“Join the club.” His nerves dissolving, Will plucked the infant from Cordelia’s arms and made his way to the living room.
“What are you doing here?”
“Isaiah, your foster mom loves our visits.” Will hoisted the baby over his head and earned a belly laugh. “It’s what keeps our relationship so smoking hot.”
Cordelia’s face relaxed into a reluctant smile.
He lifted the baby again, entranced with the kid’s instant joy. “Sounds like I’m not the only one who has parental problems.”
She watched Isaiah laugh, her expression one of captivated love. Will wanted to push pause and capture her face with a photo. The image would be better than any Mona Lisa. Cordelia loved that kid already, and when he left, it would tear her apart.
“My mom has moods,” Cordelia said. “The holidays always cause flare ups, but nothing I can’t handle. So . . .what are you doing here?”
It was then that he noticed Cordelia was dressed to go outside. She wore a faire isle stocking cap, a coat fit for the Iditarod, and fuzzy boots that seemed to be eating the legs of her jeans. “Yeah . . .I was in the neighborhood.”
“Were you?” It wasn’t a question, but a doubtful charge.
He bounced Isaiah to his other shoulder. “Mapping out my route for caroling.”
“Right. And who is it you’ll be singing with?”
“It’s a one-man show. Very exclusive. If you’re nice to me, I might put you on the list for tambourine.”
“Such incentive.” Cordelia walked to him, brushed her hand over Isaiah’s curly hair, and met Will’s gaze. “Are you okay?”
No. He wasn’t, but he wasn’t sure why. And he sure as heck didn’t know why his car had led him here. “My brother and family arrived this morning. The whole crew’s going ice skating downtown tonight.”
“That sounds fun.”
“I told them I had a date with you.”
Her hand stilled on Isaiah’s head. “Why?
Will knew he sounded immature. “I’ve been with them all day, and I needed a break. I came here so —"
“So you wouldn't be totally lying?"
"Something like that." And because he wanted to see her, hear her laugh again. Will liked how the world wasn't so heavy when he was with her. The hundred thoughts playing percussion in his head seemed to quiet when Cordelia was near. He loved his family, but he felt battle-weary from the barrage of questions fired his way. A blob of drool plopped on his hand, bringing Will back to the present. “Isaiah, does your foster mommy have a big date tonight?” Not that the thought of her going out with some other guy bothered him. Not at all. Cordelia could see whomever she wanted to. It was a free country, and—
“It’s actually Isaiah who has the date.”
Relief filled Will’s lungs. “Where to?”
“We’re headed to Mitchell Crawford’s ranch. He hosts a yearly Christmas party for area foster and low-income kids.”
A flash of hesitation stilled his smile. "Sounds like an important night. I remember Crawford."
"Would you like to go? Seeing as how we’re on a date tonight and all."
The phone in his pocket buzzed, and Will quickly checked the display. His sister. For the tenth time.
“Yes.” Surely he could handle a party of kids. “I'll drive."
Will took them along the scenic route, driving by neighborhoods he knew would be glammed out in lights. Cordelia forced him to listen to Christmas music, unabashedly singing along as she pointed out the displays that had been her creation. Even in the dark of the car, he could see her whole face light up while she oooh’d and ahh’d as if she hadn't already seen all the decorations in town. While baby Isaiah babbled and cooed in the back seat, they drove over dirt roads that jostled and bumped. Farmhouses that had weathered generations stood in fields crunchy and barren from the arrival of winter. Finally, at Cordelia’s direction, he turned down a lingering road that led them to one of Mitchell Crawford’s giant barns, which, not surprisingly, was outlined in lights of every color.
“Did you design Crawford’s setup?” Will turned off the car.
“I did. He gives me carte blanche, so his is always fun. It needs to be pretty, but very kid friendly.”
It was a child’s wonderland. Cordelia had really stepped up her game with this one, bringing in technology he had little concept of. There were three two-story animatronic Christmas trees that rotated through a laser light show in sync to popular music. Stringed lights formed a canopy overhead, like magical webs through the trees. Popular cartoon characters appeared in the sky like Bat signals. Wreaths bigger than semi-tires seemed to float midair, and in the distance sat a golden throne on a platform that surely was for the man of the hour, Santa himself.
Volunteers dressed as elves mixed and mingled through the crowd as Will, Cordelia, and Isaiah made their way through the throng of kids and families. Cordelia had the baby bundled in a marshmallowy coat and wind-blocking blanket, holding him close, while greeting people she knew.
“Isaiah! Isaiah!”
Cordelia turned and smiled at a small boy running ahead of his family. “Hey there, John Thomas.” She squatted low, so the child with red hair and two missing front teeth could see the baby in her arms.
“Has he missed me?” the little boy asked.
“You bet he has. Haven’t you, Isaiah?”
Isaiah stared at the kid, who couldn’t be any older than five. Three more children soon joined them, followed by a man Will assumed to be the father.
“Hello, Miss Cordelia.” The man wore a baseball cap, a quilted plaid jacket, and looked like he’d recently pulled an all-nighter.
“Hi, Steve. How are you guys? Are you ready to see Santa?”
The kids, ranging in ages from knee high to about ten jumped up and down, their red heads nodding, their cheeks and noses pink from the cold.
“You know all the food is free here, so be sure you get dinner and some snacks.” Cordelia pointed to a pink trailer with a lighted bow on top big enough to illuminate space. “Miss Frannie’s got some special cupcakes just for you tonight. She can’t wait to see you.”
The kids cast anxious gazes to their father. “You guys can go. Max, you watch your brothers and sister. I’ll be right there.”
Cordelia didn’t have long to wait before the kids were out of earshot. “The children look good, Steve. How are you doing?”
He shrugged. “My church is helping. We’re making it.” He glanced in the direction the kids had roamed. “They’re great, but they’re . . .a lot to handle.”
“I’d love to bring dinner again soon.”
“I’ve never taken help before in my life, Miss Cordelia. But right now a meal for us would just about make my week.”
“Then I’ll bring two. And dessert—but just for you. If you get those kids hyped up on sugar, they’ll be even more to handle.”
Steve gave a small laugh then shifted his focus to Isaiah. “And how’s this big guy?”
“He’s wonderful,” Cordelia said. “Adjusting very well.”
He nodded and chewed on his lip as if tasting regret. “We had a Christmas tree delivered to the house a few days ago. By chance do you know anything about that?”
Will recalled her ordering a tree for delivery, but Cordelia just shrugged. “Hope it was a good one.”
“The kids went nuts.” Steve’s booted foot scuffed the ground. “Our case worker told me you wanted to bring presents out later.”
“Ananya’s helping me with the shopping lists,” Cordelia said. “You can tell the kids it’s from you and Santa.”
He adjusted the bill of his Razorback ball cap. “Thank you, Cordelia. It means a lot.” Steve turned his ear toward some sibling yelling in the distance. “I better go check on them. They’ve probably taken Miss Frannie hostage and eaten all her stock.”
Steve left with haste, and Will felt the heavy shift in Cordelia’s mood. “A fellow foster parent?”
“Yeah. Though n
ot by choice.” Her eyes skimmed the well-lit horizon. “Isaiah’s mom had five kids. The oldest four were fathered by Steve’s brother, who was a full time addict, in and out of prison in California. Sabra, the mom, is currently in jail awaiting a drug sentencing herself. Steve agreed to take guardianship of his brother’s kids.”
“That’s a heavy load for one person.”
“He’s never had children. Doesn’t have much family. He works long hours as an airplane mechanic, but I know he’s struggling in every way.”
Will nodded toward the direction the family had taken. “By chance is that one of the reasons you agreed to our deal?”
“Yes.” Isaiah tugged Cordelia’s scarf, and it fell to the ground.
Will retrieved the bright-colored thing and loosely wrapped it around her, steering clear of the baby. He lifted her hair, his fingers grazing the skin of her neck. “You’re a good person, Cordelia Daring.”
“Thank you. . .” Her long lashes brushed her cheeks as she watched his hands still holding the ends of her scarf. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
A kid in a flashing Santa hat bumped into Will, and he tensed. He felt sweat trickle down his back, despite the frigid temps. So many children here. The place was crawling with them.
“Will?”
Visions of other children flashed through his mind, squeezing his conscience until he had to take a step back and catch his breath.
“Hey, are you okay?” Cordelia shifted Isaiah and reached for Will’s arm.
“Yeah. I’m fine.” Shake it off, man. “It’s nothing. Let’s go find those cupcakes.” And then he’d talk her into leaving.
“Will!” Noah Kincaid lifted a hand of greeting and began to walk their way. He dodged one teenager and nearly stepped on a toddler before finally joining them. “What a great party, huh?” The mayor slapped Will on the back and grinned at Cordelia. “How’d you get this guy out here?”
“He begged to tag along.” Cordelia nudged Will with her shoulder. “Just can’t get enough of Christmas.”
“Is that right?” Noah planted his feet in a stance Will recognized as a precursor to a Kincaid sales pitch. “Will, we have a little situation with our Santa and need a last minute fill-in. What do you say?”
Will watched a school bus park and children spill out. “I say you’re gonna make a great St. Nick.”
“I intended to,” Noah said, “but I just got a call about some busted pipes at city hall and need to meet the plumber.”
“How about Mitchell Crawford?” Cordelia asked.
Noah shook his dark head. “The kids know him too well.”
Will felt the noose of obligation tightening around his neck and tasted bitter shame on his tongue. Years ago he would’ve jumped at the chance to help out, but the thought of kids crawling all over him, their arms around him, telling him their hopes and wishes? It was a living nightmare. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”
“Are you sure?” Cordelia asked. “I think you’d look quite dashing in the costume. I can help you with the children.”
“No.” A bead of sweat tracked down his temple. It was irrational, illogical, but he couldn’t breathe it away. “No Santa for me tonight.”
Noah watched his friend with that blasted look of sympathy. “Okay, man. No worries. We’ll catch up later.” He clapped his hand on Will’s shoulder. “Cordelia, good to see you.”
She watched Noah disappear into the crowd then turned her attention back to Will. He waited for the questions, the lecture, the mention of “this is what your parents are talking about.”
Instead Cordelia just smiled. “I’m proud of you for coming with me tonight.” She reached out and straightened the collar of his coat, her hands smoothing across his chest. Her nearness was both a provocation and a comfort. “Would you like to leave now? Isaiah won’t complain.”
“Not necessary.” He could push through a make it a little longer. Will put a hand to the curve of her waist and drew her closer, as if hoping to steal some of her sunlight. “But thank you.”
“For what?”
He took a deep breath of the wintery, Ozark air. “For just being you.”
Chapter 12
“Oh, Cordelia! Cordelia, dear! Yoo hoo!”
Cordelia stuck a bottle in Isaiah’s mouth and watched a pair of friends walk her way. “Brace yourself,” she said to Will. “Trouble and chaos are headed our direction.”
“More kids?”
“No,” she said. “Senior citizens.”
They were soon joined by two women from Cordelia’s book club. Sylvie Sutton, his landlord, sported a sassy pixie cut and elf ears while her best friend Frannie Nelson preened in a magenta wig.
“Hi, ladies,” Cordelia said. “Frannie, I like your sweatshirt.”
“Thank you. I made it myself.” The woman held open her coat so they could get a better view of the holiday scene she’d created. Santa’s googly eyes glowed as if suffering a demonic possession.
“Really captures the holiday,” Will said.
Frannie and Sylvie made a thorough inspection and semi-silent analysis of him, not even bothering with finesse.
“How are you enjoying the house, Mr. Sinclair?” Sylvie asked.
He pulled his focus away from Frannie’s sweatshirt, lest it hypnotize and bring him to the dark side. “It serves my purpose well.”
“I hope you didn’t mind my sending Cordelia over to decorate your yard.”
“It was a surprise. But I’ve come to appreciate it.”
“Nice to see you at our party,” Frannie said. “And there’s that cutie patootie Isaiah! Did you see his face light up when he saw me, Sylvie?”
“Probably gas,” Sylvie said.
“We missed you at book club.” Frannie pivoted to face Will. “But maybe you were otherwise occupied.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t show.” Cordelia held back a grin. “I got caught up with work. It is my busiest month. But I did read the book."
Sylvie clapped her gloved hands. “Wasn't it amazing?"
"It was… something."
"It's a new Christmas classic for sure," Frannie said.
"What did you ladies read?" Will asked.
“Snowed in with Santa’s Sexy Son.” Sylvie gave a low whistle.
“Sounds like it belongs right next to Dickens,” Will said.
"A true family classic," Cordelia agreed. “Sylvie and Frannie are newly retired from the CIA. In an effort to find a hobby, they started a book club just for romance novels.”
Will gave a polite nod of his head. “Thank you for your service to the country.”
“Spreading the good news of kissing books certainly does benefit our great nation,” Frannie said.
“I meant your time in the CIA.”
“Oh, I suppose that helped too.” Frannie patted the red streak in her funky locks. “Yeah, thanks.”
“We are still available for on-the-spot security detail if you should feel threatened at any point tonight,” Sylvie said.
Cordelia laughed. “You’re not frisking Will tonight, ladies.”
“We’re big on safety.” Frannie gave Will’s bicep an unbidden squeeze. “But I think you might be okay.”
Cordelia resituated Isaiah so he could see the two women making goo-goo eyes at him. “Frannie and Sylvie volunteer here every year.”
Frannie gave the underside of Isaiah’s chin a tickle with her glittery red nail. “We volunteer a lot, but even that can be dullsville. But not here at Crawford's ranch. We love this event and wouldn't miss it."
"Even if they did make us check our tasers at the door." Sylvie shrugged. “Tis the season for rude demands.”
Isaiah squealed and clapped his hands, inspiring a laugh from the group.
“We hear you, sweet baby.” Frannie mimicked his hand-clapping. “You want your foster mama to go get me a funnel cake and coffee. Did I hear that right?”
Sylvie held up some cash. “He said two of each.”
“Okay, okay.” Co
rdelia shook her finger at the women. “But don’t harass Will. At least not till I get back.”
Sylvie chuckled as she watched Cordelia and Isaiah go. “Isn’t that baby adorable?”
“He is,” Will said.
“Adorable just like his foster mama.” Frannie gave him hubba-hubba brows. “Am I right?”
Cordelia had stopped to talk to someone, and Will watched her hair blowing in the breeze. Her eyes were alight with the fanfare, completely jazzed to be in her element. Her pink lips opened in a laugh, and she touched the shoulder of the child she spoke to. Will had known what it meant to exist, yet not be alive. But Cordelia? She was life and passion and everything good.
His words came out scratchy and rough. “She’s beautiful.”
“I followed your story for years,” Frannie said. “It's a miracle you’re alive.”
Miracle. It was a term that had been used around him a lot since he’d returned. "I guess it is."
“You guess?” Sylvie punched his arm with an impressive amount of heat. “Sugar, you're here for a reason. Believe that.”
Will shifted his weight, suddenly uncomfortable under this strange scrutiny. It was as if these two could see inside his head. “Can I get you ladies some cocoa?"
“Nuh-uh.” Frannie crossed her arms over her chest. “What you can get us are some answers, Mr. Hotsy Totsy Reporter.”
“What are your intentions with Cordelia Daring?” Sylvie asked.
"I thought we’d just have a nice evening?”
"I think of her like my own granddaughter,” Frannie said. “Except one that calls on my birthday and doesn’t ask me for money.”
“You won’t find a sweeter gal in Sugar Creek.” The blonde interrogator inspected the fingers of her leather glove. “One time a man broke my daughter’s heart, and he was mysteriously relocated to a remote island in the Pacific.”
These two might’ve had a unique collection of skills, but subtlety wasn’t one of them. “I admire your concern for Cordelia, but she and I are simply spending time together. Getting to know one another.” That much was true. “We’re not shopping for wedding china or picking out rings.”
His Mistletoe Miracle Page 7
