During the afternoon they’d also made a breakfast casserole to put in the oven Christmas morning while they opened gifts. And Jolene had baked her first cinnamon rolls from scratch. Rachel hadn’t told her, but this was her first experience, too. The rolls had turned out well, if Bruce’s lavish praise was anything to go by.
All the while, Poppy, their new dog, had lounged in the warm kitchen, with occasional bursts of activity and escorted trips to the backyard.
“Would you like tea in bed?” her husband asked her.
“I’d love some.”
“And I’d love to bring you some,” he said, grinning. “In fact, I’ll do anything. I’d stand on my head in the middle of the street in a snowstorm if it meant you’d be with me every Christmas morning for the rest of my life.” Leaning forward, he pressed his lips to hers. “Merry Christmas, my beautiful wife.”
“Merry Christmas, my silly husband.”
“I’ll be back in a minute with your tea.” Bruce kissed her again, and then he was gone.
Rachel sat up in bed and rearranged her pillows. She held one hand over her stomach, letting her unborn daughter know how much she was loved. Next Christmas, this little one would be crawling around, eager to tear open packages. Rachel closed her eyes, savoring the vision of all the wonderful things the next year would hold.
Bruce returned with a steaming cup of tea, which he handed her just as Jolene burst into the master bedroom, carrying Poppy.
“Rachel, you’re awake, aren’t you?”
“I’m getting there.”
“Hurry up,” the girl said, holding the puppy close to Rachel. “There are gifts out there just waiting to be opened.”
“Okay, okay,” Rachel said, squinting as Poppy licked her face. “Give me five minutes.”
“That long?” Jolene whined, and then laughed out loud, sounding young and carefree.
“You’re certainly in a good mood,” Bruce teased, hugging his daughter.
“Daddy, it’s Christmas. Everyone’s in a good mood on Christmas Day.”
If only that was true. Memories of her childhood drifted into Rachel’s mind. After her mother’s death, she’d gone to live with an unmarried aunt who’d seen Christmas as a commercial wasteland and refused to partake in anything so frivolous. There’d been no tree, no presents. It was just like every other day, except that Rachel didn’t have to go to school.
She’d listened attentively as her friends told of their wonderful holidays and longed for the time when she’d celebrate Christmas with a family of her own. And here it was, unfolding right before her eyes.
Setting her mug aside, she tossed back the covers and slid out of bed. “Did someone say something about presents?” she asked.
Jolene placed Poppy on the floor, grabbed Rachel’s hand and led her into the living room. “I put the casserole in the oven.”
“Great. Did you preheat it to three hundred and fifty degrees first?”
“Yes, I did.”
“You’re going to be a terrific cook.”
“I already am,” Jolene said. “I made dinner the whole time you were gone and I did a good job, didn’t I, Dad?”
“Yup.” Bruce joined Rachel on the sofa. “Unfortunately, I didn’t have much of an appetite.”
Jolene sighed. “All he could think about was you and the baby.”
“But Rachel’s with us now, and that’s what matters.”
“Hey,” Rachel said, “are we going to sit around all morning discussing the past or are we going to open gifts?”
Her question got the desired results. “Open gifts!” Jolene said with renewed energy.
Rachel went back to the bedroom for her robe and tied it loosely about her waist as she slipped her feet into fuzzy slippers.
Bruce had a nice fire going in the fireplace, and Poppy lay stretched out in front of it, snuffling in her sleep. The radio was tuned to a station that played Christmas music without any commercial interruptions. The casserole was baking in the oven, and the scent of bacon and cheese wafted into the room. This was as idyllic a picture as Rachel could ever have conjured up in some blissful fantasy.
“Who gets to open a gift first?” she asked, settling onto the sofa with her husband.
“I have to sort through them all before we open any,” Jolene said. “I’ll hand everything out and then we open them. One at a time,” she ordered.
“Then get to it, girl,” Bruce said with a laugh, reaching for Rachel’s hand.
Jolene walked over to the lighted tree, which they’d just finished decorating yesterday, and got down on all fours, rooting through the gifts. She pulled one out and sat back, checking the name tag.
“This one’s for Dad,” she said and, stretching forward, passed it to Bruce.
He held the rectangular package close to his ear and shook it. “Who’s it from?”
“Rachel,” Jolene said. “Looks like a shirt to me.”
“Don’t spoil the surprise.”
“Dad, it’s obvious.” Jolene grinned from ear to ear.
She disappeared again, foraging under the tree.
“What are you looking for now?” Bruce asked, setting the box at his feet.
“A special gift,” Jolene said, her voice muffled.
“Who’s it for?”
“Rachel, from me.”
“Oh, I love getting gifts.” Rachel smiled at Bruce. Considering the months of tension between her and Jolene, she was pleased that her stepdaughter was so eager to give her presents. She leaned her head against her husband’s shoulder. This was what she’d always hoped Christmas would be like, surrounded by people she loved and who loved her.
“Here it is,” Jolene announced, scooting out backward from beneath the huge tree.
Rachel took the package from her. It was the size and shape of a shoe box.
“Can Rachel open it now?” Jolene asked her father. “Even though that’s not the rules.”
“That’s up to Rachel.”
Jolene looked at her, eyes dark and serious. “Will you, Rach?”
“If you want me to.”
“I do.” She sat on the floor as she waited for Rachel to unwrap her gift.
“I made it myself,” Jolene said, her eyes bright as she bit her lower lip. “I hope you like it.”
“I’m sure I will.” Rachel carefully slid the ribbon off and peeled back the decorative paper. The box had, indeed, held Jolene’s new gym shoes. Rachel lifted the lid and stared down at a white hand-knit baby blanket, enfolded in pink tissue. Rachel hardly knew what to say. “You…you knit this yourself?” She drew it out, marveling at the complexity of the design.
Jolene nodded. “We learned how to knit in an after-school class. I bought the pattern and the yarn at that craft shop downtown, the one where Mrs. Flemming works. I worked on it every day. I made a lot of mistakes,” she admitted. She hurried to Rachel’s side, kneeling in front of her. “See? Here’s one.”
It was so small Rachel had to squint to see it.
“There are other mistakes, too.”
“Oh, Jolene, it’s perfect.” Rachel struggled to hold back tears. “I’ll bring your sister home from the hospital in it.”
“You will?”
Rachel leaned forward and brought Jolene toward her, kissing her hair. “I’ll always treasure it, because you made it for me and the baby.”
“Don’t tell me you’re both going to get all weepy on me,” Bruce groaned.
>
“I might,” she said, struggling to hold back the tears.
Jolene raised her arms and wrapped Rachel in a big hug.
“I love you, Jolene,” Rachel whispered.
“I love you, too… You’re going to be a great mother.”
Bruce put his arms around them both. “She already is a great mom,” he said.
Jolene nodded and met Rachel’s eyes. “Yes, she is.”
Nineteen
This was Sheriff Troy Davis’s first Christmas with his wife, Faith. It was a second marriage for both. Each of them had been blessed with a long and happy first marriage and each had suffered the loss of their beloved partner. Recently, they’d found a renewed sense of purpose and love with each other.
As it was their first major holiday together, they’d divided the time between his daughter, Megan, and her family and Faith’s son, Scott. Christmas Eve had been spent with Megan, her husband, Craig, and their infant daughter, Cassandra.
Today, Troy and Faith were headed for Scott’s home. Late Christmas morning, Troy loaded up the car with the Christmas gifts and treats Faith had prepared for her son’s family. They’d delivered a carload of presents and homemade sweets to Megan the night before, as well. Faith had been baking for weeks, not that Troy was complaining. He hadn’t enjoyed the holidays this much in a very long while. During the last years of her life, Sandy had been in a nursing home, and Troy hadn’t bothered with decorating their house or putting up a tree. For the first time since Sandy went into the care facility, it actually felt like Christmas to him. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed all the fuss and bother.
“Can we make one stop?” Faith asked as she climbed into the front seat beside him.
“Sure,” he said. “Where?”
“The Beldons’. Peggy and Bob were so kind to bring us that plate of goodies. I’d like to reciprocate.”
“The Beldons probably have more than their fair share of candy and cookies.”
“This is a peach-and-raspberry cobbler. They can eat it now or put it in the freezer. Peggy’s always thinking of others, and I wanted to do something nice for her.”
“Then of course we’ll drop by.”
“It’ll just take a moment,” Faith promised. “In fact, you don’t even need to get out of the car.”
Troy reached for his wife’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. He loved Faith. He’d loved her when they were in high school, and he loved her now. After Sandy died, Troy had never expected to marry again. And then…Faith came back into his life. Their courtship had had its ups and downs, but despite some confused and difficult times, Troy wouldn’t change a thing. Faith was with him now. Nothing else mattered.
The Beldons’ Thyme and Tide Bed-and-Breakfast on Cranberry Point was en route to Scott’s house, so it really wasn’t out of their way. Troy entered the long driveway and noticed three vehicles parked in the area reserved for guests. He remembered that Bob had mentioned that their children would be visiting from Spokane, which accounted for two cars. The other must be a guest.
“I’ll be right back,” Faith assured him as he eased to a stop.
She got out of the car, opened the rear passenger door and took out the cobbler in its lidded plastic container. She’d put a bow on top, giving it a festive look. He hoped she’d tucked one in their freezer for him—and he didn’t need the bow!
Bob Beldon answered the door and Faith went inside. Troy listened to Christmas music and sang along with Burl Ives on the car radio. Two or three minutes later, Faith reappeared and motioned for him.
Troy turned off the engine and started toward the house. Something was definitely wrong. He could see it in Faith’s stance as she stood in the doorway, waiting for him.
When he approached, Faith said, “Oh, Troy, I’m afraid there’s a bit of a…situation here. I think you might be able to help.”
“What kind of situation?”
She moved aside and he walked into the house. The instant he did, he heard a woman shrieking and crying uncontrollably in the background. She seemed to be having some sort of temper tantrum. Troy heard things being thrown against the walls.
“It’s one of our guests,” Bob said, coming toward him. “She arrived with Kent Morehouse, Beth’s ex-husband. We thought they were a couple—but apparently not. Seems she was supposed to meet up with a sailor from the navy base, but something happened. She hasn’t been able to tell us what.”
“So what’s her relationship with Kent?”
“Friends, I guess. She works for him.”
Kent wandered into the foyer with his hands in his pockets. He looked completely baffled. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I tried talking to Danielle, but she’s too upset to make much sense. As far as I can tell, the young man she came to see has decided to dump her.”
“On Christmas Day?” Troy wasn’t impressed with the sailor’s timing.
“She hasn’t stopped crying.…”
“For hours,” Peggy inserted. “And throwing stuff. I don’t know if she’s broken anything but…”
“She refuses to answer the door,” Bob added. “She must have blocked it with a chair or something, because we can’t get in.”
Troy could well imagine what this was doing to the family’s celebration.
“I think all Danielle wants to do now is get back to California. I went on the internet to find a flight, but talking to her is impossible.” Kent shook his head.
Troy moved down the hallway to the guest bedrooms and knocked on the door. It wasn’t hard to tell which room was Danielle’s.
“Sheriff Troy Davis,” he announced authoritatively.
Silence followed, which was a blessing after the racket of the past several minutes. Then they heard the unmistakable sound of furniture being moved.
“What seems to be the problem here?” he asked when Danielle slowly opened the bedroom door.
“I have to get out of here,” Danielle said, dabbing her eyes with a wadded tissue. “I hate this place.”
“I found a flight that can get you to LAX, leaving Sea-Tac in a few hours,” Kent rushed to say. This was obviously the information he’d been wanting to tell her for some time.
“Fine,” she said, slamming her suitcase shut. It was on her bed, although little else was. In fact, the room looked as if it’d been hit by a hurricane. Bedding lay on the floor. So did a potted poinsettia, with dirt scattered everywhere, and a framed picture, its glass now broken. And that wasn’t all....
“I’m really sorry about this,” Kent said, apologizing to the Beldons.
Danielle seemed to think he was talking to her. “Why didn’t Hunter tell me sooner?” she wailed. “It worked out so well that I could come here for Christmas.... He said he’d be tied up, but I said that was fine because my boss invited me to visit his family until Christmas Day and then…then…” She broke into a fresh bout of tears. Angrily, she grabbed the tissue box from the floor and jerked out three. “Then Hunter waited until this morning to tell me.… He didn’t even do it to my face. Instead, he sent me a text message and said he was seeing someone else. He let me come all this way and make a fool of myself.” She dabbed at her eyes again. “Now all I want is to get away from this horrible town....”
“We’ll need to get her to the airport.”
Kent shifted uncomfortably. “I had plans with my family but I feel responsible for her. I’ll drive her to the airport.”
“I want to go home!” Danielle screamed. “I d
on’t care who takes me to the airport. Isn’t there a taxi or something?”
“I have a friend who owns a car service,” Troy offered. “He can drive you to the airport.”
“Fine!” Danielle shouted. “I want to leave now.”
“Please call your friend,” Kent said. “And I’ll pay whatever it costs.”
The small group watched as Danielle finished gathering up the last of her things, stuffing them in her carry-on. Kent seemed relieved not to be taking her to the airport. She swung the suitcase off the bed, and it landed on the floor with a loud thump. Straightening her shoulders, she wheeled her bag out of the room, ignoring everyone.
As soon as she’d left, Kent slumped on the edge of the bed and heaved a sigh. He lowered his head and plowed his fingers through his hair.
“You all right?” Troy asked.
Kent nodded. “I’ve made a big mess of things.”
“It’s not your fault the sailor broke it off.”
“No,” Kent said. “My mistake was taking her out to meet Beth and the girls. I let them assume Danielle and I were romantically involved. It was a stupid thing to do and I regretted it almost immediately.” He looked disgusted with himself. “Danielle went along with it, since she knows I still love my ex-wife and she wanted to do me a favor. But she totally overplayed her role.” He sighed again. “I wanted to tell Beth last night, but before I had a chance Danielle phoned in hysterics because she couldn’t get hold of her boyfriend. After that, the situation went from bad to worse.” He gestured around him. “I’ve botched everything.”
“Don’t be so sure,” Faith said, coming to stand next to Troy.
“Do you think there’s a way to salvage this?” Kent asked hopefully.
“Troy and I were in the pew behind you and Beth at the service last night. I believe if you speak to Beth honestly, you’ll discover she feels the same way.”
Debbie Macomber's Cedar Cove Series, Volume 3 Page 105
