by Janice Lynn
“Isabelle—you were at my house?”
“Sophie, open the door and I’ll tell you everything.”
“I…okay.”
Still holding the phone to her ear, Sophie walked to the front of the shop, amazed to see that Cole truly was standing at the door.
Even more amazing was what he was wearing.
She quickly undid the deadbolt and opened the door.
“What are you doing here? Dressed as Santa?” Then what he was holding registered. His quilt. His journal with her Christmas card stuck inside, and his Christmas tree. “Cole?”
“Can I come in?”
She stepped aside, letting him enter, then out of habit, made sure the door completely shut and turned the deadbolt.
“Locking me in?”
“I…sorry, habit.” She reached for the lock, meaning to turn it back, but he stopped her.
“I’m teasing, Sophie. Leave it locked in case your sister decides to interrupt.”
“Interrupt?”
“She has a habit of interrupting us. Leave the door locked. We need to talk.”
“About?” Sophie didn’t point out that Isabelle had a key, just stared at Cole and the sight he made dressed in his Santa suit minus his eyebrows, wig, mustache, and beard, holding his presents and his quilt. The fire department must have had a Christmas party where he’d had to play Santa.
“My gift.”
Her gaze dropped to the stuff he held and understanding of why he was there hit. Her heart sank.
“I’m not taking those back, Cole.” Hands going to her hips, she huffed out a breath. “If that’s why you’re here, just leave. Leave now.”
Cole watched the play of emotions flicker across Sophie’s face, watched as she lifted her chin, put her hands on her hips, and put on the most stubborn expression he’d ever seen her wear.
“I’m not here to return my gifts,” he assured her. Far from it.
Driving to her house, he’d thought he’d known what he wanted to say, had mumbled words to himself the entire drive.
Now that he stood in front of her, dressed in his Santa suit, the words seemed muddled in his head. No wonder with the way his formerly solid bones seemed to have turned to water. Especially his knees. How was he even standing?
“I’m waiting.”
“Isabelle didn’t call?”
“No. My sister is how you knew I was at the shop?”
“She answered the door when I went to your house a few minutes ago. I didn’t believe her at first when she told me you weren’t home. What are you doing here?”
“Sewing.”
“On Christmas night?”
“You’re seriously asking me that? You, the man who believes Christmas is just another day…despite the fact that he’s currently dressed as Santa?”
“Christmas isn’t just another day for me. Not ever again. That’s why I’m wearing my Santa suit. Why I’ll wear it next year and the year after and for however long the fire department, or anyone, needs me to be Santa.”
Sophie’s stance shifted. “What happened?”
“You happened.”
Her lips parted, but she didn’t seem to know what to say, so she just stared at him.
“You swept into my mostly-content world with your Christmas magic and joy and turned everything upside down.”
She blinked as if she didn’t quite believe what he was saying. “I did that?”
He nodded.
Forehead wrinkled with confusion, she studied him. “Is that a bad thing?”
“I thought it was,” he admitted.
“Thought, as in past tense?”
Shifting the items in his hands, he held up her card. “Did you mean what you wrote?”
“I asked my question first,” she reminded him, frowning.
Despite the anxiety filling him at what was happening, Cole half-laughed. “You’re right. You did. Yes. As in past tense.” He took a deep breath. “Thank you for my quilt, Sophie. It’s amazing.”
Her smile lit up her eyes. “You’re welcome.”
“And my card,” he continued.
“You’re welcome for that, too.”
“And my tree. “O Christmas Tree” is now my all-time favorite song.”
“Well, it is a great song,” she conceded, looking more and more happily stunned by what he was saying.
“And for my journal.”
Realization dawned in her eyes. “You read it?”
“I wrote it,” he reminded her.
Her hands fell away from her hips and she stared at him in awe. “But you’d never read it, had you?”
He shook his head. “I didn’t like the man who wrote that book. More than that,” he continued, “I was ashamed of him, ashamed you’d read his words. Ashamed that my darkness had ever sullied the goodness of your mind, showing you the mistake I’d made and the terrible price that was paid for it.”
He had been so embarrassed that she’d read those tormented thoughts, had wished he’d destroyed the journal before it could pass into her hands. Now, he recognized Sophie finding that journal may have been the best thing that had ever happened to him.
She was the best thing to have ever happened to him.
“The man who wrote that journal…he is a part of you, I know that, but you shouldn’t be ashamed of him or the decisions he made. You did what you were sent to do, and even in the worst moments, you were willing to lay your life down to save others. There was no way for you to know that ambush was going to happen, nor was it your fault.”
Cole’s throat tightened at her words.
“You need to forgive that man, Cole. He’s the part that made you grow stronger and become who you are today. He’s the clay that was molded into a man who still would think nothing of laying his life down to save another, but whose life is so very precious and such a blessing to everyone who is fortunate enough to know him. That’s the man I see.”
“Tell me more about who you see when you look at me, Sophie.”
“I certainly don’t see someone I feel sorry for, except for when he pushes away anyone who gets too close.”
He didn’t deny her claim.
“I see a man who is good to his very core.”
Despite all the emotions that had led him to Sophie that night, he automatically recoiled at her words, having believed for so long that he was dead inside.
Sophie studied Cole’s face as she continued to tell him all the things she’d been longing to tell him, hating that he’d flinched at her assessment of his character, of who he was.
“You are a good man. You’re kind and generous, loyal and honest, and have the greatest sense of honor of any man I’ve ever known.”
“There you go with those blinders on again,” he deflected, attempting to make light of her words.
Sophie was having none of it. He was here. He had opened his gift, had read his journal, and had come to her. Wearing a Santa suit while carrying her quilt and his Christmas tree, card, and journal.
That had to mean something.
“Possibly,” she admitted. She opened her mouth to tell him, and he stopped her.
“I shouldn’t have asked you to tell me what you see.”
What? She’d loved that he had asked. Loved that he’d given her the opportunity to tell him all the things in her heart.
“Instead, I should have told you how I feel.” He swallowed, then took her hands into his. His shaking hands. “What I see when I look at you.”
Sophie bit into her lower lip, swallowed in effort to keep her throat from closing entirely.
Was this really happening?
“Sophie, you are the greatest gift I’ve ever received. Meeting you, knowing you, having your joy in my life has changed me in ways I can’t begin to describe. It’s no wonder
that no matter how hard I tried to keep my distance, I fell for you anyway.”
“You fell for me?”
“Like a ton of green candy canes.”
“I…I thought…” Tears formed in Sophie’s eyes. Happy tears. “I was afraid you weren’t ever going to let me in.”
“Let you?” He smirked, then shook his head. “There was no letting. From the moment I first laid eyes on you at that Fourth of July picnic, I never got you out of my head. And then you showed up at the firehall wearing that red reindeer sweater and Christmas-shined your way into my life.” He squeezed her hand. “Into my heart.”
He recalled what she’d been wearing when she’d come to the firehall?
Happiness blossomed in Sophie’s chest, spreading throughout her entire being.
“I can’t believe you’re really here, saying these things,” she mused, truly wondering if she’d fallen asleep at the sewing machine and was dreaming all of this. “Santa must have left me on his nice list this year.”
Cole’s smile was so endearing that it couldn’t possibly be real.
“You’re the only girl on this Santa’s list.”
She smiled up at him and sought words to tell him what was in her heart. “Reading your journal, feeling the emotions you felt, the struggle you went through,” she continued, trying not to choke up, “and traveling with you as you moved from deep despair to that last hopeful entry where you’d been accepted into the fire academy, pulled me in. I fell for you, Cole. When we met, I felt such a powerful connection that I was a bit devastated when you didn’t give any indication that you instantly felt it, too.”
“I felt it,” he assured. “I didn’t want to feel anything, but I knew you were different from any person I’d ever met.”
“But, for all that I felt from reading your journal, getting to know you, seeing your smile, hearing your laugh, witnessing your generous heart, looking into your warm eyes—all of that has made me love you more than I ever dreamed possible.”
“You love me?”
Heart pounding to the point she worried that her heart might burst, she nodded. “I’m so in love with you, I can barely think straight.”
“Christmas really is the most magical day of the year, because none of this feels real,” he admitted, his beautiful pale eyes sparkling like rare blue gems.
She glanced at her watch. It was still Christmas. Barely.
“Because you love me, too?”
“You know I do.” He lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to her fingertips. “I love you more than life itself.”
“That’s almost enough,” she teased softly, smiling up at him.
“Almost?” He laughed. “I’ll keep working on it, then,” he teased, then his face grew somber. “I admit, I worry that the darkness in me will surface from time to time. I hate the thought of you ever witnessing one of my nightmares.”
The raw concern in his voice hurt her heart for him.
“It’ll be okay, Cole. We’ll face whatever happens together.”
He cupped her face. “I never want to hurt you, Sophie.”
“Then don’t ever leave me.”
“That might be the easiest thing you’ve ever asked of me.”
Smiling, Sophie leaned over to where he’d set down the quilt she’d made him, a quilt of comfort and healing and love, and she wrapped it around his shoulders and pulled her very own Santa to her.
As their lips met, Sophie whispered, “Welcome home, Cole.”
Moments later, Cole’s forehead resting against hers, he smiled. “If home is where the heart is, then I am home. Merry Christmas, Sophie.”
The End
Dilly Duchess Potatoes
A Hallmark Original Recipe
In Wrapped Up in Christmas Joy, Cole experiences his first Thanksgiving in Pine Hill. While Sophie regrets not inviting Cole to dinner, Cole spends Thanksgiving with his fellow firefighters at the station…who ask him if he’s sweet on Sophie. It’s a little uncomfortable, to say the least, but the taste of Grandma Ruby’s renowned cooking makes up for it. You can make Grandma Ruby’s Dilly Duchess Potatoes for yourself—it’s the perfect dish to share with your friends, family, and loved ones, and it’s sure to have them coming back for seconds.
Prep Time: 30 minutes
Cook Time: 60 minutes
Serves: 10
Ingredients
4 large Russet potatoes, peeled, quartered
2 eggs, large, beaten
7 tablespoons butter, melted
1 1/2 tablespoons dill, fresh, chopped
1 tablespoon flat leaf parsley, chopped
1 teaspoon garlic powder
Salt and Pepper to taste
3 tablespoons Parmesan cheese, grated
1/2 cup or more of heavy cram (to get desired consistency)
1/3 cup butter melted
Preparation
Preheat oven to 400°F.
In a large saucepan, cook the potatoes in boiling water until fork tender, about 25 minutes.
Drain and place in a large mixing bowl to cool, about 20 minutes
Add in eggs, butter, dill, parsley, garlic powder, salt, pepper and Parmesan cheese.
Blend well and add cream a little at a time until it is smooth. Taste for seasoning and adjust if needed.
Spoon the potato mixture into a pastry bag with a large star tip.
Pipe onto a baking sheet or sheets.
Melt remaining butter and drizzle on top.
Bake 20-25 minutes or until golden brown.
Thanks so much for reading
Wrapped Up in Christmas Joy.
We hope you enjoyed it!
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from Hallmark Publishing:
Wrapped Up in Christmas
Christmas in Evergreen
A Timeless Christmas
An Unforgettable Christmas
A Royal Christmas Wish
A Gingerbread Romance
Journey Back to Christmas
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About the Author
USA Today bestselling author Janice Lynn loves to spin a tale that puts a smile on her reader’s lips and a tear in their eye as they travel along her characters’ journey to happy ever after. Her favorite read is one with a strong heroine who is able to laugh at herself and a hero who appreciates the heroine’s strengths and imperfections.
Janice’s books have won numerous awards including the National Readers’ Choice Award and the American Title, but she is most proud of her seven children. From actor, engineer, nurse, student, to Army National Guard, they are her greatest accomplishments.
Janice lives in Tennessee with her family, her vivid imagination, lots of crafting and quilting supplies, and numerous unnamed dust bunnies.
Sneak Peek of Christmas Charms
Turn the page for a sneak peek of
Chapter One
Everyone talks about Christmas magic as if it’s an actual, literal thing. As real as silver tinsel draped lovingly from the stiff pine needles of a blue spruce tree. As real as snow on Christmas morning. As real as the live toy soldiers who flank the entrance to FAO Schwartz, the famous toy store now situated in Rockefeller Plaza, right at the center of the bustling, beating heart of Manhattan.
But here’s the truth—as authentic as those costumed soldiers seem, they’re really just actors killing time until they land a role in an off-Broadway play. I know this because a pair of them stood in line behind me
last week at Salads Salads Salads during the lunch rush. Dressed in their tall black hats and red uniforms with glossy gold buttons, they piled their bowls high with lettuce, cucumber slices and shredded carrots while discussing their audition monologues for the upcoming revival of West Side Story. It was all very surreal and not the least bit magical.
Genuinely magical or not, though, New York is undeniably lovely during the holidays. After four Christmases in Manhattan, I still go a little breathless every year when I catch my first glimpse of the grand Rockefeller Center Christmas tree. Every time I stand on the frosty sidewalk in front of Saks Fifth Avenue for the unveiling of their big holiday light show, I feel my heart grow three sizes, just like a certain green you-know-who.
I love this time of year. I always have, but this particular December is special. This Christmas will be my best yet. I just have to make it through my last day at work before taking off on my first real vacation in eight years—to Paris! My boyfriend, Jeremy, has family there, and this year, he’s invited me to spend the holidays with them. Christmas magic, indeed.
Oui, s’il vous plaît.
I pull my coat tighter and more snugly around my frame as I jostle for space on the busy midtown streets. The very second the floats in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade pack up and go home, Christmas shoppers and holiday tourists descend on Manhattan in droves. The switch is kind of jarring. One minute, a sixty-two-foot inflated turkey is looming over Central Park West, and the next, his giant, colorful plumage is nowhere to be seen. Swinging shopping bags are the only thing in sight, all the way from one end of 5th Avenue to the other.
The Christmas crowds are predictably terrible, so I always leave extra time during the holiday season for my walk to the upscale jewelry store where I work, just a few blocks from FAO Schwartz and its not-so-magical toy soldiers. A snowstorm blew in last night—the first of the Christmas season. And even though I’m in serious danger of being swallowed up by the crush of people headed toward the ice-skating rink at Rockefeller Center, I can’t help but marvel at the beauty of the season’s first snowfall.