Sweet Christmas Kisses (134 page)

He gazed at the tree, and the beautiful decorations, then he fixed his gaze on her, his eyes filling with tears.  "It's been a long, long time since I've had a Christmas like this. I feel so blessed.  Thank you, sweetheart."

He followed her into the kitchen, where the aromas of cock o' leekie soup and honey-glazed ham made Lucy's mouth water.

Aileen looked up from a sauce she was stirring on the stove and beamed. "Happy Christmas to you, Dr. Fraser.  We're delighted to have ye here with us."

"Please, call me Calum.  No sense in formality."

"Well, Calum.  We hope ye like a nice ham with tatties on Christmas Eve.  Sorcha made her good clootie dumplings for dessert, if ye have a mind for a bit of sweet."

He beamed right back at her. "I canna think of anything better."

"Tomorrow's the roast turkey of course, with all the fixin's...and Christmas cake.  We're glad you'll be staying the week with us."

Sorcha appeared at his elbow with a cup of hot tea and a plate of gingerbread Santa's, chocolate Yule log squares and shortbread.  "Come sit at the table and keep us company while we cook.  Unless you're tired and want to rest?"

He laughed and shook his head.  "That's all I do at home.  I wouldn't miss this for anything."

Lucy watched the three of them banter, her heart overflowing with love and gratitude.

And then, she heard the back door open, Brodie stepped inside and her heart beat faster.

He'd already brought presents over to place under the tree, but now he held several more, wrapped in silvery embossed foil with bright red bows.

"Happy Christmas, everyone," he said as he gave Sorcha and Aileen hugs, then shook Calum's hand.  "It's a beautiful night for Christmas Eve."

"That it is, son," Calum said, clasping their handshake with his other hand.

Then Brodie came over to Lucy and kissed her lightly on the cheek.  "I have some things for you, and I'd like to give them to you now...before dinner and all the rest."

Mystified, she followed him into the library, where he joined her on the Victorian settee by the fireplace.  He curved an arm around her shoulders and drew her close as they looked at the dancing flames.

"My parents instilled a strong sense of duty in my brother and I when we were growing up. We had to do what was right for the family and its legacy, not follow our whims.  And I've done that all my life...at home, in college, in my career.  You are the only one who ever inspired me to follow my dreams, Lucy." He handed her the largest of the two boxes on his lap.  "So I did."

She carefully unwrapped the box and lifted the lid.  "Oh, Brodie.  You did it?  Really?"

Inside lay a cover letter to a publishing house, and beneath it a manuscript, neatly typed and double-spaced. She lifted the pages to see the final page number--423.

She looked up at Brodie in astonishment.  "When on earth did you do this?"

A corner of his mouth lifted in a faint smile. "At night.  I seem to have lost my need for sleep, once the story took off.  By the last fifty pages I couldn't type fast enough.  It felt like the story was a movie playing in my head."

"You are incredible!"

He laughed at that.  "My fellow profs won't think so.  If it sells, I may need a pseudonym so I'm not drummed out of the corps.  Hard edged suspense novels aren't exactly their cup of tea."

"And...the textbook you've been working on?"

"Decent progress.  It will be done in time."

"Congratulations, Brodie. I am so very proud of you!"

She moved to face him intending to give him a swift kiss, but their eyes met and held, and something magical passed between them.  And then he was kissing her with such tenderness that it took her breath away.

 He pulled back, reached for the smaller present and silently handed it to her. 

She opened it with trembling fingers.  Inside was a small silver box.

And inside the box lay an intricately carved Victorian gold ring with a bevel cut garnet flanked by small diamonds.  She stared at it in awe, not daring to guess at what it meant.

"It's beautiful, Brodie.  Absolutely stunning."

"I know we've only known each other for a short time, but I've never felt so certain of anything in my life."

She gingerly lifted it from its velvet cradle, then looked up at him.  "Really?"

He took it from her and slid it onto her left ring finger.

"It fits perfectly," she whispered. "How did you do that?"

"Sorcha and Aileen borrowed one of the rings on your dresser and traced it.  It was my grandmother's, and if you'd consider it, I'd be the happiest guy on the planet." 

She launched herself into his arms, too overcome to speak, and kissed him with all of the love and longing overflowing her heart. 

He was everything she'd ever wanted, the man she wanted to be with until she died.  She glanced heavenward and smiled her thanks, remembering the little prayer she'd sent up while standing by the wishing plaque at the front door.

"Happy Christmas, Lucy. I hope this will be one to remember," he whispered when the kiss finally ended.

"Yes, a thousand times, yes," she whispered.

At a rustle of movement across the room, they both turned to find Calum, Sorcha and Aileen crowded at the doorway, the three of them holding tightly to each other hands.

"You did it?" Sorcha demanded.  "Did she say yes?"

Brodie lifted up Lucy's hand, and she laughed with all of the joy in her heart. "He did, and I did.  And I must be the happiest person on earth

And then, amid the cheers and applause, Brodie swept her into his arms once more.

Award-winning author Roxanne Rustand has written over thirty traditionally published novels, and is now also writing for the indie market.  Her recent indie titles include A Montana Legacy, Comeback Cowboy, and Summer at Briar Lake. She writes sweet romance, inspirational romantic suspense and inspirational romance. Find more information about her books at
www.roxannerustand.com
 (The All Creatures Great & Small blog)

Serendipity, Indiana Series ~ Book One

Magdalena Scott

Copyright © 2014 by:

Magdalena Scott

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any
means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief
quotes used in reviews.

This book built at IndieWrites.com

Dedicated to Melissa Burton

~~*~~

Special Thanks and Gratitude

to

Beverly Blankenbaker, Callie Mulrooney,

Shannon Burton, Robin Smedley, and Karen Block

There was only one thing that could have brought me back to Serendipity, Indiana, and that was the Osborne house. As a youngster riding all over town on my bike, I’d thought it was surely the most beautiful house in the world. My senior year in high school I attended an event there—an event that changed the direction of my life. The day I drove out of town in my first car, intending never to return, I shed a tear or two at the thought of never seeing that house again. I told myself those tears had nothing at all to do with Jim Standish, or his part in my last experience at the Osborne house. 

Years later I made the huge mistake of telling my best girlfriends that the house was the only thing that could get me back to Serendipity. We all laughed about it. But when the Osbornes decided to move to Florida for good and not just snowbird as a lot of Serendipity folks did, my friend Alice called me.

“Mel, guess what? There’s a ‘for sale’ sign in the front yard of the Osborne house.”

A shock ran through me like static electricity on a cold wintry day.

“Remember what you said?” 

“Sure, I remember.” Why do I tell girlfriends stuff that might come back to bite me? “You know, if things were different for me here, I’d be tempted. Things were slow, but the housing market’s picked up. Business is great. I can’t imagine I could have much of a career in real estate down there. So, you know…”

“Okay. Wanted to tell you, just in case.” The conversation went someplace entirely different after that, thank goodness. Our conversation about the Osborne house had been less than a blip on the big radar screen of my life.

“So, how’s Matthew?” she asked when I’d probably been talking too much about my job.

“Great. Absolutely wonderful. What did I ever do without him?”

“Work. Even more hours than you do now.”

“Well, true.”

“Mel, we need a girls’ day, soon. Can you manage it?”

We discussed schedules and Alice took the job of contacting the other girls. It made sense because they’re in the same town, and—well, she doesn’t really seem to have much else going on. She organizes us for things like this—finds a fun place for lunch and some shopping, somewhere between Fort Wayne, where I was living, and Serendipity, which is way the other end of Indiana. Plus it’s way the other end of the spectrum, quality of life-wise. Poor old  Serendipity, where nothing ever happens but everybody’s always talking about it.

Matthew scooted into the room in his favorite footed jammies, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. “Mommy, who was on the phone?”

“Sorry my call woke you up, Sweetie. That was my friend, Alice.”

He raised his arms and I picked him up and started walking around talking softly. I almost made the mistake of asking if he remembered Alice, but that would have been stupid because he’d have started thinking about it and become
more
awake instead of drowsy. I have to think about parenting stuff more than some people do, I think. Maybe because I came to motherhood a little late and all alone. Plus my own parents sure hadn’t set a good example of how to raise children.

Matthew had brought his piece of blanket with him and tucked it under his cheek, relaxing on my shoulder. I started singing the silly song I made up as a lullaby—a real repetitive tune and boring words —that always works at night. Sometimes I almost put myself to sleep.

But this was morning and I needed to get moving. I laid my son back in his little bed shaped like a semi-truck, made sure he was sound asleep, and retrieved the nursery monitor before I hit the shower. I usually have coffee before I shower, but today I was running a little late because of Alice’s phone call. Plus I didn’t need caffeine. My mind was whirling with pictures and memories of the Osborne house, of my girlfriends in Serendipity, and the sweetness of life in a small town. We’d had an idyllic childhood for the most part, back in the day when life was more simple than scary. Sure I’d love to raise Matthew in a similar environment, but Serendipity isn’t a place to move to, if you need to make a living. Young people with initiative move out of town as soon as they can, as I had done a couple of decades ago. The town had lost more industry than it had gained in the last several years and was basically headed down the tubes. Most likely the Osborne house would sit empty, unsold, and the owners would end up renting it out.

Too bad, but not my problem. My life was coming along very nicely, thank you very much.

****

A few days later I watched Matthew play at the park a few miles from our apartment. He and I had a standing play date with some kids from his preschool every Saturday morning. It was good for him to be able to run wild for a little while, since our apartment didn’t have loads of room for that type of activity. I always brought my laptop and used the play date time to catch up on work. The other moms were lots younger and busy talking about husbands or boyfriends or the latest fashion. I didn’t have anything to add to that conversation, nor anything to gain from it either.

My cell phone rang. This time it was my friend Francie, just re-stating the fact that the house was for sale. I steeled myself not to care.

“And hey—did you know the Parkers are retiring and closing their office?”

“Parkers?”

“Parker Realty. You know. The biggest real estate office in the county.”

“Um, no. When did this happen?”
And why does it feel like a sign to me?

“It’s been in the works for a while, I guess. There’s been talk, but I got the official word from Maude Parker yesterday in the grocery line. She’s excited to retire. They have kids all over the country, and can travel—”

“So who’s going to buy the business?”

“Maude said they’re working on it. They don’t really want to sell to somebody from out of town, you know. Most of the real estate places around are just satellites, not really local. She said selling to that kind of owner just feels wrong.” She paused. “Alice called me about a get-together. I think we’re shooting for some time next month. Everybody’s busy right now.”

“Do you have the number?”

“Number?”

“The Parkers’ number, Francie.” Why did she keep changing the subject? “Home phone, not the business.” I started pawing through Matthew’s backpack for something to write the number on. It was ludicrous to even make the contact, but if I was going to, I wanted to go right to the owners, via a more personal channel. I mean if they had the inclination to sell to someone they knew, who was I to question it?