by Jillian Hart
“I might be a chip off the old block, but I’m not a workaholic.” She rolled her eyes. Why did everyone keep saying that? “I just like to work.”
“Hey, I get it,” Michael said amicably. “Me, too. Grant, how are things at the vet clinic?”
“A little slow. Had a dog who helped himself to the Christmas baking. Chocolate, you know, but he’ll be fine. They rushed him in right away. Hi there, Susan.”
“Hello, Grant. Well, it looks like they have my tree loaded. I’d better get going. Good to see all of you, together or not.” Susan gave Chelsea a wink before crunching through the icy snow toward her SUV.
A wink? Why a wink? “We’re not together,” she told her dad before he could ask.
“Absolutely not,” Michael confirmed, his gaze finding hers with a conspiratorial look.
“I don’t know why people are asking that.” She found herself smiling at him. Smiling. And the feeling she’d been fighting since Mrs. Collins’s laundry room zoomed back with the force of a tornado. Boom, it struck her hard in the middle, rattling her ribs and her heart, leaving her rocking on her feet. Good thing she excelled at denial. “I mean, you and me?”
“I’m clearly not your type.” Humor looked good on him.
Not that she was noticing. “Definitely. Plus, I’m not looking. At all. Forget it.”
“Okay, okay.” Grant held up both hands in surrender. “I won’t ask what you two are doing here together. What do I know?”
“Daddy!” Macie bounded up her to father. “Are we gonna get the tree now?”
“I guess that’s why we’re here. May as well get a tree.” Michael changed when he ruffled his daughter’s flyaway hair. The granite softened, his reserve eased and he looked like a whole new man. He’d been handsome before, but add a dash of tenderness and wow.
Total and complete wow.
“Hi, Mr. McKaslin.” Macie grinned up at Grant. “See my cast?”
“I haven’t seen a decorating job that good. Ever.” Grant took a moment to admire the plethora of shiny stickers stuck to pink plaster. “Very Christmassy.”
“Plus, I want a kitten for Christmas this year, you know.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“This way I can look at kittens even though I don’t have one.” Macie peered up through her lashes at her dad, as if trying to read his reaction. “But I’m getting one, right?”
“Sorry, that’s one mystery best left for Christmas morning.” Michael wrapped a powerful arm around his daughter’s slight shoulders, gently tugged her away. “C’mon, Mace, let’s leave the McKaslins to tree hunt. You get to pick ours this year.”
“All by myself?”
“Yes, all by yourself. Hope I don’t regret it.” Although he spoke to her whole family, who gathered around her like a half moon, his gaze found only her. For a split second the unguardedness in his eyes remained, revealing a hint of the real Michael Kramer. Her heart lurched, still stuck in suspended animation, while he tucked his daughter’s hand in his and walked away.
“Earth to Chelsea.” Meg nudged her. It would have to be Meg who noticed she couldn’t drag her attention away from the handsome man disappearing into a row of evergreens.
“Sorry. It’s all this free time. I don’t know what to do with myself.” Her joke made everyone laugh.
“C’mon, let’s start looking.” Grant sounded like Christmas cheer itself, but his smile looked too wide and too forced. Poor Dad, he really was trying hard to make this like any Christmas.
But this wasn’t. It would never be again.
“How about that one?” Johanna pointed to a scrubby Charlie Brown tree, growing lopsided and stunted. “The poor thing. It’s so cute.”
“Johanna, you always go for the underdog.” Grant’s chuckle rumbled warmly and full of a father’s love.
“I know, I can’t help myself.” She shrugged, her soft brown hair framing her lovely face perfectly.
“I’m in the mood for something grand. Let’s go all-out.” He looped his arm around Johanna’s shoulder and they headed down the same row where Michael and Macie had disappeared. “Let’s find the best and biggest tree on the farm. What do you say, girls?”
“Now you’re talkin’.” Meg sailed after them.
“This is going to be fun.” Sara Beth launched down the aisle, too, leaving Chelsea behind.
The sun lit up the world, glinting off the white ground, shimmering in evergreen branches and casting dappled light over the families winding through the acres of fir and spruce. Everything felt so normal. How could that be possible? She wasn’t entirely certain her heart had started beating again.
A movement grabbed her attention—a man with a black coat, a wide-shouldered stance and a little girl at his side.
Chelsea sighed. She could try all the denial she wanted, but it was futile. She did notice him. She was attracted to him. But really liking him? That was another matter entirely. Hands fisted, she willed her gaze from him and prayed that from this point on Michael Kramer would have no effect on her. Nothing. Caring deeply for him was one mistake she refused to make.
“Chels?” Sara Beth wandered over. “Are you okay?”
“Sure, I’m great.” No way did she want to confess the truth. She didn’t want to open up the past or to admit what she felt—and was trying not to feel—for Michael.
“I know this is hard without Mom.” Sara Beth bit her bottom lip, saying nothing more and betraying everything.
“It is hard.” Why hadn’t she been focused on her sisters? If she had, then she would have noticed Sara Beth’s pain. “C’mon, we’ll look together. This grieving thing is easier when you don’t do it alone.”
“Exactly.” Sara Beth nodded and blew out a shaky breath. “It’s just hard. There’s a terrible hole without Mom.”
“I know. We’ll just have do the best we can. We’ll get through this.”
“We will,” Sara Beth agreed.
Chelsea took her sister’s hand and together they headed down rows of dappled sun and evergreen. Lord, watch over my family, she prayed. Somehow let this Christmas heal them.
Chapter Nine
“I got all the ornaments picked out.” Macie chattered away in the backseat, revved up with excitement. “Know just how to do it. I’ve got a plan and everything.”
“A plan, huh?” He glanced briefly in the rearview mirror, taking in her flushed face and eager eyes. His daughter had plans? And here he’d hoped she hadn’t inherited that particularly tendency.
“Yep. I got it all figured out,” she said happily. “First, we’ve got to put the tree up right away.”
“What about lunch?”
“Uh.” She bit her bottom lip, her face scrunching as she thought. “We’ll have lunch and then put up the tree. Then we have to find the lights.”
“They weren’t in the boxes I brought down?”
“Nope.” She shook her head, scattering windswept brown curls.
Where had Mom put them? She’d packed up the tree decorations last year. Frowning, he eased the SUV around the corner of the residential street, slowing as he spotted kids up ahead, pulling each other on plastic saucer sleds. They parted, standing curbside as he crept past. His neighbors were out putting up lights, hauling in Christmas trees or staking metallic reindeer in their yards. It wasn’t hard to spot his house. The brick Tudor, bought last year because it was a block from his parents’ home, was dark as night. Not a single light shone or one decoration. It could have been Scrooge’s house.
Good thing they were going to change that this weekend. He turned into the driveway and hit the garage remote. As the door cranked upward, his mind wandered to the one person he didn’t want it to. Chelsea McKaslin, with her gentle friendliness, approachable beauty and her kindness. How did he stop feeling what he wa
s trying not to feel?
He had to shut it down, overcome it, get past it somehow, some way. What he needed to do was to think of her as a colleague, and only as a colleague. Maybe if he tried hard enough and gave it enough time, eventually it might work. A man had to hope so.
He pulled into the garage, cut the engine and opened Macie’s door.
“Grammy!” She scrambled onto the concrete floor in a flurry of energy.
What was wrong with him? He’d been so absorbed, he hadn’t even noticed his mother pull up in her minivan. Trying to change the way he thought of Chelsea was apparently taking all his available brain cells.
“I made a casserole that should cover your lunch and supper.” Mom carried a covered casserole in both hands, balancing a plastic container on top. Apparently she’d made rolls, too. “Looks like you two have been busy. That’s quite a Christmas tree you have there.”
“It’s the biggest one that will fit in our living room. The other one was too tall,” Macie explained, clomping along at her grammy’s side.
While the two ladies talked, he unlocked the door, punched in the alarm code and took the food from his mom. The meal scorched through his gloves, telling him it was table-ready. “Do you want to join us, Mom?”
“No, I ate with your father. Since it’s between snowstorms, he’s putting Santa on the roof while he can.”
“And all the reindeer, too?” Macie asked.
“Yes, can’t forget reindeer.” Mom went straight to the cupboards for plates and cups. “He has the nativity left to go, and that’ll take him all afternoon. So I thought I’d come over and help you with your tree.”
“Awesome!” Macie’s delighted answer echoed in the kitchen. The two trotted off together to set the table, and he trailed after them with the food. He couldn’t seem to concentrate on what they were saying. Something about the Christmas tree. All his poor mind could do was picture Chelsea in the sunshine.
A glimmer of a wish, or at least the first seed of one, threatened to take root and grow. He grimaced, not pleased at all. He had to stop it. He tamped it down, closed off his feelings and refused to give it life. It was the smartest thing to do. Love hadn’t worked out well for him, he wasn’t suited to it. He had to leave it at that. Chelsea was a wish and nothing more, one not meant to come true.
“I get to say grace!” Macie dropped into her chair and folded her hands, her enthusiasm bringing him back to this moment of his life and the blessings in it.
* * *
“Okay, is it me, or is this light hanging thing a disaster?” Chelsea stepped back to take a look at the colorful twinklers on the top half of the Christmas tree. “It’s lopsided.”
“It really is.” Sara Beth sidled up beside her to study the problem.
“It’s not bad,” Johanna chimed in. “If you squint at it.”
“Or, we could turn the tree so the bad side is against the wall.” Meg shouldered over to add her opinion while Burt, the gray-striped cat, looked up with interest from his perch on the back of the couch.
“This is what I get for not learning the skill from Mom.” Chelsea tugged the ladder in place beside the tree. “She always insisted on doing it, remember?”
“She could wind the lights in one big swirl and they looked picture-perfect every time,” Meg remembered, flipping her long brown hair behind her shoulder.
“Mom had a gift. She could have been a professional tree decorator,” Johanna agreed, love for their mother tender in her voice.
“Even that last Christmas she had Dad place the lights to her exact specifications.” Sara Beth sighed, falling silent. There were not words to describe the sweetness and sorrow of that last holiday when Mom had been so ill. “Okay, we’ll try it again. Chelsea, up the ladder. Meg, why are you just standing there?”
“I’m supervising. Face it, you all need me.” Meg smiled mischievously. “Since I’m in charge—”
“Who appointed you?” Johanna asked.
“If anyone’s in charge it should be me,” Johanna quipped. “I’m artistic.”
“But I’m the oldest,” Chelsea chimed in. “Although I’d be happy to abdicate supervisory status—”
“Dibs,” Meg called out. “And now that that’s settled, I say a cookie break for everyone.”
“I like how you think.” Johanna pirouetted and led the way toward the kitchen. Dee, napping by the crackling fireplace, hopped up to follow. “Those bakery cookies I got yesterday are addictive. I think it’s the sprinkles.”
“And the icing.” Meg rushed to catch up with her. “Do you know what would go great with them?”
“Hot chocolate,” Johanna’s voice echoed from the kitchen.
“Chelsea, what’s wrong? I know you’re not upset about the lights,” Sara Beth said in her gentle, understanding tone. “This is hard without Mom, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” It was. “I miss her. She loved Christmas.”
“I know. If she were here right now, you know she’d be singing carols and conducting us in three-part harmony. She made everything just right.” Sara Beth paused. “But that’s not the only thing bothering you, is it?”
“No.” If only she could admit the truth, but the words were stuck in her throat, refusing to be spoken.
“I saw how it was at the tree farm.” Sara Beth lowered her voice. “With Michael.”
“I wish it wasn’t like that with Michael.” There. She’d actually said the words. That was a big step, right there. “You have no idea how much I wish it.”
“I can tell.” Sara Beth moved closer, caught Chelsea’s hand and squeezed gently. “Why are you fighting so hard?”
“I have my reasons.” She’d made one big confession. That didn’t mean she was ready for another.
“You haven’t dated since Nick. That was a long time ago.” Sara Beth apparently had it already figured out.
“Sorry, I’m still not going to talk about it.” Chelsea managed what she hoped was a smile. Life went on, broken hearts mended and she’d been busy achieving her goals. “Who has time for dudes anyway?”
“Right. We’re busy here.” Sara Beth tugged her in the direction of the kitchen. “Busy with hot chocolate and cookies.”
“And no time to talk about dudes.” She guessed Sara Beth understood more than she was saying, and Chelsea appreciated her sister’s solidarity. “Is that my cell ringing?”
“Sounds like it.”
“Great.” Just knowing it was the answering service and she’d have to go into the clinic, she dashed through the kitchen to the back door entry where she’d left her coat. As she raced by Bayly, the dog lifted his head from his bed to watch her and Dee barked, thinking it was a game. Chelsea wrenched her cell out of her coat pocket before it went to voice mail.
“Hello?” She panted into the phone.
“Chelsea?” a man’s voice boomed. “It’s Steve.”
“Steve?” And not the answering service. Awesome. Which meant she’d be able to hang with her sisters over cookies and cocoa after all. Yay.
“Did I call at a bad time?” he asked.
“No, we were just decorating the tree. What can I do for you?” She dropped onto the bench, since it was quieter in the mud room and the kitchen rang with her sisters’ merry and loud chatter.
“It’s not what you can do for me, but for our church. And my wife.” Steve’s jovial tenor sang across the connection. “Laura needs someone to take her place on the Christmas food drive committee. You know she’s got her hands full with me. According to her, I’m a terrible patient and I’m a lot of work for her.”
“There’s no need to talk me into it.” Really, as if she could say no. “I’ll do it, although I’m stretched thin. I’m kind of afraid to ask how much time it will take.”
“Not too much. I’ll have Laura ema
il you the info. Thanks, Chelsea. I appreciate it.”
“I’m always happy to help you and Laura.” Laura had been one of her mom’s closest friends. Tears unexpectedly popped into her eyes when she remembered that Mom used to volunteer for the Christmas food drive, too. Her phone beeped. “Sorry, Steve. I have another call coming in.”
“Okay. Talk to you soon.” The line clicked and he was gone.
“Hello?” she answered the second call and wiped her eyes.
“Dr. McKaslin? This is Janice from the answering service.” A polished, professional voice spoke in her ear. “I have a call-back request from Mrs. Wigginsworth. Alicia’s fever has returned and is spiking.”
So much for cookies and hot chocolate. Chelsea shrugged and made the call.
* * *
This was grim news. Very grim news. Michael couldn’t get the look on Kelsey’s mom’s face out of his head as he made his way down the hospital corridor. He punched the elevator call button, hating that the girl had fallen sick, her frantic mother had called him and he’d ordered them to rush straight to emergency. Kelsey’s kidney function had taken a bad turn. He winced, his shoulders drooping as he stepped into the elevator. He and a team of specialists had done everything they could, and there was nothing left to do but wait.
The doors opened and he rode the elevator two floors up. On his way down the barren hall, he hauled out his cell and texted his mom. Will B here a while longer. Is that OK?
Macie and I are having great fun, came her reply. Your father is on his way over.
Thanx. He tucked his phone into his pocket, turned the corner and stepped into the cafeteria, his stomach rumbling. He could run home for supper, but leaving the hospital even for a short time didn’t feel right. At least not until more of Kelsey’s test results came in. He grabbed a tray from the stack and headed straight for the coffee dispenser.
“I heard about Kelsey.” Chelsea McKaslin set a steaming hot cup of water on her tray and chose a tea bag on the counter.
