The Christmas Piano Tree: What's Christmas without a tree? (A Kissing Creek novel Book 1) (5 page)

Ever.

She had no family. Aunt Gertrude was the closest she had to kin and raised her to be a good, God-fearing girl. Everybody knew she wasn’t really her aunt, but that made her affection and feelings toward the woman even more special. A widow lady for many years, she opened her home and her heart to Kristen when she was five years old. She baked her first batch of sugar cookies in the cottage kitchen with Aunt Gertrude, played in the woods behind it with her dolls and imaginary friends, and crushed on the first boy who pulled her hair and kissed her down at Kissing Creek when she was ten.

Scott.

She always knew she’d marry him, especially later in high school. Him with his shaggy blond hair, crooked smile, and those broad shoulders. He’d pick her up and carry her across the creek in his strong arms. Then they’d kiss and do what teenagers did in the old abandoned mill. Honey kisses. The sound of the water wheel turning gushing in their ears, the sweet smell of new mowed hay surrounding them as they held each other tight.

They were just kids, but they grew up fast when Kristen got pregnant the summer after she graduated from high school. She cried her eyes out when Scott’s parents tried to take him away when they moved to the city. They wanted nothing to do with her.

An orphan. No folks, no background.

Aunt Gertrude marched over there and told them Kristen was the best thing that ever happened to Scott. They ignored her. Her aunt wasn’t discouraged. She told her to pay them no mind. Her beau wouldn’t let her down, she said. She was right. Kristen was beside herself with joy when Scott asked her to marry him before he joined the Army.

Rachel came along soon after and she spent her first Christmas at the cottage. Now it was their home again. Kristen resolved not to let this awful turn of events spoil Rachel’s Christmas, especially this year. She’d bought the child a few presents and prayed her little girl wouldn’t bring up the tree again.

She lifted up her chin. At least they still had a roof over their heads. She’d find another job
somewhere
. Only one thing to do. Go home and put on holiday music on the radio and whip up sugar cookies. That would cheer Rachel up. And her, too.

But what to do about the sergeant?

Kristen’s stomach turned. He was expecting a home-cooked dinner and she just lost her job. It was Christmas Eve. No place was open for him to get a hot meal. She’d have to trust her instincts and take him to the cottage. Feed him, and then send him on his way.

That was the right thing to do, wasn’t it?

No, it was dumb. She didn’t know the man.

Okay, plan number two. She’d cook him a hot meal at the cottage and then bring it to the stable. He could stay there until morning.

That was better.

She was about to head back to the stable to pick up Rachel and tell the sergeant about the change of plans when she heard women’s voices coming from the kitchen.

Loud voices.
Talking about
her
.

“You had no right to let Kristen go,” she could hear Betty Ann protesting. She sounded very upset, sniffling and blowing her nose. God bless her for sticking up for her. Kristen pressed her ear against the door.

“Go back to putting cookies out for Santa and leave me be,” Miriam said. “I have work to do.”

She sounded agitated, her voice clipped. Kristen could only imagine what was going on in Betty Ann’s mind. She knew how fearsome her sister’s temper could be.

“Stop treating me like a child, sister.”

“You
are
a child, Betty Ann,” Miriam said in a tired voice. “You think you’re everybody’s fairy godmother. I’ve got news for you. Your wand lost its magic years ago.”

She could hear Betty Ann gasp loudly. How could Miriam hurt her like that?

“So what if I look at life through rose-colored bifocals?” Betty Ann said with whimsy in her voice as well as a tear. “It doesn’t hurt anybody.”

“Doesn’t it?” Miriam shot back. “I let you run the kitchen and look what happened. You allowed that woman to give away food.”

“Why don’t you approve of her helping someone less fortunate, Miriam?” insisted Betty Ann. Her voice was stronger now, questioning. “Lord knows we don’t have anyone who cares a hoot about us. I’m nothing but a spinster who never had the courage to put up a fight when you turned the man I loved against me.”

“Watch your step, dear
sister
.”

Kristen held her breath. Betty Ann was pumped up, angry over her sister firing her and nothing could stop her.

“And you’re a bitter woman who can never stop blaming the world because
you
chose to give up your child rather than claim her as your own.”

“I don’t want to hear another word out of you, Betty Ann,” Miriam yelled, very angry. “Now go to your room!”

“Not until you tell me I can bring Kristen back,” she pleaded, but her voice never wavered. “
Please
, Miriam, it’s Christmas Eve.”

Kristen heard Miriam let out a long, deep sigh. “Maybe you’re right, Betty Ann. We both made mistakes, but the truth is we can’t afford to keep Kristen on,” she said finally. Kristen swore she heard her choking on her words. “Our biggest donor pulled out tonight.”

“What? You mean—”

“Yes. Phineas Carey is no longer a patron for the Mary Huber School for Girls.”

“Why in heavens did he do that?”

“He’s taking his daughter to a bigger school up North.” Miriam banged on the kitchen table, making Kristen jump. “It doesn’t make sense. The girl is happy here. I
know
he’s up to something, but what?”

Stunned, Kristen couldn’t move. She waited, but she couldn’t hear any more. Betty Ann left the room, crying. Then silence.

Putting her hand on the doorknob, she realized she was shaking. She
should
go back, tell Miriam she’d work for half her salary, but how could she? The woman already believed her to be a thief. She’d never forgive her if she knew Kristen had been eavesdropping on their conversation.

She had to clear her head, take in this new information. Trying to decide what to do, Kristen walked through the heavy drifts toward the stable, her pink boots covered with fluffy snow. For the first time in her life, she felt sorry for Miriam. That had her shaking her head and wondering what else could go wrong on this Christmas Eve.

* * * * *

“I hear you served with Scott Delaney in Afghanistan,” said the sheriff, baiting him. Jared cut him a hard look. How did he know?

Kristen must have told him. Too bad all he could do was take him down with a look. The lawman deserved a punch to the jaw for the way he treated Kristen. He’d heard pieces of their conversation while he watched Rachel and it wasn’t pretty. The sheriff knew it, too, but he paid him no mind. Instead he leaned against the sleigh and chewed on a piece of straw.
Real
slow
.

The sergeant bristled inside, but he didn’t let it show. Instead, he twirled Rachel around in a circle, making her laugh, and then set her down on the red velvet cushion in the sleigh where she’d be safe.

He had a bone to pick with the lawman.

“That’s right, Sheriff,” Jared said, and then rattled off his company, battalion, and regiment. Then he mentioned where he and Scott saw action and whatever minor intel he could share with a civilian like him with a pea brain. By the pissed-off look on his face, the sheriff still wasn’t convinced he knew Scott.

“You’re a stranger round here and I don’t take to strangers moving in on
my
territory,” he warned, spitting out the straw. “Remember that if you want to stay out of trouble.”

Then he left, grumbling under his breath.

He means Kristen. The bastard.

Jared didn’t give a damn
what
the sheriff thought, it was Kristen that mattered. Still, this new development had him puzzled. Why had she told him he was a friend of Scott’s?

Did she know?

Not likely. Scott confided in him that he never wrote home about his experiences in a war zone, preferring to keep a tight lid on the horror he’d seen or the buddies he’d lost.

There had to be another reason.
But what
?

His eyes brightened when he saw her push open the stable door and shake off the snow. Such a pretty lady. And nice, too. There was a break in the weather and the late afternoon sun was shining behind her, her slim silhouette surrounded by white snowdrifts. Looking at her in that setting gave him a down home feeling that warmed a man’s heart.

She was small-town-girl wholesome, but sexy. No wonder Scott read her handwritten letters over and over, telling him that seeing her curly feminine writing flowing over the page was like having her cuddling up next to him. The scent of her perfume enticing him.
Better than email
, he said, and making him miss her even more.

Jared shook his head now, remembering those cold, dark nights in the desert with Scott reading her words by firelight. His eyes glowing with love. For her. For his child. The man had the moon and the stars and he’d lost it all. That thought gripped him with such fire in his soul, such passion to do the right thing by her, he could barely breathe. His chest hurt, his lungs bursting with sadness. Kristen was beautiful, alluring, but untouchable. He could never forget that, but he owed it to his buddy to keep his promise and watch over her.

You can’t hold her, kiss her. No hanky panky.

It wouldn’t be easy. Being around her set a mood in him that was both porch swings and homemade ice cream
and
a black lacy nightgown at the same time. The way every man dreamed of his sweetheart.

As she walked toward him, Rachel jumped out of the sleigh and ran to her mother.

“Mommy!”

He was almost jealous the way Kristen picked her up and held her tight, cheek against cheek. Her love for her child was unbeatable.

“Time to go home, baby.”

She avoided his eyes, but Jared could see tears running down her cheeks. No, it couldn’t be. She was so happy a few minutes ago. Hell, what was wrong? If that sheriff made her cry, he’d set him straight. Straight to the floor with that punch to the jaw he deserved.

Whatever was bothering her, she wasn’t telling.

Jared waited for a signal from her. Nothing.

He started pacing up and down. He couldn’t stand it. What was it about her that crawled over his skin like warm, silky desert sand? She managed to make him want to kiss her and carry her off into the dark woods and live in a tree house.

Not practical, but who was being practical? Not him. Or he wouldn’t be here, trying to help his buddy’s wife when for the life of him he couldn’t remember what he was supposed to tell her.

Damn, this shouldn’t be so hard. He mentally gave himself a talking to, but it didn’t do any good. The thick fog inhabiting his brain was as dense as ever.

Not a damn thing he could do about it.

Kristen had no idea what crazy thoughts were going through his mind. She wiped her face with the back of her hand, but not before her little girl asked, “Why are you crying, Mommy?”

“Everybody cries at Christmas,” Kristen said, trying to sound cheerful. She was anything but that. Her eyes red, her nose red, she broke his heart. It took every ounce of his strength not to sweep both mother and child into his arms and never them let go.

He didn’t, but God, he wanted to.

Instead, she looked straight at him, as if apologizing for something.

What
, he didn’t know.

“When are we going to get a Christmas tree, Mommy?” Rachel asked, hopeful.

“
Sshh
…we’ll talk about it later,” Kristen said, wincing. She should have known it wasn’t over, not with Rachel. She had Scott’s stubbornness and wouldn’t give up. Again the child had asked about the tree.
Why?
“How about I take you home and we make sugar cookies with lots of sprinkles?”

She was well awake sugar sprinkles weren’t as enticing as a Christmas tree, but it was all she had. She wouldn’t have food on the table if she didn’t get another job quick.

Holding onto her child’s hand as they braved the cold, Kristen felt her cheeks burning, yet she couldn’t dispute the awful truth. That not having a tree was a real disappointment to them both.

“But we’ve
gotta
have a tree,” cried Rachel. “Where’s Santa going to leave our presents?”

She couldn’t blame her for wanting presents. It was a kid thing, especially when she had to give
back
the present Santa gave her at school.

Speaking of Santa, Kristen looked over her shoulder at the sergeant with a bemused smile on his face, waiting patiently to see what she’d do next. He’d followed her outside and she made no move to discourage him. She knew why. She liked his company, but Rachel wasn’t helping, acting like a spoiled little girl. That was so unlike her. Why was she so set on having a tree? She didn’t act like this last year.

Kristen had to do something. The little girl was insistent, her young mind believing with her whole heart that Santa wouldn’t leave presents if they didn’t have a tree along with milk and cookies for him.

Cookies
, no problem.
Milk
. Kristen had to stop at the general store on the way home to buy a half-gallon.

Luckily she’d found one of Aunt Gertrude’s old socks stuffed with a five-dollar bill before she left home. This time in the back of the pantry when she was looking for sugar. That seemed like a lifetime ago, seeing what had happened since then. And on Christmas Eve.

Too bad her aunt didn’t hide bigger bills, Kristen thought, pulling up Rachel’s coat collar to keep her warm. Tens, even twenties would be nice.

Kristen smiled at the idea and then grimaced when a big snowflake hit her dead-on in the eye. She wiped it away and looked up. The snow was coming down again, landing on her little girl’s rosy cheeks. Rachel sniffled and made an unhappy face. Long lashes heavy with snowflakes. Lips squeezed tight. Oh, her heart wanted to break. If only she could kiss her cold little nose and make everything better, but she couldn’t.

Even if she
had
the money to buy a tree, none could be had in Kissing Creek on Christmas Eve. Kristen had checked around just on the off chance she found a bonanza hidden in an old sock, but the local farmer who hauled the trees into town sold out days ago.

Best to take her home, away from the students and parents laughing and wishing each other
Merry Christmas
in
the school parking lot. She didn’t need anything else to make her feel left out. Thank God the sheriff had left without making good on his threat to haul the sergeant in for questioning. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t. She’d tried to tell the hunky Santa about his threat, but the words didn’t come.

Was it because she didn’t want to see him go?

Still, the handsome sergeant hadn’t left her side, even after she finally got the courage to tell him she couldn’t fix him dinner here at the school, but he’d have to wait here for her to bring back his hot meal.

She didn’t explain why.

Kristen buckled her daughter into the car seat in the back of her SUV. “We’ll have a good time making sugar cookies, Rachel,” she said, trying to keep her mind off the Christmas tree. Though
she
wasn’t doing such a good job keeping
her
mind off the sergeant. She kept peeking over at him and those broad shoulders. Why was he still hanging around? It was snowing harder and the stable was a heck of a lot warmer than standing here. “First, we have to pick up some milk.”

“Can I help?” he asked, towering over her and leaning his arm on the roof of her van. Why did he have to go and do that? That really knocked her off balance. He’d brushed the flour out of his beard. Now it was flecked with glistening snowflakes, making him appear magical.

And
sexy.

Like a Norseman come to rescue her. She imagined him wearing nothing but a furry loincloth, his chest bare, and carrying a long sword.

Dear God, where did she get such thoughts
?

“No, I mean, I’m sorry about the meal, Sergeant—”

“Call me Jared,” he said slow and easy. He was in no hurry to leave, which didn’t bother her in the least. After all she’d been through, she needed someone. There, she’d said it. She’d prided herself for being strong all these months, but it was so wonderful to have a man beside her.

Was it so wrong to think that?

“Rachel’s upset because I can’t afford a Christmas tree this year,” she tried to explain. She had no intention of telling him she’d lost her job. She didn’t want him feeling sorry for her. Then with a weak smile, she added, “You know kids.”

“Yes, ma’am, I do.”

Kristen panicked, the chill in the air suddenly colder on the back of her neck. What did he say? A quiet fear overtook her. It never occurred to her he was married and had kids of his own.

His next words soothed her.

“I’ve got four younger brothers at home. Wild and crazy. Like me.” He laughed.

“Where do you come from?” she had to ask.

“South Philly. I come from a big Italian family. My mother makes fresh gnocchi every Christmas with her own secret tomato sauce.”

His eyes lit up with a joy she hadn’t seen before.
Home
. A sacred place to every soldier, wherever he was stationed. Every fighting man deserved a taste of home at Christmas.

But it was his big, hearty laugh that prompted her to make up her mind. What was she worried about? And where was her civic pride? He was a soldier far away from his family. It was her
duty
to feed him.

Kristen chuckled. Suddenly she didn’t care what anyone thought. She’d trust her gut. She’d promised the man a home-cooked meal and by jingle she was going to deliver.

“I’d make you spaghetti, Sergeant, but I’m fresh out of oregano,” she said, smiling. So what if she couldn’t afford an extra plate at dinner? She’d worry about that tomorrow. “How about a good old fashioned cheeseburger at my place instead?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He grinned at her.

“And
please
call me Kristen.” She shook the snow out of her hair. “
Ma’am m
akes me feel old.”

For a moment, the joy left her. She
did
feel old. These past few months since Scott’s death had left her in a lonely limbo. She’d gone from being a young wife and mother with dreams of a happy future with the man she loved, to a widow who some days didn’t want to get up and go on.

Today changed that.

Kristen blushed when she realized the sergeant was staring at her, trying to understand why she’d said such a thing. Men. They didn’t get it that the love a woman had for a man went beyond sex, that it was the sharing and the fun that kept her young.

“Yes, ma’am.” He cleared his throat. “I mean, Kristen.”

She smiled. “Okay, Sergeant. First, I have to pick up milk and sprinkles for the sugar cookies.” She paused, biting down on her lower lip. She couldn’t resist asking him with a saucy look in her eye, “You
do
like warm sugar cookies fresh from the oven?”

“What Santa wouldn’t?” he said, teasing her back.

Zing
. She’d asked for that, but she was feeling giddy, like she was a kid again. She wanted to make this a great Christmas Eve, fully aware that tomorrow she’d have to pay the piper. She managed to say, “I’ll have to ask you to leave after supper—”

“I
could
help you with the dishes,” Jared said, leaning closer to her. She felt his hot breath on her face. Tiny tremors wiggled through her, the nearness of him making her want to snuggle up to him. Feel protected and wanted. She wouldn’t, of course, but the thought of it made her feel so good inside she let it linger in her mind a while longer.

“What if we eat off paper plates?” she said, waiting to see how he’d wiggle out of that one.

“Okay, you got me, but with this cold weather, you might need me to fix a broken water pipe,” he suggested, taking her hand. “I’d hate to see your pretty hands get all dirty.” His touch caught her by surprise, sending a double tingle down to her toes in her snug Ugg boots.

She pulled her hand away. Slowly. “Anything else?”

“I’m mighty handy in the kitchen.”

“I bet you’re handy when it comes to a lot of things,” she purred, all but inviting him to stay a while.

Kristen looked away quickly, embarrassed. What holiday spell had possessed her?
As if the snow fairies had gotten her tongue
, she’d say when she scolded Rachel for talking out of turn. And here
she
was, tempting him with sweet treats. Including her. Why, she barely knew him, yet that hadn’t stopped her from asking him to dinner.

She noticed her invitation softened the edges around his eyes, making them glow bright with mischief as he threw his duffel bag into the back of the SUV and then climbed into the passenger seat beside her. Her heart leapfrogged, surprising her. She gave him a suspicious look, hoping she hadn’t made a mistake.

She sat up straighter in the driver’s seat, her hormones as jumpy as Santa’s elves, started up the SUV, and pulled out of the school parking lot. The sergeant looked so handsome, so right sitting next to her. As if he belonged there.

For a moment, she pretended she wasn’t wearing her wedding ring. The gold band represented her ties to Scott, so that scared her.

Big-time.

Good grief, what the heck had she gotten herself into?

* * * * *

Dixon & Wynn’s General Store
had been a fixture in Kissing Creek since the days of Daniel Boone, or so the locals said. The big, old log cabin building was two stories high with garlands of silver tinsel strung across the rafters and red licorice sticks hanging like icicles from the shelves. It was the only place on this side of town to get the staples she needed.

The doughnut samples, however, were as old as the hills, Kristen decided when Mr. Grover, the clerk, gave one to Rachel.

“It tastes funny, Mommy,” she said, making a face.

“It’s stale, Mr. Grover,” Kristen said after taking a bite. She handed the powdery doughnut back to him.

“So?” Mr. Grover said, putting the half-eaten doughnut back on the cake dish. Kristen rolled her eyes. Didn’t the man know about germs? “They’re free samples, ain’t they?”

“Don’t your customers deserve
fresh
pastries?” she asked. What this town needed was fresh doughnuts with plenty of sugar and butter and love baked into them, but she resisted the urge to press her point until the sergeant leaned over and whispered in her ear: “
Go for it
.” His hot breath made her shiver. She smiled. Why not?

“Yes,” the clerk admitted, “but—”

“You
could
sell homemade pastry instead of these old packaged goods,” she said, pointing to the past “sell by” date on the bag of doughnuts. She turned and saw the sergeant giving her a thumbs up.

“Business has been slow,” Mr. Grover said, throwing up his hands. His bushy eyebrows stood straight up like two exclamation points.

“All the more reason to try something new.” Kristen put down a big plastic jar of blue sprinkles on the wooden counter.
Who was he kidding
? Business was brisk. They were out of red and green sprinkles. And everything else for the holiday.

“I don’t reckon—” he began.

“I’d be happy to drop off free samples of my cookies for your customers to try,” she pushed on, making her decision. She’d start her own bakery business. Then she wouldn’t have anyone looking over her shoulder criticizing her whipping technique or making her cut corners with the butter. She’d bake up the richest, sweetest cookies in the county.

She sighed. But only if her money lasted.

She was always so practical, until now. Her courage surprised her, or did it? The cheery look on Jared’s face told her he was impressed with her entrepreneurial spirit. That warmed her even more. She wouldn’t have had the courage to ask Mr. Grover if he hadn’t given her the high sign.

She pulled out the five dollar bill from Aunt Gertrude’s old sock and laid it on the counter. Turning around, she could see Jared heading for the back of the store to pick up the milk. Torn between pangs of guilt and a warm fuzzy feeling, she let out a sigh. She had to admit it
was
nice having a man around, helping out with things. A funny tug grabbed at her heart. She’d better not get used to it. The sergeant was here only as long as Christmas Eve.