Christmas in Good Hope (A Good Hope Novel Book 1) (25 page)

It had to be because of what happened to Lisette. Ami must have feared he wouldn’t forgive her, just as he hadn’t forgiven Nina.

Physically, he and Ami had been as close as two people could be. Had he subconsciously placed invisible lines in the sand to keep them from taking that last step toward complete and total trust? Had he
wanted
to keep a little distance between them?

He couldn’t discount the possibility.

If he let Ami fully in, would there be room for Lisette? He used to think of his wife multiple times a day. Now there were days when he didn’t think of her at all. Times when he had difficulty visualizing her face.

If he forgave Nina, would that mean he was letting her off the hook for what she’d done to his wife? But he knew Lisette wouldn’t want him to be bitter and angry.

Beck’s head swam with questions. When he’d gone to the open house, he’d been ready to commit to Ami. The only thing he knew for certain now was that he had some hard thinking to do before he faced her again.

C
hapter
T
wenty-
F
ive

The next morning Beck hopped out of bed and hurriedly pulled on jeans and a sweater before he realized there was no need to rush. Tom was handling things at the café and Ami was spending the day with her sisters. Even if she hadn’t been, he doubted she’d want to share a cup of coffee and a doughnut with him.

Not after last night.

Max had called and told him everything that had happened after he’d left the open house. Neither of them could understand why Eliza had done such a thing.

It was evident she believed Ami’s actions had caused her friend’s injuries, but apparently Lindsay didn’t agree.

Where was Eliza’s compassion?

Then again, where was
his
compassion?

After a restless night filled with dreams of Lisette, Nina, and Ami, all he wanted was a few minutes of solitude and a strong cup of his favorite chicory blend.

He reached the main floor and paused at the bottom of the steps. The house, which had pulsed with energy only days earlier, now looked hollow and forlorn.

The only sign of life, the only reminder of the vibrancy that had once filled this great room, was the Christmas tree. Beck crossed to it now, his footsteps striking on the hardwood like tiny slaps.

The tree filled the window with sweeping green boughs stretched proudly out, as if in welcome. His fingers curved around one of the ornaments he had purchased from the antique store. The form of the little doll gave him a cheeky grin. Ami had placed the ornament on the tree, her smile as bright as the doll’s.

He remembered everything about that day: her laughing green eyes, the cinnamon-and-vanilla scent that was uniquely hers, and most of all, her joy. The way she embraced life with such optimism.

The sweet memory had him jerking back from the ornament as if the doll had gone red-hot beneath his fingers. He’d made many mistakes in his life, and leaving the party last night had been one of them. He’d let the woman he loved face a vicious wolf alone.

Not alone, he told himself; her family had been there. But he shook off the thought.
He
should have been the one to defend her, to support her. Instead, he’d let himself get so caught up in his own feelings that he’d failed her.

Shame flooded him. He began to turn from the tree but stopped abruptly, noticing for the first time there was a gift beneath the branches.

He squatted down and retrieved the neatly wrapped present, immediately recognizing his name written on the card in Ami’s distinctive handwriting. Slowly, he traced the bold letters, imagining the delight she’d taken in slipping the gift unnoticed under the tree. The thought of his pleasure would have given her pleasure.

Beck expelled a breath and straightened, his fingers still curved around the brightly wrapped package. He flipped open the tag.
Wishing you the merriest, happiest Christmas ever! All my love, Ami.

The message was so
her
that he had to smile.

Carrying the present with him to the kitchen, he placed it on the counter beside a stack of papers—most of them Victorian tour flyers the movers had picked up from the floor—then started the coffee.

His gaze returned to the gift. Today was only the twenty-third. Checking out the card was one thing, opening a present early quite another. Hopefully she’d be with him on Christmas and he’d open it while she sat beside him, a glass of wine or a cup of tea in her hand.

His laptop sat on the table and, because it was there, Beck powered it up and opened his e-mail account.

The first e-mail he saw was the one containing the latest
Open Door
newsletter. Beck’s finger poised above the key to delete the tabloid rag when he remembered this was a special issue.

According to Katie Ruth, the December 23 release always included information on events occurring in Good Hope on the twenty-fourth and twenty-fifth. She’d heard about him keeping Muddy Boots open on Christmas and had inquired if he wanted that mentioned in the newsletter.

Beck clicked on the file, pleased to see she’d gotten the information correct. Actually, as he scrolled down, he found the newsletter jam-packed with useful information. He stopped scrolling when he saw Ami’s name. The title of the article was “It Could Happen to You.”

He thought back but couldn’t recall Ami ever mentioning that she’d written an article. Of course, she knew he wasn’t a fan of the newsletter. Not that he didn’t think Katie Ruth was a nice person, and editorially, she did a fine job. But in his mind, the gossip portion of her newsletter tainted the rest.

It only took a few sentences to grab him and make him want to read more. The article was timely, focusing on the dangers of drinking and driving and the importance of having a designated driver.

He read the entire article. Ami pulled no punches regarding her role in the accident that had injured her friend. The bull’s-eye was clearly that a single reckless action could have lifelong implications.

The well-written piece was short but powerful. While Lindsay’s forgiveness was but a scant sentence in the article, Beck knew it was that forgiveness that had helped Ami heal and begin to move past that night. The fact that she couldn’t get behind the wheel of a vehicle showed her journey was still a work in progress.

Beck surged to his feet, unable to sit any longer. Needing to rid his head, his house, of clutter, he scooped papers from the counter and opened the trash can with his foot. As the hydraulic lid slowly opened, he noticed a pale yellow envelope peeking out of the stack of flyers.

His stomach clenched, then released. He’d withheld forgiveness as a way to punish Nina and honor Lisette and their son.

But how did holding on to anger honor his wife, a woman who’d dedicated her life to healing? He thought of Nina. If her letters were to be believed, she’d turned her life around. Staying sober, speaking to groups about the dangers of drinking and driving. In a way, she was doing more to honor Lisette’s memory than he was in holding on to rage.

It was time to make some changes.

With a hand that shook, Beck slipped the phone from his pocket and called a familiar name from his contact list. The man was a private investigator he’d often used in his law practice.

“James.” The man’s booming voice reminded Beck of Floyd Lawson. “It’s good to hear from you. Last I heard you moved up north.”

After a couple of minutes of polite conversation, Beck got to the point. “I need a cell number. Nina Holbrook. Spelled just as it sounds. She lives in Athens.”

“Holbrook.” The man paused. “Isn’t she the woman who—”

“Yes,” Beck confirmed. “Will finding the number take long?”

“Fifteen minutes, if that.”

“Text it to me.”

“Will do.”

Beck pocketed the phone.

Needing a distraction, his gaze shifted once again to the present wrapped in paper covered in dancing reindeer with shiny red noses. Classic Ami. Whimsical and happy. God, how he missed her.

In seconds, the bow and paper littered the counter. He opened the box with an urgency one might use to open a suitcase full of money. But there were no stacks of hundred-dollar bills inside this box, just a crystal star the size of his hand, its sharp points jutting out in all directions.

According to the attached tag, it was a sun catcher. He held the star up to the window. The crystal prisms immediately caught the rays of the rising sun, scattering rainbows of light through the room.

While it was pretty, a sun catcher seemed an odd, almost impersonal gift. Then he recalled what Ami had said when she’d placed the golden star at the top of the tree.

A star signifies
home
.

With great care, Beck placed the star back in the padded box and shut the lid. He would hang the gift in the window once Ami was living under the rafters.

Because one thing he knew for certain, without her beside him, his house would never be a home.

Late that afternoon, after calling Joe Lyle with the good news that a resolution to his case was in sight, Beck made the short jaunt to Blooms Bake Shop. To his chagrin, Hadley informed him he’d just missed Ami.

Not dissuaded, he went back home for his car and headed to the bluff overlooking the bay. The trip to her father’s neighborhood took less than ten minutes. Beck stopped short of the house when he spotted Steve and his grandsons at a ball field a half mile from the house.

Despite the chill in the air, they’d obviously been there awhile, if all the balls, bats, and gloves were any indication. The boys were red cheeked but dressed comfortably for a sunny day in the midforties.

Each of the twins had his arms full with baseball equipment. By the way they were dragging their feet, it appeared each ball, bat, and glove weighed a ton.

“Beckett. Didn’t expect to see you.” While his greeting may have been less than enthusiastic, Steve’s expression gave nothing away.

“Do you have a minute?”

“The boys and I were getting ready to head home.” He jerked his head toward the twins.

“Not home. You promised we could play on the equipment,” the one in the red hat whined, apparently overhearing his grandfather’s comment.

“Yeah, you promised,” echoed the boy in the blue hat.

“They’re like elephants . . .” Steve shook his head but he grinned. “Put the stuff nicely—don’t throw it—in the back of the pickup. If you do that, you can have ten minutes at the park.”

The boys cheered and hurried to the truck. Seconds later they raced side by side to the play area.

Beck waited.

Steve gestured with his head to a nearby bench with a good view of the play area. Once they were seated, the older man shot Beck a speculative look.

It appeared the proverbial ball was now in his court.

He met Steve’s gaze head-on. “I plan to ask your daughter to marry me. I’d like your blessing.”

“No.”

For a second Beck thought he’d misheard. But the look in Steve’s eyes told him there had been no misunderstanding.

He sat back, stunned. “No?”

“I watched you last night.” A muscle in Steve’s jaw jumped. “Just when Ami needed you most, you walked out the door and left her there to fend for herself.”

“What Eliza said came as a complete shock to me. It brought back a lot of bad memories.” Beck didn’t want to make excuses, but he wanted her father to understand. “I didn’t know what to think, much less what to say to Ami.”

“You don’t desert the woman you love . . . ever.” Steve leaned forward and pinned Beck with a steely gaze that belied his mild manner. “Not for any reason.”

Knowing her father didn’t have all the information, Beck opened his mouth to explain further. But the older man didn’t give him the chance.

“Do you think it was easy for me to sit beside my wife, the mother of my children, the woman I’d loved since she was sixteen, and listen to the doctor tell her she had only weeks to live?” Steve’s hazel eyes flashed. “I didn’t know what to say, what to feel, but I loved her. And I knew I wasn’t the only one hurting. If you’re a man, you suck it up and support the woman you love. You do whatever necessary to get through difficult times. What you don’t ever do is walk away.”

Beck closed his eyes briefly, swallowed his pride along with the desire to defend himself. “You’re right.”

“Ami’s a gem.” Abruptly Steve rose to his feet. Seconds later a shrill whistle pierced the air. When the boys spun around, he motioned to them, then turned back to Beck. “She deserves a husband who will be there for her, good times and bad. She deserves a man who won’t let anything—or
anyone
—stop them from being together. Do I make myself clear?”

A warning and a challenge simmered in those hazel eyes.

Beck nodded, knowing he’d received the blessing he’d sought. The rest would be up to him.