by Ellie Hall
She started at the beginning and felt Mrs. Kelly’s love for her baby bursting from the pages. She felt her laughter (and sometimes frustration) at raising young boys. She felt a mother’s pride as Ryan grew up, made honorable and good choices, and demonstrated that he was well on his way to becoming a man.
When Rachel reached the page with the pink ribbon, she saw her name printed in ink. The passage was about how delighted Mrs. Kelly was to see the young couple together, laughing, smiling, and enjoying each other’s company. She’d hinted at how she knew Rachel was the one by the adoring way Ryan would look at her with love, longing, and a certain protectiveness.
Rachel’s eyes misted over. When she reached the bottom Mrs. Kelly had written six simple words. What will you do for love?
She’d unwittingly sought Mrs. Kelly’s advice and true to form, she’d asked—or wrote, as it were—an important question that prompted Rachel to come up with her own answer.
She knew what she was going to do. Only, first, she had to cover her shift at the Honey Bea and Thistle.
Chapter 15
Ryan
In the last days, Ryan had spanned the spectrum of emotions from sadness and despair, to hope and excitement. Not to mention getting tackled then formulating a plan. But he needed help.
First, he called JJ.
His brother answered on what was sure to be the second to last right.
“How’d you do it?” Ryan asked, skipping pleasantries.
“Do what?” JJ replied in his cowboy-rock star drawl.
“Prove to Chantel that you were worth it.”
The line was silent a beat and his brother exhaled. “There’s no one answer and none of it was easy, but if you want the quick and dirty, I’d say love. Love the heck out of her, out of life, God, family, your country. Just fill yourself up with love and it’ll pour out of you.”
“Sounds like song lyrics.”
“Not a bad idea, you sap.”
“Hey, you asked and I only tell the truth. I’m always here for you, bro.”
“I know, JJ. I know.”
Ryan had turned to Bea for help locating knit socks and had asked Thistle where he might find a ring on short notice. Not just any ring though. The perfect one for Rachel. The older man had been reluctant, but with his wife’s encouragement, they’d connected him with a jeweler who shared the Kelly Irish heritage.
But over a week had passed since Ryan had visited the jewelry maker on a whim. Time wasn’t on his side. Hope was all that fueled him. He needed the Kelly luck for his commission to be done on time as well as for the intended recipient to actually accept it.
But right then he needed Bea and Thistle’s help again. Making sure Rachel’s car wasn’t in the lot, he stopped into the restaurant and asked them for the final details about the employee schedule, when they planned to host their annual Christmas party, and to ask a special favor.
Next, Ryan visited Mrs. Moore. She’d been moved from critical care to the regular floor in the hospital. She explained everything that had happened and how much he loved her daughter.
“I knew that.” Her eyes sparkled and her cheeks were pinker than they’d been when he’d stopped by wearing the fuzzy red Santa suit. “She’s been at home sick but is feeling better now. I’ll be returning home too.”
Ryan lit up as he told him about the progress of her treatment. “I bet Rachel is thrilled.”
“I told her now that she owns the house, she’ll have to arrange the plow service in the winter, mow the lawn in the summer, and—”
Ryan shook his head. “If she’ll let me, I want to take care of that girl. You know, unless she wants to mow the lawn.”
Mrs. Moore laughed. “I think she prefers the ocean to these fields and mountains, but I hope she sticks around a while.”
“I hope so too.”
Afterward, he called Rachel. She didn’t answer. Then again, she hadn’t answered when he went to the house to drop off the cookies and journal, but perhaps that was because she had been under the weather. He left a message, asking if she’d like to go on a date. When she didn’t call back, he texted her. When she still didn’t respond, he gave the address where to meet him if she felt so inclined.
Ryan gathered the kids enrolled in the P.U.M.P.E.D program for an afternoon to make care packages for soldiers overseas. As he explained about putting the protein bars inside the reusable wide-mouthed water bottles to conserve space, a slender figure with red hair filled the doorway. He tagged one of the older girls to supervise and rushed over to her.
“As you were,” she said, shooing him back over to the kids. “I don’t want to interrupt.”
“I just wanted to apologize—”
“Remember what you said about talking versus doing? I’m here to watch you do...but that doesn’t mean that I’m here for a date. I just want to answer my own question,” she said with a smirk.
“Then you read the journal.” Even though it was his mother’s journal, it had been a risk, exposing himself in that way, but he was willing to open himself to Rachel. He would do anything for love.
“I read it cover to cover. Amusing, enlightening, and intriguing.” She smiled.
“That’s quite the review. If you’re not ready to go on a date with me,” he gestured in front of them, “then take the lead and as you’d said, answer your own question.” He couldn’t imagine what that was and when he asked, she wouldn’t tell him.
They spent the next couple of hours finishing up the care packages for the service members and thanking them for their service.
Ryan slipped Rachel note.
Hi,
This evening includes several stops. I’d like you to ride with me, but if you’re not ready for that meet me at the animal shelter just outside Denver.
Love,
Ryan
He returned his attention to the kids—helping them help others. Nonetheless, thirty minutes later, she pulled into the lot beside him at the shelter where they proceeded to unload the entire bed of Ryan’s truck, which he’d filled with dog and cat food along with other supplies.
The manager smiled with gratitude. “This should do for about a month. We appreciate your generosity, Mr. Kelly.”
Ryan handed the woman a check. Her eyes widened. “Well, Mr. Kelly, this should supply us for about a year. Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.”
Ryan and Rachel walked back to the parking lot. The sky was clear and filled with stars.
“This would’ve been an interesting date,” she said.
“Oh, we’re not done. There’s still dinner.”
“This isn’t a date.” Her words were measured and careful as if she was figuring something out or answering a question that he hadn’t heard her ask.
“Fair enough. I know I said I’d let you take the lead, but will you follow me to the next stop?”
She inhaled a long breath and said, “Sure.”
They pulled into a part of town that had fallen into disrepair with condemned buildings and trash alongside the slush in the streets.
Ryan would’ve preferred she be in the car with him, but when they pulled up in front of the church, he breathed a sigh of relief. His stomach grumbled, but likely not as bad as some of the people inside the church basement.
Ryan’s parents had the boys volunteer at a soup kitchen, but often around Thanksgiving. He wanted to continue that tradition, even if it was a variation since it was Christmas.
“A soup kitchen.” Rachel nodded in appreciation as they entered.
“It’s funded by the charity Dad and JJ created.”
“What’s come over you, Ryan Kelly? Feeling the reason for the season?”
He nodded because his question had turned him to his source, to God. Ryan knew, when in His hands, whatever was meant to happen, would unfold in His time.
After they finished serving the homeless, they put together bags with nonperishable items for local families. By the time they were done, Ryan’s stomac
h was growling and he hoped that they could go on an actual date or at least grab something to eat.
As he walked her car, he asked if she’d like to meet for dinner, but she shook her head.
“You still haven’t answered your question?”
“Nope, but I’m getting close.” The corners of her lips lifted into a mild smile. He wanted to kiss her, but merely squeezed her hand then followed her to make sure she got to town okay.
Later that night, after driving back to the ranch, Ryan called a family meeting, asking for his brothers to gather in the living room. The tree was lit and the room was warm, cozy despite the vast ceiling. Standing by the hearth with the family portrait hanging above, he felt his parents’ presence. It felt like a gift. He wasn’t sure he’d get a second chance with Rachel, but he’d try and he had them to thank even though they were both gone.
Parker and Seth sat down on the couch. JJ perched on its arm. Clark leaned against the wall opposite.
Ryan explained to his brothers how sorry he was for turning his back on all of them and for putting distance between them. “I realize that family is most important. Somehow Dad knew I needed to experience something extreme before I came to my senses,” he said, referring to the revised will. “Somehow Mom reached me through time with her journal.” He felt full and bright and hopeful for the future no matter what happened.
They all accepted his apology then he said, “Now, I need your help.”
After he explained his plan, they all, though some reluctantly, agreed to it.
“Bro, you’re known on the field for making last-minute plays, but this is cutting it close,” Parker said.
“Wish me luck.”
“Good luck always finds the Kellys,” JJ said.
The following evening, nerves zinged around Ryan’s stomach and shot straight to his limbs, sending a little tremble into his fingers. He told himself it was just because it was cold out. He rubbed his hands together then blew into them after he pulled up to the Honey Bea and Thistle in his truck on Christmas Eve-Eve.
His brothers JJ, Clark, Parker, and Seth all met him in the parking lot.
“We’re going to need you to lead us, JJ,” Clark said.
“Do, re, mi, fa, so, la, ti, do.” Parker jokingly warmed up his vocals.
“Can you really rhyme tree with tree?” JJ tapped the paper with the made-up song lyrics.
Ryan laughed, shrugged, and then clapped Seth on the back who was lagging behind. “If you’re not feeling it, just lip-sync,” Ryan whispered.
It felt so good to be back with his brothers, laughing even though Ryan felt like he was going to implode from all the tension. But he had to trust.
The Honey Bea and Thistle was intimately lit with candles and strung with festive lights. It smelled of Christmas dinner, savory pies, roasted vegetables, mashed potatoes, and a hint of something sweet, which he hoped was Bea’s famous peppermint and chocolate fudge.
The hearth glowed with a warm fire. On the opposite side of the room, the Irish session musicians played the fiddle, accordion, tin whistle, guitar, and bodhran drum. The pleasant strains of a traditional reel met Ryan’s ears, reminding him of Christmas’s past when the family would gather for the annual Christmas Eve-Eve party at the Honey Bea and Thistle.
After the meal, the dancing would begin and continue well into the night, but first... First, he saw Rachel across the room. Her head tilted back with laughter. The sound threaded itself with the music. It was then he truly understood what his father must’ve felt when he’d seen his mother, before she was his mother, when she was still Susan Allen.
The rest of the room melted away and it was just Rachel.
A charge rushed through Ryan, leaving behind a pleasant warmth at the sight of Rachel’s glowing beauty. It was the kind he could bask in, get lost in, spend forever in. There was her pretty face, her pouty pink lips, and her long flowing hair. Underneath that was also her beautiful heart.
She turned her head and met his eyes. A smile formed on her lips then she turned back to the group.
So that the Honey Bea and Thistle employees could also enjoy the evening’s festivities, dinner was set up buffet style. It was a group effort to keep everything organized, but the McCarthy’s had been hosting the party for so many years, soon everyone was eating and swapping stories. Ryan sat with his brothers.
Afterward, he helped clear the tables to make room in the center of the restaurant. As the musicians played another lively reel, four people stepped onto the floor for a traditional ceili dance.
Ryan held back and watched, then another four people joined for an eight-hand, and Rachel was among them. He watched her float across the floor in the movements unique to Irish dancing. She was graceful yet powerful. Controlled yet free.
He could no longer hold himself back. He stepped onto the floor and joined the group. Then as they moved around the circle between ladies and gents, when Ryan’s hands clasped Rachel’s the moment was solidified. He understood true love. He’d do anything for her, even chose love over the fear that he wasn’t good enough for her.
Her hand felt so right in his. He was Mr. Right, but he wanted to make her Mrs. Kelly. Or if she were able to finish her Ph.D., Dr. Kelly—that had a nice ring to it and would make her mother so proud. Even though she wasn’t all that happy about him arranging the purchase of her house, maybe she’d let him support her in pursuing her degree. The idea of her being his wife filled him with bold determination.
When they came together again, he whispered in her ear, “Rachel, will you forgive me?”
“I already told you that I did.” Her brow rumpled in confusion.
“Do you trust me?” he asked nervous for her answer.
She nodded. “Yes, Ryan. I do. You’ve shown me that you’re worthy of my trust.”
He cleared his throat, straining to keep his voice down so no one overheard the private conversation but also so she could hear him and not mistake his words.
“Will you give me a second chance?”
That was the part of the dance when they parted, when their hands slipped apart, and spun away from each other. She crested the room with her hair rippling behind her and a smile on her face as she whirled and kicked and laughed.
They let each other go, but the way of the dance was that he knew they’d come back together and that gave him hope that she’d say yes.
Chapter 16
Rachel
The question Mrs. Kelly asked in her journal What would you do for love? prompted Rachel to give Ryan a second chance. But it wasn’t until that moment, spinning around the room and dancing with him, as tingles raced through her limbs, as she felt like she was floating on clouds, and filled with the fuzzy warmth of Christmas did she resolve to not only give him a second chance but do whatever came next.
What if she said no to the what-ifs that darkened her mind and heart?
What if she was brave in the face of the fear that everything could go wrong?
What if, instead, she said yes to the what-ifs that made her feel like she could fly, like the possibilities for goodness in her life were infinite, like the love between her and Ryan stood a chance?
He squeezed her hand and her pulse quickened, moving in time to the music. As they circled the room, gliding and bouncing, they changed partners.
She swept past the sturdy Christmas tree festooned with twinkling lights that stood in front of the frosted windowpanes. They returned to each other, stepping about on the old wooden floorboards. Her smile widened when she felt his eyes on her as though seeking her among all the other dancers.
What if she chose him? She squeezed his hand back the next time they came together. What if she already had?
When the song was over, Thistle appeared at the microphone to the surprise of everyone in the room—as evidenced by the quieting of the usual chatter that went on in the background. He wasn’t often a man of many words.
In his thick Scottish accent, he said, “My darlin’ Bea and I
never had children of our own, but we’ve seen plenty of you in this room grow from wee lads and lasses into men and women. One such fellow came around recently asking for my help. He’d made a mistake in the past and wanted to fix it. I’ll admit that I’m not quick to forgive. But as always, Bea, the most tender-hearted and patient woman I have the privilege to know—trust me when I say this because she’s put up with me going on forty years and my mother didn’t name me Thistle for nothing—gave me a little nudge.”
Bea joined Thistle at his side and then gestured with her elbow.
Everyone laughed.
Bea beamed at Rachel then her gaze slipped across the room. Rachel followed and her heart skipped a beat at the sight of Ryan. His strong jaw. His kind eyes. His transformation—he was always a good person but had recently demonstrated that he was a man of exceptional character. He was someone she wanted in her life.
Thistle adjusted the mic and cleared his throat. “She encouraged me to break from tradition just this once. So before we return to dancing and merriment, we have a little performance for you.” Thistle’s eyes landed on Rachel then he gave her a subtle grin.
She thought perhaps they were going to announce they were selling the restaurant and moving to Arizona or back overseas, but that look suggested he was sticking around for whatever was coming.
Ryan, his four brothers, three guys they’d gone to high school with, and four football players who groused about the lousy winter weather and being stuck in Colorado for a week after a second canceled flight—maybe they liked the holiday feel of the village—, gathered near the musicians who played the melody to the Twelve Days of Christmas song.
“On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me... an engagement ring under the tree. On the second day of Christmas, my true love gave to me...two Christmas trees—one in the house and the other outside.” Then they repeated the first line. This continued as they went through the days, singing. “On the third day of Christmas, my true love gave to me three fluffy kittens, four new snow tires, and five delicious cookies—because a few fell in the snow and broke.”
