“It’s dead. Ruined. Hopeless.” Tilda paced back and forth in front of the frozen entrées. Where was the chicken? “I’ve got a living room full of people waiting to eat, and green-bean casserole sitting on the counter getting cold. And...” And there was not a speck of chicken to be had. She pushed her hands to her forehead and tried to rub out the headache that was now in full bloom. “What am I going to do?”
“You’re gonna go home and wash off your turkey.”
“It’s frozen. I can’t cut it!”
“We can fix that.”
We, such a comforting word. But... “How?”
“I can bring over what you need to deep-fry that baby. We’ll get it cooked. Trust me.”
Maybe it was because, even though he wasn’t a cop or a firefighter, there was a nice guy underneath that cocky exterior, or maybe it was because she was desperate, that she said, “Okay.”
“Go back home and give everybody some chips. I’ll be there in ten.”
So, back home she sped. She found her mother and Aunt Joyce in the kitchen, washing the turkey in the sink. A bucket and mop stood in the corner. They’d obviously cleaned the floor, too. Crap.
“I came out to get a drink of water,” Mom said in her own defense. “We’re going to get this washed off, then we’ll take it over to my house.”
“No need. Everything’s under control,” Tilda insisted. How many times had she said that?
The two women looked at each other the way people did when they were around someone who was, well, having a psychotic break.
“Really,” Tilda assured them. “Everything’s going to be fine.” She pulled another bag of chips out of the cupboard. “The food’s getting cold,” protested Aunt Joyce. There was an understatement, considering the condition of the turkey.
As it turned out, everything wasn’t getting cold. Tilda was just ushering them out of the kitchen when Aunt Joyce pointed to the stove. “The potatoes!”
Tilda dashed over and yanked them off. Fun. She was having fun. Lots of fun. What circle of hell was this, anyway?
“Throw in the towel, Tillie,” Mom advised.
No way. There would be no towel-throwing here. No surrender. “I’ve got this covered.”
Ten minutes later Devon was knocking at the back door. “Where’s the dirty bird?” he joked.
She led him over to the sink.
“Looks like a good one.”
“Yeah, well, looks can be deceiving.”
“So can first impressions,” he said, picking up the turkey. “But you should never judge a bird by its outside.”
“We’ll probably all get food poisoning.” She could see the headlines now. Local Cop Poisons Entire Family with Bad Bird.
“Not on my turkey watch,” Devon said, and carried it outside, where he’d set up a propane gas tank, a burner and a huge pot, which he’d already filled with oil.
She noted the thermometer clinging to the inside of the pot. The whole thing resembled some giant science project. “This is yours?”
“Nope. It belongs to Todd and Bailey. They’re letting me borrow it.”
“I bet you were supposed to be there for dinner.” And here he was, rescuing her.
“They’ll all survive without me for a while.”
There was a telling word. He probably had parents in town for the holidays and here he was, bailing her out. “What’d you tell them?”
“That I got a better offer,” he said with a grin.
The oil was boiling now and he stuck a hook in the turkey and lowered it in.
“Die, evil bird,” Tilda said, which made him laugh. And that made her laugh. And suddenly her Christmas didn’t feel quite so ruined.
Dinner wasn’t served on time, but it did get served. The bird got cooked, Tilda mashed her potatoes, reheated the casserole in the microwave, turning the fried onions to mush, and managed to make stuffing from a box without ruining it. And they had one more person at the table.
“This is my friend, Devon Black,” she told everyone. And yes, he was her friend. He’d proved himself more than friend worthy...which was more than she could say about herself. “He got our turkey cooked.”
“A true hero,” said Uncle Horace. “You saved us all from starvation, son.”
Tilda could see Mom looking speculatively at him. “Well, Devon, I wouldn’t mind if Santa put you in my daughter’s stocking.” Everyone laughed and Devon, the biggest flirt in Icicle Falls, actually blushed.
He stayed to help with cleanup afterward. Then he hung around to play “Wii Sports Resort” games, and her family took delight in seeing Tilda the champion fencer get knocked from her platform into the water by the newcomer.
But when it was time to open presents, he said he needed to get going. “I’ll help you load your stuff,” Tilda said, grabbing her coat and going outside with him.
Once his turkey torture equipment was loaded and they were standing in front of the cab of his truck, Tilda suddenly found herself at a loss for words. Other than, “Thanks. You saved the day.”
“Once in a while us ordinary guys put on our Superman capes,” he joked.
“You don’t look anything like Clark Kent.”
He gave a snort. “I guess I don’t look anything like Superman, either. For that you need a police badge and a bulletproof vest.”
“Maybe,” Tilda said. “Maybe not.” Maybe she’d been wrong about a few things.
About time, said her hormones. He looked at her, a speculative smile playing on his lips. He had some five-o’clock shadow stealing across his jaw, and it was just plain sexy. Like the rest of him. Oh, he was trouble.
She was a cop. She knew how to deal with trouble. She took a step closer. “How am I going to thank you for saving my butt today?”
He smiled down at her and Team Estrogen said, Go for it!
“I bet you could come up with something if you thought hard enough. Or better yet, if you didn’t think.”
Let’s stop thinking and get with the program, urged the hormones.
So she did. She took that lovely, five-o’clock-shadow-covered face between her hands, pulled it to hers and kissed him. And he slipped his hands under her coat and pulled her against him and kissed her right back. And her black lace thong went up in flames.
“Was that mistletoe I saw in your living room?” he murmured against her cheek after they came up for air.
“Yeah.”
He smiled, a bad-boy glint in his eye. “We should do something about that.” He snuggled her up against him. “Got it hanging anywhere else in your house?” Like the bedroom?
“Just because you cooked my turkey...” And set my panties on fire.
“Yeah? What?”
It took her a minute to answer, since he was kissing her again, and the second helping was even better than the first. “Don’t be getting it into your head that I’m sleeping with you.”
“I don’t put out on the first date,” he said.
“This isn’t a date.”
“Then you aren’t getting past first base,” he said with a grin.
“Yeah?” All of a sudden she kind of wanted to get past first base.
“Maybe I’ll stop by later and see if you can change my mind,” he said with a grin.
Maybe that was a pretty good idea.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Forgiveness is the key to experiencing true joy.
—Muriel Sterling, Making the Holidays Bright: How to Have a Perfect Christmas
The day had gone as well as could be expected. The Christmas cookies got delivered and Corrine helped assemble the plates with hardly a critical comment. “I don’t know where you found time to bake all these,” she said.
Maddy hoped that was a compliment. “I s
tarted early and froze them. And Jordan was a big help,” she added, smiling at her daughter.
Jordan, who seemed to have reconnected with her sweeter side, had blushed and smiled. Not for the first time Maddy wondered if there was a connection between that and the dearth of texts now that she and Afton and Logan were no longer buddies. One thing she was grateful for—each kid was doing community service in a different area of town. She wouldn’t have to see the other miscreants and neither would Jordan, at least not until school started again. And they would cross that snowy bridge when they came to it.
Now, with dinner over, it was time to head out to church. Maddy was helping with refreshments, so that meant leaving a little early.
“Honestly,” Corrine grumbled. “Do they really need cookies at a Christmas Eve service? And why on earth do you have to bring them?” Translation: Why do I have to be inconvenienced? Corrine had been up here for Christmas before. She knew the drill. She simply didn’t like it.
“Everyone enjoys staying and chatting afterward.” She shouldn’t have to explain this to her mother-in-law. “And whenever people gather, there’s usually food involved.”
“Which is why so many Americans are overweight,” said Corrine, the food police.
“If you’d rather stay home...” Oh, please say you would.
“No, no.” Corrine waved away Maddy’s suggestion. “We don’t want to miss any of the fun.”
No, because then how could “we” be on hand to throw a wet blanket over it?
“Let’s go,” said Alan, and everyone bundled into coats and went out to the car.
Even though they were early, several cars were already in the parking lot. Jordan saw a buddy and ran across the parking lot to greet her, slip-sliding as she went.
“Be careful,” Alan cautioned as he helped his mother out of the car. “The temperatures have dropped and the ground is icy.”
“Can’t be falling at our age,” added Tom.
Corrine still managed, though. Alan had just opened the church door and Maddy had gone through and was greeting one of her friends when a screech followed them into the foyer. Maddy turned just in time to see her mother-in-law landing on the ground. Not content to fall on her own, she’d dragged poor Tom down, as well. His reflexes not what they used to be, he was unable to avoid landing on top of her, which produced another screech.
Alan rushed to help them up. Maddy handed off her cookies and ran after him. Tom was struggling to get to his feet and assist his wife at the same time. Alan got his dad up and then pulled his mother to her feet, which brought a cry of pain.
Maddy hovered. “Are you all right?”
“No, I’m not all right,” Corrine snapped. “Oh, Tom, my ankle.”
Tom didn’t look so good himself. His face was rapidly turning as white as the snow and he was cradling his left hand, which was bleeding.
“Here, come inside,” Alan said, taking her arm.
She started to limp toward the door and let out another cry. “I can’t put weight on it.”
Alan scooped her up and staggered into the foyer, managing to get her to a chair before collapsing with her. Corrine wasn’t overweight by any means, but Alan wasn’t exactly in shape. Maddy hoped he wouldn’t give himself a hernia in the process of being a noble son. Meanwhile, she took Tom’s arm and escorted him inside.
“I’ll get some ice for that ankle,” offered Maddy’s friend.
“Thank you,” Corrine whimpered.
“Come on, Dad, let’s get you cleaned up and take a look at that hand.”
Tom nodded and limped off toward the men’s room with Alan, leaving Maddy to provide comfort as best she could.
“I’m so sorry,” she said.
“It’s not your fault,” Corrine replied. She was being nice. What was wrong with her? “They should salt that entrance,” she muttered with a frown. Ah, there was the Corrine they all knew and didn’t love. But then she added, “Someone else might get hurt. We don’t want to see someone’s Christmas Eve ruined.”
Okay, the woman was human, after all.
Maddy’s friend was just applying ice to the ankle when Dr. Sharp, their GP, came in, bringing his mom and sisters. “What happened?” he asked, leaving the women to deliver their cookies to the church basement.
“I’m afraid my mother-in-law had a fall,” Maddy explained. “Could you look at her ankle?”
“Of course.” He knelt in front of Corrine and began to examine her ankle, which now resembled a baseball. The extra attention raised the whimpering decibel.
“Is it broken?” Maddy asked.
“It’s hard to tell. I think you should go to the emergency room and have this checked out. You could’ve fractured it.”
“Fractured,” Corrine repeated weakly.
“Don’t worry. We’ll get you fixed up,” the doctor said calmly, taking out his cell phone.
Tom was back now, and it was decided that he, too, should get checked out. Well, so much for the Christmas Eve service. Looked like Maddy would be spending it at the hospital, praying desperately that her mother-in-law hadn’t broken anything. It would’ve been nice if her motives were altruistic, but alas, they were purely selfish. If Corrine had broken her ankle, she’d probably extend her stay. Just what Maddy wanted for Christmas.
* * *
Ivy and her family arrived at church to find an ambulance in the parking lot. Its flashing lights bathed the man sprinkling salt around the snowy lot in red light. And there were Maddy and her family, leaving the church.
Ivy rushed over to her. “Is everything okay?”
“My mother-in-law fell,” Maddy said. “We’re on our way to the emergency room.” She lowered her voice. “If she’s broken her ankle, they’ll have to stay longer. Please pray for us.”
Ivy got the underlying message. “Will do. Hang in there.”
Poor Maddy. She tried so hard to make the holidays ideal. So far, though, this Christmas had been anything but ideal for her.
So far this Christmas hadn’t been ideal for Ivy, either. But today had been the capper. Rob had posted his very public apology and now everyone expected her to take him back.
“A hard thing for a man to publicly admit he’s been an asshole,” said her father. “Maybe he’s learned his lesson.”
And when her uncle Will had come in after dinner, dressed up as Santa for all the kids at the Christiansen family gathering and Hannah had reminded him that she just wanted her daddy to come home, all eyes had turned to Ivy. Somehow, it was all on her now. If she couldn’t forgive Rob, if she didn’t take him back, she would be the new villain of the Bohn family. How unfair!
The idea of letting him back in was tempting. What would it be like to have Rob home again, to snuggle up to him in bed at night, to feel his arms around her? To have another adult in the house? To feel loved? But it was Rob’s fault that she’d felt unloved for the past year!
And now, as she and the kids seated themselves next to her parents, here he was walking into the sanctuary, looking tentatively around. He was wearing his favorite dark jeans and the red sweater she’d given him for Christmas two years ago, along with his North Face jacket. He was like red velvet cake—oh, so tempting and oh, so bad for a girl. He hadn’t been in church in a year. But now that it was Christmas, here he was. Do you see what I see?
A creep, a creep, her inner song continued, slinking through the night. I’d like to tell him to go fly a kite.
And yet, under the anger, was a longing that had resurfaced like Scrooge’s Ghost of Christmas Past, reminding her of what they once had. Could they find it again?
Hannah had seen him now. “Daddy!” she called, and waved to him.
He smiled at her and waved back. Then he made his way to where Ivy sat, looking like a man about to wade into shark-infested waters. H
e nodded at Ivy’s parents and ventured a smile.
Her father acknowledged him with a nod, and Mutti said, “Rob, we haven’t seen you in church in a while.”
He ducked his head. “Yeah. I know.”
“Sit with us, Daddy,” Hannah invited him.
Rob turned to Ivy, his eyes asking for more than permission to join them in singing Christmas carols. “Do you mind?”
No more shuttling the kids back and forth. No more fighting over who got them when and for how long. No more lonely nights. No more feeling unloved and rejected. If you sit down, you don’t ever get to leave again. Could she say that? And if she did, would it be that easy? He took her silence as consent and sat down next to her. Hannah immediately climbed over her and settled in his lap. “Are you coming home with us, Daddy?”
“I don’t know,” he said, looking at Ivy again. “Am I?”
She was saved from answering. The musicians had started playing and now everyone was singing “Joy to the World” with gusto. Ivy seemed to be the only one in the whole church who was waging an inner battle this Christmas Eve.
The congregation sang some more carols and Pastor Jim preached a minisermon. His concluding remarks seemed to be meant just for her. “This is the time of year we celebrate the great gift God gave us. He gave us all a second chance when He sent His Son to earth. Let’s see if we can honor that gift by reaching out in love to those around us, by giving those who’ve wronged us a second chance. By giving ourselves a second chance. Tonight, let’s every one of us go home and think about how we can do our part to bring about peace on earth and goodwill toward all.”
It was a candlelight service, and every participant had been presented with a candle. Now the lights were dimmed and ushers walked down the aisles, lighting candles for the people sitting at the end of each row. That person then lit the candle of the person sitting next to him or her, so little dots of light began to spread in the darkness. A musician softly played his guitar and the congregation sang “Silent Night.”
As Rob touched his candle to Ivy’s, she couldn’t help thinking back to their wedding ceremony when they’d lit that unity candle. Two becoming one. Could it happen again? Could they light that fire a second time and keep it lit? All is calm, all is bright.
Christmas on Candy Cane Lane Page 31
