A Holiday To Remember (10 page)

Shocked by the celebrity’s behavior, Debra held out her hand to Mia’s shoulder. “Hurry up. In the car, kid.”

“What’s wrong with him, Mom?”

“I don’t know, but there’s no excuse for that.” Debra steered her daughter to the safety of the SUV, keeping an eye on Douglas Matthews.

He appeared very agitated and his perfectly polished appearance had started to frazzle. His dark hair was mussed and his face twisted in anger as he snapped off his phone and stared at it. She got Mia’s door closed just in time. Another curse echoed across the parking lot.

Jonah had straightened. “Matthews. This is a family establishment.”

The man answered with an even worse curse, yanked open the door to his luxury vehicle and threw the phone in a temper into the passenger compartment. Debra saw the fury on Jonah’s face—he was being protective of her and Mia. But Douglas dove into his car in a hurry, shut the door and started the engine with a loud roar before Jonah could do anything.

“I’m sorry you had to hear that.” A muscle tensed in his jaw. Next to a man like Douglas Matthews, Jonah Fraser looked like a dream. He opened her door for her. “Thanks for letting me tag along. I had a good time.”

“I did, too. We enjoyed your company. We should do it again. Ah, you should come tomorrow night. To dinner at Ben’s. I’m cooking for everyone.” The impulsive words tumbled out before she could stop them. Impulse was not usually her style. When Jonah grinned, she knew she’d done the right thing.

He shook the wetness off the scraper and deposited it neatly on the back floor mat. “I’ll think about it.”

Mia twisted against her seat belt to chime in, “Dinner’s at seven. I’m going to help with the cooking, so you gotta come. Promise?”

“I can’t say no to you, Miss Mia.”

“Yeah, I know. Why do you think I asked?”

“I’ll bring a pie.” He shut the back door with a click. “Do you two have any suggestions? Chocolate? Banana?”

“My mom’s favorite is lemon meringue.”

What were the chances? His, too. “Lemon it is. I’ll see you tomorrow for dinner.”

“Awesome.” Mia made a punch in the air and dropped back into her seat.

Debra’s window whizzed down, revealing her flushed face, sparkling eyes and dazzling smile. “Now the pressure’s on. I’ll try not to burn anything.”

“If you do, I won’t notice. Deal?”

“Deal.” She put the SUV in gear. “Thanks, Jonah. I’m looking forward to it.”

He waited while the SUV eased out of its spot, remembering what Mia had said earlier.
You helped my mom. She was so much happier when she came to pick me up. Maybe you could talk to her some more.
Debra did look better, lighter somehow, as if she’d laid some of the pain of the past to rest.

I wish I could,
Jonah thought longingly as he spotted Mia waving at him enthusiastically through the window. Mia was special. Too bad he liked her mother so much. Debra was…perfect. Exactly the kind of woman he’d always used to pray he would find.

But that was before Iraq. Reality hit him low and hard like a snowplow. Jonah hung his head, overwhelmed by shame. Like the frigid winter wind, guilt froze him to the marrow.

When he looked up, the taillights of Debra’s SUV were small points of red on Main Street and then gone. He stared into the pure falling snow and felt ashamed. There were things he’d done, things he was responsible for, that he could never forget or make up for.

He wished he could. He wished forgiveness were possible. Thinking of those he’d failed, he didn’t know how God could ever forgive him. One thing was sure, he could not forgive himself. He didn’t deserve to love a wonderful woman like Debra or to be responsible for anyone again.

Weighed down by a ton of regret, Jonah dug his keys from his pocket and unlocked his truck. Sunday may be a day of rest, but he couldn’t stand all this thinking and feeling. He had the foot and sideboards of Mia’s bed to finish. Yes, that’s what he’d do. He’d work the afternoon and evening through to keep his hands and mind busy. Work always helped to keep the memories at bay.

Douglas Matthews drove through the expensive development at the edge of town, his heartbeat racing and his anger rising. He couldn’t reach her. Again. Lynda better have a good excuse for not answering the phone. She was supposed to spend her time seeing to his needs and keeping things running smoothly so he could put every ounce of his energy and talent into furthering his career. Why couldn’t she see that? Because of her, he’d been too upset for his meeting. She was the reason his agent hadn’t shown.

He’d had to sit in that tacky diner alone. At least he had the chance to see Ross Van Zandt in action. Acting like the good Christian family man, when the truth was he’d made a threat he couldn’t keep.

That shabby P.I. couldn’t find his way out of a cardboard box and he certainly wasn’t good enough to outsmart Douglas Matthews. Ross Van Zandt had no evidence—and never would. Douglas would make certain of that. He’d sent one message—and it seemed to have worked. Ross had made threats—but it was hot air. Douglas had no problem sending another message, if that became necessary.

Smugly satisfied, he slowed down to take the turn into his driveway, bringing his property into sight. A fresh layer of snow glazed the lawns and along the impressive roofline of his house, so it was hard to tell at first what was missing.

The minivan.

A terrible foreboding turned cold in his gut. What was going on? Douglas stopped the car and launched out of the seat. It was no illusion. He stared in disbelief at the empty space where Lynda’s minivan was supposed to be. Where had she gone? She was supposed to be home putting herself together. She had a lot to make up for lately. She was always setting off his temper.

Now this. What was he going to have to do to make her understand?

His cell phone went off. He slammed the garage door and dug the phone out of his pocket. It had to be Lynda. Horrible fury momentarily blinded him as he hit the answer button. Whatever she was out doing, he was going to make sure she learned her lesson. She just didn’t learn. “Lynda?”

“No, Doug.” It was Rob, his agent. “I’m returning all five of your voice messages.”

Rob sounded a little too superior. Douglas gnashed his teeth but got his temper under control. There was a lot at stake. “You stood me up at the diner. I was…concerned.”

Furious. Insulted. Ready to go shopping for a better agent. A top agent. One who had enough guts to close the network deal.

Rob cleared his throat. “The weather held me up, but after your last few messages, I’m concerned about you. You need to behave more professionally, Douglas. This is the reason we’re having trouble taking you national.”

That was rich. Red flashed before his eyes. “The reason I’m not hosting my own national show right now is because you’re not aggressive enough.”

“I’m not the one who was caught womanizing—”

“I told you that was nothing!”

“The threats you’ve made to my secretary.”

“She wouldn’t put my calls through!”

“The messages you’ve left today could be taken as threatening. If I didn’t know you better, Douglas, I would have to advise you to find other representation.”

The red staining his vision turned crimson. Rage vibrated through him like a taut bow. “It’s not my fault. I’m under a lot of stress. If you could get this deal closed, I would be better.”

“Let’s take it a day at a time. I’ll call you in a few days. And, Douglas, maybe you ought to talk to someone. Like your pastor.”

Before Douglas could set him straight, the connection went dead. Who did this joker think he was dealing with? He was Douglas Matthews. And where was Lynda? This was her fault. She had best get back soon, or—

He’d yanked open the front door and his hard, uneven breathing echoed in the silent house. His footsteps echoed long and deep, bouncing off the cathedral ceilings and imported marble. He noted the housework hadn’t been done. The kitchen dishes were still in the sink.

Then he spotted the jewelry on the counter—her everyday jewelry. The diamond studded watch he insisted she wear was tossed on the counter next to her wedding ring.

Her wedding ring.

He didn’t need to tear through the house to figure out she’d left him. She’d probably packed a few things—things he’d bought her and the boy—and left him. She’d taken their son.

What was this going to do to his image? A curse tore from his throat. Blind with rage, he grabbed the first thing he came to—the stool at the breakfast bar—and threw it as hard as he could. It crashed through the window with a satisfying smash.

In the cozy warmth of their adjoining rooms, Mia knelt beside her bed, her hands clasped as she said her bedtime prayers while Debra waited in the doorway, leaning against it, struck by how thankful she was for her daughter. They’d been apart since September because of school, except for a few weekends and holidays at home, and that time was lost. Debra suddenly felt it sorely. Mia was changing, growing up a little more day by day, and so fast.

As she knelt, fervently praying, she looked a little taller, her face a little leaner and more mature. Mia whispered, “Amen,” and hopped into bed.

Holding back her feelings, Debra stepped into the room. “You were praying pretty earnestly.”

“That’s how you’re supposed to pray, Mom.”

“I know.” Knowing where this was about to lead, Debra slid onto the edge of the mattress and tucked the covers beneath Mia’s chin. She might not feel as cynical about faith right now, but that didn’t mean she felt ready to discuss it. “You want to do some more of our Christmas shopping tomorrow?”

“We’d better. Can we park downtown and wander through all the shops? I’ve been dying to do that.” Mia propped herself up on one elbow to plump her pillow right before collapsing back onto it. Dark circles had worked their way beneath her eyes and her lids were drooping, but she was still buzzing with excitement from the evening. “Didn’t we have the best day?”

“The best. Because I got to spend it with you.” Debra brushed the hair out of Mia’s face. “You were right. It’s good thing that we came here to get to know our new family.”

“
What?
I can’t believe you said that.”

“I’m cautious when it comes to making changes—”

“I’ll saaaay.” Mia stifled a yawn. “So, does that mean we can stay for Christmas?”

“Your grandfather is expecting us for Christmas dinner.”

“Yeah, but that’s at dinnertime on Christmas
Day.
We could have Christmas morning here and then drive back home and still be there in time. Please?”

“We’ll see about staying until Christmas Eve, at least.” Debra loved seeing her child so happy.

“Good, because there’s so much I have to do. I want to see the Christmas Eve services at the church. Jonah’s father is the minister, you know, so we can go with Jonah, too.”

“You’re just full of plans, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

“Yep. I’m praying hard so they’ll come true. I just want a real family, Mom.”

“I know you do.” How could she fault her daughter for that? It
was
like a blessing to have this gift of Ben and his family to add to the Watson clan. She could no longer argue that truth.

Mia struggled against an even bigger yawn. “Olivia’s lucky. It would be great to have a dad and a little brother. No, I’d want a sister. A little sister who’s just like me.”

“Which would make her perfect.” Debra didn’t know what else to say. That’s all she had wanted, too, but it had never happened for her—love, marriage, the whole family thing. This wasn’t the way she’d imagined her life to be long ago.

She wished she could see such a happy and lovely future as easily as Mia could. There was so much she wanted for her daughter. So much her own heart ached for. Sweet love for her daughter left her weak, as always, but strengthened her, too.

Debra smoothed away the wrinkles that had settled into Mia’s forehead. “Sleep well, sweet pea. You have another big day tomorrow.”

She kissed Mia’s cheek and stood to turn off the bedside lamp. Darkness fell like a hush in the cozy room. The slab of light falling through the doorway to the adjoining room guided her as she made her way. By the time she closed the door, Mia was already fast asleep.

Her own room was cozy, lit by matching lamps flanking the bed on small antique tables and another by the overstuffed chair in the corner. As she went in search of the book she was reading, she straightened up the room as she went. Her thoughts kept going over the day. At church. At the diner. Talking with Jonah in the snowy parking lot. Thoughts of him brought peace to her spirit.

She was looking forward to spending more time with him tomorrow. It had been a long time since she’d felt this happy. She kicked off her shoes, curled up in the chair, opened her book and let the promise of happily-ever-after carry her away.

R
oss opened the door of Pamela Lansbury’s Christian bookstore. The shop was busy with Christmas shoppers. Both cashiers were working away at a long line of customers with gifts to purchase. Not a good sign. He hoped Pamela had time to talk with him now. He’d been so energized by Naomi Fraser’s e-mail that he’d come straight here. Maybe he should have called.

“Ross.” Pamela found him, waltzing into sight with an armful of devotionals she must have been shelving. “How lovely to see you. Tell me, how is your son getting along?”

“He’s perfect.” Ross remembered how terrified he’d been and filled with protective rage when he’d first seen his son in the neonatal unit at the children’s hospital. “Can I speak with you alone?”

She looked a little surprised and glanced at the front. “I suppose the girls can handle things just fine for a few moments.”

“It won’t take long. I need your help.”

“Is this about the Tiny Blessings investigation?” Pamela led the way to the back door marked Employees Only. “I saw your statement on the news a while back. You need to capture that man, Ross, whoever he is, before he hurts someone else.”

“I will.” He would not fail. As soon as the door closed, he patted the folded pages in his coat pocket. “I was wondering if you remember a young woman who worked for you once a long time ago. Her name was Wendy Kates.”

“Oh, that dear girl.” Pamela face fell. She looked deeply sad. “Wendy was the sweetest thing. It was terrible what happened to her, dying in childbirth.”

Ross realized that Pamela didn’t know the full truth about Wendy’s death—or, murder, as he suspected. It was difficult keeping his emotions under wrap. “How well did you know her?”

“As well as anyone could, I guess. She just showed up one day, a little black and blue. She said her father had thrown her out of the house and she was obviously pregnant. I took her in, my heart broke for her. I don’t think she had a friend in the world, so I let her stay in the little apartment above my garage.”

Ross wasn’t surprised to learn that Wendy had been battered. It was a pattern with some men, a terrible pattern of violence and brutality. “Surely Wendy confided in you. Do you know who the father of her baby was?”

“She only called him Douggie. I don’t know if it was a first name or a last name or just a pet name she had for him. I felt so sorry for her, all alone like that.”

“Are you sure she didn’t know anyone else in town?”

“I don’t think she knew many people in town. I kept trying to encourage her to go to church with my husband and me, but she resisted. She was afraid of being judged, I think. At least that poor baby was adopted by a nice family.” The intercom in the overhead speaker came on, paging her. She sighed. “I’m sorry. I have to get back on the floor. Did you need anything else?”

“You’ve been a great help, Pamela.” Ross followed her through the door. “I’d appreciate it if you don’t mention this to anyone. Not even your husband. Can I have your word?”

“Of course. This is exciting to be a part of your investigation. If I think of anything else, I’ll call you.” Pamela led the way into the hustle-bustle of the shop. “Good luck, Ross. I hope you get him.”

“I will.” Ross felt certain of it now. Douggie. Another piece of the puzzle. It fit very nicely with the initials he’d found—L.M. Several prominent families in town had last names that started with the letter
M.
Matthews was on that list of names.

Douglas Matthews. The Matthews were a prominent family. Douglas had always been and still was the town’s golden boy. Would his family pay to keep an out-of-wedlock pregnancy secret?

Sure they would. Douglas would pay more today to keep his reputation pristine—and Wendy’s murder forgotten.

Ross grabbed his cell phone from his pocket and punched in Zach’s number. They were getting closer. Much closer.

Debra took a steadying breath, gripped the knife more tightly and roughly chopped the batch of cilantro on the cutting board in front of her. Leah’s kitchen was bright and roomy and easy to cook in, but the friendly cozy atmosphere did nothing to calm her anxiety. She wasn’t worried about how the meal would turn out. She’d been making her chicken enchilada recipe for years; it was one of Mia’s favorites, so she could prepare it with her eyes closed.

Why was she so nervous? Because Jonah was coming. That was the reason why her hands kept shaking and why her palms were damp. She couldn’t deny even to herself how much she admired Jonah.
Admired
him, she ordered herself. She was to admire him and nothing more.

But she could not stop the surge of hope at the sound of the front door opening or at the pleasant rumble of Jonah’s baritone two rooms away.

“Mom! He’s here!” Mia looked up from the kitchen table, where the girls had been working on crafts. With the clink of scissors hitting the scarred wooden tabletop and the scrape of the chairs against the floor, Mia and Olivia hopped up, their faces shining with delight.

“It’s Jonah!” Both girls tromped through the kitchen and into the dining room, where china clinked on the shelves of the buffet as they skipped past.

The sounds of a real home, of a real family, made the cook’s job even sweeter, Debra realized as she turned to the sink to rinse the blade. Although her back was turned to the doorway, she kept an ear out for the man’s approach.

She was at the stove checking on the poaching filets of chicken when she heard the uneven strike of his gait on the oak floor. She turned at the sound of his approach. There he was, framed in the arched doorway. Her spirit uplifted at the sight of him. Of his smile. Of his respectful gaze. She loved the quiet, unspoken happiness that marked his rugged, handsome face.

“Flowers for the cook.” He said the words simply.

The effect on her was anything but. Emotions tangled up inside her until she could not breathe or move.

He came closer and she could not stop a wish from rising up full-blown from her soul. She wished for the chance to spend more time with him. She wished for the chance for there to be more than friendship between them.

He slipped the bakery box he carried, which she only now noticed, onto the counter and strolled closer. In his other hand was a delicate china vase of fresh, pure white gardenias. “I hear these are your favorite.”

“Y-yes.” She sounded scratchy, but that was from the emotions untangling within her like a knot coming undone until there was one single truth. She was in danger of falling in love with him.

It wasn’t sensible, it wasn’t practical and it wasn’t even wise. But that didn’t stop the sweet affection from ebbing into every crack of her heart. “Gardenias are my favorite flower. Mia told you.”

“She called me today and happened to mention it.”

“Happened to? What else did she
happen
to mention?”

“Not much. She wanted to know how her furniture was coming along. And she mentioned you’ve been happier lately. You’ve been humming.”

“Was I?” She certainly didn’t remember doing it.

“I caught a bar or two while you were cooking. You have a good singing voice, I bet.”

“I used to sing in the church choir long ago…You look shocked to hear that.”

“By the way Mia is so determined to get you to church and save you, I thought you weren’t a believer.”

“I—I’ve had a lot of questions, I guess. I’ve taken a step back. It’s more sensible.”

“Faith is believing in what cannot be seen but felt with the heart.
Sensible
has nothing to do with it.” He leaned close and closer still until only the bouquet of flowers separated them.

Debra drew in a wobbly breath, feeling revealed in a way she never had before. Her heart was open again, vulnerable without a single shield to hide behind.

Panic thudded through her because if he could really see her and her flaws, her mistakes and insecurities, he might turn away from her. It was more frightening to think he might not retreat.

Terror tasted like copper on her tongue as she took a step back and hit the handle of the oven door. She had nowhere to escape. Jonah towered in front of her, all six feet of him. What did he see when he looked at her?

He set the flowers on the counter, his arm brushing her shoulder, bringing him close enough for her to smell the wood scent on his skin from his day’s work. He stayed close, a whisper away, his dark eyes intent on hers, studying her as if he could see everything.

“Since you’ve had questions about faith, I’ve got to ask. What about love? You believe in that, right?”

“Sometimes. On a good day.”

A slow smile showed his dimples. “Let’s hope I can catch you on a good day.”

She didn’t know if he was talking about faith or love, but either way, she couldn’t answer. He straightened away, giving her room to breathe and room to think. She was frozen in place. Although he’d put physical distance between them, he felt closer to her than ever before. Much closer than anyone had ever been. It was the sweetest feeling.

“Thank you for the flowers.” There. She finally got the right words out and was rewarded by his smile. “I hope you like enchiladas, refried beans and nachos.”

“What’s not to like?” He leaned against the counter to study her with his serious, assessing gaze. “You do nothing but surprise me. About the time I think I’ve got you pegged, you do something that throws me off.”

“And what exactly does that mean?”

“You have a high-powered career, yet you’re a good mom, a kind lady and, judging by the delicious scent coming from the stove, a fantastic cook.”

“I know you’re simply being a gentleman, but I expect more honesty from a minister’s son.”

“You’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?”

“Make what easy for you?”

He didn’t say anything, just shook his head slowly from side to side. She would not give credence to the tiny twinkle of hope within her. It would not be sensible to let herself start to wish for the impossible.

Except, when she dared a glance at Jonah out of the corner of her eye, it now didn’t seem impossible. Suddenly he launched away from the opposite counter to tower over her.

“Put me to work,” he said.

So she did, sending him to open the cans of tomato sauce and tomato paste. She would describe cooking with him as companionable—nothing more would be sensible. But when she caught herself humming—twice—Debra had to realize there was more to it. Rolling up stuffed tortillas alongside Jonah made delight spiral through her. Being with him made her happier than she’d been in a long, long time.

Her feelings for him were far from practical. There was no longer any way to deny them. She topped the enchiladas with sauce and cheese, and as she put the casserole dish in the oven, she decided it would be best not to think about her feelings or her wishes for the future. She was going back to her life in a few days’ time.

Maybe it was best just to enjoy this moment, this evening spent with this man.

Debra amazed him. Jonah did his best to hide his feelings and tried hard to concentrate on what Ben was saying to him as they were talking over the recent town news. But not even his iron will could blockade Debra from his thoughts, especially when he could hear the faint lilt of her voice as she chatted with Leah nearby.

When he shifted in the chair by the fireplace, she was at the edge of his vision. Talk about gorgeous. She wore a green sweater and slacks, a shade which brought out the chestnut tones in her brown hair. She remained at the edge of his conscious and he could not seem to shake her. If he looked away, he only listened more intently for the sound of her voice.

Face it man, you like her. Maybe
like
was too weak of a word. He feared that liking her wasn’t the half of it. She was an easy woman to like—easy to get along with and truly fun when she relaxed a little. In the kitchen, she’d had him laughing over stories of ruined meals and cooking mistakes she’d learned when she’d first been on her own and he had to admit to a few of his own. When the meal was in the oven, they had joined the rest of the family in the living room, where the decorated tree glistened and winked in colorful splendor, and he missed that closeness with her all evening long.

For those few moments spent with her in the kitchen, he hadn’t been racked with guilt, with what should-have-been, and memories of the friends he’d lost.

It was wrong, he knew, that he’d forgotten so easily. That he’d let anything distract him from his guilt and failures. The last few nights without sleep were catching up with him. Making him tired, making him weak. He gasped for breath and bounded onto his feet.

Ben watched him with a question on his face.

“I didn’t realize how late it was getting.” A feeble attempt, but it was all he could say as he made a beeline toward the front door. “Thanks for the hospitality. Debra, thanks for the fine meal.”

“I’m glad you liked it.” She rose from her chair, too, trailing after him to the entry. “I should have made more traditional holiday fare, but it’s Mia’s favorite.”

“I think it’ll be mine, too.” He felt content, as if somewhere deep inside he believed there could be other evenings spent in her company, working side by side in the kitchen, sharing the little moments of laughter and closeness. He knew there couldn’t be, but he wished for it anyway. “We have several days before you leave—”

It was the way she responded to his half-spoken suggestion that made every last word he’d been about to say fly out of his head. She watched him quietly with the smallest hint of emotion on her lovely face, and he could read it clearly: hope. Did she feel this, too?

He cleared his throat and fumbled for words. “I’ve got some time this week—”

He was cut off by the sound of boots coming in his direction. He’d forgotten that he and Debra weren’t the only two people in the house.

Mia tromped into view, holding up a bulging holiday gift bag. “Jonah! You forgot the ornaments Olivia and I made. They’re for your Christmas tree.”

“Yeah, Jonah,” Olivia chimed in, keeping close to her mom. “We worked really hard on them.”