Read A Christmas to Believe In Online
Authors: Claire Ashgrove
and exited the safe haven of his room. Barefoot, he padded
down the stairs, the scent of bacon intensifying the closer he
got to the kitchen. It blended with the aroma of maple syrup
and added punch to the sizzle of what he assumed was eggs.
His stomach growled, reminding him last night's dinner
had been meager. He'd hardly finished half a plate when time
dictated he ready for his ice skating adventure.
The scene that greeted him as he stepped inside the
kitchen took him back in time. If he ignored the blonde
seated at Alex's left, it looked like every other morning they'd
shared before school. Despite her cast, his mother bustled in
front of the stove, absently chattering as she prepared
enough food to feed a small village. His brothers mowed
down their pancakes like they might never taste another.
The only thing missing... His father should be at the head
of the table, his nose in the paper, deliberately ignoring the
ruckus going on around him.
And Jesse. Any minute now, she should pop in through the
front door, ready to carpool to school, and slide into the chair
at the counter, stealing bacon slices as fast as his mother put
them on the dish.
"It's about time you got up and moving," his mother
greeted. "I was just about to send Alex up to drag you out of
bed."
Clint gave her a false frown and moved to the coffee pot.
"Long night, Clint?" Alex called.
Too damn long.
He forced himself to grin. "I'm on
vacation."
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"Uh huh." Alex bent over his plate to shovel in another
forkful of pancakes. "I wonder if Jesse would say the same
thing."
Clint lifted his mug, hoping to hide any telltale evidence in
his expression, and braced for Heath's rejoinder. When it
didn't come, he glanced at Heath. He studied his plate, the
slow way he scooted his eggs around revealing his brother
was a hundred miles away.
Taking the blessing for what it was, Clint leaned against
the countertop. He propped a foot on Jesse's former chair and
smiled at his mother. "No crutches again?"
She threatened him with a shake of her spatula. "Eat while
you can. Zoe will be here any minute."
A distinctly feminine snort broke through the comfortable
din. "Is she bringing those hellions of hers too?"
Clint cut his gaze to Alex, waiting for his reaction. The
room fell silent. Immediate tension settled around everyone.
Alex set down his fork, but the firm set of his jaw belied
the amount of self-control his deliberate action required.
"Those are my children, Sydney," he ground out. His gaze
narrowed imperceptibly, warning his fiancee further comment
wouldn't be appreciated.
To Clint's surprise, Heath refrained from immediately
jumping in to diffuse a brewing argument.
When Sydney casually crunched her toast, Alex looked to
their mother. In a softer voice, he asked, "Zoe's coming by?"
Their mother nodded. "She's bringing samples of the
dishes she's planned for the reception. You two should be
present."
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"I need Alex to run me into town today," Sydney argued.
Clint lifted an eyebrow as both Alex and their mother
stiffened. He counted silently to three, waiting to see who
would be the first to object.
His mother beat Alex by a hair. As Clint's youngest brother
opened his mouth, she replied, "You'll have to go on your
own, Sydney. This is your wedding. One of you needs to be
present."
Resisting the urge to whistle low, Clint picked up a plate
and held it out to his mother so she could fill it with eggs. She
slid three on, and topped the stoneware with a handful of
crisp-fried bacon. He negotiated a seat next to Heath and
indulged in a home-cooked meal.
Time to change the subject. Since Heath didn't seem
inclined to step in, Clint took the duty on. He nudged his
middle brother in the arm. "Mom said you went with Nicolette
to a ceremony for Rudy last night? How was it?"
Heath blinked as if Clint had interrupted some deep
thought. He frowned, his fork poised over a piece of egg
white. "I didn't go with Nicolette. I saw her there. It was a
nice ceremony. Rudy would have been proud."
Rudy and Heath had been the best of friends growing up.
His death earlier this year had taken a toll on Heath. No
wonder Heath was distant this morning. It couldn't be easy
revisiting the past in front of a hundred people or more.
Still, Clint shifted in his chair. He'd left himself wide open
for a crack about ice-skating with Jesse. Alex would have told
Heath—especially given the way Alex teased the night before.
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The fact Heath resisted opportunity just didn't fit his
personality.
Alex abruptly stood. "Excuse me, Mom. Breakfast was
wonderful. I'm going to go shower and put some clothes on."
"Okay, honey." Amelia didn't miss a beat, answering as
she deftly pulled bacon off the skillet and added more
pancakes to the pile warming in the oven. "I've got breakfast
for the girls. You can spend time with them while Zoe's
setting up."
With a nod, Alex left the room. A second later, he poked
his head back through the entryway. "The keys are on the
table in the front room, Sydney."
"All right."
No kiss, Clint noted. No warmth what-so-ever. With their
vows four days away, they should both be as giddy as Jesse
had been last night in the snow. God, what was his brother
doing? Couldn't he see that marriage to this creature would
doom him to misery?
Sydney exited on Alex's heels, leaving through the
opposite entrance. She didn't bother with a farewell, nor did
she offer her future mother-in-law a word of thanks. As Clint
got up to refill his coffee, the front door thumped shut.
His mother passed him the spatula. "Pull the pancakes off
the griddle and turn it off, would you, dear? I want to talk to
Alex before Zoe arrives."
"Sure." He bent over to give his mother's cheek a kiss.
She grabbed her crutches off the wall and hobbled out of
the room.
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As Clint followed her orders, Heath rose from the table,
bringing his dishes to the sink. He turned around wordlessly,
the frown still tugging at his brow.
"Hey," Clint called before Heath could slip through the
doorway.
"Hm?"
"What's going on with you? You're a hundred miles away.
Everything okay?"
Heath answered with a short nod. "Yeah. Trying to adjust
to all the changes. You know. A lot's happened lately."
It sounded reasonable enough. But something didn't feel
right. The way Heath avoided eye contact only reinforced
Clint's instinct. He'd hardly touched his food too, and Heath
never missed a meal when someone cooked for him.
From the front room, the phone rang. Distantly, Clint
heard their mother answer, "Hello?" A few seconds of silence
passed, then she exclaimed, "Oh, my goodness, dear. So
wonderful to hear from you. Yes. Yes, he's right here. Hold
on."
Every nerve ending he had rose up and twitched. Jesse?
He tamped down the burst of excitement with a long drink
from his mug. He couldn't let Heath catch on. Wasn't quite
ready to face that inevitability.
"Heath! Phone, for you," Amelia called.
"Coming." Heath hurried out of the room.
His brother's voice drifted away on hushed murmurs that
Clint couldn't decipher. He stared at his food, debating how to
handle the rest of the day and this new twist in things.
Nothing good could come of this—that much was for certain.
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But did he dare indulge? She was right there for the taking...
warm, ready, and oh so willing.
The ringing of the doorbell forbade Clint from dwelling.
Chaos erupted in the front room, not the least of which came
from his brother as an oath started, then cut short. Hearty
laughter rumbled with the merry sound of little girls laughing.
Moments later, three pairs of feet pounded into the
kitchen. "Uncle Clint," the girls cried in unison.
Clint chuckled as three little girls threw their arms around
his legs. He wobbled, unbalanced by their unexpected attack,
and caught himself on the countertop. No wonder Heath had
almost cursed. Their coordinated tackle was better than a
linebacker's. "Whoa. Easy there. You three want some
pancakes?"
"Yes!"
In unison, they let go, giggled, and scrambled to the table.
As he served their plates, he studied each of their faces.
Identical, save for one who had a tiny scar above her right
eye, the triplets mirrored Alex. Black hair glimmered with a
touch of auburn in the early morning light, and their
enigmatic smiles made them look even younger than their
four years. Shy certainly wasn't part of their vocabulary—a
trait he could attribute to what he remembered of Alex's
former wife, Zoe.
"Morning, Clint. It's good to see you."
Speaking of Zoe—Clint turned around to find her, or whom
he assumed to be her, standing in the doorway, her arms
laden with two heavy bags and a small plastic sack. He
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hurried to help her with the dishes, forbidding himself to
gawk.
She looked nothing like he remembered. She'd shed her
previous weight, an accomplishment that gave way to a figure
many women would die for. Still busty, generous curves
complimented a narrow waist. She'd done something with her
hair too—maybe changed the color? He couldn't be certain.
Whatever she'd altered, it accented high cheekbones and
made long lashes stand out.
Catching himself staring, he let a grin break free. "You look
good, Zoe."
She let out a light laugh as she unpacked her bags.
"Thanks. Running after these three has its benefits."
He glanced at the girls, chuckling when he caught them
whispering in a huddle. He could almost read trouble in their
bright expressions, hear it in their giggles.
"How have you been?"
"Good. The catering business keeps me busy. How have
you been? I hear you're raising Thoroughbreds?"
"Yeah. Trying to, at least."
Her dishes neatly aligned on the countertop, she dusted
her hands off and fixed him with a bright smile. "Let me
introduce you to your nieces."
"Please."
With the deftness of a mind reader, Zoe moved behind the
girl closest to her and swiftly snatched a cup of milk away
from the edge of the table. Passing the child the glass, she
set her hand on the girl's head. "This is Macey. She's my
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klutz. If you have something breakable around, don't leave it
where she can reach it."
Clint grinned. "All right. Noted."
Moving to the middle child, she set her hands on the girl's
shoulders. "This is Michaela. She's a bit like Jesse—I can't get
her into a dress to save my life."
At the reference, Clint couldn't hold in a short laugh. But
the thought gave way to Jesse in a skirt and heeled boots,
and his gut clamped down tight. She sure knew how to wear
one now.
Zoe stepped behind her third daughter and smoothed the
girl's long hair. "And this is Mia. She's my little princess."
Clint dipped his chin, acknowledging all three at the same
time. "Do you like horses?"
"Yes!" they cried in unison.
He looked to Zoe for approval as he asked, "Maybe your
mom will let me take you over to the barn to see mine before
I go back to Kentucky."
All three turned cherubic faces to their mother, bright eyes
pleading.
Zoe chuckled. "Of course. But not today. You're not
dressed for it."
"I have to run over and check on her real quick. When I
get back, ladies, we'll go into the front room and play a game
so your mom can work."
"Checkers! I wanna play checkers," Macey cried.
"We always play checkers," Michaela protested. "I want to
play Go Fish."
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"How about Chutes and Ladders, Uncle Clint? Gramma said
she bought it for us," Mia asked.
Clint chuckled. "If you eat a good breakfast, maybe we can
do all three."
Like he'd waved a magic wand, the triplets turned their
attention to their food and shoveled in a bite. He looked to
Zoe, shaking his head in amusement. "Adorable. My brother
produced that?"
Zoe flushed. She bobbed her head, and hurried back to the
countertop, her hands fluttering over the various dishes she'd
brought with her.
"I heard that," Alex remarked from the doorway.