Home for Christmas (9 page)

He wished the whole Finlay family wasn’t watching. If they weren’t, he’d take Miranda’s hand. He’d risk stealing a kiss.

Her last line struck him in the heart.
Since we said we’d be honest with each other, I wanted you to know my feelings for you have grown overly strong, and I’m frightened.

The honesty in her words echoed about his mind in soft, hushed tones. Considering he’d loved her for as long as he could remember, he wondered at the weightless, hopeless sensation of falling in love with her all over again.

With every Finlay watching, without a voice with which to thank her, he merely took Miranda’s hand in his own. He had no written words to give her, and no ability to respond verbally.

But when they were alone, later, he’d find the words.

<><><><>

Long after sunset, hours after Luke had returned Effie to her shop, when every room in the house was filled with sleeping children and their weary parents, Miranda sat beside Hunter on the sofa in the front parlor.

He’d seemed in no hurry to leave. The fire had burned down in the hearth, casting long shadows over the room. Miranda had noticed the snowfall had increased, driving a blinding curtain of white against the frosted windowpanes.

She broke the comfortable silence. “If you wait any longer, you won’t be able to find your way home.”

“Your dad invited me to bed down on your brothers’ bedroom floor.”

She swallowed a yawn, but didn’t want to leave him yet.

“I could say the same of you.” He traced a fingertip lightly over her knuckles. “If you waited any longer, I wonder if you would’ve been able to find your way home.”

Her heart squeezed, whether from the tenderness in his touch or from the truth in his words, she didn’t know.

He drew lazy circles over the backs of her hands resting in her lap. After a moment, he settled the palm of his hand over hers, his warmth suffusing her skin.

“I’m glad you came home for Christmas.” His whisper stirred the hair at her temple, making her painfully aware of his nearness, of the heat emanating from his body. “Because of you, this Christmas has been wonderful. When I’m with you, I’m happier than I’ve ever been.”

Miranda watched the dying flames in the earth and held her breath. “You know how to flatter a girl.”

Hunter tucked his fingers into Miranda’s hand, brushing his thumbs over her knuckles with a tenderness that made her pulse leap and blood rush through her ears.

“I meant what I said, Miranda. I’ve meant all of it. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I thought so when we were kids in school, when you were to be my brother’s wife, and I still feel that way.”

Heady pleasure warmed her, pulsing through her tired limbs, making her head swim.

“I can only imagine what Warren would’ve said if he knew I admired his bride-to-be. They say it’s a sin to covet your brother’s wife, but I did it anyway.”

Miranda wet her lips. “I had no idea.”

“I couldn’t very well tell my brother’s bride-to-be that I had romantic feelings for her, now could I?”

She felt laughter bubble up from inside her. Of course she remembered Hunter from those years. He’d been kind, friendly, just Warren’s little brother. He’d never given any indication he had feelings for her.

Warren’s Choice seemed a lifetime ago; faded and ancient with Hunter at her side. She kept her gaze on their joined hands, wondering--marveling--at this turn of tides. In less than a week, she’d miraculously changed from hesitant to return and determined to stay away from the Kendalls, to finding she wanted to spend as much time as possible with the best Kendall of all.

Hunter brought a fingertip to her jaw, slowly turning her to face him. He caressed a calloused thumb over her cheek, the touch sending a delicious shiver coursing through her. Firelight reflected in his eyes as he leaned closer, ever so slowly.

“I cared for you then, and I care for you now.” He swallowed, uncertainty evident on his handsome face. “I promised you I’d tell you precisely where we are with our friendship. No games. No wondering. No surprises.”

He paused. Brushed her cheek with a kiss as light as butterfly’s wings. “The more time I spend with you, the stronger my feelings have become.”

That light kiss felt so wonderful, her heart raced, leaving her lightheaded. The near-darkness gave her courage. Sitting beside Hunter, acknowledging the affection had turned to something much stronger, she decided to return his honesty in full measure. “I feel like I’ve experienced a miracle. In my Christmas letter, I told you my feelings for you are changing into something so strong it scares me. That was the truth.”

His features softened with wonder. “I can’t tell you how wonderful it is to hear that.”

She thought of the girl he’d loved, the one who hadn’t loved him in return. He’d risked much in confessing he cared for her, even if there had been no words of love. Not yet.

“I have something for you.” He reached into the space between the cushion and the sofa. “After witnessing your family’s gifts to each other, I realize it isn’t much.”

He fingered the gift, hesitating.

“I didn’t expect you to give me a thing. You’ve already given me so much.”

“I haven’t given you anything.”

“I don’t want for anything. There’s a difference,” she said, “between needs that are physical and tangible and obvious to the eye--like the coats you gave the Johnson boys and the food and clothing you took to Nances--and a soul that hungers for things without substance.”

She’d hungered for affection; he’d given her more than she had room to contain. It all seemed too wonderful, too perfect. Doubt crept in, making her wonder if an overdeveloped sense of empathy lurked behind his loving words. It would be just like him to try to heal the damage Warren had caused.

He pressed the gift into her hands. “Open it,” he whispered.

With heat in her cheeks, she loosened the wrapping. She read the book’s title by the faint light of the fire. “Oh,
thank you.
” She brushed her fingertips over the gold imprint. “Sainsbury’s my favorite.”

“Do you already own this book?”

“No.” She thought of Sophie, of reading these very poems aloud, and of Sophie’s cherished copy that had remained with her estate. “I’m so pleased.”

“I remember the day you quoted
Soliloquy of Spring
in Mr. Grant’s class.”

Surprised by the tenderness in his voice, she smiled. “It’s been my favorite for years. Mr. Grant loaned me his book for a few weeks.” She opened the book and fanned through the pages.

The faint light wasn’t enough to read by, but she knew the words by heart. “‘
When the first shades of green unfurl, painting the earth with life, then shall I breathe the scent of sun-warmed earth and sky.’
”

She sensed him watching her, his gaze warming her through, just like sunlight. She fell silent, aware of his intake of breath, his nearness, the heat of his body as he put an arm about her shoulders.

He leaned closer. “May I kiss you?”

With only a brief hesitation, she nodded, sensing the very world tipping on its axis. He held her gaze and brushed his fingers along her jaw.

Hunter leaned closer, caressing her cheek. As his lips touched her own with reverence, a wash of sensation jolted Miranda.

Never, in all her months as Warren’s fiancee, had the earth moved beneath her feet. It hadn’t even trembled. She’d been comfortable, happy, content.

Hunter’s light, chaste kiss sent a bolt of lightning through her, setting every nerve on fire, changing her forever. She felt alive again, for the first time in three years. Alive, and whole, and....healed.

CHAPTER SEVEN

<><>

The following afternoon, Hunter took Miranda’s gloved hand as they walked toward his parents’ house. Last night’s snowstorm had brought almost a foot of new snow. They strolled slowly over the fresh drifts, disturbed only by the snowshoe tracks he’d made when he’d walked to her house an hour earlier.

He’d been happy to hear her suggest they visit his folks, especially since the walk would give them time alone. He preferred to ask his very important question without her family looking on.

The ring he’d bought for her weighed heavily in his trouser pocket. He felt the heat of the gold through the layers of fabric.

The sun hid behind gray clouds, but nothing could dampen the happiness in Hunter’s heart.

Love felt grand, especially now that Miranda returned his feelings. He vibrated with excitement, with an abundant sense that for the first time since he heard Miranda recite poetry in Mr. Grant’s class, everything was absolutely right. He pulled her close, his happiness bubbling over in laughter.

“What?”

“I love you, Miranda Finlay. It feels wonderful.”

“Thank you.” Awe warmed her words. She moved closer, tightening her arms about his waist. “I love you, too,” she whispered.

Hunter’s heart seized in mid-rhythm. He wondered if it would explode because of happiness. All the pieces of their future were finally coming together; she was home, she’d come to love him in return, he could finally ask her to be his wife.

“I can’t remember a time when I didn’t love you. I remember the day you recited Sainsbury in school.” Joyful laughter resonated through his chest. God, he’d never been so happy. “I may have fallen in love with you then. I was young and green and had
no idea
what to do about it.”

She eased back, wonder softening her expressive smile. “Truly?”

He swallowed the knot of emotion in his throat. “You were my first love, Miranda Finlay, and you will be my last.”

She gasped, recognition lighting her features. “The night of the Children’s Program, you were talking about
me
.”

He nodded and stole a quick kiss. “Yes.” His smile came from the heart, pure and warm and huge. “I loved a girl once. I loved her with all my young heart,” he repeated the words he’d said that night, “but it didn’t work out like it should have.”

“Oh, Hunter.”

Love swelled in his heart, overflowing. “I must amend that statement, for honesty sake. It’s not true to say ‘I loved a girl once,’ for I’ve never stopped loving you.”

Inside his pocket, he found the ring he’d bought for her, fingered the warm gold and felt a rush of anticipation.

“That’s quite possibly the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard.”

He took her in his arms, holding her close. “This morning, I asked your father’s permission to marry you.”

Joy expanded within him, making his chest ache with overwhelming pressure. “I’ve known for years you were the only one for me, I’d never be truly happy without you beside me. The hours we’ve spent together during the past week have made me more certain, if that’s possible.

She’d stilled in his arms, her head tucked beneath his chin. Holding her this way felt so very right.

The time was right. He’d said all he needed to say. She knew everything that was in his heart. She loved him, too.

A ring, her father’s blessing, a love match. It couldn’t be any more perfect.

“Will you be my wife?”

She trembled. Overcome with happiness, no doubt.

He could give her a moment to catch her breath. He’d cherish every single moment of her response, as he intended to remember it for all his days.

Easing from his embrace, she stepped back, raised her chin. Shock distorted her features.

With dread, he realized that was not happy surprise on her face. Far from it. Hunter felt the world drop away from under his feet.

She dipped her head slightly, but he’d seen the tears gather in her eyes and fall to her cheeks. Her breath caught on a sob.

He’d blundered this, somehow. What had he said? What had he
not
said? Oh, no. No, no. He didn’t understand--this couldn’t be happening.

He reached for her. “Miranda?”

She shook her head as she pulled away. “Forgive me. I can’t.”

<><><><>

Miranda rushed into the tailor shop, her chest heaving from running most of the way. She sobbed but couldn’t make herself stop.

Effie locked the door and drew the curtains closed. She hugged Miranda close. “What happened?”

“We’ll never get past”--
sob--
“the engagement to the vows.” The words rushed from her, distorted by grief. “
If
he wanted me that long. Which he won’t. It’s best”--
sob--
“this way. Why can’t he see that?”

“Hunter loves you.” Effie pressed a handkerchief into Miranda’s hand.

“Maybe. Maybe for now.” She drew a tremulous breath, fighting for control. “It won’t last.”

Effie took Miranda’s coat. She led the way into her private room in back and urged Miranda to sit on the bed.

“He and Warren are just alike in a dozen ways.” Miranda sobbed silently for a moment. “Warren said he loved me, too. I believed him.”

“Oh?” Effie took a big box of assorted chocolates from her chest of drawers and sat beside Miranda. She offered the box without a word.

Miranda took the box, although she knew she wouldn’t be able to choke down a sweet. “Hunter looks so much like Warren. They have the same parents. What was I
thinking?
He suggested we be
friends.
Ha.
”

“Seems to me they’re as different as two brothers can be.”

Effie popped the last of a black walnut chocolate into her mouth. She chewed thoughtfully.

Miranda blotted her tears, blew her nose. Made a most unladylike sound as the grief and anxiety continued to bubble up.

“Warren Kendall came in today,” Effie mentioned as a matter-of-fact, “to pick up the layette I just finished. He’s polite, honest.”

Effie gestured vaguely and selected a chocolate-covered caramel. “But he’s not like Hunter. Hunter asks me how I’m getting along, and I believe he honestly wants to know. Warren wouldn’t ask such a thing, much less notice if I was in need.”