On the 11th Day of Christmas…Bah Humbug!

      “Seriously?! You pick today, of all days, to break down?” Evangeline Scroggins, Angel to her friends and family, pounded the steering wheel of her late nineties model sedan. “Just make it to the office and I promise I won’t dump you at the scrap metal yard.”
       She knew it was probably time to either trade in or put some major money into an engine overhaul, but that would mean dipping into her savings or opening up her pocketbook. Maybe she could find a mechanic willing to put another bandage on the car so she could squeeze a few thousand miles more out of it.
       The sedan sputtered and coughed before the engine went silent. Without power steering, Angel manhandled the car off to the side of the dark country highway. She popped the latch to open the hood and cautiously opened the door against the blowing snow.
       “Lovely. You could’ve at least waited until this snow storm passed.” She grumbled and held on to the door frame to keep from busting her butt on the icy pavement.
       The sub-zero air and snow blowing up her long skirt made her think twice. Why was she looking under the hood? She knew the basics but anything beyond that was foreign to her. Angel left the hood up and inched her way back into the sedan.
       She hoped her flashing hazard lights would encourage someone to stop and help, otherwise she was doomed to miss her meeting. A meeting she insisted on having before the holidays using a breach of contract threat. Christmas holiday hype was being pushed to the max because of the commercial value. Department stores were laughing all the way to the bank. Although her loan company usually saw an increase in business, Angel didn’t believe in allowing her customers to become overextended so she wouldn’t have to spend more in labor costs to collect overdue accounts.
       Headlights cut through the blanket of heavy snow and reflected in her rearview mirror. She rolled her window down wide enough to fit her gloved hand out to wave down the slow moving vehicle. Brake lights flashed as the newer model truck slowed and pulled in front of her disabled car. A heavily bundled bulk emerged from the truck. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. With her luck her supposed rescuer would be a highway robber or serial killer.
       “If anyone up there is listening…I promise to be a really good girl if this person doesn’t murder me.”
       Before she could get the window rolled back up, a large hand emerged through the snow and tapped on the window. A face framed in a dark stocking cap and scarf followed and she jumped, realizing it was too late to escape her fate.
       “Hello? Car trouble?” The muffled voice was deep and masculine.
       Now what? It was do or die time. “Um, yes. I think it could be my fuel pump. I had it in the shop a couple of weeks ago but thought I could put off the repairs another month or two.”
       “Let me take a look. Stay warm and it’ll just take a second.” The voice was familiar. No, it couldn’t be. Grandmother Marston mentioned recently he was stationed in Afghanistan until next summer. And he was the last man on earth she wanted coming to her rescue.
       The car shook for a moment and she wondered what the heck he was doing. Angel squeaked when his face unexpectedly popped up against the window. Beau Marston’s gorgeous green eyes stared back at her. Oh, boy. Her heart pounded.
       “Hey, Angel.” His crooked grin caused her stomach to do some serious flip-flops. “I didn’t recognize the car under all that snow and ice. I can’t fix it out here, but you can ride into town with me and I’ll send someone from my shop back to get it.”
       Why did she have to run into the only honest mechanic within a fifty mile radius? Good news for her tight budget, but it was bad news for her pride.
       The jerk was grinning at her and acted like nothing had ever happened between them. She fought the urge to refuse his offer. Unfortunately she had to make her meeting.
       At least she wasn’t going to end up dead on the side of the road.
       “I’ll be right there.”
       He disappeared behind the curtain of snow. Angel dropped her forehead on the steering wheel. The last time she’d spoken with Beau was four years ago when he told her the wedding was off. A couple of months later she’d heard he’d been shipped off to boot camp.
       He was the closest thing to family she had since her father died and her step-mother had kicked her out. Maggie had not been happy when the loan company had been handed to her alone. Angel was devastated when Beau walked away. She hated to give him the satisfaction of knowing she needed his help for anything. Even if it meant handing over money from her savings to a stranger to get her car repaired.
       Angel grabbed her purse and briefcase and took a deep breath. Maybe he’d have the music blaring and they wouldn’t have to talk. She made the short trek through the sharp wind and stinging snow pellets. The door flew open as she reached out and she was flooded with warm air as she dumped herself and belongings in the truck.
       Beau leaned over moving her briefcase so she could have more room for her feet, his face inches from her chest. Angel restrained herself from running her hand through his long hair to push it out of his eyes. She was flooded with the memory of his silky hair brushing against her bare skin as he explored every inch of her.
       “Could you turn the heat down a bit, it’s pretty warm in here.”
       He looked up. The gold flecks in his green eyes mesmerized her, but when he smiled she choked, coughing like a complete ninny on what could only be drool.
       “You ok?” He frowned and pounded her on the back.
       “I’m hot.” Why couldn’t she form a legitimate sentence around this man?
       He chuckled. “I’ll turn the heat down. I turned it up because I thought you’d be freezing from sitting in that cold car. How long have you been stuck?”
       “Not long. But I have a meeting I can’t miss.” She turned to stare out the window so she wouldn’t have to look at him. She could actually think and talk without being a complete idiot as long as she wasn’t distracted by those eyes. That is until she took a deep breath and the familiar woodsy scent she’d loved about Beau overwhelmed her. “Can you drive any faster?”
       “As fast as the slushy roads will let me.”
       She knew he was smiling by the tone of his deep voice. Angel couldn’t help herself and looked over her shoulder only to torture herself with a glimpse of his grin. “I’m sorry to be so pushy but I’m paying extra to have software installed before Christmas. If I’m not there the guy may leave.”
       “Same old Angel. You’re still working as hard as ever, I see.” The smile disappeared and was replaced with a grimace.
       The awkward silence in the truck reminded her of their conversation when Beau had finally called off the wedding. His words ringing in her ears. He’d accused her of abandoning everyone and anything that wasn’t related to the loan company. She’d allowed her hurt and anger to push her into working harder and doubling the profits two years before her goal date.
       She couldn’t contain the urge to explain. “This isn’t just about me. But the new accounting system will free up several employees from working overtime.”
       “You mean you’ll be able to cut back on labor costs by letting someone go,” he replied, shaking his head. She could almost feel the disappointment dripping from his voice.
       “What are you doing here?” Why was she being haunted by him and what could’ve been if she hadn’t put everything she had into turning her father’s company around.
       “My service was up with the Marine Corp and Gram needed me. The man she had running the shop after Pops died was ready to retire. I bought the land off of the highway and started building a couple of houses for Gram and I. You know how independent she is. She refused to stay with me so at least this way I can keep a close eye on her.”
       “You bought the land we looked at where we were planning to put our house?” She couldn’t breathe. He was going through with their plans without her.
       He glanced at her but looked back to watch where he was going. “Yeah. I didn’t think you’d still be interested or fork over that kind of money. The guy wouldn’t budge on his price.”
       Angel loved that piece of land. She drove by occasionally just to see if it was still for sale. She’d loved their dreams for the future. But it all fell apart when Beau called it off and left for Afghanistan. They’d both made their choices. Angel’s just happened to mean she’d probably end up a spinster with a house full of cats. Was that what she really wanted?

       After what seemed like forever, they pulled into the parking lot next to her building. The sidewalks would be icy since she’d cancelled the lawn service that usually kept it cleared year round. At the time it seemed like a waste of money. But they’d already had one employee hurt from falling. She should call first thing Monday morning and arrange another service contract. It was definitely cheaper than a worker’s compensation lawsuit.
       “Thank you for the ride. Just call and let me know how much I owe you. I’ll have someone bring me over to the shop before you close.”
       “I’m not opening up the shop today, Angel. It’s Christmas Eve. I want my employees to spend it with their families. I’ll take the tow truck and get your car to see what I can do.”
       “I hate for you to go to any trouble.” She pulled her stuff off of the floor without looking at him. There was no reason to explain why she felt she wasn’t worthy.
       “I’d do it for anyone.”
       And he would. He’d take the shirt off his back if she told him she was cold. That was just Beau. And so not what she’d become. He’d made a point of that in his goodbye speech years ago.
       “Yeah, well, thank you.” She shut the door without waiting for a reply. She couldn’t face that hurt again. Maybe she could get a couple of guys from the office to go pick up her car when it was ready.

       Angel opened the oversized oak door and heard the familiar squeak. That was another call she needed to make. It wouldn’t hurt to have a few things upgraded around the ancient building. She walked into Christmas music blaring in the office and her employees standing around drinking coffee. She walked over to the portable CD player and twisted the knob until the volume was off. She turned to find everyone standing completely still. Her half-brother inched his way through the crowd.
       “Merry Christmas, Angel. I was beginning to get worried, you’re never late. You really need to get a cell phone. I let the IT guy in your office so he could start the install. He thinks he can have everything set up in a few hours. I told the employees they could bring pot luck food to share at lunch.” His rambling distracted her long enough that when she looked over his shoulder to tell everyone they had work to do, heads were down and fingers were tapping on keyboards.
       “That’s fine. Um, I have a few things to take care of but we need to meet before lunch.”
       “Sure. Just buzz my phone when you’re ready.” His normal cheery disposition was gloomy. His smile had always reminded her of their father when he used to patronize her. They were lucky as children to have such an accommodating, doting father. But when it came to business he was a rabid control freak. He’d started grooming her from an early age to take over eventually because he’d always thought Ted didn’t have a backbone.
       “Look, Ted. I know it’s Christmas Eve but we have financials that have to be processed before closing year end. If you don’t think you can get your team to focus then maybe we need to rethink your supervisor position.”
       “You don’t get it, do you? These people aren’t just employees, they’re our neighbors, Angel. Even though the pay is low, they show up everyday and give you everything they’ve got because this business is the most stable thing they’ve got and it keeps a roof over their heads. It feeds their children.” His eyes were bloodshot and he looked exhausted. “I got a call from Katie this morning. Doc Jacobs got the blood work back on Jamie. My baby has Leukemia. And since our company doesn’t offer insurance, there isn’t a treatment available we can afford because they insist we pay for it up front. But I’ll make sure everyone gets back to work as soon as lunch is up and they’ll stay until it’s time to clock out.”
       His explosion caught her off guard. He’d never so much as batted an eye when she gave him instructions or direction. She was floored by his news. Jamie was only four years old. The toddler she remembered was so full of life with blonde curls and rosy cheeks. How could he be facing such a horrendous disease? How could Ted stand there and blurt out that kind of diagnosis and calmly go back to work?
       With a numbness threatening to overwhelm her logical thought process, Angel walked back to her office to touch base with the IT technician and decided to make some calls. She refused to allow hysteria to take control. If Ted could go on as normal, so could she. It couldn’t be that bad, could it?
       She reached up to touch her cheek. Jamie had patted her lightly the last time he’d visited their office and wandered back to where she was working. His sweet baby voice questioning why she hadn’t been over to play with his new train set.

       A while later, she was startled when Ted opened the door to the back office she’d escaped to so she could make some calls. His expression guarded. “Hey, I hate to disturb you. But did you know Beau is back in town? He’s here and says he has your car. Why didn’t you tell me you broke down on the way to work?”
       With all of his problems, Ted was still worried about her. He was constantly inviting her to spend time with his family and she’d always made excuses. He’d even asked her repeatedly to spend Christmas day with them. It’s not that she didn’t want to. Being around his boisterous, loving family reminded her of what she gave up.
       “Tell him I’ll be right with him. I need to grab my checkbook.” She glanced at the clock amazed that it was already noon. She opened her desk drawer to pull out her purse.   
       “No need,” Beau replied, filling her doorway. “I had the part lying around and it didn’t take long to repair. Merry Christmas.”
       “Oh, well, um. Ok.  Are you sure?”
       “Ted says they have eggnog and fudge in the conference room. I’ll let you buy me a drink and we can call it even.” His grin lit up the office. He had a way of making her heart dance when he entered a room. The anger she’d held onto for so long seemed so insignificant now.
       She pulled her wallet from her purse and started toward the door. “You’ve got to let me pay you something. You can’t afford to fix everyone’s car for free.”
       “I get plenty of business to pay the bills. I make it a point to pay it forward when I can for all the people that helped Gram and our family when my parents died. And they were there for her when Pops died and I couldn’t get home for the funeral.” He reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her hair. “Gram told me how much you did to help her.”
       “I didn’t do much. Just took her some food because I knew she wouldn’t make time for herself to eat. All I could really do was direct all the people bringing her food and flowers. It looked like she was a little overwhelmed.” Angel backed away to give herself some breathing room. She was sure he could see her heart pounding furiously.
       “She was. She still is a little lost without having to take care of Pops. She keeps harping on me to give her some great-grandbabies.”
       The thought of Beau having the babies they’d dreamed of made her heart just about jump out of her chest. Something must’ve come loose because Angel could swear it dropped into her stomach instead. “Three.”
       The look in his eyes and raised eyebrow told her that he remembered.
       “So they won’t be lonely and always have someone to play with if the other was mad at them,” he said quietly, raising his arm above her, and she realized he was holding a piece of mistletoe. “I’ll even settle for a kiss.”
       His soft spoken promise calmed her racing pulse. She leaned against him and lifted her head to look into his eyes. “I don’t want to be the cat lady everyone pities.”
       “You don’t have to be,” he said as he lowered his head to gently brush a kiss against her lips. He pulled her against him. “It’s said to be the season of miracles.”
       “I pray you’re right. I’ve had some time to think today about a lot of things. How it used to be between us and how empty my life is now. Life is too short and fragile to waste it chasing a dollar. I want the kids and the house on the hill we dreamed about before I became obsessed with the financial side of our dreams. I thought if I built up the business it would provide for our future. But I don’t want that future if it doesn’t include you.” She closed her eyes. Angel was afraid she’d misunderstood his intentions and didn’t want to face the pity in his eyes.
       Beau’s soft touch lifted her chin up, prompting her to look at him. His beautiful green eyes shone with the love she’d craved for years after he left home. “I’m willing to see where things lead if you think you’re ready to make that happen. Can you put the same dedication into building a home and family now?”
       “I have something I have to do first.” She reluctantly stepped out of his arms.
       He nodded as if he understood and followed her into the conference room where the employees had gathered. Voices trailed off as everyone turned quietly, expecting her to scold them for not working.
       “If you’ll please stop by Anne’s office in payroll before you leave, I have a little bonus for you guys. And we’ll also be adding insurance to your benefit package. I appreciate all of your hard work and dedication to Ted and I. You guys are free to go after you eat and when we come back from Christmas holiday, Ted will be taking on more of a management role in the company.” Angel turned to look up at Beau as he stepped up behind her and put his arm around her shoulder. “I may be taking some time off before long.”
       Well wishes and holiday cheer erupted around the room. Beau squeezed her shoulders and stepped back as Ted pulled her into a bear hug.
       “You won’t regret this. I’m glad to see you happy again,” Ted whispered in her ear. “The invitation is still open for Christmas.”
       “I wouldn’t miss spending time with you and your beautiful family. We’ll work together to use all of our resources to get Jamie the treatment he needs to fight back.” She hugged her brother and felt a lightness in her soul she hadn’t had in years. “I hope it’s ok if I bring a guest?”
       Her brother glanced back at Beau. “He’s not a guest, he’s family.”

Chelle Sandell

Chelle Sandell is an aspiring romance author...and hates talking about herself in the third person. Her chaotic adventure in life includes two rowdy boys, her very own cowboy hero, and a very spoiled Blue Heeler cattle dog that loves to herd everyone around the house. And cupcakes. Lots of cupcakes.

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Related Posts:

• On the 4th Day of Christmas…The Gift
• On The 8th Day of Christmas…Letters From Home
• On The 7th Day of Christmas…Last Christmas
• On the 6th Day of Christmas…Last Snowy Encounter
• On the 2nd Day of Christmas…Frost

Tags: 12 Days of Christmas Stories on PC, A Passionate Christmas, Christmas, Holidays

On The 8th Day of Christmas…Letters From Home

Letters from Home
By
Bethanne Strasser

 To me, Christmas is about a promise. The promise of new love. The promise of new life. The promise of eternal happiness.

This story is for anyone in need of a good, old-fashioned promise. May this Christmas season be filled with Love.

Dear Isabel,
Two months, three days and six hours until you come home. (No, I’m not counting)
Yesterday, I walked past the school and it reminded me of when I first saw you. You might not remember me because you were scolding some bully for picking on a little kid. I always wondered what set you off. You were bigger than life, long hair flying, mouth running—in Spanish! I had no idea what you were saying, but it didn’t even matter. I think that’s when I first fell in love with you…

       Isabel Rodriguez dropped the well-worn letter into her lap and stared through the tinted window of the crowded bus.
       He loved her? The idea of someone loving her made her stomach twist. She rubbed a hand over her heart. Her secret admirer wanted to meet. On Christmas morning, no less, but after twenty-four letters—two for every month of her deployment—she wanted the discovery. “Although, if he knew me at all,” she muttered under her breath, “he’d know I was going to church with my family.”
       The passenger next to Isabel—in her Christmas vest, bright green and red with Rudolf knitted on one side and Santa on the other, shifted, looking at her with a questioning frown.
       Isabel cleared her throat and smiled, “Sorry. Just thinking out loud.”
       …just thinking that when she found out who’d made her fall in love with him without even telling her his name, she was going to kick his butt.
       The bus pulled into her home town of Red Bluff and stopped on the corner of Elm Street and Main.
       Cold air washed over her as she stepped down into Northern California’s December mist. The driver pulled her duffle from the cargo bay, and she thanked him.
       “No. Thank you, miss.”
       She smiled and shook the hand he offered. “Merry Christmas.”
       “Welcome home,” he added then waved before driving off.
       “Eesabel!” An oh-so-familiar voice echoed from the church parking lot, strong and clear—or just plain loud. Heels clattered over the cold cement and jangling sounds of bracelets filled the air like bells in a Christmas song.
       At first braced for impact, Isabel relaxed in her sister’s arms, the worry of tomorrow falling away.
       “Maria, girl,” she scolded. “You need a jacket.”
       “Never mind that. How was your flight home? Did you have to stay long on base before they set you free?” Maria looked her over—head to toe. “You lost weight again. Oh, but it’s so good to see you.”
       Isabel cringed inside. It seemed with every deployment she lost a few too many pounds. “I’m just glad to be home. Where is everyone? No balloons? No band? Not even a roll of ticker tape for my return?”
       “Very funny. We know you too well. You would be tempted to use your M-16. Come on. Mom says to stop at the church and light a candle. Then we’ll go home.” Maria hooked her arm through Isabel’s with a pregnant pause before she continued, “Have you gotten any more letters?”
       “He wants to meet.” Isabel still didn’t know what to think of it. A secret admirer? It was weird… yet romantic—for a deprived soul like herself. “Christmas morning.”
       The answering sigh was expected and familiar. “Have you figured out who he is?”
       She threw her bag in the back of the car with a shrug and climbed in. “No. I’ve thought about it, but in the end, something stops me from really trying. Is it wrong to just enjoy the conversation and the attention?” It had been a long time since anyone had pursued her. “He’s kind, smart, funny. He likes kids and wants a large family. Of course, I’ll have to convince him otherwise about that.”
       “Ha ha. You love us.” Maria tapped a finger on the steering wheel. “Just one guess, though. You have to have at least one guess.”
       “You want to gossip,” Isabel accused with a laugh. “I don’t know. If I knew, I might not be so taken.”
       “So you are attracted. I do hope he’s young and good-looking” She wagged a finger in her direction. “He could be fat.”
       Maria’s reality check made Isabel smile.  “Love handles won’t matter as long as he has a brain and a heart.”
       The neighborhood passing by—the Christmas lights especially—drove home the absoluteness of her mission completed. She swallowed the lump in her throat.
       Straining her neck to see down River Road as they crossed it, she wondered if Zack was back yet. She missed having him to talk to like they’d been able to do while she trained at Fort Benning. 
       “Well, you won’t go alone.”
       But, Isabel had every plan to go alone. Good Lord, she didn’t need an audience to watch her make a fool of herself.

      “Can I get you something to drink, Isa? Gin and tonic? Or perhaps a beer?”
       “Isabel,” she corrected her new, old friend with a smile. “No, thank you. I might fall over. How about a glass of punch?” She put a hand on Phillip’s arm. A gentle squeeze had his eyes lighting up like her mother’s Christmas tree in the corner of the living room. He was a nice guy. Nice. And she wondered if he was the one. Her heart hadn’t fluttered when he approached her earlier, and after all the letters, she was certain there would be something—a spark of recognition.
       Isabel side-stepped into the alcove, out of the way of all the traffic—family, friends, and strangers. Exhaustion blurred the edges of the celebration as the last four days of processing and travel caught up with her. She needed just five minutes against this wall to get her second wind, because if there was one thing the Rodriguez family knew how to do well, it was celebrate. Holidays, holy days, first communions, weddings, even funerals.
       Food would pour out of the kitchen as if it was the last day on earth. Drink would flow and music would resound through the rafters. She loved it. And hated it. The family joke was that she’d joined the Army to be alone. There could be a grain of truth in that.
       A hand settled on her shoulder and she jerked away.
       Zack Benson raised his hands in surrender. “Whoa. Slow down killer.”
       Isabel scowled. “Oh, it’s you.”
       A long time ago, they’d been like siblings. Now, not so much. Now, she had an urge to fix her hair and stand up straighter. Those she could ignore, but the racing of her heart gave her away as it had since that summer after graduation.
       He was her friend nothing more, like a brother.
       “If Phillip’s bothering you, I could take care of him.”
       “You better not,” she demanded, horrified at the thought of him running off a potential love match and just as horrified that he noticed her awkwardness. “You’ve done enough for me in the past, thank you very much, Zack. I won’t have you messing with this.”
       “A love match, eh?” Zack held up a plate of food.
       “I didn’t say that.” Her frown caused a headache right between her eyes. She grabbed a piece of broccoli and dipped it.
       Zack brushed a finger across the paper sticking out of her shirt pocket and left a trail of warmth across her collarbone.
       Maybe the doctor was right about needing more rest. She blinked away a touch of lightheadedness. Yes, that was it—fatigue.
       She’d carried the letter for months. As proof that someone on God’s green earth wanted her. Maybe Phillip? “He works with the fire department—an investigator, and he’s very nice. He likes children.” As a matter of fact, he has two of his own. That hadn’t been in the letters.
       She wanted children, though.
       “You look like hell, Isabel. You need food and sleep in that order, not some idiot who writes sissy love notes and offers you beer when it’s obvious you’re about to fall over already.”
       Tears tickled the back of her eyes. She was tired. And irritated by the whole mystery. Chinese torture, that’s what it made her think of and she wanted to scream. “Don’t call him an idiot.”
       Zack was always being over-protective.
       “Mija, amor.” Her mother approached and interrupted, putting an arm around her and giving Zack a hard look. “Go find something to do besides tease my daughter.”
       Zack winced. “Los sientos, Margaret.” He waited a heartbeat. “And Isabel.”
       Phillip strode through the crowded kitchen toward her and a sound must have escaped, because her mother tsked. “Don’t get caught up in something that isn’t real, Isabel. You don’t even know if he’s the one.”
       “But, he could be the one, Mamá.” Her voice faltered and the room spun.
       Phillip was standing over her with a punch in one hand. The silly grin on his face turned to worry. “Isabel?”
       Isabel opened her mouth to respond. Nothing came out. Lightheaded, she frowned. A chair. She needed a chair.
       Her mom’s lovely face came into sudden, sharp focus. Her lips were moving, but it was as if someone had muted a television. Beautifully tapered fingers snapped at someone behind her.
       “Miguel!” Zack called to her dad. But, his strong, commanding voice faded.
       “I’m so sorry,” Isabel whispered as someone wrapped arms around her, and she slipped into the sweet, blessed oblivion of darkness.

       The letter, which had been in her pocket last night, was gone. She threw back the covers of her bed, frantically searching, and dumped the contents of her dresser drawers. Gone? After all this time? She couldn’t believe it.
       She wanted to cry.
       Maybe it was a sign. She’d held onto it for so long. Maybe God was telling her to put aside false hopes. She sighed. That’s what her mother had said, anyway.
       After rushing to get out the door, Isabel drove to Ayer Park with a pounding heart and sweaty hands. She hadn't been this nervous since…well, ever. There wasn't even a car in the parking lot. Isabel shut off her car and got out. A breeze cut through the trees, and she tightened her coat, tying it off in front. She slipped her hands into leather gloves and stuffed them in her pockets.
       After years of playing in the park as a kid, the stone path was familiar under her feet.
       God had allowed her a good night’s sleep followed by the most gorgeous sunrise she’d seen since leaving Afghanistan. There was eternal promise in the blazing colors and it lifted her hesitant mood as she took the last turn in the path and followed it toward the row of trees along the river bank. A figure stepped into view.
       Someone was there.
       Slowing, she caught a glimpse of dark hair and a jean jacket—she knew that jean jacket. And a jaw line, smooth and square. She would recognize it anywhere. Her heart fell.
       Oh no. What had he done? A fire started under her feet and she steamed closer. That son-of-a-gun. She did not need his protection any more.
       “Zachariah Edward Benson!”
       He turned, watching her approach with hooded eyes.
       “You sent him away, didn’t you?” She stopped short in front of him and pummeled him with her fists.
       “Isabel,” he growled, trapped her in a grip and gave her a little shake.
       Her teeth chattered closed. And she stopped. “Who was it?”
       “Back to your old fighting self, I see.”
       She stomped her foot and looked him in the eye.
       All argument fled at nervousness shimmering in his blue eyes. Not just nerves. Longing. “But…”
       “I have something for you.” He fumbled into the front of his jacket and pulled out a piece of paper.
       “My letter!” Isabel grabbed it from him and smoothed out the roughened edges. “How did you? I mean, when…”
       He stuffed his hands into his pockets and shrugged a shoulder. “I took it last night after carrying you up to your room.”
       “You? Oh,” she breathed. “I’d thought…”
       “Um, do you think you might finish a sentence?”
       She shook her head slowly and really looked at him again. The spark of humor in his eyes. The slightly crooked nose, broken during combatives during training together a few years ago. Maybe it was okay that he’d scared the letter writer away. She already loved him. Letters from a stranger could not mean as much as what she was feeling right this minute.
       Isabel grabbed the letter by each side and started to rip.
       “What are you doing? Stop,” Zack exclaimed and stole the paper back from her grip.
       “Don’t you see?” she questioned, stepping closer to him and reaching for his hand. “It doesn’t matter anymore who was here.”
       His brow rose and, with a chuckle, he handed the letter back. “Read it.”
       A touch of sadness stole over her as she let go of love that could never match what she'd had right here all along.

I can’t wait to see you on Christmas morning.
Stay safe. I’m praying for you.

      What? Her gaze flew to Zack then back to the letter. Her heart pounded ferociously against her sternum, and a laugh bubbled out.
       A line had been added at the bottom of her letter.

P.S. It’s me.

Bethanne Strasser

Mother of FIVE smarty-pants and married to her Love for twelve years, Bethanne spends her time writing stories that always--without a doubt--end happy.

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On The 7th Day of Christmas…Last Christmas

 
Last Christmas
by
Lori Sizemore

      Daphne Howard drove back into her hometown and nearly turned around and left again. She actually stopped at the post office, but Mrs. Lawrence spotted her and waved hello. Then it was all over—her family would know she’d actually made it before she got back to the edge of town limits.
       Why couldn’t this be the year that the big blizzard hit? Why couldn’t there be a little snow on the road? Anything so she could call her mother and say, “Sorry, can’t make it!”
       When Daphne pulled into the long driveway, she counted nearly a dozen cars. With three brothers and even more aunts and uncles, that wasn’t surprising. Unpleasant, but not a surprise.  She’d just have to deal. It was only tonight and tomorrow, Christmas Day. Then she was out of here.
       Daphne let her used sunshine yellow convertible roll to a stop behind her brother’s minivan and her aunt Tillie’s SUV. She could do this. In less than five minutes, she’d carted in the box of presents and hugged every warm body within the two-story farmhouse. All except her parents.
       Mama was first. She elbowed her way through three boys a foot-and-a-half taller than her, their picture perfect wives, and Daphne’s seven nieces and two nephews. Big families—that was the Howard way.
       Mama grabbed Daphne tight and whispered, “I’ve missed you so much, baby girl.”
       Daphne bit the inside of her bottom lip to keep the tears from spouting. If she started now, she’d be a goner by the time she saw her dad.
       The front door opened and closed behind her as she inhaled the vanilla scent that would always be her mama. Cold air swooshed across them.  A smiled etched its way across her face in anticipation, but a bit of scolding, too.
       Daphne’s dad had just come home after a mild heart attack. He should be resting, not out blowing leaves or whatever he’d been doing.
       But, when Daphne turned, it wasn’t her dad standing there with big, brown eyes, staring her down. Josh. Daphne glanced at her mother, who gave a guilty little half-smile and avoided her gaze.
       She’d left this house, in her wedding dress, one year ago exactly tomorrow… and her mother had invited the man she’d left waiting at the altar for Christmas Eve dinner?
       Everyone stopped to stare at her. At the both of them, really. Even the kids seemed to hush their chatter when they saw Josh appraising Daphne from across the room.
       Daphne did the only thing a mature, rational woman could do—she walked out, just like she did a year ago.
       She found her dad upstairs in her parents’ room. She shut the door behind her and leaned against it. Her dad struggled to sit up, his hair tousled from a nap.
       “She is a crazy lady,” Daphne mumbled.
       “Your mom? Tell me about it.”
       “What? Why?” Daphne shook her head and crossed to her dad. She’d been standing at the door, guarding it, while her poor dad tried to stand. She was some daughter. “Daddy, let me help you.”
       He waved her away. “I hate being sick. Your mother treats me like a child. ‘Don’t eat that, get some exercise, lie down, take your medicine.’ It’s enough to make you… Daph?”
       Daphne settled down on the bed beside him. “Yeah?”
       “Is that why you left?”
       “What?” She couldn’t stop wondering what Josh could be doing, just downstairs, right now.
       “That’s exactly what your mother does to you. Not the being sick part, but hell. She picked your wedding day. And your dress. And your major in college. Is that the reason?”
       “Maybe a little. But Mama only does it because she’s afraid of losing you.” Daphne eyed her dad suspiciously. “Did you set me up?”
       “Are you kidding? She’s driving me nuts. I’m not going to defend that. So what’s wrong?”
       “She invited Josh. I can’t believe she invited Josh. For Christmas. At the house we were supposed to get married in. At Christmas.”
       “She’s still close to him, baby.”
       “You’re defending her.”
       “Meh. I’ll pay you fifty bucks if you go get me a bacon cheeseburger and sneak it in.”
       “Not a chance.”
       “You’re a good girl, Daphne Anne.”

       Daphne marched back downstairs with determination. She wouldn’t let a little bit of awkwardness turn her into a child hiding from the mess she’d made. She’d just walk up to Josh and… um… apologize and then… Well, she’d figure it out.
       She approached Josh, who held her youngest niece on his hip. Daphne opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
       Josh raised his eyebrows expectantly and then, apparently, decided to take pity on her. “You look beautiful, Daph’. Merry Christmas.”
       Just then, Mama came over and took the little girl from his arms. “I’m sure you two would like some privacy. You probably have a lot to talk about.”
       Daphne leveled a gaze at her. “Mother.”
       She glanced around the room at her family only to realize every person in the room stared at the two of them. “This is going down as the second worst Christmas of my life.”
       Josh stepped past her, taking her hand, and pulled her to the door. He paused there and looked from face to face. “You know, I love this family. I loved the idea of being part of this family. But y’all really need to get over the whole ‘taking care of Daphne’ thing. She’s been a grown woman for a while now. Mrs. Howard, all of you—with all due respect—let her live her own life. Go back to making eggnog or making babies, or whatever you people do around the holidays, but let her do her own thing.”
       Daphne stared up at Josh in disbelief. Where had this man been a year ago? The two of them were practically trampled by her family’s beliefs about how things should be.
       Come to think of it, where had she been? It sure wasn’t anymore his responsibility than hers to stand up to them.
       “Josh?”
       “Yeah?”
       “I think my mom’s right.”
       “You what?” Josh examined her like she’d spoken in some foreign language.
       “She’s right, we need some privacy. We need to talk.”
       Daphne opened the door, stepped out onto the porch, and inhaled the scent of pine trees and snowflakes in the winter air. “Come on,” she said and led him to the old swing that hung from the big tree out back.
       She sat down on the swing and patted the seat beside her. “I need to show you something.”
       Josh settled onto the seat next to her then ducked his head to look up at her from the side.
       “Here.” Daphne pulled the worn piece of paper out of her pocket and smoothed it on her jeans.
       “What is it?”
       “Look.” She held it out until he took it. “It’s an advance. I finally sold one of my stories to a magazine. It’s not much, but—“
       “This is incredible. You did it.”
       Josh kissed her, surprising her. His lips captured hers and her heart started to race.
       When he pulled back, the cold winter day felt like a sweltering day in the middle of summer. “I really missed kissing you,” she murmured.
       He stood and said, “Wait right here. I have something to show you, too.”
       In only a couple of minutes, he came jogging back to the swing, a magazine in his hand.
       He held it out to her and her hands shook as she flipped through the travel magazine. Glossy pictures, write-ups about local activities. Except it wasn’t local to anywhere she’d ever been.  “Um, so… Alaska?”
       He gave a shake of his head. “Page seventeen.”
       Daphne took her time, reading through the article about a small festival, with ice and snow and hot… wait. Something looked familiar here. “Did you take these pictures? Oh, my God. You? How?”
       “My new job. I travel, snap pictures, and get paid for it. I’m going in a few days to Times Square for New Year’s Eve.”
       “I thought you wanted to work for the newspaper.”
       “Yeah, well, I thought you wanted to live and die in this stupid town.”
       “You mean you didn’t want to stay here and have fifteen babies and visit my parents twice a week for dinner? Seriously?”
       Josh knelt on the cold ground in front of her. “Only because I thought it’s what you wanted.”
       Daphne considered their engagement. The way her mother had swept in and planned everything. And Daphne had been too afraid to say boo to her about it. “Oh, God. I ruined our lives.”
       “They’re not ruined yet.” Josh slipped her hands in his, warming them. “You want to go spend New Year’s Eve in Times Square with me?”
       “You could forgive me after I just left you here?”
       “I think we can do things right, this time. What do you say?”
       “Merry Christmas and happy damn New Year, baby. Kiss me!”

Lori Sizemore

Lori loves happy endings, coffee, and techie gadgets. She writes contemporary romance with a dash of humor. The coffee she takes with a little cream.

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On the 6th Day of Christmas…Last Snowy Encounter

Here’s a teaser to Cole and Maddy for all those who have read Snowy Encounters and who are curious as to if Maddy’s crazy ideas ever work.

Last Snowy Encounter

By

Clarissa Yip

      “Just one time, I swear.” 
      Cole eyed his wife warily. As much as he loved her, the crazy ideas she came up with drove him nuts. If she wasn’t the hottest decorator in town and didn’t belong to him, he would have quickly turned tail and ran. But then, that wouldn’t be very manly of him. He glanced down the steep slope. They stood at the top of Death’s Peak. It was their spot—the one spot she’d run to when she wasn’t happy, but also the one place she’d wreaked havoc on him. He’d ended up in an ambulance, after the many times she’d accidentally tripped him down the hill.  
      He sighed. “Can’t we just do this at home?” 
      Maddy settled her hands on her hips and glared at him. “No.” 
      Cole pulled her into his arms and hid his irritation. “You remember what happened last time we tried this.” 
      She gazed at the night sky. “There are no trees above our heads this time. No snow will fall on us. Put up the tent and let’s do it.”
      It as in fulfilling her fantasy to make love outdoors. 
      “Let’s just go back to the house where it’s warm and I’ll build us a fire.”  
      She shook her head and pouted. “This is my Christmas wish. I want to do it here.” 
      Damn. The lip. She knew he couldn’t resist her pout. Shoving a hand through his hair, he looked around. “What if someone shows up?” 
      Maddy snorted. “Everyone is home celebrating Christmas. Besides, we did our family duties already.” Her eyebrow lifted. “What? Are you chicken?” 
      His eyes narrowed. “I’m just worried about you.” 
      “Don’t be. I’m pregnant, not disabled.” She patted her slightly rounded belly. 
      He bit his inner cheek. The bigger her stomach grew, the stronger those hormones struck. Trudging over to their belongings, he started to assemble the tent. Last time they’d tried this, snow had fallen from the branches and covered their naked bodies. Lovemaking suspended. 
      Who would have thought his spunky wife had such fantasies?  
      Once the tent was set up, he made sure the portable heater was on and lantern lit, before holding the flap open and turning to Maddy. “Done. Get in.” 
      Maddy hopped up off the tree stump and grinned. “About time!” She took two steps and slid backward. Cole quickly closed the distance, but not before she’d already fallen. At least the ground was fluffy with a fresh layer of snow. She glared at him, and he tried to keep from laughing. But mirth struck him as he clutched his stomach. Falling was natural to Maddy.  
      “The baby!” Maddy gripped her belly. Cole stopped and instantly went to her side.  
      “Are you okay?” He squatted down. She gave a soft moan. Fear and guilt instantly grasped him around the throat. “Is it the baby? Maddy, answer me.” 
      She peeped at him with a grimace. He cursed. He should have watched her more carefully, and here he was laughing at her. What type of man did that make him? He swallowed hard when she kept her head bowed. Four months into her pregnancy, he shouldn’t have allowed her to talk him into bringing her out here. Just as he started to slip his arms under her knees and around her shoulders, Maddy mushed snow into his face. 
      He froze then sputtered as he jumped up, spitting the cold out of his mouth. Settling his hands on his hips, he towered over her, glaring. She sat gripping her sides, giggling. Damn wench. “That wasn’t funny.” 
      “That’s what you get for laughing!” She held out a hand and he pulled her up.  
      “You could have been hurt. The baby could have been hurt.”  
      “Then you shouldn’t laugh at me every time I fall.” Maddy huffed.  
      “Then stop falling.”  
      “It’s your fault. You know how clumsy I seem to get around you. It probably wouldn’t matter even if we’re dating or ninety years old.” 
      Cole grinned. She did have a tendency to be klutzy around him. Only him. And it’d better stay that way for a very long time. Brushing the snow off her back, his hand lingered over her butt. He loved touching her ass. He wasn’t much of a butt man, but Maddy’s cute bottom always drew his attention, especially when she wore her black stiletto boots and sashayed around him like…. 
      He swung her up into his arms and strode to the tent. “Let’s do it.” 
      Maddy yanked the hair at his nape, and he grunted. “Now, you’re being vulgar.” 
      “You wanted to make love out here.” 
      “I said in the snow.” 
      “You’re crazy, woman. It’s the tent or nothing.” 
      She pouted. 
      “Stop that. You know I’d give you anything, but no way am I going to risk getting you sick.” 
      With a sigh, she brushed her lips against his jaw as he allowed her to slide down the length of him. “I know.” 
      He cupped her bottom, pulling her close against his groin. No matter how many times they’d made love, he’d never get enough of her. Keeping an arm around her waist, he lifted the flap of the tent. “Get in and show me your goods.” 
      Maddy giggled. She bent and started to maneuver into their temporary sleeping quarters. He gave her butt two pats before she disappeared inside. Sticking his head in, he frowned. The space was smaller than he anticipated. He should have grabbed the bigger tent from the lodge, but in their haste, he’d taken whatever was available. All thoughts fled as Maddie smiled seductively and slowly released the buttons on her coat.  
      Inch by inch, silky pale skin was revealed along with her black satin camisole. She shrugged off her jacket and slipped out of her jeans then sat demurely in her top and panties. She crooked one finger at him, and he was lost. Quickly shedding his oversized coat, he crawled into the tight space. His head hit the roof, but he managed to get his coat off.  
      Maddy helped him with his shirt. His elbow struck a metal bar. He ignored it and kissed her the moment he got his shirt off. Her fingers attacked his belt and unbuttoned his jeans as he searched for the hem of her camisole. Softness met his palms, and he slid his hand under, lovingly patting her stomach before closing over her breasts. 
      “Get these off. I want to see you.” Maddy tugged insistently at his jeans. He sat and she climbed over him, settling her legs on either side of his thighs as he tried to push his boxers and jeans off. She dug her fingers in his hair and continued to kiss him. He loved the taste of her—fruity and sweet. Her strawberry scent wrapped around him, drugging him as always.   
      Once he kicked his clothes away, he settled his hands on her hips and worked the satin top over her skin. They parted for a split second when he’d pulled her camisole off and threw it over his shoulder. 
      Maddy tugged at his hair, rocking against him as he kneaded her breasts, weighing them, loving them. They’d grown larger with pregnancy. The areolas were darker in color. He loved the little changes in her body as she blossomed with their child. Five more months and they would finally welcome their baby into the world. He was going to love Five Oaks as much as his parents did. 
      Bending down to sample her sweetness, Cole caressed her stomach before closing his mouth over her nipple. Maddy moaned and drew him closer, rocking against his groin. She tugged at his hair as he laved circles around the erect bud.  
      “I love when you do that,” she murmured. 
      He bit her gently, then kissed the spot and moved to her other breast. His hands slid over her hips to cup her butt, holding her flushed against him. The friction added to his desire. His head swam with each motion, each sensation. Frustrated with the satin barrier between them, he gave a quick tug, and the flimsy panties fell apart.  
      Maddy grinned and then gripped the sides of his face, kissing him. His tongue twirled with hers, her sweetness easily seducing his senses. Sliding from under her, he maneuvered her onto her back. He bumped his head on the top metal bar of the tent. Frowning and aggravated with their tight quarters, he settled himself between her legs. His eyes raked over her beauty and his annoyance slipped away. Her glow wrapped around him like a warm blanket, and he jerked her against him.  
      Nibbling along her jawline, he moved lower, trailing his lips across the smooth expanse of her chest. Maddy whimpered as his fingers found her. Wet and hot. She lifted herself on her elbows and peered at him with hooded eyes. The desire in her gaze flickered heat throughout his body. Control slipped the moment her tongue ran across her bottom lip. 
      Tugging her legs to hug his waist, he rubbed against her cleft. Her arms circled his shoulders, knees pressing into his sides. He leaned in to kiss her, but Maddy pushed at him. He frowned. 
      “Fire!” Maddy wriggled under him. 
      He held her tighter and tried to kiss her, but she gave him a shove. He didn’t budge. No way was she backing out now. It was her idea to make love out here. “Baby, you are hot. That won’t ever change.” 
      “No, fire!” She pointed to the corner. 
      Cole whipped around. Damn. Smoke rose from Maddy’s camisole. It had landed on top of the heater. His head hitting the roof of the tent, he grabbed his jacket and started to beat the blasted thing. Cursing aloud, he glanced at his wife to see her laughing, clutching her own coat to her chest.  
      Once the heater was off and the destroyed satin tossed aside, he settled back in defeat, bumping his head against the metal bar holding up the tent. Maddy slid her arms into her coat and grappled around for her jeans.  
      “You’re right. We should go home.” 
      He sighed. Lovemaking suspended. Again. He just couldn’t win.  
      Maddy leaned over and placed a kiss on his lips. “I know. My crazy idea. But I’ll make it up to you.” 
      His eyebrow lifted. 
      “When we get home,” she quickly added. 
      Stifling the urge to growl, he reached for his clothes. 
      “Next time, we’ll grab the larger tent, so you fit, big guy.” 
      He smiled. She said “next time.” 
      Hope wasn’t lost.

Snowy Encounters Available at Decadent Publishing!

Clarissa Yip

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On the 4th Day of Christmas…The Gift

The Gift

By Robin Delany

The Smith Bedroom, Dec 24, 12:05 a.m.

      Hattie lay on her side in front of Dylan, who draped a hand over her waist from behind. She kept her eyes trained on her bedside table and wiped at her watering eyes.  
      "I know we wanted to be pregnant by this Christmas, but it'll be okay, Hattie. We have each other, and that's all that matters." Dylan rubbed her hair, and his soft voice made another sob break from her throat.  
      "I know." She wiped again as fresh hot tears spilled over. "I should be happy for what we have."
      After a year and a half of treatments and three failed rounds of in vitro fertilization that had depleted their savings, they'd spent the last five months trying to face reality. She was barren. Barren. What kind of a-hole came up with that ugly term? Like her insides were a desert, or something. She ran a finger along the ruffled pillowcase that she'd so often imagined a tiny form laying on, suckling at her breast, its little fingers wrapped around her big one. 
      Dylan kissed her cheek. "We may not have a baby, but we have a lot." 
      She stared at the ceiling, not wanting to see the ruffle, but really, it didn't matter. Everything brought her loss into focus these days. Was it considered a loss when you never had something in the first place? 
      "For the past five months, I've been trying to count my blessings. I really have." She held a hand up so he could see her fingers as she counted them off. "I've got a loving husband, a supportive family, and the career in journalism I’d always dreamed of. I know I've got a lot. More than so many others, in fact. I just can't make my heart accept what my head tells it." It didn't matter that she'd wanted a child far longer than her career. Or that she'd owned about fifty dolls as a girl and taken meticulous care of each one. She'd even made little outfits for her egg in Home Economics class. 
      "I know, sweetheart." He rubbed a knuckle down her cheek. "Try to sleep. Life is always a little harder when you're coming down with a cold. You'll feel more optimistic in a few days when it's passed and you have more energy."  
      "I think it's probably a mild case of food poisoning," Hattie moaned.   
      "That's the last time we buy sushi from a gas station." 
      She swiped at the last of her tears. "You can say that again." 
      "That's the last time we buy sushi from a gas station."  
      She giggled, and elbowed him playfully. "Go to sleep."

      The Smith Bathroom, Dec 24, 6:05 a.m. 
       "I could loan you some money to try again," Mama said. 
      "After all these years of trying, I don't think there's anything left to do." Hattie sat on the edge of the tub, one hand holding her cell, the other covering her eyes. Her whole body ached and she'd had strange vivid dreams that agitated what little sleep she'd gotten. What the heck was her brain trying to tell her by having a giant octopus chase her across a parking lot? Ridiculous. Yet she'd woken in a sheen of sweat. 
      "You can try it again. Did you ask the doc—?" 
      "I don't know. Look, I'm not feeling well. I have to go."  
      "What's wrong, honey?" Mama's voice pitched higher, the way it did when she was concerned. "Are you sick?" 
        Her stomach roiled. "I think I have food poisoning. I'm nauseous and tired, like Dad was that time he ate the mystery container in the fridge when you weren't home to make dinner." 
      "Ugh. I still can't believe he did that."  
      Hattie smiled, practically hearing the eye roll in Mama's tone. Her stomach heaved. 
      "I'll see you when your flight gets in." Hattie pressed a hand against her mouth.  
      "But Hattie—"  
      She dropped the phone and voided her stomach for the second time that morning. And it was only six. This was going to be a long Christmas Eve.

      The Smith Living Room, Dec 24, 12:05 p.m. 
       Hattie cuddled with Dylan on the couch, picking at the bland turkey sandwich he'd made her.  
      "Now she thinks I'm dying of the plague."  
      Dylan laughed. "When you stubbed your toe, your Mama thought it was the plague." 
      "She's a little overprotective." Hattie tried to keep her mouth straight and failed. "She means well, but she's a diagnoser. During my childhood, I had ADD, PCOS, and any other syndrome with an acronym. By the time she gets here, she'll have my symptoms all figured into an official diagnosis and the pharmacy on standby with penicillin." 
      "I bet she will." Dylan's smile widened to show more of his teeth, and he tugged a strand of her hair. "So, what do you think I gave you for Christmas? What's your guess this year?" 
      She set the sandwich on the plate at her feet and leaned into him again, resting a hand on his stomach. "I'll bet it's a bowling ball. You've been wanting one all year. I bet you got one for me so you can use it when I say I don’t want it." 
      He lifted an eyebrow. "And I bet you got the ultimate box set of Sex in the City for me." 
      "Wasn't that what you wanted?" she asked with wide eyes. "I swore it was on your list." 
      He smiled down at her and tweaked the tip of her nose. "You're the best thing in my life. You know that?" 
      "Of course I am." Hattie laughed, stretching to kiss him. "I love you, too."

      The Smith Dining Room, Dec 24, 6:05 p.m. 
       Thud.  
      Hattie rubbed a hand over her face. Thud, thud. 
      She pushed away from the table and went to the door, pausing a moment before opening it to see Mama and Papa walking toward the house. Her stomach was rebelling again, but this time, it seemed, the rebels had pipe bombs and machine guns. Or at least pitch forks.  
      After hugs and kisses, hauling in bags and gifts, and an hour of work related small talk, Mama stood. "I've discovered the problem." 
      Hattie sneaked a sly glance to Dylan. "Oh?" 
      "Yes, and I've got just the thing for you here in my bag." Mama walked to where her purse sat on the kitchen counter and opened it. It must be an herbal remedy, if she had it in her purse. St. Johns Wort? Noni juice, perhaps?  
      Mama drew a long box with a light blue cover and a picture of a pregnancy test. Hattie's mouth fell open and a stone dropped into her stomach. 
      "That's cruel, Mama. I'm sick, and I'm tired, and now you shove this in my face?" She thrust a hand toward the disgustingly cheerful blue cover. 
      Dylan came to stand next to Hattie and put his hand on her shoulder. Papa looked away as if unaware of the conversation, as he had during every fight she and Mama had since her childhood. Hattie frowned. How diplomatic.  
      "That's right, sweetheart. You're sick. You're tired. When I called at eight o'clock, you said the smell of the pot roast was bothering you, and when I called again at two-thirty, you yelled at Dylan to take out the trash before it made you—what did you call it?—ah, yes, before it made you hork. You're pregnant, dear. Now take the test." 
      Hattie couldn't even let herself wish it in the smallest part of heart. It had been too long, there had been too many 'no's to have a 'yes' with no help. To have a yes at all. She clenched her jaw to keep her chin from trembling. "Mother, do you know what the doctor told me on our last visit?"  
      Dylan stiffened at her side, and Mama shook her head.   
      "That's because I couldn't bear to tell you. He said we'd be better off looking into a surrogate, since my body wasn't inclined to accept implantation." She stormed to the cabinet and pulled out the brochure he'd given them, and threw it on the table. It skittered off the edge and landed on the carpet at Mama's feet. 
      Mama bent to pick it up, studying the cover image of a couple standing on either side of a pregnant woman with their hands on her belly and insipid smiles on their faces. 
      "I can't give you grandkids. It's not going to happen. Face it." Hot, angry tears rolled down her cheeks. 
      "All right, now you listen to me, Hattie Jane Smith. You will walk into that bathroom and take this test. If it says negative, I won't say another word." She shook the box and the test clacked around inside it. "But until then, I'm going to harp on this like the cruel mother I am." 
      "Fine!" Hattie scowled and snatched the box from her hands. "But after this, you'll never mention children to me again. Understand?"  
      Mama nodded, her chin lifting an inch. Hattie huffed and turned. From the edge of Hattie's vision, a smile lifted Mama's lips. The woman may have given birth to Hattie, but she would be the death of her one of these days.

      The Smith Bedroom, Dec 25, 12:05 a.m. 
       Hattie lay on her side in front of Dylan, who draped a hand over her waist from behind. She kept her eyes trained on her bedside table and wiped her watering eyes. 
      She sniffed and lifted the diamond bracelet he'd given her at the stroke of twelve. "We have to give this and your stereo to Mama for Christmas, you know. The insulated socks don't seem like enough anymore."  
      He kissed her cheeks. "Yeah, and we may have to get her a new car too." 
      She used a fingertip to wipe a tear from the ruffled pillow. "Don't go giving it all away. We've got more than just us to think of now." 
      "That's right. We did it, sweetheart," he whispered, his breath tickling her ear as his palm rubbed her lower abdomen. "We got our baby for Christmas."

I hope you enjoyed my little contemporary Christmas story, and I'd like to invite you to visit with me a bit more. I'm taking part in a blog hop all week (Dec 16th-23rd) Please join me on my blog for a chance to win a signed copy of Jillian Stone's An Affair With Mr. Kennedy, and a chance at the grand prize, a Nook Color.

Robin Delany

I have a fab hubby, 2 sweet babies, & I love 2 write romance, research, travel, read, & letterbox. I'm NOT trying 2 take over the world. Really...

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• On The 7th Day of Christmas…Last Christmas

Tags: 12 Days of Christmas Stories on PC, A Passionate Christmas, Authors, Christmas, Christmas miracle, contest, Love, miracles, Passionate Critters, Robin Delany, Romance, Short story, stories, trying to conceive

On the 2nd Day of Christmas…Frost

Frost

     Of all the assignments I could’ve been given, this was the worst. It felt like a demotion. Had I pissed off the jolly old man? Don’t know how I would have done it, but this felt like a shit detail. I leaned against the garland-wrapped railing and stared down into the mock winter wonderland, complete with fake Santa, in the pavilion below. It all seemed out of place in the sweltering heat of…wherever the hell I’d been dropped. Beam me up Scotty, I’d like to get the elf outta here.
     I scanned the crowd, searching for my mark. It didn’t surprise me that he stood near the mechanical reindeer and Santa’s workshop. Even on the run, we still longed for familiarity. To not be the freak in the midst of humans. I didn’t move in right away, I wanted to admire the view I’d denied myself for the past year. Gorgeous, snow-white hair trailed down his back, metallic streaks of silver visible throughout, like tinsel had been woven through it. There was no mistaking Jack Frost—the man I’d avoided since the eggnog and unwrapping incident. So much beautifully lean and muscled naked elf, my cheeks heated at the memory.
     Shoving the image from my mind was difficult, but I had a job to do. I weaved my way through the hordes of holiday shoppers and garish elf wood cutouts until Santa’s throne was in sight. No Jack.
     “Crap!” How could I lose him so fast?
     “Why are you here, Holly?”
     I spun around and faced the man who’d had a starring role in my dreams for the last three hundred and sixty five days.
     “You know why I’m here, Jack.” I couldn’t meet his gaze. Didn’t want to risk being swept away in those icy blue eyes that swirled and darkened when angry or lost in the throes of passion. I’d seen both.
     “No, I don’t.” His voice held a note of hope when he continued. “Tell me.”
     “On the job.” Something kept me from coming out and admitting he was my target.
     “I won’t keep you then.” Disappointment and bitterness lined his words and took me by surprise.
     “What is going on with you?”
     “Nothing. Must be a real step down from your usual detail. Tell Santa I’m fine, but I’m not ready to come back.” He shoved his hands in the pockets of his crisp grey slacks and started past me.
     I couldn’t let him go. Allowing him to walk away would mean I failed. No matter what the history was between us, I couldn’t let that happen. Without thinking, I grabbed his arm, leaned in close enough to smell the scent of cool pine-laced breezes wafting off his skin, and whispered, “I don’t want you to go.”
     He turned his head slightly, his lips brushing against my cheek as he spoke. “Why?”
     The slight contact wreaked havoc on my nerves and I began to tremble. He was so close. All I’d have to do is reach out and take him. But I couldn’t.
     “I…wrapping.” My voice sounded far off and distant. Like I was having an out-of-body experience. Around Jack, I always wanted to be present in body, at the very least. I started to hyperventilate.
     “Oh.” A small, swirling pattern of snowflakes started to take form in the depths of his eyes. “Walk with me.”
     He placed his hand at the small of my back, briefly brushing my handcuffs as he did so. “You were going to handcuff me?”
     “Last resort only.”
     “Really?” He pulled on my over shirt to reveal my gun. “And this is purely an accessory?”
     “Want me to shoot you?”
     “Not if it’s filled with one of Doc’s tranqs. Wouldn’t want you to take advantage of me.” He chuckled and we started walking through the crowd.
     “It’s no spiked eggnog.”
     “Still equally as powerful.” With a wink, he maneuvered me into a corner. I didn’t like feeling boxed in, my back against a wall. It did give me a good view of the area though, allowing me to plan my escape route if I should need one.
     With his hands splayed on the wall on either side of me, Jack rested his forehead against mine. “Why did you leave that morning?”
     Of all the questions he could have asked me in that moment, that one caught me off guard. “It was a drunken night of wild abandon—”
     “And wrapping paper,” he interjected.
     “Yes and while it was fun, it was one night. It didn’t mean anything.” Or so I’d been trying desperately to convince myself.
     “Didn’t stick around long enough to find out, did you?” He leaned in and pressed his lips gently to mine. It was only a sample of what I’d experienced that night, but oh, how good and familiar he tasted. Kissing Jack was like drinking a cup of peppermint cocoa in front of a warm fire. When he started to pull away, I wasn’t ready to lose the intimate contact and I locked my arms around his neck, deepening the kiss.
     When we finally separated, we both were a little breathless and I leaned back against the wall to try and steady myself.
     Jack quirked an eyebrow. “Meant nothing, huh?”
     “Well, perhaps it meant a little.” Handcuffs—my handcuffs—snapped around my wrists. “What on earth are you doing?”
     “You want to know a secret?”
     “Can you tell me on the way home? I have to deliver Jack Frost to Santa’s doorstep on time. You wouldn’t want me to fail would you? Allow me to have an incomplete mission?” I batted my eyelashes at him.
     “No. I tell you now or I don’t tell you at all.”
     Stubborn man. I could ring his neck. “Tell me your deepest, darkest secrets, Jack.”
     “In all the centuries I’ve been around, I’ve never asked Santa for anything. That is— until now.”
     Butterflies beat wildly in my stomach and my throat was so dry I could barely even swallow. “What did you ask for?”
     “First tell me what you think of your assignment.”
     “You’re joking, right?”
     He shook his head. “Not at all.”
     “No offense, but being dropped in lands unknown and dealing with heat because you refuse to do your job is hardly my idea of a choice gig. And why are you laughing?” Suddenly, I started feeling like this was all a set up. “You didn’t really leave Santa a note saying you were going on strike?”
     “I did leave him a note, but nowhere did I mention abandoning my duties for the season.”
     I looked around the shopping area. Taking in more than the winterscape that had been set up for Santa photos. Palm trees lined the outside of the walkways; in the distance the sounds of the surf were faint but detectable. Add to that, Jack’s lack of surprise to see me there and—“This was a set up!”
     “Let’s just say I must have been VERY good this year.” He leaned in and kissed me briefly. “Because I got exactly what was on my Christmas list.”

Moira

Moira spends her daytime hours as a typical 9-5 slave chasing the almighty dollar, and raising twin zombie sons. During her evening hours, she can often be found steeped in homework, watching an episode of the Walking Dead, or penning her latest novel. She is an author of urban fantasy with a romance kicker, a woman with a penchant for men in kilts, lover of shoes, and connoisseur of Guinness! In other words...Moira is a complete mess.

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• Merry Christmas Everyone — And a Free Download for you

Tags: 12 Days of Christmas Stories on PC, Christmas

One the 1st Day of Christmas… A Home For Christmas

A HOME FOR CHRISTMAS

     The aging oak trim splintered as Teresa pushed in the last tack.
     “Dammit.” She whispered a quick prayer of forgiveness. She hated cursing.
     She arranged the pine garland to hide the dime-sized hole. Finally satisfied that no one attending tonight's party would be able to see the blemish, she turned to survey the rest of the room. From her perch on the stepladder she soaked in the scene – and smiled.
     A twelve-foot tree in the corner glowed with flickering lights and silver tinsel. Above the soft melody of Christmas music, the roof creaked under the weight of last night’s snow and lanterns sizzled. On each of the fifty crimson-draped tables she’d centered a polished silver oil lamp.
     Teresa took a deep breath, the scents of pine resin and cinnamon tickled her nose and brought tears to her eyes.
     As the only child of a Baptist minister, most of her Novembers and Decembers, until now, had been spent polishing pews and sanctuary woodwork with her mother's homemade furniture polish. To this day every time Teresa smelled vinegar she thought of Christmas.
     “That's really disturbing,” she murmured as she rubbed the mound of her belly. Did little Nicholas or Holly have a sense of smell yet? She’d have to research that when she went to work at the library in the morning.
     She glanced at the clock on the wall. She had just an hour before the party began. Jolene would be here any minute with the food. That would give Teresa just enough time to get home, get changed and get back.
     There was a lot of getting to be done this time of year.
     She wasn't sure what it was – maybe a noise or a movement – that caught her attention. She turned toward the door, and her breath exited her lungs in a violent whoosh, leaving her lightheaded. There stood Jeremiah, his broad shoulders filling the entryway, as equal parts happiness and anger filled her heart.
     He'd come home.
     She lost her footing, the stepladder rocked, tilted…
     She didn’t actually have time to panic. It just sorta happened. Dizziness, a flash of light, hot and cold…
     “God, help me,” she whispered.
     “Hell, woman.”
Suddenly she was on the ground, but she was standing, not sprawled on the scarred floor as she’d dreaded.
     A big, muscled arm cradled her back while a giant hand pressed her face into the rough wool of a coat still carrying the chill of wind and dampness of blowing snow.
     Her knees shook and her stomach quivered like a lime-gelatin wreath.
Seconds passed. Long anxiety-laced seconds in which she heard and felt, warm, reassuring, deep-voiced murmurings from the man who held her tightly. Tears burned her eyes and throat. It was the first hug she'd had since he left.
     Where had he been? Why hadn't he called? She wanted to punch him in his square jaw or kick him in the shins. He was the only person in the world who made her feel so violent – or so good. She wrapped her arms around him and squeezed.
     Tension drained from her muscles, and the shaking eased.
     She leaned back. Well, as far back as he’d let her.
     “Jeremiah? Jeremiah Roberts?” It was more question than statement, despite the fact he was right there and touching her.
     “It's me.” He lifted an eyebrow. “Did you forget what I look like?”
     Never. Even frowning, Jeremiah was the best-looking man she'd ever seen. Her heart jumped and lodged in her throat.
     His eyes were as green as the pine tree in the corner, and his jaw was shadowed by stubble the same deep black as his hair. His cheeks were red from the cold and she almost reached up to touch them. Almost.
     But, she hadn’t seen him in – she automatically rubbed her stomach when the baby kicked – well, it seemed like forever.
     It would be presumptuous of her, wouldn’t it? To initiate such contact.
     She settled for curling her fingers around the lapels of his coat. She didn't know whether to shake him or pull him closer, to laugh or cry.
     Jeremiah stared down at her belly, then back to her face. His eyes were filled with questions that probably wouldn’t pass his lips.
     He’d never been curious about her, had always tried to avoid her.
     Except for that once…

     Teresa's confusion was as obvious as the giant ball of her belly pressed firmly against him.
     He reached and pulled a pine needle from her hair. Her pretty blue eyes widened and her mouth puckered. He almost leaned in to kiss her. But, shit, there was a baby between them. And that meant there was a man…
     He dropped the pine needle on the floor. At her grimace he bent down and picked it up, shoved it in his coat pocket. The place was as pretty as a photo on one of those home-decorating magazines. Teresa had probably cleaned and decorated the room all by herself.
     Everybody took advantage of her… including him.
     She deserved better. That's one of the reasons he'd left.
     Jeremiah might want her. She might want him, but what she needed was some nice, nine-to-five guy who opened car doors and bought her flowers and candy. Had she found one?
     He searched for a wedding band. There was no way she’d be having a baby without a husband.
     But her fingers were bare, as were her wrists. Her nails were short and plain. No bling for Teresa.
     Of course, her beauty was God-given. She was an angel. Pale skin and blonde hair, all sweetness and goodness. Halo-bright.
     Regret and jealousy burned a path from his gut to his throat, even as he exhaled in relief. So Teresa had a man, but they weren't married. Jeremiah still had time… for what, exactly, he didn't know. Because nowhere in his Teresa-inspired fantasies had he imagined a freakin' baby.
     He rubbed his thumb over her cheek. She had the softest skin he'd ever touched. “You okay?”
     Teresa glanced toward the overturned ladder then examined his face. “You mean right now or since you've been gone?”
     He ignored the disappointment, the accusation in her question. He'd stick with now. That's all he could handle.
“What the hell were you doing up on that ladder, anyway?”
     Why the hell are you pregnant?
     “It’s just a stepladder.” She adjusted her glasses and sniffed. “You scared me.”
     He scared himself. Just before he’d left town nine months ago…
     His eyes automatically drifted to her belly. The old pink sweatshirt she wore was too tight, stretched so taut that she — oh, Jesus. There was no way in hell. No way.
     “You look ready to pop.” The words flew from his mouth and he cringed. He’d never had a bit of tact.
     Teresa’s cheeks flushed. She wiggled in his arms.
     “I – I tried to call you.”
     “Call me?” He shook his head. “I don’t have a cell anymore.” He’d tossed that thing before he’d left town. Besides, where he’d been, he couldn’t have it anyway.
     “Oh.” Teresa’s cheeks turned bright red — and he knew.
     He dropped his arms and turned his back on her so she wouldn’t see the panic  stamped on his face.
     Honest to God, his heart pumped faster, sweat trickled down his back and his throat closed up so tight he could barely breathe — the same reaction he'd had that morning nine months ago when he'd woken up with the worst hangover of his life, Teresa draped over him like a quilt and no memory of how she'd gotten there.
     Well, that wasn't exactly true. He recalled one thing from that night – thinking he had no business kissing the preacher's daughter while his breath reeked of Jack Daniels.
     He'd done it anyway and apparently a whole lot more.
     He swiped his hand over his face and through his hair, counted to ten… stalling. Finally, he cleared his throat. “What would you have told me if I answered the phone?”
     “I — Oh!”
     At Teresa’s painful exclamation he was at her side in an instant, his pulse a painful, pounding rhythm that made him woozy.
     She was bent over, rubbing her belly.
     She breathed in quick, loud pants, and when whatever was going on had passed, she  looked up, her pale face tense with fear.
     Her cold fingers curled around his. She needed him, and just like that, Jeremiah's panic faded.
     “We’re having a baby,” she whispered. “I would've told you we're having a baby.”
     Time stopped. Teresa blinked up at him and Bing Crosby sang something about Christmas dreams and light and love –
     “Jeremiah?” Teresa squeezed his hand. She might as well have been holding his heart. Actually, she already did. She just didn't know it… yet.
     He kissed the top of her head and swept her up into his arms, where she belonged. “And I would've told you I'm coming home,” he said.

Tina Vaughn

Tina is a wife, mother and newspaper editor who enjoys writing contemporary romance. "The world is full of dark, depressing news. When I read and write I want to know that my 'Once upon a time' ends with 'and they lived happily ever after.'"

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Tags: Christmas, Passionate Christmas, Passionate Critters, Romance, short stories, Tina Vaughn, Twelve Days of Christmas