four inches taller than Bob, and the pant legs currently only came down mid-calf. The cuffs definitely needed to be let out, Cole thought miserably as he stared at himself in the mirror. His tall black boots mostly hid the poor fit except when Cole moved and they rode up, exposing his calves.

  He noted the tilt of the red hat with its big fuzzy white ball on top, the fake belly that added girth to his middle but did nothing to fill out the sleeves and pants, as his muscular legs and arms were far more toned than Santa was meant to be. Additionally, his furry coat sleeves were also a bit too short, though he supposed they could be made to work with a pair of gloves that covered more of his wrists. The white wig and beard fit right, at least, and covered most of his face except for his eyes, nose, and the top of his cheekbones.

  He eyed the furry white stick-on brows and shrugged. Why not? He removed the backing and pressed them over his own eyebrows.

  With some adjustments and help with make-up from Jules—and a position up on top of the fire truck, where no one could see him all that closely—maybe none of the kids would notice what a terrible Santa he made.

  “Here goes nothing,” he muttered to his Santa reflection, and then, sucking in a deep breath, he embraced his role.

  Like true brothers, the other firefighters would just keep ribbing him about the being Santa if they thought it bugged him, so the best way to get through this would be to show how unbothered he was. As he reentered the break area, he slapped his round midsection and bellowed, “Ho, ho, ho. Merry Christmas. Who’s first to sit on Santa’s lap?”

  “Hey, Cole, there’s someone here to see you.” Andrew’s voice cut through where Ben sang along to the Christmas music still playing on the overhead speaker.

  Looking over, Cole saw the pretty young woman standing next to his best bud, looking toward him with wide, surprised hazel eyes and her shiny hair—light brown streaked with gold—falling around her shoulders. She wore jeans, mid-calf boots, and a red sweater with a big cartoonish reindeer face on it, and her jaw was hanging open as her gaze met his.

  A hard punch landed deep in Cole’s gut, making his breath whoosh out from between the white hair that surrounded his lips.

  Sophie Grace Davis.

  He almost took a step back from the impact of her expressive eyes. Which was saying a lot because Cole usually ran into the face of danger, not away from it. Always had, and he suspected he always would. And for some reason, meeting Sophie’s eyes felt exactly the same as all those times he’d seen danger straight ahead.

  Not that Cole knew Sophie. Not really. They’d briefly met over the summer at Andrew’s Grandma Ruby’s Fourth of July picnic and had bumped into each other a few times around town in the months since then. All of which Cole could recount in vivid detail, even if he’d barely said two words to her.

  Seeing Sophie always left him a bit discombobulated, uncomfortably aware that he was too stiff and awkward. But seeing her while wearing a furry red suit that didn’t properly fit, with the wig and beard that mostly covered his face, and with his great entrance comment…yeah, could this day possibly get any worse?

  Not in a million years had Sophie Davis expected to see Cole Aaron dressed up as Santa Claus. Why hadn’t Chief warned her?

  Of course, Sophie had instantly recognized Cole. As much as she’d tried, she’d not forgotten his pale, almost icy, blue eyes, or how ruggedly well-built he was—which even the costume couldn’t fully disguise.

  Nor had she forgotten how standoffish he’d been on the few occasions their paths had crossed. She’d taken the hint and avoided him the last few times she’d spotted him around town, and she was well aware he’d done the same.

  “Here to give Santa your Christmas list?” Andrew teased, standing next to her with his arms crossed. Their families were friends, but Andrew was several years older than her, so they’d never been close. They just occasionally saw each other at family and town events.

  Family friend or not, she felt like elbowing him at his teasing.

  Taking a deep breath and forcing a smile, she kept her gaze locked with Cole’s. “No, but I am here to return something of Cole’s.”

  Had he even realized what he’d done? That he’d accidentally donated his journal for the church’s Christmas fundraising rummage sale?

  “Wouldn’t happen to be eight reindeer and a sleigh, would it?” Barely smothering his laughter, Andrew rocked back on his heels.

  “She kinda looks like one of Santa’s reindeer herself,” another teased. “Hey, Cole? You missing a cute reindeer to lead your sleigh?”

  Heat rushing into her cheeks, Sophie glanced down at her bright red Christmas sweater with its big, flashing red nosed reindeer. It was one of her favorites, and this was her first time wearing it this Christmas season. Was it too soon to have turned on the battery-operated nose?

  On the other hand, Cole was wearing a Santa suit, so what was a snazzy Christmas sweater in the grand scheme of feeling self-conscious? It wasn’t as if she hadn’t felt self-conscious every other time their paths had crossed, too.

  She gave him a pleading look. “Is there somewhere private we could talk a few minutes?”

  “Hey, Sophie. Santa Cole been threatening you with the naughty list, too? Doesn’t he know your name is written in permanent ink at the top of Santa’s nice list?”

  At hearing the familiar, friendly voice, Sophie smiled at Ben Preston. How had she not noticed he was helping decorate the cutest fire department–themed Christmas tree ever?

  Then again, Cole had always had a knack for capturing all her attention, and that was before she’d realized he was her wounded warrior.

  “Hey, Ben.” Sophie had always liked the good-natured man she’d known since high sc
hool. He’d been a couple of years ahead, in her dear friend Sarah’s class rather than Sophie’s, but they’d all hung out together in their church’s youth group. Ben’s frequent smiles, sparkly dark eyes, and his love of God, had impressed Sophie. She’d crushed on him a bit in high school, but she’d missed the boat; the only time he’d shown interest, she’d had other obligations. Now, she could only see him as a friend.

  “No, Cole…er, Santa Cole, hasn’t threatened me with the naughty list.”

  Ben smiled and went to stand near Cole, who’d not taken a step or said a word since spotting her.

  “Good to know he hasn’t been bothering you.”

  Not unless one counted how his written words tore at her peace of mind and invaded her dreams. If those were factored in, then Cole had bothered her a great deal.

  Cole studied her with an intensity that didn’t at all match his white wig locks, bushy white brows, and thick fake mustache and beard. “There must be some mistake,” he said. “How could you have something of mine?”

  Not wanting to explain where everyone could overhear, she replied, “I promise I’ll only take a few minutes of your time if you’ll humor me a bit in private, please.”

  “See, that Santa suit is already bringing you good luck.” Ben elbowed Cole’s arm and earned a quick glare. “Go talk to the lady.”

  Ignoring Ben and looking puzzled, Cole’s gaze held hers. “Okay if I go change first?”

  Sophie nodded, because, really, what else could she do?

  One of Sophie’s favorite Christmas carols came on and she attempted to let the song ease her mounting nerves at just standing in the large, open area of the firehall where the men were gathered. Surely, thoughts of Santa being up on the housetop would calm her jitteriness.

  But it wasn’t working. Because Cole was now Santa in her head. A Santa in desperate need of a good seamstress, which she just so happened to be.

  Sucking in a deep breath, which triggered a grin from Andrew who still stood next to her, Sophie ditched him to walk over to where Ben had returned to decorating the tree. “How’s LaTonya doing?”