by Bacarr, Jina
But no little girl in pigtails.
Jared wished he had his night vision goggles. As far as he could tell, the kid must have run along the trail leading into these backwoods. Wet and slippery. It was unlikely a deer or other large animal had come this way, no broken brushes. A small child was a different matter. She could easily slip through without leaving footprints. A thin layer of ice covered the stone path. That should slow her down. Fortunately, the dense fog from earlier had cleared.
He kept going, swinging the flashlight everywhere.
He found nothing.
The hairs on the back of his neck prickled. Something was wrong. A bad feeling came over him, whether it was because he could see no sign of her coming this way or his own intuition told him time was running out. He looked at his gloved hands, the black leather nicked and sliced by yanking on sharp bushes to clear the path. If the little girl came this way, she’d have cut herself, but there was no sign of blood.
What if he’d gone the wrong way?
It would be hours before he found her.
Jared nearly lost it then. Never had he found himself so vested emotionally in a mission. Sure, each man in his unit had each other’s back, did his job. They were trained professionals, knew what to expect if they were separated from the team. But this was an innocent kid, for chrissakes, her heart twisted up in a knot, her emotions jumping all over the place.
Where was her daddy? she asked.
Why was her mommy kissing that man? Didn’t her mommy want her anymore?
It ate him up inside. Put him off his game. He had to stop thinking like this, go about the search logically. Rachel was angry and hurt when she ran, then frightened, and by now, downright cold and hungry. Making it worse for the child, the play of moonlight and shadows on the oddly-shaped trees would turn into scary creatures. She’d wander aimlessly, looking for a place to hide from the mythical ghosts and demons that lived only in her mind.
Most likely she was holed up under a large bush or she climbed into a hollow tree trunk. Either way, she couldn’t take the cold for too long. The seduction of laying her head down on a blanket of snow would be too tempting for her to resist.
That unbearable thought came to haunt him again. The sight of finding her in the snow, her eyelids closed, white crystals resting on her long lashes, her breathing stilled.
Jesus.
Then what? How are you going to tell Kristen she’s lost her little girl, too?
The thought of holding her in his arms while she sobbed her eyes out put him in a place more horrific than any war zone. Jared had seen his share of horror and misery while deployed, racked up more than the usual battle scars, but he’d always been up front with his men. Told them what to expect, no stepping around the truth with a lot of b.s. This was the first time he’d be at a loss for words if he didn’t find that little girl.
I’ll find her. I have to, or I’ll die trying.
How many times did he bargain with God out in the field to find a man alive after an attack?
This time he prayed harder than ever that He would hear him.
He turned to head off in a different direction, call it instinct, where he thought he saw movement. The sky rumbled overhead, giving him a clear signal another storm was coming.
Damn it to hell, he cursed under his breath. Not much time left before the snow came down thick and heavy. He was in a strange state of mind, half living in the past, the blood boiling in his veils as it had on so many patrols, the other half of him so fiercely determined to find the child, he didn’t know what was real and what wasn’t.
He nearly jumped out of his own skin when a noise startled him. There. By the tall pines. He swore he heard muffled sounds. Close by, he was sure of it. Like a small animal moving about in the brush.
Or a little girl.
At that moment, a rustling breeze came up behind him, its loud whisper vying for his attention but he stayed focused, shining his light low on the ground.
“Rachel, Rachel!”
Silence.
Either it was a small animal or she was afraid to show herself. He listened again, careful not to make the slightest sound. His own breath was the only thing he heard in his ears. No soft whimpers. No footsteps disturbing the crusted snow.
Several long seconds went by, the air becoming very still as if the wayward breeze was curious, too.
“Rachel, it’s—”
He stopped. What was he going to say? It’s Sgt. Milano, I knew your daddy. I’m a soldier, too. Please come out.
That might frighten her even more.
Frustrated, trying to decide his next move, he kept scanning the area with his light when the twinkle of a bright star in the sky caught his eye. He’d almost forgotten it was Christmas Eve.
If you look read hard, his dad always said, you can see Santa and his reindeer catching a ride on a tail of starlight.
Yes, that was it. Would it work? He’d never know until he tried.
“Rachel, are you out there? It’s Santa,” Jared called out, hopeful. Why not? He’d tried everything else. “Your mommy sent me to find you. She wants you to come home.”
A muffled cry hit his ears, and then a crunching sound as light footsteps made imprints in the snow loud enough for him to hear. They were coming from there…no, over there.
He flipped his flashlight from one spot to another, never giving up hope he’d see Rachel’s big eyes staring up at him. His patience was rewarded when he spied her crawling on her hands and knees toward him.
His heart soared. Moonlight and stars made a perfect night for Santa’s sleigh ride and finding a lost little girl. There she was, huddled under the low hanging branches on a tall pine tree. Shivering. Tears running down her cheeks.
Thank God. He wasted no time gathering her up in his arms.
“Are you really Santa Claus?” Rachel whispered, wanting with all her heart to believe it. No wonder the kid was confused. First, losing her daddy, and then not understanding that Santa was in her heart and always would be if she believed.
Did Kristen believe?
Jared smiled. “Your mom thinks so.”
“Me, too.” She put her little arms around his neck and closed her eyes.
“You’re safe now, Rachel. I promised your daddy I’d take care of you and your mom.”
“Is that why you kissed my mommy?” she wanted to know in spite of the cold making her teeth chatter.
“Your daddy was my best friend,” Jared said honestly. His heart pounded in his chest, knowing Scott would never have doubted he’d keep his child safe. “I was there when he went to heaven.”
He had no idea how he was going to tell Kristen that. He should have told her sooner. Now there was no way he could keep his secret from her any longer. Her future, as well as Rachel’s, depended on it.
“Oh…” was all she said, trying to understand.
“Time we got you home, Rachel. Your mommy is very worried about you.” He wrapped the quilt tighter around her to keep off the snowflakes melting in her hair. She trembled in his arms but he could hear her breathing softly as he made his way back to the cottage, his boots crunching through the snow.
“Is Mommy mad?” she had to ask. “She always gets mad when she can’t find me.”
“Nah,” Jared said good-naturedly, shaking off the grim thoughts he’d had earlier. Kristen would be overjoyed to see her daughter safe and sound, though he doubted that after getting lost in the cold, dark woods, the child would wander away again. “I hear she’s got a big mug of hot cocoa waiting for you.”
“Oh, boy, that’s my favorite!” She hugged him tighter around the neck.
Jared wondered what would be waiting for him.
Kristen was either going to love him or hate him for deceiving her. He prayed she was the level-headed type and would understand. God help him, if she wasn’t and got all emotional.
Take a big breath, pal. You’re about to find out.
All the lights were on, making the cotta
ge glow like a holiday star in the dark woods. He saw a big circle of clear glass on the frosty window with Kristen’s pretty face looking out and shining in the moonlight, her nose pressed up against it.
The angel in the looking glass.
He signaled her with his flashlight, waving it around so she could see her little girl snuggled up in his arms. The look of complete joy on her face made his pulse race overtime. She raced out the front door to greet them, calling out her child’s name.
“Rachel, Rachel!”
Merry Christmas, he wished her silently as she grabbed her little girl bundled up in the quilt and hugged her tight. Rachel is safe. You will be, too. Safe from that ornery banker and the sheriff and every other chisler and scam artist who doesn’t know how to treat a beautiful woman like you. I know I’m a stranger, Kristen, but I wish you’d give me a chance. I want nothing from you but your heart.
He couldn’t stop these crazy, wild thoughts barreling through his mind as he watched her rub the child’s cheeks and kiss her, and then she thanked him with a look that spoke of gratitude, hope…and faith.
Faith in him that he would bring her little girl home.
His heart warmed at that look.
With his arms around both of them, Jared hustled them into the warm, cozy cottage, leaving the cold, night woods and its perils behind. He could hardly wait to see Kristen’s face when he gave her the news.
It was going to be a merry Christmas after all.
Chapter Eight
Kristen never dreamed Christmas Eve would go from being downright scary to so much fun when Jared insisted she pull out her holiday decorations. Big Santas, little Santas, satiny balls, garlands, Christmas tree lights—
Christmas tree lights?
She stepped back, her hand clasped over her breast, the surprise of his words hitting her brain like a chorus of jingle bells. What was he up to? Whatever it was, nothing could make her happier than she was now.
Kristen looked at him with such gratitude in her eyes for finding Rachel. Just thinking about her child lost in the woods set her pulse racing. Outside the wind was howling and she swore she heard small animals scampering around the yard, but Jared told her not to worry. They had more important things to do.
Like decorating a Christmas tree.
Where would he get a tree? Magic?
It ought to be obvious no pine-smelling, green fir tree would appear in the cottage tonight, she thought, not with another storm making its presence known, the wind banging the shutters back and forth and snow coming down at a dizzying pace. And there were no commercial trees to be had in Kissing Creek, but try telling that to the sergeant. A man used to giving orders and lugging around an M4 assault rifle.
He also carried around a big heart.
She’d seen how he was when he played Santa with Rachel and the girls at the school, talked to Mr. Grover at the general store about his son, how he didn’t judge Zeke the handyman because he was lonely and needed some holiday cheer, and the way he smiled at Betty Ann, making her feel special. He was almost too good to be true. She was beginning to believe he was the man in the red suit.
Whoever thought she’d crush on Santa?
A bigger question loomed—was she ready to fall in love again?
Closing her eyes, catching her breath, the idea left her flustered and not up to answering that question. She was too vulnerable to let her guard down around a man who walked with danger at his side and desire in his eyes. But she was enchanted with the idea of getting a tree for Rachel on this holy night. She couldn’t for the life of her figure out how.
She held onto the moment for as long as she could, not wanting to disappoint her little girl again, but when she opened her eyes, nothing had changed. Jared was pacing up and down in her cottage living room, mumbling about how he couldn’t believe what happened out there in the snow, how everything was going to be fine, great actually, he added, and then giving her a squeeze around the waist.
Her eyes popped. Well, that caught her off guard.
Even in her disbelieving state, she noticed how handsome he was, his dark, good looks giving him the air of a romantic hero in a fairytale. A knight avenging injustice. Scott was like that, too, always taking the side of a classmate in school who couldn’t stand up for himself. She’d never forget the time he jumped into Kissing Creek where it got really deep in the dead of winter to rescue a boy he didn’t know. A bunch of bullies had forced the kid to walk over a slippery log extending from one side of the creek to the other and he fell in.
Scott became good friends with the boy and later on they joined the military together.
That boy was killed in Afghanistan.
Scott never got over it and stopped writing to her about the friends he made in his unit. She had the feeling the sergeant was the same way. She wondered if he’d lost any close buddies. He wasn’t a big talker, but she liked that about him. He’d gotten under her skin with his no nonsense manner and quiet strength. She’d be grateful to him forever for finding Rachel and bringing her home.
And she’d miss him when he was gone.
She didn’t want to think about that now. Something else grabbed her attention. Ever since he came back, Jared looked as happy as a school boy with a fishing pole. Baiting her with hints, but not much else. He was a man with a secret and she was dying to know what it was.
He caught her looking at him, his heated gaze making her wish she wasn’t wearing jeans and an apron, but something soft and pretty and silky. He gave her a long look as if he could read her mind, making her cheeks flame. Her heart pounded in her chest and a strange energy surged through her, making her want to run her fingers through his unruly black hair covered with snowflakes, his beard glistening with snow.
Her daydream went into overdrive when he took off his heavy field jacket. She couldn’t believe his wide, muscular chest and broad shoulders when he removed his damp blue and gray plaid flannel shirt with two buttons missing. He probably got it from a homeless shelter. He still wore his dog tags around his neck and when he leaned over to pack his gear back into his duffel bag, they jangled against his deeply tanned chest visible under his stark white undershirt.
Okay, so she peeked.
She was curious, his tall frame overwhelming her when she stood next to him. He was awesome. Strong and good and filled with purpose in everything he did, not only in finding her child, but making Rachel believe in Santa again. Her little angel was convinced Jared was Santa Claus and Kristen had no intention of changing that.
So that was why she believed him when he said they were going to have a Christmas tree.
He asked her again to bring out her holiday decorations. All of them, he said with the biggest grin. His eyes lit up and crinkled at the corners.
“But, Jared,” she whispered, nodding toward Rachel sitting on the sofa drinking her cocoa, all ears. “We don’t have a Christmas tree.”
“We will,” he said with confidence.
She wrinkled her brow.
He gave her a knowing grin.
There was something in that grin that promised he’d deliver a Christmas tree even if it did seem impossible, irrational, and magical. Or maybe it was the amused curve of that smile. Or the subtle, low whistle coming from his lips. He was biting at the bit, waiting for what she couldn’t guess. She didn’t want to argue with this gorgeous man, turned on by him like she was, so she didn’t.
Kristen had the feeling she’d already lost. Big-time.
“Okay, I give up,” she said, throwing up her hands. “After all, you are Santa Claus.” She winked at Rachel, who winked back with a giggle.
Now to find her holiday decorating goodies.
Still shaking her head, Kristen climbed up on a stool and reached deep into the top shelf in the kitchen storage pantry. The last time she brought out the Christmas stuff, both Aunt Gertrude and Scott were here to help her.
That made her tear up.
Her need to find the tinsel and figurines faded for a
brief moment. Her heart ached so at not having them here. Who would have thought they’d both be gone? She turned to tell Jared she couldn’t do it, but the words didn’t come.
His handsome face stared up at her and she met his concerned gaze.
“Are you okay, Kristen?” he said, a sudden sadness making him frown. Seeing him worrying about her reminded her that she was acting selfish, letting her emotions interfere with whatever surprise he was planning. She held in her breath and let her pain slowly subside. He was a good man. She couldn’t do that to him.
She managed a tight smile. “I got dust in my eye,” she lied, blinking back the tears before pushing aside an old shoe box filled with recipes. She was surprised to find a piece of paper caught between two boxes.
“Two cups of sugar, half a pound of butter, flour…ooh,” she read, skimming the faded page, the hands on the clock in her heart stuck in time. The smell of fresh vanilla flooded her memory and made her pulse skip as she recalled folding two teaspoons of the syrupy brown liquid into the butter cake batter and then licking the spoon.
She ran her tongue over her lips. The act was as alive in her mind now as it was the first time Aunt Gertrude had helped her write down the recipe in her cursive handwriting.
She was nine years old.
“Are you sure nothing’s wrong, Kristen?” Jared asked, more insistent, as if he thought she might faint. She bit back a moan when she felt his hands go around her waist to hold her steady. She didn’t stop him, didn’t apologize for gyrating her hips in response to his tender touch.
Not to him. Or to herself.
“I found an old recipe from my Aunt Gertrude,” she said with a sigh, dragging her gaze from the sergeant back to the faded paper. She lingered in the past for a little while longer, running her fingers over the notes her aunt had added in her own flowery handwriting. There was something uniquely wonderful in seeing her aunt’s handwriting, connecting her with the woman in a way nothing else could.
As if she were standing over her shoulder, helping her spell vanilla.
“You were very fond of your aunt, weren’t you?” he asked, not loosening his hold on her waist.
