Her mother only lowered her chin and gave Megan a look that shot arrows at her soul. “I’m not talking about Jordan.” She paused and dropped her voice. “If you’re not falling for him, then don’t lead him on.”
Anger and frustration mingled and boiled near the surface of her heart. How could she tell her mother that yes, she was falling. Especially when she was almost convinced Casey didn’t share her feelings? Besides, she didn’t believe in love. Wasn’t that her? Maybe her mother was right. Maybe it was time she reminded herself of that fact so neither of them got hurt.
She sniffed hard. “I’m not leading him on. He’s a friend, Mother. Nothing more.”
The days melted away, and still the three of them continued to find ways to be together. They walked through Central Park and had a snowball fight on the meadow between the tennis courts and the reservoir, and Casey’s fingers nearly got frostbitten.
“Where’s your gloves?” Megan dropped beside Casey on the closest park bench and watched Jordan as he pelted bushes with one snowball after another.
“Lost ‘em at the café last week.” Casey shrugged. “I’ll live. I can always use my coat pockets.”
They shopped at Macy’s and saw the lights of the city from a horse-drawn carriage. After her mother’s warning, Megan was careful never to so much as let her arm brush against Casey’s so that he wouldn’t get the wrong impression. And as wonderful as their evenings together were, he never gave her any hint that he was interested in her.
Two days before Christmas, Casey called and talked to Jordan for a few minutes. Then he asked to speak to her.
“Hello?”
“Hey … listen, I want to bring by a gift for Jordan. Would tomorrow be okay?”
Megan’s heart ached at the sound of his voice. The month was almost over, and she had the strangest feeling that these were their last days together, that after the New Year everything would change. But for now she couldn’t bear to miss an opportunity for the three of them to be together again. “That’d be perfect. Why don’t you come for dinner? Mom and I make turkey on Christmas Eve.”
“You don’t mind?”
“Of course not.” Megan kept her voice casual. “We’d love to see you.”
Jordan was ecstatic about the idea, and Megan’s mother promised to be on her best behavior. Casey arrived with a box of roasted almonds and a bouquet of white roses for Megan.
He handed them to her and rubbed his bare hands together. “I hope they’re not frozen.”
Megan took the flowers and for just the flash of a moment wondered if he’d chosen white over red on purpose. “They’re beautiful, Casey. Thank you.”
“I figured a New York City prosecutor probably didn’t get flowers too often.” He looked down at Jordan and handed him a wrapped box. “Besides, your son here wasn’t much help with Christmas suggestions for his mom.”
“Can I open it?” Jordan held his fingers poised near the crease in the wrapping paper, waiting for the go-ahead signal.
Megan and Casey laughed, and Casey nodded. “Sure, buddy.”
Jordan tore off the paper, and inside was the kind of baseball glove he’d wanted for three months. “Wow … I can’t believe it. Can we try it out; huh, can we?”
“Tell you what … ” Casey dropped down to Jordan’s level. He took the glove and folded it in half near the base of the thumb. “Keep it like this and tuck it beneath your mattress. By the time the snow melts, you’ll be able to catch ‘em better than McGwire.”
The night passed in a pleasant blur of getting the meal ready and eating together. Afterward, Jordan gave Casey a framed photo of the two of them for his café wall, and Megan gave him a pair of gloves.
Red gloves.
“Jordan told me you said red was the color of giving.” She tilted her head. “I figured there’s no one more giving than you these past few months.” Her tone changed and became more teasing. “Besides, without gloves you aren’t worth much in a snowball fight.”
A sad, distant sort of look worked its way across his expression but only for a moment. “Yep.” Then he smiled and slipped the gloves on his hands. “Red’s the color of giving, and with these”—he shot a look at Jordan—“I’ll be giving some pretty mean snowballs.”
When they finished with the gifts, they played Monopoly and watched It’s a Wonderful Life. Long before the angel got his wings, Megan’s mother excused herself for bed and Jordan fell asleep. When the movie ended the TV went dark, and the room was lit only by the glow from the nearby Christmas tree.
Megan was about to carry Jordan to his room, when Casey stood and held out his hands. “Let me.”
She sat back down and watched him sweep her sleeping son into his arms and carry him toward the bedroom. Don’t do this to yourself, Megan. Nothing good can come from what you’re feeling. It’s a shadow, a trick, a hoax. Keep the walls in place, and no one’ll get hurt.
But when Casey walked back into the room, the sight of him made her heart skip a beat. She could hardly order herself to keep the walls standing when Casey’s kindness had long since knocked them to the ground.
He poured two mugs of coffee and returned to the spot next to her on the sofa. “Here.”
“Thanks.” Her voice was softer than before, and she was glad for the shadowy light, glad he couldn’t see the heat in her cheeks. “Jordan was tuckered out.”
Casey chuckled and shook his head. “I’ve never known a kid so full of life.”
Megan wanted to say that Jordan hadn’t always been that way, but she felt suddenly shy, unable to think of the right words. With Casey so close she could smell his cologne, she couldn’t decide whether to bid him good night or find a way to stretch the night for another hour.
“Okay.” Casey took a swallow of coffee and lowered the mug to his knee. “You can’t run from the question this time.”
“What question?”
Casey hesitated, and his eyes found hers. She could feel his gentle heart, his concern, and the fact that he wasn’t joking. “Why don’t you believe in love?”
Megan took a moment to catch her breath. Then she did her best to give him a teasing look. “Why do you want to know?”
“Because … ” Casey reached out and brushed a section of hair back from Megan’s face. The touch of his fingers against her forehead made her ache for his kiss in a way that shocked her. He let his hand fall back to his lap, and his voice was barely more than a whisper. “Because sometimes I think you wouldn’t recognize love if it sat next to you at a Giants game.”
Megan tried not to read anything into his sentence. Instead she drew a long, slow breath and set her cup down on an end table. “You really want to know?”
Casey nodded. “Really.”
“Okay, I’ll tell you.” Then with careful words sometimes soaked in sorrow, she did just that. She told him about her father and how he’d left their family without warning, and about meeting George and believing their lives together would be everything her parents’ lives were not.
“But he didn’t love me, either. Not really.” She felt her lip quiver, and she bit it to keep from crying. “He wanted me to work, but a few days after I passed the bar exam, I found out I was pregnant.”
“He loved Jordan.” It was a statement, as though Casey knew more than Megan realized.
“Yes, he did. But it was different with me. I was never more than a business partner to George.”
“And that’s why? Why you don’t believe in love?” Casey’s voice was gentle, tender, and something about it made Megan want to tell this man everything, even the things she’d never told anyone before.
“I did believe once, a long time ago.” She drew her legs up and angled herself so she could see Casey better. “I was thirteen, and my mother took us to Lake Tahoe, to a private part of the lake where my aunt owned a house.” Megan rested her cheek against the sofa cushion. “The first day there I met this boy.” She felt herself drift back again, the way she had a few months ago when she�
��d given herself permission to remember that time in her life.
“Lake Tahoe?” Casey leaned a little closer and sat up. He seemed more alert now, taking in every word Megan said.
“Yes.” Megan smiled and felt a layer of tears fill her eyes. “The boy’s name was Kade, and that’s all I remember, really. Kade from Lake Tahoe. He was fifteen, and he told me something I’ll never forget.” Megan wiped at a single tear. “He told me real love was kind and good and came from the Bible. A sort of love that never ends.” Megan gave a quiet sniff. “He told me he’d pray for me every day, that I’d get a miracle and wind up knowing that kind of love.” She reached for her glass again and took a sip. “I never saw him after that. I guess I figured maybe he was an angel.”
“Hmm.” Casey stirred across from her, and Megan noticed that he didn’t look as comfortable as before. What had she said to change his mood? Had the talk about love scared him? Or was he merely missing his wife on another Christmas Eve without her?
“Sorry … ” Megan looked at her watch and gave a stiff little laugh. “I’ve bored you and now it’s late.”
“No … no, you didn’t bore me, Megan.” He slid to the edge of the sofa and moved closer so that their knees were touching. Then he lifted his hand to her face and framed it with his fingertips. “I think it’s a beautiful story and one that … that doesn’t have to have a tragic ending.”
It took all Megan’s effort to concentrate on finding an answer. The nearness of Casey made her emotions war within her in a way she couldn’t sort out. “It … it already did. George died before we ever figured out a way to love like that.”
Casey lifted Megan’s chin so that their eyes met and held. “What was your name back then? Your maiden name?”
The question pulled her from the moment and made her want to laugh. “Why?”
“Because … ” Casey searched her eyes, looking to the depths of her soul. “I want to picture everything about the way you were, back when you still wanted to believe in love.”
“Howard was my maiden name.” Megan lifted her shoulders. “And I wasn’t Megan, I was Maggie. Maggie Howard.”
Even in the dim glow of the Christmas tree, Casey’s face seemed to grow a few shades paler. Again, Megan wasn’t sure what she’d said, but the magic of the moment was gone. Casey stood and gathered his red gloves and the photo of him and Jordan. “I guess I better go.”
“Yes.” Megan chided herself for being so transparent. A man like Casey had his own ghosts to deal with on Christmas Eve.
They walked to the door, and before Casey left he cupped his hand along the side of her face once more, leaned close, and for a single instant brought his lips to hers. The kiss was over before Megan realized what had happened, and Casey whispered, “Merry Christmas, Megan.”
Not until he was gone did Megan realize something. The glistening look in Casey’s eyes hadn’t been a reflection from the Christmas tree.
It had been tears.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
It was a miracle.
No other explanation existed, except that in His ever-lasting mercy, God had stepped into Casey Cummins’s world and handed him a Christmas miracle. The kind Amy had always believed in.
But not the one he’d been praying for these past few weeks. And not one he was sure he wanted. Not yet, anyway.
Casey’s head spun, and his heart wasn’t sure whether to take wing or drop to his shoes. Under the circumstances he couldn’t possibly ride a taxi home, so when he reached the ground level of Megan’s apartment he began to walk. Strong and hard and fast into the chilly night, and after less than a block he felt his eyes well up.
He hadn’t asked for any of this. He’d wanted only to befriend a young boy, to bring hope and light and healing to a heart that had grieved as much these past two years as Casey’s had. If he’d known he would find love, he wouldn’t have made the call. Amy deserved more than that. It had only been two years, after all. Two years. How dare he give his heart to someone else after so little time?
His feet pummeled the ground, carrying him south and taking him into Central Park. The lights were still lit, and couples strolled the paved walkways. Casey stayed on the less traveled paths and let the tears come.
He walked until he reached the bench at the back of the East Meadow play area, the place where he and Amy had come so many times before. Then he sat down and dropped the gifts from Megan and Jordan on the cold wood beside him. How was it possible? The whole time while he’d been taking Megan and her son out, God had been orchestrating the events to lead up to this one night, that one conversation with Megan.
And that was something else. What had he been thinking, kissing her?
Amy … Amy, if you can hear me, I’m sorry, honey. I love you, still. I’ll always love you.
His tears came harder now, and he covered his face with his hands. The thing of it was, it had already happened. All of it. And there was nothing he could do about it. Being angry at God wouldn’t change the truth. He loved Megan with a fierceness that scared him, loved her in a way he hadn’t even realized until a few hours ago. Loved Jordan, too. And now … after what he’d just learned … he was certain he would share his life with them, love them and live with them forever.
As sure as Christmas, it was all about to play out.
Casey wished for just a moment that Amy could be there beside him again, to hold his hand and hug him, tell him it was all okay. That none of them could do a single thing about time or the way it marched on without respecting loss or feelings or memories.
That sometimes life could hurt as much as death.
His fingers were wet from his tears, and an occasional icy gust of wind burned against them. He sniffed and remembered the gift Megan had given him. The red gloves. He pulled them from their wrapping once more and slid them onto his fingers. Then … as he stared at his hands, he realized something.
Amy had told him that red was the color of giving. That had come from her, not him. And if there was one thing she would’ve wanted to give him this Christmas, it was the gift of freedom. Freedom from the pain of losing her, freedom from holding on.
Freedom to love again.
She’d given him so much in life, and now, in death, she would give him this. But if that was true, if he was going to let go and move on with life, he needed this time to tell her good-bye. He lifted his eyes to heaven and spoke in a voice that even he could barely hear. “Amy … I never wanted it this way, you know that. But … it happened. And the way it happened … well, it can’t be anything but a miracle.”
He dried his tears with the red gloves and thought back to the night with Megan. “I love her, Amy. I love her son. Even before I found out about the miracle. And I was wrong about the two of you. I think you would’ve liked her. Maybe a lot.” He felt another tear spill onto his cheeks, and his voice grew tight. “I’ll always hold you close inside, Amy. But for now … for now I have to let go.”
For a long while he sat there, longing for a chance to see her again. Instead he closed his eyes and felt it. Something had released in his heart, and at the same instant, he felt as new and alive inside as the fresh fallen snow. He dried his eyes one last time and stood. Then, without looking back, he jogged to the closest street and hailed a cab.
The time for tears had passed, and Casey grasped the reality at hand. It was December 24, and a miracle no less amazing than Christmas itself was about to occur. Carrying Jordan’s gift under his arm, he raced up the stairs to his apartment and headed for his bedroom. The box was at the bottom of his closet near the back corner, tucked behind his clothes in a place where it had been all but forgotten.
Casey slid it out and tore through it until he found the old Bible.
The one he’d had as a fifteen-year-old boy.
Then, as carefully and quickly as he could, he thumbed his way to the back, to the thirteenth chapter of I Corinthians, to a place where he was convinced he’d find it. And sure enough, there it was. The pressed pu
rple flower, the one Maggie had given him that week. And written in his own youthful handwriting was this simple sentence:
Pray for a miracle for Maggie Howard.
Casey stared at it until the words faded and became pine trees, tall and proud, anchored in the sandy shore of Lake Tahoe. He’d gone there every summer with his parents, even after he met Maggie. Every year until he graduated from high school he’d looked for her, but she never returned to the lake.
She had seemed so sad back then, so sure that love was a fraud. And he, a preacher’s boy, had been so sure otherwise. Love was good and kind and pure and true. Love never failed. Wasn’t that the message of his boyhood days, the message his father preached from the pulpit every Sunday?
His name was Kade Cummins, and back then he’d gone by Kade.
But sometime during his freshman year on the baseball team, the players began calling him by his initials, K. C. And in time, it was the only name he knew. Casey Cummins. He’d kept his promise to Maggie, praying for her every time he opened his Bible until he left for Haiti. That year his father gave him a new Bible as a going-away present, and his old one was packed away in a box of baseball trophies and old high school mementos.
He still thought about Maggie often that first year in Port-au-Prince.
But after he met Amy, his thoughts took a different direction, and not until tonight, when Megan told the story, did the pieces all finally and completely fall together. He’d spent years praying for Maggie Howard, praying that she’d find real love one day. And then— when his life had been little more than a chance to remember the past—God had brought the two of them together so that he, he himself, could be the answer he’d prayed for all those years ago.
And it had all happened on Christmas Eve.
If that wasn’t a Christmas miracle, Casey wasn’t sure what was.
Of course, it wasn’t a complete miracle, not yet. Not until he could look into Maggie’s eyes, the eyes he’d first met as a boy, and know without a doubt that she believed in love again. The kind of love he’d taught her to believe in back on the sandy shores of Lake Tahoe.
The Red Gloves Collection Page 17