by Sandra Hill
Reba was already weeping, big fat tears that welled in her eyes and spilled over onto her cheeks.
“Reba Anderson, will you marry me?”
Reba sobbed aloud.
“Is that a yes?”
She opened the velvet box with the Big-Mart logo on it, and sobbed again. Inside was a tiny diamond solitaire in a plain gold setting.
“I told you it was tacky.”
It wasn’t tacky at all, in Reba’s opinion. In fact, it was the most beautiful ring Reba had ever seen. Perfect.
“We can always get a better one later,” Sam said, and his voice was a little teary, too.
She shook her head vigorously from side to side. “This is the one I want.” She flung herself into Sam’s arms then, kissing him and hugging him and stopping to look at her ring, then kissing and hugging him some more, all the time saying over and over, “I love you, I love you, I love you.”
Of course, he had to reciprocate by kissing and hugging her and telling her over and over, “I love you, I love you, I love you.”
Finally, when they both settled down, Sam set her up on the cabinet and scooted himself up beside her.
“I’m so happy, Sam, but I don’t understand. How are we ever going to make it work?”
“I have a few more months to go in the Blues, and I can opt out of the Navy come spring. It’s something I’ve been considering for some time. To tell the truth, the excitement is gone. Instead, my life’s been feeling a bit frayed on the edges lately. Everything I thought was important has been unraveling . . . ’til I met you again. Don’t worry. I’ll find something to do in Maine. Flying, PR, administration . . . I’m not sure what. It doesn’t matter, as long as we’re together.”
“I’ve been thinking, as well, Sam. We don’t have to stay in Maine. I’ve been selfish. You can stay in the military, if you want. Wherever your work takes you, I’ll go. I can always hire a director for Winter Haven.”
He smiled softly at her and kissed her on the forehead. “It’s sweet of you to offer, honey, but, no, we’ll stay in Snowdon. It’s time for me to . . . ”
“ . . . come home,” she finished for him.
And Reba realized in that moment . . . that’s just what they needed to do . . . especially Sam. They needed to go home to Snowdon and a lifetime together.
“I promise you one thing, Sam,” she said in a breathy voice, “if you come home with me, I will give you all the excitement you could ever find anywhere else in the world.”
He flashed a dazzling, pure Sam smile then, and hugged her closer. “Honey, that’s a promise I intend to collect on for the rest of our lives.”
It was a scene right out of a Hallmark TV commercial, in Sam’s opinion.
Enormous Yule logs burning in fireplaces at both ends of the great hall of the log-paneled hunting lodge. A Christmas tree twinkling with strings of lights and antique ornaments, not to mention hand-tied red bows. Holiday music playing softly in the background on a high fidelity system—Andy Williams, still roasting chestnuts on an open fire and Bing Crosby, still anticipating a Blue Christmas. The seniors, having run out of egg nog that afternoon—Thank God!— now sipping at fifty-year-old brandy, which had been found at the back of the wine cellar.
The Doctors Meg and Maggie had challenged the colonel and Emma Smith to a game of chess, which was still going on after two hours. John and Ethel Ross sat on a settee, holding hands, and dozing off occasionally. Maudeen and Morey had disappeared to God only knew where. Betty was in the kitchen talking on her cell phone to one of her beaux. A few minutes ago, Mike and Penney had dragged their two droopy-eyed boys off to bed after they’d beaten JD and Callie at three games of checkers.
JD and Callie were still lying on their sides on the floor before the fire, talking softly, the checkerboard shoved to the side. Occasionally, JD would reach out and touch Callie’s hair, as if entranced. He was entranced, all right. That was obvious to everyone.
Dana and Stan were sitting on a sofa in front of the other fire, Stan’s long legs stretched out onto the coffee table before them. He was talking earnestly with Dana, but then he threw his head back and laughed at something she’d said, followed up with a quick kiss. You could say Stan was entranced, too.
There was such a strong family spirit in the room, and it wasn’t just because it was Christmas. These people had come together for a common goal . . . a noble enterprise . . . and in the process, they had become bound to each other as strongly as any blood ties. Sam basked in the atmosphere that surrounded them.
“This is exactly how I always pictured that Christmas should be,” Sam confessed to Reba, who was cuddled up on the sofa next to him. She was holding out her hand, admiring the ring he’d given her that afternoon. She’d been doing that practically nonstop, when she hadn’t been weeping with happiness, that is. Earlier, she’d taken his wish bow from him, and said she planned to press both his and hers in the family Bible.
He would have been embarrassed by all this sentimentality . . . if he wasn’t so touched.
“Oh, Sam! We’re going to have so many Christmases like this . . . only better.”
Sam didn’t see how it could get any better than this.
“Think about it,” Reba said dreamily. “We’ll have our own home . . . maybe even by next Christmas. Oh, my goodness! How could I have forgotten? Remember how we always used to admire the Olsen place . . . that big old Victorian on Summit Street . . . the one with the wrap-around porch? I think it’s for sale again.”
“Reba! What would we do with such a big place? Jeez, that place must have six bedrooms.”
She punched Sam playfully in the upper arm. “Silly boy! You and I could fill every one of them . . . with all the children we’re going to have.”
Sam’s heart clenched with such strong emotion he could barely breathe.
“Sam? What’s wrong? Don’t you want children?”
He put a palm to his mouth and blinked several times before he was able to speak. “Reba, I would love to have children with you.”
“I’m so glad you’re coming home, Sam,” Reba whispered, snuggling even closer.
Sam’s misty gaze swept the room. He saw his two old friends. He saw new friends. Then his gaze came to rest on Reba . . . and he saw in her eyes all the promise their future held for them. The answer was right there, and had been all the time.
“I’m already home, baby.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
KEVIN
Friday morning, Christmas Eve
They were inching along at a snail’s pace, but considering the conditions outside, it was a miracle—and a testament to Betty Badass’s mind-boggling connections—that they were moving at all.
While they watched yet another man with a plow lead the way ahead of them, Kevin turned to Stan and Slick. “Is it possible Betty’s actually had . . . ummm . . . relations with all these guys?”
Slick winced. “If so, I don’t want to know. I don’t even want to form a mental picture, here.”
“Well, they’re doing a whole lot of plowing, if you get my drift,” Stan chimed in, then laughed at his own wit. “Drift, get it?”
Slick rolled his eyes. “The man has obviously been tackled on his head a few too many times.” He glanced over his shoulder toward the front of the bus, where Callie and Dana and Reba were wrapping up the remaining toys to be delivered to their final stop. Apparently assured that the women were busy and out of earshot, he turned back. “Speaking of plowing, you two look awfully relaxed today.”
“Speaking of plowing,” Kevin shot back, “You apparently plowed right into a marriage proposal.”
“Yeah, Slick,” Stan said, grinning. “And so romantically, too. What bubble gum machine did that ring come from?”
“Hey! Reba likes it.”
“So did Dana,” Stan said, looking perplexed.
“So did Callie,” Kevin added, feeling as puzzled as Stan looked. “And when I made a joke about it, she got all huffy and told me I was about as
romantic as a rock, and just as intelligent.”
Slick puffed up with pride. “The old Merrick charm wins again.”
“Right. So when’s Reba inserting the nose ring?” Stan asked.
Sam frowned. “Reba’s not like that, and you know it. Besides, you two have been following around a couple of females like you’re in heat. So you have no room to talk.”
Kevin couldn’t argue that. The last two nights had been the best of his life. He couldn’t seem to get enough of Callie.
It scared the hell out of him to contemplate any future without her in it. Although they hadn’t discussed anything beyond their strategy for returning her to New York after George’s wedding, he couldn’t even fathom them just going their separate ways.
Kevin had made a phone call to his client last night, informing him that he had tracked down Cassandra Lee Brandt, but after discussing the case with her, he strongly advised the defense attorney not to call her to the stand. The man wouldn’t like what she’d have to say.
He’d done that only after gaining Callie’s reluctant permission, and only after he’d given her a chance to contact her sister and let her know that Callie couldn’t commit perjury.
It had been a tearful phone call, but once she’d hung up, he could tell that the weight of the world had seemed lifted from her delicate little shoulders, and she’d sniffled and smiled as she informed him that her sister wasn’t angry at all. In fact, her sister was learning a whole lot about her thug boyfriend through other trial testimony that she’d never known before. Didn’t look like that relationship was going to survive for long, and it was on to the next dysfunctional boyfriend.
Immediately after he’d called the attorney, Kevin had turned to her and said, “Looks like you’re off the hook, sweetheart. We’ll have to clear up the warrant situation, but that’ll be easy. I’ve got connections.”
“So I can return to New York?”
“Anytime you want, darlin’,” he’d said, smiling at the excitement in her eyes. But then his smile had faded. “Tomorrow, even, if you want.”
Her grin had disappeared instantly, too. “Tomorrow? You mean, leave the bus?”
“If that’s what you want.”
She’d chewed on her thumbnail. “Is that what you want?”
“It’s not my decision to make, sweetheart.”
He’d held his breath as she mulled it over. He hadn’t known what he would do if she chose to leave him. The possibility of cuffing her and forcing her to stay with him until he himself returned to the city had definitely taken root in his mind.
“Well,” she’d finally said, “I’d feel like I was leaving the Santas in the lurch.”
Kevin had nodded solemnly. “I don’t know how they managed before you came along.”
“And besides, the Santa bus is about the only transportation on the roads these days.”
“Also true. You’d probably just get stranded somewhere.”
“And . . . well . . . ” She’s practically shuffled her feet.
“What?”
“I know George doesn’t know me and I’m not invited to his wedding—”
“Sure you are. I’m inviting you.”
“Really? You don’t already have a date?”
He’d almost laughed at that, but he just shook his head. “Nope. Wanna be my date to a wedding?”
She’d smiled slowly, then threw herself at him. “I’d love to.” And then after that they’d spent the night celebrating in the best way possible.
Which was why, this morning, Kevin was having a hard time picturing the nights ahead when he wouldn’t have Callie to celebrate with.
Just then she glanced up and smiled at him, and an explosion blasted through his chest. He’d known this woman all of a few days, and already he couldn’t imagine even a single night away from her, much less the rest of his life. Which was scary. Although they’d enjoyed the best sex he’d ever known, he had the feeling that this was a temporary thing for Callie. That once she returned to New York and her lucrative and busy clothing business, she’d forget him faster than lightning.
He had to find a way to stay in her life, but considering how they’d started out, he had the feeling she’d just as soon dump him and put that rotten time in her life behind her.
“Boy, talk about having it bad,” Stan said. “JD looks like someone just kicked him in the teeth.”
“Kiss ass, pigskin boy,” he said, then stalked up the aisle toward Callie.
Her eyebrows rose as she watched him approach. “What’s wrong?”
“Come with me,” he said, dragging her by the arm to an empty seat furthest from prying eyes.
“JD, what is your problem? I’ve got work to do.”
“We need to talk first. This won’t take long. Sit.”
She got a mulish expression on her face that he was beginning to know well. But he was feeling just a bit mulish himself at the moment.
She sat. “Fine. What?”
“You’re not dumping me when we get back to New York,” he said.
Her mouth popped open. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
“I heard you, I just don’t understand what in Hades you’re talking about.”
“New York.”
“Big city, right.”
“We both live there.”
“Thanks for letting me know.”
“Well, when we get back there, we’re still going to see each other. You can’t dump me.”
She stared at him like he’d just gone over the edge, which was pretty close to the truth.
“Here’s a concept for you. Dumping’ a person sort of presupposes that there’s a previous relationship in place.”
“Your point being?”
“My point being that what we’ve got going here could hardly be considered a relationship.”
“Is that right? What would you call it, then?”
“Ummm, a holiday fling, maybe?”
“This is not a fling and it is a relationship and you aren’t dumping me. Got it?”
“He’s telling her she can’t dump him,” Emma Smith said in a whisper that could probably be heard in Canada.
“I knew it,” Maudeen said triumphantly. “Morey, you owe me five bucks.”
“Not until she agrees not to dump him,” Morey argued. “She hasn’t answered him yet,” Mrs. Smith said.
Kevin scowled. “A little privacy here, folks?”
All of the seniors pretended to return to their various tasks, but Kevin didn’t miss Mrs. Smith fiddling with her hearing aid, probably turning it on full blast so she could eavesdrop even if they spoke in sign language.
“Can we talk about this later?” Callie said.
“There’s really not much to talk about.”
Her eyes blazed. “Is that right? You’ve decided and therefore it just is?”
He could tell he was jogging right into very dangerous territory. But he couldn’t seem to help it. This was too important. “Well, no, I realize this will have to be decided by mutual consent. I’m just saying that you need to consent right now, so we’re clear.”
“Uh-oh,” Mrs. Smith muttered.
“I’ll think about it,” Callie said, standing up. “I’ll get back to you.”
Kevin wanted to drag her back and insist she do her consenting without too much thought, because he was afraid if she thought about it—or him—too much, she’d find plenty of reasons to dump him.
But when he glanced up and caught Doctors Maggie and Meg shaking their heads in silent warning, he decided to take their unspoken advice and just let Callie go. For now.
Four hours and the Portland stop later, Callie wanted to be angry. She really did. Problem was, she was bubbling inside with excitement. Ever since JD’d told her she was free to go, she’d been scared to death that she’d never see him again. And the thought of that had been thoroughly depressing.
But if she understood him correctly, in his utterly macho, irritating way, he w
as declaring that he didn’t want them to end when the trip to Snowdon did. And that thrilled her. She just wasn’t ready to admit it. Yet.
Maudeen had bullied JD about the state of his hair, so he was now sitting docilely while Maudeen had at him with scissors. Callie hoped Maudeen didn’t cut it too short, because she had really grown fond of his shaggy head, but she wasn’t dumb enough to mess with Maudeen when the woman was on a mission.
Funny enough, while lots of the seniors gathered around to watch Maudeen do her thing, they began talking about Kevin in his hellion days. And she wouldn’t miss that for the world, so she surreptitiously moved up closer to the action.
“Remember the time in high school when Kevin put some concoction in Missy Prescott’s shampoo, and it turned her hair blue?”
“No one ever proved that was me.”
A chorus of snorts greeted that announcement.
Reba sat down beside Callie, smiling. “He did that for me.”
“Really? Why?”
“Missy Prescott was the homecoming queen. She wondered aloud in homeroom how it was possible that I’d received all of three votes. She decided, again out loud, that I must have paid three people to vote for me.”
Callie’s heart melted just a little more. She could imagine exactly where those three votes had come from. The more she got to know the man, the more she figured that was exactly what JD would do to defend his friend. “Creative justice,” she murmured.
“Exactly,” Reba said. “He was really good at that. Although more often than not, it landed him in hot water.”
“I’ll never forget,” Mrs. Smith chimed in, “the time he locked Bobby Wallace in George’s barn overnight.”
JD groaned.
“He’d caught Bobby Wallace teasing George’s horses,” Reba elaborated, “and he wanted the boy to learn what it felt like to be treated like a defenseless animal.”
“Enough, already,” Kevin said. “If you all keep this up, you’re going to scare Callie and then she’s going to dump me for sure and I’ll never know the love of a good woman and it’ll all be your fault.”
