A Holiday To Remember (13 page)

“It has been a good holiday.”

“Not only did we get a whole new family to love, but the impossible happened, Mom.” There Mia went, being a touch dramatic again, and also as sweet as pie. “You actually started liking a guy.
That’s
a miracle.”

Had it been that obvious? Debra unzipped her coat and hurried up the stairs after her daughter. She was so happy, she felt as if she could float up the steps like a helium balloon. Mia was right. Her life was changing. Her heart was changing, too. She’d come to Chestnut Grove expecting the worst. What she found was the best—and Jonah. Who knew where this would lead her next?

Well, God did. Why that thought reassured her, she couldn’t say, but she was glad for it as she heard Mia’s voice through the door, already chatting away to her aunt. Full of hope for the future, Debra opened the door and stepped inside.

Maybe it was the drive back home through the icy streets and the walk through the subzero temperatures from the parking lot to his front door, but reality was starting to edge in. Jonah turned the bolt and stepped through the threshold. He couldn’t stop thinking over the day and the woman he’d spent it with. The image of her with the snow falling all around her and sticking to the dark mane of her hair made him ache with disappointment too strong to stomach.

You don’t deserve her, man.

He dropped his keys and cell phone on the table behind the couch and noticed the face-up picture, in a simple black frame he’d made himself. The snapshot showed a company of force recon marines in base camp. He studied the grinning faces of his buddies in full gear. They’d been preparing for a mission. Their spirits had been high, but it had been early in the war. The gritty dust of the Iraqi desert hung in the air. After three years he could still taste it on his tongue and feel the film of it on his skin.

For one brief instant he was back in that long-ago moment. He could feel the jolly camaraderie. One thing recon marines had was the constitution to handle pressure. They’d been packing their gear and giving each other a hard time when Austin had pulled out his camera. They’d been men in their prime, well-trained and they knew it, and that confidence hung in the air like the dust. It was what he remembered most now. That optimistic, confident moment as he crowded in next to Benton, his best buddy, whom he’d failed.

His grief and guilt was so deep it was a sinkhole taking him down. There was no escape. He hung his head, lost. So lost.

He didn’t know how long he stood in the dark, but the shrill jingle of his phone brought him back. He snatched up the cordless receiver, still half in the past. “’Lo?”

“Jonah.” His mom’s voice, cheerful and loving and alive with goodness.

It made him feel all the places within his soul that weren’t. He cleared his throat, but the emotion was still there, sticking like peanut butter.

Mom chattered on, unaware. “I’ve been swamped with everything, but the Christmas Eve program is going to be inspiring this year, as always. I’ve been meaning to drop by and check on my boy.”

“I haven’t been a boy in a long time,” he told her, as he often did.

“I know, but you’re my son.” Love shone in her voice with unyielding confidence in him. “You didn’t return my calls. I’ve left
two
messages.”

“I know, I got ’em.” He rubbed at his forehead. A headache was building. “You need anything? I’m here to help.”

“I can always count on you.”

Jonah hung his head again, her words hitting him like a cluster bomb. His hand shook as he turned the picture of his company face down.

Mom, bless her, kept talking. “Now that we’ve got that new DVD player, I wanted to upgrade our Christmas movie because we’ve worn out our VCR tape. I can’t seem to make it to the video store, and when I ran errands and actually remembered to stop, they were out of stock. I’m enlisting you to run over to the bookshop to see if they have a copy.”

“It’s an easy mission.”

“What a relief. I’ve got more problems I need help with.” Mom didn’t sound overburdened or stressed, Jonah realized, but unusually chipper, even for her. “Especially one very upsetting one.”

“I can take care of it. What’s wrong?”

“My son has been seen all around town with a certain lovely young woman and he has told me nothing about it. Can you imagine such a thing?”

Uh-oh. That smile in Mom’s voice should have been a big, neon clue, but he’d missed it. Time to do damage control. “I didn’t tell you about Debra because there’s nothing newsworthy to tell.”

“You two aren’t dating?”

“What made you think we were? You were just hoping for it.” He wished he could hope for it, too. “Before you get all excited and start making plans—

“What kind of plans do you mean?”

How could the woman sound so innocent? Jonah wondered. “You know what I mean. Debra lives in another state.”

“Maryland. It’s only a few hours away. And she’s wonderful. I was just talking with Leah Cavanaugh and she loves her.”

Of course she does, Jonah thought as he crossed to the couch and dropped onto it. Who wouldn’t love Debra? He couldn’t imagine it, maybe because he was trying to keep away from using that word himself. Time for a diversionary tactic. “Hey, how’s the pageant prep coming along?”

But his mom was a sharp tack. “Nice try, big guy, but I’m not satisfied yet. My sources say you’ve been seen at the diner, at the drive-through, at the tree lot and walking down Christmas Lane with Debra and her daughter. That doesn’t sound casual to me.”

Forget diversionary tactics. His mom should run the CIA. “How do you manage to gather so much intel?”

Humor warmed her voice. “Oh, I have my sources. You know how it is. My secret informants. You haven’t answered my question.”

“Yep, and on purpose, too.” Jonah leaned forward and plugged in the lights. The bulbs on the tree flashed on, reminding him of Debra and how happy he’d felt when she was here with her daughter, filling his apartment with life and laughter, decorating the tree.

He had to be realistic where Debra was concerned. “I know you keep hoping I’ll settle down.”

“Hoping? I’m praying as hard as I can. You haven’t dated since you came back from the war. There are so many nice, available young women at our church, and nothing. Not one rumor has floated back to me about one single date. And then, suddenly, this. You know how that gets my hopes up for you. I want you to be happy, Jonah. I know what you went through over there and you deserve happiness.”

Happiness? That was the last thing he could be worthy of. The real killer was that he couldn’t tell his mom why. He’d never told anyone here the truth. He pressed the heel of his hand against his forehead, where his headache was building. “I’m content enough, Mom. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“Not worry about you? Why, it’s all I do. I see more than you think I do.”

His mother’s love was a given, and he could hear it now in her voice, erasing the miles between them but not the agony in his soul. He had to be clear—to his mom and to himself. “Debra and I are friends. That’s all. That’s all we can be.”

“You never know. Things have a way of changing. I hear she’s staying for Christmas Eve services. You could invite Ben and his family—all of his family—to sit with us.”

Jonah stared at the colorful flash of lights on the tree. Bright. Dark. Bright. Dark. A ball of emotion felt glued to the back of his Adam’s apple. He cleared his throat again. “Leave it alone, Mom, please.”

“You know I’m here for you. I’m eight minutes away. I can make it in six if you really want me to.”

Love, only love in those words. Agony tore through him, because he didn’t deserve it, he wasn’t worth it and, even knowing this, he ached for peace and a way to heal the impossible—all of that was hopeless. There would be no peace and no healing for him.

“No, Mom.” The words felt ripped from his throat. “Thanks. I love you for it, but no.”

“All right, I’ll stop pushing. But I’m going to send your dad over to check on you.”

“Not tonight, Mom. I’ve had a long day. I’m just tired.” He rubbed at his temples.

“Tomorrow, then. I love you no matter what, Jonah.”

More wounds to his soul. She didn’t know what she was really saying. He thought of the lives ended and families that were destroyed because of it—because of his failure—and he lost strength completely. Not even faith could comfort him or touch him.

“Good night, Mom. I’ll pick up the movie.” He heard his mom saying goodbye. He clicked off and let the phone drop from his fingers onto the couch.

The lights kept flashing. Dark. Bright. Dark. Like the flash of rockets across the Iraqi night sky, the flash of bright light and color seized him and yanked him back into memory. Into the scouring sand against his face as he lay stretched out, belly down in his ranger grave with the comfort of his M16, locked and loaded and ready to go. Ready to protect and defend.

Jonah felt the first concussion of the migraine and leaned forward to pull the plug on the Christmas lights. The lights died; darkness reigned. He knew these memories, newly triggered, would haunt him in his dreams tonight, where he would fight with all his strength to change the outcome and save lives; things that not even God could do.

It was going to be a long night.

D
ouglas slammed shut the front door so hard, it rang like a bullet crack in the quiet house. Pain shot through his head—he’d had too much fun last night. It wasn’t fair. He hadn’t even dressed for the day yet and already it sucked. For the second time this week, he’d been served legal papers. First the divorce documents and now the restraining order.

Rage roared through him as he tore the envelope and hurled it at the wall. He felt like hitting something, but his head hurt too much. He needed a couple of aspirin and plenty of coffee first. Then he’d deal with Lynda.

He grabbed the carafe of coffee from the station and poured a big cup. Who did she think she was, refusing his flowers? Blocking his phone calls and betraying him like this? She was his wife. She had no right denying him anything. A restraining order! No paper was going to tell him what to do with his own wife! He stormed through the house to the kitchen. This was all her fault. If she didn’t make him so mad, he wouldn’t lose his temper with her.

He angrily jabbed the carafe back on the burner. The morning news droned on the television in the family room. The words
Tiny Blessings
caught his attention. He carried his cup around the island so he could see the TV. A man with dark hair and a bit of stubble filled the screen. It was that investigator. Ross Van Zandt.

“—a major development in the adoption scandals has been discovered at the Tiny Blessings offices. A prominent Chestnut Grove family is involved. We will be handing over important evidence to the police after the holiday—”

What evidence?
The cup slipped from Douglas’s hand and crashed to the tile. Hot coffee splashed across his slippers. He was so angry the image on the plasma screen blurred. That nosy private eye! They must have found some documentation about Wendy. Douglas felt sure of it. He started to tremble. The pain in his skull ratcheted up a notch.

If the truth came out, he’d be ruined. Everything he’d worked for. All his plans. It would be over. He’d lose his national show, his local show, his cars, his house—everything. Fury roared through him like hot lava.

No woman was going to destroy his chances. He went in search of the aspirin bottle, banging through kitchen cabinets as he went. He had to get rid of this headache so he could work out a plan.

He could fix this. It wasn’t too late. He refused to fail. He would make sure there was no evidence. And without evidence that private eye and the cops couldn’t link him to Wendy. He’d be free. He’d have everything he wanted.

Douglas grabbed the bottle of aspirin from the cabinet above the stove and popped two onto his palm. He would outsmart Ross Van Zandt tonight. No scruffy private eye was going to be the downfall of The Douglas Matthews.

Possibilities. Debra felt the lightness of it as she impulsively pulled her SUV into an empty parking spot—a miraculous event in itself—in front of the little bookshop. She checked the clock—she had a few moments to spare before delivering the surprise lunch basket to Jonah, which she had packed and ready to go on the seat beside her.

As she buttoned up and stepped out into the glittering winter day, something Mia had said came back to her. Two busy days had passed by in a pleasant blur packed with Christmas shopping and baking with Leah. But even so, Debra could still hear her daughter’s words as clearly as they’d been spoken on the wonderful day spent with Jonah.
You could buy the bookstore and a house on that street where we could live happily ever after. You could even get married. I wouldn’t mind a baby sister, you know.

I wouldn’t mind those things either,
Debra thought. Those things were, in fact, the most precious dreams she could imagine. So precious she could only let herself hope for them a little. To shield herself from getting hurt, she realized as she picked her way through the snow and onto the sidewalk. Isn’t that how she’d been living her life ever since she’d taken Jeff’s abandonment and her mother’s criticism so hard?

A lightbulb moment. She would give that some thought later, she decided as she held open the front door for a young mother pushing a baby stroller, allowing herself to study the adorable baby boy with hope. There was so much she wanted for her life and for Mia’s and that hope buoyed her as she stepped into the shop and looked at it with new eyes.

It really was perfect. She took in the luster of the polished, beautifully crafted bookshelves stretching in neat rows, the children’s book section in the corner so colorful and inviting. She felt those buried dreams fill with optimism—and, yes, with faith.

“Oh, welcome back,” Pamela greeted from behind the register as she bagged up a customer’s purchase. “Please let me know if you need any help.”

“I do, when you get a chance.”

“Be right with you.”

Debra stayed close by but couldn’t resist browsing while the shop owner finished ringing up her sale. Pamela chatted away, she seemed to know everyone by their first names and many details about their lives. Debra supposed it would be a nice thing, not just to own a bookstore but to know the people who were regular customers. It was friendlier, somehow, a business with heart.

Could I really make a change like this?
Debra wondered as she noticed a small rack of movies set out in the holiday section. Could she quit her job and give up a very comfortable living for something less secure but, oh, so much more fulfilling?

She spotted a single copy of
It’s a Wonderful Life
and plucked it out of the little wire holder. This was the movie Jonah said was a holiday tradition for his family. She hadn’t watched it in years. The story had always touched her, a man who always worked hard to do the right thing for his family and for others, deferring his own dreams.

“Whew, we have a lot of last-minute shoppers.” Pamela broke into her thoughts. “What can I do for you?”

Her heart kicked into a staccato beat, and she felt as if she were standing on the edge of a bridge, looking down, afraid. She realized how very much she wanted this dream. “I was wondering about the For Sale sign in the window. How much does a business like this cost?”

“It’s not a business, but more.” Pamela’s kind eyes silvered with emotion. “I’m considering an offer right now, but I’m not happy with it. Are you interested in buying my store?”

“I don’t know, truthfully. I’m just asking on impulse.” A serious impulse. “I was hoping you could give me a ballpark figure. Are you looking for a cash offer? Or would you rather sell and carry the contract for tax reasons?”

“I’d like to carry the contract.” Pamela blinked hard to hold back her emotions. “My husband and I built this business side by side. I don’t want to sell the place to someone who wants the property and not the bookstore.”

The other offer, Debra imagined. “I’ve always wanted to own a shop like this. Full of love and care and personal touches.”

“Yes, that’s exactly the kind of offer I’m looking for.” Pamela lifted her glasses to swipe at her eyes. “I’m sorry, you must excuse me. As much as I’m looking forward to retirement with my dear husband, it means letting go of this place I’ve also loved so many years.”

“Believe me, I understand.” Debra saw a lifetime’s work in this place. A lifetime of helping friends, not customers. Of helping others find just the right gift or book to inspire them. She saw her dearest dream deferred, given up for her daughter’s sake. Was it something that she could have now, for Mia’s sake, too?

“I hear your family are book people.” Pamela pulled a tissue from her cardigan sweater’s pocket. “Christian publishers?”

“Yes. You carry our books.”

“Then make me an offer, if you’d like. I can give you my attorney’s card?”

“Please.” Debra was touched by the woman’s friendliness and followed her to the front desk. “I’d like to get this, too.”

“Oh, you got our last copy.” Pamela stepped behind the desk to work the register. “A last-minute Christmas gift?”

“Yes, it is.” Debra fished her credit card out of her purse and slid it onto the counter. “The perfect gift, too, I think.”

“Oh, isn’t that a good feeling? To give someone what you know is just right for them.” Pamela swiped the card and handed it back. “Can I ask who it’s for?”

“Jonah Fraser.” Debra wasn’t surprised when Pamela smiled as if she knew the man well.

“Such a nice one, that Jonah. He’ll appreciate this.” Pamela added a folded sheet of wrapping paper into the bag with the book. “I noticed you two together when you were in last. You make a nice couple.”

“Oh, we’re not—” Debra felt her face heat and knew she was blushing. “We’re just—”

“Oh, I know how it is.” Pamela’s eyes twinkled with understanding as she handed over the bag and a pen. “Please sign here and you’re ready to go.”

“Thank you.” Her signature was a little shaky on the credit slip, but other than that, she felt good, as if the pieces of her life were starting to fall into the right place. As if the past was no longer hurting her.

After tucking the gift out of sight, she drove the few blocks to the carpentry shop. She felt so light and free, that she sent a tentative prayer heavenward.
Please, let this dream come true.

She pulled into the parking lot and saw the window where she’d first set eyes on Jonah and added one more request.
Please, let the bigger dream for him come true, too.

A peace washed over her with such power she knew without a doubt that she’d been heard.

The crack of rifles and the burst of machine-gun fire peppered the desert night. Jonah froze and knelt as the missile traced overhead. In the dark of the moon his team waited as tooth-rattling explosions from the marine artillery hit like powerful blasts of thunder. The earth quaked beneath his boots hard enough to make his bones hurt, but he didn’t let the discomfort register. His attention was on the field ahead, a deceptive stretch of dried mudflats and shadowed patches of dried grass and stunted palms that looked silent and vacant.

He knew better. Just as he knew the nearly imperceptible pad behind him was his team member approaching like a shadow in the dark.

Benton knelt beside him, weapon ready, watching, too. They were always watching. Their search and rescue mission had turned into something tougher: the battle was coming their way. No explosives boys to clear the way. They had to move fast. They were running blind. He didn’t like it, but it wasn’t his call. He felt the telltale sharp increase of air pressure and called out, betraying his position. “Incoming!”

There was no time to do more than duck before the mortar hit. There was the boom as it struck. The blast of black smoke blotted out everything. It rained rock and sand. Adrenaline kicked through his veins as he felt every hair on his arms shiver and his teeth went numb. Just for a heartbeat. Then the next bang of mortar.

In the dark ahead, Jonah caught the sign from his XO. Their commanding officer was giving the go-ahead. He’d made it a meter into the field and held his position, ready to cover them. The whiz in the sky above warned of an incoming artillery shell, but he was already moving forward. With every tense step, he listened for any enemy movement in the bush and the near-silent pad of Benton at his side.

Mortar exploded closer, cratering the earth, blasting them with rock fragments. Burning sensations bit his left side. His mind told him he was hit, but he ignored it. He fought to stay on his feet. He heard the click, but realized it a second too late. One horrible second too late. Land mine, his brain rationalized, knowing it was Benton who’d triggered it. Then the white heat of light, the percussion blast and horror—

“Jonah?”

He heard his name, but the dream claimed him, holding him captive in time with death and brokenness all around him and Benton—

No, it can’t be true, his mind thought even as he knew Benton was gone. His best buddy since boot, his brother-in-arms.

“Jonah?”

It was Debra’s voice pulling out of the nightmare of war, of the failures he could not endure. Her voice guided him out of his shadows of grief and into the light of day. When his eyes opened, he found himself in the shop sitting up in the corner. The first thing he saw was the overwhelming love for him in her eyes.

Love. Unmistakable and real. She’d knelt onto the cement floor in her upscale jeans and the soft pink color of her sweater made her look as innocent and as sweet as a rose. Her fingertips brushed at the hair falling into his eyes. “Are you all right? Is there something I can do?”

“No.” He realized he must have drifted off. He felt groggy and nauseous. Looking around he realized he was holding the plans for Mia’s desk in his hands. He’d taken a break before starting on the next piece of furniture, now that the bed was finished, and that was the last thing he remembered.

“You were dreaming, Jonah. It looked like a terrible nightmare.”

He was too shaky to stand so he inched away from her and swiped his hand through his hair, undoing what she’d done. He was too embarrassed, ashamed and dull with grief to answer her. He needed fresh air. He needed to feel the icy winter’s wind against his face. He hated the sticky feel of failure and of regret big enough to land a jet on.

He stumbled to his nerveless feet. Disgrace. Dishonor. Both weighed on his heart. The shrapnel had struck more than flesh and bone. It was still wedged in his soul.

“Jonah?” She was coming after him.

He threw open the back door, breathed in the cold air and let the snow numb him until he could feel nothing—no guilt, no grief, no shame. Until he could no longer hear the silence that came after the rocks finished falling with no survivors directly around him. Until he could no longer remember the vibration of another mortar strike and the rat-tat-tat of a firefight across the dry riverbed.