Something Better by Jannine Gallant

Part Three

Brenna’s jaw sagged. “You have a daughter?”

Kent nodded and held out his arms. The tiny child in a long, white nightgown, who couldn’t be much older than three or four, climbed onto his lap and leaned back against his chest.

“Kayla, this is an old friend of mine, Brenna.”

An unblinking blue gaze regarded her steadily before fixing on Rebel. “He’s big.” A frown wrinkled her brow. “Who unwrapped all the presents?”

Guilt ate at her in the face of the child’s confusion. “I’m afraid my dog did.”

Alarm reflected in those blue eyes, the same shade as her father’s. “Did Santa come yet?”

“No, those were the gifts already under the tree from your grandparents and aunts,” Kent was quick to reassure her. “You’d better go back to bed. Santa won’t be able to visit until you’re asleep.”

She took a tight grip on his T-shirt. “Can you take me upstairs? I heard funny noises.”

“Of course.” Rising from his chair with the child clasped in his arms, he glanced over at Brenna. “Be right back.”

She nodded then stared at his retreating back. Kent McCord has a daughter? How had the media not glommed onto that newsworthy fact? When the minutes ticked by without his return, she pushed up off the couch and headed toward the rolls of wrapping paper leaning against the wall behind the tree. Might as well be productive while I wait. She’d rewrapped three gifts before footsteps sounded on the stairs.

“Sorry that took so long.” Kent crossed the room and joined her on the floor. “I wanted to make sure Kayla was asleep before I came back down.” Sitting opposite her and Rebel, he grabbed a roll of paper and the scissors. “Thank God I hadn’t pulled the packages stashed in the closet out yet.”

She stuck a bow on top of a freshly wrapped box and glanced up. “The ones from Santa?”

“Exactly.” He cut and taped with deft movements. Big hands moved with the same skill he used to strum his guitar in front of thousands of screaming fans. “Now you know why I’ve been so secretive about living here. This is my safe place when I have my daughter with me.”

“How have you managed to keep her a secret? The feat boggles my mind.”

“Her mother and I weren’t together long. A brief affair resulted in the most beautiful gift I could imagine.” His blue eyes held a deep reverence. “Lynnette is married now and lives in the Midwest. No one except family knows Kayla is mine. We share custody, and when I have her, I spend my time here in Maine. When I’m on tour, she lives with her mother.”

“Wow. Now I really can’t believe you let me inside.”

“An impulsive decision based on seeing a familiar face from before my days in the limelight.” His hands stilled over the bag of bows. “It’s hard spending Christmas alone when I’d prefer to let Kayla enjoy a big family gathering.”

Brenna reached for another box. “Why can’t you?”

“If I showed up at my parents’ home with a child in tow, the press would be all over it. The McCords aren’t exactly low profile.”

“True. I’d forgotten your dad was in the music business long before you were.”

“Normal didn’t exist for me and my sisters while we were growing up.”

She ripped off a piece of tape. “Is that why you remember your summer in Fish Lake so fondly?”

Kent smiled. “Probably. No one here cared that I was Sonny McCord’s kid.” He let out a sigh. “I won’t be able to keep Kayla out of the media fray forever, but for now I’m going to try. At least until she’s better able to understand it.”

“You don’t have to worry about me. I’ll keep your secret.”

“Thank you for that.” He finished wrapping the last present and slid it under the tree then glanced over at Rebel, sacked out in a pile of paper. “Is it safe to bring out the gifts hidden in the closet?”

Brenna pushed to her feet. “As long as there aren’t any more bones.”

He grinned. “We should be okay, then.”

“I’ll help you clean up this mess then take my destructive baby home so you can get some rest.”

He rose in one smooth movement and laid a hand on her arm. “I won’t sleep. It’s almost morning.”

Her breath caught as warm fingers touched the inside of her wrist. “Is it?”

He pulled her toward the tall casement windows overlooking the front yard where twinkling Christmas lights reflected off the fresh snow. Overhead, the clouds had parted, and a hint of pink tinged the sky to the east.

“The snow stopped.” His deep, sexy voice that mesmerized millions of adoring fans caressed her ear.

She nodded. “Looks like it’s going to be a beautiful day.” Her heartbeat slowed then thudded on in double-time when he slipped an arm around her shoulders and squeezed.

“Thanks for being such a good sport about keeping my secret.”

“Why wouldn’t I be? We were friends—sort of—all those years ago.”

“You were way too young for me back then, but I still enjoyed having you around.” He turned her to face him and looked into her eyes. “I hope I didn’t hurt your feelings with that stupid bet.”

“I won’t lie. I dreamed about that kiss through my entire freshman year of high school, and half the next.”

“Then what happened.”

“Another boy kissed me.”

His smile flashed. “Oh yeah? Was he better at it than me?”

Her breath caught as he touched one long curl where it rested above her breast. “I can’t remember.”

“Maybe this will help.” Pulling her against his chest, he bent and pressed his lips to hers, a gentle touch that settled into so much more.

When he finally released her, Brenna grabbed his arm to steady herself. “Why’d you do that?”

He pointed to a sprig of holly tied with a ribbon, hanging from the window frame above them. “Tradition. The Christmas spirit. I don’t know, but it felt right in the moment.”

“Mistletoe is traditional. Not holly.”

“Improvising can often lead to something better.”

She stepped back on shaking legs. “I should take Rebel and go. You’ve all those Santa gifts to arrange beneath the tree before your daughter wakes up.”

He nodded. “I suppose so. Have a merry Christmas, Brenna.”

“You, too.” After prodding her dog to his feet, she stopped and turned. “Kent, would you and Kayla like to spend Christmas day with me and my grandpa and my younger brother? It’ll just be the three of us since my parents are traveling, but maybe you wouldn’t miss having a big family holiday so much. I promise they can be discreet, like me.”

His blue eyes warmed to the color of a mid-day sky. “I’d like that.”

She smiled back. “Great.” She took another step then hesitated. “In case you were wondering…”

“What?”

“You’re definitely a better kisser.”

His slow smile heated her to her toes.

“I guess that’s a start.”

Heart beating in a crazy rhythm, she drew in a breath. “I’d like to think so.”

“Brenna?”

“Yes?”

“Count on it.”

****

I hope you enjoyed Something Better. Drop by tomorrow for another terrific story by the Chimney Elf. Wishing you all a very merry Christmas!

For information on all my books, visit my WEBSITE.

Something Better by Jannine Gallant

Part Two

Kent McCord regarded the petite woman standing at his door with consternation. Long, dark curls cascaded from beneath her hood, and a pretty mouth hung agape. Not that he wasn’t used to staring women. One of the perks—and irritations—of his business. Still, he’d hoped the owner of the dog that was currently galloping out of the living room to skid across the marble tiles would be too groggy with sleep to make the connection between his at-home, scruffy persona and his cowboy-hat-wearing, boot-stomping, country star image. No such luck.

The mystery woman’s fingers buried in Rebel’s fur as the big mongrel leaned against her legs. “Really, Kent? You don’t know who I am?”

This was a new twist. Now he was supposed to remember every groupie who ever threw herself at him on—or off—stage?

“I’m sorry, were we introduced at a concert? I’m afraid I meet so many—”

She rolled big brown eyes that suddenly struck a chord deep in his memory.

“Not at a concert. Here at Fish Lake. Granted it’s been fifteen years, and I was only thirteen to your sixteen…”

“Good God, Brenna?”

A nod sent curls flying. “I can’t believe you’re living in the backwoods of Maine. I thought you had a big, fancy house in Nashville?” She waved a hand. “Not that this place isn’t fancy.”

“I do have a place in Nashville.” He stepped back. “Why don’t you come inside? We’re letting in a whole lot of cold air.”

She stomped her boots on the mat then stepped into the foyer with her mutt at her heels. “Since you’ve kept your identity such a secret, I’m surprised you’d let a stranger inside those gates.”

His lips twisted. “I wasn’t really thinking. I simply reacted when the damn dog—or rather the sound of ripping paper—woke me up. It wasn’t until I had you on the phone that I realized the implications of making the call.” He headed toward the living room then glanced over his shoulder. “I know it’s an odd hour to talk, but we’re obviously both awake, and I’m sure you have questions…”

“I’ll never get back to sleep now.” She rubbed her hands together. “Curious doesn’t begin to cover it. No one’s going to believe me when I tell them—”

He stopped in front of the illuminated tree near the wasteland of wrapping paper. “About that. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention me to your friends.”

She pushed back her hood then unzipped the coat she pulled off to drape over the arm of a chair. “Wow, Rebel really did a number on your gifts. Sorry about the mess.” Her gaze swung back his way. “Fine, I’ll keep my mouth shut.” A stray piece of red and green striped paper stuck to the bottom of her boot, and she shook it off. “I guess I owe you that much.”

 He moved a couple of feet when Rebel brushed past him to retrieve the rawhide bone he’d unwrapped earlier. Dropping down next to a large box, the mongrel clamped his jaws around the partially eaten bone and gnawed. Kent thought about commenting on his bad behavior when Brenna pretended not to notice, but decided there wasn’t much point.

“I wouldn’t ask you to lie, but…never mind. Thank you for your discretion.” He glanced toward the doorway. Had that creak been a sound from upstairs or just the old house groaning in the wind? “Uh, why don’t you have a seat?”

She perched on the edge of the long, leather couch then jumped when his dog uncurled beside her, stretched and yawned.

“Scare me to death.” She pressed a hand to her chest. “I thought that furry thing was a pillow.”

“Fluffy doesn’t disturb easily. Apparently she watched your beast destroy the place without so much as a single yip of protest.”

One brow rose. “Fluffy?”

His cheeks heated. “I didn’t name her.”

He let out a breath then sat in the recliner, still eyeing his late night visitor. She didn’t much resemble the young girl he remembered. The thirteen-year-old Brenna had been scrawny and nearly flat-chested, with her curls always confined in braids. Her obvious crush on him the summer he’d spent at the lake had been somewhat embarrassing—until he’d accepted his buddy’s dare and kissed her. The feel of her soft, never-been-touched-by-a-boy lips beneath his had elicited feelings he had no business harboring for a girl who hadn’t even started high school yet. After that, he’d avoided Brenna for the final week of his vacation.

“Kent?”

“Huh? Sorry, I was marveling at how different you look.”

“I’m a twenty-eight-year-old woman, not a barely-teenaged girl. I would certainly hope I’ve changed.” Her chocolate-brown gaze drifted from his face downward. “You’ve filled out some, too, but I guess I have the advantage since I see your picture splashed across magazine covers every time I’m in the check-out line at the grocery store.”

Not much he could say in response to that, so he let the reference to his fame go. “When did you move to Fish Lake? If I remember correctly, the summer we met you were visiting your grandparents from…Portland?”

“Freeport. I moved here shortly after college. I always loved this town, and after my grandma died, I wanted Grandpa to have family close.”

He smiled. “I remember your grandpa as a cool, old dude, selling bait and tackle out of his store and telling off-color jokes.”

“He’s still a cool, even older dude, but he finally gave up the store. He still lives in his cabin by the lake and refuses to even consider moving in with me.”

“What do you do?”

“Teach kindergarten at Fish Lake Elementary.”

Kent glanced toward the tree where Rebel chewed and slobbered with obvious enthusiasm. “Are you as easy on your students as you are on your dog?”

Her eyes narrowed. “They’re five. Should I crack a whip over them if they color outside the lines?”

He grinned, recognizing a hint of the feisty girl who’d hung out at the dock where he and his buddy had worked renting canoes to tourists all summer. “I suppose not.”

She reached over to stroke a slim hand down Fluffy’s back. “Why would a big star like you buy a house in Fish Lake?”

A direct question deserved the truth. Or maybe at least part of it.

“I wanted a place to hide from the craziness that follows me everywhere I go. Don’t get me wrong. I appreciate every one of my fans, but constantly playing the role of the big-hearted country boy they expect to see gets tiring.”

“Is it really such a stretch?”

“Not usually since deep inside I’m not unlike the public Kent McCord. But ten years in the spotlight has taken a bit of the shine off.”

“So you chose Fish Lake as your hideout?”

“The summer I spent here with my friend, Tanner—do you remember Tanner?”

“The jerk who dared you to kiss me.”

His eyes widened. “You knew about that?”

“Let’s just say word spread. Continue.”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, uh, that summer was one of the best in my memory. This place has a Mayberry R.F.D. feel to it, which is a far cry from the cutthroat business world of country music.”

“I bet.”

“So, when Tanner’s great-aunt, who owned this house, died last January, I bought the place from her estate since neither Tanner nor his sister wanted to keep it.”

Brenna frowned. “What’s the point in owning a house if you don’t get to enjoy it? Based on the comings and goings of your gargantuan SUV, you aren’t here much, and when you are, you’re holed up inside since no one has ever seen hide-nor-hair of you.”

“I was around more last summer. I grew my hair longer, wore a ball cap and dark glasses and spent quite a bit of time out on the lake with...” He cleared his throat. “When people aren’t expecting to see a celebrity, they don’t look for one in an average guy fishing from a canoe.”

Her brows knit. “I would have noticed.”

“I guess it’s lucky for me our paths never crossed. Until now.”

“So, you plan to skulk about indefinitely, keeping your identity secret from all your neighbors?”

He sighed. “I’m not so much concerned about the neighbors, but news would spread. Next thing you know, paparazzi would be camped outside my gates.” He looked deep into her honest brown eyes and couldn’t hold back the truth. “I’m just trying to protect—”

Light footfalls sounded on the stairs then bare feet slapped against the marble floor in the foyer before Kayla appeared in the living room doorway.

Over on the couch, Brenna drew in a sharp breath.

He let out one of his own. “My daughter.”

****

I hope you're enjoying Something Better. Come back tomorrow for the exciting conclusion!

For information on all my books, visit my WEBSITE.

Something Better by Jannine Gallant

Part One

A ringing phone at two in the morning never brought good news. Brenna Halliday bolted upright in bed, heart pounding as she stared at the illuminated face of her old-fashioned alarm clock. Certainly not in the wee hours before dawn on Christmas Day.

Worst case scenarios flashed through her mind.

Grandpa sprawled at the foot of the stairs beneath the scraggly pine he’d hauled in from the woods behind his cabin and decorated the day before. Not that anyone would have found him yet since he was so contrary about wearing his life alert button…

The jarring peal sounded again.

Dex? Had her little brother skidded on the icy roads and wrapped his car around a tree on the way home from a Christmas party? Surely he had more sense than to drink and drive. He wasn’t usually irresponsible…

When the phone shrilled a third time, surely louder and more strident than before, Brenna’s overstretched nerves threatened to snap. Flipping on the bedside lamp, she blinked at the harbinger of doom before reluctantly lifting the receiver to press the talk button.

“Hello.” Her voice croaked, dread nearly choking her.

“I have your dog. If you want him back…

The deep male voice faded as the blood roared in her ears. Not Grandpa or Dex, thank God, but bad enough. A ransom call for her baby? Her grip on the phone tightened as she forced herself to breathe.

“Hello? Is anyone there?” Annoyance registered in the sharp tone. “Are you the owner of a mixed-breed destruction machine named Rebel?”

“My dog’s name is Rebel. Who’s this?”

A glance toward her pet’s empty bed in the corner of the room confirmed Rebel wasn’t sleeping on his back with his paws waving in the air, as usual. Had he gone outside through his doggy door and been picked up by some stranger lurking near her home? He wasn’t exactly show dog quality…

“I don’t understand.” Tears threatened. “Why would you take my dog?”

“Take him?” The voice rose to a near shout. “Lady, you have one well-developed imagination. Why the hell would anyone want to take that mutt? Your oversized vandal burrowed his way onto my property then somehow squeezed through my dog door only to rip open all the gifts under the tree. I found him devouring a rawhide bone I bought for my dog, who I might add, is home where she belongs.”

Brenna slumped back against the pillows as relief filled her. Not dognapped, after all. Apparently Rebel had gone out on one of his midnight adventures. Again. Obviously, her dog was doing his best to live up to his name.

“Sorry about that. When a ringing phone wakes me up at two in the morning, I tend to think the worst.”

“You should be sorry. I called the number on his tag because I thought his owner might be worried and out looking for him.” The voice on the other end of the line crackled with disapproval. “Not at home in bed, sound asleep.”

She pushed tangled curls out of her face and suppressed a yawn. “Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. My bad. I wasn’t aware he snuck out. If you’ll give me your address, I’ll come pick him up and get him out of your hair.”

“He’s not in my hair. As I mentioned, he’s lying on a heap of wrapping paper under my tree.”

Had there been an actual hint of humor in his tone?

“Point taken. If it’ll make you feel better about Rebel’s bad behavior, even though it’s the middle of the night, I’ll rewrap the gifts for you. And I’ll buy your dog a new bone. In the meantime…”

“That won’t be necessary. Just come get your beast. I’m at 2200 Holly Drive. The house is down at the very end of the road…” His voice trailed off on a tired—or perhaps reluctant—sigh. “I’ll unlock the gates and turn on the outdoor lights for you.”

“I’m only a couple of houses away. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

Brenna hung up the phone then scrambled out of bed to pull on the jeans and sweater she’d left in a heap on the carpet the evening before. Holy crap! Was she really going to get a peek at the mysterious occupant of the old Colonial behind its high brick wall at the end of her street? The place was practically a fortress. Since the previous owner had died nearly a year before, none of the neighbors at caught so much as a glimpse of the new inhabitant. Just a large, black SUV with smoked windows cruising in and out at infrequent intervals, mostly after dark. And the occasional sighting through the wrought iron gates of a Lhasa Apso racing across the front lawn, silky fur flying. Speculation over the owner’s identity ranged from a reclusive billionaire to a secret government witness to a vampire.

Brenna had been a fan of the vampire theory. A grim smile curved her lips as she paused in front of the mirror over her dresser to finger comb long dark curls into a semblance of order. However, since she’d just been invited into this man’s lair in the wee hours of the morning, she hoped she was wrong. Grabbing the flashlight she kept on the nightstand to combat frequent winter power outages, she headed to the mudroom to shove her feet into a pair of snow boots then shrugged on a down parka.

A blast of arctic cold slapped her in the face when she stepped outside. Not unexpected in December in Maine, but the frigid air stole her breath. Snowflakes sifted through the night sky to melt against her cheeks as she flashed the light beam on the icy stretch of road. In the distance, a multi-colored glow lit up the trees surrounding the big, old house. Head down as she picked up speed, it wasn’t long before she reached the gates and paused to stare. Twinkling Christmas lights decorated the three story white structure, outlining black shutters and glimmering in the bushes along the foundation.

Surely a vampire wouldn’t put up holiday lights. Would he? A breath escaped in a puff of white vapor.

“The gate’s unlocked.”

“What?” Eyes wide, Brenna nearly jumped out of her skin. She glanced up. The voice came through a speaker below a mounted camera. Great, the man behind the wall had been watching her every move. At least she hadn’t done anything to embarrass herself. “Okay, thanks.”

After pushing open the gate and stepping through, she let it swing shut behind her. The lock snapped into place with an ominous click. Snow dusted the drive leading to the house. She cast a quick look over her shoulder at the trail of footprints behind her. Was she a complete idiot to go looking for her dog in this stronghold in the middle of the night? Would the authorities find her decomposing body deep in the woods when the snow melted next spring? Reaching the front stoop, she took a breath and raised a shaking hand.

The door swung wide before she could knock. Light from a chandelier high overhead gleamed on the polished marble floor of the entry. The man standing before her wearing sweat pants with a rip in one knee seemed out of place…and time. She’d expected a tie and tails at the very least. Perhaps a black cape. Her gaze swept upward over a navy blue T-shirt clinging to a broad chest, past a strong jaw with a shadow of beard, over well-defined lips and a strong nose to a pair of laser blue eyes. Her mouth sagged open.

“You!”

****

I hope you'll come back tomorrow for Part Two of Something Better!

For more information on all my books, visit my WEBSITE.

Christmas With You by Margo Hoornstra



 



Part Three

      Dylan stood on the front porch of the huge colonial he and April shared to draw in a lungful of crisp winter air. A light snowfall had coated the landscape in white. Bare, spindly tree branches wore similar alabaster layers that winked and sparkled in the afternoon sun.

      A city snow plow rumbled by on the next block over. Their street would be next. The smooth untouched blanket would soon be churned up into rough banks of ice chunks and road dirt. Ugly debris on an otherwise pristine terrain.

      Chin to his chest, he blew out a sigh. Ugly and cold. Kind of the way he felt since leaving Crossroads. Alone. He’d gone there to support his wife, not argue with her.

      Turned away from the doorway, he picked up the remote switch for the tree they’d ordered to be delivered, set up and decorated. An assortment of presents nestled beneath its branches, their ribbons intact and wrappings untouched. With the subdued click of a button, multi-colored lights blinked on to reflect off golden tinsel and shiny glass ornaments.

      Like any good physician worth his or her salt, April was dedicated to her patients. One of the many things he loved about her. Not that he begrudged anyone in need that kind of devotion, but did wanting them to spend Christmas Day together make him selfish?

      Probably.

      April’s unique ring on his cell dissolved his thoughts like icicles in a morning sun. He wasted no time picking up.

      “How are you, beautiful?” It beat the first words that popped into his head—When the heck are you coming home?

      She let out a swift breath then inhaled another in what became a long, drawn out yawn. “I’m okay.”

      His gaze drifted toward the tree. “Sorry I was such a jerk earlier.”

      “Don’t worry about it. We were both pretty tired. I actually managed to get in a three and a half hour nap this afternoon.”

      “That’s good. How’s it going?” It. A simplistic term for transplant tolerance, long term allograph acceptance.

      “Too soon to know for sure. Turns out this is anything but a classic case. Unfortunately, those opportunistic pathogens seem to be everywhere. When we get one issue managed, another pops up. It’s been touch and go.” The edge of confident reassurance she kept in her voice as a physician slid away. “I’m doing my very best.”

      “I don’t doubt that. It’s all anyone can ask.” He did his darnedest to dispense some confident reassurance of his own. “Do your best, then let it go.”

      “Easier said than done.”

      “I know.” His reply was a tender whisper.

      “I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

      “However long that takes, I’ll be here.” The sound of her breathing took the place of words and he could only hope he’d made her smile. “You’ll know when it’s the right time to leave.”

      “Admit it’s out of my hands. That others can provide the same caliber care as me?”

      “Did you get anything to eat today?”

      “Uh-huh. About noon. Macaroni and cheese, green beans and some sorry looking fresh pears.”

      “They aren’t serving turkey in the cafeteria?”

      “They are, but I’m saving myself to have Christmas dinner with you.”

      “Our turkey’s in the oven as we speak.” He inhaled the savory aroma that filled the house. The only thing that filled the house right now. “I’ll have the rest of dinner fixed by the time you get here.”

      “That sounds perfect. They’re paging me again.” In the space of an instant, her voice went from low and sleepy to clear and alert. “Gotta go. Love you, Dylan.”

      “I love you, too.” He spoke to a disconnected call then set his cell down and returned to the living room.

      After a while when it got dark enough outside, he flicked on a switch by the door. The icicle lights on the eaves and above the windows shimmered into the night. A few hours later the turkey was done. Way too done. He left it on the counter to cool as long as he dared. Wrapped in a damp towel and covered in tin foil, the bird had to eventually go into the refrigerator or become a breeding ground for salmonella.

      That chore accomplished, he wandered back into their living room. From the specially crafted stone hearth along the back wall, the fire he’d built around noon and fed for most of the day sputtered and sparked as the remnants of a glowing log fell. Going over to crouch in front of it, he laid two pieces of fresh oak on top of the simmering coals then sat back when flames flared and curled around them.

      As he stood, his gaze came level with the antique clock on the mantel. Just after eleven thirty. His sigh was more acceptance than regret as he sank down on the couch. A few more minutes and Christmas would be over for another year.

      At the hum of the automatic garage door raising his thoughts dispersed. Another door, the one into the house, opened then closed with a gentle click.

      He glanced up as April entered. “How’s your patient doing?”

      “I’ve done all I can.” Her gaze lifted skyward. “Like you told me a few hours ago. It’s out of my hands now.”

      He nodded.

      “How was Christmas for you?”

      “Quiet.”

      “I’ll bet.” She set her keys and pager on the table then shrugged out of the coat she dropped on a matching chair.

      He patted the cushion beside him. “Take a load off your feet.”

      “That sounds unbelievably nice.” Her smile grew as she came toward him. “I’ve missed you.”

      “I’ve missed you too.” The moment she sat beside him, he pulled her close. Her arms wrapped around his neck as the mouth he’d so longed for neared. Their eyes closed and their lips met in a lingering kiss of welcome.

      Staying snug in his arms when they came up for air, she pulled back to look him in the eye. “I was sure you’d be asleep by now.”

      “And miss our celebration?”

      “What a celebration it will be.” Two fingers stifled a yawn. “Sorry I made you wait so long.”

      He planted a kiss on the tip of her nose. “I guess that’s what I get for marrying the premiere thoracic surgeon in the country.”

      “That hasn’t been determined.” She lowered her gaze. “Yet.”

      “This is what you do, who you are. I wouldn’t change that for anything.”

      She looked up at him. The broad smile she came in with dimmed. Frown lines threatened at the corners of her eyes. “Things may be changing for us though. I just, I. This may be my last case like this for a while.”

      Her voice broke and she swallowed. Her next breath left her trembling; and him in a full out panic. He studied the face so close to his. Worry and fatigue clouded her eyes. He hadn’t noticed before how pale, too pale, her complexion was. How she suddenly seemed so fragile. Defenseless.

       His heart leaped up to his throat. He fought to speak around it. “Why? What is it?”

      Tensed hands held her by the shoulders as his mind flew back to their time in the hospital cafeteria. April’s words about the man who didn’t want to lose the love of his life. Fear, icy and hard took hold of him.

      “I’m not sure, because I haven’t had all of the necessary tests, but I think I’m pregnant, Dylan. I think I’m pregnant.”

      “You’re what?” He inhaled a gasp then forgot to do anything else.

      The frown lines returned. Her mouth flattened. “Being apart today of all days only served to prove our schedules are so crammed full now, we barely have time for each other. Adding a little one to the mix. I just don’t know how we’ll manage.”

      When she stopped to take a breath, his mouth covered hers. Then once more and again after that before he dragged himself away. “Oh, April. That’s wonderful news.”

      “It is?”

      “Of course. Whatever we have to do, we’ll do. After the baby comes, I’ll cut my hours to stay home. We’ll figure it out. We will.”

      “Will we? Really? We will!” Soft palms framed his face as hers drew nearer. Her eyes sparkled and her lips lifted into a colossal grin. “You’re going to be a father, Dylan.”

      At the pure joy on her expression, he laughed out loud. “More important, you’re going to be a mother.”

      Her eyes widened. “I am.”

      “You are.” He pulled her hands away then wrapped his arms around her, not too tight though, and brought her close. The vibration of her laugh against him warmed his heart.

      “Oh, Dylan. Next Christmas will be so much fun.”

      An enormous smile creased his cheeks. “Next Christmas will be phenomenal! Maybe we’ll get an electric train to circle around the tree and presents. A life sized hobby horse.”

      “That sounds wonderful, but let’s celebrate this Christmas first.” Snuggled beside him, she laid her head against his shoulder and sighed. “If it’s okay with you, though, can we postpone festive things for just a tiny bit longer? Maybe open presents in a couple of minutes?”

      Heart pounding with enthusiasm, he took a breath. Above all else, right now his wife needed rest. “Fine with me.”

      “Right now, I’d just like to sit quietly for a while. If you’re sure that’s okay.”

      “Not a problem.” He calmed the excitement in his voice. Assumed a mellow tone. “Not at all.”

      “Thank you. Merry Christmas, my love.” Her voice trailed off as her breathing took on the slow, even rhythm of sleep.

      Settled deeper into the cushions, he pulled the red and green afghan off the back of the couch to tuck around her then drew her nearer and brought his lips to rest on her temple. Presents and a fancy meal could wait as long as they needed to.

      The fire crackled then flared. The lights on their tree glittered and winked. He glanced down at the woman in his arms.

      “Merry Christmas, April.” From the shadows, clock chimes echoed the midnight hour. “Merry Christmas.”

 

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I hope you enjoyed my small gift for this year. For more about me and the rest of my stories, please visit my WEBSITE

Merry Christmas! Happy Holidays! And have an absolutely great New Year!

Join us here tomorrow for the first installment of Penguins, Pucks and Pumpkin Pies by Alison Henderson. Who also designed the beautiful cover for Ringing in the Holidays. Thanks, Alison.

Christmas With You by Margo Hoornstra



 





Part Two

“It’s hard to say.” She recognized his voice but didn’t look up. “I wish I knew.”

“What’s the prognosis?” His hushed tone was indicative of their surroundings.

“The initial operation was a success. The patient is recovering as expected. So far.” She gave into a faint smile as she removed the protective net from her head. “As I told the family members a few moments ago, all we can do is wait. And hope.”

For the first time in hours, actually days it seemed, April took her focus off the business at hand to lift her gaze as Dylan walked closer. Despite the solemn circumstances, a single thought ran through her mind. Good thing her patient was the one hooked up to the heart monitor instead of her. She’d be setting off so many bells and alarms, the room would be swarming with nurses by now.

With sandy blond hair, intense green eyes, leading man good looks and that precious easy smile her husband never failed to set her heart to fluttering. Add those broad shoulders and solid chest to the package, and she was a bonafide goner. Dylan Harper, MD could fill out a set of scrubs with the best of them when he was working. Right now, she was the only one decked out in surgical attire.

“You’re a good surgeon, Mrs. Doctor Harper. I’m sure your patient will do fine.”

“I hope you’re right.” She walked around the bed to stand beside him. “I have to say, I’m exhausted.”

“Eleven hours on your feet in the operating room. You’re entitled.”

How long though, before I cave in to such demands? “Is it Christmas Day yet? I’ve lost all track of time.”

“Just beginning.”

“Not that I don’t appreciate the effort, but why are you here?” April knew the answer before she asked. One doctor’s life and schedule was busy enough for a marriage to endure. Multiplied by two, private couple time was at a definite premium. If her hunch was right, time together would soon become an even more precious commodity.

“We didn’t get to see each other yesterday at all. I wanted to make up for that. Today especially. Plus, as I’ve told you before, we’ll be together for Christmas Day. No matter what.”

“Dylan, that is so sweet.” Tension held in for hours flowed out of her as a surge of warmth settled around her heart. Emotion clogged her throat and tears threatened. She tamped down on both. “Now that you’re here, though, and we’ve spent a few minutes together today, go home. One of us should be allowed to get some sleep. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” The corners of her mouth drew down in contemplation as her regard returned to her patient. “She’s not out of the woods yet.”

“I know.” His fingers trailed down her arm before he took her hand in his. “You’ve done all you can. The rest of your team can take it from here. Come home with me. Leave your car. I’ll drive you.”

“I really shouldn’t leave the hospital until she’s more stable. In case we need to take her back into surgery.” She kept her voice steady and professional while her thoughts flew off to other things. How will it feel when I’m the patient and someone else was the physician watching over me?

His grip on her tightened. “You can afford to take a short break though, can’t you?”

“Maybe a short one.”

Unfortunately, this was not the time, surely not the place, to share with him what else weighed on her mind.

Perception more than propriety made them drop hands as they left the room and entered the hallway.

April stopped at the nurses’ station long enough to give last minute patient care instructions. “Page me if there are any changes. Good or bad.”

As they stood before the staff elevator, he retook her hand while they awaited its arrival.

Heart heavy with guilt, she glanced up at him. “We agreed to spend Christmas Day together, and I end up working.”

“You had no control over when a healthy lung would become available.”

A small smile was her answer as the elevator door slid open. The moment they stepped inside she scrambled into his arms. Incredible warmth seeped into her from touching him and nearly stole her breath. She so needed this right now, his presence, his strength. And wonder of wonder, her husband never failed to deliver. May it always be so. Even after…

The elevator bounced to a gentle stop. He released her from his arms and once again took her hand. The large cafeteria they entered was filled with bright lights and empty tables.

“You sit. I’ll get us coffee.”

“Yes, sir.” April sank into a booth just inside the door.

A few interns hugging Styrofoam cups of coffee, no doubt in the midst of an infamous thirty-six hour shift, congregated at a corner table. Despite the grueling schedule, they discussed patients they’d seen on rounds earlier in tones clear and animated. Full of hope.

Before long Dylan slid a similar Styrofoam cup in front of her. April brushed drooping bangs off her forehead and gave in to a jaw cracking yawn. “Remember those days?” Her head tilt indicated the cluster of scrub clad students.

“Something you don’t forget.”

“It never gets old, does it?”

For as long as she could remember, April was convinced she’d be happy working as a nurse. Until Dylan came along and urged her to apply for medical school. One of many precious things her husband provided. More than a decade later, with an internship, residency and a demanding specialty fellowship successfully completed, she was a full-fledged, board certified specialist in thoracic surgery. With the knowledge and skill to save lives. A potent calling, but not without its drawbacks.

When Dylan had yet to reply to her comment, she changed the subject.

“Those decorations around here are beautiful, aren’t they?”

“They’re decent, I suppose. Pretty typical.” He didn’t look at her as he sipped his coffee. “A far cry from the first Christmas tree you and I shared.”

The arrival of long ago memories made her smile. “The display model we rescued.”

“Back when patients didn’t take priority over everything else in our lives.”

The sudden bitterness in his tone surprised her. Too bad she didn’t have the strength to challenge it. “My heart goes out to her boyfriend. He hasn’t left her side in three days.”

“Never get personally involved with a patient. That’s almost as sacred a pledge as the Hippocratic Oath we both took. Among others vows. Those we made to each other.”

“I can’t let him lose her, Dylan. The man is pretty devoted. He even pleaded with us to allow him in the OR with her. Said he’d take an alcohol bath if he had to.”

“You’re part of a surgical team, April. Along with two other physicians as qualified as you are to take care of this patient.”

He was right and she knew it. The surgical team model was designed to keep a single physician from becoming exhausted and, therefore, ineffective. That didn’t apply here though. It didn’t. How can I explain to him this might be my last case for a while?

At the vibration from her pocket, she bolted upright. Pager in hand, she hit the speaker button. “Doctor Harper.”

On a flat out run toward the intensive care unit seconds later, she listened to details of the complication she had so hoped wouldn’t develop. “I’ll be right there.”

As she took the stairs two at a time to get to her patient, it dawned on her. She hadn’t even paused long enough to kiss Dylan good-bye.

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Please come back tomorrow for the conclusion of Christmas With You. And, for more about me and my stories, please visit my WEBSITE