“I hear there’s a baby here that needs a present yet,” he called out when all the children were finished with him. “Caitlin. You tell your mommy to come and bring you here, too.”
Chuckling, Erin took Caitlin from Heather and made her way through the excited children tossing wrapping paper aside as they tore into their gifts.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Abby approach and her heart sank. More pictures?
She pushed the thought aside as she brought Caitlin to Dean.
He pulled them both onto his knee, his eyes twinkling underneath the fake eyebrows.
“So, have you been a good girl this year?” he asked.
“I tried,” she returned.
“And how about this little one,” he said, tickling Caitlin under the chin with his forefinger. “I’m sure she’s been good,” he said with forced heartiness.
“As good as gold.”
“Of course she would be with such an amazing mother.” Dean shifted his arm, reaching for his bag one-handed.
“So, why don’t you tell me what you want for Christmas?”
He had dropped the fake Santa voice, speaking to her normally.
She looked deep into his eyes and said, “All I want for Christmas is you.”
“Well, now, I think I can manage that,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “But how about I tell you what I want for Christmas?”
“I didn’t think Santa Claus had any wishes.”
“Well, there’s world peace and high cattle prices. And then there’s this.”
He dug into his bag and pulled out a tiny box.
Erin’s heart stuttered in her chest. She hardly dared to believe what might be happening.
Dean flipped the box open and under the glow of Christmas lights the diamond on the band sparkled with hundreds of lights sending out rays of hope.
“Erin McCauley, will you marry me?”
His words resonated in the silence that had fallen on the gathering.
Erin’s throat thickened with a myriad of emotions as she looked at the promise held in Dean’s hand and echoed in his eyes.
All she could do was nod her agreement.
A huge cheer went up from the people now gathered around them as Dean slipped the ring, one-handed, onto her finger. Lights flashed as people took pictures. Erin ignored them all, pulled the fake beard down and kissed Dean fully on his lips.
He held her close, returning her kiss. Then he drew back, looking from her to Caitlin nestled between them.
“You know I love you dearly,” he said. “I love you both. And I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it.”
“You don’t have to prove anything,” she said, as he stood up and pull her along.
He kissed her again and another cheer went up.
“Hey, Santa, what are you doing for an encore?” Vic asked, standing beside him, his arm draped over Lauren’s shoulder.
“If I’d known he was giving out engagement rings, I might have stood in line myself,” Jodie joked.
“You already have one,” Finn growled. “And a wedding ring as well, I might add.”
Jodie grinned up at him. “Just teasing.”
Erin looked from Jodie and Finn to Lauren and Vic and all the people gathered around them, an accepting loving community who had taken her and Caitlin in. Her heart overflowed with happiness and joy and an incredible thankfulness.
“I think it will be a wonderful Christmas,” Lauren said, with a kiss to her sister, then her niece and finally giving Dean a hug.
“It’s going to be amazing,” Jodie said, laying her hand on Erin’s shoulder. “And in the classic words of Tiny Tim, God bless us, every one.”
Erin turned to Dean again. “I love you so much,” she whispered.
“I love you, too.”
She laid her head on his shoulder, and Dean curled his other arm around Caitlin, closing the circle and completing it.
A promise of the future. A family for both of them.
A gift from God.
* * * * *
Read on for an extract from THE PASTOR’S CHRISTMAS COURTSHIP by Glynna Kaye
Dear Reader,
Pride is part of what this story is about. Dean’s pride in his rough-and-ready self-suffiency and, to some degree, Erin’s pride in her status as the “good girl.” Both Erin and Dean’s life were spun in circles by what happened to them and both had to learn to pick themselves up and accept themselves for who they were. To realize that God’s acceptance mattered more than people’s.
I think each of us has, inside of us, a better person they want to be. I know I do. But I fall short time and time again.
I’m so thankful that my salvation and strength do not depend on me. That repentance must be my daily attitude. Repentance and rest. I can trust that God forgives all the mistakes I make. The times I fall short. I am so thankful for the peace that gives me and I pray for the same peace for you.
PS: Want to find out more about my other books? Check out my website at www.carolyneaarsen.com and receive a free ebook for signing up for my newsletter. As well, I love to hear from my readers. You can write me at [email protected].
The Pastor’s Christmas Courtship
by Glynna Kaye
Chapter One
“Could you use some help there, ma’am?”
Ma’am? Her hooded head jerking up, Jodi Thorpe grimaced at the sound of a male voice carrying over the rumble of a big diesel pickup. Headlights illuminating the lingering remnants of twilight, the truck idled alongside her on the snow-covered dirt road. The passenger-side window had been rolled down, but the driver calling out from the far side of the interior was cloaked in shadow, behind a veil of steadily falling snow.
Exactly what she didn’t need—a small-town Good Samaritan.
“Thanks for the offer,” she responded at a volume she hoped could be heard as she gave the tow rope attached to a four-foot-long, molded plastic toboggan another tug, “but I’m fine, thanks.”
She waved the man off with a mittened hand and trudged on, grateful for the snow glow reflecting off the lowered clouds. Without it, it would be impossible to keep her footing on the rutted shoulder of a ponderosa pine–lined road.
Maybe a December getaway to her family’s soon-to-be-sold mountain cabin in Hunter Ridge, Arizona, wasn’t such a good idea after all. But with her parents out of the country, the opportunity for a quiet retreat seemed ideal. Not only for soul-searching time alone—Decembers were always a bittersweet reminder of the precious life she’d once carried inside her—but to spare her two Phoenix-based sisters from having to host her for the holidays. Why put a damper on their and their children’s Christmas festivities?
“Ma’am?”
The man sounded as if he were addressing someone twice her age. But bundled in an oversize insulated coat and clunky boots she’d found in the cabin—and burdened by a backpack—she probably did look like a hunched-over crone of fairy-tale fame.
“I can throw that stuff in the back of my truck,” the voice came again as the pickup crept along beside her. “And take you to wherever it is you’re headed.”
She stiffened. Like she was going to climb into a vehicle with someone she didn’t know? The trusting brown eyes of Anton Garcia flashed through her mind. If only years ago she’d overcome her fear of telling him the truth, had accepted his marriage proposal. And if only he hadn’t volunteered to hitchhike for help on that deserted Mexican road.
Why, God?
Taking a steadying breath, she yelled over the rumbling engine. “Thanks, but I’m almost there.”
She could see the cabin’s porch light not too far in the distance as she dragged behind her the bright red toboggan she’d often ridden as a kid. Its load of groceries and o
ther supplies hadn’t seemed cumbersome when she’d started back to the cabin, nor the journey ahead of her long. Growing up, she and her younger sisters had often traversed this route to run errands for their grandmother. But now her fingers had stiffened with cold and her arm strained at the bulky weight.
“You’re going to hurt yourself, ma’am.”
Enough of the “ma’am” business. Wanting to get away from the self-proclaimed Boy Scout—or was he only pretending to be a holiday helper?—she gave the tow rope an extra-hearty tug. The toboggan held fast to whatever abruptly anchored it under the frosty mantle and tipped sideways, spilling its load and jerking the rope from her hand. Thrown off balance, she toppled into the snow.
The sound of a truck door slamming tipped her off that the driver had exited his vehicle. Trying not to panic, she struggled to sit upright, but the weight of the backpack rendered her as helpless as a turtle on its back.
“Let me help you up.” Through the falling snow, she detected the man reaching out his gloved hand. What choice did she have but to accept his assistance?
Please God, let him be a good guy. After all, it’s only two weeks until Christmas. And despite what You may have heard my sisters say, I’m not a Grinch, a Scrooge or anything of the kind.
Not much, anyway.
Reluctantly, she grasped the hand that stretched out to steady her as she staggered ungracefully to her feet. Her hood fell back, snowflakes pelting her face and the cold wind penetrating her long hair.
“Jodi?” The man’s voice held an incredulous note. “Jodi Thorpe?”
She blinked, trying to focus through the falling snow.
“Garrett?” In a community of under two thousand residents, why did Garrett McCrae have to be her rescuer tonight? And what was he doing in a town he vowed never to return to once he could make his escape?
“Yeah, it’s me, Jodi.”
A familiar grin lit his face, and for a horrifying moment she thought he was going to hug her. But something in her eyes as she mentally flew back through time must have halted him. He plunged his hands into the pockets of his navy down jacket and took a step back, his eyes searching her face as intently as hers searched his.
Even though she and Garrett had been the best of friends as kids when she and her two younger sisters visited their grandparents’ vacation home in the mountains, she hadn’t seen or spoken to him in a dozen years. Not since that last ill-fated night when he’d crushed her teenage dream of them ever being more than friends.
But time had treated him well. Gone was the ponytailed hair that as a teen had nearly splintered his relationship with his dad, replaced by a conservative cut. Lines etched the corners of his eyes, evidence his sense of humor and love of the sunny outdoors had prevailed. His shoulders were impossibly broad. And those eyes...the same deep gray she too-well remembered.
“What are you doing in Hunter Ridge?” they said in unison. Apparently he was as thunderstruck by her presence in town as she was his.
“I’m working here. For a while at least.” His brows raised. “And you?”
“I’m helping my folks get my grandparents’ cabin ready to sell.” At least that was the excuse she intended to use for camping out here until after the holidays. Nobody needed to know the mixed-up mess of the rest of it.
“So, you’ve been living—where? Married, with a houseful of kids, I suppose.”
Her smile threatened to falter, but she held it steady. “None of the above. I’m living in Philadelphia, actually, where I’m a project manager for an athletic apparel company. SmithSmith. And yourself? Still river-running?”
It was a wild guess. Becoming a river guide was all he’d talked about after his first Colorado River rafting trip when he was sixteen, and her grandma had said he’d taken off for training right after high school graduation. So why should she be surprised to find him here in December? Most rafting companies operated with a full crew only in the summer. He probably worked at the family business in the off-season.
“It was the adventure of a lifetime while it lasted.” A fleeting shadow flickered through his eyes, then he shrugged. “But I gave it up a while back.”
At two years her senior, he would have recently turned thirty, an age that at one time appalled them both as prehistoric. Had a domestically inclined wife lured him away from his youthful obsession? “In other words, old man that you are now, you’ve turned river-running over to the younger generation?”
“Ouch!” His yelp was accompanied by an exaggerated flinch. Then he laughed that familiar laugh, and her heart inexplicably leaped. Why had she so easily fallen into teasing him just as she’d once done as his tomboy sidekick? They’d long ago left those days behind.
He openly studied her, and despite the chill air, her face warmed. Did he remember that night, too? She motioned briskly to the groceries strewn in the snow. “You’re responsible for this. If you hadn’t been stalking me, I—”
“Stalking you? I was trying to help you. ’Tis the season. You know, ho ho ho?” Before she could stop him, he snagged the toboggan in one hand and one of her grandma’s now partially filled grocery tote bags in another and slung them into the back of his pickup with what looked to be a dwindling load of firewood.
“What are you doing?”
“What’s it look like? Getting you and your stuff out of the cold.” He squatted to gather the scattered contents back into the other bags. Lifting a cereal box, he waggled it at her. “Still into Cheerios, I see.”
With a laugh, she snatched it out of his hand, recalling the afternoon that as an elementary schooler she’d been dared to sneak a family-size cereal box from Grandma’s pantry and devour the whole thing herself. Garrett couldn’t stop snickering when Grandma insisted she still clean her plate at suppertime.
“You don’t need to do this, Garrett. I’m almost there.”
“So indulge me.” He held out his hand for the cereal box.
What would be the point in arguing? Used to getting his own way, the high-spirited Garrett had long marched to the beat of his own drummer. She’d once foolishly hoped they were marching to the same beat...but learned a hard, humiliating lesson. Except for that out-of-the-blue instance that he made no secret of immediately regretting, he’d never considered her as more than a pal. A buddy.
As soon as he’d stowed the last of her bags, he helped her off with her backpack and opened the passenger-side door. But before she could hoist herself up, a vehicle coming from the opposite direction pinned them in its lights, then pulled parallel to Garrett’s truck.
A ball-capped male poked his head out an open pickup window. “I should have figured I’d find you out here rescuing a pretty damsel in distress. Way to go, Preacher.”
Jodi turned toward Garrett, catching his deer-in-the-headlights look of alarm.
Preacher?
* * *
Uncomfortably conscious of Jodi’s questioning gaze, Garrett raised his voice over the rumble of the two vehicles. “Do me a favor, cuz, and keep this to yourself.”
“You can count on it.” The other man chuckled, then offered a parting wave as he guided his vehicle on down the snowy road.
Garrett didn’t meet Jodi’s eyes as he held out his hand to assist her into the truck, taking note of the curtain of straight red-blond hair now lightly dusted with snow. It would be too much to hope that she hadn’t caught Grady’s preacher remark. Nothing much ever got past Jodi, but she’d probably think it was a joke. Some days he wasn’t sure if that might be the case. God’s little joke, anyway.
As she settled herself in to secure her seat belt, he wedged the backpack at her feet. Then he shut the door and jogged around the front of the vehicle to climb aboard.
“Which cousin was that?”
She’d remembered he had a bunch. “Grady Hunter, the twins’ next-to-oldest brother
. Luke, Claire and Bekka are all married, and Grady’s getting hitched in February. Rio’s still single.”
She nodded thoughtfully, as if placing long-forgotten faces to the names, maybe recalling that his mother was a sister to the dad of those cousins. He started the truck slowly down the road, its windshield wipers working overtime against the descending snow.
Thankfully, Garrett could trust his cousin to keep his mouth shut. He sure didn’t need questions raised about his personal conduct because he’d stopped to assist an old friend. This past year he’d toed a fine line as interim pastor of Christ’s Church of Hunter Ridge—as a single interim pastor, to be exact.
That was a slippery slope in a place used to family men. He couldn’t afford to leave doors open for criticism of his actions if he hoped to qualify for a spot on a highly-thought-of missions team. He was so close and needed a positive recommendation from church leadership to seal the deal.
But this was Jodi.
He couldn’t leave her stranded on a night like this because someone might not think it acceptable for him to escort her home alone. After all, they’d grown up like brother and sister, right?
Nevertheless, his ears warmed as he shoved away a memory he hoped she had no recollection of—although, from the look on her face when she’d recognized him, the odds of that were slim to none. He was pretty sure her grandma, rest her soul, hadn’t forgotten. He’d certainly received a well-deserved earful when she’d walked in on them that Christmas Eve. Thankfully, things hadn’t gotten beyond hot and heavy kissing. But he probably still owed Jodi a long-overdue apology.
He adjusted the windshield wiper speed. “What are you doing out here in the dark pulling that sled? Where’s your car?”
“I use public transportation—and I didn’t want to mess with renting a car.” Her words came almost reluctantly, as if uncertain how much to share with him. “The forecast showed flurries the next few weeks, so I thought I could get around on one of the bikes at the cabin. I caught a shuttle from the Phoenix airport this afternoon.”
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