Abby's Christmas

by Lynnette Kent

  A dropped pin would have sounded loud in the absolute silence

  Noah felt half the room staring at his unprotected back. The other half stared at his heated face. He couldn’t leave the diner without paying for his breakfast, or he would have been gone.

  “What are you talking about?” Abby pushed between the chairs and the tables, arriving at Officer Hayes’s side. “I think you’ve been drinking, Wade.”

  The officer shook his head and gave her a righteous smile. “Nope. Haven’t touched a drop all week.”

  Her face set in a skeptical frown, Abby crossed her arms and stared up at the big man. “So what are we talking about here? A speeding ticket in one of those traps you guys like to set up in small towns?”

  “No, ma’am.” Hayes looked around, making sure he had everybody’s attention. “Noah Blake was paroled from a state of Georgia correctional facility in Atlanta on Monday morning after serving three years of a seven-year sentence.”

  “For what?” Abby’s voice wobbled.

  “Manslaughter,” Hayes announced. “Mr. Blake, here, killed a man in Georgia. And he went to prison for it.”

  Dear Reader,

  After “Where do you get your ideas,” the most frequent question an author hears is “How long does it take to write a book?” The idea for the AT THE CAROLINA DINER series came to me in 1999 as I was writing other stories. I got the go-ahead from my editors in the summer of 2000 and submitted the first completed book in January of 2001. So in one way or another, then, I’ve been working on Abby’s Christmas for more than five years.

  All that time I’ve been visiting a diner of my own—a small “restaurant/deli” near my home, where they cook a good breakfast (including grits) and keep my iced-tea glass full. The waitresses know me by sight and can usually predict what I’ll order. (I change my mind occasionally, just to keep them on their toes.) They call me “honey” and sometimes “darlin’” and they remember I want unsweetened tea. During the thirty or forty minutes I spend with them, I feel cosseted and cared for. Mothered.

  Abby Brannon mothers her customers at the Carolina Diner. She longs for adventure, but accepts the chains of friendship and love binding her to her hometown…until Noah Blake returns. Noah’s had enough adventure to fill several lifetimes. Now he’s looking for a connection to the places and people of his past. Abby is definitely a part of that past. But is he part of her future?

  I hope you enjoy the time you spend with my friends in New Skye, especially Abby and Noah. I love to hear from readers through the regular mail and by e-mail. My personal Web site is in transition, but you can reach me—and other great Superromance authors—at www.superauthors.com.

  All the best,

  Lynnette Kent

  PMB 304

  Westwood Shopping Center

  Fayetteville, NC 28314

  Abby’s Christmas

  Lynnette Kent

  A friend who talks me through my fears and doubts and celebrates my successes without reservation.

  A writer who pushes me—and my characters—in the right direction with one little word: “Why?”

  A woman who blesses my life and my work.

  For Pam, with love

  Books by Lynnette Kent

  HARLEQUIN SUPERROMANCE

  765—ONE MORE RODEO

  793—WHEN SPARKS FLY

  824—WHAT A MAN’S GOT TO DO

  868—EXPECTING THE BEST

  901—LUKE’S DAUGHTERS

  938—MATT’S FAMILY

  988—NOW THAT YOU’RE HERE

  1002—MARRIED IN MONTANA

  1024—SHENANDOAH CHRISTMAS

  1080—THE THIRD MRS. MITCHELL

  1118—THE BALLAD OF DIXON BELL

  1147—THE LAST HONEST MAN

  1177—THE FAKE HUSBAND

  1229—SINGLE WITH KIDS

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER ONE

  THE BELL ON THE DINER’S front door jingled, and Abby Brannon glanced up from the miniature Christmas tree she’d just started to drape with a string of shiny red beads.

  A man stepped out of the bright December sunshine, then halted for a moment just over the threshold, blinking his eyes against indoor shadows. His black hair had been cut short, without much skill or style. He looked a little sunburned across his arrogant nose and high cheekbones. His broad shoulders filled out a scarred leather jacket, while dusty biker boots and lean hips in faded jeans completed the bad-boy-drifter picture.

  The beads slipped through Abby’s fingers to clatter on the counter. Noah Blake.

  Only when the newcomer looked at her across the empty room did she realize she’d said his name aloud. He narrowed his eyes and tilted his head slightly. “Is that you, Abby?”

  At the sound of his husky voice, her heart jumped like a startled frog. She swallowed. “Who else would you expect to find at the Carolina Diner in the middle of the afternoon?”

  She rounded the counter and confronted him where he stood, grabbing the lapels of his jacket to shake him a little. “You’ve been gone a long time, but things haven’t changed that much. Welcome back!”

  His hands closed over her shoulders and he grinned down at her. If she hadn’t been stunned by his sudden arrival, she certainly was at that moment. Noah’s one-sided grin was a sugar high she’d never been able to resist.

  “Thanks.” He leaned in and kissed her cheek, then let her go. “Kinda quiet in here, isn’t it?”

  Abby fought to keep from touching the kissed cheek with her fingertips. “The usual lull between late lunch and early dinner. Come sit down. You look a little chilly—what can I do to warm you up?” Good thing she’d turned away before she asked that stupid question, so he couldn’t see her blush. “Coffee? Tea?”

  “Got any hot chocolate?”

  When she glanced at him in surprise, he shrugged. “I haven’t had some in…a long time. I just thought it would taste good.”

  “Well, sure. I can make you hot chocolate. Give me a couple of minutes.” She stepped through the kitchen door, then poked her head out again. “The menu hasn’t changed since you left, but in case you don’t remember…”

  Propping one hip on a stool, Noah pulled the plastic folder out of the clip on the counter. “Right here.”

  “You got it.” Abby smiled, then went into the empty kitchen to hyperventilate.

  I can’t believe he’s here. She drew hot water from the pot and blended in cocoa powder and sugar until they melted. I thought he’d have got himself killed by now. Or arrested. Adding vanilla, then milk, she heated her brew on the burner. Why has he come back? Should I ask him? There’s no way it could have anything to do with me. Right?

  The suggestion left her too shaky to pick up the mugs of cocoa. She bought time by squirting whipped cream on the tops, then dishing up a couple of cherries for decoration. When she thought her hands could handle the strain, she grabbed a thick white mug in each hand, dragged in a deep breath and headed back to the counter.

  “Here you go.” Setting his drink in front of him, she backed up against the service counter and took a sip from her own. “Enjoy.”

  Noah toasted her with a lift of his cup. “Thanks.” After one taste, he looked at her in surprise. “How’d you make this?”

  “Cocoa, sugar, water, vanilla and milk. A little salt. Is something
wrong?”

  “I just…expected the usual powder.” He shrugged. “Not many people make hot chocolate from scratch.”

  “I’m an old-fashioned girl, I guess.” She felt her cheeks heat up. Again. “So, how long have you been in town?”

  Noah squinted at the clock over the counter. “Almost thirty minutes now.”

  “You came here first? You haven’t seen your mom?”

  “Not yet.”

  Surprised in her turn, she raised an eyebrow. “She doesn’t know you’re coming, does she?” When he shook his head, she nodded. “I talked to her just yesterday, when I took her to the grocery store. No wonder she didn’t say anything.” Noah’s mother was not the kind of person to enjoy surprises. “Would you like to call her from here? Give her a little warning?”

  Now he was the one with flushed cheeks, and a storm in his dark gaze. “You think she needs warning?”

  “This will be a pretty big shock—you showing up after fifteen years away. And she’s been sick. Did you know that?”

  “Uh, no.”

  “She’s supposed to use her oxygen all the time.”

  “I—”

  “It’s not good for her to get upset.”

  In a sudden hurry, Noah downed the last of his chocolate and stood up. “This was a bad idea, after all. I think I’ll just keep going. Don’t mention I was here.” His long strides quickly took him outside.

  Abby rushed after him and found him standing beside a big Harley. “Noah, I didn’t mean… Noah!” She grabbed his arm as he jerked on a glove. “First of all, you owe me one-sixty for the hot chocolate.”

  He shoved his bare hand into the pocket of his jeans.

  “More important, you can’t run away like this.”

  “Who says?” He crammed a couple of dollars into her fingers, still wrapped around his sleeve. The leather was cold, the bills warm from his body.

  “You’ll hate yourself if you do.”

  “So what’s new?” His mouth hardened into a straight line.

  She squandered the only leverage she had left. “You can’t let your mother die without ever seeing her son again.”

  He stared at her a long time. The resistance in his expression made her want to weep. “She’s…dying?”

  “She’s got diabetes, heart and kidney problems. Her health has been precarious for several years now.”

  They stood still, gazes locked, while the sharp wind whipped up dust in the gravel parking lot. A small, dirty dog trotted to the bike, sat by the rear wheel and lifted a paw to touch Noah’s leg.

  “You’ve got a friend.” Abby let herself be diverted. “He wants a lift.”

  “Yeah, I helped him out of some trouble back in South Carolina. Now he thinks he owns me.” Noah pulled out of her grasp. He bent to pick up the animal and stowed the dirty little guy in the backpack hanging from the bike’s seat.

  “You brought him here with you?”

  “Didn’t have much choice.” Swinging the backpack onto his shoulders, he threw his leg over the bike and pulled on the other glove. “If I’d left him, the kids would’ve shot him to death with BB guns.”

  Abby shuddered. “Where are you going?”

  He gave her a resigned look as he buckled his helmet. “Where do you think? One-fifty Boundary Street. I’ll ride slow, in case you want to call and announce me.”

  She smiled, but before she could say anything, he revved the engine and left the parking lot with a spray of gravel. Abby watched as he waited for the traffic light at the corner to change, then saw him head up the hill across the highway, toward his mother’s house.

  Her heart sang. Noah is home!

  Back inside the diner, she punched in the familiar telephone number, then hung up before the first ring. Noah’s mother might need more than just a call to warn her. She’d been in the hospital last week with her insulin wildly out of control. Maybe somebody should be there when Noah got home in case something happened.

  By the time she’d finished thinking things through, Abby had the diner doors locked, the Closed sign on the door and her keys in her hand. She would stay just long enough to be sure Mrs. Blake was all right, then rush back to her usual routine.

  Come to think of it, though, with Noah Blake in town, her life might never be usual or routine again.

  NOAH GLANCED ACROSS the street at New Skye High School as he waited through the traffic light over the intersection beside the Carolina Diner. Not much had changed since his time, except for a row of portable classrooms added along the side. Hard to believe he’d ever been confined inside those orange brick walls. With a shake of his head, he left the school behind, rolling through the intersection, accelerating up the hill toward Boundary Street.

  The rough, run-down neighborhoods he passed through hadn’t changed all that much, either. Some of the beer joints bore different names, some were gone, and others had opened since his time. More of the advertisements in the store windows were in Spanish and most of the men loafing in the parking lots and on the street corners looked Latino.

  Passing through a business district of bars, pawn-shops and gas stations, he caught a yellow light and rolled to a stop with time to spare before red. The driver in the truck behind him sat on the horn, but traffic stops threatened trouble. Noah preferred to avoid any unscheduled encounters with the police.

  A glance to the right showed him a parking lot stretching down the side street, deserted but for a white Toyota parked next to an overflowing Dumpster. As Noah watched, a little kid stood up in the front passenger window, fingers curled through a space between the top of the glass panel and the door frame. The child put its face up to that crack of air.

  In a second of relative quiet, Noah heard the kid’s cry. “Da-a-ade-e-e!”

  He turned the bike down the side street and parked in the empty lot, a short distance from the car. With the Harley locked and the keys in his pocket, he approached the vehicle slowly, giving the child a chance to see him, hoping not to cause a panic.

  But the little boy stopped crying as Noah got closer, and stared through the window with the tears still wet on his thin, dirty face. His hair was cut too short, his head practically shaved. He wore a cheap quilted vest, an orange T-shirt, jeans, mismatched socks, but no shoes. The afternoon was chilly, with a temperature somewhere in the fifties, but the windows of the car had steamed up, so the little guy probably wasn’t cold. Noah remembered how warm a car could get if you cried enough, jumped up and down on the seats, beat on the windows.

  He tried the back door handle and swore when he found it unlocked. At least his dad had locked him in.

  Noah poked his head inside. “Hi,” he said quietly. “My name’s Noah.”

  The child hiccuped and sniffed but didn’t speak.

  “What’s your name?” No answer. “Where’s your mommy?”

  “Mama,” the little boy said, and shuffled sideways to lean against the back of the seat he stood on. “Mama.” His movement stirred up the air in the car, along with an aroma of sweat, onions and wet diaper. “Mama.” He smiled, showing new teeth.

  “Are you here by yourself?” Noah didn’t expect an answer.

  But the boy said, “Daddy. Da-a-ade-e-e.”

  So maybe the dad was somewhere nearby. And maybe he should be punched for leaving his kid alone like this. Or maybe he could just suffer when he came back to the car and the kid wasn’t there. Then again, a kidnapping charge would spell disaster for Noah.

  And when had he ever let something like that stop him?

  On the thought, Noah straightened up and opened the front passenger door. “Want to go for a walk?” he asked the kid. “We can find your dad.”

  Again that smile. “Daddy.” Without hesitation, the little boy held out his arms to be picked up.

  Rolling his eyes, Noah did just that, settling the child easily on one arm. The dog in his backpack hadn’t so much as stirred.

  “Right.” Noah shut the car door and turned toward the street. “Let’s s
ee—”

  “Hey! Hey, put him down!” The shout came from behind. “Leave my kid alone!” Noah pivoted to see a man running toward him from the alley behind the building across the street.

  “Daddy,” the boy in his arms cried, laughing now. “Daddy!”

  “Hurt him and I’ll kill you,” his dad yelled. Nothing about him seemed dangerous—he was just a guy in sneakers, jeans and a dark blue windbreaker.

  “I’m worried,” Noah yelled back. “Real worried.”

  The man slowed as he reached the back of the car. “Just put him down. Tyler, come to Daddy. Come on, Tyler.”

  Noah didn’t doubt that Tyler recognized his father. He just wasn’t sure he wanted to leave a child with such an irresponsible jerk.

  He walked back toward the car. “Are you crazy, leaving a little kid alone like that? You’re lucky he didn’t just get out and wander away. Or that some pervert didn’t steal him.”

  “He was okay. I was only gone a minute.” The guy looked beyond Noah to the street, then over his shoulder in the direction he’d come from. “Put him down.”

  “He was crying his eyes out. And the doors were unlocked, for God’s sake.”

  “I thought I locked the door. Just give me my kid and butt out, damn it.”

  Noah put Tyler on the ground, steadying the little body until he got his balance. Tyler took off across the broken, rocky pavement, straight for his dad. “Daddy!”

  The guy scooped up his kid. “Let’s go home, Ty.” Without another word to Noah, he buckled the kid into the car seat in the back of the car, slammed himself into the driver’s seat and started the engine. Gray smoke belched from the tailpipe and the motor ran rough. But within five seconds, the car shot across the lot, turned into the street and disappeared.

  Noah went back to his bike, put on his helmet and headed toward Boundary Street. Abby had wanted to warn his mother. He’d sure given her plenty of time.

  Thinking about that meeting in the diner, he shook his head in wonder. Whatever kind of greeting he’d expected when he came home, Abby’s generous welcome had totally surprised him. Her gold-green eyes had sparkled like polished topaz, and her smile had been genuine, without a trace of malice. He recalled the smoothness of her skin against his lips. She wasn’t slender, but who wanted slender when he could have a woman with such wonderful curves? His hands clenched as he thought about playing with the thick, reddish brown hair curling softly on her shoulders.