On a Snowy Night: The Christmas Basket\The Snow Bride (18 page)

Thom smiled. “As a little boy, I loved my Matchbox car garage. I got it for Christmas when I was ten. Mom's kept it all these years. She has Dad drag it out every year and tells me she's saving it to give to my son one day.”

She sighed, at peace with herself and this man she loved. “I want to have your babies, Thom,” she said in a soft voice.

His eyes left the street to meet hers. The sky had darkened and he looked quickly back at the road. “You make it hard to concentrate on driving.”

“Tell me some of the other things you love about Christmas. It makes me feel good to hear them.”

“It's your turn,” he said.

“The orange in the bottom of my stocking. Every year there's one in the toe. It's supposed to commemorate the Christmases my great-grandparents had—an orange was a pretty special thing back then.”

“I like Christmas cookies. Especially meringue star ones.”

“Mexican tea cakes for me,” she said. “I'll ask your mother for the recipe for star cookies and bake you a batch every Christmas.”

“That sounds like a very wifely thing to do.”

“I want to be a good wife to my husband.” Noelle suddenly realized that she was genuinely grateful they hadn't married so young. Yes, the years had brought pain, but they'd brought wisdom and perspective, too. The love she and Thom felt for each other would deepen with time. They were so much more capable now of valuing what they had together.

“What's it like to be born on Christmas Day?” Thom asked.

“It's not so bad,” Noelle said. “First, I share a birthday with Jesus—that's the good part. The not-so-good is having the two biggest celebrations of the year fall on the same day. When I was a kid, Mom used to throw me a party in June to celebrate my half-year birthday.”

“I remember that.”

“Do you remember teasing me by saying it really wasn't my birthday so you didn't need to bring a gift?”

Thom chuckled. “What I remember is getting my ears boxed for saying it.”

Twenty minutes later, they were almost at her family's house. They'd decided to confront her parents first. Their laughter, which had filled the car seconds earlier, immediately faded.

“You ready?” Thom asked as he stopped in front of the house.

Noelle nodded and swallowed hard. “No matter what happens, I want you to remember I love you.”

His hand squeezed hers.

Glancing at her family's home, Noelle noticed a truck parked outside. “Looks like we have company.” She didn't know whether to feel relief or disappointment.

“Oh, no.” Thom's voice was barely above a whisper.

“What is it?”

“That's my parents' truck.”

Dread slipped over her. “They must've found out that we spent the day together. That's my fault—I left a note for Carley telling her I was with you.” Noelle could imagine what was taking place inside. Her mother would be shouting at Thom's, and their fathers would be trying to keep the two women apart.

“Should we wait?” Noelle asked, just as she had earlier.

“For another time?” His jaw tensed. “No, we face them here and now, for better or worse. Agreed?”

Noelle nodded. “Okay…just promise me you won't let them change your mind.”

He snorted inelegantly. “I'd like to see them try.”

Thom parked behind the truck and turned off the engine. Together, holding hands, they approached the house. Never
had Noelle been more nervous. If this encounter went wrong, she might alienate her mother, and that was something she didn't want to do. In high school, she'd self-righteously cast her family aside in the name of love. But if the years in Dallas had taught her independence, they'd also taught her the importance of home and family. Her self-imposed exile was over now, and she'd learned from it. Listening to Thom talk about his Christmas traditions, she'd realized that he'd find it equally hard to turn his back on his parents.

He was about to ring the doorbell when she stopped him. “Remember how I said I was looking for a Christmas miracle?”

Thom nodded. “You mean finding a tea service similar to my grandmother's?”

“Yes. But if I could be granted only one miracle this Christmas, it wouldn't be that. I'd want our families to rekindle the love and friendship they once had.”

“That would be my wish, too.” Thom gathered her in his arms and kissed her with a passion that readily found a matching fire in her. The kiss was a reminder of their love, and it sealed their bargain. No matter what happened once they entered the house, they would face it together.

“Actually, this is a blessing in disguise,” Thom said. “We can confront both families at the same time and be done with it.” He reached for the doorbell again, and again Noelle stopped him.

“This is my home. We don't need to ring the bell.” Stepping forward, she opened the door.

Noelle wasn't sure what she expected, but certainly not the scene that greeted her. Her parents and two sisters, plus Thom's entire family, sat around the dining room table. Her mother and Mrs. Sutton, both wearing aprons, stood in the background, while her father and Thom's dished up whole Dungeness crabs, with Jonathan pouring wine.

“Thom!” his mother shouted joyfully. “It's about time you got here.”

“What took you so long?” Sarah asked Noelle.

Stunned, Thom and Noelle looked at each other for an explanation.

“There's room here,” Carley called out, motioning to the empty chairs beside her.

Noelle couldn't do anything other than stare.

“What…happened?” Thom asked.

“It's a long story. Sit down. We'll explain everything later.”

“But…”

Thom put his arm around Noelle's shoulder. “Before we sit down, I want everyone to know that I've asked Noelle to be my wife and she's accepted.”

“Nothing you say or do will make us change our minds,” Noelle said quickly, before anyone else could react.

“Why would we want to change your minds?” her father asked. “We're absolutely delighted.”

“You can fight and argue, threaten and yell, and it won't make any difference,” Thom added. “We're getting married!”

“Glad to hear it,” his father said.

A round of cheers followed his announcement.

Thom's mother and Noelle's mother embraced in joy.

“One thing this family refuses to tolerate anymore is fighting,” his mother declared.

“Absolutely,” her own mother agreed.

Both Thom and Noelle stared back at them, shocked into speechlessness.

“There's no reason to stand there like a couple of strangers,” her mother said. “Sit down. You wouldn't believe the day we had.”

Sarah and Mary put their arms around each other's shoulders. “At least the Christmas baskets got delivered on time,” Mary said with a satisfied nod.

“And no one mentioned that the two of us smelled like Scotch when we got there,” her mother pointed out.

They both giggled.

“What happened?” Noelle asked.

Her father waved aside her question. “You don't want to know,” he groaned.

“I'll tell you later,” her mother promised.

Thom leaned close to her and whispered, “Either we just walked into the middle of an
X-Files
episode or we got our Christmas miracle.”

Noelle slipped an arm around his waist. “I think you must be right.”

9 Orchard Lane
Rose, Oregon

December 26

Dear Melody,

 

Mary and I found your note when we delivered the baskets on Christmas Eve. We did have a wonderful time, and Mary has agreed to head up the committee next year. I promised I'd be her cochair.

Now, about using the club for Kristen's wedding reception…Well, it seems there's going to be another wedding in the family, and fairly soon. Mary and I will be in touch with you about that right after New Year's.

 

Sincerely,

 

Sarah McDowell

To
Renelle Wilson
For thirty-five years of friendship
Merry Christmas, my friend

“A
laska, Jen? This is crazy! You have no idea what you're letting yourself in for.” Her mother swerved from one lane of the Los Angeles freeway to the next without bothering to glance in her rearview mirror. A car horn blared angrily from somewhere behind them, but Chloe Lyman was unconcerned; she'd never observed the rules of the road any more than she'd lived a conventional life.

Jenna Campbell swallowed a gasp and clung to her purse. When her mother was in this frame of mind, it was far better to agree with her and let her temper take its natural course. “Yes, Mom.”

“Don't be so damned agreeable, either.”

“Whatever you say, Mom.”

“Asking me to drive you to the airport is just adding insult to injury.”

“I know, I'm sorry, but—”

“Didn't I tell you to stop agreeing with everything I say?”

“Yes, Mom.”

“I can't believe any daughter of mine is so…so mealy-mouthed. How on earth could you even think about something as ridiculous as becoming a mail-order bride? Haven't I taught you anything?”

“I didn't say I was
marrying
Dalton—”

“That's another thing. What kind of name is Dalton, anyway? And Alaska…
Alaska?
Have you lost your mind? This is the kind of thing
I'd
do, not you!”

“Mom…”

Chloe Lyman veered sharply across two lanes of traffic, going twenty miles above the speed limit as she did so, and nearly collided with the concrete wall dividing the freeway. “I don't like it.”

“Dalton's name?” Jenna asked, purposely obtuse.

Chloe muttered something probably best left to the imagination, then added in a more audible voice, “I don't like anything about this. You find some man on the Internet and the next thing I know, you're quitting a job any woman would love. You give up a beautiful apartment. You uproot your entire life and take off for Alaska to marry this character you've never even met.”

“I'm an executive assistant, which is a glorified way of saying
secretary
, and I'm only going to Alaska to meet Dalton. I never said anything about marrying him.” While that sounded good, Jenna did, in fact, expect to marry Dalton Gray.

Kim Roberts, her best friend, thought this plan of hers was wildly romantic, although she had some qualms. For that matter, so did Jenna. She wasn't stupid or naive, but her desire to escape her mundane, predictable life outweighed her usual caution.

Once Jenna knew Dalton a little better, she sincerely hoped their relationship would evolve into something permanent. However, she wasn't rushing into marriage, despite what Kim and her mother seemed to think.

“You're the executive assistant to the founder and president of Fulton Industries,” her mother needlessly reminded her. “Do you realize how many women would give their eyeteeth to work for a man as rich and handsome as Brad Fulton?”

Jenna didn't want to discuss that. Yes, she had a good job and the pay was fabulous, but as far as she was concerned, it was a dead end. She'd fallen in love with Brad Fulton, but in the six years she'd been working with him, he'd never noticed her except as his assistant. Competent, capable Ms. Campbell. Besides, she had no life. Correction, no dating life. At thirty-one she was unmarried and there wasn't a possibility in sight. Meeting a man on the Internet wasn't so unusual these days and it was perfect for someone like her. Jenna was shy, but when she sat in front of a computer screen, she found the confidence to assert her real personality. Dalton thought she was witty and he made her feel good about herself. Yes, this might be risky; however, Jenna didn't care. She was about to have the first real adventure of her life, and adventure was what she craved. Nothing was going to stop her now. Not her mother. Not Kim. No one!

“Say something,” Chloe challenged.

“What would you like me to tell you, Mom? That I don't know what I'm doing and that in a few weeks I'll be flying home with a broken heart?” If that was the case, then so be it. At least she would've experienced life and had an escapade or two, which was all she wanted. Jenna had witnessed her mother's approach to marriage, and that certainly hadn't worked. So she was doing it her own way. Dalton might very well be her only chance. Another year at Fulton Industries and every feminine instinct would shrivel up and die. Brad Fulton's primary interest was his company. Jenna was convinced she could parade around the office naked and it would take him a week to notice.

“You know what they say about the men in Alaska,” her mother muttered.

“Yes, Mom, I've heard all the jokes. Alaska—where the odds are good but the goods are odd.”

Her mother chuckled. “I hope you pay close attention to that one.”

“Alaska,” Jenna said, her voice sarcastic, “where the men are men and so are the women.”

Her mother giggled again.

“Dalton told me those, Mom. He wants me to be prepared.”

“Did he happen to mention what the winters are like in Fairbanks? It's November, Jenna, and they have storms there, blizzards that last for days. You could freeze to death walking from the plane into the terminal. When I think of what could happen, I—”

“You don't need to worry, Mom. Dalton sent me books and it isn't Fairbanks, it's Beesley. I'm flying into Fairbanks, where Dalton's meeting me.”

“Did he pay for your airfare?”

“I wouldn't let him do that!” Jenna was surprised her mother would ask such a question. She had more sense than that and more pride too.

“Thank God for small favors.”

“I'm not changing my mind, Mom.”

“Jenna, oh, Jenna,” her mother cried and slowed to twenty-five-miles an hour, which made even more cars blare their horns, not that her mother was aware of it. “Why couldn't you be like other daughters who cause their mothers grief and heartache from the ages of thirteen to thirty? It makes no sense that a daughter of mine would turn into this model of virtue.” Chloe shook her head. “Why did you wait till thirty-one to shock me like this? I'm not used to worrying about you.”

“I know, Mom.”

“By your age I'd been married and divorced twice. You were twenty before you went out on your first date.”

“I was not,” Jenna protested, her cheeks heating. “I was eighteen.”

“At ten you were more adult than I was.”

“One of us had to be.”

Her mother sighed, acknowledging the truth.

Jenna didn't understand Chloe's reaction. “I'd think you'd be pleased that I'm doing something exciting.”

“But I'm not,” her mother wailed. “Oh, Jenna,” she sobbed, “what am I going to do without you?”

“Oh, Mom…”

“My divorce from Greg was final last month. You know how I get without a man in my life.”

Jenna did know. Husband number five had bit the dust, but considering her mother, it wouldn't be long before she found the next man of her dreams. Dream man number six, no doubt a replica of the previous five. All of whom, Chloe had believed, would rescue her from the drudgery and hardships of life. Without a man she was lost. She preferred them rich and—Jenna hesitated to use the word stupid, but frankly her mother had yet to choose a husband with any common sense, let alone advanced brain power. If they did happen to have money, it never lasted for more than a few years.

Her mother frowned, shifting her eyes from the road to look at her daughter. “I can't go to Alaska, Jenna, I just can't. You know I have to be around sunshine. I could never take the cold.”

“I know, Mom, but I'm not sure if I'll even be living there.”

“You're leaving me,” she murmured in a hurt little-girl voice. “You're going to marry Doug—”

“Dalton.”

“All right, Dalton, and you're going to love Alaska.” She said it with such finality that Jenna might as well be wear
ing a wedding band. Jenna pictured Dalton eagerly waiting for her at the Fairbanks Airport, with a diamond engagement ring in his pocket and a romantic proposal committed to memory. It wasn't a likely scenario, but Jenna figured she was allowed to dream.

This romantic fantasy had originally been intended for her boss, but if Brad hadn't even asked her out in six years, then it simply wasn't happening. Jenna was furious at herself for all that wasted time.

Her mother bit her lower lip. “Why can't I hold on to a man? I should've known better than to marry again. He's a crook.”

“Greg isn't a crook, he's just, uh, creative when it comes to employment opportunities.”

Her mother snickered and let the comment pass. “You'll phone me the moment you arrive in Fairbanks?” She turned and cast Jenna a pleading glance.

“Of course I will.”

“What do you want me to tell Brad Fulton when he calls?”

Jenna stared out the passenger-side window. “Mr. Fulton isn't going to call you, Mom.”

Her mother laughed. “Trust me, he'll call. He doesn't realize how valuable you are, otherwise he would never have let you go.”

“Ms. Spencer is every bit as good an administrator as I am.” In some ways, the middle-aged Gail Spencer was more efficient than Jenna because she wouldn't be tempted to fall in love with her boss.

After a long silence, Chloe murmured, “Just promise me you won't name any of your children after Dalton.”

“Mom, you're making too much of this.” Nonetheless, Jenna prayed the relationship would fulfill the promise of those countless e-mails. She'd stumbled across Dalton in a poetry chat room and they'd connected immediately.
After two months of chatting daily, of quoting Emily Dickinson and discussing the Shakespearian sonnets, Dalton had wooed her with his own sensitive words. Eventually they'd exchanged snapshots. Jenna had studied Dalton's photograph, memorizing every feature. He stood stiffly by a nondescript building and stared into the camera. It was difficult to tell if he was handsome in the conventional sense because he had a full beard, but his deep blue eyes seemed sharp and intelligent. He wore a wool cap, a red plaid shirt and heavy boots; his arms were crossed over his chest as if to say he wasn't accustomed to having his photo taken. She'd sent him her photograph, too, although he'd insisted looks weren't important. Dalton said what was inside a person was all that counted. He possessed a poet's heart, although Jenna had a hard time equating this with the rough-looking figure in the workingman's clothes.

She sent her picture for practical reasons. He needed to be able to identify her when she stepped off the plane. She, too, stood facing the camera in her work uniform—a gray jacket and straight skirt. She'd worn her hair pulled away from her face, revealing features she'd always considered plain, although Kim called her looks “classic.” Her hair was a mousy shade of brown that she detested and usually lightened, but it'd been due for a treatment just then. When Dalton had e-mailed back that his first look at her photo had stolen his breath—only he'd said it much more poetically—she knew he was the one.

The exit for L.A. International came into view, and her mother slowed. Irritated drivers honked their horns as the road narrowed to a single lane; cars were backed up all the way to the freeway.

“You have a place to stay?”

“Dalton's arranging that.”

“You sincerely like this man?” Her mother's voice softened with the question.

“Yes, Mom, very much.”

Her mother gave a shaky smile. “You've always been a good judge of character. But, Jenna, I'm going to miss you
so
much.”

“I'm going to miss you, too.” Unlike her own life, her mother's was never dull. Even now, as she entered her midfifties, Chloe “Moon Flower” Campbell Roper Haggard Sullivan Lyman was an attractive, desirable woman who never lacked for attention from the opposite sex.

Her mother followed the directions to the departure area and angled between two buses and a taxicab jockeying for position. From the way she'd parked, anyone might assume she intended to drive directly into the airport.

Leaping out of the car, her mother raced around to the passenger side and hugged Jenna hard before she could even unfasten her seat belt. The death grip around her neck made it impossible to climb out. “Mother,” she protested.

“You can't go!”

“Mom, we've already been through this.”

“I know, I know…I've begged you to loosen up for years and now when you do something crazy, as crazy as I would myself, I don't want you to.”

“You have no choice, Mother. I'm leaving.” Jenna finally managed to remove Chloe's arms from around her neck and got out of the car.

“For Dalton?” Her mother cringed as she said the name.

“For Dalton.” For life and adventure and all the things she'd missed out on, being the responsible one from far too young an age.