Just One Kiss: A heartwarming Christmas romance (Whisper Lake Book 4)

by Barbara Freethy

  "Mommy said Frisco will protect me," Brett told her.

  "Did your mom say where she was going?"

  "No."

  "What about your dad?"

  "I'm hungry."

  "Well, let me see what's here to eat." She got to her feet and moved into the adjacent kitchen. There was a bowl of cereal on the table as well as a glass of milk and another glass of orange juice. They were untouched.

  Brett ran into the kitchen. "Did you make me cereal?" he asked.

  "It was already here, Brett. Your mom must have left it for you."

  He scrambled into the chair. "Can you pour the milk into my cereal?"

  "Sure." She poured some of the milk over the cereal and left the rest for him to drink.

  As he started to eat, Jake came out of the bedroom and motioned to her.

  She joined him in the living room. "What's going on?" she asked in a quiet voice, not wanting to alarm Brett.

  "You need to see for yourself." He led her down a short hallway into the one and only bedroom. There was a small suitcase on the bed that was open but completely packed. On top of the neatly folded clothing was a note.

  She picked it up and read aloud, "Please watch over my son. I'll be back as soon as I can. Don't call the police. He won't be safe if you do." She met Jake's gaze, her stomach churning. "What the hell is this?"

  "Trouble," he said, meeting her gaze.

  She thought so, too.

  "And by the way," he added, "the hot water works just fine. It was just a ruse to get you out here."

  "But this woman had no idea how long it would take for someone to come up here. He's a small child, and she left him alone."

  "What are you going to do?"

  She looked at the note once more and frowned. "She says not to call the police, but I have to." She lifted her gaze to his. "Don't I?"

  Chapter Two

  Hannah didn't need Jake to answer that question, because she already knew. "Of course I have to call the police. I'll reach out to Adam or Brodie. They'll know how to handle this and keep Brett safe. I trust them."

  "That's the right move," he agreed.

  She took her phone out of the pocket of her jacket, relieved to see she had a signal. "Phone is working again."

  "Good."

  "Jake, I may need you to give both me and Brett a ride into town."

  "Absolutely."

  "What about your friend?"

  "I'll check on him now. What do you think will happen to Brett?"

  "Child welfare services will be called," she said slowly. She hated the thought of that sweet little boy spending Christmas in foster care.

  "Maybe the mom will be back soon."

  That was Jake, the eternal optimist. He always looked for the bright side, and while she'd really liked that about him, there had come a time when she'd also hated the fact that he couldn't seem to understand that not everything would be all right. But this wasn't the time to get into the past, so she simply followed him into the living room. She wanted to check on Brett once more before she called the police. Maybe he could tell her something about his mom.

  After Jake left, she sat down at the kitchen table across from Brett and gave him a smile. He'd eaten every last bit of his cereal, leaving behind a milk moustache. She picked up the napkin that had been set next to the bowl and wiped his mouth.

  As she did that, she couldn't help thinking about the little details that had been carefully planned—the folded napkin, the fact that the milk had not been poured into the bowl so the cereal wouldn't get soggy, the warmth of the cabin, the bright lights, the television, and, of course, the note. It all seemed to imply that Brett's mother had spent some time planning her exit. She'd tried to think of everything, but she'd left the biggest thing to chance, and that was who might respond to her call about a broken water heater.

  "Can I have a cookie now?" Brett pointed to the bag of chocolate chip cookies on the counter. "I always get a cookie when I eat my dinner."

  She didn't think cereal and cookies were the best meal, but at least he wasn't going hungry. At this moment, her first priority was to keep him happy. She got him a cookie and brought it back to the table.

  His smile made her heart melt. He had a sweet, angelic face, a trusting innocence that made her want to do everything she could to make sure he was safe. In some ways, he reminded her of her little brother Tyler. She'd been thirteen when her father had died, when her mother had fallen apart, and Tyler had only been eight. She'd fed him cereal and cookies, too. Or she'd made him jam sandwiches because it was all she could find in the fridge. And sometimes there had only been enough for one of them to eat. Not because there hadn't been money for food—just no one to get it.

  Her heart hardened at the memories, and she felt a rush of anger toward the unknown woman who had left her son to the mercy of strangers.

  What if she hadn't been the one to come to the cabin? What if her mom had sent the handyman? Old Blain wouldn't have known what to do with a small child. And how could the unknown mother trust someone she didn't know with her child?

  Some people really shouldn't have children.

  "When is my mommy coming back?" Brett asked, drawing her attention back to him.

  "I'm not sure."

  "Are you going to read me a story?"

  "Maybe later. Do you know how old you are?"

  He held up four fingers.

  "Four. You're a big guy. Do you know where you live?"

  "In a yellow house. It looks like the sun."

  "That sounds nice. Is it here in the mountains?"

  "No. It's far away."

  "Do you live there with your mom and dad?"

  "My mom lives there."

  "Do you know her name?"

  "Mommy."

  She smiled at his pragmatic answer.

  "What about your last name? Do you know that?"

  He gave her a blank look, then said, "Can I play?"

  "Sure."

  As he slid off the chair and ran into the living room to play with his puppies, she got to her feet and took the cereal bowl to the sink. With Brett caught up in some imaginary game, she took out her phone and called her mother. She wanted to know more about the repair request before she contacted Adam.

  "Did you get the water heater fixed?" her mom asked.

  "The water is fine. I need to know who called you about the problem."

  "I got a text on my phone from the tenant. Why?"

  "What exactly did it say?"

  "I don't remember exactly. Why are you asking me these questions, Hannah?"

  She didn't want to get into it just yet. Her mom always complicated matters, and she needed to keep this situation as simple as she could. "Just tell me what the text said. Can you look on your phone?"

  "I'm at Marty's house. Can't this wait?"

  She didn't much care for Marty, who was a fifty-seven-year-old divorcee who had recently moved to Whisper Lake from Denver. He seemed like a party guy, and that was not the kind of man her mom should be with. "This can't wait," she said forcefully. "Just read me the text. It will take you two seconds. I drove all the way out here for you. It's the least you can do."

  "Fine." Her mother paused, then read the text aloud. "Water heater is broken. Please send someone right away. We can't make it through the night without hot water. This is urgent."

  "And what did you say?"

  "After you told me you'd go, I texted her back that you were on the way."

  "What's the name of the tenant?"

  "I don't know. Mark did the booking."

  "Did her name appear on the text?"

  "Just a phone number."

  "Can you forward it to me? There must have been a name on the rental agreement. Do you have that?"

  "Mark has all that information. His assistant Debbie can get it for us, but I told you she's driving back from Denver."

  "How would the tenant get your number? Why wouldn't she text Mark or Debbie?"

  Her mother hesit
ated, then said, "I'm not sure. But I think my phone number is on the rental agreement as well as theirs."

  "Okay, just text me what you have."

  "I'm doing it right now. Can you tell me what's going on?"

  "I'm not sure yet, but I'll get back to you."

  "That sounds mysterious. Is everything all right? Wait a second, hold on."

  She frowned as she heard her mother tell Marty to get her a sparkling water. It was good that her mom wasn't drinking alcohol, but Hannah couldn't help getting nervous when her mom put herself in situations where there was a lot of booze around.

  "Okay, what were we saying?" her mom asked, coming back on the line.

  "Never mind. I've got to go. I'll check in with you later."

  After ending the call with her mother, she punched in the number her mother had forwarded to her. It went straight to voicemail. It was an automated message, with no indication of who the number belonged to.

  She then called Debbie but got another voicemail. She left a message asking Debbie to call as soon as she got back to town. She'd no sooner finished that when Jake re-entered the cabin, concern on his face.

  "Did you find your friend?" she asked when he came into the kitchen.

  "No. He wasn't there, but the door was open, and the place was a pit, filled with fast-food garbage and two empty vodka bottles."

  "That's not good."

  His lips tightened. "No, it's not good. His car is not there. I really hope he didn't drive drunk."

  She could see the strain in his eyes. While there were a lot of things she didn't like about Jake, she had to admit he'd always cared about his friends. "I'm sorry."

  He gave her a nod. "Thanks. What's going on here? Did you talk to the police?"

  "Not yet. I tried to get some information from Brett, but he just said they live far away and he's four years old. Thankfully, he's not scared anymore."

  "The blessed ignorance of childhood."

  "I also spoke to my mother. She gave me a phone number for the renter, but that person didn't answer. Our property manager and his assistant are currently unreachable."

  "Did you tell your mother about Brett?"

  "No. She's at a party, and she's not that helpful in a crisis. I'll call Adam now, but I'd like to do that from the bedroom. Can you watch Brett?"

  "Whatever you need."

  She kind of hated that Jake was being so supportive. She liked keeping a good strong wall of anger between them. It was much easier that way. But this was a situation she hadn't expected, and at the moment she needed him to distract Brett.

  As Jake got down on the floor with Brett, she headed into the bedroom and took out her phone. There was a part of her that didn't want to make the call. The note had been so specific about the police putting Brett in danger, but she couldn't see how that could happen, at least not with Adam. However, as soon as she officially reported the mother's absence, Brett would probably end up in a foster home.

  She'd spent two weeks in foster care a long time ago. It had been one of the worst experiences of her life. Luckily, she'd been able to go home, to be reunited with her little brother, thanks to the kindness of her aunt who had left her home on the other side of the world to come and take care of them until her mother got better. Hopefully, Brett had someone else in his life who could do that.

  But what if he didn't?

  She picked up the note and read it once more. Clearly, the mother was in trouble, maybe danger, since she implied Brett wouldn't be safe if the police were called. What did that mean? Had she kidnapped the child? Was he even hers?

  Jake stuck his head through the doorway. "Did you call yet?"

  "No. What's Brett doing?"

  "Watching TV." He walked into the room, giving her a quizzical look. "Why are you stalling, Hannah?"

  "I've been in Brett's shoes. It's hard to make the call knowing what will happen to him."

  Jake's gaze suddenly filled with understanding. He was one of the few people in her life she'd told about that terrible time. "You're thinking about what happened to you when your mom disappeared for a while."

  "Yes. I was ripped away from my family, made to stay with people I didn't know, separated from my brother, my friends, anyone who knew me. It was awful. And I was lucky; it only lasted two weeks. What if Brett's mother can't be found for months? He's such a little boy. And he's so sweet. How can I do that to him?"

  "What's the alternative? Are you going to take care of him? Can you legally even do that?"

  She frowned at his questions. "Probably not. I just wish I had more information. Maybe his mom will be back really soon."

  "We can wait, give her some time to return."

  "Or I could wait. You don't need to stay."

  "You have no working vehicle, there's a storm coming in, and phone signal is spotty. I'm not leaving you here alone."

  "I can take care of myself."

  "Well, then I'm staying for Brett, not you."

  "I can take care of Brett, too," she said stubbornly. "I don't need you, Jake."

  "You've made that abundantly clear," he said, meeting her gaze. "But I'm still staying. You can be stubborn; so can I."

  "You are so annoying."

  "Right back at you. Now, what do you want to do?"

  She thought about her options. There was really only one choice. "I'll call Adam." Adam Cole was a detective and the brother of her friends, Lizzie and Chelsea. She had his personal number and could talk to him in a non-official capacity first. She punched in his number.

  "Hello?" Adam said.

  She could barely hear him with all the noise in the background.

  "It's Hannah. Where are you?"

  "Station Christmas party," he said. "Hold on a sec. I need to find a quieter place."

  "Okay."

  As Adam put her on hold, her gaze moved once more to the note, which she'd left on top of the packed clothes. As she picked it up again, she caught a glimpse of gold that she hadn't seen before. Moving aside a fuzzy sweater, she picked up the chain that had slid down between some clothes, her heart stopping at the sight of the small gold unicorn.

  "Oh, my God," she murmured.

  "Hannah? I'm back," Adam said. "What's up?"

  She could hear Adam, but she couldn't find the words. That necklace was taking her back in time.

  "Hannah?" Adam said again. "Are you there?"

  "Sorry, Adam," she said quickly. "It's nothing. Never mind. I'll call you back."

  "Are you sure?"

  "Yes. Have fun at your party." She ended the call, her heart beating out of her chest.

  "What's going on?" Jake asked in confusion, his sharp, questioning gaze seeking hers. "Why did you hang up on Adam?"

  "Because I can't involve the police." She held up the unicorn. "I know who Brett's mother is, Jake. I know why she brought him here, why she left him for me."

  "For you? I thought she texted the property manager."

  "Actually, she texted my mother, whose phone number must have been on the agreement. But she must have figured I'd be the one to come."

  "Who are you talking about, Hannah?"

  She stared at him, a feeling of impossibility constricting her throat. It couldn't be, but it was. Now she knew why Brett reminded her of Tyler. "I'm talking about my sister."

  "Kelly?" he asked in astonishment. "Have you been in touch with her?"

  "Not in fifteen years, but this necklace belonged to her. In fact, I gave it to her on her fourteenth birthday, and she was kind enough not to tell me that it was way too young for her." It all suddenly made sense. "Brett is Kelly's son. That means I'm his aunt." She looked into Jake's confused eyes. "Where the hell is my sister?"

  Chapter Three

  It wasn't a question Jake could answer. In fact, he was still trying to follow the story Hannah had just pieced together. "Are you sure the necklace could only belong to your sister? It looks like something that could have been mass-produced."

  "Even if there are thousands of t
hese necklaces in existence, this one was in this suitcase, with this child, under these circumstances. There's no way it's a coincidence. Kelly brought Brett here. She sent the text claiming the hot water heater was broken, because she remembered how often we had to relight it. It was something she knew I could fix. She wanted me to find Brett."

  "Why didn't she just say so in the note? Why didn't she address it to you?" he challenged. "Why leave a necklace and make you guess?"

  Hannah didn't care for his questions, but he was used to that look of irritation in her eyes, so it didn't bother him.

  "I don't know why she didn't do any of those things. But Kelly's actions haven't made sense to me in a long time. She left when I was fourteen and she was nineteen. I've never heard one word from her since then. I have no idea where she's been living, who she's been living with…" Her voice trailed away, then came back even stronger. "But I know she has a son. There must be a father somewhere. However, when I asked Brett about a dad, he didn't say anything and changed the subject."

  Hannah sat down on the bed, her gaze thoughtful and worried as she stared at the necklace swinging between her fingers. She was determined to work the problem. She'd always been that way. When someone said she couldn't have something or do something, she became determined to prove them wrong.

  He'd always liked that about her. She'd inspired him with her never-say-quit attitude more than she would know. But he also knew that she could get incredibly frustrated when she couldn't control the outcome of a situation, and this one was definitely not under her control.

  As he watched her stare at the necklace, he thought it was probably the first time in twelve years that he'd had a chance to really look at her. Usually, when he showed up, she ran in the other direction. But not tonight. Tonight, a flat tire had thrown them together, had forced her to rely on him just a little, and he wasn't unhappy about that. He'd been wanting this kind of moment ever since he'd come back to Whisper Lake two years ago, but she'd been determined not to give it to him.

  He understood her reasons; he just wanted her to see him now, to look past the boy he'd once been to the man he was today. But her gaze was on the necklace. Her thoughts were on the past—and not the past they had shared. The memories she was reliving were of her family, her sister, probably her mother and her brother, maybe even the father she'd lost.