The Christmas Piano Tree: What's Christmas without a tree? (A Kissing Creek novel Book 1) (14 page)

And make their Christmas a happy one.

She passed by Rachel’s room, checking to make sure she was asleep, her tiny hands folded under her head, her soft breath barely a whisper. How like Scott she was, curious and always looking for the good in people. A tender thought touched her. He would live on in their child. She thanked God for that on this holy night.

Christmas Eve.

She shut the door.

But what about her?

Kristen was still accepting the final details of Scott’s death in waves that ebbed and flowed, at times crying fresh tears she’d thought were spent then flowed again, but accepting it nonetheless. That didn’t give her the right to act like a child, letting her emotions go and blaming Jared. For what? Because she didn’t have the courage to love again?

No, she couldn’t let him go.

She yanked open the front door and ran outside, calling out his name.
No answer
. He was gone. He’d walked out into the dark night and disappeared as if it were a doorway to another world.

She’d been a fool to speak to him like she did, but she was hurt.
Deeply
hurt. Crumbling under the weight of everything gone wrong on this Christmas Eve. Yes, she had the money to make the back mortgage payments, something that would have made her giddy with joy this morning, but it didn’t seem as important as what she’d lost.

The chance to love again with a good man, a soldier who thought not of himself, but of his buddy’s family.

Why he didn’t tell her about the money in the piano at first, she didn’t understand, as if he was holding something back from her. Whatever it was, she wanted to know. Help him, if she could.

She wanted to bring him back.

This was something she
had
to do, knowing it would change her life. She believed it as surely as she believed in the magic of Christmas, Santa Claus, and her Aunt Gertrude. She let go with a long shiver. She could no longer keep her emotions bottled up inside her. As if all the unhappiness and despair of these past few months came pouring out of her soul.

Tears slid down her cheeks. This time she almost expected them to turn into ice crystals.
She
was the snow queen with the cold heart. Thinking only of her own feelings and not giving the man a chance to explain himself. He had been out there in the desert, nearly blown apart, the smell of blood, fire, and death invading every pore.

He saw Scott die
.

She had been spared that, something so horrible she couldn’t even imagine it. She’d begged him to tell her, but he had the sense not to listen to her plea and had worked hard to wrap words of comfort around her to keep her from feeling pain when he told his story.

And what did she do? Attack him. Her words sharp and cruel.

Oh, what was the use. All the excuses from here to forever weren’t going to change anything. Kristen could no longer pretend that her life wasn’t entwined with the sergeant’s.

Her stomach did a somersault and flipped over not once but twice, making her dizzy. In some wild, unpredictable twist of fate, they had to meet and she had no one to blame but herself if she’d messed up what was written in the stars.

She’d turned her back on him. Sent him out into a cold, bitter night.

She never felt so alone.

Not even when Scott was deployed. Now she had nothing but an emptiness worse than before because
this
time she’d sent him away without letting him know how she felt about him.

Kristen bit her lip. She missed Jared already. His deep voice, his command of everything he did, powerful yet tender when he needed to be. How was she going to get him back? Rachel was fast asleep. She couldn’t bundle up her child and go searching for him in the dark, riding up and down every county road, shining her headlights at anything that moved. No, she had to be sensible. He couldn’t leave town right away unless he hitched a ride.

Not likely. Who would be out on a night like this except Santa? She smiled. Wasn’t that how this whole thing began?

Pacing and up and down on the worn rug, she made plans. When dawn broke, she’d wake up Rachel and together they’d head down to the bus station on Main Street and find Jared. She’d apologize and then ask him to join them for breakfast back here at the cottage. He would accept, he had to, he wouldn’t dare turn her down on Christmas morning.

To make sure, she’d play to his softer side, tempting him with her cooking to the point where he’d be drooling so much he’d follow her anywhere. Her lips curved into a big smile. It would be wonderful, the three of them sitting around the kitchen table. Laughing, telling Christmas stories, thanking God for this wonderful day. She’d make rich chocolate-filled French toast topped with blueberries. And anything else the sergeant wanted.

Did that include kissing
?

Oh, yes, she thought, imagining him pulling her into his arms and kissing her until she lost her breath. Her lips burned just thinking about it. Twisting her wedding ring on her finger, she felt no shame. She cherished the sanctity of her marriage with Scott, but she knew he was watching over them and that would make it all right.

Feeling better, Kristen gathered up the ten, twenty, even hundred bills scattered on the floor and started stuffing them in her apron pockets. It still seemed too incredible to be true. How her aunt had the tenacity to sacrifice for years so Kristen could have a future. With her child and her husband. She never could have foreseen how it would turn out, though she would have understood and given her blessing.

Her heart soared, like a haunting melody that took you somewhere you never planned to go, the beauty of the song lifting you up so high you couldn’t believe what you were feeling. That was how she felt about tonight and she wanted so to share the magic. She wanted to give something back to this wonderful woman who’d changed her life in every way, do something for her that would live on.

That spirit guided her now as she thanked Aunt Gertrude over and over again in her heart for her generosity. Not only could she make her back payments on the cottage, she’d pay off the whole damn mortgage and open up a little pastry shop.

She’d call it
Gertie’s Goodies.

And Jared?

Kristen hesitated. She didn’t have an answer. That part of the puzzle wasn’t as clear in her mind and had a missing part or two. What she was thinking was unconventional and there were those in town who would take issue with the young widow cozying up to the handsome stranger.

She pooh-poohed that idea. Let them talk. It might wake up a few old souls to the idea not to judge others but look at yourself first. God knows Kissing Creek could use some sprucing up with its sagging willow trees along Main Street, overgrown moss on the brick building housing the city hall, and old fashioned clock tower that stopped working when ladies still wore bonnets out shopping.

But that was what she loved about it. The charm of a bygone era where folks sat on their porch on a hot summer night and went on sleigh rides in the winter. It was her home and she had no intention of letting
anyone
force her out. If Jared wanted to stay in Kissing Creek, she’d not discourage him—

Knock. Knock.

Her hand flew to her mouth as she dropped a handful of twenty dollar bills. They floated through the air as if in slo-mo before gently landing on the floor. She barely noticed. Her chest was so tight it hurt and she couldn’t breathe. Could it be—

Jared.

Oh, yes
!

Fussing with her apron and smoothing down her hair, Kristen raced to the front door and opened it, a big smile on her face and her arms open wide.

“I prayed you’d come back—” she began, and then stopped dead when a tall, shadowy figure slid into view. Her eyelids fluttered, not believing what she saw. A man wearing a heavy parka, dirty, torn jeans, and smelling of whiskey and sweat stood on her front step, gawking at her while he picked his teeth. He disgusted her.

“Ain’t you a pretty little thing,” he said, spitting on her entryway.

“Who are you?” she said, her voice shaking. “What do you want?”

“How ‘bout asking me in? It’s cold out here.”

“I don’t know you. Go away,” she yelled with more courage than felt. This wasn’t happening, couldn’t be. She’d close her eyes and when she opened them it would all be a bad dream.

God, please
.

“You wouldn’t leave a man out here to freeze, seeing how cozy it is inside.”

He poked his head through the door, his eyes lighting up when he saw the money scattered on the floor.

“I—I can’t let you in. Try the bus station,” she urged him. “You can find shelter there.” Jared was probably there by now. He’d know how to deal with him.

Then, with her heart thundering in her chest, she tried to slam the door but he jammed his foot inside.

“Not so fast, little lady,” he snickered. “You and me have some business to discuss.”

Before she could stop him, he barged through the door and grabbed her around the waist, pulling her off her feet with a violent jerk. A sudden chill came over her as a wild flurry of snowflakes blew in through the open door and landed on top of his spit. He paid it no mind and kicked the front door shut with his boot. The loud noise made her grit her teeth with an intensity that set her on edge. She was trapped here with him.

Alone. Jared was gone. 

“Let me go
!
”
Kristen yelled. Tears burned her eyes as she struggled to free herself, but his grip was strong and tight.

Dear God, who is he
?

A light-headed dizziness threatened to overtake her, but she kept her head. Her heart was still beating because she felt the blood rushing in her ears, but for how long? The man suggested an intimacy with his words as well as the fierce, hungry look in his eyes that made goose bumps rise on her skin. She let out her breath slowly. She needed to get control of herself, not let him feed on her fear.

He had other ideas.

In a terrifying instant, whatever happiness she’d felt turned to the most paralyzing fear she’d ever known when he pulled out a knife and held it against her throat.

Her heart stopped.

I won’t give up. I’ll fight him. I have to. For Rachel’s sake.

“You won’t get away with this,” she managed to sputter. “Let me go.”

“Keep your mouth shut.” She swore its sharp edge pricked her skin when she heard him say in a raspy voice, “If you scream, I’ll kill you.”

The stable was as silent as a tomb.
Dark, quiet.

Jared threw down his duffel bag and plopped down onto the plush red velvet seat in the sleigh and tried to catch his breath. He brushed off the wet snow on his field jacket and leaned back on the seat, trying to figure out what went wrong with Kristen. Why she took it upon herself to protect him on one hand and got so damn angry on the other because he’d lied to her.

He was wrong not to tell her the truth, but she didn’t understand. She wasn’t over there, didn’t live through what he lived through. Taken the emotional hit of seeing his best buddy die in his arms. He didn’t want to feel that again and pushed it far back in his mind. So he’d taken the coward’s way out and clammed up. He figured he could play Santa and make her happy by finding the money her aunt left her, and that would be it.

Hell, that was just the beginning.

He never planned to want to help her so badly he forced himself to remember every detail, every moment of that dark day.

It nearly killed him.

But he couldn’t take the guilt that he was here with her and Scott wasn’t, so he walked away from her. Now the small steps he’d made in healing what he thought could never be healed were ripped from his soul. The headaches came back. Mind-blowing pain that pushed up behind his eyes and held his head in a band so tight his face was numb. So he sought shelter back here at the school where it was warm and dry.

And safe.

No triggers here to set him off, loud noises, smells, strange voices. A perfect place to stay until morning when the pearly fog lifted, then he could trek back into town and head for the bus station. The two-lane highway had led him back here, his sharp eyes taking note of the way. Habit, he knew. He’d never let go of soldiering, but he had a whole lot of adjusting to do to transition back to civilian life.

He wouldn’t admit it before, but after the fouled-up mess he’d made with Kristen, he was ready to follow the treatment program the doctors had ordered to get his discharge. He needed help, needed it badly. He’d lost sleep, pushed everyone away. It wasn’t easy to put the war behind him. No one wanted to talk about it, including him. He’d shut himself off from everyone, everything but his fearsome memories. Staying isolated, alone. 

Damn, he wouldn’t have gotten
any
treatment for his PTSD if a concerned nurse hadn’t found him wandering the hallways looking for Scott.

He never would have asked for help on his own.

Too proud are you, soldier
?

Yeah, proud and stupid.

Not anymore. Did a pretty, ponytailed blonde in a ruffled apron and jeans have anything to do with that? 

He wasn’t giving up on her.

And not just because Scott asked him to take care of her. The woman had gotten under his skin. When she looked at him, he saw a fire in her eyes that made him respond to something that went beyond sex. A need to reach out and say what was on his mind, get rid of the hurt that festered inside him, like a wound that never healed.

He got the uncanny feeling that she understood what he was going through, that she cared about him. For the first time he felt something lacking in his life.

He’d been alone too long, not sharing his feelings with anyone. She stirred his need to reach out, let go of the terrifying things he’d seen and rebuild his life, one step at a time. He hadn’t been able to talk about his experiences in Afghanistan with his family. With her, he could.
Why
, he didn’t know. She was different somehow and he liked that.

Still, he’d been wrong not to control his emotions around her, and then slink away without telling her how he felt. That she made things right again when no one else could. If he couldn’t be honest with her, his best friend’s wife, the woman who’d captured his heart, then who could he talk to?

That convinced him he
did
need help.

When he got a firm grip on himself and what happened to him in Afghanistan, Jared hoped she’d forgive him.

If only he hadn’t been so stubborn, he wouldn’t have left, but he’d soon change that. Nestled in the forested land near the mountains, Kissing Creek was a place where a man could set down roots if he had mind to once he found his way back home. Here he could live a life worth living without the fears of what happened over there taking over his mind.

A pleasant ache swept over his chest, his heart slowing down to a normal pace. He pictured the three of them, Kristen, Rachel, and himself next Christmas doing the piano tree again along with a big fir. There wasn’t anything wrong with them having two trees, right?

Closing his eyes, a pleasant holiday warmth went through him, like sucking on sweet candy canes and spicy cinnamon sticks—

“Put your hands up,” ordered a woman’s voice.

What the hell—

Before he could react, someone turned on the lights. He blinked a few times, trying to adjust.

“Let me explain,” Jared said, raising his hands.

“Look, sister, it’s
him
,” a second woman blurted out.

“Who?”

“Santa Claus.”

Jared grinned. The Oakes sisters. He was never so happy to see anyone. He lowered his hands. No doubt they thought he was a prowler.

“Sgt. Jared Milano, ladies.”

“So Mrs. Delaney tossed you out,” Miriam said with a smirk. “I’m not surprised.”

Jared cleared his throat. He decided not to give away the real reason for his leaving. He’d like to keep that between Kristen and him. “She’s a mighty fine cook, ma’am. Too bad you let her go.”

Miriam wasn’t going to let him get away with that. “I imagine it was more than her cooking you were interested in.”

“She’s a beautiful woman, but she’s also my best friend’s widow,” he said in a steady voice. This time he said it with more passion than ever before. For months he’d avoided allowing any emotion into his voice, afraid to feel again. Not anymore. He could see the shock, the respect, the acceptance on their faces. Two sisters so very different but alike in their surprise. “It was his dying wish that I look after her and Rachel.”

“Oh…” Betty Ann gushed, her hand going to her mouth.

“You expect me to believe that story?” said Miriam, lifting a brow.

“Yes, ma’am, because it’s the truth.” Jared explained to the women what happened in Afghanistan, amazed that telling story again and reliving those last moments helped break its power over him. In a voice calm and steady, he related how Scott saved his life, and then the enemy attack where he was mortally wounded.

“I believe him, sister,” said Betty Ann, smiling at him.

“You believe in the tooth fairy,” Miriam said, and then turned back to Jared. “If it
is
true, then why did she throw out?”

“So folks around here wouldn’t talk,” he lied. Why not protect her reputation if he could? “I aim to return to the hospital to finish my rehabilitation from my wounds, then I’ll be back.” That
wasn’t
a lie if Kristen would listen to reason.

“Sorry if we caught you by surprise, Sergeant,” Betty Ann said, giggling. “I told my sister not to worry. Who would come out on a night like this except Santa?”

“No problem, Miss Oakes,” Jared said, smiling at her. “It’s my pleasure to see you again even if I’m not wearing my red suit.”

“You can’t be too careful these days,” Miriam said, and then she explained how Zeke came running up to the main house saying he saw somebody sneak into the stable. Just his luck the handyman woke up from his drunken stupor to see him pick the lock.

“Especially since the sheriff has been warning everybody around here to be on the lookout for that bank robber on the loose,” Betty Ann finished.

“What do you mean?” Jared asked, an alarm going off in his head. “I thought he hightailed it out of town with the bank’s ready cash.”

“Guess not. The sheriff got a report from a local farmer who said he broke into his trailer and tried to rob him,” Miriam said, “but he ran him off with his shotgun.”

“He was headed in this direction,” Betty Ann added, her voice wavering.

“He’d have to go by the old mill first,” Jared said, calculating in his mind the route he’d taken to get here.

Oh, shit
.

Kristen’s cottage was smack at the end of the road, lit up like a Christmas tree, all red and green and gold, making it easy to spot if someone was hiding in the woods.

The thought made him turn cold.

A nagging, ugly feeling born of instinct told him what he didn’t want to know. Earlier when he was looking for Rachel, he had the uncanny notion someone was watching him, waiting. He didn’t put it all together then seeing how he was so focused on finding the child, but he wouldn’t be surprised if what he’d heard was a man’s heavy foot stepping on a fallen branch. Then later when he left the cottage, he also felt eyes on him, but he thought it was Kristen.

He went over again in his mind every detail, pulled between what happened out in the snow and what happened at the cottage, calculating the time he left Kristen and how long he’d been at the stable. Every minute counted, dragging his nerves through the fires of hell, praying he was dead wrong, but having the damnedest feeling he wasn’t. If the bank robber hadn’t come this far, the soldier couldn’t stop an unsettling fear from creeping into every fiber of his being.

If Jared was right and someone
was
watching the cottage, he’d no doubt seen him leave.

That would mean—

“Tell the sheriff to meet me at Kristen’s cottage pronto,” he ordered with the authority of a commander in the field. He shoved aside his fatigue, his fears. Only one thing counted: get to Kristen and get to her
now
.

“Why, Sergeant?” asked Miriam, concerned.

“Kristen and her child are in great danger.”

* * * * *

“I won’t scream. I promise,” Kristen said, forcing the words out in a whispery voice. She choked on her own saliva. She couldn’t help it. The nauseating smell coming from the sweaty man made her dizzy. Only anger and a deep need to survive kept her from fainting, but she was determined not to panic.

Instead she concentrated on keeping her wits about her.

“That’s better.” Panting hard, the man lowered the knife away from her throat. “I wouldn’t want to mess up this nice place you got here.”

“You creep
,” Kristen muttered under her breath.

She was so terrified she nearly collapsed when he let her go. She was badly shaken by his sudden appearance and hugged herself to stop shivering.

This is a bad dream, so wake up
!

She couldn’t.

The wind blew hard outside, rattling the windows as if to warn her, but it came too late. Her aching muscles where he’d grabbed her relayed loud and clear this was all too real. A cold emptiness seeped through her pores and settled in her. She wanted to cry. A deep sense of loss she wouldn’t have believed possible took over her soul and drained her so bad she didn’t shed a tear.

Jared was gone.

She barely knew the man, yet she missed his strength and his ability to make quick decisions. The funny way his eyes twinkled when he rubbed his beard. How he made her laugh. The cold, dark determination in his gaze when Rachel ran away, and then the warmth lighting up his face when he brought her home. He’d taken to her as if she was his own daughter.

Oh, my God. Rachel.

Please, God, let stay asleep, warm in her bed and out of danger.

Kristen glanced back at the intruder. He was staring at her, giving her time to realize she had nowhere to go. She was his prisoner. What a fool she was. If she hadn’t been so mad crazy to see the sergeant again, she wouldn’t have opened the door.

If only she had listened to what he was saying and not let her pride get in the way. He was a brave, good man and, okay, so he lied to her. Big deal. The man had a heart. He’d nearly died fighting for his country and lost his way. Somehow she knew coming to Kissing Creek was the first step in him finding his way back home. She wanted to be there for him when he did. First, she had to deal with this jerk and get him out of her house.

But how? She was no match for him.

“What do you want?” Kristen asked, her voice hard, cold.

“That’s better. Now that we understand each other, we can get down to business,” the man said in a calmer voice, though still waving his knife around. He pulled the hood off his head, brushed off the snow on his heavy parka, and looked around. He was a big man and resembled a grizzly with a scraggly beard. Surprising, his face was pale, his cheekbones gaunt, but his eyes drilled right through her with an intensity that chilled her.

He took a quick survey of her cottage, looking inside the piano, picking up five and ten dollar bills, smiling. How did he know about the money? He must have been watching them through the window. That thought made her feel violated and sick.

Then, warming himself by the fire, he said, “Gather up the money and put it into a plastic bag.”