Holly slid her arms around him and simply laid her head against his chest. For a moment, Jake stood unmoving as she held him. Then he placed his own arms around her. It felt as though she was an anchor, securing him in an unsteady sea. He needed her. Wanted her. Before he fully realized what he was doing, he lifted her head and lowered his mouth to hers.
The kiss was filled with urgency and need. She slipped her arms around his neck, and her touch had a powerful effect on him.
He tangled his fingers in her dark shoulder-length hair and brought his mouth to hers a second time. Soon they were so involved in each other that it took him far longer than it should to hear the ringing of his phone.
He broke away in order to answer; as he suspected, the car was downstairs, waiting. When he told Holly, she immediately put on her coat. Gabe continued to sleep as Jake scooped him up, holding the boy carefully in both arms.
George opened the lobby door for them. Holly slid into the vehicle first, and then as Jake started to hand her the boy, he noticed a movement on the other side of the street.
“Jake?” Holly called from the car. “Please, there’s no need for you to come. You’ve been so kind already.”
“I want to see you safely home,” he said as he stared across the street. For just an instant—it must have been his imagination—he was sure he’d seen Emily Merkle, better known as Mrs. Miracle.
Chapter Six
Forbidden fruit creates many jams.
—Mrs. Miracle
The phone rang just as Holly and Gabe walked into the apartment after church the next morning. For one wild second Holly thought it might be Jake.
Or rather, hoped it was Jake.
Although she’d been dead on her feet by the time they got to Brooklyn, she couldn’t sleep. She’d lain awake for hours, thinking about the kisses they’d shared, replaying every minute of their time together. All of this was so unexpected and yet so welcome. Jake was—
“Hello,” she said, sounding breathless with anticipation.
“What’s this I hear about you turning my son into a girl?”
“Mickey!” Her brother’s voice was as clear as if he were in the next room. He tried to phone on a regular basis, but it wasn’t easy. The most reliable form of communication had proved to be email.
“So you’re baking cookies with my son, are you?” he teased.
“We had a blast.” Gabe was leaping up and down, eager to speak to his father. “Here, I’ll let Gabe tell you about it himself.” She passed the phone to her nephew, who immediately grabbed it.
“Dad! Dad, guess what? I went to Aunt Holly’s office to help her decorate and then she took me to see the big tree at Rockefeller Center and we watched the skaters and had hot chocolate and then we walked to Central Park and had hot dogs for dinner, and, oh, we went to see Mrs. Miracle. I helped Aunt Holly roll out cookies and...” He paused for breath.
Evidently Mickey took the opportunity to ask a few questions, because Gabe nodded a couple of times.
“Mrs. Miracle is the lady in the toy department at Finley’s,” he said.
He was silent for a few seconds.
“She’s really nice,” Gabe continued. “She reminds me of Grandma Larson. I gave her a plate of cookies, and Aunt Holly gave cookies to Jake.” Silence again, followed by “He’s Aunt Holly’s new boyfriend and he’s really, really nice.”
“Maybe I should talk to your father now,” Holly inserted, wishing Gabe hadn’t been so quick to mention Jake’s name.
Gabe clutched the receiver in both hands and turned his back, unwilling to relinquish the phone.
“Jake took us on a carriage ride in Central Park and then...” Gabe stopped talking for a few seconds. “I don’t know what happened after that ’cause I fell asleep.”
Mickey was asking something else, and although Holly strained to hear what it was, she couldn’t.
Whatever his question, Gabe responded by glancing at Holly, grinning widely and saying, “Oh, yeah.”
“Are you two talking about me?” she demanded, half laughing and half annoyed.
She was ignored. Apparently Gabe felt there was a lot to tell his father, because he cupped his hand around the mouthpiece and whispered loudly, “I think they kissed.”
“Gabe!” she protested. If she wanted her brother to know this, she’d tell him herself.
“Okay,” Gabe said, nodding. He held out the phone to her. “Dad wants to talk to you.”
Holly took it from him and glared down at her nephew.
“So I hear you’ve found a new love interest,” Mickey said in the same tone he’d used to tease her when they were teenagers.
“Oh, stop. Jake and I hardly know each other.”
“How’d you meet?”
“At Starbucks. Mickey, please, it’s nothing. I only met him on Friday.” It felt longer than two days, but this was far too soon to even suggest they were in a relationship.
“Gabe doesn’t seem to feel that’s a problem.”
“Okay, so I took Jake a plate of cookies like Gabe said—it was just a thank-you for buying me a coffee—and...and we happened to run into him last evening in Central Park. It’s no big deal. He’s a nice person and, well...like I said, we’ve just met.”
“But it looks promising,” her brother added.
Holly hated to acknowledge how true that was. Joy and anticipation had surged through her from the moment she and Jake kissed. Still, she was afraid to admit this to her brother—and, for that matter, afraid to admit it to herself. “It’s too soon to say that yet.”
“Ah, so you’re still hung up on Bill?”
Was she? Holly didn’t think so. If Bill had ended the relationship by telling her the chemistry just wasn’t there, she could’ve accepted that. Instead, he’d left her with serious doubts regarding her parenting abilities.
“Is that it?” Mickey pressed.
“No,” she said. “Not at all. Bill and I weren’t really meant to be together. I think we both realized that early on, only neither of us was ready to be honest about it.”
“Mmm.” Mickey made a sound of agreement. “Things are going better with Gabe, aren’t they?”
“Much better.”
“Good.”
“He’s adjusting and so am I.” This past week seemed to have been a turning point. They were more at ease with each other. Gabe had made new friends and was getting used to life without his father—and with her. She knew she insisted on rules Mickey didn’t bother with—like making their beds every morning, drinking milk with breakfast and, of course, putting the toilet seat down. But Gabe hardly complained at all anymore.
“What was it he told Santa he wanted for Christmas?” Mickey asked.
“So he emailed you about the visit with Santa, did he?”
“Yup, he sent the email right after he got home. He seemed quite excited.”
“It’s Intellytron the SuperRobot.”
At her reference to the toy, Gabe’s eyes lit up and he nodded vigorously.
“We found them in Finley’s Department Store. Mrs. Miracle, the woman Gabe mentioned, works there...and Jake does, too.”
“Didn’t Gabe tell me Jake’s name is Finley?” Mickey asked. “He said he heard Mrs. Miracle call him that—Mr. Finley. Is he related to the guy who owns the store?”
“Y-e-s.” How dense could she be? Holly felt like slapping her forehead. She’d known his name was Finley from the beginning and it hadn’t meant a thing to her. But now...now she realized Jake was probably related to the Finley family—was possibly even the owner’s son. No wonder he could afford to live where he did. He hadn’t given the price of the carriage ride or the car service a second thought, either.
She had the sudden, awful feeling that she was swimming in treacherous waters and there wasn’t a life preserver in sight.
&
nbsp; “Holly?”
“I... I think he must be.” She’d been so caught up in her juvenile fantasies, based on the coincidence of their meetings, that she hadn’t paid attention to anything else.
“You sound like this is shocking news.”
“I hadn’t put two and two together,” she confessed.
“And now you’re scared.”
“I guess I am.”
“Don’t be. He puts his pants on one leg at a time like everyone else, if you’ll pardon the cliché. He’s just a guy.”
“Right.”
“You don’t seem too sure of that.”
Holly wasn’t. A chill had overtaken her and she hugged herself with one arm. “I need to think about this.”
“While you’re thinking, tell me more about this robot that’s got my son so excited.”
“It’s expensive.”
“How...expensive?”
Holly heard the hesitation in her brother’s voice. He had his own financial problems. “Don’t worry—I’ve got it. This is on me.”
“You’re sure about that?”
“Positive.” The Christmas bonus checks were due the following Friday. If all went well, hers should cover the price of the toy with enough left over for a really special Christmas dinner.
Christmas.
When she woke that morning, still warm under the covers, Holly’s first thought had been of Jake. She’d had the craziest idea that...well, it was out of the question now.
What Jake had confided about his mother and sister had nearly broken her heart. The tragedy had not only robbed him of his mother and sibling, it had destroyed his pleasure in Christmas. Holly had hoped to change that, but the mere notion seemed ridiculous now. She’d actually planned to invite Jake to spend Christmas Day with her and Gabe. She knew now that he’d never accept. He was a Finley, after all, a man whose background was vastly different from her own.
Half-asleep, she’d pictured the three of them sitting around her table, a lovely golden-brown turkey with sage stuffing resting in the center. She’d imagined Christmas music playing and the tree lights blinking merrily, enhancing the celebratory mood. She couldn’t believe she’d even considered such a thing, knowing what she did now.
“I have a Christmas surprise coming your way,” Mickey said. “I’m just hoping it arrives in time for the holidays.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she assured her brother, dragging her thoughts away from Jake. She focused on her brother and nephew—which was exactly what she intended to do from this point forward. She needed to forget this romantic fantasy she’d invented within a day of meeting Jake Finley.
“I can guarantee Gabe will like it and so will you,” Mickey was saying.
Holly couldn’t begin to guess what Mickey might have purchased in Afghanistan for Christmas, but then her brother had always been full of surprises. He’d probably ordered something over the internet, she decided.
“Mom and Dad mailed us a package, as well,” she told him. “The box got here this week.”
“From Haiti? What would they be sending?”
“I don’t have a clue,” she said. Once the tree was up she’d arrange the gifts underneath it.
“You’re going to wait until Christmas morning, aren’t you?” he asked. “Don’t open anything before that.”
“Of course we’ll wait.” Even as kids, they’d managed not to peek at their gifts.
Mickey laughed, then grew serious. “This won’t be an ordinary Christmas, will it?”
Holly hadn’t dwelled on not being with her parents. Her father, a retired dentist, and her mother, a retired nurse, had offered their services in a health clinic for twelve months after the devastating earthquake. They’d been happy about the idea of giving back, and Holly had been happy for them. This Christmas was supposed to be Mickey, Gabe and her for the holidays—and then Mickey’s National Guard unit had been called up and he’d left to serve his country.
“It could be worse,” she said, and her thoughts involuntarily went to Jake and his father, who refused to celebrate Christmas at all.
“Next year everything will be different,” Mickey told her.
“Yes, it will,” she agreed.
Her brother spoke to Gabe for a few more minutes and then said goodbye. Gabe was pensive after the conversation with his father and so was Holly, but for different reasons.
“How about toasted cheese sandwiches and tomato soup for lunch?” she suggested, hoping to lighten the mood. “That was your dad’s and my favorite Sunday lunch when we were growing up.”
Gabe looked at her suspiciously. “What kind of cheese?”
Holly shrugged. “Regular cheese?” By that she meant the plastic-wrapped slices, Gabe’s idea of cheese.
“You won’t use any of that buffalo stuff, will you?”
She grinned. “Buffalo mozzarella. Nope, this is plain old sliced regular cheese in a package.”
“Okay, as long as the soup comes from a can. That’s the way Dad made it and that’s how I like it.”
“You got it,” she said, and moved into the kitchen.
Gabe sat on a stool and watched her work, leaning his elbows on the kitchen counter. Holly wasn’t fooled by his intent expression. He wasn’t interested in spending time with her; he was keeping a close eye on their lunch in case she tried to slip in a foreign ingredient. After a moment he released a deep sigh.
“What’s that about?” she asked.
“I miss my dad.”
“I know you do, sweetheart. I miss him, too.”
“And Grandma and Grandpa.”
“And they miss us.”
Gabe nodded. “It’s not so bad living with you. I thought it was at first, but you’re okay.”
“Thanks.” She hid a smile and set a piece of buttered bread on the heated griddle, then carefully placed a slice of processed cheese on top before adding the second piece of bread. She planned to have a plain cheese sandwich herself—one with real cheese.
Obviously satisfied that she was preparing his lunch according to his specifications, Gabe clambered off the stool. “Can we go to the movies this afternoon?”
“Maybe.” She had to be careful with her entertainment budget, especially since there were additional expenses coming up this month. “It might be better if we got a video.”
“Can I invite a friend over?”
She hesitated a moment, afraid he might want to ask his new friend, Billy.
“Sure,” she said. “How about Jonathan Krantz?” Jonathan was another eight-year-old who lived in the building, and Caroline, his mother, sometimes babysat for her.
That was acceptable to Gabe.
After lunch they walked down to the neighborhood video store, found a movie they could both agree on and then asked Jonathan to join them.
Holly did her best to pay attention to the movie; however, her mind had a will of its own. No matter how hard she tried, all she could think about was Jake. He didn’t phone and that was just as well. She wasn’t sure what she would’ve said if he had.
Then again, he hadn’t asked for her phone number. Still, he could get it easily enough if he wanted....
Late Sunday night, after Gabe was asleep, Holly went on the computer and did a bit of research. Sure enough, Jake was related to the owner. Not only that, he was the son and heir.
Monday morning, Holly dropped Gabe off at school and took the subway into Manhattan. As she walked past Starbucks, she felt a twinge of longing—for more than just the coffee they served. This was where she’d met Jake. Jake Finley.
As she walked briskly past Starbucks, the door flew open and Jake Finley dashed out, calling her name.
Holly pretended not to hear.
“Holly!” he shouted, running after her. “Wait up!”
Chapter Seven
; Coincidence is when God chooses
to remain anonymous.
—Mrs. Miracle
“Wait up!” Jake called. Holly acted as if she hadn’t heard him. Jake knew better. She was clearly upset about something, although he couldn’t figure out what. His mind raced with possibilities, but he couldn’t come up with a single one that made sense.
Finally she turned around.
Jake relaxed. Just seeing her again brought him a feeling of happiness he couldn’t define. He barely knew Holly Larson, yet he hadn’t been able to forget her. She was constantly in his thoughts, constantly with him, and perhaps the most puzzling of all was the rightness he felt in her presence. He couldn’t think of any other way to describe it.
Jake had resisted the urge to contact her on Sunday, afraid of coming on too strong. They’d seen quite a bit of each other in the past few days, seemingly thrown together by fate. Coincidence? He supposed so, and yet... It was as though a providential hand was behind all this. Admittedly that sounded fanciful, even melodramatic. Nevertheless, four chance meetings in quick succession was hard to explain.
With someone else, a different kind of woman, Jake might have suspected these meetings had been contrived, and certainly this morning’s was pure manipulation on his part. He’d hoped to run into her casually. But he hadn’t expected to see Holly walk directly past the coffee shop. He couldn’t allow this opportunity to pass.
She looked up at him expectantly; she didn’t say anything.
“Good morning,” he said, unsure of her mood.
“Hi.” She just missed making eye contact.
He felt her reluctance and frowned, unable to fathom what he might have done to upset her. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Nothing.”
“Then why won’t you look at me?”
A Christmas Message Page 21
