If Every Day Was Christmas: A gorgeous and heart-warming Christmas romance

by Donna Ashcroft

  The building was dim despite the six windows scattered across the sides. It was freezing, but dry. Meg followed Agnes, crunching on the straw bedding which lined the ground. As her eyes adjusted to the semi-darkness, she spotted about a dozen shimmering baubles in the far corner, almost hidden out of sight. There was a wall erected across the back of the barn which blocked most of their view of what was inside. Meg’s throat tightened as Agnes approached it. ‘Stop,’ she warned, feeling her heart thunder. ‘Something might be hiding…’

  ‘I’d say that’s very likely, lassie,’ Agnes said. Then she clapped her hands and gasped in delight. Because standing in the corner on the other side of the wall was a golden brown reindeer.

  Emily moved closer, slowing a little as the creature looked up. ‘It’s him. The reindeer I saw in the field yesterday.’ She gently scrubbed a hand over his head, pausing a couple of times to make sure he wasn’t spooked. ‘I wondered where he disappeared to. This is wonderful.’

  ‘He’s very tame.’ Meg moved closer, ready to spring if the creature turned nasty, feeling fiercely protective of her sister.

  ‘Aye. There’s a herd lives the other side of Morridon who’re good with people and reasonably tame. This wee poppet must have got separated.’ Agnes examined him. ‘He looks fine – I’m guessing he’s found plenty to eat and he’s not injured.’ She scowled at the pile of baubles in the corner. ‘What he’s doing with those, I can’t work out. I’ve never heard of a reindeer stealing ornaments in my whole life.’

  ‘Perhaps he’s as obsessed with Christmas as Meg?’ Emily joked, running her hands over the reindeer’s soft pelt again and letting out a hum of pleasure. ‘If he picked up a bauble in his teeth, I suppose he could carry it. It explains why we found so many pieces abandoned in the snow – he probably dropped them. It can’t be easy.’ She shook her head, smiling. ‘He really is incredible.’

  Agnes stood surveying the decorations. ‘At least we’ve a solution to our mystery vandal. I prefer it to any other explanations.’

  ‘What should we do with him now?’ Meg asked.

  ‘Get him back to his herd,’ Agnes said. ‘He’ll need his family – especially at Christmas.’ She gave Meg a wink. ‘I’ll bet they’re wandering somewhere around here looking for the wee bairn.’

  ‘Oh.’ Emily let out an unhappy sigh.

  ‘He can stay here for now.’ Agnes patted her shoulder. ‘I’ll call Cora, Marcus and Morag in a minute – between them we’ll track down the herd and figure out how to unite them.’ She scowled at the surroundings as she looked around. ‘This place could do with a little cheering up. It’s not very Christmassy, and I’ve a mind this wee laddie will appreciate it.’ She flashed Meg a smile. ‘You can leave that to me and the rest of the knitting clan.’

  Meg nodded and smiled, but as she made her way out of the barn with her sister, heading back towards the farmhouse, she wondered if a few sparkly decorations couldn’t make up for family – or love – after all.

  Twenty

  ‘We’ve had an order,’ Cora said, as soon as Meg and Emily returned to the Christmas shop. It was busy and customers were milling around with baskets, picking up presents and decorations, and chatting in groups. ‘From Tom.’ She winked.

  ‘I’m going upstairs.’ Emily waved at Meg and Cora. ‘I want to do some research on this reindeer herd to see if we can find out where they are now.’

  ‘Aye.’ Cora nodded. ‘Marcus filled me in on our wee vandal when you were driving back from Buttermead Farm.’ She chuckled. ‘That’s a turn-up.’

  Emily frowned. ‘I hate to think of the reindeer alone at the farm. Agnes is right. We all need our family around this time of year. I’m just beginning to realise how much they matter.’ She patted Meg’s shoulder, then went behind the till and up the stairs without another word.

  ‘What does Tom want?’ Meg asked, following Cora into the cafe and pulling off her coat, ignoring the irritating flutter in her stomach. ‘I can’t imagine there’s anything in this shop he’d be interested in.’

  ‘Aside from you?’ Cora grinned. ‘He bought a few things while he was here and asked us to put together a box of Christmas decorations, along with something to go in his garden. He asked if you could deliver it personally.’

  ‘Why?’ Meg muttered. They’d said their goodbyes the day before. She’d made it quite clear there was no future for them. Her heart contracted.

  ‘Of course I told him you’d be delighted.’ Cora frowned at Meg’s expression. ‘I’ve packed some of your favourite baubles, tinsel and a mile of fairy lights, and included a reindeer sweater for his wee dog because Cooper hates the cold. Oh, and I made a special spiced strawberry and apricot jam for Marcus, and popped some in the box. I had a brainwave about what to serve it with. My husband hates all the recipes I’ve tried so far, but he’s sure to love this. You’ll understand when you see.’ She grinned. ‘We got a delivery of mistletoe yesterday afternoon, so I put a sprig into the box in case you had any ideas about how to use it.’ She winked. ‘Anything you want to add?’

  Meg frowned. ‘There’s no need for mistletoe. I’m not even sure I should go…’

  ‘What are you afraid of?’ Cora asked softly. ‘Because from where I’m standing, lassie, this is an apology pure and simple. Question is, are you going to accept it?’

  Meg let out a sigh. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘At least listen to what the hot toddy has to say. Seems to me you owe the lad that much when he’s bought this much stock. If you won’t, I’ve got to wonder why. Are you so caught up in the idea of a perfect man that you can’t see what’s right in front of your nose? Or so wounded by your parents that you’ve forgotten how to listen – or forgive?’

  ‘I’m—’ Meg faltered, digesting Cora’s words – hearing an echo of her mother’s from yesterday. ‘How did you know about my parents?’

  ‘You think I didn’t see through all that “it’s fine” nonsense?’ Cora raised an eyebrow. ‘I’ve been around longer than that, lassie.’

  ‘Okay.’ Meg frowned. ‘I’ll see what he wants, but I’ll be back before you lock up.’

  ‘We’ll see.’ Cora smiled as Meg headed upstairs to change.

  It was snowing as Meg parked her Christmas van outside Tom’s cottage. She sat for a moment and turned up the song on the radio, trying to absorb the sentiments in the words about forgiveness and love, before shaking her head. She grabbed the boxes out of the boot and stomped up the pathway. Then she stopped, momentarily stunned, as she noticed that the Christmas tree Tom had dumped onto the porch had gone. She saw smoke billowing from the chimney and frowned. Perhaps he’d chopped it up and burned it in the fire? She reached for the bell, but then the door swung open and Tom was standing in the doorway.

  Meg’s eyes dropped to his torso and her jaw fell open. ‘Are you making fun of me?’ she asked, swallowing a stab of hurt as she stared at the Christmas jumper stretched across his broad chest. She sold them in her shop – this one had a reindeer on the front with a bright red nose.

  ‘Of course not.’ Tom tugged her inside before closing the door and taking the boxes out of her hands. Cooper skidded up and Meg stared at him, because he was wearing reindeer antlers now. Had she taken a wrong turn out of Lockton and ended up in a parallel universe?

  ‘I… I wanted to apologise again. I thought…’ Tom looked down at his top – the red glitter did nothing to detract from his pure masculinity and Meg’s stomach clenched. ‘If I stepped into your world for a moment – showed you I’ve realised what an idiot I’ve been – you’d agree to come back into mine. It was supposed to be a symbol, proof that I’ve realised a few Christmas decorations can’t hurt me. I wanted to make you smile. It wasn’t supposed to make things worse.’

  Meg put her hands in her pockets as she followed him into the sitting room. The fir tree was standing back in the corner – stripped to its birthday suit and sparkle-free.

  Tom hefted the boxes onto the large rectangular coffee table. �
�There are reasons why I hate Christmas. I want to explain, but I’ve realised you’re right. A single day isn’t to blame for anything. I wondered if we could turn back the clock and you’d help me decorate the house again?’

  Meg frowned. ‘When I found the boxes on the porch, saw what you’d done with the tree, I thought…’ She swallowed. ‘I overstepped, I get that. But we feel differently about a lot of things, and when I see how miserable my parents make each other… I’m not looking to repeat their mistakes.’ Her eyes met his. ‘For once in my life I’m not going to smile and say a few sparkles and Christmas decorations are going to fix this – not when so much isn’t being said. I’ve spent a lot of years hiding from my feelings, pretending everything’s okay – even when it’s not. I need to stop. I’ve realised that since my parents arrived. It would be better if I left now. I don’t want to complicate things by letting us get close again.’ She took one step back towards the door, then stopped when Cooper came to rest his head against her leg, effectively blocking her exit. Her feet felt heavy and her chest throbbed. She didn’t want to go. ‘Okay.’ She sighed, scratching the dog’s head. ‘I’ll listen before I leave, give you a chance to explain. I owe you that.’ She’d use the lesson her mother had given her before she got in her van and left Tom behind for good.

  ‘Thank you.’ He put his hands in his pockets, drawing attention to his long lean legs, and looked away. ‘I woke up on Christmas Day three years ago and my wife, Marnie, had left me. I loved her.’ He swallowed. ‘At least, at the start of our marriage, but…’ He shook his head. ‘I don’t think she ever loved me. She was looking for what I could give her, but it was never enough. I was never enough.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Meg said, watching the darkness spread across his eyes. ‘That would… I can imagine why you wouldn’t want to relive that.’ Perhaps it did explain a few things – at least why he hated Christmas. Although it was clear from the set of his shoulders that he was holding something back.

  ‘That’s not all.’ He read her mind. ‘My grandmother died on the same day. I’d been so wrapped up in my work, so obsessed by the way it made me feel, I’d missed all my grandfather’s calls. She died and I wasn’t there.’ His voice was matter-of-fact. ‘This woman who raised me when my mother wouldn’t. One of the few people who gave me love without expecting anything in return.’ His forehead creased.

  Meg stepped forwards, wanting to reach for him, but he held up a hand.

  ‘I know it’s stupid to connect those things, but when I saw the decorations in the house, it brought everything back,’ Tom continued. ‘Then I realised after we talked, after I saw those people in your shop, that I can’t blame Christmas for what I did – or think that shutting it out, avoiding all those memories and pretending it doesn’t exist will change anything.’ He paused. ‘I’ve done a lot of things I’m not proud of, Meg, and I’ve been trying to put that right. Hurting you, it made me realise I’ve been moving backwards, not forwards. Hiding from all the wrong things.’ He shrugged. ‘Christmas… music…’ He cleared his throat. ‘You.’

  Meg’s heart thumped. ‘I thought you were angry. You hate Christmas, you told me as much. When I saw all the decorations piled outside, I thought…’ She let out a long sigh. ‘It was such a rejection. Like you were saying you didn’t want me in your life.’ Her eyes filled.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said simply. ‘I… I used to be good with words, I used to say all the right things. They’d just be there in my head whenever I needed them.’ He clicked his fingers. ‘Now they’re gone. I reach for them and all the wrong ones come out. I need you to know I never intended to hurt your feelings…’

  ‘Okay.’ Meg nodded. ‘I’m sorry too.’ Perhaps her mother was right about listening. Perhaps honesty could turn things around, after all? ‘Is that it?’ she asked, sensing there was still something he wasn’t telling her.

  ‘No.’ Tom didn’t look at her. ‘I want to decorate the house again – with you – swap all the bad memories for better ones. I’d like to prove I’m finally ready to move on.’

  She raised an eyebrow. ‘You’ll embrace Christmas music too?’

  His lips twisted. ‘As long as I get to choose the songs. I’ll even make you mulled wine if you ask for it.’

  ‘Deal.’ Meg nodded, bending to take off her green boots. She unbuttoned her coat slowly and put it on the sofa, then pulled up the sleeves of her top.

  ‘Just like that?’ He looked surprised.

  ‘Unless you want to tell me anything else?’ She cocked her head, still sensing something was missing. Tom shook his head firmly and Meg nodded again. ‘Then that’s it. I learned a long time ago not to hang on to resentment. Or at least, to try not to. But you should know Cora picked out a lot of baubles, so if you’re going to have second thoughts you’d better say now – because I’m not packing these away again.’ She opened the box; it was piled high with tinsel, lights and a multitude of colourful decorations, with a single sprig of mistletoe in the centre of the mound.

  Tom let out a low whistle as Meg began to unpack the box. ‘What’s first?’ he asked.

  ‘Music and wine.’ Meg grinned.

  An hour later the tree sparkled, Meg’s star took pride of place over the fireplace, mistletoe hung in the kitchen and Cooper was slumped in front of the fire wearing the reindeer jumper. The dog seemed delighted with the outfit and had even complained when she’d tried to take it off. Meg put Cora’s tub – which had been at the bottom of the box – onto the table next to their glasses and opened it, then laughed when she found four perfect doughnuts. ‘These are a gift from Cora. Her Christmas Promise was to find a flavour of jam that Marcus would enjoy. I’m guessing he’s going to love this idea.’ She picked one up and bit into it, feeling the sugar scatter over her lips. ‘That’s amazing,’ she hummed. ‘The jam’s so sweet.’

  Tom laughed. ‘Policeman – doughnuts. That’s inspired.’ He took a bite and chewed, nodding.

  The music changed on the radio, clicking over to another Christmas song with a strong guitar solo. Meg saw Tom stiffen.

  ‘I’m not prying,’ she said softly, licking the last of the sugar from her fingertips, watching his eyes track the movement. ‘But I saw the guitar in the boot room when I was putting the boxes out of the way. You talked about hiding from your music…’ She knew she was on to something when a muscle pulsed in his neck. She didn’t know why she was pushing, except she could feel something was still hidden between them. She wasn’t looking for perfection now, just honesty and truth.

  ‘I did…’ Tom sipped his wine. The light was shadowy. Flickers from the fairy lights lit his profile, picking out the edges of his jaw and shadows under his eyes. She swallowed, feeling the bubble of emotion as it rose, even as she tried to hold it back.

  ‘Will you play for me?’ Meg asked. She waited while he sipped his beer and considered. Intuition told her this was important so she didn’t push.

  In the end, Tom nodded, then got up and disappeared into the hall. Meg heard a door open and close. Then he walked back in with the shiny red guitar she’d seen on the day she’d decorated. ‘I’ve not played properly for years.’ He tugged off his jumper and tossed it onto the floor. His T-shirt rode up, exposing the bottom of a washboard stomach and the trail of dark hair leading from his bellybutton down. Meg tried to ignore it but her hormones still jerked to attention. ‘A lot of people have been telling me not playing is a mistake. That I’ve been denying myself. I must admit, I’ve missed it. I wonder if it’s one of the reasons I’ve found it so difficult to express how I feel.’ He slid the strap over his shoulder and his fingers began to tease the strings.

  He didn’t look up, but Meg saw his face soften as the music took over. Felt her skin prickle in response at the sounds he drew from the guitar. He was a thing of pure beauty; every inch of his skin seemed to glow. Meg felt her breath catch, and shuffled on the sofa as every cell of her body began to heat. It was like she was being seduced, like the notes were pumping through
her blood, drawing her to him. Tom’s body loosened as his fingers raced across the strings, making everything in the room – even the decorations – melt away. Then he closed his eyes and began to sing.

  There was something haunting about his voice – something Meg connected with on a visceral level. Something almost familiar. His song was about broken hearts and lovers who used, about putting money and fame ahead of everything else and losing your soul. Then about the power of stepping back, of denying yourself. Meg held her breath, felt goosebumps rise across her skin as it prickled and hummed. Then the song ended and she slowly stood, unable to help herself. Perhaps Tom could read her face, because when he opened his eyes he didn’t say a word. Instead, he pulled the guitar slowly from his shoulder and placed it on the floor. Then he reached out and grabbed her.

  The kiss wasn’t slow and it wasn’t particularly expert. They slammed into each other, pressing their bodies together as if their desires outweighed any need for sensitivity or skill. Meg’s heart was racing. Beating so hard she could hear it filling her ears – blocking out all semblance of sanity. Which was a good thing, because if she could think she’d be pushing Tom away and heading for the door. But it was too late for that. She moved her hands down to the bottom of his T-shirt, then yanked it up and over his head, before dropping it on the floor. Now she could see the chest she’d been drooling over earlier. It was hard and muscular and there was that trail of hair dipping downwards. She put her hands on his skin, slid them across his belly before he took over, whipping her arms to either side so he could unpop the red buttons that lined the front of her elf outfit. Once they were undone, he whipped the sleeves off her arms and shimmied the top down so it was hanging from her waist.