Wrapped Up In Christmas

by Janice Lynn

  Ha. He was her repair guy. Not her boyfriend. What made her think he would ever choose to tell her anything personal?

  Just because she wanted to know didn’t mean he wanted to share anything with her. If his reticence told her anything, it was that obviously he didn’t want to open up at all. Not with her.

  Making sure not to scrape the hardwood floors, she dragged the ladder into the living room and set it up near the tree. Grabbing some heavy-duty scissors, she climbed up the steps to cut away a few stray branches.

  As she came down from the ladder, she regarded the tree and noticed one little branch near the top that was like a bad stray hair.

  It had to go. Going back up the stepladder, she reached over to snip the little limb.

  “What are you doing?”

  Spinning at Bodie’s voice, she almost lost balance on the ladder, only steadying herself at the last second.

  Quick as a flash, he was near the ladder, ready to catch her if she fell.

  “Be careful,” he ordered.

  “I was fine until you came in and startled me,” she pointed out, a little annoyed.

  “What if Harry had bumped against the ladder?”

  Sarah glanced at where the dog lay on the floor watching her. “Harry looks comfy where he is.”

  “You don’t know that he wouldn’t hear a noise and bump against the ladder. You could’ve fallen.”

  “But I didn’t.” Which was a bit of a shame when she had a strong soldier waiting to catch her. Would Santa put her on the naughty list if she pretended to slip and let herself drop into Bodie’s waiting arms?

  Now where had that thought come from? She did not want to drop into Bodie’s arms. But she did appreciate his concern.

  “This time,” Bodie argued, putting his hand on the ladder to steady it should she do anything that might jar it. “I don’t think you should be up on ladders.”

  “I’ll have you know I’ve been using this ladder to decorate trees in this house all my life. I’ve got this.” She gave him a challenging look. “Unless you’ve decided you want to help. In which case, I’ll gladly hand over my stepladder to you.”

  “Is that why you’re up on that ladder stretched out that way? Trying to get me in on decorating the tree?”

  “Would I do that?” she asked innocently. Truly, she hadn’t been. But it was so much fun to tease him that she couldn’t resist.

  He arched a brow. “You tell me.”

  “If you’re volunteering,” she said, “I could use help.”

  He looked up at her, waiting to see what it was she wanted him to do.

  “Putting lights on a tree has never been my favorite part of decorating.” Truer words had never been spoken. “I’m not sure if it’s a patience thing or what, but I always get them tangled up around each other.” She gave him her best pretty please smile. “If you’d help me get the lights onto the tree, I’d appreciate it.”

  Not looking thrilled at the prospect, he regarded her. “Put the lights on, huh?”

  “Think you could handle the lights? If so, I could make us some cookies and milk.”

  “Your homemade oatmeal chocolate chip cookies?”

  When she nodded, she could tell his interest was piqued. Or maybe it was just that he didn’t want her up on the ladder again. Either way, he pretended to be considering.

  “Guess I could. Of course, this does mean I’m still not getting your vanities installed.”

  Not caring a bit about whether he got the vanities installed that day or not, she grinned. “We have all evening. How long does it take to put lights on a tree?”

  Bodie gave her a skeptical look. “If I truly believed it was only going to be putting lights on a tree, it would be one thing. But I have this feeling I’m going to be in here a while.”

  Sarah hoped so.

  A little later, walking back into the living area with a tray of goodies, Sarah paused in the doorway to look at Bodie.

  He might have only come back to help her decorate the tree out of guilt for shutting down her questions, or concern that she’d hurt herself on the ladder, but he was doing a great job. The lights were spaced evenly, just the way she preferred, and she hadn’t even had to tell him.

  Sarah really liked that about him.

  She liked a lot of things about Bodie. Like the fact that he was humming along with the Christmas music she had playing. No doubt if she mentioned it, he’d immediately stop.

  For whatever reason, Bodie didn’t want to like anything related to Christmas. Sarah didn’t understand how that was even possible. How could she, when she loved everything about the holidays?

  Maybe by the time he finished with Hamilton House, she’d have shown him what Christmas could, and should, be like.

  Chapter Nine

  Bodie wrapped light strands around Sarah’s “perfect” tree, stopping every so often to make sure he had them evenly distributed, then moved on to the next layer.

  How did she keep pulling him into all this Christmas stuff?

  He had told her no, walked away, gone to the bathroom and cut the vanity free of its cardboard and Styrofoam casing. He’d heard her go outside, come back in, heard the Christmas music come on, heard her start singing while she trimmed the tree.

  The more he’d heard, the more guilt had eaten at him. For however long he was in Pine Hill, he needed to help Sarah.

  He’d abandoned the vanity and gone to help her, almost having a heart attack when he’d seen her on the ladder, looking like an angel tree topper who was about to topple.

  At the moment, she was a cookie-bearing angel watching him from the doorway, thinking he was unaware she was there even though he’d been aware of every step she’d made since leaving the kitchen.

  “You did check to make sure all the bulbs still work, right?” she asked, finally coming on into the room.

  “You think I’m an amateur?”

  “At decorating a tree?” She sat a tray down on a table. “I’d put money on it.”

  Turning from the tree, he eyed her. “How much money?”

  “How much are you willing to lose?”

  He chuckled. “Am I so bad at putting lights on a tree that you’re confident I’ve never done this before?”

  “Honestly? You’re great at putting on the lights.”

  “You’re just saying that because me putting the lights on means you don’t have to.”

  “Guilty as charged,” she admitted. “But I’m also serious. You’re doing an amazing job.”

  Pleased at her praise, he asked, “What makes you think I’m any good at light hanging?”

  “I was watching you check the spacing,” she admitted. “The lights are going to be perfect. Turn them on if you don’t believe me.”

  “I’ll finish putting the lights on, then we’ll see.”

  Sarah lingered over the cookies and milk. Overall, it had been such a good day. She wanted to pause time where it was and not risk ruining it with opening the box of ornaments.

  Opening those ornaments shouldn’t be a bad thing. Decorating the tree was her idea. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to walk over to the box.

  As excited as she was about the tree, all along she’d been dreading this part. Seeing the ornaments her aunt had made, that they’d made together over the years, and knowing that Aunt Jean wasn’t there this time and never would be again… It wasn’t going to be easy.

  She told Bodie a joke she’d heard while out delivering meals. He laughed, finished his milk and cookies, and stood. Although he’d been sleeping on the rug in front of the fireplace, Harry lifted his head to keep an eye on Bodie.

  “There’s more if you want another.”

  He patted his flat stomach. “I’m good.”

  Yes, he was. A good distraction from what she knew was about to happen.

&nb
sp; “I need to get back to work.”

  Dismay filled her at the idea of being in the room alone, decorating the tree alone when she had so many cherished memories of doing so with her aunt. She wanted Bodie to stay. Yes, he’d already helped her with the lights when she knew he didn’t want to but surely staying a little longer wouldn’t be too much to ask?

  “You’ve already done so much to help me today, and I know I’m being silly, but, I… I’d really appreciate it if you’d decorate the tree with me.”

  He looked torn, as if everything in him was saying that he should get out while he could, but something held him in place. “It’s been a long time since I’ve helped decorate a tree, Sarah. Hanging the lights is my extent of my tree-decorating abilities.”

  He was turning to go, would soon be back in the bathroom working on getting everything ready for her future guests. It’s where he should be. Where she needed him to be. He was her repair guy, nothing more.

  “Please don’t go.”

  He met her gaze and studied her for long moments, then seemed to see beneath the surface, that this had nothing to do with trying to get him into the Christmas spirit and everything to do with her and what was going inside her head. Inside her heart.

  Despite his tough exterior, she knew Bodie wouldn’t leave her when she’d asked him to stay. Strange to think how fully she trusted him to be good to her when she and Richard had dated for over a year and she knew he wouldn’t have hesitated to leave.

  “You’re the boss,” Bodie said, as if that explained why he was still standing in her living room. “If you want me to decorate a tree, I’ll decorate a tree.”

  She wanted to hug him.

  “Thank you.” She clung to her cocoa mug and pretended to take another sip. Pretended because the cup was empty.

  “Can I carry that to the kitchen for you?”

  She started to say no but a trip to the kitchen would delay what she wanted delayed.

  “That would be great.” She put her mug on the tray and she and Harry followed him to the kitchen. After he sat it down on the kitchen counter, she rinsed out their mugs and saucers, then placed them inside the dishwasher.

  When she turned, Bodie was leaned against the countertop, watching her. Harry stood next to him, waiting to see what they’d do next or perhaps just hoping they had a few leftover cookies they planned to share with him.

  “We don’t have to decorate the tree tonight.”

  Oh yeah, he was on to her. His insight had her feeling guilty that she was dilly-dallying, that she was putting any type of damper on Christmas. She was supposed to be giving him Christmas joy.

  “Then it would just be waiting.”

  “I’m sure there are other things waiting on your attention that you’ve been putting off.”

  “Plenty.”

  “Then do those and come back to the tree when you’re ready. For that matter, you could help me install the vanities.”

  Sarah closed her eyes. “I feel ridiculous.”

  “Because?”

  “Because I am so excited about that tree and yet I am procrastinating on decorating it.”

  “Maybe you need to buy new decorations,” he suggested, the simple phrase clearly broadcasting that he’d accurately read what was bothering her.

  She could. Except money was an issue. As would be looking at a tree in Aunt Jean’s house that held ornaments other than the ones Sarah cherished. She shook her head.

  “I love those ornaments. Forgive me. I’m just being silly.”

  “She must have been a wonderful person.”

  “She was.” The tears she’d been holding back filled her eyes. “I’ve tried to keep myself busy enough that I haven’t thought about just how different all my Christmases are going to be without her.”

  She hadn’t wanted to do this, but talking to Bodie was so easy.

  “Aunt Jean was the closest I had to a mother—while also being so much more. It makes me sad that I’ll never see her smile again or have her teach me something new.” She pointed toward a quilt rack in one corner of the room. “She made that. It’s one of my favorites. There’s a trunk full of them in my bedroom. She made and did so many things, helped so many people, and was just such a talented person. She donated dozens of quilts over the years. Baby quilts, charity quilts, Quilts of Valor for soldiers—those were her favorite to make. Probably because Roy died in the service.” Sarah sighed. “I tried to soak up everything I could, to do good things like she did, but there was so much more for me to learn from her.”

  If ever Bodie was going to tell Sarah about his quilt, now was the perfect opportunity. He could explain about her quilt. Her note. Her impact on his life. That, like her aunt, she helped so many people, too.

  She’d helped him. Maybe she’d be glad to hear that. Maybe it would help.

  But he hadn’t planned to tell her about the quilt he treasured even more after getting to know the woman who’d made it. What would be the point?

  “I imagine she was very proud of you.”

  How could her aunt not have been proud? Sarah was the best person he knew. Good, wholesome, unjaded by the cruelties of the world. He wanted to protect that. To protect her from the things he’d seen and done. To wipe away the sadness in her eyes.

  Sarah nodded. “She was proud, but always pushed me to do my best. She believed in serving others and lived her life doing so.”

  “Nothing wrong with that life philosophy if you’re able to do it.”

  “As a young widow, she took care of her in-laws and then, much later, she took care of me.”

  “She never had children of her own?”

  “No. They’d planned to start a family after Roy came back from the war.”

  “But he never came back,” Bodie finished for her.

  She gave him a trembly smile. “Did you fight in any wars, Bodie?”

  Not ones where the enemy fought out in the open. His enemy had always been hidden, avoiding open battlefields and attacking from the shadows, hiding among the innocent and wreaking destruction on their lives.

  Taking the lives of his brothers in arms.

  His stomach knotted. His vision blurred. His fingers dug into his palms as his hands clenched.

  Bodie closed his eyes.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

  Fighting the shadows, he opened his eyes, met her still-watery gaze.

  “Well, I guess I did mean to pry,” she corrected. “I’m curious about you, about your time in the service.”

  “I didn’t fight in a war like your uncle Roy.”

  “But you did fight?”

  Tapping his fingers against the kitchen island, he shrugged. “Every soldier is in a battle against terrorism.”

  She nodded as if she understood, but he doubted she did. He doubted anyone did unless they’d lived it.

  “You were a good soldier.”

  He’d thought so, but then he’d awakened to screams, awakened to die inside even though his body had somehow managed to survive. A good soldier would have protected his unit.

  His gaze shifted to hers. “What makes you say that?”

  “Because I know you.”

  “You’ve known me a couple of weeks,” he said. “You know very little about me, much less whether I was a good soldier.”

  “Knowing a person is about so much more than just time.” She put the dishtowel on the counter and closed the few steps between them. Reaching out, she touched his chest with her pointer finger. “I know what’s in here. It tells me that you live by a high code of ethics.”

  Her finger burned through his shirt, warming the flesh as if she touched him with a branding iron.

  “It comes out in everything you do.” She stared at where her finger touched him. “Although you have this big bad aura that warns not to mess wit
h you, you’ve got a big heart.”

  “Don’t fool yourself into thinking that I haven’t done bad things,” he warned, not liking her assessment. She was making him out to be a hero when he was anything but. He wasn’t good. “I’ve done things that would make you not like me very much.”

  He’d done things that made him not like himself very much… but he’d still done them because they’d been necessary to get the job done. He’d still be doing the government’s bidding had he not gotten injured.

  Flattening her fingers against his heart, she studied him. Bodie’s heart pounded against his ribcage, against her hand.

  “I believe you’ve always acted for what you felt was the greater good.”

  She was making him out to be heroic. He wasn’t, and he didn’t want her thinking he was.

  “Greater good is oftentimes a matter of perspective.”

  “I trust you.”

  “You shouldn’t.” After all, in a way, he was deceiving her by being there without telling her the reason why. He’d come to thank her and instead had gone to work for her.

  “I don’t believe you’d ever hurt me,” she continued, staring up at him with her big brown eyes filled with exactly what she claimed—trust.

  “Not intentionally.” He wouldn’t. He’d do everything in his power to leave her as bright-eyed as he’d found her.

  “But unintentionally you might?”

  “It’s possible.” Feeling more and more uncomfortable with their conversation, he straightened his shoulders, pulling himself back just enough that Sarah’s finger fell away. “Let’s decorate the tree.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Do we have to?”

  “After all the work to get that tree? You better believe we have to decorate it.”

  Taking a deep breath, Sarah nodded, but within minutes, when faced with the packed boxes, she looked doubtful again.

  He didn’t fully understand her hesitation. She lived in her aunt’s house, amongst her aunt’s things. What was so special about the ornaments that unpacking them played such havoc on Sarah?

  Walking over, he put his hand over hers. “You’ve got this.”