Whatever she’d expected, it hadn’t been this. She shivered from a chill that pulsed deep within her bones as if she was freezing from the inside out. Of course, she’d been outside most of the last half hour. Anyone would be cold. She glanced at Chris. He didn’t seem the least bit affected. She jammed the key in the ignition and turned the heat to full blast. “It’s slippery out there.”
“It’s December,” he said. “In Christmas Town.”
As if she could forget. She looked at Chris and pointed at his holster. “Is that a ...”
He glanced at his waist. “It’s standard issue. Comes with the job.”
“But you got in the car with our...with Joel with a...” She pointed at his holster again rather than say the words and pique Joel’s interest.
“The safety is on.” He fastened his seat belt. “Believe it or not, I actually know what I’m doing. I’m good at it. It’s my life for a reason.”
His words were dipped in icicles.
Hope rubbed her forehead. She’d never felt like an intruder in Chris’ life before. Ill-timed and unpleasant. But uninvited or not, welcome or not, she was here for Joel. Here for her son to have an opportunity to know his father. She wouldn’t be the reason Chris shut her child out.
She’d planned to meet Chris alone. Show him a picture of Joel. After a day or so she’d introduce them. It was a slow timeline created to allow Chris time to get used to the idea of fatherhood before she introduced him to Joel as his dad.
How should she introduce Joel to Chris now? It was too early for Dad. Uncle would only confuse Joel. She wanted to shove Chris out onto the sidewalk and speed away, if only to regroup and start again her way. “Joel, this is…”
“Me when I grow up.” Joel clapped his bells against his Thor action figure.
That shattered Chris’ indifference. His eyebrows climbed into his cap and surprise curved his lips into a quick grin before he leaned over to look in the backseat.
Joel smiled and pointed at Chris’ hat. “Riff.”
“Sheriff,” Hope repeated. One awkward moment solved. “Yes, that’s him.”
Joel wrapped up his Thor figurine like a mummy with the red ribbon on his bells and hummed.
Hope looked at Chris. “Where to?”
“Away from here.”
“I was heading to my parent’s house.”
“Not there,” he said, horrified.
“My parents left this afternoon for my Aunt’s house in Portland. My dad has rehab there this week.” He’d suffered a stroke and made Hope realize Daddies filled holes in their children’s hearts. “Their house is empty.”
“But the street isn’t.”
He didn’t want to be seen with her. Fine. The town would know soon enough. Then it’d be his problem because in two weeks, Joel and she were heading back to the city and their new fifth floor corner apartment. She pulled onto Main Street, away from the spirited revelers. If only she believed in Christmas, then she might have scooped a bit of their magic into her empty hot chocolate cup and sprinkled it inside the car. If only it was that easy. “Joel, do you want Lightening McQueen or Buzz Lightyear?”
“Buzz,” Joel cheered.
Hope hit the video play button and Buzz’s voice filled the car. “The batteries died on the wireless headphones on our way here,” she explained.
Christopher nodded and rubbed his neck. “Turn left here.”
“I’m not going inside Posey’s,” she said. “You think our street has ears, Posey’s is even worse.”
“We are definitely not stopping there.”
“We can’t just drive.”
“Why not?” He leaned on the console to look at the dashboard. “You have almost a full tank.”
But she didn’t have a cup of magic. And she’d never been this cold or this distant with Chris. She could reach out and grab his hand, squeeze his arm, pinch him. But never had reaching for him seemed so impossible or futile. “It’s a waste of gas.”
“That’s not what you said in high school when all of us drove out to the lake.” He glanced over at her. “Or in Vegas.”
Those icicles again, frosting his voice and cutting his tone with a bite. He’d reserved that tone for the tormentors and bullies, never her. Until now. Well, she’d slammed the door on Vegas too. Debt and a broken heart tended to taint some memories. “Yeah, well, I was young and dumb and financially irresponsible.”
“Now it’s just prudent,” he said. “If you go to Mistletoe Lane and Gingerbread Loop, we can drive through and look at the houses and their front yard light displays like every other tourist who couldn’t find a parking space in town.”
Except they weren’t tourists. And not even a million bulb light show could offer enough of a distraction. She turned on Mistletoe Lane anyway, the sidewalks of which were packed with tourists who’d found parking spaces in town.
Chris tossed his cap on the dashboard and brushed his fingers through his hair. “So he’s mine.”
“If you mean he has your DNA, then yes.”
“I have a…” he said.
“Son.” He couldn’t even say the word. But he would. She wasn’t leaving for two weeks.
Hope had almost lost her own father a month ago. She'd almost lost the man who’d listened patiently to every one of her childhood plans, tolerated her need for schedules, and loved her always.
Shadows wrapped around Chris’ strong body. He’d always been fit with shoulders that carried every burden, a chin defined in pride. But weariness shifted across his face, only a flicker. There and gone like the flash of the lightening bugs they’d used to collect in the summer by the pond. Probably just a trick of the night. Or the wishful musing of her inner elf searching for a thread to connect them. But she’d stopped listening to her inner elf in Vegas.
“You fathered a child.” She watched the fake snow bounce around in an eight foot inflatable globe. The fake Santa inside waved, spreading fake joy. The peace Santa promised was as temporary as that inflatable. Deflated when the plug got pulled. “You aren’t a father.” Yet.
“I never wanted…”
“A child,” she finished for him. “I know. We haven’t needed you.”
“What happened?” He glanced back at Joel. “Something wrong?”
Nothing that could be fixed with a Band-Aid and antiseptic wipes. Hope glanced in the rearview mirror. Joel looked outside at the dancing reindeer, Santa sleighs, and angels with sleepy eyes. “He’s healthy. Active, probably too active if that’s what you mean.”
He nodded as if he expected nothing less from his own child. “How much do you need?”
“Excuse me?”
“Money. How much do you want?” he asked. “For support.”
“I do just fine supporting us.” Paychecks wouldn’t give Joel what he needed most. “I finished law school. I have a new job at Dunn and Ford.” Joel and she were financially fine. She’d continue to make sure they were fine. Like she’d planned.
“So there isn’t a need for family medical records? Or monthly payments?” He leaned against the door and faced her. “What do you want?”
“For Joel to know you.” For her son to know who’d pulled her from the poison ivy bush with his bare hands. Who’d faced bullies and backed the weak. Who’d rescued scared children from the deadly waters of a frozen lake. Who’d held her heart when she’d had one.
And because she couldn’t always silence her meddling inner elf. The one who whispered: Chris deserved to know.
“If that’s true, why not tell me when you first found out?” he asked.
“I left you in Vegas because you called me Mandy.” His fiancé’s name, she’d learned. Right as they’d been about to say “I do” after spending forty-eight hours together at a special event for high school graduates from 2000-2010. “I found out about Joel on your wedding day.”
He winced. His phone buzzed and he set it to his ear. “Hayes. I’m on my way.” He listened for another minute then stuffed his phone in his p
ocket. “I need to go back to the station.”
“Now?” she asked.
He picked up his cap with the bold yellow embroidery. “I have a job.”
Hope made a u-turn at the stop sign. “You also have a responsibility to another person now.”
“No, you took on that responsibility when you choose to have him without telling me.” He tugged his cap back over his hair. “You said it yourself, you don’t need me.”
“I certainly don’t need you.” It wasn’t long before she pulled into the parking lot of the sheriff’s department. “But there’s a four and a half year old in the backseat who might.”
“Once again, that’s what you decided.” He opened the door.
She reached for him. Her fingers grazed his jacket. But it was enough to turn his attention back to her. “We’re here two weeks. This isn’t our only meeting. I’ll plan the next one.”
“You know where to find me.” He shut the car door with a soft click, strode toward the entrance and never looked back.
Hope dropped her forehead on the steering wheel. They always seemed to be walking away from each other. She’d walked first. Not that it mattered. It still hurt.
But it wasn’t supposed to still hurt. Tears slid down her wrists, dampening the cuffs of her coat. She hadn’t cried over Christopher Hayes in five years. She’d wished she’d been someone else back then - a woman who could take what she wanted and laugh off a slip of Chris’ tongue. She’d wanted him to be someone else - a man who could put her first and not forget her. Yet she’d loved him just as he was - a man of few words, but warm and mischievous and caring when they’d declared their love for each other.
And now…now it wasn’t about her. It was about safe distances and well-defined boundaries so that Joel would never feel a void where his father should have been.
Chapter 2
Chris strode toward the door, lengthening his steps without slipping into a full run. But he wanted to run, far and fast, pound his feet against the cement and pummel his emotions into oblivion.
He had a son. A four and a half year old son. With Hope Sullivan. Sandwich Sullivan, he used to call her. Trapped between a star football player brother and a parent pleasing, do-no-wrong little sister. Hope had blasted out of Christmas Town as soon as Principal Parker had set the diploma in her hand. She’d blasted through her undergraduate degree with early acceptance into law school. Then in one long weekend in Las Vegas, she’d blasted through Chris’ heart.
The doors to the entrance swung open and his deputy, Steven Kane, stepped outside and tossed a set of keys at him.
He caught the keys and squeezed the metal to force the tremor out of his hand. He’d been steady through several drug busts, more than one five car pile-up on iced up roads and even an ice pond accident. He’d shaken later. At home. In his bed. Alone.
But he trembled now. In his fingers. In his legs. Even his chest. Sandwich Sullivan: first a friend’s little sister who’d needed supervision. Then his friend who’d struggled to find her inner strength. Then a lover who’d shown him the impossible.
Most recently: a memory. His best memory.
Until now.
Now she was the mother of his child. His son.
But he was a one man show. A wife, children, family. His past would ruin those things. The son is his father. That had been Mandy’s parting words. The night before she’d served the divorce papers. The night before he’d failed another family.
He fell in step with Steven. He had a job to do. A child wouldn’t change that. His child wouldn’t change that. He tightened his fist around the keys. “Who called in this time?”
“Mrs. Tanner across the street,” Steven said. “She says Lisa’s screaming is making her dog, Bingo, piddle all over her new hardwoods.”
“Bingo piddles when someone sneezes.” Chris looked at Steven over the hood of the SUV.
Steven laughed. “No kidding. Still I heard something shatter when Mrs. Tanner was on the phone with me.”
“This is the third time in two weeks,” Chris said. The divorce paperwork had been printed for Frank and Lisa Stone six months ago. Neither one had signed yet. The only thing the paperwork had done was increase the calls to the Sheriff’s department and decrease the china in Lisa’s cupboards.
“Fifth time.” Steven got into the passenger seat. “I took the first one when Lisa called to report that Frank yelled at Joe’s hockey coach. Dillon responded to the second when Stone, Sr. called after Mary-Kate twisted her ankle at gymnastics and Lisa refused to let Frank drive her to the ER because he wouldn’t stop yelling at everyone.”
“Where are the kids now?” Chris asked.
“Mrs. Tanner said Mary-Kate was sitting on the icy trampoline. Joe was on their backyard ice, refining his slap shot.” Steven switched on the lights.
The Stone siblings were ten year old twins and the only source of contention to the couple’s divorce. Chris could relate to the situation. He and his older sister had lived in a household where every upset required harsh words at loud volumes, where divorce - once discussed - had taken years to complete.
Chris never would have predicted Frank and Lisa’s marriage would end up this way. He’d known them his entire life. Lisa had baby-sat for him when he was five and Frankie had taught him how to throw a proper football when he was seven. They’d married young. Struggled to have kids. And now struggled to let go of their marriage. That had to mean they still loved each other, right?
“It stops tonight.” Chris pulled onto Main Street, thinking about two kids seeking refuge in the cold, dark night. “Whether we have to bring one or both of them in, it stops tonight.”
An hour later, Chris snapped the cell closed on Lisa Stone. Two cells down, Steven tossed a blanket and pillow to Frank Stone and slammed the barred door shut.
“Come on, Hayes.” Frank walked to the bars. “Neither one of us needs to dry out.”
“You may not be drunk, but you need to calm down and think about what kind of hell you’re putting your children through,” Chris said.
“She’s putting them through this.” Frank set his forehead against the bars. “Not me.”
“Lower the volume, Frankie,” Chris said.
“Shut up, Frank,” Lisa hollered. “I’m a good mother.”
“She wants to get a job and leave us.” Frank pointed at Chris. “Can you believe it? My wife thinks I can’t support her.”
Chris walked out and shut the door as the language slipped beneath the gutter. There wasn’t much he hadn’t heard argued over. Not many names he hadn’t heard fired at another person. And most of it he’d heard in his own home before he’d turned ten. Only his parents never got put in cells to cool off. Instead his parents had stayed married far too long and let their children suffer in the toxic environment they’d nurtured like a prized weed-infested garden. It was time Frank and Lisa made a decision to either work on their marriage like civilized adults or go their separate ways. Their children deserved better.
“Those two need a referee.” Steven pushed in his chair and put on his coat. “Or a good lawyer.”
“There’s no one in town qualified to referee,” Chris said. “The good lawyer drew up the paperwork months ago. Now he’s on his extended December holiday.”
Steven zipped up his jacket and looked at Chris. “Faith Sullivan mentioned that her sister was coming home. Isn’t she some kind of lawyer in the city now? Maybe she can help.”
“Hope is helping at her family’s shop.” Even if Hope hadn’t told him earlier, he’d already known. Mrs. Sullivan had blocked his cart in the ice cream isle at the grocery store last week. She hadn’t looked the least apologetic, not when she’d nudged her cart away or told him about Hope’s return. But he only ever helped Hope Sullivan, not the other way around. He’d never needed to be rescued, not by Hope or anyone else. “Besides, she won’t have any extra time with the holiday crowd.”
Especially given that Hope was also a single mom with a son. His son
. He flexed his fingers, ignoring the tremor.
“She always said yes to you.” Steven walked outside.
They’d both almost said yes. To each other. Inside a pink chapel on the Vegas strip. One weekend when everything went sideways. But he’d made a mental slip and she’d returned them to reality.
He rubbed his hands over his face. If he lingered too long on the Hope Sullivan memory lane, then he’d wonder. He’d wonder if he should’ve stopped her from getting in that cab. If he should’ve fallen to his knees and apologized for standing at an altar and calling her another woman’s name. If he should’ve tossed her over his shoulder and carried her back inside that pink chapel of love.
But no good came from wondering. And the feelings they’d expressed in Vegas - intense, raw - they always burned out. Just look at Frank and Lisa.
“One night here and Frank and Lisa will know what to do.” He spoke to the empty room.
If only he knew what he to do.
Chapter 3
Hope pulled into her parent’s driveway. She’d lived in the same house on the same street in the same town from the day they’d brought her home from the hospital until the day she’d driven off to college. The entire street was still the same: white picket fences, yards exploding with colored bulbs, lighted reindeer and manger sets. They’d built snow forts like the one leaning to the right in the Pemberly’s front yard. There were snowball wars in the winter, street hide-and-seek in the summer.
And Chris skipped through every good memory she had on this street and lingered in every bad one. He’d brushed snow from the inside of her hood when the ice fort collapsed on her. He’d pulled the poison ivy vine off her bare legs. He’d held her hand when she’d limped home after her bike crash. Unlike her older brother, Brady, Chris had never laughed at her. Never teased. Never criticized.
A Heartwarming Christmas: A Boxed Set of Twelve Sweet Holiday Romances Page 48
