A runaway teen at Christmas...
brings a special gift into her life.
When Ava Cahill returns to Holly River to reunite with the son she gave up for adoption, she’s stunned to encounter Noah Walsh again. The attractive biker she knew six years ago had no idea of her secret. And now Ava’s mentoring his troubled daughter. As she and Noah rekindle powerful feelings, can she tell him the truth and become one forever family?
“I’m not sure if I’m lost in the memories of that one night in our past or if I wish tonight were a first.”
“I’m not sure, either, Noah,” Ava said. “But we can’t relive the past, can we? Nor should we automatically believe that the past determines the future.”
“Everything about that night is coming back to me, Ava,” Noah whispered.
“Perhaps you shouldn’t read too much into one simple kiss.”
“Maybe,” he agreed. “But I would hardly call the one I just experienced ‘simple.’ I’m not sorry at all that you and I met once before, or that you and I found each other again...”
Dear Reader,
“For the love of a child,” one of the most powerful phrases in our language. What any of us wouldn’t do for the love of a child. We try to do what’s best for the children in our lives. We struggle with each decision and pray we made the right one.
High Country Christmas is Ava’s story, the third book in the trilogy, The Cahills of North Carolina. Years ago, Ava made a decision about a child in her life and now she is facing the consequences of that choice. She changes her future and doesn’t look back to do what’s right for Charlie and ultimately for Sawyer, a young teen being raised by an obstinate and risk-taking single dad.
With the help of her supportive family and the man she comes to love with all her heart, Ava’s journey “for the love of a child” will hopefully warm your heart at Christmas and all year through.
If you like Ava’s story, please read about her two brothers, who are as different as any brothers could be. High Country Cop is Carter’s story. Dad in Training is Jace’s.
Cynthia Thomason
High Country Christmas
Cynthia Thomason
Cynthia Thomason inherited her love of writing from her ancestors. Her father and grandmother both loved to write, and she aspired to continue the legacy. Cynthia studied English and journalism in college, and after a career as a high school English teacher, she began writing novels. She discovered ideas for stories while searching through antiques stores and flea markets and as an auctioneer and estate buyer. Cynthia says every cast-off item from someone’s life can ignite the idea for a plot. She writes about small towns, big hearts and happy endings that are earned and not taken for granted. And as far as the legacy is concerned, just ask her son, the magazine journalist, if he believes. Please contact Cynthia at [email protected] and cynthiathomason.net.
Books by Cynthia Thomason
Harlequin Heartwarming
The Cahills of North Carolina
High Country Cop
Dad in Training
The Daughters of Dancing Falls
Rescued by Mr. Wrong
The Bridesmaid Wore Sneakers
A Boy to Remember
Firefly Nights
This Hero for Hire
A Soldier’s Promise
Blue Ridge Autumn
Marriage for Keeps
Dilemma at Bayberry Cove
Visit the Author Profile page at www.Harlequin.com for more titles.
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This book is dedicated to the caring folks at Crossnore Children’s Home in Crossnore, North Carolina. Thank you for welcoming me, educating me, and allowing me an intimate look at this warm and wonderful home.
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
EPILOGUE
EXCERPT FROM THE MARINE’S RETURN BY RULA SINARA
CHAPTER ONE
THE NUMBERS WERE beginning to blur. Ava checked the clock on the wall and was shocked to see the hands indicating one o’clock in the morning. She’d been at this for three hours.
The job would have been much easier if she’d had access to the computers of her deceased father’s paper mill company. But the current owner, her uncle Rudy, had denied her request. So Ava spent long hours trying to decipher the financial status of the business by slogging through ledgers the now-retired bookkeeper had painstakingly entered with a number two pencil. And all Ava had determined so far was that something wasn’t right. The numbers weren’t adding up, literally and figuratively.
Elsie Vandergarten had been a crackerjack bookkeeper in the days when accountants were called by that job-specific name. Ava’s father, Raymond Cahill, had trusted her with accounting for every dollar the company took in. A software technician had begun transcribing the figures into the company’s computer more than five years ago to satisfy Raymond’s techie brother, Rudy. A newly hired comptroller had replaced Elsie when she retired over a year ago when Raymond died.
And now, struggling to find out why her mother’s share of the profits had dwindled, Ava had taken it upon herself to examine the company books. Her brothers, Carter and Jace, trusted Ava because she’d always been known as the smartest of the three siblings. The boys figured she would unearth the truth about the creative bookkeeping, and she didn’t want to disappoint them, or herself.
Ava leaned back in her desk chair, appreciating the comforting creak the chair’s gears made. For three hours her office at the Sawtooth Children’s Home had been reassuringly quiet. Nearly everyone else who lived on the sprawling campus was in bed or preparing for Monday’s classes. Ava dropped her glasses onto the desk blotter, closed the ledger and stuck it in a large bottom-tier drawer of her classic mahogany desk. She rubbed her eyes with the palms of her hands.
“Whatever you’re doing, Uncle Rudy, you are covering your tracks very well,” she said aloud. “But nobody’s perfect and I’ll find it.”
Time for bed, she thought to herself.
She stood from her desk and headed for the office exit. In moments she would be in her personal living quarters, a small but cheerful one-bedroom apartment carved out of unused space for the home’s chief administrator until she could find a nice house of her own. Having only been in this new job since September, Ava hadn’t yet had time for real estate shopping. But after living independently for so long in Charlotte, she was determined not to move back into her old room at the family farm. She stopped in front of a decorative mirror in the office to check the damages of her three-hour vigil.
“Oh no, not another one,” she said, lifting her hand to grasp the spiky, coarse white hair that stood out from the others in her dark wispy bangs. “That’s the third one this month.”
Ava didn’t consider herself v
ain, but really—three gray hairs in a month! She was only thirty-six years old, in good health and completely satisfied with her decision to leave the corporate world of finance in Charlotte. Returning to her mountain home of Holly River to manage the children’s facility, which had become a North Carolina treasure, had been the right decision for many reasons. Ava brought her professional business training to keep the school on a steady keel, and she enjoyed her association with the children and staff.
She yanked the offending hair from the others and raked her fingers through the bangs which reached just to her eyebrows. Another quick look convinced her that all the other hairs were a comforting deep chestnut color. She turned off the office light and proceeded into the lobby and the doorway that led to her apartment.
A sudden chilly draft caused Ava to stop. “Where is that coming from,” she said softly, knowing all the windows and doors of the administrative office, as well as all residences, were secured at night. The other door leading from the lobby, the one to the kitchen, was open. Unusual, but still that didn’t explain a cold late-November wind sweeping through the interior of the building. Nothing should be open, and the security system should have detected anything out of the ordinary.
Ava listened carefully. Hearing no sound, she grabbed an oak walking stick from the umbrella stand by the door and ventured slowly into the hallway. Just a few short steps and she would be at the kitchen, the element of surprise on her side. A soft light guided her way. Nice, but there shouldn’t be a light in the kitchen at this hour.
She gripped the walking stick, flexing her hand with each step. All the resident children lived with their “cottage parents” in smaller structures around the campus, so no one would be inclined to visit the main kitchen in the administration building, where Ava lived. All residents could go to their own, smaller kitchen if they needed a late-night snack. The administration kitchen was only used for staff lunches and group meetings.
Ava walked through the kitchen doorway and stopped. The light she’d seen came from the open refrigerator door. A small, slight figure was crouched on the floor in front of the open door. He—or she—Ava couldn’t tell since the person was wearing a hoodie, was rifling through food items in the crisper drawer.
Determining that she had probably four inches on the intruder and at least twenty pounds, Ava smacked the walking stick against the door frame and spoke loudly and forcefully. “What do you think you’re doing?”
The intruder squawked in a decidedly female way, and fell back on her fanny. Jerking her head around so half her face was visible under the hood, she said, “Good grief, you scared the crap out of me!”
Ava took a moment to process the offending remark before saying, “That’s hardly the point. Who are you and what are you doing in here?”
The girl stood, yanked up her jacket zipper. “Nothing. I was just leaving. You can have your precious food all to yourself.”
Using the walking stick, Ava blocked the girl’s exit from the kitchen to the backyard. She made a quick appraisal. The girl was thin but appeared healthy. Her skin glowed pink from being out in the elements on a chilly night.
“You’re not going anywhere,” Ava said. “If you’re hungry, I’ll fix you something to eat, but first I’m getting an explanation.”
The girl seemed to weigh her options, and quickly decided that decent food was a fair trade for providing a reason for her breaking and entering, even if that reason were a lie. “Okay, I’ll eat.”
“Sit down,” Ava said, pointing to one of the chairs surrounding the kitchen worktable. Ava took three eggs and some bacon from the fridge, placed a skillet on the stove and began preparing a meal. She kept one eye on the late-night guest while she cooked.
“What’s your name?” she asked the girl.
At first the intruder shrugged, but finally she said, “Taylor Grande.”
Ava smiled to herself. “Is it a coincidence that your name is made up of two of today’s hottest female pop singers?”
“Yeah. My mother had a crystal ball when I was born. She knew I would be famous and wanted to give me a head start.”
Remembering the draft when a chill penetrated Ava’s bones, she went to the window and yanked down the glass. With a quick twist, she secured the window’s lock. “I assume this is how you got in.”
“Yep.”
“Wasn’t the window locked?”
“No. Is it supposed to be?”
“Of course it is. Plus, we have a dependable security system on every opening on every building on the campus. I should have heard an alarm. Our security chief should have registered the entry in his office.”
“Looks like somebody screwed up,” Taylor Grande said.
Ava transferred the food to a plate, poured a glass of milk and set the meal on the table. “I’ll add two slices of toast if you tell me how you dismantled the security system.”
“I’ll take the toast.” Taylor shoveled a forkful of food into her mouth. She followed it with a gulp of milk, and then took an object from her hoodie pocket.
Ava reached for the walking stick when she saw the shiny object, but quickly set her weapon back against the table when she realized she wasn’t in danger. “What’s that?”
“A Swiss Army Knife. I thought everyone knew that.”
“Well, of course I know,” Ava said. “But what does it have to do with you breaking and entering?”
Taylor switched a pocket-size knife from the center of the instrument. “Simple. I cut the wire leading to the window alarm.” She took another bite of food. “I’m only telling you this because after I finish this meal, I’m heading out and you’ll never see me again. And also because you need to update the security around here. Everything should be digital. Wires are an open invitation to people with bad intentions.”
“Thanks for the tip.” Ava busied herself with making a pot of coffee. She doubted she’d sleep much tonight now that she knew their security system left a lot to be desired.
“That’s a great idea,” Taylor said, looking longingly at the coffee brewer. “I could use a cup.”
Ava scowled at her. “What are you, fourteen?”
“Close enough.”
“You should not be drinking coffee.”
“Maybe you should have told me that three years ago.”
“And another thing...” Ava said. “You are not going out into this weather again tonight. It’s supposed to go into the thirties. Is that hoodie all the protection you have?”
For the first time Taylor pushed the hood from her head, revealing dark blond hair hurriedly tamed into a messy single braid. Her hair was dirty with strands falling over her face. “I’ll find a place to sleep,” she said.
Ava poured herself a cup of coffee and refused the request to fill a second cup for her intruder. She sat across from Taylor and sipped her coffee. “Do you even know where you are? Do you know what this place is?”
“Some kind of orphanage, right?”
“We don’t use that word so much these days,” Ava said. “But yes, this is a children’s home. Some of our kids don’t have parents. Some are estranged from their families. Children come here for all sorts of reasons.”
Taylor gave her a curious stare. “Don’t get any ideas about me. I didn’t come here for anything but food. The truck driver who gave me a ride from Boone pointed this place out when he dropped me off, said I could probably find a free meal. That’s all I came for.”
“And that’s all I’ve offered you, isn’t it?” Ava said, grateful that the truck driver had pointed this girl to a place of safety.
“Well, yeah.” Taylor layered egg and bacon on half a piece of toast and shoved the whole thing in her mouth.
“There is one thing we tend to ask anyone who might be interested in staying here...”
“I’m not interested.”
“Right. I
know, but indulge me. Where are you supposed to be? Where are your parents?”
“Beats me. As for where I’m supposed to be, that’s really just my business.” She placed her fork and knife on her plate and wiped her mouth with a napkin. “Thanks for the meal. It was more than I thought I’d get. I figured I’d end up scarfing down some lettuce and carrots from your fridge, but this was way better.” She yawned, rubbed her hand across her forehead. “Guess I’ll be going now.”
“Planning to hitch another ride, are you?”
“A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.”
Ava gave her an indulgent smile. “You do know you’re not leaving here, don’t you?” she said. “My work here is all about taking care of kids, keeping them safe in a smooth-running facility. What would it say about my ability to do my job if I let you go back out into the cold tonight to beg a ride from another stranger?”
Taylor pulled up her hood and stood. “You’ve got plenty of other kids to take care of, lady. You don’t need to make a project of me. I can take care of myself.”
Noticing a backpack near the fridge, Ava said, “What’s in the pack, your worldly belongings?”
“Stuff. Nothing important.” She reached for the backpack. “See ya.”
Ava cradled the coffee cup in her two hands. “Suit yourself, Taylor Grande, but here’s how I see your situation. You’re exhausted. And in seconds you’ll be cold through to the bone. You don’t really smell like a flower garden. In a few hours you’ll be hungry again. I can take care of those conditions for you. I might even be able to get you some clean clothes before you leave.”
Taylor swung the pack over her shoulder. “I’ve got clothes, but thanks.”
“Think about this, Taylor,” Ava said. “You give me the army knife until the morning in exchange for a bed on my couch tonight and tomorrow we’ll reevaluate your situation. If you still want to leave, so be it.”
“You won’t try to keep me here against my will? I’ve heard stories...”
High Country Christmas Page 1
