Mistletoe Miracles

by Jodi Thomas

  “I’ve got a few weeks left on my leave,” he said so low she wasn’t sure he knew he was saying the words out loud. “If I could stay here, I’d be happy to put up the hammock. I noticed several other things around here that need fixing. I’m good with my hands.”

  She shook her head at the suggestion. “It wouldn’t work. There’s only one bedroom.”

  “I could sleep on the couch.”

  “No. I’d fit better on the couch. You could have the bed.”

  “No, I take the couch.” He let out a breath he must have been holding for a while. “It could work, Jamie. We could be seen in town. I could pick you up from school. No one would doubt I was real once they saw me. We could pretend to be a couple in front of people and remain polite strangers here. I’ll do my best to stay out of your way.”

  “It shouldn’t be too hard. I usually stay late with the drama club and I go to bed early.”

  “It could work.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know. You seem like a nice guy, but...”

  “How about we give it a day? Any problem, you say the word, and I’m out of here. That will give me time to find my car and get my bearings.”

  Glancing out the window, she noticed the night seemed to have darkened to inky black. This late, the only way he could leave would be to call the sheriff, and then they’d both have some explaining to do. Captain Johnson seemed nice enough, and there was a lock on her bedroom door.

  “All right. We’ll try it for one night.”

  He stood. “Where do we start? I’ve been eating cereal for two days. Do you think it might be possible for you to drive me to a fast-food place? I’m dying for a real hamburger with the works on it or a real meal of any kind.”

  She laughed. “Crossroads has a drive-through, but it’s not very fast. But we can give it a try. I’ll show you the town, too. It’ll take about ten minutes.”

  “Thanks,” he said as they walked out the back door.

  “For what?”

  “For letting me stay. Even if it’s only one day, I have a feeling it’s going to be the best day of my year.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  The Johnsons

  IT TOOK THREE tries for Jamie Johnson to get her old van started. Wyatt knotted his hands in the dark, trying not to comment. The engine sounded like it needed a good tune-up and the woman beside him was pumping the gas pedal too fast. But this wasn’t his vehicle, he wasn’t the driver and to be honest, he didn’t much care where he was going as long as there was something besides cereal and donuts at the end of the journey.

  Patrolman Thatcher Jones had filled him in yesterday morning on the news in town when he dropped by to deliver another bag of donuts. He wasn’t much more than a kid, but Wyatt had the feeling if trouble came calling, he’d stand strong in a fight.

  Thatcher claimed he’d only seen Jamie from a distance, and he had only heard great things about her. Thatcher didn’t give Wyatt any details about her age, and Wyatt couldn’t ask what his wife looked like.

  Watching her now, he couldn’t figure out if he thought she was pretty or not. Maybe because he’d seen her scared and panicked. Maybe once she settled down, if she ever settled, he’d take a second look. They had time. A day. For once, he’d wait.

  Women were strange creatures. Some were beautiful when you first saw them. Then after talking to them for a few hours, you could hardly see any of that beauty left. He had a feeling he’d seen Jamie at her worst, so in her case it might be the other way around. Not that it mattered. He wouldn’t be around long enough to get to know the chatty teacher.

  Silence wasn’t his usual reaction to any situation. Orders, criticisms and occasionally praise came hard and fast in his world. He felt like he’d been whispering around a fragile flower for an hour and now he needed to bark out a few commands.

  But it wouldn’t be Jamie Johnson. She was kind, and people like her were rare. Kind enough to give him a chance to stay when most would have kicked him out into the night.

  “We’ve got a hamburger place that’s open until ten and a café that’s open another hour.” She smiled at him once the car started, as if she’d accomplished something.

  She backed out of her drive, almost taking down the two thin trees on her right. Wyatt swore he saw them both shake in fear.

  “Which place is better?” he asked in a low voice, hoping not to distract her.

  “The café, I guess.”

  “The café sounds great.” He hadn’t had a regular meal in months. “But show me where the hamburger place is, and I’ll walk to town for lunch tomorrow.”

  “Aren’t you going to ask what’s on the menu?”

  Everything was in shadow as they drove away from the homes along the lake. Peaceful. Calm. “I don’t much care where we go and I’ll eat anything as long as it isn’t floating in milk.” Since he couldn’t see her face, he let any hint of a smile drop. Smiling had never come natural to him.

  She laughed. “You’re a lucky man, Captain. Dorothy’s Café won’t disappoint you. They have a special on Sunday. Usually turkey and dressing with all the trimmings. It’s their best dish all week.”

  “You eat out often?” From the store of food in her freezer, he would have guessed she cooked.

  “Once a week. I usually make a run to Dorothy’s on Sunday night before they close. I drive in and get a dinner to go. I don’t like to eat alone in a restaurant. People give you sad smiles.”

  “I know what you mean,” he lied. He rarely ate alone, and when he did, he didn’t care what people thought. “Will you eat with me at the café tonight? I’d like to watch regular people.”

  “It’s a date,” she said as she reached the lights of town.

  He swore she was blushing. “It’s a date,” he echoed.

  When they pulled into the café, he whispered, “When we get out, hold my hand. That way if anyone that you know sees you, they’ll figure I’m your husband.”

  “I’ll probably know half the people in the place by sight. I’ve been in town almost three months, you know. I’m guessing the sheriff has already told folks you’re in Crossroads.”

  Climbing out, he waited for her in front of the van. When she came near, she offered her hand, and he folded it into his bandaged one.

  She tried to tug away. “You’re hurt?”

  “No. Just put the bandage on to remind me to keep the stitches dry. It’s almost healed.”

  Jamie nodded as they stepped inside.

  A few diners turned their direction as they sat down in the last booth against the windows.

  Wyatt didn’t turn loose of her hand. “This is nice. Peaceful, you know. From here, I can watch the people and passing cars.”

  Jamie had her back to both. “I don’t mind skipping watching crowds or traffic tonight. I feel like I’ve been surrounded with both all weekend.”

  A waitress hurried over. “Two specials I’m guessing.” She was already writing. “And what to drink?”

  Wyatt smiled up at the teenager. “Three specials, and I’ll have coffee.” He turned to Jamie. “What will you have, honey?”

  “Tea.” She didn’t look up.

  The waitress finished writing and grinned at Wyatt. “You guys expecting someone else?”

  “No. I’m just hungry.” He thought of saying that it was none of her business what he ordered, but Wyatt reminded himself he needed to at least try to be nice. Sometimes he felt like an alien who traveled between two worlds, and neither felt like his home planet. One he didn’t seem to belong in, and the other he didn’t want to ever feel comfortable in.

  The waitress darted off like a rabbit, and Jamie raised her eyebrow. “You almost scared that girl. I don’t know her name, but I’ve seen her in the sophomore hall.”

  “I thought I was being nice.”

  She smiled. “I have a feeling yo
u’re used to people looking at you with caution.”

  He patted her hand, still resting in the center of the table. “You’re not afraid of me, are you, Mrs. Johnson.” It surprised him how much he wanted his statement to be true.

  “No, but I’ve seen you naked. Besides, if you were going to kill me, you’d have done it before you took me out to eat.”

  “True.” He studied her. Average height. Rounded nicely. Hair that looked brown when it had been wet, but now it was naturally curly and blond. “Jamie, sitting here, talking to you, holding your hand, is the most normal thing I’ve done in a long while. I promise you won’t be sorry that you gave me this chance. One day. If it doesn’t work out, I’ll walk away at sunset tomorrow.”

  “Fair enough, but you have to give my hand back.”

  “I do?” He liked her smile.

  “Yes, but I’ll let you hold it again when we walk out.”

  “Fair enough.” He let go.

  He relaxed as he leaned back in the booth and watched families come and go from the café. Just an ordinary night. “So, now that you’re an old-timer in Crossroads, tell me about the town.”

  She talked until the food came, telling him all she’d learned about this one-light little town. He managed to ask a few questions while he cleaned both his plates. Polite strangers, he thought. Nothing more. He could handle that. He liked listening to her voice, a hint of a slow Southern drawl mixed with a peppering of Texas twang.

  After he’d finished his third cup of coffee, he walked to the front counter, bought a whole pie and paid the bill. The waitress took her time boxing the pie. “You’re Mr. Johnson, aren’t you?”

  “Yep, just home on leave.” It was time he played his part. “You know my Jamie?”

  “Sure, my brother is in her class. He says she’s a great teacher.”

  “I’m a lucky man.” Wyatt was surprised how proud he felt of his make-believe wife. His opinion of her climbed as the waitress rattled on about how Mrs. Johnson was helping her brother. Jamie seemed a bit of a chatterbox, but if her students liked her, that meant something.

  He had a feeling she’d be an interesting person to get to know. If he left her as friends, maybe they’d keep in touch.

  When he turned back to their place by the window, he noticed a tall thin man in his forties leaning into the booth. His hands were waving back and forth as he talked. He must have been whispering, but one long finger kept pointing at Jamie as if warning her.

  Wyatt couldn’t miss the way Jamie had slid as far away as she could from the guy. The stranger had his back to Wyatt, but he had no doubt from the look on Jamie’s face that the man was telling her off or warning her, or maybe even threatening her. She kept pushing her glasses up as if they were somehow protecting her.

  Anger climbed over his skin like fire ants. He didn’t need to see the guy’s face to know he was bullying Jamie.

  Before he took one step, the thin guy turned and smiled as if he’d said what he came to say and headed out the door. He hadn’t been one of the diners or Wyatt would have noticed him. Wyatt guessed he’d just walked in when he’d seen Jamie sitting alone in the booth.

  “You know that man?” Wyatt whispered to the waitress, guessing his name wasn’t Mr. Cheater like Jamie had called him.

  “Yes. He’s probably taught English here for fifteen or twenty years. Mr. Thames. Not one of the favorites, but they say he can quote lines from every Shakespeare play.”

  Wyatt glanced back at Jamie. Her head was down. Her hands laced together.

  “Hang on to this pie for me for a minute,” he said to the waitress without waiting for an answer.

  Ten seconds later, he was out the door and beside the tall stranger. Just as the man opened his car door, Wyatt reached past him and closed it with a hard pop.

  “Pardon me, Professor.” Wyatt almost smiled. “I’d like to introduce myself.”

  The teacher looked bothered but not afraid. After all, he was used to being in control. “I’ve had a long weekend sponsoring a school trip. Parents can make appointments during my prep period. I—”

  Wyatt cut him off. “I’m Captain Wyatt Johnson.”

  He let his name sink in and didn’t miss the sudden flash of fear in the man’s eyes.

  The thin man straightened. “I wasn’t aware you were home.”

  “Probably because it was none of your business.” Wyatt’s words came fast and cold. “I’m not out here to meet you, Mr. Thames. I just wanted to tell you that if you bother my wife again or ever say a word to upset her, I’ll find you. I will gladly fly from half a world away and rip your balls off, then serve them to you as an appetizer before I even get mad enough to start beating you all the way into next week. You won’t have to worry about quoting Shakespeare—you’ll be visiting with him in the hereafter.”

  Wyatt smiled a big smile. Showing all his teeth like a predator. “And if you ever touch her, even accidentally again, I suggest you count your fingers because there will be a few missing. I always carry a knife and I’ve seen a few missing fingers become life-threatening. You’ll probably bleed out before you can scream.”

  Anger flared in the thin man’s eyes. “You can’t talk to me like this! I’m calling the sheriff and telling him what you just said. You can’t threaten to kill me! I’m—”

  “I’m not threatening you, pal. I’m promising you.” Wyatt patted the guy on his shoulder so hard the man’s knees almost buckled. “Are we clear?”

  Wyatt turned back to the café. Mr. Thames wouldn’t call any sheriff. If he did, everyone would know why Jamie’s husband had threatened him.

  Wyatt grinned. Straightening the guy out had felt so good he was tempted to backtrack and hit him a few times. Maybe Thames would think of the hits as air quotes.

  A minute later, he slid in on the same side of the booth with Jamie. She twisted in her seat and was staring out the window at the English teacher leaning against his car as if he was about to vomit. “What did you say to him?”

  “I just told him who I was.” Wyatt touched her shoulder lightly and was relieved when she didn’t jerk away. “He’ll never bother you again.” What he’d just done felt good. It felt right, even if it probably wasn’t very civilized behavior.

  To his surprise she turned into him, burrowing into the thick cotton over his shoulder.

  He tugged off her glasses and wrapped an arm around her. As she cried softly, he kissed the top of her head. “It’s all right, Jamie.”

  With tears on her cheeks, she smiled up at him. “Thanks.”

  “No problem. How about we go home? I bought a pie we can eat while we watch a movie. You’ve got about a hundred to pick from.”

  “All right, but I pick the movie.” She shoved tears away with the palm of her hand.

  “Fine.” He handed her back her glasses and helped her out of the booth. “But I drive home.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Midnight Crossing

  THREE DAYS AFTER the wreck out on the county road, Jaxson O’Grady carried Buddy out to the dried grass by Shallow River. The dog tried to stand and Jax felt a pride in his doctoring as well as Buddy’s determination to live.

  His hairy patient was drinking water, eating a little and healing. Jaxson had made the same journey almost two years ago; he knew the drive and determination it took to push back against the pain.

  Jaxson was still wrapped and hurting when his cousin, Tim O’Grady, had brought him out to Midnight Crossing three days after he’d gotten out of the hospital.

  As Tim had unloaded Jaxson’s two suitcases and half a dozen boxes, he’d complained, “You’re a hard man to live around, Jax. If this were Survivor, the whole family would have voted you off the island. But we don’t have an island so this old shack will have to do. One of us will drop by now and then to check on you. If you need us, just leave a white flag on the pole out f
ront. One of the family will see it from the road when we pass.”

  Jax remembered saying that he wouldn’t be needing anything, including a cell phone. He had enough supplies to last a few months and an old Jeep if he needed to make a run.

  Tim had just stood there looking like he felt sorry for him. Jax wasn’t sure he’d even thanked his redheaded cousin that day. They weren’t close in age enough to be friends, with Jax being well into his thirties and Tim still in his twenties. As second cousins, even the O’Grady blood didn’t run deep between them, but kin was kin.

  About a week later, one of his uncles dropped off a pickup load of woodworking equipment and some rough boards. He taped a note to the pile that read, When you were a kid, you used to love helping your grandpa work with wood. Now that you’ve got some time on your hands, I thought you might try it again. Build something.

  All Jax thought about was that he hurt everywhere, was barely mobile and appeared to be hooked on painkillers. The whole family had encouraged him to go into assisted living for a few months, but after two days of being constantly told to cheer up, he chose a stay at the cabin, until his legs were stronger. Until the burns on his hands had completely healed. Until he was back to normal.

  Whatever that was. Whenever that might be.

  He let the tools sit out for a week before he dragged them into the shed beside his cabin. When Tim dropped by a few days later, Jax had a list ready of tools to round out what the old uncle forgot.

  “I’m not really interested in messing with the wood, but there doesn’t seem anything else to do.”

  Tim grinned. “You could always shave. Your hair might be light brown, but I swear that beard is coming in with a bit of the O’Grady red in it.”

  “I hadn’t noticed. There are no mirrors in the place.”

  “No problem, Jax. When you get to looking bad I’ll tell you, or better yet, bring out a razor. But from experience, I’ve learned that a man trying to hide from himself can’t disappear behind a beard. You’re still there.”