Angels at Christmas

by Debbie Macomber

  “My head’s spinning—and it doesn’t have anything to do with the wine.”

  “Mine, too,” he told her. The alcohol was only partially responsible for the dizziness he was feeling.

  “I…I saw a fish fly this afternoon,” she whispered. Her mouth was close to his ear.

  Roy frowned, not understanding.

  “It’s true,” she said, her voice still low. “I was at the Pike Place Market, and it seemed to leap off the crushed ice and fly of its own accord.”

  “That isn’t possible,” Roy said impatiently. Either it was a trick of the eye or sleight of hand.

  “That’s what I thought,” Julie told him. “Then it happened again and someone else saw it, too.”

  “My guess is there’s a reason you’re telling me this.”

  In response, she kissed the side of his neck. “The way I feel now is the same way I felt earlier when I saw that fish fly. I didn’t believe it, although I saw it with my own eyes. I felt a little ridiculous. And I wanted to deny it, pretend it hadn’t happened. Then, as I said, someone else confirmed what I’d seen and I realized I hadn’t imagined it, after all.”

  “So…” Perhaps it was the scent of her perfume that clogged his brain. But for the life of him, Roy didn’t know what she was talking about or where this rather unusual story was taking him.

  “I left quickly because I had to get away to think about it.”

  Ah, Roy was beginning to understand, and his hold on her tightened. “You want to leave?”

  “I should.”

  “What if I asked you to stay?” Now he was the one kissing her, dropping light kisses along the side of her neck, hoping to lure her into spending the night. They were both adults who knew what they wanted, and he wasn’t interested in pretending otherwise.

  Her answer was a long time in coming and held a pleading quality. “Don’t ask.”

  “All right.” Difficult as it was, he relaxed his grip.

  She stood up from his lap and Roy immediately missed the closeness. He got to his feet, ready to protest when she retrieved her coat from the closet.

  “I don’t want you to go.”

  She smiled, walked over to where he stood and kissed him on the mouth. “I don’t want to go, either.”

  “Then stay.” He bit his tongue before he made the mistake of saying more. This decision had to be hers.

  For just a moment, Roy thought he’d succeeded, but then he watched a renewed determination settle over her. “I can’t. I just saw a fish fly through the air.”

  He didn’t know what it was about that stupid fish, but it appeared to have some significance for her.

  “I can’t quite believe what’s happened,” she said, “but I’m afraid I’m falling in love with you.”

  Love? Roy’s heart fell. That was the last thing he wanted to hear.

  Seventeen

  Julie stepped back from the freshly cut Christmas tree her father had grudgingly set up in a corner of the living room. This was probably the most difficult part of the Christmas season for him.

  And for her.

  Her mother had particularly loved their little tree-trimming ceremony. Just a year ago, the three of them had decorated the tree together. Andy Williams’s Christmas album had played in the background and the smell of popped corn had permeated the air.

  “It’s perfect,” Julie announced.

  Her father shrugged. “If you say so. I brought the decorations up from the basement.” He studied the tree, and Julie had the feeling that if she hadn’t made the effort this year, he’d be willing to forgo Christmas altogether.

  “Did you find the Christmas CDs?” she asked.

  “Nope.”

  Julie suspected he hadn’t looked. They were no doubt packed away with the decorations.

  “I think I’ll see how the Huskies are doing.” He picked up the remote. The University of Washington football team was her father’s favorite.

  “You aren’t going to help decorate?” Julie hated the thought of doing it all by herself, but she didn’t want to force her father to participate. Lectures from her wouldn’t do any good, as Emily’s e-mail had reminded her that morning.

  Her father’s eyes grew sad. “I’m sorry, Kitten, but I just don’t have the heart for it this year.”

  He hardly ever called her Kitten, a name from her childhood, and she blinked away tears. After everything they’d endured, Julie couldn’t complain about his unwillingness to take part in an activity that brought back memories he might not be ready to face. “That’s okay,” she told him, although her heart was breaking. This was hard, so much harder than she’d realized it would be.

  “I can do it,” Julie said more to convince herself than her father. Maybe it wouldn’t be as painful if he stayed in the room. “You can be my adviser.”

  He acquiesced with a reluctant nod. Settling down in his usual chair, he flipped through several channels, then found the Huskies game.

  Humming “Deck the Halls” to herself, Julie located the string of lights and began to weave it around the base of the evergreen, working her way upward. This task had always been reserved for her father. Afterward, Julie and Emily—before her twin sister’s marriage—along with their mother, took over the task of hanging the decorations. It had been an important tradition, representing a time of family fun, laughter and music. Now it seemed bleak and sad….

  “Did you check those lights before you started putting them on the tree?” her father asked during the first commercial break.

  “Uh…”

  “I can see that you didn’t.” He clambered out of his chair. “Oh, all right, I’ll do the lights, but that’s it.”

  “Thanks, Dad!”

  “I should’ve known,” he muttered. “All you wanted me to do was put up the tree, you said. Well, I did that. Next thing you know, I’m stringing the lights. Are you plotting against me?”

  “Would I do that?” she asked in a singsong voice that didn’t conceal her amusement.

  Since there wasn’t much she could do while he strung the lights, Julie went into the kitchen and put a package of popcorn in the microwave. It was cheating, she supposed; her mother had done it the old-fashioned way. Still, popcorn was popcorn.

  “If you’re going to be popping corn, I want the buttered kind.”

  “Yes, Dad.”

  He was almost finished with the lights by the time she returned to the living room, carrying a large bowl filled to overflowing with popcorn. She set it in the center of the coffee table and got down on all fours to sort through the boxes he’d brought up from the basement. Pulling out the small stack of CDs held together by a rubber band, she placed it conspicuously beside the bowl.

  “Oh, go ahead, then. Put one on.”

  She smiled and did exactly that, choosing a selection of instrumental Christmas classics.

  Her father plugged in the lights. “I’ll probably be hanging the ornaments, too,” he grumbled. He paused long enough to grab a handful of popcorn. “Did I ever tell you about Christmas the first year your mother and I were married? We were too poor to afford a tree. A friend gave your mother a poinsettia, and we put our gifts under that.” He smiled at the memory. “It was the most pitiful-looking thing, but you’d have thought it was as grand as a fifteen-foot tree.”

  Of all the gifts Julie had received through the years, perhaps the best was the fact that her parents had loved each other deeply.

  “What I remember was all of us attending Christmas Eve services and then coming home and opening one gift each.” Julie and Emily were eight years old before they realized that the one gift they were allowed to open always turned out to be pajamas.

  “I’m going to miss Mom’s turkey stuffing,” Julie said, sitting back on her heels. For both Thanksgiving and Christmas, her mother had prepared the traditional turkey. Every year she fretted over her stuffing and every year she outdid herself.

  “Yours wasn’t bad,” her father assured her.

  Like
her mother, Julie had worried excessively over her first attempt at cooking the Thanksgiving turkey. “Thanks, Dad. I guess I must’ve picked up something all those years I spent helping Mom.” It felt good to be able to talk freely about her mother. Her father seemed to revel in it, too, although she knew he’d felt wary about reliving the past. Sharing memories made missing her less painful, and Julie knew that these memories would get them through the Christmas season. There would be poignant, tearful moments, but happy ones, too.

  “Are you cooking a turkey for Christmas?” her father asked.

  Julie hadn’t given the matter much thought. Christmas was still two weeks away, and it seemed a bit early to be thinking about what she’d serve. “I suppose.”

  “Seems to me we had leftover turkey for at least a week after Thanksgiving.”

  Julie took out the ornaments, examining each one. “Would you rather I made something else?”

  “No, no, I like my turkey. It just seems a waste to buy a big bird for the two of us.”

  “I could find a smaller one.”

  “Or…maybe we should invite a few guests.”

  “Guests? Who?” All their family was on the East Coast. Emily was in Florida, and longtime friends had their own families.

  “What about Roy and his mother?”

  He’d led into that suggestion with such ease Julie hadn’t seen it coming. For a moment, she was too surprised to respond.

  “What do you think?” he asked, watching her.

  “Well,” she said cautiously, “I don’t know.”

  Her father brought the stepladder from the kitchen as he continued his task. “I met Anne this week, and she’s a sensible woman.”

  Julie had liked Roy’s mother immensely—and she’d been given real insight into Anne’s son. On Saturday evening, she’d gone to his home with a new awareness of him, an appreciation for the man he was. Consequently her guard had been down. She’d felt as if her heart would shatter with joy when he kissed her. More than that, she’d sensed there could be a profound connection between them. But she had no way of knowing if Roy felt the same things she did. She believed he did, but that could be just wishful thinking.

  “You’re not saying anything.” Her father frowned at her over the top of his reading glasses as he stood on the stepladder by the tree.

  “That might be nice, but I’m not sure they’ll accept.”

  “It won’t do any harm to ask.”

  She agreed. This suggestion was unlike her father—but then it dawned on Julie that he might be saying something else. “You like Mrs. Fletcher, Dad?” It was logical; after all, he was alone, and so was Roy’s mother.

  Her father paused, the string of lights dangling between his hands. “I know what you’re thinking, Julie.”

  “Dad, Mrs. Fletcher is a wonderful woman.”

  “I know she is, but I want to make something clear right now, and this is important. Anne Fletcher could never interest me romantically. No woman could replace your mother.”

  “Dad, I didn’t mean—”

  “I know you didn’t,” he said, cutting her off. “But it’s best to tell you that I don’t plan to remarry, ever. I loved your mother, and frankly, there’s no room in my heart for anyone else.”

  “You might feel differently down the road. Mom wouldn’t want you to be lonely.”

  “I won’t be. I have every intention of working as long as I can and living a productive life.”

  “I certainly hope so,” she teased.

  “But I’ll live the rest of my life alone.”

  “That decision is yours.”

  “I appreciate your understanding, Julie. At some point, you and your sister might feel inclined to match me up, but it’s not what I want.”

  “Okay, Dad.”

  He nodded, apparently relieved.

  Julie scooped up a handful of popcorn and had just started to chew when her father glanced up again. “You were home earlier than I expected last night. Was everything okay between you and Roy?”

  She swallowed quickly. “It went really well.”

  “Are you going out with him again?”

  Roy hadn’t asked, but she’d come to the conclusion that he would. “I think so,” and then she added, because it was true, “I hope so. Does that bother you?”

  Her father grinned. “It’s a little late to be asking me that.”

  “Yeah, I suppose it is. I like him, Dad.”

  Her father’s grin broadened. “I guessed as much. You’ve been walking on air for the last few days.”

  “Is it that noticeable?”

  Her father chuckled and was about to say something else when the doorbell rang.

  Julie stood, brushed off her jeans and hurried to the door. Roy Fletcher stood on the other side. She felt a surge of joy at the sight of him.

  “Hi,” he said a bit sheepishly.

  “Hi, yourself.”

  “Doing anything special?”

  She nodded and reached for his hand, pulling him into the foyer. “Want to help?”

  “Maybe.” He wrapped his arms around her waist. Nuzzling her neck with his cold nose, he whispered, “I woke up this morning and realized I missed you. By the way—” he dropped a kiss on her forehead “—I bought tickets for a Christmas concert, if you’re interested.”

  “I’d love it.” Happy chills raced down Julie’s back and she sighed as he kissed her jaw, moving toward her lips. They were deeply involved in a kiss when Julie heard her father behind her.

  “Yup,” he said gleefully. “I’d say my Julie likes Mr. Roy Fletcher.”

  “I’d say she does, too,” Mercy shouted, and exchanged a high five with Goodness. “Just look at the two of them.”

  Frowning, Shirley stood back, arms crossed. “It was too easy.”

  “What do you mean?” Mercy demanded. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve been working hard to bring these two humans together. And I think I did a very good job.”

  Shirley shook her head. “There’s trouble in the making, I can feel it. I’m telling you something’s going to happen that none of us will like.”

  “Well, don’t go looking for it,” Goodness warned.

  “I’m not,” the oldest of the trio insisted, “but I can sense it coming.”

  “Don’t say that,” Mercy cried, covering both ears. “Roy and Julie are perfect together. They’re falling in love, exactly like we planned.”

  “I wish I could agree,” Shirley said. “But experience tells me it was too easy. Mark my words, they’re about to hit a major snag.”

  “You’re just upset about that salmon,” Mercy pouted.

  Goodness wasn’t thrilled about the fish free-for-all in Pike Place Market, but any chastisement would only encourage Mercy to misbehave. After Julie and Anne had left, Mercy had gone amok. Fish had been flying in all directions. Staff and customers were shouting and shrieking; chaos was rampant. It’d taken both Shirley and Goodness to get her out of the fish market.

  “What could go wrong?” Goodness asked.

  “Yes, just look at them,” Mercy said. Roy and Julie had started to place the ornaments on the tree. Between each carefully hung bauble, they’d pause and exchange kisses and munch popcorn. “He’s even telling her about Christmases he had as a boy. We all know he doesn’t often talk about his parents.”

  “Speaking of parents,” Goodness said, glancing around. “Where’s Dean?”

  “He made an excuse to leave and give them privacy.”

  “That’s very considerate.”

  Shirley continued to frown. “I wish I had a better feeling about all of this.”

  So did Goodness, but she’d come to respect her friend’s premonitions. She could only wonder what would happen next.

  Eighteen

  It was beginning to look and feel like Christmas, Anne thought as she walked out to her rural mailbox. The neighbors, whose house could barely be seen in the distance, had strung a multicolored strand of outside lights along their
roofline. A six-foot-tall Frosty the Snowman stood forlornly in their front yard. Snow was a rare commodity in the Pacific Northwest, and a fake snowman was all there was likely to be.

  As Anne strolled back up the meandering driveway that led to her cottage, she browsed through the assortment of holiday cards, bills and sale flyers. She’d been so busy with her artwork and traveling into Seattle that the mail had sat forgotten in her box for three days. Pouring herself a cup of tea, she settled at the small round table in her cozy kitchen and opened the top envelope.

  It was clearly a Christmas card, an expensive one, judging by the large vellum envelope. Anne opened it and slid out the card. The scene was of snow and geese and a decorated Christmas tree in the middle of a pristine meadow. Curious now, she looked inside and gasped as she read the embossed name. A sharp pain slashed through her and she held her breath, closing her eyes at such blatant cruelty.

  Burton and Aimee Fletcher

  This Christmas card was obviously Burton’s way of reminding Anne of what he’d done to her. Not that she needed reminders…She didn’t know why her ex-husband hated her so much. Perhaps it was because, thanks to Aimee and the divorce, Burton had lost his son. Was he blaming her for that?

  Refusing to dwell on the reasons for such unkindness, she tossed the card aside and reached for the rest of her mail. Her hands shook as she struggled to regain her composure. How sad that five years after their divorce, her ex-husband was still trying to upset her. Well, Anne wasn’t going to let him. Then it occurred to her that perhaps it hadn’t been Burton at all, but Aimee. If so, Anne couldn’t begin to figure out why the other woman would want to hurt her.

  Although she tried not to let the Christmas card bother her, Anne couldn’t stop thinking about it. The fact that she hadn’t recognized the return address told her Burton and Aimee had moved from the oceanfront home Anne had loved so much. She could just imagine the new house. No expense would have been spared; Burton was all too willing to spend his money on Aimee. It thrilled him to have a beautiful young woman on his arm. A woman dressed in designer clothes, wearing lavish jewelry that spoke of her husband’s success. He’d done exceptionally well over the years. Twice now, she’d heard his name in conjunction with famous Hollywood stars and their very public divorces.