The Christmas Proposition

by Cindy Kirk

  “Derek, come inside. It’s cold out there.”

  He pulled his gaze from the scenic vista to settle on something even more stunning. Rachel stood in the doorway, her wheat-colored hair blowing softly about her face, a welcoming smile on her lips. Derek’s hopes rose. Maybe their talk had cleared the air. Maybe the kiss—or rather his behavior during the kiss—had been forgiven or, better yet, forgotten.

  Mickie peered around Rachel’s side. “Hurry. Fred and the grilled cheese sandwiches are waiting.”

  Derek brushed the snowflakes from his face and hustled up the driveway.

  He hadn’t realized how cold it was until he stepped inside and the warmth surrounded him. While Rachel hung up his coat and Mickie scampered off to bring Fred in from the backyard, Derek took the opportunity to look around.

  An open floor plan enhanced the modest space. A small entry gave way to a fair-size living room decorated in tans and browns with burgundy accents. Farther back was a kitchen and dining area. Off to his right was a hallway he assumed led to the bedrooms.

  While more modern than Mary Karen’s house, it still had the same homey feel. He couldn’t help but be curious. Had Rachel shared this home with her husband?

  “You have a nice place.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “Looks new.”

  “Fairly new,” Rachel said. “I moved in right after it was built. I’ll be here three years come March.”

  Which meant she hadn’t lived here with Tom. For some reason, the knowledge pleased him.

  “Let me get you something to drink.” Rachel moved toward the kitchen bypassing an oval-shaped wooden table decorated with red-and-green plaid place mats and Santa napkin rings.

  Derek started to follow, but a photograph on a side table caught his eye and stopped him in his tracks. It was obviously a wedding picture. A much-younger Rachel dressed in a simple white wedding gown smiled up at a large mountain of a man with sandy hair and a full beard. The photographer had captured the love in her eyes and amazingly, despite Tom’s solemn expression, in his as well.

  Oddly, the picture made Derek feel better. Better about three broken engagements. Better about being single. Despite the bad press, he’d been right to walk away from his former fiancées. Not one of those women had looked at him the way Rachel had looked at her husband.

  “Derek.” Rachel’s voice broke through his thoughts. “What would you like to drink? Soda? Milk? Or something hot?”

  He pulled his gaze away from the portrait. “Milk, please.”

  The sound of the back door slamming shut echoed throughout the house. Derek heard Mickie’s voice, but it took a few seconds before the girl joined them, a large red-and-black bloodhound at her side.

  “Don’t worry, I wiped his feet off,” Mickie said when Rachel’s gaze dropped to the large paws.

  “Good job.” Approval ran through Rachel’s voice like warm honey and Mickie puffed with pride at the praise.

  Derek studied the dog. Although Gus had been more tan than red, Fred still brought the memories of his childhood friend surging forth. Gus licking his face after his father died. Gus’s comforting warmth next to him in bed at night. Gus at his heels, following him everywhere. The way Fred was glued to Mickie’s side, the two hounds were obviously cut from the same cloth. “So, this is your Fred.”

  “He’s actually Rachel’s dog,” Mickie said, her tone wistful. Fred nudged her hand with his snout and the smile returned to her face. Mickie scratched his head.

  “He’s a super good boy.” Mickie met Derek’s gaze. “He knows lots of tricks. Want to see?”

  Derek nodded, eager to see what the animal could do. While a great companion, Gus had never been particularly good with tricks.

  “Fred, sit,” Mickie said in a firm tone.

  The dog was already sitting.

  “Fred, shake,” Mickie ordered.

  The dog tilted his big head and looked up at him.

  “Go ahead,” Mickie said to Derek. “Shake his paw.”

  Derek squatted down, lifted the paw that had been firmly planted on the floor and while gazing into the soulful eyes, shook it with enthusiasm. “Hello, Fred. I’m Derek. It’s nice to meet you.”

  “Fred, kiss.”

  Before Derek could react the dog leaned forward and slurped his tongue along his cheek.

  Derek grinned and ruffled the loose skin around the dog’s neck. Figured he’d get that one right. “You remind me of Gus.”

  Fred thumped his tail against the hardwood floor as if he knew that was a very good thing.

  “Honey, could you show Derek where he can wash his hands?” Rachel flipped the sandwiches off the griddle and onto three plates. “By the time you get back, lunch should be on the table.”

  He followed Mickie to a bathroom with soap in the shape of Christmas trees and frilly towels that seemed more decorative than serviceable. After washing his hands, he hesitated. But Mickie confided that while they seemed too pretty to use, Rachel had been offended when she’d used toilet paper to dry her hands.

  Still he hesitated.

  With a conspiratorial smile, Mickie pulled off some toilet paper and handed some to him and kept the rest for herself. After they finished drying their hands, Derek added Mickie’s toilet paper to his own and flushed away the evidence.

  By the time they returned to the kitchen, Mickie had stopped giggling. Fred was on the floor next to the sofa sleeping and Rachel was filling the glasses with milk.

  After pulling out the chairs for both Rachel and Mickie, Derek took a seat, dropping the napkin onto his lap. “Smells good.”

  He waited for Rachel to pick up her spoon. Instead, she asked him to say grace. It wasn’t that difficult a request, but for a second Derek went blank. Although he’d grown up praying before meals and going to church, since he’d moved away from home at eighteen he could count on one hand the times he’d done either.

  “Say what you’re thankful for and then thank God for the food,” Mickie said in a whisper so loud she might as well have spoken in her normal tone.

  Even with her head bowed, Derek could see Rachel smile.

  He took a deep breath. “Thank You, God, for not only this wonderful food but also for bringing Rachel and Mickie into my life. Amen.”

  Derek realized as he said the words that they weren’t just the “right” thing to say, he meant them.

  The perfectly seasoned soup was delicious. The grilled sandwich made with three cheeses, the best he’d ever eaten. And unlike the afternoon at the pizza place, the conversation flowed easily.

  Over lunch he and Rachel talked about everything from her volunteer work at a local free clinic to his current dilemma—whether to renew his lease on his L.A. apartment or look for a new place to live. Derek let his gaze linger on her face. Her skin was smooth and creamy and her eyes reminded him of the Wyoming sky. She’d ditched the ponytail from this morning and her golden blond hair now hung loose to her shoulders.

  She was amazing. Not only was she beautiful, she appeared to have it all together while he felt as if he’d let his life stray off course. Not just in relation to his faith but also in his commitment to his family. He loved his mother and sister, but he’d let weeks go by without calling them. “Have you ever looked at your life and wondered if you’d taken a wrong turn somewhere?”

  Rachel’s eyes widened and Derek realized he’d spoken aloud. He was trying to figure out how to call the words back when Mickie answered.

  “I turned the wrong way once when I lived with my aunt and uncle.” Her voice which had started off strong unexpectedly began to tremble. She twisted a strand of hair around one finger, her green eyes clouded. “By the time I finally got home it was dark. I was really scared. Aunt Amy was worried, but Uncle Wayne was mad. She wouldn’t let him go bowling until she knew I was safe.”

  The pain in the child’s voice told Derek everything. He could only imagine how “Uncle Wayne” had treated the child once she’d gotten home. He
tightened his fingers around his soup spoon.

  “I hadn’t lived there long, but I knew what happened when you made Uncle Wayne mad,” Mickie said. “Especially when he was drinking beer. And he was always drinking beer.”

  Silence descended over the table for several heartbeats.

  “Did he hit you?” Rachel asked finally.

  Mickie lifted a shoulder, then let it drop. “Sometimes.”

  Fred, who’d been lying on the floor at Mickie’s feet, sat up. Without looking down she scratched his head.

  The muscle jumping in Rachel’s jaw told Derek exactly what she’d like to do to Uncle Wayne.

  He understood. He felt the same way. Although he’d seen it often enough in his role as a Big Brother, the harming of a child never went down easy. He shoved down the rage rising inside him and forced a casual tone. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

  He placed his spoon on the table and took an unfrosted sugar cookie from the plate in the center of the table. He broke it into two pieces, handed one to Mickie and kept the other for himself. “He shouldn’t have hit you.”

  Mickie took a bite of cookie. “I know lots of kids who get hit.”

  Derek winced. Yeah, he did, too.

  “That won’t happen here,” Rachel said softly. “You’re safe with me.”

  Mickie crumbled the rest of the cookie between her fingers. “What if I say or do something that makes you mad?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Rachel said, her eyes filled with compassion. “An adult should never hit a child. For any reason, but especially not out of anger.”

  Derek remained silent. This conversation was between mother and daughter, er, between Rachel and Mickie.

  “Do you understand?” Rachel covered the girl’s hand with hers.

  Mickie nodded her head in several quick jerks.

  “And I want you to know you can be honest with me about your feelings,” she continued.

  The child’s face scrunched into a frown. “I don’t…understand.”

  “Just tell me what you want when I ask,” Rachel said.

  “In other words, if you don’t like anchovies, it’s okay to say you don’t like them,” Derek clarified.

  “If you’re worried or afraid, I want to know that, too.” Rachel grabbed a cookie and absently took a bite. “I can’t make something better unless I know it’s an issue.”

  Derek took another cookie. These were even better than the ones his mother made every Christmas. In fact, they were the best he’d had in years. He caught Mickie staring as he popped half the cookie into his mouth.

  “Okay, I understand.” Mickie’s gaze shifted back to Rachel. “But can we decorate the cookies before you and Mr. Rossi eat them all?”

  Rachel chuckled.

  Derek grinned.

  Mickie giggled.

  Fred woofed.

  And in the cozy kitchen, with the light streaming through the windows, for the first time in years, Derek felt part of a family.

  Chapter Six

  Rachel had expected Derek to leave immediately after lunch. In fact, when he’d first arrived, she’d thought of several excuses, er, reasons, to make sure that happened. She’d been concerned that he would misconstrue her generosity and think she was interested in him.

  But he’d been a perfect gentleman and they’d been having such a good time that she’d impulsively asked him to stay and decorate sugar cookies with her and Mickie. Even though applying frosting and sprinkles was more of a “girly” thing to do, she’d been confident he’d say yes. After all, from how many he’d eaten it was apparent he loved her cookies. She’d been shocked when he’d begged off with some pitiful excuse about needing to talk with his agent.

  Rachel wasn’t sure who was more disappointed—her, Mickie or…Fred. The animal had taken a shine to Derek and now sat staring at the door long after the man had walked through it.

  “I wish Mr. Rossi could have stayed.” Mickie crooked her elbow on the table and rested her chin on her hand.

  “Me, too.” Rachel forced an upbeat tone. “But you and I’ll have fun, just the two of us.”

  Mickie kicked at table leg. “I guess.”

  Rachel thought for a minute. “How about I see if Addie and Lexi can come over and help us decorate these cookies?”

  Mickie’s eyes lit up. She straightened in her seat. “That would be fantabulous. I need to talk to Addie anyway.”

  Rachel had pulled out her cell phone, but now paused before flipping open the cover. What could Mickie possibly need to speak with Addie about? “Is it anything I could answer? Or help with?”

  “It’s nothing important.” Mickie avoided Rachel’s eyes. “Addie knows I don’t have many toys and she loaned me her Barbie and Ken. Last night I had them go on a date. I need to ask her what comes next.”

  Rachel’s heart went out to the young girl. With her parents dying so young and her aunt and uncle being less-than-stellar role models, Mickie probably didn’t have a clue how men and women should interact. “Do you want them to fall in love?”

  “Of course.” Mickie sounded shocked she’d even asked.

  “I’d say another date comes next,” Rachel said. “If Barbie and Ken are going to fall in love and—”

  “Get married,” Mickie said, completing the sentence.

  “Right.” Rachel hid a smile. Who knew the little girl was such a romantic? “Well, then, the two need to spend time together.”

  “That’s what Addie said.”

  “Addie is correct.”

  Mickie chewed on her lower lip. “Do they have to go on a date?”

  Rachel thought back to her own dating years. “When Tom and I were getting to know each other, some of my fondest memories are when we simply hung out and talked.”

  “Then you fell in love and got married, right?”

  “We did,” Rachel said. “But some couples discover after spending a lot of time together that they don’t work, that they’re not really meant for each other.”

  “They are meant for each other. And they have to fall in love,” Mickie said with a vehemence that took Rachel by surprise. “Ken thinks Barbie is pretty and she thinks he’s handsome. I don’t see why they wouldn’t get together, do you?”

  Rachel opened her mouth to tell Mickie that it takes a lot more than physical attraction to make a relationship work, but reconsidered at the last minute. These were dolls they were talking about, not real people.

  With that thought firmly planted in her head, Rachel smiled and leaned forward. She gently pushed a strand of hair back from Mickie’s face with her fingertips. “With you doing the matchmaking, I firmly believe your two are destined to walk down the aisle.”

  A look of pure joy filled the young girl’s eyes. Before Rachel knew what was happening, Mickie jumped out of her seat and flung her arms around Rachel’s neck. “I think so, too.”

  Rachel wrapped her arms around the child and returned the hug, unexpected tears stinging her eyes.

  When she’d agreed to care for Mickie, she thought she’d be able to bring the little girl into her life for thirty days and then let her go. But now, that seemed an impossible task. Knowing and loving this child as she did, Rachel couldn’t imagine letting Mickie walk out of her life…ever.

  Mickie sat in the hard wooden pew and watched the families slowly file into the church. Hope rose in her chest. Very soon she’d have a mommy and a daddy, too. That was, if God didn’t strike her dead first.

  She hated having all this time to think. Hated having all this time to worry about God being angry with her. They’d arrived early and Rachel had told her to take this time to talk to God.

  The trouble was, God probably didn’t want to hear from her, especially not after what she’d done. Still, if God really did know everything—like Rachel said he did—surely he knew how important it was that Rachel and Mr. Rossi got together. And really, if Rachel had thought about it, she’d have emailed Mr. Rossi and invited him to church herself. So, when Micki
e used Rachel’s private email address to ask Mr. Rossi to come this morning, it was almost as if she was doing everyone a favor.

  “Is he here yet?” Addie whispered in her ear.

  “Do you see him sitting with us?” Mickie’s whisper held a sharp edge. But darn it, Addie had made her believe it was possible to get Mr. Rossi there. But with only five minutes left before church started, it looked like he would be a no-show.

  “There’s still time,” Addie said in her ear. “Pray harder.”

  Mickie obligingly screwed her eyes shut and clasped her hands tight together. Dear God, please let Mr. Rossi come. Please let Mr. Rossi come. Please let Mr. Rossi—

  “Is this seat taken?” a familiar deep voice asked.

  Mickie opened her eyes. Her lips curved into a relieved smile. It looked as if her prayers had been answered after all.

  Derek stood at the edge of the pew, his confidence slipping away with each passing heartbeat. When he’d checked his email this morning he’d been shocked to see one from Rachel. They’d all been discussing email addresses at Mary Karen’s house and he’d mentioned what his was in passing. He hadn’t expected her to remember it or to send him an invitation to attend church with her and Mickie.

  The way she was looking at him now told him she’d never expected him to show.

  Uncharacteristically nervous, he shifted from one foot to the other. “If it’s too crowded…”

  “There’s plenty of room.” Mickie leaned across Rachel and motioned for him to enter the pew.

  “Yes, there’s more than enough room.” Rachel slid closer to Mickie.

  “Hi, Mr. Rossi.” The girl’s green eyes sparkled like emeralds. He’d never seen a child so happy to be in church.

  “Good morning.” He returned her smile and settled in next to Rachel.

  “I didn’t expect to—” Rachel began, but then the organ wheezed and the congregation rose. She held out the hymnal so they could share.

  While they sang, he slanted a sideways glance at her, marveling at her beauty. Today she had on a fluffy blue sweater and a black skirt. Her hair hung to her shoulders in soft curls and she smelled as good as he looked. Derek forced his attention back to the hymn and realized their voices blended with such ease that it was as if they’d been singing together for years.