Christmas in Miracle Cove

by Mary Manners

  “Oh my. That’s…the most wonderful news.” Hope turned to Noah, the tears spilling over now. “Maybe now Sydney and I can stay here in Miracle Cove permanently.”

  “That would be an answered prayer.” Noah gulped back emotion. He longed to lean across the table and kiss away her tears. “When will you know for sure?”

  “I expect you’ll be getting a call from him first thing tomorrow,” Sam interjected. “And that means soon I’ll be hunting for a new hostess.”

  Hope swiped a tear from her cheek and sniffled. “I’m sorry about that part.”

  “Don’t be. I’m happy for you, Hope.” Sam’s smile revealed the endearing gap between his two top front teeth. “Now, you both enjoy that pie and let me know if you need a refill of coffee.”

  “Thanks.” Noah dumped a spoonful of sugar into his brew and then chased it with a splash of cream. He reached for his fork. “This is definitely news to celebrate.”

  “By the way,” Sam glanced back over his shoulder as he headed toward the serving counter. “I can’t wait to see this year’s Christmas pageant. I hear it’s the best ever.”

  “You heard right,” Noah agreed, smiling across the table at Hope. “After all, this is Miracle Cove, home of bona fide miracles…especially during the Christmas season.”

  “It certainly is.” Hope chimed in. “And you never know what blessing is waiting around the next corner.”

  “One right after another.” Noah took Hope’s hand and sheltered it in his. “We’ll save you a front row seat.”

  Chapter 10

  THE FELLOWSHIP HALL WAS PACKED wall to wall, with standing room only. Piano music drowned out the quiet murmur of the crowd as Hope hurried to place the finishing touches on each child’s costume while offering words of encouragement. Her heart was full of anticipation on this wondrous eve of Christmas.

  Poinsettia plants lined the front wall, offering a splash of color to the backdrop she and Noah had assembled. The red plants laced with pine adorned linen-covered tables that held an array of sweet Christmas treats. The reception that Mama Cantori had organized to follow the performance was sure to be a hit. In the front row of the hall, Hope saw Mama and Lorenzo seated beside Sam and Mr. Suttleman from the diner—who was actually smiling.

  “Ready?” Noah eased in beside her and peeked through the curtain they’d hung across the doorway. It served to block the audience’s view of the backstage hall where the children assembled.

  “Yes, but I sure am nervous,” Hope answered, though the feel of him near calmed the strum of taut guitar strings that lined her belly. His scent rang pleasantly familiar, his gaze welcomed. Somewhere along the way she’d fallen in love with him. The realization warmed her to the core.

  “You’ve done an amazing job, Hope, and the kids will do just great.” He graced her with one of his signature smiles, launching her pulse into a gallop. “Mrs. Chandler’s going to take care of stage directions now. You’ve done your part. Let’s go and enjoy the show.”

  “Okay.” Hope drew a breath as the strumming nerves settled.

  Noah took her hand and led her to the back of the fellowship hall, where they found a place to stand together along the wall. His shoulder brushed hers as a smile continued to dance along his lips. Hope returned his smile as the last of the nerves that had plagued her fled.

  As the music reached a crescendo, Hope sighed. It was Christmas Eve, and she was standing beside the man she loved while her daughter played the cherished role of her dreams, complete with a solo song. If life was simply a string of detours, this was the most blessed detour of all.

  She dismissed the fact that she hadn’t been able to find the special doll Sydney had requested as a Christmas gift. Surely the child would experience a measure of disappointment, but there would be other gifts beneath the tree to play with. Perhaps Hope might locate the doll in time for her birthday…

  “Listen to her sing.” Noah gazed at Sydney, dressed in a long, flowing white choir robe and glittered angel wings. The pride in his gaze could not have shown brighter if she was his own child. “Isn’t she precious?”

  “Yes.” The single word choked Hope as she remembered what Sydney had told her weeks before. Noah’s nice, Mom. He would be a good daddy.

  As if reading her mind, Noah’s strong fingers joined with hers. The love in his eyes told her he cherished her, as well.

  Where would it all lead? Was this part of God’s plan?

  Chapter 11

  “MOM, WHAT TIME IS MR. Noah coming?” Sydney asked as she skipped into the kitchen. Hope glanced at her watch as she basted the turkey. Music hummed from the radio and her cheeks were warmed by heat that rushed from the open oven door. The rich aroma of Christmas—turkey, yams and warm pumpkin pie—filled the kitchen.

  “He should be here any minute, but Mama and Mr. Cantori are running just a bit late.”

  “Is Tom Turkey ready?” Sydney scrambled beside her to peer into the roasting pan.

  “Careful.” Hope shielded the inquisitive child from the heat as she bathed the baking breast in drippings. “He’s golden brown.”

  Sydney’s nose scrunched. “That’s good, right?”

  “It’s no less than perfect.” Hope replaced the roaster lid and closed the oven door. “Just a little bit longer and we’ll be ready for Christmas dinner.”

  Sydney twirled in a wide circle, and her red-velvet dress billowed along her knees. Crisp, white tights sheltered her legs from the winter cold. “Can I play with my new toys while I wait?”

  “Of course, you may.” A pang of regret marred Hope’s joy. Though Sydney had handled the fact that she didn’t receive the doll she wanted—the gift highest on her list—Hope still sensed her daughter’s disappointment. But Sydney was a sweet child. She didn’t pout, but instead treasured what she did receive.

  Hope had received a gift of her own—an offer from the community college to teach art classes beginning in January. The hours were perfect, the pay generous, and the position would allow her and Sydney to remain in Miracle Cove among friends and family. Maybe Noah was right after all. Perhaps what she considered a detour—getting laid off—was one of those things God was turning into a beautiful blessing. She hummed along to the music as she stirred the mashed potatoes and basted fluffy yeast rolls with melted butter. She’d wait for Noah to arrive before sliding them into the oven to brown, so they’d be just right as her makeshift little family sat down to dinner.

  The doorbell rang, and Sydney’s patent-leather shoes pattered over the wood floor as she raced to open the door. “Mom, he’s here!”

  Noah stomped the snow from his boots as Sydney pulled open the front door.

  “Merry Christmas, Mr. Noah!” A healthy flush caused freckles to skip across her cheeks while a green satin bow gathered her hair into a spring of curls.

  “Merry Christmas, sweetie.” The aroma of roasted turkey and sweet potatoes danced with warmth as he entered the house. “Have you been cooking?”

  “Mom has, and I’ve been helpin’ her. She let me sprinkle cheese on the green bean casserole, and I got to stir the mashed potatoes, too.” She stepped back to allow him entry. “Tom Turkey’s almost ready. He’s golden brown, and Mom says that’s no less than perfect.”

  “I’d have to agree.” Noah’s laughter rumbled up. “Well, it all smells delicious.”

  “I’m awful hungry.” Sydney splayed a hand along her belly and rubbed.

  “Me, too.” His stomach growled, reminding him of the fact. “But first things first. My, don’t you look pretty today.”

  “Thank you.” Sydney grinned as she pirouetted. “This is my special Christmas dress.” She added a little tap dance. “And my Christmas shoes.”

  “Beautiful.”

  “Mom has a special dress, too.” Sydney’s head bobbed, bouncing wisps of copper ringlets that had escaped the tail. “She looks real pretty.”

  “I’ll bet she does.” Noah craned his head, hoping for a glimpse into the kitchen where
he heard Hope hum along to Christmas music playing on the radio.

  “What’s this?” Sydney tapped the large package in his hands, wrapped in red foil paper and a shimmery-gold bow.

  “I’m not sure, but it has your name on it.”

  “My name?”

  “Uh huh. Says so right here.” He showed her the tag, and then handed the package to her. “I think Santa got a little confused and left it at my house instead of yours. I’m sure he meant for me to bring it to you.”

  “Can I open it?”

  “I think you’d better.”

  Hope stepped into the room and the sight of her in a fitted, knee-length black velvet dress and matching spike-heeled pumps stole Noah’s breath. Her mahogany eyes twinkled.

  “Merry Christmas, Noah.”

  He stuttered for a breath and managed, “Merry Christmas.” Weak-kneed, he stepped over, drew her in, and inhaled a lovely mixture of cinnamon, pine and the sweet scent of her perfume. “You look beautiful.”

  She relaxed against him, as if she’d belonged there forever. “And you…so handsome.”

  He kissed her forehead, her cheek, and then settled on her lips, claiming them with all the desire that had been trapped inside. She draped a hand behind his head, pulling him down for more. His pulse raced.

  “This is the best gift of all,” she murmured, her breath warm on his cheek.

  “Well, I aim to please.”

  “Mom, look!” Sydney tugged at the hem of Hope’s dress.

  Hope’s breath came in small bursts and Noah felt the rush of her pulse as his fingers closed over the inside of her wrist. Her voice was shaky as she silenced the child. “Just a minute, honey.”

  He wondered if the room rocked and tilted for her, the way it did for him. It took a moment to come back into focus.

  “But, Mom…” Sydney wedged between them, pressing the box to Hope’s hip. “Santa left me a present at Mr. Noah’s house.”

  “What?” Hope stepped back to make room for the child. “Let me see.”

  More kisses would have to wait. Noah appeased himself by holding Hope’s hand as Sydney tore at the wrapping paper. Her squeals of delight told him the moment she realized what was nestled inside the box.

  “It’s my doll, Mom! Oh, she’s so pretty.” She lifted the treasured toy from its wrapping and skipped around the room.

  Hope turned to him, her eyes round with surprise. “Noah, where did you ever—”

  “Shhh…” He pressed a finger to her lips, smiling as Sydney danced around them. “You know how Santa can be.”

  “It’s wonderful…the most amazing thing.” Her eyes filled with tears.

  “You think so?” He waited for Sydney to pass by them once more and then leaned in for another kiss. “Because I brought something for you, too.”

  “From Santa?” she teased.

  “No.” He drew a small box from his pocket, wrapped in a delicate silver box. “This one’s from me.”

  “Noah…” Hope took the box, tears flowing freely now. She tugged at the ribbon and gasped when she uncovered the treasure inside.

  “Oh!”

  “I love you, Hope, and I love Sydney, too.” Noah lifted the delicate diamond solitaire from the box and smiled as it caught the lights from the Christmas tree, refracting them into a rainbow of color that was mirrored by Hope’s eyes. “Will you consider marrying me?”

  “I don’t need to consider it. Because I know…I’ve known it for some time now, with all my heart.” Hope offered him her hand, extending her ring finger. “I love you, too, Noah.”

  He slipped the ring on her finger and pulled her close, wrapping her in his arms as he brushed his lips against her hair. “Do you like detours now?”

  “Definitely. Yes.” She pressed her cheek to his chest. “Especially this one.”

  “I told you God had a plan.”

  “Yes, you did. It’s wonderful, isn’t it?” She sighed. “Merry Christmas, Noah.”

  “Merry Christmas, sweetheart.” He caught Sydney as she danced by with the cherished doll, drawing her into the embrace he and Hope shared. “Happy, Merry Christmas.”

  Enjoy this sneak peek at…

  Seasoned Lies

  Chapter 1

  “UNCLE BEN, LOOK WHAT I found.” Abree’s springy red curls bounced while a row of tiny, white baby teeth nipped at her lower lip as she struggled to tug an oversized cardboard box through the doorway of the living room. At five-and-a-half, she had yet to make a donation to the “Tooth Fairy.” But Ben figured one was coming, judging from the way her pink tongue wiggled two loose top front teeth. Abree’s breath came out in short, spiked gasps as she wrestled with the carton. “It’s a treasure box.”

  “Let’s see.” Ben strode over to lend his niece a hand, lifting the box and setting it atop a tan and charcoal braided area rug in the center of the polished wood floor. “Where on earth did you find this battered mess?”

  “In the closet of that room upstairs—the one where all those files are scattered like the leaves on the ground outside.” Abree scratched the bridge of her freckle-dusted nose as she plopped onto the floor beside the carton to catch her breath. “You know…the one you call your thinking room.”

  “My thinking room…right.” Ben knew exactly what she meant. The small space tucked into a corner at the far end of on the second floor of his home had become a catch-all over the last several years. It was filled with boxes of expandable file folders and reams of notes from when he was just starting out in the real estate field…long before he became CEO and acquisitions director for his own company, Walker Investments.

  Ahh, memories…Ben had once spent a great deal of time ensconced within the warm, ecru walls of the well-lit space, enjoying a slice of blue sky that stretched to kiss the peaks of the Great Smoky Mountains through a single window over the desk. He’d enjoyed a sense of quiet peace there as he made plans for his future…plans for building both a business and a generous nest-egg.

  Success had come more swiftly than even he had hoped, and now he rarely ventured into the small room, choosing instead to manage the bulk of his work at his nearby professionally-decorated Knoxville office. Or, if the situation warranted during the busiest of times—which came often these days—he’d simply spread out his plethora of files along the kitchen table while he ate hastily prepared sandwiches and burned the midnight oil.

  “I wanna see what’s inside.” Abree lifted her chin to slant a gaze Ben’s way as Oscar, his lanky but loveable chocolate lab mix, padded into the room. Oscar paused briefly to sniff and paw lightly at the carton, and then, unaffected by the mystery it contained, loped over to Abree to curl on the floor at her side. Abree gave him a generous pat. “That’s okay, isn’t it?”

  “Sure, pumpkin.” Ben knelt on the floor at Abree’s other side, heedless of the dress slacks and suit jacket he’d yet to change out of since picking Abree up from school that afternoon. Fridays were often the day he kept watch over Abree for his older sister, Cara, since an extra night shift at the hospital where she worked as an ER nurse went a long way in paying her bills. But Cara had snagged a double-shift today—Thursday—instead, so she’d called last-minute for him to pinch hit. The plan was that Ben would keep Abree overnight and take her to kindergarten class in the morning. It was no problem—Abree’s school was within walking distance of Ben’s office. And he enjoyed Abree’s chatter as she skipped along the sidewalk, her tiny hand tucked into his, to share the adventures of her day.

  Now, intrigued by what waited inside the box, Ben tugged at its yellowed, brittle packing tape. The carton looked vaguely familiar, yet he couldn’t quite put his finger on what had been packed inside so long ago. Nothing was written on the outside…not a single letter. He didn’t remember storing a box in that particular closet since he’d moved here half-a-dozen years ago, but he’d been so caught up in work that it had been a while since he’d taken the time to rummage through the stuff.

  A slight odor of cologne—Ben rec
ognized the scent as Old Spice—drifted as the tape loosened. Memories nipped like the prick of a sliver beneath tender skin…he’d worn out the inexpensive aftershave while in high school and during his first few years of college at the University of Tennessee. He’d been so angry then…so lost. The era remained a time in his life best forgotten.

  Suddenly, Ben’s gut rolled over and he fought the urge to re-tape the carton and set it back into a dark corner of the upstairs closet. Something very wrong lurked here. Something best left in the—

  “It is treasure!” Abree squealed with delight as she wiggled her way past Ben’s legs to peek inside the carton. None of his hesitation was reflected in her voice. “Wow, look at all the clothes and this pair of cowboy boots, too.” The scuffed shoes clattered along the polished wood floor as Abree plopped down on her bottom and tugged them over her stocking feet. “I’ve got an idea…Let’s play dress-up, Uncle Ben.”

  “Wait…” Ben peered over Abree’s shoulder. He placed one palm firmly over the loosened box flap to hold it tight. “Hang on. Let me take a look.”

  But Abree’s sheer excitement overruled Ben’s warning as she wiggled past his grip to tear back the other flaps. Fabric flew as it was tossed onto the floor and recognition dawned as concert T-shirts from Ben’s high school days scattered like fallen soldiers across the wood. Abree lifted a sleeve between pinched fingers and drank in the graphics. Her lips suddenly dipped to a bewildered frown as her pert little nose wrinkled.

  “Why do the people on these shirts look so spooky and why do some have paint all over their faces?” She dropped that shirt onto the floor and reached for another. “Eew…all that black stuff on their eyes…they look like the scary monsters that visit my dreams and wake me up at night sometimes.”

  “Let me have that.” Ben tore the T-shirt from Abree’s grasp and, after glancing at the image, quickly gathered the others into a bundle in his arms, as well. The words on the fabric roiled in his gut. Had he really once worn these hate-mongering logos and graphics that glorified death and destruction like evil billboard displays—each and every one of them? Shame heated his face as he crammed the ball of fabric back into the box. “These aren’t suitable for dress up. They need to go in the trash.”