One Snowy Night Before Christmas (6 page)

“Are you going to be all right?” he asked her. “A lot of
people get depressed around Christmas.”

She offered him a sleepy smile that slipped between his ribs
and squeezed at his heart. “Don’t worry. I’m fine.”

He settled, hoping his relief wasn’t too obvious. “And you
don’t worry, I’m not going to clean you out while you sleep.”

She laughed and took the mugs from him. “Tomorrow, if you
and my TV are still here”—she gave a wink—“I’ll make French Toast for
breakfast. Then we’ll drag your heap over to MacPherson’s Garage. Nurse Brenda
was very adamant about my coming back to the hospital by ten.”

She placed the mugs in the sink and shut out the kitchen
light. He followed her upstairs and they paused outside the two bedroom doors.
The girl who had seemed so strong and capable suddenly appeared petite and
frail. She gazed up into his eyes, her own wide and youthful. The ivory sconces
on the wall cast her in a flattering light. Not a single blemish marred her flawless
complexion. She was a true beauty, elegant without a hint of makeup.

“If I know my daughter”—
which I honestly don’t
—“she’ll
want to come with you. Mind if we tag along?”

“I don’t mind at all,” she said softly. “Good night.”

She closed her bedroom door, leaving Tom standing alone in a
cloud of heated arousal he hadn’t felt in a long time.

* * *

Jessie was exhausted, yet she still drifted on the edge of
sleep. She couldn’t get Tom’s forlorn image out of her mind. When she finally
did sleep, he filled her dreams as well. The lonely, handsome man with a
stranger for a child had already fixed himself into her heart in a place that
had been empty for a long time.

She’d set her clock for eight, but awoke closer to seven.
Though still groggy, she couldn’t convince herself back to sleep. Instead, she
rose and showered so she could get an early start on breakfast.

Jessie was surprised to find Amy downstairs, kneeling in
front of the sliding glass window in the living room. A sheen of condensation
glistened like silver beads on the glass. She’d wiped a circle with her hand
and was staring out at the crystalline morning. She turned around when she
heard Jessie come down.

“They’re looking for Santa.”

“Who is, honey?” Jessie knelt beside her and looked outside.
At group of deer stood at the edge of the woods, pawing for grass beneath the
snow. Jessie didn’t have the heart to tell Amy this condominium complex sat
adjacent to a protected wildlife refuge that stretched for miles, and she often
saw deer from her windows.

Bucks, actually, Jessie realized. All males that hadn’t yet
dropped their antlers. Exactly eight of them. How strange, there wasn’t a doe
or fawn among them.

“Those are Santa’s reindeer?” Jessie could hardly believe
she said that. It wasn’t like her to entertain Christmas absurdity, even with a
child. She swallowed past a strange discomfort that lodged in her throat by
playing along.

“Mmm-hmm.” The little girl traced her finger along the
fogged glass, pointing. “That one is Prancer, that one is Dancer, there’s
Comet, and Cupid.”

“There’s Vixen, Blitzen, Donner and Dasher over there,”
Jessie said, nearly choking on the words. They felt strange and uncomfortable
in her mouth. How did she even know their names?

“What’s going on?” Tom came down the stairs looking adorably
earthy. “Amy, you had me worried.”

Jessie’s heart leapt. He was every bit as handsome as she
remembered him—her wandering imagination hadn’t distorted her perception. In
fact, he looked even more appealing in his sleepy, slightly tousled state. What
a sight to wake up to every morning, she thought. He looked cozy enough to
snuggle up against.

“Santa’s reindeer are looking for him,” Amy answered without
looking at him. Clearly she was still irked with her father.

Tom’s gaze slid to Jessie. She shrugged. Glancing out the
window again, she couldn’t deny they did appear a little unusual. They milled
about, cautiously approaching the building. They seemed unconcerned with
seeking out the remaining landscaping that they usually had whittled down to
the sticks by February. Though they were still quite a distance away, all eight
seemed to be staring directly at Jessie’s window.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when the closest buck let
out a piercing call as loud and shrill as a bugle blast. He took a step closer
and the others followed, breathing out great snorts of steam.

“They don’t know Santa’s hurt,” Amy said.

Jessie could hear the sadness in her voice. She glanced back
at Tom.

“Uh, Amy, he’s not hurt too bad,” he said. “The doctors just
wanted to keep him overnight in the hospital to make sure.”

“He’s going to miss Christmas,” the little girl responded,
pouting.

“No, he’ll be fine.” Jessie cringed. She’d just done what
she had hated most—placated a child with casually dismissive comments. She
wanted to kick herself. “Right after we eat breakfast we’re going to go visit
him, and you can see for yourself he’s going to be right on schedule. They’ll
probably release him today.”

“Really?” Amy’s face actually brightened a notch, relieving
Jessie of some of her guilt.

She nodded. “How does French toast sound?”

“Good!”

“Okay.” She glanced at Tom, feeling downright pleased with
herself. “After your dad takes his shower, he’ll run you a nice hot bath so
you’re all bright and shiny clean for your visit with Santa.”

A mischievous smile played at Tom’s lips. “I’ll take that as
my cue,” he said, starting back up the stairs. He glanced back over his
shoulder. “
Thank you
,” he mouthed silently.

The tenderness of his gesture caused her to grow warm and
tingly. A small part of Jessie felt ashamed for encouraging false Christmas
notions, but another part equal in size enjoyed playing along.

She squashed the thought away before she put it into words,
even in her head. What she could not ignore, however, was the pleasure at
having guests in her home. Amy was truly a delightful child, and Tom’s
appreciation was genuine.

She started toward the kitchen but stopped when she saw her
camera on the edge of the breakfast bar. Against the fogged window and bathed
in opaque light, Amy looked like a Botticelli angel. Her cornsilk hair appeared
almost translucent, her fresh little face full of wonder as she looked out the
window at what she truly believed were Santa’s reindeer.

Jessie snapped a quick picture just as Amy placed a
fingertip to the window. The little girl turned around, and seeing a camera
pointed at her, smiled. Jessie snapped again, capturing it. Now she had an
excuse to ask Tom for his email address.

She heard the water in the bath cut off, and then start
again a few moments later as he filled the tub for Amy. The little girl bounded
upstairs when he called her.

It felt different making food for other people. Jessie
smiled as she realized she couldn’t remember the last time she hadn’t taken her
meal over the sink. After mixing the milk and eggs and defrosting the frozen
bread, she paused and looked out the kitchen window. The reindeer were gone.

Deer
, she insisted to herself. They were just deer,
and they’d been looking toward the building in that strange way because they
wanted the tender shrubbery leaves they knew were still hiding under the snow,
but were wary of the groundskeeper’s dog.

With damp hair, Tom appeared in the archway to the kitchen.
“Can I help?”

“Tell me if this is any good. I don’t drink coffee so I
don’t know what good coffee is.” Jessie poured him a cup.

He took a sip and smiled. “Better than you can imagine.” He
leaned against the counter. “Thanks for that, earlier. I understand you weren’t
comfortable entertaining Amy’s Santa fantasies.”

“Sooner or later all kids learn the truth about Santa. I
just figured she’s a little young yet.” Jessie retrieved the bacon from the
refrigerator. “Is she almost ready to eat?”

Tom took another sip of coffee. “She’s upstairs getting
dressed. She insisted she’s old enough to do it herself and I’m only too glad
to let her.”

Jessie laughed. “It’s tough now. I don’t know if I could do
it if I were in your shoes, but I’m sure it will get easier.”

Tom let out a sigh and stared into his mug. Even though she
hardly knew him, Jessie felt a comfortable sense of camaraderie with him that
left her light inside, where before she hadn’t realized how heavy her
loneliness was.

“I think it already is getting easier, because of how things
turned out,” he told her. Those pale blue eyes met hers and Jessie felt her
insides flutter. Tom set his mug down on the counter and stepped closer. “Being
here, with you… She likes you.”

Was he going to say he liked her too? They both moved at the
same time. Suddenly her hand was in his, though she was sure neither of them
had meant to. Jessie turned her wrist, and their fingers folded together
perfectly.

“I’m glad things turned out this way,” he said softly.

She whispered her response. “So am I.”

He reached for her with his other hand, barely brushing the
edge of her jaw. His fingertips strayed to the nape of her neck left exposed by
her ponytail. A ripple of excitement trailed down her spine. At that moment the
morning sun slipped above the trees at the edge of the meadow, filling the
kitchen with divine, golden light.

A knock at the door jarred her. She took a quick step back,
then hurried across the living room to the door.

What had she been thinking? She couldn’t lie to herself.
She’d wanted him to kiss her. It had been smack in the front of her mind. Was
she crazy? The man was a complete stranger. Mike’s morbid warning echoed in her
mind. “
He could be an axe murderer
…”

As if she’d conjured him with that thought, Highway patrolman
Mike Andrews stood in the doorway.

She grumbled. “Mike.”

He smiled, tramping the snow off his boots as he prepared to
come in, even though she hadn’t invited him.

“Hi Jessie. I wanted to see how you were doing.”

“You wanted to see if I’d had my head chopped off.” She
closed the door behind him and he moved past her into the living room.

“I forgot how nice this place is in the morning with its
east-facing windows,” he said casually, but his face remained suspicious and
disapproving as his gaze fixed on Tom.

“Really? Where are you and Elise living?”

“Elaine,” he said. He remained rooted, trying his best
intimidating-law-officer stance on Tom. Jessie was pleased to see it appeared
to amuse Tom as much as it irked her.

She folded her arms across her chest. “Thanks so much for
coming by. I’m touched by your concern.”

Mike remained rooted. “So how long are you planning on
staying in town, Mr. Dunham?”

“Not really sure.”

“Where is it you’re from again?”

“Portland. Chester, to be exact. That’s the expensive section
near Forest Heights.”

Oh great, a pissing contest. Still, Jessie couldn’t help
being a little flattered. Not by Mike’s suspicious jealousy, but by Tom’s
inclination to rile her ex. And he was doing a good job of it. It was almost
cute.

“I’m cooking breakfast.” She stalked past him and went to
keep an eye on the sizzling bacon.

“I ran a check on you last night. Seems your driver’s
license is from California.”

“I’m from San Francisco.”

“Why haven’t you applied for an Oregon license?”

Tom shrugged. “Haven’t had the time.”

“That’s not an acceptable answer.”

“It’s the only one you’re going to get.”

“Come up with a better one. You’re being questioned by a
police officer.”

“Mike!” Jessie had all she could take. “Don’t you have something
better to do?” She dropped a stack of plates on the kitchen table with a
clamor.

“Is Santa okay?” Amy asked, appearing at the foot of the
stairs. She’d dressed herself neatly in red corduroy pants and a sweater over a
white turtleneck with a pattern of tiny holly berries. She looked like a
typical first grader ready to pose for her school portrait. She’d even combed
her hair, though it was crookedly pinned into barrettes on either side of her
head.

“Are you trying to upset my little girl?” Tom demanded in a
protective tone.

“No, I—”

“Good job, Mike, you’ve scared Amy,” Jessie chimed in,
grinning wickedly. Mike smirked, tuned in to her ploy. He turned to Amy and
squatted down to her level. Amy stayed where she was at the foot of the stairs,
leaned against the wooden banister as she eyed him shyly.

“No, sweetheart. Santa’s fine. But the hospital won’t let
him go because Jessie had him committed.”

Amy’s eyes widened and fixed on Jessie with horror.

Mike, I’m going to get you for this
, Jessie thought.

He grinned, as good as having read her mind.

“What does that mean?” Amy asked worriedly.

“It means,” Jessie said before anyone could answer, “that
because I brought him to the hospital, I have to take him out. Since I’m paying
the doctor bills, I get to make sure they did a good job fixing him up. He is
Santa, after all. I have to make sure he’s all better so he can fly all around
the world to all the kid’s houses.”

Jessie started toward Mike to show him out. The shocked look
on his face was worth all the humility of forcing that nonsense past her lips.

“Good save,” he said softly as she pulled the door open.
Frigid air rush over the sweat prickling her skin.

“Thanks for dropping by, Mike,” she said in a full voice. “I
trust you got all the information you need?”

He turned around on the stoop. “I’m here because I care
about you, Jessie. Don’t blame me for that—”

“Great! See you later.” She threw the door shut.

She felt Tom’s eyes on her as she went back to the kitchen
and started whisking the batter as ferociously as if frothing whipped cream.