A Little Country Christmas

by Carolyn Brown

  “Go away, Tracy.”

  The doorbell shrilled again. “I can’t do that, Iris. Open the door.”

  Pressing her back against the door, Iris closed her eyes. “No.”

  “I’m not going away until you do.”

  The bell chimed over and over until Iris unlocked the door and flung it open. She would never forget the look on her friend’s face when she saw her neck. Tracy looked as if she was going to faint before she recovered quickly. Seconds later, Iris found herself in Tracy’s arms.

  “I’m sorry, Iris. I’m so very sorry he did this to you.”

  Iris eased out of her friend’s embrace. “Please stop or I’ll start crying again. And my throat hurts too much for that.”

  Tracy held Iris’s hands. “Come sit down. You don’t have to talk, but I need you to listen to what I have to say. Okay?”

  Iris nodded. Sitting, Iris pressed her head back against the sofa and closed her eyes.

  “I didn’t know Collier was suffering from PTSD,” Tracy began. She told her about what Collier had gone through during his deployments, her voice breaking with emotion. “My brother loves you. And it’s breaking him up inside to know he hurt you.”

  Iris shook her head. “I can’t.”

  “You can’t what?”

  She inhaled, holding her breath, then let it out slowly. “I can’t deal with him as long as he’s like this. I thought he was going to choke me to death.”

  “What if he gets help?”

  Iris’s hands were shaking when she brought them up to cover her face. “I don’t know.”

  “Do you love him, Iris?”

  Lowering her hands, she gave Tracy a long, penetrating stare. She was asking her the same question that had nagged at her as she sat in the bathtub this morning. Did she truly love Collier or was she infatuated with him?

  “Right now I don’t know,” she answered honestly.

  Tracy reached for her hand, threading their fingers together. “You’ve become more than a friend, Iris. You’re like a sister to me, and knowing what you’ve been through, you deserve someone who will love and protect you.”

  Iris recalled telling Collier he was supposed to love her, not hurt her. “Are you saying Collier is that someone?”

  “He can be.”

  “He can be, but right now he’s not because he needs help.”

  Tracy stood. “What you and Collier have is worth fighting for. It tore my heart out to see my brother cry. He never cried when we buried our mother and our father. But he cried because he knows he’s lost you.”

  Iris sat in the same spot long after Tracy left, her mind in tumult. She was familiar with the term “PTSD” and knew several veterans who’d served under her father who had undergone treatment for the disorder. Collier had to get help before he hurt someone or himself.

  Collier waited on the porch for Tracy to come out of her house. He’d seen Layla off to school that morning, but his niece had no way of knowing it would be the last time she would see him for a while. It was four days before Christmas, and he’d decided to return to the base earlier than planned. If he remained on the island, he knew he wouldn’t be able to stay away from Iris.

  The screen door opened and closed with a soft click. Pushing to his feet, he forced a smile. “It’s time for me to leave.”

  Tracy’s face fell. “What are you talking about? You have another week here.”

  “I’m going to get help, sis. I can’t continue to live like this.” Collier extended his arms, and he wasn’t disappointed when Tracy walked into his embrace. “When you see Iris, tell her that I’m sorry and that I love her.”

  Tracy patted his broad back. “I will. You take care of yourself.”

  “I will,” he whispered. “And you take care of my niece.”

  “I will,” she promised.

  Collier kissed Tracy’s forehead, picked up his duffel, and walked down the porch to the rental car. He could feel his sister’s eyes boring into his back as he got into the car and headed toward the causeway. Barring traffic delays, he expected to arrive at the base within three and a half hours. He knew he had to begin the process of exorcising his demons if he hoped to have a healthy relationship and possibly a future with Iris.

  Tracy’s meeting with Iris had left him with a glimmer of hope. She’d recognized he needed help and he was going to get that help. Collier didn’t know if he could be completely healed, but he was going to do everything possible to begin the healing process.

  Iris surveyed the dining room table, pleased with her handiwork. It was the second time in a month that she would host a holiday dinner. It was Christmas Eve, and her family and friends would be coming to the apartment for a cocktail hour followed by a sit-down dinner at the stroke of midnight. She’d put up a lifelike artificial tree and decorated it with tiny white velvet bows and lights. A number of gaily wrapped gifts were positioned on the red tree skirt.

  She’d forced herself to keep busy in order not to think about Collier. Tracy had called to ask her if she would meet Layla’s school bus because her brother had cut his leave short to return to his base. Tracy had reopened an emotional wound that was just beginning to heal when she gave Iris Collier’s parting message: “Tell her that I’m sorry and that I love her.” He loved her and she loved him, yet their lives were going in different directions.

  He’d returned to active duty, and she had settled back into the routine she’d kept before his arrival. But it wasn’t the same.

  Her parents had come down from Virginia and Evan and Allie from Florida earlier that morning, checking into a Charleston hotel because the Cove Inn was filled to capacity with snowbirds.

  Tracy walked into the kitchen, holding a plastic cup half-filled with rum punch. “Girl, you outdid yourself with the punch. This stuff is potent.” She executed a mambo step. “We need to go to the Caribbean and let our hair down.”

  Iris thought her friend looked lovely with her hair pulled back from her face and pinned atop her head. A red-and-green plaid silk blouse and a black pencil skirt, sheer black stockings, and matching strappy suede stilettos transformed the schoolteacher into a seductive siren. She knew Tracy had paid special attention to her appearance for one special person: Evan.

  Iris took the cup from Tracy and took a sip She held it in her mouth before swallowing the icy concoction that exploded in a fireball of heat when it settled in her chest. “Whoa!” she gasped. “That’s lethal. Maybe I should add a little more juice.”

  “Don’t you dare,” Tracy threatened. “It’s fine the way it is. Folks will just have to put on their big girl panties and big boy boxers if they’re going to drink. Speaking of folk, I think I hear them coming up the stairs.”

  Iris removed her bibbed apron, placing it on the stool in the kitchen, and went into the living room to greet her guests. Her father and brother were carrying shopping bags filled with colorful gifts. She pressed her cheek to her father’s, then Evan’s. “Please come in. You can put your coats in the family room.”

  She hugged her mother. Esther’s hair was beautifully coiffed, the salt-and-pepper curls framing her smooth round face. “You look beautiful, as usual.”

  Esther held Iris at arm’s length, eyeing her critically. “You’ve lost weight.”

  “It’s the dress.” Iris didn’t want to get into a debate with her mother about her weight. Esther always believed she was too thin. Her outfit was a black sleeveless sheath dress, with the addition of a wide tartan plaid silk belt to break up the somber color and a pair of black suede kitten heels. A pair of diamond studs had replaced her usual small gold hoops.

  She helped Esther out of her coat. “I’ve put out appetizers and punch to tide you over before we sit down to eat at midnight.”

  Iris had given careful consideration to making up the menu for her Christmas dinner. She’d decided on an orange-glazed ham, roasted asparagus with a jalapeño hollandaise sauce, corn bread, and candied sweet potatoes. She’d baked two pies: apple with a walnu
t topping and a Southern pecan pie.

  “What’s wrong, Mom?” she asked when Esther glanced around the living room.

  “Where’s your boyfriend? He told James he’d be here through Christmas.”

  She didn’t react to her mother’s reference to Collier as her boyfriend. “He had to return to his base early.” Iris wasn’t about to tell anyone what Collier had done to her, because in hindsight she realized he wasn’t responsible for his actions. She’d worn a scarf every day to conceal the bruises on her neck until they finally faded. Mabel teased her relentlessly that her attempt to hide Collier’s love bites didn’t fool her. Word had gotten around that the pastry chef at the Muffin Corner was Scrappy’s girlfriend, and the men who’d previously flirted with her when she worked the front of the shop ignored her as if she’d come down with the plague. She missed Collier, while at night her longing for him intensified. The longing had nothing to do with sex; rather, she missed his companionship.

  James tuned the radio to a station playing classic Motown hits, then took his wife’s hand and dipped her as they swayed to Smokey Robinson and the Miracles’ “Ooo Baby Baby.”

  Allie laughed hysterically when she saw her grandparents dancing. “Daddy, why don’t you dance with Miss Tracy?”

  Evan made a big show of bowing before Tracy, who giggled like a little girl, then moved into his arms. Iris felt hot tears prick the backs of her eyelids as she watched two generations of Nelson men dance. She’d felt Tracy’s excitement as she filled her luggage with clothes for her and Layla to take on their weeklong Florida vacation. They would ride down with Evan and Allie, and he’d made arrangements for a chauffeur to drive them back to South Carolina because he wasn’t able to book a flight this late in the holiday season.

  Iris made her way over to the buffet table, filling a cup with punch. After several sips, she was swaying in time to the Temptations’ upbeat hit “Papa Was a Rollin’ Stone.” Evan came over, easing the cup from her hand, and swung her around and around until the ceiling started spinning. James turned up the volume, singing and clapping to the music from his youth.

  Allie patted Iris’s arm. “Auntie Iris, somebody’s ringing the bell,” she shouted to be heard above the driving bassline beat.

  “I’ll get it,” James volunteered.

  Iris watched her father gyrating across the living room. She didn’t know who could be at the door. She wasn’t expecting anyone. Her heart skipped a beat when Collier walked in wearing his fatigues. Her eyes followed his every motion as he and James exchanged rough hugs. Layla jumped up and raced into his arms as he knelt down and pulled her close to his chest. Tracy, who appeared as shocked as Iris, approached her brother, holding on to his neck as if she feared he would disappear before her eyes.

  Iris caught Collier’s eyes over his sister’s head, and the smile he gave her just about leveled her right there. She wasn’t even aware of him crossing the room, but suddenly he stood before her, offering his hand. Without conscious thought, she slid her palm against his.

  “I’d like to talk to you for a few minutes. In private,” he said.

  “You can kiss her, son,” James called out. “After all, it is Christmas.”

  Iris stiffened as he pulled her against him. As much as she wanted to sink into his familiar warmth, she knew she was playing with fire.

  Lowering his head, Collier touched his mouth to hers in a chaste kiss. “Merry Christmas.”

  She took his hand, winding their fingers together as she led him across the living room. Her heart was beating so fast she feared fainting. “Merry Christmas, Sergeant Ward.”

  He squeezed her hand. “There’s no need to be so formal, darling.”

  Her heart skipped a beat. He’d told Tracy to tell her he loved her, and it was apparent his feelings toward her hadn’t changed.

  Iris smiled. “Merry Christmas to you, too, darling. Is that better?” She closed her eyes for several seconds, hoping to buy time to slow down her pulse. “We can talk in the family room.” She led the way to the smaller of the two bedrooms, flipping on the wall switch.

  “Please close the door.”

  She hesitated, then closed the door, shutting out some of the music and raised voices. “Shall we sit?” Iris asked Collier, lowering her eyes. If she’d lost weight, so had he. His face was much leaner and she wondered if he was eating.

  He shook his head. “No. What I have to say won’t take that long. I know I should’ve told you I was experiencing flashbacks, but I was too afraid I’d lose you.”

  “Have you forgotten that I’m an Army brat, Collier? I know some soldiers come back from combat needing medication and psychotherapy in order to function somewhat normally. The problem is you didn’t trust me with your secret.”

  Collier stared at her under lowered lids. “That’s something I’ll regret for the rest of my life. I was evaluated by a psychiatrist who prescribed prazosin for the nightmares, but the side effects were counterproductive.”

  “Do you still have nightmares?”

  “Not since the one I had with you. There are times when I can go weeks without having them, and then sometimes they recur one after another. I’m in therapy, and I’ve scheduled weekly sessions with the chaplain, who claims forgiveness is the best medicine for anything and anyone.” Holding her hands, Collier went down on one knee. “Please forgive me.”

  Iris sank to her knees, pressing her forehead to his as she fought back tears. “Yes, sweetie, you’re forgiven.”

  “Do you mind if I come to visit you from time to time? The drive from Fort Bragg is just a few hours.”

  She sniffled. “No, I don’t mind. I think it’s time we put aside our pasts and start over. We’ve been given a second chance, so let’s try not to mess it up.”

  “I’m not going to mess it up,” Collier said quickly. He stood, pulling her up with him. His eyes made love to her face as he lowered his head and kissed her with all the passion he could possibly feel for a woman. “Merry Christmas, my love.”

  Iris clung to him as if he were her lifeline. “Merry Christmas, love of my life. I think we’d better get back before someone comes looking for us.”

  Collier increased his hold on her hand, stopping her from leaving. “I love you.”

  Iris felt like crying. And if she did, they would be tears of joy. Her lids fluttered wildly. “I love you too.” They returned to the living room, their arms around each other.

  “Are you guys all right?” Esther asked.

  “We’re good,” Iris and Collier chorused together.

  “How good, Sergeant?” James questioned.

  “Hopefully good enough, Colonel, to convince your daughter that spending her life with a retired master sergeant doesn’t have to be boring.” His pronouncement was met with applause as Esther kissed his cheek and James pumped his hand. Evan slapped his back, while Tracy clasped her hands and mumbled a silent prayer.

  Iris said her own silent prayer of gratitude. Collier hadn’t proposed marriage, but they had time to right the wrongs, work through their misunderstandings, and share a love that promised forever.

  Also by Rochelle Alers

  The Cavanaugh Island Series

  Sanctuary Cove

  Angels Landing

  Haven Creek

  Magnolia Drive

  Cherry Lane

  About the Author

  With nearly two million copies of her novels in print, bestselling author Rochelle Alers is also the recipient of numerous awards, including the Gold Pen Award, the Emma Award, the Vivian Stephens Award for Excellence in Romance Writing, the Romantic Times Career Achievement Award, and the Zora Neale Hurston Literary Award.

  Learn more at:

  RochelleAlers.org

  Twitter @RochelleAlers

  Facebook.com

  Chapter One

  Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer had been flying across Harbor Drive every Christmas since Brenda McMillan could remember. But this morning he was dangling by his hind foot as a cre
w of workmen hoisted him into place. Their crane was positioned smack-dab in the middle of the busiest intersection in town, while Deputy Ethan Cuthbert ineffectively directed traffic.

  Brenda drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. “Come on,” she muttered, inching forward. When she finally made the turn onto Magnolia Boulevard, Ethan shouted “Merry Christmas” at her. Brenda stomped on the urge to tell Ethan he could take Christmas and shove it up the chimney.

  She pushed the speed limit to the post office and dashed into the building, ignoring Cathy Fonseca, who waved and said “Good morning.” There was nothing good about this morning.

  Brenda pulled her mailbox key out of her purse and held her breath as she slipped it into the lock. Please let there be a postcard, she silently prayed.

  She opened the door to find a wad of Christmas catalogs jammed into the tiny space. Lillian Vernon, Balsam Hill, L.L.Bean, and a half dozen other retailers were already advertising Cyber Monday, which was still three weeks away. Where the heck did these people get her address, anyway? She’d never bought a thing from Balsam Hill or L.L.Bean.

  As she pulled out the catalogs, a postcard fluttered to the floor like a dry leaf and landed in a wet spot where people had tracked in some of last night’s rain.

  She picked up the card, wiping a smudge of mud away with the sleeve of her black parka. On the front of the card the words Greetings from Arizona, the Grand Canyon State, were printed in big block letters across a photo of rusty red buttes.

  She turned the card over, recognizing the long, neat lines of Isabella’s handwriting. Her heart rate spiked. Was her daughter coming home? Finally?

  Brenda read the message through the still-wet stain. There were only six words in the tiny space allowed, but they were sufficient to convey the point: Ella was not coming home for the holidays. Again. She hadn’t even signed the card with love.

  Brenda’s throat closed up, and she struggled to draw breath. This year her daughter had sent a grand total of five postcards, each containing one sentence each. Such was the depth of Ella’s anger.