Holiday Serenade, The (12 page)

Had Abbie realized that without what had happened they wouldn’t have Dustin? Somehow a new peace entered his heart.

When he looked over at her, tears were streaming down her face. He held out his hand, and she glanced from it to his face. She took a few stumbling steps, and then she was rushing toward them. She pressed her body against Dustin’s and wrapped her arms around him, and because Rhett’s arms were long enough, he enfolded them both in his embrace.

Like his heart had already done.

Finally Dustin pushed back for air, and they shared a shaky laugh, which eased some of the tightness in his chest.

“I love you, kid,” he said, ruffling the boy’s sweat–soaked hair.

“I love you too, Uncle Rhett,” he responded and wiped his nose with his sleeve.

Abbie reached for Dustin’s other hand. “Thank you, Rhett,” she whispered, and her eyes held a thousand promises—that they would survive this, that she was strong enough, that they would heal.

He hadn’t thought he could love her any more than he did, but somehow it happened.

The smile he gave her wasn’t his most charming, he expected, but it was real. The right corner of her mouth lifted in response.

Mac stepped forward and put an arm around him, and they man–hugged before they broke apart. Then he followed Abbie and Dustin to the front door.

“Let’s go home, Mom and Uncle Mac,” the kid said.

Peggy moved toward Rhett. “You did good,” she whispered to him as she trailed after Mac.

He saw them all off, his chest feeling hollow, like he’d been suctioned to within an inch of his life.

As the car pulled away, Abbie gave him a slight wave, and like an eagle flying overhead, he felt the same sense of awe.

She loved him, and he somehow knew that what had happened today would help her break free of the past.

His holiday serenade was still on.

Chapter 12

A
bbie threw Paulo Coehlo’s
The Alchemist
aside and fell back on her pillows. She fluffed her down comforter and smoothed the violet bedspread.

There was no point in pretending. She couldn’t read. She couldn’t sleep. She could barely eat.

It was the day before Christmas Eve, and her son finally knew the truth about his father. About how he’d come into the world.

Part of her felt like her life was over, and in some ways, the one she’d grown used to had been blown to smithereens. She felt exposed. And heartbroken for her precious son, who had done nothing to deserve such origins.

Then she had to remind herself what Mac had helped her see. She hadn’t deserved what happened either.

She reached out for the angel figurine by her bed—the one holding a star. It reminded her of that whisper from a few weeks ago.
Follow the star.
Christmas was about reclaiming the innocence of a child, and that’s what she wanted for both of them.

Dustin would heal with their help and some family counseling.

And so would she. Finally.

Her thoughts wandered to Rhett. He’d checked in with everyone, including her—and he always came whenever Dustin wanted him.

But they hadn’t spent any time alone since the party. Hadn’t talked about what had happened between them, why she’d run, and why she now regretted it.

Dustin had come first.

After seeing how Rhett had handled Dustin’s emotional turmoil, she finally believed he would make a good father. Correction. A great father.

Dustin loved him.

And so did she.

He’d been showing her for months how much he wanted to be there for her, from toning down his behavior to changing his poker babe act to throwing that lavish holiday party. Even writing her a romantic song. Settling down was the last thing she’d expected Rhett to do, and yet, here he was in a small town, attending Dustin’s school events, going out for pizza with them, and gluing Christmas wreaths for her.

It was time they talked about
them
, about the future he wanted with her.

The strands of a piano reached her ears. The music was like a faint winter breeze, all dreamy and soft. Her mind identified the song right away—Rye Crenshaw’s “The Holiday Serenade.” Cancel that. The song Rhett had written, and Rye had sung.

She frowned. Was Dustin playing the song as part of his Cupid scheme? He’d told her to stop fighting her feelings and just marry Rhett. Seeing him in so much pain, she’d almost given in then and there.

But she needed to make the decision for herself, and no one else.

And she had. Now she just needed to talk to him.

Rising to investigate, her feet padded down the hall. The music grew fainter.

Mac’s door opened. “Do you hear the music? It’s your song, right?” he asked.

“I think Dustin’s trying to play matchmaker.”

The past few days had cut deep grooves into his face. Peggy had been a big comfort to him, but this business with Dustin had hit him hard. Worse, he and Peggy had to deal with the reality that Dustin might never have found out if not for what Peggy had said at the city council meeting. Families meant forgiveness, though, so that’s what they all had done. Everyone had agreed Dustin should know at some point. Having him hear about it secondhand hadn’t been ideal, but then again, any way they told him would have been hard.

“At least it’s something to raise his spirits,” Mac said.

Dustin stepped into the hallway. “Are you playing Rhett’s song, Mom?” he asked, a spark of hope spreading across his haggard face. So he wasn’t sleeping well either.

They’d turned down the furnace for the night, so the hallway held a chill. She drew her red Christmas robe more securely around her. “You’re not playing it?”

“No,” her son said. “I was watching TV.”

“Abbie,” Mac said, his voice gentle, “it’s a song about a serenade. Maybe you should look out your window.”

The furnace kicked on, warming her feet since she was near a vent. “My window?”

“Yeah.” His smile was almost an afterthought.

“Cool,” Dustin said, crossing the hall.

The hairs rose on her neck as she made her way back to her bedroom, Dustin and Mac’s footsteps echoing on the hardwood floor behind her. If the music was outside, it could mean only one thing. She pulled back the white lace curtains. Given the fullness of the moon, she had no trouble making out the culprit and his accomplice.

Rhett stood under her window a few yards from the house, dressed in a sheepskin coat with white wool–out seams. He had a microphone in his hand. His friend, Rye, was seated on a foldout chair in a full–length black leather winter coat at what looked to be a portable piano, his black cowboy hat obscuring his face as he played the ballad of her song.

They were insane. It was
freezing
outside.

She opened the window, and the arctic blast made her shiver. “What are you
doing?
”

Rhett tipped his finger to his forehead even though he wasn’t wearing a cowboy hat like Rye. His ears had to be frozen.

“I decided to serenade you like I should have the first time. I’m sorry I upset you by making a public declaration. I was only trying to show you how I felt. Plus, I don’t sing worth spit, so having my friend do what he does best made sense. But as a wise man recently told me, never send another man to serenade your woman. So Rye’s going to play, and I’m going to sing.”

“Brace yourself,” she heard Rye say.

“Shut up,” Rhett bantered back, putting the microphone to his mouth.

Dustin edged closer to her at the window, and Mac put his hand on her shoulder, leaning forward so he could see.

While Rye played the refrain, Rhett started to sing. His voice cracked, and he missed the notes by a mile, going from baritone to alto at the wrong time. Dustin snorted, and Mac muffled a laugh, but it didn’t matter.

The words he’d written for her finally went straight to her heart.

It lets me tell you that I want you,
That you’re my Christmas dream come true,
That I don’t see anyone now but you.

When he looked up, his eyes shining in the moonlight, her toes curled into the carpet. She believed him. He didn’t see anyone but her. Didn’t want anyone but her. Didn’t love anyone but her.

She leaned against the jamb and wrapped her arms around her body as he continued to sing about how she was his Christmas dream come true.

Tears gathered in her eyes, and she could feel Dustin turn his head to look at her as she wiped them away. When her son put his arm around her, she rested her head on his still–growing shoulder.

Come cozy up by the fire with me,
Under the lights of our own Christmas tree.

As Rhett sang, she could envision the house they would share, his red stocking on the fireplace next to hers and Dustin’s; she saw him holding her on the couch as the white lights on their Douglas fir tree cast a mellow glow on them.

Let me love you,
Serenade you,
My Christmas dream come true.

When his voice faded, he lowered the microphone and exhaled loudly, his head tipped up to the window.

He was so handsome that she pressed her hand to her rapidly beating heart.

Rye continued playing the piano, the lingering notes the only sound within hearing save the lone hoot of an owl.

When his friend finished, Rhett held out his arms. “I love you, Abbie. Merry Christmas.” Then he gave a dramatic bow and gave her a winning smile.

“Oh, Rhett,” she said. “What am I supposed to do with you?”

“Marry the poor guy,” Rye suggested, rising from the piano. “Anyone who sings like that and does it out here freezing his—”

“Ahem,” Rhett coughed.

“Sorry. Nether parts off. I’ve known him a long time, Abbie, and trust me, you’ve got him so tame, even a zoo wouldn’t take him.”

“You’re fired,” Rhett called out to his friend and rubbed his boot in the snow. “Abbie,
this
is my Christmas present to you. I’m not expecting anything more.”

“Ah, give the guy a break, Mom,” Dustin said from beside her. “He’s crazy about you.”

Rhett waved to him. “Thanks, son.”

“You lost your nickname tonight, Rhett,” Mac called down. “You’re no Liberace.”

Slapping his knee with one hand, he said, “I know! I told you I couldn’t carry a tune. Thank God you don’t have any dogs because I would have set them to howling.” Rhett raised his gaze toward her again, her cowboy–lovin’ Romeo. “Did you like the song better this time ‘round, Abbie?”

What was not to love about his romantic gesture? She raised a finger to her lips, wanting him to kiss her. “I’m a sucker for a man serenading a woman outside her window.”

His grin lit up his whole face. “I’m glad to hear it. I thought about wearing a monkey suit, but I didn’t think I could pull it off. Plus, it’s like eight degrees out.” And the white puff from his breath punctuated the point.

She had to disagree with him. He’d look super handsome in black tie, but she understood his meaning.

Black tie wasn’t him.

And wasn’t that what she needed to come to terms with? She had to love him for him, not for what she wanted him to be.

And she did.

The North Star seemed to wink at her in the star–studded dark sky, while Rhett stood there waiting. Rye started packing up the piano beside him.

Her heart beat so rapidly it felt like someone was drumming her entire body. “Are you asking me to marry you, Rhett?” she finally asked.

Rye grinned and slapped his friend on the back.

“Are you ready to say yes?” he fired back, the light from North Star shining in his eyes now.

She’d followed the star, and it had led her to Rhett. Why wasn’t she surprised?

She cocked her head to one side, suddenly shy. “Come inside and find out.”

Even in the moonlight, she could see his shoulders relax. He gave her a lop–sided smile. “That’d be mighty fine.”

“Finally!” Rye called.

Her face pressed against the screen. “I’ll meet you at the door in a few minutes.”

His arms extended from his body like he was embracing the entire globe. “Don’t rush. I’ve got all the time in the world.”

She bumped into her brother when she tried to turn around. The grin on his face encouraged one to spread across her own.

Dustin high–fived Mac and then grabbed her in a huge hug, lifting her off the ground. “Oh, mom, this is the best Christmas present ever!” And his joy was as pure as when he’d been a two–year–old kid receiving his first fire truck.

When he finally set her back down, she laid her hands on his shoulders. “Are you sure, Dustin? Because I love you and only want—”

“Yes!” he cried. “I want you to marry Rhett. I want you to be happy. You deserve it.” And then his eyes grew a little wet. “And I want him to be my dad.”

“Oh, Dustin,” she said, pulling him into another hug, tears running down her face.

Mac handed her a linen handkerchief—where had he found it? He always seemed to have one ready for her when she needed it. She dabbed at her eyes.

“Uncle Mac, just because I want Rhett to be my dad, doesn’t mean—”

Mac pulled him in for a hug. “I know, kid. I’m so happy for you.” And then he pushed him back playfully and gave Abbie a much gentler hug.

They held each other for a minute. They had been through so much together, but their relationship was changing. Soon, he would live with Peggy and Keith, and she would live with Dustin and Rhett.

“I’m so happy for you, Abbie,” Mac whispered, kissing her hair. “Now, go open the door for the poor man. It’s freezing outside.”

Her feet took three steps toward the door and then stopped. She fingered her robe, casting a glance at her closet. There was no way she was going to have the man she loved propose to her while she was in bare feet and a Christmas robe.

“You let him inside. I’m going to change.”

Dustin groaned. “Oh, jeez. Full makeup?” he asked like he knew how long that would take.

“Yes,” she answered, slapping him on the tush like she used to do when he was little. “Full makeup. Now go.”

Mac and Dustin playfully bumped each other all the way out of her room. When the door closed behind them, she rushed into her closet, where she pulled out a red silk shirt and a black pencil skirt. Added thigh–high hose because she was going to somehow find a way to make love with Rhett tonight. Even if they had to use his car to conceal themselves from Dustin’s prying eyes.