Comfort and Joy
A Christmas Anthology
Comfort and Joy
An Original Publication of
Highland Press Publishing - 2010
Endless Yesterdays—Forever Tomorrows © Leanne Burroughs
A Season for Puppy Love © Amy Blizzard
Love and the Man O’ War © Chris Holmes
With This Ring I Thee Trust © Kristy Denice Bock
Renovation Road © Polly McCrillis
Cover © 2010 Rebecca Andrews
Printed and bound in the United States of America. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system—except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a magazine, newspaper, or on the Web—without permission in writing from the publisher.
For information, please contact
Highland Press Publishing,
PO Box 2292, High Springs, FL 32655.
www.highlandpress.org
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the authors and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names, save actual historical figures. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
ISBN - 978-0-9842499-8-5
PUBLISHED BY HIGHLAND PRESS PUBLISHING
A Wee Dram Book
Dedications. . .
To Shirley Jackson. For your invaluable suggestions—and most of all for your friendship—I sincerely thank you.
~ Leanne Burroughs
* * * *
For Willie. You will always be loved.
~ Amy Blizzard
* * * *
To Mike Culbertson and fellow truckers. For the thousands of highway miles you travel, thank you.
~ Polly McCrillis
Polly McCrillis, Associate Editor
Contents
Forever Yesterdays—Endless Tomorrows
Leanne Burroughs . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 07
A Season for Puppy Love
Amy Blizzard. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 69
Love and the Man O’ War
Chris Holmes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .133
With This Ring I Thee Trust
Kristy Denice Bock. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .169
Renovation Road
Polly McCrillis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .217
Endless Yesterdays – Forever Tomorrows
Leanne Burroughs
Chapter One
Miranda jumped when the doorbell rang. She rushed to the kitchen door, drying her hands with a kitchen towel. It had to be the construction laborer her brother Aidan had recommended.
Opening the door just as the doorbell rang again, she came face to face with clear blue eyes. Eyes that spoke nothing of construction, but looked in to the long-guarded areas of her heart.
Suddenly the man made a slight sound and his eyes—eyes that mesmerized her—were dancing.
She cleared her throat to cover the awkwardness and reached for the hand she too late realized was extended toward her. Had she been gawking? Surely dreams had taken flight. Dreams that had no place in her life after David. Dreams that died on a fiery field in Iraq.
The man wore tight jeans and a royal blue T-shirt and extended a business card.
Daniel Fitzgerald
Houses/Condos/Apartments
Professional Fixer-Upper. You need it, I fix it.
The only other thing it had was a phone number and e-mail address.
It didn’t even list a website for people to visit. She didn’t have the heart to tell him it didn’t look professional. Maybe if she hired him and he worked out well, she’d help him make professional looking cards to help build his business.
She stepped aside. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Fitzgerald. Please come in. My name’s Miranda Scott. I hear you know my brother.”
A smile crossed his face. “Call me Dan. Your brother and I met at church one Sunday, but I wouldn’t exactly say we know each other. I mentioned I was trying to get my company going and he was nice enough to offer to drum up some business for me.”
She motioned for him to sit at the kitchen table, then crossed to the other side and pulled out a chair facing him. “So you recently moved to the area? I haven’t seen you in town before—not that I know everyone, of course. We’re a small town, but growing every day.”
He shifted in his seat, suddenly looking uncomfortable. “I’ve traveled a lot the past few years, trying to find a new place to live. Someplace I might feel happy. I decided it might be time to stop moving around, so a few weeks ago I turned in at the motor court on the way into town and rented a trailer for a month to see how I liked the town.”
Miranda frowned. The Harper Motor Court? He couldn’t have picked a seedier location. Questions flew at her a mile a minute. Maybe this wasn’t the man she wanted working on Aunt Abigail’s Gingerbread house. Perhaps someone a little more established would be better. Safer.
Almost as if reading her mind, he stood and forced a friendly laugh. “I’d be happy to look at the house and see what kind of damage we’re looking at and how much work needs to be done.” He turned halfway to the back door. “Or, I can leave if that makes you more comfortable.”
Miranda closed her eyes. I’m sorry, God. Help me know what to say to this man. She’d just judged him on nothing other than where he lived. Her actions were little better than a snob, and he’d seen it in an instant. Lord, help me. You know I don’t judge people that way. And hate those that do. Please forgive me.
She stretched out her hand as a peace offering, and made a guilty face, trying to keep her eyes from staring at his light brown hair. When she’d opened the door he’d had on a hat that read Hard Rock Café, Orlando, but he’d removed it before he entered the house. At least he has good manners!
“Please don’t leave. I’d love you to look at the house so you can determine if it’s fixable and maybe give me a quote.”
“Everything’s fixable, ma’am. Except people. Once they’re broke, it’s hard to put the pieces back together again. But as for houses, anything can be done. Just depends on how much time, money and effort you want to put into it.”
“Well, I have all the time in the world to help repair it. I only have two more bookings through the end of the year, and they’ll be in the front bedrooms. I’ll be busy with them part of the time, but if they’re out sightseeing after breakfast, I’d have plenty of time to help with repairs. Depending on the weather, people that stay here usually head to the antique shops or the nearby springs. Unfortunately, what I don’t have is a lot of money.” She crossed to the window and gazed out, almost forgetting he was there.
“My aunt opened this as a bed and breakfast a few years before she died. She’d moved away from the area for a year and before we knew it, she seemed adamant she was moving back to the home she’d lived in as long as I knew her. Claimed she wanted to be near family. My mom was thrilled she was back in the area. The two of them were always very close. Although Mom didn’t help run the B&B since she’s busy enough caring for the elderly at the hospital during the day. That’s where she volunteers. Said she’s going to stay there until my brother and sister find someone to marry and give her grandkids.”
Dan moved easily around the kitchen assessing the cabinets as she spoke. He glanced over his shoulder. “And you. You forgot to add when you get married and give your mom grandkids.”
With a heavy heart she shook her head. “No, not me. I’m never going to get married.”
He shot her a look that told her he didn’t believe her.
Wanting to change the subject, she returned to what she’d been saying before he interrupted. “Aunt Abigail was only able to open the front two rooms to guests, because the back of the house and second floor needed too much work, but she seemed to love what she was doing. Even after she got sick. Since I was out of work due to the economy, she asked me to come help her. She was at our house a lot—almost every day—while I was growing up and she and I always had a special connection.
“Don’t know how much assistance I was with the B&B. I probably tended more to her than to our customers. Aunt Abigail had an infectious attitude and it spilled over to our patrons. Everyone seemed delighted to be here and always hated having to leave.
“Something odd happened while I was here.” She cocked her head to the side, almost as if just realizing the truth in her words. “I used to come here often and visit when I was a child and always felt as comfortable being here with Aunt Abigail as I did at home. But as an adult, I really fell in love with the house. Enjoying the B&B business was an extra bonus, so I refuse to let anyone consider tearing it down. This house is a part of our town’s history—not just a place to build something newer. Like a shopping mall or convenience store.”
She paused and shuddered at the thought. “Plus, it was Aunt Abigail’s dying wish I keep it for myself. Even though she was so weak she could barely speak, she said the one thing she wished for was for me to live here after she was gone. She hoped I’d keep it open as a bed and breakfast, but my living here seemed of the greatest importance to her. And she was right. I belong here.”
The memory lingered in her mind and she laughed self-consciously. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to bore you with such personal details.”
His eyes filled with sincerity. “You didn’t bore me.” He quickly turned his attention back to the house, raising his eyes to the ceiling. “How old is this?” He moved his hands, indicating the entire room. “The architecture clearly bespeaks the Queen Anne era. Not much modern day about the kitchen, except for the appliances.”
“Its age is its charm. It’s over one hundred years old. I’m not exactly sure of the date. Sometime between 1890 and 1900, I think. I’d have to find Aunt Abigail’s paperwork.” She looked around the kitchen. Light streamed in through the window over the sink. Dainty white lace curtains were pulled back and fastened with tie-backs. “But, as much as I’d like to, we don’t have to stick to the Queen Anne theme. In this economy, I simply can’t afford that.”
He drew a small notepad from his pocket and jotted some notes. He motioned to the door leading in to the dining room. “May I?”
She smiled and moved back to the table. “Of course. Please walk through the entire house so you can see how much needs to be done. Although I’m sure a goodly portion of the work will need to be outside. I know the roof is in terrible shape. Aidan already told me it’s rusted out in places where tin was used, and water damage has made the asbestos shingles, the roof and the attic structurally unsafe.”
He smiled, nodded, and left the room. Suddenly the kitchen felt empty. She heard him whistling from the dining room.
So I'll cherish the old rugged cross,
Till my trophies at last I lay down;
I will cling to the old rugged cross,
And exchange it someday for a crown.
Miranda crossed the room and grabbed a glass—then another—from the cabinet. She went to the refrigerator and poured herself some lemonade. She’d pour Mr. Fitzgerald one once he returned to the kitchen. A shiver crept up her spine. How silly. She had nothing to be nervous about.
“Get a grip, Scott. The man’s merely looking at what needs to be done in the house. Not contemplating being a boyfriend.” For some reason the whispered words hurt. Yet . . . it was a good thing, wasn’t it? After David died in Iraq, she’d vowed never to love again. Loving hurt too much. And I’m not willing to ever again put my heart on the line for pain such as that.
Chapter Two
Dan continued whistling while he examined the dining room. Looks like the old building still has original baseboards, doorframes and cornices. How beautiful it must have been in its heyday. Most of the furniture had clearly been replaced through the years, but it seemed the sideboard might be as old as the house. And maybe a desk in the study. The building needed a lot of work, but it would be a pleasure working here. A pleasure indeed.
An image of the young woman in the kitchen came to mind. A beautiful young woman with chocolate brown eyes and mid-length brunette hair. From the looks of her now, she’d probably been cleaning, since she wore old, nondescript brown clothes, but he had no doubt she was gorgeous when dressed up. Curves abounded in all the right places. His mouth had gone dry when she’d opened the door.
Thank goodness for business cards, even though he’d run them off in a hurry just before he came for the appointment. He’d felt like a fool handing her one and saying nothing, but at that moment he couldn’t have spoken if his life depended on it. When Aidan had mentioned the house needed repair, he’d never once mentioned the owner was a knock-out.
Not that it mattered. He hadn’t left Wisconsin only to get involved with someone as soon as he finally decided to stop driving from town to town. That was the last thing on his mind. No. He wanted to work with his hands and renovate old homes. Nothing more, nothing less. He certainly had no intention of seeing Miss Miranda Scott as anything other than his employer.
Although a single thought niggled at his mind. Something warned that if he wasn’t careful, the beautiful young woman in the room next door just might steal his heart. A heart he’d built a safe wall around—one brick at a time. He willed himself to stop thinking about her and to focus strictly on the work that needed to be completed.
Work that had absolutely nothing to do with the brunette in the next room.
Thank goodness the house was less ornate than a full Gingerbread house. Renovations would be easier. And keeping the elaborate details closely in his mind was going to be difficult enough without thinking about Miss Miranda Scott at the same time.
Something told him that wasn’t going to be as easy as he hoped.
* * * *
Taking a deep breath, Dan headed back to the kitchen. Focus, Fitzgerald. Focus.
He drew his small notepad out of his back pocket again and flipped it open. “Okay, I think I have most of the things documented. Although I’m sure a few surprises will pop up as we go along.”
He looked up and saw her sitting at the round kitchen table.
She raised her glass to him. “May I offer you a glass of lemonade?”
He wiped the back of his hand across his forehead. “That would be nice.” A slow smile worked its way across his face. “Thank you. I’m not used to warm weather this time of year. Up North it starts getting cold in October.”
She rose, grabbed the glass from the counter and headed toward the refrigerator. She opened the door with one hand and motioned toward the table with the other. “Please have a seat.”
He sat and placed his notebook on the table. And couldn’t take his eyes from the woman pouring him a glass of lemonade.
* * * *
Miranda placed the glass down carefully so the contents wouldn’t spill, and sat across from him.
He drank half of it before setting it down.
“If money is a concern, I suggest we concentrate on the areas of the house you’re using right now. Make the bed and breakfast rooms as close to the original Queen Anne design as we can, but ease up on that with renovations to the personal area of the house. That will help cut the cost. Regretfully, as I’m sure you already know, every room needs work to make the entire house functional. I’d hate to think of anything happening while you have boarders. There are a lot of places where the frame construction has rotted out either from water damage or extensive insect damage to existing beams and joists.”
He leaned his elbows on the table and looked at her closely. An idea had crossed his mind while he’d been taking measurements and he wanted to discuss it with her. “Let me ask you a question. I’ve determined the repairs that will have to be made, and I’m sure we’ll find more once we start working, but is there anything you’d like changed in the house before we begin?”
She leaned back in her chair, thinking. “Well, I never thought we had enough closet space. But I don’t see how we could change that.”
He narrowed his eyes and tapped his cheek with the end of the pencil. Perfect! It was exactly what he’d been thinking. “Actually, I’ll bet you five dollars to a doughnut that several of the rooms could have closets added. I noticed a few of them have dead space. Now would be the time to install them—before we get into actual repairs. And once we purchase the materials, it won’t take very long to get them framed in.”
He was on his feet instantly, heading back toward the two rented out guest rooms. He called over his shoulder, “You said you had people that still have reservations this year. When does the first couple arrive? Or are they here at the same time?”
“We have a week before anyone gets here.”
His muffled words came from one of the bedrooms. “Good. Then we’ll start on it tomorrow. I’ll take the measurements and head into town to buy the necessary items. Lowe’s is only a few miles from here and they’re open until 9:00 tonight.”
A smile pulled at her lips as she stood in the doorway watching him measure. “Mr. Fitzpatrick, I haven’t hired you yet.”
No doubt his eyes twinkled as he glanced back over his shoulder, the pencil now tucked behind one ear. His answer was quick and sure. “Only a technicality, Miss Scott. Only a mere technicality.”
Chapter Three
Morning dawned bright and warm. Dan pulled his Ford truck up beside the house before 7:30 a.m. and started unloading two-by-fours, sheetrock, framing, and pre-built folding doors. He was glad she’d said it wasn’t imperative to stick to the Queen Anne theme, but he’d already noticed as he’d walked through the house that updates through the years had varied greatly from the original theme. Pre-built doors would make adding closets much easier. He’d had to shop between both Lowe’s and Home Depot since it wasn’t as if the style was mass produced anymore like it had been around 1900. Fortunately, he’d taken copious notes so he could match the moldings and trimmings as closely as possible. He needed to check with the local salvage dealer or junk yard to see if any antique fixtures might be available. Often people didn’t know—or care—what they were throwing away. Or there was always Habitat for Humanity. That always proved to be a good place to purchase building materials. And he liked shopping at a site that did so much for so many people.
He’d helped build a Habitat for Humanity house once, and all the labor everyone expended building the house had been worth it the instant the owners saw it and realized it would truly be theirs. Seeing people that appreciated their efforts couldn’t help but touch a person’s life. He’d actually had tears in his eyes as the family moving in had cried grateful tears. The little blonde girl had jumped up and down squealing, holding her rag doll to her chest. With her wide expressive blue eyes, she’d looked to be about two. The same age . . . No! He wouldn’t think of that now.
President Jimmy Carter had been dead-on when he’d begun helping the organization—and its explosive growth hadn’t surprised anyone as more people got on the bandwagon and helped. I’m glad I was one of them. It’s been the one good thing I’ve done since I left home.
As he moved the new materials right outside the kitchen door, Dan made sure to keep them from bumping into and marring the posts and balusters on the wrap-around porch. They were elaborately turned, and it was going to be tricky enough to repair the house as it was. He didn’t need to do more damage before he even started. Considering the condition of the roof and some of the rooms, he couldn’t believe the porch was still standing and in fairly decent condition.
It was going to be another hot day today, so Dan was glad he’d chosen just to wear jeans and a yellow t-shirt. After unloading the materials, he was already hot.
The kitchen door opened and Miranda stood there, wearing a teal colored short-sleeved top and jeans, with flour on her cheek. The top looked like it was two sizes too large, but she still looked great in it. She’ll look good in anything she wears.
“Goodness, you’re early. I didn’t expect you ‘til—”
“Good morning to you, too.” A smile tugged at his lips. “We have a lot of work to do today, so I figured we’d get breakfast over with early and then get started on the closet in the front bedroom.”
“Breakfast?”
He had no doubt a teasing glint lit his eyes. “You can’t expect a man to put in a hard day’s labor without breakfast.” He leaned forward and brushed the flour off her cheek. “And from the looks of it, you’re probably already making biscuits.” Her cheeks colored and she bit her upper lip.
He pushed his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose and looked at her. He didn’t wait for her to answer, but walked into the kitchen. “That, along with some eggs, bacon and jelly—and, of course, coffee—will be just what the doctor ordered.” He held up a cardboard tray holding two cups. “I already stopped at Starbucks on the way over here.”
She covered her mouth and stifled a laugh. “You’re impossible.”
He hoped his heart wasn’t transparent. “I’ve been told that a time or two.” He headed straight for the refrigerator and opened the freezer. “Want me to find the bacon, or should I start bringing in the materials I bought after I left here yesterday?”
As she pushed passed him to reach for the bacon, her arm brushed his. And sent a jolt of electricity coursing through him that had nothing to do with the old wiring in the house.
* * * *
Miranda ran from the bedroom where Dan was working to another room that already had a closet. Then she rushed back to watch him work. “The shelf isn’t the same as the one in the back bedroom. It’s lower.”
He scratched his head. “And this information matters why? Do you really think your boarders are going to go between rooms measuring shelf heights?”
“Well, no, but—”
“But nothing. This is going to be perfect.” He finished off the framing for the door and headed toward the sheetrock stacked off to the side. “And before you tell me the other closets don’t have sheetrock, I already know that. It wasn’t used over one hundred years ago in Queen Anne houses. Wall surfaces back then were more likely to be coursed shingles or clapboard—neither of which is used now. I’m going with what will make the house safe and attractive. You’d have to be rich to refurbish it to its original state.”
“Well, rich is definitely something I’m not. Especially in this economy. I understand why people liken what we’re going through to the Great Depression. So many people out of jobs. And even many that have jobs are struggling to make ends meet. I always worry about the retirees. Aunt Abigail really had to pinch pennies to run this place on her Social Security check. When she didn’t get her cost of living raise last year, it really hurt her. She didn’t say much about it, but I could see how she struggled to pay her bills.”
She hunted for a CD and inserted it as soon as she found it. Christmas music played in the background–Bing Crosby singing It’s Christmas in Kilarney.
The holly green, the ivy green
The prettiest picture you've ever seen
Is Christmas in Killarney
With all of the folks at home
She wrapped her arms around herself and spun around, her happiness spilling into her tone. “Ooooooo, isn’t this wonderful? My family’s down the road, it’s getting close to Christmas, and these renovation plans are sooooo exciting.”
He shook his head in mock humor. “Sure doesn’t take much to excite you.”
She laughed and playfully punched him on the arm, “No, I guess it doesn’t.”
When he got ready for the next piece of sheetrock, she helped hold it while he nailed it in place. Suddenly she moved under his arms and pointed to a spot inside the closet. “No. No. No. No!”
He stopped hammering and glared at her. “What do you mean no, no, no?”
“The bar inside the closet. The one to hang clothes.” She pointed inside again, to the left side of the closet. “Look, this is different than what you have on the other side. We have to strengthen the left brace before we can move on with the rest of the closet.”
“Miranda, settle down. I’ll have both braces even before I’m finished.”
“But it’s different. We have to—”
“Woman, settle down. I know what I’m doing. I want to get the sheetrock completely up before I move back inside the closet and worry about a little thing like the brace. In the meantime, the bar is temporarily up so we can see how it’s going to look, and it’s not going to fall. Now, if you’ll move, I’ll finish fastening this last piece of sheetrock.”
She made a face at him and moved back under his arm, exiting the closet. “Are we having our first argument?”
“No, not if you give in.”
She shook her head and sighed. “All right, let me get out of the way.”
“Good idea.” It took everything he had in him not to let her see him chuckling. He doubted she’d appreciate it. “But if you really want to help, go find the plumb bob, hold it up at the top”—he pointed to where he wanted her to place it—“and let it drop. We need to check both sides to make sure they’re even.”
“Plumb bob?” The look on her face was completely blank.
He sighed. This could be a very long project.
Chapter Four
Over the next few days, they’d developed a routine. She’d learned about a plumb and had breakfast waiting for him every morning when he arrived—usually to the accompaniment of a Christmas carol.
This morning she’d been singing Silent Night. He remembered her clear, sweet voice. The clarity of her tone.
“Silent night, holy night,
All is calm, all is bright
Round yon virgin, mother and Child.
Holy Infant, so tender and mild,
Sleep in heavenly peace,
Sleep in heavenly peace.”
“That song has always been one of my favorite Christmas hymns—although it’s rough trying to get in the Christmas spirit when the temperature outside is in the eighties.”
She gave an easy smile at his comment. “It’s actually an old Austrian song, but a Florida Episcopal bishop was the person who translated the words into English.” Her eyes held a twinkle. “And that’s your bit of Florida history for the day. It’s hard to believe some of the old songs have lasted as long as they have, isn’t it?”
“When they’re a testament to God, they should last forever.” He was tentative. Maybe he shouldn’t have said that. His faith was still too new to him to talk about it much. He didn’t want to make a fool of himself. His folks had taken him to church every Sunday when he was a child, but until recently it hadn’t been something he’d pursued on his own. What a fool he’d been to waste so much time running from God. Just like I’m running from other things now.
* * * *
As he checked the blue chalk line to ensure it was even on both sides, he felt her enter the room. He didn’t need the click of heels to tell him she was close. He could feel her. Sense her.
In just a few short days she was becoming far too important to him. He hadn’t counted on that. At times he’d seen her eyes grow misty, as if she realized what was happening between them and it was too much for her, too.
He hadn’t asked yet, but he was dying to know why she wasn’t married—or at least already spoken for.
“I don’t want to bother you while you’re so busy working, but I have a favor to ask, if you don’t mind.” He turned at her words.
Today she wore her usual jeans and a long sleeved white shirt with a Christmas design embroidered on it. Mickey and Minnie Mouse were dressed in vintage Victorian clothes, standing beside an old sleigh. He’d quickly learned Mickey and Minnie were two of her favorite characters. From what he’d already seen, he imagined she had enough shirts—even those decorated for Christmas—with them on it to wear one every day of the month.
“Sure, what can I do for you?” A smile tugged at his lips. He couldn’t help it. Being around her made him happy.
“I’d like to start putting up Christmas decorations, but they’re all up in the attic. And I’m hesitant to go up there. It isn’t the safest place.”
He stood and dusted the sawdust off his knees. “I can use a break. How ‘bout you point me in the right direction and I’ll hand ‘em down to you?”
He placed the ladder beneath the attic access and helped her climb up in front of him, his hands bracing her on both sides. Something within him stirred.
After she’d scoured the attic from the top of the ladder, she pointed toward the right side. “That’s them. Way in the back. You sure you don’t mind going up there?”
He laughed. “Doesn’t bother me at all. And if I’m going to be doing repairs, I’ll be spending a lot of time in the attic.”
Soon the boxes were all down and placed in the living room. Dan knew he should have gone straight back to the remodeling, but the moment seemed bittersweet. It had been a long time since he’d decorated for Christmas. Not since . . .
He shook his head to clear it of the memories. No, not now. This wasn’t the time to think of that. Of them.
He squatted down and reached to open one of the boxes and pulled out a Santa hat with Mickey Mouse ears. Why doesn’t this surprise me? He couldn’t stop a laugh. “I’m guessing these are yours?”
She blushed and nodded.
“Can’t wait to see you don this.” Changing the subject, he asked, “Are you going to decorate now? I’ve a mind to help if it’s all right with you. It would be a nice diversion from the non-stop pace we’ve been keeping.”
She smiled. “I was hoping you’d offer. I hate stringing lights on the tree. I always get them tangled and then they don’t work anyhow, because some of the bulbs are burned out.”
He laughed. “That’s why you check the strings before you put them on the tree.” He tilted his head toward the room where he’d been working earlier. “Bring me one of the power strips I was using in there. We’ll use it to check the bulbs.”
* * * *
While taking a break for lunch, Dan sat at the kitchen table and sliced tomatoes while Miranda made the bacon for their BLT sandwiches.
“The lights are ready.” He gazed into her guileless brown eyes when she turned toward him. “We just have to go get a tree.”
She hesitated, then continued turning bacon. “I assumed we’d use the artificial one we got down from the attic. It would be too expensive to get a real tree.”
“Whichever you want to do is fine with me, but I’ve always loved the smell of a real tree. And it’s fun walking through the lot looking for the perfect tree.” He shrugged. “It’s up to you, but I’ll take you to buy one if you want.”
Her eyes lit up and she started to agree, then hesitated. “No. A real tree would be nice, but I shouldn’t be spending my money on something I already have when I need to save it for renovations.”
He remained quiet while he mulled over her statement. Finally he met and held her eyes. “Actually, I have a proposition to make you.” He took a deep breath before he spoke again. “You know the motor court I’m staying in.”
She arched her brow.
“Well, it isn’t the best of places. I just stopped there on my way into town. But now that I’ve been here awhile, it’s not a place I want to stay.”
“I’d certainly feel better about it if you moved. Crime’s too prevalent on that part of town.” She rushed to add, “Although I’m sure you can take care of yourself.”
A grin tugged at his lips. “Yes, for the most part I can. But there’s no sense putting myself in a dangerous situation if it isn’t necessary. Soooooo . . . what I’d like to propose is that I move in here with you. I’d like to—”
“You what???” She rose from her chair, an indignant look on her face. “How dare you—”
He raised a hand to stop her outburst.
“Quit jumping to conclusions. If you give me a minute, I’ll explain what I started to say.” He stopped, trying to gather the right words. From the moment the idea had come to him, he’d known she’d take it the wrong way.
“You need money and I need a place to stay. This is strictly a business deal.” When she gave him a doubtful look, he rushed to continue, “This is a bread and breakfast, isn’t it? You have rooms to rent. I need a room. And if I’m here, I can work on the house anytime. I’ll pay you whatever you charge other boarders and you can use that money to help with the renovations.”
He could tell the idea appealed to her. “And the first of your boarders arrives tomorrow. So, if you’re afraid of being alone with me . . .”
“I’m not afraid of being alone with you. It just wouldn’t be proper.”
He pulled a face. “Proper? So you’re telling me if a businessman—or even two—called to book a room, you’d tell them no just because they weren’t bringing a wife with them?”
“Of course not. What a ridiculous thing to say.”
“Exactly. Well, I’m a businessman, and I’m trying to rent a room. Plain and simple. And in the bargain, I’d like to buy a Christmas tree to put in the living room.”
She sat back in her chair. “But you’re my fr—”
“Friend? I hope that’s true. More than you can imagine.” He reached up and brushed the backs of his fingers on the side of her cheek, heightening his awareness of her. A very dangerous thing to do. “But this is still just a simple business transaction.”
She sat awhile, not saying anything.
“Well, Miranda? What’s your answer?”
Her eyes locked with his. “If I say no, will you stop working on the house?”
“No. I’m here for the duration.”
She stood again, a single tear running down her cheek. “I wish I could. I really do. But I just can’t. I’m sorry.”
He inhaled a deep breath. “Somehow I didn’t think I’d change your mind. But I had to try.” He held his hand out to her. “If it’s okay with you, let’s go find the perfect Christmas tree anyhow. Even if I’m not living here, I’ll still be here every day to see it. I really do love the smell of fresh pine.”
She grabbed her purse as they headed out the door.
* * * *
A few hours later, he and Miranda finished putting the last ornaments on the tree. The living room was alight with candles, casting a muted glow over the room.
With an easy grace she crossed the room and bent over another box and pulled out a star for the top of the tree. Bright tears appeared in her eyes as she held it out to him.
“Will you do the honors?” she asked tremulously. “I’d have to use a ladder to reach the top.”
As he positioned it on the top of the tree, he turned and silently contemplated her countenance. “Did this belong to your aunt, too?”
A glimmer of a smile touched her lips. “It did. She told me the young man she’d been in love with before he was killed in battle gave it to her. It was one of only a few times she ever talked about him. But I knew how much she loved him. That was evident to everyone.”
Chapter Five
Sitting in church Sunday morning, Dan sat between Miranda and Aidan. Dan’s arm brushed against hers every time they rose to sing a hymn.
Around four her newest guests should be arriving. Miranda was glad for the upcoming interruption.
Because the man sitting beside her in his gray suit was far too much of a distraction. And she couldn’t allow herself to fall for him. If she did, something might happen to him. What if he was injured remodeling her house? She’d never forgive herself. After all, she’d loved David and he’d died in Iraq. No, it was better to keep her feelings to herself. That way no one could get hurt.
Unless you considered the breaking of her heart as hurt.
* * * *
After lunch, Aidan knocked on the door and opened it, shouting out, “Hellooooo. Thought you two could use some help getting ready for the couple coming in this afternoon.” He found her in the guest room and gave her a hug.
Miranda beamed at him. “Thanks, Aidan. I’m doing last minute cleaning in the front bedroom while Dan’s finishing up some things in the dining room. I just finished the vacuuming.” She stood back and surveyed the room, then went back to the bed and plumped up both pillows. “We want it to be perfect when Mr. and Mrs. Stanley arrive.”
Aidan followed her into the dining room, where Dan was working. “I think I have a solution to both of your problems.”
“Problems?” Miranda frowned and watched Aidan and Dan in silence for a moment. “I didn’t know we had any.”
“Dan told me he’s been looking for a place to stay. He mentioned the offer he made you and that you turned him down flat.”
Her eyes widened. “Well I can’t have him staying in the house. Grandmother would roll over in her grave. And what would people think? You know the gossips we have in town.”
“I do.” Aidan nodded. “But, what about the old building out back where the gardener used to live? It’s not fancy, but it could certainly be fixed up. And would solve the problem of Dan trying to get out of that motor court and you needing to raise money.”
In the dining room, Dan’s face was the picture of concentration as he worked on the sideboard. He looked over his shoulder when he heard her and Aidan talking. “That sounds great to me. I don’t need anyplace fancy. And I’d be close by to work on the house whenever the guests are gone.” He turned back and made a few marks on the inside of the door.
“Just a few last minute tweaks here,” he added. “I think if I cut off part of one end, we’ll be just fine.”
“Of the door?” Miranda panicked, her eyes growing wide. “That’s an antique! You can’t cut—”
“No, of course not off the door. But see how’s it’s hanging crooked? The frame inside isn’t straight anymore. I think if I cut off a bit of the framing where the door fits against the sideboard, it will straighten itself out.”
“Oh. I thought you’d tighten a screw or something.”
Dan frowned. “Why’d you think that?”
She lifted a shoulder.
Standing beside Dan, Aidan took one look at Miranda before turning back to Dan. Aidan made a comical face. “That’s my sister! She’s pitiful. Absolutely pitiful.” He forced a friendly laugh. “Ever see anyone like her before?”
Surprise lined Dan’s forehead. “No, can’t say I have.”
“Dan, I think maybe you should apply for sainthood after taking on this renovation.” The top of Aidan’s fist was near his mouth, clearly trying to hide a silent chuckle.
Dan’s attitude changed in a heartbeat, his expression painfully guarded. When he spoke, his tone was harsh. “Trust me, there’s not a saintly thing about me.”
Chapter Six
With the weather still warm outside, Miranda had spent the past several hours in the gardener’s house helping Dan fix up the old building. It was actually starting to look quite ‘homey.’ They’d put a few coats of cream colored paint on the walls and she’d hung blue and white curtains she’d found in one of her aunt’s linen closets.
And she’d brought a few of the left-over Christmas decorations. They’d make the room look perfect when they were finished.
She’d brought over a small bookcase. For a man who had few personal belongings, he had an inordinate amount of books.
She glanced over her shoulder. “You like to read, huh?”
He smiled. “I do.”
She read a few of the titles. “Looks like Celtic history.”
He nodded. “I like all history, but particularly my own—Irish and Scottish.” He pointed to the book she’d just shelved. “That one was about Scottish clans. What they were known for, clan feuds, etc.” He stopped and ran his fingers over his chin.
“As a matter of fact, your history is in there, too. The Scott’s were a Border clan. They lived close to England, and often crossed the border to help themselves to someone else’s cattle or horses. Or, pretty much anything else they wanted.”
“They were thieves?”
“Well . . . they’re better known as Border Rievers.”
* * * *
He pulled a ladder to the middle of the room when she finished shelving all the books.
Now they were installing a ceiling fan. Miranda stood on the ladder holding the fan in place while Dan finished the wiring in the attic.
A CD of oldies music played in the background. A song by Dean Martin, You Belong to Me, caught her attention. For the most part she hadn’t been paying attention to the music since they were so involved with renovating the room. But the words filtered through her mind. Made her forget for a moment where she was.
Just remember when a dream appears, you belong to me.
Suddenly, Dan was on the ladder with her, bringing her back to the present. His arms were wrapped around her.
A smile lit his face. “Wiring’s all done.”
She turned slightly on the ladder so she could see him. He moved up a step, bringing his face a hairsbreath from hers.
Dean Martin continued to sing. Just remember ‘til you’re home again, you belong to me. Thoughts of David flashed through her mind. She and David always thought they belonged together. They’d been waiting for the day he’d be home again. But that would never be. She’d never be his.
Before she could bring herself back to the present, Dan’s lips lightly brushed hers. She jerked and he held her tighter so she wouldn’t fall.
His eyes locked on hers and held a rush of hope. “Whoever he was, Miranda, he’s not here now. I hope you’ll tell me about him some day. But in the meantime, you can’t just stay in your house, keeping yourself away from everyone. You have to allow yourself to live.”
She pressed her lips together to stop them from quivering as he moved down the ladder and held his arms lightly around her to help her back down to the floor.
* * * *
While working in the study, Dan struggled to move the antique desk. As heavy as it was, he doubted it had been moved in years. Grabbing a broom to sweep up the dust where the desk had been, he saw an envelope lying on the floor. He bent and shook the dust off of it. Without thinking, he opened it and read it. Shock tore through him. A chill ran down his spine and he shuddered. He wasn’t sure what to do.
No, actually he was sure, but he had no idea how to do it.
Rising from the floor, he took a deep breath, then crossed the house and went into the living room. Miranda was arranging Christmas greenery on the mantle. Christmas music played softly in the background.
Deck
the halls with boughs of holly,
Fa la la la la la, la la la la.
Tis the season to be jolly,
Fa la la la la la, la la la la.
Pain shot through him. His heart breaking for Miranda. After she read the letter, there was no way this day was going to be jolly.
He inhaled deeply and said, “Miranda.”
She smiled as she turned to look at him. His heart throbbed in his chest. How could he do this to her?
He crossed the room and placed his hand on her arm. “Miranda, I need you to sit a minute.”
She started to protest, but alarm flashed in her eyes after she looked at him. “Dan, are you all right? You look like something scared you to death.”
“Sit down, Miranda. I have something you need to see.”
* * * *
After reading the letter, the pain was so consuming it threatened to bring her to her knees. Instead, she collapsed back into the sofa. She closed her eyes, holding back the sudden rush of tears that threatened to course down her face.
“No! This can’t be. What does it mean?”
In the space of one second in time, her life as she knew it was finished. Her voice became a frightened whisper. “My family’s not really my family?”
He sat beside her and slipped his arm around her shoulder.
She covered her face with her hands as sobs tore through her. “My family lied to me my entire life?”
She shook her head. “No! It can’t be true. It just can’t.”
Dan held her close while tears streamed down her face.
“You won’t know the answers until you talk to your family.”
She shook her head again, vehemently this time. “No! I don’t ever want to see them again. They lied to me.” She rose and ran to her bedroom, her voice trailing after her. “They all lied to me.”
* * * *
The next morning Dan walked the three blocks with Miranda to her mother’s house. He’d already called Aidan and asked him to have the entire family present. “Miranda needs you.”
She didn’t say anything on the way there. Just stared straight ahead.
When they reached her old house, she balked as he tried to steer her up her sidewalk. The sidewalk she’d skipped up so happily as a child. To the home where either her mom or her aunt would be waiting to greet her after her day at school. To the home where every moment she’d lived there had been a lie. “I don’t want to be here.”
“Miranda, you need to talk to your family. You have to get the truth.” Concern was written in the lines of his forehead. “You’ll never understand what’s happened if you don’t ask.”
She glared at him. “Don’t tell me what to do! They aren’t my family. You read the letter.” Pain and anger flooded her veins.
He pulled her close and ran a hand up and down her back. “They are and you know it. They’ve been your family your entire life, and one letter doesn’t change that.”
She jerked away. “But it does. You don’t understand.” Her shoulders shook as sobs overtook her. “It changes everything.”
They had betrayed her—every one of them.
* * * *
Dan pulled her into his arms while she cried her heart out.
From the front porch, Aidan stepped down to the first step. “Miranda? Are you all right?”
She swiped at the tears on her cheeks and took a deep breath as she eased out of Dan’s embrace. She looked up her brother. The brother that had both teased and supported her all her life. Now he was one of her best friends. But . . . was it all really a lie?
“Aidan, I need to talk to you.” She walked toward the house. The house she’d grown up in and had felt loved. “I need to talk to all of you.”
As she moved into the living room, Aidan had his arm around her. Supporting her. As if he knew why she was here.
She stopped as she entered the living room. Unable to move any further, she held the envelope out to her mother. She wanted to scream at them. Wanted to make them hurt like she was hurting. Instead she merely said, “Dan found this when he moved Aunt Abigail’s old desk.”
Aidan gave her shoulder a final squeeze, then moved to stand by the chair Rebekah was sitting in, her knees curled up under her.
Her mother looked at it like it was a snake that might bite her, but finally rose from the sofa to take it. In an instant her father was her mother’s side, his arms wrapped around her.
Her parents’ eyes held a haunting look of guilt and trepidation. Miranda moved her hand to her mouth and kept her eyes trained on her family, her breathing quick and uneven. They knew. Without even reading the letter, they knew.
That meant it was true.
Everyone had lied to her. She didn’t belong here. A sob shook her chest. She didn’t belong anywhere.
She struggled to keep from breaking down. Pain racked through her and she held her belly with her hands. Resignation filled her voice. “Read it, Mother. Please.”
Slowly her mother unfolded the piece of paper and together she and her father silently read it. Then her mother read it again, aloud this time so Aidan and Rebekah could hear what it said.
“My Darling Miranda,
“How I’ve wanted to say these words to you, but I was a coward and couldn’t. I waited too long to tell you the truth and lost my right to say them while I was still alive.
“My precious child, the truth is that if you’re reading this, I’m gone. I’ll miss you more than you can imagine, but I’ll rejoice that I’m once again with the man I told you so little about—Edward Jameson. He is your father, Miranda, and I’m your mother, not your aunt.”
Her mother’s eyes rose and locked with Miranda’s. “Miranda, I—”
“Don’t stop!” Miranda’s voice elevated and she made an effort to lower it. “Please read the entire letter.”
Her mother looked at her father and he nodded. Her mother raised the letter again so she could read it.
“I know what a shock this is to you and I’m sorry to bring you such pain. But I want you to know that I love you. I’ve always loved you and I believe you should know the truth.
“Your father, my darling Edward, believed in our country. Believed in the freedoms it offered. He joined the war effort to serve and protect the country he loved. I didn’t want him to go, but he felt it was his duty and insisted.
“We loved each other more than life itself and regretfully we broke our vow to God to wait until our wedding night to love each other.
“I discovered I was pregnant a week after your father shipped overseas. Please forgive us for our weakness, but I want you to know I never for a moment regretted loving him or having you.
“I wrote him almost daily while he was gone, keeping him posted on your growth and what the doctor said. When I felt you move for the first time, I wrote and told Edward how much I missed him being here. That he should have been here to place his hand over my stomach to feel you moving just like I could.
“But the war changed everything. Insurgents had once again increased their activity a few days before a sniper’s bullet cut Edward’s life short. You were all I had left of him. I saw him every time I looked at you.
“While having children out of wedlock was accepted by much of society by the time you were born, my mother, your grandmother Mildred, was still from the old school of morals and couldn’t accept that I raise you by myself. I say old school, but it was the morals we should all still live by every day. The way God wants us to live.
“It was her idea to have my sister adopt you.”
Her mother stopped and looked up at Miranda. Tears filled her eyes and she pursed her lips together before continuing. “She and her husband were gracious enough to agree. They adopted you and raised you as their own along with Aidan and Rebekah.
“The one thing you MUST know is that they love you as much as I do. You might not have been their actual birth child, and would have actually been their niece, but I cannot stress that enough, my dear Miranda.
“Your parents love you.” Her mother’s voice cracked and Rebekah rose from the nearby chair and handed her several tissues to wipe her eyes.
Finally her mother continued, “Please don’t blame them for any of this. The responsibility falls on me. I’m the one that fell short of what God wanted of me, but I know He forgave me. I ask that you forgive me, too.
“As a child you always told me, ‘I love you, Aunt Abigail.’” Her mother’s voice cracked. “Those words were always music to my ears. But the one thing I never got to hear you say was, ‘I love you, Mom.’”
Tears streamed down her mother’s face and she couldn’t continue. Her father reached for the letter and continued, “I’ll pray that by the time we meet each other on the shores of Heaven you’ll have forgiven me.
“It’s more than I deserve, but I love you, Miranda. I love you with everything I have in me.
“Your loving mother.”
* * * *
Miranda hadn’t moved the entire time the letter was being read. She couldn’t. She didn’t know what to say. Regardless of what the letter said, these people were her family. They’d loved her and she loved them. But . . .
Her mother quickly rose from the couch and stood in front of her. “The letter is true.” She ran her hand over Miranda’s hair. “Abigail did love you. She would have done anything for you. Even as a small child you two had a special bond. You were always together. But you have to believe all of the letter. We love you, too. We have from the moment you were born. Regardless of the circumstances Abigail explained, you are our daughter. And you always will be.”
Her father joined them. “Miranda, I don’t know what to say to you other than you must believe us. The intensity of love I felt for you the day you were born was exactly what I felt when Aidan and Rebekah were born. I love you. Regardless of the birth situation, you are my daughter.”
Aidan and Rebekah stepped closer. Aidan said, “You’re my kid sister, Miranda. Nothing will ever change that.”
Tears threatened to fall again. “You knew?”
He wrapped her in his arms. “Rebekah and I both did. It didn’t matter to us. Plain and simple, you’re our sister.”
Her family circled around her and her parents’ words were like a healing balm . . . yet a part of her heart was missing. A part she couldn’t wrap her mind around to reconcile. A part that still hurt. And would hurt for quite some time.
Chapter Seven
“Since you were so determined you didn’t want to rent out a room to me, after I left here the day after you first said no, I drove through a few of the nearby towns looking for some place I might want to stay.” Dan finished cutting a piece of crown molding.
“There are two old houses nearby that have been turned into restaurants. The outsides of both homes are very well kept. I thought you might want to visit one of them. I’m sure you’ve already been to both, but I’d like you to see them with an eye to their renovations. One is the Ivy House. I parked and went up to the wrap-around porch and looked at the menu and peeked inside one of the windows. The atmosphere seems like casual elegance, but the entire building is decorated for the holidays, and it’s someplace I think you’d really like to see if you haven’t already done so. The other is Salvatore’s, an Italian restaurant. I glanced inside and it seemed formal. It was dark by the time I got there and candles were lit on all the tables.”
“I have been to the Ivy House. The food was delicious and the house was lovely. There’s even a shop up on the second floor. I’d like to go back to see it again, especially to see the Christmas decorations, but I’d really love to visit Salvatore’s. Believe it or not, I’ve never been there.” After all, having refused to go out with any suitors, she hadn’t dated anyone since David died. Only now she wanted nothing more than to go on a date—with Dan.