Twilight Christmas: A Carolina Coast Novella (Carolina Coast Novels Book 3)

by Normandie Fischer

  This time, her tears spilled one after the other. When she didn’t dry them, he did. His thumb wiped off first one and then another. “Annie Mac, I love you.”

  She shook her head, sighing.

  He repeated the words. “I love you.” And then one more time. “I love you. I don’t love a perfect woman. I don’t love a woman without issues. I don’t want a woman like that.”

  He waited for her to respond, but she backed further away and dropped her chin. “I can’t. I just can’t.” She crossed her arms over her chest as if to protect herself.

  From him. He stilled, taking that in. He’d poured out his heart, and she’d handed it back, unwanted.

  Cold washed over him as if he’d fallen between numbing ice flows with no way out. But he didn’t panic. He accepted his fate. Finally.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come.” And he turned and walked to the door. Before opening it, he looked once more over his shoulder. “I won’t bother you again. Take care, Annie Mac. I wish you a happy life.”

  And then he strode out into the cold daylight.

  25

  Annie Mac

  She watched the door close. His heart close.

  Her heart shatter.

  Her world shatter.

  She’d said no. Again.

  What had his words been? The whisper of them came to her. “I don’t love a perfect woman. I don’t love a woman without issues. I don’t want a woman like that.”

  He’d spoken them so gently. So softly.

  “Perfect love casts out fear.”

  The memory of those words flailed her as she stood, broken, longing.

  For what could never be.

  God? O God, please. Please.

  He was gone. She’d pushed him away for the very last time.

  His footsteps receded down the stairs. Away. He’d be in his car in a minute. And gone.

  And she—no one else—she had done it. She’d sent him away.

  What had she done?

  Suddenly, she wanted to take her refusal back. All of it . . . back.

  She rushed to the door and flung it open. He stood at his Jeep, his hands braced on the car roof, his head bowed. He must have heard her, because he slowly looked up.

  She covered her lips with her fingers. Tears cascaded down. Her shoulders shook.

  He merely stared. She’d hurt him too much, hadn’t she? Shattered his hopes one too many times.

  She extended a hand in supplication. “Please?”

  He waited.

  “Will you come back inside?”

  He didn’t move. She stood, waiting, too. Letting the cold air from outside mingle with the warmer air escaping through her open door. Praying. Begging with her eyes.

  “Please?”

  He pushed away from the car. Nodded once and came toward her. She didn’t move. When he’d reached the top of the stairs, she ushered him inside, then closed the door behind them.

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  His eyes were cold, shuttered. “Did you ask me to come all the way up here just so you could say you’re sorry?” His voice was as cold as his eyes.

  She had hurt him beyond redemption. When he’d been most vulnerable, most open, she’d rejected him. “I was wrong.” She wanted to reach for him, but he looked too big, too unwelcoming.

  “About what?” His eyes had narrowed, but she felt something shift in him. A miniscule crack in his armor.

  “I’m scared,” she said, her voice low, afraid. She was afraid on so many levels. Afraid she’d hurt him too much to fix this. Afraid of how much she needed him. Wanted him.

  “And you think I’m not?” he said. “You think I haven’t wanted to get over loving you, move on with my life, find someone I didn’t have to convince to want me? You think I like having my love, my very self, tossed back in my face again and again?”

  “I thought I wanted you to move on, even if I couldn’t move past you myself. Even if I couldn’t shut down my feelings.”

  “And now?” He stepped closer, tipped her chin up. “Tell me the truth, Annie Mac. The truth from your heart.”

  “The truth is, I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve what you’re offering. And I’m a broken mess of a woman.”

  “Oh, Annie Mac.” He shook his head. His voice had softened enough to give her—what? Hope? “Don’t you realize I’m also imperfect and broken, that I have issues of my own?”

  She straightened, backed until she could look into his eyes without having to tilt her head so much. “I think you want to rescue us, like you did last year. I don’t want to be rescued. And I don’t want anyone else having to deal with my craziness.”

  “Whoa.” And then he seemed to think about her words. “Okay. Maybe it’s partly true, the rescue bit. But did you ever think that I might need rescuing just as much? That I might need you as much as you need me?”

  She waited, because the idea of Clay needing to be rescued seemed absurd.

  “Sometimes, it’s just that way,” he said. “God gives us people to love who meet our craziness with some of their own, who fit our neediness with their wholeness and let us fit our whole places to their needy ones. He doesn’t fix us without a little pain, and he lets us have both the pain and the imperfections because other people need us that way.” He reached out and clasped both her hands. She let him. “And we need them that way.”

  “Do we?” Could he possibly need her messes? She didn’t know how. “Why?”

  “Think about it. If we were never challenged to deal with another person’s imperfections, we wouldn’t change and grow, would we?”

  “I guess not.” But it sounded uncomfortable, especially because she’d be the truly messed-up one in their pairing. “Still, it seems more logical—more rational—for people to try to get fixed first. Maybe that would cut down on the divorce rate.” It would probably also mean she’d be alone forever, because fixing herself didn’t seem to be happening. She felt cold creeping over her and hugged herself again.

  He shook his head. “Based on my experience—”

  “You have a lot?” That came out badly. “Sorry.”

  He raised that mobile brow of his. “Let me finish. I’m talking about basic interpersonal relationships now. God seems to put us together with people—at work, in families, in friendships—to help us grow. Sort of like stones in the water, rubbing against each other as the water flows over them until they’re each smooth. If each stone sat alone, not touching anything and out of the stream of that water, it wouldn’t ever smooth out, would it?”

  “Probably not.” Now they were supposed to knock together like stones?

  “So, how about you risk rubbing together with me so we can both smooth out?”

  “That, sir, sounds painful.”

  He sighed and then turned it into a grin. “I’m trying to make the offer sound reasonable to you, and you go all literal on me. What am I going to do with you, Annie Mac?”

  “Talk flowers instead of rocks?”

  “Which flowers do you like best?”

  “I don’t know. I love them all, but maybe daffodils. They look so hopeful.”

  “We’ll plant a field of daffodils. Does that work?”

  Her eyes filled. He seemed so eager to please, but all she had to offer was a nod and a whisper. “I love daffodils in the spring.”

  He pulled her close until she had to drop her arms to her sides. She felt his breath on her forehead. She stared at his shirt collar, there where his neck met it, the tanned skin close to her, smelling of clean male and the soap he used. It brought memories flooding in of being in his home, of the scents that filled it, always fresh and clean. A yearning welled in her to return to that place with its view of the creek, with its comforts. A safe place where this man had made them welcome, and she’d first fallen in love.

  “Annie Mac,” he whispered, his voice husky. “I need you to let me shower you with daffodils.”

  She didn’t answer. He took her chin again. Lifted
it and stared into her eyes. His gaze lowered to her lips.

  He was waiting for her to say something, to do something, wasn’t he? She let her own gaze touch his lips. Her breathing accelerated. Her lips parted, but she didn’t speak.

  And he lowered his head until his lips touched hers, softly, briefly. She heard a moan. It had to have come from her. He pressed the kiss and took her lips thoroughly, deeply, wrapping his arms around her, lifting her to his height, drawing her as close as she fit.

  She circled his neck with her arms as he deepened the kiss even more. She returned it with all the pent-up fervor she could manage. This was it, finally, the thing she’d longed for, the lips she’d coveted for far, far too long.

  After he lowered her to stand toe to toe with him, she put aside the momentary panic she felt from being released, from trying to stand on her own, to breathe more evenly, to think.

  “Annie Mac,” he finally whispered on a breath.

  She stepped back, still unsteady, bracing herself on his forearms. “I’ve never . . . ”

  “I know. I haven’t either.”

  His words brought her out of her daze. What did he mean? “You haven’t what?”

  He grinned. “Kissed and been kissed just like that. You take away my breath.”

  “Oh. Yeah. That’s what I was trying to say.”

  “Time to fess up, Annie Mac. I need to hear the words.”

  Here it went. He wanted stone against stone. Panic tried to sneak back in. She took another step back. “You know the words.” Heat rose up her neck, to her cheeks.

  “Annie Mac . . . ”

  She bit her lip.

  “The words? I said them three times.” At least he smiled.

  “You did, didn’t you?” Her blush remained, but she twinkled up at him. Who knew she could flirt? “You really want them?”

  “I need them.”

  “Ooh. Need, eh?”

  “Need. See, I’m secure enough in my manhood—”

  “You ought to be.”

  “I’m secure enough that I can admit a need for your words.”

  She’d needed his, hadn’t she? She closed the gap between them, pulled his head down, and whispered in his ear. “I love you, too.”

  He straightened. “Annie Mac.” He said her name reproachfully. “That’s the best you can do? Because I want the woman I marry to be able to say it any time and all the time.”

  “Marry? Your last proposal was more flowery than that.”

  “Well, look how well that one worked out.” He sounded grouchy. “I figured this time I’d just stake my claim and be done with it.”

  She giggled—and the strangeness of the sound surprised her. She thought it might have been her first giggle since girlhood. “Clay Dougherty, I love you. I really do. But I’m warning you, I’m a lot to handle. And if you end up with a broken nose one night because you didn’t react quickly enough, you can’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  “We’ll sleep with a pillow between us. You can beat it up instead of me. I have a very big bed.”

  “I like to snuggle.”

  “You do?”

  She considered that, trying to remember if she’d ever snuggled with anyone other than her children. “Well, I think I do. I think I might.”

  “First black eye, and a pillow goes between us.”

  “Deal.”

  She remembered what she hadn’t told him. “You may not know that you’ll be marrying a newly permanent member of the teaching staff at Beaufort Elementary.”

  “Ah, a woman of means.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “A two income family. Next you’ll be insisting on vacations in Europe.”

  “Paris!” The possibilities seemed endless. “I’m feeling dizzy. A few days ago I was on the verge of homelessness and poverty. Then I shifted income brackets with one phone call. And now I’m contemplating marriage and a family trip to France.”

  “I was thinking honeymoon first.”

  She arched her brows. “You think that’s going to work?”

  “We’re going to have a terrible time keeping either of them down on the farm,” he said mournfully, but the twinkle was there. “Can you picture what Katie will do to the men of Paris? And Ty? He’ll want to climb the Eiffel Tower.”

  A few kisses later, she asked, “Do you want to go back to the Morgans’? To tell the kids.” She heard a wistful note in her own voice.

  “Do you?”

  “Only if you do.”

  “I don’t. I want to stay right here and kiss you senseless and then tell the kids that fairly soon—I’m thinking as soon as Father John will do the honors—they’ll be able to call me dad. What do you think?”

  The thought of that almost had her knees buckling, but she stiffened them and kissed his chin. “I’d like that.” And then she grinned. “You do know I’ll be marrying you for your house.”

  “Ho-ho. I’d forgotten your landlord’s ultimatum. That’s fine. You can marry me for my house, but I’m marrying you for your kids.”

  “Stinker.”

  “What can I say? Katie has killer eyelashes. She won my heart the first time she flashed them at me. And Ty? Well, he likes to sail. A man’s gotta have a son to take sailing.”

  “We need to tell them.”

  “We will. First, I promised you some more kisses.”

  “Oh, right. I’d forgotten.”

  He reminded her then, again and again. And he promised her a lot more. Very soon.

  26

  Louis

  Louis slid one hand over the big-boy blazer and the pants Miss Hannah had bought for him. She’d found him a bow tie, too, one that almost matched Mr. Matt’s. They were sitting one row back from the front, him and Linney and Mr. Matt and Miss Hannah. Linney looked so pretty in the blue dress Miss Hannah had gotten her to go with her eyes, and she wore a big blue bow in her hair. Linney’s hair was always clean now, and she was so much better about using the potty.

  All she’d needed was a happy place. What a difference happy made. For him, too. Now, he could breathe.

  He sat up a little straighter. God sure had fixed it so they got found by good people. Found and fixed. Linney had her new glasses, pretty ones with light blue rims. And she was having her ears looked at. And his own glasses didn’t slip down anymore.

  Miss Hannah’d been tutoring him so he’d be ready for school when it started up again. She and Mr. Matt had so many books. Books about everything.

  They had friends, him and Linney. Katie’d come to play with Linney lots, and Ty and he were pretty much best friends now. Ty didn’t mind him being brainy. As a matter of fact, Ty said it was really cool to have a smart friend. Ty wasn’t stupid, and he’d turned into a decent chess player. It was really cool the way they could talk about all kinds of things.

  Miss Rita and her husband sat a few seats down from them, in the same row. Miss Rita had gone hunting and made sure Mama didn’t have any other relatives alive, at least none who claimed them, and she’d gotten approval for them to stay with Miss Hannah. The way Miss Hannah and Mr. Matt talked about it, they wanted him and Linney to be their very own kids.

  They’d said that’s what they were going to ask the courts, and what did he and Linney think about it?

  He’d gotten so choked up, he hadn’t known what to do. Linney’d looked at him because she didn’t understand, but with his throat full like that, he couldn’t tell her. Not without everybody knowing.

  Miss Hannah had patted her lap, and Linney’d gone to her, climbing on like the little girl she wasn’t. “Sweet girl, do you know what a mommy is?”

  Linney’d nodded her head. “Mama gone.”

  “Yes, your mama is gone. Would you like to have a new mommy?”

  Linney’s hands had reached up, one on each of Miss Hannah’s cheeks, and she’d said, “Mommy?”

  Just like that. Louis’s tears had really spilled then, and Mr. Matt had pulled him close and whispered in his ear and said the word “son.” All Louis could do wa
s nod his head against Mr. Matt’s shoulder and imagine calling him “dad.”

  A dad of his own. A real dad and a mother who didn’t make him do all the clean-up and taking care of?

  The wonder of Linney was that she could love without thinking much. If you were good to her, she’d give you the moon back. That was exactly what happened. Miss Hannah looked like Linney’d gone and done that, given her the moon. She pulled Louis’s sister into her arms and squeezed and squeezed, and Linney squeezed right back.

  Not more than a minute later, Linney cried out, “Mommy!” before she turned and shouted the word to him. “Mommy!” And then she squeezed Miss Hannah again.

  Mr. Matt watched, and then he turned back to Louis. Maybe he needed something more. Anyway, Mr. Matt looked all serious now with his eyes dried. “What about you? I’ve never been a dad, but I’d really like to give it a shot.”

  And Louis, who still couldn’t speak, nodded and rubbed at his eyes and prayed they’d never change their minds, because he wanted to give being Mr. Matt’s kid a shot, too.

  Now here they were. It was twilight again. Back when she was well, Mama used to say twilight was the best part of the day and had taken some poets words. He’d called it “the silent hour.” They used to sit on the front stoop, watching as the stars started blinking on, and everything seemed perfect.

  Hadn’t it been twilight when Linney first saw the church tree? The one that had called her here? It had certainly been a twilight Christmas, God pouring gifts on them.

  The big inside tree blinked at him now with its hundreds of lights. And candles were lit at the altar again, as they had been that night. Even if it was getting dark outside, in here, everything was light. And it smelled like Christmas ought to, even if they were already in January. Louis was real glad they’d left the tree and the decorations up for tonight, because tonight Mr. Clay and Miss Annie Mac and Louis’s best friend Ty and Linney’s best friend Katie would walk up that aisle to claim their own miracle.

  Ty’d told him how patient Mr. Clay had been, waiting on his mom to get with the program to marry Mr. Clay. He and Katie’d wanted nothing more than to have the man he called the lieutenant be their very own dad.