Christmas Haven (2 page)

“Jules, hey, it’s really okay.”

She blinked, the sound of her nickname snapping her out of the trance. Glancing at Morgan, she gasped.

“Morgan…” She closed her eyes. “I’m dead, right? I’m dead and went to heaven.”

Interesting that she thought seeing Morgan equaled heaven.

“You’re not dead. Just shaken up.”

She eyed him, a tear trailing down her cheek.

He remembered the last time he’d seen her cry. He thought they were happy tears, but they’d been tears of goodbye.

“I don’t understand,” she said.

“To see me in heaven I’d have to be dead and I’m very much alive, which means you’re very much alive.” He sounded like a dork, but finding the right words, any intelligent words, at this point was a challenge.

He was on the ferry headed back home. With Julie.

A scene that had filled his dreams more than once in the years after she’d left.

Shifting into police mode he asked, “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

“I fell.”

“I gathered as much.”

She tipped her head slightly, a habit he’d found endearing years ago.

“Why are you on the ferry?” she asked.

“Coming home from seeing my dad in the hospital. Why are you on the ferry?”

“Mom needs help.”

Short sentences seemed to be all she could utter. He guessed the trauma still buzzed in her system.

“Huh, news to me,” he said. “I saw her yesterday and she looked fine.”

“Housecleaning.”

Now he knew she was half in shock. Edith Burns kept a tidy house, was the most organized person Morgan knew and baked a mean pecan-chocolate pie.

“Housecleaning?” he prodded.

She gave him a quick nod, looking like a little girl.

Don’t do it, Morgan. Don’t get sucked in.

“Did she send you to get me?” she asked.

She was up to seven-word sentences. That had to be a good thing, right?

“No, she didn’t send me. Take your hat off,” he said, changing the subject. He didn’t like seeing her like this, frightened and disoriented.

“What? Why?” she asked.

“I need to check for a head wound.”

She absently slipped the knit cap from her head and golden strands of sunlight fell across her shoulders. Clenching his jaw, he ran his hand gently across her scalp looking for a contusion. He struggled to ignore the feel of the soft-spun gold against his fingertips.

“I didn’t hit my head. I don’t think,” she said.

He removed his hands and leaned back on his heels. “Nope, doesn’t look like it. You wanna tell me what got you so spooked?”

“I—” her breath caught. “I was…” Her voice trailed off and
she clasped her hands in her lap, he guessed to keep them from trembling.

Morgan touched her shoulder once again, hoping to ground her. “Come on.”

Gripping her upper arm, he coaxed her up. He’d forgotten how perfectly matched they were with her five-foot-eight-inch height to Morgan’s six foot two. She’d been teased in grade school for being a giant, but the teasing stopped when she turned into a beautiful teenage girl.

His girl.

“I can’t believe I tripped,” she said, avoiding his gaze.

He could. She was terrified, and eventually she was going to tell him why. But not now. Now he had to help her calm down.

Cupping her elbow, he guided her to his truck.

“I’m such a klutz,” she offered.

She was anything but a klutz. She’d been a star athlete at Greenwood High, center on the basketball team, track star, and she had looked breathtaking in a prom dress.

This was bad, very bad. He needed to take her to her mom’s and get as far away as possible from this woman. And his past.

He opened the truck door. She took off her backpack and climbed into the front seat. It suddenly hit him how surreal this was. Running into Julie on the ferry? Rescuing her?

Morgan glanced over his shoulder to see if the guy who’d brought her change was anywhere in the vicinity. A Good Samaritan? Perhaps. Yet the guy looked as if he’d been caught stealing when Morgan noticed him.

Morgan slid behind the wheel of his truck and locked the doors. They couldn’t dock fast enough. At least when he was driving he’d have to concentrate on the dark roads leading to Port Whisper. But sitting here on the ferry…he dreaded the awkward conversation.

“How have you been?” she asked.

“Good. You?” He didn’t look at her, fearing the resentment would rise up this throat against his will.

“Okay, I guess.”

Just okay? She’d fled Port Whisper, ran away from Morgan to save the world. She’d sacrificed true love and she was
just
okay?

Knock it off.

“I work with street kids,” she offered.

“Sounds like a worthy endeavor.”

“It is. It’s…fulfilling.”

Unlike staying in her hometown, marrying Morgan and raising a family.

Ancient history.

He thought he’d moved on. He’d been engaged once, thought he’d found love again. But Renee couldn’t turn down an offer to teach in the Midwest, and Morgan wouldn’t abandon his dad.

Sure, he’d recovered from Renee’s heartbreak, occasionally dating Anna, another hometown girl.

But she wasn’t Julie.

Unbelievable. Why did they have to be on the same boat?

“You said your dad was in the hospital,” Julie said. “What’s wrong?”

“Cancer.”

“I’m sorry.” She leaned back against the headrest and sighed.

Seconds stretched like hours between them. Fine. Silence was better than talking about their past.

Her cell vibrated and she pulled it out. “Hey, Mom. Yeah…okay. You’ll never believe who I ran into on the ferry. Morgan Wright.” She glanced at him and smiled.

He ripped his gaze from hers and focused on the Camry in front of them. It was dangerous to look too long at that gentle smile, the whir of emotions building in his chest.

“I don’t know, hang on.” She glanced at Morgan.

“Can you give me a ride to my mom’s?”

“Absolutely.” Great, now
he
was down to one-word sentences. Shock did that to a person, and he was still in shock after running into her tonight.

“Sure, Mom, he’ll drop me off. Okay, I’ll tell him. Love you, too.”

She pocketed her phone and glanced at Morgan. “She wants you to come in and say hi.”

“Can’t tonight.”

Or tomorrow. Or ever.

The Burnses’ house brought back too many memories. It had been a safe place, a nurturing place for Morgan to hide out when his dad was in one of his moods. He’d had a lot of those after Morgan’s mom left.

Morgan never understood how Julie could have traded such a safe, loving home for the threat of working with street kids. He’d kept up with her life through the town grapevine, not intentionally, of course, but the news always made its way to him through one source or another: Did you hear that Julie got her master’s degree? Julie was honored by the city of Seattle? Julie is saving runaway teenagers?

“So, I heard you went into the family business,” she said.

“Yep. I’m police chief.”

“How are things in Port Whisper?” she asked.

“Busy. Developers have discovered us. A new resort is under construction. Don’t you talk to your sister?”

“I do,” she said defensively.

“Seems like her snack shop and tourist business has picked up.”

“Never pegged Lana for a tour guide in a small town.”

“Right, it’s not as exciting as saving street kids,” he let slip.

She pinned him with her golden eyes. “What I meant was, she was always so shy.”

“How long will you be in Port Whisper?” He hoped not long.

“Not sure. Depends on how long it takes to help Mom.”

He’d managed to avoid Julie the other times she’d visited. He’d thrown himself into a home-improvement project at Dad’s, or taken a few days off to go fishing with the guys, anything but come face-to-face with heartbreak. He’d been a
fool to think she’d choose Morgan over her career. But back then he was young and hopeful.

Buddy, you have so not gotten over this woman.

“I feel like we need to talk about something,” she started.

“What’s that?”

“You know.”

He glanced at her, casual, aloof. “No, I really don’t.” He hesitated. “Oh, you mean why you were terrified a few minutes ago?”

With a disappointed frown, she glanced out the passenger window to study the side-view mirror.

“Did you know that guy?” he pressed.

“No. He was just a guy I gave directions to.”

“Which is why you were freaked when you rushed around the corner?”

She rested her forehead against the window and closed her eyes, indicating the conversation was over.

Good. He’d successfully avoided the gut-wrenching subject of their failed relationship. Why did she want to go there, anyway?

He clicked on the radio to a country station. A song about lost love and regret filled the car. He punched the radio off.

During his tour in Iraq he’d faced off against insurgents, been shot at and nearly blown up a handful of times. But nothing made him feel as threatened as sitting next to Jules.

For some reason, being near her exposed his vulnerability like nothing else could. He felt as if he was going into battle without a flak jacket, weapons or common sense.

And he didn’t believe in coincidences.

What’s the message, Lord? What am I supposed to do with this situation?

He wished he could trust his heart to guide him.

Unfortunately, the woman sitting inches away had destroyed his heart. That’s probably why he couldn’t get close to Anna, and why he used his charming smile and jokes to keep
people at a distance. He never let anyone inside. It wasn’t worth the risk.

Maybe running into Julie was his final test, his last challenge before being able to move on.

And he was so ready to move on.

TWO

T
he warmth of Morgan’s hand holding hers shot a sense of peace across her body as they lay in the grass overlooking Puget Sound. She closed her eyes, savoring this moment, wanting it to last forever.

“Are you cold?” he asked.

She turned to look into his blue-green eyes, filled with love and adoration.

“No, I’m perfect,” she whispered.

“That you are.” He leaned over and kissed her, his lips soft and gentle. Her heart tapped against her chest.

Love. This is what love feels like,
she thought. She wanted to hang on to it. Forever.

Then it was gone, her lips suddenly chilled, her hands frigid.

She opened her eyes to an empty spot where Morgan had just been beside her.

“Morgan?”

A gunshot echoed across the water. She jumped to her feet and spun around to see Morgan fall to his knees, clutching his chest.

“Morgan!”

She rushed to him, gripping his shoulders, searching his eyes. They were coal-black, dead. He fell to the ground, blood staining his shirt.

“No!” A sob wracked her chest.

“Yes,” a voice said. Through tear-filled eyes she glanced up, struggling to focus on the man standing a few feet away.

“And now it’s your turn.”

BANG!

“No!” she screamed.

“Julie, wake up.”

She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see past the shooter’s black eyes…Morgan’s lifeless eyes. Heartbreak ripped through her.

“Jules.” He pulled her against his chest. “Wake up.”

A choke-sob escaped her lips as she clung to his leather jacket, willing the images away.

“It’s okay. You’re home,” Morgan said.

Boy, did she feel home as she leaned into his solid chest and inhaled the scent of pine mixed with aftershave.

For a few seconds she basked in the feeling of security…of love. Then the flash of Morgan being shot, the life dimming from his eyes and the blood covering his shirt, shot a new wave of panic through her body.

“I shouldn’t have fallen asleep,” she said, breaking the embrace and casting a worried glance out the back window. They were at her mom’s.

“No one followed us,” Morgan offered as if reading her mind.

She whipped the car door open and charged up the driveway, needing to get away from him. The front door swung open and Mom opened her arms. Julie welcomed the gesture and held on tight.

“Hey, what’s all this?” her mom asked.

Julie couldn’t form words past the terror of her nightmare.

Morgan had been killed. Because of her.

It had only been a dream, but it felt real. She wouldn’t be responsible for the death of someone she cared about, especially not Morgan. Hadn’t she hurt him enough?

“Jules, what is it?” Mom pushed.

“I missed you.”

“Hey, Morgan,” Mom said over Julie’s shoulder.

“Mrs. Burns,” he greeted with concern in his voice.

“What did you do to my daughter?” she joked.

“She fell asleep in the truck and had a bad dream.”

Mom stroked Julie’s back. “Probably about work. Let’s get you some tea. Morgan, will you join us?”

“No,” Julie said, breaking the embrace, but keeping her eyes on her mom. “He’s got someplace to be.”

“Nonsense. I made chocolate-chip-bacon cookies especially for you, Chief,” she enticed.

“How could I say no to that?” Morgan handed Julie her backpack.

“Thanks.” She grabbed it, not making eye contact. “I’m going to wash up.”

“Oh, okay,” Mom said.

Julie rushed up the stairs, away from the nightmare, away from Morgan.

“French Vanilla or Earl Grey?” Mom called after her.

“You pick,” Julie said, not looking back. She couldn’t. The sight of Morgan, alive and well, standing in her hallway, would only send another wave of panic through her body.

She tossed her backpack onto the bed and padded into the bathroom. A splash of cold water would shock her out of the fright of the nightmare. Whenever she’d been awakened by a nightmare as a child, Mom would have her splash water on her cheeks. After a few seconds she and Mom would end up giggling at the mess she’d made, essentially blasting the nightmare’s effects to smithereens.