Love Finds You in Frost Minnesota (7 page)

The only whimsical thing her parents had ever done, she’d decided long ago, was to name their daughter Merry Noel.

The memories of her first years were good. Her parents always put forth the effort to make Christmas extra special. Sometimes there would be two birthday cakes—one for her and one for baby Jesus. It wasn’t until she was five or six that she began to realize that Christmas was celebrated very differently at the houses of her friends.

Families came together. Cousins frolicked. Aunts and uncles chatted. Grandmothers cooked and served meals, and great-grandmothers smiled benevolently from their rocking chairs. Or, at least that was how Merry imagined it to be. Christmas was for families, a time to come together and celebrate the birth of the Lord.

Each year her own Christmas, celebrated with only her mother and father, seemed smaller and lonelier. They tried hard to make it a special day, but Merry longed to be a part of one of those large families. As much as she loved her parents and all they did for her, Christmas came to connote two very different things in her young mind—the glorious birth of a Savior . . . and loneliness.

When she was fourteen, Merry decided to do something about it. She would bring Christmas to others. Or she would bring others to Christmas. Suddenly Christmases at their home were changed. Merry acted like an undercover spy for six weeks before December 25. If she heard of anyone who didn’t have a place to go for dinner, she told her mother, who dutifully invited the individual, often someone she didn’t even know, to their home.

As the parties grew, so did Merry’s joy. At seventeen, she made up her mind—she would do everything in her power to make sure everyone had a family for Christmas.

That had led, in a roundabout way, to the store. She’d volunteered to set up a Christmas shopping event for families of children who came to the local food shelf with their parents. Each child could “spend” a penny, a nickel, or a quarter—whatever they had—on a gift for each parent. Businesses began donating gifts, and the event turned into a huge party.

That success as a teenager ultimately emboldened her to open a small Christmas store in Frost. And the rest was history.

She wouldn’t let Jack’s hurtful comments stop her. He thought she was crazy. She thought he was an iceman emotionally.

Who knew? Merry thought. Maybe she was the one meant to thaw his frozen heart.

Chapter Seven

• • • • • • • • • • • •

Breakfast was destined to be a quiet affair. Even Peppy knew enough not to start ringing the bells at the back door.

Jack trudged into the kitchen wearing a wary expression, as if he were afraid a frying pan or an airborne egg strata might come flying his way.

Merry, however, kept her back to him, turning only briefly to plop a bowl of homemade granola and a toasted bagel slathered with butter in front of him. She’d filled a carafe with coffee so she wouldn’t have to serve it and made sure cream cheese, honey, and jam were already on the table.

She wasn’t angry, just hurt. She tried so hard to make her home and store a joyous place, but, ironically, she’d failed miserably with Jack Frost. Surely someone with that name should be pro-Christmas!

Finally Merry had to turn toward the table with a platter of hickory-smoked bacon. When she placed the plate in front of Frost, his fingers closed around her wrist.

“So you heard me talking on the phone?”

“I didn’t intentionally eavesdrop. I was putting away towels and . . .”

“I’m sure you weren’t. It’s me that owes you an apology. I was out of line. I was talking to Vince, my best friend. I was tired and it made me stupid. You aren’t silly, and the store isn’t kitschy. Vince would tell you I have a problem with Christmas. What I said says more about me than it does about you. I hope you’ll accept my apology.”

She could almost physically feel his regret. Jack wasn’t a bad guy. He was just, in her opinion, really messed up about Christmas. He seemed to have faith—he prayed willingly and comfortably at meals and had a solemn respect for the holiday but complete intolerance for anyone else’s vision.

Merry knew what she had to do: show him grace. She’d received enough of that herself to know she was not the one to withhold it from others.

“It’s okay. I
am
silly sometimes, and everyone has a right to their own opinion about what I do.”

“No one has a right to belittle another human being. It wasn’t even about you, not really. Any attitudes I have about this season are mine and mine alone.”

She dropped into the chair next to him. He was still holding her wrist, but it was a very gentle touch and she didn’t mind. In fact, to her surprise, she rather liked it. “Apology accepted.”

She was surprised when his shoulders drooped with relief. So he didn’t have an impenetrable fortress built around his heart. Though a rich, successful, and handsome man, he had his share of issues as well.

Merry found herself liking him better. He was very, very human, just like her.

After that, breakfast was a relaxed affair until Merry glanced at the clock. “I’d better get going or I’ll be late.” She began to shrug into her winter coat and tucked her feet into her boots. “Relax. Take your time. There’s more coffee.”

She wrapped a lengthy red scarf around her neck and grabbed her canvas bag. “See you tonight?”

“Yes. If you’re sure, that is . . .”

“Ancient history. Have a good day.” Merry scratched Peppy’s head and closed the door behind her.

Whistling softly, she buckled herself into the driver’s seat of her car and turned the key in the ignition. Nothing.

She tried again, paying more attention this time. Still nothing. Frowning, she glanced around the interior and her gaze settled on the passenger door. It was ajar. Her battery was dead.

Merry raced back into the house at twice the speed she’d left it. Jack was still at the kitchen table drinking coffee and scratching behind Peppy’s ear. The dog appeared hypnotized as he rested his chin on Jack’s leg. More surprising was the fact that the cat was sleeping in the sun at Jack’s feet.

“What’s wrong?” Jack straightened in his chair, and Peppy gave Merry a disgusted look.

“I left my car door open last night. I was carrying groceries in and must not have closed it fully. I’m supposed to be at school in twenty minutes!”

“I’ll drive you. Then I’ll come back and get your battery charged. Let me know what time you want to be picked up after school.”

“You can’t do that!”

“Why not? I know how to drive.” He sounded amused.

“You’ve got work to do. You shouldn’t have to bother with me.”

Jack put his hands on Merry’s shoulders to stop her from spinning around the room like a top. “I’ll drive you,” he pronounced each word slowly, as if speaking to an upset child. “Please. I’d like to help you. I’d feel better if you’d let me.”

Merry grew still. That, she understood. “Well, if
you’d
feel better . . .”

“I’ll get my jacket and my keys.”

* * * * *

Merry squirmed in her seat all the way to Blue Earth. “I’ll have a tow truck come out and jump the car. There’s no use having you bother with it.”

“No bother. Don’t spend the money.”

That seemed to register with her. Money, he’d realized, was fairly limited in Merry’s world. It never had been in his.

“But how . . .”

“Don’t worry. I was a teenage boy once. I know a lot about cars. I took a few apart and put them back together in my day.”

She looked thoughtful, as if she were trying to imagine it. It struck Jack how attractive she was. He’d been turned inward so long that it really hadn’t fully registered earlier. Her features were delicate, her skin porcelain, like peaches-and-cream. There was a fragility about her that was easy to forget because of her outgoing personality. The sunlight filtered through her pale golden hair, and it haloed around her head. She chewed on her rosy lower lip. Jack found it very endearing.

“It still seems like a lot to ask.”

He pulled up to the sidewalk near the school. He’d gotten to know the town very well in the past few days. As Merry was about to swing her legs out of the car, a little girl with golden curls and remarkable blue eyes came dashing toward them.

“Miss Blake, Miss Blake!”

The child was a study in contrasts, Jack realized. Her face was truly lovely, the kind of child one sees on television commercials and print ads, but her clothing looked as though it had been worn too many times and by too many children. And her eyes were filled with tears.

“What’s wrong, sweetie?” Merry asked when the little girl nearly crumpled into her lap.

“My mommy and daddy are in trouble ’cause we don’t have a house to live in.” Pools of tears welled in the child’s blue eyes and began to leak down her cheeks. “I want to be with my mommy and daddy!”

“Who says you can’t?” Merry’s voice was clipped and angry.

“Miss Lori. She told another teacher I wasn’t being taken care of, but I am. My mommy takes good care of me!”

Merry shot Jack a pleading glance.

He shrugged helplessly. What was he supposed to do?

“I’ll walk you inside, Greta. I’d like to speak with Miss Lori myself.” Merry turned to Jack. “Thank you so much for the ride.”

“What time shall I pick you up?”

“I’ll try to get a ride home, thanks.”

“No problem. I’ll bring your vehicle. It will need to run for a while anyway.”

Distracted, Merry sighed. “My kindergarten class is over at lunchtime. Twelve thirty would work.”

“See you then.”

Jack drove off before Merry could protest. Something in that little girl’s eyes nearly broke his heart. Fear and confusion marred that innocent face, things that should be far removed from the life of a five-year-old child.

* * * * *

Greta was unusually quiet this morning. Even Danny, who’d brought his pet hamster, Puffy, for show and tell, couldn’t draw the little girl out of her somber mood.

Troubled, Merry went to the teachers’ lounge in search of Lori Olson at recess.

Three teachers were seated at the long lunchroom table that constituted their break area. Lori was relating her thoughts about Greta’s home situation to the others who listened raptly. “Poor little thing. Have you seen the getup she has on today? Her jeans are so long the folded cuffs are a half-inch thick. Everything she wears is either too big or too small!”

“Sometimes that happens when you shop rummage sales, Lori. The fashion designers have a day off.” Merry’s voice was soft but steady.

Lori spun around and a flush spread up her neck and across her cheeks. “Merry! I didn’t hear you come in. We were just talking about . . .”

“I heard what you were talking about, Lori, but I’m not sure your opinions about Greta’s welfare are well-founded.”

“Her clothes . . .”

“Are always clean,” Merry said firmly. “Just old. That doesn’t mean she isn’t well cared for. It does indicate that the family is being frugal.”

Silently the other two teachers stood up, tossed their coffee cups in the trash, and slipped out of the room, apparently unwilling to witness the confrontation.

“What is it with you and this little girl, Merry? You keep saying you think her home life is okay. It’s obvious by the way Greta’s dressed that it’s not!”

“There’s more to parenting than clothes. Greta is cheerful, happy, engaged, and bright. She shows a lot of potential. She’s untroubled by her family’s situation”—Merry gave Lori a hard look—“as long as others stay out of it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Lori’s eyes narrowed. Merry wasn’t eager to say more, but she didn’t like Lori’s openly verbal opinions floating around the school.

“Greta is upset today.”

“I told you so . . .” Lori looked smug, as if she had seen something others hadn’t.

“About the things she heard you saying.”

That made Lori pause. “Me?”

“She overhead you tell another teacher that her parents weren’t taking care of her. She told me you said that her parents will be in trouble because they don’t have a house to live in. Now she’s afraid she will be taken away from her family. Lori, that’s unacceptable behavior! Talking about one of the children so that they overhear it? You don’t know what’s going on in that family, nor do I. I’ve discussed it with the administration, who have talked to Greta’s mother. They don’t see any need for immediate concern.”

“I certainly didn’t mean for her to hear what I said.” Lori had the grace to look ashamed. “I’m sorry, Merry. It’s just that when I think a child might be being mistreated . . .”

“That child is in my class, and I think she’s anything but mistreated. Her family is poor, not cruel!”

Lori stared at Merry. “I’ve never seen you like this before.”

“I’ve never been this angry, that’s why. That little girl doesn’t need to think she’ll be taken from her parents! I’d love to find that grandmother of Greta’s. That would solve a lot of issues for everyone.”

“But no one knows who she is!”

Merry couldn’t debate that. She’d been in the white pages online looking for a Bernice Olson in Minnesota. None lived in this immediate area. But this was the season of miracles, Merry told herself. Then she looked at Lori’s crestfallen face.

“Sorry if I came down on you too hard,” Merry murmured. “When Greta told me what happened, I lost it.”

“I deserved it,” Lori admitted. She made a zippering movement across her mouth. “No more speculating, especially not where children might overhear.”

“Thank you.” Merry turned and left the break room. She hoped Lori wouldn’t be upset with her, but she’d said what she needed to say. She felt like a mother lion protecting her cub where Greta was concerned.

* * * * *

Jack drew up to the school in Merry’s car and watched kindergarten children pour out of the doors. It was some time before he spotted Merry. She was holding a child’s hand as they walked toward a tall young woman with shiny dark hair. The little boy released Merry’s hand and ran into his mother’s open arms. He spun out of them after a brief hug and reached again for Merry. The adults laughed and Merry put the child back into his mother’s embrace.