A Christmas Family Wish

A Christmas Family Wish

By

Helen Scott Taylor

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Copyright © 2013 by
Helen Taylor

Cover design © Helen
Taylor

*

The right of
Helen Taylor to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by
her in accordance with the UK Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.

This is a work
of fiction. All the characters in this book have no existence outside the
imagination of the author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing
the same name or names. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons,
living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights
reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval
system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical,
photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the
Copyright owner.

Chapter One

Rachel Carne lay awake, her heart pounding with alarm,
unable to sleep for the noise outside. Wind howled around the house, sending things
clattering along the street. Rain pelted the windows in a torrential downpour,
drumming against the glass.

She climbed out of bed and went into the bathroom to peer
through the window at her small red car parked in the road. A wooden box
skidded past it and banged into another vehicle. Her hand pressed over her
mouth. She half expected to find her car wrecked in the morning, but there was
nothing she could do except wait for the weather to pass.

After peeping in on her little boy, she climbed back in bed
and pulled the covers over her head. So far Toby had slept through the noise.
She hoped he stayed asleep. Her shift at work started early tomorrow. She would
feel bad leaving him in day care if he was tired and irritable.

A new noise started outside, a groaning, wrenching sound as
though the very earth was screaming. Rachel's already frayed nerves strung
tight with fear. She hated this. Hurricane-force winds were rare in England. In
all her twenty-seven years, she didn't remember a night like this before.

The groaning increased, then her house trembled. A crashing,
tearing sound filled the air. The trembling became a shudder, the horrendous
noise almost deafening.

Fear streaked through her. She must get to Toby. Rachel
yanked her covers aside and scrambled out of bed, tripping as the loose fabric
caught around her legs. She kicked it aside and reached for the light switch.
She clicked it up and down with no result.

Then her little boy's terrified scream cut through the
cacophony.

"Toby! I'm coming, sweetheart."

In darkness, she pulled open her bedroom door. Cold, wet
wind hit her, knocking her back a step.

Her son's terrified wails spurred her on. Tree branches
poked through the splintered wood of her son's bedroom door. The old oak tree at
the roadside must have blown down and hit her house.

Frantically she pulled apart the damaged door and pushed
into Toby's bedroom. Rain drove through the gaping hole in the wall where the
massive trunk laid balanced precariously on the crumbling brickwork, Toby's bed
right underneath.

Breath sawing in and out in painful jerks, Rachel fought her
way between the spiky branches, barely noticing the pain as twigs scraped her
exposed skin, and rubble and splinters dug into her feet.

"Mummy, Mummy," her son wailed in fright.

"I'm coming, Toby. You're all right, baby. Mummy will
be there in a minute." Her sodden nightdress clung to her body as she
crawled under the trunk to reach the bed. Rachel snapped off some twigs and
blindly extended a hand.

"I'm here, sweetheart. Wriggle out to me. Come on, you
can do it, baby." He crawled out from under the trunk resting a few inches
above him. If it slipped…

As soon as her hand grasped his arm, she dragged him from
underneath the tangled branches and hugged him against her.

"You're all right, Toby. You're all right."

He wailed and clung to her as the bitter wind and rain
lashed at them. She had to get him to safety. He wrapped his arms and legs
around her. Half crawling, half crouching, she fought her way back to the door.
She grabbed the door frame as the house tilted and a section of damaged wall
collapsed and tumbled to the ground outside with a crash.

Rachel stumbled, pressing her hand into the soggy carpet to
help her stand. She tripped into her bedroom on bruised feet and slammed the
door behind her to keep out the wind and rain.

Toby's fearful cries filled her ears, his little body stiff
with terror in her arms.

Please, God, let him not be hurt. Please. She laid him on
her bed and ran her hands over him in the dark. He was so wet from the rain,
she had no idea if he was bleeding. She grabbed her mobile phone and switched
on the flashlight app. The volume of Toby's screams increased as she shone the
blinding white light at him. She stroked back his hair and examined his face.

"Okay, sweetie. It's okay. I need to check you over.
There's a good boy." Rachel pulled off his wet pajamas and dried him with
her bedcovers. Holding the flashlight above him, she ran a hand all over him,
searching for cuts and bruises.

Miraculously, he was unmarked. "You're okay, Toby.
You're not hurt. Calm down, sweetheart." She grabbed one of her T-shirts
from a drawer and pulled it over his head, then sat on the edge of the bed,
hugging him close, rocking him.

Gradually his crying stopped and he scrubbed his fists over
his eyes. "The wall fell down and the rain came in."

"I know, baby. Don't worry about it. You're safe with
me."

He cuddled closer. "Where's Jimbo?"

Rachel closed her eyes and fought to stay calm. She couldn't
go back to Toby's room for a teddy bear. "Jimbo is watching over your
things until it gets light and Mummy can rescue them."

Toby pouted but seemed to accept that explanation.

"Let's get you all warm and snuggly in Mummy's bed,
shall we?" She lifted the covers and Toby crawled inside and curled up.
"You go back to sleep, baby." She sat beside him and stroked his damp
hair for a few minutes until his breathing grew even and she was sure he slept.

For a few moments she rested her head in her hands, eyes
closed, shivering in the chill. She needed to pull herself together, dry off,
and change clothes.

Trembling with a mix of shock and relief, Rachel dragged off
her clingy, wet nightdress, gave herself a cursory wipe down, and wrapped
herself in a warm dressing gown.

Thank God Toby was unhurt. Rachel snuggled under the covers
and curled around her four-year-old, her heart still pounding. She hugged Toby
close, stroking and kissing his hair until she could think more clearly.

The house was half fallen down. She couldn't stay here. Yet
where could she go in the middle of the night? It would be dangerous to try to
drive anywhere in the storm. She didn't have any relatives she could stay with.
Her parents had retired to Spain for her father's health.

The last thing she wanted to do with her dad so sick was
worry him, but she didn't know who else to turn to. With a shaking hand, she
reached for her mobile phone and dialed her father's number. It went through to
voice mail. She cut the connection and dialed again. On the second try, he
picked up.

"Rachel. What's wrong?" Her father's voice was
scratchy with sleep.

"A tree's come down on my house in the hurricane. It
hit Toby's bedroom. I don't know what to do, Dad."

"Is Toby all right?"

"Yes. He's here with me."

"Thank the Lord." There were a few moments of
muffled conversation as her dad told her mum what had happened. Then he came
back on the phone.

"Where are you, Rachel?"

"In my bedroom."

"Is it safe there?"

Rachel sucked in a breath, her gaze going to the door. The
temperature had plummeted, and wind and rain battered against the wood.

"I don't know. The front of the house where the tree
hit is falling down."

Her father cursed. "Can you get down the stairs?"

"I haven't looked."

"Okay. Don't worry, darling. You stay put. I'll call
Ian Harper and get him out to you. He'll know what to do."

Hearing Ian's name sent a strange shock through Rachel. She
hadn't heard her dad mention him for years. Ian had worked for her dad's
construction company, then left to set up his own. "Will he come out in
the middle of the night?"

"Of course. He owes me one."

"Okay, Dad. Thanks."

"You just stay safe and look after that grandson of
ours. I'll call Ian now."

Rachel ended the call and sighed. She pulled away from Toby,
careful not to wake him, and climbed out of the warm cocoon of the bed into the
cold room.

She should be good at coping with emergencies. As a flight
attendant for an airline, she'd been trained for all sorts of eventualities,
including what to do when a plane crashed. A tree falling on her house wasn't
quite the same thing, but it was close.

It was time to pull herself together, get dressed, and deal with
this mess.

***

Ian woke to the insistent sound of the phone chiming. He lay
for a moment, blinking in the darkness. Who was calling him in the middle of
the night? He fumbled for his mobile phone on the nightstand and it fell off.

With a curse, he leaned over and felt on the floor. The
sound stopped as he put his hand on the phone. Flopping back in bed, he held
the device up to see the screen. One missed call from Jeff Carne. Last he heard,
Jeff had a heart attack and sold his company to move to Spain, where it was
warmer. Weird he should be calling him now.

The phone chimed again and he held it to his ear. "Hi,
Jeff. What's the problem?"

"Ian, thank heaven I got you. I need you to help
Rachel. She says you've got a hurricane there."

Ian paused to listen to the rain pelting the window. His
place was sheltered from the worst weather. Meadow Sweet Farm lay in a valley
and the wind passed them by. Storms had been forecast, though. "Maybe
calling it a hurricane is an exaggeration," he said, remembering what a
drama queen Rachel had been.

"Well, whatever. A tree's come down on Rachel's house.
Right on her boy's bedroom."

"Hell." That got Ian's attention. He sat up and
rubbed his eyes. "Is the kid okay?"

"She says so. Will you go over there and help them?
She's pretty upset, by the sound of things."

"Sure. I'll leave immediately. What's the
address?" Jeff told him and Ian tapped it into the notepad on his phone.
"I'm on my way."

"Thanks. Keep me updated."

"Will do."

Ian was out of bed before he ended the call. Jeff and Irene
Carne had given him a chance after his mother died and he went off the rails,
when nobody else would. They'd taught him all they knew about running a
construction company and looked out for him. Ian would do pretty much anything
for them.

He pulled on some warm clothes and parted the curtains to
check outside. Rain slanted down, the gusting wind blowing it all over the
place. Nice.

Ian's old golden retriever lumbered out of his bed by the
stove and tried to follow him as he fetched his boots and coat from the utility
room and headed across the kitchen to the back door.

"No, you silly thing. You stay here where it's
warm." Ian pointed at the wicker basket lined with sheepskin. "Bed,
Max. Go in your bed."

Max trundled back and curled up, resting his head on his
paws with a long-suffering sigh. Ian laughed and crouched to stroke the dog's
head before he pulled on his coat and hat. "You're not missing anything, I
assure you." It wouldn't be pleasant outside.

The wind and rain buffeted him as he walked to his pickup
and climbed in. Water poured along the narrow country roads, turning them to
rivers. In a few dips, he splashed through flooded areas where the drains were
overwhelmed. Twigs and leaves swirled in the beam of his headlights while in a
couple of places he had to swerve to avoid fallen tree branches in the road.

The gale was worse than he'd thought. As he reached the
outskirts of town, trash dove around in the wind, bouncing off buildings and
cars. After twenty minutes, he reached the street where Jeff's daughter lived.

He had no trouble locating her house. Although the street
lights were out, he could see a massive old oak growing at the roadside had
smashed into the front of her place. The council should probably have cut the
tree back long ago.

Ian's windshield wipers slashed to and fro, barely keeping
the glass clear of rain as he peered at the damage. A cold sweat broke out
under his arms. He'd half expected to turn up and find Rachel had exaggerated.
He remembered her as being a handful when she was a teen, always giving Jeff
the runaround. This time she'd told the truth. The front of the house was darn
near demolished. And that was her kid's bedroom. Jeff had said the child was
okay, thank God.

Ian blew out a breath. The first thing he needed to do was
get Rachel and the boy out of there. He turned up his collar before he climbed
out.

A few hardy souls were knocking on Rachel Carne's front
door. "There's a young woman and child inside," an elderly man said,
cupping his hands around his mouth to shout so he was heard.

"I know. I've come to help them," Ian shouted
back.

The wind gusted, nearly lifting the old guy off his feet.

Ian signaled for him to go home. "Leave it to me,"
he shouted.

The wind was so loud, Rachel probably hadn't heard her
neighbors knocking. She wouldn't hear him either. Ian wiped the rain out of his
eyes and squinted, trying to assess the damage. This was going to be one hell
of a repair job. As he stood outside, some roof tiles slid down, crashing on
the path beside him. The place was unstable. He needed to get Rachel out as
soon as possible.

Using the tree branches, he climbed through the smashed
front wall into the kitchen. He pulled his flashlight from his pocket and
switched it on. The kitchen was a mess, the built-in cabinets shattered, the
ceiling partially down. Something crashed to the floor and he headed for the
door quickly. He angled his flashlight upstairs, relieved that although the steps
were wet and covered in twigs, they were intact.

He cupped a hand around his mouth. "Rachel, it's Ian
Harper," he shouted. He didn't want to go upstairs and startle her.

"I'm up here." A woman stepped onto the landing.
Ian shone the flashlight on a slender female form, quickly lowering the beam
when she held an arm over her face. He assumed it was Rachel. She was dressed,
by the look of it, and didn't appear panicked, thank goodness.

He hadn't seen Rachel Carne since she was eighteen—since the
night she kissed him and told him she loved him. He hadn't thought of that for
years. Now it suddenly all came back to him.