Christmas Wishes...Special Delivery (2 page)

“That’s right, sweetheart.” Ruth patted Rosie’s head. “So, we’re Santa’s helpers. That’s pretty special, don’t you think?”

“Yeah.” Rosie gathered a handful of dog treats in her tiny fist. “But, how will we have the party at the shelter if it snows so hard?”

Kaylee sighed. She wished there was no need for animal shelters and that every dog and cat had a home where they were loved. She wished the same for people…that everyone had a safe place to call home and a family who loved them. No one should be alone in the world. Even so, sometimes she feared that, at twenty-eight and having gone years without so much as a single attraction to any of the eligible men in town, she was destined to become the eccentric spinster on the hill who lived by her lonesome and owned a million cats. She certainly wasn’t on the path to marriage. That path required dating, and she hadn’t cared for any man since Riley…he’d ruined her for that.

Anyway, she’d take all the abandoned animals in a heartbeat, if she could. But the fact that she and Rosie resided in the modest guest house at the far side of the meadow meant there was little room for the addition of animals in their close quarters. They barely had room themselves, yet Kaylee was thankful for the space she and Rosie called home. If it weren’t for Ruth’s kindness, they may very well be out on the street. “We’ll find a way, even if I have to cross-country ski into town with you on my shoulders.”

“That’s funny, Mom. And when did you start skiing?”

“I haven’t—ever. But I’ll give it a go tomorrow if I have to.”

Rosie giggled. “Where would you get the skis?”

“I…um…I’ll fashion them out of those cardboard boxes.” She motioned to the cartons the Chinese takeout containers had come in. “They’ll work.”

“They’d get all wet.” Rosie’s blonde hair bobbed as she shook her head. “That’s silly, Mom.”

“Not as silly as having a Christmas tea party for homeless canines and kittens, but it works for us, right?”

“And for the shelter,” Ruth added. “It needs the donations to keep things operating for those poor little guys, and to hopefully heighten awareness and find the animals homes.”

“’Cause the animals are counting on us, right?” Rosie nestled the handful of the canine cinnamon buns into a container before closing the flap and reaching for one of the ruched satin bows Kaylee had fashioned.

“That’s right.” Kaylee took the bow, fastened it to the container’s thin metal handle. “All of Moose’s friends.”

“Is that where Moose came from, Miss Ruth?”

“It certainly is…” Ruth’s rheumy-green eyes glazed over with memories, her look listing faraway for the slightest moment. “Jacob and I adopted him more than a decade ago.”

“How long is a decade?” Rosie’s lips bowed with the question.

“Ten years.”

“Tell me the story again, Miss Ruth, about how you and Gramps found Moose.” Rosie glanced up from the box she filled, her blue eyes wide with wonder. “And then you brought him home to Mr. Riley, who became his bestest friend in the whole, wide world. I love that story.”

“I love that story, too,” a deep, male voice murmured from the hallway, like a low, murky whisper from the past.

Kaylee’s head snapped up at the unexpected sound. One palm splayed across her chest as she drew in Riley Harper’s dark hair and even darker, russet eyes as he leaned against the door jamb. His jaw, shadowed with a hint of beard, clenched into a tight, powerful line as the breath rushed out of her. Barely able to speak, she murmured, “Oh my…Riley!”

“Kaylee.” A veil covered his eyes, guarded and careful, which brought a wave of horrible memories rushing back. Her father…Riley’s mother…the horrible accident that altered the course of everything. “This is certainly unexpected. I need a minute here, to catch up.”

“I suppose I do, as well.” Kaylee’s heart stammered while the satin bow slipped from her clammy fingers. She remembered Riley’s mom…her laughing blue eyes and quick smile and wondered once again what it was like for her in her final moments, as river water swirled into her submerged car and she struggled to cry out for help, to even breathe. And Kaylee thought of her father…how could he be the cause of such a travesty and then simply drive off? The questions, buried for years now, resurfaced to strangle her like a noose.

Suddenly she felt like a stranger to Riley, an intruder in the house where she’d been welcomed as family for the past year…for nearly her entire life, truth be known. She shifted feet, crossing her arms over her chest as the doorway filled with the height and breadth of him. Riley had always been strong, powerful, but the years had chiseled his features similar to one of the bronze statues she’d observed in museums.

“I never imagined...” Riley stepped into the kitchen, confusion riddling his dark, brooding features. That’s how Kaylee had thought of him in the months before he left Maple Ridge—dark and brooding, as if the light inside him had dimmed to a nearly nondescript ember. He turned to Ruth, nodded, and with the next word, his voice melted to butter. “Gran…”

“Is it really you?” Ruth rushed around the table to gather him in. Riley dwarfed her by a full foot and as she hugged him, he rested his chin on the crown of her head. For the slightest moment, Kaylee watched light flicker through him, like a brilliant power surge. Her heart pitched as she wondered if maybe, somehow, they might find their way through the murky, painful past and move forward into the future—together. Then, just as quickly, the radiance faded, and Kaylee feared he’d never forgive her, though what had happened was hardly her fault. It had hurt both of them deeply, and forged a fortress between them that had only seemed to fortify itself over the years. Yet she missed him—missed the friendship they’d once shared.

“You said you couldn’t come until summer—spring at the earliest. That’s still months away.”

“I was able to tie up the loose ends on my case, so I thought I’d head this way before the next round snares me.” He nodded toward the window over the sink, and Kaylee watched the sky begin to spit huge, sloppy flakes. “Storm’s moving in and I wanted to beat it. I hope it’s OK that I surprised you.”

“Oh, it’s more than OK.” Ruth pressed a hand to his face and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Oh, how I’ve missed you. This is the most wonderful surprise yet!”

“I never expected to walk in on this.” The softness fled from Riley’s voice as he disentangled himself from Ruth and turned to Kaylee. He reached for one of the canine treats while his gaze narrowed at her in what could only be described as raw scrutiny. “What’s going on here? What are
you
doing here? I didn’t see a car.”

“We’re renting the guesthouse.” Kaylee’s lips quivered as she motioned to Rosie. The shock of seeing Riley again, the way his eyes, like two dark stones, swept over her as his mouth bowed into a frown, turned her pulse to a pounding base drum. “Well, sort of renting it.” Since Jacob had passed on, she wasn’t sure what would happen as far as her living arrangements went. Neither she nor Ruth had broached the subject—yet. Just the thought of having to vacate the guesthouse sent little shivers of dread up Kaylee’s spine. She cleared the painful knot from her throat to continue. “And, today we’re helping Ruth with a holiday project—a fundraiser for the animal shelter.”

Rosie wiggled along the chair’s seat, sidling close in at Kaylee’s hip. She tugged at the hem of Kaylee’s blouse. “Mom, is this the Riley who’s friends with Moose?”

“It…it is.”

“The one who gave you those yellow flowers when you were younger, the ones you stuck between the pages of that Bible on your dresser?”

“Rosie, hush!” Kaylee spun, shook a finger sharply at her niece as a vision of the marigolds, once brilliant as summer sun, rushed to mind. “That’s private.”

“Just askin’.” Rosie’s lips dipped into a pout as her eyes clouded with tears, and a stab of guilt pierced Kaylee. She had no right to take such a sharp tone over the child’s innocent question.

“I’m sorry, honey.” She gathered Rosie close, stroked her cheek. “Yes, Riley gave me those marigolds.”

“Is that what they were called…marigolds?” Riley’s voice drifted while his gaze brightened with a flicker of recognition. “You kept them?”

Kaylee shrugged. Her cheeks flamed as Riley snatched a second warm treat from the table. “I—”

“Don’t eat that!” Rosie turned and pushed back from Kaylee, her startled gaze drinking in Riley as he bit off a piece of the canine cinnamon bun and began to chew. “It’s—” She burst into giggles, pressing a palm to her tiny mouth as he swallowed. “—a doggie treat.”

2

“Good grief.” Riley raced to spit into the sink. He tossed what was left of the treat into the trash can and, without bothering to get a cup, flipped on the cold water and dipped his mouth beneath the stream, gulping enough to wash what was left of the crumbs down his throat. “You might have mentioned that before I took a bite.”

“It won’t hurt you.” Kaylee’s laughter mingled with the kid’s giggles. “It’s made of ‘people’ ingredients—whole wheat flour and salt and eggs, honey and cinnamon—nothing too unpalatable.”

“Not much consolation.” Riley straightened and grabbed a wad of paper towels. “Thanks for the newsflash, though.”

He tried his best not to look at Kaylee as he lobbed the towels into the trash and headed toward the coffeemaker. He hadn’t expected this—hadn’t expected
her
. Her hair was longer than he remembered, spilling over her shoulders in waves of sunlit honey. Her eyes, wide and warm, were two aquamarine jewels nestled above cheekbones that framed full, glossed lips.

He’d sampled those lips once…twice if truth be told. But that had been years—a virtual lifetime—ago.

Riley forced the thought away just as another swept in. She’d kept his flowers.

“I’ll make a fresh pot of coffee.” Gran came up behind him, her sort of waddle-step a clear indication of progressing arthritis. He wondered how she’d managed to care for Gramps on her own for the past year. She’d mentioned someone was living in the guesthouse, but had neglected to say it was Kaylee. Had she omitted that fact because she thought he’d object? He had a right to, in any case, but he’d address that with her later. “That carafe’s a few hours old.”

“It’s fine.” Riley gathered a mug from the cabinet. “It’s still hot and loaded with caffeine, and that works for me.”

“In that case, creamer’s in the fridge; sugar’s on the counter there.” Gran motioned toward the condiment tray nestled beside the bread box. “Help yourself.”

“No need for that. I take it black, now.” All-nighters with his nose buried in legal journals, plotting angles for endless prosecution cases, had cured Riley of the need for anything more than hot, black, fully-loaded caffeine. He filled the cup, lifted it to his lips so steam wafted to warm his face as he eyed the kid over the rim. She studied him in return as if he was some exotic animal from a zoo exhibit, her head cocked to the side so blonde hair skimmed one shoulder. She shared a strong resemblance with Kaylee, called her Mom. Had he missed a memo? What was up with that?

“What’s your name?” he asked her as he leaned back against the counter, gripping the mug in both hands.

“Rosie.”

“How old are you?”

“Six.” She held up the fingers to prove it. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-eight.” And the youngest prosecuting attorney along the Southeastern coast to win a high-profile case, he wanted to add, but refrained. The accolade had lost its luster; failed to fill him any longer. Long work hours and mountains of endless rhetoric had left him both emotionally and physically exhausted. “Did you color all those containers?”

“Yes, sir.” Wisps of bangs slipped across her bright blue eyes as her head bobbed and Kaylee reached over to smooth the fine strands back. Riley wasn’t sure why, but the simple gesture caused a longing, deep and strong, for the touch of his own mother, who was taken from him the summer he turned seventeen. He glanced at Kaylee once more, remembered exactly why his gut twisted at her involvement—her family’s involvement—in the loss. A slow burn simmered through his veins. Maybe coming back here was a terrible idea. Maybe he should have just stayed gone. The kid—Rosie—continued to chatter. “Mom helped me, though. Miss Ruth, too.”

“Nice work.” Riley became aware then of the melody of Christmas music drifting softly from the under-cabinet radio he’d helped Gramps install summers ago. Like a scene morphing into focus, he saw a collection of teapots Gran had acquired over the years sitting like a proud army across the cabinet tops. Cornflower blue curtains she’d crafted herself offset walls he and Gramps had painted together in a butter-yellow shade the fall he’d turned eighteen. The curtains framed sliding glass doors that led to a weatherworn deck. Riley made a mental note to pressure wash and reseal it, then wondered how he’d manage to accomplish the task while in the grip of winter. Moose sighed and stretched, then curled beneath the table, jowls nestled on huge front paws. Riley crossed to the table and slipped into the seat beside Rosie. He watched her gather treats for a moment before taking her cue and, setting down his mug, filled a container of his own. “What do you plan to do with these?”

“Miss Ruth needs them for the doggie Christmas party tomorrow.”

“A Christmas party—for dogs?”

“Yes, sir, and kittens, too.” She handed him a small square of copy paper covered in bold red and green lettering that, upon closer inspection, Riley found outlined the event. “Here’s an in’tation. Moose is coming. You can come, too.”

“I’ll…think about it.” He glanced out the window, where flurries had turned to a platoon of plump, heavy flakes. “But, if this snow continues, Moose might have to eat all these treats himself.”

“Oh, no.” Rosie wiggled from her chair and scrambled beneath the table to drape herself across Moose’s massive back. “He’d get a belly ache, and all the dogs would stay orphans if we don’t have the party. We can’t let them down. They need a Christmas party, too. We
have
to go tomorrow.” She craned her head to glance back at Riley with pleading orbs of blue. “Can you help Mom make skis?”

****