Love Finds You in Frost Minnesota (11 page)

“On Christmas Day?”

“Yes.” He turned to her and the pain in his expression seemed as fresh as if the accident had just happened. “So now maybe you can understand why Christmas is not a time for celebration for me. And when I say I killed my brother, I really did.”

“Jack, you were a child! It could just as well have been you on that sled. It was an accident!”

Merry was going to continue when she realized they were parked in her own driveway. Where had the time and the miles gone? “Come inside,” she said gently. “No use sitting out here.”

He followed her into the house, where they both shed their coats. Jack began to prowl about like a restless lion in too small a cage.

Merry let him pace until he finally settled in a large wing chair by the fireplace. Then she sat down across from him. “Tell me about your mother.”

“Before or after my brother died?” Jack asked bleakly.

“Both.”

“She was very traditional, very proper, a lady. She was accustomed to having things her own way. That comes with having money, I guess. But she always said that her twins were the ones who taught her to loosen up, to relax. She couldn’t have power over us like she controlled others, so she finally had to accept that we were a force to be reckoned with and enjoyed. She became a lot of fun after that. My father was the disciplinarian, and Mom sometimes even consorted with us in our tricks and mischief.” He smiled faintly. “Those were good times.”

“And after?”

“My mother just . . . disappeared. It was as if she faded before our eyes. No more laughter, no more smiles. It took everything in her just to keep herself together. She took medication until her eyes glazed over, saw therapists until their names all ran together, and spent the rest of the time locked in her room. She was kind to me but distant. After all, I’d killed her son.”

“You were her son too! You didn’t kill anyone.”

Jack shifted in his chair, crossed one long leg over the other, and finally seemed to see her. “No? I guess no one else blamed me, but I blame myself. I should have known better. I should have stopped Jamie.”

“You were
twelve
! Do you know any twelve-year-old boys with the common sense of an experienced adult? I don’t think so!”

“Maybe not, but I grew up thinking I should have been the exception.”

“You always talk about your mother in past tense,” Merry observed. “Is she . . . ?”

“She died four years after Jamie. It was as if she just couldn’t muster up the will to live once he was gone. Like I said, she faded away. She grew quieter and thinner. She slept less and paced the house at night. One day my father found her in bed—gone. Just like that she disappeared completely from my life, without a word, without a good-bye.”

He skewered her with a look that held her rapt. “And that, Merry, is why I can’t celebrate Christmas. It was the beginning of the end for my family. I know God is the one who carried me through those bad years or I probably wouldn’t be here either, but that doesn’t mean I like all the brouhaha and manic glee I see around Christmas. Quite frankly, I despise it.”

Despise
was a pretty heavy word to use for the things Merry loved about the holiday. It hurt her, but at least now she understood why he was so adamant about his feelings.

She tucked her feet beneath her on the couch and pulled an afghan over her lap. It felt cool in the house despite the fire. Or perhaps it was just the flame of excitement she felt about the holidays being extinguished.

“Thank you for telling me, Jack. I know it was difficult for you. At least now I understand why . . . you are the way you are.” She pulled on a lock of golden hair that had strayed from behind her ear. “But even though your feelings are real and your story tragic, it doesn’t mean you should keep other people from taking pleasure in the birth of the Savior. Granted, some go too far and forget the real meaning of Christmas, but it’s also a wonderful time to spread the Good Word. Everyone identifies with the baby in the manger.”

“I just can’t help it, Merry. It’s like a knife in my heart when I see elves and reindeer and hear silly songs about Rudolph or Frosty. Christmas is a matter of life or death for me on so many levels. It’s the beginning of the end for my family and for Christ who also had to die.”

“It’s not my place to judge you, Jack. I respect your views. You earned them the hard way. You lost so much. You don’t have to agree, but you do have to understand that there is more than one way to approach a subject.”

He studied her somberly. “Agree to disagree, you mean?”

“Something like that.”

“And quit trying to impose my views on Frost?”

“Please.”

“I can’t promise you that, Merry. I will say that whatever property doesn’t belong to me can stay as it is. As for my land and property, I don’t want it to be Santa’s runway anymore, okay?”

She could agree to that. Thankfully her house wasn’t under Jack’s ownership. At least Merry’s Christmas Boutique was safe.

Chapter Eleven

• • • • • • • • • • • •

“Do you like horses?”

Jack looked up from his breakfast, startled. “I suppose so. I’ve done some riding but never had the time to keep it up. I had a friend who owned a ranch. We lost touch, and I didn’t continue riding. That was a long time ago.”

Merry sat down across from him. “I have a friend who has horses too. I’ve been thinking of organizing a sleigh ride. Are you interested?”

“Sounds a little too Christmassy for me. Thanks for asking though.” He went back to his eggs.

“I’m asking for a reason. I’ve been trying to think of a way to do something nice for Greta and her family, something that involves others. I know sleigh rides border on having the Christmas spirit, but these people may not have a real Christmas so why not a memorable holiday event?”

She looked straight into his eyes. “Frankly, I need people who know the situation and will make them feel comfortable. Abby and her husband have agreed to come and so have my pastor and his wife. With Greta’s family, me, and my friend Jeff, who owns the horses, that makes nine people. A full sleigh is ten. So if you’d agree, I wouldn’t have to look for someone else to fill that last spot.”

Jack squirmed a little so she hurried to add, “Besides, it will be fun. Jeff has beautiful horses, and he’s got a wonderful voice. We can sing carols and—and—” She stammered to a stop, realizing what she’d just suggested. “Or not.”

Much to her amazement, without any argument whatsoever, Jack said, “I’ll do it. For that little girl. Not because it’s Christmas.”

“Deal.” Merry extended a hand to shake.

When his fingers encased hers in a strong grip, she felt fragile and delicate. The handshake seemed as personal as an embrace. She pulled away and averted her eyes.

“Good. I’ll count on you then. Tomorrow night after you come back from Blue Earth.”

She quickly escaped the kitchen, but she felt Jack’s gaze boring into her back.

* * * * *

Now why had he gone and done that? Jack gripped the steering wheel of his rental car as he drove toward Blue Earth. The road was icy, and the last thing he needed was to go into the ditch. Everything he was finding out at the courthouse was giving him fits, and he didn’t need more trouble.

But he’d already generated more trouble. He’d agreed to go on a sleigh ride, of all things. Why had he . . . ?

It wasn’t hard to figure out the answer. He’d said yes because he wanted to get a good look at Merry’s friend Jeff.

She’d dropped Jeff’s name enough times in casual conversation to make him curious. He felt oddly protective of her, this woman who wore her heart on her sleeve and would give everything she had if she thought someone needed it. She’d treated him far better than he’d deserved those first couple days he was in Frost. He appreciated that more than she could know.

It was really going to happen, this sleigh ride, Jack observed as he arrived at Merry’s Christmas Boutique at six the next evening. There were two huge Percheron horses hooked to something that looked like a large open box on runners. It was filled with soft mounds of loose hay and piles of cozy blankets.

The regal-looking horses stood at least nineteen hands high and had to weigh a ton or more each. Their large, prominent eyes seemed to take in everything, and they stood surprisingly still considering the excitement around them.

Greta was particularly rambunctious, running alongside the horses from their noses to their tails and then back again. Her mother was trying to convince the little girl to stand still but to no avail. Abby and her husband, Charley, were chatting with Pastor Ed Nordstrom and his wife, Betty. Merry, dressed in a green down coat and red Santa’s hat, carried thermoses and plastic containers full of food to the rig. She handed the parcels up to a ruggedly good-looking man with three days’ worth of grizzled stubble, short and slightly tousled hair, and a wide white grin—especially when he smiled down at Merry. He wore jeans and a thick buffalo plaid jacket. On the wagon seat lay a fur hat—flaps and all—and a pair of thick gloves.

Nothing to criticize there, Jack realized. This guy was perfect for the role he was playing tonight. He was the rugged horseman, impervious to cold and snow and obviously smitten with Merry. She, however, seemed oblivious to Jeff’s flirtatious smiles.

Jack was overdressed in his suit jacket and highly polished shoes. He waved at the group and ducked into the house to change clothes. The night was getting cold fast.

“Come meet Greta and her parents,” Merry ordered when he returned. “You know Abby and Charley and remember Pastor Ed and Betty from church.” She made introductions and pointed at Jeff, who was up on the seat. “These horses are Jeff’s gorgeous girls. Aren’t they something?” She pointed to the horses, which Jack noticed had large red bows fastened to the tops of their tails.

Merry counted off her list on her fingers. “Cocoa, graham crackers, marshmallows, and chocolate . . .”

“We’re going to have s’mores?” Greta screeched with delight.

“And tuna sandwiches with chips to eat while we ride. Oh yes, and music.” She produced an old battery-operated radio that looked as though it should have been put in the garbage twenty-five years earlier.

Jack tried to stay out of the way of the merrymakers—who were enjoying this adventure far more than he—by burrowing into a mound of hay inside the rim of bales Jeff had placed around the perimeter of the sleigh.

He might have succeeded in going unnoticed had not Greta chosen him to be her new best friend.

* * * * *

Greta had cornered Jack, Merry noticed. Good for her. Let him try to be the Grinch around such a child! Discreetly Merry edged her way closer to the pair so she could hear what Greta was saying.

The little girl shook him by the shoulder until he looked at her. Then, with eyes so round they looked like full moons, she asked, “Are you really Jack Frost? Miss Merry read a book about Jack Frost at school.”

“She did, did she?” Jack shot Merry a questioning glance.

She was glad for the darkness, which hid the blush creeping up her neck and across her cheeks.

“He was friends with Frosty the Snowman and Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer.” Greta leaned closer to Jack. “Do you really know Frosty?”

Merry stifled a giggle. Then an unpleasant thought struck her. She hoped Jack wouldn’t disappoint Greta with his answer.

“Well, the thing is . . .” He cleared his throat as if stalling for time.

Merry stiffened.

“The thing is that I live in California, Greta, and it’s very warm in California all year long. Frosty hates that kind of weather, so he’s never in the state.”

“Oh.” Greta sounded disappointed, but she bounced back quickly. “How can you freeze things if you live in California?”

Jack cleared his throat. “Frosty doesn’t like to fly on airplanes, but I do.”

Greta’s face cleared. “So if you want to, you can go to cold places!”

“I’m here right now, aren’t I?”

The little girl clapped her hands. “And that’s why we have icicles!”

Merry was delighted. Jack hadn’t lied exactly, nor had he disappointed the child with his answer.

As Merry turned away, she saw Greta climbing onto Jack’s lap. “Can you tell me about the North Pole? Just how big are the elves anyway?”

Merry turned her attention to Greta’s mother and step-father. The young couple sat close together, leaning on a bale and holding hands through bulky mittens. “How are you doing?”

“It’s so good to get out and do something fun for a change.” Stephanie turned to her husband, whom she’d introduced as Wayne. “Isn’t it, honey?”

Wayne nodded somberly. “We’ve had a string of really bad luck lately. Neither of us have found jobs yet, and we couldn’t pay the rent so we lost our place. We are so grateful to the shelter to let us stay there and keep Greta in school. Anyway, it’s good to laugh again. Thanks for having us.”

“Greta talks about you at school. I thought you two could use a break.”

Stephanie and Wayne exchanged glances. “We’re grateful for the help we’ve been given. I’ve been doing some job interviews,” Wayne said. “I think I’ll be able to find something in Blue Earth. Then we can look for housing.”

“And I’ll look for work,” Stephanie added. “We have bills to pay, and Greta could certainly use some clothing that didn’t come from secondhand stores and rummage sales.”

“I wish you all the best,” Merry said with all her heart.

Then Pastor Ed weighed in on the conversation. “I told them I thought the church could help them with groceries. And our janitor is complaining more and more about his knees and how he needs one replaced. I told Wayne that he should apply for the job to fill in while Melvin is recovering. Every little bit helps.”

“How kind!” Stephanie’s forehead creased. “But when we get on our feet, I want to give back any way I can.”

“It’s a deal,” Pastor Ed said. “Thank you.”

Stephanie favored him with a satisfied smile.

“Tell me more about yourselves,” Pastor Ed encouraged.

“There’s not much to tell,” Stephanie said. “We’ve been married two years and, as you can tell, we haven’t had an easy start. I was in a bad state when I met Wayne, but we’ve finally gotten past all that. When my first husband died . . . Losing him brought me to my knees. If it weren’t for the fact I had to take care of Greta and that I met Wayne, I’m not sure what would have happened to me. I thank God that He found me and lifted me out of the morass my life had become, before I made it even worse. . . .” Stephanie grew silent and pensive.