by Jillian Hart
“Great. I think you two ladies will work well together. We already have a large portion of our pledged funds from local business owners.” Paul, the minister, nodded his approval. “It will take a few phone calls and time to pick up donations. I’ll leave you two to coordinate that. Michael will work with Mrs. Collins on our list of our church families in need. Things are going right on schedule.”
“Excellent. It sounds like your meeting is over.” Amy, the minister’s wife, sauntered over with a teapot in hand. “Anyone want a refill?”
“Not for me, thanks.” Michael stood, all six feet plus of him towering over the table. “I need to get home to my daughter.”
Don’t look at him, don’t notice him, don’t do it, Chelsea. She fixed her eyes firmly to the dregs at the bottom of her teacup and declined Amy’s offer of a refill.
“I love how Macie decorated her cast, so creative.” Amy moved on to her husband’s cup and poured. “All those stickers.”
“They came from Chelsea.” His tone warmed like melted chocolate when he said her name. Or was it her imagination?
“Actually, I can’t take credit. They came from Johanna,” Chelsea explained, ready to leave, but timing was everything. If she stood to leave at this exact moment, she’d wind up walking out with Michael. Not so good, considering how hard she’d been fighting to hide her growing feelings all meeting long. Which was totally exhausting, by the way. What she needed was serious non-Michael time to get her head on straight, her feelings in order and figure out what to do because the man was driving her crazy.
When she felt his gaze on her face like a touch, she resisted. She did not look up.
“Johanna.” Amy smiled fondly. “Giving out stickers sounds like her. She’s generous to a fault. Such a lovely soprano. Speaking of which, guess I’ll see you and Susan tomorrow evening. Ensemble practice.”
“We’ll be there,” Susan reassured, but all Chelsea could do was listen to the drum of Michael’s footsteps on the linoleum floor. The slight squeak of the hinges opening and the bite of cold wind sailing through the door told her he was almost out of range. Just a few more seconds, he’d be totally gone and everything would go back to normal.
“Guess we’ll be going, too.” Susan stood, catching Chelsea’s elbow and tugging.
“I guess so.” She reluctantly stood, unable to think of a logical reason why she couldn’t—or one she could admit to.
“We’ll leave you two to your Sunday afternoon,” Susan said to the minister and his wife as she shrugged into her coat. “I’ve got grocery shopping to do if I want to eat tonight. Amy, lunch was delicious.”
“Yes, very delicious,” Chelsea agreed, lifting her coat from the coat tree. “Thanks again.”
“My pleasure. You both have a nice afternoon.” Amy waved them off and closed the door.
Breathing in the frosty air, Chelsea wrapped her scarf around her neck. Michael was a dark figure against the stretch of white that was the lawn. The sun shone so bright it hurt her eyes, the day was crystal clear. That was Michael’s effect, he was doing this to her. The last time she’d felt this way, it ended with disaster.
“I was right, wasn’t I?” Susan asked, the heels of her boots crunching on the icy walkway. “You seriously like him.”
“And trying not to.” She yanked on her mittens, which gave her something to look at aside from the man. “I’m sure it’s something passing. You know, like a virus. It strikes but you eventually fight it off.”
“It could be like that,” Susan agreed amiably. “Or it could be more serious. An advanced infection you can’t get rid of.”
“One resistant to antibiotics?”
“And there’s no getting rid of it,” Susan confirmed.
“I hope it’s not like that.” Chelsea forced her gaze to the ice in front of her shoes but she could see Michael at the edge of her vision. He’d reached his shiny SUV and beeped open his locks. His gaze found hers and her pulse lurched crazily. One foot missed the concrete walkway and she plunged into deep snow. Cold seeped through her tights.
Great going, Chelsea, just brilliant. She pulled her foot out of the snow, hoping no one else noticed. What if this emotional condition she felt for Michael wasn’t temporary? “Hey, if it is like that with Michael, I’m here for consultation.” Susan smiled, her soft curls dancing in the breeze. “Maybe we can brainstorm a treatment plan.”
“I appreciate the offer.”
“No problem. I’m jazzed because I think we’re going to be good friends.”
“Me, too.” Now that was something to smile about. “What’s up for your afternoon, other than grocery shopping?”
“I have presents to wrap so I can get them in tomorrow’s mail.” Susan headed toward her gleaming SUV. “Time is running out. Christmas will be here before we know it.”
“No kidding.” Time kept ticking down, she knew of no way to stop it. She pulled her key chain out of her pocket. “Have fun wrapping. I’ll see you Monday.”
“Count on it. Plus we have our food drive stuff to coordinate. Should be fun.” Susan opened her Jeep’s door.
“I’ll put it on my list.” She dug out her keys, standing next to her poor old Toyota. “See you.”
“Bye.” Susan waved, ducked into her vehicle and closed the door. A second later her engine roared to life.
Okay, she should be minding her own business, but as she yanked open her car door she caught sight of Michael again. He sat behind the wheel of his SUV, talking on the phone as he let his engine warm.
She dropped into her front seat, wishing she didn’t care about him so much. Fine, she could admit it. She couldn’t stop her feelings, but they were a one-way street. Michael had never given her a single reason to think that he cared about her in the same way. Look on the bright side. It wasn’t as if she was in mortal danger of falling into a relationship. No need to panic.
Chelsea plugged in her key and gave it a little gas. The engine rolled over and over but didn’t spark.
Uh-oh. She said a prayer and tried again. Success. The engine coughed to life, cold air shot out of the vents, and she pulled her iPad out of her purse and studied her screen.
Church meeting. Check. She’d head home, change out of her church clothes and what was up next? Christmas shopping. She had a different list for that. While she tapped on the screen to pull it up, Michael’s vehicle motored away. If only he didn’t take her heart with him, she thought. If only.
* * *
If only he could get the pictures of her out of his head, Michael thought, as well as his feelings for her from his heart. He pulled into his driveway and parked next to his mom’s van. His air rose in white puffs as he headed for the door. Every step he took was haunted by the memory of Chelsea standing in the parking lot awash in sunlight. Of how animated and lovely she’d been as she spoke with Susan and later settled behind her steering wheel with her tablet computer screen shining softly on her heart-shaped face.
It wasn’t the images of Chelsea that were the biggest problem, but the warm affection that had slipped in. An unseen glow gathered behind his ribs and refused to budge. This was a very treacherous change of events. It was one thing to like the woman, but another to truly care. Not sure what the solution was, he took a moment to check the to-do list on his phone, sorted through his key ring and headed for the porch.
“Michael.” The door swung open before he could insert the key. Mom stood in the entry in a cabled sweater and jeans, her salt and pepper hair tied back in a ponytail. “Look what the wind blew in, Macie.”
“Daddy!” She skipped across the living room. “Grammy and I were defending our castle.”
“You were?” He elbowed the door shut. He didn’t know what to do with such a fanciful child. “You built a castle? In the living room?”
“In the dining room.” She
skidded to a stop in front of him and gave him a hug. Sweet, sweet. His heart skipped a beat as he held her for a precious moment before she bounced away. “You gotta come see. Grammy is the captain of the guard. She protects the princess.”
“Is that right?” He shrugged out of his coat and arched an eyebrow at his mom in question, but she seemed to understand things he couldn’t. Make-believe came easily to her. Maybe he could clarify things. “I didn’t know a girl could be captain of the guard.”
“Dad, what am I going to do with you?” Macie grabbed him by the hand and dragged him into the dining room. “Girls can do anything.”
“Right. I knew that.” He was out of his depth in this girl world. Flowered pink sheets were draped over the dining room table—minus the chairs—and tied back at the front with pink hair ribbons as a sort of door. Beneath the table was a fleece blanket spread out like a carpet, throw pillows from the family room sectional and luncheon plate sporting a few of Mom’s Christmas cookies. “Looks like you two girls were having fun.”
“We were celebrating,” Mom explained as she grabbed a broom leaning against the wall. “We just defeated the evil trolls.”
“We vanquished them,” Macie declared, gesturing toward the Swiffer leaning upright in the corner. Perhaps the other weapon?
“Congratulations. Am I supposed to help with the trolls?” He stood there totally stumped.
“Nope, the trolls have returned to their lair,” Macie explained, her cheeks flushed pink with pleasure. “But tomorrow they will be back with another plan to kidnap the princess.”
“After school, I hope,” he added.
“And the captain of the guard and I will be ready, right, Grammy?”
“Right,” Mom asserted with a nod. “Well, now that the enemies have retreated for the day, I’d best get home. Michael, I left the information from the stable right by the phone.”
“Uh, thanks?”
“The phone number’s there, too. I talked with Natalie. She’s the driver.” Mom sailed through the living room, calling out of sight. “Just leave the tent, Mace. No need to put it away. We’ll just have to haul everything out tomorrow.”
“Mom?” He heard the rustle of her coat and the jingle of her keys. His stomach gripped with foreboding. “Don’t tell me you—”
“Yes, I did. You can thank me later.” The door swished open. “I had to do something. You do not take enough time to relax, my boy. Have a good time.”
“I salute you, Captain of the Guard!” Macie called out, hand held to her forehead like a soldier.
“I salute you, Princess Macie. See you tomorrow, sweetheart.” The door closed and Mom was gone, leaving him alone with her nefarious plan.
“She reserved a sleigh and driver, didn’t she?” he asked his daughter.
“Well, you didn’t say no, Daddy.”
“My fault entirely. I see that now.” Life with his daughter was amazing. “Guess that means we have no other choice. We have to go on this sleigh ride.”
“Good, cuz I want to a lot.” She patted her cast. “A lot.”
“So I’ve heard.” He ruffled her hair, brown locks baby-soft against his fingertips. He loved his girl. “Let’s go see what notes your grammy left me.”
“Okay. Do you wanna cookie?” She ducked into her castle to fetch the waiting plate.
“No, I’m good.” He headed through the archway into the kitchen, which was ablaze with decorations. There was a reasonable chance they may have overdone it with the lights yesterday. Twinkle sets were strung from the curtain rods and flashed along the top of the kitchen cabinets. It did feel festive, and it made Macie happy. That was all that mattered.
He found his mother’s note on the message pad by the phone. “Call Natalie,” his mother’s writing scrawled across the page. “She’s waiting. Try to have fun for a change, Michael.”
“Hey, I’m a fun guy,” he said to himself, even if he was sure it wasn’t entirely true.
Maybe it was time to turn that around, he thought, reaching for the phone, and his decision wasn’t based on the thought of Chelsea McKaslin smiling at him in church, awash in jeweled light.
Chapter Twelve
“New halter for Sara Beth’s gift.” Check. Chelsea pulled her tablet computer out of her bag and squinted at the screen in the afternoon sun. “New e-reader cover for Meg.” Check. That meant she only had Johanna’s gift left to get.
Oh, and Dad. The man was impossible to shop for. She tucked her iPad into her bag and squinted in the shop’s festive front window and considered the hand-tooled leather saddle on display. Dad could use a new saddle, but it just didn’t feel right. She bit her bottom lip, debating. No, she’d keep thinking. She still had a week to go before Christmas.
Her cell chimed. When she dug it out, she found a text from Sara Beth. Since UR out and about, pick up milk for supper, OK?
OK. She figured it couldn’t hurt to do it next and get it over with. She hit Send, tucked her phone into her pocket and eyed her car.
The poor, ancient sedan looked dated and tired wedged between a shiny black Navigator and a polished BMW. But she loved her car. She fished for her keys, remembering the days when the four of them crammed in the backseat singing “We Wish You A Merry Christmas” while Mom tried a third time to parallel park. Smiling to herself, she unlocked the door, plopped onto the seat and turned the key.
The engine didn’t roll over. It didn’t even try. Just a click, that was it and nothing. Absolutely, positively nothing.
No! She grabbed the steering wheel and gave it a shake, as if that would make a difference. “C’mon, car. You have to start. You can do it, right?”
Not surprisingly, the sedan didn’t answer. But that didn’t stop her from turning the key again, praying for a different outcome even as she heard the click and silence.
This can’t be good, she thought, yanking out her key and whipping open the door. Icy air bathed her face as she hopped to her feet. Okay, she was clueless here, not being a mechanic. What could she do? Open the hood and try to look and see if something obvious had fallen apart?
Traffic ambled by on the street, shoppers trudged by on the sidewalk and she leaned against the front fender, dug for her phone and hoped whatever was wrong wouldn’t be expensive. The tiny cushion on her credit card had taken a hit from Christmas shopping.
“Chelsea!” A little girl’s voice rang above a silvery jingle on the road. Two horses swept by in the lane, pulling a two seat sleigh.
“Whoa!” the driver—Natalie from the stables—called out, steering into an open delivery space along the curb. The horses chomped at their bits, their breaths rising in great white clouds. “Hi, Chelsea.”
“Hi, Nat.” She shoved off her car. “Macie, you look like a princess in there.”
“I know.” The girl leaned over the side of the sleigh, adorable in her pink coat, purple hat and scarf. Her eyes shined. “We’re out for a country drive.”
“So I see.” She bit her bottom lip, not pointing out there was no country in sight since they were on a side street in town. Over the top of Macie’s head, she spotted Michael Kramer watching her with cool, guarded eyes. “Don’t tell me if she’s a princess, that makes you the king?”
“Believe me, I was uncomfortable with it.” Humility looked good on him, too. “I talked her into being the royal physician instead.”
“Much more fitting, although still a little exalted for the likes of you,” she quipped.
“Tell me about it, but it’s the best I could do.” Laughter looked good on him, too. “Having car trouble? Don’t try to deny it. I saw the whole thing.”
“
It’s nothing. Let me rephrase that. I’m hoping it’s nothing.” None of this was Michael’s problem and he didn’t need to hear about it. Besides, she didn’t want to open up to him that much. Considering her feelings for him, it would be much better if he gave Natalie the go ahead to send the horses galloping. But did she? Not a chance. “So, tell me, Macie, how did you talk your solemn father into a jingle bell sleigh ride?”
“Me and my grammy ganged up on him.” Macie’s honesty was precious and so was the head tilt that sent her soft brown curls swinging. “Plus, I really, really like horses. I’ve only been taking lessons since school started, but you know what?”
“What?” She leaned in when every instinct she had shouted, run, run, run.
“After a whole year of lessons, that’s when I can get my very own horse. I can’t wait. I love riding, and this isn’t the same, but it’s with a horse. Two horses,” she corrected, talking fast, so excited. “It’s really fun, too.”
“I know, my family used to go on sleigh rides. Once. Long ago.” She patted the girl’s gloved hand, that was clutching the side of the sleigh. “You have a fun time, Princess Macie. I feel like I should curtsy.”
“Chelsea.” Michael leaned across his daughter, his eyes an unreadable blue shield. “Do you need a lift? We can take you wherever you need to go.”
“That’s nice, but what I need is a tow truck.”
“It’s the Sunday before Christmas. That might take a while, if it even comes.” He held out his gloved hand, palm up, his gaze a steady light guiding her closer.
Why did she lay her hand on his? No idea. No rational explanation came to mind but if one had, it would have been blown into bits by the zing of emotion that radiated from his touch and into the depths of her heart. It felt right, meant to be, a force impossible to stop as she settled onto the seat beside him. Was she even breathing?
“You can be my best friend.” Macie’s declaration rose above the chime of the bells as the horses launched into motion down the compact snow-and-ice street. “Princess Chelsea.”
