One Special Christmas & Home for the Holidays (40 page)

“On this Christmas Eve, let us all reflect on God's love and the gifts of human love with which we are blessed in this earthly life. And let us remember that God never promised us that love was easy. It isn't even easy to love the Lord. Christianity is a celebration, but it's also a cross. And it certainly isn't always easy to love each other. But love of the Lord, and the reflection of that love in our relationships with the people in our lives, is what sets us apart as Christians.

“So during this Christmas season, give yourself a special gift. It won't be as flashy as a new CD player or a computer, but I promise you it will be longer lasting. Because CD players and computers break. And love can, too. But the difference is that love can not only be mended, but strengthened. Sometimes all it takes is two simple words, spoken from the heart: I'm sorry. The power those two words contain is amazing.

“At this season of God's love, which manifested itself in the humble birth of a baby two thousand years, show the Lord that you've heard His voice. Mend a broken relationship. And I guarantee that the joy of Christmas will stay in your heart long after the gifts under your tree are just a memory.

“Now let us pray…”

As the service continued, Laura reflected on Brad's beautiful words, which deeply touched her heart. He was right. Love was a gift, both the divine and human forms. And both kinds of love required trust and a leap of faith to reach their full potential. Maybe that was what made love so unique and special.

A gentle snow was falling when she emerged from
the church after the service, the soft flakes forming a delicate, transparent film of white on the ground. As she climbed into her car, an image of the cozy Victorian house Nick had so lovingly chosen for them suddenly flashed unbidden across her mind.

It was probably filled with laughter and music and love as the new owners enjoyed their first Christmas there, she thought wistfully. Without consciously making a decision, Laura put the car in gear and drove slowly toward the house that had come to represent Nick's love and the life he had offered her. Dusk descended, and the snow continued to fall, lightly dusting her windshield as she drove.

When she reached the street, Laura approached the house slowly, surprised to find the windows dark and the For Sale sign still on the lawn. Sam was always complaining that the real estate market was soft, but Laura found it surprising that a gem like this would still be unsold.

The street was lined with cars, so she had to drive a few houses away before she found a spot to park. Then, digging her hands into the pockets of her wool coat, she trudged up the sidewalk, stopping in front of the house. Her eyes filled with longing as they lovingly traced the contours of the structure. It was just as beautiful as she'd remembered it, but so empty and alone. Just like me, she thought, allowing herself a moment of self-pity. Both of us could have been filled with the magic of Nick's love, but instead we're cold and dark.

She walked up the pathway to the front door and slowly climbed the steps, running a hand over the banister, touching the brass knocker on the door. Then she sat down on the top step, folded her arms on her
knees and rested her forehead on the scratchy wool of her sleeves. An aching sense of regret flooded through her as she faced the fact that something beautiful had been within her grasp and she'd allowed it to slip away. Brad had said that love required trust, and a leap of faith. And there were certainly no guarantees. She knew that. Life—and love—didn't come with warranties. But which was worse—to shun risk and spend her life alone and miserable, or to take a chance on love with the most wonderful man she'd ever met? Put that way, and in the context of the past two lonely months, the answer suddenly seemed obvious.

Brad had said that love could be mended, she reflected. But she had hurt Nick deeply. The look in his eyes when she'd admitted her fear was burnt into her memory forever. Because that fear also implied lack of trust. No wonder he'd walked away that day. Love without trust was just an empty shell, and he deserved better than that. If only she could retract her words!

But that was impossible, and it made no sense to yearn for impossible things, she thought bleakly. She just wished she could find a way to make him understand how deeply she loved him, to ask his forgiveness. All she really wanted, or could hope for, was a second chance.

Though her eyes were clouded with tears, Laura realized with a start that the toes of two boots had appeared in her field of vision. Probably a cop, about to cite her for trespassing, she thought dejectedly, quickly brushing a hand across her eyes before looking up.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean…” The words died in her throat. Nick stood at the base of the steps, his hands in the pockets of a sheepskin-lined jacket, snow clinging
to his dark hair, his eyes shadowed and unfathomable, with a fan spread of fine lines at the corners that hadn't been there two months before.

“Hello, Laura.”

“Nick?” She took a great gulp of cold air.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he said lightly, though his tone sounded forced.

“I—I thought it would look pretty in the snow,” she stammered, still not trusting her eyes.

He nodded. “Yeah. Me, too.” He glanced at the shuttered windows and placed one foot on the bottom step. “I remember the day we were here, how you said it would be beautiful at Christmastime, so I thought I'd take a look. I see it's still for sale.”

A door opened nearby and the sound of carols and laughter drifted through the silent air.

“Yes, I noticed.”

“I'm surprised you didn't go home for Christmas.”

She shrugged. “I wasn't in the mood.”

They fell silent, and Laura looked down, shuffling the toe of her shoe in the snow that was rapidly accumulating at the edge of the porch, trying to make some sense out of her chaotic thoughts. If Nick didn't still care about her, he wouldn't be here tonight, would he? Maybe, just maybe, it wasn't too late to salvage their relationship. She looked up and found that he was watching her. This was the second chance she'd wished for.
Please, God, don't let me blow it!
she prayed.
Help me find the words to make Nick understand how much I care and how sorry I am for hurting him.

“Nick…I've missed you,” she began tentatively.

“I've missed you, too,” he said quietly.

“I've had a lot of time to think these past couple
of months, and I was wondering… Is there… Do you still…” Her voice trailed off. She was making a mess of this!

“Do I still what, Laura?” Nick asked, his voice cautious.

She took a deep breath. There was no easy way to say it. “Do you still…do you still want me?” she asked artlessly.

He hesitated. “I've always wanted you,” he replied, his voice guarded.

“No…I mean, do you still want to marry me?”

Instead of replying, Nick grabbed her hands and pulled her to her feet. She gasped in surprise as he hauled her up onto the porch and over to a dim light by the door that offered only marginal illumination. Then he turned her to face him, his jaw tense, his hands gripping her shoulders almost painfully, his eyes burning into hers.

“Laura, what are you saying?” he asked tightly.

He wasn't going to make this easy for her, she thought. He wanted her to spell it out, and after her previous ambiguity, she couldn't blame him. She drew a deep breath and looked directly into his eyes, willing him to see the love, the sincerity, the apology, in her own. “Nick, I'm sorry for what I've put you through. I'm especially sorry for being afraid to commit to you, for not trusting you, when I've never met a more trustworthy person. But when I left Joe, I vowed never to get involved with anyone again. And I did pretty well, till you came along.”

When she paused, he prodded. “Go on.”

“These past two months have been miserable,” she said, her voice breaking. “Maybe even harder
emotionally than when I left Joe. Because when you left you took the sunshine with you. Oh, Nick,” she cried, clinging to him. “I want the same things you want—the rose garden and the picket fence and the family. I realize I'm no bargain, that I still have a lot of problems to work through. But I'd like to work on them with you beside me. I'd still like a lifetime warranty, but I'll settle for an ‘I'll do my best to make you happy.' And I'll do the same for you.”

He studied her face, wanting to believe, but afraid that this was all an illusion, much as he'd thought
she
was an illusion when he'd first seen her slumped on the steps. Then, too, he realized, she hadn't yet said the three words that really counted.

Laura watched his face, saw a flicker of disappointment in his eyes and her stomach knotted into a tight ball. She panicked. He was going to tell her to forget it, that it was too late.

“I…have the feeling…that the offer is…no longer available,” she said choppily. “I…know I hurt you, and I guess I can't blame you if…if you can't forgive me.”

“It's not that, Laura.” He released her and turned to walk over to the porch railing, leaning on it heavily with both hands, facing away from her. “I
was
hurt. Deeply. But I never really blamed you. If anyone ever had a reason to be wary, it was you. It was egotistical of me to think I could overcome years of debilitating fear in just a few months. In the end, I was just sad. For both of us. But there was nothing to forgive. You were a victim of your circumstances.”

“Then what's wrong?” she pleaded.

“I still want to marry you, Laura, but…”

“But what?” she asked desperately.

“You say you're lonely, and God knows, I can relate to that,” he said with a sigh. “But that's not reason enough to get married.”

“But it's not just that. I want to be with you, Nick. For always.”

“Why?”

“Why?” she parroted blankly. Then suddenly her taut nerves shattered. “Well, why do you think?” she snapped. “Nick, I love you! What more do you want?”

He was beside her in one quick step, pulling her roughly against him, burying his face in her hair as he let out a long, shuddering sigh. “That will be plenty,” he said huskily.

“Then do you mind telling me what this was all about?” she asked, still mildly annoyed, her voice muffled by his jacket.

He took her by the shoulders and backed up far enough to look down into her eyes. “Laura Taylor, do you realize that this is the first time you've ever said, ‘I love you'?”

She frowned. “Yes, I guess it is. But I assumed you knew.”

“How could I know?”

“Well, by the way I acted. I tried to show you how I felt.”

“Showing isn't the same as telling.”

She smiled, a sudden, euphoric joy making her heart soar. She sent a silent, fervent prayer of thanks to the Lord for granting her a happy ending after all.

“Are you saying you'd rather have words than actions?” she teased, tilting her head to one side and reaching up to run a finger down his cheek.

She heard his sharply indrawn breath and grinned.

“Well, action is good, too,” he conceeded.

“I thought you'd agree.” She slipped her hands inside his jacket and gazed up into his face, the ardent light in her eyes playing havoc with his metabolism.

“You can count on it,” he said huskily, pulling her roughly against him, his mouth urgent and demanding on hers. Laura responded eagerly, tasting, teasing, touching.

“Excuse me…are you folks lost?”

Startled, they drew apart, their breath creating frosty clouds in the cold night air. An older man stood looking up at them from the sidewalk.

Nick put his arm around Laura and drew her close. “No. Not anymore,” he said, smiling down at her. “We just came home.” Then he turned back toward the street. “We're going to buy this house,” he called, and the jubilant ring in his voice warmed Laura's heart.

The man chuckled softly. “Now that's what I call a Christmas present!”

N
ick brought the car to a stop and turned to Laura with an intimate smile that made her tingle all over. “Welcome home, Mrs. Sinclair,” he said huskily.

Her throat constricted at the tenderness in his eyes, and she swallowed with difficulty. “I love you, Nick,” she said softly, her voice catching as her own eyes suddenly grew misty.

“Believe me, the feeling is mutual,” he replied, reaching over with a feather-light touch to leisurely trace a finger down her cheek, then across her lips. He drew an unsteady breath and smiled. “Shall we go in?”

She nodded mutely, not trusting her voice, and tried unsuccessfully to slow her rapid pulse as he came around and opened her door. He took her hand, drawing her to her feet in one smooth motion, then let his arm slip around her waist, pulling her close. She leaned against him with a contented sigh as they stood for a moment in the dark stillness to look at the old Victorian house, its ornate gingerbread trim and huge wraparound porch silhouetted by the golden light spilling from the windows.

“It's beautiful, isn't it?” she said, her eyes glowing.

“Beautiful is a good word,” he agreed.

She turned to find his eyes on
her,
not the house, and she blushed.

“You're even more beautiful when you do that,” he said with a tender smile, touching her nose with the tip of his finger before taking her hand. As they climbed the steps to the porch he turned to her. “Are you sure you wouldn't have preferred the Ritz tonight?”

“This
is
my Ritz,” she said softly, letting her free hand lovingly glide over the banister as they ascended.

“I agree,” he replied with a tender smile. For both of them, the house had come to symbolize their love and the promise of a rich, full life together.

When they reached the door, he fitted the key in the lock, and before she realized his intention he swept her into his arms and lowered his lips to hers, drawing a sweet response from deep within her. Only when the kiss lengthened, then deepened, did Laura reluctantly pull away.

“Nick! The neighbors might see us!” she protested halfheartedly.

He grinned. “They're all in bed. Speaking of which…” He stepped across the threshold, pushed the door shut with his foot, and started up the curved staircase.

Laura didn't say a word as a wave of excitement and delicious anticipation swept over her. She just nestled against his chest, enjoying the feel of his strong arms as she listened to the rapid but steady beat of his heart against her ear.

When they reached the bedroom, he carefully set her on her feet and removed the light mohair wrap from
around her shoulders. Soft, classical music was playing and the room was bathed in a gentle, subdued light.

“I want to show you something,” Nick said, taking her hand and leading her to the antique oval mirror on a stand that stood in one corner of the room. He positioned her in front and then stood behind her, his hands on her shoulders. “What do you see?”

She gazed at their reflections, a tender smile on her face. She saw Nick, tall and incredibly handsome in his tux, the elegant formal attire enhancing his striking good looks and broad shoulders. And she saw herself, dressed in her wedding finery. Her peach-colored tea-length lace gown softly hugged her slender figure, and the sweetheart neckline and short, slightly gathered sleeves added an old-fashioned charm that perfectly complemented her femininity. Her hair hung loose and full, the way Nick liked it, and the soft waves were pulled back on one side with a small cluster of flowers and lacy ribbon, giving her a sweetly youthful appearance. But mostly what she saw was the two of them, together, for life.

“Well?” Nick prompted.

“I see a miracle,” she replied softly, her eyes glowing with happiness.

“I'm inclined to agree with you on that,” Nick concurred with a smile. Then his voice softened and his tone grew serious. “Do you know what I see? The most beautiful bride that ever lived and the most wonderful, desirable woman I've ever met.”

“Oh, Nick,” she said, her eyes misting. “I never thought I could be so happy!”

“Well, get used to it, Mrs. Sinclair. Because happiness is exactly what I have planned for you for the next
sixty or seventy years,” he said, turning her to face him, taking both her hands in his as he bent to trail his lips across her forehead. “Now don't go away. I'll be right back,” he said huskily, his breath warm against her face.

She closed her eyes, letting his touch work its magic. “I'll be here,” she whispered.

When Nick left, Laura turned slowly and let her gaze roam over the lovingly decorated room they'd created together—their first priority when they bought the house. The English country style suited the house, as did the canopy bed that was draped in a floral print of rose and forest green. The thick carpet was also rose-colored, and two comfortable chairs in complementary striped fabric stood close to the fireplace. Yes, this was far preferable to the Ritz, Laura thought with deep contentment. Tonight marked a new chapter in their relationship, and she wanted it to start here, in their own home.

Nick had clearly gone out of his way to make this night special, she thought with a soft smile, her eyes filled with tenderness at his thoughtfulness. Two champagne glasses rested on a low table, and the subdued lighting and soft music created the perfect ambience for their first night together.

Nick quietly reentered, pausing a moment to let his eyes lovingly trace the contours of Laura's profile, bathed in the warm glow of the golden light. It was hard for him to even remember a time when she hadn't been the center of his world. She brought a joy and completeness to his life far beyond anything he could ever have imagined. Today, as they'd recited their vows, he'd felt as if he'd truly come home. Gazing at her now,
he was overwhelmed with joy and gratitude for the gift of her love.

Quietly he came up behind her and nuzzled her neck. “Did you miss me?”

“Mmm. As a matter of fact, I did,” she said, leaning back against him.

“I brought some champagne.”

“I saw the glasses.”

“Will you have some?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

He popped the cork, poured the bubbly liquid into the two waiting glasses and bent to strike a match to the logs. They quickly flamed into life, sending shadows dancing on the walls. It was chilly for the first day of spring, and Laura moved closer to the welcome warmth.

“Cold?” Nick asked as he handed her a glass.

“A little,” she admitted.

He gave her a lazy smile. “I think we can take care of that,” he said, his eyes twinkling.

Laura flushed and looked down, a smile playing at the corners of her own mouth. “I was counting on it,” she said softly.

“But first…I'd like to make a toast.” Nick raised his glass, and Laura looked up at him, the love shining from her deep green eyes. “To new beginnings—and a love that never ends,” he said softly.

Laura raised her glass, and the bell-like tinkle as they clinked resonated in the room.

They both took a sip, and then Nick reached over and gently removed the glass from her trembling fingers. He set the two glasses side by side on the mantel, turned, held out his hand. And as she moved into his
arms, Laura had one last coherent thought. The good book was right. To everything there was a season. And this, at last, was her time to love.