The Christmas Piano Tree: What's Christmas without a tree? (A Kissing Creek novel Book 1) (13 page)

And she fell for it.

It was a game to him, and somehow she fit into it in an odd way she had yet to understand.

She felt incredibly sad, as if she didn’t want to know what was behind it all. She liked the dream so much better. Falling for the handsome soldier, flirting with him, even imagining she could love another man. She had the worst feeling that when she did find out why he was here, everything between them would change.

But she had to ask, so she did.

“How did you know the money was in the piano, Jared?” Kristen said in a quiet voice. “
How
?
”

He looked directly at her, but he didn’t speak. He let her think about what happened, the money, the piano. Why did he go to such great lengths to come up with that piano tree story? What was it that he wanted to tell her but couldn’t?

Not once, but twice.

Finally, he leaned toward to take her in his arms, but she took a step back. He didn’t try again. She knew he was testing her to see if she still trusted him.

She didn’t.

She waited for him to come up with another phony story. That because she’d told him about the old socks her aunt stashed around the cottage, he had a hunch she’d hidden money in the piano.

No, she wasn’t buying it.

It didn’t make sense. Someone told him the money was in the piano. Not Aunt Gertrude…the lady passed away several months ago.

Who else would know? Who would her aunt confide in?

A bitter taste sat on her tongue, making her mouth go dry.

Oh, no…

Scott.

The sergeant knew him after all.

Somehow, somewhere
, before he took his last breath, he’d thought of her, wanted to take care of her. And Rachel. He’d shared the secret of the Christmas piano tree with Jared, trusting his buddy not to let him down.

My darling, were you worried about us? You were the best husband and father. You always took care of us. Is that why you sent the sergeant? Help me, please, understand what is happening.

A hot ball of emotion squeezed her chest. She wanted to curl up into a ball and cry. How could she have been so blind? No wonder she was attracted to Jared. Her subconscious picked up signals, little nuances that reminded her of Scott. Close buddies in the same unit often had the same swagger and way of talking seeing how they shared so much time together, often under the worst conditions.

She couldn’t help but wonder if they talked about her. Of course, they did. That made her seethe inside. Jared had all the cards. Knew the plan.

He’d fooled her completely.

Kirsten kicked the wads of bills lying on the rug with her foot and buried her face in her hands. Her life had been turned upside down today not once, but twice. In her heart it was like losing Scott all over again. The hurt, the pain, the achy feeling from head to toe that never went away, but most of all, the emptiness that filled her at night when she lay alone in the dark. She knew in her heart Scott wouldn’t want her to grieve forever and end up alone and bitter.

Especially for Rachel’s sake.

So he sent the sergeant here to Kissing Creek to find her, tell her about the money in the piano.

Still, something stuck in her craw. Why didn’t Jared bring it up sooner? So he could see how she was holding up? Flirt with her? Find out if the little widow was being true to her man?

Okay, that was unfair, but she didn’t know what else to do. She was flying over the top with her emotions because she felt betrayed, her soul singed with lies. Even more hurtful, she had to come to grips with the fact that Jared felt nothing for her.

Just doing my duty, ma’am
, he’d say.

And what did she do? She’d practically thrown herself at him, offering to bake him cookies, feed him, even let him sleep on her couch.

She felt cheap, used.

Kristen had no one to blame but herself for this whole silly mess. A lonely woman clinging to the idea that it wasn’t wrong to want to live again, to love a man, to find a good father for her child.

What a complete, utter, freaking crazy fool she was.

“I wasn’t lying, Kristen, when I said Scott was my best friend,” Jared tried to explain, though he wasn’t doing a very good job of it. Kristen wouldn’t look at him. “We were in the same unit during my last tour and we watched each other’s back. We went out on several missions in country and always made it back until one day, our luck ran out when we got caught in an enemy trap.” He stopped to get his breath, to try to put some logic to the thoughts whirling around in his brain. How the hell he was going to get through this, he didn’t know. “I held him in my arms when he took his last breath.”

Finally, she looked up at him, her eyes shimmering with tears. She’d pulled her hair back into a ponytail, long damp wisps sticking to her cheeks. She’d gone pale, her lips pulled tight, but it was her piercing stare that would haunt him for the rest of his days. Eyes so filled with pain, her pupils large and black, as if watching him from the shadows of the past and seeing what he saw because she had to.

Had to know what happened to her husband that day.  

It would be the hardest thing she’d ever had to do.

He sensed the same feeling hit her in the gut that twisted inside him when he smelled the enemy, knew his life was on the line. He could feel in his bones the frustration and anger churning inside her, fueling her need to know, festering for God knows how long.

She was tough, strong. She could take it.

Like a man walking naked through the fires of hell, he spoke his piece, knowing his sweet-faced angel couldn’t stop the tears from falling as he recounted his long journey from Afghanistan to Kissing Creek. The months of rehabilitation after he’d been wounded, the therapy sessions to find his way again after losing Scott. The realization that his life as a combat soldier had ended. Then how he took some leave he had coming to fulfill what he considered his duty to help his friend’s wife and child at Christmas before leaving the military.

Her courage never faltered.

She listened to his every word, saying nothing, but she kept digging her nails into her palms. Once, twice, he saw a long shudder rake through her body, making her muscles spasm as if she had no control over them. Her right eye twitched. He wanted to hold her hand, knowing he’d find it ice cold, but didn’t. She was in the throes of living through the unbearable anguish of losing her husband for a second time, but this time she was there.

In the heat of battle.

No flag folding, no reverent words, no bugle blowing. Just the raw, ugly truth of death on the battlefield. He sucked in a sharp breath, flinching as surely as if she raked her nails up and down his bare arms.

Her color went beyond pale, and then turned to a deathly white when he told her about Scott’s last moments and the anguish of seeing his buddy die, but not before he told him where her aunt had hidden her life savings.

Jared kept his voice steady, his emotions on the down low, though it was the hardest thing he’d ever done. Harder than going out on patrol for five days in the desert with barely enough water to wet his lips, harder than tracking an invisible enemy hiding in a dark cave in the side of a mountain.

Harder than seeing the heartache in his best friend’s eyes when he knew he’d never see his wife and child again. Because he had to relive it with
her
.

And the pain was much worse the second time. Because now he knew her.

Her rounded softness, her shiny hair, pretty mouth and waist so small he could wrap his hands around her.

And he’d fallen in love with her.

The wind howled outside the small cottage, whipping up white clouds of snow, but inside the lights from the Christmas piano tree glowed red and blue and green and gold. Shining on her face and making her cheeks glimmer. She’d put Rachel to bed with hugs and kisses, promising her that Santa would put her presents under the Christmas piano tree while her daddy watched from heaven, and then with fire in her eyes, Kristen asked him to tell her his story
.

The truth
, she’d said.
And it had better be good.

“Scott was assigned to my battalion and we became fast friends,” Jared continued, drinking the strong, hot coffee she made. He’d noticed her hands had stopped shaking. “He talked about you and Rachel all the time.”

“
And
Aunt Gertrude,” she pointed out, keeping her voice steady. She’d made it past the hardest part. Now she could heal, he knew, the God awful despair that sucked the life out of her lessening, the pain becoming more bearable.

“Yes. He told me so much about spending every Christmas in Kissing Creek, I felt like I knew you and Rachel.” Jared took a breath. This was the hard part. He forced himself to go on. “When Scott lay dying in my arms, he told me about the money in the old piano. When I got here, I could see how you were struggling, so it was obvious you didn’t know it was there and I didn’t know how to tell you.”

He didn’t mention the tricks his memory played on him until at last he remembered how Scott had breathed the words “
her aunt put money in piano
” after asking him to take care of his wife and child. Jared felt a strong moral code to fulfill his promise to his buddy. The soldier had saved his life during an ambush by enemy fighters. He owed him that.

“I always wanted to know how Scott died, though at the same time I was scared, really scared to know the truth,” Kristen said slowly, adjusting the garland on the piano. “Thank you for telling me, for giving me the closure I never would have had without you coming here.”

He nodded, his need to protect her surpassed only by his desire to love her.

“I imagine my aunt was going to surprise me on Christmas and told Scott about it first,” she said, trying to smile. “I’d written to her that we were having money problems and she told me not to worry. Now I know why.”

This time Jared did reach for her hand, but she pulled back. A wave of guilt washed over her face. He knew what was going through her mind.
She
was sitting here warm and comfy in the cottage they all loved, but the two people who had filled her heart with so much joy were gone.

He was right. Her next words confirmed it.

“All these months later, I can still see Scott’s sexy smile, the funny way he scrunched his face when he teased me, how I blushed when he kissed me,” she began, speaking more to herself than to him.

He sat quietly, and listened. His therapy sessions has taught him that it wasn’t uncommon for someone to wax over special moments with a lost loved one, to try to hang on to those memories before they dimmed a little more each day.

“And Aunt Gertrude,” she continued. “What a dear, fidgeting with the pots and pans in her kitchen, comforting me when my butter cake fell and when I burned my first ever batch of chocolate chip cookies. She was always there for me.”

“Aunt Gertrude wanted you to be happy—”

“Happy?” Kristen snapped back, as if such a thing was impossible.

Now the anger would resurface, he knew, because there was no more hope, no more believing everyone was wrong, that Scott wasn’t dead, that he’d come home. The medics told him when they found him after the explosion, he was carrying his dead buddy on his back, mumbling to him, telling him to hang on. Then later in the hospital, he’d wake up at night drenched in sweat, racing through the hospital hallway looking for Scott.

It had taken months of gut-wrenching therapy sessions to rid himself of the blazing lie that buzzed in his head day and night. To finally accept the truth that Scott was never coming back.

He was dead.

Jared understood that she had to go through the steps to heal, so he didn’t do a damn thing to stop her when she lashed out at him, right where it hurt.

“And Scott? What did
he
want?” she said, her voice hoarse. “For me to fall for his best friend? Or did you come up with that idea all by yourself? Why didn’t you
tell
me you knew my husband before I acted like such a fool?” she said, gritting her teeth.
“Why?”

“
You
told the sheriff I knew Scott.”

“I did that to save your butt from being hauled off for questioning.”

“For what reason?” Jared asked, not understanding

“The sheriff didn’t take too kindly to you showing up today. He couldn’t wait to get rid of you. You made it easy for him since you fit the description of the man who robbed Carey Bank today.”

“How do you know I didn’t?” Her faith in him touched him. Deeply.

She shrugged her shoulders. She calmed down. A little. “I just know, that’s all.”

“So you lied to save me.”

“Yes,” she said flatly. For some reason, she’d tried to protect him. “Silly of me, wasn’t it?
You
were lying to me all the time.”

“That’s not true, Kristen, I—”

Hell, she had him cornered. The dead silence of his past surrounded him like a cocoon. Choking him with a grip he hadn’t felt in months. Call it male ego, call it pride, but he refused to tell her what happened to him over there, how his mind shattered like broken glass when the IED hit and he threw his body over Scott’s and prayed.

For both of them.

The large boulder protected him from getting killed, but a whole mess of pain invaded his mind for a long, long time. 

He didn’t want her pity.

“How do I know you didn’t come here to get my aunt’s money?” she accused him. “Make me fall in love with you, knowing I was easy pickings.
The poor widow
, lonely for a man’s arms around her.”

“That’s not fair, Kristen. I admit I didn’t want to come here at first, get myself wrapped with my best friend’s wife while playing Mister Nice Guy. All that changed when I saw you standing in the snow, all fired up and ready to challenge me. I knew then you were a strong woman. And when I saw how you were with Rachel, kind and giving, I wanted to protect
both
of you.” He paused, and then heaved out a sigh. “Scott was a lucky man.”

“Was he?” Kristen put her closed fists to her forehead. “He’s dead, Jared. He’ll never come home.
Never.
What do I care about money?” she cried, grabbing a wad and ripping off the string, then throwing the loose bills all over the floor. “Scott is gone…
gone
.”

She started sobbing and ran from the room.

He wanted to go to her, to comfort her, but he couldn’t. He never saw this coming. Never dreamed she’d get so upset after finding the money. But he understood. Scott wasn’t here to share it with her. Not to mention she was furious with him for lying to her. As if that could change anything. Her pain was too raw to let another man in. She still wore her wedding ring, didn’t she? He’d been a fool to think she could fall in love with him.

Hell, she left him no choice.

He had to leave.

His pride wounded, Jared closed up his duffel bag and let himself out the front door. He didn’t look back. He didn’t hear her crying anymore, sniffling. If he had, he’d run right back in there. It was obvious, wasn’t it? She didn’t need him. His job was done. Time to move on. He’d buy a ticket on the first bus out of here.

Anywhere
.
What did it matter
?

He set a brisk pace down the road, pulling up his collar to keep out the cold. A heavy darkness lay before him and in his heart, but he had to fight through both if he was to survive. He’d never felt such a loss ping his soul in quite the same way. Like his world was off balance and he didn’t know how to set it back on course.

His boots crunched on the freshly fallen snow, each step taking him farther away from the little cottage and the beautiful woman inside who had stolen his heart. And the little girl who believed he was Santa. He hated to disappoint her. He’d miss Rachel. The child had the same spunk and spirit as her mother.

He stopped to blow on his hands to warm them and he thought he heard Kristen calling his name.

Couldn’t be.
Must be the wind.

He kept walking
.

* * * * *

The silence that filled the cottage after Kristen heard the door slam shut was the loneliest sound she’d ever heard in her life. She started to panic. A hollow feeling rattled inside her while a little voice in her head cried out to go after him.

Why did she let him leave like that?

She’d always love Scott, he was her high school sweetheart, but Jared had shown her that she
could
heal. Feel like a woman again.

Heat filled her at the memory of his hands on her. There had been strength and desire in his touch, as if he could barely hold back from untying her apron, and then sliding her jeans down over her hips. His fingers finding his way under the elastic of her silky panties.

It would have taken her less than a minute to make up her mind to let him.

If
she had been able to let go of the pain tearing her apart inside.

She couldn’t. Not yet.

She was still reeling from the incredible story Jared had told her, his soul-searching journey from halfway around the world to Kissing Creek, small town USA, to deliver a message to a woman he didn’t know, help a child he’d never seen.