The Christmas Cookie Collection
Page 28
“Finally,” she gasped. “We got our timing right.”
He delivered his own baby.
Jesse couldn’t wrap his mind around that reality even as he held his wriggling daughter in his arms. He’d swaddled her in the leather jacket Flynn had meant as his Christmas gift.
She’d been born ten minutes after midnight on Christmas Day. An ambulance was on the way from Twilight, but for the moment, it was just the three of them. Well, four. The Aussie sat dutifully beside the car.
He was in the backseat with Flynn, everything suddenly quiet after the noise of the last few minutes, sweet silent night. Jesse glanced from his daughter to his wife and his heart grew too large for his chest, pressing against his lungs so full and tight that he could scarcely breathe. This was the most incredible, miraculous thing he’d ever gone through and they’d done it together. It made all the sorrow and turmoil he’d suffered in his life worth it. They made everything worth it.
Joy burned his eyes. “Flynn, you did so good. I’m so proud of you. I . . .” His throat tightened.
There weren’t enough words in the world to tell her how much he loved her, how important she was to him. Each day he woke up next to her was a gift from God, and now he had another wonderful girl to love.
“Not so bad yourself, bad boy,” she teased, somehow managing to look radiantly beautiful in spite of her exhaustion.
“A daughter.” He shook his head in awed disbelief. “We have a daughter.”
“And no name to give her.”
“I have a name,” Jesse said. “A name that represents every good thing you and the baby have brought into my life.”
“So are you going to tell me what you’ve named our daughter?”
“Grace,” he said. “I want to name her Grace. Because of your love, Flynn, I feel like grace has pardoned me from an empty life.”
“Oh, Jesse.” Tears filled her eyes.
He tucked their sleeping daughter in the crook of his arm, took Flynn’s hand, and squeezed it tight. He was a lucky, lucky man. Her love had awakened him, made him whole.
“Grace,” she whispered, and looked at their baby. “I couldn’t think of a more perfect name.”
“Fatherhood changes a man,” he said. “I was so scared that I wasn’t going to be a good father. I mean, I wanted to be and I hoped to be, but I didn’t have a role model for what a good father was. I was scared that I couldn’t live up to the challenge, certain I didn’t deserve such an honorable role. But now . . .” His voice cracked.
She smiled. “Why, Jesse Calloway, here you are going all poetic on me?”
“You are the most amazing woman.”
“No more amazing than you.” She reached over to stroke his cheek with her soft palm.
For the first time ever, he understood what the phrase “my cup runneth over” meant. He had so much joy and love inside him that it simply could not be contained. Love flowed from him, bright and true and strong, and he truly wished happiness for every single man, woman, and child on the face of the earth.
Flynn frowned.
Alarmed, he tensed. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“Is that a dog I see?” She leaned across him to rub the frost from the window. “It is! You got me a dog for Christmas. You know how much I love Aussie shepherds. Grace is going to have such fun growing up with a dog in the house. Jesse, you are the best husband ever.”
“I wish I could take credit,” he said. “But the dog just showed up at the house.”
“Then Santa brought him. How amazing.”
“More than amazing. If it hadn’t been for the dog, I wouldn’t have found you when I did. His barking led me to you through the fog.”
“What shall we name him?”
“You let me name our daughter.” Jesse waved his hand. “Be my guest.”
“Rudy.” She nodded. “Short for Rudolph, since he guided you to me through the stormy night.”
“I’m on board with that.”
She kissed him then, softly, gently, perfectly, and if the sound of an ambulance siren hadn’t cut things short, Jesse could have gone on kissing her all night.
Maven Styles might not have approved, but Flynn couldn’t think of a better way to celebrate Christmas. Their daughter’s birth might not have been conventional, but now they’d always have an exciting story to tell. The doctor had examined them both and pronounced both mother and child healthy and sound, and recommended spending the day at the hospital only as a precaution.
She sat propped up in her hospital bed, their daughter sleeping in her arms, her family and friends crowded around, gifts piled so high that the nurses glared whenever someone brought in another one. Good thing Jesse insisted she have a private room. Her well-wishers would have crowded out a roommate.
Patsy and Hondo had just Skyped them from Maui and all the members of her mother’s old knitting club were there—Marva Bullock, Belinda Murphey, Terri Longoria, Dotty Mae Densmore, and even Raylene, who was also in the hospital, recovering from a mild heart attack. Earl rolled her into the room in a wheelchair with an IV attached. Raylene teased that there was vodka in it. Everyone was glad she was going to be okay. Raylene’s long-lost daughter, Shannon, and her boyfriend Nate came too, and Flynn liked them both already.
Carrie and her ex-husband-turned-fiancé, Mark Leland, were squeezed into a corner of the room, surreptitiously sneaking kisses. Christine Noble and her ready-made family stopped by to bring Grace a birthday cake, and the sweet-natured baker had never looked happier with her handsome Eli.
Noah and Joel showed up to meet their niece before they went off to share Christmas dinner at the homes of their respective girlfriends. Amid the boisterous hubbub, her father came in with his lady companion, local librarian Barbara Duffy. Her father was four years clean and sober and she was so proud of him.
Flynn looked from the tenderness in Jesse’s eyes to all her friends and neighbors, to the sweet little baby snuggled in her arm, and she felt utterly peaceful. She felt a quiet, calm strength that she had never experienced before becoming a mother, and the feeling stirred her to the depths of her soul.
Only one thing was missing from this picture and that was her own mother, but nothing was ever one hundred percent perfect, was it? You had to take the special moments when they appeared, wrap them in the tissue paper of memories, and tuck them close to your heart, because these special moments were what made life worth living.
“Flynnie,” her father said, “I’ve got a special Christmas present for you.” He passed her a small square box covered with gift paper so old it was faded and brittle. “Your mother bought and wrapped this the year she was diagnosed with ALS. She asked me to give it to you the Christmas you had your first child.”
She sucked in a deep breath. “Oh, Dad.”
Murmuring their good-byes, her guests slowly gathered their things and drifted from the room, giving Flynn and her family their privacy. Finally, only her father and Jesse remained.
Jesse took Grace from her arms and stepped to the foot of the bed.
“Go ahead,” her father urged. “Open it.”
She met Jesse’s eyes. He nodded.
Butterflies fluttered in her stomach as she untied the ribbon, peeled back the yellowed Scotch tape, and lifted the lid.
Inside the box was a Christmas ornament. An exact match to the ball that had broken, except this one was imprinted with the words “BABY’S FIRST CHRISTMAS.”
A single tear slid down her cheek.
Underneath the ornament lay an envelope with her name on it. She picked it up. The smell of her mother’s perfume, Wind Song, wafted out and punched her right in the gut.
Gulping, she opened the envelope, took out the card.
To my beautiful daughter Flynn,
If you’re reading this, you’re a mother now, and for the first time, fully
able to understand what a precious gift a child is. I pray you have a wonderful husband who cherishes you as much as your father and I do.
My deepest regret is that I won’t be around for this momentous occasion, but do know that I am with you in spirit. When you hang this ornament on your Christmas tree it will unite your past to your present, and when you pass it along to your son or daughter, it will link us both to the future. Be happy, darling, and know that you are well and truly loved.
—Your adoring mother, Lynn
Unstoppable tears streamed down her face.
Holding Grace cradled against his chest, Jesse rushed to her side. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
She looked at her concerned husband and the tender bundle of joy he held. “Nothing. Everything is absolutely fine.” She smiled through the tears, because they were truly tears of utmost joy. “This is the most perfect Christmas ever.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
LORI WILDE is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of more than seventy works of romantic fiction. She is a two-time RITA® award nominee, a four-time Romantic Times Reviewers’ Choice nominee, and has won numerous other awards. She earned a bachelor’s degree in nursing from Texas Christian University and holds a certificate in nursing forensics. An animal lover, Lori is owned by several pets, and lives in Texas with her husband, Bill.
Visit her website at www.loriwilde.com.
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By Lori Wilde
THE CHRISTMAS COOKIE COLLECTION
ALL OUT OF LOVE
LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT
A COWBOY FOR CHRISTMAS
THE COWBOY AND THE PRINCESS
THE COWBOY TAKES A BRIDE
THE WELCOME HOME GARDEN CLUB
THE FIRST LOVE COOKIE CLUB
THE TRUE LOVE QUILTING CLUB
THE SWEETHEARTS’ KNITTING CLUB
Available from Avon Impulse
ONE TRUE LOVE
THE CHRISTMAS COOKIE CHRONICLES:
CARRIE
RAYLENE
CHRISTINE
GRACE
COPYRIGHT
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
The Christmas Cookie Collection: Grace. Copyright © 2013 by Laurie Vanzura.
The Chrimstmas Cookie Chronicles: Carrie. Copyright © 2011 by Laurie Vanzura.
The Christmas Cookie Chronicles: Raylene. Copyright © 2011 by Laurie Vanzura.
The Christmas Cookie Chronicles: Christine. Copyright © 2011 by Laurie Vanzura.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
EPub Edition JANUARY 2014 ISBN: 9780062304469
Print Edition ISBN: 9780062136305
FIRST EDITION
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