Holiday Wishes Read online

  “Are you coming out?”

  “Soon.” Grateful that her daughter was easily distracted, she set the platter of bacon and eggs on the table. Ignoring the half-amused lift of brow from Jason, she took her seat.

  “We need carrots and scarves and stuff.”

  “I’ll take care of it.”

  With a grin Clara gulped down chocolate. “And hats?”

  “And hats.”

  A snowball hit the kitchen window. Clara was up like a shot. “There she is. Gotta go. Come soon, Mom. You make the best.”

  “Soon as I’m dressed. Don’t forget your top button.”

  Clara hesitated at the back door. “I’ve got a little plastic tree in my room. You can have it if you want.”

  Moved, he only stared at her. Just like her mother, he thought, and fell in love a second time. “Thanks.”

  “’Sokay. Bye.”

  “She’s quite a kid,” Jason commented as the door slammed behind her.

  “I like her.”

  “I’ll give her a hand with the snowman.”

  “You don’t have to, Jason.”

  “I want to, then I’ve got some things to take care of.” He checked his watch. It was only Christmas Eve for so long. When a man was being offered a second chance, it wasn’t wise to waste time. “Can I get an invitation for tonight?”

  Faith smiled but simply pushed the food around on her plate. “You’ve never needed one.”

  “Don’t cook, I’ll bring something.”

  “It’s okay, I—”

  “Don’t cook,” he repeated, rising. He bent to kiss her, then lingered over it. “I’ll be back.”

  He took his coat from the hook where it had hung beside Clara’s. When he was gone, Faith looked down at the toast she’d crumbled in her hand. Hong Kong. At least this time she knew where he was going.

  The snow people in the side yard grinned at him as he struggled past. Boxes balanced, Jason knocked on the back door with the toe of his boot. The snow hadn’t let up a whit.

  “Jason.” Speechless, Faith stepped back as he teetered inside.

  “Where’s Clara?”

  “Clara?” Still staring, she pushed back her hair. “She’s upstairs getting ready for the hayride.”

  “Good. Take the top box.”

  “Jason, what in the world have you got here?”

  “Just take the top box unless you want pizza all over the floor.”

  “All right, but . . .” As the enormous box in his arms shifted, she laughed. “Jason, what have you done?”

  “Wait a minute.”

  Holding the pizza, she watched him drag the box into the living room. “Jason, what is that thing?”

  “It’s a present.” He started to set it under the tree, then discovered there wasn’t enough room. With a bit of rearranging, he managed to lean the box against the wall beside the tree. He was grinning when he turned to her. If he’d ever felt better in his life, he couldn’t remember it. “Merry Christmas.”

  “Same to you. Jason, what is that box?”

  “Damn, it’s cold out there.” Though he rubbed his hands together now, he hadn’t even noticed the biting wind. “Got any coffee?”

  “Jason.”

  “It’s for Clara.” He discovered that feeling a bit foolish didn’t dim the warmth.

  “You didn’t have to get her a present,” Faith began, but her curiosity got the better of her. “What is it?”

  “This?” Jason patted the six-foot box. “Oh, it’s nothing.”

  “If you don’t tell me, you don’t get any coffee.” She smiled. “And I keep the pizza.”

  “Spoilsport. It’s a toboggan.” He took Faith’s arm to lead her out of the room. “She happened to mention when we were building the snowman that some kid had this toboggan and it went down Red Hill like a spitfire.”

  “Spitfire,” Faith murmured.

  “And snow like this is just made for going down Red Hill like a spitfire, so . . .”

  “Sucker,” Faith accused and kissed him hard.

  “Put that pizza down and call me that again.”

  She laughed and kept it between them.

  “Wow!”

  Faith raised a brow at the noise from the living room. “I think she saw the box.”

  At full speed, Clara barreled into the kitchen. “Did you see? I knew there’d be one more, I just knew. It’s as tall as you are,” she told Jason. “Did you see?” She grabbed his hand to drag him back. “It has my name on it.”

  “Imagine that.” Jason picked her up and kissed both cheeks. “Merry Christmas.”

  “I can’t wait.” She threw her arms around his neck and squeezed. “I just can’t wait.”

  Watching them, Faith felt her emotions tangle and knot until her bones ached with it. What should she do? What could she do? When Jason turned with Clara, the lights from the tree fell like wishes over their faces.

  “Faith?” He didn’t need words to recognize distress, pain, turmoil. “What is it?”

  Her hands were digging into the cardboard of the box. “Nothing. I’m going to dish out this pizza before it’s cold.”

  “Pizza?” Delighted, Clara bounced down. “Can I have two pieces? It’s Christmas.”

  “Monkey,” Faith scolded gently, tousling her hair. “Set the table.”

  “What is it, Faith?” Jason took her arm before she could follow her daughter into the kitchen. “Something’s wrong.”

  “No.” She had to control herself. She’d managed everything for so long. “You overwhelmed me.” With a smile she touched his face. “It’s happened before. Come on, let’s eat.”

  Because she seemed to need to keep her thoughts to herself, he let it go and followed her into the kitchen where Clara was already peeking into the cardboard box. He’d never seen a child plow through food with such unrestrained glee. He’d never known Christmas Eve could be special simply because there was someone beside him.

  Clara swallowed the last of her second piece. “Maybe if I opened one present tonight there’d be less confusion in the morning.”

  Faith seemed to consider. “I like confusion,” she decided, and Jason realized the conversation was an old tradition.

  “Maybe if I opened just one present tonight, I could get right to sleep. Then you wouldn’t have to wait so long to creep around and fill the stockings.”

  “Hmm.” Faith pushed aside her empty plate and enjoyed the wine Jason had brought. “I like creeping around late at night.”

  “If I opened—”

  “Not a chance.”

  “If I—”

  “Nope.”

  “But Christmas is just hours and hours away.”

  “Awful, isn’t it?” Faith smiled at her. “And you’re going caroling in ten minutes, so you’d better get your coat.”

  Clara walked over to tug on her boots. “Maybe when I get back, there’ll be just one present that you’ll figure isn’t really important enough to wait until morning.”

  “All the presents under the tree are absolutely vital.” Faith rose to help her on with her coat. “And so are the following instructions. Stay with the group. Keep your mittens on; I want you to keep all your fingers. Don’t lose your hat. Remember that Mr. and Mrs. Easterday are in charge.”

  “Mom.” Clara shifted her feet and sighed. “You treat me like a baby.”

  “You are my baby.” Faith gave her a smacking kiss. “So there.”

  “Jeez, I’ll be ten years old in February. That’s practically tomorrow.”

  “And you’ll still be my baby in February. Have a good time.”

  Clara sighed, long-suffering and misunderstood. “Okay.”

  “Okay,” Faith mimicked. “Say good n
ight.”

  Clara peeked around her mother. “Are you going to stay until I get back?”

  “Yeah.”

  Satisfied, she grinned and pulled open the door. “Bye.”

  “Monster,” Faith declared and began to stack plates.

  “She’s terrific.” Standing, Jason helped clear the clutter. “Little for her age, I guess. I didn’t realize she was almost ten. It’s hard to—” He stopped as Faith clattered dishes in the sink. “She’ll be ten in February.”

  “Umm. I can’t believe it myself. Sometimes it seems like yesterday, and then again . . .” She trailed off, abruptly breathless. With studied care, she began to fill the sink with soapy water. “I’ll just be a minute here if you’d like to take your wine into the living room.”

  “In February.” Jason took her arm. When he turned her, he saw the blood drain from her face. His fingers tightened, bruising without either of them noticing. “Ten years in February. We made love that June. God, I don’t know how many times that night. I never touched you again, we never had the chance to be alone like that again before I left, just a few weeks later. You must have married Tom in September.”

  Her throat was bone dry. She couldn’t even swallow, but stared at him.

  “She’s mine,” he whispered, and it vibrated through the room. “Clara’s mine.”

  She opened her mouth to speak, but there seemed to be nothing she could say. Lips trembling, eyes drenched, she nodded.

  “God!” He had her by both arms, nearly lifting her off her feet before he backed her into the counter. The fury in his eyes would have made her cringe if she hadn’t been willing to accept it. “How could you? Damn you. She’s ours and you never told me. You married another man and had our baby. Did you lie to him, too? Did you make him think she was his so you could have your cozy house and lace curtains?”

  “Jason, please—”

  “I had a right.” He thrust her away before he could give in to the violence that pushed him on. “I had a right to her. Ten years. You stole that from me.”

  “No! No, it wasn’t like that. Jason, please! You have to listen!”

  “The hell with you.” He said it calmly, so calmly she stepped back as though she’d been slapped. The anger she could argue with, even reason with. Quiet rage left her helpless.

  “Please, let me try to explain.”

  “There’s nothing you can say that could make up for it. Nothing.” He yanked his coat from the wall and stormed out.

  “You’re a damn fool, Jason Law.” The Widow Marchant sat in her kitchen rocker and scowled.

  “She lied to me. She’s been lying for years.”

  “Hogwash.” She fiddled with the tinsel on the little tree on the stand by the window. Cheerful strains from the Nutcracker floated in from the living room. “She did what she had to do, nothing more, nothing less.”

  He prowled around the room. He still wasn’t sure why he’d come there instead of heading for Clancy’s Bar. He’d walked in the snow for an hour, maybe more, then found himself standing on the widow’s doorstep. “You knew, didn’t you? You knew I was Clara’s father.”

  “I had my ideas.” The rocker squeaked gently as she moved. “She had the look of you.”

  That brought a peculiar thrill, one he didn’t know what to do with. “She’s the image of Faith.”

  “True enough if you don’t look hard. The eyebrows are you, and the mouth. The sweet Lord knows the temperament is. Jason, if you’d known you were to be a father ten years back, what would you have done?”

  “I’d have come back for her.” He turned, dragging a hand through his hair. “I’d have panicked,” he said more calmly. “But I’d have come back.”

  “I always thought so. But it—well, it’s Faith’s story to tell. You’d best go on back and hear it.”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Can’t stand a martyr,” she muttered.

  He started to snap, then sighed instead. “It hurts. It really hurts.”

  “That’s life for you,” she said, not unsympathetically. “Want to lose them both again?”

  “No. God, no. But I don’t know how much I can forgive.”

  The old woman raised both brows. “Fair enough. Give Faith the same courtesy.”

  Before he could speak again, the kitchen door burst open. In the doorway stood Faith, covered with snow, face washed with tears. Ignoring the wet she brought in with her, she ran to Jason. “Clara,” she managed to stammer.

  When he took her arms he felt the shudders. Terror flowed from her into him. “What’s happened?”

  “She’s missing.”

  Chapter 9

  “They’re going to find her.” Jason held her arm as they both stumbled through the snow to her car. “They probably have already.”

  “One of the kids said he thought she and Marcie went behind this farmhouse to look at the horses in the barn. But when they went back, they weren’t there. It’s dark.” Faith fumbled with her keys.

  “Let me drive.”

  She gave him no argument as she climbed in the passenger side. “Lorna and Bill called the sheriff from the farmhouse. Half the town’s out there looking for them. But there’s so much snow, and they’re just little girls. Jason—”

  He took her face in his hands, firmly. “We’re going to find them.”

  “Yes.” She wiped away tears with the heels of her hands. “Let’s hurry.”

  He couldn’t risk more than thirty miles an hour. They crept down the snow-covered road, searching the landscape for any sign. The hills and fields lay pristine and undisturbed. To Faith they looked unrelenting. But while fear still overwhelmed her, she’d conquered the tears.

  Ten miles out of town the fields were lit up like noonday. Groups of cars crisscrossed the road and men and women tramped through the snow calling. Jason had barely stopped when Faith was out and running toward the sheriff.

  “We haven’t found them yet, Faith, but we will. They won’t have gone far.”

  “You’ve searched the barn and the outbuildings?”

  The sheriff nodded at Jason. “Every inch.”

  “How about in the other direction?”

  “I’m going to send some men that way.”

  “We’ll go now.”

  The snow was blinding as he weaved through the other cars. He slackened his speed even more and started to pray. He’d been on a search party once in the Rockies. He hadn’t forgotten what a few hours in the wind and snow could do.

  “I should have made her wear another sweater.” Faith gripped her hands together in her lap as she strained to see out the window. In her hurry she’d forgotten her gloves but didn’t notice her numb fingers. “She hates it so when I fuss and I didn’t want to spoil the evening for her. Christmas is so special for Clara. She’s been so excited.” Her voice broke as a ripple of fear became a wave. “I should have made her wear another sweater. She’ll be—Stop!”

  The car fishtailed as he hit the brakes. It took every ounce of control for him to deal with the swerve. Faith pushed open the door and stumbled out. “Over there, it’s—”

  “It’s a dog.” He had her by the arms before she could run across the empty field. “It’s a dog, Faith.”

  “Oh, God.” Beyond control, she collapsed against him. “She’s just a little girl. Where could she be? Oh, Jason, where is she? I should have gone with her. If I’d been there she—”

  “Stop it!”

  “She’s cold and she must be frightened.”

  “And she needs you.” He gave her a quick shake. “She needs you.”

  Struggling for control, she pressed a hand to her mouth. “Yes. Yes, I’m all right. Let’s go. Let’s go a little farther.”

  “You wait in the car. I’m going to walk a
cross this field for a bit and see if I spot something.”

  “I’ll go with you.”

  “I can move faster alone. I’ll only be a few minutes.” He started to urge her toward the car when a flash of red caught his eye. “Over there.”

  He gripped her arm as he tried to see through the snow. Just at the edge of the field, he saw it again.

  “It’s Clara.” Faith was already struggling away. “She has a red coat.” Snow kicked up around her as she ran. It fell cold and wet to mix with the tears that blinded her vision. With all the breath she had she called out. Arms spread wide, she caught both girls to her. “Oh, God, Clara, I’ve been so scared. Here, here now, you’re frozen, both of you. We’ll get to the car. Everything’s going to be fine. Everything’s all right now.”

  “Is my mom mad?” Shivering, Marcie wept against her shoulder.

  “No, no, she’s just worried. Everyone is.”

  “Up you go.” Jason hauled Clara up in his arms. For one brief minute he gave himself the luxury of nuzzling his daughter. Looking back, he saw Faith gathering up Marcie. “Can you manage?”

  She smiled, holding the still-weeping girl close. “No problem.”

  “Then let’s go home.”

  “We didn’t mean to get lost.” Clara’s tears ran down his collar.

  “Of course you didn’t.”

  “We just went to look at the horses and we got all turned around. We couldn’t find anybody. I wasn’t scared.” Her breath hitched as she pressed against him. “Just Marcie.”

  His child. He felt his own vision blur as he wrapped his arms tighter around her. “You’re both safe now.”

  “Mom was crying.”

  “She’s okay, too.” He stopped at the car. “Can you handle them both on your lap in the front? They’ll be warmer.”

  “Absolutely.” After Faith had settled in with Marcie, Jason handed her Clara. For one long moment, their gazes held over her head.

  “We couldn’t find the lights of the house with all the snow,” Clara murmured as she held on to her mother.

  “Then we couldn’t find the road for the longest time. It was so cold. I didn’t lose my hat.”

  “I know, baby. Here, get your wet mittens off. You, too, Marcie. Jason has the heater turned all the way up. You’ll be cooked before you know it.” She ran kisses over two cold faces and fought the need to break down. “What Christmas carols did you sing?”