Christmas Comes to Bethlehem - Maine

by Ludwig, Elizabeth

  “Callen?” She rushed forward, hands outstretched. “I can’t believe this. What are you doing here?”

  He opened his mouth and found his voice lodged in his throat. She was as beautiful as he remembered. The twelve years since he’d seen her last had only added to her loveliness. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I’m here on a working vacation. What about you?”

  “I live here. And my name is Angie Monroe now.”

  A cloud passed over her face and he sensed her slight withdrawal. “In Maine? Why? And what happened to you? You were hitting the top of the charts; your last album went platinum out of the gate. Then you disappeared. The whole country was looking for you.”

  Angie took a step back. The withdrawal physical now. “I’m not in the music business anymore. I, uh, have a daughter. Lily. She’s three. I wanted a normal life for her. Not touring on buses and dragging her from concert to concert.” She shrugged. “You know how it is.”

  He didn’t know, but the life she’d described was the one she’d dreamed of her whole life. So why had she walked away? No. Vanished at the height of her success? “Angie, why—”

  She smiled and moved another step back. “Where are you staying, Callen? Oh, must be at the Stoval-Mills House. It’s the only bed and breakfast in town. Is Edna treating you all right?”

  Callen’s reporter antennae quivered. Angie was as tense as a too-tight guitar string. What was she hiding? “Yeah. It’s great. She spoils me like a doting mom.”

  She nodded. “That’s Edna.”

  “So I’d like to catch up. It’s been a long time. Why don’t we have dinner? I’ll be here for several weeks.”

  She blanched, one hand coming to rest at her throat. “Sure. Fine. I’d like that. Of course, I’m really busy at the moment, with Lily and all. She takes up most of my time. Then I’m the director of the live nativity this year. That’s a huge job. But I’ll see what I can do.”

  Callen took a step toward her, smiling. “You’re the director of the nativity? That’s why I’m here. I’m covering your event for an article on the top Christmas attractions in New England. In fact, I’m meeting with the editor of the paper in a few minutes.”

  Angie’s ivory skin turned an odd shade of gray.

  “You’re a reporter?”

  Callen narrowed his gaze. What was wrong with her? Her voice was husky, her posture defensive. Not at all the vibrant, full-of-life woman he’d fallen in love with long ago. He noticed she was holding a small box of cold medication. Maybe she was ill.

  He nodded, deciding to give her space to explain. He slipped his hands into his pockets again and leaned back slightly, assuming a casual stance. “Don’t sound so surprised. It’s all I ever wanted to be. Remember?”

  “Yes. Of course. I just didn’t expect…” She blinked and met his gaze, her hazel eyes filled with confusion. “I thought you wrote those travel books. I used to see them everywhere.” She moved her hand through the air like a banner. “Granted: Adventures in Travel by Callen Grant.”

  “Yeah. They did really well. But those are done. I’m just finishing up on my contract. I’ve been offered a reporting job in Florida. It’s a chance to do some serious news stories.” Callen frowned. The pulse in Angie’s neck was beating so rapidly he wondered if she might pass out.

  “Well, it’s been great to see you again. I’ll call when I have a free evening. I’ve got to—” She stared at the medicine in her hand as if seeing it for the first time. “I need to get this home to Lily.” She pushed past him and disappeared around the corner, leaving him puzzled, worried, and filled with memories he didn’t want to visit.

  What had happened to Angeline Silkowsky? She said her name was Monroe and she had a child. Had she married someone from here? Suddenly he had a lot more things to look into besides a live nativity.

  Angie Silkowsky Monroe swiped her debit card, her fingers tapping the counter impatiently as Betty rang up her purchase. She shot the woman a stiff smile as she took the receipt then glanced over her shoulder to make sure Callen wasn’t watching. She could see his light brown hair over the top of the shelving.

  Pushing open the door, Angie rushed outside, inhaling the cool, crisp winter air, the chill of it penetrating deep into her lungs and settling the nerves in her stomach. She took a moment to decide her next move. Turning north would take her to the Bethlehem Community Church. Turning south, to Edna at the Stovall-Mills House. A quick check of her watch showed she had nearly an hour before she had to pick her daughter up from preschool at the church. Plenty of time to get some questions answered. She turned south.

  Edna Burrows was seated at the round kitchen table, a cup of steaming tea in front of her as she read a magazine. Angie tapped on one of the small window panes and waved.

  Edna motioned her inside, smiling. “You’re a sight for sore eyes. I haven’t seen you in weeks. Where you been hiding? You want some tea?”

  Angie nodded, pulling off her coat and taking a seat at the cheery table. Simon, Edna’s husband, passed through the room with a nod of his head, and exited out the door. Simon was a man of few words. Probably because Edna talked enough for both of them. If you wanted to know about anything or anyone in town, Edna was better than the Internet. Which is why Angie had come.

  “Plantation mint, your favorite.” Edna placed the teacup in front of Angie and sat down again. “So what brings you here on a late afternoon? Shouldn’t you be picking up that cutie of yours? That child is so adorable. Bright. Friendly. Full of energy. I don’t know how you keep up with her.”

  Cradling her cup between her hands, Angie waited for Edna to take a breath. “You have a new guest.” She held her breath, her stomach twisting in knots as she waited for the answers she dreaded hearing.

  Edna grinned. “You mean that handsome, six-foot hunk of masculine charm, Callen Grant?” She sighed and placed her hand at her throat with a sigh. “If I were thirty years younger, and Simon wasn’t the love of my life…” She winked. “He checked in this morning. What about him?”

  Angie’s heart thumped wildly in her chest. “Do you know why he’s here?”

  Edna’s smile widened as she leaned forward. “Indeed I do. He’s here to write an article about our live nativity. You know the attention has died down a good bit from our grand rebirth after the storm. It wouldn’t hurt to put our nativity at the front of people’s minds again. And since you’re in charge of the whole thing…” Edna set her cup down with a clatter into the saucer, her eyes wide with sudden realization. “Oh my.”

  Angie rubbed her temple. “Oh my, indeed.”

  Edna waved off her concern. “Well, no need to worry. He’ll never figure out who you really are. My goodness, you don’t look anything like you did when you were a music star. You have different hair, different clothes, even a different name. Don’t you worry; we all promised when you came to live here that we’d protect you.” She reached over and patted Angie’s hand reassuringly.

  “Callen knows who I am. We’ve known each other since high school back in Ohio. He’s not only a reporter by trade, but by nature. He’ll want to know why I’m here, and he won’t stop until he finds out.”

  “Then maybe you should tell him. Get it out in the open. If he’s an old friend, maybe he’ll agree to support your decision.”

  Angie prayed her friend was right. If not, her whole world could come tumbling down.

  An hour later Angie was still praying Edna’s words would prove true as she picked Lily up from school. “Did you have fun today, Pumpkin?”

  Lily held up a crumpled piece of paper displaying colorful crayon scribbles and glitter. “We made a sparkle tree.”

  “I love it. Let’s put it up on the refrigerator, okay?”

  Lily smiled and nodded. “ ’Kay.”

  Thoughts of Callen swirled like a fierce winter wind in Angie’s mind as she prepared supper. Mac and cheese, pears, and little green balls—peas. All of Lily’s favorites. Angie tried to eat, but the food tasted like p
aper. Lily gobbled her food with delight, leaving behind an orange and green mess on the booster seat. By the time Angie had tucked the little girl into bed and headed back downstairs, she’d decided to follow Edna’s suggestion and take the offensive in dealing with Callen. She’d meet with him, tell him what was going on, then she’d offer to be his guide and grant him full access to the nativity and any questions he wanted to ask. She’d tell him she left the music business to be a mom to Lily, that her name change was to protect them both from publicity. She’d be open and forthright, he’d accept her explanation, and she’d call on his friendship to keep her world intact. Picking up her phone, she scrolled down to Edna’s number and dialed, ignoring the pricking of her conscience. She would tell Callen only part of the truth. He didn’t need to know everything.

  Callen Grant stared out the large window of his room at the Stoval-Mills house, barely registering the lights that decorated every charming home along Spruce Street. The B&B was tucked away around a corner from the main thoroughfare on a quiet, tree-lined street. Bethlehem was a living postcard of the idyllic Christmas village. Every place he’d wandered this afternoon had been more picturesque than the last.

  Heat from the fireplace warmed his back, drawing him away from the window. He ran his palms down his face and lowered himself into the comfy love seat facing the fire. All that New England charm was lost in the memory of coming face to face with Angie Silkowsky. Known to the world as Silky Blaine. The girl with the voice like silk. Smooth, strong, able to wrap its dulcet tones around your nerves and touch your soul with sweetness.

  The way she’d touched his heart from the moment he’d met her in English class in tenth grade. Quiet, shy, and pretty, she hadn’t been one of the popular crowd. They’d sat beside each other at the back of the class and were an item all through high school. He’d fallen in love, but Angie was more interested in a singing career. She’d even cancelled their prom date to sing the national anthem at a Cincinnati Reds game.

  Callen rubbed his forehead then reached for his hot cocoa. A part of Edna’s hospitality. He’d had the ring in his pocket the night Angie received word she’d won the American Star talent search. She’d left for Nashville that next morning, and he’d never seen her again—except on television and on covers of magazines—but he hardly recognized her. She’d been transformed. New hairstyle and color, new clothes, and new name. Angie Silkowsky had become Silky Blaine, country music’s hottest new star.

  He’d never begrudged her the opportunity. She’d worked hard and achieved her heart’s desire. But the hole she’d left in his heart had never healed, and he’d never found anyone else who could fill it.

  The old-style rotary telephone rang, the unfamiliar sound causing him to nearly spill his drink. Setting the cup on the coffee table, he picked up the receiver. “Grant here.”

  “Callen? It’s Angie.”

  He froze. For a moment his lungs refused to function. He inhaled through his nose, trying to keep his voice calm. “Hey. I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon.” He leaned forward, his gut knotted with curiosity. “What can I do for you?”

  “I wanted to apologize for being so abrupt this afternoon. I was distracted. I thought maybe we could meet for dinner tomorrow night. My treat. Trapper’s has the best seafood in town.”

  Callen didn’t want to wait that long. He had too many questions. “Why not lunch? My schedule is flexible.”

  “Well, I suppose we could eat here at my house. It would save me a babysitting fee, too.” She chuckled softly. “How about noon? Edna will give you directions. It’s not hard to find.”

  “Great. Will your husband be there?”

  “No. Just the three of us.”

  The odd tone in her voice raised more questions. “I’ll see you then.” He hung up the phone, staring at his cup of cocoa. Angie was a mother. He shouldn’t be surprised. But he was. He’d always thought her career was her first love. She’d been passionate, even obsessive about her goal.

  Is that why she’d dropped out of the music business? Had she gotten married and started a family? But why no explanation? Why no announcement, or a farewell tour to thank her fans? She’d vanished overnight. It had been the lead article in the tabloids for months until a new celebrity crisis had taken over the headlines and Silky Blaine was forgotten.

  His gaze drifted to the clock on the bedside table. Eight thirty. He had a lot of hours to fill before lunch tomorrow. And a lot of questions and a lot of memories to keep him awake.

  Chapter 2

  Oh, no, Lily, please don’t pull out the toys right now. Mommy wants to keep the house clean for company.”

  The little girl smiled at her, holding up a large pink Lego. “But I want to build a tower. Like ‘Punzel.”

  Angie sighed and shook her head. What did she care if Callen saw a clean house or not? She wasn’t trying to impress him. She was trying to distract him. What better way than with her precocious little Lily? “All right. You build the tower, but Mommy has to fix lunch, so you’ll have to play by yourself.”

  Two dark pigtails above little ears bobbed as Lily nodded. “ ’Kay, Mommy.”

  Angie returned to the kitchen, grateful for the open wall to the living room that allowed her to keep a watchful eye on her daughter. Quickly, she ran down her to-do list. The food was prepared, and she would heat the rolls when Callen arrived. She hoped he liked seafood casserole. If not, she’d throw a sandwich together. She knew he liked ham and cheese. But he was a world traveler now and had written about dozens of exotic locales. His taste was probably broader than it used to be.

  He was broader, too. In all the right places. Even beneath his thick winter jacket she’d noticed how muscular and solid he’d become. The warm brown hair was worn short now, trimmed to keep the strands from curling. His face was more angular—a man’s face, with planes and angles that told of maturity. His mouth had a small scar on one side. She didn’t remember that. But the cleft in his chin was still there, giving him additional character.

  Angie buried her face in her hands, exhaling a heavy sigh. Callen had always been the most handsome man she’d ever known. He was even more so now. Not that she had any business noticing. He might be handsome, an old love, but he could destroy the new life she cherished. That’s what she should be remembering. Not the way his smile tingled down to her toes.

  She jumped at the sudden chime of the doorbell. Was he here already? She slid the rolls into the oven then scanned the kitchen. Everything was ready. Except her. Walking briskly through the house, she entered the foyer and stopped to take a deep breath. Lily skidded to a halt behind her. Forcing a smile she didn’t feel, she opened the door. “Callen. Come in. I see you found the house okay.”

  Callen stomped the snow from his feet before entering. “You were right. It’s not hard to find.” He handed her a small gift bag. “Edna told me you liked these.”

  “Thank you, but you didn’t have to bring anything.” She peered inside to find a box of her favorite tea and small bag of chocolate.

  “I know. I wanted to.” He shrugged off his coat and handed it to her. His gaze drifted downward and a smile lit his eyes. “Hello.”

  Lily ducked behind Angie’s leg. Angie hung the coat on the hall tree then placed her hand on Lily’s head, drawing her forward. “Callen, this is my daughter. Lily, this is an old friend of Mommy’s, Mr. Grant. We went to school together.”

  Lily studied him a moment before breaking into a smile. “Did you and Mommy color? I’m a good colorer.”

  Callen laughed, and hunkered down to speak to Lily face to face. “I’m sure you are.”

  Angie’s heart twisted inside her chest. She’d forgotten how good Callen was with kids. “I hope you’re hungry.”

  “Always.” He followed her through the living room and into the large kitchen at the back of the house. “Nice place. Homey.”

  “I wanted a family home, someplace to raise Lily with roots and security.” Callen stopped beside her at the count
er, and she became acutely aware of his nearness, the size of him, the way he added a different tone to the room. “Uh, would you rather eat in the breakfast room or the dining room?”

  He shrugged, sending a waft of spicy aftershave into her lungs. “I’m not a dining room kind of guy.”

  She smiled and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Me either. I only use it at Thanksgiving and Christmas.”

  “So your husband is a kitchen table kind of man, too?”

  Angie froze, the pan of warm rolls poised halfway out of the oven. She swallowed, straightened, and closed the door. She moved to the breakfast area, keeping her back to Callen. “There is no husband. I’m not married.” She waited for his comment, but it never came. She turned and looked at him. His head was tilted slightly, as if pondering her situation. He knew her so well. Had he guessed the truth? Impossible. No one knew.

  She lifted her chin. “Shocked?”

  Callen shrugged and shifted his weight onto one hip. “No. Surprised, but not shocked.”

  Angie finished preparing the meal then helped Lily onto her booster seat. She said a quick blessing before passing the hot rolls to Callen. “So, other than traveling the world, what else have you been doing? Married?”

  “No. Never had the time or the inclination.”

  “Devoted bachelor, huh?”

  He held her gaze a long moment. “No. Just too busy. No time for a relationship. You should understand that.”

  “I do. So you’re here to report on our nativity? Hardly seems worthy of your kind of high-adventure advice.”

  Callen took a sip of his coffee. “Actually, I’m not doing the books any longer. They ran their course. That kind of information is readily available online now.”

  Angie stared at him. “So now you’re covering Christmas events.”

  “I am. But I’m between jobs. I’m trying to reinvent my life.”

  Angie squirmed inwardly. She knew that experience all too well. “Why?”