The Christmas Piano Tree: What's Christmas without a tree? (A Kissing Creek novel Book 1) (4 page)

Kristen was at the top of his list.

What was it Scott wanted me to tell her?

It sat there on the edge of his mind, but he couldn’t grab onto it. Like morning mist melting under the noon desert sun.

Couldn’t. Why, why?

He thumped his fingers on the velvet seat, trying to concentrate, but he lost focus. Red and gold and silver swirled before his eyes and a buzzing in his ears blotted out the little girls’ voices.

A cold sweat broke out on his forehead.

He pushed the Santa cap back on his head, blinked. Then again. Damn, he couldn’t talk to these kids. He’d been isolated too long. He hated crowds. Then he saw her. Kristen was at his side, her eyes full of concern. She knew something was wrong. She assured the little girl Santa was okay, just tired from his long journey from the North Pole. She grabbed his hand, held it.

God, was there anything better
?

He met her gaze and the look in her eyes told him that she understood he needed help. That she was reaching out to a soldier to bring him back from the pain, nothing more.

He didn’t care. Her hand was warm, her heart kind. Just like Scott said. In an uncanny way, it was like his buddy put her up to it.

After that moment, to his surprise, Jared got into the spirit of playing old Saint Nick, his deep baritone voice laughing, and then asking each little girl what she wanted for Christmas.

Kids were kids, he thought, like his own brothers, excited as all get out about the holidays. Fun and good cheer bursting out of them so fast their mom shooed them outside to work off their excess energy. Good times, he thought. Meanwhile, Kristen watched him with a careful eye. She blushed when he met her gaze head on, warming his heart even more. 

Still, his Santa act had its moments. One kid hugged him and got gum on his jacket, another snapped a picture of him on her cell phone. A third said she wanted a pony. All in all, they acted like normal kids, eager to open their presents, each beautifully wrapped with silver paper and a stiff red taffeta bow.

All except one little girl.

“My mommy says I can’t keep the present,” said the freckle-faced child with pigtails. She said the words like a grown-up, each word precise and clear. Then, with a deep sigh, she ran her tiny hand over the smooth silver paper before handing the package back to him, her lower lip trembling.

“Why not?” Jared asked, not understanding. Something about this kid made him take a closer look. Quiet, her eyes sad. She wasn’t like the others.

“Because my mommy works for the school,” said the little girl. “Miss Miriam told her I
have
to give the present back.”

“Rachel, don’t bother Santa,” said Kristen, embarrassed.

He could see her wringing her hands, and then smoothing her palms on her apron. He grinned. Rachel was her child. And Scott’s. He should have seen the resemblance. The little girl had Scott’s eyes. Wise eyes that were always looking, observing.

But she had Rachel’s mouth. Full lower lip and a cute dimple on her left check when she smiled. He looked back at Kristen and noticed she had a dab of flour on her nose. She wasn’t more than a kid herself.

“She’s no bother. I like kids,” Jared said, bouncing her on his knee. Rachel looked bewildered, but pleased. “Folks don’t realize when you’re in a war zone, you don’t see many children. I miss their curiosity, their questions about the darndest things, and their honesty. You can’t lie to kids.”

Did he see Kristen’s eyes flicker? As if she understood that all too well. What had she told the child about Scott?

Out of respect, he changed the subject, told Rachel a story about how Rudolph got his red nose and played patty cake with her. How could he not like kids? He had four brothers at home. All younger and itching to follow him into the Army. He wouldn’t discourage them, but he often joked that
somebody
had to take over the family business and start it up again when times got better.

“We have to go, Rachel,” said Kristen, picking up her little girl. Seemed their conversation had struck too close to home. The lady was gathering her troops and pulling out. “It’s Christmas Eve.”

“But we don’t have a tree, Mommy,” Rachel said, wrapping her arms around her mother’s neck. Her eyes were big and filled with questions.

They didn’t have a Christmas tree?
Why not
?

“I know, baby, but we’ll have a merry Christmas,” Kristen said, sounding hopeful while holding back tears. “Just you and me.”

“Will Daddy be watching us like you said?” Rachel wanted to know. Jared’s heart skipped a beat at hearing her simple words. So the kid didn’t know. What was it he’d said about lying to kids? Wasn’t he lying to her mom by not saying he knew Scott? That he was his best buddy?

He felt like such a heel. The absolute faith in the little girl’s voice filled him with guilt. He had to do something about it, but what?

“Yes, baby, Daddy’s watching us,” Kristen said, looking straight at him. The message in her eyes was clear:
Don’t say anything to change that.

Jared swallowed hard. The poor kid. He’d do anything he could to make it easier for them. But how? His Santa gig was over. He had to parlay it into something else.

“Can I help you clean up?” he asked innocently.

“I’ll manage,” Kristen insisted, picking up the mess of torn silver paper and red bows scattered everywhere. “But I’d be grateful if you could keep Rachel occupied until I’m finished.”

“Grateful enough to give me—”

“An extra piece of pie, Sergeant,” she teased, smiling. His heart swelled. She wasn’t throwing him out after all. “Nothing more.”

You can’t blame a guy for trying
, his eyes said loud and clear.

He wasn’t the only one charmed by her smile.

“I reckon you’re the prettiest gal here, Kristen,” he heard a man’s voice say behind him.

Trouble
, he was dead sure of it.

Jared spun around and a big ostrich plume hit him in the nose, making him sneeze. Flour filled the air. He ignored it.

Santa had a bigger problem.

A country sheriff long on ego and short on manners poked his way through the crowd and was cozying up to Kristen. The lanky lawman pushed his cap back on his head and grinned wide, his eyes taking in every inch of her. Licking his whiskers like a cat eyeing a pretty, blond canary. Her ruffled apron tied tight around her small waist did little to hide her full breasts. The swell of her cleavage was enough to make any man pounce on her.

Jared tensed. The sheriff had no right to look at her like that.

You did. What makes you any different?

Because Scott told him to watch out for her, right?

Okay, so that was just an excuse. And a lame one, at that. His friend’s dying wish had nothing to do with his rising desire to steal more than a kiss from her.

He wanted to feel her in his arms, her warm body pressing against his, his hands finding their way to her butt and squeezing her. The thought of it appealed to him, set his libido up more than a few notches.

But he couldn’t forget his reason for coming here.

That her husband had given him a message for her.
Something that would change her life,
Scott said.

eH
He sucked in a sharp breath. The frustration of going over that day a hundred, a million times, was eating him up alive. Making him do dumb things.

Like wanting to make love to her.

Off limits, buddy.

Jared tossed the Santa cap into the sleigh. Somehow, he had to remember what Scott told him and he only had a few hours left to do it.

“Where did you find that discount store Santa?” said the sheriff, making Kristen cringe.

Ooh
…she wanted to throw a bucket of cold water on him for saying that. He had a way of sending her into attack mode like no one else could. Whatever his agenda, he had no right to talk like that about a man who had served his country.

“Sheriff Hogan,” she said hotly, “you have no idea what you’re saying.”

“How can I with you standing so close to the mistletoe?” he snickered.

Kristen’s eyes blazed, her cheeks flamed. She should have known he’d show up. He wouldn’t let her alone since she’d come back to Kissing Creek. What was it with men and mistletoe? Like it was an aphrodisiac. One whiff and she’d be swept away to paradise with the closest male. That wasn’t going to happen.

Wasn’t’ it
?

Then why was she so protective of her handsome Santa soldier? And why was she so quick to forgive him after he saw through her little ruse with Rachel? That she didn’t have the heart to make the child accept the fact that her daddy was never coming home.

God, no, she couldn’t do that. Not at Christmas.

In spite of that fact, Kristen had to smile, a pleasant quiver going through her. Why did she suddenly find herself looking at a man again with a hunger in her soul?

That’s why. Over six feet four of hunky male in a Santa suit ready to split at the seams because his shoulders are so broad. Making Rachel laugh and giggle again like a child should. Pulling on her pigtails and playing hide and seek with her.

When the day started, Kristen never would have dreamed this spirit of joy surging inside her was possible. Now look at her. Smiling, too, like Rachel. Like a shadow lifted from her heart and a sudden warmth filled her.

She ignored the danger bells going off in her head, warning her to be careful. Her job was to fix the man a hot meal and then send him on his way.

Do I have to
? she asked herself, hoping she’d come up with a good answer to let him stay. After all, he was an Army sergeant. By the haunted look in his eyes when he saw the kids and the way he handled himself, he’d seen combat. Afghanistan, most likely. Maybe he was stationed near Scott.

A tear rolled down her cheek. She got a ping to her heart just thinking about connecting with a small part of her husband. She wanted to talk to the sergeant, ask him what it was like over there. What the soldiers missed most about home. Scott always raved about the packages she sent him filled with beef jerky, candy, and disposable razors. And his favorite homemade cookies: thick, chewy oatmeal raisin. Talking to the soldier would be like being a part of Scott’s world, if only for a little while. She liked that idea. Liked it a lot.

Kristen wouldn’t admit she also liked the sergeant. That worried her. She knew the day would come when her female urges would stir, when her need for a man would surface as her grief slowly subsided. She just didn’t expect it to come so soon.

What lonely woman wouldn’t be enchanted by the sergeant? How he walked, his deep voice. She felt her feminine desires come to life standing next to him. She’d convinced herself that her hormones had gone into Sleeping Beauty mode after Scott died.

This man woke them up with the promise of a kiss.

Did that make her a bad person?
Oh, God, did it?

She was daydreaming about what it would feel like to have his hands rub her shoulders, his lips brushing the back of her neck when she heard the sheriff say close to her ear, “I wouldn’t get too cozy with your Santy Claus.”

“What are you talking about?” she asked, turning away before he noticed her flushed cheeks.

“The guy who robbed the bank today fits his description.”

Kristen spun around and faced him. “I don’t believe it.”

He shrugged. “Tall, dark hair, muscular build.”

That fits the sergeant. A man with muscles so tightly coiled I can only imagine his strength. But then I saw how he was with Rachel. Tender, caring. Telling her a story about Rudolph. No,
I don’t believe he’s the man they’re looking for. I won’t.

“You’re mistaken, Sheriff,” Kristen said in an unsubtle manner to show her distaste for his remarks. The lawman was over zealous in his job. He’d give Santa a ticket for reckless sleigh driving if he could. “I’d be more careful with your accusations if I were you.”

“Listen to the little lady,” the sheriff said, blowing out his breath. “So that’s how it is with you two.”

“No, that’s
not
how it is,” she said hotly. This was getting out of control. Maybe she was wrong to want the sergeant to stay. “Why don’t you and your dirty mind go play somewhere else?”

“C’mon, Kristen, give a guy a break,” the sheriff said with a mock tone in his voice. His gaze checking her out said he wanted more than that.

“Why should I?” she wanted to know. “Ever since I came back to Kissing Creek, all you do is follow me around, watching me. All because I won’t go out with you doesn’t mean you can accuse the soldier of your
crime of the da
y.”

“You plead real pretty, Kristen,” he pointed out, his voice smooth, but she could hear the anger behind his words. That disturbed her. “It won’t work. I may have to take your Santa down to the station for questioning.”

Her eyes widened. “On Christmas Eve?”

“Unless you can convince me I’ve got something better to do,” he said in a syrupy tone, leaning down so close she could smell his strong lime aftershave. It made her stomach turn. “Like having a nice, quiet dinner over at your place.”

“Sorry, I’m busy.”

“Doing what?” he asked, curious.

“I have to feed Santa Claus and his reindeer,” she quipped.

“
You mean
him
?
”
he smirked, watching the soldier play tag with Rachel. Kristen couldn’t help but notice the sergeant kept a close watch on her out of the corner of his eye. That comforted her. “You don’t even know this guy.”

“Yes, I do. He’s a friend of Scott’s. They served together in Afghanistan.” Kristen flipped to a new page with those words, surprising even herself. She kept smiling, but on the inside she was freaking out.

Jeez,
now
what had she done?

Why she said that, she didn’t know. Because she wanted it to be so, she knew, but the bottom line was that she’d lied and now she had to stick with it. Still, call it intuition, but she knew inside her heart the Army sergeant was no bank robber.

“I’m certain the sheriff has more important things to do than flirt with you, Kristen,” she heard Miriam say in a haughty tone that didn’t surprise her. Where did she come from?

She turned around to see the headmistress waving her over. She looked as unhappy as if her garters had snapped.

Oh, my. What was on her mind?

Mice in the cupboards?

Or too much sugar in the holiday punch?

Nothing important, she hoped, when Miriam ordered her to follow her back to the school kitchen. Kristen turned around and checked on Rachel. The sergeant had her laughing. Thank God.

She grabbed her parka, zipped it up, and then followed Miriam out into the snow. Her breath was frosty as she crossed the yard, but not as frosty as the woman’s attitude. She never looked back at her. Never said anything about the last minute Santa and the happy looks on the girl’s faces. Even the kitchen seemed cold and damp when she shook off the snow on her shoulders. As if the heat was turned off.

Kristen took off her coat and was about to ask Miriam if it could wait until after Christmas when she locked gazes with the woman. She froze. Her usually arched black brows formed one straight line, and her eyes darkened as black as coal.

Oh, God, now what
?

“You’re fired,” Miriam said, making no apologies. “You’re dismissed
immediately
.”

“For what reason?” Kristen said, her ears ringing. It couldn’t be true. She
needed
this job.

“You’ve been stealing food.”

“That’s not true, Miriam,” she tossed back at the woman, indignant. She blurted out the words before she could think about what she was saying. “I would never take anything that wasn’t mine.”

“Oh, no?” she said, her eyebrows going up. “There’s a rumor going around that you’ve been feeding homeless bums stopping here for a handout.”

Kristen felt her cheeks redden. What a cruel thing to say. Did the woman have no place in her heart for these men? What turned her so against them? It didn’t matter. The truth was, she couldn’t deny feeding the vets from the school’s kitchen cupboard.

How did she find out? She’d bet a dozen homemade chocolate chip cookies Betty Ann would never say anything.

Who
then
?

Then she remembered the scene in the stable and one very indignant lawman. Jealous. Full of himself. It didn’t take her more than a moment to come up with the culprit.

“Sheriff Hogan should learn to keep his nose out of my cookie dough,” Kristen said, her dander up. Most likely he’d poked around and questioned other homeless vets passing through, but he never mentioned it to Miriam.

Until the sergeant showed up.

She’d never forget the ire in his look when he saw how Rachel took to the soldier. She also imagined he’d caught her giving the sergeant the same approving look. The man was determined to eliminate the competition at whatever the cost. She wouldn’t put it past him to do anything to get her into the sack. Getting rid of the sergeant was his first step.

“Then it
is
true,” Miriam said, banging kitchen cabinets and taking stock of the supplies. She tossed the bins on the counter. “Potatoes, garlic, green beans, almonds,
all empty
.”

“You know the girls put up their noses whenever I make green bean casserole with almond slivers or Potatoes Lorraine,” Kristen said, fighting back. The woman wasn’t fair, accusing her like that. “They prefer mac ‘n cheese. Why shouldn’t I feed homeless vets instead of wasting food?”

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. Obviously the sheriff didn’t mention they were veterans.

“That is not
your
decision. You’re merely an employee here, Mrs. Delaney.
I
decide how this school should be run.”

Miriam sat down at the table and put her head in her hands, her shoulders slumped. Was that a stifled cry she heard? From the Iron Lady?

Kristen had the overwhelming urge to give the woman a tissue to wipe her eyes and say something comforting to her, ask her what was wrong, but she didn’t dare.

She took a step back in her mind and let her anger go. She’d never seen Miriam like this. Sad, beaten. What was wrong? She’d always held her own with the woman and she had to admit she respected her, seeing how she kept up the school standards, but she’d never seen her act so…
so human.

Did she have a heart after all?

Miriam looked up and glared at her. Kristen shivered. Whatever she’d thought about telling her, she changed her mind. The moment passed.

“Take your things and go, Mrs. Delaney,” she said in a grim tone. “I’ll see to it you receive a week’s pay
after
the holiday.”

“You can fire me if you want, Miriam, that’s your right. But I’m not sorry for what I did,” Kristen said in a firm voice. “These men fought for our country. Nearly died. They’re good, kind human beings. I couldn’t let them starve.” She grabbed her coat and purse and left, banging the kitchen door.
Hard
.

She stood outside for a long time, thinking. Snow flurries tickled her nose and a cold wind blew right through her. She ignored it. She’d done what her heart told her. For Scott. For the vets. She had no regrets. She’d made her bed. Only one thing:
Now
what was she going to do? No job. No money except for what she’d saved from her salary, which was barely enough for food and electricity.

Kristen dawdled on the back step, scraping snow off her boots. A soft chuckle escaped her. Thank God for Aunt Gertrude’s old socks stuffed with five dollar bills. Hidden under the sofa. Between the bath towels. Stuck behind the cookie sheets stored in the cabinet. It was her good fortune the woman hated banks. Refused to deal with them.

But it also made it difficult for Kristen.

Her aunt had paid for her final arrangements years ago, but she had no bank account. Kristen had a hard time finding the bank receipts for her mortgage payments. Finally, she could prove her aunt was up to date with her payments at the time of her death, but she had no intention of selling the property. She was emotionally attached to the place. The cottage sat at the end of a long, two lane country road. Stone-covered with tacky green shutters with heart cut-outs that banged in the wind. A dirty chimney Santa wouldn’t be caught dead in. And kitschy pigs-in-a-rose garden wallpaper peeling off the walls to reveal more kitschy paper underneath.

Kristen thought of all the good times she’d had in that cottage. What was there
not
to love? She grew up here and spent Christmases here with Scott. It had a special tug to her heart she wasn’t willing to let go.