by Olivia Miles
Grace climbed out of the car, her feet slipping on the unpaved road. The cold wind stung her face, but the air felt fresh and clear. She breathed in large gulps, desperate to rejuvenate herself from the suffocating heat and the overwhelming awareness of his proximity.
Luke came around the front of the vehicle, extending her bags, and she took them from his grip, struggling to meet his stare.
“Thank you for the ride,” she said tightly. The heat of his gaze made her momentarily forget they were standing outside in the middle of a snowstorm. She lowered her eyes to the ground, tracing a loop in the fresh powder with the tip of her black leather boot.
“Let me bring your bags to the door. I won’t come in.” His breath escaped in white clouds, and he thrust his hands deep inside his pockets, showing no signs of moving.
Grace adjusted her handbag and quickly slung a duffel bag over her shoulder. She stacked the smaller duffel bag on top of the roller case and grabbed the handle of the last bag with her free hand. She struggled for balance then righted herself, lifting her chin when Luke started to protest.
“This is ridiculous,” he said.
“I’m fine.” The weight of the duffel bag made her shoulder throb, and she could already feel her palms burn from the friction of the handle. “I’ve managed just fine on my own all these years, after all.”
Something passed through Luke’s eyes, and for a moment she dared to hope it was remorse. She held her breath, waiting for him to say something, anything that would make her feel less alone in her disappointment, but his jaw pulsed, and his mouth thinned to a grim line. “Have a good night, Grace. And Merry Christmas.”
Grace stepped back, rattled by his dismissive edge, his gruff tone. What had he expected? For her to come back into town and throw her arms around him the first chance she had? They were over, long over, and that was his doing. He’d made his choice and she’d been forced to live with it. For years she had tried to banish his image, to focus on her work, her new life, even her new relationship. It was easier to stay away, to not dwell on the past, and now, not an hour past driving across the town border, she was right back where she started. Stung by the man who had the ability to hurt her the most.
Christmas was still a week away. Did he not intend to see her before then? Not want to? Was he letting her go this easily? Again?
What a fool she had been to think he would care, or have regrets. He probably hadn’t thought of her at all in the past five years. To him, she was just a girl he used to know, his little Honeybee, a fond memory of his childhood. He was a married man—well, a widowed man.
She blinked back tears; if they fell, she’d blame them on the wind. What was wrong with her, getting upset about Luke, now after all this time? There had been only one woman on his mind for the past five years, and it wasn’t her.
Barely able to look at him, she managed something of a goodbye and began walking away, only slowing her pace when she feared she might slip on the icy road. The last thing she needed was for Luke to come to her rescue again.
The old Victorian farmhouse she had known and loved so well came closer, like some twisted version of its former self. From somewhere beyond the darkness of the front room she thought she saw the flickering of a Christmas tree. Well, that was something.
She straightened her spine, hefting her bags to get a better grip. Luke was watching her from his car—she knew it. She could feel his eyes on her back. His headlights were guiding her way, and she fought the urge to turn back and look at him.
What must he be thinking of her? She glared into the snow. Nothing, she reminded herself. He was being a gentleman, like he always was. He was just lending a helping hand.
There was absolutely nothing more to it than that.
CHAPTER
4
Jane poked her head around the arched doorway that separated the kitchen from the den at the back of the farmhouse. Sophie was curled up in the armchair, flipping through the pages of a well-worn book and describing the pictures in an excited tone to her little rag doll. She looked so small in the armchair, so innocent, that Jane felt her heartstrings tug, and she had to look away. Hot tears prickled the back of her eyes, and she blinked before they could spill, darting her gaze to Anna, who was watching her impassively from the center island.
“Just checking on Sophie.” Jane sighed through a forced smile and wiped her hands on her apron before picking up a wooden spoon. She distractedly stirred the tomato sauce that was simmering on the stovetop.
Anna murmured something terse and resumed chopping vegetables for the salad. Honestly! Jane had had about enough of Anna these days, and she knew it was only about to get worse once Grace showed up.
If she showed up.
“I hope Grace is okay,” she said, turning to the window. The snow was falling harder now. She didn’t even want to think about the condition of the roads.
“She just got her car stuck in some ditch,” Anna huffed. “And she said she would call if there was a problem.”
“I know,” Jane said. Though she didn’t feel the least bit reassured, she decided to keep the rest of her concern to herself. She certainly wasn’t going to get any empathy from Anna on this one. Jane busied herself by adding another generous dusting of dried herbs to the bubbling sauce. Keeping her hands occupied had been the best tactic to keep her mind from wandering down paths she wanted to avoid of late.
“Don’t overspice it,” came Anna’s warning.
Jane hesitated. With her back to her sister, she closed her eyes and counted to five, willing herself not to say something that would pick a fight or that she would later come to regret. Given that Anna was the certified chef in the family, one might assume she would be cooking tonight, but somehow that task, like so much else these days, had fallen to Jane. It was Christmas, the first Christmas without their father. Someone had to hold the family together, and it seemed like that person would be her.
With forced calm and a silent plea for patience, Jane set the container of herbs back on the counter and turned to Anna, smiling pleasantly. “Dinner should be ready soon,” she said. “I’m sure Grace will be hungry after her drive.”
Anna rolled her eyes. “I don’t understand why you’re making such a big deal about her coming home. She’s the one who chose to stay away until now.”
Jane inhaled sharply and released a slow breath. One, two, three. “I understand where you’re coming from, Anna. I guess I can’t help but feel excited, though.” She shrugged. “Maybe if she sees how much she missed us, she’ll be inclined to visit more often.”
Anna scoffed. “Don’t bet on it.” She began ripping the romaine with clenched fists, careless in her task but successful in making her feelings known.
Jane gritted her teeth, her nostrils flaring in reproach. Yes, they were grieving, each in her own way, but the tension was reaching a breaking point, and Jane was beginning to lose the battle with her own will. This Christmas was hard on her too, but she didn’t have the luxury of falling apart the way her family could. She had Sophie to think about, and no matter how deeply her heart was aching, she was not going to allow her child’s Christmas to be spoiled.
Jane shook her head and turned back to her sauce, gripping the side of the counter for support. The clock above the range ticked by another minute. Please, Grace, get here soon.
More than forty-five minutes had passed since she’d hung up with Grace, and she had been unable to get through since. She turned to the window, feeling slightly more relaxed to see that the snowfall was turning to light flurries. The roads might be slick, but Grace knew her way around town. It was ingrained in them the way home was. It didn’t matter how long you were gone; once you were back, it was as if you had never left.
Not that she would know. But that’s what people said.
“Do me a favor and don’t be too hard on her,” Jane suddenly burst out, flashing Anna an angry glance over her shoulder. “Sophie is thrilled to have Grace with us for the holiday, and I
don’t want any more tension for her. She’s a child, and she deserves to have a happy Christmas without being bogged down by issues she could never understand.”
“Whoa! What’s got you so worked up?”
“Nothing,” Jane muttered, feeling her eyebrows draw to a point. “Just… be nice.”
Anna fixed her blue eyes on Jane, her mouth thinning. She went back to ripping the lettuce, tossing it carelessly into a large bowl.
Jane released a dramatic sigh. Between her mother refusing to decorate for the holiday and Anna acting like a petulant child, Jane had been counting the hours until Grace’s arrival. Her oldest sister may not have been around much in recent years, but at least she wouldn’t add to the negativity.
“So why isn’t Adam here?”
“What?” Jane jumped at the sound of her husband’s name—her lying, cheating husband. She stirred the sauce more quickly, her heart pounding. Finally, she gave the same excuse Adam had given her: “I told you. He has to work late.”
Silence fell on the kitchen. Jane watched the bubbles form and pop in the sauce as she waited for her nerves to steady.
It was becoming increasingly difficult to hide the truth from her family. She was running out of excuses for Adam’s continued absence, and the more lies she told, the less she was convinced her mother and sister were buying them. She knew she should tell them, and under normal circumstances she would have and they would have responded appropriately, with hugs and comfort, hot tea and a tissue for her tears. But it had been a long time since she’d been able to rely on either her mother or Anna. They were depending on her these days to keep the family from completely crumbling. They had no idea how unfit she was for the position.
Many times she had thought of telling them, especially when Anna was being especially brusque or difficult, but all it took was one glance at her mother’s pale and drawn face to make her clamp her mouth shut. Jane knew it wouldn’t help her to dump her grief on someone who had more than her share already. This Christmas was going to be hard enough for Kathleen to get through without the added worry of her daughter’s and granddaughter’s welfare and happiness. If there was one gift Jane could give her mother this year, it was to minimize the pain in any way possible.
It was the same approach she was taking with Sophie, she reminded herself with newfound resolve. She deserved to have one last Christmas before her family was ripped apart.
Jane turned off the burner and set the wooden spoon on a ceramic holder. “I think I’ll go wait in the living room for Grace,” she said breathlessly, untying her apron. She didn’t wait for Anna to answer as she strode out of the kitchen and into the dark room at the front of the house, where she slumped onto the window seat, relaxing her shoulders. The only chance she had to be herself anymore was when she was alone, but she was hoping Grace would change that.
Grace loved their family, Jane was certain of this, but time and physical distance lent her a certain level of detachment. Jane knew that Grace was just as devastated by the death of their father as they all were—deep down, they had sensed she was his favorite, after all. But Grace wasn’t here every day living with the ups and downs of her family’s emotions. She was able to go back to her life after the funeral, whereas Jane and Anna had been forced to deal with the fallout. Anna resented Grace for this, and God knew she didn’t keep the sentiment hidden, but Jane saw it differently. Jane saw Grace as her perfect ally: someone who loved her but wasn’t very close to her anymore. She could tell her sister about Adam’s treacherous behavior without hurting her further. Oh, Grace would feel bad for her, of course, but she wouldn’t let it bring her down.
Yes, she was exactly what Jane needed right now. And thankfully, she would be here any minute. Just the thought of it made Jane’s heart swell with something close to hope.
In the distance she heard her mother mutter something to Anna about Sophie getting hungry. Anna’s sharp retort was laced with resentment when she said, “We’re still waiting on Princess Grace, Mom. It’s her world isn’t it? Jane practically has the red carpet rolled out!”
Jane frowned and turned back to the window, leaning her cheek against the icy cold pane as she looked down the street to the cheerfully decorated homes. She knew all of the families, of course, and she could picture them inside, gathered around a tall, beautifully decorated tree, sipping hot cocoas, or laughing over a big meal. She wished for a moment she could duck out of the house, run down the street, and invite herself in. They’d welcome her, after all. But no, instead she had to be stuck in this house.
Well, she supposed she should be grateful that after a long, firm discussion with her mother, they had managed a sad, skinny Christmas tree so Sophie wouldn’t sense something was amiss.
Anna’s voice from the kitchen cut through her thoughts. She was speaking to their mother again. “No, Jane said he has to work.” There was a pointed pause. “She implied he wasn’t coming.”
Jane’s temperature rose and she held her breath, craning to hear her mother’s response.
“Adam’s such a hard worker,” Kathleen murmured, and Jane rolled her eyes, turning back to the vast bay window.
Adam worked hard, all right. Hard at chasing women, or at least one woman in particular. Jane’s face burned with shame when she thought of the humiliation he had brought on her—the horror she had felt in her discovery, while he went about his dirty business as if she were none the wiser. She pressed her hand against the cold glass of the window, not caring if she left her fingerprints behind. She swiped a tear from her cheek before it had a chance to fall and sniffed hard, releasing a ragged breath. The last thing she needed was to be caught crying. It would only make everything worse than it was. And it was pretty bad already.
She swept her gaze gloomily across the street, searching up the road for an oncoming car, and it was then that she saw her. Her breath caught in her chest, igniting a spark of joy she no longer knew existed. Grace had come home. She was really here. Tears stung her eyes and she didn’t even think to swipe them away.
Growing up, Grace had meant everything to her—she was the oldest, the most sophisticated, and the sister that Jane most greatly admired. She had long ago given up thinking that Grace would ever return to Briar Creek for good, and eventually she had learned to go about her daily and often monthly routines without missing her. Seeing her now, knowing she had made the effort to come here, that she had come because Jane asked her to, filled Jane’s heart with an ache so deep, she thought she would burst into tears right then and there.
She dashed to the door and flung it open, not even caring that the cold wind flew through the hallway. She hugged her sweater around her body as Grace turned onto the snow-covered stone path leading up to the porch, but her bright smile faded when she saw the shadow in Grace’s normally bright green eyes.
“Jane.” Grace’s expression lifted into a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “The house—it’s so dark.” Fear laced her tone as she took the porch steps. “Jane, what’s going on?”
Jane only shook her head, swallowing the lump that had formed in her throat. Everything would be better now. It certainly couldn’t get any worse.
“Oh my, you’re really here!” She pulled Grace into her arms for a hug before the reunion could be shared with her mother and Anna, whom she could already hear coming down the hall behind her.
Against the cries of rare delight from her mother and less enthusiastic greetings from Anna, Jane pressed her mouth against her sister’s damp hair, whispering urgently, “I tried to warn you.”
CHAPTER
5
Grace set her fork on the edge of the plate and glanced around the table, frowning at the sight of her mother, who sat at the head. Kathleen was hunched, listlessly dragging her fork over the fine, ivory porcelain china edged with a hand-painted holly design.
Grace looked away, back to her own half-eaten meal, and darted her eyes over to Anna, who was making an entire production out of her dismissive body langu
age. Her head was down, eyes fixed to her plate, from which she took quick, robotic bites. Anna was obviously upset, and something told Grace it went well beyond their father’s absence. She’d barely said more than three words since Grace had arrived, and all had been spoken in clipped, curt tones.
Feeling Jane’s stare, Grace shifted to meet her youngest sister’s gaze, her heart pulling tight at the apologetic grin Jane offered. With a small smile, Grace lowered her eyes and poked at her meal, stifling a heavy sigh. So it wasn’t going to be a warm and fuzzy Christmas. She hadn’t had one of those in years; in theory, she had no room for disappointment.
“So, Sophie,” she said with false cheer, as she turned her attention on the little girl beside Jane, who was shifting restlessly in the stiff, open-backed Queen Anne chair. “What grade are you in now?”
Sophie let out a giggle and clamped her hand over her mouth. “I don’t have a grade, silly! I’m too little!”
Jane tilted her head. “She’s only four,” she explained. “She goes to preschool three mornings a week.”
Grace squinted, quickly doing the math. Sophie looked so much bigger than the last time she had seen her, and that had only been nine months ago. Her brown hair was thin and silky then; now it was thick and past her shoulders. Jane had fastened a sweet little white barrette on one side. Sitting close, Grace was struck by how much the mother and daughter resembled each other. Just looking at her little niece, she could almost picture Jane, so small, sitting at this very table. She smiled at the image, but she couldn’t deny the part of her that ached with longing.
Derek had claimed she was feeling emotional, sentimental, when she returned from her father’s funeral and told him she wanted to have a child. Not then, but someday. He’d stared at her, unblinking, and then placed two heavy hands on her shoulders, his gentle tone telling her it was the grief talking. They’d never discussed children, or any concrete plans for their supposed future together really, and Grace had suspected this would be Derek’s response. But hearing it confirmed… He’d left her no choice.
