The Last Noel & Secret Surrogate, page 19
God rest ye merry gentlemen,
Let nothing you dismay,
Remember Christ our savior was born on Christmas Day
O, tidings of comfort and joy
Comfort and Joy
O, tidings of comfort and joy.
Warm, strong hands fell on her shoulders, and she turned. David was standing behind her, and he took her in his arms. He started to speak, then stopped.
“It’s all right,” she said.
“No, it’s not,” he told her, and smiled awkwardly. “We all... I guess we all start out like Frazier and Brenda. With our hopes and our dreams—swearing to one another that we’ll never be like our parents. And then...” He paused, smiling ruefully, shaking his head. “We let things stop us. Small problems become big ones. We see things in different ways, and we assume we can’t change, so things fester and grow and...and I was angry that Frazier wouldn’t hold the Christmas tree straight. It honestly never occurred to me that he was holding it the best he could.”
She looked up at him, searching his eyes. “David...who cares about the Christmas tree right now?”
His smile deepened. “I don’t. It isn’t anything to do with the Christmas tree. It’s life.”
She realized she was shaking. “We’re alive, David. Our kids are alive,” she said.
“And I’m wondering if I deserved to survive,” he told her.
She gasped.
“Don’t misunderstand... I’m grateful. But I keep remembering how strong everyone was, how our kids must have been terrified, but they didn’t fall apart. Skyler, we survived this. We survived it as a family. That’s...that’s what I didn’t deserve.”
She touched his face. “But we are a family. Not one of us is perfect. No one can be. We have to...we have to just do our best and...stumble along. That’s the journey.”
“What if we hurt others on our journey?” David said. “When I think about the things I’ve said, the things I’ve gotten mad about...”
“David, all we can do is the best that we can, love the best that we can. I’m not suddenly going to become a perfect mother because of today, and you’re not going to become the perfect father. But we will be smart enough to know that our lives are a gift, that our children are a gift.”
“I do love you.”
“I know,” she assured him. “Christmas,” she murmured. “I always thought it was such a time of promise....”
“And it is,” he told her huskily.
“Hey, Dad!” Jamie shouted from upstairs. “Guess what? Tim’s mother has a huge house, and Tim just talked to her. He didn’t think we’d want to stay here tonight, so she’s invited us all over.”
David looked up. “That’s nice of her, but there are too many of us to—”
“Mrs. Graystone says the more there are the merrier,” Sheila said.
“Mom, Dad, please?” Jamie asked.
Skyler looked at David. “I sure as hell don’t intend to stay here tonight.”
* * *
They were all trying hard, Kat knew. Tim’s mother, Lydia Graystone, was trying harder than anyone, taking in their entire entourage for a real Christmas dinner, on top of her own family and the people she’d already invited over, including Sheila.
Lydia insisted she was happy for the company, and as Kat helped her set up for her turkey dinner—one that she could eat, she was certain, because she was starving now—she thanked her for her generosity.
“It’s the least I could do. When Tim told me what happened...” She broke off, shivering. “You have quite an amazing family.”
Kat moved to the doorway and leaned against it, looking out into the other room. She had to smile, and not only because her parents looked like newlyweds or because Frazier and Brenda were clearly oblivious to anything but each other. Not even because Tim had a sixteen-year-old sister, Olivia, and she and Jamie seemed to have hit it off as if they were long-lost friends.
But because of Uncle Paddy. Their hero.
He didn’t seem to consider himself a hero, but she was certain Craig would have died trying to save them if it hadn’t been for Paddy and his cane. But to Paddy, it had simply been something that needed to be done and he’d been there to do it. According to him, life was something you fought for, every immigrant knew that. She smiled, aware of a new appreciation for her uncle and her ancestry that would remain in her heart forever. And Uncle Paddy was smiling at the moment, too, deep in appreciation of Sheila’s company.
They had just sat down at the table when the doorbell rang.
There was a collective gasp from her family, and she wasn’t surprised when her mother croaked, “Oh God. Don’t answer it!”
Tim Graystone set his hand on her mother’s shoulder. “It’s okay,” he said, and went to see who it was. A minute later, he came back. “Kat?”
“Yes?” She stood, and her heart took flight as she allowed herself to hope.
“An old friend wants to see you,” Tim told her, and she knew without being told who it was.
Craig.
She wanted to see him.
She didn’t want to see him.
You couldn’t go back. She knew that, and knew, too, that she had no real idea what had gone on with him in the last few years, but...
She set her napkin down. “Excuse me,” she told the group around the table and fled.
He was waiting for her on the spring porch. Somewhere along the way he had taken a shower and changed clothing, and he was in jeans, boots, a flannel shirt and a heavy wool coat. His hair was sparkling clean, light as straw, soft against his forehead. His eyes were very blue, very deep, serious.
She kept her distance. “I was wondering if we would see you again,” she said politely. Oh God, how ridiculous that sounded. She swallowed and tried again. “I’m sorry. I really thought at first that you were with...them. It fit with the way you left school...and there was a rumor at one point that you were in jail.”
“Yeah. I started that rumor. It made things easier,” he said.
“I’m glad to see you.”
“Are you?” he asked, and she wondered if there was a hopeful tone in his voice.
“To thank you for all you did. We’re probably all alive because of you.”
He lowered his head for a moment, then met her eyes again. “I think we’re all alive because of all of us,” he said.
She shrugged. “Maybe. You might have had a better chance of surviving if it weren’t for us, though,” she told him.
“Who knows?” he said. “I think Quintin had me pegged from the start. It was the first ‘job’ I did with them. And I’m pretty sure he knew I wasn’t what I pretended to be.”
“Still, thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
He was still looking at her. She shook her head. “You had no right not to tell me the truth.”
“That my father was a cocaine freak and loan sharks were going to kill him if I didn’t help them rob someone?” he asked softly.
“I loved you. You’re not your father. You’re not your family.”
He looked doubtful. “I think in a way we are our families,” he said. “You’re a lot like both your parents,” he said with a smile. “And yes, I remember you used to tell me how they could drive you nuts, but even so, I mean it as a compliment.”
“Tonight, I’ll take it that way.” She paused, then met and held his eyes. “I would have understood you were having problems, you know.”
“Your parents owned a bar. My father had gotten into knocking them over.”
“I still wish you had believed in me, told me. It would have hurt less.”
She was right. He had owed her. But he had been young then, with a young man’s sense of pride and shame. And it had been a pretty desperate situation, and Kat, being Kat, would have gotten involved. Her life, too, would have been at risk if he hadn’t walked away.
But that was all in the past. Who knew what might have happened if they’d taken different forks in the road, made different choices?
“I’m sure you’re welcome to have dinner here, too,” she told him.
He shook his head uneasily. “I just...needed to see you.”
She nodded, looked at him...remembered. And remembering hurt. “We can’t go back,” she whispered vehemently to herself—but he heard, too.
“No. We can never go back. And, oddly enough...I’m not sure I would go back, even if I could. I’d certainly never relive today, but...I’m so sorry I hurt you.”
“You did hurt me. You devastated me. But I accept your apology. It’s just that...like I said, we can’t go back.”
He nodded, but he was still staring at her steadily. “We can go forward, though,” he said very softly.
She studied him. In the background, she could hear a Christmas carol playing, accompanied by her brother’s violin. She had to smile. Unbelievably, she actually felt like laughing. Life was good, so damn good. And she would remember that.
“Come to dinner,” she told him.
He hesitated. Inhaled, exhaled.
She offered him her hand. “All you have to do is take a step forward.”
He grinned. Accepted her hand. And they walked in to Christmas dinner together.
Epilogue
“It’s Christmas Eve,” the man said.
The younger Hudson of Hudson & Son looked so much like his father that, for a moment, Craig thought he’d lost his mind.
He hadn’t expected the shop to be open. Sheila had told him that before his death, Lionel Hudson had been intending to close the shop and move west to be with his son.
This Hudson wasn’t a spring chicken, either. He looked like his father, but at the age of sixtysomething rather than eighty-plus.
“I know. I’m sorry. You’re trying to close up. I just saw the sign and...”
Hudson frowned, looking at him. “You’re Craig Devon, aren’t you?”
Craig was startled. “I—yes.” He felt awkward. Guilty. “I’m so sorry about your father.”
Hudson nodded, studying him, then offered his hand. “I’m Ethan Hudson. I heard you tried to save my father.”
The man was looking at him with such appreciation that Craig felt like a fraud, but he had to say something.
“I didn’t know that... I didn’t know they would kill anyone. I am so sorry. I should have been more prepared. I—”
“Please,” Hudson said, and smiled. “I’ve heard all about it from Sheila and Tim. You’re a good man. I know you would have saved him if you could. I’ve thought about it a lot, though. He wouldn’t have wanted to waste away, to die in agony. Who knows what’s for the best?” He shrugged, then grinned. “I remember him with love. That’s the important thing.”
“I thought the store was closing,” Craig said.
“Funny, I thought so, too. But then Dad...died and I came back, and I’m still here. I’m glad, too. I loved this place when I was a kid. I’d sit on my dad’s lap when he’d take out his magnifying glass and study a stone. In a way, working here, running this place, I feel like he’s still with me.” He offered Craig a strange and rueful smile. “Sometimes you learn what really matters, huh? I remember one time, there was a ring a woman wanted to sell. Even I knew the stone wasn’t a good stone, but my dad paid her really well for it. And afterward he told me that what’s valuable in life isn’t things, it’s what those things mean to people and what can be made of them.” He paused, then said, “Sorry, I guess Christmas Eve is making me nostalgic.”
Craig looked away for a moment, then said, a question in the words, “The sign...it still reads Hudson & Son.”
“One of my boys moved out here with me, and he works here, too. He’s off tonight, though. He has little kids and, well, you know. It’s Christmas Eve, he’s got a lot to do. I needed to be here alone today, anyway.”
“Yeah,” Craig said huskily, feeling awkward again. He cleared his throat and looked into the jeweler’s cases. “You’ve got some beautiful pieces here.”
“Thank you.”
“That solitaire...”
“Are you thinking about getting married?”
Craig looked at him and felt the oddest little tug in his heart. Was he thinking about it? Hell, yeah!
But was she?
He was scared. He knew all too well how many things could be stolen. Possessions, of course. Even life. But not the things that mattered in life, not unless you let them be stolen. Morality, love, belief in one’s self...these things were forever.
Would she say yes?
He would never know if he didn’t take the plunge.
“I’d like to see it,” he said firmly. “Although I’m not sure I can afford it on a cop’s salary.”
“They owe you a big raise, if you ask me,” Hudson said.
Craig flashed a smile. “Thanks. But it doesn’t actually work that way.”
“I can give you a price on that ring you can’t refuse,” Hudson told him.
“I— No, you don’t have to.”
“Humor me,” Hudson said. “Let’s honor my dad. The value isn’t in the thing, it’s in what you do with the thing, remember?”
“Thanks,” Craig told him. “Thanks very much.”
* * *
Twenty minutes later, Craig drove up the Graystones’ driveway, parked and got out of his car. He looked up at the sky and shook his head. This was a very different winter, thank God.
It was evening, but he could see the stars. Millions of them. The air was crisp, and there was snow on the ground. It was a beautiful night.
As he headed up the walkway, he could hear the music. Someone was playing the piano—Skyler, he was certain. Frazier’s violin and David’s rich baritone could be heard.
What a year it had been.
They had never gone back. Just forward.
Life was day to day. You laughed, you cried, you got resentful. You were thrilled, furious, jealous...a million different things. It was different, it was the same. Sometimes there was darkness. And sometimes there were special days, special times. Like Christmas.
He heard Paddy’s laughter, followed by Sheila’s. They had gotten married six months ago, saying they were both far too old to mess around with a long engagement.
The O’Boyles had wound up keeping the house on Elm, even though at first Skyler had wanted to sell it, would even have given it away.
Kat was the one who had said she wasn’t going to allow anyone else’s evil to steal what had made her happy. Skyler had thought about that for a while, and in the end they had kept the house, though they had completely redone the kitchen.
Even so, they had decided not to have Christmas Eve dinner there and had gratefully accepted Lydia Graystone’s invitation.
As Craig headed toward the door, it opened. And there was Kat, fiery hair blazing in the moonlight, her eyes bright with welcome.
“You’re late,” she announced, but she was all smiles as she ran into his arms.
He started to speak, to tell her about going by the jewelry store on the way, then decided that could come later.
“Merry Christmas,” he said simply. “Merry, merry Christmas.”
* * *
Secret Surrogate
Delores Fossen
Also by Delores Fossen
Harlequin Intrigue
Longview Ridge Ranch
Safety Breach
A Threat to His Family
Settling an Old Score
His Brand of Justice
Mercy Ridge Lawmen
Her Child to Protect
Safeguarding the Surrogate
Targeting the Deputy
HQN
Last Ride, Texas
Spring at Saddle Run
Christmas at Colts Creek
Lone Star Ridge
Tangled Up in Texas
Chasing Trouble in Texas
Wild Nights in Texas
Tempting in Texas
Corralled in Texas
That Night in Texas
Hot Summer in Texas
Whatever Happens in Texas
Visit her Author Profile page at Harlequin.com, or deloresfossen.com, for more titles!
For Mickey, Stacy, Selena, Scott, Trent, Miranda and Hunter
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 1
Fall Creek, Texas
Kylie Monroe tightened her grip on the .357 Magnum and kept her index finger on the trigger.
She waited in the dark. Deep in the corner where she hoped the shadows hid her.
Listening.
Praying.
Mercy, was she ever praying.
Maybe those footsteps that she’d heard outside belonged to one of the deputies from the Fall Creek Sheriff’s Office. Heck, she was even hoping it was a neighbor who’d dropped by. Fat chance of that, though. Her nearest neighbor was nearly two miles away, and it was close to midnight. Hardly the time for visitors.
Besides, she’d seen no car lights. No sound of an engine. Or any other indication that whoever was out there had neighborly intentions. The footsteps likely belonged to the shadowy figures she’d seen in the woods on the east side of her property.
