“Garrett,” the woman said, removing a long, dull knife from the inside pocket of her cape.
“How do you know my name?” Garrett asked.
The woman only smiled in response.
Garrett eyed the fruitcake. When Garrett gagged, Beckett couldn’t help but laugh softly. How was he going to get out of this one diplomatically?
“Thank you so much,” Garrett said to the woman, reaching for the tin. “I’ll place it on the counter with the other treats and we’ll eat your wonderful cake after dinner.”
The old woman tsked her tongue at him as she motioned with her eyes to the open space on the flagstone hearth that Nikola had vacated. Garrett had no option but to sit next to the woman. He looked terribly uncomfortable like he was sitting on nails.
“Now, dearie,” she said with kind eyes. “Or would you like me to call you Garrett?”
“Garrett’s fine,” he clipped.
“Garrett.” She nodded. “Fine name for a fine man. You lead this crew so well, making sure everyone else’s needs are met. That everyone’s happy. You wish for their happiness?” she questioned with a wink.
“Yeah,” he stuttered.
She nodded. “So do I.” She slowly cut a piece of her fruitcake as she hummed a Christmas jingle.
Garrett turned green as she slowly scooped the cake up in her bony fingers and held it out to him. She continued, “And what about Garrett’s happiness?” She looked up at the rest of the crew and said in a loud voice. “Does Garrett, your captain, deserve love by Christmas?”
Laughter rippled through the group. “Yep, Cap deserves all the love he can get,” Jak drawled.
“Here, here,” Tom said.
“I couldn’t agree more,” Beckett added with a cheeky grin. It was fun watching Garrett squirm. His face was flaming to the point where it was almost purple.
“Eat my cake,” the woman said.
Garrett swallowed hard. “I can’t,” he uttered.
“Oh, go ahead and humor the woman,” Beckett urged. “Eat the cake.” He’d learned from sad experience that a person would eat nearly anything when hungry enough. Lucky for him, Garrett had never had to go through that, which made him a picky eater.
The woman muttered something about a girl named Maci and M&Ms. It seemed to rattle Garrett, although Beckett had no clue what she was talking about. He chalked it up to the ramblings of an old lady. How many times had Beckett seen people who were half out of their minds? Often, his time on the streets seemed like it happened in another lifetime. Having the old lady here brought it all back full force, making him extremely grateful for where his life was today.
Finally, Garrett closed his eyes and popped it into his mouth. Beckett and the other crew members waited for his reaction. Beckett half-expected him to spit it out, but instead, he opened his eyes and proclaimed in surprise, “It’s really good.”
“Of course it is, dearie,” said the lady.
Garrett’s expression changed as he tipped his head. “Did we?” he said, then stopped.
“Yes, dearie?” she questioned with encouragement.
“This may sound strange, but did we help you move into a white cottage home on Main Street last spring?” Garrett asked.
Yes! Now Beckett remembered. No wonder there was a sense of familiarity surrounding the woman. They had helped her move. She seemed eccentric, yet kind. The years seemed to peel away, and the lady suddenly looked a decade younger than she had a few moments ago.
She clapped her hands together, giggling in delight. “Yes! I knew you’d remember.” She leaned close to Garrett, “Now go get your love before Christmas.”
“Get my love?” Garrett asked dubiously.
“Go,” the woman commanded, dismissing him as she summoned Tom to join her with a wave of her hand. One-by-one, she went through all of them, giving them a piece of the cake and muttering some nonsensical phrase. Soon, it was Beckett’s turn. When he sat down beside her, she studied him with such intensity that he felt like she was burning a hole through him. “You’ve been through much hardship, have known the ravages of hunger, the emptiness of the streets.” Her eyes took on a wise light. “You’ve had to battle the greatest demon of all … the one that resides inside you.”
A shiver ran through him. “H—how?” he blustered. Had someone told the lady about his past?
“You are on the right path, but forgiveness doesn’t come easily. Nevertheless, your heart will guide you. Trust your feelings.” She paused, gazing into his eyes. “God doesn’t keep score of the miracles He gives you. It’s okay to ask again.”
He tensed. “What do you mean by that?”
She dismissed the question with a wave of her hand, a benevolent smile stretching over her lips. “You will find the love you seek by Christmas … and something else.”
The love he sought? He wasn’t seeking love! He’d sworn off love a long time ago. The only love he felt was for Jasmine. Had someone put this lady up to coming here to toy with them? Beckett wasn’t amused. In fact, he was fast becoming ticked.
She gave him a reproving look. “How quickly your temper rises. Your head has sworn off love, but your heart never will.”
The woman had read his thoughts. He was dumbfounded, disturbed. “How are you doing this?”
Her eyes danced with mirth. “Just remember. All that glitters is not gold.”
“Huh?” Okay, that made absolutely no sense. The woman was clearly crazy.
Charlotte grinned in amusement. “It’s a line from Shakespeare.”
The woman handed him the cake. “Eat,” she commanded.
Mechanically, he placed it in his mouth and chewed. Garrett was right. It was delicious. The most delicious cake he’d ever eaten. A rush of something inexplicable went through Beckett, followed by tingles that zinged through his body like a cluster of shooting stars. He could’ve sworn he even heard chimes. There was definitely something unusual happening here. As he moved away from the woman, trying to make sense of it all, the firehouse bell rang through the building—car accident with injuries, extraction needed. The entire crew jumped from their positions of repose.
Garrett paused and Beckett could almost read his mind. He was concerned about the lady and what to do with her. They couldn’t exactly throw her back out into the storm. She wouldn’t last through the night in a storm like this.
Jak touched Garrett’s arm, “Go ahead, Cap. I’ll stick around until you get back.”
Garrett gave Jak a hearty thanks.
As they hurried from the room, Beckett stole a glance at the tiny woman. She caught his eye and smiled. Again, he felt like she was seeing into some secret part of him. All that glitters is not gold. He had no idea what that meant, but felt sure it would somehow play a significant role in his life.
Two hours later, when they returned to the station, they found Jak sitting alone in the dayroom, staring into the fire. “The old lady. She’s gone,” Jak said, his eyes fixed on the motion of the amber flames. “I turned around to get her a drink of water, and when I looked back, she was gone.”
“What do you mean, gone?” Garrett asked.
Beckett saw the concern in Garrett’s eyes, knew that the safety of the crew and security of the station came down to him as a captain.
“Poof,” Jak said. “Just without the noise. She gave me my … fruitcake prophesy, just like she gave you, then she started coughing, so I got up to get her a glass of water. Then … poof.”
“Fruitcake prophesy?” Charlotte chuckled. “Is that what you’re calling the crazy talk of a homeless person?”
Nikola pulled a face. “I have to agree with Charlotte. You’re all acting a little strange after eating that fruitcake and I’m going to get to the bottom of this.”
“Fruitcake prophesy?” JFK chimed in. “From a crazy homeless person?” He held his hands in the air, waiting for answers that didn’t come. “Where was I?”
Beckett felt unsettled, concerned. The woman knew he’d had rough shakes. Had
referenced his time on the streets. His past wasn’t something that Beckett publicized. The crew knew about it, but few others did. Maybe he’d met the woman during his time on the streets, possibly given her a blanket.
“Let’s look around,” Garrett suggested, ignoring their commentary. “Make sure she didn’t just go to another room and pass out or something.” He put his arm around Beckett and asked in a low tone, “You okay?”
Beckett nodded, but he was rattled, and he knew it showed on his face. He tried to pinpoint what had him on edge—maybe fear that the woman wandered off into the night. Or, maybe it was because she seemed to know so much about his past.
Jak stood to join the manhunt. “That’s a good idea, just so you guys can rest easy, but I already searched every inch of the station.”
“We’ll call it a night drill,” Garrett said. “Nikola, JFK, Tom, and Beckett—primary search of the first floor. Charlotte, Tom, and I will do a primary search of the second floor. Then we’ll switch and do a secondary search.”
Garrett turned to Jak. “What’s that famous gut of yours telling you about all of this?”
Beckett wasn’t surprised that Garrett was asking Jak’s opinion. When it came to fireground operations and rescues, Jak had terrific instincts. More times than not, his gut instinct was right on the money. Garrett and the rest of the crew had come to bank on it.
“It’s legit,” said Jak simply. He looked around, his eyes meeting everyone’s in the group. “Hold onto your Santa hat, because things are about to change for all of us.”
Even as Jak spoke the words, Beckett knew he was right.
Things were about to change.
Chapter 2
Beckett looked sideways at Jazzie and grinned a little at the stubborn tilt of her chin. The older Jazzie got, the more she was starting to take on his traits. Poor girl. He felt for her and the hard knocks she’d have to experience. She was eleven years old and already cocking an attitude. Heaven help him when she turned into a teenager. Hopefully, Beckett could help her navigate through the rough spots so she wouldn’t make the same mistakes he’d made.
A stormy expression brooded over her face. “It’s not funny, Dad. I hate Dave. He’s not my father and has no right to tell me to eat my dinner or what time I need to go to bed.” Her eyes narrowed. “That I can’t use my phone when I want.”
He let out a heavy sigh. “I totally get where you’re coming from, honey, but Dave is your mother’s husband. You need to show him some respect.”
Jazzie folded her arms tightly over her chest. “Mom put you up to this, didn’t she?” she asked accusingly.
Beckett held up his hands.“That’s not important.” Melinda had asked him to speak to Jazzie about Dave, but he wasn’t about to admit it. He’d told Melinda that he’d see what he could do, but that he couldn’t make any promises.
“Of course it’s important,” Jazzie exploded. “How can you sit there and act like it doesn’t bother you that mom married another man?” Her voice trembled. “You should’ve fought for Mom. If you had, the two of you’d be together right now.” Her features hardened. “And there would be no Dave to deal with.”
He tried to figure out a way to make Jazzie understand the situation. “Your mom and I are in a good place. We both have your best interest at heart.” Jazzie grunted and looked like she was about to say more, but he held up a hand. “Hear me out. I care about your mom. I always will.” He paused, trying to figure out the best way to phrase the rest. “She seems happy with Dave. You should be happy for her.”
Jazzie rolled her eyes. “Dave’s an uptight moron who thinks everything has to be perfect all the time.” She thrust out her lower lip. “You’d think we live in a museum. If one silly thing is out of place, he goes nuts.”
“Really?” That sounded a little worrisome. Beckett wondered if he should talk to Melinda about that. He didn’t want Jazzie having to walk on eggshells. Then again, maybe she was exaggerating. She was only eleven, after all. He made a mental note to keep his eye on the situation. He tried to stay out of Melinda and Dave’s business as much as he could, but Jazzie’s well being was his top priority.
Jazzie gave him a pleading look. “I just want me, you, and Mom to be a family again.” She flicked her fingers on her jeans.
Tenderness welled in his chest. “Honey, we are a family. Me and you.” Jazzie meant everything to him. He balled his hand into a fist. “We’re as thick as thieves.”
She lifted her chin, eyeing him. “And Mom?”
The last thing he wanted was to hurt Jazzie’s feelings, but she needed to hear the truth. “I don’t love your mother the way I did before … when we were together. She’s more of a friend or sister, both of us coming together with your best interest in mind.”
Jazzie’s eyes filled with dismay. “A friend? Sister? That’s sick, Dad.”
He chuckled. “No, it’s just life.” He blew out a long breath. “Look, Dave seems like a decent guy.” He touched Jazzie’s hair. “If you’ll just be patient and give him a chance, I think you might be surprised at what can happen.”
As she exhaled, he could see the wheels in her mind turning a mile a minute. “Okay, if Mom’s out of the picture, then you need to find someone else.”
He coughed. “What?”
“You heard me.” A smile stole over her lips. “Come on, Dad. Even an ugly guy like you can find somebody. You have an okay personality, and you’re semi-funny … sometimes.”
“Ouch,” he countered, his lips turning down in a mock frown, “that hurt.”
“Seriously, Dad. I don’t like seeing you alone. You look so down-in-the-mouth all the time.”
This time, he didn’t have to fake the frown. “I’m not down-in-the-mouth.” It hurt to know that Jazzie thought of him as sad or lonely. “I have a good life. I have you.”
“I know, Dad,” she said impatiently, “but it’s not the same as having a girlfriend.”
Had it really come to this—his daughter worrying about his love life? Or lack, thereof. He was pathetic. “Look, Jazzie, I know you’re trying to help, but you don’t need to worry about me finding a girlfriend.”
“Dad, you just need to ask girls out. If you did you’d see—”
He cut her off. “It’s not something that you need to be concerned about.” The words came out harsher than he intended, and he cringed when he saw her wounded expression. Then her eyes narrowed as she shook her head, giving him a look of utter disgust that only a pre-teen could perfect. “You just don’t get it, Dad.” She opened the door of the pickup truck and got out, reaching for her bag. “See ya inside,” she barked, slamming the door behind her.
He rubbed his jaw, wondering how the conversation had taken such a nosedive. What was in the water lately? First, the odd Fruitcake Lady with her talk about finding love before Christmas and then Jazzie. It was like someone shook up a bag containing all his secret wishes and his number one desire ended up on top. Three weeks later, and he was still pondering over the Fruitcake Lady. A couple days after she showed up at the station, he went to the house he and his fire crew had helped her move into only to learn that another family lived there. They’d been there two years and had no knowledge of the little, old lady.
Beckett watched Jazzie walk across the parking lot. She was growing up fast, the awkwardness of childhood giving way to the bloom of femininity. Even though she was ticked, she was so nimble and light, every step filled with energy. Her limp was so slight that even he hardly noticed it. After dozens upon dozens of surgeries and more physical therapy than a person should be subjected to in a lifetime, she’d reached this point. Even the doctors were astounded at her progress, saying they’d never seen a recovery like hers, given the scope of her injury. Jazzie truly was a walking miracle. After coming off the streets, Beckett had prayed over and over that Jazzie would be healed. He wanted his little girl to live a normal life, not be punished because of his mistakes. He told God that if He’d grant him that one thing, he’d never
ask for anything else. It was enough to have Jazzie whole. Several times, Beckett had been tempted to pray for more—to pray that he could find someone to love, to share his life with. Then, he’d remember his promise. He’d sunk so low and was given another chance. Jazzie had been healed. Truly, he was blessed. How could he ask for anything more?
Eventually, he swore off love, telling himself that he didn’t need anyone. He was fine being alone—a sour grapes mentality. The Fruitcake Lady’s words came rushing back about God not keeping score of miracles. Why did he keep thinking about the lady? How did she know that Beckett was afraid to ask for more? Was it okay to ask? The possibility was intriguing, a sliver of light falling underneath a closed door. Love by Christmas. He chuckled, rubbing his jaw. With Christmas a little more than two weeks away, it seemed like a long shot that he’d find anyone. It was for the best. He just needed to get that through his thick skull.
His thoughts went back to his conversation with Jazzie. Sure, it was hard seeing Melinda with another man, but mostly, Beckett was glad she’d found someone. He and Melinda’s relationship was strained years before he even hit rock bottom and allowed the alcohol to consume him. Melinda craved a comfortable life with all the trappings of wealth, and Dave had given her that. A pediatric dentist, Dave had more money than he knew what to do with. He built Melinda a fifteen thousand square foot mansion in an exclusive, gated community nestled at the base of a canyon in Herriman. Melinda could now afford to buy expensive clothes, take trips whenever she wanted, and have lunch with her friends at nice restaurants. Dave gave Melinda everything she’d ever wanted. Kudos to him. As for Beckett, he was content with his job and salary. Sure he drove a used truck and budgeted his money, but a simple life was all he needed.
Beckett got out of the truck and reached for his bowling bag. Once a week, he drove down from Park City to South Jordan, a city near where Jazzie lived. The two of them had a standing bowling appointment. Also, a couple of Beckett’s former neighbors and friends routinely joined them. He got a few steps away from the truck before he saw a young mother trying to open a baby stroller. A toddler stood beside her, and a baby was in a car seat on the ground. A second later, the toddler giggled and sprinted across the parking lot.
The Christmas Bliss Romance Collection Page 29
