A Holiday To Remember (7 page)

The answers weren’t her business, but that didn’t stop her from wondering.

Through the rest of the meeting, she was careful to keep her gaze only on Mia and the wood samples she was very seriously considering. Mia was her heart, her life, her everything.

Debra took a sip of tea, chose a white-frosted cookie and forced every other thought from her heart.

When Mia beamed with happiness at the end of their meeting, Jonah breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn’t realized how tense he’d been, but talking about his work and seeing how happy he’d made the kid already was the gold star at the end of his day. He was grateful to rise from the couch, for his elbow was in dangerously close proximity to the lovely Debra’s. Close proximity to her brought out all kinds of feelings—both of longing and regret.

He rubbed the back of his tight neck with the heel of one hand. “Since I have your approval, Miss Mia, I’ll get started on your headboard tonight. I’ll aim to have the bed finished before you leave. How’s that?”

“Stupendous!” The girl clasped her hands together, the perfect image of childhood joy. “Mom, isn’t that fab?”

“Sure, it is.” Debra had been quiet through their meeting, so when she finally spoke he was aware of every rise and dip of her gentle voice. She gathered the empty cups and set them on the tray. “What did you forget to say to Jonah?”

“I didn’t forget, Mom. I’m just too happy to get the words out.”

Jonah turned away as Debra spoke with her daughter. He retreated swiftly to the copier with the finalized furniture plans. It had been tough to stay all business, but he had succeeded this far. He wouldn’t fail now. Once a marine, always a marine. He didn’t know the meaning of the word
quit.

He only had a few more minutes to keep his feelings under control. He could do it, right?

Right. He set the plans in the copier tray and hit Print. As the copier whirred and clicked and sucked in the original pages, he tried not to listen to the conversation between mom and daughter, but their voices lifted above the drone of the machine.

“C’mon, Mom, you gotta come with us tonight. If you don’t come with me, how are you going to be
saved?
”

“Not that again?”

“I promised Grandmother Millie I wouldn’t give up until you were.”

“Maybe I’m a hopeless case.”

“You keep saying it, but I don’t believe it for a single minute.”

Jonah’s gaze flicked to the window and Debra’s reflection. She kept a no-nonsense demeanor, but he wasn’t fooled. He caught the twinkle of merriment softening the contours of her lovely face, saw the corners of her mouth threatening to turn into a grin.

She was the kind of woman a man would like to go through life with. Jonah punched the power button off, realizing he’d done the one thing he’d promised himself he wouldn’t do. He’d crossed the line he’d drawn and now he was no longer thinking of Debra Watson as a customer and his boss’s sister.

Way to go, man.
He gathered up the copied pages and went in search of an envelope. While he went through the drawers of the desk in the corner and tried not to bump into the Christmas tree nestled up against it, he tried to refocus his thoughts. Business. Customer. Boss’s sister.

It wasn’t helping. He could hear the soft pad of her boots against the tile, the rustle as she moved to the workshop door and the tinkle of the ceramic mugs telling him that she was carrying the loaded tray from the room to the employee break room, where the sink was.

Mia’s skipping gait stopped at the doorway, telling him he wasn’t alone. He found an envelope in the bottom drawer and slid the pages into it.

“Here you go.” He held them out for her to take. “I’ll do my very best job for you.”

“Thank you, Jonah. I really mean that. Not just because it’s polite, but because you sure are nice. Uncle Ben talks about you all the time.”

“No wonder my ears have been burning.” Jonah kept his voice low, because he knew it would carry in the empty workshop and Debra might overhear. “Your uncle Ben is a good guy. We’ve been friends for a long time, a lot longer than he’s been my boss, you know.”

“Yeah. That’s what he says.” She hugged the envelope to her, scrunching her face in serious thought. “Are you coming to church tonight? Olivia’s got practice for the Christmas pageant and I get to come watch.”

“No, sorry. I’ve got this very important furniture order to get to work on.”

“Mine, right?”

“Yep.”

Cute kid. He could see Debra in her. Not just in their similar shades of brown hair and their strikingly cinnamon-brown eyes, but in her innate regal manner. Debra was doing a fine job raising her—apparently alone. That made him wonder about her life. Was she dating anyone?

Not your business, Fraser.
He mentally scolded himself to no avail. Apparently he didn’t seem able to stop thinking about Debra—and admiring her.

“You aren’t gonna do anything but work tonight?” Mia persisted. “Not even to eat? Or anything fun?”

He chuckled. “And why are you so concerned about me, little lady?”

“Because you’re so nice and I really appreciate you working me into your schedule. My mom says you’re in demand and I should appreciate it. And I do. So, you won’t work all the time, right?”

She was a compassionate one, this one. He wanted to reassure her—he worked long hours and into the night often because he could not sleep. Not because he had too much work to do. “I’ll work for a bit more this afternoon. Then Ross is coming over to pick up the crib. After that I’ll probably mosey over to the bookstore down the way. Pick out a good book to start reading tonight.”

“Ah, that sounds good.” Mia nodded her approval. “I love to read and my mom does, too. She reads all the time. Do you?”

“I read a lot.”

“Good! That’s very, very good.”

“You’d best run along. Your mom is waiting.” He noticed Debra the instant she stepped back into his sight, already wearing her coat and holding Mia’s folded neatly over the crook of her arm.

Lovely. She was absolutely lovely and he shouldn’t be noticing. This was business, remember? He spun around and held open the door. “You two ladies have a good weekend. Debra, I’ll give you a call when I have the bed made and ready for Miss Mia’s final inspection.”

Debra looked a little puzzled—and distant—as she handed Mia her coat. “That would be fine. I guess this is goodbye for now.”

“Yes.” He knew it had to be. He didn’t figure on seeing her again—other than for business. Sweet longing filled him, but he didn’t have the right. Old guilt weighed down his spirit. He stepped aside so the mother and daughter could pass on by. “Goodbye.”

That word stuck like sadness in his chest. He thought he hid it well. Debra followed Mia out of the door and into the blinding sunlight reflecting off the snow.

He didn’t feel the icy wind or notice the second vehicle parked in the customer lot. Every cell in his brain seemed focused with pinpoint accuracy on the woman who was gently joking with her daughter.

“Jonah. Hey, Jonah.” Ross’s voice surprised him. He was coming up the walkway. “It’s not like you to stare off into space.”

“Got things on my mind.” Jonah shrugged, unwilling to say exactly what those things might be. He held up a hand to wave, trying to appear casual, as Debra and Mia drove away.

“I think I can see just what things those might be.” Ross smiled.

“You didn’t hear that from me. That’s how rumors get started. Come on in. I’ve got the crib ready to go. I’ll help you load it.”

“Sure.”

The workshop had always been his escape, but not now. The memory of Debra being here troubled him. He went straight to the crib. “You look like you’ve been putting in long hours. How’s the investigation coming along?”

“Slow. Tedious. Methodical.” Ross crouched down on one side of the little cradle. “You wouldn’t happen to remember a woman named Wendy Kates?”

“Doesn’t ring any bells.” Jonah took the other side of the crib. The two men lifted the cradle together. Jonah went through his mind again, sifting the name through his memories. Nothing. “I can ask around if you want. See what I can find.”

“I want to keep this hush-hush.” Ross grimaced. “The last time I went digging up information on this woman, Kelly’s brakes were tampered with.”

“I caught you on the news a while back.” Jonah backed against the door, paused and hit the bar handle with his elbow. Cold air snaked down the back of his neck as he pushed through the doorway. Ross had made a statement to the local reporters that he’d find the man responsible for Kelly’s accident and the damages to the Tiny Blessings Adoption Agency. “You look more determined than you did then.”

“I won’t let any more harm come to my family. I have to stop whoever is doing this.”

Jonah eased his side of the cradle into the back of Ross’s vehicle. “You might want to get ahold of my mom. She knows everyone and everything. She’s been plugged into this community since she married Dad. She might be able to help you and she knows how to keep a confidence.”

“I’d appreciate that.” Ross eased his end in and then wrapped an old blanket around the flawless woodwork. “I’ve hit a dead end. It’s as if this woman I’m looking for came out of nowhere. All I can find is her hospital records.”

“Take care of your family. You have a precious blessing in them. If you need any help, you know where to find me.” Jonah wanted only good things for Ross and his family. “I’m pretty ticked at this guy, too. I’m real fond of Kelly and that baby of yours.”

“I know you are. I appreciate it.” Ross pulled his keys from his pocket. “I’ll give your mom a call. See what she knows. By the way, Kelly is going to love this cradle. Thanks, man.”

“Not a problem.”

As Jonah watched his friend head off, driving home to a wife and child, he tried not to wish for the same blessings of his own.

Jonah’s words followed Ross Van Zandt home.
Take care of your family. You have a precious blessing in them. If you need any help, you know where to find me.

Protective rage blurred Ross’s vision as he pulled into the garage and cut the engine. He had been working long days tracking as many of the pieces of Wendy Kates’s life as he could. She was the key to the puzzle.

That poor woman. Ross shook his head as he withdrew the keys from the ignition. He’d found out little information about her since he’d discovered her files among the latest batch of the falsified adoption records found in the Harcourt mansion. He knew that she’d given birth to a baby girl and that trail was cold. He did not know what happened to the infant. Wendy had died during delivery; the cause of death had been blunt-force trauma.

Weeks of work had led him nowhere. The same questions remained. Who was Wendy Kates? Who was the prominent family member Barnaby Harcourt had been blackmailing to keep quiet about her illegitimate baby? The initials L.M. showed up in the hospital records. That led to more questions. L.M. The name of the man who was being blackmailed? Or the initials of the unnamed father of Wendy’s baby?

Whoever that man was, it wasn’t a stretch to believe he’d been responsible for Wendy’s fatal injury. A man who could kill a pregnant woman—Ross’s fists tightened on the steering wheel until his knuckles were white. A man like that was pure evil. He had to be stopped before—

“Ross?” Kelly must have heard him drive up. She cradled a stretching Cameron. They were both safe and happy. That’s what mattered. “Ross, you look exhausted. I worry about you. You’re working so hard.”

“I have to. I’ve got no other choice.” Ross opened the door and kissed his wife tenderly and then his son on his downy head. They were safe for right now, but what if danger struck again? What if he lost them?

On his life, he vowed to protect them.

T
he day’s end brought tiny crystalline flakes of snow falling from a charcoal sky. Debra hesitated on the cleared walkway outside the adorable little bookshop and took the time to feel the delicate snow brush her face. The cool thrill and fresh scent of it made her feel younger, as if the heavy burden of all her responsibilities could tumble to the ground at her feet, too.

Somehow she felt lighter as she walked toward the little glass door under the blue awning. An overhead bell chimed when she crossed the threshold, welcoming her in.

What a charming place, she thought as she began unbuttoning her coat. It was a small independently owned store. It felt personal and cozy, the way a lot of bookstores used to feel in the days before the larger chains. One of the front bay window displays held a collection of Christmas gift suggestions and books handpicked by the owner, according to the little calligraphy note card with the special sales price beneath each displayed book. This was all supervised by an orange tiger-striped cat. Sam, according to the tag on his collar, looked as if he were curled up for a nap but opened his eyes just enough to give her an appraising look.

“Hello, there,” she said to the cat, itching to brush her fingers across the silken fur. “Do I meet with your approval?”

The cat didn’t seem impressed with her and went back to sleep. Debra sighed just a little and moved on, not wanting to disturb the feline. She wished she was at home enough hours in a day to have a fuzzy kitten of her own. Maybe after she had Mia in the college of her choice—okay, her family’s choice—there would be time enough to slow down her life. Work less. Have a few little dreams of her own. Maybe a shop like this. A cuddly cat in the window. Time to read the books her company—and other houses—published.

One day, she promised herself, but since she’d been saying that to herself for the last thirteen years, she had a real fear that imagined future just might always be out of her reach. Just a dream, nothing more.

“Can I help you?”

Lost in thought, Debra whirled around to see a smiling, matronly lady at the front counter. She wore dark rimmed glasses. Her silver hair was pulled back in a black hair band. A gold name tag on her red angora sweater said Pamela. When she smiled, she could have been Mrs. Claus.

Debra liked her on sight. “Yes, I need to be pointed in the right direction. I’m looking for your devotional section.”

“Straight back, dear. Here, let me show you.” Pamela skirted the corner of the counter. “I haven’t seen you in my shop before. Are you here in town visiting family?”

“I am.” It felt good to say that, for Ben and his family felt as if they were already part of hers. “It must be wonderful to own a little shop like this.”

“Wonderful, yes. It’s been one of the joys of my life.” There was no mistaking the honest affection in her voice. “My Albert and I ran this place together. That is, before his health problems.”

Debra remembered how hard it had been to see her mother in pain and so very ill. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“He’s past the worst of it, thank the Lord. God has been very gracious, sparing my Albert so we can be together.” Pamela halted between the chin-high rows of books near the back of the store and held her hand out toward the rows of devotionals on tidy shelves. “Here are the devotionals, dear. Let me know if I can help you chose one. I’ve got plenty of suggestions if you need them.”

“I’ll be fine, thank you. My daughter gave me a few titles to search for.” Debra swallowed against the tightness in her throat. “I’m glad your husband is improving.”

“He’s a testimony to the power of prayer.” A tear pooled in the woman’s eyes and she swiped it away. “Pardon me. Goodness, life can test your mettle at times. Give me a holler if you need anything.”

“I will.”

Debra watched the sweet woman go. Pamela had the work life of Debra’s dreams. The older lady took her time strolling down the rows, stopping to straighten a book on a shelf here or to swipe a bit of lint off the top of the glossy bookshelves there, or ask another customer if they needed any help.

Life had been so busy for her for so long that she’d forgotten that hardship came to everyone. There had been no mistaking the love the shop owner had for her husband and for her life here in this lovely little shop, working beside him. A place like this couldn’t turn much of a profit, but then, maybe profit ratios and projected returns held little meaning when it came to having a dream.

She felt that dream now, the one so long buried for a life like this one. She loved the way quiet instrumental Christmas music played from the overhead speakers and how the scent of coffee and tea and baked goods drifted from the little café in the corner. She breathed in the smell of new books—one of the best scents in the world, in her opinion. Her eyes smarted. Longing filled her heart with such sore wanting, she felt ashamed. She was a grown woman, in her thirties, a mother of a teenage girl, a vice president of a prestigious and respected publishing house and dutiful daughter to both the Cunningham and Watson branches of her family. As her mother had said so long ago, she should not settle for so little.

As she watched Pamela move about the little store, content and smiling, this did not seem like so little, but like very much, indeed.

A testimony to the power of prayer.
Pamela’s words stuck with her as she found the title Mia had asked for and wandered through the store. Debra had heard that phrase so much lately, it was starting to infiltrate her thoughts.
The power of prayer.
She’d dismissed such wishful thinking long ago, when she’d been so bleak and alone and when her prayers went unanswered.

Her wavering faith wasn’t a result of bitterness or anger at God; it was more like hitting a dead end in a road. There was a big yellow sign and guardrail blocking her way and she could not turn left or right. That’s what her faith had come to. There seemed to be nowhere to go with it.

But it hadn’t always been that way. As she stopped at the children’s section to browse for Christmas gifts for Olivia and Joseph, she remembered when she’d been younger. That was when her life had been sweet and safe and sheltered. She’d had faith, then, and she believed in prayer and a loving God watching over her.

Once she’d had many secret dreams alive in her heart.

Those pesky tears were in her eyes again at the yearning for the chance to turn back time, to go back to that place in her life and hold more tightly to the girl she’d been. To the young woman who believed in the things that could not be seen, only felt.

Was that part of her gone forever?

She didn’t know, but she thought she caught a glimpse of that hopeful Debra buried deep inside as she lingered in the aisles full of books so lovingly shelved.

Since she had actual time on her hands, she chose a book for herself on the way to the coffee bar at the other side of the shop. She was in no hurry to head back to the inn and room service.

“Hi,” said a teenaged girl from behind the spotless counter. “What can I get you?”

She glanced at the reader board high on the wall behind the teenager. “A large hot chocolate, please. Can I have whipped cream with that?”

“Sure.” The kid got right to work.

Debra set the pile of books down on the counter and unzipped her purse. She fingered through the bills in her wallet, looking for a five.

“I’ll get that, pretty lady.” A familiar baritone rumbled behind her.

Jonah.
She looked up and there he was, looking cool—as Mia would say—with his coat unbuttoned and speckled with snowfall. “This is a coincidence. I didn’t expect to see you again so soon.”

“Imagine that.” He tugged his wallet from his jeans back pocket and strolled closer. “Gina, make that two hot chocolates.”

“Sure thing, Jonah,” the girl said, her dark ponytail bouncing as she nodded.

Debra pulled out a fold of dollar bills and slid them into the tip cup. “Mia begged me to stop and pick up a new devotional for her. She pleaded. It was the most important thing ever.”

“That’s why you’re here?”

“Yes. What about you?”

He looked contemplative as he dropped a ten on the counter in exchange for the two large whipped-cream-topped cups. “I have a secret bookstore habit.”

“Shocking.” She followed him away from the counter. “I have a serious bookstore habit, too, when I have the time for it.”

He glanced over his shoulder at her, amusement twitching in the corners of his mouth. For a moment it looked as if he were judging his chance of keeping his distance, and then he shrugged. “Something else we have in common. What books have you got there?”

“Nothing interesting.” She hugged the stack of books to her to hide the one title she didn’t want him to see, as they headed to one of the empty tables. “I picked up gifts for Olivia and Joseph, mostly.”

“Uh, I caught sight of one of the books.” The twitch in the corner of his mouth turned into a full-fledged grin as he set the cups on the table closest to the window. “I didn’t know you were a romance reader.”

“Inspirational romances are one of my few indulgences.” She went to pull out her chair and suddenly he was there, holding it out for her. It was no easy task to hold her feelings still as he towered beside her, bringing with him the scent of winter snow and cozy pine. “It’s an occupational hazard, I guess. And a family one. I grew up surrounded by books.”

He waited while she settled into the chair and helped her to scoot it in. She was touched by the gesture. As if she didn’t admire him enough. Jonah Fraser was a gentleman through and through.

“Ben said that your publishing company is one of the big ones. It’s been in your family for generations.”

“Yes. I don’t work with books, though. I would probably be happier at my job if I did.”

“Then what do you do exactly?” He moved away to take the chair on the far side of the table. “I know, you sit in a high corner office, taking meetings and delegating, don’t you?”

“I’m more of a glorified bookkeeper.”

“I don’t believe that for one second.”

“It’s true. I spend my entire very long, sometimes twelve-hour workday with profit-and-loss statements, cost reports, production reports, projected earnings, monthly expenses, etcetera, etcetera. If they can make a spreadsheet on something, then it’s on my desk.”

“That doesn’t sound like much fun.”

“It isn’t. Don’t get me wrong. I am very thankful for my job and everything it allows me to afford for Mia.” But there was the bookshop in the background, behind Jonah’s shoulder, with the polished wood shelves and browsing customers and colorful book spines lined up carefully. There was that yearning again, at the bottom of her heart where she’d banished it. It wasn’t the only yearning there. She did her best not to look directly at Jonah. It made that sweet and innocent longing she felt for him a little easier to ignore.

He studied her over the rim of his cup. “Tell me about your dreams, the ones you didn’t follow.”

She swirled her finger into the mountain of melting whipped cream. It was hardly a mannerly thing to do but she lifted a dollop of the sweet topping with her finger and licked it, the way she used to do when she was little. She’d spent too much time on lost dreams today and her spirit ached like a chipped tooth. “Dreams? I hardly remember them anymore.”

“I know how that feels.” He took a long sip and wiped the marshmallow mustache from his upper lip. “There’s another thing we have in common.”

Although he was smiling, it wasn’t a real smile. He looked lost. It was the saddest look she’d ever seen on anyone. She remembered what he’d said about being a marine and serving the greater good. She wondered what had happened to bring him home and if it had something to do with his serious limp.

“What dreams have you lost?” she dared to ask.

He set his cup down on the table and stared into it. She could see the fall of his hair and the cowlick at the crown of his head. She didn’t think he was going to answer her. Her heart skipped a beat. She was afraid he was going to get up and leave.

When he spoke, a dark emotion resonated in his baritone like a bell’s final toll, an emotion that spoke of deep pain. “Remember when I said that life never turns out the way you expect?”

She nodded. She would never forget the day she’d first laid eyes on him. How the gray daylight had burnished him like a dream from her heart.

There she went, thinking of dreams again. Clearly, Jonah was not a dream meant for her as, she’d discovered, many dreams were not.

She cleared the disappointment from her throat. “Were you talking about being a soldier?”

Grief marked his handsome face. “I love my country. I’m proud to have served. It was what God called me to do.”

And the leg injury? She clamped her lips together to hold the question in. She could feel the depth of his pain as if it were her own. She could read the shadows in his eyes and his strong heartfelt pain settled like a shroud over hers. He bowed his head and looked down at the whipped cream melting over the side of the cup.

What had happened to him? She wondered. She watched the news. She read newspapers. It was her job to keep up with current events and trends of books on the market. Her family’s company had published several nonfiction accounts from soldiers’ experiences in war.

She thought of all the tragedy Jonah could have seen with his own eyes. She thought of all the tragedy that could have happened around him in war. To him. And she remained silent, waiting. The last thing she wanted to do was to make him hurt more. She knew deep pain could be easier to manage if you kept a tight lid on it. It had to be dealt with one day, but now was clearly not the time. Nor, she suspected, was she the right one for him to tell.

So she waited, to allow him to wrestle the pain back down. She waited for him to say what he needed to say, if anything. Although he wasn’t interested in her romantically and there were a dozen reasons why she shouldn’t be interested in him, there
was
something there between them. Something she couldn’t put her finger on. Some reason her heart kept feeling drawn inexorably by his.