The Christmas Wedding Quilt: Let It SnowYou Better Watch OutNine Ladies Dancing

by Emilie Richards

  No matter what, Brett hadn’t failed her yet, and if he needed her right now, she wouldn’t let him down, either.

  She touched her cheek to his shoulder, a silent acknowledgment, and felt the breath of relief he let out.

  “So what’s the scoop?” he asked his dad.

  * * *

  THEY ENDED UP staying at the hospital for several hours, until Brett’s father was released. The emergency room physician believed he had had an attack of angina. The EKG showed no indication of a cardiac “event.” Brett’s dad left with an appointment to have a stress test the next day, followed by a visit with a cardiologist. Appearing drained, Brett’s mother went to the pharmacy to pick up a prescription of nitroglycerin.

  Brett remained at his father’s side as they all walked out. Ella lagged behind, but was still close enough to hear the beginning of what they said.

  “I need to say I’m sorry.” Brett’s voice was thick. “When you called—”

  “You thinking you somehow precipitated this?” Don Hollister shook his head. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m here tonight because I’ve been neglecting my health, not because my son got tough with me.”

  Ella walked a little more slowly to give them privacy.

  A minute later, Brett parted from his family with hugs. Ella and Brett were walking across the parking lot when he said, “I’m starved. How about if I order a pizza?”

  Lunch had been an awfully long time ago. “As long as my half is veggie,” she agreed. “Tell them to pile it on. I especially like green peppers. Oh, and pineapple.”

  He laughed, although she could tell he was still shaken. “My place or yours?”

  Ella had to think. She heard again that almost soundless whisper: Yeah, you are. The subject was bound to come up. If anything came of it...she’d rather be home. “Mine,” she decided.

  He didn’t argue, making the call. During the drive they talked only a little.

  “That scared the crap out of me,” Brett admitted.

  “I don’t blame you.”

  He took her hand. The clasp felt both comforting and the very opposite. “I shouldn’t have put you through that. I didn’t think about how many bad memories the hospital would resurrect for you. I’m sorry, Ella.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “Don’t be. I...was really glad to be there if it helped you. And it was nothing like Mom. She was home at the end, with hospice care. So...” She shrugged awkwardly. “Well, I guess I don’t like hospitals, because we did spend quite a bit of time in one, but that’s not where she died.”

  “Okay.” Briefly braking at a stop sign, he leaned over to kiss her cheek, giving her what felt like a nuzzle. His breath was warm on her face. Then he sat up straight to shift.

  She’d learned something about him. She now understood that her story had tapped into his own powerful need for family connections. The possibility of loss he’d been hit with tonight would likely reinforce his desire to help her.

  The fact that he was a loving son and brother filled her with apprehension, though. He would notice eventually how different they were. He’d missed his mother’s birthday party; he hadn’t missed her death. Take tonight—he’d raced to his father’s side, no hesitation. Eventually, he was bound to notice what a loner she was, and wonder if there wasn’t some lack in her that made her incapable of keeping a commitment to people.

  Thanks to his planning, the pizza arrived only a few minutes after they did. Brett was obviously still wired, because while they ate he kept talking about how he hoped his father would start exercising regularly.

  “He works too hard. He took more time off when us kids were home. I played sports and Dad almost never missed a game. I think he’s become a workaholic since then. Mom looked shell-shocked tonight, didn’t she? She never expected anything like this.”

  Ella let him go on until he started to wind down. “You know, your dad may just have a blockage that can be cleared up with a simple angioplasty. In which case, he’ll be fine.”

  He offered her a crooked smile that betrayed his vulnerability. “My head knows that. But for a little while there, I was a panicked kid. The thought of losing him so soon hollowed me out. Man. I’ve lived to make him proud of me, but the last time he called, we argued.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?” she asked tentatively.

  “It’s all mixed up in the job. I don’t want to let him down.”

  “Do you mean by losing?”

  “It’s not that. Or, not exactly.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I’ve kind of lost my focus lately.”

  “You don’t want to practice law anymore.”

  His head shot up. “Of course I do!”

  “But not as a criminal defense attorney,” she said slowly.

  Brett stared at her, but didn’t say anything.

  “Do you really think he expects you to make all the same choices he did?” she asked.

  He seemed to be looking inward. “No,” he said hoarsely, after a minute. This smile was even more wry, pained. “I really needed you tonight, Ella.”

  “I’m glad I was there,” she heard herself say huskily.

  His eyes searched hers. “This wasn’t only you feeling like you owe me?”

  She shook her head.

  “Ella.” It came out hoarse. He pushed back his chair and rose to his feet, circling the table to come to her.

  She wanted to kiss him. She did. But she was scared, too, and not in such a different way from what he’d felt at confronting the possibility of loss. She was so bad at relationships, so incapable of trusting. She’d never gotten to the point with a guy where she cared fiercely enough to dream about possibilities and mourn in advance for what she might lose. This time she had.

  Even so, she couldn’t stop herself from standing, too, trembling a little as she saw the heat and tenderness on his face. Stepping close to him felt...right.

  “Brett,” she whispered, and rose on tiptoe to meet his mouth.

  * * *

  KISSING ELLA FELT better than anything he’d ever experienced. Brett hadn’t a clue whether that was because of the way his emotions had boomeranged today, or whether it was far simpler—because this was Ella, beautiful, smart, sad, argumentative and exhilarating.

  Her body was supple and strong against his, instead of soft and melting. He liked that. His hands stroked the long line of her back, the swell of her hip, the inward curve of her waist. She was gripping his shoulders, learning the contours of his muscles and kneading in pleasure at the same time. Brett groaned and lifted his head just so he could look at her face. A few hours ago, at the hospital, he’d noticed how tired she was and had felt guilty. Now she blinked at him with dazed, dreamy blue eyes. Her lips were a little swollen and damp from his mouth. The tired lines had been erased. She examined his face with the same intensity he felt, as if this mattered.

  An unfamiliar tenderness went along with his lust, and he gathered her close again and plunged into another kiss. Somewhere in the middle of this one, her hands found their way under the hem of his shirt while one of his cupped and gently squeezed her breast.

  “Your bedroom?” he managed to ask, voice ragged.

  “Oh. Um...” Her head turned as if she’d forgotten where she was. Major ego boost. “Yes. Upstairs.”

  They stopped for hungry, mesmerizing kisses several more times before they reached her bedroom, which he saw vaguely was colorful and filled with textures. He had to grab half a dozen throw pillows and toss them aside before he laid Ella on the bed and planted a knee between her thighs.

  She kept trying to speed him up, but he slowed her down, though it took a measure of self-restraint he didn’t know he had. “Easy,” he whispered once, and later, “Gently.” Way past coherent thought, he couldn’t consciously grasp why it was so important for him t
o make their lovemaking extraordinary. Maybe her slight clumsiness, suggesting a lack of experience. Or maybe it was because, more than ever in his life, this was as much for her as it was for him.

  Everything about her was beautiful. The way she explored him with eagerness and something like wonder really got to him, too. It was as if she’d never studied a man’s body before. And she had this way of touching him that made him imagine her molding and shaping clay. She unknotted muscles and knotted other ones. He heard himself making involuntary sounds of sheer pleasure. Someday, they’d have to spend hours doing just this—exploring.

  But not right now. He was too close to desperation.

  He got a condom on and finally pushed inside her, one arm hooking her leg to pull it high on his hip. She tried to come off the bed to meet him. He pulled out almost languidly, then drove in hard, feeling a jolt of pleasure that threatened his control. She threw an arm around his neck and tugged his head down so their mouths met.

  Brett was seriously doubting he could hold on when she flung back her head and let out a keening cry as she spasmed around him, pulling him over the edge with her. Rapture turned him inside out, left him hanging over her on arms that shook. Ella tried to pull him down onto her, but he managed to half roll so that his shoulder took most of his weight when he collapsed.

  He gathered her in, refusing to even imagine a moment when he’d have to let her go.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ON MONDAY, BRETT had to go to work. Ella went alone in her rental car to check out a quilt top advertised on Craig’s List. A Christmas quilt—“I piece, you quilt,” according to the seller. The address was near Green Lake, not that far to the northeast from where she and Brett had lost sight of her car. But the older woman who came to the door didn’t fit Ella’s image of a car thief, or even his girlfriend or mother. Although everyone had a mother, right?

  And the moment the woman unrolled the fabric, what little remaining hope Ella had managed to hold on to deflated. It was a folk-style quilt, but not all that skillfully made. She chatted with the woman, one quilter to another, said it wasn’t quite what she was looking for, and escaped.

  Ella drove home, considered working and went to her computer instead. With dread she found an email from Rachel.

  From: Rachel@mailoze.com.au

  I was so excited to get the photo of the quilt-to-date that you emailed, Ella. Now you’ve really got me thinking. What a challenge to measure up to the borders you and Jo have done. Let me know when to expect the quilt—I can hardly wait to start working on it. Although I do wish I’d kept my skills up more. You two will help me fix any mistakes, won’t you?

  Oh, no, Ella thought, rereading that last sentence.

  Nobody could fix the mistake she had made. Soon, even Brett would have to give up. Ella once again revised the dreaded email to her cousins she was carrying in her head.

  A few more days, she begged herself.

  There were two emails from gallery owners about sales and asking for her to restock, which should have cheered her up. They also should have sent her out to her studio. She hadn’t accomplished a single thing in a week. Usually she found refuge in work when she was upset or unhappy, but not this time.

  Instead, she clung to the knowledge that she would see Brett soon, counting the hours and minutes. That worried her almost as much as the looming necessity of sending that email. Any day he would gently say he’d done everything he could. How long after that would this relationship they’d started last?

  Making love with him had been more than she’d ever imagined, but that was only from her perspective. She’d never especially enjoyed sex before; she figured lovemaking required letting go in a way she couldn’t do.

  Hadn’t been able to do. Until Brett. Somehow he had sneaked under her guard and leveled it completely.

  Unlike her, he no doubt had a vast wealth of comparisons to draw on. Ella was sure she wasn’t much like his usual lovers. They probably went to work in sexy, designer suits and killer heels instead of saggy denim overalls and canvas sneakers. They’d know how to talk to the partners in his law firm, or help him entertain.

  She made a face. They would probably cheerlead him into keeping his “professional focus,” too, not poke and pry and suggest that maybe there were more important things in life than following in his daddy’s footsteps.

  No, this thing she and Brett had going was probably just proximity on his part. He couldn’t possibly be serious about her.

  Her voice of reason was plunging her into a deep depression. It didn’t help that part of her also wondered, What if I’m wrong? What if he is serious? Because it was an easy answer. She didn’t know how to have a real relationship. She’d fail him, some way, somehow. The certainty was bone-deep.

  The burning in her eyes embarrassed her and made her mad all at once. Since the day her mother died, the quilt project had been the first time anyone in her family had asked anything of her, and, what a surprise, she was letting them down. Crash. Why would she do any better with Brett, no matter how she felt about him? She’d loved her mother, after all. There had to be something else she lacked. Strength of character, perhaps?

  Maybe she should tell him it was time to give up. What if he was too nice to say it, and he’d been counting on her to come to that conclusion on her own? Yet another failure....

  * * *

  STILL FASTENING HER seat belt, Ella glanced at Brett as he started the engine. “This must be the last thing in the world you want to do this evening.”

  Her attitude was starting to piss him off.

  “Nothing I’d rather be doing,” he said shortly, although that wasn’t quite true. If only they could find the blasted quilt, they could stay in—eat, talk, make love.

  He had a suspicion it was the making love part that was the problem. Ever since that night, she had been trying to pull away. Either she hadn’t felt anything like the sensations and emotions he had—or else what she did feel had scared her.

  Or maybe she still doubted him. No, he knew she doubted him. She didn’t come right out and say, “You’re ready to quit, aren’t you?” but she was definitely tiptoeing around it—like with the remark she’d just made. He knew what she was thinking, all right.

  And maybe a reasonable man would have given up by now. If so, Brett wasn’t reasonable. She still hadn’t entirely opened up to him. He knew damn well he only partly understood why the quilt mattered so much to her, but that wasn’t the point. He had a chance to prove to Ella that she could depend on another person. Him. If that meant spending his evenings and weekends all summer long driving city streets hoping to spot her Subaru, then that’s what he’d do.

  The upside was, he got to spend those evenings and weekends with her.

  Modern man so rarely got a chance to prove himself like this, Brett thought. The days of demonstrating that he’d die for a woman were mostly gone. He wasn’t exactly sure what Ella did need from him, but he had to believe that simply being there for her was a good start.

  He frowned, mulling it over. That wasn’t quite right. Trusting him might be an issue, but trusting herself was a bigger one. He remembered her saying early on that she’d known she’d mess things up. Her belief that she’d failed her mother had crippled her faith in herself.

  His crusade had been all about rescuing the quilt so she could fulfill the promise she’d made. Now he realized it was about more than that—it was about convincing her that he believed she was worth everything he had to give.

  Wow, he thought. Wanting her was one thing, but—everything he had to give? Was he really ready for that?

  Shaken, he reached out and took her hand. The expression on her face when she glanced at him was confused and hopeful.

  “My poor car is probably in a chop shop by now,” she said mournfully. “That’s what they call them, isn’t it?”


  “Yes, but I seriously doubt that’s what happened to it. Your Subaru isn’t old enough or new enough for the parts to be worth much. In fact...” He hesitated.

  “It’s just plain not worth much,” she finished. Her shoulders sagged. “I know. I even looked up the Blue Book price. So why was it stolen at all?”

  “With electronic ignitions, a lot of the newer cars can’t be hot-wired the same way. One that old was probably easy. If all the guy wanted was transportation, your car was perfect.”

  “And I left the windows rolled down.”

  He shrugged. “You ever seen an expert get into a locked car? With the right tool, it takes only seconds, even with the windows rolled up.”

  “I’ll bet you didn’t leave your windows cracked,” she said gloomily.

  “No, but, uh, given the price tag of this baby, I don’t take any chances.”

  Her harrumph made him laugh, and after a minute she laughed at herself, too.

  They wandered south through Magnolia, then north again, making an occasional zigzag.

  “What if he doesn’t live around here at all?” Ella said suddenly. “We made a big assumption.”

  “Yeah, we did.” That worry had been in the back of his mind all along. How could it not be? “Call me stubborn,” he said, “but I still think this is home territory for him. Magnolia is a dead end. Too easy to get trapped here.”

  She nodded, looking less convinced than he felt, but he couldn’t blame her.

  “I owe you a ton for gas. Please let me pay for the next fill-up.”

  Brett hardly heard her. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a red car pulling up to a stop sign on a cross street.

  “Hot damn,” he murmured. “Is that it, Ella?”

  “What? Where?” She craned her neck. “Yes! Wait, that’s not my license plate, but... Can you get behind it?”

  He swung an illegal U-turn, brushing so close to the fender of a parked car she had to close her eyes, then he pulled right up behind the aging Subaru station wagon.