by Vivian Arend
The slow pulse of the old-time engine beat out its steady rhythm like a little drummer boy, and Mack thought it was one of the most magical sounds in the entire world.
“I might have to see if the Yoders want to sell her.” Brooke lowered the plow bucket and pushed a beautifully clear path across the width of the parking lot before putting the beast into park.
They didn’t even have to go inside to know Gary wasn’t home. Brooke pointed at the open spot where her dad usually parked his vehicle, a frown folding her expression at the tire tracks left in the snow. “You think he went looking for us?”
Mack had his phone out and was checking for messages. “I’m still not getting any reception, so whatever went down, went down hard.”
Brooke pushed open the exterior door, checking her phone quickly before nodding in agreement. “I use a different server, and mine is down too.” Both hands on the railings, she took the stairs two at a time. “Dad. You here?”
Mack followed her up in time to see her pick up a piece of paper left on the table.
She read it out loud. “Figure you guys will get back sometime today. I’ll be over at the seniors lodge helping out. If you don’t get this, I’ll track you down later. You better not have run away from home again.”
The two of them glanced at each other then burst out laughing.
Brooke shook her head as she wiped tears from her eyes. “Good to know he wasn’t sitting here worried sick.”
“When did you run away from home?” Mack asked.
“I was five. It was naptime and Gram had taken away my toy toolset, so I decided I should go live at the shop where I could have all the hammers and wrenches I wanted.” She motioned toward her room. “Let’s grab a quick shower and a change of clothes to get rid of the diesel fuel smell before we head to the lodge.”
There was no fooling around this time, just a quick scrub and a clean set of clothing Mack grabbed out of his duffel bag. They were in Brooke’s truck and headed over to the seniors lodge double-quick, joining the other vehicles parked along the roadway.
The rooftop ornaments were barely visible under the new snow that had fallen in the last two days.
Inside, it smelled like Christmas.
Christmas carols carried over the sound system, and as it was just past lunch, something savoury lingered in the air. Brooke linked her fingers with Mack’s, and they walked together down the corridor to where he’d met on the sly with Geraldine a few times this past month.
The common room was filled with small groups of people, some gathered around tables, some with chairs pulled close to wheelchairs and making their own little parties.
Gary Silver sat at a table with Geraldine and Floyd. Yvette stepped into view, a tray covered with teacups in her hands.
Her eyes lit up as she saw them. “You’re back.”
Gary’s casual, relaxed state vanished as he shot to his feet and rushed over to envelop Brooke in an enormous hug. Without saying anything, he turned and caught Mack in an equally powerful embrace, slapping him on the shoulder before stepping back.
Gary turned his attention to Brooke. “You should’ve just told me you didn’t feel like cooking for Christmas.”
She rolled her eyes exaggeratedly before grinning. “It was far easier to get trapped in the snowstorm than have to face the wrath of the holiday fairies for destroying a Christmas turkey.”
Her father draped his arm around her shoulders and turned them toward Geraldine and Floyd. “My kids are back safe, so I guess this means the party can start.”
Mack paused for a minute, uncertain he’d heard the man correctly, but he followed the others to the table and settled at Brooke’s side. Yvette brought two more cups, and they passed around a huge pot of tea and a plate filled with both mincemeat and butter tarts.
Floyd picked one up and eyed it, sniffing carefully before offering a shrug. “Looks good but not as good as my cookies.”
Gary lowered his voice and leaned closer to Mack. “I figured you two were together, so you’d be okay. Anything I need to know?”
He wasn’t about to tell Gary about the shelter until he’d had a chance to touch base with the Yoders. And he wasn’t about to spill the beans about proposing because he figured Brooke would want to announce that.
But there was one thing Mack could share. “Your daughter hot-wired a classic John Deere snowplow for our getaway vehicle. She’s talking about buying it.”
Gary’s expression barely flickered, and his lack of reaction made Mack wonder exactly how much mischief Brooke could get into if she tried.
Then her father nodded. “Glad you kids are okay.”
Across the table from them, Brooke had brought out the large iPad where she’d bookmarked the Christmas song. She propped it on the table in front of Geraldine and Floyd, gesturing her father closer. “It’s not much, but I was trying to track down some old memories and found this. I hope you like it.”
She hit play, and the soft sound of a woman singing began. Mack had watched the video enough times he recognized a few words, but mostly it was the amazing purity of the singer’s voice that carried the beauty and the deep emotion of the holiday season. It was as near to perfection as he’d ever heard.
Until the next miracle happened.
Geraldine began singing along, her voice lower enough to be a complement to the original. Mack met Brooke’s gaze across the table. She took a deep breath, happiness welling up in her expression.
Floyd blinked a couple of times. Then with no other preamble, he joined in.
If the soloist had been perfection, and Geraldine’s voice something beyond that, Floyd’s singing lifted the experience to nothing shy of heavenly. The old man closed his eyes, rocking slightly in his chair as he sang. His voice was crystal clear, with each word jewel-faceted and crisp. No hesitation, no faulty memories—he went through the entire song confident and sure.
Gary and others in the room had also joined in. Softer, more like background singers, as Brooke glanced in amazement at what her small gift had wrought.
Mack sat in silence and soaked in the joy.
To the side, Gary was still singing, furtively wiping away tears. He was trying to do it on the sly, the way many guys did, and as he turned from the crowd, his gaze fell on Brooke, who was unabashedly using a tissue to mop her face.
The bright lights sparkled briefly on the ring Mack had given her, now properly located on her fourth finger.
Gary stilled. Straightened.
He twisted immediately and caught Mack’s gaze, his expression unreadable.
When the music faded, there were a lot of happy people in the room.
Once the hugs were finished, Gary motioned to Brooke and Mack. “I need to talk to you kids. Somewhere private.”
Brooke came along willingly, but finding a quiet hallway was harder than Mack had imagined. Eventually they were tucked in a corner, the window to outside framing a small pine tree covered with teeny red balls.
“What’s up?” Brooke whispered, but Mack shook his head and pulled her to his side, turning her to face her father.
The older man looked miserable and happy at the same time, if such a thing were possible. Gary dragged a hand through his hair.
He glanced at Brooke then back at Mack, then shook his head slowly. “You’d think by this stage of life I would have this being-a-dad thing figured out, but it looks as if I screwed up again. With good intentions, mind you, but still.”
Brooke frowned. “What did you do?”
“Waited too long to tell you something.” Gary met Brooke’s gaze. “I’m proud of you. You’ve worked hard over the years, and I appreciate what you’ve done to make the shop a success and all the things you’ve done to make my life easier. You’re not a bad roommate, either, but you deserved more. Especially once it became obvious that you were serious about this one.”
He jerked a thumb toward Mack.
Mack held his tongue but still wondered why Gary refused to say his
name.
Gary continued. “You kids are getting married, yes?”
The warmth of Brooke’s smile lit up the entire alcove. She put her hand forward for her dad to examine. “We’re very excited.”
“Congratulations.” He paused and changed the topic completely. “You know where you’re going to live?”
“We figured we’d deal with that after the holidays,” Mack told him. “But it’ll be here in Heart Falls. We’re staying close.”
Gary seemed to be swallowing hard, and suddenly Mack wasn’t finding this easy either.
It was clear exactly how much Gary Silver loved his daughter. When Gary took Brooke’s free hand in his and squeezed tight, there wasn’t much that Mack wouldn’t do at that moment to make either of them happy.
“What if I told you I have a house for you?” Gary grinned a little at Brooke’s gasp. “It’s why I’m kicking myself, because I should’ve told you earlier. We’ve been renting out the house on Elm Street for years. When I saw you kids were getting serious, I made sure the renters knew they would have to be out when their lease expired. Unfortunately, that isn’t until the end of December.”
Brooke was speechless.
Mack was almost there as well, but he managed to squeeze out the question. “You have a house for us?”
“The house where we lived with Gram and Grandpa. It’s not fancy, but it’s got good bones, and it’s big enough for you to stay for a number of years.”
Brooke clenched Mack’s arm. He glanced down at her. Saw the love in her eyes and the joy shining out from her very soul.
“What do you think?” he asked.
What did she think?
The roller coaster of a day wasn’t giving Brooke much of a chance to breathe, and her head was so filled with unexpected happiness, she was grateful for Mack’s arm around her giving her a wall to brace against.
She looked between them—the father who’d raised her and cared for her on his own for so many years, and the sturdy soldier who’d come into her life a year ago and filled it with everything that had been missing.
“I think it’s outrageous and absolutely perfect. And I think, Dad, you need to know that you’re the best, and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with your timing.” She glanced into Mack’s deep brown eyes. “We weren’t ready before, but we are now. We’re ready to do the next thing.”
She faced her father again, and he was grinning at the two of them as if he had something to do with getting them together.
“Thank you,” Mack said, hand extended.
“You’re welcome.” Gary accepted the handshake and Brooke’s hug, then he tilted his head toward the common room. “We better get back before Floyd sends out a search party.”
Back in the common room, the atmosphere had jumped up a notch. All the residents there that day had gathered. Brightly coloured packages were being carried around the room, and as Brooke sat next to Geraldine, she was surprised to have a gaudily wrapped gift pressed into her hands.
Brooke stiffened in surprise. “Oh. I didn’t know we were exchanging gifts.”
Geraldine waved it off. “You brought the song for me and Floyd. That’s more than enough of a gift.” She wiggled her fingers excitedly. “Open it. Open it.”
Brooke did as ordered, carefully slitting the tape and folding back the worn wrapping paper so it could be reused.
Inside the box was a familiar blue enamel cup. “I’ve seen this before,” Brooke said uncertainly. “I think I remember…”
“Sharon said it was her favourite cup. It was the only one she ever used when she cooked.”
Memories struck again. The pretty blue cup in Brooke’s hands was the same one she’d seen countless times over the years as her Gram cooked. A rush of realization struck, and she lifted the cup toward Mack triumphantly.
She all but shouted the words. “Christmas cookies.”
Mack had no idea what she was talking about, but he grinned. “Okay?”
Brooke didn’t care that she sounded confused. She turned back to Geraldine and gave her a huge hug. “Thank you, it’s wonderful.”
The gift-giving continued. In some places around the room, wrapping paper flew as if two-year-olds were involved, but mostly it was the smiles and the laughter that became part of the experience for the next while.
Then Mack offered a significant glance to Geraldine before lifting an oddly shaped package and handing it to Brooke’s dad. “Merry Christmas. It’s homemade, as per Brooke’s instructions. Which means it’s a little rough around the edges, but I hope you enjoy it.”
Curiosity on his face, Gary hurried to open the package. Absolute shock registered when he lifted a pair of slippers identical to the ones her grandmother had knit so many of over the years. Alternating tan and brown colours, they weren’t quite as perfect as Gram’s, but they were most definitely slippers and wearable.
Right then and there, her dad slipped off his shoes and put the slippers on. He stood and stomped a few times, his grin widening. Then he moved to Mack’s side, hauled him upright, and hugged him hard. “Thank you, son.”
Brooke had a perfect view of Mack’s face at that moment. The sheer joy reflected there shone as brightly as any star.
It was a couple hours later before they escaped the games and the laughter, and the three of them returned to the apartment over the shop.
The first thing Brooke did was haul out the ingredients to make cookies. “That’s why the recipe didn’t turn out. We weren’t using the right cup.”
“Seriously? You’re going to bake cookies now?” Mack asked with a laugh.
“If you help so I don’t burn them. I’m positive the blue cup is the missing link to our perfect Christmas treats.”
Mack shook his head, but he joined her at the counter and began gathering the now-familiar ingredients, only this time they used the magical blue cup to portion out each item.
Once the cookie sheet was safely tucked into the oven, Brooke settled on the couch beside Mack. His arm was curled around her shoulders, and his fingers played in her hair. “I got an update from Brad. I’m on shift starting tomorrow morning for the next four days, but I’ll be off after that. We can make plans then, okay?”
She nodded. “You staying with me tonight?”
“Wild horses couldn’t tear me away.” He nuzzled his nose behind her ear and sent goose bumps rising. “Also, your dad told me he’s planning on spending the night out at Ashton’s, which means neither of us have to deal with the awkward morning-after at the breakfast table.”
“You’re going to have to get over that, you realize,” she teased.
“Eventually. Maybe once we’re actually married.”
“Old-fashioned.”
“Only a little,” he pointed out. “I have no problem being in your bed as much as possible. I just don’t want him to know that.”
She was laughing softly as her dad entered the room and settled in his chair with a contented sigh. He lifted his feet onto the bolster, wiggled his toes, then grinned at Mack. “This is what I wanted. A perfect old-fashioned holiday.”
Brooke froze. The scent of spicy cookies was beginning to carry from the kitchen, and they’d managed to do some things from her perfect Christmas list, but so much had been a failure.
“How can you say that?” She directed the question at her father. “There was no turkey dinner, the decorations are over at someone else’s house, and we’re still waiting for dessert—if it’s edible. How is this a perfect old-fashioned holiday?”
He snorted. “Those things are all window dressing. I mean, I enjoy them very much, but what makes it perfect is having a family to share it with.” Her father looked at Mack, approval in his expression. “You keep taking care of her like you have over this past year, and I know she’ll be happy in the future, no matter what.”
Mack’s arm tightened around her, cradling her close. “I plan on it, sir.”
“That’s all a man can ask for, son.” He glanced at Brooke
sheepishly before turning back to Mack. “For most of this past year, I kept catching myself a half second before calling you son. Brooke teased that I’d forgotten your name, but it was easier to not call you anything than get my hopes up. I didn’t want to scare either of you off being together. It’s kind of nice to be able to just relax and say it. To know you’re going to be around for good.”
Gary opened up his magazine and proceeded to ignore them.
Brooke felt dazed. She twisted far enough to look into Mack’s face. He had a pleased-as-punch expression that wasn’t going away anytime soon.
That night as they lay in her bed, the apartment quiet, he was still smiling to beat the band.
His smile got bigger when he sat up enough to grab another cookie off the tray on the side table.
“Your Blue Cup cookies are every bit as good as you’d said they’d be,” Mack informed her between crunches. “Sweet and spicy and exactly how Christmas should taste. I hid a dozen of them before your Dad loaded up a bag to take to Ashton’s.”
“Dad packed the slippers you made and took them along as well.” She trailed her fingers over Mack’s chest, stroking the soft skin over firm muscle. “I think you’ll have to take up knitting in your spare time, just to keep him supplied.”
“It’ll be worth it,” Mack promised. “Have to confess it kinda chokes me up every time he calls me son.”
It did the same to her. “You’re good to him. And you’re fantastic to me. Thank you for the picture.”
She glanced at the dresser beside her bed where she’d placed the framed shot of the two of them. It was a selfie taken on a day hike up into the mountains. They’d been goofing off and taking silly pictures, but then she’d wanted a serious couple shot. He’d clicked a few with them both supposedly looking at his phone.
The picture he’d blown up had caught a moment when she was staring straight at the camera, the wilderness all around them, and Mack—
