Holiday Wishes (6 page)

His bottom lip poked out. “But he always comes.”

“Well, I’m sure he’ll find a way to get the presents here. I’m going to go in the back in a minute and see.”

“But I have to talk to him.”

The pout nearly did her in. “If he doesn’t make it, you can give me a letter for him. I’ll make sure he gets it.”

“Problem?” Jason murmured when she straightened up again.

“Jake always plays Santa after the puppet show. We give out a few little things. It’s nothing really, but the kids depend on it.”

“Jake can’t make it this year?”

“He caught the chicken pox from the Hennessy boy.”

“I see.” He hadn’t celebrated Christmas in years, not since . . . since he’d left Faith. “I’ll do it,” he told her and surprised himself.

“You?”

Something in her expression made him determined to be the best St. Nick since the original. “Yeah, me. Where’s the suit?”

“It’s in the little room off the back, but—”

“I hope you remembered the pillows,” he said before he sauntered away.

She didn’t think he’d pull it off. In fact, five minutes after he walked away, Faith was sure he’d changed his mind altogether and continued out the back door. No one, including the group of kids with mouths full of cookies, was more enchanted than she when Santa walked in the front door with a bag over his shoulder.

He had the chance for one booming
Merry Christmas
before he was surrounded. Too stunned to move, she watched the children bounce and jump and tug.

“Santa needs a chair.” Jason sent her a long, intense look that had her swallowing before her feet could move. Dashing into the back room, she brought out a high-backed chair and set it in the center of the room.

“Now you have to line up,” she began, scooting children around. “Everyone gets a turn.” Grabbing a bowl of candy canes, she set them on a table beside the chair. One by one, the children climbed up on Jason’s knee. Faith needn’t have worried. She’d had to school Jake to make the right responses, and most important, not to promise and risk disappointing. After the third child had climbed down, Faith relaxed. Jason was wonderful.

And having the time of his life. He’d done it just to help her out, perhaps even to impress her, but he got a great deal more. He’d never had a child sit on his lap and look at him with complete faith and love. He listened to their wishes, their confessions and complaints. Each one was allowed to reach in the sack he carried and pull out one gift.

He was hugged, kissed with sticky mouths and poked. One enterprising boy had a good grip on his beard before Jason managed to distract him. Happy, they began to file out of the shop with their parents or in groups.

“You were great.” Faith turned her sign around after the last child had left to give herself a chance to catch her breath.

“Want to sit on my lap?”

Laughing, she walked to him. “I mean it, Jason, you were. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.”

“Then show me.” He pulled her down onto his lap where she sank into pillows. She laughed again and kissed his nose.

“I’ve always been crazy about men in red suits. I wish Clara could have been here.”

“Why wasn’t she?”

With a little sigh, Faith let herself relax against him. “She’s too old for all this now—so she tells me. She went shopping with Marcie.”

“Nine’s too old?”

She didn’t speak for a minute, then moved her shoulders. “Kids grow up fast.” She turned her head so she could look at him. “You made a lot of them happy today.”

“I’d like to make you happy.” Reaching up, he stroked her hair. “There was a time when I could.”

“Do you ever wish we could go back?” Content, she let herself be cradled in his arms. “When we were teenagers, everything seemed so simple. Then you close your eyes for a minute and you’re an adult. Oh, Jason, I wanted you to carry me away, to a castle, to a mountaintop. I was so full of romance.”

He continued to stroke her hair as they sat, surrounded by dolls and the echo of children’s laughter. “I didn’t have enough of it, did I?”

“You had your feet on the ground. I had my head in the clouds.”

“And now?”

“Now, I have a daughter to raise. It’s terrifying sometimes to realize you’re responsible for another life. Did you . . . ?” She hesitated, knowing the ground was dangerous. “Did you ever want kids?”

“I haven’t thought about it. Sometimes I have to go into places where it’s tough enough being responsible for your own life.”

She’d thought of that—had nightmares about it. “It still excites you.”

He thought of some of the things he’d seen, the cruelty, the misery. “It stopped exciting me a long time ago. But I’m good at what I do.”

“I suppose I always knew you would be. Jason.” She shifted again so that her eyes were level with his. “I am glad you came back.”

His fingers tightened when she rested her cheek against his. “You had to wait until I was stuffed like a walrus to tell me that.”

With a laugh, she wrapped her arms around his neck. “It seems to be the safest time.”

“Don’t bet your life on it.” He pressed his lips to hers and felt hers tremble. “What’s so funny?”

Choking back the laugh, she drew away. “Oh nothing, nothing at all. I’ve always dreamed of being kissed by a man in a beard wearing a red hat and bells. I’ve got to clean up this mess.”

When she rose, he hauled himself up. “The timing has to click sooner or later.” She said nothing as she gathered up bits of colored paper. Jason picked up his sack and glanced inside. “There’s one more box in here.”

“It’s for Luke Hennessy. Chicken pox.”

He looked at the box, then back at her. Her hair curtained her face as she pulled a sticky candy cane from the carpet. “Where does he live?”

Still holding the candy, she stood up. Some might say he looked foolish, padded from chest to hips, wrapped in red and with his face half concealed by a curly white beard. Faith thought he’d never looked more wonderful. She walked to him to pull the beard down to his chin. Her arms went around him, her mouth found his.

Her kiss was as warm as it always was, full of hope and simple goodness. Desire raced through him and settled into sweet contentment. “Thank you.” She kissed him again in friendship. “He lives on the corner of Elm and Sweetbriar.”

He waited a moment until he was steady. “Can I get a cup of coffee when I get back?”

“Yeah.” She adjusted his beard again. “I’ll be next door.”

Chapter 7

He had to admit, it had given him a kick to walk through town. Kids flocked after him. Adults called out and waved. He was offered uncountable cookies. The biggest satisfaction had been the awe on the young Hennessy boy’s face. That had topped the wide-eyed shock of his mother when she’d opened the door to S. Claus.

Jason took his time walking back, strolling through the square. It was strange, he discovered, how easy it was to take on the personality of a set of clothes. He felt . . . well, benevolent. If anyone he’d ever worked with had seen him now, they’d have fallen into the snow in a dead faint. Jason Law had a reputation for being impatient, brutally frank and quick-tempered. He hadn’t won the Pulitzer for benevolence. Yet somehow, at the moment, he felt more satisfaction in the polyester beard and dime store bells than he did with all the awards he’d ever earned.

He was ho-hoing his way along when Clara stepped out of the five-and-dime. She and the little brunette at her side went off in peals of giggles.

“But you’re—”

One narrow-eyed stare from Jason did the trick. Cutting herself off, Clara cleared her throat and offered her hand. “How do you do, Santa?”

“I do very well, Clara.”

“That’s not Jake,” Marcie informed Clara. She stepped closer to try to recognize the face behind the puffs of white.

Enjoying himself, Jason sent her a wink. “Hello, Marcie.”

The brunette’s eyes widened. “How’d he know my name?” she whispered to her friend.

Clara covered another giggle with her hand. “Santa knows everything, don’t you, Santa?”

“I have my sources.”

“There isn’t any Santa really.” But Marcie’s grown-up sophistication was wavering.

Jason leaned over and flicked at the fluffy ball on top of her cap. “There is in Quiet Valley,” he told her, and nearly believed it himself. He saw Marcie stop looking beyond the beard and accept the magic. Deciding against pressing his luck, he continued on down the street.

It wasn’t easy for a fat man in a red suit to slip into a door inconspicuously, but Jason had had some experience. Once he was in the back room of Faith’s shop, he shed the Santa clothes. He wanted to do it again. As Jason slipped into his own slim slacks, he realized he hadn’t had so much fun in years. Part of it had been the look in Faith’s eyes, the way she’d warmed to him, if only briefly. Part of it had been the simple act of giving pleasure. How long had it been since he’d done something without an angle? On an assignment there was constant bargaining. You give me this, I’ll give you that. He’d had to toughen himself against sympathy, against compassion, to find the truth and report it. If his style had a hard edge, it was because he’d always gone for the story that demanded it. It had helped him forget. Now that he’d come home, it was impossible not to remember.

What kind of man was he really? He wasn’t sure anymore, but he knew there was one woman who could make or break him. Leaving the suit in the closet, he went to find her.

She had been waiting for him. She was ready to admit she’d been waiting for him for ten years. Throughout the rest of the afternoon, Faith had made her own decisions. She’d made a success of her life. Though the search hadn’t always been easy, she’d found contentment. Confidence had come with the years and she knew she could go on alone. It was time to stop being afraid of what her life would be like when Jason left again and to accept the gift she’d been offered. He was here, now, and she loved him.

When he came into the house he found her curled in a chair by the tree, her cheek resting on the arm. She waited until he came to her. “Sometimes at night I sit like this. Clara’s asleep upstairs and the house is quiet. I can think about little things, enormous things, just as I did as a child. The lights all blend together and the tree smells like heaven. You can go anywhere, sitting just like this.”

He picked her up, felt her yield, then settled in the chair with her on his lap. “I remember sitting like this with you at Christmastime in your parents’ house. Your father grumbled.”

She snuggled close. There was no padding now, just the long, lean body she knew so well. “My mother dragged him into the kitchen so we could be alone for a little while. She knew you didn’t have a tree at home.”

“Or anything else.”

“I never asked where you live now, Jason. Whether you found a place that makes you happy.”

“I move around a lot. I have a base in New York.”

“A base?”

“An apartment.”

“It doesn’t sound like a home,” she murmured. “Do you put a tree in the window at Christmas?”

“I guess I have once or twice, when I’ve been around.”

It broke her heart, but she said nothing. “My mother always said you had wanderlust. Some people are born with it.”

“I had to prove myself, Faith.”

“To whom?”

“To myself.” He rested his cheek on top of her head. “Damn it, to you.”

She breathed in the scent of pine while the lights danced on the tree. They’d sat like this before, so long ago. The memories were nearly as sweet as the reality. “I never needed you to prove anything to me, Jason.”

“Maybe that’s one of the reasons I had to. You were too good for me.”

“That’s ridiculous.” She would have shifted, but he held her still.

“You were, and still are.” He, too, stared at the tree. The tinsel shimmered in the lights like the magic he’d always wanted to give her. “Maybe that’s why I had to leave when I did—maybe it’s why I came back. You’re all the good things, Faith. Just being with you brings out the best parts of me. God knows, there aren’t many.”

“You were always too hard on yourself. I don’t like it.” This time she did shift so that her hands were on his shoulders and her eyes were directly on his. “I fell in love with you. There were reasons for it. You were kind though you pretended not to be. You wanted to be considered tough and a troublemaker because you felt safer that way.”

He smiled and ran a finger down her cheek. “I was a troublemaker.”

“Maybe I liked that, too. You didn’t just accept things. You weren’t afraid to question.”

“I nearly got kicked out of school twice because I questioned.”

The old anger stirred. Had no one understood him but herself? Had no one else been able to see what had been racing and straining inside him? “You were smarter than anyone else. You’ve proved that if you needed to.”

“You spent a lot of time defending me, didn’t you?”

“I believed in you. I loved you.”

He reached for her face in an old gesture that melted her heart. “And now?”

She had too much to say and not enough ways to say it. “Do you remember that night in June, after my senior prom? We drove out of town. The moon was full and the air was so sweet with summer.”

“You wore a blue dress that made your eyes look like sapphires. You were so beautiful I was afraid to touch you.”

“So I seduced you.”

She looked so pleased with herself that he laughed. “You did not.”

“I certainly did. You would never have made love with me.” She touched her lips to his. “Do I have to seduce you again?”

“Faith—”

“Clara’s having dinner next door at Marcie’s. She’s going to spend the night. Come to bed with me, Jason.”

Her quiet voice raced along his skin. The touch of her hand to his cheek seared like fire. But tangled with his need for her was a love that had never grown old. “You know I want you, Faith, but we’re not children now.”

“We’re not children.” She turned her face to press her lips into his palm. “And I want you. No promises, no questions. Love me the way you did on that one beautiful night we had together.” Rising, she held out her hand. “I want something for the next ten years.”