Hope for Christmas

by Stacy Finz

  “I will. But I’m hoping there won’t be.”

  “That would be my guess.”

  They walked out together and Clay zipped up his jacket. It was clear but cold. He checked his phone to make sure he hadn’t missed a call or message from Emily and headed to his truck. Better to hit the feed store now rather than when he had Paige, although he liked showing her off. At some point, he’d have to make a run to Reno to do some Christmas shopping. Maybe this weekend when the boys could go. He wouldn’t mind having a little guy time with Justin and Cody.

  He drove the two miles to Farm Supply and found Grace behind the cash register.

  “Where’s that beautiful baby?” She gave him a peck on the cheek.

  “She’s with Emily at her first doctor’s appointment. Earl get my grain order in?”

  “He sure did. It’s round back.”

  “I parked the truck back there already. Thought I’d browse.” He had time to kill until Emily made it back from Glory Junction and as much as he hated shopping, Christmas was only two weeks away.

  “That time of the year,” Grace said. “We got some nice Western shirts in for the ladies.”

  Clay headed over to the women’s clothing racks. While the store sold farming and ranching supplies, it carried just about everything else, including Western apparel, jewelry, and housewares. He thought he’d get his wife a few stocking stuffers. She was so busy taking care of everyone else, including him, she didn’t shop too much for herself. But she liked clothes and shoes and earrings. Occasionally, she, Maddy, and some of the other local women went to Reno or San Francisco for a shopping spree. The last five months of her pregnancy, though, she’d worn nothing but maternity clothes that she was now ready to burn.

  He sorted through the Western shirts, which were a little too blingy for Emily’s taste. Another display held an assortment of scarves he thought she’d like and searched until he found a blue one that matched her eyes. In addition to the scarf, he found a pair of sterling silver earrings, furry slippers, and a package of handwarmers. He grabbed a couple of bandanas and hoodies for the boys and a tiny Farm Supply baseball cap for Paige and headed to the cash register. On his way, a shearling jacket caught his eye. The coat had Emily’s name on it. Clay checked the size and was sure it would fit.

  “Grace, is this returnable?” he asked, laying his items on the counter.

  “For Emily?”

  “Yep. A Christmas present. To me, it’s her taste. But . . . women . . . you just never know.”

  “Of course you can return it. But I think you’ve got a winner there. Tawny Rodriguez was eyeing it for herself but it was a little snug. You want me to wrap it for you?”

  “Sure. If you wouldn’t mind.” He’d put it under the tree after they got in tonight.

  While Grace boxed the jacket, Clay wandered to the back of the store to have his grain order loaded. After paying his bill, he stashed the gifts in the cargo carrier in the back of his truck and headed out. He made it to the highway when Emily texted that she was fifteen minutes out. How was that for timing?

  He drove back to the square and grabbed a parking space in front of the Lumber Baron. The Victorian inn was as decked out for the holidays as the square. A big wreath on the door, holly garlands swagged across the porch railings, and red-and-white plaid pillows covered Colin’s custom rocking chairs. It looked like a greeting card.

  He got out of his truck and went inside to find even more decorations. A big Christmas tree, menorah, stockings, the whole nine yards. It smelled good, too, like hot apple cider and fresh baking.

  “Hey,” Brady greeted him. “You here for the meeting?”

  “Nah. Emily went to Glory Junction for Paige’s doctor’s appointment. I’m here to collect her so Emily can focus on the cookie swap. How did you get roped in?” Brady Benson was the Lumber Baron’s former cook and now Breyer Hotels’ executive chef. Besides the Lumber Baron, the Breyers owned hotels in San Francisco and a resort near Glory Junction.

  “I’m an official member of the Baker’s Dozen. The only dude willing to put up with them.” Clay chuckled and Brady invited him back to the kitchen where the meeting had unofficially started.

  “Hey you,” Donna greeted him. “You want some buttered rum?”

  Sounded good. “Just a small cup. I have to drive.”

  “Nice to see you, Clay.” Nate Breyer and his wife, Samantha, came into the kitchen. “Looks like a party instead of a meeting.”

  Donna handed Clay a cup of the buttered rum and a plate of cookies. Coming inside had definitely been a better choice than waiting in the truck. Annie Sparks cleared her throat and tried to get everyone to hush up. According to Emily, the cookie swap had been Annie’s idea and she’d taken charge of organizing it.

  The room only grew louder until Brady let out a shrill whistle and everyone shut up. Annie, wearing one of her weird getups—a square-dancing skirt and combat boots—passed around a clipboard.

  “Please put down all the names of your subcommittee members and what kind of cookies they’re contributing. We don’t want everyone bringing chocolate chip and remember, each person is responsible for six dozen.”

  Clay glanced at his watch to see what was taking Emily so long. He was just about to send her a text when she walked in with Paige, looking white as a Charolais cow. Making his way through the group, he put down his cup, took the baby carrier from her and whispered, “What’s wrong?”

  “I was just on the phone with Drew.” she pulled him aside and out of earshot of the others. “He got the same note, Clay.”

  Chapter 3

  Emily’s ex-husband had called her just as she’d pulled up to the Lumber Baron. One of the calmest people she knew, even Drew had been shaken by the three-word letter.

  “I thought we’d seen the last of the lunatics,” he’d told her. “I called the FBI, Em. I don’t want these people harassing us. You’ve got a new baby and Kristy’s got enough stress.”

  Emily knew that Kristy and Drew had been struggling to get pregnant. Desperate, they’d gone through two rounds of IVF and still nothing. Her heart broke for them. Even before Paige, she’d had Justin and Cody. She didn’t know what she would’ve done without the boys and their father. They’d saved her.

  “We’re going to talk to the police chief here. He’s very good and he’s Clay’s best friend,” she’d told him. “Drew, do you think whoever wrote the note means that he literally has our daughter or that he has hope, as in he has optimism?”

  “I don’t know what the hell it means, only that it’s inhuman and I want whoever wrote it to stop.”

  They’d gotten off the phone, promising to keep the other in the loop.

  “I showed the note to Rhys,” Clay said, pulling her from her thoughts. “He thinks it’s a prank. The envelope had a North Pole postmark.” Like Rhys had, Clay rolled his eyes.

  How could someone think that was funny? It made Emily’s stomach turn.

  “Go enjoy your meeting, baby, and don’t think about this anymore. Spend some time with your friends and I’ll take Paige home and handle her feeding. There’s breast milk in the refrigerator, right?”

  She nodded. “You sure?” She hadn’t left Paige for more than an hour since she was born.

  “I’ve got this, Emily.”

  He’d been with her every step of the way and was a wonderful father. But she was a bit of a control freak, not to mention a nervous wreck when it came to Paige’s safety. Her support group said it was to be expected after the ordeal with Hope. Still, she was trying for normal. For sanity’s sake, she had to loosen up and purge herself of the constant ball of anxiety in the pit of her belly.

  “We have to get the tree so I won’t be long, I promise.”

  Clay kissed her cheek. “Take your time and have some fun. It’s the holidays.”

  “Call me if Paige . . . never mind.” Her lips curved up in an apologetic smile. “You’ve got this.”

  “Baby, I can land an F-18 Hornet on a
moving aircraft carrier in the pitch dark. A newborn . . . piece of cake.”

  He’d likely be singing a different tune after a few hours alone with her. But Emily was willing to humor him. F-18 Hornet—big deal. She watched him leave, paying close attention to that fine backside of his. The man looked good in a pair of Levis.

  “Nothing better than a big studly man with a baby.” Donna pushed a mug in her hand. “You look like you could use a drink.”

  For a second she wondered if Donna knew about the anonymous note. It didn’t take long for word to spread in Nugget. But unless Clay or Rhys told Donna, which Emily highly doubted, there was no way for her to know. It wasn’t a big deal if she did, though. These were her best friends in the world and they’d always stood by her, even when she’d been under enormous scrutiny. The parents of a missing child were always the first suspects and for Emily the condemnation had been ruthless. She’d come to Nugget to hide and emotionally reboot only to find solace in this mountain town and healing in the arms of a widower and his grieving sons.

  But not a day went by when she didn’t think of Hope and the young lady she’d be now. Thirteen. Hard to fathom. As happy as Emily was, there would always be a hole in her heart. Worst of all was the seven years of not knowing what had happened to her daughter—whether she was dead or alive. One minute she’d been playing in the backyard, the next, gone.

  “I’m not getting a lot of sleep these days,” she replied and took a sip of the hot beverage Donna had handed her. “Mm, good.”

  “Of course it is, I made it.” Donna was anything but humble.

  The clipboard came to Emily and she put down the names of the bakers in her subcommittee and the cookies they were bringing. She was also in charge of compiling the recipes and printing them in a booklet, which every participant would get to take home, along with dozens of cookies. There would also be a large bake sale to raise money for the Iris Foundation’s residential women’s program.

  Every year they were going to donate the sale proceeds to a worthy cause. Rhys was angling to get the police department on the list. The force organized an outreach program for at-risk teenagers, which desperately needed funding. Both were excellent programs as far as Emily was concerned and was thrilled to be part of what she hoped would be a tradition for years to come. As a professional recipe formulator and cookbook writer, a holiday cookie swap was right up her alley. She was a little disappointed in herself for not coming up with the idea first. The swap had been the brainchild of Annie Sparks, who with her fiancé Logan had recently bought a nearby farm. They were an adorable couple and Emily was thrilled to have them as neighbors.

  “How did the doc appointment go?” Maddy pulled her over to the giant center island and pushed her into one of the stools while Donna flitted off to socialize. “You look exhausted.”

  “Gee, thanks.” Emily said even though she knew it was true. She hadn’t even bothered with makeup to cover the dark circles under her eyes.

  “Hey, I’m just now starting to get a full night’s sleep. I feel your pain. Everything good with Paige?”

  “Yep. The doctor said she’s perfect. Have you talked to Rhys in the last few hours?”

  “Not since this morning when we shared a ride to town together. Why? Is something going on?”

  “It’s nothing.” Emily shrugged. “Drew and I both got crazy notes mailed to us, someone claiming to have Hope.”

  “Oh my God. That’s not nothing. Do you think there’s any validity to it? What did Rhys say?”

  “I don’t. I think it’s another prank. The words were in all caps so I don’t even know if the sender just meant that he has hope that I’ll find Hope someday or whether he wants me to believe that he physically has her. Either way, it’s . . . upsetting,” she trailed off, trying not to get too emotional.

  “Of course it is. Did the man sign his name?”

  “No name.”

  “Then why do you think the sender is a him? You said, ‘he.’”

  “I don’t know why. I guess I don’t think a woman could be that cruel, which of course is ridiculous. Anyway, Rhys thinks it’s a hoax. Drew plans to give his note to the FBI but I doubt anything will come of it. It just knocked me for a loop is all.”

  “I’m sorry, Emily. You don’t need this now . . . or ever. Why don’t you guys come over tonight for dinner? I made chili yesterday.”

  “We’re getting our tree this evening. I’m not sure how long it will take.”

  “As late as you guys want to come. We’ll snack until then. This way you don’t have to worry about feeding Clay and the kids.”

  “I’d really love that.” The Shepards were their best friends and closest neighbors. It was especially nice to have them so near because Cody and Sam were bosom buddies and made themselves at home at either house. “Thanks, Maddy.”

  “Don’t be silly. It’ll be fun.”

  After the meeting and a lot of socializing, Emily went home. She’d at least kept herself from texting or calling Clay every hour or two to see how Paige was doing. When she walked in the house she found both baby and father asleep on the couch. Paige was curled up on Clay’s chest, his arm protectively around her. A smile spread through her and she quickly reached for her phone to snap a picture.

  She let them sleep, went upstairs, and changed into clothes for traipsing around the woods. On the spur of the moment, she decided to put on a little makeup and fix her hair. It wouldn’t kill her to look somewhat put together when they went to the Shepards’ for dinner that evening. Afterward, she started a pot of hot chocolate to go with the gingerbread on their trip for a tree, then decided to make a corn bread for Maddy’s chili.

  Emily felt most at home in a kitchen. As long as she could remember, cooking had come naturally to her. While others found it a chore, she reveled in the comfort of making something from scratch. What better way to show love than to feed someone? And to be able to turn her passion into a profession . . . well, she was simply blessed. Even better, she could work right from the ranch. After marrying Clay, they’d turned the converted barn where she’d been living into a test kitchen. Once Christmas was over, she planned to go full-time. One of the perks of being her own boss was that she could take Paige with her to the office every day.

  “You’re home.” Clay found her popping the cornbread in the oven. “We having that for dinner?”

  “We got invited to Maddy and Rhys’s for chili after we get our tree. I didn’t want to go empty-handed. You have a good nap? Where’s Paige?”

  “I put her in her portable crib because why sleep at night, when she can sleep all day?”

  Emily laughed because it was so true and because sleep deprivation made her punchy. He backed her up to the counter and kissed her long and deep, rocking against her until his hard length pressed deliciously at the vee of her legs.

  “I guess we’re not going to make out in the truck if we’re having dinner at the Shepards’.”

  “Guess not. We could now, though, while the baby’s asleep.”

  Clay slipped his hands under her sweater, going straight for her breasts.

  “Enjoy them while you can,” she whispered in his ear. “They won’t stay like this forever.”

  “I like them any way I get ’em.” He rubbed her nipples with the pad of his callused thumbs, the sensation so good that she moaned.

  Clay bent down and kissed her belly. “Want to go upstairs?”

  “The cornbread will burn.” And the truth was she wouldn’t leave Paige down here, alone. Look what had happened seven years ago, when she’d left Hope in the yard for only a few minutes.

  He moved up to her throat as she clung to his shoulders, feeling his heat through his jeans. She tilted her head back to give him better access. No one had ever loved her the way Clay did. He put his whole body and soul into it, as if he were worshipping her. That, and her intense attraction to him, never failed to set her on fire.

  She reached under his thermal shirt and he sucked in a bre
ath as her knuckles grazed the skin above his waistband. The door in the mudroom creaked and they both abruptly pulled apart.

  “Ah, jeez, really?” Justin stood at the threshold between the kitchen and mudroom, shielding his eyes.

  “Don’t come in here, Cody,” he yelled to his brother and quickly locked the mudroom door. “Otherwise you’ll have to wash your eyes out with bleach.”

  “Let me in.” Cody banged on the door.

  “Let your brother in,” Clay said, hiding a grin.

  “You sure it’s safe?” Justin teased. “I’d hate for him to be corrupted. What kind of example are you two setting for Paige?”

  “When did you become such a smart aleck?” Clay asked.

  “I’ve always been one. When we getting the tree?” Justin unlocked the door so Cody could come inside.

  “What’s going on in here?” their youngest son demanded.

  “Nothing,” Emily said. “How about the both of you go change? As soon as the cornbread’s out of the oven and the cocoa’s done, we can go. Afterward, we’re having dinner at the Shepards’.”

  “Can I miss dinner and go to Cynthia’s?” Justin asked.

  “Nah. Not on a school night,” Clay said.

  “But we can go to the Shepards’ on a school night?”

  Emily hated to admit it, but Justin had a point.

  “Gotta eat,” Clay responded. “I’ll check on Paige.”

  When Clay left the kitchen, Justin attempted to lobby her to his side.

  “Ah come on, it’ll be nice for us to have a night together,” she said, and wrapped Justin in a hug. He was nearly as tall and broad as his father now. “You can spend time with Cynthia on the weekend.”

  Frankly, she and Clay weren’t thrilled with Cynthia. The girl was needy and too demanding of Justin’s time. They wanted him to focus on his last year of high school, his activities and being with his friends before he went off to college. Unfortunately, Cynthia didn’t let him make room for anything but her, texting him constantly and insisting that they spend every waking hour together. Emily knew, though, that if they interfered it would only make Justin rebel, so they tried to be judicious about how they dealt with the Cynthia issue.