Holiday for a Hero (Heroes at Heart Book 9)

by Maryann Jordan

  Holiday for a Hero

  A Sweet Heroes at Heart Companion Novella

  Maryann Jordan

  Holiday for a Hero(Heroes at Heart) Copyright 2020

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law.

  If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, then you are reading an illegal pirated copy. If you would be concerned about working for no pay, then please respect the author’s work! Make sure that you are only reading a copy that has been officially released by the author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Cover Design by: Designs by Stacy

  ISBN ebook: 978-1-947214-76-7

  ISBN print: 978-1-947214-77-4

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Foreword

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Also by Maryann Jordan

  About the Author

  Dedication

  As a adolescent counselor for over twenty-five years, I had the opportunity to work with many young people. One young man, upset over a poor choice he had made, came to me. As I listened to his story and his confession, I told him that the true measure of a man was not in the mistakes he made, but in how he handled those mistakes. I remember the look on his face when I told him I was sure he was going to be a good man.

  So this book is dedicated to all the students over the years who allowed me to be a part of their lives.

  Foreword

  There are times in an author’s life when an idea is born… a subtle memory whispered into our ear that blossoms into a novel, or perhaps, even a series.

  If you read the dedication to this book, you will know where the idea came from. But, what I could not imagine was the impact this series had on readers.

  Many have told me that Miss Ethel is the most beloved character they have ever encountered in any book… something that is humbling, and yet, understandable.

  She is patterned after many women I know, especially my mother.

  Readers wanted her story and so I am proud to offer to you the background of Miss Ethel in this sweet, companion novella.

  I hope you enjoy… I know I have enjoyed creating her.

  Maryann Jordan

  1

  Ethel Morgenstern stood on one side of the room with her girlfriends. The others were giggling and chatting, but Ethel observed the room around her. The church reception hall was gaily lit with Christmas greenery, red and gold ribbons, and candles nestled amongst the punch bowls and food on the long table.

  Her friends looked toward the teenage boys standing on the opposite side of the room and speculated on who they hoped would ask them to dance. Tall and slender, as tall as some of the boys around, Ethel lacked the pronounced curves of some of the other girls. Assuming she wouldn’t be asked to dance, she spent her time casting her gaze toward the middle of the floor where numerous couples were already dancing under the watchful eye of the chaperones. A grin slipped past her calm demeanor at the sight of the adults determined to supervise the dancing so there would always be a space between the couple.

  A few of the girls’ dresses were shorter than hers, and she sighed as she smoothed her hands over her skirt. Her mother might have acquiesced a little on the length of her skirt, but her father would never give into shorter styles. Her dark hair hung in thick waves over her shoulders, but again, she looked toward the other girls with envy. Most of their permed hair was teased into bouffants.

  “Ethel!”

  Snapping her head around, she blushed. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

  The giggling ensued once again, and her best friend, Jennifer, asked, “Who do you have your eye on?”

  Pushing her glasses slightly up on her nose, she shrugged. Horn rimmed glasses with the little fake jewel in the upper corners might’ve been fashionable, but she knew it made her look more intellectual than attractive. Even her name was not cute. Ethel. It sounded so old-fashioned. Shoving that thought to the side, she replied, “No one special. I’m just glad we all turned sixteen years old before the holidays.” For several years, the church had been offering a well-chaperoned holiday party for teenagers. She and Jennifer had counted down the months until they’d be able to attend.

  As her friends slowly drifted away, accepting dances from some of the young men, she swayed to the music, lost in her own thoughts.

  The idea of Elizabeth and Jane Bennet from Pride and Prejudice ran through her mind, and her lips curved into a grin once more. It struck her that even though the story took place in a previous century, the tale was little changed. Young men and young women hoping to pair together at a dance.

  As her gaze continued to drift over the other teens in the room, she blinked as her attention was captured by the dark eyes of the most handsome young man she’d ever seen. Tall and strapping, his dark hair combed over, slightly longer than she knew her mother would have liked. But it only served to make Ethel want to reach out and smooth it back from his forehead. Her feet stayed rooted to the floor, unable to move away from the newcomer’s steady gaze. Her breath caught in her throat when she realized he was walking toward her.

  He wore a white shirt, the sleeves rolled up over his forearms, a blue tie, and navy pants. Appropriate, and yet casual. It was easy to see why the other girls in the room halted what they were doing just to stare, and she had no doubt they hoped he would stare at them. But for some inexplicable reason, his gaze never left hers. She fought the urge to reach up and fiddle with her glasses again but instead tucked a long dark tress of hair behind her ear. Before she knew it, he was standing directly in front of her. Much to her surprise, she had to lean her head back to look into his face. She jerked when his fingers touched hers.

  Looking down, he gently took her hand and pulled her forward to the dance floor. With one hand placed on her lower back and his other hand clutching hers between them, they swayed to the music. He remained quiet, and she didn’t speak for fear of breaking the spell and finding that she was actually standing by herself in the middle of the floor with nothing but a foolish, dreamy expression on her face. But his fingers flexed, and she felt his fiery brand on her back. She leaned slightly away, peered upward into his dark eyes, and was lost. Lost and found, all in the same instant.

  “What were you smiling about before I came over?”

  His voice was deep and soothing and held none of the squeak of the young teenage boys, causing her to wonder how old he was. Blushing, she knew if she told him the truth, he would find her ridiculous. But for the life of her, she couldn’t think of anything clever to say. “I was thinking of Pride and Prejudice…” Expecting him to drop her hand, laugh in her face, and turn away, she was stunned when he pulled her tighter.

  “Dare I hope that you would be Elizabeth Bennett to my Mr. Darcy?”

  She blinked at his recognition of the Jane Austen story as her breath caught in her throat and no words came forth.

  “You are too generous to trifle with me.”

  She continued to stare as he quoted from the book, and she shook her head. “Please, don’t tease me.”

  H
is eyes narrowed slightly as he asked, “What’s your name?”

  She swallowed deeply. “Ethel.”

  “I’m George. George Wiseman. And Miss Ethel, I think you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. I would never tease you.”

  He pulled her back tightly, and the air left her lungs as she remained in his embrace. The evening passed, and she stayed in his arms, separating only when the chaperones eyed them with suspicion. As the last hour of the dance wound down, he stopped and looked up at the mistletoe hanging above them. With every fiber of her being, she wanted him to kiss her but felt certain that her first kiss would not be at the church social. Like everything so far with George, he surprised her. As she stared into his dark eyes lit by the twinkling candlelight, he lifted his hand and cupped her jaw, kissing her lightly.

  “Miss Ethel,” he whispered, “I think it’s only fair to warn you.”

  Her heart beat wildly in her chest, horrified by what his warning might be.

  He shocked her when he said, “You’re the girl I’m going to marry.” With that, he kissed her lightly again.

  Six Years Later

  “Are your eyes still shut?”

  Ethel Wiseman giggled and turned her head toward her husband. She lifted her hand and patted the scarf tied around her eyes. “George, how on earth do you think I can see anything with his blindfold on?” She heard his chuckle and added, “Although, why the need for such mystery, I don’t understand.”

  “I wanted to do something special for our second anniversary,” he replied.

  The sentiment was nice but hardly gave her an explanation. The breeze through the open car window captured her long dark hair, and she hoped it would not become tangled. “If I’d known we were going for such a long drive, I would have worn a scarf around my hair.”

  “You’re absolutely beautiful, Ethel. Messy hair or not.”

  Her eye roll was hidden by the blindfold, but before she had a chance to retort, she felt the car slowing. The sounds of children playing in the distance could be heard, and she could not imagine where George was taking her.

  Two years. It was hard to imagine she’d been married for two years. She had wanted to be his wife ever since she first saw him, never forgetting their kiss and his declaration.

  Her thoughts were jerked back to the present when the car came to a stop. She heard the gearshift move into park and the creak of the brake.

  “Well, we’re here,” George announced.

  “Well, since I don’t know where here is, can I take my blindfold off now?”

  “Absolutely not!”

  Before she had a chance to speak, she heard his door open and the sounds of him climbing out, closing his door, and footsteps making their way around the car. Soon, her door was opened, and he held her hand, assisting her out of the vehicle.

  He gently untied the knot at the back of her head, and she blinked in the December sunlight. Wrapping her coat tightly around her body, she snuggled closer as his arm draped over her shoulder. Glancing around, she spied a quaint neighborhood. Each house on the street was different, of various sizes, most with Christmas wreaths hanging on their doors. She twisted her head around to look at him, expecting an explanation.

  “Come on,” he said, not giving her a chance to question. He pulled her in tightly to his side, leading her past the white picket fence gate and up the sidewalk toward the house at the end of the cul-de-sac.

  Her head leaned back as they approached, noting the large, white, two-story house with the wide front porch. A small copse of trees grew to one side, and it appeared that straw-covered flower beds were scattered about the yard. “Whose house is this?” she asked as he marched straight up the steps to the front door. Much to her surprise, he didn’t ring the doorbell but instead pulled a key out of his pocket.

  He quickly unlocked the door and threw it open, and before she had a chance to ask questions, he bent and scooped her up with one arm under her knee and the other securely supporting her back. Throwing her arms around his neck, she squealed. “George Wiseman! Have you lost your mind? What are you doing?”

  He chuckled, and she felt the rumble throughout her body as he stepped over the threshold, kicked the door closed to keep out the cold, and placed her feet gently onto the floor.

  Holding her gaze, he bent low. His eyes twinkled as he said, “Welcome home, Ethel.”

  Home? Dragging her gaze from his enthusiastic expression, she looked around, seeing a large living room void of all furniture except for a wingback chair near the fireplace, an easy chair opposite it, and a Christmas tree in the corner. The built-in bookshelves along one wall stood empty. There was no other furniture to be seen. Still in his arms, she looked at him, questions bombarding her from all sides. “I don’t understand!”

  “I’ve been saving, sweetheart. With the money I got from the Army and what I’ve been making down at the shop, I put every dime aside that I could. Yesterday when you thought I was out running errands, I put a down payment on this house. It’s my present to you.”

  As his words sank in, she gasped, throwing her arms around his neck. Pulling her up against him, he began to twirl in a circle in the middle of the almost-empty living room.

  “I know we’ve got furniture from our apartment to bring over, but I went ahead and bought that nice chair for you. Just thinking about seeing you sitting there reading or knitting or bouncing our children on your knee made me not wait before I bought it.”

  She opened and closed her mouth several times, the words not coming as she battled the overwhelming emotions. Finally, she managed to croak, “I can’t believe you bought us a house!” He continued to twirl her around, and she laughed, throwing her arms out wide.

  “Let me show it to you, darling.”

  He took the lead, and she trailed along with him as they looked at the bookcases, knowing that over the years they would fill them with the books that they loved to read and share. He led her into the dining room, and she was stunned at the size.

  “Oh, my goodness! This will hold a huge table.”

  “I figured we’d need it with the brood we’re going to have,” he said, winking.

  Blushing, she followed him down the hall to discover the massive kitchen. A washer and dryer were tucked into the utility room that led to the backyard. Braving the cold, she stepped onto the back patio and looked around at the wide, fenced backyard.

  “I figured this yard would be big enough for our sons to play ball.”

  Twisting her head and looking up, she grinned. “We might have all girls, you know?”

  He kissed her deeply, then whispered, “Whatever God blesses us with is what we’ll love.”

  Hustling back inside, she spied the downstairs bedroom, complete with a small bathroom. Upstairs, she was shocked once more to discover two huge bedrooms and a large bathroom at the end of the hall. A smaller room, complete with a small bathroom, was attached.

  “We can pick one of these big ones to be ours, and I figure the little one can be the nursery. As other kids come along, they can share one of the other big rooms.”

  “When can we move in?” she asked, bouncing on her toes with excitement.

  “The shop is closed tomorrow, and I’ve got some of the fellows that are going to come to get all of our furniture out of our apartment. So, starting tomorrow night, we’ll be here in our own bed.”

  Her smile spread widely, and she shook her head. “I can’t believe you did this, George. I had no idea you were up to this.”

  “Don’t you know, sweet girl, I’d do anything for you?”

  They walked downstairs and settled next to the fireplace and the Christmas tree in their new, comfortable chairs. Talking long into the night, planning for the future, she couldn’t imagine a better Christmas… other than thinking about the many Christmases they would share in their new home.

  2

  Ten Years Later

  The scent of sugar, vanilla, and cinnamon filled the house as Ethel bustled around
the kitchen. With her hands resting on her hips, she stared at the counter filled with platters of Christmas cookies, quickly counting how many dozens she’d made and how many more she needed to finish.

  The radio was blaring a channel offering holiday carols, all of which she knew by heart, proved as she sang along to the joyful tunes. The church was having its annual holiday party for the little children, hence the many cookies she was baking. A smile slipped across her face as she thought of the excited expressions on the children when they walked in and saw the tables loaded with goodies.

  Just as quickly as her smile had come, it slid from her lips. Children. She and George had enjoyed practicing to make a baby, but each month, year after year, brought disappointment. She had gone to her doctor, continually assured that ‘it will happen when it happens’. She had visited the library, reading every book and medical journal she could lay her hands on about getting pregnant. George had assured her over and over that as much as he would love to have children with her, she was the joy in his life. But I want to give him children. She had prayed, spending hours on her knees with her hands clasped, making promises and vows if only she could have a child.

  Hearing the front door open, she shoved those thoughts away and quickly wiped her hands on her apron. She hurried past the dining room with its large table covered in a bright red cloth and Christmas greenery decorating the middle, her smile firmly on her face again.

  George stood in the foyer, stamping his feet and rubbing his hands together. “It’s as cold as can be out there, Ethel girl. Sure does feels warm in here and smells good!”