Wrapped Up in Christmas Joy

by Janice Lynn

  He’d done her a favor by not texting her back. Once they were through with the toy drive, she could forget about him.

  The truck rolled closer to where Sophie stood and as his luck would have it, the parade slowed to a standstill right at the moment when he was opposite from where she stood, wearing a Santa hat and a flashing Christmas bulbs necklace.

  From where she was looking straight at him. When their gazes met, she smiled and waved. Not just a little wave, but a big, exuberant one as if she hadn’t texted him and been ignored. As if he was a long-lost friend she’d just spotted for the first time in years.

  “Someone is happy to see you.”

  Cole mumbled something under his breath, not even sure himself what he’d replied. Whatever it had been, Andrew laughed.

  “Throw her some candy.”

  “No.”

  Andrew chuckled. “Ah, now, that’s not nice, Santa.”

  “I never said I was nice,” Cole reminded, wondering at how his hands had gone clammy inside his gloves despite the chill from the open truck window.

  “You’re nicer than you think you are,” Andrew pointed out, his gaze back on the truck in front of them.

  “I must be to put up with the likes of you.”

  Andrew snorted.

  Cole couldn’t resist glancing back toward where Sophie stood. She was still looking his way, still smiling and still waving.

  Lord, she must be a saint to stay so positive when dealing with someone as jaded as him.

  Unable to stop himself, Cole waved back. He hadn’t consciously decided to, but his hand had lifted and done exactly that. Okay, so it had been a one-time shifting of his wrist that almost mimicked a mid-air salute, rather than a wave.

  Certainly nothing like the enthusiastic back and forth moving she’d been doing.

  What kind of Santa would he be if he hadn’t waved back?

  A bad one. Which was what he was anyway.

  Happy surprise lit on Sophie’s face, as if she’d expected him to completely ignore her wave as he’d done with her text. Such a small thing to wave back, yet she truly looked pleased, as if he’d done something wonderful.

  Guilt hit him. He hadn’t texted her back because he hadn’t wanted to encourage the light he saw in her eyes. But not encouraging Sophie had only been one part of his reasoning.

  He’d convinced himself she would be better off if he kept his distance, that he would be better off if he kept his distance, too, because he didn’t want to be one of her do-gooder projects. He wasn’t someone she could fix.

  But common courtesy dictated that he should have acknowledged her text. That he should toss her some candy.

  So, he tossed a handful. Next to him, Andrew chuckled, but didn’t say anything further, for which Cole was grateful.

  Fortunately, the parade started moving again and Andrew’s attention returned to maintaining a safe distance from the truck in front of them and watching for any wayward pedestrian that stepped off the crowded sidewalk.

  Unable to resist, Cole’s gaze met Sophie’s and held until the truck moved beyond where she stood. The whole time, she kept smiling at him as if she was truly glad to see him.

  As if she’d missed him that week.

  Rather than admit he’d missed seeing her, too, Cole nodded in acknowledgement of whatever it was he was acknowledging and attempted to focus on tossing more candy to parade watchers.

  Missing Sophie would mean he cared for her as more than just a casual acquaintance, and he really didn’t need to do that when it would only lead to heartache down the road.

  Heartache for Sophie? Or for him?

  He’d decided to never have a relationship. There’d been reasons for that. Good reasons. Valid reasons that shouldn’t be ignored.

  He never wanted to hurt her.

  Only, what if Sophie was the one woman who could read his journal and not view him with pity, fear, or disgust?

  What if she’d read his journal and still saw the man he was beneath all the things he’d done and seen? A man who’d made mistakes and lived everyday with that knowledge and the desire to make up for what he could?

  What if she was the light bright enough to illuminate the inner darkness that never truly let go of him?

  “Be leery of candy from strangers and good-looking firefighters dressed as Santa,” Isabelle warned from beside Sophie as they made their way back to Sophie’s booth just opposite from the quilt shop. The courthouse yard was covered with garland and ribbon-draped tents and the space was full of vendors selling various wares.

  Isabelle was splitting her time between the church’s bake sale and ornament sale. Each year, the Butterflies made plastic canvas snowflakes that were sold to raise funds for Sarah’s special community charity projects. Sophie supported the snowflake cause but didn’t volunteer for the booth because she felt the Quilts of Valor booth needed her more. Her sister felt otherwise. Isabelle never complained about the amount of time Sophie put into the cause she whole-heartedly believed in, but her sister rarely volunteered to pitch in herself with Sophie’s Quilts of Valor activities.

  Isabelle’s reasons for not being as involved were the exact same as Sophie’s reasons for wanting to be as involved as possible. Their father.

  “You’re just jealous because I got the Rudolph the red-nosed gumball from Santa,” Sophie accused, blowing a bubble with her gum, and, laughing, quickly sucking it back in when Isabelle went to pop it.

  Santa Cole had waved. Silly, but that simple wave had flip-flopped her belly with pure giddiness.

  Isabelle wrinkled her own nose. “You know I haven’t chewed gum since before I had braces—and I was fifteen when they came off.”

  “Your loss,” she assured her sister, then added, “Besides, you have nothing to worry about when it comes to Cole.”

  “Other than how emotionally involved with a former military man you’re becoming, you mean?”

  Bingo.

  “Not that we’re involved, not like you’re inferring, but his being a former military man is a plus to me.”

  “You’ve forgotten how our father was?”

  Sophie blew another bubble because she knew it would annoy Isabelle almost as much as her sister’s question annoyed her. Isabelle knew Sophie hadn’t forgotten.

  A kid didn’t forget that her father had just packed up and left.

  “You can’t blame me for worrying about you,” Isabelle reminded as they entered the tent where Sophie had quilts displayed, including ones attached to each side of three sides of the tent to block the wind, along with a table spread with brochures and pamphlets.

  Most of the goods on display in the various tents were Christmas themed or decorated, but not Sophie’s. She was all red, white, and blue.

  A Quilts of Valor Foundation banner draped the front of the table and Isabelle winced as she stared at it.

  “I’ve been doing it my whole life.”

  “I know,” Sophie relented. “And, I appreciate how much you love me and have always looked out for me. But where Cole is concerned, stop worrying. We’re barely more than acquaintances.”

  “You don’t expect me to believe that, surely?”

  Shrugging, Sophie straightened a stack of brochures. “Believe what you want.”

  “You’d like there to be more between the two of you,” Isabelle accused, obviously not ready to let the conversation go.

  “Of course, I’d like there to be more.” She met her sister’s gaze. “Why wouldn’t I? Cole’s a great person. I’d like to be his friend.” Maybe more. Maybe a lot more. “I’d think you’d feel the same as me, that we should reach out to him, make him feel welcome.”

  Isabelle sighed. “I can’t stand the thought of you being involved with someone who is destined to hurt you.”

  Isabelle was wrong. Cole wouldn’t hurt her. Yes
, he was a bit hot and cold, but it wasn’t out of malice. He was just dealing with his own defensive issues.

  Leaning over, Sophie hugged her sister. “I’m very lucky to have you to love me and watch out for me. Thank you.”

  “Just…be careful, okay?”

  “That is some good chili.”

  A de-Santa-fied Cole nodded at Andrew’s comment after they’d each finished eating a bowl apiece from Lou’s food truck. The hot, spiced-up soup he’d chosen had been some of the best Cole had ever eaten. One thing was certain, Pine Hill had great food.

  He tossed his empty bowl into a recycle bin and the two men prepared to walk around to look at the other booths. As part of their firefighter duties, they were required to stay at the festival, search for any fire code violations that might put others at risk, and mainly, just be close in case there were any issues.

  They made it about halfway around the square before stopping.

  “Hey, Cole! Andrew!” Sarah called from a festively decorated large tent. Garland with colorful Christmas lights and ribbon twisted around each support pole and across the front of the tent. One side of the tent boasted the church bake sale, where several men and women were waiting on customers. The other side was set up as an ornament booth where Sarah and Bodie sold snowflakes that they displayed by hanging them both on live Christmas trees and on a large painted pegboard-type tree that served as a partition between the bake sale and the ornament sale.

  “Do you guys need a Butterfly-made snowflake?”

  “No.”

  Those Butterflies made him nervous. Probably because he suspected they were always up to something.

  Besides, Cole hadn’t decorated the farmhouse and didn’t plan to. Why would he? It was only him there. Other than Andrew, Ben, and more recently, Bodie, he never had company. He’d found a few boxes of his uncle’s Christmas decorations in the attic when he’d been going through things, but he hadn’t pulled them out and had no intentions to anytime soon.

  Hearing Cole’s voice, Harry came around from behind the booth partition.

  Cole knelt to scratch the dog behind his ears. “Hey, buddy. You remember me?”

  “Harry never forgets anyone,” Bodie said proudly. “He’s probably trying to butter you up for another invite to chase birds at your farm.”

  “Like I told you, he’s welcome, anytime. He’s a great dog. Aren’t you, boy?”

  Harry gave a bark, confirming that he was indeed a great boy.

  With his work schedule, Cole hadn’t seriously considered getting an animal, but the more he was around Harry, the more he thought he might. If he ever did, he’d just have to make sure he could bring it to the firehall with him as he wouldn’t want to leave an animal at home alone during his long work shifts.

  “How about you, Andrew?” Sarah turned her gaze on his friend. “Do you need a snowflake?”

  “Need?” Andrew shook his head. “I’ve got dozens of the things. My grandma makes me one and puts it on my Christmas gift every year.” He wore a rather lost expression as if he wasn’t sure why she did that. “I don’t put up a tree, so I just keep tossing them in a drawer because I don’t know what to do with them.”

  “I’d think that was obvious,” Sarah told him in a no-nonsense tone. “You need to get a tree and to put them on it. It’s why Ruby makes them for you. Shame on you for just tossing them in a drawer year after year.”

  Not looking up from where he petted Harry, Cole smothered a laugh at Sarah’s scolding.

  Andrew shook his head. “Not happening. Too busy to mess with all that fuss and bother. My man cave is just fine the way it is—womanless and treeless.”

  Sarah’s mouth dropped open, then taking in Andrew’s expression, she let out an exaggerated sigh. “Men.”

  Cole, Andrew, and Bodie looked at each other and grinned.

  “At least you’re keeping the ones Ruby makes you,” Sarah pointed out, giving credit where credit was due. “That’s good. Someday, you’ll be glad you did. Still, you should buy a few of these to use on presents you give this year. It’s for a good cause and it’ll add a festive touch and make your gifts more meaningful.”

  “I expect meaningful gifts,” Cole couldn’t resist saying.

  Andrew’s gaze narrowed. “I’ll give you a meaningful gift.”

  Cole laughed.

  Bodie gave Sarah an indulgent smile. “It’s okay. Not everyone wants or needs a snowflake.”

  Smiling back, with her mouth and her eyes, Sarah clicked her tongue at her fiancé. “Your sales pitch needs work, Bodie Lewis.”

  “Guess you’ll have to help me practice,” he suggested.

  “I could do that.” She batted her lashes at her soon-to-be husband.

  Cole felt a pang of jealousy at the teasing looks and banter passing between the couple. When he’d been at the farm, Bodie had mentioned a little of his past, revealing that he’d been busted up during an IED explosion that had left him as the sole survivor of his unit. Afterward, he’d had to deal with a lot of survivor’s guilt.

  Cole understood the survivor’s guilt. He hadn’t been the only one to survive the ambush, but he’d been the one in charge. He should have gotten his men out of there sooner.

  Cole was happy that Bodie had managed to make a good life for himself in Pine Hill but couldn’t help the pang hitting him.

  What was Cole thinking? He did not feel a pang of jealousy.

  That pang had been nothing more than heartburn from Lou’s chili.

  Besides, Cole had made a good life for himself in Pine Hill, too.

  Any jealousy he felt toward Bodie would be over Harry. He’d like a dog like Harry.

  As if he sensed what Cole was thinking, the dog nuzzled his head against Cole, then licked his gloved hand.

  “Everyone does need a snowflake,” Sarah insisted, standing on her tiptoes to kiss Bodie’s cheek.

  Nope. That was not jealousy.

  “Some folks just don’t realize they need one. It’s our job to enlighten them.” Sarah’s expression said that Bodie could voice no argument that would convince her otherwise. “We’re doing them a favor by selling them a snowflake and adding Christmas magic to their holiday season. Plus, they’re doing a good deed in helping fund church charity projects.” She gave Bodie a pointed look. “Remember that and you’ll do a much better job in selling these snowflakes.”

  One side of his mouth hiking up, Bodie turned back toward Cole and Andrew. “Sorry, guys, but you heard the lady. Prepare to be enlightened. You may not realize it, but you do, after all, need a snowflake. Your entire holiday season will be lacking in Christmas cheer if you miss out on these extraordinary, genuine Bumblebee-made, snowflakes.”

  “Butterfly-made,” Sarah corrected with an amused eyeroll before turning back to Cole. “But other than that, he’s right. Besides,” she said, directing her gaze to Cole, “surely you want a snowflake as a reminder of the other night, don’t you?” Her eyes twinkled. “Weren’t the sledding and games just so much fun?”

  Cole didn’t need a reminder of that night. Far from it.

  “Got to help a brother out,” Andrew said, handing over a folded bill to Bodie and taking a snowflake even if he didn’t look as if he knew quite what to do with it.

  Cole pulled out his wallet, too. “How about I make a donation and you give the snowflake to someone who really does need it?”

  Sarah awarded him a smile, took his money, then gave a sly look. “That’s an excellent idea. I know just who needs one. It would totally make her night. Would you deliver it for me?”

  “Say no,” Andrew half-coughed, half-whispered as he slipped Bodie his snowflake back to be resold to raise more funds.

  Cole narrowed his gaze at the smiling woman he’d liked until that moment. She wasn’t fooling anyone, least of all him. Maybe she was one of those Butterflies, too, only yo
unger.

  “Let me guess, Sophie needs a snowflake?”

  “I always did say you military boys were quick to catch on.” Sarah grinned, then turned to choose a snowflake, her gaze pausing only a moment on the snowflake Bodie had rehung, staring at it just long enough to let them know she knew what they’d done.

  “Told you to say no,” Andrew said, shaking his head.

  Once she’d picked a snowflake, Sarah placed it inside a paper bag, then handed it to Cole with a big smile.

  “Thank you so much for your support and for passing on holiday cheer. Merry Christmas!”

  Sophie beamed at the two women who’d stopped at her tent and asked for more information about the Quilts of Valor Foundation.

  “I’m so glad you asked,” she said, meaning every word. She loved talking about the organization that did so much good. “Back in 2003, Catherine Roberts started the organization after she had a dream about wrapping a dejected soldier in a quilt. Since that time, the organization has awarded thousands of quilts and strives to wrap thousands more around past and present military.”

  Sophie handed the woman a brochure and continued to gush a little as she explained the patterns for some of the quilts she had on display. Although Sophie volunteered her longarm services to quilt others’ quilts to be awarded, and though she had several of those at the shop, Sophie had made all the ones she’d brought with her tonight.

  “My father was in the Navy,” the older woman said. “He served during World War II. I would love for him to have been wrapped in a quilt.” Memories of her father shone in her eyes. “He’d have loved that. Despite the hardships he faced, he was so proud of his time in the military.”

  “My father served, too,” Sophie told her. “Not in World War II, obviously.” She smiled. “He served in Desert Storm.”

  And was never the same afterward, according to all who knew and loved him. Still, he’d come home long enough to marry and father two girls prior to taking off for parts unknown.