Peace & Goodwill: An Inspirational Contemporary Christmas Novella (A Guitar Girl Romance Book 4)

by Hope Franke

  She’d whisper his name urgently in his ear, Ian.

  “Belle?”

  Belle’s eyes snapped open and she shrieked. Lieutenant Ian Connor stood on the other side of the counter, eyes narrowed in concern.

  Oh, no. Had she said his name aloud? She was so absorbed in her daydream, she hadn’t even heard the bell ring.

  “Are you all right?” Ian said. “I hope I didn’t startle you.”

  “No, yes. I mean, yes, I’m all right. And well, yes, you did startle me.” She faked a yawn and patted her mouth. “I really must get a better rest tonight.”

  “Trouble sleeping?” he asked.

  The truth was she did have trouble sleeping most nights, but last night she’d dreamt of him, and yes, there had been snogging. She felt her face burn.

  “I know what it’s like to struggle with insomnia,” Ian continued. “Hot milk really does work.”

  “I’ll try that,” Belle said, bobbing her head. “Tonight.”

  Ian held his army cap in his hands and stared at Belle as if at a loss for words.

  “How was The Paradise War?” Belle asked. “Have you finished it already?”

  “Not finished, but I can tell I’ll want the next book right away when I do.” He smiled then, and Belle’s heart jumped and skipped and scampered about. “Do you mind directing me to the proper shelves?” he added. “They all look the same to me.”

  “Certainly.” Belle moved from behind the counter and Ian followed closely. The air between them felt charged with electricity. Was it her imagination? It had been going pretty wild lately, especially where Lieutenant Connor was concerned. She grabbed at her heart and breathed deeply. The comfortable, musky scent of old books always had a calming effect on her nerves and she counted on that to help her now.

  “This is the fantasy section,” Belle managed. “And this is where the authors with last names starting with L are.” She bent down to tug on the second volume and pinched her eyes together. He was standing so close to her. The buttons of his jacket brushed against her back as she stood. She turned and he didn’t step back. To be fair, the aisles were narrow, but he could’ve sidestepped.

  “This is it,” she mustered.

  “Will you have dinner with me?”

  Belle’s breath hitched and something—saliva? dust?—went down the wrong way. Her chest heaved as she engaged in a most ungraceful bout of coughing. She covered her mouth and twisted to the side.

  Ian patted her on the back. “Belle?”

  “I’m fine,” she choked out. “Just…” She covered her face. Her eyes watered and were likely a bloodshot mess, not to mention her matching unattractively blotchy face. She took quick steps back to the counter wishing she could curl up underneath it and die.

  Ian followed her. “I’m going to assume that you’re not looking for an excuse to say no to me. Am I right?”

  Belle covered her face and nodded. She was such an idiot.

  “Great!” Ian said. “Can I pick you up at eight?”

  Belle pictured him coming to her run-down flat and blanched. Managing to compose herself she dared to look at his eyes. His expression was hopeful and she was shocked he still wanted to take her out after such an unflattering bronchial demonstration.

  She heard herself say, “I’ll meet you.”

  He looked relieved, like he really thought there was a possibility she would backtrack and say no. (Not a chance.)

  “Okay.” He named a popular Indian restaurant, then pushed the book in his hand across the counter. “Hold this for me.” He winked as he stepped backwards to the door. “So I have an excuse to come back again.”

  Anna

  A wave of nausea and dizziness forced Anna to lean against the wall and slink to the cement floor. She closed her eyes and waited for the wooziness to pass, gripping the arm of her guitar with cold fingers. The episodes were lasting longer each time, and Anna didn’t know if she could continue to take to the cold outdoors and play for money. Certainly no more today. She mopped the beads of cold sweat from her brow with her wool glove and then studied the contents of her guitar case. Besides the one twenty-pound note given to her by that kind gentleman, the rest of her earnings were in the form of coins. She removed a glove to collect them and deposited them in her pocket.

  “Time to go, ol’ girl.” The collie wagged a tail and fell obediently into step by her side. Anna trod carefully. No sense falling and creating a scene. Anna preferred when people averted their eyes. It was easier than having to deal with the pity she saw there. Thankfully, Angel distracted onlookers from prolonged observations of Anna’s drawn face or hairless head and missing eyebrows. Anna rattled the coins in her pocket as she approached a small market. She hated those big grocery stores with bright lights that bothered her eyes and made her thin skin look almost translucent. She disliked how everyone there pushed large carts and were always in a hurry.

  No, she preferred the calmer, warmer atmosphere of a family run store like the one manned by Asian immigrants. She didn’t mind that their English wasn’t perfect. It meant they were less likely to try to engage in conversation. Anna never felt like talking.

  She tied Angel up to a bike rack and patted her head. “I’ll be right back.” If the weather were better, she’d take her guitar and Angel home first and come back to shop later, but the thought of making a second trip made her bones heavy with weariness. Better to just do it now and get it over with, even if it meant lugging her heavy guitar around.

  Anna collected a basket and tossed in a few basics: bread, cheese—no meat, it turned her stomach—a couple bananas, a tomato, and a small bag of dog food. She stood in the queue and was stunned by the appearance of the man who bought her CD as he joined the line behind her. She looked away quickly feeling shy. It was one thing to be a performer and talk to people about music and an entirely other thing to make small talk with a stranger in a random shop. She lay her guitar down on the ground and her items on the counter, hoping the man wouldn’t recognise her. Her guitar was a giveaway.

  “Hi there!”

  Anna blinked. She heard his voice and he knew it, so she couldn’t very well ignore him. She glanced at him and forced a smile. It was kind of him to go out of his way to speak to her, but she wished he wasn’t quite so good-looking. She subconsciously swiped fingers over her ear, forgetting that she hadn’t any hair to push behind it.

  She swallowed and forced herself to respond. “Hello.”

  Thankfully, he didn’t continue to speak to her. She quickly paid for her things and headed back out into the wintery weather.

  “Oh, you poor thing.” Anna bent down to release Angel’s leash from the bike stand. “We’ll be home soon.” She tucked her chin in her scarf and trudged forward. She paused briefly when they passed the used books store again. Christmas music pumped out of small speakers above the window. An embossed, metal sign on the door needed painting: Find the Great Escape in Books.

  The pang in Anna’s chest charged the rest of her body. She sighed, stared straight ahead and continued walking.

  “Hey, Anna!”

  No one ever called after her. Anna knew who it was before she turned to face him. He jogged after her, his smile spread wide on his face.

  “Can I carry your guitar for you? Your arms look full with your groceries, and having to lead your dog as well.”

  Anna’s mouth opened but no sound came out.

  “I’m Rhys, by the way.” He held out his hand. “Rhys Williams.”

  Anna slowly lowered her guitar to the ground and extended her arm to shake the man’s hand. “How do you do?”

  Rhys picked up her guitar and it did, in fact, ease her load. The instrument was heavy and her arm burned from the weight of it.

  Anna had noticed the high quality of Rhys’s overcoat and his expensive boots. She was certain he didn’t call the east end of London home. “What brings you to Barking?” she asked.

  “Family. In-laws, actually. My wife passed away two years ago. We
were married for twenty-one years. I got on well with her family, and so I still come to visit once in a while.”

  “I’m sorry to hear about your wife.”

  He just nodded and stared at the slushy ground beneath their feet. Anna wondered if she should be concerned about showing a virtual stranger where she lived, even though she appreciated the help. Ironically, the presence of her landlord comforted her should Mr. Williams not turn out to be the gentleman she believed him to be. Mr. Hutchen and his wife lived in the flat beneath her, right above the cupcake shop and the neighbouring hair salon. Their arguments along with the conflicting scents of sweet cakes and nostril-burning chemicals often wafted up to her flat.

  They passed the bus stop and entered the alley between the shops that opened to a series of staircases that led to the above-shop flats.

  “This is where I live.”

  Anna watched for a flicker of judgment to flash across Rhys’s face but his expression didn’t change. She unleashed Angel before trudging up the stairs. The dog sprung ahead, slowing as she neared the top. Rhys followed behind her with her guitar.

  She worked the key into the lock and opened the door. Without stepping in behind her, Rhys leaned over and set her guitar down inside.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “My pleasure.” Rhys smiled again. “I’m pleased to have made your acquaintance. I look forward to going back to my in-laws’ and playing your CD. Once again, I wish you a Happy Christmas.”

  “And I to you.”

  Anna stared at the back of the door as Rhys closed it behind him. Rhys Williams was a pleasant man and meeting him had brought a ray of sunshine to her day.

  Anna settled in on her sofa and Angel curled up by her legs.

  “That was an unexpected turn, wasn’t it girl? If only our situation were different.”

  If only.

  However, Anna wasn’t getting any healthier and her dog wasn’t getting any younger. She petted the top of Angel’s silky head. What was going to happen to her pet when she died? Anna knew she needed to make arrangements soon, but she just hadn’t had the heart to face it yet. Tears welled up behind her eyes at the thought of saying good-bye to her only real friend. She’d make some inquiries in the morning.

  Belle

  A date! She was going on an actual date. Belle never expected presents at Christmas time, but this was more than she could’ve hoped for. Dinner with Lieutenant Ian Connor. Merry Christmas to me.

  If only she had something nice to wear. Belle let out a frustrated sigh. The best she could do was an off-white jumper with a pair of clean jeans. She showered, squealing when the water fluxed from hot to cold, and quickly washed her short brown hair. She used to wear it long, but she’d chopped it off, barely able to see what she was doing through her angry tears the night her mother died. It was her way of grieving, and Belle had left her pile of hair wherever it had fallen, in the sink and on the floor, for a whole week before she finally swept it up and tossed it in the rubbish bin.

  Now she kept her hair in a bob just past her chin and scooped the loose strands behind her ears. Belle’s mum had left her a small collection of jewellery, nothing of real value, just costume, and Belle chose a pair of silver hoop earrings. Belle never left her flat without at least a little makeup on, especially mascara. She added a second coat for the occasion, hoping it brightened her pale green eyes, and added a layer of pink gloss to her lips.

  She stood back to examine her image. Was she pretty? Not really. Not in a conventional way. Her nose was a little too big and her breasts a little too small. But she had nice eyes, strong cheekbones and a slender figure, so that helped to make up for what she lacked.

  Ian seemed to like what he saw, and that was what mattered in the end.

  Belle wished she had a nicer winter jacket, but she had picked up a new silky jade green scarf recently because her mother always told her the colour brought out the green in her eyes, and that would be the thing people noticed.

  She glanced at her watch. Should she be there when he arrived or should she keep him waiting a little? She locked the door of her flat on her way out. She wanted to show up at the restaurant right on time.

  Ian was waiting for her in the entrance when she arrived. She smiled as she thought of him so eager for their date that he’d gotten there early. The waitress led them to a booth and Belle slid into the bench seat across from him. He wore his uniform again.

  “Do you always have to wear that?”

  He glanced down and back again. “You don’t like it?”

  “Yes, of course I do. You look very…” She looked away suddenly feeling shy.

  “I look…dashing?” Ian prodded with a glint in his eye.

  She giggled. “Yes, you look dashing. I just meant, do you get bored wearing it all the time?”

  “Yes and no. I can wear civilian clothes if I want to, but I like how people treat me when I’m in uniform.”

  “How’s that?”

  “With respect. When I’m in normal clothes, I’m just another young punk.”

  “Well, you look very unpunkish to me.”

  “And you look smashing to me.”

  Belle’s eyes grew wide and her heart fluttered at his praise. Thankfully, the waitress arrived with menus before she had to come up with a response.

  Belle stared hard at the menu. She hadn’t eaten out in a long time and really didn’t know what all the Indian dishes were. She made barely enough working at the bookstore to cover her rent, utilities and basic needs. She certainly didn’t have extra to spend at restaurants. Was she supposed to pay for herself? She gulped. And if not, she didn’t want Ian to splurge on her.

  Ian tapped her menu, startling her. “It’s my treat remember,” he said as if he could read her mind. “Order whatever you want.”

  “That’s the thing. I don’t know what I want.”

  “Would you like me to order for you?”

  Belle nodded. “That’d be great. And there’s nothing I don’t like, so I’m fine with whatever you have.”

  It was obvious to Belle that Ian had eaten at Indian restaurants before since he knew exactly what he wanted and ordered five different dishes and an extra bowl of rice. She tried to keep the surprise off her face, but then again, he was a soldier and strong and probably ate way more than she did on a regular basis.

  “So, tell me about yourself,” Ian said.

  “What do you want to know?”

  “How long have you worked at Kings Books?”

  “Three years.”

  “You must like it.”

  “I do. I love books and I love to read. Mrs. Cowen lets me read anything I want as long as I’m very gentle with the books, which I am. It’s a great perk.”

  “Do you have family?”

  Belle’s heart dropped. She hated this question. “No, not really,” she answered quietly. “I’m an only child, never knew my father, and my mother passed away two years ago of breast cancer.” There, all her sadness out at once.

  She dared to look up at him under her lashes, nervous that he’d be uncomfortable with her downer story. She waited for him to quickly change the subject to something lighter.

  “My parents are gone, too,” he said gently. He reached across the table and cupped Belle’s hand with his. “We’re both orphans.”

  Belle held her breath. Her nerves shot off as she took in the warmth of Ian’s skin on hers, his rough, calloused palm on her soft, unblemished hand. She couldn’t help but quiver.

  Ian squeezed lightly and pulled his hand away. “I live with my gran when I’m here. I also have a sister but I hardly see her. She married an oil baron and lives in Saudi Arabia.”

  “How long have you been enlisted?” Belle asked.

  “Three years. My father was an army man and it seemed natural for me to follow in his footsteps.”

  “Is that how he died?” she ventured.

  Ian nodded. “In service of the Queen.”

  The server arrived with a
tray full of ravishingly delicious-smelling meals. Belle’s stomach growled. She was used to being in a constant state of near hunger and her senses went wild.

  Afterwards, she allowed Ian to walk her home. He’d given her no reason to be afraid of him and in fact his presence brought her a sense of security. She was more concerned about a potential first kiss. Did he expect one on the first date? Did she? She glanced quickly at his lips Her cheeks grew warm.

  What was she thinking? She didn’t know if there’d even be a second date. She was getting way ahead of herself.

  “I had a really nice time,” she said as they stood face to face on the pavement behind her building. “Thank you.”

  “I had a nice time, too, Belle. I… fancy you.”

  A bubbly thrill coursed its way from the tips of her toes. “I fancy you, too.”

  He smiled so widely, his eyes nearly disappeared. “Good. I’ll be by the store tomorrow to get that book.”

  “Right,” she said. “You better get home and finish reading the first one.”

  “I better.” He leaned in and for a split second, Belle thought he would kiss her. She hadn’t kissed a lad since… well, years, and that awkward experience had been nothing to write home about. Her heart pounded. She stiffened just a little.

  Ian’s lips moved to the side of her face and gently brushed against her cheek. It was tender and lovely and almost more than Belle’s heart could take, so it was a good thing he hadn’t tried a full on-snog.

  “G’night,” Ian whispered in her ear.

  “G’night.”

  Belle waited until Ian disappeared around the corner then did a little jig and giggled quietly all the way up the slippery stairs to her flat.