Willow Creek Christmas
Page 1
A Willow Creek Christmas
(A Willow Creek Novel)
by
Lily Graison
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A Willow Creek Christmas
by Lily Graison
Copyright © November 2013
Published by Lily Graison at Smashwords
Cover art by Lily Graison
Copy editing by Rahab Mugwanja
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Book Description
Running from a life she no longer wanted…
Widowed with two young children, Keri Hilam is desperate to escape her abusive brother in law, going so far as sneaking away in the dead of night in hopes of finding a better life. She never regrets leaving, not even when they find themselves stranded, starving, and alone. Fate brings them to Willow Creek, Montana, where they're rescued by an unlikely hero, an ex-confederate soldier who seems more monster than man.
Hiding from a past he can't seem to forget…
The war leaves Noah Lloyd scarred and bitter. When the girl he left behind broke his heart, he turned his back on the life he used to know, and sought refuge in a dusty little town that afforded him the solitude he wanted. Finding a woman and her kids hunkered down in an abandoned line shack in the middle of a blizzard is the last thing he needs. They're ragged, half starved and vulnerable, but he's determined to leave the trio in the care of the town marshal.
Can a future together erase all the pain…
But the innocence of a child at Christmas breaks through Noah's hard exterior and Keri's tender care allows him to see that life may be worth living. All he has to do is let go of his past and let this unlikely family love him.
Chapter One
"Hell's fire, woman. Watch where you're going!" Noah yanked on the horses reins, barely getting the wagon stopped. The idiotic woman who stepped into the road in front of him turned her large blue eyes, wide with alarm, his way, her mouth open as she gasped in fright. She stared at him for long moments then blinked, clutching the shawl around her shoulders tighter before running across the street and disappearing between two buildings.
He watched her go, shook his head in disgust, then got the horse moving again, steering him toward the Willow Creek mercantile. Pulling to a stop alongside the wooden sidewalk, he glanced inside the store. Then grimaced. Packed with customers as usual.
Securing the brake, he hopped to the ground, rounded the wagon and hurried inside the store. He glanced toward the group of school age kids when one said, "Look Alex, Willow Creek's resident monster is out before dark." The sound of their giggles were loud inside the building, and he noticed Holden Avery's daughter, Alexandra, shove an elbow into a boy’s stomach. Noah threw them a glare, holding the boy’s gaze until the youth paled and made a beeline for the back of the store.
The word monster played on repeat inside Noah's head as he tried to ignore those openly staring at him. They'd heard the kid too, and by the looks on their faces, agreed with the snot-nosed little brat.
As always, he kept his head down, walked to the counter, then waited for Morgan Avery, town marshal in Willow Creek, to conclude his business.
The whispers in the room grew, each uttered breath echoing in Noah's head. They were staring at him, he could feel their gazes like hot pokers in his back. He remembered now why he loathed coming to town.
Morgan turned to leave, spotted him, and stopped. Noah sighed. He'd hoped the man would keep on walking but like the rest of that Avery bunch, they made a habit of thinking he wanted to talk with them.
"Noah. It's good to see you." Morgan pushed the front of his hat up. "How you been faring so far from town by yourself?"
"Fine." Morgan looked as if he were waiting for him to say more but as far as Noah was concerned, he'd answered the marshal's question.
"Do you need any help getting your place ready for winter?"
"Nope."
Morgan smiled. "Anybody ever accuse you of talking too much?"
"No."
"Didn't think so." The marshal shook his head, still grinning, then said his goodbyes, much to Noah's relief.
The dour faced Mrs. Jenkins muttered something under her breath as he approached the counter, then greeted him with a nod of her head as she stared at him over the rim of her glasses. In the two years he'd lived in Willow Creek, he didn't think the woman had ever spoken a word to him other than to tell him how much money he owed her. Which was fine by him. The less people he had to speak to, the better. He didn't settle here to make friends, anyway.
Noah held out the note he'd scribbled his list on to Mrs. Jenkins. She snatched it from his gloved hand as if he were about to reach out and grab her at any moment, to taint her in some foul way by being this close to him. He held back a sneer of disgust at her actions and looked away as she turned from the counter and proceeded to collect the things he'd requested.
The mercantile was full today. He hadn't been to town in nearly two months and the one day he decided to make the trip, he encountered more people than he'd seen in the past year.
He turned, browsing the tables near the counter, looking at nothing in particular when feminine laughter caught his attention. Against his better judgment, he glanced up.
Holden Avery and a woman he'd never seen before were looking his way. To his surprise, Holden lifted his hand and motioned him over. "Damn," he whispered under his breath before sighing. He should have known Holden Avery was nearby. He'd already seen the man's daughter.
He wasn't sure what it was about those Averys. They'd lent him a hand more than once since he moved to town, all without him asking a thing from them. He'd refused their help countless times, but they always insisted, doing whatever it took to make his life just a little bit easier. As much as it irked him, he figured the least they deserved was civility when they spoke to him, even if it galled him to do so.
He crossed the room and stopped a few feet away.
"Noah, I'd like to introduce you to Ms. Grace Kingston. Grace, this is Noah Lloyd." Holden glanced at the woman again and so did Noah. She was pretty with a head full of golden hair nestled under a hat with feather plumes and what looked like a bird's nest on one side. His gaze skated down her figure and back up. He'd seen dresses like the one she was wearing before. A lifetime ago, it seemed, back home in Charleston. He didn't know where she hailed from but she was too fancy for a dusty little town like Willow Creek. This lady was wealthy, her posture alone told him that, and he was sure she was just as snooty and highfalutin as those prissy debutantes he once knew.
She smiled at him and nodded her head ever so slightly. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Lloyd."
Noah didn't reply. He stared at her for a few moments before turning his attention back to Holden. The man smiled and shook his head.
"Ms. Kingston is looking for a husband. Seems she ran into a bit of trouble with the one she came out here for."
Noah raised an eyebrow at Holden's quiet statement. Why was he telling him about her problems? His gaze darted in her direction again. She was still smiling at him. An uneasy feeling settled in his gut before he felt a shock go through his system. Surely Holden Avery didn't think he―the town's most unlikable person―would be interested in taking in this fancy lady. To marry her?
He met the man’s eyes, saw the expectant gleam shining back at him, and knew he did. He'd introduced him to Ms. Kingston in hopes of securing a husband for her.
Something dark and ugly reared its head as he stared at the two of them. Fire licked through his veins. His pulse quickened and he narrowed his eyes. "I don't want a wife," he said, his voice rough and scratchy to his own ears. "If you'll excuse me."
He nodded to Ms. Kingston, and turned, making his way back to the counter.
He glanced at them out of the corner of his eye. They were talking quietly, laughing at something―probably him―and loathing filled him until his skin felt hot, the side of his face burning, the scar he'd lived with for so long seeming to come to life to remind him no one would look upon him and not be revolted. Especially a lady like Ms. Kingston.
A small voice in the back of his head whispered that she hadn't looked as if she'd been revolted. Maybe she would be okay with the way he looked.
Noah scoffed. She must be damn near desperate then. Either that or more polite than most women by pretending not to notice.
Mrs. Jenkins returned, the boxes of dry goods packed to the top, along with the special order he'd placed months ago. Noah paid her and heaved the first box from the counter and headed for the door without a word. It took three trips to get everything outside, but he breathed a sigh of relief when lifting the last box. It was heavy, the items Mrs. Jenkins put on top making it hard to see over. Knowing her dislike of him, she'd probably done it on purpose.
A squeal from a child distracted his thoughts. He turned his head in time to see one running his way, her blond locks obscuring her face. She ran into him, hitting him in just the right place on the back of his knee causing his leg to give out, the box tipping over and spilling its contents over the wooden sidewalk.
The girl bounced off his leg and ended up on her backside by his feet.
"Watch where you're going," he shouted.
The girl sat up, lifting one arm to fling her hair out of her face. She was young, no more than five or six, he noticed, and was a tiny little thing. Her clothes were threadbare and her face reminded him of a painting he saw once of a plump cheeked cherub. Of course, the cherub in the painting didn't have dirt smeared across its face, nor was its nose running, leaving a snotty trail clean to its lip.
Noah stared down at her, watching her bright-blue eyes widen in alarm before tears started to gather. His own eyes widened then. Hell's fire, she was going to cry. He could tell by the way her face turned pink then red, her eyes filling with more tears as her lip protruded into a pout. The moment she opened her mouth, he braced himself.
She let out a wail loud enough to wake the dead and Noah cringed as he stared at her. He debated on helping her to her feet, or jumping into his wagon and leaving his purchased goods—and her—there on the sidewalk.
He looked down the street, noticed a few people turn to look his way, but saw no one this little urchin could belong to.
She cried hard while fat tears rolled down her cheeks, her wails drawing more attention by the second. Noah hunched his shoulders and reached for her, grabbing the front of her shabby dress and bunching the material in his fist before lifting her to her feet. He heard someone yell, "Sophie," and looked up.
A boy ran onto the sidewalk from between the mercantile and the telegraph office. He was older than the girl by a few years but his clothes were just as shabby. His face was cleaner but not by much. He turned his head and spotted the girl, relief evident on his face.
He ran to where they stood and Noah loosened his grip on the front of her dress. He watched them both, staring at the boy as he wrapped a bony arm around the girl’s shoulders and held her awkwardly to his side. "Sorry, Mister." The boy looked up, his gaunt face ashen. "She got away from me when I wasn't lookin'."
Noah didn't reply, just watched them until a feminine voice caught his attention. The woman who stepped in front of his wagon, and nearly got herself trampled in the process, approached at a fast clip. Their mother, he assumed. He gave her a look from head to toe as she approached them. She wasn't much to look at. Her clothes were tattered, her thin shawl ragged in places, a large hole in the material glared at him from her left shoulder. She turned bright-blue eyes his way and for the first time since leaving Charleston twelve years ago, Noah saw pain in someone else's eyes that nearly matched his own.
She gave him a slight smile, a nervous gesture he was sure, before she leaned down, tucking the children under her arms. "I'm sorry. They didn't mean any harm."
Noah stared at her, his gaze now fixed on her hair. It fell just below her jaw and hung in limp, dirty strands. He wasn't even sure of the color, nor had he ever seen a woman wear her hair so short. He instantly wondered why she did.
He looked back to her face. Her nose had the slightest upturn on the end, her eyes large and luminous, their color the purest cornflower-blue he'd ever seen. Pretty, if he cared to think about it, which he didn't. A quick glance down her body showed her to be waif thin, her clothes hanging off of her small frame. Just like the rags those kids were wearing, the woman's dress was stained and the stench of unwashed skin polluted the air around them and nearly took his breath.
She turned without another word, ushering the children away, and he watched them slip back between the buildings. Noah waited nearly five minutes―for what he had no idea―before shaking his head and picking everything up from the sidewalk and tossing it back into the box. Securing his goods, he climbed in the wagon and grabbed the reins.
The ride home was bumpy, the wagon jostling over the rutted road. The sky was darkening. It would snow soon. A storm was brewing, he could feel it in his bones.
Reaching his small cabin, he unloaded his provisions, tucked them away in the larder and unhitched his horse from the wagon. He tended the animals, ate a bowl of stew that had been simmering all day, and picked up his leather bound journal from the top of the desk. He unwrapped the special pencils he'd sent away for, found the small container holding the graphite lead to fill his pen and crossed the room to sit in the old rocker he'd found in the barn when he bought the place.
Opening the journal, he flipped through the pages until he found a space near the back and spent the next hour drawing the likeness of Ms. Grace Kingston, the lady Holden Avery had introduced him to in the mercantile. When he was satisfied with the drawing, he wrote her name under her likeness and dated it, blew across the page to remove any graphite dust and thumbed back through all the pages.
Everyone he'd ever encountered in Willow Creek could be found in the pages of his journal, along with the faces of people he'd known a lifetime ago, all of them staring back at him through small scenes of a life he barely remembered living.
Closing the book, he stared into the fire. The occasional crack and pop of the wood the only sounds to be heard other than the wind whistling against the outside walls.
Sighing, Noah folded his arms across his chest, leaned back and set the chair to rocking before glancing up at the clock. He had four full hours before dark. Four hours before he could escape into an oblivion of dreamless sleep.
* * * *
Keri tried to soothe Sophie Ann, shushing her as they sat in the grove behind the mercantile. The small bench nestled under crooked, bare tree limbs was dry for once. She wiped Sophie's face and said, "Hush now. Stop your crying, love."
Sophie Ann sniffled, hiccupped once, and wailed again. "I got scared," she cried.
"I told you I'd be right back, now didn't I?"
She nodded. "Aaron said it would be dark soon and I don't want to be here at dark."
"I know, honey," Keri said, smoothing back Sophie's hair. "But it can't be helped. Not this time."
Keri gathered her little girl back into her arms, coddling her despite promising not to do so. She couldn't help it. Not after what they'd had to endure over the last six months. Watching them slowly grow thinner and listening to their grumbling bellies night after night was taking its toll. She wasn't sure how much longer they'd survive on their own—or survive, period—so if coddling them offered some small measure of comfort, she'd do it without a single regret.
Aaron slid in next to them on the bench and Keri blinked away her own tears as she looke
d at him. She reached out, pushed his hair out of his eyes, then wrapped her arm around his shoulders, drawing him in close to her side. He'd grown up so much in the last few months. The little boy she knew was gone, replaced with a child much wiser than his years. She mourned his lost youth.
Looking up at the sky, the darkening horizon drew a long sigh from her lungs. Regardless of Sophie Ann's outburst, she couldn't sit here holding her until nightfall. She sat Sophie back down on the bench. A simple glance at Aaron, telling him silently to watch his little sister, was all it took for him to nod in acceptance.
"I'll be back," she said, smiling as she reached out to wipe Sophie's face again. "Please stay here. I don't want you wandering around town without me, okay?"
The children nodded their heads at her and Keri turned, heading back toward the buildings. She navigated town with practiced ease, avoided looking at anyone and hoped she blended in. She crossed the street near the stagecoach station, remembering to look and see if anyone was coming down the road this time. Making her way around the building, she and waited for nearly half an hour before the back door opened.
A portly woman with graying hair sat the bucket Keri had been waiting on by the back stoop before giving a shrill whistle and yelling, "Come and get it, dog, before it gets cold." The woman waited a few moments then turned, walked back inside, and closed the door behind her.
Keri waited another five minutes before sneaking over to the back of the building to look inside the bucket. She grimaced at the offering.
Day old stew, clumpy potatoes, and bits of bread swam in congealing grease. Keri's stomach turned, her heart breaking an instant later as tears filled her eyes. As miserable as life had been to them in the last little while, she knew this was the low point. Stealing scraps and slop from discarded buckets of waste meant for a dog to keep them fed.