Blessings of the Season (10 page)

A car pulled up behind him. Lights flashed blue, and the door opened. A young cop, tall and cautious, got out of the car. Chad reached into his back pocket for his license.

He was ready for the officer, but the guy didn't take the paperwork. “I don't need those. I saw you sitting here and thought you might need help. There's a garage down the street.”

Ed's Garage where Isabelle worked three days a week, changing oil and fixing small mechanical problems.

Chad read the guy's name tag and smiled, because he felt like he knew the people in this town, thanks to Isa…No, thanks to Lizzie's letters.

“Thank you, Officer Blackhorse. I'm fine—just needed a minute to think. Is there a hotel in this town?”

A hotel? Why would he do that? He could drive on to Florida, where his parents had moved last year. He could visit a buddy in Colorado. He was forty, retired, and he could go anywhere. Why would he stay here, in a town where he didn't know a soul? Okay, he knew two souls, but didn't really know them.

“You okay?” Officer Blackhorse leaned closer, peering into the truck, surveying the contents. He looked relaxed, but Chad noticed that his right hand remained on his weapon.

“I'm fine.” He pulled off his hat and tossed it onto the seat next to him. He might as well tell Jay, the guy that had recently gotten married to the waitress, Lacey Gould. Chad actually had pictures of the officer's wedding. “I got played by a kid. I've been getting letters from a woman, but they were letters from her
daughter. I think it might have been an attempt at matchmaking.”

“Lizzie Grant?” Jay Blackhorse grinned.

“That's the one. I wanted to meet the woman behind the letters.”

“Cute kid, but a little feisty. Isabelle has her hands full. That girl is her life, though.”

“So I should leave town?” Chad looked down the main street of Gibson. A truck with a lift bucket had stopped by a light pole, and a city worker was stretching Christmas lights across the street. It had been three years since he'd had a real Christmas.

“I wouldn't leave if I wanted to stay.” Officer Blackhorse rubbed the back of his neck and followed Chad's glance to the street ahead of them, the stores, the cars lined up in parking spaces. “If you're looking for a temporary residence, there's a bed-and-breakfast, the Pine Tree Inn. If you want permanent, I have a house for rent in the country. And there are places to buy.”

“Why don't you direct me to that bed-and-breakfast, and then maybe we can get together and talk about the house in the country.”

He was retired. He wanted to have some land, a few horses, some cattle. He'd been dreaming this dream for three years.

“Directions. I can do that.” Jay pulled a pen and a small tablet out of his pocket. “Here's the address and directions to the Pine Tree. And my phone number if you need anything.”

“Thank you, Officer Blackhorse. I'll be seeing you around.”

“I'm sure you will. Oh, and if you need a meal, the Hash-it-Out Diner and the convenience store down on the corner of Main and Highway 15 are about the only places in town.”

Chad nodded and started his truck. Jay Blackhorse backed away from the truck, still grinning. Chad waved as he pulled out of the parking lot.

He was staying in Gibson. He couldn't explain why. Maybe because he didn't have another plan. Maybe because of dark brown eyes and a winter sky that looked heavy with snow. And he hadn't seen snow in a long time.

I
sabelle tied the apron around her waist and took another sip of the cola she'd poured when she arrived for work. Jolynn, owner of the Hash-it-Out, slipped behind her and into the waitress station, mumbling about the waitress who hadn't refilled the ketchup bottles before she took off on some hot date.

“She's young.” Isabelle defended the waitress, feeling lighthearted in spite of her daughter's huge mistake coming to light. A year of letters, starting last Christmas. Only a few, Lizzie had assured her. Because they had written to soldiers for a school project the previous year, and Chad had written back to her, sounding a little sad, a little lonely.

“What's up with you today?” Jolynn lifted the big ketchup container and started to pour ketchup through a plastic funnel into the squeeze bottles that they kept on the tables.

“Nothing.” How did she admit that a man had shown up on her doorstep?

“Oh, honey, I've seen that scrunch between your brows before. That isn't a sign of nothing. That's a sign of…” Jolynn grinned. “That's a sign that your daughter has been up to something. I love that girl. What did she do this time?”

Isabelle covered her face with her hands and shook her head, trying not to laugh…and not to cry. “Am I really so pathetic, Jolynn?”

“Well, honey, not in my book. But I imagine if you tell me the story, it'll make sense from the perspective of a twelve-year-old.”

“She's been writing to a soldier and signing my name.”

“Now, isn't that sweet. That isn't so bad, is it?”

“He showed up today.”

Jolynn's mouth opened, as if she had planned to say “Oh,” but nothing came out. Her eyes widened, and then her chest heaved a little. Laughter bubbled up from the older woman, and tears trickled down her cheeks. She set the ketchup bottle down and wiped her eyes with the corner of her apron.

“Oh, Isabelle, that's about the funniest thing yet. I do love that girl.”

“You would take her side. Jolynn, I can't let this go. I mean, I know she did it because she loves me and she thought it would be romantic.” And in a way, it was. If she hadn't been embarrassed—no, mortified—she might have been touched. “She needs to be grounded or something.”

“I'm sure she's sorry.”

“Not as sorry as she should be.”

The cowbell over the door clanged. Isabelle slipped an order pad in the pocket of her apron and grabbed a glass of water.

“Take care of the customer. I'll figure this out,” Jolynn said as she went back to pouring ketchup.

“Come up with something good. I'm at the end of my rope with that girl.”

“I'll come up with something good. And I'll keep her busy working, and that'll keep her out of trouble.”

Jolynn winked as Isabelle turned and walked out of the waitress station.

It really did take a village to raise a child. Isabelle smiled at the thought, because the town of Gibson had loved them and cared for them since Lizzie's birth. The child had more aunts, uncles and grandparents than any other child Isabelle knew.

She headed for the table by the window. The customer looked up, and Isabelle stopped. She didn't groan, but she wanted to. Chad smiled and dipped his head in greeting. That smile was dangerous. He shouldn't be allowed to do that in public, not in the presence of unsuspecting women.

“Isabelle.” He put the menu down. “What do you recommend?”

Leaving town was an option, but she didn't say it, just smiled at the thought. “Depends on what you like. I love Jolynn's cashew chicken. Other people like chicken-fried steak.”

“I'll have the cashew chicken. No cashews. I'm allergic.”

“Got it. One chicken and rice.”

“I'm really sorry about today. I guess I shouldn't have just shown up like that, knocking on your door without warning.”

“I'm not sure how you could have made the situation any better. And I'm the one who has to apologize, for what Lizzie did.”

“Don't. She was great, trying to help two people, you and me. Sweet girl.”

“Yes, sweet and sneaky.”

“You said she…” He stopped and shook his head. “Nope, that was her, telling me she's a beautiful dancer.”

It was funny, Isabelle couldn't deny that, and she even laughed. Her daughter didn't mind tooting her own horn. “Yes, she's a dancer, and really quite talented. She wants to…”

“Wants to what?”

“Nothing. I'll put this order in.” She turned away from him, because he wasn't a friend or someone she knew. He was a stranger who had shown up on her doorstep. A stranger who knew things about her life. How much did he know?

Heat crawled up her cheeks again.

“Hey, before you leave, I wanted to tell you, she didn't mean to hurt either of us.”

Isabelle turned. Lizzie had hurt him. She hadn't thought about it like that, about him being hurt by the letters. What had he expected to find when he came to Gibson?

“No, she didn't mean to hurt anyone.”

“Good, I'm glad you agree. Oh, I was told that the owner of this café, Jolynn, has a B and B with a vacant room.”

Isabelle started to laugh. Of course the inn had vacancies—it was in Gibson. Who came here? Sometimes families in town had company and no extra beds. That was about it.

“Yes, she has vacancies. I'll send her out.”

Jolynn was waiting inside the waitress station. As Isabelle rounded the corner and slipped past her, the owner of the Hash-it-Out was leaning against the counter, fanning herself with an order pad. “Wow.”

“Stop.” Isabelle poured a cup of coffee for their customer.

“Honey, you don't need to punish that girl of yours. You need to give her a medal for bringing that man to town. If you aren't interested, I can tell you someone will be kissing him under the mistletoe before the month is over.”

“He wants to talk to you.” Isabelle lifted the order. “I'm taking this to the kitchen.”

As she walked away, she was imagining him under the mistletoe, and it wasn't a stranger in his arms. She shook off the vision. She really needed to stop watching those movies.

 

Jolynn was a motherly woman with her hair dyed light blond, and coral lipstick that framed her smile, making it bigger and brighter. Chad could see why everyone in the community loved her, including Lizzie. Because it was Lizzie who had written the glowing things about her mother's employer.

Jolynn helped them through rough times, brought them to her home for Christmas and never let them eat Thanksgiving dinner alone. Instead she had a big dinner
at the restaurant for people who didn't have a family to gather with.

One more thing he had loved about Gibson, as he had compared it to his childhood and the many times it had been just his mom, his siblings and himself, eating dinner and waiting for his dad to call.

When Chad had picked the military as a career, he had made a decision not to marry. He had kept his heart intact by never dating a woman more than a few times, never letting himself really get to know her.

The letters from Lizzie, letters about Isabelle and her daughter, had been the longest relationship of his life.

He hadn't really thought about it as a relationship before, but now he realized that he knew more about her than he knew about anyone else, except maybe the guys in his unit. As an officer, he had known a lot about his men, their families, the problems they faced. No one had really known him. Until he had shared his dreams with a girl who wasn't Isabelle Grant.

He had shared that he hadn't really known his dad.

Isabelle had shared that Lizzie had never known her father. She had encouraged him to talk to his dad. He was forty, and a twelve-year-old posing as her mother had done that for him, because she would have loved the chance to know her dad, to talk to him just once.

He leaned back in his chair, still holding his coffee cup, not really thinking about where he was, or who was watching.

“Hey, soldier, how's that coffee?” Jolynn sat down across from him like she'd known him his entire life.

“It's great coffee, thank you.”

“Well, that's good to know. I like a good cup of coffee, myself. Now, how can I help you?”

“I'm looking for a place to stay, maybe a month or so. I'm not sure yet…”

“Not sure where you're going to land?”

“Exactly. But I do like the idea of spending Christmas in Gibson.”

“It's a good place to spend the holidays. Or even to stay for a lifetime.” She winked and poured more coffee from the pot she had carried out with her. “Don't get in a big hurry. Just pray and let the Good Lord guide you.”

“I'm not in a hurry.” He leaned back in his chair. “I guess, for the first time in years, I've got nowhere to go.”

“Sometimes a person needs that.” She smiled, her eyes so kind he felt like he could tell her anything. For a guy who never told anyone anything, that was a strange moment.

“Yeah, it isn't so bad.”

“I have a nice suite that I think you'd be comfortable in. Before you leave, I'll give my husband a call and have him meet you over there so he can let you in.”

“Does it have a kitchen?”

“Oh, no, but I provide breakfast here at the restaurant every morning, and you can help yourself to whatever is in the fridge. I don't mind if you cook something up, either. As long as you clean it up when you're done.”

Who did that? Chad now knew the answer: Jolynn. She opened her home and obviously her heart up to strangers. And hopefully no one would ever take advantage of that fact.

The kitchen door opened, and Isabelle walked
through the swinging double doors. She paused, holding a plate that steamed. Her dark hair was held back in a clip, and the black apron was hitched low on her hips.

Isabelle, a foster child who had married a boy she met in a group home and then was widowed before her daughter's birth. That was one of the things he knew about her. But it wasn't something she'd told him. Now everything that he knew felt like whispered secrets that she hadn't shared. The pink in her cheeks was understandable.

He felt that thud of letdown, because he had really thought they would be friends, that they were already well on their way to friendship. And now she was a stranger.

“Here's your supper.” She held the plate and carried a pitcher of water. “Did you get things worked out with Jolynn?”

Her employer stood, and as Isabelle put the plate down in front of him, Jolynn slid an arm around her shoulders and gave her a light squeeze. Chad wondered how long it took a person to become a part of this community. He had a feeling it took about five minutes.

“We worked it out,” Jolynn answered. “Oh, and I forgot to invite Chad to the Christmas program at the firehouse this Sunday night.”

“The first Sunday of the month,” Chad finished for her. He had purposely shown up in town this week because he didn't want to miss that program.

“Yes, of course you know that.” Jolynn filled his cup again. “And church is at eleven on Sunday morning.”

She hurried away, leaving him alone with Isabelle, who shifted from foot to foot, her gaze not connecting with his.

“I'll have you over for dinner some night,” she offered. “We should do something to make this up to you.”

“You don't have to. It was all an innocent mistake. One Christmas letter and a chain of events. No big deal. It did bring me here, and this is a little bit of what I've been looking for.” Maybe his entire life.

“I know, but I do feel bad.”

He didn't want her to feel bad. He wanted her to be a friend. “Okay, if it'll make you feel better. I heard you make a great roast.”

“Lizzie.” She sighed, but then she nodded. “Okay, roast it is.”

Chad watched her walk away and then dug into the chicken and rice, as she'd called his cashew chicken without the cashews. And he thought about Sunday and how wrong it was for him to pursue this relationship. Worse, he kept thinking that he didn't want to wait until Sunday to see her again.