It was on a Thursday that she noticed squeals of delight coming from a number of other cubicles around her. She got up to raid the break room’s coffee pot and noticed that several of the other women in the office had vases of flowers on their desks. It was then she realized it was Valentine’s Day. Would this be the day she heard from Harry?
Judi found it hard to concentrate that day, waiting for a phone call from the building’s reception desk telling her to come and retrieve her own vase of flowers. But the call never came.
Judi went home to warm a frozen dinner, watch a little TV, and go to bed early.
A Holiday to Forget
The summer came and went, as did the fall. Carol invited her for Thanksgiving, but she’d declined, preferring to roast a chicken at home, and spending the day alone. Then suddenly Christmastime was again upon her again. Pam and her family made different holiday plans, deciding to head to Disney World, even though her kids were probably far too old for it. Pam intended to bake in the sun the entire week. Bill and his family were having Christmas dinner with Jean’s family. Neither of them invited Judi to join them, and they didn’t even arrange a lunch together before the big day. That was all right with Judi, who was still put out that they’d accepted her gifts but hadn’t reciprocated with even a Christmas card.
The Secret Santa went on as usual, and this time several people brought bottles of wine. Judi’s prize was an amaryllis bulb. All she needed to do was water it and she’d be reminded of the island paradise she’d visited the year before.
But she didn’t want to remember. She wanted to forget it.
Still, on the day before Christmas Eve, she found herself packing a bag and heading for the airport. Seats were hard to come by on short notice and she flew standby to Florida, and again to Puerto Rico. She arrived after dark, hailed a cab, and had it take her to a much more modest hotel than she’d stayed in the year before.
Christmas Eve morning, she headed for the beach. Was she looking for Harry? She knew where he lived. If she was that determined to find him, she could go straight there and wait for him to show.
As she sat on the beach, she found that rather than relax, she grew angrier with every minute that passed.
She spent the day slathering her body with sun screen and scanning the faces of every man who walked by.
The sun was beginning to set when she called it a day. She’d never turned on her e-reader, and she hadn’t spoken a word to any of her fellow vacationers, but somehow she didn’t feel lonely. She was too angry for that.
And yet, why was she angry?
Because Harry had asked her to marry him. Because he hadn’t told her about the family in England he’d left behind. Because he wasn’t an accountant like he’d said.
Fury rose within her. She stalked back to the hotel, changed clothes, and hailed a cab. She wasn’t going to wait another second for him to find her, she was determined to track him down.
Calle Blanco looked exactly the same as it had the year before when Harry had invited her to his house and cooked her a delicious meal. She got out of the cab, giving the driver a good tip. “You want me to wait?” he asked.
She shook her head. As it was, she’d have to raid her new house fund to pay for this last-minute trip. She watched as the cab took off, and then marched up to Harry’s door, rapping so hard on it that her knuckles hurt.
The door opened and a young black woman dressed in white stood behind her. “Can I help you?” she asked.
“I’m looking for Harry Powell.”
“Are you a friend of his?”
“Yes. At least I thought so.”
“Then please, come in. I’m sure he’d love to see an old friend.”
“Not so old,” Judi said. “We only met a year ago.”
“Judi?” the woman guessed. “Are you Harry’s Judi?”
“I don’t know. Does he know more than one?”
The woman ushered Judi in. “Follow me out to the courtyard.”
Judi did so, feeling her anger grow with each step. For days she’d been rehearsing what she’d say when she finally stood face to face with him.
“Harry, it’s Judi. She’s come to visit you,” the woman called.
She stepped aside and Judi was taken aback at the sight of the wheelchair.
“Harry?” Judi called.
“He’s probably asleep. He likes to come outside in the evenings, but usually dozes.”
“Are you his caregiver?” Judi asked and suddenly realized why the woman was dressed all in white.
The woman nodded. “I’m LaToya. I’ve been taking care of him for the last two months. He’s doing well with the crutches, but at the end of the day it’s just easier for him to be wheeled outside.”
“What happened?”
“A car accident—a year ago next week. A drunk driver at ten o’clock in the morning. Can you imagine that?”
Ten o’clock. Had the accident occurred the same day—the very hour—that Harry had dropped her off at the airport? Was that why he had never contacted her?
“Where’s his family. Why aren’t they taking care of him?”
“Family? Harry has no family.”
“I understood he had a wife and children in England.”
“They are dead—for at least five years. That is why Harry came to Puerto Rico. He wanted to live in a place that had no memories of his lost family.”
“Sounds like he’s told you a lot about himself,” Judi said.
“We have spent many hours together. I will get him ready for bed and then go home to spend Christmas with my husband and children.”
Judi fought tears. This was not the reunion she had anticipated. Had Pam known the truth? Had she known that Harry had been terribly injured in an accident and kept that information from her knowing she might jump on a plane to help take care of him? The object of her anger turned from Harry to Pam. How could her own sister have been so heartless? Did she lie about everything else, too?”
“How has Harry paid for his care?”
“He has lived modestly since he came to Puerto Rico, but now his savings are nearly depleted. He hasn’t been able to work, but hopes to start in the next month or so. His recovery has been slow, but remarkable. At first no one thought he would ever speak again, but he surprised them. They said he would never walk, but he can, with crutches.”
“Why didn’t he contact me?” she asked, her voice cracking with emotion.
“Because he knew you would come. He did not want you to see him the way he is.”
Harry’s head bobbed up; he must have awakened from his nap. “LaToya,” he called. “Is it time for bed?”
LaToya stepped in front of the wheelchair. “I have a Christmas surprise for you.”
“Surprise?” Harry repeated.
LaToya gestured for Judi to step forward. She hesitated, afraid to see his face, afraid that he might not remember her, afraid that she might not be able to handle seeing him hurt.
“Come, come,” LaToya encouraged, and somehow Judi found the strength of step forward.
“Harry?” she called.
Harry’s head jerked up. “Judi?” he called, his voice sounding hoarse.
LaToya stepped aside and Judi took her place, crouching down in front of the wheelchair. She bit her lip at the sight of the scar that ran along the left side of his face. “I’m here,” she said, and reached for his hand.
“Tell me this isn’t a dream. Tell me this is real.”
“It’s real. I’m here,” Judi said as a tear cascaded down her cheek.
Harry reached out and brushed it aside. “You came back to me.”
“Yes, I did. I’m only sorry I didn’t come sooner. I would have, if I’d known.”
Harry’s eyes filled with tears. “I knew you would. But I wouldn’t let them contact you. You don’t deserve to be saddled with a cripple.”
“LaToya tells me you’ve made a fantastic recovery, and that you’ll soon be back to your old self.”
<
br /> “I didn’t think it would be possible. Miracles don’t happen to people like me. But you’re here, and that can only be a miracle.”
“It’s not a miracle. It was love that brought me. I love you, Harry. I’ve missed you. And I won’t leave you.”
He shook his head. “No, you have a life back in Cleveland. I wouldn’t wish myself upon you. You took care of your parents for so long. I won’t allow you to do the same for me.”
“We don’t have to talk about any of that right now. Can’t we just enjoy being together right now, right on Christmas eve?”
“Is it Christmas again?” Harry asked. Judi nodded. “Then you are the best present I could have received.”
Judi fumbled for the chain around her neck, pulling it out from her blouse and showing him the sea glass. “I’ve worn it every day since we parted. I’ll never take it off.”
Harry smiled. “Merry Christmas, my love.”
Judi leaned in to kiss him. They kissed again and again.
Merry Christmas indeed.
About Lorraine Bartlett/L.L. Bartlett/Lorna Barrett
The immensely popular Booktown Mystery series is what put Lorraine Bartlett’s pen name Lorna Barrett on the New York Times Bestseller list, but it’s her talent -- whether writing as Lorna, or L.L. Bartlett, or Lorraine Bartlett -- that keeps her there. This multi-published, Agatha-nominated author pens the exciting Jeff Resnick Mysteries, as well as the acclaimed Victoria Square Mystery series, and now the Tales of Telenia saga, and has many short stories and novellas to her name(s).
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Check out the links to all her works here: http://www.lorrainebartlett.com . You can also find her on Facebook, Goodreads, and Twitter ( @LorraineBartlet )
Lotus Bay: http://www.lorrainebartlett.com/index.php/the-lotus-bay-mysteries/
Victoria Square: http://www.lorrainebartlett.com/index.php/books/
Lorraine Short Stories: http://www.lorrainebartlett.com/index.php/short-stories/
Jeff Resnick: http://www.llbartlett.com/index.php/jeff-resnick-books-2/
Resnick Short Stories: http://www.llbartlett.com/index.php/jeff-resnick-short-stories/
Booktown Mysteries: http://lornabarrett.com/books/
Writing as Lorraine Bartlett
The Tales of Telenia (Fantasy)
Threshold
Journey
Treachery (2014)
The Victoria Square Mysteries
A Crafty Killing
The Walled Flower
One Hot Murder
Recipes To Die For: A Victoria Square Cookbook
Short Stories
We’re So Sorry, Uncle Albert
An Unconditional Love
Love Heals
Prisoner of Love
Writing as L.L. Bartlett
The Jeff Resnick Mysteries
Murder on the Mind
Dead In Red
Room at the Inn
Cheated by Death
Bound By Suggestion
Short Stories
When The Spirit Moves You
Bah! Humbug
Cold Case the inspiration for the novel Bound By Suggestion
Abused: A Daughter’s Story
Writing as Lorna Barrett
The Booktown Mysteries
Murder Is Binding
Bookmarked For Death
Bookplate Special
Chapter & Hearse
Sentenced To Death
Murder On The Half Shelf
Not The Killing Type
Book Clubbed (2014)
Invitation to Love
by Shirley Hailstock
The power of Christmas is so much more than trees, decorations or family-get-togethers in an Invitation to Love. Elizabeth and James had seemed destined for the perfect happily-ever-after, each the other′s perfect mate. Then a tragedy destroyed all their hopeful dreams. Three years later, has the grief that tore them apart healed enough to allow a glimpse of that joyful future once more? Or will their pain continue to dig a divide between them too deep ever to bridge?
Invitation to Love
Chapter 1
Elizabeth had vowed never to see James Hill again. Yet tonight, twelve days from Christmas, when her emotions were as raw as the wind whipping at her skirt, she found herself standing on his porch. Tiny white lights outlined the entire structure and she could see the tree, with its lights blinking, through the huge picture window. The scene couldn′t have been better set up if Hallmark had photographed it for one of their Christmas cards. ‶How could I have been so stupid!″ Of all the addresses to mix up, how could she have pulled his out instead of the one behind it? Why hadn′t she thrown it out three years ago when she′d walked out of his life?
Elizabeth Gregory′s finger punched the doorbell as if she wanted to push the Georgian colonial over with her index finger. Inside she heard the musical notes of St. Michael′s permeate the chilling air. He hadn′t changed that either, she thought. How often had she listened to that sound with a wide smile on her face? She shuddered pulling her red velvet cape closer around her, knowing the coldness gripping her had more to do with anticipation than temperature.
‶He′s not here,″ she muttered, pushing the bell a second time. She should be relieved that he wasn′t home, but she had to get that package back and deliver it to the right address. ‶Come on, James,″ she ordered. ‶You′ve got to be here.″
It was the Christmas season. The sudden memory of a previous Christmas burst in her brain. Where had they been? Curled up in front of the fire at his cabin in the Blue Ridge Mountains, only the two of them and a fake fur rug. Snow piled up to the windows outside, yet neither of them noticed or cared. Elizabeth shook herself. She forced the image of their naked bodies out of her mind. The firelight was too hypnotizing not to remember James highlighted against the red-gold glow of leaping flames.
In three years she expected her anger would have cooled, but she found the prospect of facing him as frightening as reaching for an exposed wire. Pressing her fingers against her temples, she closed her eyes and forced herself to relax. She didn′t need a headache tonight.
Ringing the bell a third time, she knew her luck had run out. James wasn′t home. Even Mrs. Andrews, his part-time housekeeper, would be with her own family by this time. She looked around the porch for the package. It wasn′t there. Maybe the delivery hadn′t been made. Silently she prayed for a tiny bit of luck. If James hadn′t been home, the box could have been returned to the shop. Silently she prayed for the alternative to be true. It was worth a try.
Elizabeth turned to leave. She could phone Joanne, the temporary assistant she′d hired, from her car. Mary, her competent assistant, had wanted two weeks off at Christmas. Elizabeth thought she could handle the load while Mary took the much deserved time. Everything had gone well until today when she had pulled James Hill′s address from the Rolodex instead of Jason Hillery and handed it to Joanne. The young college co-ed, away from home for the first time, was distressed over the mix-up, but didn′t know the city well enough to find James′s house, saving Elizabeth from facing a man she hadn′t seen in three years. Few people could negotiate Rock Creek Park during daylight hours. After dark, the poor girl would never have found the house nestled among giant rhododendrons on Redwood Terrace. And the very important delivery would have no chance of reaching the correct address in time. Chantel Hartman-Lawrence had been adamant about it arriving on time. Elizabeth had assured her Invitation to Love had built a reputation on correct and prompt delivery. Now she was going to have to eat those words.
‶Elizabeth!″
James Hill, his voice literally took her breath away. Elizabeth closed her eyes again as she gathered strength and pushed the pounding in her crown away. Squaring her shoulders she turned to face her former fiancé. He hadn′t changed much, from what she could see of him silhouetted against the back light of the doorway. At thirt
y-seven, his hair had not a hint of grey. His face was strong, his skin tight across his features. He had a square jaw giving him a ruthless look until he smiled. Then any hint of severity disappeared. He was smiling now. Elizabeth′s heart pounded in her ears. She stifled the urge to press her hands against her head. Her breath congealing in the crisp December air, looked like a jerky staccato. She hoped James didn′t notice it. He filled the doorway, dressed in tennis shoes and a sweat suit. Even the bagginess of the outfit couldn′t hide his powerfully built physique. She knew he exercised regularly. It appeared that even tonight, while most people were still frantically shopping in the area malls, he′d gone to the gym. James had always been calm and exacting. He′d probably finished his shopping, wrapped everything and stored them under the tree.
‶I wasn′t expecting you,″ he said, raising one eyebrow. ‶I just got in.″
‶It′s nice to see you too,″ she said, her sarcasm undisguised as she swept passed him without an invitation. The house too, looked the same. A roaring fire in the huge fireplace that dominated the high ceilinged room made it warm and comfortable. Pine boughs scented the air. Entwined with the same white lights as decorated the outside, they arched from the mantle, the doorways and up the imposing stairwell, whose newel post was as large as her waist was around. Silent Night played softly from the sound system in the back room. Wires traveled through the walls to reach the speakers in the corners and bring music to each room. The house was beautiful, the kind Elizabeth often saw displayed in the holiday issue of Architectural Digest. The tree, it′s lights flashing in the window, was perfect, so much so, it brought tears to her eyes. Quickly she blinked them away. She loved this old house. It had been built before the turn of the century and she′d imagined herself living here after she and James were married. They hadn′t made it.
A Very Romantic Christmas Page 4
