Yuletide Homecoming by Linda Goodnight
Five years ago, Rafe Westfield broke his fiancée’s heart when he left to join the military. Now the battle-scarred soldier is back in Snowglobe. Amy Caldwell tries to keep her distance, but the holidays, family and a sweet stray dog keep bringing her and Rafe together...maybe this time, forever.
A Family’s Christmas Wish by Lissa Manley
Abandoned by her husband when she was eight months pregnant, single mother Sara Kincaid vowed to rely only on herself. But then she makes a deal with handsome widowed father Owen Larsen to provide babysitting services in exchange for his carpentry work on her inn. Can two pint-size matchmakers help them see beyond the past in time for Christmas?
Praise for Linda Goodnight
“Goodnight’s emotion-packed story celebrates accepting life with its laughter, sorrow and love.”
—RT Book Reviews on The Baby Bond
“A truly inspiring story of overcoming trying circumstances and discovering personal strength.”
—RT Book Reviews on The Last Bridge Home
“This is a touching story that will renew the reader’s holiday spirit and belief in miracles.”
—RT Book Reviews on The Christmas Child
Praise for Lissa Manley
“Wonderful chemistry between the main characters makes this a delightful story with a couple of sweet secondary romances.”
—RT Book Reviews on Family to the Rescue
“[A] smart, touching story about two people who have every reason to resist love… Strong, sympathetic characters, realistic situations and a charming setting set this novel apart.”
—RT Book Reviews on In a Cowboy’s Arms
“[P]lenty of twists and turns along with
enough laughter to keep readers interested in Lissa Manley’s inventive plot.”
—RT Book Reviews on The Bachelor Chronicles
LINDA GOODNIGHT
Winner of a RITA® Award for excellence in inspirational fiction, Linda Goodnight has also won a Booksellers’ Best Award, an ACFW Book of the Year award and a Reviewers’ Choice Award from RT Book Reviews. Linda has appeared on the Christian bestseller list and her romance novels have been translated into more than a dozen languages. Active in orphan ministry, this former nurse and teacher enjoys writing fiction that carries a message of hope and light in a sometimes dark world. She and her husband, Gene, live in Oklahoma. Readers can write to her at [email protected], or c/o Love Inspired Books, 233 Broadway, Suite 1001, New York, NY 10279.
LISSA MANLEY
decided she wanted to be a published author at the ripe old age of twelve. She read her first romance novel as a teenager when a neighbor gave her a box of old books, and she quickly decided romance was her favorite genre. Although she still enjoys digging into a good medical thriller.
When her youngest was still in diapers, Lissa needed a break from strollers and runny noses, so she sat down and started crafting a romance, and she has been writing ever since. Nine years later, she sold her first book, fulfilling her childhood dream. She feels blessed to be able to write what she loves, and intends to be writing until her fingers quit working or she runs out of heartwarming stories to tell. She’s betting the fingers will go first.
Lissa lives in the beautiful city of Portland, Oregon, with her wonderful husband of twenty-seven years, a grown daughter and college-aged son, and two bossy poodles who rule the house and get away with it. When she’s not writing, she enjoys reading, crafting, bargain hunting, cooking and decorating. She loves hearing from her readers and can be reached through her website, www.lissamanley.com, or through Love Inspired Books.
Contents
Yuletide Homecoming
A Family's Christmas Wish
Linda Goodnight
Lissa Manley
A Snowglobe Christmas
Yuletide Homecoming
Linda Goodnight
In memory of my brother, Stan Case.
I miss you, bro.
Cause me to hear your loving kindness
in the morning, for in you do I trust.
—Psalms 143:8
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Epilogue
Dear Reader
Questions for Discussion
Chapter One
High above Snowglobe, Montana, Amy Caldwell’s blue Ford Focus wound round and round the narrow road as she made her way into the valley nestled snugly between two snowcapped mountains. As if the creative hand of God had reached down and given the earth a loving shake, snow swirled upward in a constant circle so the small picturesque village of tiny stores and houses was forever captured in time and space like a snowglobe.
The colorful scatter of buildings and snow-kissed evergreens rested inside a bowl of milk-white snow. Smoke curled from rooftops and pulled Amy in like a long-lost friend. Her heart leaped at the sight.
“Home.” The word tasted foreign on her tongue. If all went as planned, she was home to stay.
Time and distance and a growing faith may not have healed the heartache she’d left behind, but it was time to let go, to come home, to do this one thing that her mother asked. At least she would no longer have to face Rafe Westfield and his betrayal.
When her car reached the village, she turned onto Main Street and headed straight for The Snowglobe Gift Shoppe. She parked in a slant at the curb and slammed out of the car, eager as her boots crunched on fresh, powdery snow. Before she reached the glass-fronted shop, a slender woman in dark slacks and a red scoop neck pullover rushed out the door, her shoulder-length black hair flying.
“Mom!” Amy said just as she was enveloped in a hug that smelled of hothouse roses and potpourri. At fifty, Dana Caldwell’s Spanish rose beauty still made Amy wish she looked more like her mom and less like her absentee father, the golden boy who had turned out to have brass feet.
“You made it. I was starting to worry.”
Amy smiled. Her mother always said that. “Safe and sound. And excited.”
“Are you? Oh, honey, I’m so ready to retire.”
“Semi-retire. You’re not leaving me alone with this store.”
Dana laughed. “Well, not yet. But you know the retail gift business as well as I do. Better. You have a degree!”
The degree in marketing meant more to her mom than it did to Amy or to her employers in Spokane. Former employers, she thought with a happy little step as her mom looped their arms together and tugged her into the shop.
Gently played symphonic Christmas music practically sucked her inside, alluring and lovely. Amy closed her eyes and breathed deeply of the warm, welcoming scent of Christmas past and present. “I love this smell.”
For as long as she could remember, cinnamon and pine, snow and flowers, and this shop with snowglobes and poinsettias in the vast picture window had meant Christmas.
“Christmas is the best smell of the year.”
They both giggled and hugged once more, a spontaneous action Amy knew would be repeated time and again. Her mama was a hands-on kind of woman.
Amy stepped away from her mother’s embrace to survey the gloriously decorated store.
The word died an abrupt death, jammed down into her throat like a fist.
“Hello, Amy.” The gently masculine voice was as familiar as Christmas and as unwelcome as a lump of coal.
Amy’s heart jerked against her rib cage.
Rafe Westfield, the man who’d taken her heart and then handed it back again, leaned against the glass-topped counter. Bundled to the ears in a sheepskin jacket, and out of place amidst the singing Santas and dainty angels, he was handsomer than ever. His brown hair had grown out from the last time she’d seen him, after the recruiter had buzzed him bald, and now lay in gentle waves above a forehead no longer smooth and boyish but creased with fine worry lines. If anything they made him more rugged, more delicious.
Like his mouth. He had the most perfect lips a man could have, the bottom full and curved with the top a long, low M like the mountains surrounding Snowglobe. She remembered the feel of that mouth, the kisses they’d shared when he’d loved her. Or claimed to. He never really had; she knew that now. If he’d loved her, he would not have joined the military against her wishes.
She licked her own lips, gone bone-dry.
“Rafe?” she managed. “What are you doing here?”
She’d worked hard to let go of the bitterness, to forgive and move on, but in one moment, the old feelings came rushing back like a tidal wave.
“I live here,” he said. Below a slash of dark brows, his winter-blue eyes were solemn and aloof. The sparkle was gone, the teasing glint, the ready smile. He had changed. But then, so had she. Amy was no longer the gullible little college grad who’d dreamed of nothing but being Mrs. Rafe Westfield and making a home in Snowglobe, Montana.
“No, you don’t,” she insisted. “You can’t live here. You’re in the marines. You’re in the Middle East somewhere.”
“Was. Now I’m home.”
Home? He was calling Snowglobe home? The flutter of panic that had started way down in Amy’s belly soared through her bloodstream. He couldn’t be here permanently. Not if she was.
“What happened to your military career?”
The career that was more important than a life with me.
A muscle above one cheekbone flinched. It was the only indication that her question had hit a sore spot.
“Three tours was enough.” Abruptly he turned to the counter and collected two giant pots of scarlet poinsettias. To her mother, he said, “I’ll drop these off on my way.”
“Thanks for doing that, Rafe. The shop’s so busy, I’m not sure when I could get out there.”
“No problem.”
Then, exactly as he had five years ago, he turned and walked out the door.
“Mother!” Amy spun around, fingers gripping the counter’s edge. “What is he doing here?”
With mild reproof Dana said, “You’re repeating yourself, Amy. Rafe has lived in Snowglobe all his life, just as you have.”
“That’s not true. He left. He said he wasn’t coming back. Why didn’t you tell me?”
Her mother pretended to rearrange a lighted ceramic village behind the cash register. “If I recall—and I do—you forbade me to ever speak his name again. You said the relationship was done and over with and you wanted to move on. And you did.”
“You should have told me anyway,” Amy answered, feeling unreasonable and petulant.
“Would you have come home? Would you have agreed to take over the shop?”
“No, I wouldn’t have. I don’t want to be constantly reminded of how he humiliated me. It’s hard enough to come back to Snowglobe knowing that everyone in town pitied poor little Amy Caldwell when Rafe broke off our engagement to join the military.”
“Oh, precious girl.” Her mom repositioned a jingling reindeer before taking Amy by the shoulders. “That was a long time ago. You’ve enjoyed a nice career, friends, dates, travel. If you’d married so young, look at what you would have missed. I thought you’d forgiven and forgotten all about Rafe Westfield.”
“I said I’ve forgiven him. I’ll never forget. How could I? We were engaged. I’d picked out a dress!”
She’d loved him so much she thought she’d die when he chose the marines over her. Yet, he had, and there was no changing the past. After six months of feeling sorry for herself and dealing with the pitying stares, she’d taken the job in Spokane. She’d found a good church, made friends, had a great life.
So why was she letting Rafe get to her now?
The internal question shook her. Why indeed? Rafe Westfield was nothing but a bad memory.
The tiny bell over the shop door jingled and two customers entered. Her mother moved into action, leaving Amy to wander through the beautiful Christmas displays. Maybe the sights and smells would calm her stress and bring back the excitement of being home.
She shucked her jacket, leaving the bright turquoise scarf to dangle over her long black sweater.
She didn’t understand why she was so upset. She was completely over Rafe. He was old news. It wasn’t like she hadn’t had a boyfriend in the past five years. She had and yet, the old hurt had flown in her face like an out of control downhiller.
She rounded the corner of the greeting card display and heard someone say, “Amy? Is that you? I heard you were coming home for Christmas.”
“Katie?” Amy’s mood rose at the sight of her bouncy blonde friend from high school. With a squeal, the two women exchanged a brief hug. “It’s so good to see you. What are you doing?”
“Trying to find the perfect birthday card for Todd.” Katie had married a local boy right out of high school. “I’m having a little Christmas-style birthday party in his honor on Saturday. Why don’t you come? It’ll be a great way to see old friends again.”
“I’d love to! Are you sure it’s okay? I don’t want to be a fifth wheel.”
Katie made a noise in the back of her throat. “Stop. This is Snowglobe. No one is a fifth wheel here. Bring a little gift for the gift exchange if you want. It’ll be fun.”
“Are you playing Dirty Santa?”
Katie fingered a particularly pretty birthday card before putting it back on the shelf and selecting one with a grinning mule on the front. “We play Nice Santa, sort of. All the gifts are decent, but some are great. No one loses, but it’s lots of fun to see the guys in a friendly fight over a new snowboard and the girls bartering for a gift certificate to Molly’s Massage.”
“Mmm. Molly’s Massage.” Amy rotated her shoulders, tight after the unexpected confrontation with Rafe. “Sounds wonderful. I’m in.”
“Last year I ended up with a set of deer antler salt and pepper shakers.” Katie laughed. “Todd thought they were so cool!”
Amy laughed, too, feeling much better after reconnecting with her old friend. When Katie left, a steady stream of customers entered the shop, most of them people Amy knew, though a few tourists had already begun to gather for the annual Christmas ski race. Vacationers usually rented cabins and lodges in the countryside or stayed at the Snowglobe Bed-and-Breakfast, eager to catch the spirit of a small-town Christmas in the snowy Rockies.
Amy fell into the familiar rhythm of working the store, aware that business was brisk. But no matter how busy they were, she kept picturing her handsome, rugged ex-fiancé leaning against the glass counter.
During a lull, her mother said, “There’s mulled cider in the urn. Let’s grab a cup while we can.”
“Got any cookies to go with it?”
“Gingerbread from Porter’s Bakery. Becka made it fresh this morning.”
“Oh, yum.” They headed to the back corner of the store where a silver urn brewed something year-round according to the season. For Christmas, the small table was draped with
green linen brightened by red napkins and Spode Christmas tree China. The centered urn emitted the warm, cozy smell of spiced cider, and beneath a glass cake stand sugar-sprinkled slices of gingerbread tempted the shopper to linger. In the background, a recorded harpist strummed “White Christmas.”
Dana Caldwell was a master at presentation.
“Aren’t you glad you’re home?” her mother asked, handing her a steaming mug complete with cinnamon stick.
“I am, Mom. Really,” she said when Dana pressed her lips together in the mother’s sign of concern.
“Goodness. After your reaction to Rafe, I was afraid you might back out on me. I can’t wait to turn this shop over to you and kick up my heels a little.”
“Mom? Kick up your heels?”
A rosy flush darkened her mother’s cheeks. “I don’t mean go wild, but I would like to travel and do some things while I’m still healthy and young enough.”
Amy lifted the steaming mug to her lips and sipped, thinking. As a child, she’d never considered her mother as anyone but a mom and shopkeeper. Now, as an adult, she was a little taken aback to realize her mom might want something more, something for herself.
“I guess running the shop tied you down.”
“Don’t think I’m complaining. I love this shop. God provided a way for me to raise my daughter and make a living without shortchanging either, and working with beautiful things is right up my alley. But now, you need this place. And I don’t. I’m so glad you’re here to take over, and I pray this shop is as wonderful to you as it has been to me.”
“You’re incredible, you know that?” Wasn’t it sad that she’d waited twenty-eight years to realize such a thing?
With a smile, her mother fluttered a hand. “You weren’t thinking that a few minutes ago when Rafe was here.”
“Not true. I’ve always known I have an exceptional mother.” She stirred the cinnamon stick around in the mug. “Rafe was the past. I can’t let his presence ruin this homecoming.”
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