by Kait Nolan
“Hush, honey. Lump will be okay.”
“The damage to the line is two miles from here. If they haven’t already, the gas company will be shutting down the supply to help contain the fire. Thankfully there aren’t any houses right around the fire.”
“Thank God for small mercies.” They weren’t equipped to recover from a fire.
“The bigger question is how long it’ll take them to repair it. I don’t think that’s one of the main lines, but that was a pretty big mess. It’ll take some doing to get it back up and running.”
That introduced a whole new set of worries. They had gas heat, gas water heater, and gas stove. She could manage the cooking via microwave and toaster oven. And she’d bundle the kids into the living room for a family snuggle fest with the couple of space heaters they had. But they’d only be able to rough it for a couple of days. If the repairs took longer than that, they’d be screwed.
~*~
“Hey little brother.”
One hand on the door to The Daily Grind, Jace cursed Livia’s proclivity toward being early for everything. But he fixed a smile on his face as he turned to greet her. “Hey big sis.” He wrapped an arm around her in a hug.
“So, Mom tells me there’s a girl.”
“There’s no girl.” There wasn’t. He hadn’t even asked Tara out, so there couldn’t be a girl. Right? “How’s the library treating you?”
“Could be better. Our hours are going to be cut again. I just know it.”
Jace winced. The Wishful Public Library had been suffering from epic budget constraints the past year and a half, a reflection of Wishful’s languishing economy. Livia, the children’s librarian, had been operating at three-quarter’s salary for months. Given the salary was a pittance in the first place, that was very bad indeed.
“I thought things were getting better around here since the new city planner started.”
“They have. But the kind of trickle down we need takes a long time. Mitzi has been doing the budgets this week and looking grim. I think I’m going to have to give up my apartment and move back home until this gets straightened out.”
Pulling open the door, Jace made an after you motion. “You know Mom would be delighted to have you back for more than just tree season. She loves nothing more than having all her chicks under one roof.”
“I know. And I love it out at the farm. It’s just demoralizing. You aren’t supposed to have to move home at twenty-seven.”
“Well then, let me buy you a hot chocolate or something.”
“I won’t say no.”
Tara stood behind the counter, chatting with a customer and Jace had to work to keep the smile off his face. He spotted the kids hanging out in a nearby booth. They hadn’t seen him yet or he was sure they’d be running over to greet him.
“—doing since the gas main exploded? That’s out near you, isn’t it?” the customer asked.
Jace’s ears perked. Like everybody else in town, he’d heard about the gas main explosion. It’d taken every fire fighter in the county to get the blaze under control.
“We’re mostly fine. It wasn’t close enough to do any damage to the house. But a lot of our stuff runs on gas. The heat, the stove, the water heater. The gas company said the damage was so bad, we’re not going to have service again until after Christmas.”
“That’s awful!” said the woman.
Jace stepped around her. “What have you been doing without heat, hot water, or a way to cook?”
“Hey Jace. We’ve been roughing it the last few days. Camping in the living room with space heaters. That hasn’t been so bad since it warmed up. We’ve been cleaning up in the locker rooms at the gym. And thank God for crock pots. We’ve been eating tons of soup. The kids look at the whole thing as an adventure, but the shine’s going to wear off of that soon.”
“Serious cold front’s coming, too. Have you seen the forecast? They’re saying we may have our first white Christmas in generations.”
Tara grimaced. “Yeah, I heard. The kids are so psyched about that. But it’s definitely not ideal under the circumstances. I have no idea what we’re going to do if the gas company doesn’t pull off some kind of Christmas miracle.”
“You should come out to the farm.” The words were out of his mouth before he even knew they were there.
“Excuse me?”
“We’ve got an apartment upstairs in one of the barns. It’s usually used by seasonal staff, but this year all our help is local, so there’s nobody in it now.” In his periphery, Jace could see Livia giving him the side eye. “It’s just a little two bedroom with a kitchenette, but it’s furnished, and, more importantly, it has full utilities and heat.”
He could tell before she even opened her mouth that she was going to say no. “That’s very kind of you, Jace but—”
“Jace!” Ginny, finally catching sight of him, raced over from the booth, throwing her arms around his legs.
He ruffled her hair. “Hey, Peanut. What’re you doing out of school?”
“It’s a teacher day,” she informed him. “How are Pepper and Rupert?”
“They’re good. They say hi.”
“I wanna say hi back,” she insisted. “I asked Tara if we could bring them carrots for Christmas but she said we had to ask you first.”
“You can absolutely bring Pepper and Rupert carrots for Christmas.” And then Jace decided to play dirty. “I was just trying to talk your sister into bringing all of you out to the farm for Christmas as our guests, since y’all are out of heat.” He placed extra emphasis, figuring part of her objection would be money.
Ginny’s eyes got huge. “Tara! Oh can we can we can we? Ohpleaseohpleaseohplease!”
“Yeah, Tara,” Austin added, “we could help with stuff at the farm.”
“Sure,” Jace said, getting into the idea. “I could teach you how to drive the wagon.”
“For real?”
“Sure.”
“That’d be awesome!”
“It’s settled, then. These two will work for their keep. We need a couple of elves around the place.” Jace made a show of checking Ginny’s ears for points.
Tara’s expression only got stiffer. “I really appreciate it, but—”
Ginny’s face crumpled and Jace could tell she was about to cry. He scooped her up and pressed his cheek to hers. “C’mon. How can you say no to this face?”
Tara’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t play fair,” she murmured.
“He doesn’t,” Livia agreed. “I’m sorry to say, he learned that from me. But seriously, we’d love to have you. Having some kids around will get Mom off our backs for not having given her grandchildren yet.”
“Well, I...” She trailed off, looking from Ginny to Austin before closing her eyes. Jace knew she was going to cave. “Thank you. We appreciate it.”
“Hooray!”
Jace put Ginny down and the kids launched into some kind of complicated victory dance.
Tara just shook her head, a reluctant smile twitching at the corners of her mouth. “Did you actually want coffee, or were you only here to railroad me?”
“Oh coffee, absolutely,” Jace said.
He and Livia gave their orders and headed for a table. “Thanks for backing me up.”
“No girl, my ass,” she said. “How long will it take you to move your stuff out of the apartment?”
Jace maintained an innocent expression. “Not long. And I’m just spreading the Christmas spirit.”
“You’re spreading something.” Livia laid a hand over his. “It’s a nice thing you’re doing. But be careful. Those kids have been through a lot.”
So had Tara. And Jace was willing to bet nobody had been thinking about helping her.
Chapter 4
The old Victorian farmhouse glinted like a jewel in the night as Tara pulled up. Lights and garland twined the rails, followed the eaves. The whole place looked like a post card.
What must it be like to live out here in all of this?
And they’d be spending Christmas here? Tara didn’t know whether to jump for joy or run away. The generosity of Jace and his family would certainly keep them warm this holiday and give all three of them cherished memories. But what happened next year when things were back to whatever version of normal she managed for Austin and Ginny? Nothing she could do could possibly live up to all of this.
A figure came down the porch steps. Livia. A blend of relief and disappointment trickled through Tara as she got out of the RAV. She wasn’t quite ready to face Jace again. She felt far too off balance around him, and that wasn’t a comfortable state for Tara. “I wasn’t sure where to park.”
“Where you are is fine. The apartment’s down here.” Livia led her down a path to a smaller barn out past the one that housed Pepper and Rupert.
“Y’all really know how to do Christmas, don’t you?”
Livia grinned. “It’s kind of the Applewhite thing. Goes with the territory when you have a tree farm.”
“I suppose it does. Do you ever get tired of it? All the hustle and bustle and forced holiday cheer?” Tara was pretty sure she was caroling in her sleep these days.
“Only when it starts the day after Halloween. The actual traditions attached to this place…nah. It’s all part of marking the seasons here. And it’s a privilege to be a part of so many families’ holiday traditions.”
“I’m sure after spending the holiday out here, the kids will be campaigning to make this a part of ours. Jace may have created a monster.”
“He’s a big boy. He can take care of himself. The apartment’s just up those stairs. It’s unlocked. Sorry to leave you here, but I’ve got bread coming out of the oven in a few minutes.”
“No problem. Thanks again.”
Livia disappeared before she could ask where her brother and sister were. With Jace, probably, given how they’d both glommed onto him like he was the best thing since peanut butter met chocolate. She’d just check the place out and breathe a minute before going to find him. Them, she corrected. She needed to steer clear of Jace.
Stairs went straight up to her left, just inside the barn door, then angled back right toward a railed space that began what had once probably been a hay loft. Tara sniffed, but the place didn’t smell of hay, more like pine or cedar, with a faint undertone of…apples? She made her way up the stairs, glancing down at the equipment neatly stowed below. It seemed like a sort of carriage house with tractor attachments lined up in rows down the side walls.
As Livia promised, the apartment door was unlocked. She opened it, expecting to have to fumble for a light switch, and stopped dead in the doorway.
He’d brought their tree.
The fully decorated Fraser fir that’d been in her living room a few hours before now stood in a place of honor near the window, twinkle lights blinking on and off in the darkness.
Tara stared for a long moment before absently reaching to turn on a lamp. Slowly, she circled the tree, marveling that the ornaments were not only intact, they seemed to be more or less exactly where they’d been originally. How the hell had he pulled this off? And when? He’d shown up at the house just before Tara had left to go teach her 5:30 yoga class and somehow she’d been agreeing to let him take the kids and their stuff out to the farm so they wouldn’t have to hang out in the gym office while she taught.
She wasn’t purely sure how that happened either.
What was she even doing here?
Footsteps tromped up the stairs and the man himself ducked into the entryway. “Oh good, you made it. Are you finding everything okay?”
“I just got here. Livia pointed me up.”
“How’d your class go?”
“Fine.” Though every bit of zen she’d earned from the practice had evaporated when he’d walked into the room.
Jace crossed to one of the doors at the back of the apartment. “We put your stuff in here. Kids are across the hall.”
Because she didn’t know what else to do, Tara walked over and peered into both rooms. Twin beds were set up in each, cheerfully made up in red and green plaids. Her bags were set up on one of them. Her siblings had already laid claim to their room, Ginny scattering stuffed animals—far more than she’d had packed when Tara left her—and Austin his art supplies and comic books.
“Well, I guess they’ve made themselves right at home.”
A chuckle rumbled in Jace’s chest. “They’re great.
She sighed and turned toward him, suddenly finding herself at eye level with his mouth. Because she wanted to stare at it, Tara forced her eyes upward. His cheeks were ruddy from the cold and he smelled of evergreens. She had the ridiculous desire to lean in for a better sniff, wanting to stroke her hand along the five o’clock shadow that darkened his cheeks.
Idiot. She wasn’t in a position to be noticing the fact that he was incredibly attractive. She had far too many responsibilities for that.
“So, um, where are the little heathens?”
“In the kitchen with Mom, baking cookies.”
“Cookies?” Tara couldn’t keep the alarm out of her voice. “Ginny’s diabetic. Has she been eating the—”
“Sugar free cookies,” Jace assured her. “Austin’s keeping an eagle eye on her. He warned us before we got started.”
Tara exhaled slowly, willing her heartbeat to slow. “Sorry. We had an ER trip last year with a massive hyperglycemic attack. I guess I’m still not over it.”
“It’s fine. I don’t expect that’s the kind of scare you ever really get over.”
True enough.
“So it’s just you? Nobody to pitch in with them?”
She shot a glare his way. “You’ve been coming into The Grind almost every day and flirting for the past two weeks. I don’t for a second believe you haven’t been asking around about me.”
“I’m not interested in gossip. I’m asking you.”
Not an outright denial. Tara didn’t know if she preferred his direct approach or not.
Well, she wanted to put some distance between them. This had certainly worked with anyone else who’d tried to get too close.
“Our father is in prison. Burglary. He had primary custody of the kids at the time of his arrest. Their mother disappeared for parts unknown years ago. Dad’s parents are dead and I don’t know about the kids’ maternal grandparents. As far as anybody knows, I am the only family they have left, so I’ve basically been a mom since I was nineteen. It’s me or the foster system, and I won’t do anything to jeopardize that.”
Jace didn’t look put off at all. In fact he looked…impressed? “You’re doing a great job with them.”
That’s exactly what she didn’t know. Giving into a rare burst of agitation, Tara paced away, toward the tree. “You haven’t been around them enough to know that.” She turned to pace back, only to realize he’d followed and she smacked right into his chest.
Jace reached up reflexively to steady her, and those big, broad hands curving around her shoulders. “I’ve been around them enough to know that Ginny thinks you walk on water and Austin respects you.”
“My brother doesn’t respect me. He barely even tolerates me.” Tara’s hand splayed across his chest against the navy sweater. She forgot what she’d said. Why wasn’t Jace letting her go? Why wasn’t she pushing him away?
“Maybe he didn’t at first. But you’ve proved you’ll stick. You give him rules and boundaries—which he needs—and every single day, you prove you care. And if he’s said otherwise to your face, well, he’s eleven. All little boys are punk ass kids at eleven.”
Tara’s lips twitched. “Were you?” She could imagine a smaller version of him, same impish grin, same big brown eyes feigning innocence.
“Me? Oh no. Livia was the punk ass. I was a sainted angel. And if my mother tells you otherwise, she’s lying.”
That wrangled a chuckle out of her. “Your halo’s a little crooked there, Jace.”
He released her and reached up, miming straightening the thing. “Better
?”
She’d felt better with his hands on her. Grounded. The way she’d once felt with good dance partners, when she knew she could leap for the sky and they would catch her. Tara decided not to give too much thought to that. “Might need some spit and polish. Meanwhile, I should round up the kids and sort out dinner.”
“Should be ready any minute. C’mon.” He headed for the door.
“Y’all don’t have to feed us,” Tara protested, then belatedly wondered if he’d brought the contents of the fridge as well as the tree.
“You just moved in. Nobody expected you to cook. And around here, everybody takes a turn at KP. You’ll get yours. Livia’s on deck tonight, and I heard rumors of pork loin and roasted vegetables. After that, carols by the fire.”
“Seriously?” she asked, following him down the stairs.
“We take Christmas very seriously around here.”
I’m dreaming. I’m dreaming and I’m trapped in a Hallmark Channel Christmas movie.
“Well. Okay then.” What else was there to say?
~*~
Music spilled out the moment Jace opened the door to the main house. The cheerful strings of The Nutcracker, at a guess. Beside him, Tara flinched.
Not a classical music fan? He recalled this had been playing the last several times he’d been in The Grind. Maybe she’d ODed.
Ginny’s giggles carried from the living room.
“We’re ready,” his mother declared.
The little girl stood in front of the fireplace, in a space vacated by the coffee table. Jace’s parents and sister sat lined up in a row on the sofa, a willing audience. Ginny’s shoes were off, her hands held in some dancer’s pose as her head bobbed in time with the music, counting in. The moment she spied her sister, she broke form and raced over.
“Tara! Listen! It’s the ‘Waltz of the Snowflakes’! Dance with me.” She dragged at Tara’s hands, pulling her into the room.
“I don’t think there’s time before dinner, munchkin.” Her voice came out normal, but Jace could see the tension in her shoulders.
“Oh everything’s on warm in the oven and the bread needs to cool before we slice it,” Livia said. “Besides, there’s always time for performing. Isn’t that right, Ginny?”
