A Soldier's Christmas: I'll Be Home for ChristmasPresents Under the TreeIf Only in My Dreams

by Leslie Kelly

  For long moments, there was only the sound of their uneven breathing. Lily stroked his back in lazy sweeps of her fingertips. He was probably crushing her, but he lacked the strength to move.

  “Hey,” Lily murmured in his ear. “Are you okay?”

  He nodded, and with a groan he pushed himself to one side, pulling her with him. “That was completely reckless—you do get that?”

  In answer, she wound her arms around him and kissed his jaw. “We’re fine,” she assured him. “I’m safe, and I know you are, too. I’ve seen your medical record.”

  Aiden gave a huff of disbelieving laughter, but there was a part of him that admired her practicality. “Well, okay.” He pulled back enough to search her eyes. “No regrets?”

  “Are you kidding me? I already told you—I’ve wanted this since the first day I saw you. What about you? Do you regret it?”

  Aiden shook his head. “Never.”

  Reaching down, he dragged the blankets over them, and then snapped off the light. He lay there, with Lily’s warm body pressed against him, surrounded by her scent and listening to the sound of her breathing. He had absolutely no regrets. He couldn’t imagine he’d ever be sorry that he’d made love to Lily Munroe. He’d told her that he didn’t do one-night stands, so he had to believe that she’d had a change of heart; that she was willing to give them a shot at a real relationship. He hoped so, because right now, he felt like it was his birthday and Christmas all at once.

  6

  WHEN LILY WOKE UP in the morning, she was alone. The room was empty, but someone had lit a fire in the fireplace, taking the chill away. Dragging the blankets with her, she rolled onto her side, and found a note tucked under the pillow beside her head. Smiling, she unfolded it. “Didn’t want to wake you. Come downstairs when you’re ready. –A.C.”

  Not exactly romantic, but Aiden had never struck her as a particularly romantic man. Oddly enough, it was partly what had attracted her to him. There was something incredibly sexy about a guy who focused so completely on his work, especially when that work was so dangerous. It had made her wonder what it would be like to have all that intensity focused on her.

  Now she knew.

  She could still feel his hands and mouth on her, and her body was deliciously tender in unexpected places. She tried to recall how long it had been since she’d last had sex, and failed. Her last relationship—if you could even call it that—had ended almost a year ago, when she had been deployed to Africa. She’d been more relieved than disappointed about the breakup and hadn’t really been interested in anyone since—until Aiden. Closing his note in her palm, she wondered why he hadn’t stuck around for a repeat performance this morning—unless maybe he was having some regrets, after all.

  But she’d all but told him that she didn’t do commitment, so perhaps he’d found a way to accept that this time might be all they had and had decided to take advantage of it.

  Glancing at the bedside clock, she saw with alarm that it was almost nine o’clock. With a groan, she sat up and pushed the covers aside, shivering a little as the cooler air touched her naked skin. She’d take a shower and then go downstairs to find out when they would leave for Fort Atterbury. And hope that things wouldn’t be too awkward between her and Aiden.

  Thirty minutes later, as she made her way down the winding staircase, she could hear the sound of excited voices, and smell the delicious aroma of cinnamon. For a moment, it brought her back to her early childhood, when her mother was still well enough to bake muffins in the morning, and Lily would sit on the kitchen counter and help her.

  Pushing the memories aside, she made her way through the house. The pretty dining room was empty except for Inge’s daughter, Abby, who was organizing flatware at a long sidebar. She glanced up and smiled at Lily.

  “Good morning. Your boyfriend is in the kitchen with the kids.” Her smile widened. “They’re pretty taken with him.”

  With an uncertain murmur of thanks, Lily continued on to the kitchen. Despite the coziness of the living room, with its large fireplace and comfortable sofas, this was clearly the heart of the house. An enormous island dominated the room. Beyond that, situated in front of a bank of French doors overlooking the backyard, stood a long farm table.

  For a moment, Lily just stood in the doorway and watched. Aiden stood at the stove, wearing a bright red apron over his fatigues and a Santa hat. Perched on stools beside him were two children; a little girl who looked to be about four or five, and the little boy they’d met the previous night. Aiden was making pancakes, and the children were judging how well he poured the batter into the shapes they demanded. Two older girls sat at the farm table eating pancakes smothered in strawberries and heaped high with whipped cream.

  Nearby, Inge was in the process of taking two cookie sheets out of a double wall oven. As she turned to place the hot sheets onto the cooling racks, she spotted Lily in the doorway.

  “Ah, there you are,” she called cheerfully. “Just in time, too. I hope you’re hungry, because we have enough pancakes to feed—well, an army! There’s a fruit platter on the table, and I have a plate of sausages warming in the lower oven.”

  Aiden met her gaze, and the warm welcome in his eyes dispelled all her worries. “Hey,” he said, his eyes sweeping over her. “Sleep well?”

  She came over to the stove to watch him expertly flip a pancake. “Yes. Why didn’t you wake me?”

  “You were out like a light, and I didn’t have the heart to disturb you.” He slanted her a sidelong look and lowered his voice. “Besides, after last night, you needed your sleep.”

  Lily shot a glance at the children, but they were engrossed in carrying their plates of pancakes over to the table. She felt herself go warm beneath his steady regard and cleared her throat uncomfortably.

  “About last night—” She broke off, unsure how to continue.

  Setting the spatula aside, he stepped close to her. Using one finger, he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m just glad you changed your mind.”

  Lily frowned. “What do you mean?”

  He stroked a thumb along her jaw. “You’ve decided to take a chance on a real relationship. I’m glad.”

  Lily bit her lip, unsure what to say. She’d thought he’d understood that their time together wouldn’t extend beyond Gingerbread Cottage. How could it? Once they returned to California, they’d have little opportunity to see each other. That Aiden believed they had any chance at a future together panicked her. She wouldn’t live up to his expectations, or be the kind of woman that he wanted—the kind of woman he deserved.

  Thankfully she was saved from having to answer when Inge came over to the stove to check on his progress.

  “So what is it you’re doing, Santa?” Lily asked brightly, changing the subject.

  “I am helping Sarah and Josh make pancakes in the shape of reindeer. See?” He indicated the frying pan. “Here is the reindeer, and these are the antlers.”

  Lily tipped her head and considered them. “They’re spotted reindeer.”

  The girl, Sarah, giggled from the table. “Those are chocolate chips.”

  “Ah.” Lily gave Aiden an admiring glance. “They’re actually very realistic.”

  Aiden chuckled. “Years of practice, making pancakes at home.”

  He grew silent as he flipped the pancakes onto a waiting plate, and Lily knew he was thinking of his family.

  “Did you call Ann?” she ventured quietly. “What time should we be at the base?”

  His lips compressed, and he shook his head. “We’re not going anywhere today. They’re completely jammed up, and Ann said they’re having trouble booking flights out of Indianapolis or Cincinnati, partly because of the strong winds and partly because most of them are already full.” He turned his gaze toward her. “We may not get a flight out until after Chri
stmas.”

  Lily watched him, sensing his disappointment and frustration. Before she could say anything, he scooped the remaining pancakes onto a plate and indicated the table.

  “C’mon, let’s eat.”

  Lily followed him to the table and sat down across from two teenaged girls, who stared openly at Aiden, and then giggled in delight when he gave them a cheeky wink. Lily couldn’t blame them; he looked irresistible in his apron and hat. If Santa really looked like him, she’d never go to bed on Christmas Eve.

  “These are my older granddaughters, Emma and Sophia,” said Inge as she poured coffee for Aiden and Lily, and set a plate of breakfast sausages in front of them. “I offered to bring you breakfast in your room, or in the dining room, but your young man said he preferred the kitchen. Said it reminded him of home.”

  Lily smiled. “This is wonderful. Thank you so much for letting us intrude on your family holiday.”

  Inge waved away her thanks. “You’re not intruding, and it’s Christmas, after all.” She put her hand on Lily’s shoulder. “I’m honored to have you here, and although I’m not your mother, I’d like to treat you both as if you were my own, for the sake of every mother who won’t be spending Christmas with her son or daughter this season.”

  Lily fell silent as Aiden murmured his thanks. When Inge stepped away, he reached out and covered her hand with his beneath the lace tablecloth, squeezing her fingers, and Lily felt the aching tightness in her chest ease.

  Then Aiden tucked into his breakfast with an appetite that she hadn’t seen since before his illness.

  “How are you feeling this morning?” she asked quietly as she speared a wedge of melon.

  “Great,” he assured her. “Never better.”

  His hand still encased hers, and she threw a quick glance at the children, but they were engrossed in eating. She kept her voice low.

  “So, last night—”

  He angled his head and looked at her, waiting.

  But Lily’s nerve slipped a little beneath the intensity of those blue eyes. He raised one eyebrow, as if he were challenging her in some way.

  “Nothing,” she finally said, and dropped her attention to her plate.

  Aiden leaned over until his lips were against her ear. “Last night,” he whispered, “was amazing.”

  Straightening, he ate a forkful of pancakes without taking his eyes off her, and then gave her a wink. Across the table, the older girls giggled again.

  Lily waited until the children were too busy eating and talking to pay attention, and then pressed close to Aiden. “Last night was amazing,” she agreed in a whisper. “But it was just one night, Aiden. I never agreed to something more.”

  Aiden didn’t look at her, but he was listening. She felt him tense, and a muscle worked in his lean jaw.

  “We can talk about this later,” he finally said.

  “No, I need you to understand. I don’t want to give you the wrong idea.”

  This time, he did look at her, and the expression in his blue eyes was so tender that Lily felt her chest constrict.

  “I understand more than you know,” he finally said, reaching out to squeeze her hand. “Just trust me. Everything is going to be fine.”

  Lily drew in a deep breath, overwhelmed by his confidence and easy assurance.

  “We have a busy day planned,” Inge said, pulling ingredients out of the cupboards and setting them on the center island. “I hope you’ll join us.”

  “We should call Ann again,” Lily said, before Aiden could respond. “Just to be sure. What if they’re making good progress?”

  Inge paused and gave her a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry, my dear. I talked with Ann this morning, too, and she said that they’re making arrangements for the soldiers to spend Christmas at Fort Atterbury. There’s just no way to get them all processed and home in time for the holiday.”

  Lily digested the news in silence. She and Aiden would spend Christmas together at Gingerbread Cottage. She kept her expression carefully neutral. She had no right to feel so elated, not when Aiden had been so looking forward to getting home, and not when he would misinterpret their time together.

  “So you see,” Inge said. “It’s all settled. The men should be back any moment now.”

  Lily stared at Inge in surprise. “Men?”

  “My husband and my two boys.” She laughed as she measured out several cups of flour and dumped them into a mixing bowl. “Of course, they’re grown men, now, but they always spend Christmas Eve here at Gingerbread Cottage. They went out to get a tree.”

  Lily’s eyebrows shot up. She thought her father was the only person who waited until the day before Christmas to get a tree, and that was usually because she guilted him into doing it. Most people she knew got their tree the day after Thanksgiving.

  “We have a tradition of putting our tree up on Christmas Eve,” Inge explained, correctly interpreting Lily’s expression. “The men go to a small tree farm about three miles down the road where they cut a tree and bring it back.”

  “And tonight we’ll decorate it,” Sarah piped in. “I always put the star on the top. It’s tradition.”

  Lily suspected this family had a lot of traditions. “That sounds wonderful. Will you let me help with the decorations?”

  “Of course,” said the oldest girl, Emma. “We also do lots of baking in the afternoon.”

  Aiden frowned. “So there’s decorating and baking. What do the men do?”

  “Drink,” the children chimed together, and Aiden laughed.

  “Then we go to Christmas Eve service,” Sophie chirped. “We hold candles and sing songs.”

  “When we get home, we eat and then we get ready for Santa Claus,” Josh said solemnly. “We have to be in bed by nine o’clock.”

  “I like that plan,” Aiden said. “In fact, Lily and I will probably be in bed at nine o’clock, too, just to make sure we don’t ruin Santa’s plans.” Beneath the table, Lily kicked him, and he gave her a wide-eyed look of innocence. “What?”

  “That will be the men now,” Inge said, wiping her hands on her apron as she peered through the windows. The children hurried to the windows, wiping the condensation aside with their fingers in order to peer outside.

  Lily heard the rumble of an engine, and a pickup truck pulled into the driveway near the back door.

  “I see them,” Sophie exclaimed excitedly. “They have a tree!”

  As Aiden and Lily watched, the back door opened, and three men entered amidst a gust of bitter cold air. All three of them wore heavy winter parkas, paired with big boots, which they stomped enthusiastically on the rug. Inge fluttered around them, scolding them for tracking ice onto her floor.

  “I’d have stripped down outside,” the oldest man said, reaching out to pinch Sophie’s cheek, “but I was afraid of turning into a big Popsicle.”

  “This is my husband, Peter,” said Inge to Aiden. “And these two giants are my sons, Garth and Seth.”

  “Did you get a good tree, Uncle Garth?” Sarah asked, bouncing up and down beside the men.

  “The best,” Garth assured her. “Plenty of room for decorations.”

  “And for presents underneath,” teased Seth, swinging the little girl up into his arms and pressing his cold face against her cheeks and neck, as she squealed in delight.

  Setting the child on her feet, he took a plate from the counter and nodded a greeting as he sat down across from Lily and Aiden, snagging a sausage with his fingers.

  “Welcome to Gingerbread Cottage,” Peter said, coming over to shake their hands. “And thank you for what you do in defense of our country.” He indicated his older son. “Garth served with the U.S. Marines for eight years after he graduated college.”

  “I’m in the navy, and Sergeant Munroe is in the army,” Aiden sa
id.

  “Please call me Lily,” she said, shifting uncomfortably beneath their scrutiny.

  “Where are you coming from?” Seth asked as he speared a fork through several pancakes and loaded them onto his plate.

  “Africa,” Aiden said, but didn’t give any additional information.

  The men nodded as if they understood his reticence. “Quite the difference in climate,” Peter offered. “I hope you have some warm outer gear with you.”

  “We each have a sweater and a jacket,” Lily said. “But not anything sufficient for this cold.”

  “We usually go sledding today,” Emma chimed in from the table. “It’s tradition.”

  “We’ll have to deviate from tradition this year,” her grandfather said. “It’s below zero outside, so I don’t think sledding would be any fun today.”

  The children groaned in disappointment.

  “You know,” Aiden began, “my family has a Christmas tradition that you might like to adopt.” Four faces turned expectantly toward him. “Where I come from, there’s no snow, so we make our own.”

  “How do you do that?” Sarah demanded, scrunching up her nose.

  “If you have some white paper and a pair of scissors, I’ll show you,” he offered.

  The kids quickly vanished in search of the items, returning armed with a thick stack of copier paper and a plastic fishing tackle box that was filled with scissors, tape and colored pencils.

  “Okay, we’re ready,” Emma said.

  Aiden exchanged a grin with Lily, before dramatically stretching his arms and flexing his fingers, like a magician about to perform a trick. “Okay,” he said, “prepare to be amazed.”

  The children crowded around him, kneeling on their chairs with their elbows on the table for a better view. The adults, including Lily, came to stand around the table and watched as Aiden deftly folded a single sheet of paper over and then over, and over again. When he was finished, he passed it around to the children to show them how he had folded it into a narrow triangle, explaining why it was important to fold it just so. Then, picking up a pair of scissors, he began snipping away at the edges of the paper.