by Bacarr, Jina
“You plead real pretty, Kristen,” he pointed out, his voice smooth, but she could hear the anger behind his words. That disturbed her. “It won’t work. I may have to take your Santa down to the station for questioning.”
Her eyes widened. “On Christmas Eve?”
“Unless you can convince me I’ve got something better to do,” he said in a syrupy tone, leaning down so close she could smell his strong lime aftershave. It made her stomach turn. “Like having a nice, quiet dinner over at your place.”
“Sorry, I’m busy.”
“Doing what?” he asked, curious.
“I have to feed Santa Claus and his reindeer,” she quipped.
“You mean him?” he smirked, watching the soldier play tag with Rachel. Kristen couldn’t help but notice the sergeant kept a close watch on her out of the corner of his eye. That comforted her. “You don’t even know this guy.”
“Yes, I do. He’s a friend of Scott’s. They served together in Afghanistan.” Kristen flipped to a new page with those words, surprising even herself. She kept smiling, but on the inside she was freaking out.
Jeez, now what had she done?
Why she said that, she didn’t know. Because she wanted it to be so, she knew, but the bottom line was that she’d lied and now she had to stick with it. Still, call it intuition, but she knew inside her heart the Army sergeant was no bank robber.
“I’m certain the sheriff has more important things to do than flirt with you, Kristen,” she heard Miriam say in a haughty tone that didn’t surprise her. Where did she come from?
She turned around to see the headmistress waving her over. She looked as unhappy as if her garters had snapped.
Oh, my. What was on her mind?
Mice in the cupboards?
Or too much sugar in the holiday punch?
Nothing important, she hoped, when Miriam ordered her to follow her back to the school kitchen. Kristen turned around and checked on Rachel. The sergeant had her laughing. Thank God.
She grabbed her parka, zipped it up, and then followed Miriam out into the snow. Her breath was frosty as she crossed the yard, but not as frosty as the woman’s attitude. She never looked back at her. Never said anything about the last minute Santa and the happy looks on the girl’s faces. Even the kitchen seemed cold and damp when she shook off the snow on her shoulders. As if the heat was turned off.
Kristen took off her coat and was about to ask Miriam if it could wait until after Christmas when she locked gazes with the woman. She froze. Her usually arched black brows formed one straight line, and her eyes darkened as black as coal.
Oh, God, now what?
“You’re fired,” Miriam said, making no apologies. “You’re dismissed immediately.”
“For what reason?” Kristen said, her ears ringing. It couldn’t be true. She needed this job.
“You’ve been stealing food.”
“That’s not true, Miriam,” she tossed back at the woman, indignant. She blurted out the words before she could think about what she was saying. “I would never take anything that wasn’t mine.”
“Oh, no?” she said, her eyebrows going up. “There’s a rumor going around that you’ve been feeding homeless bums stopping here for a handout.”
Kristen felt her cheeks redden. What a cruel thing to say. Did the woman have no place in her heart for these men? What turned her so against them? It didn’t matter. The truth was, she couldn’t deny feeding the vets from the school’s kitchen cupboard.
How did she find out? She’d bet a dozen homemade chocolate chip cookies Betty Ann would never say anything.
Who then?
Then she remembered the scene in the stable and one very indignant lawman. Jealous. Full of himself. It didn’t take her more than a moment to come up with the culprit.
“Sheriff Hogan should learn to keep his nose out of my cookie dough,” Kristen said, her dander up. Most likely he’d poked around and questioned other homeless vets passing through, but he never mentioned it to Miriam.
Until the sergeant showed up.
She’d never forget the ire in his look when he saw how Rachel took to the soldier. She also imagined he’d caught her giving the sergeant the same approving look. The man was determined to eliminate the competition at whatever the cost. She wouldn’t put it past him to do anything to get her into the sack. Getting rid of the sergeant was his first step.
“Then it is true,” Miriam said, banging kitchen cabinets and taking stock of the supplies. She tossed the bins on the counter. “Potatoes, garlic, green beans, almonds, all empty.”
“You know the girls put up their noses whenever I make green bean casserole with almond slivers or Potatoes Lorraine,” Kristen said, fighting back. The woman wasn’t fair, accusing her like that. “They prefer mac ‘n cheese. Why shouldn’t I feed homeless vets instead of wasting food?”
Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. Obviously the sheriff didn’t mention they were veterans.
“That is not your decision. You’re merely an employee here, Mrs. Delaney. I decide how this school should be run.”
Miriam sat down at the table and put her head in her hands, her shoulders slumped. Was that a stifled cry she heard? From the Iron Lady?
Kristen had the overwhelming urge to give the woman a tissue to wipe her eyes and say something comforting to her, ask her what was wrong, but she didn’t dare.
She took a step back in her mind and let her anger go. She’d never seen Miriam like this. Sad, beaten. What was wrong? She’d always held her own with the woman and she had to admit she respected her, seeing how she kept up the school standards, but she’d never seen her act so…so human.
Did she have a heart after all?
Miriam looked up and glared at her. Kristen shivered. Whatever she’d thought about telling her, she changed her mind. The moment passed.
“Take your things and go, Mrs. Delaney,” she said in a grim tone. “I’ll see to it you receive a week’s pay after the holiday.”
“You can fire me if you want, Miriam, that’s your right. But I’m not sorry for what I did,” Kristen said in a firm voice. “These men fought for our country. Nearly died. They’re good, kind human beings. I couldn’t let them starve.” She grabbed her coat and purse and left, banging the kitchen door. Hard.
She stood outside for a long time, thinking. Snow flurries tickled her nose and a cold wind blew right through her. She ignored it. She’d done what her heart told her. For Scott. For the vets. She had no regrets. She’d made her bed. Only one thing: Now what was she going to do? No job. No money except for what she’d saved from her salary, which was barely enough for food and electricity.
Kristen dawdled on the back step, scraping snow off her boots. A soft chuckle escaped her. Thank God for Aunt Gertrude’s old socks stuffed with five dollar bills. Hidden under the sofa. Between the bath towels. Stuck behind the cookie sheets stored in the cabinet. It was her good fortune the woman hated banks. Refused to deal with them.
But it also made it difficult for Kristen.
Her aunt had paid for her final arrangements years ago, but she had no bank account. Kristen had a hard time finding the bank receipts for her mortgage payments. Finally, she could prove her aunt was up to date with her payments at the time of her death, but she had no intention of selling the property. She was emotionally attached to the place. The cottage sat at the end of a long, two lane country road. Stone-covered with tacky green shutters with heart cut-outs that banged in the wind. A dirty chimney Santa wouldn’t be caught dead in. And kitschy pigs-in-a-rose garden wallpaper peeling off the walls to reveal more kitschy paper underneath.
Kristen thought of all the good times she’d had in that cottage. What was there not to love? She grew up here and spent Christmases here with Scott. It had a special tug to her heart she wasn’t willing to let go.
Ever.
She had no family. Aunt Gertrude was the closest she had to kin and raised her to be a good, God-fearing girl. Everybody knew she wasn’t reall
y her aunt, but that made her affection and feelings toward the woman even more special. A widow lady for many years, she opened her home and her heart to Kristen when she was five years old. She baked her first batch of sugar cookies in the cottage kitchen with Aunt Gertrude, played in the woods behind it with her dolls and imaginary friends, and crushed on the first boy who pulled her hair and kissed her down at Kissing Creek when she was ten.
Scott.
She always knew she’d marry him, especially later in high school. Him with his shaggy blond hair, crooked smile, and those broad shoulders. He’d pick her up and carry her across the creek in his strong arms. Then they’d kiss and do what teenagers did in the old abandoned mill. Honey kisses. The sound of the water wheel turning gushing in their ears, the sweet smell of new mowed hay surrounding them as they held each other tight.
They were just kids, but they grew up fast when Kristen got pregnant the summer after she graduated from high school. She cried her eyes out when Scott’s parents tried to take him away when they moved to the city. They wanted nothing to do with her.
An orphan. No folks, no background.
Aunt Gertrude marched over there and told them Kristen was the best thing that ever happened to Scott. They ignored her. Her aunt wasn’t discouraged. She told her to pay them no mind. Her beau wouldn’t let her down, she said. She was right. Kristen was beside herself with joy when Scott asked her to marry him before he joined the Army.
Rachel came along soon after and she spent her first Christmas at the cottage. Now it was their home again. Kristen resolved not to let this awful turn of events spoil Rachel’s Christmas, especially this year. She’d bought the child a few presents and prayed her little girl wouldn’t bring up the tree again.
She lifted up her chin. At least they still had a roof over their heads. She’d find another job somewhere. Only one thing to do. Go home and put on holiday music on the radio and whip up sugar cookies. That would cheer Rachel up. And her, too.
But what to do about the sergeant?
Kristen’s stomach turned. He was expecting a home-cooked dinner and she just lost her job. It was Christmas Eve. No place was open for him to get a hot meal. She’d have to trust her instincts and take him to the cottage. Feed him, and then send him on his way.
That was the right thing to do, wasn’t it?
No, it was dumb. She didn’t know the man.
Okay, plan number two. She’d cook him a hot meal at the cottage and then bring it to the stable. He could stay there until morning.
That was better.
She was about to head back to the stable to pick up Rachel and tell the sergeant about the change of plans when she heard women’s voices coming from the kitchen.
Loud voices. Talking about her.
“You had no right to let Kristen go,” she could hear Betty Ann protesting. She sounded very upset, sniffling and blowing her nose. God bless her for sticking up for her. Kristen pressed her ear against the door.
“Go back to putting cookies out for Santa and leave me be,” Miriam said. “I have work to do.”
She sounded agitated, her voice clipped. Kristen could only imagine what was going on in Betty Ann’s mind. She knew how fearsome her sister’s temper could be.
“Stop treating me like a child, sister.”
“You are a child, Betty Ann,” Miriam said in a tired voice. “You think you’re everybody’s fairy godmother. I’ve got news for you. Your wand lost its magic years ago.”
She could hear Betty Ann gasp loudly. How could Miriam hurt her like that?
“So what if I look at life through rose-colored bifocals?” Betty Ann said with whimsy in her voice as well as a tear. “It doesn’t hurt anybody.”
“Doesn’t it?” Miriam shot back. “I let you run the kitchen and look what happened. You allowed that woman to give away food.”
“Why don’t you approve of her helping someone less fortunate, Miriam?” insisted Betty Ann. Her voice was stronger now, questioning. “Lord knows we don’t have anyone who cares a hoot about us. I’m nothing but a spinster who never had the courage to put up a fight when you turned the man I loved against me.”
“Watch your step, dear sister.”
Kristen held her breath. Betty Ann was pumped up, angry over her sister firing her and nothing could stop her.
“And you’re a bitter woman who can never stop blaming the world because you chose to give up your child rather than claim her as your own.”
“I don’t want to hear another word out of you, Betty Ann,” Miriam yelled, very angry. “Now go to your room!”
“Not until you tell me I can bring Kristen back,” she pleaded, but her voice never wavered. “Please, Miriam, it’s Christmas Eve.”
Kristen heard Miriam let out a long, deep sigh. “Maybe you’re right, Betty Ann. We both made mistakes, but the truth is we can’t afford to keep Kristen on,” she said finally. Kristen swore she heard her choking on her words. “Our biggest donor pulled out tonight.”
“What? You mean—”
“Yes. Phineas Carey is no longer a patron for the Mary Huber School for Girls.”
“Why in heavens did he do that?”
“He’s taking his daughter to a bigger school up North.” Miriam banged on the kitchen table, making Kristen jump. “It doesn’t make sense. The girl is happy here. I know he’s up to something, but what?”
Stunned, Kristen couldn’t move. She waited, but she couldn’t hear any more. Betty Ann left the room, crying. Then silence.
Putting her hand on the doorknob, she realized she was shaking. She should go back, tell Miriam she’d work for half her salary, but how could she? The woman already believed her to be a thief. She’d never forgive her if she knew Kristen had been eavesdropping on their conversation.
She had to clear her head, take in this new information. Trying to decide what to do, Kristen walked through the heavy drifts toward the stable, her pink boots covered with fluffy snow. For the first time in her life, she felt sorry for Miriam. That had her shaking her head and wondering what else could go wrong on this Christmas Eve.
* * * * *
“I hear you served with Scott Delaney in Afghanistan,” said the sheriff, baiting him. Jared cut him a hard look. How did he know?
Kristen must have told him. Too bad all he could do was take him down with a look. The lawman deserved a punch to the jaw for the way he treated Kristen. He’d heard pieces of their conversation while he watched Rachel and it wasn’t pretty. The sheriff knew it, too, but he paid him no mind. Instead he leaned against the sleigh and chewed on a piece of straw. Real slow.
The sergeant bristled inside, but he didn’t let it show. Instead, he twirled Rachel around in a circle, making her laugh, and then set her down on the red velvet cushion in the sleigh where she’d be safe.
He had a bone to pick with the lawman.
“That’s right, Sheriff,” Jared said, and then rattled off his company, battalion, and regiment. Then he mentioned where he and Scott saw action and whatever minor intel he could share with a civilian like him with a pea brain. By the pissed-off look on his face, the sheriff still wasn’t convinced he knew Scott.
“You’re a stranger round here and I don’t take to strangers moving in on my territory,” he warned, spitting out the straw. “Remember that if you want to stay out of trouble.”
Then he left, grumbling under his breath.
He means Kristen. The bastard.
Jared didn’t give a damn what the sheriff thought, it was Kristen that mattered. Still, this new development had him puzzled. Why had she told him he was a friend of Scott’s?
Did she know?
Not likely. Scott confided in him that he never wrote home about his experiences in a war zone, preferring to keep a tight lid on the horror he’d seen or the buddies he’d lost.
There had to be another reason. But what?
His eyes brightened when he saw her push open the stable door and shake off the snow. Such a pretty lady. And
nice, too. There was a break in the weather and the late afternoon sun was shining behind her, her slim silhouette surrounded by white snowdrifts. Looking at her in that setting gave him a down home feeling that warmed a man’s heart.
She was small-town-girl wholesome, but sexy. No wonder Scott read her handwritten letters over and over, telling him that seeing her curly feminine writing flowing over the page was like having her cuddling up next to him. The scent of her perfume enticing him. Better than email, he said, and making him miss her even more.
Jared shook his head now, remembering those cold, dark nights in the desert with Scott reading her words by firelight. His eyes glowing with love. For her. For his child. The man had the moon and the stars and he’d lost it all. That thought gripped him with such fire in his soul, such passion to do the right thing by her, he could barely breathe. His chest hurt, his lungs bursting with sadness. Kristen was beautiful, alluring, but untouchable. He could never forget that, but he owed it to his buddy to keep his promise and watch over her.
You can’t hold her, kiss her. No hanky panky.
It wouldn’t be easy. Being around her set a mood in him that was both porch swings and homemade ice cream and a black lacy nightgown at the same time. The way every man dreamed of his sweetheart.
As she walked toward him, Rachel jumped out of the sleigh and ran to her mother.
“Mommy!”
He was almost jealous the way Kristen picked her up and held her tight, cheek against cheek. Her love for her child was unbeatable.
“Time to go home, baby.”
She avoided his eyes, but Jared could see tears running down her cheeks. No, it couldn’t be. She was so happy a few minutes ago. Hell, what was wrong? If that sheriff made her cry, he’d set him straight. Straight to the floor with that punch to the jaw he deserved.
Whatever was bothering her, she wasn’t telling.
Jared waited for a signal from her. Nothing.
He started pacing up and down. He couldn’t stand it. What was it about her that crawled over his skin like warm, silky desert sand? She managed to make him want to kiss her and carry her off into the dark woods and live in a tree house.
