Sweet Christmas Kisses (129 page)

"What I hear is  'maybe not.' And why is that?"

They'd reached a snow covered stone bench along the path.  She stopped to dust off the snow, and sat down to look over the choppy, breeze-tossed waves on the loch.  Brodie sat beside her, laid an arm behind her along the back of the bench and hooked one leg over the opposite knee. 

"Honestly, the raw anger and emotion in my mom's letter to Maura was absolutely overwhelming.  I felt so intrusive just reading it--almost like a voyeur, and it just seemed wrong. She never meant those heart-rending words for anyone but Maura."

"But ye learned the truth. Are ye glad of that?"

"Yes...no..."

"What's in the rest of the letters isn't my business, but I'll bet ye can't help but wonder.  My advice?  Just get it over and be done with it.  Maura wouldn't have left them in your hands without good reason."

"Fine.  I'll come over with them after supper tonight.  You can give me moral support...and then you can show me the start of your novel."

Startled, he glanced down at her. "What makes you think it exists?"

"Because you seem different than when I first came.  Like your heart is lighter, or something.  Maybe," she added, giving him an assessing look, "because you won't admit it to yourself, but you've finally decided to follow your dreams."

****

Back in the car park at Rosethorn, Brodie watched as Lucy wiggled her mittened fingertips in farewell and headed for the back door of the house with Maxie at her heels.

He couldn't bring himself to turn away toward his cottage until she'd disappeared inside.

It seemed impossible.  Beyond all logic.  The stuff of fairytales and not the life of an educated, mature and logical guy.

But in just the one week she'd been here, she'd already turned his life upside down. Intriguing him. Entrancing him, and capturing his heart in a way Trisha never had.

What he'd thought unimaginable--romantic interest in anyone, ever again--had blindsided him from the day she'd arrived. But unimaginable or not, he'd be a fool to let this go any further, no matter how much he wanted her. 

She had no intention of staying past December 15th.

His entire life's work was here.

Now he just needed to focus on work, avoid temptation, and make it to Christmas without making a foolish mistake, because he was pretty sure his heart wouldn't survive another blow.

****

Aileen gently let the curtain slip from her fingers and stepped away from the window of the second floor hallway.  "We have been failing to act, Sorcha," she whispered.  "And now there's only three weeks left."  

"A flat tire wasn't enough?  That got them together in his car now and then." Sorcha snorted.  "And you told her that silly story about wishing on the old plaque at the door."

"I didn't make that up. Maura told us about it."

"Doesn't mean it's true."

"There must be something more we can do.  You saw the look on his face just now.  He watched her walk toward the house like someone longing for something he can never have."

"Maybe he shouldn't."

"Or maybe they'll let this chance slip through their fingers and never be truly happy again. And where will we be?  You'll be with your daughter and her rowdy brood, and I'll be on the list for council housing and lucky if I get in before I die." Aileen flinched and pressed a hand to her chest. "Goodness."

Sorcha paled. "Are you all right?"

"Nothing...just a twinge." Aileen took several slow, shallow breaths, then sighed.  "It's gone, now."

"Really." Sorcha eyed her with dawning suspicion. "What are you planning, a cardiac event? That should really spur on their romance."

"Bonding at a bedside? Mutual concern?"  Aileen thought for a moment, then looked upward toward the third floor and tapped her hearing aid.  "I've got something even better...and how easy it will be!"

Lucy rapped on the front door of the cottage.  Waited.  Then tentatively opened the door.  "Anyone home?"

"Come on in. I'll be just a minute."

She edged inside, dusting the snow from the shoulders of her coat.  Night had fallen well before supper and the wind had picked up, scraping tree branches against the windows and banking snow against the stone wall surrounding the house.

"It's chilly out there." She shivered and stamped her feet on the rug in front of the door as her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting in the cottage.

The gray stone walls of the living room ahead were hung with tapestries, the burnished wood floor strewn with fluffy white sheepskin rugs. Lamps glowed softly at either end of a dark plaid sofa facing a fireplace, where a bright fire danced.  To the other side of the fireplace, Brodie sat behind a massive antique desk, his gaze fixed on the laptop screen in front of him.

He tapped out a few more words.  Hit a key.  Then closed the lid and folded his hands.  "That it is.  I thought you might decide to stay in."

"No excuses.  I'm here, just as I said." She shouldered out of her coat and hung it on a hook by the door, then crossed the great room to the desk and looked around. To the left, she glimpsed a kitchen counter and stove.  The other doors were closed. "This place is as pretty inside as it out."

"I see ye brought the envelopes."

"And I see you've been writing," she countered with a smile.  "But what?"

He gave a noncommittal tilt of his head as he went into the kitchen, where she could hear him running water, then he put a tea kettle on the stove.  "I've got coffee, tea or hot chocolate."

"Coffee, please."  She peeked into the small kitchen, where a small table and two chairs sat in the corner, and everything had been clearly updated.  "Wow.  Granite countertops and a six-burner stove?  A French door refrigerator? Only in my dreams, back home."

"Maura was addicted to one of those home channels on cable TV.  She made sure she adhered to the historic aspects of the big house, but out here she went a little wild in the bathroom and kitchen."

"In an awesome way.  So are you a gourmet cook?"

"I just get by."

"I'll take that as accomplished and adventuresome."

"Not if ye want to be disappointed."

 Right.  The row of well-worn cookbooks on the counter wouldn't have been part of any decorating scheme, and one was propped open, the stains on the pages evidence of frequent use.  "So this is what you're up to when you don't come over to the house for dinner." She sidled over to take a peek.  "Julia Child's Mastering the Art of French Cooking? Really?  What a Renaissance man you are."

He laughed.  "I got tired of take-away and Ramen noodles in college, and my ex-wife didn't like to cook.  Or eat, for that matter.  She's thin as a rail and I would've been too if I hadn't taken over the kitchen."

He poured Lucy a cup of coffee and made himself a cup of tea, then shook a box of Walkers shortbread biscuits onto a plate and set it all on the kitchen table.  "Where do you want to start?"

She reached into her bag and pulled out the stack of airmail envelopes sent from Maura to Anna.  "I actually did open these before coming over, as I thought they'd be fairly repetitious.  And they were. There might have been many others, but this set was all sent just before my birthday each year.  She talks about their parents.  Girls in the village.  And she begs Anna to write her back and describe every little detail about me.  What skills I've learned.  What I like to eat.  The words I'd learned, or later, what books I liked to read.  And she included a little birthday card with a ten-pound banknote in each one, signed  "For Lucy, from your doting auntie."

"Wow."

"Exactly.  She had such faith.  She didn't miss a single year and must have been praying with every letter that Anna would relent and at least accept delivery.  Isn't that sad?"

A faint smile tipped a corner of Brodie's mouth.  "Yet, now ye have proof of just how much your birth mother loved you.  Each of those letters confirms it.  So now they've been delivered after all.  In the best possible way."

She lifted her gaze to his, momentarily speechless as emotion welled up in her throat. "Thank you, Brodie.  I'm so glad you're here with me."

She rested her fingertips on the stack of envelopes, absorbing the love and anguish and hope within each one, then resolutely rummaged in her bag and pulled out a large, unopened envelope marked Open me second.  "This one was in the safety deposit box as well."

She slid a fingernail under the flap and pulled out two sheets of paper.  "It's a birth certificate...and something else.  I already have the birth certificate that was created upon adoption, which lists Anna as my mother and my father as "unknown."

She studied the Scottish copy in her hand.  This version listed Maura as the birth mother, though once again the father was Unknown.  "This must be the original...before the adoption took place."

The other document was a letter, and Lucy began to read aloud.

Dearest Lucy,

I've kept so many secrets, for so long.  I would like to imagine that you are curious about your past, and have longed for answers. I want you to know that even though Anna and I are gone now, you aren't alone in this world.

You were loved so dearly, sweetheart--by your adoptive mom Anna, and by me.  And please know that your maternal grandparents would have loved you just as dearly if only they'd had the chance. 

You deserve to know about your father, but if you'd rather not, then read no further and destroy this.

I said in my other letter to you that I just could not tell him about you being on the way--not when he had just left for college and had a chance to change his life forever. He grew up poor, but what great dreams he had! 

Anna knew the truth, but I never told anyone else his name--not even my parents, because I could not let them try to track him down.  He had no money for child support, with long years of college ahead of him.

His name is Calum Fraser, and a handsome boy he was. Sweet and kind and loving, from a large family in a village nearby. I heard that he became a doctor much loved in the village where he set up practice.

He remains the love of my life, but I never again tried to contact him. He would have had no future with someone like me holding him back. My weak heart was dangerously stressed by pregnancy, and afterwards I was something of an invalid for decades.  That's why I stayed on in our family home...then supported myself with the B&B when I grew stronger.  I pray that he found happiness.

If you want to make contact, perhaps you can use the Internet or hire someone to search for him, like they do on the television shows.

May God bless you always and forever, Lucy.

Your loving birth mother,  Maura

Lucy looked up at Brodie. "As a little girl, I was always so envious when other kids brought their dads to parent day at school.  Even the kids with divorced parents had someone to bring, but I didn't even know my father's name."

"And now you have it," he said gently. "And it sounds like there's a good chance that he might still be living."

"Meeting him would be like a dream come true."  Lucy leaned back in her chair.  "But what would I say?  Hi there, I'm the daughter you never knew you had?  Maybe he'd rather not know. Maybe he doesn't even remember Maura and he'd think I'm some crackpot."

"Trust me, a teenage boy who had that kind of relationship with a beautiful girl like Maura would not forget. Ever."

"Maybe he wouldn't even want to see me."  She stood and paced the small kitchen, feeling too jittery to sit still.  "Though I guess it's foolish to worry without even knowing for sure if he's alive.  Can you get on the Internet and look him up?"

Brodie brought his laptop into the kitchen and opened it on the table, clicked on Google, then typed in Calum Fraser MD Scotland.

"Wow.  Look at how many Calum Frasers there are," Lucy breathed, looking over his shoulder.

"But, only one in this particular county with an MD behind his name."  Brodie clicked several links before finding a website for his medical clinic.  "What do you think?  Could he be the one?"

The photograph of the doctor showed him to be roughly in his sixties or seventies, with thick, salt and pepper hair, high cheek bones and a strong, resolute jaw.  Lucy leaned in closer.  "Would you say his eyes are green like mine?"

"Hard to say.  Maybe."  Brodie studied the photo, then swiveled to look at Lucy. "He's a lot older than you and photos can be deceiving, but I'd say you look similar through the eyes and cheekbones, at least."

Was this even possible?   What would it be like to meet the man she'd dreamed of all her life? Her heart beat a little faster. "How far away is that clinic?"

Brodie clicked on Google maps, searched the clinic address directions and hit Print.  "A little over fifty miles.  So how about it--are you up to a little road trip one of these days?"

"Thanks again for doing this," Lucy said slowly, studying the two-story house in the valley below.  "And for calling the clinic.  I'm still surprised that the girl told you where we could find him, now that he's retired."

Brodie shrugged. "A village like this one probably doesn't stand on much formality."

As with most of the properties in the area, there was a low stone wall surrounding the house, with a car parking area next to the road, in what would be called a front yard back in the States.  In the back, she could see what was probably a large vegetable garden during the summer, flower trellises, and a small barn.  A sheep pasture--complete with several dozen of the wooly creatures--stretched upwards on the opposite wall of the valley.

A small sedan was parked in front.  Was Dr. Fraser actually at home?

She clenched her hands in her lap. The thought made her break into a cold sweat.  "I'm not sure.  Maybe this isn't such a good idea after all. I should probably just write him a letter."