The Soldier's Bride (33 page)

Enjoy this sneak peek of Rachelle’s novella, “Hope for Christmas,” included in
Christmas Kisses: An
Echo Ridge Anthology.

T
HE SILVER BELL CHIMED AS ANIKA FLETCHER
entered Kenworth’s department store. She took two steps forward then stopped when she saw a glint of metal. Crouching, she picked up the quarter next to the toe of her worn black boot. She stamped the last bit of snow from her heels and pocketed the quarter. With only fifty dollars left until the next paycheck, Anika needed every last cent.

“Whatcha got, Mommy?” Four-year-old Megan scrunched her nose and lifted up on her tiptoes.

Anika smiled at her daughter and touched the end of her little pixie nose. “Just a coin.”

“We need lots of money so we can pay Beatrice.” Megan’s voice held no trace of concern.

Anika frowned. Thank goodness her daughter was so even-tempered. The daycare manager, Beatrice, had turned them away fifteen minutes ago.

“I’m sorry dear, I really am. Megan is such a sweetheart but we can’t let her stay until you pay your bill. You still owe one-hundred and thirty dollars.” Beatrice had given her a look filled with pity before slowly closing the door.

Anika’s face heated recalling the humiliating conversation. She felt Megan’s tiny fingers wrapping around her hand, and looked down. Megan was like her anchor in the stormy seas. Anika blinked twice, rolled her shoulders back, and smiled at Megan. “It’s going to be okay.”

She adjusted her name tag and walked past the fragrance counter holding her breath, even inhaling the rich scents seemed too expensive for someone like her. This was a seasonal job, but Anika wanted to work into a full-time position.

They walked past The Candy Counter with its rows and rows of hand-dipped chocolates that made Anika’s stomach grumble. She’d skipped lunch, saving the last three slices of bread for Megan. The peanut butter and jelly sandwich she’d made for their dinner called to her from the sack inside her purse.

“Can I have a candy, Mommy?” Megan tugged on Anika’s hand.

“Not now. Mommy has to go to work.”

Two boys stood next to the display, pointing at the neat row of mint patties. “These are Mom’s favorite. Let’s get them for Christmas.”

The older brother, who looked to be about ten or eleven pointed at the prices. “Tommy, see how much it is a pound? I don’t think we have enough.” He studied a handful of coins, his lips moving as he counted. “We need seventeen more cents. We could get some of the taffies instead.”

“But Mom loves those.” Tommy stuck his finger on the glass in front of the mint patties.

Anika hesitated, watching the boys recount their money. She looked over at her daughter and remembered how last week Megan had begged to give a quarter to the Salvation Army bell ringer outside Kenworth’s. Anika had clutched tightly to the coin before giving it to Megan. When had she become so hard and tight that she couldn’t even let go of a quarter? What hurt more was watching another woman in a beautiful suede coat— likely one of the tourists everyone referred to as
Ice Money
— shush her child and drag him into the store, denying his same request.

She slid the quarter out of her pocket and took a step closer to the Candy Counter. “Here, this might help you boys. I bet your Mom would love those mint patties.”

Tommy looked up and grinned, then glanced at his older brother who studied Anika and the quarter in her outstretched hand. Anika nodded and moved her hand a fraction of an inch closer. The coin wasn’t enough to buy a treat for Megan, but maybe it could help the boys. The older boy took the quarter, adding it to his handful of change.

“Thank you.” He grinned and both boys turned back to the counter.

Anika smiled, and lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. She wasn’t counting on the quarter anyway, and it was cute to see how excited the boys were. Megan tugged on Anika’s other hand and she continued over to the women’s department.

Usually Anika parked around back and entered near the offices and employee lounge, but she hadn’t figured out what to do about Megan yet. She led her daughter to the checkout station in the women’s department, happy that no one had noticed their arrival. Anika stowed the oversized bag full of Megan’s toys under the counter and pulled out a few dolls. She cleared a space in the cabinet under the cash register for Megan to play. It was breaking the rules to bring a child to work, but Anika hoped that she could keep Megan quiet and entertained for the next four hours. She was only scheduled to work part-time for the holidays, mostly covering a half-shift. She tried not to think about what she would do next week when she was scheduled for six-hour shifts.

Thankfully Kenworth’s wasn’t overly busy for a Tuesday, even if it was December first and the Christmas countdown was officially on. The mad rush yesterday on Santa’s first day had spiked the store’s attendance, but things were slowing down a bit and the man in the red suit had left his throne for a break. Anika shushed Megan each time a customer approached and did her best to keep up with her duties in the women’s department.

Megan munched on her peanut butter sandwich, looked at books, and played with her toys, but by eight o’clock she was tired and Anika had run out of ideas.

“I want gummies!” Megan stamped her foot and cried.

“Shh, Meg. We have to be very quiet so we don’t scare the shoppers,” Anika infused a soothing tone into her voice, but it wasn’t very convincing. Her own stomach tightened, grumbling with the gnawing hunger that she’d grown accustomed to. A pack of gummies, or any food right at the moment would be welcome. Anika picked Megan up and rocked her back and forth, humming along to the tune of
Silent Night
playing over the sound system.

Anika saw her boss round the corner and wished she could climb under one of the racks of designer clothes she’d just arranged. The woman had steel gray hair, a temper that matched it, and eyebrows that were perpetually arched in a slant of disgust with everyone and everything she came in contact with.

Cecilia Grange, acting CEO of Kenworth’s Department store walked toward Anika and pointed her long finger at Megan. “I take it this is your daughter?”

“Yes, I apologize,” Anika’s voice was just above a whisper. “I didn’t have another option tonight.”

“Was she the one I just heard crying? We don’t want to annoy our patrons.” Cecilia’s strident tone made it clear who was annoyed.

“I’m really sorry. I’ve got her settled down now.” Anika turned so that Cecilia could see Megan’s angelic face. Her daughter smiled at Cecilia just as Anika had hoped. She saw her boss soften a fraction.

Cecilia’s eyebrow lowered a millimeter. “Well, as long as she’s quiet, I guess we can make an exception.”

Anika didn’t promise that it would never happen again because she still hadn’t figured out what to do with Megan tomorrow during her shift. “Thank you. She’s really a good little girl and won’t cause any trouble.”

Cecilia pursed her lips. “I came to talk to you about the overtime you signed up for. Are you still capable of filling it?”

“Yes, I’d be glad to help however I can.” Anika tried to tone down the desperate eagerness she heard in her voice.

“We’re setting up a giving tree,” Cecilia said. “It’s one of Keira’s projects.” She rolled her eyes and huffed as though Keira’s ideas were only meant to torture her. “I’m going along with it because I have to humor some people. After the store closes tonight I need you to set up the tree.”

Anika swallowed hard and nodded. “I can certainly do that.”

“Then you’ll need to decorate it and help with the handmade cards we’re creating to hang on the tree. We have an association that will be supplying names of those in need this holiday season.” Cecilia pointed at a long box on the other side of the counter. “The tree is in there. We want it completed by tomorrow night.”

“I can do that.” Anika shifted Megan in her arms. Thankfully, her daughter remained quiet, probably scared silent by Cecilia’s eyebrows.

Cecilia glanced at Megan and back at Anika. “Good.”

After the tapping of her heels faded, Anika looked at the box holding the Christmas tree and groaned. Anika’s stomach grumbled, protesting the lack of food. It was going to be a long night.

***

“Megan, honey, move your dolls and car back behind the counter.” Anika pointed at the toys she’d nearly tripped over on her way to unbox the Christmas tree.

“Okay, Mommy, in a minute,” Megan answered, and then continued talking to her dolls.

It was nine o’clock and Kenworth’s was officially closed. Anika was tired but she still had to straighten the changing rooms and count out her till. Megan should’ve been in bed an hour ago, but since her little tantrum she’d been good-natured about playing in the cupboards and shelves behind the counter.

Anika stooped and ripped the packing tape off the box. The artificial tree burst from its confines like a Jack-in-the-box, startling her. She sucked in a breath and put a hand over her heart. There were dozens of branches with color-tipped ends. She couldn’t see the trunk though it must be in there somewhere. The tree was squished and flat. It would take a degree in engineering to figure this thing out.

“Stupid Christmas tree,” she muttered. If it weren’t for Megan, she’d skip Christmas altogether. The holiday was a slap in the face to someone like Anika— a divorced, single mom with a deadbeat ex. She hadn’t been able to locate Jimmy after he’d been released from jail the last time, but she was tired of hiding from him. When she moved to Echo Ridge a year ago, she decided a fresh start would be the best solution to her problems. The sleepy little New York town had been full of promises and hope, but after losing her job two months ago when Megan was hospitalized with pneumonia, everything had changed. Although the state had helped pay for Megan’s treatment, Anika had fallen farther and farther behind.

Her chest tightened when she thought about what was around the next corner. This job was temporary, and Anika had run out of options. If she didn’t find something soon, she’d be evicted from her one bedroom apartment.

She pulled the tree trunk upright and began putting together the sections of the tree. It took much longer than it should have with bits of the white flock crumbling and sticking to her clothes. One of the branches refused to straighten, the end was all twisted and it took her nearly ten minutes to smooth out the kinks. Anika grumbled to herself about the fake tree and its apparent mission to annoy her by not snapping together correctly. She fiddled with the pre-lit strands that had to be connected in several places. There were three different cords to test the lights, but she couldn’t get them all to work together. The box said the lights were supposed to twinkle, but Anika couldn’t even get more than one strand to turn on at a time. She grumbled and stepped back— on Megan’s dolls. Anika’s foot turned, she gasped, and fell forward into the tree with a shriek.

Before she could react to the fake evergreen needles poking her in the face, strong hands pulled her back from the mass of lights and cords.

“Are you hurt?”

Anika blinked and looked up at the man who had spoken. Her mouth opened and closed, and she shook her head. If Enrique Iglesias had come to her rescue then she was definitely going to thank the blasted Christmas tree. She rubbed a hand over her face and saw that he wasn’t Enrique, but with the shadow of scruff along his chin and his slightly mussed black hair against caramel skin, he could be Enrique’s younger brother. Anika shook her head. She was gawking, and hadn’t answered his question. “I’m not sure,” she said.

“Let’s get you away from this tree. I don’t think it likes you.” He cupped his hand under her forearm, carefully lifting her off the ground.

Anika winced when she put weight on her foot. “Ouch. I kind of twisted my ankle.”

“Sit down right here and I can take a look at it.” His dark hair matched his chocolate brown eyes and Anika found herself wondering again if Enrique did have a younger brother.

He helped her sit, leaning next to the wood paneling of her checkout station. He crouched down and held out his hand. “I’m Carlos Rodriguez. I’m a volunteer fireman, so I have some medical training. Mind if I take a look?” He had a Spanish accent, not heavy, but alluring, and Anika listened to him appreciatively.

“Oh, it’s just my ankle. I’m sure it’ll be fine in a few minutes.” Anika winced again when she moved her toes. “My name’s Anika Fletcher.” She held out her hand and Carlos shook it, his grip firm, yet gentle at the same time. Anika tore her eyes away from him and reached down to examine her ankle. It didn’t appear to be swelling, but every tendon around the bone ached. Maybe she should have him look at it. “Ugh, this is just what I didn’t need tonight.” She leaned over and massaged the tender side of her ankle. It wouldn’t cost her anything to have him look at it. “Okay, maybe I’d better have you look.” She moved back so that Carlos could see her ankle.

He leaned over and gently pulled her pant leg up. His fingers were warm, and he pressed lightly around her ankle. Anika’s heart sped up— it was hard to ignore the flutter in her stomach as he carefully examined her foot. He looked over at her and smiled. “There might be a little swelling later, but it’s a good sign that it’s not turning colors. You need to ice it and wrap it to stabilize the area.”

Anika let out the breath she’d been holding when he released her foot. “Okay, thanks for your help. I was trying to get that dang tree figured out. It definitely doesn’t like me and the feeling is mutual.”

Carlos walked over to the tree, now standing almost ten feet tall, and shifted a few branches. Then he crouched down by the electrical outlet. “You know, this could be considered a fire hazard.”

Anika straightened and leaned forward to look at the surge protector. Had she plugged in too many cords? She scrunched her nose counting the four cords snaking from the tree to the power source. “I didn’t think that was too many.” She looked over at him.

Carlos grinned. He was teasing her! And his smile made those dark eyes light up— the ones that were looking at her with appreciation.