Do You Believe in Santa? (14 page)

She dug deep and tried to find a way to explain why it mattered so much.

When she forced the words out, what finally came was: “Jake, I'm scared.”

“You're what?” The anger seemed to drain away as his eyes searched hers.

She lowered her eyes. “I'm afraid—if I'm with someone who doesn't believe me, after a while I'll stop believing it myself.”

She didn't dare look at him. Her legs rattled with a life all their own.

“Hey.” She felt his hands on her shoulders, and that made her want to cry even more. “I'm not asking you to do that.”

“I know. But you're so . . . realistic.”

“You make it sound dirty.”

She let out a shaky laugh. “Really. Think about it.” She spoke through a huge ache in her throat. “If it wasn't my imagination, I
can't
be the only person this ever happened to. Where are the others?” She peered up at a blurry Jake. “I think most of them stopped believing it a long time ago. A lot of them probably right away, when they were kids, when people told them it couldn't be real. And the rest . . . maybe just bit by bit . . .” She swallowed hard. “On nights like this it's really hard for me to keep believing it. Like after my mom died—”

“—and you went to Mount Douglas.”

“Right.” Heaven help her, sometimes he did understand her. She blinked, and thank goodness, the tears stayed back. Her vision cleared, giving her a better view of Jake and his searching eyes.

Gently, he squeezed her shoulders, making her want to trust him, want to lean on him. That might be even scarier. “What happens if you stop believing?” he asked softly.

“Then there's no magic,” she whispered. “And I've probably been crazy all this time.”

“Mandy,” he said, “I'm a logical guy. I admit it. That's why I acted the way I did earlier tonight. But there's nothing wrong with you. I know that.” He reached up and traced her cheek with the outside of his fingers. “Guys like me look for reasons. We look for explanations. I've been trying for hours to make sense out of this, and I only know two things. When it comes to you and Santa Claus, ‘sense' doesn't work. And I love you.”

Mandy swayed on her feet. She didn't know what to say. But she was afraid if she gave in now, she'd be giving up a piece of herself.

Jake's eyes didn't leave her face. “All I'm saying is I want to be with you. Who knows? Maybe this whole deal will fall apart, Regal Hotels will toss me out on my ear, and I'll end up homeless. I'll be the crazy street guy of Tall Pine, and you'll be the normal one.”

Hold your ground,
a voice in her head insisted.
If there's one person in the world who's got to believe you, it's—

Jake reached up and cupped her face in his hands. They were ice-cold.

But when he kissed her, his lips were warm. Mandy felt herself melting, and the little flashing warning light in her mind grew dimmer, the part of her that wasn't sure if this was good or bad.

An icy gust blew straight into them, drawing them closer together. Mandy held on to Jake and stopped thinking about good or bad. Stopped thinking about anything. There was only this moment and the solid, reassuring feeling of being in his arms.

Jake broke the kiss and pulled her tighter against him. The wind bit his face.
They're going to find us out here in the morning,
his jet-lagged brain said.
A statue of two icicle people.

He opened his eyes and saw two small flecks of white on his jacket sleeve. No, it couldn't be. He wasn't one for magical signs, but . . .

“Mandy?”

“Mm?” Her face was snuggled into the shoulder of his jacket, whether for comfort or for warmth, he wasn't sure.

“Does it really snow here in October?”

She pulled back. “No. It never snows before Thanksgiving. It—”

The flecks were swirling around them now, blown toward the front of the house by the wind, flickering in the illumination of her porch light. Mandy tilted her face upward, letting the flakes fall on her cheeks.

A smile spread slowly across her face, and it was absolutely radiant.

Chapter 14

As soon as they were inside, Mandy went to the window to pull the curtains open, letting in a view of the snowfall. Jake remembered she'd told him how excited Southern Californians got about snow. Tonight, he couldn't blame her. One freak October snow flurry couldn't solve everything. But it had come at the right time, lightening the mood, and the flakes swirling in the darkness outside were dazzling to look at.

Jake joined her at the window and put his arm around her. “Do you have any wood?” he asked. “I could build a fire.”

“There's a wood pile behind the house.” Hesitation flickered in her eyes. “But you've been out in the cold enough for one night.”

Her answer gave him an out, but she didn't quite tell him
not
to do it. “I don't mind.” He lifted a strand of her hair with fingers that were still numb. “Show me where it is, before I thaw out.”

“I'll make hot chocolate,” she offered.

“Deal.” He grinned. “Or I could make the cocoa, and you could carry the firewood.”

Mandy lifted her chin. “We'll compromise. Come on.”

She guided him to the back door just off the kitchen and started to lead the way outside. Jake stopped her with a hand on her arm, gently pushing her back into the house. “It's okay. Just point the way.”

“You're sure?”

“Yes. It's a guy thing. And you'd better close the door before you let all the cold inside.”

After Mandy went in, he made his way briskly down a set of wooden steps toward the woodpile. The house blocked the wind on this side, but the cold still seized around him as if it had missed him during his brief absence. A guy thing, indeed. What else besides macho chivalry could possess him to volunteer to come back out into this? It
had
to be true love.

Without the wind to carry them, the snowflakes fell straighter on this side of the house. They still seemed fairly sparse. Fortunately, that also meant they hadn't done much to dampen the wood. Jake grabbed a quick armload and vaulted back up the steps as fast as his cargo would allow.

He walked through the kitchen past Mandy, diligently at work with a saucepan on the stove, and made straight for the fireplace. By the time she entered the living room carrying two mugs, he'd coaxed the wood into a respectable blaze.

She raised her eyebrows and nodded at the flames. “You're pretty good at that.”

“I'd better be.” Jake got up from his kneeling position, brushing his hands off on his slacks. “Remember, I grew up back east.”

Mandy set the two oversized mugs on the end of the coffee table closest to the fire, and they settled on the couch to watch the drifting flakes through the front window. Jake circled his arm around her shoulders, savoring her warmth as much as the heat from the flames.

“It probably won't last long,” she said. “It's too early in the year.”

Jake sipped from his mug. The rich flavor didn't taste anything like the instant packets he was used to. “What's in this?”

“Real chocolate. Condensed milk. Vanilla. And a little cinnamon.”

“You had all that stuff in the kitchen?”

“It's always good to be prepared.”

Jake took another sip, letting the cocoa seep into him as the fire brought back some of the circulation to his legs and feet.

“I missed you,” Mandy said.

“It's good to be back.”

He hoped things between them were finally back where they'd been when he arrived this afternoon. The night had taken a dramatic turn for the better, and Jake was reluctant to question it. It also felt fragile, like a branch that it might not be smart to put too much weight on just yet. So he tried for a lighter note.

He glanced at the now-blank television screen. “Can I ask you a question?”

“What?” she asked.

“Why
The Godfather
?
”

“Well, number one, it's a great story.”

“I agree. Now, what's the other reason?”

She blew into her cocoa, avoiding his eyes. “I love Al Pacino in it. He starts out so vulnerable. I know where he's headed, but I still enjoy watching it.”

She cupped her cocoa mug, still gazing into the drink. “I'm sorry about all the drama,” she said. “I kept stalling, waiting for a good time to tell you. . . .”

He pressed his lips to her brow. “Don't worry about it.”

She rested her cheek against his shoulder, and Jake relished the feel of it. He was, he realized, bone tired, and he would have been happy to stay in this spot for the next several hours without moving. The cocoa warmed him from the inside, and he felt a deepening sense of contentment.

After a few minutes, however, he sensed a quiet shift in Mandy's mood. He couldn't see what she was looking at, or even whether her eyes were open, but he realized her head wasn't turned toward the window anymore.

If he had to guess, her eyes were directed at the floor in front of the fireplace.

Jake considered the spot. It wasn't a traditional raised hearth; only a flat area of brick created a safe amount of space between the screened-in flames and the carpet. As firelight flickered over the floor, the space did seem to take on a magical look. He tried to imagine what she was seeing.

“This is where it happened?” he asked. “Right here in front of the fireplace?”

Her head stirred on his shoulder. “Are you trying to humor me?”

“No. I want to be able to see it. To picture it,” he amended.

“You heard me tell the story.”

“I heard you tell it to the little boy in the store,” Jake said. “But I've told quite a few stories to Emily, and if you're like me—well, stories get refined over time. Like the way you used those lines from ‘The Night Before Christmas.'”

“It's called ‘A Visit from St. Nicholas,' actually.”

He had no doubt she knew the poem by heart. “Right. So tell me the way
you
saw it.”

She raised her head from his shoulder. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

Mandy straightened, drawing back to look at him. She'd never had an adult ask her this, ever. But Jake appeared to be sincere. He didn't look as if he meant to deconstruct her story like some armchair CSI investigator.

She closed her eyes and thought. “Okay. I sneaked out of bed after my mom was done wrapping presents, and I stretched out here on the couch to wait. My head was at that end.” She nodded toward the far side of the couch. “It was after eleven, and I did fall asleep. But when I woke up, it was like something startled me awake. You know how sometimes you hear a noise in your sleep, and you don't know what woke you up until you hear it again? It was like that. And I was
wide
-awake. I remember my heart was beating faster.”

She looked toward the window. This time, she didn't see the snow. She was picturing the Christmas tree in the spot where she still put it up year after year. “This room gets pretty bright at night at Christmas, when the tree is lit. My mom always used white lights for the tree. I tried colored lights once, and they were pretty, but they weren't the same. The white lights are more like candlelight.”

She turned her head toward the fireplace. “So, I looked over there—we had lights around the outside edges of the fireplace, too. I just remembered that.” She traced the shape of the fireplace in the air with her finger. “And he was there. Not a silhouette, not a shadow. I could see his face. Part of me wants to say he was carrying a bag over his shoulder, but I'm not sure.”

“What did he look like?”

“I remember two things really well: the color of his suit, and his expression. His clothes weren't bright red. They're a deeper color, more of a crimson. But I don't think I thought of that word then. What I remember most is his face. That's why I complain about the store Santas, because it's so hard to describe. He looked serious—but not
stern,
like some of those old English Santas. He had a glimmer in his eye, but not a
ho-ho-ho
look like most of the American Santas. I don't think he was smiling, but maybe with the beard, it was just hard to tell.”

She waited, afraid he'd ask her if she'd known anyone who looked like that, relieved when he didn't.

“And the flash of light when he left—that's absolutely true. There's no way he just walked out the door. He wasn't some guy dressed up.”

Mandy tried to think of other details to add, but nothing came to mind. She contemplated the spot in front of them. She and Jake were sitting closer to the hearth than she had been that night, and the fire Jake had built cast its flickering patterns on the bricks. But her mind's eye was seeing something else. The image of that long-ago night, the one she'd struggled so hard to capture a couple of hours ago, came clear. The kind face, the sense of peace and wonder. She drew in a slow breath, almost afraid to look away. But she turned to Jake.

He was looking, not at the fireplace, but at her, his features quiet and thoughtful. Thoughtful, she hoped, and not analytical.

When her eyes met his, he smiled and nodded toward the fireplace. “You really know how to paint a picture.”

As if, in some way, he saw it too. She knew he couldn't
see
it, see it, the way she had. The way she could picture it now. But he wasn't trying to drag in logic this time, and if she was reading his expression right, he wasn't just playing along either. She had the feeling she'd had about Jake before—that maybe, in some small way, he
got
it.

Maybe that was enough.

For tonight, her own mental picture was clear again, and that helped. It had been her anchor, the thing she'd clung to, all these years. But maybe there were other things to believe in.

She set her cocoa mug on the coffee table next to Jake's. It was still more than half-full; somewhere along the line, he'd emptied his. Turning to Jake, she put a hand on his cheek. He'd shaved since this afternoon, long ago enough now that she could feel a hint of stubble starting to return. It had been that many hours since he'd gotten back to town. She looked past Jake to the mantel clock. It was nearly midnight—three hours later on the East Coast. With the travel, the time zones, and everything that had happened since he arrived, he must be worn out.

“You really didn't know what you were getting into with me,” she said. “I'm sorry.”

“I'm not.” He covered her hand on his cheek with his own. “I got a lot more than I bargained for. But that's a good thing.”

Jake looked down at Mandy's face in the firelight. He didn't know if he believed in Santa Claus, but the soft glow of those blue eyes made it a lot easier to believe in peace on earth, good will toward men. Whatever she'd seen that night had been real enough to her. And hearing her recall it in such calm, clear-eyed detail filled him not with worry, but with wonder.

“I meant what I said.” He curled his fingers around hers. “I'm in love with you. I don't know what's going to happen yet with this hotel mess, but—”

“I love you, too,” she said, and reached up to kiss him, as if she'd had enough words for tonight.

And had he just called his job a
mess?

Didn't matter. As their lips met, he drew Mandy against him. It was a hot-chocolate-flavored kiss, perfect for an impossibly snowy mid-October night. Dimly he realized he wasn't sure if it was still snowing or not. That didn't matter either.

Just a little earlier he'd been exhausted, but not now. The warmth between them coursed through him like a reviving current.

Mandy's arms were around his neck, her lips soft, yielding, giving. Jake brought his hand up to tunnel his fingers though her hair, his arm around her waist drawing her closer, trying to close any space between them. As he kissed her again, he nibbled lightly on her bottom lip, and she made a tiny sound from the back of her throat that threatened to be his undoing. He let his lips wander across her cheek and down the side of her neck, relishing the warmth of her skin and the scent of her hair. Her sigh filled his ears, and tantalizing thoughts flooded his mind.

He didn't want to go anywhere. He would have loved to stay here all night, for so many reasons, not the least of which was the inviting way Mandy's body felt pressed against his.

But there were so many reasons not to. After tonight, he was sure of what he'd suspected all along: Mandy had never slept with anyone. It wasn't something Jake entered into lightly either. Spending the night with her while his work was still so uncertain, knowing that soon he might have to leave for good, wouldn't be right.

It wouldn't be right under any circumstances, he realized. Because Mandy Reese was a forever girl. And forever wasn't something he could promise. Not yet.

Jake raised his head, wondering if this was the way the earth would feel if it tried to resist the pull of its orbit around the sun. As he looked down at her, Mandy's eyes were shining, heavy-lidded and impossible to resist. He dipped his head down for another kiss, then another.

He didn't want to stop. And he really needed to.

Mandy savored Jake's arms around her, the feeling of being so totally enfolded. When he raised his head, she didn't want him to stop; when he didn't kiss her, it felt like slowly waking up. Reluctantly she loosened the hold of her arms around him. There was something solemn in his face as he looked down at her. He traced the outline of her lips with one fingertip. Mandy shivered.

“Ever wish you could freeze time?” he asked.

She willed herself to form words. “Sometimes. Why?”