“I know.” The lie slipped out easily. What else could she say?
“Write to me?” The corners of his mouth quirked upward. “Mrs. O’Connor.”
“You can count on it, Lieutenant.”
A car horn sounded outside.
“That must be my cab,” he said quietly. “I thought he could drop me off, then take you home.”
“No.” She shook her head sharply and smiled. “I’d rather just say good-bye here. I’ll get home on my own.”
“Okay.” An awkward silence settled between them. There was so much she wanted to say but mere words weren’t enough. He brushed his lips against hers, turned, and stepped to the door. Her throat ached with the tears she struggled to hold in check.
He pulled the door open and cast one final glance back. He grinned the crooked smile that had lived a lifetime in her memory and tossed her a cocky salute.
“I’ll be seeing you, Katie.” Her heart shattered with his words and the fervent vow in his eyes. “I promise.” He stepped through the threshold and pulled the door closed behind him.
And once more she was alone.
Unrestrained tears coursed down her face and she stared at the door, at the last place he’d stood. And she waited.
She had no idea if she’d return to 1996. No idea if, instead, she was now destined to live her life over. To survive again all the empty years of pain and yearning, all the years without him. She pulled a deep breath. As daunting as the prospect was, it was not too high a price to pay for one special night, for the opportunity to really know love, for a second chance.
She stood and stared at the door for a minute or an hour or forever until there were no more tears left to fall. Finally she gathered her things to return to the home she’d hadn’t seen for years and the life she would have to build again. To wait for the inescapable end: the news of his death.
Katie stepped outside into the silent winter. The pale early-morning winter light matched the somber-ness of her mood. Snow covered the ground, fresh and new and untouched like a canvas waiting for color. Like the rest of her life. She trudged toward the street, calling on vaguely remembered memories to help her navigate her way home.
A sad smile pulled at the edges of her mouth, and an odd sense of joy mixed with the pain inside her. It was all worth it: every ache, every tear, every wrenching emotion.
Michael had gone to his death and they would never be together again. But this time, he left with the sure and certain knowledge that he took with him her love, her heart, her soul. And no matter what twists and turns her future might now hold, she would never again deny what she’d refused to admit the first time they met.
She would love him forever.
She promised.
She wrote to him later that day and the day after that and the day after that. It was a futile effort, of course, a total waste of time and energy. There was every possibility he would never receive her letters. Still, there was always hope. And who knew just how long her second chance would last?
She didn’t tell her family about her marriage. Somehow, given all that she knew, it seemed pointless. She returned to school with her mother’s promise to forward any mail. And she waited with a sense of impending tragedy that grew with every passing day.
Weeks stretched endlessly without word. She existed in a strange kind of limbo, checking her mailbox every day, sometimes twice, at once resigned to the arrival of a bulky Manila envelope and terrified by the prospect.
Each day that passed was hopefully another day that Michael lived. She wondered if, because she’d married him, this time there would be no oversized envelope, but instead the yellow sheet of a telegram or a personal visit by an impersonal military representative. But their wedding had been so hasty, it was possible the Army had no official record of their marriage.
And so she waited.
She didn’t know what to expect when word came. More and more she was convinced that with official notification of Michael’s death, she would learn of her own fate. Would she go back to Christmas Eve 1996, with her life behind her and nothing ahead but a deteriorating body and an empty existence? Or would she be forced to relive a long and solitary life? She didn’t especially relish either prospect. But it surprised her to realize that she could calmly face whichever future faced her now. There was a strange sense of peace, of acceptance and serenity within her she’d never known. She’d had her one special night with the one and only man she was destined to love.
And it would indeed last her a lifetime.
It was a frigid winter day when she checked her box for the second or maybe even third time in a span of a few hours. Damn. The mail still hadn’t come. It seemed that erratic mail delivery was the one constant from generation to generation. At least when she knew the mailman had come and gone she could breathe a little easier. Each day without word was at once a frustration and a relief.
She turned away from the boxes with disgust and froze. The world around her spun to a stop. The air grew thick and her breath caught in her throat. Shock widened her eyes and focused her gaze. Disbelief clutched at her heart and she stared in stunned silence.
At a crooked sort of smile.
At blue eyes, dark as the night and just as endless.
At the hero’s best friend.
“Do you want to dance, Mrs. O’Connor?”
“Michael?”
He grinned. “The one and only.”
In a heartbeat she was in his arms, laughter mingling with tears in a joyous mix of amazement and revelation. She pulled back and stared. “Oh, Michael. I can’t believe…how can you…I thought you were dead.”
He cocked a dark brow. “Baby, I’m a lousy letter writer but that doesn’t mean I’m not among the living. Actually, I got shipped around a little bit after this.” He gestured to the crutches propped under his arms. They’d escaped her notice until now. “Nobody seemed quite sure what to do with me until they came up with the brilliant idea of sending me home to recover.”
Her heart thudded in her chest. Was he merely injured this time instead of killed? And if Michael’s fate had changed…“What happened?”
“It’s kind of silly.” He shrugged in a self-conscious manner. “A couple of nights after I got to England, well, I was pretty low. It seems I missed my wife.” His eyes simmered with a promise of passion and her insides fluttered in response. “I had a few too many one night, and on the way back to the base ran into a flock of sheep.”
“Sheep?” She struggled to suppress the exhilaration rising within her.
He shook his head. “Actually, they ran into me. Anyway, I managed to overturn the jeep. They tell me I was in pretty bad shape for a while. I don’t remember much.”
“Sheep?” Laughter bubbled through her lips. “I have sheep to thank for you being here?”
“Sheep and…you.”
“Me?”
He pulled her close with one free arm. “If I hadn’t been trying to drown my sorrows about not being with you, I wouldn’t have had the accident.”
She sucked in her breath sharply. “Oh, my.”
“Funny thing, too, Katie.” His brows drew together in a puzzled frown. “Until the accident, I kept feeling like I was doing things I had done before. As if I was repeating motions over or reliving a life already lived.” He shook his head. “It sounds crazy. Do you know what I mean?”
“I have a pretty good idea,” she said softly.
“That strange feeling disappeared after the accident. And that’s another weird thing. The plane I was supposed to be flying on for a training exercise, the day after the accident, crashed.” A shadow crossed his eyes. “Everybody died.”
“Good Lord.” The revelation struck her with an almost physical force and she resisted the need to collapse against him. At once, everything made sense. This time, Michael survived. This time a little too much to drink, stray sheep, and above all else, the knowledge that she carried his name and would wait for him forever had made a difference.
This time, he kept his promise.
He pulled her tighter against him. “I’m not home for good, you know. I’ll be going back as soon as I get the okay. But for now—”
“For now”—she beamed up at him—“you’re here and we’re together and everything has changed.”
Confusion washed across his face. “What do you mean?”
“Never mind. It doesn’t matter.” She laughed with unrestrained delight. “Nothing matters now except that you’re alive and we’re both here and—” She caught her breath and stared.
“What is it, Katie?”
“And”—she struggled to swallow the lump in her throat and fight the tears that stung the back of her eyes—“and we’ll have children and grow old and spend the rest of our lives together.”
He grinned. “That’s the whole idea.”
“It really is a second chance,” she said under her breath and vaguely wondered why her heart didn’t break with the miracle of it all.
“Katie.” Michael brushed his lips along her forehead. “I don’t know what you mean by a second chance and I don’t really care. All I know is that the girl I love is in my arms and I’m going to spend the rest of my life making her happy. And that’s a promise.”
The tears she’d restrained coursed down her cheeks and his face blurred, but the strength of his body next to hers was solid and real and lasting. And she knew without question there would never be a Katherine Bedford who made millions from nothing and had her face on the cover of Time magazine. But there would be a Katie O’Connor who’d know all the joy and laughter and love that life could offer.
His lips met hers and she greeted him with the eagerness of a lifetime spent waiting for this one moment. And before passion swept away all possibility of rational thinking she realized the truth of what she’d never even suspected before.
Love is a promise to keep.
EPILOGUE
December 24, 1996
“I can’t stand the thought that she won’t be around anymore.” The tall, dark-haired young woman wiped a tear from her eye.
The slightly older blonde seated beside her nodded silently.
Their gazes fixed on the front of the church. Winter morning light filtered softly through stained-glass windows and caressed the holiday decorations scattered with joyous abundance throughout the sanctuary. The casket before the altar was at once a sorrowful counterpoint to the festive setting and yet, somehow, appropriate.
“I just never really thought of her as dying,” the brunette said. “She wasn’t all that old.”
“Oh, she was old, Diane.” The other girl’s voice was solemn. “She was seventy-four.”
“I know but—”
“And everybody in the family kept saying after Grandpa died, Grandma wouldn’t last long.”
Diane stared at the casket. “Can you imagine loving somebody so much you can’t live without them?”
“Sure.” The blonde paused and shook her head. “Maybe. I don’t know. Do you remember the story about how they met?”
Diane laughed softly. “Who could forget? It was as much a part of Christmas at Grandma’s as the tree and stockings.” She recited by heart. “Christmas Eve at a community canteen. Right before he shipped out to World War II. It was love at first sight.” A wistful note crept into her voice. “It was so romantic.”
The blonde chewed on her lower lip for a long moment as if getting her words and her thoughts in order. “I know this sounds kind of stupid but does all this seem…well…sort of right? Like fate or something?”
“Sandi O’Connor!” Diane’s eyes widened with shock. “How can you even think such a thing?”
Sandi wrinkled her nose. “Calm down. I didn’t mean it like that.” A frown creased her forehead and she struggled to find the right words. “It’s just that Christmas was always so important to her. Because of Grandpa, of course, but…do you remember what she used to say about Christmas?”
Diane nodded. “She said it was all a matter of believing. Believing in the promises of the season. Believing in the magic…”
“And?”
“And”—a smile quirked the corner’s of Diane’s mouth—“believing in Santa Claus.”
“She really did believe in Santa, you know,” Sandi said quietly.
“I know. I always thought it was funny.” Diane shook her head in disbelief. “A grown-up believing in Santa like that.”
“But don’t you see?” Sandi leaned toward her cousin. “The way she felt about Christmas, the way she believed in miracles and promises and Santa”—Sandi shrugged—“it’s almost like, at this time of year, with the spirit and excitement and magic of the season, this is when she would have wanted her life to end. What better time to say good-bye?”
“Maybe,” Diane said slowly. “I understand what you’re trying to say but still”—she released a heartfelt sight—“I’m really going to miss her.”
Sandi put her arm around her cousin and gave her a squeeze. “So am I. But she did have a great life.”
“She had a wonderful life,” Diane said stoutly.
“Look.” Sandi tilted her head toward the front of the church. Two young girls armed with violins took their places off to one side of the altar. “Your mom asked Carol and Deb to play today.”
“The same song they played at Grandpa’s funeral?”
Sandi nodded.
Diane sniffed back a fresh tear. “She would have loved this.”
The first tremulous strains of “I’ll Be Seeing You” echoed through the church. In the last pew, a portly, elderly gentleman slowly rose to his feet and headed toward the door. A slight smile played on rosy lips nearly hidden by a thick white beard.
He paused for a moment and cast a satisfied glance around the church filled with children and grandchildren, family and friends. The end result of a life filled with love and laughter and joy. Bottom-line assets that could be totaled on the only balance sheet that really mattered.
“Merry Christmas, Katie,” he said in a murmur so soft no living creature could possibly hear it.
“Santa always keeps his promises.”
A Magical Christmas Present
EUGENIA RILEY
“Riley blends the real world with the supernatural seamlessly.”
—RT BOOKreviews
LISA CACH
“Ms. Cach’s writing is open, bawdy, and laugh-out-loud funny.”
—RT BOOKreviews
VICTORIA ALEXANDER
“Alexander knows what her romance readers want—charming characters, sharp banter, missed connections and a happy ending—and delivers with gusto.”
—Publishers Weekly
Copyright
LOVE SPELL®
October 2008
Published by
Dorchester Publishing Co., Inc.
200 Madison Avenue
New York, NY 10016
A Magical Christmas Present copyright © 2008 by Dorchester Publishing Co., Inc.
“The Ghost of Christmas Past” copyright © 1993 by Eugenia Riley Essenmacher
“A Midnight Clear” copyright © 2000 by Lisa Cach
“Promises to Keep” copyright © 1996 by Victoria Alexander
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E-ISBN: 978-1-4285-0559-9
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