by Jillian Hart
“You have what’s important.” She laid her hand on his arm, felt the manly steel of his flesh and bone and his male-hot skin. “Their love. Memories to treasure. You are what is left of their lives. You.”
“If they are looking down on me from heaven, I don’t know if they would be proud of me. I fear they would be sorely disappointed.”
“How could that be? You always do what’s right, don’t you?”
“I try. I’ve learned firsthand the importance of truth and justice. Of the consequences when you know what is right but you don’t do it.” Regret carved across his features shadowing him, drawing him in stark relief. He submerged the plates and the cups with careful deliberation. “There are things in my life I would rather forget.”
“Like the reason you left Alma?”
“Yes.” His face twisted. Never had she seen such remorse or the determination to stand tall. “I did not take a situation I found myself in serious enough and I lost everything. My job, my friends, my good name. It was too late to get them back.”
“It’s never too late. Your name is good here.” Beneath her fingertips, she could feel the texture of his skin and the uneven leap of his pulse. Her heartbeat leaped to match. “What mistake could you have made? I see you, Caleb. You are more transparent than you think.”
“I made the mistake of choosing to see the good in someone and ignore the bad. I was too trusting. I get that from my ma.” He dropped the dishcloth with a splash and turned to her. Damp fingertips caught the underside of her chin. “I see the good in you, Caroline. So much good.”
“Me? No. I’m just me. Just doing my best to get by.”
“You have given me hope. Belief that there is more good than bad in this world, more light than darkness.” He could forget everything, lost in her eyes. He was tumbling, falling into her, into dreams of ice-blue and sweetness. “Everyone makes mistakes, but coming here was the best thing I’ve ever done.”
“Because of your son?” She whispered the words. “He’s part of your parents, too.”
“That is part of it, yes, but I mean because of you. You make me long for things I have stopped believing in.”
“Me? Impossible. What could I have done?”
“You welcomed me into your home. You cared. You made me feel like the man I used to be.” He ignored the warning blaring in his head, the one telling him to step away, to put distance between them, to remember what he was. But hope spoke louder, drowning out the doubt and the darkness. Like Christmas come early, he listened it. He opened the bars on his heart, opened the doors wide and let the light in.
Love surged through him with the power of a new dawn. He finally gave in to his need, into his most honest desire. He stared into her lustrous eyes and lowered his mouth to hers.
Sugar-spun sweetness, that kiss, it was a dream come true.
Chapter Seven
Stay in control of your feelings, Caroline. That was her last rational thought before Caleb’s kiss claimed her. Oh, that kiss. It melted her resistance with the brush of his velvet lips. It scattered her mind until all she could think about was the tingle of sensation as his mouth stroked over hers in tender butterfly caresses. It enraptured her, the most exquisite kiss she’d ever known.
His lips nibbled hers, sensational little nips of affection. Heavenly bliss. She clung to him, her fingers curling into his flannel shirt, holding on, desperate. What if he stopped? She didn’t think she could endure it, but he was already moving away, his lips left hers and he stared into her, breathless. Eternity passed while they stood there, breathing hard, both wanting more and knowing it could not be.
Or could it? What if he could find work in town? Was it foolish to hope? In his true blue depths she saw the promise of a future.
A future. Her chest spasmed with pain and fear, but those things were not as strong as the emotions lifting her up. Hope had a power all its own, a power that did not release as Caleb brushed his lips over hers briefly, gently, finally.
“That was a mistake.” The low notes of his baritone rumbled, laden with feeling, rich with love. So tender, the sound of it shattered her every last defense. What was she going to do now?
“That was definitely a mistake,” she agreed. “Huge. Gigantic. Colossal.”
“But one I will never regret.”
“Nor will I.”
“I’m surprised you aren’t mad at me.” His thumb stroked the tender skin beneath her chin, his affection unmistakable. An answering affection whispered through her with a single impossible wish. Maybe he could stay. His eyes, so deep, so blue, held no guile, just genuine unveiled adoration. “You hardly know me and you let me kiss you.”
“I know what’s important.” She laid one hand across the middle of his chest when she should step away. “I know what matters about you. That’s enough.”
“You are too good to me.” He brushed his hand along her jaw, a tender caress. “Which is why I’m finishing the dishes by myself. No argument allowed.”
“What if I want to argue?” she protested sweetly.
“I’m the guest and this is what I want.” He didn’t deserve this moment with her. She wouldn’t want him if she knew about his prison record. But he wanted to spend time with her more than anything. “Go show Thomas how to decorate your tree. I’ll get some popcorn going, I noticed it in the pantry. You two can string while I clean up the kitchen.”
“I’ve never known a man to do a woman’s work.” She tilted her head, curious, searching his face for the answer.
“Work is work, and besides, Thomas needs you to make this Christmas special for him. Let me help you do that.”
“As long as you are a part of it. Thomas needs you, too.”
“I’d like that.” Although she removed her hand, the warmth of her touch remained, emblazed upon his soul.
What if he could forget the past, what then? Would he want to stay? Be a husband to Caroline and a father to Thomas?
Yes. Unequivocally. Beyond all doubt.
“Let me help you get the popcorn started.” She spun away with a swirl of calico.
“What did I just say?” Chuckling, he pulled her back into his arms. He breathed in lilacs as her soft, feminine form snuggled against his. If only he could hold her forever. “I’ll do the kitchen work.”
“I know, I heard you.” She rocked back into his arms, so dear there was no way to stop the love overtaking him. Unaware, she broke away and scooped a kettle off its shelf. “At the very least, I can show you what pot to use. I’m assuming you have plenty of experience with this?”
“I’m a master. Popcorn is my specialty.”
“Really? Well, you are full surprises, Caleb.” She plopped kettle and lid on the stove. “I’ll go fetch plenty of needles and thread. Don’t think you’re going to get out of stringing popcorn.”
“I have no experience whatsoever with a needle and thread.”
“Then you are about to learn.” She sailed away, taking the light with her. Thomas and Bingo emerged from beneath the spreading boughs of the tree as she approached. “Guess what? It’s time to start decorating. Want to help?”
“Boy, do I!” The boy squared his little shoulders and raced across the room, holding tight to his toy. “Is it gonna look like the tree in the mercantile window?”
“Ours will be more special because it will be homemade. Here’s some paper.” She carried the precious stack of parchment to the couch. As the boy trotted ahead of her, her attention strayed to the kitchen. Caleb standing in the lamplight could make her dream.
“Here are your scissors.” She waited until Thomas was seated on the sofa before handing over her sewing scissors, handle first. “Have you ever made paper snowflakes before?”
A solemn shake of his head.
“It’s easy. Let me show you.” She settled next to him and began. She ought to be concentrating on her work, but as she cut the sheet into quarters where did her mind go to?
To Caleb and the rattle of corn kernels in
the kettle. The imprint of his kiss still burned on her lips. The power of what she felt for him…
Stop. Don’t complete that thought. Don’t allow one more word. She sighed and kept cutting. What she felt for Caleb made her feel as if there were more room in her heart than before. Enough room to try to love again. That frightened her to the quick because when her gaze locked with his, time stilled. In the space between one heartbeat and the next, she saw his truth. His deepest wish was written across the handsome planes of his face. His feelings shone sincere in the blue richness of his eyes. She shivered, realizing she wasn’t alone with her feelings.
“There’s something missing,” Caleb called out as he held the lid over the kettle and gave it a shake. “Caroline, I’m surprised you haven’t noticed it by now.”
“Hmm, I’m not sure what you mean. We have popcorn. We’re making snowflakes. Thomas, can you think what might be missing?”
“Candles?” The boy scrunched up his forehead.
“That’s a good guess,” Caleb drawled over the pop, pop, pop of the corn. “We need to find some candles for the tree, that’s for sure, but I was thinking of something else. It’s awful quiet in here.”
“Except for the popping.”
“Except for the popping. When I was a boy decorating the tree with my folks, we always sang Christmas carols.”
“Singing was a part of my Christmases, too.” When she’d been married, she had often hummed carols while she’d gone about her housework, entertaining Mathias who wiggled in his crib. Knowing how Thomas must be thinking of the past too, she recalled a different time in her life. “When I young, the whole orphanage would sing in celebration on Christmas Eve. Alma would sit next to me, right where you are now. She had the prettiest soprano. She was like an angel singing. Do you know what her favorite carol was?”
Thomas shook his head, eyes hungry for the answer.
“‘Jingle Bells.’ Because it always reminded her of her family, before her parents died. She said her pa always strung bells on his horses during the winter so wherever they went, they made music.”
“I sure would like some of those bells.” Thomas’s sadness was tempered by a smile. Happy memories must be returning to him, too. “So Kringle can have music like my ma had.”
“Maybe Santa can manage that.” Caleb lumbered over, moving through the shadows and toward them. “We’ll see what he can do. In the meantime, should we start with ‘Jingle Bells’?”
Thomas nodded, taking charge of the giant bread mixing bowl full of white fluffy corn, which Caleb handed him.
“Dashing through the snow,” the big man belted out in perfect pitch. He knelt to brush a kiss against her cheek. “On a one horse open sleigh.”
“O’er the fields we go,” she chimed in with her imperfect alto.
“Laughing all the way,” Thomas added, his voice high and sweet.
Music and laughter filled the air, making the fire warmer and the lamplight brighter.
Happiness lingered in the air of the cabin, centering around the tree decked in popcorn strings, small paper snowflakes and a dozen ribbons Caroline had borrowed from her sewing basket. Caleb knelt in the silent room, alone with the tree. This was his favorite Christmas so far. Never had he needed the spirit of the season more.
Thomas’s voice rose faintly from his bed, where Caroline tucked him in. Caleb could see the outside line of her arm, the curve of her shoulder, one loose tendril of gold hair. Her laughter clung to him, a treasured memory never to forget. He’d helped his son hang his first ornament. He’d had the privilege of holding the boy up so he could decorate the highest branches. Because of tonight, he felt full up, no longer empty.
“He fell asleep the instant his head hit the pillow.” Caroline closed the bedroom door. Her cheeks pink, her smile merry, she radiated a quiet joy that looked good on her. Very good. His heart twisted, wringing with love for her.
“I’m not surprised. I’ve never seen anyone run around so much. Back and forth, back and forth, to and from the tree.” His voice cracked with emotion.
“He was excited. You were so good with him, Caleb.”
“He’s easy to be good to.” He shrugged one shoulder. She was wrong. She was the wonder. “Do you suppose I can find a string of bells in town?”
“Who knows? I sure hope so. Did you see Thomas’s face?”
“I did. There’s no way I can let him down.” He set the final chunk of wood into the fire, nudged it into place with the poker and set the metal tool aside. When he stood Caroline came to him, sliding into his arms. He held her while the fire crackled and breathed in the amazing sensation of having her tucked against his chest.
“How about you?” She tilted her head to peer up at him, delicate brows arched, her adorable mouth pursed with the question. “What do you want for Christmas?”
To stay here with you. The words stuck on his tongue, refusing to be spoken. He longed for her. He never wanted to leave. When he gazed into her ice-blue depths, he saw her love for him. He saw where he belonged. He dreamed improbable dreams of a family and a future right here.
“I want your happiness,” he said. That was what he desired most.
“I am happy. You did that.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, holding on when he should be pushing her away.
“What do you want for Christmas?” His turn to ask, and since he had two more shopping days before Christmas, he counted it as an important question.
“Your happiness.” Her sincerity rang true, pure and selfless, capturing him more. She rose up on tiptoe to brush her lips across his in a shy, brief kiss.
Too brief. He circled his hand around her nape. He fought the images sifting into his mind of her wearing his wedding ring, of her welcoming him home after a hard day’s work, of her cradling their child in her arms with Thomas at her side.
He wanted so much for Christmas. More than he could have. But was there a way? He knew there wasn’t. But did that keep him from hoping? No. The wish built within him that maybe, just maybe, he could stay. She made him feel as if the injustices of the past were truly gone. That maybe his luck was coming back around and good things were in store.
You know better, McGraw, so stop wishing for it. He drew her against him, kissing her deep. No, he couldn’t stop wishing. Infinite affection spiraled through him, more pure and powerful than he’d ever believed could be. She was his one true love and he never wanted to let her go.
“It sounds like a wonderful family night.” Selma McKaslin had that knowing look of delight as she strong-armed the pan of morning rolls out of the bakery’s oven. “When my boys were little, oh, the time we had trying to keep them out of trouble when we decorated the tree. One was trying to climb it, a pair of them would suddenly start wrestling, heavens! Those were merry times and gone too fast.”
“Yes, but now you have grandchildren.” Caroline glanced over her shoulder—Thomas was playing with Bingo on the floor—and spread a thick layer of strawberry jelly over the kneaded dough on the worktable in front of her. “Have you finished all your sewing and shopping for them?”
“Just barely. I’ve got baking to do and cooking. Which reminds me, dear. I expect you to bring our new beau to my Christmas Eve dinner party. I don’t want to hear a single excuse.”
“What makes you think Caleb is my beau?”
“Oh, a few reasons. The look on your face. The glint in your eye. You’ve come alive, Caroline. You are a woman falling in love.” Selma slid the baking sheet onto the table with expert flair. “Don’t even think about trying to deny it.”
“Fine, I won’t. I can see trying to change your mind is a hopeless cause.” She set aside the spatula and crimped the edges of the dough together. “I’ll ask Caleb and see if he will come along. It’s good of you to include us.”
“Why wouldn’t I? You’re practically family. The moment you stepped off the train with little Thomas in tow, I just lost my heart to you.” Selma didn’t add that she lost her heart to everyone. �
��Which is why I should be the first to know about you and your little romance. Why aren’t you giving me the details? I need details.”
“Romance.” Caroline repeated the word, smiling, remembering last night’s kisses. Oh, dear, was there no way she could keep control of her feelings?
“Ah, just as I thought.” Selma plucked the rolls off the sheet and onto cooling racks. The bell rang above the door. “Oops! It sounds like we have another customer.”
“I’ll see to it.” She wiped her fingers on a clean cloth. The back of her neck tingled. Caleb’s familiar gait echoed in the quiet shop and affection spiraled through her. She’d been at work only a matter of hours and already she sorely missed seeing him.
“Is it school time?” Thomas asked, gazing up with adoration at the man.
She knew just how he felt. Caleb, so good and strong he made her feel safe and protected, as if hardship and cruelty could never touch her. Last night in front of the fire, being sheltered in his arms had been the most wonderful thing. Remembering their loving kisses, her face blushed. When his deep gaze fastened on hers, she knew he was remembering that intimacy, too.
“It’s time. Go get your things, cowboy, and I’ll take you to school.” Caleb ruffled the boy’s hair, tender. Love so pure scrawled across him unmistakably as he watched his son trot off in search of his winter coat.
She loved the man. Totally, completely, beyond all reason loved him, even when she’d thought it could never be possible again. Joy filtered through her like the morning’s sunlight, illuminating everything. She was no longer left with the ashes of her past. She wanted to love again, to live again. She wanted to spend her days at Caleb’s side and her nights in his arms.
“You look cold. Would you like a cup of coffee?” She skirted the front counter.
“No, I’m fine. You look busy back there.” He spotted a grandmotherly looking woman in the back setting dough on a baking sheet. Her gaze sparkled merrily at him, as if she were already hearing wedding bells for him and Caroline.
