A Home for Christmas (28 page)

“Neither can I,” she confessed.

On closer inspection, she noticed that dark smudges stained the skin below his eyes. The angles of his handsome face seemed more defined. Starker. “What brought you back?”

She read the look in his eyes, and it said he was almost afraid of her answer. Still, he waited for her response.

“My uncle. I promised I'd come to Christmas Eve services with him. He reminded me of that today.”

“You promised me Christmas, too.”

“You said you loved me, but at the first test of that love, you betrayed my trust.”

He squeezed his eyes shut and glanced up at the angel monument. “I know.”

The whispered words sounded like they'd been torn from him.

“How could you have accused me of such a horrible thing? What did I ever do to make you mistrust me so?”

“Nothing.” He glanced back at her. The hopelessness in his eyes spoke to her soul. “I let old hurts make me doubt I could have a love of my own.”

“What are you talking about?”

He shoved his hands in his pockets and brushed his foot across the dead grass. “Cory spoiled most of my past relationships. He made it his mission to steal away every woman I ever cared for. Not because he wanted them, but because he could.”

“I see. So, you're saying you thought I was the type of person whose head could be turned by an attractive, married man.”

“No, I didn't believe that of you, but I didn't trust Cory.”

She continued as if he hadn't spoken. “Not to mention you thought me the kind of woman who could be, how did you put it? Stolen away?”

“I know it's no excuse, but at the time, I let anger get hold of me. Thinking straight wasn't on my list of priorities.”

“You should have trusted me.”

“I know. I've gone over it a hundred times in my head, and every time, I feel like such a fool. You were the best thing that ever happened to me, and I let my insecurities where Cory was concerned ruin everything.”

He took her hand in his. Squeezed it. When she looked up into his eyes and saw the raw pain there, naked and exposed, she knew she was lost.

“I'm so sorry, Janice. I don't expect you to forgive me, but still, I'm praying you will. I love you.” He put his hand over his heart. “I love you so much it hurts. I swear, if you give me a second chance, I'll spend the rest of my life proving it to you.”

She wanted to believe him, but the agony she'd lived in the past few days held her forgiveness in its grasp. “Blake, I'm a doctor. That isn't going to change. I interact with a lot of people. Male and female. I can be out until all hours of the night, and there will be times when you won't know where I am, who I'm with, or what I'm doing. Trust is crucial.”

“I know what you do is important. I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make this work. I'm not saying things will always be perfect. I'm human enough to want you all to myself every now and then, but I understand that won't always be possible. I may not like you having to go out in the middle of the night—”

“But I'll still go,” she interjected.

“I know.”

Strain pulled at the hard angles of his handsome face. He loved her. He really loved her. In a thousand lifetimes, she'd never find another man like Blake.

She chewed on her lower lip. “You know, you could come with me some of the time.” She saw the hope flair in his eyes. “You did make a pretty good assistant.”

He managed a weak smile. “Who knows, with practice, I could be first-rate.”

Janice stepped forward and framed his face with her hands. She smoothed away the tension around his eyes and mouth with her thumbs, then pressed her lips to his. Blake's arms came around her so tightly she struggled to breathe.

After a moment, Blake asked, “Can you forgive me for actin' like a fool?”

“If you can forgive me for making you work so hard to prove yourself to me.”

Blake just laughed. As they kissed again, the church bells chimed midnight. When the sound of the last bell echoed and settled into the stillness of the quiet town, they broke the kiss. Snowflakes fell from the sky, enveloping them in the soft hush of the first snow, blanketing the moment in magic.

“You're my Christmas wish come true, Janice Thornton.”

“You're my one and only love, Blake Ferguson.”

His smile at her profession warmed the heart she thought had shriveled and died a week ago. She wondered how it was possible to feel so much without shattering into a million glittering pieces.

“I have something for you.”

He took a step back and dropped to one knee in the snow. Janice pressed her fingertips to her lips, but was helpless to keep the tears at bay when he pulled a small, velvet box from his coat pocket. He opened it, and a perfect emerald cut diamond sparkled from a beautiful, simple platinum setting.

“Janice Thornton, will you make me the happiest man in Angel Ridge by becoming my wife?”

“Yes,” she whispered through the tears. “Oh, yes.”

He removed the ring from the box and slipped it on her finger. It was a perfect fit. He took her hand in both of his and kissed the ring.

Janice tugged at his hands until he stood before her again. She laced her fingers behind his neck, smiling her happiness up at him.

“How soon will you marry me?” he asked.

“I'd marry you now if it were possible, but I guess New Year's Eve will have to do.”

He kissed her again. “I can't think of a better way to start the year.”

After another breathtaking kiss, he asked, “Where will we live?”

Janice smiled. She'd dreamed all her life of having a home like the one her grandparents had lived and loved in, but looking up into Blake's eyes and seeing the love shining back at her, she said the only thing she could. “Now and forever, my home will be wherever you are.”

As they kissed, the angel sitting atop the tree in Town Square lit up much like the glow of love shining in their hearts. Janice didn't even question it. Like Miss Estelee had said, Christmas in Angel Ridge is a time of miracles.

Epilogue

I'm sorry. Pardon me while I blow. I cry every time I hear that story. It took those two so long to find love that when they finally did, I think the angels on high sang
The Hallelujah Chorus.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Okay. I think I can continue now.

Janice and my brother, Blake, married early in the morning on New Year's Eve. It was a beautiful outdoor wedding up in the tall pines with Christmas snow still on the ground. The bride wore a stunning white cashmere pantsuit and a white, full-length fur that belonged to her grandmother. The Doc gave it to her for Christmas. Blake stood tall and handsome beside her with Cory at his side as best man and me standin' up for Janice as maid of honor. Doc Prescott gave the bride away. They drove away in a sleigh led by two of the finest white horses you ever saw. Yep, drove straight to the diner for the wedding reception to end all wedding receptions, with me doin' all the cooking, of course.

I got everything I wanted for Christmas this year. My best friend, Susan? Her cancer is in remission. The doctors won't say she's cured, but I say miracles happen every day, and no one's arguing with me. And then there's Blake. He found the woman of his dreams, and after an extended honeymoon to the Caribbean, the couple is living in the old Prescott place that Blake so lovingly restored.

The bride is Angel Ridge's new town doctor, but Doc Prescott still comes in two days a week to give her more time for her family. And, of course, he'll be back in the saddle while she's out on maternity leave.

That's right. Sometime next fall, the population of Angel Ridge will increase by two new Fergusons. Janice and Bebe are both expecting about the same time.

We'd all do well to remember this wise saying.
A fool loves where he lives, but a wise man simply loves.
That's the gospel according to Dixie.

I hope you enjoyed the holidays in Angel Ridge. I know we sure enjoyed havin' you. Come back any time now, hear?

My Christmas Angel

A Story of Angel Ridge

Angel Ridge, Tennessee

Christmas Eve, 1883

I smoothed my hands over the soft, red velvet dress Grandma had made me, admiring my reflection in the dresser mirror. It fit perfectly and had transformed a school girl into a poised young woman.

“Mary! Let’s go. We’re late!”

“Coming, Mama.” I took a deep breath, trying desperately to slow my pounding heart.

Moments later, wrapped in our warmest coats, we all climbed into the wagon and settled in for the short ride to the church. My mind raced with possibilities as snow flakes swirled about my head. Would he be there? Seated with his parents in the back pew just like he had been every year since I could remember?
Please God
, I prayed,
I have to find a way to meet him this year.

Christmas Eve was the only time he and his family ever came to church. I didn’t know who they were and didn’t dare ask. He was too special to even speak of. I secretly called him my Christmas angel. Sometimes I wondered if I hadn’t conjured him up every year, right out of my imagination . . . my hopes . . . my dreams.

Because we always sat in the third pew from the front, one good look at him was all I ever got. Last year, while the preacher was going on with one of his typical long prayers, I turned around to steal a look at my angel. All I caught was Mama’s sharp elbow in my ribs. I swear, that woman has eyes clear around her head. Even on her eyelids!

When our wagon at last rolled to a halt in front of the church, winking candles in the windows invited us to come worship. But I had other things on my mind. My hands began to shake when my brother helped me down, and I nearly fainted as a cold breeze stole my breath. Somehow, I made it all the way to the front porch. Papa held the door as Mama walked inside, but my feet seemed frozen in place when I heard the organ music filter out into the crisp, winter night air.

“Mary?”

“I . . . I . . . “

“Close the door,” Mama said sternly. “You’re letting all the warm air out.”

I had to do something quick. I didn’t want this Christmas Eve to be like all the rest. “I . . . left my Bible . . . in the wagon.”

“I’ll get it, honey.” Papa patted my gloved hand. “You come on inside where it’s warm.”

“No! I mean, I’ll get it.” I dashed off before Papa had a chance to argue. Of course, my Bible wasn’t in the wagon. I had to go in by myself, or I’d be doomed to only another brief glimpse of my angel as Mama ushered me to her pew.

Had he ever paid me any mind as I made my way up the aisle with my parents each year? Probably not. I must have seemed like a child to his older eyes. But tonight would be different. I was a woman now, almost eighteen, and nearly finished with school. He’d notice me in my new red velvet dress that Grandma said brought out the color of my hair and eyes like never before.

Leaving my coat in the wagon, I hurried back to the church. I hid from Mama’s searching eyes just outside the sanctuary doors. The choir softly hummed
Silent Night
as Miss Ruth made her way to the front of the stage for her solo. Miss Ruth had the best voice of anybody, and I knew when she started singing, no one would see me slip in. I’d have scant time to put my plan in motion, which was good. That way, I wouldn’t have time to change my mind.

I slid into the little space at the end of the pew, right beside my Christmas angel. He seemed surprised, then scooted over to make room. I shivered, not from cold, mind you, but from at last catching his attention.

The heavenly chorus surely was smiling on Miss Ruth, for her voice reached every corner of the candle-lit room, filling it with that special glow only a Christmas carol can bring. Or maybe it was my angel, so close that I could feel his warmth, smell his clean scent. I chanced another look at him then, and stopped breathing. He had the unearthly beauty of an archangel who'd just left the presence of the Almighty. His long golden hair hung in silken waves to his shoulders. And when his clear blue eyes met mine, the tender look he gave me went straight to my heart.

For an endless moment we stared at each other, then he smiled hesitantly and shifted his gaze back to the cap crushed between his hands. I trained my eyes on Miss Ruth and took a shaky breath. Two things registered: he’d smiled at me; and he was alone. In fact, there wasn’t a single person nearby. The church was always filled to capacity on Christmas Eve. But tonight, it was as if God had dropped two empty pews between the Joneses’ six squirming kids and the last row where we sat.

As Miss Ruth began another verse, he leaned toward me and whispered, “Why aren’t you sitting with your parents?”

Unable to come up with a proper answer, I asked a question of my own. “Why aren’t you?”

His focus returned to the cap, which he had wrung into a mangled line. “They died . . . back in the summer.”

“I’m sorry.” Without thought, I reached out and covered his hand with mine.

His cap fell to the floor as he enfolded my fingers in a warm, tight grip. “Will you come out with me, Mary?” he asked softly as Miss Ruth launched into the third verse.

“Now?” Lordy, Mama surely would see the two of us sneaking out the back like a couple of thieves. I looked up to where she sat with Papa, my brothers and my sister. They seemed to be in some kind of trance. As did everyone else, I realized suddenly as I looked around. Even the Jones children had ceased their fidgeting. Except for Miss Ruth, the entire congregation remained perfectly still.

He stood, and I did as well. We moved soundlessly through the doors into the still night. Strange, I thought, it wasn’t nearly as cold now as it had been earlier. I didn’t even feel the need to fetch my coat from the wagon.

He took my hand and placed it in the bend of his arm as we walked toward the deserted town square. Though a layer of snow crunched beneath our feet, the flakes had stopped falling. I looked up to a sky filled with more stars than I had ever seen in my life, and thanked God for suspending the snow and replacing the dark, gray cold with an ideal night.