Postmark Christmas

by Katie Bachand

  Snuggling lower in the chair, Harris let his eyes grow heavy and the twinkling lights blur as the tired exhaustion from the day took him over.

  Harris woke to glass bulbs clinking together on the tree. He looked around without seeing anybody – or anything – and watched until the ornaments stilled. Then he noticed a card beneath the tree that had Harris written in swirly script writing that hadn’t been there the night before.

  He grinned, wondering if his mom had tiptoed down to sneak it under the tree while he slept. Quietly, Harris lifted the blanket off of him and slunk down to the floor feeling like he had as a young boy.

  He was always the first to wake. He would sneak down to the tree, amazed at the beautifully wrapped gifts that had appeared during the night. And, he admitted, the magic of it all. Because it meant Santa had been there.

  The red envelope was sealed with an embossed golden sticker. The raised image was a simple, elegant sleigh.

  Harris looked around wondering if he should open the card or wait until the rest of his family was up to join him. That had always been the rule – no gift opening until everybody was up. And usually after mom and dad had brewed, and were sipping on, their first cup of coffee.

  Kids, he mused, didn’t often understand that after returning from midnight mass, three hours of sleep wasn’t quite enough rest.

  He smiled, letting the childish impulse take him over and slid his finger under the seal until it popped open and snapped as the sticky glue separated from the paper.

  The shiny gold card had the same simple sleigh with raised edges on the front. When he opened it there was no store-bought greeting or poem like he would have found in a mass-market greeting card that sent holiday wishes of love to family and friends. Only the same style of scripted writing that read:

  Harris,

  I’m sorry I can’t be there in person to send you my holiday greeting, but I’ve had a long night and there are some last-minute Christmas miracles I need to tend to this morning. I hope you can understand.

  I want to let you know how very proud I am of you and the selfless man you’ve become. It seems to make the season a bit more magical, don’t you think?

  I’m hoping I can ask a favor of you, and I feel there’s nobody more worthy of the task than you. Somebody who understands the true beauty of the season.

  I won’t get a chance to pick up any last minute Christmas letters that might have found their way to the postbox, so I’m hoping you’ll find time to go take a look for me. If you find any, go ahead and open them, and I’m sure you’ll know what to do.

  Merry Christmas, Harris. And have a wonderful New Year.

  SC

  Harris read the letter three more times, then stared at the signed SC.

  It couldn’t be, he thought, there’s no way.

  But as crazy as it might have been, if there were unanswered letters in the postbox, he had to go.

  He’d seen the faces of the kids at Heritage House when he delivered the news and the invitations for the Christmas Party – all of them full of jubilation. If there was the slightest chance he could come through – even if it was last minute – to make somebody’s Christmas Day magical, there was no way he couldn’t go.

  Still dressed from church the night before, Harris threw on his coat and hat, judged the snow that was falling outside through the front window, then found his winter boots.

  When he heard footsteps behind him he figured it was Kayla or Ashley, but when he turned and saw his mom’s questioning face he smiled.

  He moved over to her, offered a kiss and a Merry Christmas, and said, “I’ll be back for Christmas breakfast.” Then he was out the door.

  The roads were more slippery than he thought they’d be, and they hadn’t cooperated with his desire to get to the Christmas postbox quickly. He was forced to drive slowly and methodically through the city. The holiday music that played on the radio wasn’t helping either. The cheerful beat mocked him as he took a turn at five miles an hour.

  When Harris parked, he left his SUV running and the lights on to help guide his path to the postbox as it sat like a red beacon in the dark morning.

  It was the perfect Christmas morning, he thought, as the stars still shone above him and snow lightly fell around him.

  He lifted his feet in a high march as he navigated the snow bank to access the back of the postbox. When he opened the back with a twist of the lever, he grinned as he recalled Harlow attempting to get her own letter out. He had to admit, he hadn’t wanted to tell her how to open it, even though he’d already had her letter. There was something about that moment, the cute denial of her mission. It was, he realized, the first time she’d strung a little bit of her own Christmas magic around his heart.

  There was one letter sitting in the bottom of the box. Harris reached in, pulled it out. He stared at the envelope and the writing – and let hopefulness and familiarity rush through him. He held it knowingly, but wondering what he would find inside.

  He removed his glove and slid a finger under the seal, then unwrapped the folded paper to reveal a picture of himself and Harlow, holding hot chocolates as they shopped for Christmas trees together for the first time.

  The spark of love burned through him as he recalled the memory. Seeing the two of them together, one arm innocently around the other, not knowing yet that they would find love. And as he slid the picture aside, there was only a single wish on the list:

  10. To fall in love

  CHAPTER 31

  Harlow woke early but lingered in bed letting the glow of the Christmas tree, and the glow of her cell phone, welcome her to Christmas morning.

  For just a moment, when her eyes opened, she expected to feel sadness – but when she looked at the messages from Lisa that had come pouring in over the wonderful Christmas Eve night, not an ounce of sorrow could be found.

  Elated tears filled her eyes and she scrolled through laughter, hugs, and more heartfelt exaltation than she’d ever seen, as Lisa, Steve, and baby Layla brought their treasured new son home for Christmas.

  They’d captured Mikey’s innocent wonder as he walked through the door of his new home. The way he cheered as he walked into a bedroom that was decorated just for him. How he’d clung to and snuggled his new, fluffy teddy bear that he no longer needed to keep him safe, but would cherish for the rest of his life.

  Harlow closed her eyes and smiled. So happy, she swore she heard the sound of laughter fill her head.

  When the laughter didn’t stop, she grinned as she imagined her neighbors must be reuniting with family for the holiday.

  At…six in the morning, she saw when she looked at the top of her phone. That’s weird, she thought.

  The happy sound called to her and drew her out of bed. She couldn’t help but want to see the commotion, to be a part of it, even if her role was just as a nosy neighbor.

  She pulled her robe over her flannel pajamas, slid on her slippers, and headed down the stairs.

  The noise grew louder the closer she got to the door, and she giggled at the thought of people seeing each other after being away. The image of people embracing when Christmas finally allowed them to push all other excuses aside and come home.

  Harlow flipped the lock on the door and opened it. When she did, five faces separated from a circle – where they’d been holding each other and laughing – and looked up at her, staring with huge grins.

  As Harlow took in their smiles, tears filled her eyes for the second time that morning. She brought her hands to her face and whispered in disbelief, “Mom? Dad?” then paused, unable to get the rest out.

  Before Harlow could say any more, shouts of joy in greeting and more laughter bellowed out as her parents, her brother and his wife, and her sister ran up the steps, enveloping her with their arms and bodies, repeating variations of “Merry Christmas, Harlow!” and “We love you!” over and over again.

  Harlow couldn’t believe the wonder of the moment. She had so many questions, but none of them co
uld escape, because everything inside of her was too busy overflowing with love. When she tried, only half of the words made it. “How did you-?” and “When did you-?”

  Vivienne, Harlow’s loving mother, leaned back ever so slightly from their embrace. “We got a call from a man asking us to come home for Christmas – whatever the cost. In fact, he offered to pay for it.”

  Vivienne’s hand rested on Harlow’s cheek then she did the same to Vincent and Catherine, her brother and sister. “My sweet babies,” she started, then looked at Harlow. “I had no idea.”

  Vivienne’s voice trembled, so she stopped, tilted her head then shook it, unable to tell them she and her husband hadn’t realized how badly her children wanted to be together as a family for the holidays.

  She’d thought they’d all moved on with their own lives. So rather than be home and missing them, she and her husband had traveled. Taking in and experiencing the holidays somewhere new.

  “I’m so happy you’re all here,” Harlow said, pulling them in once more, not wanting to let them go. And, as she held her family, her mind drifted to the man who she’d completely misread.

  Harlow thought of the call she’d received from Brandon only nights earlier. He had called to make sure she was here – and she supposed, if she wasn’t, to get her here. She remembered the relief he’d had when she told him she was already in St. Paul and she’d be here at The Hill.

  She laughed at the miscalculation, but more at the joy and humor of the realization.

  Harris had done this. Her family was the business that couldn’t wait. What a wonderful realization.

  “Let’s get inside,” Walter Hill said after giving them all another squeeze. “We can catch up over a Christmas breakfast. Harlow,” he added,” I hope you have food – it was a long flight!”

  Enough to feed a small village, she thought, picturing all of the left-over food from the Christmas party. Then she waited and watched in disbelief as her family walked into the house before her.

  Everything was perfect. The only thing that was missing was Harris, because more than anything she wished he could be there to see what a beautiful and amazing thing he’d done.

  Then she heard his voice.

  “Harlow! Harlow!”

  She turned toward the sound and heard the footsteps from her family pause in the doorway and turn with her.

  As she looked out she saw Harris running, sliding, and skidding down the snow-covered sidewalk, waving his arms towards her, and even more fervently when he saw her look his way.

  “Harris?” she asked, more to herself out of confusion, knowing he wouldn’t have heard her.

  Harlow stood wide-eyed as she let the disbelief fade away. Then she took the stairs to the driveway slowly wondering how in the world he was there, just when she’d never wanted him more.

  Her smile turned into laughter as she watched him grin like a child as he ran, laughing at his unsteady feet in the snow, but not wanting to slow his movement toward her. As he grew nearer and slowed his pace, she started jogging in his direction.

  Both wanting nothing more than to be in each other’s arms. As the gap between them closed, they launched into an embrace that sent them spinning, and holding each other tightly.

  As their turn came to a stop, they held each other at arm’s length. Harlow’s hands came to Harris’ face, unable to find the words of affection that could do justice to the miracle he’d given her. He was her Christmas wish.

  “I found this,” Harris said, leaning back and holding up her Christmas letter and the innocent picture of the two of them, not yet knowing they were going to fall in love. “I figured there was still time to make sure you got everything you wished for this year.”

  Harlow shook her head as her eyes filled.

  “I love you, Harlow Hill. You have filled my heart with joy and enchanted my life. Merry Christmas.”

  Harlow brought herself closer to him and wound her arms around his neck.

  “I love you, Harris Porter. So very much. Merry Christmas.”

  After Harris made a checked-off motion with the letter and let it fly in the air, he brought his arms around Harlow, leaned in, and shared the perfect Christmas kiss with the woman he loved.

  Both of them were so overwhelmed with the magic of love on Christmas, they didn’t even notice the cheers coming from the steps behind them – they simply fell into the magic and wonder of a simple letter: postmarked, Christmas.

  You did it! Did you love it?

  Leave a Review for Katie’s first holiday romance novel with Amazon or with the retailer from where you purchased Postmark Christmas.

  Then, continue reading…

  Continue to the next page for a special excerpt of Conflict of Interest, book one in the Taking Chances series.

  CONFLICT

  OF

  INTEREST

  Book One in the Taking Chances series

  PROLOGUE

  Grace Thomas, of Thomas and Jane, LLC – now the only Thomas – walked out into the night to escape the feeling of death that wrapped her father’s funeral like a stale fog. Inside the funeral home, the extreme sadness consumed her, the conversation leaving her with a feeling of despair. She was desperate to escape as people mingled, shared memories, and shook their heads in disbelief that such a wonderful man could have died so young. Now, as she walked through the darkness, she felt numb.

  The street lights guided her way on the walk she’d taken thousands of times. Outside of their old brick building, Grace stared up at the office. Her fingertips scraped lightly on the rough red divots as she moved toward the door. They’d taken this walk many times together. Father and daughter. Laughing, talking, planning. Or, simply walking in silence. She longed to hear his voice, to see his face – but not the face she’d seen tonight, lifeless and unmoving. She wanted to see the one that was vibrant and comforting. Sturdy and confident. The one that emanated only love.

  Grace closed her eyes when she reached the door emblazoned with their company name. The last time she walked through this door, it was together. That was three weeks ago when her father hadn’t been weak or withdrawn. Now he was gone, and she was the weary one. Grace wondered, how could she feel all-consuming exhaustion, and a heart that ached so badly she thought it might rip out, and still be living herself.

  Grace pulled the door open and started up the stairs. This building was their place. Together.

  She’d learned everything she knew from her father, and he had been eager to teach her. Her eyes welled and stung as they moistened the dry, aching feeling. But no tears fell. He wouldn’t want her to cry anymore, and she would do what he wanted because she was his girl. Daddy’s girl. Her brother William always joked that she was her dad’s favorite. She would only laugh because she knew it was true. William also knew and felt their dad’s unconditional love and the pride their father had in him, so it wasn’t hard to poke fun in her direction. There was just something between them: father and daughter. There was a spark, life, excitement, and wonder. Constant comfort and security. They shared everything.

  With each step she took, she thought of her mom. Her amazing mom. Only moments ago, at the funeral, she had taken hug after hug of warmth and generosity from family and friends with such strength. Grace wondered how she was able to hold herself together so well.

  William, she supposed, helped. Her brother offered a warm and comforting hand on their mother’s shoulder as she exchanged tender thank yous and tried not to get weepy with every new guest.

  William had caught Grace staring at that moment and offered a tilted-head smile and a quick wink. It was like him, always the fixer, always willing to put himself last. The feelings he must have had, yet been unwilling to show, for the sake of their mom, and her. Grace had shrugged back at him. Her what do we do now shrug. An I’m never going to make it shrug. At that moment, William would have gone to her. She saw it in his eyes, asking if she needed him. Yes. Yes was the answer she’d wanted to give but wouldn’t dream of p
ulling him away from their mom. So she’d shook her head and mouthed thank you and added an I love you. William had mouthed the words back, and she smiled at how easy it had always been for him to say those words when he meant them.

  As if they were answering a prayer, she then had been swaddled up, arms surrounding her from all directions.

  Now, she wrapped her arms around herself to mimic the feeling she’d had when the tight pull of her three best friends had cocooned her. She had closed her eyes and let herself feel safe, even if just for a moment. It was the last time she’d cried, being held by the friends that had been with her through everything. The arms around her tightened as her breath hitched.

  “I don’t know what I’m going to do.” Here in the office, alone, she whispered the same words she’d said through quiet gasps of air. And her friends’ words from the funeral filled the silence in her mind.

  “Right now, you don’t have to do anything,” Rachel had said as she’d stroked her back, trying to comfort.

  “Yes, no words right now. Let us hold you and love you. Do not think,” Aimeé’s French accent had soothed.

  Casey had said nothing. She wouldn’t have been able to find the words. Being tender wasn’t her. Neither was seeing the bright side. She’d been through her own share of heartbreak. But she was there and would be any time Grace needed her, for anything. There was never a moment or time when Casey wouldn’t come through. Casey knew what alone felt like. It’s why, Grace imagined, she’d never let one of her friends have that feeling.

  Casey had gripped her hand and covered the other girls’ arms as they’d stood in their circle, holding their embrace.

  Grace opened her eyes. Reality reminded her all of those memories were real. Her dad had still suffered, was still forced to leave them.