Page 9

C hristmas Eve was magic. Faith had always believed it.

When she awoke with Jason beside her, it was more than magic.

For a while, she simply lay there, watching him sleep.

She’d imagined it before, as a girl, as a woman, but now she didn’t need the dreams. He was here beside her, warm, quiet, and outside an early morning snow was falling.

Careful not to wake him, Faith slipped out of bed.

When he rolled over, he smelled her—the springtime scent her hair had left on the pillowcase. For a few minutes, he lay still and let it seep into his system. Content, he lay back and looked at the room he hadn’t been able to see in the dark.

The walls were papered, ivory, with little sprigs of violets.

At the windows were fussy priscillas. There was an antique rosewood bureau cluttered with colored bottles and boxes.

On a vanity was an old-fashioned silver-handled brush and comb.

He watched the snow fall and smelled the potpourri on the stand beside the bed.

The room was so like her—charming, fresh, and very, very feminine.

A man could relax there even knowing he might find stockings draped over a chair or a blouse mixed with his shirts.

He could relax there. And he wasn’t letting her go again.

He smelled the coffee before he was halfway down the stairs. She had Christmas music on the stereo and bacon frying. He hadn’t known it would feel so good just to walk into a kitchen and find your woman cooking for you.

“So you’re up.” She was wrapped from head to foot in a bright flannel robe. Desire dragged quietly at his stomach muscles. “There’s coffee.”

“I could smell it.” He went to her. “I could smell you the moment I woke.”

She rested her head on his shoulder, trying not to think that this was the way it might have been—if only. “You look as though you could have slept for hours. It’s a good thing you didn’t or the bacon would be cold.”

“If you’d stayed in bed a few more minutes, we might have—”

“Mom! Mom! It’s snowing!” Clara burst through the door and danced around the kitchen. “We’re going to go caroling tonight in the hay wagon and there’s snow all over the place.” She stopped in front of Jason and grinned. “Hi.”

“Hi yourself.”

“Mom and I are going to build a snowman. She says Christmas snowmen are the best. You can help.”

She hadn’t known just what reaction Clara would have to finding Jason at the breakfast table. With a shake of her head, Faith began to beat eggs. She should have known Clara would be willing to accept anyone she’d decided to like. “You have to have some breakfast.”

Clara fingered the plastic Santa on her lapel, tugging on the string so that the nose lit up. It never failed to please her. “I had cereal at Marcie’s.”

“Did you thank her mother for having you?”

“Yeah.” She stopped a minute. “I think I did. Anyway we’re going to build two of them and have a wedding and everything. Marcie wanted the wedding,” she added to Jason.

“Clara would prefer a war.”

“I figured we could have that after. Maybe I should have some hot chocolate first.” She eyed the cookie jar and calculated her chances. Slim at best.

“I’ll fix it. And you can have a cookie after the snowman,” Faith told her without bothering to turn. “Hang your things by the door.”

Scrambling out of her coat, she chattered at Jason. “You’re not going back to Africa, are you? I don’t think Africa would be much fun at Christmas. Marcie’s mother said you’d probably be going to some other neat place.”

“I’m supposed to go to Hong Kong in a few weeks.” He glanced at Faith. She didn’t turn. “But I’ll be around for Christmas.”

“Do you have a tree in your room?”

“No.”

She gave him a wide-eyed look. “Well, where do you put your presents? It’s not Christmas without a tree, is it, Mom?”

Faith thought of the years Jason had grown up without one. She remembered how hard he’d tried to pretend it didn’t matter. “A tree’s only so that we can show other people it’s Christmas.”

Unconvinced, Clara plopped into a chair. “Well, maybe.”

“She used to say the same thing to me,” Jason told Clara. “In any case, I don’t think Mr. Beantree would like it if I left pine needles all over the floor.”

“We’ve got a tree, so you can have dinner with us,” Clara declared. “Mom makes this big turkey and Grandma and Grandpa come over. Grandma brings pies and we eat till we’re sick.”

“Sounds great.” Amused, he looked over as Faith scooped eggs onto a plate. “I had Christmas dinner with your grandparents a couple of times.”

“Yeah?” Interested, Clara studied him. “I guess I heard somewhere that you used to be Mom’s boyfriend. How come you didn’t get married?”

“Here’s your hot chocolate, Clara.” Faith set it down. “You’d better hurry, Marcie’s waiting.”

“Are you coming out?”

“Soon.” Grateful that her daughter was easily distracted, she set the platter of bacon and eggs on the table. Ignoring the half-amused lift of brow from Jason, she took her seat.

“We need carrots and scarves and stuff.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

With a grin Clara gulped down chocolate. “And hats?”

“And hats.”

A snowball hit the kitchen window. Clara was up like a shot. “There she is. Gotta go. Come soon, Mom, you make the best.”

“Soon as I’m dressed. Don’t forget your top button.”

Clara hesitated at the back door. “I’ve got a little plastic tree in my room. You can have it if you want.”

Moved, he only stared at her. Just like her mother, he thought, and fell in love a second time. “Thanks.”

“’Sokay. Bye.”

“She’s quite a kid,” Jason commented as the door slammed behind her.

“I like her.”

“I’ll give her a hand with the snowman.”

“You don’t have to, Jason.”

“I want to, then I’ve got some things to take care of.” He checked his watch. It was only Christmas Eve for so long. When a man was being offered a second chance, it wasn’t wise to waste time. “Can I get an invitation for tonight?”

Faith smiled but simply pushed the food around on her plate. “You’ve never needed one.”

“Don’t cook, I’ll bring something.”

“It’s okay, I—”

“Don’t cook,” he repeated, rising. He bent to kiss her, then lingered over it. “I’ll be back.”

He took his coat from the hook where it had hung beside Clara’s. When he was gone, Faith looked down at the toast she’d crumbled in her hand. Hong Kong. At least this time she knew where he was going.

T he snow people in the side yard grinned at him as he struggled past. Boxes balanced, Jason knocked on the back door with the toe of his boot. The snow hadn’t let up a whit.

“Jason.” Speechless, Faith stepped back as he teetered inside.

“Where’s Clara?”

“Clara?” Still staring, she pushed back her hair. “She’s upstairs getting ready for the hayride.”

“Good. Take the top box.”

“Jason, what in the world have you got here?”

“Just take the top box unless you want pizza all over the floor.”

“All right, but…” As the enormous box in his arms shifted, she laughed. “Jason, what have you done?”

“Wait a minute.”

Holding the pizza, she watched him drag the box into the living room. “Jason, what is that thing?”

“It’s a present.” He started to set it under the tree then discovered there wasn’t enough room.

With a bit of rearranging, he managed to lean the box against the wall beside the tree.

He was grinning when he turned to her. If he’d ever felt better in his life, he couldn’t remember it. “Merry Christmas.”

“Same to you. Jason, what is that box?”

“Damn, it’s cold out there.” Though he rubbed his hands together now, he hadn’t even noticed the biting wind. “Got any coffee?”

“Jason.”

“It’s for Clara.” He discovered that feeling a bit foolish didn’t dim the warmth.

“You didn’t have to get her a present,” Faith began, but her curiosity got the better of her. “What is it?”

“This?” Jason patted the six-foot box. “Oh, it’s nothing.”

“If you don’t tell me, you don’t get any coffee.” She smiled. “And I keep the pizza.”

“Spoilsport. It’s a toboggan.” He took Faith’s arm to lead her out of the room. “She happened to mention when we were building the snowman that some kid had this toboggan and it went down Red Hill like a spitfire.”

“Spitfire,” Faith murmured.

“And snow like this is just made for going down Red Hill like a spitfire, so…”

“Sucker,” Faith accused and kissed him hard.

“Put that pizza down and call me that again.”

She laughed and kept it between them.

“Wow!”

Faith raised a brow at the noise from the living room. “I think she saw the box.”

At full speed, Clara barreled into the kitchen. “Did you see? I knew there’d be one more, I just knew. It’s as tall as you are,” she told Jason. “Did you see?” She grabbed his hand to drag him back. “It has my name on it.”

“Imagine that.” Jason picked her up and kissed both cheeks. “Merry Christmas.”

“I can’t wait.” She threw her arms around his neck and squeezed. “I just can’t wait.”

Watching them, Faith felt her emotions tangle and knot until her bones ached with it. What should she do? What could she do? When Jason turned with Clara, the lights from the tree fell like wishes over their faces.

“Faith?” He didn’t need words to recognize distress, pain, turmoil. “What is it?”

Her hands were digging into the cardboard of the box. “Nothing. I’m going to dish out this pizza before it’s cold.”

“Pizza?” Delighted, Clara bounced down. “Can I have two pieces? It’s Christmas.”

“Monkey,” Faith scolded gently, tousling her hair. “Set the table.”

“What is it, Faith?” Jason took her arm before she could follow her daughter into the kitchen. “Something’s wrong.”

“No.” She had to control herself. She’d managed everything for so long. “You overwhelmed me.” With a smile she touched his face. “It’s happened before. Come on, let’s eat.”