Our First Noel, page 1
“Heather Camacho has a beautiful way with words. I was immediately drawn into her debut novel from the very beginning. She is a talented storyteller, and her books are guaranteed to take any reader on an emotional adventure.”
MANDI BLAKE, USA TODAY BESTSELLING AUTHOR OF THE LOVE IN BLACKWATER SERIES
“Heather Camacho has a way with words that bring fictional people to life, drawing readers in to relatable stories of faith and the challenges real people face every day. If Heather's name is on the cover, I wouldn't hesitate for a moment to pick up her book.”
MISSY KAMPA, CO-AUTHOR OF THE ALTERRIAN GIFTS TRILOGY
“Heather is a brilliant writer! She has a gift for pulling you into her stories and keeping you there. It’s easy to fall in love with the characters in the story and leave you wanting more!”
PHILIP REED, AUTHOR OF BY THE BLOOD
"Heather is a very gifted and captivating writer. Her storylines, suspense, and creativity, keep me engaged from beginning to end… Bravo!!!"
DEBBIE LYNNE HENDERSON, AUTHOR OF THE NONSENSE AND RHYME CHILDREN’S COLLECTION
ALSO BY HEATHER CAMACHO
RENEWED HEARTS
(Novels)
From Graves to Gardens
From Mourning to Dancing
(Novellas)
Our First Noel
ANTHOLOGIES
The Magic of Us
Our First Noel — A From Graves to Gardens Novella
Copyright © 2024 by Heather Camacho
A publication of Purple Morning Press, LLC
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
First Edition: December 2024.
ISBN: 978-1-962902-17-5 (ebook)
ISBN: 978-1-962902-15-1 (paperback)
ISBN: 978-1-962902-16-8 (hardback)
Cover: Emilie Haney of EAH Creative.
Editing: Kendra Gaither of Kendra’s Editing and Book Services.
For Alyssa Espinoza — For waiting until after I hit the “confirm” button on my author copy order to tell me she found a typo. And then following it up with “Just kidding.” Or, for keeping the same email address for over 14 years. That’s pretty impressive. Oh, and also for agreeing to proofread this story at the literal last minute. Not many would drop everything to do that. You’re an absolute gem of a friend.
For Kass — The best farrier ever to exist. You have come through for me and my horses like nobody else, and I’ll never cease to be grateful.
For God — The only reason I was able to bring this story from conception to completion in a matter of weeks. How You always speak up if we just quiet down and listen. Thank you!
CONTENTS
1. Sarah
2. Kevin
3. Sarah
4. Sarah
5. Kevin
6. Sarah
7. Sarah
8. Kevin
9. Sarah
10. Kevin
11. Sarah
12. Kevin
13. Sarah
14. Sarah
15. Kevin
16. Sarah
17. Kevin
18. Sarah
19. Kevin
20. Kevin
21. Sarah
22. Kevin
Acknowledgments
About the Author
SARAH
1
My little blue Corolla couldn’t get me home fast enough. December had come and the last of finals had ended, and now I had the rest of winter break ahead of me. I was heading back to Corpus Christi from the university in Killeen, and I was more than ready to see the faces of all my favorite people.
Thanksgiving was the last time I saw my parents, when they brought Kevin and Marie up to surprise me for the weekend. And I hadn’t seen my friends since well before that when I left for school in the fall. I had come home to see Kevin in October after his release, but only for a couple of days. It was all the time I could afford to spare from class, and I had to more than make up for it, but it was extra credit well spent.
Technically, I had just seen Kevin two hours ago, when we hung up FaceTime so I could start my drive. And, yeah, even though we did the video chat thing regularly, I still missed him. Because of that, I would make the most of our time together, no matter what.
No matter what?
Suppressing the lump in my throat, I steeled myself. Dwelling on things I couldn’t change right now wouldn’t serve me, and it wouldn’t bring joy to our reunion. For the time being, I had to focus on the positive, even if that meant temporarily ignoring the inconvenient truth.
After the long six months he spent in juvie, with the request that I focus on myself, I already knew what being without him was like. I didn’t care for it, so I was all too eager to keep him as close as I could, whenever I could. I didn’t need less of him to have more of me. Life felt like a perfect blend of us both, and I was exceedingly happy. We both were.
A little over two hours to go and I would be back in his arms, home again, greeted by the breezy coastal town that never forgets you and the friends and family that will love you forever.
On the radio, everyone was talking about the same thing. The hot topic as of late was the fact that South Texas wasn’t very hot at all that winter. Rumor was it might even snow. Pfft. Yeah, right.
Many current residents had never seen a white Christmas in the coastal bend, and I didn’t see why that year wouldn’t be any different. Regardless if my breath perfectly ghosted out in front of my face when I exhaled.
Pulling into Corpus, I was indeed greeted by the cool breeze of winter. The sea winds tickled my senses as they sailed through my cracked window, over my skin, welcoming me home with its familiarity. I wished there was a way to bring more of home to school with me every time I went back. Something to make the homesickness a little more tolerable.
I slowed down around the curve leading to my street and saw him right away. Standing on the sidewalk at the edge of my lawn, Kevin was waving, smiling brightly at me.
My heart burst with joy. “Thank you, God, for bringing me home safely, and for all the welcome arms to greet me. Thank you, thank you.”
Coming to a stop in the driveway behind my mom’s car, I was on autopilot as I watched Kevin hurry over. He had my door open before I could kill the engine and get the seat belt off. Once I was free, I allowed his brawny arms to hoist me out and cradle me securely in the best Welcome Home hug. My toes dangled over the concrete driveway.
“Is it just me, or was that the longest month ever?”
“It’s not just you.” He pulled back to kiss my forehead. My bangs, which I had recently cut at the late-night urging of my roommate, had grown out to the point of being able to swipe to both sides. He brushed the right cluster behind my ear. “I don’t know how much longer I can stand saying goodbye to you.”
“Are you still going to apply for the spring semester?”
Rather than immediately agreeing, his smile dipped into something else, raising my curiosity. Had his plans for school changed? What reason would he have for doing that? Perhaps he had his own unpleasant news to share.
“I’m still planning on it,” was all he had time to say. Then, my parents, who had graciously given us our first moments alone, had come bursting through the front door for their turn.
KEVIN
2
Sarah and I were lying in the hammock in her backyard, gently swaying back and forth. As the evening was coming to an end, my mind went to the folded piece of paper in my pocket. The plan was to leave her with it as a parting gift when I went home, but I just wasn’t ready to go yet. In my pocket it stayed, for just a little while longer.
There was a lot of pressure on that piece of paper. It had to properly convey to Sarah all the things I couldn’t afford to say with conventional gifts. The depths of my feelings for her couldn’t be bought, but it sure would’ve been nice to have something other than a to-do list written on a piece of scrap to give her for our first Christmas together.
Some part of me also worried that she wouldn’t like it as much as I hoped she would. Maybe she’d think I was being too cheesy. Or, maybe it would be just cheesy enough. It was difficult being away from each other for long periods of time, because little doubts like that crept up easier than they would otherwise.
Having her back in town always restored a missing piece of my heart that only Sarah could. We had been separated for longer, and under more extreme circumstances, but two days or two months, it all felt the same. Watching her fade into the distance every time we had to separate was torture. I knew it was only temporary and reuniting was always worth it, but the time between proved difficult anyway.
“What do you want for Christmas?” Sarah asked me, her gaze lingering skyward through the swaying trees.
“Nothing.” The only thing I felt like I needed couldn’t be given to me by her. Like another free ride to college, or at the very least, an easier one. There were options, even for people with a colorful history like mine, but I felt the weight of the mounting pressure regarding school finances more every day
“Everyone wants something.”
I shrugged. “All I want is you.”
“You already have me. Pick something I can give you.”
Perhaps the best way to combat her relentlessness was with a dose of my own. There was something I hadn’t tried in a while. “Okay, fine. How about you give me forever?”
She turned and looked at me, a suspicious smile turning up the corners of her mouth. “Are you trying to propose again?”
“Maybe. Are you saying yes this time?” I dared not think it was possible.
“You know we aren’t old enough.”
“Not old enough to rent a car, either,” I muttered behind my smile. We’d had a similar conversation before, and she laughed when she recognized it. “But if you ask me, we’re plenty old enough to love each other unconditionally until death-do-us-part.” I already did.
“You’re ridiculous,” she declared playfully, with a shake of her head. A few rays of remaining sun snuck their way into the yard above the wooden fence, glinting off her light strawberry locks, holding me captive. She looked up again, watching the leaves move to and fro, with a look of pleased serenity on her face.
It wasn’t an actual proposal; we both knew that. And even if it was, I knew she wouldn’t accept like this — nor would I expect her to — but my silly heart had still gone irregular on me. One of these days, I would ask that question for real and receive a proper answer. And there was only one answer I could imagine getting…
God, how did I ever live without her?
“Anyway, back to Christmas,” Sarah insisted. “Here’s the deal, Kevin. I’m going to get you something regardless, so you might as well tell me what you could use or would like. I’ve always been really bad at gift-giving, and if you don’t help me out, I could end up buying you a really butt-ugly sweater or something.”
“Your husband would wear anything you gave him, butt-ugly or not. I’m just saying.”
“Ha-ha.” She rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the humor inside them.
“Okay, you win, but just for now. I’m not giving up,” I conceded, at least until the next time. “But you don’t have to buy me anything. It just so happens, I actually have something for you, and I think it could work well as a gift for us both.”
“Really? What is it?”
I reached into the pocket of my jeans and grasped the folded piece of paper. Here goes nothing.
SARAH
3
“‘Our First Christmas To-Do List?’” My happiness grew to almost more than my heart could handle. The piece of paper Kevin handed me was well-creased with blue tint where his jeans had stained the edges. Evidence of having spent a lot of time in his pocket. It warmed my heart to see him so sentimental. “You really want to do all these things?”
“Yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Do you think it’s dumb?”
“No way!” I shot upright in the hammock. He laughed as we rode the shockwave of my exclamation. “This is the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen. I can’t wait to do all these things with you, Kevin. This is a better gift than anything I could’ve possibly imagined.”
“Is it better than a butt-ugly sweater?”
“It’s a hard sell when you put it that way, but yes,” I winked. “So when can we get started?”
His eyes lit up. “Anytime. Right now?”
“Don’t you have to leave soon, though?”
“Maybe you could come with me. We can do number one and I’ll take you home after. You can bring your parents a batch of freshly baked cookies.”
I pondered it for a moment. “Do you have all the ingredients already?”
“Yeah, I do. I made sure the kitchen was stocked before you got home. Well, my mom did, specifically.”
“Do you even know how to bake?”
“Not really, but I know how to print and read a recipe. If nothing else, I can just stand in the corner and look cute while you do all the baking.” Kevin folded his hand adorably under his chin and batted his dark brown eyes, earning himself a giddy slap on the wrist.
“Not a chance, Betty Crocker. We’re doing this together.” I leaned up and threw my legs over the hammock’s edge. “Let’s run inside and clear it with my parents first.”
Kevin stood up and reached for my hand. “Let’s do it.”
SARAH
4
1. Bake cookies
I tilted my head, inspecting what was supposed to be a fresh batch of cinnamon snickerdoodle cookie batter. “Are you sure you know how to read a recipe?” Lifting the whisk, I watched the lumpy liquid fall in sad drips and plop into the bowl on my arm.
Kevin threw his face into his hand, and his elbows landed on the counter. “I give up.”
Pulling the recipe back out, it was already covered in crust and splatters. So was the counter. It would seem that neither of us could read a recipe. I scanned down the list for areas where we could’ve gone wrong. There were many. “Did you under-measure the baking soda, maybe?”
“I don’t know. Is that what makes it thick?”
“I really have no idea. You know, I used to always think I was smart, but this stuff has made me question everything I know. Baking is no joke.”
“I think we should just go buy cookies instead. It’s a lot safer.”
Determined, I set the bowl on the counter with a thud. “Absolutely not! We are going to best this recipe; it will not best us. Besides, when the cookies are done, they’re going to taste amazing because they were made with love and good frickin cheer!” Kevin’s shoulders bounced with his laughter. I wasn’t sure if that meant my speech was convincing or not. “What is so funny?”
“You seem really worked up over cookies.”
“So, why is that funny?”
“I just think you could chill out a little.”
Taking a deep breath, I pinned him with a glare. “Has that advice ever worked for any female in the history of ever?”
With a devious smile, Kevin grabbed a spatula from the counter, dipped it into the batter, and with one hand, pulled it back like a catapult.
“Don’t you d — ” SPLAT. Suddenly, my face was a runny, sugary mess. Using both hands, I wiped my eyes free of the cookie goop. As I blinked up at Kevin, his jovial form came into focus. “You did not just do that.”
All the while, he clutched his middle to comfort the ache as he laughed on. “You didn’t sound too cheerful to me. Now you do!”
“You want cheer?” I fake-laughed at a decibel that matched Kevin’s, and with all my might, flicked my hands clean by flinging them at him.
Rather than put him in his place, his eyes went wide. He tasted the batter on his lips and nodded. “Hmm. It’s actually not that bad. But I do think we forgot the cinnamon.”
“Oh, let me get it.” I reached under the cabinet to where the bottle of cinnamon had been hiding, and sure enough, it was still sealed. “Looks like you’re right,” I said, peeling it open. Then, hoping to sweeten my revenge — literally — I pulled open his shirt and dumped the entire bottle.
Acting quickly, he jumped out of the way and billowed his shirt, letting most of the russet-hued powder scatter to the floor. “You’re on, Stevenson!” came his battle-cry.
It was an all-out war at that point. Batter, baking soda, sugar, and cinnamon all went flying. We scooped the batter up by the hand and smashed it into each other’s clothes and faces, laughter and ingredients filling the kitchen. Kevin was right. This was good cheer.
