His Holiday Heart (10 page)

“Are you abandoning me?” She knew he wasn’t, but it made him grin.

“I’m not the kind of man who jumps ship—ever. Believe me, I’m not trying to get out of this. I don’t have anything to offer. I don’t think I am the man for the job.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I’m good at running things and juggling projections and goals and budgets. I’m excellent at telling people what to do.”

“I have three volunteers. You can boss them around.”

“Oh boy.” He rubbed a hand over his forehead. “I’m afraid this requires more than what I’ve got.”

She started to argue with him, but he meant what he said. He genuinely did. For a moment, he looked bleak. He had the kind of sadness that made her catch her breath.

Hopelessness. She knew the look and the feel of it. She had once walked that dark place. She laid her hand on his. He was like sun-warmed marble, strong and impossibly human. “I think you are exactly right for this project.”

“You mean you need someone to boss you around?”

“Nice try, big fella, but humor isn’t going to work. You need to learn to take a compliment.” She liked him. Heaven help her, she really did. “Everyone brings something different to this. To the world. You do the best with what you’ve got. It will be enough.”

“It’s more than finding presents for some kids. I can see that right now.” He looked troubled, as if he did not believe her.

“Everything good in life always requires more than it seems.” Gentle feelings swept through her. “You’re enough, Spence. You really are.”

His throat worked, and he looked away. It was hard to tell if she had said what he needed to know or if she had said too much. He remained silent and she withdrew her hand, wishing she could withdraw her words as easily. She pushed away from the table and from the big stoic man sitting, but he filled the room with amazing presence. Spence was a tough man to ignore.

“Did your cut heal up?”

She saw his reflection in the windows as she put the rest of the bread loaf away. “It’s just fine.”

“Good. You wouldn’t want to get an infection.”

“No.” She sensed what he was really asking her. And it had nothing to do with the injury to her hand but about the single truth he knew about her.

She capped the ginger salad dressing and returned it to the refrigerator door. “It’s not easy being reminded of Christian, but I believe in the work I do. It’s his memory I serve.”

“You don’t have to talk about it.” He rose from the chair, all six feet-plus. “I didn’t want to remind you.”

“I know. I’m reminded of him every day. It never goes away.” While it could make her sad, the memory warmed her heart, too. The bond she and a little boy shared still lived. It still mattered. It made a difference. She made sure of it. “I never want to forget him. I never want to live in a world where a little boy’s love is something that is best forgotten.”

Spence swiped the back of his neck, looking unmoved as he paced toward her, towering above her like granite. It was not ice she saw on his face or stone in his heart. “Just when I think I can’t like you anymore, you go and say something like that. I don’t want to like you, Lucy.”

“I don’t want to like you, Spence, but I do.” Heaven help her. It wasn’t a mistake, was it? “Do you want dessert? I picked up some sugar cookies from Ava’s bakery on the way home.”

“Thanks, but I had better go. It’s getting late.”

“The roads are probably already freezing. I should have thought of it sooner.”

“I have snow tires and four-wheel drive.”

He was a very good driver, she knew, under any conditions. Spence McKaslin radiated a steady capability that was deeply attractive, too. Just add that to his other fine qualities—more things she had to try not to notice. She mentally rolled her eyes. Sure, like that was possible.

“It looks as if you and I are going to be spending a lot of time together.” Was that a hint of a smile?

Yes. She definitely wasn’t imagining it. She pulled a red plastic gift baggie from the box in the drawer and carried it to the bakery box on the breakfast bar. “You’re right. We have to spend lots of time together. Organizing lists. Calling donors and retailers. Wrapping presents. I hope your gift wrapping skills are top-notch.”

“I’m no slacker.”

No, Spence was the kind of man who did everything right. She opened the box and slipped a few cookies into the baggie.

“I guess we’ll have to trade numbers.” He sounded casual, as if it were nothing but business.

So why did her heart skip three beats? Why did her spirit brighten just a bit? There was no logical reason. Spence was not the kind of man she was looking for.

On another hand, he was exactly what she had been praying for. She handed him a pen and notepad she found in the top drawer. “How about your e-mail addy too? That way I can e-mail your half of the donor list to make calls from.”

“Sure.” He moved close, writing away. His head was bent, his dark hair tumbled across his brow and his deep blue eyes watched her, not the notepad. He clicked the pen and set it on top of the paper, his writing done. He towered over her close enough to touch, his gaze intense on hers.

Gulp. Her pulse stilled. Her soul silenced. The world melted away until there was only him making her broken dreams breathe as if with life.

He is not the man for you, Lucy, she reminded herself. It would be a mistake to fall for someone as closed off as Spence. She had made that mistake before, and all she had left of it were the broken pieces of those failed hopes.

“I suppose you’ll be at my sister’s shower on Saturday?” Spence hooked his coat off the back of the chair.

“That’s the plan.” She grabbed the to-go cookie bag and followed him toward the front door. “Not only did I receive a written invitation but eight phone calls inviting me personally.”

“Eight. That’s a suspicious number.” He paused in the foyer to pull on his jacket. “That’s the number of women in my family.”

“Yes. Your grandmother’s call was the sweetest.”

“I can’t imagine what she said to you.” He blushed, and it only made him more handsome, if that was possible.

Not that she should be noticing. “I understand completely, so don’t worry. She loves you.”

“I know. It’s hard to imagine anyone can.”

“No, that’s not true.” Because she didn’t dare say what she meant, she went for humor. “Like I’ve said, all we have to do is find you the right woman, someone whose top three desired qualities in a man are scowling, frowning and gruffness.”

“That’s what you think my top three qualities are?” He reached for the doorknob. “I’m falling down on the job. I’m going to have to work on improving my surly reputation.”

There was a lot she wanted to say, like how his reputation was more than fine. She liked the man who cared deeply for his family, whose faith was stalwart and un-shakable and who worked hard to do what he thought was right. But if she said those things, then he would worry that she was starting to
really
like him, which she was. Maybe it would be better if that was her little secret.

“Don’t forget dessert.” She handed him the to-go bag of Christmas tree cookies. “It will put you in the holiday spirit.”

“I’m never in the holiday spirit. Just thought I should warn you.” His fingers brushed hers as he took the bag.

A spark snapped to life in her soul. Shock rolled through her. She had never felt anything like it before. She wrapped her arms around her middle as he stepped out into the cold evening. Snow was tumbling from a black sky. Snow. She had no idea. It hadn’t been in the forecast.

“I’ll contact you soon,” he said in a strained voice as he hesitated outside the pool of the porch light. “Good night, Lucy. Thank you.”

He didn’t move. It was too dark to see anything but a blend of shadowed movement at his ankles. Bean.

“Good night, Spence.” She knelt to gather the cat into her arms, standing in the reach of the porch light.

Without another word, he moved away to become part of the shadows and the night.

H
is two-story house was dark and cold, veiled with snow and framed by darkness. As the truck idled in the driveway waiting for the garage door to crank open, he could see the glow of lights from the neighboring houses but not his. There would be no kids waiting for him, no warm smells of supper cooking and no pretty wife to welcome him home.

And you don’t want there to be, he reminded himself.

The door was up, so he eased the truck into the garage, shaking his head. What was wrong with him? He felt melancholy and dissatisfied with his life, more so ever since he had left Lucy’s house two nights ago. It was ridiculous. This is the life he wanted, the life he prayed for. In fact, this was the life he was grateful to God for every day. There was no one to hurt him, no one to rip out his heart and no one to leave with every penny in savings when the going got tough.

He cut the engine, grabbed his briefcase and climbed into the frigid air. He hit the garage button, thinking as he sorted through his keys. He had stayed late at the bookstore to accommodate Christmas shoppers, and if no family member called needing some kind of problem solved, he could get a head start on January’s operating budget since he had put that off doing donor calls.

The moment he stepped through the door and hit the lights, his cell phone rang. He punched in the code to the security system before hauling his phone out of his pocket. A check of the screen told him it was Dorrie. Relieved, he answered. “Aren’t you and Dad out doing the town on a Friday night?”

“We’re waiting for you to join us.” Dorrie’s cheer was welcome on this bleak winter’s evening.

“Funny.” He dropped his briefcase on the counter and hung his keys on the wall peg by the back door. “I have tomorrow down on my calendar. Katherine’s baby shower. I won’t forget.”

“That’s not why I’m calling.” Dorrie sounded too happy.

It probably had something to do with Lucy. He rolled his eyes. He had been putting up with this for days. He braced himself. There was nothing else he could do. This storm would pass—eventually. He loosened his tie and walked to the pantry shelves, trying to muster up energy to cook something.

“I stopped by today and did some cleaning and laundry.” Dorrie went on cheerfully. “I left a casserole in your fridge. Just heat it in the oven at three fifty until the cheese bubbles.”

Guilt overwhelmed him. Dorrie, as she always did, made his life easier, better. She was a good mom. “Thanks, I appreciate it. I had a long day.”

“I know. Did you hear Dani’s good news?”

“I haven’t seen her today. She wasn’t scheduled to work. She had more good news?”

“Jonas is cleared to start work by the new year. He’ll have to stay on a desk job, no exceptions, but isn’t that wonderful? Oh, another thing. I called the store and talked with Kelly. I wanted to make sure she’s coming tomorrow and that you will
let her off work.
” Dorrie emphasized.

He yanked open the fridge. “Yes, and I was going to pay her for the hours. Graduate school is expensive.”

“That’s right. Even if she’s happily married now, that doesn’t mean we can’t still watch out for her.”

That’s how he felt, too. Long ago Kelly had been engaged to their cousin, who had died before they had married. As he pulled out the casserole, he realized that had happened to Lucy, too. Ten days before her wedding. That meant Lucy’s flowers had been ordered, her wedding dress had been fitted and ready and her honeymoon plans were finalized. That meant her hopes for happiness, which had to have been so high, were irrevocably shattered.

He had seen the memories of that time in her house. He set the casserole on the counter and turned on the oven. There had been a collage frame of pictures above the fireplace mantel where a little boy’s face had smiled. He had spotted the popsicle stick castle on an end table, clearly a small child’s work, and a child’s watercolor painting hanging in the kitchen.

He ached, thinking of her loss.

“Spence? Yoo-hoo.” Dorrie’s voice interrupted him and brought him back into the kitchen.

He shook his head, hoping that would clear out the stray thoughts. He wasn’t the type of man who had a lot of stray thoughts. “Sorry, my mind drifted.”

“Don’t tell me you are thinking about January’s budget already. You work too hard, Spence. I have been telling you this for years. You need to relax more, and maybe then you will see that there’s more to life than profit and loss statements.”

“Wait a minute.” He was seeing a theme here. Having eight women in the family had taught him to watch for this kind of thing early and nip it in the bud. “What’s going on?”

“I worry about you, Ebenezer.”

Great. Here it came. “I’m not a scrooge. I give heavily to Christmas charities. You know I do.”

“That’s not what I mean. You aren’t stingy, Spence. You are a generous man. But you are miserly with your heart.”

“What is that supposed to mean? I’m fine. My life is fine.”

“Yes, but you keep this up, sweetheart, and you are going to miss the best things life has to offer you.” All loving care, that was Dorrie, and her words were laced with it so gently that he could not get angry at her.

He wanted to be, though. He was tired, that’s what he was, because instead of protesting and explaining how much he never wanted to get married, he thought of Lucy—how incredibly beautiful she was with her crooked ponytail and stray locks curling every which way. Also of how comfortable it had been sitting with her over a cup of tea and leftovers for dinner. He also thought of how alone he felt now, thinking of her.

“Don’t you want to be loved, Spence? To have someone truly love you and to love them as deeply? What about children? You are a fantastic uncle, but I know you want kids of your own.”

He squeezed his eyes shut briefly, refusing to think about that—about any of it. He told himself he didn’t approve of noisy kids in his house with their sticky fingers. It was all a lie, and as wrong as it was, he had to tell it to himself to keep his defenses together.

“There are a lot of things I can live without.” He scowled. Dorrie already knew this. “Like a wife figuring out she can’t love me and running off with the savings. Like kids being destroyed by it. I don’t believe in the fairy tale. Sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too.” She sounded so sad.

The oven beeped, saving him from feeling too much. He grabbed the dish and jammed it into the oven. The door slammed, and he set the timer. “I’ve got next month’s budget to work on. Dorrie, I’ve got to go. Thanks for the casserole and for everything you do.”

“You’re welcome, dear.”

He said goodbye as fast as he could, hating that he’d disappointed her…again. He loved her, he did. She knew trust didn’t come easy for him, so why was she pushing like this?

He wandered into the family room, turning on lights as he went and sat down at the computer. The house felt lonely. He logged online. The scent from the oven strengthened, making his stomach grumble. Dorrie had made his favorite casserole, just as she often had since before she had married Dad.

It seemed forever ago. How many years? Spence hated to add them up as he tapped his password on the keyboard. Over twenty years, he realized with a start. Back then he had been a teenaged boy hurting in the worst way, and he hadn’t wanted anything to do with the motherly, kind Dorrie.

But she had won him over with her constant devotion year in and year out, making his favorite dishes one after another until she had won his trust. It had taken a long time, he remembered, years, in fact. But in the end, she hadn’t left. When she said she loved him, she meant it. She said she didn’t need to chase dreams because her family was her dream.

He clicked the mouse and scanned his inbox. Lucy’s address stood out from the others. He opened the e-mail without even thinking about it and her words scrawled across his screen.

We have thirteen days of shopping left before Christmas and counting down. How goes the donor list?

He hit Reply and started to type.

Good. I’m sure my list is longer than yours.

He had no sooner hit send than a message popped on his screen. It was an instant message request from Lucy. She must be online.

Aren’t you the competitive one? She’d written.

Yes, he typed. He could picture her sitting at her computer wearing another pair of ragged sweats and her hair every which way. He kept typing. How have you bean?

He imagined the pause was her laughing.

Busy, came her reply, but good. I’m hoping to persuade you to spend time with me.

I hope there’s cookies involved. I’m going to need incentive.

You’re not fooling me, Spence. I bet you hardly like cookies.

True, he thought. She had him pegged. Baked goods weren’t the draw. No, he thought, as his mind evaporated. There were no thoughts, no to-do lists carefully categorized in his head and no rational logic. Just her. Images of her standing in her doorway surprised to see him. Of her holding the tree he’d decorated for her. Of her smiling up at him, just him. Those mental pictures made the walls around his heart buckle and rend.

You are not falling for her, he reminded himself.

Her message flashed on his screen. Aha! Silence. I knew it. You are suddenly overcome with the spirit of Christmas, and you are too stubborn to let anyone know it. Right?

Wrong, he thought, but what did he type? I don’t approve of the spirit of Christmas.

And why did he type it? So he could imagine her laughing. He liked the way green glints appeared in her emerald eyes and how she tipped her head back, joy bubbling out of her.

You are a challenge, Spence. But one I am up for. I hope you are ready because I am going to show you the true meaning of Christmas.

Credit card debt? He typed.

Bah, humbug. I think Danielle is right about you.

He groaned. I’m not a scrooge.

I was sort of hoping you were. At the end of the story, Ebenezer lets love and joy into his heart.

No wonder I haven’t read that book. Ebenezer is a softie. He hit send, figuring that would make her laugh, too.

You are impossible. You need more help than I thought. I had better get busy.

Get in line. You aren’t the only female who thinks that.

All the more reason to get to work on you. How does tomorrow after the shower sound?

Doable. I’ll somehow manage to tolerate your company, he typed when he wished he could say, I can’t wait to see you again.

Good night, Spence.

Good night. He hit Send and waited. A message flashed on his screen telling him she had signed off.

No, he couldn’t wait to see her. For a few moments in time, she had transported him out of his empty life and made the lonesomeness of the evening fade.

The oven timer dinged. His meal was ready. He pushed away from the computer. Every step echoed around him as if to remind him of what he did not have.

Her words came back to him, as if following into the kitchen.
I never want to live in a world where a little boy’s love is something that is best forgotten.

He had been so wrong about Lucy. She wasn’t like his biological mother, not at all. Lucy knew what mattered most in this life. She was the kind of woman who loved in a way that not even death could stop.

He didn’t believe in the fairy tale of love and marriage. For the first time in his adult life he wanted to though.

Lucy would have been alarmed had she noticed the snow that fell during Katherine’s shower, but she was too busy having a wonderful time. Over fifty women were squeezed into Katherine’s living room, and she had the best time. Sure, there were a few of those shower games, which she always embarrassingly won, but mostly it was lots of laughing, talking and eating baked goods.

“I’ll be happy to donate a holiday cake for Project Santa,” Ava said. The shower was breaking up and everyone was heading out. “I’ll throw in as many cookies as you want at cost.”

“That’s more than fair. Thank you.” How fun for the kids. She would have to remember to add that to her computerized list.

“Oh, I have the best idea.” Ava bounced in place in her enthusiasm. “You have to come for the McKaslin cookie bake-a-thon. We do it every Christmas.”

A hand landed on Lucy’s shoulder. It was Dorrie, apple-cheeked and glowing. “Wonderful idea, Ava. Yes, that’s just what we should do. You must come, Lucy.”

“I’m a terrible baker.” She had to be honest. “I guess I’m passable if I don’t forget to keep an eye on the oven.”

“Then we will put you on the decoration squad.” Aubrey sidled close, looking content with a hand resting on her growing abdomen. “We can ice cookies together. We’ll let Dorrie and Gran bake.”

“I usually bake, too,” Katherine called from the corner, where she was heaped in beautiful presents on either side. “But this year, it looks like I’ll be on sprinkles duty.”

Sprinkles duty? Lucy couldn’t believe this family. They were the kind of people she wrote about—warm and wonderful and fun. “I’m not artistic, so doing sprinkles might be safer.”

“Excellent.” Rebecca crowded close, her impressive engagement ring winking. “I love to put the icing ornaments on the Christmas tree cookies. Lucy, I’ll show you how.”

“Oh, and we make the candy cane cookies.” Lauren leaned in to add. “You could help me twist them.”

“Lucy should have Christmas with us, right?” Danielle pitched in.

“Yes, you must come, Lucy.” Gran took hold of Lucy’s arm, holding on tightly. Hope twinkled in her eyes.

“Yes, say yes, Lucy,” Ava pleaded.

“As if I can say no,” she said. Even if she wanted to, it would be impossible to disappoint any of these nice women. “I’m flying back to Portland the day after Christmas, but I would be honored to spend the holiday with your family.”

Voices rose in happiness, but it was the cold whip of winter wind that caught Lucy’s attention and the man who strode into sight, stealing a little piece of her heart. Spence.