12 Stocking Stuffers

by Beverly Barton

  “So will you marry me?”

  “Yes, Jason, yes. Oh, yes, I’ll marry you.”

  “Wow. Oh, wow! Wow, oh, wow, oh, my!” came a little boy’s voice.

  Danny was up. And Danny had been unabashedly listening to the whole thing.

  “Really?” Danny said.

  “You’re supposed to be in bed,” Cary said.

  “Really,” Jason told him, grinning.

  “When?” Danny demanded. “It has to be by Christmas.”

  “Danny!”

  “By Christmas it is,” Jason agreed.

  And they were married by Christmas. The ceremony was on December twentieth. Danny and Angela were both there, along with Jeremy and June and the entire staff of Elegance.

  They were holding off on a honeymoon because they didn’t want to leave for the holidays. Jason and Angela planned to stay with Cary and Danny at her apartment until New Year’s Day; then Cary and Danny would move into Jason’s house.

  And make it a home, Jason knew.

  On Christmas Eve they all went to church. And when they came home, everyone sang carols and set packages around the tree.

  But once the kids were tucked in, Jason turned on the Christmas lights and was startled to find a note to him hooked on the tree.

  “I have a special gift for you. My room. Five minutes.”

  Curious, intrigued, Jason waited the five minutes, then rushed to Cary’s bedroom.

  And there, curled up on an expanse of snowy sheets, was his wife.

  His gift, his greatest Christmas gift ever.

  His wife.

  And she was decked out beautifully in nothing—absolutely nothing—but a big red bow.

  He paused just a moment, breathing out a prayer. Thank you, God.

  And then he walked forward, laughing, and swept his Christmas gift tenderly into his arms.

  Epilogue

  It was very late, but Danny slipped out of bed anyway. The house was quiet; everyone was sleeping at last.

  He ran to the Christmas tree. He was so startled that he paused, his mouth a large O.

  He had expected gifts. But he hadn’t really expected so many.

  And he certainly hadn’t expected to find his brand new computer, all set up, with a big red bow on it, just awaiting his touch.

  He closed his eyes and opened them again. The gifts were all still there. Wait till Angela saw…

  But Angela already knew about the gifts, he was certain. And she would be excited, and she would be pleased, because she was Angela, and she was just great, even if she was a girl. His sister now. They’d both been very lucky this Christmas. They’d already gotten the things that money just couldn’t buy. He had a new father. Jason McCready would never replace his real dad, just like Cary could never replace Angela’s real mom. But both were the second best thing. And they both had the very gift in the world to give. Love.

  Danny knew that Jason would always be willing to leave work early to throw a baseball. And Angela would have a mom to take her to her Brownie meetings, and Cary would fuss over her hair, tie it up in those pigtails and dress it up with barrettes.

  Danny found himself shaking suddenly. This was just the best Christmas in the world.

  He took a walk across the room, going to the beautiful little crèche that his mother had set up. He reached over and very carefully fingered the little Christ figure, then walked to the window.

  He could just see the North Star. He knew which one it was because Jason had shown it to him. “Hello,” he murmured. He cleared his throat. That wasn’t how you were supposed to pray. “Dear Lord,” he began again softly. “I just wanted to say thank you. I—well, I do believe in the Christmas spirit and miracles, but I know that the Santa I spoke to was my cousin Jeremy. So I know that everything I got—all the miracles—was because of you.” He smiled. “A new dad, and a computer!” Maybe you weren’t supposed to joke with God. No, God would understand, he decided. But his smile faded anyway. “Thank you so much!” he whispered earnestly. “Once you gave us all your Son. And now you’ve given me a dad, and Angela a mom. And I have a sister, and she has a brother. And Mom has Jason, and Jason has Mom. It is a miracle! Thank you!” He stopped because he didn’t have any more words that could express how grateful he was.

  The North Star seemed to sparkle suddenly with a dazzling light.

  And then it began to fade.

  Danny stared at it for a while, then he smiled. The star was fading because it was Christmas. Christmas day.

  He let out a wild whoop and went running for Angela’s door. “It’s Christmas, sleepyhead! Wake up!”

  Angela, with her eyes barely open, appeared in her doorway in a fluffy robe. “It’s so early!” she breathed. “Can we wake them up?”

  “Sure. We’re kids. And it’s Christmas,” Danny told her.

  Cary awoke to the children’s shrieks of delight, yet she was afraid to open her eyes.

  Knowing that the kids would be up early, she and Jason had put on pajamas before they fell asleep. His arms were around her tightly; she was pulled against him so that his chest met her back, and they were curled together like a little pair of mice. She felt him, felt all his warmth, and didn’t dare open her eyes. She didn’t want him to be a Christmas dream.

  But he wasn’t. She was his wife. She was in love with him, and miraculously, he was in love with her. No gift could be greater.

  “Mom!”

  “Dad!”

  It was Danny who called her name, and Angela who woke Jason. Yet when the two came flying into the bedroom, it was Angela who landed on her, and Danny who tackled Jason.

  “Whoa, hey, what is this!” Jason protested gruffly. But he was laughing.

  “It’s Christmas!” Danny announced indignantly.

  “Wow, you mean we might have missed it?” Cary said, wide-eyed.

  “Mom!” Danny moaned. “Will you two please get up!”

  “I’ll make coffee,” Cary volunteered to Jason. Then she smiled and slipped out of bed. She winked at the kids as Jason tried to fall back asleep, and as she left the room, she could hear a burst of laughter as the two attacked Jason, tickling him mercilessly.

  And apparently Jason was just as merciless in return.

  Coffee and cocoa were ready when they all traipsed out to the living room. Cary seated herself by Jason’s side, comfortable in the crook of his arm, as the children opened their gifts. There was paper everywhere. And she was pleased to see that Danny was as impressed with the small things as he was with the wonderful new computer. And Angela, bless her, was thrilled with her gifts, too, even though she’d grown up with everything money could buy.

  And Jason McCready, the self-made man, seemed more touched by Danny’s home-made Christmas card than by any gift he might have received.

  Cary had just stepped over some of the paper to get more coffee when the doorbell rang. She arched a brow to Jason.

  “Don’t look at me,” he told her. “It must be your cousin Jeremy.”

  And it was. Except that he had run into June in the doorway, so both of them were standing there arguing, with their hands piled high with boxes for the children.

  The two were quickly inside, and there was more mayhem as the children kissed them and thanked them for their gifts. Jason poured the coffee while Cary supervised the gift giving. Pandemonium seemed to reign for quite a while; then at last the room grew quieter. “I wanted to know if I could take the kids to the Parade of the Elves. It’s not far from here—I’d only need to steal them for a couple of hours,” June said.

  Jason seemed uneasy. “June, I know it’s Christmas, but it might be a little wild out there today. Are you sure you want to take the kids by yourself?”

  “Jeremy will come with me,” June said.

  “I will?” Jeremy began. June kicked him. He stared at her indignantly, then he seemed to realize that June was trying to give the newlyweds some time alone. “Oh, I will. Of course.” He cast June a look of stern reproach as soon a
s he thought Cary was no longer looking. Cary hid a smile. She was certain that Jason hadn’t been aware of anything.

  “I don’t know…” Jason began with a frown, looking to Cary.

  “The kids will be fine. And I’m sure they’d love to go,” she said demurely.

  Within minutes, it seemed, she had the kids dressed and ready to go. June and Jeremy were waiting at the door.

  June and Jeremy. Hmm, Cary thought. Why not?

  Jeremy paused to give Cary a kiss goodbye on the cheek, and she fluttered her fingers over his head.

  “What was that?” he asked her.

  “Christmas dust.”

  “What?”

  “Never mind. Just go on and have a good time. And thank you.”

  “Sure. We’ll see you later.”

  “Christmas dinner is here,” Jason advised over Cary’s shoulder. “I’m doing the stuffing.”

  “I’m doing the stuffing!” Cary protested.

  “No, you’re the turkey and the vegetables and the mashed potatoes and the pies. I’m the stuffing.”

  Cary laughed as his arms came around her. She shrugged. “Whatever. Christmas dinner is here. Just be back by then, okay?”

  “Got ya,” Jeremy agreed. June was telling him to get a move on. He rolled his eyes. “Is she coming for dinner, too?”

  “Yes.”

  “Great.”

  “Christmas dust,” Cary repeated.

  Jeremy frowned with confusion, then the foursome left.

  Oh, well, there was always next Christmas, Cary thought.

  She turned in her husband’s arms. His lips found hers, and when he kissed her deeply, she felt the familiar thrill sweeping through her.

  Jason looked at the door again. “Are you sure they’re going to be all right?”

  “Yes, I’m sure!” She caught his hand and, smiling, pulled him over to the couch. “June and Jeremy only look flighty, honest. I couldn’t trust the kids more with anyone else. And besides, I have another gift for you.”

  He grinned, cocking a dark eyebrow.

  “Oh, yeah?”

  She nodded.

  “Where’s the box?”

  “There isn’t exactly a box,” she said. Her fingers still entwined with his, she started for the bedroom.

  His brow arched higher. “Is it a foot massage?”

  Cary laughed. “Maybe…” She stood on tiptoe, quickly kissed his lips, then began to whisper. He could still make her feel so shy at times.

  “Remember when I told you there was nothing that I could give you that you didn’t have? And you said that yes, there was—me. Well, you’ve got me.”

  “A gift I will cherish all of my life,” he promised her tenderly.

  She flushed. “Thank you. But you also said you’d like four kids—if I was willing, of course—and that I could give you the two that were missing.”

  “Yes?”

  “Well, I thought that we could get started. We’re alone, we’re awake, we’re aware…”

  “And we’re just as eager and as willing as can be!” Jason said, laughing.

  He lifted her off her feet and into his arms. And then he was kissing her, deeply, richly, warmly. She felt herself coming alive, trembling, quivering inside.

  The kiss seemed to last forever, but when he broke away, Jason paused, holding her tightly, tenderly.

  And she realized that he was looking out the window. The North Star was still visible, a faint little flicker against the day that had dawned beautifully blue.

  Cary felt a new trembling seize her. Thank you, thank you! she thought in silence. Thank you so much.

  Jason’s eyes met hers. She smiled. “I was just thinking…” he began.

  “So was I.”

  “I’m so very thankful that I have you.”

  She nodded. “And I’m so thankful for you. And for Christmas miracles. And Christmas dust.”

  His grin broadened wickedly. “Christmas dust? That’s one you’ll have to explain.”

  “Oh, well, you see—”

  “Later,” Jason said firmly.

  He carried her into the bedroom and laid her down. Then his lips touched hers, and she was in his arms, and very soon the day was exploding into a new splendor of excitement and wonder and enchantment. After the soaring and the magic and the ecstasy, the peace and the contentment remained, and his arms were locked around her.

  “We have to get to the turkey,” he mumbled lazily.

  “Yes, we have to get to the turkey,” Cary agreed.

  But he didn’t move, and neither did she. He might not know about the Christmas dust, but he did know a lot about Christmas miracles.

  Indeed he did. He arose at last, pausing to kiss her on the nose.

  “Miracles!” he whispered softly. “Thank God for them, and for you—my Christmas miracle!”

  He kissed her again, then pulled her from her cocoon of covers.

  “Someone really does have to see to that turkey! Unless you want to test our luck and see if any elves will appear to cook it for us?”

  Cary grinned. No elves were coming. They already had their Christmas miracles. “I’m doing the stuffing,” she told him. “You can be potatoes.”

  “You be the potatoes!” he charged.

  She laughed, found her robe and hurried down the hall, then she opened the kitchen door very carefully.

  After all, it was just a matter of belief.

  There might be elves in her kitchen after all!

  Christmas Passions

  By Catherine Spencer

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ONE

  AVA was neither looking nor feeling her best. Chilled to the bone, her hair hanging around her face in semi-frozen rats’ tails, her hands and nose so numb they might just as well have been amputated, she huddled in the barn and watched Leo disappear into the swirling night.

  “Wait here,” he’d told her. “I’ll go raise someone at the farmhouse and persuade them to take pity on us.”

  The occasional stamp of hooves and warm animal smell told her there were horses in the stalls behind her. Somewhere beyond the paddock, on the other side of the fence, Leo’s Ford Expedition nestled nose-down and up to its rear axle in a snowdrift. And no more than fifteen miles away, her parents were waiting to welcome her to her first Christmas at home in over three years.

  A horse barn, however well-kept, was no more part of the plan than finding her one-time idol Leo Ferrante waiting to meet her flight when it touched down six hours late at Skellington Airport. He was supposed to be wining and dining his lady-love, not stranded up to his knees in snow with her best friend.

  Ava’s first reaction when she saw him towering head and shoulders over the sparse crowd at the arrivals concourse had been that he probably wouldn’t recognize her; her second, the fervent hope that he wouldn’t since, the last time they’d met, she’d been all of sixteen and so horribly ill-at-ease in her too tall, too skinny body that she’d given new meaning to the word “ungainly.” She liked to think she’d improved somewhat in the intervening twelve years and now commanded a presence so elegantly cosmopolitan that he’d look right past her in search of a more homely specimen.

  He’d dashed any such hope by striding forward the second he caught sight of her, and pinning her in a smile that sent a remembered skewer of pain through her heart. “Ava, I’d have recognized you anywhere!”

 
Oh, terrific! she’d thought, crushing that belated and completely inappropriate stab of adolescent hero worship. He was Deenie’s lover—soon to be her fiancé, from everything she’d written in her latest letters—and Ava had come home for Christmas with her family, not to make a fool of herself by lusting after a man she couldn’t have.

  So she’d smiled a lot during the thirty mile drive to Owen’s Lake, and made polite small talk, and congratulated herself on projecting the image of chic professional taking time out from her adventurous life overseas to make a flying visit home. Until they’d had to abandon his vehicle mid-journey, that was, and slog their way across a windblown paddock, and her once-elegant leather shoes had been reduced to frozen blocks encasing her feet.

  Noticing the way she was floundering to keep up with him as he forged ahead, he’d clamped an arm around her shoulders and attempted to shield her with his body from the worst of the weather. The honed perfection of him beneath his sheepskin jacket had felt solid and safe and wonderful. His thigh brushing hers at each step had peeled away all her layers of acquired sophistication and left her palpitating with awareness of how deliciously masculine and strong he was: a world-class athlete-cum-movie idol dressed up as a small-town lawyer romancing the girl next door.

  He had never kissed Ava, never held her hand. Never by so much as a word or a glance intimated that he had the slightest interest in anything she did. She’d been nothing to him but the other girl who lived six houses away on upscale Charles Owen Crescent; the one who sometimes came with her mother and father to his parents’ place when they hosted a summer barbecue around the pool, or an open house at Christmas. The one who, with her friend Deenie, used to giggle and blush and whisper behind her hand whenever he put in an appearance.

  Cowering now in some stranger’s barn, it struck Ava as supremely unfair that, in less than an hour, he could compress all her accomplishments into a mere blot on her résumé, and reduce her once again to an unprepossessing heap of flesh beset by futile wanting.