Christmas at Twilight Read online

  Despite waking up several times to check on the sick children, Meredith experienced the best sleep of her life.

  Bright side of what had happened last night.

  On the opposite end of the spectrum, things between her and Hutch were tenser than ever. The sexual tension that had been simmering between them for weeks had erupted into a full, rolling boil in the span of an hour. No putting that alchemy back in the genie bottle. And yes, she knew she was mixing her clichéd metaphors. The situation flummoxed her. She couldn’t leave, not with a sick child. Didn’t want to leave. And those sparks were undeniable. Sooner or later the forest was going to burn down. Did she really want to be in it when that happened?

  To make things worse, the massage bookings took a dramatic dip the week leading up to Christmas, leaving Meredith with more time to spend around the house. Normally that would be a good thing, but with all the rules broken and the boundaries knocked down between her and Hutch, she worried how they would navigate so much togetherness without giving in to temptation.

  The first three days went by fairly smoothly because the sick children kept her occupied. The only private conversation she had with Hutch was about the gifts Ashley had put on layaway for Kimmie at Walmart. Via Magic Slate, Hutch told her he’d take care of the layaway.

  “Would you pick up my layaway for Ben while you’re there?” she asked, reaching to get money from her purse.

  Hutch shook his head, wrote: MY TREAT.

  “No, I take care of my own child. You’re not paying for my layaway.” She thrust out both her jaw and the money at him. “Take it.”

  At first, she thought he was going to refuse it, but then an expression came over his face as if he’d just gotten a brilliant idea, and he accepted the money.

  “Hmm, what are you up to?”

  His insouciant shrug said, You’ll never guess.

  On the day before Christmas Eve, with the pediatrician’s okay, they took the children to pick out the Christmas tree. They roamed the graveled lot looking for the perfect one.

  They passed a pine flocked in pink and Meredith felt a tugging at the bottom of her coat. “Mommy,” Kimmie said. “Can we get this one?”

  Meredith’s chest iced up cold while her heart beat hot. Kimmie had called her Mommy again. Ah, dammit, Ashley. Come home. It’s Christmas and you’re missing the most wonderful part of it.

  She clenched her jaw and looked up, her gaze catching Hutch’s. He’d heard it too. Their original agreement had been for Meredith to stay through Christmas, but that had been with the assumption that Ashley would be home by then. What would happen to Hutch and Kimmie if she did not return?

  “We’re not having pink. Guys don’t have pink trees, do they, Unca Hutch?” Ben asked.

  “Well, I’m a girl and girls wike pink trees.” Kimmie pouched out her lips in a forceful pout and folded her arms over her chest.

  Ben shook his head vigorously. “No way, Jose.”

  Kimmie pressed her palms together in supplication and batted her big blue eyes at Hutch. “Please, Unca Hutch?”

  “No,” Ben said, and gave her a shove.

  “Excuse me, young man,” Meredith scolded. “We don’t shove. You apologize to Kimmie. Right now.”

  Ben hung his head. “Sorry.”

  Kimmie lifted her nose in the air. “Hmph.”

  “Their first fight,” Meredith said to Hutch, and laughed. “They’d been cooped up indoors too long.” To Kimmie, she said, “We’re not going to get a pink tree, but later we’ll go get hot chocolate with pink marshmallows in it at Perks.”

  “Yay!” The kids applauded in unison, happy again.

  If she let herself it would be so easy to imagine this as her life, the mother of two children and married to a brave man like Hutch who could keep her safe. A man she could trust with her darkest secrets. She never thought it possible that she could find a man like him.

  But he wasn’t hers, was he? She could never forget that a monster dogged her every step, and the second she let down her guard, he’d be upon her.

  But how tempting the dream!

  Hutch led the way to the back of the lot, but stopped after he’d taken a few steps and waited for them to catch up. The children darted between the trees, laughing and playing tag.

  “Be careful of running on gravel,” Meredith warned, just as her own boot caught on a loose rock and her knee buckled. Going down. Bracing herself for the fall, she squeezed her eyes closed, gritted her teeth.

  But instead of hitting the pavement, a pair of strong masculine arms went around her. Hutch. Righting her, he kept his hand pressed to her back. Gently rubbing his palm in a circle in a wonderfully comforting gesture that said, It’s all right. I’m here. I’ve got your back.

  She peeked over her shoulder at him. Their eyes met. Over the loudspeakers, “Baby, It’s Cold Outside” played.

  They stood close to each other, neither one moving away. She was aware of his scent and the way his hair fell into a natural part on the right. She wondered what he was thinking. She wished he could talk and she wondered what his voice sounded like.

  Meredith couldn’t stop looking at him. Hutch. Brian, a tall force-of-man that would make any woman’s knees buckle, naturally tanned skin, leather jacket, the scars on his neck and hands making him that much sexier. Declaring he was a man who had lived and survived.

  He pointed to a tree. This one.

  Oh yes. The reason they were here. Buying a Christmas tree.

  The salesman helped him load it into his pickup truck. They’d brought both vehicles because of the car seats.

  The children, still a little weak from their bout with the virus, lifted their arms up and begged to be carried. Hutch scooped up Kimmie, and Meredith tucked Ben onto her hip.

  “You’re getting too heavy for this,” she said, sad for that fact, but happy she had this one last Christmas to be able to lug him around.

  At Perks, they got a table near the window so they could look out and watch the town square decked out in Christmas pageantry. Couples strolled hand in hand to a Christmas music medley. Last-minute shoppers raced from store to store. Was it possible to fall in love with an entire town in less than three months? Apparently so, because Meredith had already given her heart away.

  Caitlyn and Gideon Garza and their two boys walked into the coffee shop. They waved and came over. Caitlyn jiggled her two-year-old son, Levy, on her hip. Meredith smiled, remembering when Ben was that age. She’d always wanted at least three children, but Sloane had killed that dream forever. With the life she led, she could not have a long-term relationship, much less another child.

  “So many exciting things happening.” Caitlyn’s eyes sparkled. “Have you heard the weather report? They’re calling for snow for Christmas! In North Texas. Can you believe it?”

  “Buckets of it,” said their preteen, Danny.

  “Snow, not ice,” Gideon clarified. “For you out-of-towners.” He grinned at Meredith. “In this neck of the woods, we mostly have ice storms instead of snow.”

  “Do you know how often we have snow on Christmas?” Caitlyn marveled, and then answered her own question. “Maybe three or four times in the history of North Texas weather keeping!”

  “Don’t get your hopes up too high,” Gideon cautioned. “You know Texas weather. It can change in a blink.”

  The children wriggled and giggled over the possibility of snow. Ben made funny faces at Levy.

  “Also, did you hear about the Secret Santa?” Caitlyn put Levy down so he could climb up on the chair with Ben.

  “No.” Meredith cocked her head, watched her son interacting with the younger boy. Ben was trying to explain to Levy what snow was.

  “Well,” Caitlyn said, more animated than Meredith had ever seen her. “Two days ago someone went to Walmart and paid for all the accounts that were on layaway. There are a lot of hardworking moms and dads in town who are going to have a great Christmas because of a generous soul.”

  “That�
��s so kind,” Meredith said as her gaze strayed to Hutch. “Do they have any idea who this person was?”

  “Walmart promised anonymity to the Secret Santa, but someone used the pronoun ‘he.’ All the Fort Worth TV stations sent a camera crew out here to cover the story. It’s generating buzz, which for a tourist town is always a good thing.”

  “It was a man, huh?” Meredith locked eyes with Hutch. Two days ago he’d gone to Walmart to pick up the toys she and Ashley had put on layaway. “That must have cost someone a fortune.”

  “They’re saying in the neighborhood of five thousand dollars,” Caitlyn said.

  Hutch’s face gave away nothing. He looked innocent as all get-out. But his pupils darkened slightly and he couldn’t hold her stare for long. He got up and waved for Caitlyn to take his seat. Then he and Gideon picked up a nearby table and butted it up to the table they were at so everyone could sit together.

  “I like that new hair color on you,” Caitlyn said to Meredith. “Thumbs up.”

  Meredith touched her head. She’d almost forgotten she colored it, and that sent a fret of fear running through her. She’d never stayed in a town after she’d changed her hair color. “Thanks.”

  Caitlyn leaned over to whisper in Meredith’s ear. “The man is besotted with you.”

  Meredith startled. “What?”

  She nodded in Hutch’s direction. “He can’t take his eyes off you.”

  He was staring at her. Heat swamped Meredith’s body even as cold air came in with the latest customer, the cowbell over the door jangling merrily.

  “Mommy,” Kimmie said. “Your cheeks are the same color as the marshmallows in my cocoa.”

  Caitlyn raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

  The conversation shifted back to snow and the Secret Santa and the Angel Tree project Gideon and Hutch were working on together. Tomorrow, they would be delivering toys and Christmas dinners to needy families in the community.

  It was fun. Sitting there laughing and chatting like a normal family with their friends. Drinking hot chocolate and eating slices of chocolate cream pie.

  Meredith’s gaze strayed across the square to the spot where she thought she’d seen Sloane. She touched her hair again, unable to tame her uneasiness.

  Yes, spectators peeking in the window at them would think they were leading a picture-postcard life.

  They would be wrong.

  The snow started on Christmas Eve morning, and just as Danny predicted, buckets of fat, wet flakes fell from the sky, and just for a little while, Meredith allowed herself to believe in Christmas miracles. If it hardly ever snowed in North Central Texas on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day, this was truly special.

  Maybe Ashley would come home in time for Christmas.

  Both Meredith and Hutch had continued to try to contact Ashley at least once a day, with no luck, but after Kimmie got sick, Meredith had started texting her every few hours. Was the woman still in Acapulco with her boyfriend? If not, where was she and why hadn’t she at least called?

  She and Hutch discussed Ashley’s disappearance more than they had in the beginning, but he still seemed confident she’d show up. Meredith couldn’t tell the man what to do. He knew his sister and her mental disorder far better than she did. Plus, what would she have him do? He couldn’t speak. He could fly off to Mexico in search of her, but then what? He might be a former Delta Force operator, but he was one man on his own. And they had no idea where Ashley was. She also knew he didn’t want to go off and leave her and the kids. Especially after she’d told him about Sloane.

  Hutch did ask Hondo to see if he could use law enforcement connections to help track Ashley down, but the only information Hondo was able to dig up was that American Airlines confirmed that Ashley had boarded the flight to Acapulco on a one-way ticket, and they had no record of her return. There had been no man on the flight named Eric, and Meredith wondered if she’d gotten the man’s name wrong.

  The information about the one-way ticket sealed the deal for Hutch. I DON’T THINK SHE’S PLANNING ON COMING BACK, he wrote on the Magic Slate after Hondo broke the news, and that broke Meredith’s heart.

  On Christmas Eve, Sarah Walker called. “Don’t forget to make the kismet cookies. It’s your only chance this year to dream of your one true love.”

  “Okay, okay. I give up. I’ll bake the kismet cookies.”

  “And sleep with a cookie under your pillow tonight?”

  “Yes, yes.”

  “You swear it?”

  “If it means that much to you.”

  “We’ll make a romantic of you yet.” Sarah laughed. “Have a merry Christmas.”

  Hutch made a run to the grocery story to make sure they had plenty of supplies and stacked up the wood he’d split on the fireplace.

  By evening, snow covered the ground two feet deep. Hutch stood at the sliding glass door, with the Magic Slate, looking out at the deck while Meredith and the children baked cookies and scented the air with delicious smells. He turned to Meredith and showed her what he’d written. IT’S ONE FOR THE RECORD BOOKS.

  He didn’t use the Magic Slate as much now as he had when he’d first gotten home. They’d formed a language of their own with the looks they gave each other and the subtleties of body language. It created a special intimacy between them that went beyond sexual attraction and caused Meredith to long for things she shouldn’t be longing for.

  “Can I draw you a picture, Unca Hutch?” Ben asked.

  Hutch handed the slate to him.

  “I wanna draw him a picture first,” Kimmie said, jumping off her chair and running over to grab the slate out of Ben’s hands.

  “Kids,” Meredith chided. “It’s Christmas Eve and Santa is watching.”

  “I had it first.” Ben wrestled the slate back.

  “Mine!” Kimmie snatched at the filmy gray top sheet and yanked.

  The top sheet ripped clean off.

  Ben’s eyes widened. “You brokeded it!”

  Kimmie burst into tears. “I sorrwee, Unca Hutch. I didn’t mean to.”

  “It’s okay,” Meredith assured her. “We’ll get Uncle Hutch another one. But it’s getting late. Let’s put out cookies and milk for Santa and feed for his reindeer, and then get ready for bed.”

  Hutch picked up the bottom of the Magic Slate, naked now without the covering top sheet, the impressions of everything he’d written buried deep within the black wax. For the briefest of seconds, a look of irreparable loss crossed Hutch’s face. A look so hopeless it broke Meredith’s heart.

  The slate was completely replaceable and she knew he was not upset with the children. But his eyes told the story. The slate symbolized his voice—tattered, broken, useless—and he was no closer to recovery now than he’d been the first day he’d come home.

  It was the most wonderful Christmas of Meredith’s life.

  Just the way she always imagined Christmas morning could be. When she was a child, her avant-garde parents and their friends would take a Christmas morning balloon ride as long as the weather permitted. In December they usually camped in Florida, California, or South Texas. Although once or twice they had Christmas in Albuquerque with Gramma, for the most part, she came to them for the holidays.

  Ballooning might have been in Meredith’s blood, but she never caught the fire of it. Going up in the balloon on Christmas morning was no different than going up in the balloon any other morning except that Dad would trim the basket with holly and Mom would bring along eggnog for the their picnic breakfast in the basket. Mom and Dad laughed gaily and sang Christmas songs, but that always made Meredith feel a little bit sad because she did not have a real home for Santa to visit. No chimney for him to come down.

  The presents she received were usually small, and best suited for a transient lifestyle. When you went from campground to campground, festival to festival, you had to travel light. Not a lot of space for toys. Mom baked her treats, and from roadside stands she bought oranges and nuts to put in her stocking.
Under the table tree in their RV, she found four presents every year. Her mother believed in the rule of four when it came to gift giving—something you want and something you need, something to wear and something to read. And for every new gift Meredith got, she had to give away something old.

  Townie kids who came to the balloon festivals thought she had a cool life and wished their parents were like hers, but all she had ever wanted to be was normal. To fit in.

  She dreamed of one day having a family of her own. Waking up on Christmas morning to the delighted smiles of her children as they opened miles and miles of presents they would never have to give away. She would make breakfast, pancakes and hot chocolate, and her husband would snap tons of pictures, and they’d go out in the snow—in her fantasy there was always snow on Christmas Day—and make snow castles. They would listen to Christmas music, and in the evening they would pile into the car and drive around looking at Christmas lights.

  Last night she’d sheepishly taken one of the kismet cookies and slipped it under her pillow. Her head had no more than hit the pillow when she fell into a deep sleep.

  And she dreamed! Boy, did she dream.

  Of a handsome soldier with kind eyes. A big, kind man who didn’t say a word, just took her into his arms and danced with her to “I’ll Be Home for Christmas.” Then he dipped her low and kissed her.

  Meredith’s eyes popped open before dawn, a deep smile on her face and calmness inside her that she’d never felt before.

  Hutch. She’d dreamed of Hutch.

  Sarah would say that meant he was her One True Love. Her mother would say she’d found her True North. All Meredith knew was now she was a believer—in kismet cookies and hot air balloons, in long slow kisses on cold winter nights.

  She believed in love. She believed in Hutch.

  And pancakes.

  The smell of pancakes wafting into the room had her throwing back the covers and leaping out of bed, vibrating from her head to her toes. She galloped downstairs to find Hutch and her giggling children gathered around the stove making Mickey Mouse pancakes as they had done on that first morning, and joy overflowed her heart.