Книга - Christmas, Actually: The Christmas Gift / The Christmas Wish / The Christmas Date

Christmas, Actually: The Christmas Gift / The Christmas Wish / The Christmas Date
Anna Adams

Melinda Curtis

Anna Stewart J.


Discover the magic of Christmas Town, Maine! Jack Banning promised to support the mother of his unborn child… But she doesn't need money, she only needs him.Callie Banning's student has declared war on Christmas, so it's up to her to help the little girl–and her widowed father–believe again.Gina Vernay is about to meet her online mystery date…and she's in for the surprise of a lifetime!







Discover the magic of Christmas Town, Maine!

Jack Banning promised to support the mother of his unborn child… But she doesn’t need money, she only needs him.

Callie Banning’s student has declared war on Christmas, so it’s up to her to help the little girl—and her widowed father—believe again.

Gina Vernay is about to meet her online mystery date…and she’s in for the surprise of a lifetime!


ANNA ADAMS wrote her first romance on the beach in wet sand with a stick. These days she uses pens, software, or napkins and a crayon to write the kinds of stories she loves best—romance that involves everyone in the family, and often the whole community. Love, like a stone tossed into a lake, causes ripples to spread and contract, bringing conflict and well-meaning “help” from the people who care most.

ANNA J. STEWART is a born and bred California girl. Raised in San Francisco, she discovered romances early in her parochial high school education and from then on knew what she was meant to be: a romance author. An English graduate of California State University of Sacramento, she’s held a variety of jobs and, for the past seven years, she’s been honored to work as New York Times bestselling author Brenda Novak’s personal assistant, helping run her annual online auction for diabetes research. In ten years, the auction has raised over $2.3 million. Anna lives in Northern California with an overly attentive and affectionate cat named Snickers.

MELINDA CURTIS lives in California’s arid central valley with her husband—her basketball-playing college sweetheart—who has a man-crush on Duke basketball legend Coach K (admit it, your man does, too!). Their three kids are all in college, and the only grandbabies they have are of the four-legged variety. Melinda loves cross-stitch, needlepoint and quilting, although since she started writing she hasn’t completed a single project. She writes sweet contemporary romances as Melinda Curtis and red-hot reads as Mel Curtis.


Christmas, Actually

The Christmas Gift

Anna Adams

The Christmas Wish

Anna J. Stewart

The Christmas Date

Melinda Wooten






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


Table of Contents

Cover (#uc0a887fe-c773-5200-a117-fcc7dcc7b441)

Back Cover Text (#u69d0bd86-32c3-549d-8ba9-79b47b8aec37)

About the Authors (#uf4e95b81-ba09-53c3-981e-283fd0726b57)

Title Page (#ue456ebb9-04c7-51e8-982c-a931c5eddec3)

The Christmas Gift (#ulink_2fb5779f-0744-56b5-b6a0-cd4a75a813fc)

Dear Reader (#ulink_99cd7fe3-6b34-5109-8cfb-a37e42321165)

Dedication (#ua505bb07-317e-57b4-b5fd-e3c847a9079a)

CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_9d1dd751-b995-5ed2-a95b-6f864490edda)

CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_cf49aac6-0e07-548d-b70b-543e01a7f6a4)

CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_85cf4dbe-429d-5607-b92f-40c0b608a41e)

CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_427cc298-a6ca-5793-8b5e-32754147f348)

CHAPTER FIVE (#ulink_9bf43e3a-db13-5ad1-8c9b-a051256bf6a5)

CHAPTER SIX (#ulink_caef011f-edf2-51d1-b313-465228f6b402)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#ulink_950ddbdf-2e1d-5e3d-883e-b091e666ca81)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#ulink_e1aa36ae-c0d9-5a9d-959f-4c4f6a90aa21)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

The Christmas Wish (#litres_trial_promo)

Dear Reader (#litres_trial_promo)

Dedication (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ONE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWO (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER THREE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

The Christmas Date (#litres_trial_promo)

Dear Reader (#litres_trial_promo)

Dedication (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ONE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWO (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER THREE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


The Christmas Gift (#ulink_dcf2412c-1c5b-5181-a4d1-4d4f5c4f14b2)

Anna Adams


Dear Reader (#ulink_b591991d-c11e-500d-be71-258845dd7878),

Sophie Palmer is confused when the pregnancy test comes back positive, but one thing she knows for sure—she already loves her unborn child. She doesn’t expect former army surgeon Jack Banning to break all contact, though. He’s promised financial support, but he wants no other involvement with her or their coming child.

He must have a reason. She’s known him and loved him for two years. At Christmas, she follows him to Maine to tell him she’s putting his name on the birth certificate.

She’ll never let their daughter believe she can expect more than her father’s name. Still, Sophie can’t forget the soldier who has lived by the code of Leave No Man Behind, the doctor who has cared more for his patients than himself, the man who shouldn’t know how to be dishonorable.

Fatherless herself, Sophie doesn’t care about the financials. She’ll take care of her own. She wants only to understand why Jack has become an impossible-to-love stranger.

I hope you’ll be as moved by Jack and Sophie’s story as I am.

Wishing you warm and loving holidays,

Anna


To Steve, for always being at my back. To Karen Whiddon and Debby Giusti, for reading so much. To Melinda Curtis and Anna J. Stewart for spending this holiday with me, and to Victoria Curran and Dana Grimaldi for working so hard to make this a Christmas Gift.


CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_16a272f5-b005-5eb0-8dec-b535b2580fb0)

SNOWFLAKES HIT THE windshield and splayed into star shapes while Bing Crosby crooned his dreams of a white Christmas. Sophie Palmer tried to sing along, but her mind was already racing up the icy interstate to Christmas Town, Maine, where the father of her unborn child now lived.

That Charlie Brown Christmas song came next, with talk of happiness and cheer and families drawing near. Sophie stared at the road, as frozen as the world she was driving into. The closer to Christmas Town she got, the more humiliated she felt.

But she wasn’t going to ask Jack Banning to love her again. He’d rejected her and their child—love wasn’t a possibility.

She dropped one hand to her slightly rounded belly. “You deserve better. You deserve the chance to have a father, if he can remember he’s a decent man.”

Overhead, a sign warned that the exit for Christmas Town was a quarter mile ahead. Time to embark on possibly the most foolish fool’s errand of all time.

She veered off at the exit, pausing to yield, and then turned onto a two-lane road bounded by primeval forest.

Another car was coming toward her, but it shimmied in its lane, as if the driver was asleep. Sophie slid her foot to the brake and lowered her speed, edging to the right, but the other car seemed to follow. It crossed the line. And sped up.

Sophie slapped at the steering wheel to find the horn. She hugged the edge of the road, screaming at the oncoming driver as she tried to stay out of the ditch.

Time yawned as the driver’s face came into focus. A young woman—looking up from her phone. Her face screwed up in horror, and Sophie realized she would see that woman’s expression in nightmares for the rest of her life.

The little blue car swung away, rocking, but then skidded back as the driver tried to steady it.

In the time it took to gasp, Sophie hoped they would have a near miss. Then the back of the girl’s car smacked the front of hers, and they spun away from each other.

That quickly, it was over, and Sophie found herself staring up at snow-covered trees. While the clash of metal echoed in her ears, Nat King Cole’s “Christmas Song” made the silence surreal. Sophie whipped off her seat belt and splayed her hands across her stomach.

Nothing. She felt nothing.

At eighteen weeks, she might not. The baby was small. She still had plenty of cushion. Her unborn daughter might be okay. Everything might be okay.

Sophie looked back at the other car.

Everything was not okay.

The girl’s vehicle was on its side in a spray of snow. The teen lay on her back, spilled onto the road, denim-covered legs out straight, hair splayed across the car’s skid marks.

Sophie tried to open her door, but it wouldn’t budge. She shoved as hard as she could and then tried the other side, which also refused to open.

The window.

She tugged at the bottom of her coat until she could pull it over her head, and then leaned against the console and kicked the driver’s window with all her strength. Two kicks and it crashed through, hanging on to the door by a corner, all in one jagged-edged piece.

Sophie slithered through, careful to avoid the glass, and hit the ground, taking her weight on her hands. Pain shot through her wrists to her fingers and up her arms. Ignoring it, she leaned back inside for her phone, tucked away in the console.

Punching 911, she ran the thirty-forty steps to kneel beside the young woman.

“Christmas County Emergency Services. How may I—”

“I’m putting you on speaker.” Sophie tossed her coat over the girl’s torso. “I’ve just been in a car accident. We’re east of the Christmas Town exit, not even a mile. I have a female in her late teens, ejected from her vehicle, probable broken arm. Unconscious. Probable broken right leg. She’s got a gash on the head, just beneath her temple. Thready pulse.”

“What’s your name, ma’am?”

“Sophie Palmer. I’m easing her arm out from under her body—”

“Don’t move her, Sophie.”

“I’m an E.R. trauma nurse. I think she’s lacerated an artery.” Sophie recognized her own growing shock in the wave of nausea that surged through her as she assessed the gaping wound on the young woman’s upper arm. She whipped off her cotton shirt and tore it with adrenaline-fueled strength. “I’m applying a tourniquet,” she said, shivering in her tank top.

“We’re sending a helicopter,” the operator said. “Is she breathing?”

“Yes. Low and fast.” Drops of blood had appeared on the teen’s chin. “She has a— Oh.” It wasn’t the girl’s blood. Sophie didn’t dare stop winding the shirt to check her own injury.

No pain in her abdomen. My baby girl. Eighteen weeks. Plenty of cushion.

“Are you hurt?”

“Some pain in my wrists, and I have a laceration somewhere on my head or face. I’m eighteen weeks pregnant, but I don’t think I’m bleeding, and I have no abdominal pain. Please hurry.”

“They’re lifting off. Shouldn’t be more than five minutes.”

The girl struggled as if she were trying to breathe, and then—nothing. Sophie felt for a pulse with shaking fingers. “She’s stopped breathing. I’m starting CPR.”

She began compressions, while her wrists screamed for her to stop. The operator’s voice went on in the background, but Sophie barely heard.

This girl had left some other mom’s home this morning, with her whole life just waiting to be lived. She’d be going back if sheer force could make her breathe again.

Tears leaked from Sophie’s eyes.

A new sound made her want to look up. The whir of blades. So many times Sophie had waited on the landing pad in Boston, but today would be different. Her own baby and this girl were both going to live.

Chaos descended. The helicopter landed close enough to lift her hair and the teen’s. Papers fluttered past. One, titled “Biology,” imprinted itself on Sophie’s eyes. The girl’s Christmas break assignment.

Feet appeared around them. One crushed her phone on the road. A pair of legs in dark blue uniform pants eased her out of the way.

Someone else helped her stand, but she felt as fluid as water. The EMT supported her when she began slipping back to the ground.

“Are you in pain?” He looked younger than the girl she’d been helping.

“A little in my wrists but I don’t think they’re even sprained.”

He tilted her chin up with his finger and then pushed her hair out of the way. “You have a small laceration.” Producing an alcohol wipe, he cleaned it.

A nurse in a flight suit applied a cervical collar to the patient, while the first EMT was still doing compressions. Sophie watched his hands, stronger than hers.

Sophie slid her arms around her stomach. “I’m pregnant,” she said. “Eighteen weeks.”

The EMT helped her to sit down on the road, out of the way of the others.

The man’s colleague, still working on the girl, looked back. “I have a pulse. Let’s get her in the chopper.” He helped the others strap their patient to a backboard.

Sophie’s EMT touched her arm. “An ambulance is on the way for you. She’ll be fine. Are you bleeding?”

Sophie shivered as the cold cut into her. “I don’t think so.”

“How hard did you strike your head?”

“I’m not sure.”

“We’ll check for concussion at the hospital. For now, follow my finger.” She did. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-five.”

“Where do you live?” he asked. “Street address?”

“Nine-ten East Portland Street in Boston.”

“Good enough. Can we call your husband? I think I stepped on your phone.”

Jack’s face, expressionless, flashed in front of her. She tried to breathe. “No husband. No one to call.” She stared across the road at the pieces of glass and plastic and a hot-pink phone cover, instead of looking into her own thoughts.

With any luck, Jack wouldn’t be on duty today.


CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_43832afe-b828-5aa2-9339-1a436edd8b6d)

JACK BANNING MET the chopper, where the patient had gone into arrest for the second time from loss of blood. After the crew resuscitated her, he took a report from the flight’s RN. Running beside his patient’s gurney toward the E.R. entrance, he was forced to veer out of the way of an incoming ambulance.

When the doors opened, he saw Sophie.

It wasn’t really her, of course. Since he’d left Boston, Jack had seen her face everywhere he went. Guilt, he figured.

Not that guilt would change his mind.

Sophie would have to accept his financial assistance and hope a better man came into her life.

Jack looked back at his patient, assessing on the fly. He couldn’t help glancing at the ambulance.

It was still Sophie.

Staring at him, white with shock, blank.

Nausea hit him so hard he was almost sick on the cement. He took deep breaths that didn’t provide nearly enough oxygen.

Was she hurt? And her baby... He didn’t let himself think of the child. Another doctor would take care of Sophie and the—her—baby. What was she doing here?

“Dr. Banning.” The trauma nurse assigned to his team spoke his name. No one ever had to focus him, and she sounded alarmed.

Sophie had come after him when he’d rejected her and the baby—it was completely out of character. He pushed thoughts of her aside, clearing his mind and hardening his heart.

Emotionless, capable, in charge, he knew what to do next.

“O.R. Two is waiting for us.”

* * *

“YOUR BABY LOOKS GREAT.” Dr. Everly glanced up from the ultrasound, where Sophie’s unborn daughter appeared to be practicing for a future in Olympic diving. “Your blood pressure and pulse are a little elevated.”

“Natural, considering I was just in an accident.”

“And you’re bruised. I’d like you to stick around town for a few days. Were you headed home for the holidays?”

Relief helped to calm Sophie. Dr. Everly wasn’t worried about the baby if she was going to let her leave the hospital. “I’m visiting.”

Sophie tried to wipe away the tears she couldn’t hold back. Who knew if they were tears of joy or sadness? All this time, she’d been stunned at Jack’s sudden exit from her life. She’d been unable to believe the man who worked miracles in the operating room could be so cold to a woman he’d professed to love, who’d loved him.

“Stop worrying.” The doctor squeezed her shoulder. “I wouldn’t lie to you, and someone told me you’re an E.R. nurse. You’d know if you were in trouble.”

“I’m happy.” Happy didn’t exactly describe everything she was feeling. She pulled the sheet up to her chin. The doctor whisked a tissue out of a box on the counter and passed it to her before reaching for the switch on the ultrasound machine. Sophie caught her wrist. “Could I listen for a few more minutes?”

“No problem. Where are you staying?”

“I have a reservation at a B and B. Esther’s House?”

“Esther is an old friend of mine. She’ll send someone to pick you up.” The doctor began inputting notes on her tablet at the counter. “Is your car drivable?”

Shrugging, Sophie discovered her muscles were as tender as if she’d thrown herself into a blender. “I don’t even know what happened to it. An EMT told me the tow truck driver would be in touch with a bill.”

Dr. Everly smiled ruefully. “My brother-in-law owns a body shop. I’ll see if they towed it to him. They might have impounded it, but impound at the police station consists of the two farthest spaces in their lot.” She made a note on the palm of her hand with her pen, but then looked up. “I’ll ask him to let you know if he has the car.”

After a quick grasp of Sophie’s hand, she went to the door. “I’ll call Esther’s to check in with you later tonight. Unless you’d rather stay in one of our fine rooms?”

“Not a chance.” Forcing a smile, when she was still fighting the urge to cry, Sophie swallowed hard. Naturally, she was emotional. Her baby had survived that crash. Sophie was a walking cesspool of hormones, and the man she’d been driving for hours to see had just looked at her as if they’d never met.

A fatherless daughter herself, she’d believed her child had a right to know her dad. Maybe she’d been mistaken.

“Why don’t you get dressed?” Dr. Everly suggested. “Esther’s car will be here by the time we discharge you.”

“Thank you, Dr. Everly.”

“Georgette. And that young lady in surgery should be thanking you. Word around the landing pad is you saved her life.”

Jack’s sharp features swam in front of Sophie’s eyes. Thank goodness the ultrasound only measured the baby’s heartbeat.

She pulled herself together. Coming here might have been an impulse she’d live to regret, but she could leave at any time. “My shirt got torn.” She plucked at the neck of her borrowed scrub top. “Do you think I can wear this out of here? I’ll wash it and return it after I get home.”

“No problem. I’m sure you can keep it.” The other woman opened the door, but then turned back. “Sophie, do you have anything else on your mind?”

She pressed her palms to her stomach, ignoring the slight tenderness in her wrists as she took consolation from the rapid heartbeat echoing in the small room. “No.”

“Call me if you have any problems. I’ll have your nurse put my cell number on your discharge instructions.”

* * *

TESSIE’S SURGERY WAS a success. No problems. Nothing unexpected.

Jack explained to her parents that their daughter would live to celebrate many more Christmases if they confiscated her phone. They went to see her, and he was left alone. Taking a deep breath, he tried to figure out what to do about Sophie.

Coming out of that ambulance wrapped in a blanket, she’d been pale with terror. The physician who’d taken oaths to help the sick and injured wanted to go to her.

The man, who knew what he had to do, didn’t want to get near her. She was the last person Jack had expected. Proud and strong and self-contained, Sophie would never chase a man who’d rejected her.

So what was she doing here?

He went back to the E.R. and checked the board to see if she was listed as a patient. Oddly, in the computer age, Christmas Town’s hospital still used a whiteboard. It was large, easy to read, easy to update.

He found the palest outline of “Sop” where someone hadn’t completely erased her name after she was discharged. The pregnancy meant that Georgette Everly would have been her attending...unless Sophie had come to Maine to tell him she’d lost the baby.

She could have lost the baby in the accident.

Georgette opened the door of a treatment room almost directly across from where he stood at the nurses’ station. With her eyes on her tablet, she was already moving on to the next room.

Jack headed for the doctors’ lounge.

He showered and dressed in jeans and a blue button-down shirt, then grabbed his coat from his locker before heading for the E.R. exit.

Georgette was leaning on one elbow at the nurses’ station, making notes. She looked up with a smile. “I heard your surgery went well.”

In no small part because Sophie had treated the girl while she was still lying on the road.

“Tessie Blaylock’s fine.” Jack should walk on. He should make sure he knew nothing about Sophie or the child. He didn’t want to ask, but the words came out of his mouth. “How’s your patient?”

“She’s good. Eighteen weeks pregnant, and the baby has a strong heartbeat. Lots of movement. Lucky for Tessie, she hit an E.R. nurse with trauma experience.”

“Are you keeping her overnight?”

“She’s staying at Esther’s House. I called to have someone look in on her before bedtime, but I’ll phone her, too.”

Esther Underbrook was like Mrs. Claus, opening her home to tourists seeking a potent shot of holiday spirit. Sophie had made fun of his hometown, with its blatantly commercial name.

“No use confusing anyone about Christmas for sale,” she’d teased him.

He’d been so busy keeping his life with her in Boston apart from his real life that he’d never explained Christmas Town wasn’t like that. She’d had no need to know that he wasn’t the man he’d been in Christmas Town. He’d avoided mixing his two worlds and the people in them.

She had no need to be here at all.

Nothing would change between them. Nothing. He didn’t care what plan nurturing, dreamy-eyed, yet practical Sophie Palmer had made.

Jack drove through the softly falling snow. Already, the sun was heading downward and the blue-gray sky darkening. He parked at the square and walked a block north to the Federal-style family home Esther had managed to refurbish by taking in customers.

She’d started her business by turning her dining room and parlor into a restaurant frequented by foodies from all over the world, but a house built when George Washington might reasonably have been expected to stop for hay and victuals required a formidable amount of upkeep. Naturally, she’d turned the restaurant into an inn.

Esther was carrying linens between her two busy dining rooms when he opened the door, stomping snow off his boots. “Hello, Jack,” she said. “You should be at work or asleep.”

Usually, he teased back. She’d been a fixture of kindness since his childhood. Tonight, he had to finish the last conversation he and Sophie would ever have.

“Actually, I’m working. I thought I’d drop in to check on an accident victim who came to the E.R. today.”

“Isn’t that nice of you?” Esther was so pleased his conscience quivered, but he instantly shut it down. “Sophie’s in room eight. Let me give you a pitcher of cider for her.”

He waited. Esther brought a tray with hot cider, scones straight from the oven and two delicate cups and saucers that had never been intended for a man’s use. Nevertheless, he negotiated the stairs and knocked at Sophie’s door.

She opened it immediately. Her smile reminded him of the old days—days and nights they’d shared just a few months ago—when her smile had been for him, and he’d never imagined being without her.

“I thought for a minute you didn’t even recognize me,” she said.

He moved toward her, and she had to step back. “Why are you here?” he asked. “I made myself clear.”

“When you packed up everything you owned, quit your job and moved home because I was pregnant?”

Her tone, as sharp as a scalpel, sliced into him, but he and Sophie and her child would all fare better if he withstood the wounds. He set the tray on a table between two armchairs in front of the fireplace.

This might go more easily if she’d only shown up to extract a pound of flesh.

“Nothing’s changed,” he said. “What did you expect?”

She shut her eyes, and her face seemed to smooth as she breathed her stress away. He hardened his heart. He could not be around a child. Would not.

She opened blue eyes, more beautiful than he remembered. Two months, and seeing her made him as eager as a starving man contemplating a table groaning with abundance.

“I hoped to find the man I loved for nearly two years.” Her voice dragged his gaze from her eyes to her mouth. “The doctor who gives his all to save lives, the friend who never, ever walks away.”

“I walked.” He turned toward the door. “If that’s all...”

She followed, grabbing his arm. He would not shake her off. He wouldn’t risk hurting her.

“Sit down,” she said, her confusion a painful stumbling block. He was determined to stick to his decision, but he didn’t want to hurt her more than he had to. “For a few minutes, listen to me.”

Whatever she said wouldn’t change anything, but maybe, after he said no again, she’d go away.

Cold sweat raced down his spine.


CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_b420368c-861d-560e-8c9d-d99f8d78f4af)

SOPHIE POURED CIDER into both cups and took one, mostly to keep her hands occupied. “Let’s get this over with. I’m not even sure there’s a point in talking.”

Except she’d been nobody’s daughter all her life. Not even a name to peg her hopes or her resentment on.

“You’re finally hearing me,” Jack said.

She put one hand to her mouth, resting her index finger along her upper lip as her stomach heaved. She had yet to conquer morning sickness. Some women had it from conception to delivery. Hers seemed to be connected to stress. “You know that my mother kept my father’s name off my birth certificate?”

“I don’t want my name on the baby’s papers.”

Was he trying to make her despise him? It might work, if a small voice in her head would stop insisting he must have lost his mind. He had to have a reason.

“I came to tell you I won’t do that. It’s not best for my baby. I know nothing about my father or whatever family he might have had, except that clearly he was either ashamed or married or a coldhearted—”

“Those are the stories you’ve told yourself,” Jack said. “You can’t prove any of it.”

“Exactly. But when you’re the one who’s been rejected, it’s harder to pretend it doesn’t matter. If something happens to her later in life, if she needs medical records or—I don’t even know what—I’d like for her to have a name. I don’t know the man you’ve become, but I’m putting your name on the birth certificate.”

“You could have asked me that on the phone.”

She sipped the cider. It still burned her lips. “I said ‘tell you.’ I’m doing this, and you can live with it.”

“Don’t encourage her to dream up comforting stories about me,” Jack said, standing. “You’ll only make sure she’ll be hurt.”

Sophie tried to equate this guy with the loving, witty man she used to know.

Bringing her a pot of purple violets on a Tuesday evening just because he thought the color would look nice with her eyes. That pot still held pride of place on her nightstand.

“I don’t know how you can leave your own baby.” She went to the door and opened it for him.

“I’ve already spoken to an attorney about child support. I’ll be setting up the payroll deduction as soon as you deliver.”

“What a good idea. Once it’s set up, you won’t have to think about your daughter ever again.”

Despite her anger, she only wanted to know one thing. Why?

The question echoed inside her head. She heard it, but she must be holding it back. He didn’t even blink. He just walked away. Again.

She slammed the door so hard the whole house must have shivered. Nice pregnant women didn’t run at implacable men and pound their fists on feelingless backs. Nor did they break Esther Underbrook’s house.

Sophie bit her fist to keep from crying. As soon as her car was repaired, she’d get out of Christmas Town.

* * *

“ESTHER, I NEED to buy a new coat.” The next morning, Sophie had gone downstairs to breakfast, nibbled on a slice of toast and decided she’d walk off her frustration. No need to lurk around the B and B, whiling away the hours before her car was repaired. “Mine didn’t survive the accident.”

Esther refilled Sophie’s herbal tea. “There’s Dockery’s. Go around the courthouse and follow the green, where they’re starting to put up the decorations. You won’t be able to miss it. Dockery’s doesn’t put up their Santa until after Thanksgiving, but he’s been waving from the top of their pediment for a week now.”

Sophie’s hard heart softened. Maybe she could use a little Santa after last night’s dose of rejection. “Is the distance walkable?”

Esther looked over Sophie’s thick sweater and purple knitted cloche, mittens and scarf. “Maybe on the way back. I’m going to call you a cab for the drive over. ” She motioned for Sophie to follow her to the reception desk, where she shuffled among the pages for a map of downtown, and then drew in directions for walking back from Dockery’s. “Now you be careful. The sidewalks might be icy.”

The cab arrived in no time, and Sophie rode in the backseat, staring out the windows at the lighted snowflakes blinking on street lamps and the people attaching holly to a white picket fence around the long town green.

At Dockery’s, a tall Victorian brick department store that oozed decorum, Sophie hopped out. She was drawn to the Norman Rockwell–type window displays. The first showed a family around a tree decorated in rich reds and greens and the other, a family around the fireplace, popping corn to string on their still bare tree.

Sophie couldn’t just walk past. She ran her hand over her belly, promising her daughter she wouldn’t lack for love because she didn’t have a father. Sophie’s mother had probably made the same Christmas wish, and that hadn’t come true. Every child wanted to be wanted by her parents.

On the store’s third floor, Sophie rummaged through the racks until she found a coat she liked. While she was paying for it, she breathed in the fragrance of a fir tree tucked into the corner of the checkout desk.

“You hardly ever see real ones anymore,” she said to the woman running her credit card.

“Fire hazard, I guess, but we got special permission to use one on each floor for our elf trees.”

“Elf trees?” Sophie noticed the small white tags hanging from the branches.

“The children whose parents can’t afford much this Christmas were asked to fill out a card with their wishes.” She handed Sophie her receipt and pointed at the tree with her pen. “Each one of those cards is a wish.”

“If I buy something now, can I turn it in before I leave the store?”

“The collection boxes are supposed to show up sometime today, one at all the exits, but if you don’t find a box before you leave the store, bring your gift back to me, or drop it at Customer Service.”

“Thanks.” Sophie took a tag that said “Red coat with black buttons” in a childish scrawl. Someone had written on the corner of the tag that this was for a girl, size 4T, and jotted a code, which must identify the child.

Sophie remembered being annoyed with clothing when she was small. She’d wanted toys—a treasure trove of toys, stacked like a pyramid around the tree.

A bit embarrassed, she smiled at the cashier and headed for the escalator, where a sign directed her to the children’s section, on the second floor. She found a beautiful wool coat, cinched in at the waist, with a swirling skirt and a black collar to match the required black buttons. She added mittens and a scarf, in red with black trim.

In the toy department, she found a doll in a similar coat and jaunty hat. She picked up a notepad and crayons and a toy cell phone, a miniature pewter tea set and Lincoln Logs, which she would still play with herself if she had them.

There were no collection boxes on the ground floor, so she headed to Customer Service, where a man behind the desk eyed her pile of gifts with doubt. “You picked up a lot of tags,” he said.

“Just one. Can I get these wrapped?” Maybe it was guilt. Maybe it was her own grief. But one little girl, size 4T, who was so mature she’d asked for a coat instead of toys, was going to receive a mini pyramid.

“Sure.” He leaned over the counter, pointing to the right. “Just around that corner.”

“Thank you.”

She persuaded the resident wrapper to do each item and then put them all in a bigger box, which she also wrapped in gorgeous red metallic paper that glittered each time the box moved. Sophie chose a white taffeta ribbon, and the woman performed a miracle of looping with it. The finished gift was so beautiful Sophie was tempted to believe in Christmas again. She meant to leave it at Customer Service, but the man behind the counter had disappeared, and she hated to leave the package just sitting there.

Maybe the collection boxes had shown up by now.

She was just in time. The store security guard was pulling a box covered in Santa-figured wrapping paper toward the revolving doors. Sophie carried her package to him, peering over the top to make sure she didn’t mow anyone down. “Will this fit?” she asked as the guard held out his hands.

“I think so. Good thing you got here first, though.”

“I know it’s a lot to ask, but could you make sure the bow doesn’t get crushed?”

“No problem. I’ll arrange it myself, and we empty the box every night at closing.”

Together, they set it inside.

“That was some wish,” the guard said. “What was it? A horse?”

Sophie laughed. “Just a coat.”

“In Kevlar?” He glanced up as the door behind her opened, and a familiar voice called out a greeting. “Jack, your first wish came true.”

Sophie whirled. “You’re collecting toys for children?” she asked. The irony tasted bitter and felt like poison.

Jack barely even blinked. “It’s a family tradition.”

“It’s a Banning trait,” the guard said. “I saw your brother, Nick, splicing wires on Main Street for those stars they hang on the lampposts, and your sister stopped by to round up my granddaughters for their first Christmas choir practice about an hour ago. Who’s your friend, Jack?”

“We’re not friends.” Sophie pushed past both men and hit the street. Let Jack explain her exit. All the better if he couldn’t.

Something about those toys had pushed her over the edge. She felt betrayed again, as if she still loved him. It wasn’t going to be enough, telling him his name would be on the birth certificate.

She’d thought she’d known Jack Banning, but that man had been a lie. A soldier who lived by the code of “Leave no man behind,” a doctor who cared more for his patients than himself, a man who didn’t know how to be dishonorable.

Sophie didn’t need his infuriating promise of financial support. She’d take care of her daughter, with love and everything else her child might need. But she might lose her mind if she couldn’t understand what had turned Jack into a stranger no sane woman could love.


CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_d4791918-93d6-5220-a9ce-ca4b6e589efe)

JACK STARED AFTER her, his only thought that she shouldn’t be walking on icy streets.

“You know the lady well?” Gary Cook asked.

“We’ve met.”

Sophie had him pegged. Except for one thing—she didn’t know that every time he touched one of those boxes, he heard the echoes of a child’s cry.

He opened the door and went after her. “Sophie.”

She didn’t stop. She didn’t look back. He’d tried to make her see her best choice was to stay away from him. Now that he’d succeeded, he couldn’t let her hurry through icy streets while she was so angry she might forget she was working with a different center of gravity.

“Sophie, let me give you a ride.”

“No, thanks.” She pulled a kind of beanie from her purse and tugged it onto her head.

He caught up with her. “You should be more careful. At least walk on the other side of the street, where the ice has had time to melt.”

She turned. Her anger hit him like a burst of heat, full in the face. She crossed the street, but she wasn’t trying to be safer. She just didn’t want to be near him.

Jack stopped abruptly. He’d succeeded at last. Since the night they’d discovered she was pregnant, he’d had one goal. Make Sophie happy to stay away from him. Make her forget him.

When he’d seen her after the accident, concern had surprised him. Fear had ripped through him, when he’d thought he’d turned off his emotions.

But now he’d made sure she knew nothing had changed. He hadn’t changed.

A car honked, and he discovered he’d stepped into the street. Jack waved at an angry Santa behind the wheel of a vintage VW van, and hurried to catch up with Sophie.

Santa ground his gears and honked again as he passed them. Sophie looked up, as startled to see Jack as she was to be harassed by Santa’s clown horn.

“What do you want?” She tugged at her mittens. “Need these, too? Maybe you don’t feel I should dress warmly, but you can hand out my clothing to your Christmas Town neighbors. I hope they’re not all hypocrites like you.”

“Hardly any of them,” he said. “Except Santa. Will you slow down?”

“I’m cold.”

“You’re pregnant. You might fall.”

She turned her face to his, rage sparkling like ice in her eyes.

Jack held up both hands. “Given the current...situation, the last thing I want to do is take toys to children, but it’s tradition. I can either do it or invite my brother and sister to diagnose me like you’re trying to.”

“That does make me feel like one of the community.” Sophie edged away from him. “I didn’t ask for your company, and I don’t want your help. Go back to putting on a show for the people here—they obviously don’t know the real you.”

“You don’t know me, either,” he said.

“Which works out for both of us, since you want to be alone.” Without another word, she whirled into a store and turned back to close the door in his face.

Sophie was wrong. When he was alone, memories crowded in, sharp-edged, growing ever more dangerous.

* * *

“ARE YOU SURE you’ll make it home for Christmas?” Marisa Palmer asked. Her concern was the first real warmth Sophie had enjoyed all day.

“I’m positive, Mom. There wasn’t that much damage.”

“But you’re sure you and the baby are all right?”

“Absolutely no sign of a problem.”

“You could always ask Jack to drive you home. A few hours in the confines of a car, and you might be able to extract the truth from him.”

“He’ll never explain,” Sophie said, “and I’ve spent too much time trying to understand. Maybe he was just the wrong guy for me, but I’m starting to think he’s definitely the wrong father for my baby.”

“I don’t want to believe that’s true,” her mother said. “He’s been a good man, but something’s happened. Well, keep me updated on when you plan to return, and drive carefully in the snow, okay? We don’t want another accident.”

“Uh-huh.” Sophie stood as a clatter and loud swearing outside dragged her to the window. A man was dusting himself off as someone else righted a fallen ladder. Bystanders were checking on another man, who seemed to be wearing one of the metal-framed Christmas stars that were going up on light poles all over town.

“Everything’s going to be all right. I raised you on my own. You never felt you were missing a father.”

The truth quivered on the tip of Sophie’s tongue, but she held it in. Her mom couldn’t change anything now, and admitting she’d felt abandoned—how much she’d envied her friends who’d casually talked about their dads—wouldn’t help anyone. “I’ll have you, too, Mom. We’re all going to be fine.”

“The three musketeers,” Marisa said, relief in her tone. “Don’t forget your seat belt. I have some research I need to do, honey. I’ll talk to you later. Or tomorrow.”

Her mother was head of the psychology department at Gaudy University, one of Harvard’s sister schools. In Sophie’s elementary school days, her mom had always been working and didn’t have time to join the class trips or show up bearing baskets of cupcakes. But she’d tried to make Sophie understand she could count on herself. She’d reminded Sophie she was loved.

And she would always find time for Sophie’s daughter. Better to be one of a group of musketeers than a lone ranger.

Sophie turned back to the dressing table and tucked her new cell phone and her electronic reader into her purse. She wanted to check on Tessie Blaylock.

* * *

SINCE JACK HAD arrived at the hospital, he’d performed one surgery on a collapsed lung and another to relieve pressure from a subarachnoid hematoma. After consulting with the physicians who’d be taking over his cases when they reached the treatment floors, Jack showered and started his rounds.

He was eager to check on Tessie. She’d be going home the next day, as long as her blood work improved.

Outside her room, Jack heard a familiar voice—light, sweet, melodic. A voice that refused to vacate his mind.

Sophie was asking Tessie a question, and the young woman responded.

“I think I remember you,” Tessie said. “You’re the lady I ran into. You’re a nurse.”

“I should have introduced myself when I came in. I’m Sophie Palmer.” She sounded different. More certain.

“My parents tell me I owe you my life.”

“We don’t need to go that far. Dr. Banning did the real work.”

“But you were there first, because of me, and you saved me anyway.”

Tessie’s tearful voice made Jack pause in the doorway. He couldn’t un-hear Sophie’s estimate of him. She had every reason to hate him, but she’d been professional.

Sophie sat beside Tessie’s bed. She was just pregnant enough that the chair forced her to sit at an uncomfortable angle. Funny, they expected patients’ family members to sleep in those chairs. She pushed one hand behind her back to brace herself, but her attention was on the girl, who was finally regaining her natural, healthy color.

Tessie reached out and Sophie put the girl’s palm in her own. “You don’t have to thank me. Just say you won’t ever text and drive again. Promise you’ll leave your phone in your purse.”

Tessie’s bandage was stark white against her skin, a reminder that she and Sophie had escaped serious consequences. Despite himself, Jack felt the tug of fear.

“I promise I will never touch my phone while I’m driving. I’ve been lying here wishing I could take back that one second when I picked it up, and thought I could type a quick text.”

For a moment, Jack returned to the heat of his own personal hell—possessing only one pair of hands, which couldn’t do half enough work in time to save his friends and soldier comrades.

Sophie let go, and he saw empathy in her eyes. He’d always admired the caring she brought to her work, to her life. “I’m glad you realize how bad it could have been, Tessie.”

His patient nodded, her gaze more somber than any seventeen-year-old’s should be. “I might have killed you and your baby. The police came by. They said they could charge me, because I admitted I was texting. My mom and dad are getting a lawyer.”

“That’s not Sophie’s problem,” Jack said, going into protective mode without thinking.

Sophie looked up, so startled she didn’t even seem angry with him. She reached into her purse, pulled out a silver case—so small and delicate one of Santa’s elves might have crafted it—and plucked out a business card.

“This has my cell number. If you need me to speak for you, I’ll tell them what I believe—that you’re sincere.”

Tessie’s face blanched. “Right now I don’t ever want to get behind the wheel of a car again.” She glanced from Sophie’s stomach up to her face. “My mom said you risked your baby’s life.”

Jack felt pain like thunder in his head. His mouth went completely dry. His spine seemed to lock in place, while his legs protested at being used.

He shot a glance at Sophie, but thankfully, she didn’t notice the perspiration dripping from his temples.

Without acknowledging him or his impulsive comment, she tucked in Tessie’s bedding with a nurse’s economy of movement. “I was in no pain and you needed help. Honestly, if my baby had been at risk, I would have chosen her over you without a second thought.”

A massive, unseen fist squeezed Jack’s rib cage. Of course she’d choose her child. He was counting on it.

Tessie sank against her pillow. “Thank you. That makes me feel less guilty, and I promise I won’t ever forget about the texting thing.”

Sophie took the girl’s water bottle. “I’ll get this refilled,” she said, staring him down.

Jack pushed away from the doorjamb, moving to the computer mounted near the bed. “I need to check your wound, Tessie, when your nurse arrives.”

* * *

SOPHIE MADE IT to the nurses’ station and set the bottle on the counter. “Can we get this refilled?” she asked. In her hospital, there was filtered water available. They must have something similar here, because a woman in green scrubs took the container away.

Sophie leaned on the counter, breathing. She didn’t allow herself to embrace the hope hovering at the edges of her awareness.

Jack’s defense of her had come out of left field, but it didn’t mean he’d changed his mind about being a father to their child. He’d broken a sweat as Tessie talked about the baby.

Was he concerned about their baby? Or any baby? He’d lost an eleven-month-old girl in a surgery in October. That was when the dreams had started.

“Here you go,” the nurse said, handing over Tessie’s water.

Sophie collected herself. No need to get confused about what she wanted, either. Jack might have tried for a second to protect her, but even if he’d meant it, even if he still cared for her, he could abandon her in the next breath.

It didn’t matter, but before she put Christmas Town in her rearview mirror, they both had to be certain what kind of man he’d become. Would Jack be a name on a birth certificate? Or would he come to his senses and understand the magnitude of the unexpected gift he was throwing away?

When she returned to the room, he was finishing Tessie’s dressing. Jack was one of the few surgeons Sophie knew who didn’t turn that duty over to the nurses. He smoothed the tape.

“That should do you, Tessie.”

The nurse gathered up the supplies. “Anything else, Doctor?”

Jack shook his head. “We’re good,” he said. The nurse left the room, closing the door behind him.

“Dr. Banning, my mom and dad are stringing lights on the green tonight. Do you think I could help them?”

He looked at Sophie as if she’d asked the question. “We all help decorate. A few years ago, the town council had to choose between fewer decorations, including canceling the pageant on Christmas Eve, or volunteering in shifts so we could cut the labor budget.” He made his notes on the screen beside Tessie’s bed. “I think you need to stay here another night. We had to transfuse you. We’ll do blood work again this evening and in the morning. If your levels are rising, you can go tomorrow.”

“I hate this place.” Tessie shifted in the bed, but grimaced as her arm pulled, reminding her of the life lesson her recklessness had taught her. “Not that I’m not grateful you fixed me up.”

“But the food is horrible, and you can’t have a nice hamburger or a chicken wrap or whatever teenage girls eat these days.” He touched a button that darkened the monitor. “You’re a week early for Santa’s daily visits, although I hear the nutritionists are lobbying for him to distribute fruit this year.”

“Fruit?” Tessie’s show of disgust betrayed her. She wasn’t a forbearing saint or an adult. The child who didn’t care for healthy holiday goodies lingered inside her.

Sophie laughed, relieved to find a normal adolescent had survived her trauma.

“What do you like, Sophie?” Tessie smoothed her hospital sheet. “At our house, we dip strawberries in dark chocolate. And then we dip everything else we can find in the kitchen. Even bacon.”

A hint of morning sickness rattled Sophie. “Chocolate-covered cherries,” she said. “My mom gives me a beautiful box every year because her parents gave her one. The good ones with cordials and liqueurs, which I will not be enjoying this year.”

“That’s a waste of good chocolate. I’d take the fresh fruit over chocolate liqueurs.”

“Or bacon,” Jack said.

Tessie laughed. Sophie concentrated on not looking startled that he’d try to be funny with her in the room. But putting on a show might be his second best skill.

“You two are finicky,” he said. “I prefer those chocolate oranges my mom used to put in our stockings. You crack them against a table and they separate into slices. I could eat one of those now,” he said.

“I could eat anything.” Tessie sniffed the air. Out in the hall, the rattle of silver and serving trays predicted the arrival of lunch. “Except whatever they’re bringing me.”

“You’ll be out of here in twenty-four hours,” Jack said as Sophie realized she was still holding Tessie’s bottle. “In fact, you can talk your parents into taking another shift on the green tomorrow.”

“I will. I could help when the other cheerleaders do their shift, but I think my parents need me more right now.”

“Or you could do both. You know what they say about idle hands.”

“I know what my grandmother says,” she answered sharply.

“I guess you’re feeling more like yourself,” Jack said. “But please do as you’re told and rest today so you can work on the holiday decorations tomorrow. You’re a lucky girl, Tessie.”

“I know.”

The girl’s guilt touched Sophie. “You have to learn from this, but you don’t have to mourn surviving,” she said.

At the foot of the bed, Jack turned to her with a look of accusation on his face.

“Jack, I took a cab over here,” she said. “Mind giving me a ride back?”

He gave a reluctant nod. “Will you wait while I change out of my scrubs? Tessie, take it easy. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Don’t lose my card,” Sophie told her. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”


CHAPTER FIVE (#ulink_14b4aadb-645e-51a4-8e5f-0dd9ba11feb4)

SOPHIE WAITED NEAR the E.R. entrance. She felt a little light-headed as she searched for the words to ask Jack if his tours of duty in Afghanistan might be part of the problem between them. Between him and their unborn daughter.

She had so little time. Tact wouldn’t suffice.

He came out of the elevator, having traded his scrubs for jeans and a black sweater. He shrugged into his lined bomber jacket and met her at the doors, leaning down to speak to her.

“What do you want?” he asked. “Tell me now, and we won’t have to ride back to the square together.”

“It’s going to take that long. Jack, I really need to talk to you.”

He looked at her with pity in his eyes. Poor little stalker ex. She can’t take a hint.

“Put up a wall,” she said. “You think if you’re rude enough I’ll back off?”

“What more do you need to know? I walked out without looking back.”

“That might have worked if we’d had some casual relationship, but we were friends for how long before it grew into something deeper?” Her patience dwindled and bitterness crept in. “Of course, you were lying to me about who you really are.”

“Knowing that, why are you still here?” He didn’t make the slightest effort to deny what she’d said, or defend his own actions.

“What happened to you in Afghanistan?”

Jack’s eyes instantly glazed in a convincing show of indifference. “Nothing happened.” He started for the physicians’ parking lot, and Sophie followed.

“Something did, and the fact that you can’t talk about it means you aren’t handling it on your own. I’ve seen the symptoms—cold sweats, a startle reflex at loud noises.

He opened the door. “You’re quite the diagnostician.”

“And the dreams? The fact that you reacted to Tessie’s mention of my baby? You’re still upset over the child in October, but you know you couldn’t save her.”

“I believed I could or I wouldn’t have done the surgery.” Jack unlocked his rusty blue truck. He’d told her about the vehicle before.

“This was your grandfather’s?”

He opened the door. “He gave it to me because I helped him work on it. I probably didn’t do as much as I remember.”

“But the memory makes you happy.”

“You’re a good nurse, Sophie, but you are not a psychologist, and I don’t need to be analyzed. I will not be creating memories with your child,” he said. But he couldn’t hide his unexpected confusion—an expression that made her look into his eyes the way she had before, when they’d cared for each other, when his gaze was a reminder that they were together among everyone else in the whole wide world.

Jack walked around to the driver’s side and got in, staring straight ahead while Sophie climbed in and put on her seat belt. “I abandoned you,” he said. “What kind of mother would risk having me in her baby’s life?”

“A mother who never had a father, but once believed with all her heart that her child’s dad was the most decent man she’d ever know.”

He didn’t answer. She’d been too honest. He probably thought she was making an argument to save their relationship.

At the square, Jack parked on a side street that wasn’t blocked off for holiday decorating.

They were walking toward the inn when he stopped. “There’s my sister.”

“Don’t worry,” Sophie said. “I won’t make trouble for you.”

A young woman with flying hair and a distracted, sweet smile paused in midstride, her arms full of wrapping paper, ribbon spools around her wrists like multihued bracelets.

“Callie,” Jack said, and his guard went down. His affection for his sister drew Sophie in his wake. “Who are you rescuing today?”

“I have a few gifts to wrap, and I’m preparing for choir practice.” Callie smiled at Sophie. “You must be the nurse from that car accident.”

“Sophie Palmer.” The name obviously meant nothing to Callie.

Sophie wished they could have known each other. Maybe if she’d been able to talk to Callie and Nick, they could have found a way to help Jack.

But at least they’d never have to know they were losing a niece. Sophie shook hands with Callie, ribbon spools and wrapping paper and all.

“I’m happy to meet you, but I’m about to drop all this.”

“Let me help you,” Jack said.

“If I hand you something, I’ll drop everything else. Are you working on the decorations on the green later?”

He nodded. More than ever, Sophie felt like an outsider.

“Maybe I’ll see you there,” Callie said. “I put a doll in your donation box on my way out of Dockery’s this morning, Jack.”

“Thanks. Callie,” he said, his tone deep and serious, “have you heard from Mom and Dad?”

“I got a text when they were in Yosemite.”

“Mom with the trees? I got that one, too.” He sounded wistful. He never allowed himself to sound like that in front of Sophie, likely thinking it made him seem weak, but she admired a man who could acknowledge his feelings. “Our parents are touring the country in an RV,” he said to Sophie as if she were a stranger and he was trying to include her in the conversation.

“Jack suggested a cruise to Hawaii,” Callie said, “but they wanted time all to themselves.”

“I thought Mom might like the chance to be pampered,” he said.

“When did you ever meet a Banning who could stand a steady diet of pampering?” his sister asked.

Jack tapped the wrapping paper tubes sticking over her shoulder. “I did have another text from them. They asked me if you were having fun, Callie. How many presents are you wrapping for your neighbors this year? If you won’t slow down and enjoy the holidays, Nick and I could help you.”

“I’m fine, Jack. I don’t suggest you stop helping where you can.”

He turned his face to Sophie’s, and she remembered every word they’d spoken to each other, each argument and each laugh. There was so much between them, but he’d never mentioned her to anyone he loved, and he’d given her only the barest bones of information about himself.

He maneuvered an arm around his sister’s shoulder. “I don’t do enough,” he said, and though his voice was teasing, he looked at Sophie with a trace of confusion, as if talking to his sister reminded him of the man he’d pretended to be with Sophie. Here, his heart seemed softer. He was less glib. He cared about the people who loved him, even as he tried to prove he didn’t care about Sophie or their baby.

She tried to steel herself, but she felt as if she were sinking through the snowy air, melting into the frozen sidewalk.

“I’m not like you and Nick, Callie.” Jack kissed the top of her head. “But I am trying to do the right things.”

His sister’s confusion made the situation more awkward.

“I’m so happy to meet you, Callie,” Sophie said. “And nice to see you, Jack. I think I’ll check out the construction.”

A stranger would naturally offer a brother and sister privacy. Sophie walked toward the green, where a wooden stage was being built. She stopped at the back of a slowly growing crowd.

The Jack she loved still lived inside that cold man, but she couldn’t allow herself to pretend the love they’d professed for each other had been real. She’d had enough of being rejected. No matter what his motivation, she deserved better. She just wanted to be sure how he felt about their child. Maybe if he knew he’d never have to deal with Sophie, he could be a good father to his daughter.

Standing at the white picket fence, Sophie glanced back as someone called a hello to Jack.

“I’m so glad you’re home,” a beautiful auburn-haired woman said as she shooed her two little boys toward the green. “We still have the same number. Call us so we can all catch up.”

Sophie turned away, trying not to hear his answer. She wanted that smile, the way he used to look at her as if she was all he needed to be happy. And yet, if he’d been so happy with her, why hadn’t he shared his life back home? They’d visited her mother, in D.C., many times. Why hadn’t he wanted Sophie to meet his friends and family?

Somewhere, deep inside, she must have known something was wrong. She’d pretended not to notice the nightmares and the panic he tried so desperately to hide. He wouldn’t talk about it, so what else could she do? She’d explained away his lack of connections, assuming it had something to do with his service.

But seeing him in the town square, she realized he’d never tried to live in both worlds. Her Jack had lived in this happy little Santa town, too. His neighbors and his family greeted him the way their colleagues in Boston had, with respect and warmth. No one would be that happy to see a man who abandoned his daughter. And he obviously didn’t want anyone from Boston tainting his life here in Christmas Town.


CHAPTER SIX (#ulink_365625fa-c7b3-5ba0-8fe6-fd686e445d99)

JACK WAS TACKING twinkly lights onto his Victorian porch when Fred Everly strolled along the sidewalk in oil-stained overalls and a peacoat with his company logo stitched on the back. Everly Body Works. Simple. To the point.

Jack got straight to it, as well.

“Fred,” he said, aiming his staple gun down as he leaned over the rail.

The other man turned. “Need a hand with that, Doc?”

“No, no. I’ve got it.” Jack set the gun and the strand of lights on the porch railing. “How’s work going? Are you busy in the run-up to the holidays?”

Fred grinned. “Is your granddad’s truck in danger of failing inspection?”

“I’m not sure why everyone acts as if my truck is likely to disintegrate in the middle of the road.” He stopped. Honesty was such a relief after lying or pretending, or just dancing around the truth, that he could go on about his truck for hours. “I wondered how you’re doing with that nurse’s car. From the wreck the other day? I happened to see her in Tessie’s room at the hospital, and I realized she’s stranded here.”

“I’m having some problems with a few of the parts, and some of my suppliers don’t push themselves so close to Christmas.”

Jack imagined Sophie waking on Christmas morning alone in the B and B, in a town where he’d never mentioned her name. No one even knew they’d been together.

He’d felt bad about that, with Callie treating her as a stranger. He’d been closer to Sophie, given more of himself, trusted her with more of his secrets than he had with anyone.

He’d tried to start a new life in Boston, and when that hadn’t worked, Christmas Town was waiting for him.

Why had he treated Sophie like that? And why hadn’t she exposed him when she’d realized Callie didn’t know about her? She had to be angry, but she’d said she wouldn’t make things worse for him.

“You will finish it in time?” Jack asked. “You know she did Tessie Blaylock a huge favor?”

“Saved her life, I hear,” Fred said, “but that doesn’t change my deliveries. I’m going to try, Doc, but it’s Christmas. She may need to rent a car, or maybe take the train or fly.”

“That’s not a bad plan. And then after the New Year, you’ll have her car ready and she can come back?”

“Honestly? I wouldn’t be surprised. Do you know her well enough to suggest she’d be happier doing that?” Fred asked.

“We talked a little today. I could speak to her about making the most of her holidays.”

“Good idea, Doc. I’ll suggest it, too.”

* * *

“CAREFUL OF THAT staple gun, Nurse Palmer.”

She whirled and shot a staple over his shoulder. Sophie’s mouth dropped open in shock. “Jack, I’m sorry. I could have hurt you.” Her eyes welled with tears.

“I’m fine.” He eased the tool out of her hand, nevertheless. “Don’t worry.”

“I’m not used to you talking to me.”

“I know.” He took up the holly she’d been stapling. “I’ve been brutal, but I wish you’d accept that I’m right.”

“I’m getting there.” She tugged at her hair, which was stuck in her collar. “You never meant for anyone here to know me. A man in love wouldn’t pretend the woman he cared for didn’t exist.”

“I should have told my sister and brother,” he said. Because Sophie did matter to him. She’d been his family when he couldn’t explain himself to Nick and Callie. “But maybe it’s best for everyone that I’ve behaved unfairly from the beginning.”

“You turn everything inside out.” She lifted the rope of holly attached to a thick strand of jute and subtle lights that would twinkle in the darkness. “But I promise not to shoot at you again.”

She’d already finished a long series of holly loops, which were wafting back and forth with the heavy breeze. “How did you end up manning the fences?” he asked.

“I had nothing else to do. Dr. Everly’s brother-in-law came to the B and B at lunch and told me my car might be delayed.”

Jack didn’t bother with subtlety. “Maybe you should let it go for now and come back after the holidays.”

“Rent a car from now until after the New Year? That’s crazy,” she said, and then understanding dawned. “You talked to him. You’re that desperate to get me out of here?”

“He passed by my house and we spoke. He said the car might take a while, and I suggested going home could be a good idea. Your mom would be glad to see you.”

“When did you become so comfortable, trying to manipulate me?”

“Maybe I’m tired of hurting you.”

Through the snowy afternoon’s green-gray light, he saw faces watching them.

Sophie turned to see what had caught his attention. The air wafted a dizzying scent around them—the fragrance of her shampoo. He had to be a desperate man, because that scent took him back to moments of closeness, his kiss in her hair, her whisper in his ear, feeling as if he belonged.

“People are watching us.”

Anger tightened her mouth, and he couldn’t help staring.

“Sophie,” he said, his throat aching, “I’m thinking of you. And your baby.”

“I don’t care.” She lifted her hands and did half a spin, as if inviting everyone in sight to join them. “I’ll be gone from here. You’ll be the one answering questions.”

“Why didn’t you tell my sister?”

Sophie’s lips softened again. Her mittened hand lifted as if she was going to touch him, but at the last moment, she drew it back. Then she turned to her work on the fence. Loop the holly, hit it with a staple. “I’m angry with you. If it were just me, I’d wallow in rage that you dumped me. I certainly wouldn’t have humiliated myself by coming here.”

“Why doesn’t the baby make you feel that even more strongly?”

“I told you. I don’t even know my father’s name. My mother would never tell me. We don’t talk about it anymore because we want to get along, and she’s been a supportive, wonderful mom.”

“And you think my name could change things for your child?”

“Our child.”

A compulsion to look down at her slightly rounded belly was difficult to resist. “Tell me.”

“You’ll always have a way to find her. When she’s old enough, she can look for you, and if you want to tell her to her face that she doesn’t matter, that’s your choice. She’ll have me to lean on, and I won’t have controlled her options, or made the decision for her.”

Jack saw that moment in his mind. A beautiful tall girl with his dark hair and Sophie’s blue eyes confronting him because he’d stayed out of her life.

“Jack, are you all right?”

He came out of the scene where he let down the one child who had a right to his loyalty. “I would’ve been if you’d stayed away. Why do you need her to be mine? I told you I’d be responsible for her.”

Sophie looked around them. No one was close. Hammering went on at the stage and power stapling rang out as if everyone on the green was doing target practice.

“Our baby girl deserves all the love both of us can give her.”

“You don’t understand.” He wanted to shout, to rip down the holly ropes, to persuade Sophie to give up this ridiculous fight and get out of his town.

“And you refuse to explain. But I have to be the best mom I can be, so I’m doing what I believe is right for my daughter. I’ve seen you with patients, with friends’ children. You’re gentle and kind. You talk to them as if they matter. You can give that to kids who walk out of your life the next second, but you can’t give yourself to your own daughter?”

“Now you understand. But you still haven’t explained why you didn’t tell my sister.”

“I don’t know what goes on when you’re like this.” Sophie gestured toward the perspiration that was cold at his temple. “But I do know my child will have family here, and I don’t want your sister to think badly of you.”

“I didn’t tell my family about you because I never planned to come back here.”

“What?” The word left her mouth in a whisper. She turned back to the fence and resumed working in silence. Jack followed. He could have walked away, but realized what he was doing to her.

He didn’t have enough courage to risk loving the baby they had made together. How could he do that when he was already fighting every day to be sane, to look normal because of another child?

“Why did you come back here after you left me?” She tugged more holly out of his tight grip. “I was so sad after you walked out, I would have screamed at the first jaunty caroler.”

“They don’t sing all year.” He couldn’t explain his need for familiar faces, for the love of his brother and sister, if he couldn’t have Sophie’s anymore.

“Sophie Palmer,” a man called out. Tessie’s cousin, Otto Taver, must have heard enough about Sophie to recognize her, a stranger helping out like a Christmas Townie.

Uncharacteristically shy, she nodded, stepping closer to Jack. Did she even realize she’d eased his way for support? He didn’t move. For this moment, he wouldn’t abandon her, even though Otto meant no harm.

“Just wanted to thank you.” The other man yanked off his thick gloves and shook her hand, hard. “Tessie’s my cousin. I hear she might have ended up in big trouble if not for you.”

“Thank you, but she only needed a tourniquet. Jack did the hard part.”

“That’s not true,” Jack said, unable to stop himself from putting the story straight. “That tourniquet saved Tessie’s life.”

“I’m glad you were there to tie it.” Otto shook her hand again and nodded at Jack. “Doc, good to see you.” He strode off, heading toward the stage with his tool bag.

Sophie pushed her hands into her coat pockets. “You were the one who saved her life,” she said.

“She wouldn’t have had a life to save if you hadn’t stopped her bleeding.”

“How do you manage their expectations?” she asked, looking around. “Don’t you know you could fail them, too?”

“I’m trying not to mess up.”

She was silent for a moment and then shivered. He took the stapler and balanced it on the fence. “Are you cold?”

“A little.”

“You shouldn’t let your core cool. Why don’t you head back to the B and B?”

“I’m fine if I keep moving.”

“Georgette told you to rest, didn’t she?”

“I haven’t been overdoing it.” Sophie’s low, intense tone and the pulse beating just above the collar of her coat dared him to express concern about the unborn infant he was so intent on abandoning.

“I’m not an animal,” he said. “I don’t want you or the baby to be at risk. I’ll walk you back to Esther’s.”

“I’m capable of walking by myself.”

“I’m walking with you, Sophie.”

She gave in. He handed the stapler to one of the other helpers and turned back toward Sophie.

She had already started across the green, but Jack caught up in a few steps. “Will you please consider taking Fred Everly’s advice and go home until your car’s ready?”

“Your advice.”

“It’s a good plan.”

“I’m not coming back here. When I leave, I’m gone for good.” She pushed ahead of him. “Which means your clock is ticking, Jack.”

He caught up again. “Stop running away.”

She turned to him, her hair flying in a gust of snow. “No one has ever made me as angry as you.”

Or as desperate. He saw it in her eyes. She needed to understand, and he’d never explained what had happened to him.

He watched the woman he’d loved desperately trying to avoid him, as if she couldn’t bear to share the same oxygen.

If he told her, maybe they’d find a way. Maybe she’d help him see his future in a different light. He started to reach for her shoulder, then stopped himself and let her add to the distance between them.

* * *

WHEN THEY REACHED the B and B, Sophie said goodbye over her shoulder as she ran up the salted steps and into the house, shutting the door behind her.

In the foyer, people were laughing, anticipating a late lunch or an early dinner. Sophie nodded at Esther as she took off her mittens and stuffed them into her coat pocket.

“Hungry?” her hostess asked.

“Not right now. Maybe later.”

“Do you want a menu to take to your room?”

Sophie shook her head. “No, thanks.”

She hurried up the stairs. She’d threatened Jack with a ticking clock, but she was the one who felt Big Ben banging out the passing quarter hours in the back of her head.

Inside her room, she sat with a sense of relief, suddenly understanding Jack’s ability to hide from the truth or the past, or whatever horrible moments had their claws in him.

Someone knocked on her door and she jumped. For a second, Sophie hoped. With all her heart, with all the foolishness of a pregnant woman who still cared too intensely for the man who’d left her.

But then she came to her senses and opened the door.

A uniformed policeman and a woman in a dark suit waited in the hall. The officer lifted his cap. “I’m Sergeant Reese. This is Celia Dane. She’s a probation officer with Christmas County. You may not remember me, but I was at the accident scene after Tessie Blaylock struck your car.”

“I remember.” Vaguely. He’d taken a brief statement as the EMTs were checking her vitals inside the ambulance. “What can I do for you?”

“May we come in?” Ms. Dane asked.

Anxiety bloomed inside Sophie’s chest. No nurse wanted to go to court. But it was a fact of life that came with her job. No one wanted to take anyone down, or prop someone else up, without good reason. Tessie’s future was too much responsibility.

The same way a baby’s future might seem like too much responsibility?

Sophie held the door open. “I don’t have anything to offer you here, but could I call down to ask for coffee? Or water?”

“Just talk,” Ms. Dane said.

They took the chairs at either side of the fireplace. Sophie sat on the tufted chest at the end of the bed.

“I know you’ve spoken to Tessie,” the probation officer said. “I have to check on her, too. I’ve spoken to her teachers, her friends and her parents. I’ve even had a word with her doctors.”

“Jack Banning?” Sophie hadn’t asked him how he felt about Tessie’s mistake.

“And her GP. I’d like to hear your version of the accident.”

“I spoke to Officer Reese, and I wrote a statement for the police.”

“But I need to hear what you remember now.” Celia smiled. “We’re not out to get Tessie. We want to do the right thing to make sure this doesn’t happen again.”

Someone else knocked at the door. Sophie stood. “Excuse me. You probably know Esther’s a little protective of her guests.”

She was wrong again. Jack stood on the threshold. He looked distracted and unsettled, but determined. “I thought you might need—” he looked past her, into the room “—something.”

Baffled, Sophie let him in. “I’m fine.”

“You act as if you’re concerned, Jack,” the officer said.

“Sophie’s alone here. She doesn’t know many people.”

“Let me repeat what I told your friend,” Celia said, and Jack didn’t deny that they knew each other. “We’re searching for the right solution for Tessie. We already know this accident was not Sophie’s fault.”

Jack backed down, but Sophie couldn’t look away from him.

“Ms. Palmer?” the officer said.

She returned her attention to the visitors. “I already told you how it happened. I came off the exit ramp and saw Tessie driving toward me. She was weaving. She saw my car and tried to swerve.” Sophie reached behind her neck to smooth out her hair. To breathe in and out. Her baby was okay, but those horrifying moments replayed in startling clarity. She glanced at Jack again. Was this what happened to him?

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“I’m fine.” She turned to Officer Reese, her blood thrumming in her ears. “We collided. I saw she was hurt. I applied a tourniquet, and the emergency services arrived.”

“Why did you feel the need to speak to her in the hospital?” Celia asked.

Sophie hesitated. “I think it’s because I was so afraid she would die out on that road.” She splayed her hands over her belly. “And maybe because I’m pregnant. I wanted to make sure she was all right. I wanted to know if she was remorseful, and I believe she is.”

“You can’t think she deserves a free pass?” Officer Reese asked, angry in the way of a man who’d seen too many injured drivers.

“I believe Tessie when she says she won’t ever touch her phone again while she’s driving. I believe in second chances. Don’t you have driver’s safety courses? Couldn’t she speak to the children at her school—at all the schools near here?”

“That’s what I’m considering.” Celia turned to the policeman. “I think Sophie’s suggesting that Tessie has already paid for her carelessness.”

“She almost died,” Sophie said. “And she was terrified that she’d hurt me and my child. That’s a lot of responsibility for a teenager.”

“If she remembers this. If she never forgets what might have happened,” Reese said.

“You probably know I’m an ER nurse in Boston. I’ve talked to a lot of people who pretend to feel remorse for things they’ve done. Tessie’s relief when she saw me was real.”

“Jack already gave us that speech,” Reese said.

“He did?”

Jack shrugged but then moved so his shoulder touched hers. “Everyone in this room has faced people they have to trust or doubt,” he said. “I need to know patients aren’t lying about the meds they’re taking, or the extent and location of pain. Reese, here, has to judge every word an offender says to him. And Celia—she has to know when a kid like Tessie deserves probation or when she needs to be locked away.”

“You believe Tessie, too, Jack?”

“I’d put her on courses and community service to make sure she never forgets what might have happened, but I do believe she’s sorry.”

Reese’s smirk worried Sophie. Celia nodded slowly, making notes on the pad she’d balanced on her knee. When she finished, she clicked her pen and rose, smoothing her skirt.

“That’s it, Officer. Let’s leave these people to their evening. I’ll let you know, Sophie, if you need to come to court.”

Sophie managed not to quiver at the thought she might still hold Tessie’s future in her hands. They walked to the white door together, but Jack stayed behind. Sophie tried not to look shocked.

“They came up to the steps as I was walking away,” he told her when the two of them were alone. “I tried to leave, but I didn’t want you to face them by yourself. Reese has a reputation for being hard-nosed, and he’s not above bullying you to testify against Tessie.”

“You tried to leave?”

He unzipped his coat. “Do you think I want to keep getting involved?”

“I’m glad you couldn’t help yourself.” She turned him toward the door. “But I’m tired and hungry, so I’ll leave you to stew over the idea that someday our daughter might do something, accidentally, that involves the police. And I’ll be her only defense.”

His face paled.

“I was joking, Jack! I’m a responsible person with a good job. I’d call an attorney.” As she eased him through the door, Sophie couldn’t help liking the shock on his face. The most detached man in the world had suddenly seen a future where his child might need him. It was about time.


CHAPTER SEVEN (#ulink_61542eb0-f223-579d-8807-1904d264ed06)

THE DAYS SLIPPED BY, and Christmas drew ever closer. Jack performed trauma surgeries, did his rounds and collected toys for children in the hospital, as well as those whose families needed a little help this year.

Each afternoon at three, Santa’s sleigh, drawn by two massive farm horses, glided to a halt on the snow-covered green. Santa alighted from his seat and fell happily into the swarm of children demanding candy canes and chocolates as they offered gift ideas for themselves, their siblings and friends.

Jack had started parking his truck a few miles east to avoid Santa and the adoring youngsters. But he couldn’t forget the old days, when he’d worked as an EMT during breaks from school. His ambulance had often sat on the green to be on hand in case of emergency. Sipping hot chocolate from a stand near his post, he’d enjoyed the shouts of a puppy for my baby sister and a little brother and a fire engine that shoots water. Some asked for video game systems with names that were already unfamiliar, because he was too busy to play any kind of game.

Now, his friends would be taking their own children to see Santa, and next year, Sophie would likely take their baby to visit a Santa in Boston.

Someday his little girl might be a pint-sized video game wizard.

In a few days he’d be playing Santa at the hospital. His grandfather had done the job until he couldn’t drive the blue truck over there anymore. Jack’s dad had taken over, but this year, Jack had to fill in. He dreaded it. Happy children who had no idea what existed in the world outside this town pretty much unmanned him, but he couldn’t let them down.

He veered toward the green, parking close to the square. Listening to the sounds of Christmas might help him brace himself for an evening as the hospital’s jolly old elf. It was the way he’d gotten used to being around families before he’d lost that little girl in surgery. He’d helped with rounds on the children’s floor, walked through the common, even eaten dinner out.

He glanced at his watch. Five minutes before three.

He reached the holly-covered fence just as the gates opened for Santa’s sleigh. Jack was about to walk through one of the decorated arches when he noticed Sophie, one foot on the fence’s bottom rung, laughing as the children surged forward in a line that snaked with their exuberance.

The Victorian carolers that strolled through Christmas Town from Thanksgiving until New Year’s Day burst into “Here Comes Santa Claus.”

Sophie’s laughter was a temptation he couldn’t resist. She included him in her joy, as if she’d expected to see him. “Could they be more on the nose?”

“The kids love it,” he said. Best he could manage when he was breathing her in, like a man starved of oxygen.

“So do their parents. Look how happy they all are.”

He always saw; it was part of his self-administered therapy. Families survived. Fate didn’t draw a target on everyone who dared to be happy.

Sophie pointed to his scrub pants. “Are you headed for work?”

He nodded. “What are you doing out here?”

“I’m losing my cynicism,” she said. “This is the most holiday-loving town in the world. You people are genuinely excited to embrace Christmas.” She gave him a teasing, sidelong glance. “Well, most of you, anyway.”

“You want to hear something funny?” It didn’t feel at all funny, with his throat closing up and his head aching every time he thought of it.

“I’d love to.”

“I’m the hospital Santa night after tomorrow. We give the children on pediatrics a Christmas party every year.”

“You’re Santa?” Her surprise got under his skin, but he couldn’t blame her. “I don’t understand you,” she said, stepping away from the fence.

Each time he saw her, he was more tempted to explain, but what if he said he’d try? What if he said that, deep down, he felt as protective of his child as she did, and that paternal compulsion had driven him to leave her and stay away? “Maybe I’ll see you before you leave town.” Cutting off whatever she’d been about to say, he headed for the truck.

“Jack,” she said.

He turned back.

“I hope you imagine her face as you hand out each present.”

He snapped his head away, to hide pain like a blow to the gut. If he could stop imagining their daughter’s face, abandoning her would be so much easier.

* * *

FROM THE MOMENT Jack had said he was going to be Santa, Sophie knew she’d show up for the toy distribution. She’d never felt a need to punish herself before, making her decision to go as inexplicable as Jack’s own behavior.

But her car would be repaired soon. She’d never have to see Jack again, and maybe watching him playing Santa for children who had no claims on him would finally convince her he was right.

She offered to gather the last few toys out of Esther’s collection box while she waited for a cab.

“Thanks for taking these.” Esther piled them into a canvas shopping tote. She sighed as she patted the bag, smoothing it into a less lumpy shape. “I love this town. It’s full of caring people.”

“Do you?” Sophie didn’t see the town in quite that way, but Jack’s behavior had colored her view. He was saving himself by abandoning their daughter.

She wasn’t like Jack. She couldn’t turn her back on someone without trying to fix whatever had gone wrong.

“We try to help each other,” Esther said. “Just look at the green. How many places in this world do you know where everyone in town donates a good amount of money and time every year to do something that’s nice for the children?”

Sophie took the bag, smiling. “If you aren’t head of the tourist board, they’re suffering a great loss. The adults seem to enjoy it, too, and the tourists are growing ever thicker on the ground.”

“You’ll understand soon. You’ll be even happier at Christmas once you’re sharing it with your own kidlet.”

If only Jack could see that. “There’s my taxi.” Sophie waved as she went through the door. “See you later, Esther.”

“Sing extra loud for me.”

The carolers in their Victorian finery were already making the walls echo when Sophie stepped off the elevator on the hospital’s third floor. Dr. Everly came over to greet her.

“I didn’t expect you. Everything okay?”

Sophie held up her bag as she shrugged out of her coat. “I had a few things to deliver,” she said.

“Oh, good. Always room under the tree.”

Sophie added her packages to the impressive pile. “There aren’t this many children in the hospital?”

“Whatever we don’t give out we take to the green for distribution later.”

“Where’s Santa?” Sophie focused on folding her bag.

“Waiting until all the children arrive. He doesn’t dare show his face early. There’d be a riot.”

“How did Jack end up playing Santa?” she asked.

“His grandfather used to play Santa, and now his dad does, but his parents are touring the country in an RV during the holidays. No one expects them back.”

Sophie still didn’t understand that. Instead of providing a polite answer, she waited in silence, hoping Dr. Everly would explain. Sophie was eager for any tidbit that might explain Jack’s behavior.

“They took care of Jack’s grandmother for years. She had debilitating epilepsy that couldn’t be controlled by medication. She endured several experimental surgeries and I don’t know how many drug trials. Nothing worked, and when she couldn’t be left alone, the whole family pitched in. She passed away recently, and the elder Bannings took off for the first time since I’ve known them. I think they didn’t know what to do with themselves.”

“When did his grandmother die?” Sophie already knew. The “business trip” he’d taken in May. He’d disappeared for nine days, and when he came back, he’d been jumpy and moody, and had made excuses to avoid spending time with her.

If only she’d taken the hint then.

“I think it was just before...oh, I know. The week my children got out of school, end of May.” Dr. Everly guided Sophie toward a table with punch and cookies set out on plates stamped with The Tea Pot’s logo. “He’d hate us discussing him.”

“I didn’t mean to.” Maybe her desperation, even for her baby, didn’t make snooping acceptable, but at last his story was starting to make sense.

They both sipped punch, and Dr. Everly introduced her to members of the hospital staff, who’d also brought their children to the event.

Everyone sang. When a small group of pajama-and-robe-clad children began to recite “’Twas the Night Before Christmas,” the festivities had started. Nurses and doctors drifted among the little knots of young patients, passing out treats and punch. Sophie joined in. Even her own little girl seemed to understand she was at a party. The fluttery sensations intensified, lending Sophie strength and smothering her guilt over badgering Dr. Everly.

The carolers offered a few more selections until the children began to fidget, growing impatient for the big arrival. Sophie couldn’t blame them. What little child hadn’t firmly feared Santa would never come?


CHAPTER EIGHT (#ulink_55cef065-7421-5c98-aa3d-bced278e4f7c)

IF HE HAD to hear one more Christmas carol... The cheerful voices and hopeful lyrics were bitter enough to make Jack want to cancel the holidays. He couldn’t wish anyone a merry, merry anything, and he was sweating inside the Santa suit.

All those children out there. Waiting to see him.

Hopeful, happy, expectant.

They weren’t waiting for him. Just for the man he was playing.

As he’d played a strong, decent man for Sophie, until she’d actually needed him. If she could see him now, she’d have to agree he was right about keeping their child out of his life. He’d worked himself into a cowardly sweat over pretending to be a nonexistent hero for sick children, kids who were depending on him to be a plausible Santa Claus.

He shaped the pillows beneath his coat, eased the furnacelike beard over his moist upper lip and opened the door before he was tempted to head back to Boston instead of doing one simple job that his family expected him to complete.

Jack saw twinkling lights, colorful presents beneath the tree and a red velvet bag bulging with the gifts the volunteers had gathered for him to distribute.

The singing stopped. The chatter stopped. The children stopped.

Their faces turned as one. Joy shone on some, disbelief on others. Most terrifying of all, some of these innocent babies looked at him with naked hope.

“Ho, ho, ho.” It sounded pathetic and weak to him, muffled by his beard. No one else minded.

Cheers and shouts and laughter rang out, and the children flooded his way as if he were the best surprise ever.

The breath left his body in a gasp only he could hear. He was light-headed, but stayed upright by sheer force of will.

Laughter became the scream of rockets launching. Shouts became the whistle of tracer bullets passing by his ears.

He saw a face, small, bloody, in pain.

He reeled back, thankful to have his backward plunge stopped by the red bag he was supposed to haul around the room.

Again, the children didn’t seem to notice, but, hyperaware, Jack witnessed the looks tossed between his colleagues. Georgette Everly looked at Sophie as if she might know what was going on.

Sophie didn’t seem to catch the doctor’s silent question. She’d already begun to weave toward him, through the knots of happy children.

“Did you forget your elves, Santa? I’ll help you with these beautiful presents.”

She rested her hand on his shoulder, gripping him in a way that dragged him into the present. He didn’t even care that she must feel the perspiration soaking him underneath the jacket. He took the chair she pushed his way, and let her fish the first few gifts from the sack.

On each tag, a code noted whether the gift was for a boy or girl, and another sorted it by age range. He stared at the letter and numbers, unable to put it all together.

“Boy, seven to nine,” Sophie whispered next to him, already diving for the next gift.

He called a boy up and handed it over, managing small talk that made the child laugh. Jack and Sophie kept up the act, with him avoiding his curious colleagues until he recovered his composure enough to focus.

Sophie stayed with him as he took the last of the gifts to the children too ill to walk up to him.

After everyone received a gift and good wishes, he went to the goody table.

“I might take a couple of these delicious cookies for my reindeer,” he said. “I’m sorry this hospital won’t let them in to visit with you children, too. I hope you’re all feeling well soon. Thank you for having me at your party today.” He gave a much jollier “Ho, ho, ho” and returned to his makeshift dressing room, amid a chorus of goodbyes and Merry Christmases.

Sophie slipped in behind him, hugging the empty red velvet bag. “Are you all right?” she asked. “Are you ill?”

“I’m fine. You should go before I have to explain what you’re doing in here with me.”

“I don’t care what anyone thinks. You’re not safe to drive. Where are you going from here?”

“I’m fine.”

“Who do you think you’re talking to? Let me check your vitals.”

He knew what she’d find. His pulse was sky-high and his blood pressure probably made a stroke seem like his next destination.

The memories he’d been fighting made him unsafe. Sounds and faces and pain he was keeping at bay by pretending he didn’t hear, see or feel them. He just needed to look normal long enough to push Sophie out of his escape route.

“I’ll take a ride if you can drive my truck.”

“Are you kidding? I learned on a stick. My mom and I thought we were so cool, driving around in her old Rambler.” Sophie nodded at his red suit. “Are you changing clothes?”

“Wait here. Don’t go back out there.”

“Whatever, Jack.”

He slipped out the back door and headed for the bathroom. Sophie didn’t understand. His neighbors in this small town tended to be nosy. They’d want to know why the nurse he’d never admitted knowing had followed him from the party.

He wrestled with the Santa costume, breathing deeply as he got his head out of the jacket. It wasn’t just panic and memories. That getup was hot.

Sophie was waiting, her coat over her arm, when he went back to the office where he’d left her. They headed to the elevators. When the door opened, they joined two other surgeons already back in scrubs. As the elevator stopped at their floor, one of the men turned back.

“Good night, Santa.”

“Ho, ho, ho.”

Laughing, the two men went their separate ways and the doors slid shut.

“Feeling better?” Sophie asked.

“Yeah.” Jack wasn’t about to discuss what had happened.

“You’re doing me a favor. I’d have to take a cab if I wasn’t riding with you.”

“Drive to the B and B. I’ll be fine to go the rest of the way to my house.”

“Oddly, the pregnant woman is steadier than you right now, and it’s barely a block to walk.” She held out her hand for the keys as they exited the hospital.

Once they were in the truck, she started the engine and reversed smoothly. Soon they were on the two-lane road back to town. She drove toward his town house near the square.

“This is a Christmas gift. A parking spot in front of your home.”

Sophie’s good cheer didn’t quite mask her steely mood. Something was on her mind. He’d gone along with her wishes so far, but he was losing patience.

“Thanks for the ride.” He held out his hand for the keys.

Sophie got out and met him in front of the hood.

“Why don’t you leave?” he asked, his throat so tight it hurt to speak.

“I will, Jack. You just tell me why I’m going. Why I’m giving up when I loved you for two years, unconditionally. I didn’t talk about it, but I noticed the way you dreamed. The odd way you reacted in the subway sometimes, or on the Common or at a play, when you’d suddenly break into a cold sweat and drag me out. I assumed the problem was enclosed places, or crowds.”

“No.” It was children. Always children. Laughing or crying. Happy or sad. Children being children.

She closed her eyes, all but begging the thin, cold air for patience, and handed him his keys. “Let me talk to you. If we can’t sort out our problems tonight, I’ll go home, and you won’t see me or the baby until she’s old enough to make a different choice.” Sophie gripped her hands together. “A few minutes—not an expensive price to pay for the one thing you want.”

He did want her and the baby away from him, no matter what he had to do. He couldn’t face the kind of utter annihilation she was asking him to risk.

Not ever again.

“You have to tell me, Jack. I don’t understand, and I can’t walk away until you explain.” Frustration made her so vulnerable he had to resist reaching out for her. Wanting to comfort her and push her away at the same time.

He walked to the narrow door of his town house and unlocked it. The foyer held a bench and a small sofa, just large enough for two. He turned on a lamp and took up a stance at the newel post on the stairs opposite.

She looked frustrated, as if she’d expected him to collapse in some sort of admission.

“I think I’m figuring it out.” She pulled off her mittens and her cap. She unbuttoned her coat, and he went to the thermostat midway down the hall to make sure the house was warm enough.

To take his face out of the light, so she couldn’t see him.

“I’m trying to do the right thing, Sophie. If I wanted you to know, I would have told you two years ago.”

“Something’s wrong with you. It’s not just that one of the most decent men I’ve ever known suddenly became the most despicable.” She stroked her belly as if tracing her hands over the baby, a habit she’d formed since he’d left Boston. Maybe she’d had to love this baby for two.

“That’s why you should stay away from me. You shouldn’t consider telling that little girl my name.”





Конец ознакомительного фрагмента. Получить полную версию книги.


Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/anna-adams/christmas-actually-the-christmas-gift-the-christmas-wish-the-ch/) на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.