Christmas Blessings: Seven Inspirational Romances of Faith, Hope, and Love

by Leah Atwood

  Colin jerked to a stop. “She left that postcard in the book. I was sure it meant…” He dug a pair of gloves from his pocket and thrust them on. “We went on a date last year. She told you that, right?”

  “Yeah, she told me. And she said you never called after that. Yesterday you didn’t even remember her at first.”

  Colin’s lips pressed together, his expression taut. “So that was your signal to barge in?”

  “Barge in on what?”

  Colin stepped up to him. “She came to Iowa looking for me.”

  “She came to Iowa looking for a place to write. Because apparently without telling any of the rest of us, you offered up the house as a regular B&B and she took you up on the offer.” He nudged his chin into the collar of his coat, the wind dusting snow from the nearby evergreen. Frustration rocketed up his throat. “I can’t even believe we’re having this conversation.”

  “Yeah, well, sorry for thinking my own brother would actually stay hands-off in one area of my life. For being serious enough about the possibility of something with Maren to come here.”

  “Serious? You were serious about culinary school at one point, remember that? And then modeling and then acting. And I can’t even count the girls—Maggie and Mel and Ruby and those are just the names I can remember off the top of my head.” He ignored the looks from the teens manning a snack booth, the people in line. “And apparently for awhile there you were serious about a job in Des Moines, but sound like that’s not going so well either.”

  He should stop. He knew he should stop.

  But now that he’d started, it poured from him.

  “And here I thought maybe I could convince you to be serious about the farm. Get you home for Christmas and show you what you’ve been missing.”

  “Serious about the farm?” Colin combed his fingers through his hair.

  “Yeah, call me crazy, but I actually thought maybe you’d catch the vision for what I’m trying to do here. Stay and help with planting season.”

  Colin’s laughter accompanied the slump of his shoulders. “I will call you crazy. Never mind the fact that Mom and Dad gave you the land, not me, why in the world would I want to farm?”

  Seconds stretched, the music from the speakers over the band shell, the buzz of the townspeople, the smell of funnel cakes and cider, all of it crowded in his head until he found his voice again.

  “I don’t know why you’d want to. Maybe because Grandpa and Grandma poured their heart into this place. Maybe because I thought it could be fun, working together, building something.”

  “Except I’m not a farmer. And you aren’t either.”

  “We can learn.”

  “And what? Fake the passion for it for the rest of our lives?” Colin shook his head. “No thank you.”

  The blunt refusal should’ve exasperated him, filled him with the same disillusionment Leigh’s news had this morning. He’d uprooted his entire life for this.

  So why did he only feel a detached numbness?

  Colin’s focus shifted over Drew’s shoulder and realization joined the emptiness: Maren had heard all this. Watched while his dream and plans for the future withered.

  “How far has it gone?” Colin’s attention was back on him now.

  “What?”

  “You and Maren? How far? Was this the first date? Because if so, we’re even and it’s anyone’s game now.”

  His lungs tightened and there, something to fill his hollow emotion. Heat pulsed through him. “Colin—”

  But the jarring screech of a microphone cut through the crowd. And up in the band shell…a police officer?

  “Nothing to be alarmed about, folks, but there’s been break-in at the depot. Would the parents of the following kids please come talk to me?” He began rattling off names. Not a big deal. Teens were always camping out in the train cars at the depot. Drew turned back to his brother. “Col—”

  A discouraged sigh rattled from him. Colin was already gone. And then… “Winnie Renwycke.”

  Chapter 9

  “Leigh, you have to calm down.”

  Drew’s sister ignored him, irate footsteps tramping through the snow toward the Maple Valley depot on the edge of town. He’d hated leaving Maren behind at the carnival, but she’d insisted he go. Second time tonight she’d sent him after a sibling.

  “Go with Leigh, Drew. I’ll get ahold of J.J. and see if he can come pick up his horse.”

  “But…” He’d glanced helplessly at Colin.

  “I’ll talk to him, too. Smooth things over.”

  Moonlight drew an eerie outline over the oblong depot building and its span of railroad track that reached into the distance, disappearing into a craggy ridge of bare trees and evergreens.

  Out in front, a line of antique passenger rail cars rested on the track…one of which Winnie and her friends had broken in to.

  “She’s not hurt,” he called after Leigh. “Nothing was damaged. I heard one of the other parents say Case Walker isn’t even pressing charges.”

  The sound of someone else’s car door slamming echoed in the night. “Doesn’t exactly make me feel better. I stood in a crowd while a police officer named my kid in front of the whole town.” Leigh halted, breaths coming in angry huffs. “She trespassed. She broke into a train car, of all things—”

  “Kids have been sneaking into the train cars out here since the depot opened, Leigh. You know that. It’s practically rite of passage around here.”

  Up ahead he could make out Winnie’s hunched form, shadowed by the overhang slanting from the depot roof. Several other kids milled around, parents, a lone police officer.

  “I can’t believe you’re not more upset.” Leigh’s hands were on her waist now. “You, solid and upright Drew Renwycke, who’s never done a thing wrong.”

  “We both know that’s not—”

  “Whatever, just let me handle this.” And with that, Leigh left him in the middle of the depot lawn, her marched steps tracking toward the building.

  Like mother, like daughter. Just a couple weeks ago, Winnie had given him the same hurled “whatever” as she marched toward the farmhouse. That’d been the day they found Maren climbing up the trellis.

  Drew sighed, his head tipping toward the sky—its span of winking stars an audience entirely at ease. Maybe he should be more upset about this. Fear that Winnie’s behavior was more than mild teenage acting out.

  But all he could think about was Maren back in the square. How perfectly tonight had started and how off-track it’d ended up. And Colin, who’d seemed almost more hurt than angry when he’d seen them.

  “Glad I’m not your niece right now.”

  Drew turned at the voice. Case Walker—the man who ran who’d run the heritage railroad station since Drew was eight or nine. Every fall his grandparents brought him and his siblings out here at least once for the fourteen-mile ride. Case would always give a tour of the depot station, the museum, talk about what it was like back when people traveled the country by rail.

  Drew had gone to school with Case’s kids—sat in homeroom with Logan, had a crush in junior high on Kate, played a year of basketball with Beckett. The youngest, Raegan, still lived here in town.

  The man’s crinkle-eyed gaze turned from the depot to Drew. “Confession: When Officer Marley called me about the kids out here, I was tempted to tell him to leave ’em be. Teens have been camping out in these train cars forever.”

  “That’s what I tried to tell Leigh.”

  “Then I thought about how cold it’s supposed to get overnight—and worse, the ramifications of a posse of frantic parents—and figured we’d better go ahead and handle it tonight.”

  A parent walked past with a sullen kid trailing behind. Case actually laughed. “Glad I’m not that kid, too.”

  Drew didn’t know Case Walker well, but he knew about him—everybody did. The man had fought in Vietnam and later worked as an international diplomat. Then he’d had an office at the U.N. until his wife had beco
me sick. He’d moved the whole family back to Iowa, left his illustrious career behind.

  Started over for the sake of his family—just like Drew was trying to do.

  Or had been trying to do. Before both his siblings made it clear they wanted nothing to do with the farm.

  “So you’ve never done a thing wrong? Did I overhear that right?”

  Drew’s gaze roamed to Leigh, now standing over Winnie, her frustrated voice carrying over the distance. “Leigh’s wrong on that. She’s got a case of selective memory.”

  Case’s throaty chuckle rose over the pulsing of the wind. “A certain barn party summer of ’99 comes to mind.” At Drew’s questioning glance, he nodded. “Beckett was there. Longest grounding of his life.”

  And Drew hadn’t been grounded at all. Mom and Dad hadn’t had time for disciplinary action—not with Grandpa’s funeral to plan. Maybe they’d figured that was punishment enough. “I’ve been regretting that party for years.”

  “Not a big fan of regret myself. It’s like walking through life with one hand constantly tied behind your back. Not entirely immobilizing, but hindering all the same.”

  Drew started to the depot once more, Leigh’s voice even louder now. “You’ve got an interesting way of putting things, Mr. Walker.”

  “Case. And thanks. I’ll have to tell that to my two writers—Kate and Logan. Pretty sure they think they get their wordsmith skills from their mom. Maybe they’re wrong.”

  Case clapped one hand on Drew’s shoulder and then left him to face Leigh and Winnie. Leigh turned to him with a helpless expression.

  He took it as permission to step in and as soon as Leigh moved away, he spoke. “Scoot.” He lowered onto the bench beside Winnie.

  “She didn’t have to yell at me in front of everyone.” Winnie’s hands, red and wind-chapped, knotted together in her lap. “She’s the worst.”

  “She’s not the worst, Win. She loves you.” He peeled off his gloves and handed them to her. “Put them on.”

  “We didn’t do anything that bad. Jamie says it’s tradition and that probably all our parents did it when they were kids, too. I bet Mom did, which means she has no right to yell at me. Besides, I’ve never done anything half as bad as what she’s done.”

  “I know you didn’t mean to do anything horrible. But I also know you’ve gotta stop giving your mom such a hard time. Breaking into the school a couple weeks ago, spending all your time with anybody but her, now this…you’re hurting her.”

  “Like she never hurt me?”

  A strangled sob cracked Winnie’s voice, and Drew reached out his arm to pull her in. “She knows she hurt you. And she’s been carrying it around forever.”

  Walking around with one hand tied behind her back.

  His gaze trekked over the landscape, following the metal track that emerged from the snow into the distance. Moonlight scattered through bony branches and landed in the snow in splotches.

  “Did your mom ever tell you why she named you Winnie?”

  Winnie nodded against his arm, her sigh sending her bangs fluttering. “Something about Pooh or whatever.”

  “There’s more to the story than that. When I was kid, my Grandpa—your great-grandfather—was pretty much my best friend. He’s the one I talked to about things. And your uncle Colin, he had this dog. It was named Bacon and—”

  Winnie lifted her head. “Bacon?”

  “His favorite food at the time? I don’t know. But anyway, he had his dog. Well, your mom…she had her Winnie the Pooh bear. And, I’m not going to lie, I teased her about it. A lot. But she loved that thing. Carried it with her everywhere. Sometimes at night I’d walk past her bedroom and hear her talking to it.”

  “So she named me after it. It’s cold, Uncle Drew. Let’s go.”

  “All that’s waiting for you is a grounding, so you might as well hear me out first.” But he took off his coat and draped it over her lap.

  “You’re wearing a coat.” Maren’s voice. She noticed the oddest things.

  “So your mom had this Pooh bear and she loved it and by the time she was, I don’t know, thirteen or fourteen, it was so faded you couldn’t even tell what color it was. But every time one of its eyes fell out, she sewed it back in. When its old red shirt ripped, she stitched that up too. She saved it from I don’t even know how many trips to Goodwill or garage sale piles when Mom would try to get rid of it. And Dad joked once that if she could take that good of care of a stuffed animal, then one day she’d make a darn good mom.”

  Winnie’s restless shifting stilled.

  Another parent showed up for another kid. Over on the far edge of the shoveled boardwalk that rimmed the depot, Case and the cop who’d gathered the parents in town laughed about something.

  And then Winnie buried herself against him, one arm reaching across his stomach. And he saw Leigh watching from corner of the boardwalk, read her wounded eyes and the longing in her expression.

  She’s right.

  About Winnie and needing space to connect with her daughter. No, it wasn’t a competition. But he was in the way, wasn’t he?

  He let out a resigned sigh and kissed Winnie’s forehead before nudging her to her feet. “Come on, let’s go home.”

  * * *

  The farmhouse was dark when Leigh pulled her car into the gravel drive that circled the house. Drew had expected at least a light or two, some sign of Colin and Maren back from the carnival.

  Had they not returned yet?

  He climbed from the passenger seat, gaze roving the shoveled drive. Colin’s car was sandwiched in between his and Leigh’s. But where was Maren’s?

  Dread heavied his steps as he approached the house, Leigh and Winnie behind him. He found Colin inside, sitting in the living room, only the fireplace for light, down to its last flickers. “Where’s Maren?”

  Colin didn’t turn from the fire. “She packed and left as soon as we got home.” “What? Why? Did you try to stop her?”

  “She’s a grown woman, Drew. She can leave when she wants.”

  It didn’t make sense. Their date, the dinner, the sleigh ride…that almost kiss. Everything had been perfect.

  Until Colin.

  “What did you say to her?” His brother stood.

  “You can ditch the accusatory tone. I didn’t say anything. She said she didn’t want to be the reason we couldn’t reconcile. And that maybe if she left, we’d have the space we need to work things out.”

  “That’s ridiculous.”

  “The thought of us working things out? That’s what I thought, too.”

  Colin sidestepped him and left the room. Drew pulled out his phone. Had Maren at least called him? He heard Winnie and Leigh’s voices in the background—Winnie asking where Maren was and Colin explaining and Leigh’s sighed, “I had a feeling this would happen.”

  One voicemail. He lifted his phone and listened. “Drew, I’m really sorry…”

  He shuffled to the fireplace, toed a log until it dropped and snuffed out the last flame.

  Chapter 10

  “I cannot believe your parents invited Dean to this.” Remy hissed her disbelief as she shook out of her lime green coat. “And his new wife? Really?”

  Maren took Remy’s coat and purse—her usual designated ole at Mom and Dad’s annual Christmas Eve party. Guests mingled throughout the house—neighbors, church people, long-time friends of the family. The same album as always played on Dad’s vintage record player—big band arrangements of Christmas classics—and Mom had outdone herself with the decorations. There was a Christmas tree in every room of the first floor—varying sizes—and the whole house smelled of cinnamon.

  “They didn’t invite him. Not exactly.” Maren led the way to the narrow hallway where a guest bedroom served as the coat drop-off spot. Not until Remy followed her in did she explain. “Mom got to talking to Dean’s mom at the Christmas Eve service earlier this evening. They were such good friends back when we were dating. She mentioned the party. Had no idea
they’d actually show up with Dean and Bridget in tow.”

  Mom had apologized to her so many times tonight she’d lost count. And at least twice Dad had intercepted her before she ended up in the same room as Dean and his wife.

  “Just tell me Elaine’s not here. I can’t deal with Dean’s sister tonight. Not on Christmas Eve.”

  “Promise. She’s not here.”

  Remy walked to the vanity and straightened the red and green headband in her cropped hair. “Well, if you want, we could sneak out that window over there. Go find a party that’s not crawling with exes.”

  “I’m fine, Rem.” The sounds of the party drifted under the doorway and Remy’s teasing eyes sparked with mischief. “Or better yet, we go out there and start spreading rumors that you just spent two weeks in Iowa with your cover model and it was the most romantic two weeks of your life.”

  She grinned at Remy in the mirror. “Except that’d be lying and I don’t know, something about it being Christmas and all…doesn’t sit well with me.”

  Remy turned to face her. “Not entirely a lie. When you texted to say you were home, I asked if you got to see Colin. You said yes. I asked if it was as romantic as you imagined. You said it had its moments.”

  Vague answers about a subject she didn’t want to get into via text. Didn’t want to get into at all, really.

  Because for eight days she’d been working to convince herself what’d happened in Iowa was just a happy little working vacation tucked into a busy holiday season. And yes, maybe she’d felt…things. Let herself get carried away by the pretty season and the charming town.

  And the really, really great guy she’d gotten to know.

  But she couldn’t stay there. Not knowing what it’d mean for Drew. Colin had finally come home, the one thing Drew had wanted for so long. Such a huge step for his hope of pulling his family back together and getting the farm up and running again.

  But she hadn’t missed Colin’s reaction to seeing them together. And she couldn’t—wouldn’t—be the thing standing in between their reconciliation.