by Bacarr, Jina
How many nights had he been holed up in a deep, dark cave with the only the night enchantress to stroke his face?
The wind.
She was a fickle lover, coming and going at her own pleasure, but seductive. She told him when the enemy was near, their strong scent floating by on a breeze. She told him when the great winds would assemble into a tempest and threaten their position with her swirling sands, but even when her touch was warm, it was never like this.
The feeling of Kristen’s hand on his played with his heart, set his groin on fire, and soothed his soul. Being with her settled him, eased the tension in his chest brought on by those lost moments when he couldn’t focus. He still had so much to say to her, things he wanted her to know about her husband. How much he loved her, missed her. Rachel, too.
Hell with his damned pride.
He had to finish what he started no matter what. And, he had to admit, he had a hankering to be here when that conniving banker showed up again. He’d get his money—Jared would see to that—but he’d also get a lesson in how to treat a lady. A few words in private and he’d put him in his place. Fast.
“I never could resist a pretty girl,” Jared said finally, tossing down his bag. He stood still, his decision made. He waited for Kristen to make the next move.
“Thank you” was all she said, but her face glowed. Her eyes told him she was grateful for his company.
Rachel yawned, just waking up from her nap. “I’m hungry, Mommy.”
Jared hoisted the little girl up on his shoulders. The familiar game he played with his brothers made him feel like he was home. “Saddle up, Rachel, I’m taking you for a pony ride while your mom whips us up some chow.”
“Oh, goody!” The little girl licked her lips. “Can we have French fries, Mommy?”
“Why not?” Kristen said, laughing. “Not every little girl has Santa Claus come to dinner.”
* * * * *
Jared could see her hands shaking as she went about making the meal, and then setting the table for three instead of two. She rearranged the plates one way, then another, and then back again. He’d catch her watching him with a strange look on her face, smile, and then look away as if she couldn’t make up her mind about something.
By the time she had the frying pan sizzling and the microwave humming, her eyes glistened with tears. She dabbed her cheeks with her apron, turning away so he couldn’t see her. As if the simple ritual of preparing a meal and setting the table brought back memories she wasn’t ready to deal with yet. He could imagine the roiling emotions inside her when she found herself doing a familiar task and it felt strange, awkward. The questions, the answers she didn’t have. That why, after months of being alone, she was feeding a strange man in her kitchen instead of her husband.
Scott.
He conjured up the image of his buddy sitting in his place, bouncing Rachel on his knee. Grabbing a French fry and smacking his lips and calling himself the luckiest guy in the Army. Giving Kristen a teasing look that said he couldn’t wait to cuddle up with her in bed later and—
No way, pal. Don’t go there. She feels sorry for you. That’s all.
That was what he hated the most. Folks feeling sorry for him. They meant well, but they didn’t understand that war robbed a man of his soul. Only by the grace of God could he get it back.
And with the help of an angel like her.
Enjoy it while you can. You’ll soon be on your way.
While Kristen finished preparing the meal, Jared lit a log in the fireplace and then laid down the iron poker near the piano. He was filled with a sudden weariness that caught him by surprise. Made him relive the crushing pain of losing his best friend to an insurgent’s bomb, trying to decide just how much do you tell a buddy’s wife about his last moments? She’d want to know, but should she know? Would it make her pain worse or give her some closure?
Tough questions and he wanted to mull them over in his mind before he approached her. But that was no reason not to tell her that Scott really was his best friend. Better ‘fess up before supper. The terrible strain of keeping her in the dark was killing him.
Funny, how life changed on a moment.
Before he could get up the courage to tell her what was on his mind, the tempting smell of grilled seasoned meat and hot flaky rolls made him remember he hadn’t eaten all day. Suddenly Jared was as hungry as a wolf when he sat down at the small, wooden table covered with a white lacy cloth. Reminded him of his mom’s house. He couldn’t get enough of it. The kitchen was bright and filled with knickknacks sitting on scalloped-edged shelves. Shiny copper pots hung above the old gas stove. Tied-back curtains embroidered with tiny blue and yellow flowers gave the room a cheery look.
Juicy cheeseburgers with homemade buns made him smack his lips, though Kristen lamented over the soggy, frozen French fries, even if they were Rachel’s favorite. Jared was only half listening. How could he bring up anything to do with war and pain during a meal like this? It didn’t seem right somehow.
So he kept Kristen and her little girl laughing with his stories about Christmases with his family. How he and his brothers would dress up like elves and go door-to-door singing carols. Then on Christmas Eve they’d all sit in front of the fireplace and take turns grabbing wrapped gifts out of the big, blue ceramic spaghetti bowl his grandmother had brought over from Italy. A family keepsake no one was allowed to touch but her.
The minute the boys saw her bringing it out of the closet, he said, they’d whoop and holler like wild cowboys and fight each other for the best place to sit while Grandma Sophia poked through the presents, picking out the perfect one for each little boy.
“Why didn’t Santa leave your presents under the Christmas tree?” Rachel asked, curious. A lone French fry dangled from her mouth. “We always have a tree,” she went on, making a face. “Except this year.”
Jared sensed this was a loaded question, and from a little girl who couldn’t weigh more than forty-five pounds. He looked at Kristen, teetering on the edge of frustration and embarrassment. Guilt made her lower her eyes about not having a tree, her long lashes resting on her cheeks. She was no doubt mortified the child would bring it up in front of a stranger. Funny, he didn’t feel like a stranger, but that was another story. For a moment there was just silence, and then another bang of thunder.
C’mon, help the lady out.
“Your mommy isn’t the only one who can’t afford a tree, Rachel,” Jared said, thinking on the spot. “Lots of families can’t. Like my dad. He worked hard, but he had a lot of mouths to feed.”
“Oh,” said the little girl, but she didn’t look convinced. She thought a moment, then: “But your daddy didn’t go away.”
“Yes, but—”
“Don’t you see?” she cried out, her whole body shaking. Her eyes were big and sadder than a blue moon. She’d kept it in so long, her feelings came out in one big push when she slammed her hands down on the table, rattling the empty dishes. “That’s why we’ve got to have a Christmas tree. For Santa to put presents under. Big presents with pretty paper and a red bow. Big enough for my daddy to fit in. So Santa can bring him home and he can be with us for Christmas.”
Bursting into tears, she slid off the chair and ran from the kitchen, her small feet tapping loudly on the linoleum.
No one moved. Jared looked at Kristen, who was too shocked to do anything. Her hands lay folded in her lap. Her shoulders slumped. Head bowed. It was written all over her face that everything she prayed would never happen just did. Her little girl wasn’t upset because they didn’t have a tree. She was upset because she believed with all her heart that Santa would bring her daddy home if they did.
Deep down she must have known she’d have to face this day, a day when Rachel would have to know the truth about her daddy. He could see it in her eyes, bright and warm and filled with love for her child, but also filled with a mother’s pain of knowing the truth couldn’t wait any longer. She jumped up from her seat and started after her
.
“Rachel!” she called out.
Jared grabbed her arm. “No. Let her cry it out.”
“Are you crazy?” she wanted to know, a terrible sadness putting her at odds with him. “My child’s hurting bad and you’re telling me to do nothing?”
“Yes,” Jared said soothingly. “Give her some time, Kristen, and then go to her and tell her the truth.”
“That her daddy’s dead and he can’t come back?” Kristen said with a fierceness in her voice he hadn’t heard before.
“Yes. The important thing is to comfort her, but not lie to her. She may keep asking you if he’s coming back, but don’t falter. It will take time for her to accept it.”
“I don’t know where she got the idea that Santa would bring Scott home—” she began, thinking. Then it hit her. The simple, everyday truth so plain to her that she let go with a plaintive cry. “Oh, no…”
“What is it, Kristen?” he asked, concerned.
“I keep the TV on for company when I’m baking. Last week I saw a news story about a soldier who surprised his kids by arriving home in a big, holiday-wrapped box under a Christmas tree,” she said. “Rachel must have seen the kids tear open the present and their dad jumped out. Now she believes Santa is going to bring Scott home.”
“I’m not surprised,” Jared said. “Kids have a way of believing in happy endings even when adults don’t, but she’ll get through it. They bounce back quicker than we do.”
He looked into the deep color of her eyes that saw into his, her soft, silky gaze telling him that she trusted him when he said her little girl would be all right. He could see the pulse beating on the side of her neck. She came closer to him, drawing strength from his presence, but not ready to bring him fully into her life. It was a start. She looked up at him, arching her back, parting her lips, while he could only suck a pocket of air deep into his lungs.
Then she said what was on her mind even though it hurt her deep inside. “I believe you when you say Rachel will accept the truth that Scott isn’t coming home.”
“Have you?” he asked gently. It was a bold move, knowing he should keep his distance, but he couldn’t. Not anymore.
They stood in the kitchen for a long moment, looking at each other as the outside shutters banged against the cottage wall. A howling wind trying to get in made the glass window shake, while big, fluffy snowflakes came down hard and fast, covering the countryside with a white blanket.
But here in this cozy kitchen, Jared waited for her answer. Her breath hot on his face, his emotions hotter.
“Yes,” she said finally, looking up at him. “I have.”
“That’s all I needed to know,” he said in a husky voice.
“Oh?” she asked.
“You promised ole Saint Nick a kiss,” he reminded her.
“I don’t have any mistletoe,” she teased, skimming her finger over his lips.
“That’s not going to stop me,” he said in a voice filled with passion.
“I didn’t think it would.”
He leaned down and brushed his lips against hers, taking possession of her mouth in that glorious way he’d wanted to do since he first saw her in the snow. He knew a joy in that kiss he’d never thought to experience again. Growing up with four brothers, Jared was never comfortable around girls. He had a sweetheart once, but she didn’t take to being an Army wife and married someone else. Never in his wildest dreams did he think he’d find a girl like Kristen.
She melted into him, sighing. He held her closer, kissing her again and again, teasing her until she broke away, laughing.
“Your beard tickles, Santa,” she said, begging him to stop, but he didn’t let her go.
Kissing her again and again, his eager lips persuaded her to kiss him back and wrap her arms around his neck. He groaned. He had an angel in his arms. He believed she could make the terrible pain in his brain go away, pull back the curtain that shrouded his mind with blurry thoughts. Words that appeared like ripples in a lake, and then disappeared before he could grab them.
He pushed that thought aside and savored the taste of her. The magic of kissing creeks and mistletoe came together in that kiss. It turned wild and passionate. Her lips parted, then came a long sigh. His tongue plunged into her mouth and, to his surprise, she gripped him tighter, daring him to deepen the kiss and plunge into the very depths of her soul. Nothing had prepared him for this. Kristen held onto him with such hope, such need he couldn’t let her go. She kissed him with so much emotion, his whole body responded to her, every muscle tightened. God, she was amazing. She didn’t stop. She’d been so long without the feel of a man’s arms around her, he couldn’t blame her for breathing in the bliss of it all.
She pressed harder against his chest, making him moan. He tugged on the round buttons on her blouse, wanting her. He longed to whisper his desire and have her clothes off, but he had to stop. Come to his senses before he did something they’d both regret.
He ignored the scrapping sound in his ears, ignored what his instincts told him. He was giddy with the feel of her close to him, her lips on his. He didn’t want to let her go. Must be the old water heater making rumbling noises.
What else could it be?
The whistle of the wind pierced right through him yet it sounded different somehow. Like someone opened a door and let Old Man Winter in. That made him scramble to get his bearings back on. Footsteps? A bad feeling came over him, and then pinged his brain.
Was it—
Then a loud banging.
Oh, shit. It was.
Kristen stiffened in his arms, but she didn’t pull away. “Did you hear that?”
“Must be the wind blowing the shutters back and forth,” Jared said, keeping his voice calm, but he didn’t believe a word of it. He’d gone into battle mode in an instant, trying to remember where the exits were, noting where he’d dropped his gear if he needed it, making a plan. An icy chill edged up his spine. The cottage stood by itself at the end of a winding road, no traffic this time of night. No close neighbors.
“Are you sure? The storm is over,” Kristen said, confused. He held her tighter, waiting for her reaction. She’d figure out what happened in a minute and he had to be prepared to act.
“Do you have a back door?” Jared asked, trying not to alarm her.
“Yes, but who could—oh, my God, Rachel!” she yelled, pulling away from him and running to the back of the cottage, looking everywhere. “She’s not in her room. Rachel, Rachel!”
Jared raced after her, his heart pounding. “Keep looking.”
“She’s gone!” Kristen cried, pointing to the open back door. “Why, Jared, why?”
Jared cursed under his breath, angry with himself for not paying attention to his instincts when he sensed they weren’t alone. Now he knew what they’d heard.
A child in pain.
But he’d been too involved in his own joy to think that a little girl might pop up out of bed, dry her tears, and go looking for her mother.
He swore, yes, swore on everything he held sacred, that he wouldn’t rest until he found the child. But he couldn’t leave Kristen like this, shell-shocked and disbelieving. She’d already walked through hell. She didn’t need this.
He wrapped his arms around her, trying to soothe her, his lips brushing her forehead, mumbling to her in low, soft tones not to worry, that Rachel would be all right. He didn’t know if she believed him. Her cheeks were deeply flushed and her lips had gone pale. She was shaking madly, her breathing coming hard and fast.
Words weren’t enough. He had to find the little girl. Now. He knew what was going through her mind. The guilt eating her up alive. Him, even more so.
Rachel had seen her mommy kissing Santa Claus and it shattered her world.
Chapter Seven
Kristen couldn’t stop blaming herself as Jared grabbed his field jacket and gear and took off after her baby. Torturing herself with questions, always questions. Never answers. Why had she been so selfish, putti
ng her own needs ahead of Rachel’s?
Why didn’t she check on her?
And why didn’t she tell the child the truth in the first place?
She thought of running, rushing out into the darkness and snow, tried it actually, no coat, no scarf, just an urgency to find her child. Knowing she was suffering, knowing she could die out there. My God, the temperature had to be close to freezing.
“No, Kristen,” Jared had said in a no nonsense voice, startling her. He’d gone after her and picked her up in his arms and carried her back inside the cottage. She’d never seen a man’s eyes look so fierce when he put her down. “I’ll go. You wait here in case Rachel comes back on her own.”
Like hell she will, she’d shouted back, banging her fists on his chest, shaking so bad she couldn’t stop. He had no right to order her to stay here, no right at all. Rachel was her baby, her baby…it was her fault she’d run away.
Then Jared did something she never expected. He leaned down and brushed his lips against hers. Not a passionate kiss, but just as powerful. Soft, tender. Taking the fight out of her. His heated breath warmed her, calmed her, because deep inside she knew he was right. She’d get lost out there and then he’d have two missing females to find.
She let out a deep sigh. Ten minutes had passed since she watched the sergeant disappear into the cold, dark night. Every minute longer than the one before. She stood at the window and wiped away the frost on the glass pane until she made a circle big enough so she could see out. An incessant downpour of heavy snowflakes pinged against the glass, making her job difficult. She couldn’t catch her breath. She was in a strange, disconnected frame of mind, as if she couldn’t believe this was happening to her.
“Rachel, my baby…where is she?” Kristen muttered over and over, grabbing her cell phone and trying to call for help. No bars. With all the holiday stress, she’d forgotten to charge it. She had no way to call for outside help until the battery recharged. She picked up her aunt’s old rotary phone, but it didn’t work. She didn’t pay the bill on the landline, thinking she’d never need it.
