Wrapped Up in Christmas Joy

by Janice Lynn

  Cole handed over her chili. If he was going to walk away, now was his chance.

  Only, he wouldn’t leave her to sit alone on the gazebo steps.

  What kind of person would he be if he did that? After all, she’d always been nothing but kind to him, despite knowing what she knew.

  He sat down next to her, the cold from the steps cutting through even the thickness of his utility pants. In her thinner clothes, Sophie had to feel as if she was sitting on an ice block. But rather than complain, she awarded him another happy look.

  Meeting her gaze, the smile he’d been fighting broke free. He didn’t even know why he was smiling, just that he felt the lifting of his facial muscles as his mouth curved.

  “Finally,” she breathed. “I thought you’d forgotten how.”

  Still feeling a bit like a puppet with her holding his strings, as if she controlled his body more than him, Cole grunted, “That makes two of us.”

  Looking a little caught off guard at his response, her smile wavered—but that only lasted for a moment. He could almost have missed it because she recovered that fast. “Well, I’m glad you remembered, because I like your smile.”

  “Why?” Wasn’t that the million-dollar question? Why was Sophie so nice to him? Why did she light up brighter than the square’s Christmas tree when she looked at him? Was it all a ruse? All founded in benevolence?

  Blowing on a steaming spoonful of chili, she eyed him. “What do you mean, why? Doesn’t everyone prefer smiling people to unsmiling people?”

  She had a point.

  Cupping his gloved hands, Cole blew into them, as if he thought that was going to warm them. Had he been hoping her answer would warm his soul right down to his fingertips? He wasn’t physically that cold, so he must have been hoping for something.

  “I guess so.”

  Sophie ate her spoonful of chili. “Mmmm, this is good enough to make the whole world smile. Yum. Want a bite?”

  She planned to spoon-feed him? Neck muscles tensing, Cole shook his head. “I already ate.”

  “Don’t say I didn’t offer to share.”

  “No worries. Those stars in your crown are safe.”

  “What does that mean?” She gave him a blank look as she wrapped her lips around the spoon again.

  “Nothing,” he murmured, feeling guilty that his own shortcomings were seeping through.

  “Did you see the tree lighting earlier? Wasn’t it gorgeous? I was at the booth, so I only saw it from a distance, but it’s always so impressive.”

  Cole had gone to the tree lighting by default as he and Andrew had been canvasing the square at the time.

  “What’s your favorite Christmas memory?”

  “Huh?” Cole turned back to Sophie, wondering how it was even possible for her brain to jump from one subject to the next so quickly.

  She waved her spoon as she spoke. “Your favorite Christmas memory, what is it?”

  “Same as any kid. Christmas morning and unwrapping presents.”

  “Presents are good,” she agreed, taking another bite, then asking, “Did you get lots of presents or was it mostly lumps of coal? Coal for Cole. Ha, ha.”

  Cole’s lips twitched. Yeah, he’d been hearing all types of coal jokes from his buddies, now that they were in the Christmas season. Usually in conjunction with something about Sophie.

  “I deserved lumps of coal,” he admitted, “but never found any in my stocking.”

  “Tell me about Christmas morning at your house.”

  Cole frowned. “Why?”

  “Because I want to know. And don’t ask me why I want to know!” she said, pointing her empty spoon at him. “Just tell me.”

  “It was me and my parents.”

  “You’re an only child?”

  “I was for a while. My parents divorced when I was ten, but up until then, it was the three of us. They both remarried and had more kids. Now I have four half-sisters. Two from each parent.”

  “Four? Wow. That’s lucky.” Sophie sounded as if she truly believed that. “I just have Isabelle but would love to have a dozen more of her.”

  Cole wasn’t sure he’d ever viewed himself lucky for having sisters. More indifferent, really. He’d been a teenaged boy when his parents had remarried, and he had joined the military as they were starting their new families. They’d written to him on occasion, the letters and postcards eventually catching up to wherever he was stationed, but he’d never been close to his siblings. Both parents had new families, and he’d never quite belonged as part of either one.

  “Do you ever see them?” she asked between bites of her dinner.

  “Occasionally.” He’d gone home a few times on leave but had felt awkward and out of place with his parents’ new families, as if he was the outsider, a reminder of a failed first try. “They all live in Georgia.”

  “Georgia isn’t that far from Kentucky.”

  “Far enough.”

  “Was there a favorite Christmas morning?”

  “Not that I recall. They were all about the same. Wake up, wake the parents, open presents, then spend the rest of the day playing with whatever they’d gotten me while they did their thing.”

  Sophie placed her empty bowl beside her on the step. “Being an only child sounds boring.”

  “I was never bored.”

  “I can’t imagine not having Isabelle to spend the day with. We had so much fun on Christmas, with Mom, too.”

  He noted she didn’t mention her father but decided not to ask. He wasn’t much on people asking about his private matters, so he sure wasn’t going to push into someone else’s.

  “How about you? Do you have a favorite Christmas morning memory?”

  Her eyes took on a sparkly faraway look. “I was six. It’s the last Christmas we spent as a family before my dad left.”

  Left as in actually left, by choice? Or left as in passed away? Cole kept his questions to himself. If Sophie wanted him to know, she’d elaborate.

  “Isabelle and I wanted this dollhouse with all this furniture in it. Dad worked at a local factory and Mom at the salon. They didn’t have any extra money, and this dollhouse was the Cadillac of doll houses with all the bells and whistles.” Her eyes took on a faraway look. “Thinking back, I don’t know how they did it, but that dollhouse, and furniture for every room in it, were waiting for us under the tree. We played and played with that gift. It’s probably still in the attic somewhere.”

  “Sounds like it was a good investment on their part if you both played with it that much.”

  “It was.” She stood, brushing off her backside. “Lots of happy memories associated with that dollhouse and Christmas mornings.”

  They tossed her trash in the appropriate bins, then rambled through the crowds.

  She hadn’t linked her arm with his again, but instead had her gloved hands shoved into her coat pockets except when she occasionally paused to point someone or something out to him.

  Touching or not, he imagined they still looked cozier and closer, more intimate, than what they were as Sophie smiled frequently and chatted a mile a minute about whatever she’d last called his attention to.

  Cole hadn’t meant to walk her back to her booth. But when he’d spotted Andrew, his friend had been talking with Bodie and Sarah rather than the sheriff, so Cole had steered clear. Sophie had looked longingly that way but must have sensed that Cole hadn’t wanted to go over to the church booth, and for once, she hadn’t forced the issue.

  Hopefully, the trio hadn’t spotted him and Sophie walking together.

  Otherwise, Cole was in for some teasing when they got back to the firehall that night.

  What was he thinking? Whether Andrew had seen him or not, it wasn’t as if his friend wouldn’t be able to make an educated guess as to where Cole had disappeared to—and who he had disappear
ed with. If nothing else, the Butterflies probably had a whole slew of informants watching their every move. He wouldn’t put it past them. And yet, he couldn’t make himself pull away from Sophie, no matter who was watching.

  When she and Cole arrived back at the booth, Sophie stared at the empty table where stacks of brochures had been when they’d left.

  Going around the table, she bent to pull out the box where extras were, and her mouth fell open as she lifted the empty box.

  “Wow. They’re all gone!”

  “Well, of course they are all gone.” Rosie waved off Sophie’s surprise as if it were no big deal.

  How had Rosie given away five hundred brochures that quickly?

  “I wasn’t expecting you two back so soon,” Rosie admitted, her gaze going back and forth between Cole and Sophie. “I figured you’d be at least another thirty minutes or so.”

  “We looked around a little, but I’m fed and ready to take back over. Thank you for giving me a break, Rosie.” She turned to Cole. “And thank you for feeding me.”

  Rosie’s eyes lit up at Sophie’s comment, and the woman’s gloved hands clasped together.

  “No problem.” He paused a moment, looking uncertain, then tipped his head slightly. “Night, ladies.”

  “Night, Cole,” she said, watching him walk away.

  “That there is a fine man you’ve gotten yourself.”

  “Agreed that Cole is a fine man, but he’s not mine.”

  “Then, child, you need to up your game and make him yours.”

  Spoken like a true Butterfly. Sophie laughed. “You’re assuming I want him to be my man—and that I even want a man to begin with.”

  Rosie gasped. “Are you saying you don’t?”

  Sophie lowered her gaze. It landed on the empty display table. Rather than answer Rosie’s question, she glanced up at the older woman and said, “I’m blown away that we ran out of pamphlets.”

  “I recruited a little help, but each one found a home,” Rosie said proudly. “And there you go, clever girl, changing the subject again.”

  Recruited a little help?

  Sophie eyed her friend suspiciously. “What kind of help?”

  “Well, Sue Ellen Harvey came by and said she’d like some to put out at the farm, so I gave her a whole stack of them. She said she’d make sure they ended up in the right hands to get us more volunteers.”

  “Ahhhh,” Sophie said, beginning to understand. “Well, I guess I can stick around to talk to anyone who drops by and has questions.”

  Rosie shook her head. “Child, you’ve done your good deed for the night. Go, find that young man whom you may or may not want to be yours, walk around and have some fun.” Her eyes lit with excitement. “Maybe you could go for a ride in the Harveys’ carriage. I’m sure I can arrange something special, especially after all the free publicity they’ve gotten out of Lou’s proposal during our carriage ride last year.”

  Sophie shook her head. She seriously doubted she’d get Cole to agree to a romantic carriage ride. She’d seen how he reacted when they got near the church booth.

  He hadn’t wanted his friend to spot them.

  She knew Ben and Andrew teased him—she’d heard them when they’d rescued her from the tree—but she hadn’t thought he cared. Maybe it bothered him more than she’d realized.

  “No, I’ll stay here in case more come by. I wouldn’t want to miss anyone who wants to know more. Plus, Cole’s on duty, so I doubt he’d be able to go on a carriage ride even if I could convince him.” She was pretty sure she’d have to set herself on fire while in the carriage to get Cole anywhere near it and her at the same time. “Thanks anyway.”

  “Speaking of Lou, was that Alberta Jennings still slurping down the chili when you were getting your snack?” Rosie attempted to look nonchalant, but her tone dripped with icicles.

  “I didn’t actually see her, but Lou did mention her a time or two while I was there,” Sophie answered honestly.

  Rosie’s lower lip dropped. “Why that…what did he have to say about that woman?”

  Sophie pretended like she didn’t want to say.

  “Tell me,” Rosie insisted. “If that woman is starting to get to my man, I need to know.”

  “Well, he said he gave her dessert—a pie, I think?” Sophie pretended to wince, as if it pained her to have to tell Rosie. “Because she’s so sweet.”

  “What?” Rosie huffed, then did a little indignant shimmy and lifted her chin. “We’ll just see about him giving dessert to that woman when we both know she’s hanging around just hoping…”

  “Just hoping what, Rosie?” Sophie prompted, hoping to force Rosie’s acknowledgement.

  “That Lou will get tired of waiting on me.” Rosie’s expression shifted from indignation to concern. “Sorry to run, but I’ve got to go talk to my fiancé about what qualifies as ‘sweet.’ He should certainly know that it isn’t Alberta Jennings!”

  Sophie bit back a giggle as she watched Rosie stomp off.

  Sophie hung out for another hour at the booth, talking to a few more folks who wandered by, sharing her enthusiasm, the photos of past recipients, and giving out business cards. As the crowd thinned, Sophie decided to pack up her precious quilts.

  One by one, she took the cherished material down, starting with the ones she’d attached to the sides of the tent. She folded them and placed them on the table in a neat stack.

  When she’d folded the last one, she realized she had a problem.

  She couldn’t carry them all to the shop by herself. Isabelle had helped her set up the tent, but she wasn’t around now. Sophie would need help to get the quilts safely back to the shop in one trip, since there were too many for her to carry.

  She picked up her phone to see if Sarah and Bodie had anyone extra they could send over to give her a hand.

  “Need help?”

  At Cole’s question, she spun toward him. “Cole?”

  “Andrew and I were headed back to the truck when I spotted you packing up. You were staring at the stack of quilts as if you weren’t quite sure what to do with them.”

  Sophie blinked. “You specifically came to help me?”

  “Do you need help, Sophie?” he repeated.

  Feeling bubbly inside that he was there, Sophie nodded. “Looks like you’re making a habit of rescuing me, Cole Aaron.”

  “That’s why they call us Fire and Rescue.”

  “Good point.” She laughed. “And, yes, I absolutely could use some help with these. Thank you.”

  Cole picked up a stack of quilts. The softness of the material surprised him. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected of the red, white, and blue material, but for some reason he’d thought it would be coarser, stiffer.

  Sophie gathered up a stack of photos and a banner that had previously been taped to the display table and put them inside a storage bin. “I’m so glad you spotted me. I was just about to call for backup because I didn’t want to leave any of the quilts behind.”

  “It’s not a big deal. Andrew needed to make a detour before we headed back to the station. I was just killing time while I waited.”

  “Well, your timing was perfect.”

  Once Cole was laden with quilts and Sophie was pulling a wagon loaded down with her wares, they crossed the blockaded street, pausing outside the shop. Her key chain jingling, she unlocked the deadbolt, sighing with pleasure as she opened the door and was met by the smell of pine needles and cinnamon.

  Mmmm, she loved the smells of Christmas.

  “Give me just a minute to turn off the alarm,” she said as she took off toward the back of the store.

  She shut down the alarm and dumped her bag she held onto the cash register counter.

  When she turned back, Cole was close—so close she almost bumped into him.

  “Sorry!”

>   “I thought you’d want the quilts back here.”

  “Um, yeah.” She gulped as she realized they were alone. She wasn’t frightened by him in the slightest, but she still felt a little on edge to be alone with Cole. It had her heart pounding overtime. “Do you mind helping while I put them back on display?”

  He followed her to where she had patriotic material for sale.

  Sophie partially unfolded one of the quilts and draped it over a rack, rearranging it until the stars were perfectly aligned.

  He studied the detailed pattern on the quilt as she tweaked the positioning.

  “Did you make these?”

  Pride filling her at his question, she nodded. “Yes, I did.”

  She took another quilt from him, then quickly had it back in its place, too. She changed the quilts out as she made new ones, but always tried to have several samples made up prior to their being awarded. She liked to keep at least a couple around the shop as examples she could show their customers.

  “You’re very talented.”

  Her heart warmed at his compliment. “Thank you. Do you sew?”

  His taken-aback expression had her laughing. “Men do sew, you know,” she pointed out.

  He looked skeptical. “None I’ve ever known.”

  “We have male volunteers when we do sew-ins.”

  “Sew-ins?”

  “Days where volunteers get together to sew. We make as many quilts as we can in an allotted time frame. Sometimes we go for twelve hours, sometimes twenty-four hours, sometimes a weekend. We try to schedule a couple every year.” She took a third quilt from him and refolded it to where it showed a particular bit of the pattern. “It’s a lot of fun, and we always end up with several completed quilts.”

  “And men attend?”

  “We had a few in attendance this past summer.” She put the next folded quilt on a shelf, making sure a full block could be seen. “Mostly husbands of some of our volunteers, but we’d like to get more men involved. Hint, hint.”

  Cole shook his head. “Not interested.”

  “Give me time.” She waggled her brows at him. “I’ll change your mind.”

  “Not on this.”