Graced: A Love Letters Novel

by Kristen Blakely

  She couldn’t. That much was obvious, even to her. She sighed. “It’s just that I feel so bad for his children.”

  “I know—Grace, especially—but they’re his kids, Noelle, not yours. What’s going to happen to them when you pick up and go back to Los Angeles?”

  Noelle twitched guiltily. A faint cry reached her ears. “Hope’s awake. I gotta go.”

  “Okay. Just let me know what your plans for the day are when you figure them out.”

  Noelle slid the phone back into her pocket and raced up the steps to Hope’s bedroom. The toddler stood in her crib, her T-shirt askew, and her diaper partially unfastened and hanging loosely off one hip.

  Oops. I failed Diapering 101. “Hello, baby girl.”

  The distress in Hope’s eyes transformed into a sparkle and her pout into a grin.

  “Come on.” Noelle scooped her up. “Let’s get you a clean diaper and then we’ll have some breakfast, won’t we?”

  Hope giggled and started laughing when Noelle scratched lightly on her stomach. She squirmed away from the tickles and kicked her feet. Noelle dressed Hope in warmer clothes—which took far more time than expected as a result of the general goofing around and exchange of kisses—and carried her downstairs.

  One messy yogurt later, Noelle glanced up at the sound of feet on the stairs. Grace trotted into the kitchen. Hope laughed and thumped her tray with unbridled enthusiasm at the sight of her sister.

  The older girl stood in the doorway. “Daddy’s awake.”

  Noelle heard but did not remark on the quiet relief in Grace’s voice. “How is he?”

  “He’s taking a shower.” Grace’s gaze drifted past the kitchen and widened at the sight of gifts under the tree. “Presents!” She raced to the Christmas tree and knelt to look through the brightly wrapped packages. “This is for me. This one too. And this is for Hope. So many gifts.” Joy rang through her voice.

  “Who are they from?” Noelle asked.

  Grace was silent for a beat. “Daddy.”

  Noelle continued to feed Hope as if it were the only thing on her mind. She silently counted down the seconds.

  At the six-second mark, Grace said softly, “I don’t have a present for Daddy.”

  Score! Noelle refrained from doing a happy Snoopy dance. “What would you like to give him?”

  Grace pondered the question. “A smile,” she said finally.

  “Well, that’s easy. You can give him a big smile, can’t you?”

  “No, not me. Him.”

  Noelle’s brow furrowed. “What?”

  “I want Daddy to smile. He doesn’t smile anymore. He’s always just angry or sad.”

  Noelle swallowed through the lump in her throat and reached out to stroke Grace’s hair. “Well, I’m sure your daddy will be down soon. How about you help me get some breakfast ready for him? Do you think it’ll get him to smile?”

  “Maybe.” Grace perked up. “He likes waffles, but I don’t know how to make waffles.”

  “Fortunately, I do, but I’ll need a helper.”

  Grace waved her hand in the air. “I can help.”

  Hope toddled around the kitchen, climbing from the chair onto the table and from the table onto the kitchen island, only to be lifted off, kicking and screaming, by Noelle. Undaunted, she kept trying. Equally undaunted, Noelle kept Hope from injuring or killing herself while supervising Grace’s attempt to make waffles.

  The first batch turned out somewhat undercooked, but the second emerged a glorious golden color. Noelle washed and sliced strawberries, and set the maple syrup and whipped cream on the table. She scarcely heard the footsteps until Connor said quietly, “Merry Christmas.”

  Noelle turned to see him standing in the doorway separating the kitchen from the dining room. He was barefoot, and the button-down flannel shirt he wore over a pair of faded denim jeans made him appear more casual and younger. He still looked tired—Noelle suspected it would take him days, if not weeks, to repay his sleep debt, but he seemed relaxed. Apparently, a full night’s sleep had helped him regain some of the equilibrium that made him an outstanding doctor.

  Grace threw her arms around his waist. “Merry Christmas! I made waffles for you!”

  “Really?” A smile spread across his face. “I love waffles.”

  Grace and Noelle exchanged conspiratorial grins. One smile. And the day had scarcely begun. With luck, they’d win ten smiles from Connor before lunch.

  Connor did not have clear memories of his first Christmas without Millie. Blasted open by disbelief, shock, and grief, he had cradled his newborn daughter, his last tangible link to Millie. A year later, looking back, he realized he didn’t have clear memories of the weeks immediately following Millie’s death. The support of family and friends had helped him get through the first few months. When his own grief stabilized enough for him to function, his sole focus had been survival.

  It took him an entire year to realize that “survival” had sucked all the joy out of living. As he sat next to Noelle on the couch, watching Grace unwrap her gifts, he realized he was enjoying his first “normal” day since Millie’s death, and it was perfect. Grace’s small face lit with joy as she paraded her toys and modeled her new clothes. Hope sat on the carpet, apparently content to thump on her still-wrapped gifts like a percussion set. It was a low-key Christmas by any measure, but it reminded him that “normal” was still out there, waiting for him, within reach.

  Even more marvelous was the transformation in Grace. She chattered with Noelle, her demeanor vibrant, even vivacious. He had not seen his daughter that way since Millie died. No topic was too small or too big to discuss with Noelle, who was brilliant at asking leading questions and allowing Grace to come up with the answer on her own. His headstrong daughter didn’t even realize that she was subtly guided to the right answer.

  “Gah.” Hope pushed to her feet and patted his knee. He picked her up and set her on the couch, between him and Noelle. Hope clambered onto Noelle’s lap and stood up, hooking her arm around Noelle’s neck. Absently, Noelle turned to kiss and nuzzle Hope’s chubby cheek. Hope smiled and leaned in against Noelle; her little fingers toyed with Noelle’s dangling earring.

  Anyone looking at them would have imagined that they were mother and daughter.

  Connor swallowed hard. “I’ll get lunch started.”

  “No, I will.” Noelle placed a hand gently on his thigh to keep him in his seat.

  The shock of contact shot straight into his groin. Damn.

  She pushed to her feet. “You just keep that heat pack on your back, and tell me when you want me to bring the ice pack to you.”

  Connor took a deep breath. Noelle had no idea what she was doing to him. Here she was talking about heat packs, when what he really needed was an ice pack and not on his back.

  “I want to make lunch too.” Grace scrambled to her feet and raced after Noelle.

  Hope’s little mouth twisted into a pout, and she wailed. She slid down from the couch and toddled after Grace and Noelle, complaining unintelligibly under her breath the entire way.

  Connor sat alone in his living room and listened as Hope’s excited babble blended into the bright and ringing tones of female chatter in the kitchen. The heavy crush of wistful sorrow against his chest could not conceal the flutter of hope as his skeptical mind tried to wrap around the truth his heart had intuitively grasped.

  Noelle was filling the gap Millie had left in their lives.

  His gaze rested on the small wrapped gift under the tree. It wasn’t labeled and had not been noticed amid the chaos of Grace’s other gifts.

  It was not the first gift he had bought for Noelle.

  That first gift he had never given to her.

  He swallowed the ironic chuckle. Life had a sick sense of humor. Of course, Noelle would be the one who would awaken him emotionally after Millie’s death. Who else could, but the woman who had, back in high school, almost inadvertently wrecked his fledging relationship with Millie?
r />   Chapter 9

  Noelle sneaked out of Hope’s bedroom and closed the door on the napping child. Hope had become fretful after lunch and wailed an objection when Noelle carted her off to bed, but she fell asleep within minutes. Noelle returned downstairs to find Grace happily playing with her new toys beneath the Christmas tree, and Connor on the couch. His head was reclined, his eyes closed, but he looked up as she approached.

  “Sorry I woke you,” she said.

  “I wasn’t sleeping.” He extended his hand to her. She took his hand and allowed him to tug her gently to the couch. She tried to ignore the traitorous flutter in her stomach. Widowed. Two children. Middle of nowhere. I’m going back to Los Angeles.

  Yet somehow, her objection didn’t seem as vehement as it had been previously.

  Their fingers remained entwined, yet his grasp was loose and gentle. It was perfectly obvious to her that she could pull away any time she wanted.

  He said quietly, “I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done this Christmas.”

  She forced a bright smile. “You know me. Always had a soft spot for…” She gulped. Damn, she didn’t want him to think she had only been acting out of some misplaced affection for—

  “Strays?” Connor sounded sad, but not ironic or bitter. “Holly had many stories about some unfortunate animal you’d picked up and nursed back to health. I remember, back in high school, that pit bull mix—”

  “Roger. White with fawn markings. I eventually found him a good home with the Markhams.”

  “I know. They put him to sleep a couple of years back—”

  “Cancer,” Noelle murmured. She kept track of all the strays she had adopted out.

  Connor nodded. “But several of his puppies are still living with the Markhams. They look a touch more aristocratic than their father. Their mother was Ms. Fiona’s whippet.”

  Noelle choked back a snort of laughter. “Really? I didn’t hear that.”

  “Caused quite a scandal. One of the pit bull-whippet mixes had puppies of her own last year. We were about to adopt one for Grace, and then…” He shrugged, the motion oddly defensive. “Plans changed.”

  Her fingers tightened around his. “I’m sorry. Millie was a wonderful person.” She hesitated. “What happened?”

  “Internal hemorrhage. Bleeding. She’d delivered Hope early in the morning, and we spent the day together. Everything seemed fine, and I left after dinner to take Grace home. Minutes later, I got a call from the hospital saying she’d complained of chest pains and lost consciousness. Everything spiraled from there.” He drew a deep breath. “She passed away about an hour later.”

  His hands were cold. Noelle pressed both her hands over his to warm them.

  “Grace never got to say goodbye to her mother.”

  Noelle bit her lip. Now was not the time to burden Connor with Grace’s trauma over her mother’s last words to her.

  He changed the topic abruptly. “I have something for you. It’s under the tree.”

  She tugged her hand out of his and retrieved the sole remaining package under the tree. “Is this it?”

  He nodded.

  She returned to her seat beside him and turned the gift over in her hand. “I don’t have anything for you.”

  “You’ve already given me more than I expected.”

  Her heart raced. Her rational thoughts scattered at the sincerity and hope in his voice. The combination would melt any woman’s heart. “Do I open it now?”

  His eyebrows drew together. “No,” he blurted the word out.

  He had almost said yes; she was certain of it.

  “Take it home,” he said. “I’m sure your father and sister are waiting for you to celebrate Christmas with them. I’ll stop by later today, check on your dad.”

  “I’ll wait. We’ll go together when Hope wakes from her nap. With your strained back, it’ll be hard for you to manage alone.”

  His dark eyes met hers. “What will you do when you run out of excuses to stay around and help?”

  His quiet voice sent a tremble through her. “Make something up, I suppose.” She kept her tone flippant.

  “Would you really make up an excuse to stay, or will you just disappear?”

  She swallowed through the lump in her throat. “I’m going back to Los Angeles when Dad is better.”

  His eyes shadowed. “I see.”

  “But it doesn’t mean we shouldn’t renew old friendships, or that you should heroically turn down a pair of helping hands that we both know you desperately need.”

  Connor shook his head. “Noelle, I don’t know how to translate female innuendo. I haven’t been on a first date since high school. What are you saying?”

  What was she saying? She wasn’t entirely sure. Noelle pressed her lips together. “I’m saying that for as long as I’m here, I’d like to spend time with you and your children. I think you’d appreciate the help, and I’m sure Grace enjoys my company. Just having someone else around will give you the break you need.”

  He was silent for a moment. “It will,” he said finally. “And I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed more than just friendship.” He drew a deep breath. “It’s been a while and—I’m sorry.”

  “No. Don’t be. I wasn’t clear because…it wasn’t clear.”

  Connor chuckled. “You’re confusing me again, but I think we’ll manage.” He looked at the gift she held. “Go ahead. Open it. Now that we’ve cleared the air, you probably won’t get the wrong message from it.”

  Wrong message? Jeez, what did he buy for her? An engagement ring?

  No, the box was too large for a ring, but even so, she unwrapped the gift with some trepidation. Her heart thumped as she recognized the name of the local jeweler. She glanced up at him. “Connor?”

  “I hope you like it.”

  She flipped up the cover to reveal a sapphire and diamond tennis bracelet. Wait, surely those weren’t diamonds. They sparkled like diamonds though. Her breath caught. “It’s beautiful. It’s too much.”

  He shook his head. “You saved Christmas for my children, and this was before my accident. Since then, you’ve saved it several times over.”

  “I can’t—”

  “You can. Keep it, please. It comes with all my thanks.”

  His simple words touched her. “Thank you.” She allowed him to fasten it on her wrist and held her hand up to admire the bracelet as it caught the light. “Sweet heavens, it’s gorgeous.” A thrill of delight raced through her. Impulsively, she turned and kissed him.

  He stiffened as shock jolted through the both of them. She pulled back and stared into his dark eyes.

  What she saw in them shivered through her.

  Need.

  Desire.

  And a great deal of caution.

  Widowed. Two children. Middle of nowhere. I’m going back to Los Angeles.

  She couldn’t tear her gaze away from him. He made no move toward her, but he did not move back either.

  Widowed. Two children. Middle of…oh, to hell with it.

  Noelle placed her hand gently against his cheek to steady him, or perhaps it was to steady herself. Their lips touched, and their breaths merged. His lips were firm and the caress of his tongue gentle and teasing as he deepened the kiss, immersing her into an ocean of sensation. She drifted, anchored only by the grip of his hand against her back. His warmth surrounded her, and his clean, masculine scent, touched with hints of amber and musk, shot straight into her head like a blast of crystal meth.

  Sweet heavens. He was unbelievably sexy, even intoxicating.

  When she finally broke away, her head spinning and her heart pounding, she couldn’t quite recall what her objection to him had been.

  Connor stared at her like a man coming out of a daze. For several moments, neither moved until his sharp inhalation of air cut through the tension that lay heavily between them. His glance darted to Grace who sat under the tree, apparently blissfully unaware of their kiss.

  No
elle nodded her understanding. Under no circumstances could they hurt the child; on that point, at least, they were agreed. He relaxed against the couch, and after a moment, she leaned against him, moving slowly to not jostle his injured back. He wrapped an arm around her; his cheek rested against the top of her head. His breath stirred wisps of her hair.

  The quiet and simple intimacy of the cuddle was as physically soothing as it was emotionally shattering.

  It felt right.

  It didn’t surprise her. “Kindred spirits” was the closest she’d come to describing her inexplicable connection with Connor since the day he tackled the school’s quarterback to help her protect a rabbit. No doubt he had forgotten the incident, but she hadn’t, and at that moment, she couldn’t think of anything she wanted more, anything she would look forward to more each day than the reassurance of returning to his arms.

  It felt right, but it was crazy.

  It wasn’t what she’d wanted at all, was it?

  The foundations of her world—of her life in Los Angeles—trembled, but they still held.

  Later that evening, the festivities migrated to Holly’s living room, filling Noelle’s childhood home with conversation and laughter. A sturdy grate kept the children away from the blazing fireplace, and Holly made multiple trips into the kitchen to stock the food trays with crackers, sliced deli meats, cheese, and an amazing selection of desserts.

  After a brief moment of indecision, Noelle settled into the curve of Connor’s arm. Who cared who thought what? She was with her family; if she couldn’t be honest with them about her evolving feelings for Connor, who could she be honest with?

  Holly, thankfully, made no comment, although Noelle noticed her sister’s gaze rest on the sparkling bracelet on her wrist. The private interrogation would follow, no doubt. Alan Langford was neither shortsighted nor tactful, but he too seemed content to keep the conversation flowing along a neutral stream. In a small town, there was no shortage of neutral, though gossipy, conversation topics, ranging from pets to marriages, from school-yard fights to pregnancies, although Connor had remained professionally discreet on the latter.