The Christmas Piano Tree: What's Christmas without a tree? (A Kissing Creek novel Book 1) (8 page)

C’mon, help the lady out.

“Your mommy isn’t the only one who can’t afford a tree, Rachel,” Jared said, thinking on the spot. “Lots of families can’t. Like my dad. He worked hard, but he had a lot of mouths to feed.”

“Oh,” said the little girl, but she didn’t look convinced. She thought a moment, then: “But
your
daddy didn’t go away.”

“Yes, but—”

“Don’t you see?” she cried out, her whole body shaking. Her eyes were big and sadder than a blue moon. She’d kept it in so long, her feelings came out in one big push when she slammed her hands down on the table, rattling the empty dishes. “That’s why we’ve
got
to have a Christmas tree. For Santa to put presents under.
Big
presents with pretty paper and a red bow. Big enough for my daddy to fit in. So Santa can bring him home and he can be with us for Christmas.”

Bursting into tears, she slid off the chair and ran from the kitchen, her small feet tapping loudly on the linoleum.

No one moved. Jared looked at Kristen, who was too shocked to do anything. Her hands lay folded in her lap. Her shoulders slumped. Head bowed. It was written all over her face that everything she prayed would never happen just did. Her little girl wasn’t upset because they didn’t have a tree. She was upset because she believed with all her heart that Santa would bring her daddy home if they did. 

Deep down she must have known she’d have to face this day, a day when Rachel would have to know the truth about her daddy. He could see it in her eyes, bright and warm and filled with love for her child, but also filled with a mother’s pain of knowing the truth couldn’t wait any longer. She jumped up from her seat and started after her.

“Rachel!”
she called out.

Jared grabbed her arm. “No. Let her cry it out.”

“Are you crazy?” she wanted to know, a terrible sadness putting her at odds with him. “My child’s hurting bad and you’re telling me to do nothing?”

“Yes,” Jared said soothingly. “Give her some time, Kristen, and then go to her and tell her the truth.”

“That her daddy’s dead and he can’t come back?” Kristen said with a fierceness in her voice he hadn’t heard before.

“Yes. The important thing is to comfort her, but not lie to her. She may keep asking you if he’s coming back, but don’t falter. It will take time for her to accept it.”

“I don’t know where she got the idea that Santa would bring Scott home—” she began, thinking. Then it hit her. The simple, everyday truth so plain to her that she let go with a plaintive cry. “Oh, no…”

“What is it, Kristen?” he asked, concerned.

“I keep the TV on for company when I’m baking. Last week I saw a news story about a soldier who surprised his kids by arriving home in a big, holiday-wrapped box under a Christmas tree,” she said. “Rachel must have seen the kids tear open the present and their dad jumped out. Now she believes Santa is going to bring Scott home.”

“I’m not surprised,” Jared said. “Kids have a way of believing in happy endings even when adults don’t, but she’ll get through it. They bounce back quicker than we do.”

He looked into the deep color of her eyes that saw into his, her soft, silky gaze telling him that she trusted him when he said her little girl would be all right. He could see the pulse beating on the side of her neck. She came closer to him, drawing strength from his presence, but not ready to bring him fully into her life. It was a start. She looked up at him, arching her back, parting her lips, while he could only suck a pocket of air deep into his lungs.

Then she said what was on her mind even though it hurt her deep inside. “I believe you when you say Rachel will accept the truth that Scott isn’t coming home.”

“Have
you
?” he asked gently. It was a bold move, knowing he should keep his distance, but he couldn’t. Not anymore.

They stood in the kitchen for a long moment, looking at each other as the outside shutters banged against the cottage wall. A howling wind trying to get in made the glass window shake, while big, fluffy snowflakes came down hard and fast, covering the countryside with a white blanket.

But here in this cozy kitchen, Jared waited for her answer. Her breath hot on his face, his emotions hotter.

“Yes,” she said finally, looking up at him. “I have.”

“That’s all I needed to know,” he said in a husky voice.

“Oh?” she asked.

“You promised ole Saint Nick a kiss,” he reminded her.

“I don’t have any mistletoe,” she teased, skimming her finger over his lips.

“That’s not going to stop me,” he said in a voice filled with passion.

“I didn’t think it would.”

He leaned down and brushed his lips against hers, taking possession of her mouth in that glorious way he’d wanted to do since he first saw her in the snow. He knew a joy in that kiss he’d never thought to experience again. Growing up with four brothers, Jared was never comfortable around girls. He had a sweetheart once, but she didn’t take to being an Army wife and married someone else. Never in his wildest dreams did he think he’d find a girl like Kristen.

She melted into him, sighing. He held her closer, kissing her again and again, teasing her until she broke away, laughing.

“Your beard tickles, Santa,” she said, begging him to stop, but he didn’t let her go.

Kissing her again and again, his eager lips persuaded her to kiss him back and wrap her arms around his neck. He groaned. He had an angel in his arms. He believed she could make the terrible pain in his brain go away, pull back the curtain that shrouded his mind with blurry thoughts. Words that appeared like ripples in a lake, and then disappeared before he could grab them.

He pushed that thought aside and savored the taste of her. The magic of kissing creeks and mistletoe came together in that kiss. It turned wild and passionate. Her lips parted, then came a long sigh. His tongue plunged into her mouth and, to his surprise, she gripped him tighter, daring him to deepen the kiss and plunge into the very depths of her soul. Nothing had prepared him for this. Kristen held onto him with such hope, such need he couldn’t let her go. She kissed him with so much emotion, his whole body responded to her, every muscle tightened. God, she was amazing. She didn’t stop. She’d been so long without the feel of a man’s arms around her, he couldn’t blame her for breathing in the bliss of it all.

She pressed harder against his chest, making him moan. He tugged on the round buttons on her blouse, wanting her. He longed to whisper his desire and have her clothes off, but he
had
to stop. Come to his senses before he did something they’d both regret.

He ignored the scrapping sound in his ears, ignored what his instincts told him. He was giddy with the feel of her close to him, her lips on his. He didn’t want to let her go. Must be the old water heater making rumbling noises.

What else could it be?

The whistle of the wind pierced right through him yet it sounded different somehow. Like someone opened a door and let Old Man Winter in. That made him scramble to get his bearings back on. Footsteps? A bad feeling came over him, and then pinged his brain.

Was it
—

Then a loud
banging.

Oh, shit. It was
.

Kristen stiffened in his arms, but she didn’t pull away. “Did you hear that?”

“Must be the wind blowing the shutters back and forth,” Jared said, keeping his voice calm, but he didn’t believe a word of it. He’d gone into battle mode in an instant, trying to remember where the exits were, noting where he’d dropped his gear if he needed it, making a plan. An icy chill edged up his spine. The cottage stood by itself at the end of a winding road, no traffic this time of night. No close neighbors.

“Are you sure? The storm is over,” Kristen said, confused. He held her tighter, waiting for her reaction. She’d figure out what happened in a minute and he had to be prepared to act.

“Do you have a back door?” Jared asked, trying not to alarm her.

“Yes, but who could—
oh, my God, Rachel!”
she yelled, pulling away from him and running to the back of the cottage, looking everywhere. “She’s not in her room.
Rachel, Rachel!”

Jared raced after her, his heart pounding. “Keep looking.”

“She’s gone!”
Kristen cried, pointing to the open back door.
“Why, Jared, why?”

Jared cursed under his breath, angry with himself for not paying attention to his instincts when he sensed they weren’t alone. Now he knew what they’d heard.

A child in pain.

But he’d been too involved in his own joy to think that a little girl might pop up out of bed, dry her tears, and go looking for her mother.

He swore, yes,
swore
on everything he held sacred, that he wouldn’t rest until he found the child. But he couldn’t leave Kristen like this, shell-shocked and disbelieving. She’d already walked through hell. She didn’t need this.

He wrapped his arms around her, trying to soothe her, his lips brushing her forehead, mumbling to her in low, soft tones not to worry, that Rachel would be all right. He didn’t know if she believed him. Her cheeks were deeply flushed and her lips had gone pale. She was shaking madly, her breathing coming hard and fast.

Words weren’t enough. He had to find the little girl.
Now
. He knew what was going through her mind. The guilt eating her up alive. Him, even more so.

Rachel had seen her mommy kissing Santa Claus and it shattered her world.

Kristen couldn’t stop blaming herself as Jared grabbed his field jacket and gear and took off after her baby. Torturing herself with questions, always questions. Never answers. Why had she been so selfish, putting her own needs ahead of Rachel’s?

Why didn’t she check on her?

And why didn’t she tell the child the truth in the first place?

She thought of running, rushing out into the darkness and snow, tried it actually, no coat, no scarf, just an urgency to find her child. Knowing she was suffering, knowing she could die out there. My God, the temperature had to be close to freezing.

“No, Kristen,” Jared had said in a no nonsense voice, startling her. He’d gone after her and picked her up in his arms and carried her back inside the cottage. She’d never seen a man’s eyes look so fierce when he put her down. “I’ll go. You wait here in case Rachel comes back on her own.”

Like hell she will
, she’d shouted back, banging her fists on his chest, shaking so bad she couldn’t stop. He had no right to order her to stay here, no right at all. Rachel was her baby,
her baby
…it was her fault she’d run away.

Then Jared did something she never expected. He leaned down and brushed his lips against hers. Not a passionate kiss, but just as powerful. Soft, tender. Taking the fight out of her. His heated breath warmed her, calmed her, because deep inside she knew he was right. She’d get lost out there and then he’d have two missing females to find.

She let out a deep sigh. Ten minutes had passed since she watched the sergeant disappear into the cold, dark night. Every minute longer than the one before. She stood at the window and wiped away the frost on the glass pane until she made a circle big enough so she could see out. An incessant downpour of heavy snowflakes pinged against the glass, making her job difficult. She couldn’t catch her breath. She was in a strange, disconnected frame of mind, as if she couldn’t believe this was happening to her.

“
Rachel, my baby
…
where is she
?
”
Kristen muttered over and over, grabbing her cell phone and trying to call for help.
No bars
. With all the holiday stress, she’d forgotten to charge it. She had no way to call for outside help until the battery recharged. She picked up her aunt’s old rotary phone, but it didn’t work. She didn’t pay the bill on the landline, thinking she’d never need it.

That wasn’t the only foolish thing she’d done.

Kissing the sergeant topped the list.

If she’d never invited him to supper, this never would have happened. She wouldn’t be half-crazed with worry, checking Rachel’s room, picking up her pillow, smelling her baby’s sweet scent. Yet Kristen didn’t blame him for what she’d done.

The poor man had no idea what a kettle of troubles he was walking into because his belly was empty. A hot meal was the only thing on his mind when he saw the tall, wrought iron gate with the name of a girls’ school in fancy letters wrought in metal, the branches on the big trees guarding the gate heavy with snow. A strange world to him, but other vets had come this way, no questions asked. He’d served his country, earned a Christmas Eve dinner, and she’d tried her best to give it to him.

It wasn’t his fault she was lonely.

She prayed to God the soldier would find her little girl and bring her home safe. And afterward, well, she’d just have to see, wouldn’t she.

Oh, what a fool I am. A silly fool.

Her throat tightened and after a hard swallow, she came to grips with the truth. The cottage was cozy and warm, but the chill of being alone again seemed to seep through her skin. It had been so nice having someone to talk to, help her deal with Mr. Carey, setting the table for three.

But not at the expense of losing her child.

Was God punishing her for even
thinking
about another man?

She held Rachel’s pillow to her chest and hugged it. She could feel her cheek rubbing against the soft flannel, but inside she went numb again, an awful reminder of the way she felt before Jared came into her life. She never realized how much she was beating herself up every night. Thinking about how Scott would never see his child again, or cuddle up with her and tell her how much he loved her chocolate chip cookies, or all the Christmases they’d never share.

I can’t go on like this. Dear God, please show me the right way
, she prayed, torn between her loyalty to the husband she’d lost in battle.

And the soldier who’d opened her heart.

She dried her tears, determined to hang on to the belief that Jared would find Rachel and bring her home safe. She had to. He’d given her back something she’d lost these past months. Something she didn’t think she’d ever find again.

Trust.

* * * * *

Jared never dreamed he would put his tracking skills hunting down terrorists and insurgents into finding a lost little girl with pigtails.

Moving carefully through the woods, he examined every broken tree branch, every snowdrift, every footprint for clues. Nothing. A petulant darkness taunted him, daring him to race into the unknown without thought or a plan. Knowing he’d be vulnerable, and then easily tricked.

That wasn’t going to happen.

This was what he was trained to do. Navigate a route through the desert using nothing more than a compass and a map of the terrain. He had no map here, but he
did
have a compass. They’d taken his knife and multi-tool back at the hospital, but he still kept gear in his duffel bag. Tape, bungee cord, and light sticks in case his flashlight gave out.

He’d grabbed his stuff along with his compass and tactical gloves when they found the child missing. Then he whipped the blanket off the little girl’s bed—a thick quilt covered with grinning, chocolate brown teddy bears—and took off into the night.

Jared moved silently over the worn trail, looking,
praying
, he’d find her soon. It wouldn’t be easy, if not downright impossible to locate her if the snow came down any harder. The cottage sat by itself in a storybook woods far off the main road. Timing was crucial. Daylight would be too late.

He kept to the stone path since he was in unfamiliar territory. Darkness and the cold weather were his enemy, turning him around in circles. Damn, it was frustrating. The temperature was close to freezing. Ice sickles hung from the pine trees in prickly pairs. A bitter wind nipped at his cheeks. Deadly cold made him shiver.

He
must
find her. God knows what Kristen was going through, her emotions turned inside out. What a damn fool he was. He’d come here to help her, not cause her more misery. He’d seen her face when she realized Rachel was gone.

He knew that look. Pure terror.

He’d seen it on the faces of female civilians after the insurgents stormed through a village, killing, kidnapping. Days, even months later when he passed through the village again, the women still had that same look. Like their souls had been burned to ashes and they were just going through the motions of living. He couldn’t let happen to Kristen. She’d suffered enough.

And it was his fault.

There it was, the truth about what happened that day in Afghanistan.

Why don’t you bring it out into the open
,
rip open the curtain you’ve been hiding behind all this time
?

He blamed himself for Scott’s death, beat himself up every day because he couldn’t save him.

And now he’d hurt his buddy’s wife.

Damn
his own hunger to see her smile, kiss her lips. What the hell did he matter when it came down to it? He’d never forgive himself if the child was injured, lying helpless and freezing to death or fallen prey to a night stalker, its sharp teeth hungry for soft flesh.

The thought chilled him.

He pulled up the collar on his field jacket, more determined than ever to locate her. She wouldn’t last more than a few minutes out here. She was just a kid, a spunky one at that, he remembered, but still a kid. She must be scared out of her wits, confused, and so cold her teeth chattered.

Most likely Rachel had taken on enormous guilt for not convincing her mom to have a Christmas tree so her daddy could come home and surprise them. Then seeing a strange man kissing her mom was too much for her to take in.

So she bolted.

Running madly, crying. The child did have one advantage over him. She knew these woods. He didn’t.

He slapped his arms to keep warm. The fresh falling snow was fast covering her tracks, making them nearly impossible to follow. If clouds hid what little moonlight fell on the snow, he’d be in big trouble.

Hunching his shoulders against the bitter wind at his back, Jared spun around when he heard a loud
crack
behind him. He kept perfectly still. Sounded like someone stepped on a fallen tree branch hidden under powdery snow.

A rabbit, squirrel?
Not likely. They’d be hunkered down for the night. It
could
be a night predator, but his gut told him the sound was human.

The little girl? Or someone else?

“Rachel,
Rachel
!” he called out.

Nothing.

He pulled out his flashlight, but kept it turned off. He had no weapon, but the long handled light would do if he came up against something unexpected.

Crouching down behind a snowdrift, Jared listened. Nothing moved. Even the wind tested him, its haunting whistle barely audible to his ears. He heard only his own heavy breathing, his frosty breaths hanging in the air like rings of gray smoke before disappearing.

What if she was already dead? Lulled into an endless, peaceful sleep by the soft, pretty flurries falling to the ground. All she’d have to do was lay her head down on the freshly fallen snow and—

Don’t even go there.

The fear of losing Scott’s child gripped him with such an acute heaviness, a crushing weight on his mind, that his reality took on a new dimension. Hammering his brain. Striking it hard over and over like iron hitting an anvil. Echoing in his head nonstop. Violent, painful. Crashing through his skull. He tried to fight it, but couldn’t.

Damn, make it stop
.

Slamming his fist into his palm, he pushed down the sounds by sheer willpower. But he couldn’t fight an unseen force pulling him backward, drenching him in sweat, leaving him powerless, like he was caught in a fury of wind and rain. He didn’t see it coming, but something happened to him out there among the tall trees with their thick branches covered with snow.

His darkest thoughts came back to him.

Painted on a canvas no longer blank, but splattered with red and yellow and orange.

The sun, the desert.
Alive
.

In his mind, he was on patrol again, his jeep speeding over the hot sands, the clean blue sky overhead filled with ugly splotches of smoke and black dust when the explosion hit. Red hot, sizzling, and crackling around him. The smell of rubber burning, the sting of shrapnel hitting his shoulder and sending him flying for cover. The fiery bursts of metal raining down on him.

Then the triumphant cries from the enemy closing in around him, loud in his ears, cries that wouldn’t stop.

No, wait
.

Another voice, once more insistent, wouldn’t go away, demanding to be heard. Holding his breath, Jared listened hard. He stepped back from the present, away from the dark and bitter cold, and embraced the fragments of his last moments with Scott. His hands thick with blood trying to close his wound, the pain he’d seen, felt, locked down in his mind for so long pushing through.  

I can’t stop the bleeding. I can’t let him die, I can’t!

Hell, what about his wife and kid?

Somehow, Scott found the strength to lift his head, his eyes filled with a brutal honesty that cut through any hope Jared had that he was going to make it. The soldier knew he wasn’t. On a level deep and pure, he found the words he wanted to say, had to say, before he made his peace with God.

“Take care of Kristen…and Rachel,” Scott said, trying to speak. “They’re everything to me.” Horrible, gurgling sounds came from his throat as he struggled for every breath.

“They’ll be safe with me, Scott. I promise.”

He nodded, a half-smile curling over his lips, but he wasn’t finished. With the last of his strength, he formed the words on his dry, cracked lips. “Tell Kristen,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “Tell her—”

Tell her what?

Damn, he still couldn’t put the pieces together. For so long he
wanted
to remember, but his subconscious kept blacking out the words circling round in his head, never stopping.

Jared wiped the sweat from his face, his heart pounding. A floating feeling made him feel light-headed. What was going on? He wasn’t in the past, but he wasn’t fully in the present either.

He was walking a tightrope between both, knowing he’d lose what he so desperately to remember if he wasn’t careful. He couldn’t lean too far to one side or he’d fall, his memory lost forever. It was a precarious moment, sending terror through him. Yet also hope. His memory was slowly coming back.