If Only (17 page)

Then had come the decorations, and that had been a chore in itself because Scott was about as meticulous with the ornaments as Bree had been with the lights. Originally, they had only been going to use store-bought ornaments. But once all their ornaments adorned the tree, he had decided they should have some homemade decorations as well, which had led to the two of them threading popcorn and cranberries while Christmas music played in the background.

Although she had to admit, she was having fun even though she had originally complained when her husband had come up with the idea.

When she had threaded her final cranberry, she looked up at their tree before looking over at Scott, who was unfolding himself from his seated position on the floor. “Well, what do you think? Do we need more cranberries?”

He shook his head as he handed her his empty popcorn bowl. He examined the tree with a critical eye, his chocolate brown eyes roaming over every branch, searching for holes that needed to be filled.

“It’s perfect,” he declared as he reached out a hand to Bree. Pulling her to her feet, he pressed his body against hers. He could feel the beating of her heart against his chest. “Just like you,” he added as he kissed her on the lips.

She smiled as she tugged affectionately on a lock of his brown hair. “Smooth talker.” She teased him as she placed the smaller empty bowl inside of the larger one and headed toward the kitchen.

“Hey, baby, would you grab me a soda while you’re in there?” Scott questioned with a grin as she rolled her emerald green gaze in his direction.

“So that’s why you were sucking up,” she commented as he watched her enter the kitchen.

Bree placed the empty bowls in the sink, running water in them and then turning off the faucet. Wiping her hands on a dishcloth, she reached for the handle of the refrigerator door. And that was the last thing she saw. Suddenly, everything went black as her eyes were covered.

A strong hand clasped over her mouth.

She couldn’t help herself; she began to panic.

Her first thought was she was being sent back to her previous life, her life with Bryan. That thought scared the hell out of her.

Bree didn’t want to go back there. She longed to stay here, with the man she loved. The man she had always loved. The man she would always love. She needed to stay here with the child she now carried, the child she had always wanted. The child she had always dreamed of. The child she already loved and already desired with a fierceness and a protectiveness that almost surprised her, even though she knew it shouldn’t. She finally had the life she had always wanted, and now she feared it was being taken away from her.

She could hear a whispered voice in her ear, and she closed her eyes, struggling to block out the sound. She could imagine cruel words, horrible words, in her ex-husband’s voice, and she tried with everything in her to block that voice out. She didn’t want to go back there, she couldn’t go back there. She would rather die first.

Then she had another thought. Maybe she wasn’t being sent back.

With a blindfold covering her eyes and a hand clasped over her mouth, her options were limited. Bree struggled, flinging her arms wide, convinced if she was being abducted or attacked, she was going to do her damnedest to go down fighting. She had an obligation to Scott, an obligation to their child.

Then she realized with sudden clarity it wasn’t her ex-husband’s voice she was hearing, and she released a deep sigh of relief to discover she wasn’t being abducted at all.

Well, she was, but not by some stranger. Or a crazy person with a chain saw.

Although he could sometimes be labeled as a crazy person…

It was her husband’s voice whispering in her ear.

Excitement laced Scott’s voice, making him sound like a little boy opening a present instead of a grown man with a surprise for his wife. “I have a Christmas present for you, but it’s a surprise.”

She heard the sound of the refrigerator door closing as his hand was removed from her mouth.

“You are out of your mind,” Bree grumbled as his hands gently grabbed her shoulders.

Scott chuckled as he threatened teasingly, “I could always gag you.”

He began to move her body forward, slowly guiding her. Her steps were slow and faltering, and since she was blindfolded and unable to see where she was going, she had to trust her husband to guide her in the right direction.
Hopefully, he won’t walk me right into a wall.

“Steps,” he informed her as she cautiously made her way down the four steps at the back of their house.

Bree could hear the sound of her colored glass wind chime as she crossed the back porch. The hinge squeaked on the porch door as it closed behind them.
Scott really needs to spray some WD-40 on that door.

Then her ears picked up a strange noise. It was a sound she had heard before but not often enough to recognize. She strained her ears as she realized the distant sound was now headed toward her. It was getting louder and louder as it came closer and closer. She grinned when it finally dawned on her whose voice she had heard.

“Ho, ho, ho! Merry Christmas! Ho, ho, ho! Merry Christmas!”

Then she heard another sound. Clop, clop, clop. Clippity-clop, clop, clop. Clop, clop clop.

Clippity-clop, clippity-clop.

“Surprise!” Scott exclaimed as the blindfold was removed from her eyes. It took a few seconds for her eyes to focus, and when they did, what she saw nearly took her breath away.

She gasped out loud at the sight of an old-fashioned horse-drawn sleigh with two beautiful white horses leading it through the freshly fallen snow. She laughed when she recognized the man holding the reins. She would recognize the blue eyes hidden behind those bifocals any day.

Where he had gotten it, Bree had no idea. But kindly, elderly Mr. Hampton was dressed in style. He was wearing a most impressive Santa Claus suit with crushed red velvet and big gold buttons down the front of his coat. White fur trimmed the sleeves, his neck, and the rim of his hat. A pillow had been shoved underneath the coat, giving the slender old man some added pounds that made her want to laugh out loud.

A thick black belt with a huge black buckle was fastened around his newly thickened waistline, and in his hands he held a string of bells, which jingled merrily.

Flakes continued to fall, covering their fresh tracks in the snow. As the sleigh was drawn to a complete stop directly in front of her, Bree looked at Scott in bewilderment.

“Ho, ho, ho! Merry Christmas!” Mr. Hampton shouted as he shook the string of bells enthusiastically. “Santa comes bearing gifts,” the elderly man boomed, blue eyes twinkling behind the thick bifocals.

She shrieked when Scott lifted her up into his arms. She was pressed against his chest as he carried her effortlessly across the frozen ground and placed her into the waiting sleigh.

The sky was just beginning to darken, and snowflakes continued to fall, delicate visions of white dancing against the blackening backdrop.

Scott was still standing, reaching behind the seat where she was sitting, when the sleigh suddenly began to move. He staggered almost drunkenly as it pitched forward.

“Wait just a minute, Santa,” her husband called out, and the horses lurched to a sudden stop as he once again reached around behind them. He pulled out Bree’s heavy winter coat along with her pink-checkered scarf and her purple gloves.

“You planned this,” she accused with a surprised smile.

“Guilty,” he confessed with a sheepish grin as he removed a large thermos and poured her a steaming cup of hot chocolate. “I was kidnapping you,” Scott explained. “And a kidnapper has to plan ahead,” he commented as he waved a bag of miniature marshmallows under Bree’s nose, taunting her before she quickly grabbed the bag from his hand.

He shook his hand as he looked over at his wife. Responding to her questioning look, he explained with a mischievous look on his handsome face. “I was just making sure it was still attached,” he joked. “I also brought a blanket for later, if you should need it,” he offered.

A playful twinkle lit up Bree’s emerald eyes as she slipped into her coat and snuggled against her husband’s chiseled chest. “I thought that’s what you were here for,” she quipped.

At Scott’s discreet nod, the horses began to slowly move across the field of newly fallen snow. She closed her eyes and listened to the peaceful sounds surrounding her. She could hear the horses’ hooves crunching along the snow.
This was a perfect idea.
She couldn’t have planned this better herself. She couldn’t believe Scott had thought of it. Apparently, he knew her better than she even knew herself. He was such a hopeless romantic, and she was a lucky woman to have him as her own.

Kissing her closed eyelids, he murmured, “You’re not going to sleep on me, are you?”

She opened her eyes at the feeling of his lips on her skin and his deep voice in her ear. She shook her auburn head as his strong arms wrapped around her waist. Resting her head against his arm, she turned to find him staring at her with such an expression of love that she felt the sudden urge to cry with happiness.

Everywhere Bree looked, she could see white. Miles and miles of white. And it was so cold she could see her own breath, even though she didn’t feel anything but warmth. Scott’s warmth. Snuggling up against her husband was better than curling up in front of a burning fireplace. Or an electric heater. She almost laughed at the direction of her wayward thoughts.

Icicles hung delicately from the tree limbs, almost complete and total stillness surrounding them. Bree fought the sudden urge to shout out loud in defiance of the quiet surrounding them. The only sounds she could hear were the horses’ steady pace through the snow and the occasional jingling from Mr. Hampton’s string of bells.

She wasn’t sure exactly how much time had passed. Even though she hadn’t been asleep, she had been lying cocooned in her husband’s loving arms with her eyes closed. She had relished the sleigh ride, savoring the simple pleasure.

Mr. Hampton bellowed, breaking the tranquility of the evening, “All right, kids! Have fun!”

As Scott helped her to her feet, she looked over at the elderly man, his bells jingling as he gave her a friendly wink. “I’ll see you kids later. Santa has some presents he has to deliver.”

Bree watched him drive off, gently guiding the horses through the snow.

Christmas lights twinkled along the roof of the big red barn. She recognized where she was immediately. They were on the property of Doyle Bingham, a local farmer who resided on the outskirts of town. In the distance, she could see the slope of Doyle’s yellow farmhouse, where he and his family had lived for over twenty years.

The barn door suddenly opened, and she heard Christmas carols coming from inside. The intoxicating smell of apple cider filled her senses, and children’s laughter filled the cold winter air.

Doyle’s barn had been transformed for the annual live nativity. The local farmers often took turns planning the event, and every year was a different venue. So far, their nativity had been held in barns, horse stables, the parking lot at the church, and even the town mall.

The stable itself was made out of straw bales. By Bree’s estimation, she guessed at least one hundred bales of straw had been donated for the construction. Christmas carols were playing from loudspeakers scattered strategically throughout the barn.

Farm animals had been donated by Doyle himself and some of the local farmers. There were even pony rides set up outside the structure for the children to enjoy. She grinned at the thought that next year, she would have a son or daughter to ride one of the ponies.

Holding Scott’s hand, they approached the waiting manger. She saw the town sheriff, Cole Winters, standing in front as Joseph, staring in awe down at the manger. His wife of three years, Wendy, played the role of the Virgin Mary.

The lusty cry of a newborn startled her, and she realized instead of using a doll, Cole and Wendy’s newborn daughter was lying in the manger as Baby Jesus. Trying not to break the role she was playing, Wendy’s arms reached into the makeshift manger and removed her crying daughter and held her close, rocking her and singing in time with the Christmas carols playing from the loudspeakers.

Other townspeople portrayed the various characters in the biblical story. Besides Mary, Joseph, and the Baby Jesus, there were shepherds, angels, and wise men. And Bree recognized every last one of them. Along with the sheriff and his family, other town officials were also participating in the event. The three wise men were represented by Mayor Dailey, Judge Donahue, and Pastor Mathers.

The angels were gathered around the manger, protecting the infant son and all those surrounding him. Several of the young women had gone to high school with Bree and Scott. She recognized Bethany Mathers, the pastor’s daughter, and Elizabeth Donahue, the judge’s wife. Also present were Dr. Samantha Sloan and Melody Carmichael.

In the corner, wives and daughters were serving Christmas cookies fashioned into the shapes of bells, wreaths, and candy canes and decorated with red and green sprinkles. They were also pouring steaming cups of hot apple cider.

After the conclusion of the live nativity, several of the men, Scott included, began clearing away the excess bales of hay. The men tossed them aside as though they weighed nothing, leaving a dozen or so bales that were then split apart and scattered along the floor for added ambiance during the barn dance.

It was a Mistletoe town tradition for a barn dance to follow the nativity. Unlike the larger metropolises, such as Austin or Evergreen, the city where Scott and Bree worked, the small town of Mistletoe, Texas, was set in its ways, and traditions were followed almost religiously.

Loud country music blared from the hidden speakers, replacing the Christmas carols that had been playing, and Bree laughed as she saw several of the townspeople grab their partners and twirl toward the makeshift dance floor.

A pair of strong arms grabbed her from behind, and she whirled around just in time to greet her husband, who gave her a quick peck on the cheek. Whispering in her ear as he held her, he asked, “Would I hurt your feelings if I danced with Maggie Dawson before I dance with you?”