Love Inspired December 2013 - Bundle 2 of 2: Cozy ChristmasHer Holiday HeroJingle Bell Romance

by Valerie Hansen

  Whitney clicked off the recorder and began blinking rapidly. Off to one side, the school principal reached into her handbag and produced a fistful of tissues which she passed to Whitney without comment.

  Dabbing at her eyes, Whitney rose and slipped the recorder back into her tote.

  Coraline wisely stood, as well. “Perhaps we should finish this chat another time,” she told Josh. “I really need to get back to my family. Michael will be expecting me.”

  Josh opened the apartment door and escorted the women downstairs so he could unlock the shop to let them out.

  Whitney had not even glanced his way since she’d begun to cry. He hated to just let her walk away when she obviously needed comforting.

  As they approached the heavy glass door he paused and started to reach toward her.

  Coraline caught his eye and shook her head, mouthing, “No.”

  Letting Whitney go at that moment was almost more than Josh could manage. Nevertheless, he nodded and stepped aside.

  Once the women reached the Mustang, he was relieved to see Whitney hand her keys over so Coraline could drive.

  Good. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about her getting in a wreck because tears were messing up her vision. Still, he was apprehensive about letting them leave when so little had actually been settled.

  They would probably drive to the principal’s first, he reasoned. That should be safe enough. Later, however, Whitney would try to go home by herself, and if she continued to be so upset, there was no telling how well she’d cope. Or how competently she’d handle the car.

  There was only one thing Josh could do and still live with himself. He’d have to follow her and make sure she was all right.

  Nothing short of seeing to her well-being in person would suffice.

  It didn’t matter that she had failed to forgive him or that she was weeping because he’d made a terrible mistake.

  He still loved her with all his heart.

  Something told him he always would.

  Chapter Sixteen

  By the time Coraline stopped the car and put it in park so they could change drivers, Whitney had managed to regain control of herself. She desperately hoped she was calm enough to convince her companion to let her leave.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to come in and say hello to Michael?” Coraline asked, obviously concerned.

  “Not now. My eyes are red and puffy. My sinuses are killing me, too, thanks to this icy weather.”

  “All right.” The principal leaned in to pat Whitney’s arm before straightening and preparing to close the driver’s door for her. “I suppose it would be best if you waited. I want you to present your best self. It’s been years since my Michael has seen you and he is still single, you know.”

  Matchmaking? Now? Whitney gritted her teeth to keep from saying something she might regret. Why was life so complicated? And why did everybody seem to think she couldn’t be happy if she was unmarried?

  Probably because I don’t exactly look overjoyed at the moment, Whitney answered silently. Nothing in her life made sense anymore. Not when all she could think about was Josh Sm… Barton.

  “I’ll be fine, Ms. Coraline. You’d better get inside before you take a chill.”

  “Drive safely.” Straightening, she stepped back and waved a gloved hand.

  Whitney waited, headlights illuminating the path to the front porch, until her friend had made it safely to the door and gone inside. Then, she continued to sit very still for long seconds before finally backing out and driving away.

  Fleeing from the churning thoughts that raced and tumbled through her mind like a Kansas tornado, she decided to take the long way home. Anything was better than facing an immediate barrage of parental questions. There was nothing like a weeping daughter to bring out a mother’s protective instincts.

  Whitney had no idea how to rationalize her tears, even to herself. Josh’s confession had battered her ego. Made her question her skills as well as her opinions. Could Coraline have been right? Was she treating him like a pariah when she should be receiving his admission of well-meaning duplicity with grace and forgiveness?

  No matter how often Whitney denied her own guilt or how many times she insisted that the fault was all Josh’s, her conscience knew better. The man had asked for forgiveness and she had given him self-righteous anger, instead. What kind of Christian would refuse to heed a heartfelt story of repentance?

  Once again, her eyes filled with tears, misting her vision and making the glow from the streetlights seem to flicker. To help distract herself she turned on the car’s CD player to listen to beautiful, uplifting, Christmas music. That helped, but not enough to make her forget the hurt look on Josh’s face or the way his eyes had seemed to plead for understanding.

  New snow was beginning to fall faster. Whitney slowed her car and increased the speed of her windshield wipers. Their path was marked by arcs of icy residue, the view further distorted by condensation on the inside of the glass.

  She leaned forward to swipe away the moisture, peering out at the rapidly disappearing ruts in the slush, and belatedly wishing she had chosen a more direct route home.

  An approaching vehicle’s headlights blinded her for a moment. Unsure of the roadway edges, she took her foot all the way off the gas.

  The other car passed, leaving swirling snowflakes in its wake that erased everything.

  Whitney stepped on the brake. At least that was her intent.

  Instead of slowing, however, her car suddenly accelerated!

  That was wrong. She wanted to stop, not go faster.

  Reacting on pure instinct, she pushed harder on the pedal.

  The yellow Mustang sprang ahead like its namesake being spurred by a wild cowboy.

  Whitney screamed.

  Tires on one side of the car ran up onto a snow bank that had been left when the road was plowed. The vehicle slid and tilted precariously.

  Hands fisted on the wheel, teeth gritted, she hung on and turned into the skid, just as she’d been taught.

  This time, however, with half her wheels already off the road and the others lacking proper traction, the maneuver failed to right her.

  All she had time for was a high-pitched, “God! Help!” before her car circled to face the way she’d come and tipped past its center of gravity.

  Held fast by her seat belt, Whitney hung on tight and ducked.

  The metal ribs holding the canvas top collapsed above her.

  Grinding, rending sounds stopped almost immediately. The yellow car teetered on its side, its top resting against the piled snow, the driver’s door at the bottom. If not for her seat belt, she might have been thrown out and crushed.

  Silence enveloped Whitney. So did frigid snow.

  Trapped by the car’s seat on one side and the collapsed top on the other, all Whitney could do was try to catch her breath and pray.

  Neither was easy.

  *

  According to Coraline, Josh had just missed catching Whitney. He wouldn’t have thought much about it except he had failed to pass her on the road.

  He backed the van into the street and peered through the curtain of snowflakes. This was a wet snow. It stuck to everything it touched, clumping and building up in front of his windshield wipers until they squealed against the icy glass.

  The streets were deserted. Citizens of Bygones had retired for the night, sensibly waiting out the storm in the comfort of their homes.

  “All except Whitney,” he murmured. “Where did you go?”

  The urge to pray for guidance hit him. But what should he ask for? What good would it do to agonize over the situation when he could be taking action, instead? His life had been stable, predictable, normal until that obsessive reporter had entered it. Now, nothing made sense the way it once had.

  Josh snorted in self-derision. Talk about obsessive. He was worse than Whitney when it came to their relationship. Assuming there is one, he added in disgust.

  He inched a
way from Coraline’s house and headed for Granary Road, hardly thinking, barely conscious of his course.

  The inability to see things clearly was not merely one of his current physical world, he realized with astonishment. It was a problem in the spiritual realm, too. He had assumed, because he had begun his life in Bygones with a misleading identity and had not meant to hurt anyone, he hadn’t done anything really wrong.

  Now that he was able to step back and assess his actions from Whitney’s point of view, he had to rethink that conclusion. In her place, he might have been just as upset.

  Sighing, he finally succumbed to the urge to pray. “I’m not good at this, Father,” he began. “I don’t sound like all those guys who lead prayers in church and I may not even be doing this right. Cut me some slack, okay? I never meant to hurt anybody, especially not Whitney. Help me find her? Please? I just need to see that she’s all right. Then I’ll leave her alone if that’s what she really wants.”

  Josh tightened his jaw, his hands gripping the steering wheel, his heart pounding as if he’d just run a marathon. What else was he supposed to say? Oh, yeah. “In Jesus’s name. Amen.”

  He’d had so little experience with answered prayer he wondered if he’d recognize God’s leading if and when he got it. He sure hoped so. Because this was a horrible night for anybody to be caught outside in the cold, not to mention trying to drive on such slick roadways.

  He came to an intersection and decided to detour past Whitney’s house and see if he could tell whether or not her car was in the garage. If it wasn’t, he was just going to have to break down and call her on her cell. There was no way he was going to go back to his apartment until he knew for sure that she was okay.

  *

  The Mustang’s motor had died when she’d rolled her poor car over. To be on the safe side, Whitney turned off the key, as well.

  Given the configuration of the wreck, she figured that the passenger door had to be unencumbered. Her problem was that the seat belt held her where she lay and its buckle was trapped beneath her.

  Trying to reach around and release the catch she discovered that her left arm was too short. The right one was pinned beneath her and generally useless unless she could somehow work it free. Therefore, she was trapped.

  That wouldn’t have been too bad if she had been closer to downtown where someone would find her in a reasonable amount of time. Unfortunately, she was not. Nor was she positive exactly where she had been when she’d lost control. Too bad she’d failed to add a GPS unit to her old car.

  Cold was seeping into the wreck. Whitney shivered, wondering if it was just as well she could not feel her feet. She tried to wiggle her toes and thought she succeeded, mainly because a hundred tiny needles pricked at them and pain shot up her legs.

  Her hands and arms were getting numb, too. Where the snow had come in contact with warmth it had melted, wetting her clothing before starting to return to its frozen state.

  Fuzzy thinking kept her from true prayer, although she did silently call out to her heavenly Father. She wanted to weep, for herself and for the people who cared about her and would grieve if she wasn’t found before it was too late.

  “Is this how it ends?” she whispered. “Am I going to die?”

  Seeking comfort from her faith, she once again reached for the key, only this time she turned it to accessory so she could drift off listening to carols. If these were her final few minutes of consciousness she wanted to hear praises and feel God’s presence.

  The music on the CD sounded louder in the enclosed, otherwise silent space but she didn’t try to lower the volume. Instead, she let the melodies carry her spirit higher and higher, until she finally closed her eyes and drifted off.

  *

  Amid the flurries, Josh had apparently missed the turn that would have taken him directly to Whitney’s house. He muttered to himself, angry that a mere storm had kept him from his goal.

  “Now what?” he grumbled, banging his fists against the steering wheel. “Where am I? Which way?”

  If this was God’s idea of an answer to prayer he might have to rethink his belief system, that was for sure.

  It occurred to him that wandering around in a blizzard was about the dumbest stunt he’d ever pulled, never mind his reasons. What he ought to do was try to figure out which way was home and turn around right now.

  But he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. Not unless he was certain Whitney was safe and sound.

  The way Josh saw it, he had several reasonably intelligent choices. He could call her cell. Even if she hung up on him at least he’d quit worrying. Or, he could dial her house phone, but if she hadn’t made it home that would worry her parents unnecessarily.

  The cell was by far the best option. Stopping at the side of the road near an intersection, he left the motor running and pulled out his cellular phone. It was state of the art, of course, since he always kept up with the latest trends.

  Astounded that he’d been too rattled to think clearly, he stared at the screen, realizing he had a navigation app. He might not know where he was but his phone did!

  That left only Whitney to worry about.

  He found her private number in the phone’s memory and keyed it. The screen immediately displayed a “failure to connect” message.

  That made no sense, since he had a strong signal. Perhaps the snow and ice were interfering with one of the cell towers that relayed calls.

  Zipping his jacket, he turned up his collar, opened the van door and stepped out into the falling snow to try again.

  The result was the same. No connection. No reception.

  Frustrated and growing more and more concerned about the woman who had stolen his heart, he started to climb back into the van.

  Wherever he was, somebody in the distance was broadcasting Christmas music just like the merchants played over loudspeakers to get their customers in the mood to shop.

  Josh gritted his teeth. The last thing he wanted to think about right now was a holiday, happy or otherwise. All he cared about was finding Whitney.

  And when he did, he was going to take her in His arms and kiss her silly, even if she slapped his face. She was going to listen to him. She had to. There was no way he could just step back and let their love waste away.

  Yes, he told himself. I love her. No more questions remained, at least not in his mind. If she still refused to forgive him after he confessed his love, then he’d find a way to accept that.

  But if, as he hoped, her tears had meant that she was softening toward him, he wanted to hear that from her, face to face.

  His telltale lopsided smile lifted one corner of his mouth as he slid behind the wheel again. Now that he had made up his mind to confront her again, as soon as possible, he was feeling much better.

  That relief was short-lived, however. The minute he stepped on the gas, intending to pull back onto the roadway, his rear wheels began to slip.

  Josh gunned the motor. The tires churned up slushy snow, then spun wildly.

  He gave up trying to accelerate, got out and circled the van, peering at the ground where his efforts had left deep ruts.

  There was no getting around it. The van was buried up to its rear axle. He wasn’t going anywhere. At least not without help.

  Checking his location again via the phone app, he looked up the number for the closest garage, which happened to be Dill’s place, and called to request a tow truck.

  Then he climbed back into the van, slammed the door and rubbed his freezing hands together to warm them.

  Hopefully, he wasn’t going to have to wait too long.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The frosty air inside the toppled car was either getting warmer or Whitney’s breath was shallow and cooling, because it no longer made such noticeable clouds in front of her face when she exhaled.

  Shivering constantly, she kept dozing off, sometimes feeling as if the Lord was cradling her in his arms and other times sensing the tangible danger of her situation.


  “Surely someone will miss me and come looking soon,” she muttered. But who? Coraline thought she’d gone straight home, her parents would assume she was still working on her interview, and Josh was probably doing his best to forget they’d ever met.

  By turning her head, Whitney could see the unbroken side window that was now above her. When she’d first had the accident and ended up like this, she’d been able to detect the glow from a nearby streetlamp. Now, the entire window was blanketed with freshly fallen snow, blotting out most of the light.

  Huddling in darkness, growing weaker and weaker as the icy night crept into her very bones, she closed her eyes.

  “Am I done, Father?” she prayed. “Is this the end of my struggles? I hope not, because there are a lot of things I’ve left unfinished. A lot of people who need to hear me say I love them. And not only Josh. I love my parents and my friends, and practically everyone in Bygones.”

  Whitney sniffled, wondering if she was hallucinating when she thought she heard a motor.

  She stopped the CD music. Held her breath. Listened. Prayed without further words.

  The engine roar built until it was nearly on top of her. Then, to her shock and dismay, it passed by!

  How could anyone have come that close without noticing her car? Was it so buried in fresh snow that it was invisible? How was that possible? How long had she been lying there?

  Panic rose and took control. She began to struggle against the seat belt that was meant to protect her and was, instead, trapping her in the car where she was in real danger of dying from hypothermia.

  “Hey! Over here,” she screeched. “Help! Help me!”

  The roar was fading. So were her chances of survival.

  *

  Josh hopped out as soon as the headlights of the wrecker bathed his van.

  “Glad you found me,” he told the driver, recognizing the bundled up Elwood Dill mostly by his beard.

  “I should be home keepin’ warm like a sensible person,” Elwood said. “We both should.”

  Josh shook his hand. “Yeah, well. Thanks for coming so fast. It’s getting really cold and I didn’t think it was smart to run the heater when the exhaust pipe was filled with snow.”