Tanya Michaels - [4 Seasons 01] - Mistletoe Baby p.01

“I can’t look. You do it.”
“You sure?”
She just couldn’t. “I’m sure.”
Closing her eyes, Rachel waited an interminable heartbeat of time, heard David suck in his breath.
“Oh my God.” His words were a reverent whisper.
“You’re kidding!” She knew he’d never joke about this. Still, maybe he’d misread the test, or…“Let me see.”
He moved aside, letting out an earsplitting whoop even as she viewed the proof for herself. “We’re pregnant!”
Her knees trembled. She was carrying his baby. Tears welled in her eyes. Before she could classify them as happy crying or something more bittersweet,
he pulled her into his strong arms.
And kissed her.
Dear Reader,
In 2007, I created the town of Mistletoe, Georgia, for a Harlequin American Christmas novella and I loved the setting and characters so much that I knew I
had to return! (Luckily, my editor agreed.) Many of you wrote to ask if there would be more Mistletoe stories and the answer is a resounding yes: four, as a
matter of fact! One for each season.
First up is the winter tale of David and Rachel Waide, a husband and wife who love each other deeply but have lost their way, due in part to the emotional
toll of infertility struggles. The last thing they want to do is upset their loved ones at Christmas with news of a separation, especially when David’s brother
is about to get married. The entire Waide family is busy with wedding preparations. So David and Rachel agree to put on a happy face until the end of
December. Amid the magical holiday season and poignant reminders of what matrimony means, can they rediscover what drew them together in the first
place and maybe discover brand new gifts as well?
Watch for the next book, Mistletoe Cinderella, to be out April 2009! You can learn about all four stories at my Web site, www.TanyaMichaels.com.
Happy reading & enjoy your stay,
Tanya
Mistletoe Baby
TANYA MICHAELS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Tanya Michaels started telling stories almost as soon as she could talk…and started stealing her mom’s Harlequin romances less than a decade later. In
2003, Tanya was thrilled to have her first book, a romantic comedy, published by Harlequin. Since then, Tanya’s sold nearly twenty books and is a twotime
recipient of the Booksellers’ Best Award as well as a finalist for the Holt Medallion, National Readers’ Choice Award and Romance Writers of
America’s prestigious RITA® Award. Tanya lives in Georgia with her husband, two preschoolers and an unpredictable cat, but you can visit Tanya online
at www.tanyamichaels.com.
Books by Tanya Michaels
HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE
1170—TROUBLE IN TENNESSEE
1203—AN UNLIKELY MOMMY
1225—A DAD FOR HER TWINS
HARLEQUIN TEMPTATION
968—HERS FOR THE WEEKEND
986—SHEER DECADENCE
1008—GOING ALL THE WAY
HARLEQUIN NEXT
DATING THE MRS. SMITHS
THE GOOD KIND OF CRAZY
MOTHERHOOD WITHOUT PAROLE
This holiday story about marriage—
one couple preparing to join their lives
while another couple rediscovers their love—is
dedicated to real-life married couple Jane and Eric,
aka The Mims Who Saved Christmas. Thank you so
much for everything you’ve both done, for always
picking up the phone no matter the hour, for always
having a kitchen stocked full of comfort food, and
for always laughing at the right moments.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter One
It was the worst basketball game in Waide brother history—even including the one when David, at fourteen, had been showing off for a cute neighborhood
girl and ended up with stitches. At least he’d sunk the layup before taking the trip to the emergency room, not to mention going on the subsequent movie
date and having his first real kiss.
Given David and Tanner’s combined performance this December afternoon, however, a team from Whiteberry Elementary could probably take them.
David’s shots kept going wild. He knew he was throwing with too much force, taking repressed anger out on a ball that had never hurt anyone.
“This is getting humiliating,” he called as Tanner jogged after the ball for the rebound.
“Getting?” His younger brother smirked. “Then you haven’t been paying attention for the past hour. The irony is how hard you’re trying. Last time I saw a
guy push himself like that was Dylan Echols when he was up for a baseball scholarship. But you’re not a high school athlete, you’re a middle-aged store
manager.”
“Thirty-one is not middle age,” David retorted. “And it’s not like you’re doing any better. You couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn.”
Tanner grinned, unfazed. “Guess my mind’s on my beautiful bride-to-be.”
David rolled his eyes, but they both knew he was happy for his brother. Ecstatic even. Definitely not jealous.
“So we know my excuse,” Tanner continued. “You want to tell me what’s eating you?”
No. He and Rachel had agreed not to break the bad news until after the holidays, after the wedding. Maybe by then, it wouldn’t even be necessary. Their
problems could be nothing more than a temporary aberration brought on by Rachel’s medication and mood swings. “Nothing’s wrong.”
“You sure? I could pay you back for all that great advice you used to give me.”
“Great advice you consistently ignored.”
Growing up, there’d been an unspoken friction between David—the oldest sibling, high school valedictorian and heir apparent at the family store—and
Tanner—the restless rebel who couldn’t seem to win their dad’s approval. With time and distance, the two brothers had matured and their stern father had
mellowed. Last winter, when Tanner had moved back to Mistletoe, family peace had been restored. At the same time, Tanner had rekindled his
relationship with high school sweetheart Lilah Baum. On December 28, the two would finally marry.
When his brother didn’t start dribbling, David straightened. “We done?”
“Not unless your ego can’t take it anymore.” Tanner checked his watch. “I need to clean up before I meet Lilah for dinner, but she and the girls should still
be at the fitting.”
David looked away; one of those “girls” included his wife. Amidst all of Tanner and Lilah’s nuptial preparations, David couldn’t help being reminded of his
own wedding. How excited he’d been, how in love. He’d known from the moment he’d seen Rachel Nietermyer that he wanted to spend the rest of his life
with her. He swallowed hard.
“Can I get your opinion on something?” Tanner asked.
Only if it has nothing to do with marriage or women in general. David’s own first year of marriage had been blissful. If he could go back now, what advice
would he give himself? What could he have done differently? He’d worked to give Rachel everything she needed. Of course, the one thing she’d truly
wanted hadn’t been within his power.
“I might not be your best bet for wisdom,” David said. “Maybe you should talk to Dad or Mom.”
Zachariah and Susan Waide were informal experts on relationships; they’d been together nearly forty years. No Waide David knew of had ever been
divorced.
Tanner laughed, the carefree sound of a confident man in love. “It’s not a huge crisis requiring the big guns. I glanced at one of Lilah’s magazines, and
some bridal checklists mentioned a wedding present. I’m stymied. We’re getting married three days after Christmas. Is she going to expect something
even bigger than her Christmas gifts? If I get her something too extravagant and she gets me a small token, am I going to embarrass her?”
“Seriously? These are the things you worry about?”
“Stupid, right?” Lowering his gaze, Tanner bounced the ball against the concrete. “But this is Lilah. I’ve screwed up in the past. She deserves…I want
everything to be perfect.”
Remembering various anniversaries, Christmases and birthdays, David sighed. “No, it’s not stupid.” Still, perfect was a tall order.
He kept his skepticism to himself. What did he know? Maybe Lilah and Tanner would find their own version of perfect. Perhaps in marriage, the erstwhile
prodigal son would succeed where the overachieving problem-solver was currently failing.
RACHEL WAIDE suspected that the best way to survive emotional trauma—separating from your husband, just as a crazy for-instance—was to depend on
the support of friends and family. Which was spectacularly unhelpful in her case, since she and David had sworn not to tell any of their friends and family.
Weddings should be festive, celebratory events, and she and David refused to ruin Tanner and Lilah’s moment.
Blinking away the omnipresent threat of tears, she gave her reflection a reprimanding scowl. Think happy thoughts. She wasn’t going to let herself turn
into the self-centered Ebenezer Scrooge of bridesmaids, visited Christmas Eve by three vengeful wedding coordinators.
“Rach?” Lilah’s perky voice came from the other side of the thick mauve curtain. “How’s the dress look?”
Tight. Rachel dropped her gaze from the circles underscoring her gray eyes to the sparkling beadwork at the gown’s neckline. Though she’d been in for
preliminary measurements, the bodice was too snug. She should’ve known better than to seek solace in the arms of salt-and-vinegar potato chips.
Then again, as a side effect of fertility treatments, Rachel had already gained a cumulative fifteen pounds. Why castigate herself over three more? She’d
diet after the New Year like the rest of the free world. For now, she’d simply do her best to get through the next three weeks and invest in some bulgeminimizing
undergarments for the wedding. Visions of Spandex body shapers danced in her head. On the big day, all eyes would be on the bride anyway.
For just a second, her memories reverted to her own walk down the aisle four and a half years ago. The sanctuary doors had opened, and despite the
dozens of people present, her gaze had gone straight to David standing at the front of the church. Dark-haired and blue-eyed, he’d been impossibly
handsome in his tuxedo. It was the smile, the way he’d beamed at her, though, that had made him breathtaking.
When she’d made the painful decision after Thanksgiving to separate from her husband, it had been in part because she couldn’t remember the last time
she’d seen that smile. The two of them had become so much less than they once were, than they should have been.
Marshaling her expression into a smile, Rachel smoothed a few wayward strands of her long black hair and drew aside the curtain. “Ta-da.”
Lilah Baum clapped her hands to her cheeks, like a little girl delighted with what Santa had left. For a moment, the auburn-haired woman resembled the
fourth-graders she taught. “Oh, Rachel. You look just beautiful! Everything is going to be so…so…” She fanned her fingers in front of her face, trying to
stem tears as she sobbed something apologetic.
Behind Lilah, twenty-three-year-old Arianne Waide rolled her eyes with wry affection, looking a lot like her oldest brother. “She’s a little emotional lately.”
The maid of honor, petite and blond Arianne wore a dress that was completely different from Rachel’s but cut from the same green satin. Clover, the
seamstress had called the color. Arianne and Lilah were longtime friends who would be sisters-in-law by the end of the month. For the past four and a half
years, Arianne had been Rachel’s sister-in-law, too. Rachel was closer to the young woman than she was to her actual sister back in South Carolina.
Throughout Lilah and Tanner’s engagement, Arianne had joked that at long last, women would outnumber the men in the Waide family.
Her eyes stinging again, Rachel ducked her head. “Nothing wrong with being sentimental, especially right before your wedding.”
“Yeah, but it’s not your wedding.” Arianne stepped closer while Lilah dug a tissue out of her purse. She lowered her voice, her pixie features unusually
somber. “You okay?”
God, no. Ending a marriage had to be painful at any time or place, but here in the close-knit community of Mistletoe, Georgia, surrounded by people who
loved her and David and didn’t know they lived in opposite sides of their house, made it impossible for her to start the grieving process and move
forward. Mercifully, in a few days she’d get some respite. She’d leaped at the chance to house-sit while a neighbor with multiple dogs took a fourteen-day
luxury cruise. It provided Rachel a socially plausible excuse for not sleeping under the same roof as her husband, not that she’d been sleeping much.
On the plus side, she was providing tons of job security for people who manufactured under-eye concealer.
“I bet I can guess what’s wrong,” Ari said softly.
“Really?” Rachel’s heart skipped a beat. It was bad enough she and David shouldered this secret, an ironic final intimacy; she didn’t want to burden
Arianne with it.
“Maybe it’ll happen next month.” Arianne squeezed her hand. “I just know you guys will make wonderful parents.”
Rachel choked back a semihysterical laugh. She thinks I started my period. It was true that, for months, she’d thought that glimpsing those first telltale
signs of blood was the most upsetting thing that could happen to her. She’d recently revised her opinion.
“Someone’s gonna have to help me with this blankety-blank zipper,” came a cantankerous voice from the third dressing room. “I ain’t as limber as I used
to be.”
Lilah had blotted her eyes and was now grinning. “On my way, Vonda!”
If Lilah’s bridal party wasn’t the most eclectic ever seen in Mistletoe, Georgia, it had to be in the running. Top five, easily. She had thirty-year-old Rachel, a
woman who would be trying to look anywhere but at her own husband during the wedding; a maid of honor who constantly joked that after growing up with
two older brothers, you couldn’t pay her to live with a man willingly again; second-grade teacher Quinn Keller, who had the face of an angel and an
unexpectedly devilish sense of humor; and seventy-four-year-old Vonda Simms Kerrigan, a town fixture who’d had a hand in Lilah and Tanner’s courtship
last winter. The woman was a spitfire who won nearly every card game she played and dated younger men, or as she put it, “hotties in their sixties.”
“Sorry I’m late!” Quinn said breathlessly as a sales-woman escorted her past the mirrored dais toward the fitting rooms. “Our meeting ran over.” She was
on a committee bringing Christmas to local families in need.
Rachel nodded toward the space she’d just vacated. “You can use that one.”
No doubt Quinn would look sensational in her dress. Rather than try to find a gown that would suit four differing body types and ages, Lilah had asked the
seamstress to create three individual dresses and, for Vonda, a suit. Quinn was the only one with the figure and attitude to pull off a strapless gown in
December.
As they waited for the other women to emerge, Arianne turned to Rachel. “You know what might cheer you up? Shopping! Want to hit some stores after
this?”
“Um…” In the past, she would have jumped at the suggestion, but time alone with Ari might provide too much temptation to confide in someone.
“Well, think about it,” Arianne said as she turned her attention toward a shelved display of shoes. She picked up a sling back. “Unless you and David have
plans?”
“Nothing specific.” Just awkward silence and retreating to separate corners.
If she curled up in the den with a book, he turned on the television in the front living room. If she watched TV, he went for a run. She wasn’t sure if he was
avoiding her because he was angry or simply trying to defuse the tension by giving her space. She wasn’t even sure how she felt about it. When he was in
the room with her, it was like she couldn’t breathe and just wanted either of them to be anywhere else. Yet whenever he left, her chest hitched with the urge
to call him back: Don’t go, hold me, make it better.
But that was part of the problem, wasn’t it?
She’d met him at a time in her life when she was overstressed and questioning what she wanted in life, taking a vacation from her South Carolinian life as
an advertising executive in Columbia. David was a natural-born leader, evidenced by civic committees he’d headed and his volunteer duties coaching
touch football in early fall and soccer in the spring. They’d barely been on two dates before he was encouraging her to let him shoulder her burdens. He’d
advised her as confidently as he did five-year-olds who were confused about which goal to kick toward. It had felt like a blessing at the time.
Unfortunately, in “simplifying” her life and inviting David to gloss over her problems, Rachel had lost herself somewhere along the way. In the past year,
she’d begun to question whether her husband loved her—romantically, not just dutifully—but could she really blame him for not seeing her? She wasn’t
even sure who she was. Resolution number one for the New Year: find out.
Chapter Two
David was stepping out of the shower that evening when he heard the tentative “Hello?” from the outer room. Reflexively, he clutched his towel around him,
as if the woman on the other side of the door hadn’t seen his nude body a thousand times. As if she might accidentally burst in while he was undressed
and make the strain between them even worse.
The thought was truly asinine on all levels. When was the last time Rachel had “burst in” anywhere? Since the miscarriage last spring, it seemed as if even
rising from her chair took effort. And how on earth would it be possible for the awkwardness between them to become worse?
“In here,” he called back.
“Okay. Just checking.” Her words were followed by retreating footsteps.
He dried off and dressed, keeping his movements slow and deliberate so that he didn’t impulsively run after her. The caveman deep inside him seemed
to think that tossing his wife onto the bed and making thorough love to her would somehow resurrect what they’d once shared.
Stupid caveman.
The once sexy part of their marriage had long become regulated by ovulation predictor kits, and each fruitless encounter was more perfunctory and less
satisfying than the last.
So what now, genius? In school he’d excelled at problem-solving. As it turned out, participating in teen extracurricular activities for gifted students and
graduating college with honors didn’t educate a man on understanding women. He’d tried so damn hard to be the perfect husband, and she’d just…
walked away. Had she really become so numb that she had no feelings left for him?
As he walked down the hall, he heard her in the kitchen, the sound of the refrigerator door opening and closing. Her back was to him as he rounded the
corner into the room. She poured herself some tea, presumably to wash down a couple of the aspirin in the big white bottle she held. Her shoulders were
slumped in a defeated posture that tugged at his heart.
He used to hug her whenever she’d had a bad day, cajole her into a better mood. Cheer up, he’d say, you still have me. If he tried to embrace her now,
would she stiffen and pull away?
“How was the dress fitting?” he heard himself ask. Inane small talk as if he were killing time on an elevator with a casual acquaintance.
His wife turned in his direction but didn’t quite meet his eyes, addressing one of the light-stained wood cabinets just past his left shoulder. “Lilah will make
a beautiful bride.”
“Tanner’s a lucky man.”
She nodded, her fingers trembling a little as she tried to get the lid off the aspirin.
“Let me.” He walked toward her, palm extended.
She recoiled. “I can do it.”
“Dammit, Rachel—” Her vulnerable expression quelled the reactionary anger that had been rising in him.
She looked somehow both harder and more fragile than the woman he’d once known. Her eyes were shadowed, and there was a chafed spot on her
bottom lip. She had a bad habit of chewing on her lip when she was upset. He glanced up in sudden realization that he was staring at her mouth and
she’d caught him doing it.
Defensiveness made his tone gruff. “You look like hell.”
Her normally warm gray eyes were the color of cold steel. “Thank you so much.”
“I didn’t…” He ran a hand through his hair. “I just worry about you.”
“That’s not your responsibility anymore,” she said with an attempt at a smile, as if she was trying to point out a positive.
His pride—his heart—stung. “I guess we can’t all just turn off our emotions and walk away from vows so easily.”
For a second, he thought she might throw the aspirin bottle at him. Instead, she turned toward the counter, dismissing him with her body language.
He clenched his fists at his sides. He’d known this woman for years. Laughed with her, loved her, said things to her he couldn’t imagine sharing with
another person. Yet the prospect of beating himself upside the head with one of the pots hanging over the kitchen island seemed less painful than a threeminute
conversation with her. How had they come to this?
“I’m sorry,” he said. He rarely lost his temper, and he needed his composure now more than ever. “That was uncalled for.”
“You’re entitled to your anger.” With an audible pop, the lid finally came off the bottle. “It’ll be easier when I’m at Winnie’s. I’m supposed to go over tonight
to spend time with the animals and look over all the instructions with her.”
“Yeah, she phoned to say she was in for the evening and any time was good with her. And your sister called. That’s what I came in here to tell you.”
Probably he should have led with that rather than You look like hell. “She said it was important, but not bad news.”
Considering the massive heart attack that had threatened Mr. Nietermyer’s life the year David met Rachel, and the two lesser cardiac episodes that had
followed, urgent messages from home tended to make her nervous.
“Thanks.” She washed down two pills with a gulp, placed her cup on the counter, then turned, clearly ready to take her leave of him.
He didn’t move aside. “Did you grab a bite with the ladies?”
“No, Lilah had dinner plans, and everyone else went shopping. I didn’t feel up to it.”
“I’ll fix you something. You should—”
“David.” She smiled tiredly. “Thank you, but I’m a big girl. I’m capable of opening my own aspirin and cooking my own meals.”
Of course she was. He was just so desperate to do something. For most of his life, he’d enjoyed a sense of purpose. His mom had raised him with the
notion that he could do anything he set his mind to, and for nearly thirty years, that had held true. Then there’d come the infertility problems, which had
made him crazy because there was nothing he could do to help Rach, and then her announcement that she was leaving. He’d been so dumbfounded, so
struck by the unfamiliar sensation of being out of control, that he’d just let her go.
Part of him—if he were being brutally honest—might even have been relieved by the time apart, but only as a stopgap measure, not as a permanent life
change.
“When you call your sister back, you aren’t going to tell her about us, are you?” It sounded autocratic even in his own ears, a demand. He couldn’t bear
anyone knowing that his marriage had failed. Every person who found out would be one more severed tie cutting him adrift.
Rachel glared, exasperated. “I don’t know. I agreed with you that this is a special time for Lilah and Tanner, the whole Waide family, and I didn’t want to
ruin it. But don’t you think I deserve a friendly ear? Someone to talk to?”
Why hadn’t she tried harder to talk to him? He’d always listened, always offered suggestions and attempted to soothe the problems away. “Rachel. You
know that if it were in my power to—”
“I know.” She surprised him by reaching out, brushing her hand over the arm of his long-sleeved T-shirt. Then she passed by, not looking back as she
added, “But it’s not.”
BECAUSE a chilly December rain had started to fall, Rachel drove to Winnie’s on the other side of the subdivision rather than walk. When the windshield
wipers did nothing to clear her view, she realized the spots blurring her vision were tears. This was ridiculous. Separating was her decision, yet she’d
cried every day since she’d told David that they didn’t belong together.
Despite what logic and intellect told her, on some level she felt she’d failed by not getting pregnant. Why couldn’t her body accomplish what some
teenagers achieved unintentionally? When she’d suffered a first-trimester miscarriage last spring, it had devastated her, yet she’d tried to see it as a sign
that at least she could conceive. But month after month, hope waned. As did her and David’s tenderness with each other. She could admit that there had
been some hormone-triggered mood swings on her part and that she’d been difficult to live with. He’d been patient at first, but no sooner had she lost a
child than he began touting adoption as the reasonable solution. His seemingly “just get over it” attitude trivialized everything she’d experienced and
made her feel alone even when he was holding her…which was less and less.
David liked to tell people what course of action they should take, whether it was customers at his family’s store, his newly returned brother or councilmen
at town meetings. Almost everyone valued his input; Rachel herself had sought his opinion in the early days of marriage. It had taken her until this year to
realize how aloof he could be when people didn’t follow his advice. She hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that he didn’t view her as an equal partner.
Tonight was one example of how an endearing habit could turn grating. She’d once found it charming that he would remind her to eat or do little things to
take care of her, but lately his suggestions had begun to sound slightly condescending.
Her heart rate kicked up suddenly, her pulse pounding in her ears so loudly that she couldn’t hear her own thoughts—not an altogether bad thing
considering their dark tone. Her vision swam. What the hell? Fingers clenched on the steering wheel, she hurriedly parked at the curb. Then she waited,
taking deep breaths.
Was she being melodramatic, or had she just almost fainted? She’d never passed out in her life. Though her headache remained in full force, her pulse
slowed enough that she could walk to Winnie’s front door and ring the bell without worrying that she looked like a deranged escapee from the nearest
hospital.
Winnie Brisbane, receptionist for the town veterinarian, was one of the softest-hearted people in the county. Her two lab mixes had been with her for
years; a three-legged cat named Arpeggio and a lop-eared rabbit were more recent additions. Winnie had been negotiating with local pet-sitter Brenna
Pierce to care for the menagerie when she’d found an abandoned puppy in a November storm. Though she’d placed a poster in the vet’s office, most
people were too preoccupied with approaching holiday chaos to take on a gangly puppy with a nervous bladder and no obedience training. By
Thanksgiving, Winnie had named the mutt Hildie.
Short of Winnie canceling the cruise she and her cousins had been planning for over a year, having someone house-sit seemed the only sensible
solution. Brenna’s client schedule was too full for the constant care a puppy required, not to mention how much the extra professional visits would stretch
Winnie’s modest budget. She’d laughingly told Rachel that she’d blown this year’s mad money on cruise wear and was making up for it with peanutbutter-
sandwich lunches and macaroni-and-cheese dinners.
“The dogs are officially eating better than I am,” she’d admitted when Rachel offered to puppy-sit.
As Winnie ushered her into the house, Rachel had a twinge of guilt over the woman’s outpouring of gratitude. Though there was no good way to explain it
to sweet-natured, freckle-faced Winnie, who blushed when David so much as smiled, Rachel had taken the house-sitting gig for selfish reasons. Tonight it
had hit home how impossible it was for her to be under the same roof with her husband and not just because their exchanges deteriorated into sniping or
unproductive regrets.
When he’d walked into the kitchen earlier, she’d been overwhelmed, out of the blue, by the sandalwood scent of his shampoo. Her sense of smell
seemed abnormally strong, maybe because of the headache. She’d read about people with migraines having heightened sensitivities. Whatever the
cause, she’d had a nearly visceral memory of him washing her hair once, the feel of his hands across her scalp, the rich lather of the shampoo, his soapy
skin sliding against hers as they leaned together for a kiss, the water sluicing over both their bodies.
“Rachel? Are you okay?”
Good heavens, she’d completely forgotten about Winnie sitting across the table, summarizing pet routines that were written in a spiral notebook.
“Sorry.” Rachel swallowed. “I got a little…overheated for a moment. Can I trouble you for a glass of water?”
Winnie made a sympathetic noise. “Those medications, I expect.”
One of the positives of living in a small town was that people cared—when they asked how you were doing, they wanted an honest answer, not a rote
“fine, thanks.” Susan Waide, strongly in favor of becoming a grandmother, had asked for prayer support among her friends at church on David and
Rachel’s behalf. The OB’s office staff knew Rachel by name and were all pulling for her. Sometimes, having everyone within shouting distance knowing
the details of her life and cheering her on was nice.
This was not one of those times.
So she kept it to herself that she wasn’t even taking the drugs anymore; she’d emptied her last prescription just prior to Halloween. The doctors had
warned then that potential long-term dangers of the hormones were starting to outweigh the possibility of conception. They’d broached the subject of in
vitro procedures, but she’d decided against it pretty early in the discussion process. It was expensive, offered no guarantees, and frankly, her relationship
with David had cooled so much by then that she wondered if it would be fair to bring a baby into their home.
Home. Glad Winnie stood at the sink with her back turned, Rachel surreptitiously wiped away tears. When David had surprised her late in their
engagement with the key to the brick house two streets over, she’d thought it was her dream home. Now it stood as a museum of their disappointments
and mistakes.
The sooner I get out of that house, the better. She found herself reciting the mantra several times a day. She just wished she could convince herself it
was true.
WHEN Rachel returned from Winnie’s, David was hunched over his laptop in the front living room, no doubt working on files for the store. The Waides had
owned a supply store in Mistletoe for generations, but it had really grown under David and Zachariah’s partnership. In the spring, Zachariah Waide had
gone into partial retirement, handing over the bulk of daily management to his oldest child. David had thrown himself into the job with gusto, seeming
happier when he was at the store than he did when he was with her.
Careful not to disturb his work now, Rachel tiptoed past, stealing one undisciplined peek at his chiseled profile, bathed in blue from the monitor’s glow in
the darkened room. How many pictures had she taken of that face, trying to capture perfectly on film the strength and character there? It was so unfair.
While she’d been mourning the loss of her chic but no longer necessary professional wardrobe and grappling with some unattractive side effects of the
medicine, David merely got sexier with each passing day. He’d doubled his jogging regimen, and now that Tanner was back, David was shooting hoops
regularly in addition to the community softball he’d always played. He was in the best shape of his adult life, which made her feel even worse that her own
body had turned against her.
She didn’t realize she was holding her breath until she got to the guest room at the end of the house and finally exhaled. It was such a pretty room really,
the muted pastels in the drapes and matching queen-size comforter off-setting the dark wood of the sleigh bed. A person should feel cheerful here. A
person should not obsess over how this room would have made a lovely nursery.
After the miscarriage, Rachel had fallen into the habit of coming here when she couldn’t sleep, just to sit and think, then she’d awake on the bed in the
morning. David never said a word about it, so when difficulties between them had reached their zenith, it had been almost a natural transition to adopt this
room as her own. She hadn’t actually started moving clothes into the closet and her alarm clock onto the nightstand until after Thanksgiving, when she’d
told him she couldn’t do this anymore.
She would miss a lot of things when it came time to leave Mistletoe—friends, the Waides, the chicken-fried steak down at Dixieland Diner—but she would
not miss this room. Grabbing the cordless phone, she sat on the mattress. She should return Kate’s call before it got too late.
Her younger sister, who lived with her husband and eleven-month-old daughter just a few miles from Rachel’s parents, picked up on the first ring. “Hello?”
“Hey, it’s Rachel. David said you called?”
“Oh, hi!” Kate’s greeting was so effusive that it bordered on a squeal. Odd. The last few times they’d spoken, her sister had been subtly petulant that
Rachel wasn’t coming to South Carolina for Christmas. After all, it would be little Alyssa’s first, never mind that Rachel had committed to being in a
wedding and was planning to visit home for New Year’s. Rachel had even contemplated getting out of Mistletoe for Thanksgiving, but Kate had gone to
her in-laws’ place in Virginia so that they could coo over the grand-baby.
“You sound like you’re in a good mood,” Rachel observed.
“The best! I’m so glad you called back. I’m having lunch with Mom tomorrow, so I’ll talk to her then, but she heard first the last time. I thought it should be
your turn.”
Rachel couldn’t help smiling, Kate’s fast-paced prattle reminding her of when they were younger and her sister would burst through the kitchen door with
sixty-miles-an-hour news of her day. “My turn for what?”
“Okay, you are officially the very first person in the family to hear this.” Kate giggled. “Well, except for Mike, obviously. He bought the test for me.”
“Test?” Rachel’s stomach dropped. Realization hit. I am the worst sister in the world. She didn’t want to hear this news; she wanted to slam down the
phone and curl into the fetal position. Pun not intended.
“We’re expecting again! Alyssa is going to be a big sister. It’s a little sooner than we anticipated—I mean, we just started trying and you never know how
long it will…” Kate trailed off in abashed silence.
“Congratulations,” Rachel said. “That’s wonderful.”
“I am so sorry.” Kate sounded horrified. “That was a really insensitive way to put that. I was just so excited—”
“As you should be! And you were right, a woman never does know how long it will take.” Or if it will happen, ever. “Don’t worry. I’d be a lousy person if I
weren’t thrilled for you.”
“You’re sure?”
Hell. Once again, tears threatened to well in Rachel’s eyes—what was that, the sixth time today?—but she was determined not to let Fertile Myrtle know.
She coughed, trying to keep her voice even. “Absolutely! I owe you a huge congratulatory hug when I see you in January.”
“Yeah, you’ll want to do it then before I get too big to wrap your arms around,” Kate joked.
They talked for a few more minutes, but it was clear that neither one of them was entirely comfortable.
“Oh, dear,” Kate said, interrupting as Rachel answered a question about Lilah’s wedding plans. “That’s Alyssa crying. I’d better go. See you in a few
weeks!”
“Right. See you then.” Rachel disconnected, flopped back on the mattress and glared at the ceiling.
Well, at least now when she announced to her parents—who were already baffled as to why she was “wasting” her college degree in a “dinky” North
Georgia town—that her marriage had crashed and burned, the Nietermyers would have Kate’s pregnancy as a happy distraction.
Yeah, that made Rachel feel much better.
Chapter Three
Mental note. Rachel squeezed herself behind a kitchen chair for safety. Never, never ask a bunch of animals “Who wants to go for a walk?”
Unless, of course, she wanted to be trampled to death. The two labs were scrambling to reach her, and Hildie was probably waking up the neighborhood,
running circles on the tile and barking her head off. Although the dogs enjoyed playing in their own fenced backyard, Winnie had mentioned that walks
were a special treat. Bristol and Rembrandt shared a double-dog leash, and in theory, Rachel should be able to walk Hildie with her own leash held in the
other hand.
Faced with the challenge of harnessing all this uncoordinated enthusiasm, however, Rachel was suddenly dubious. If she had any common sense, she’d
probably be snuggled under the covers; she wasn’t due for work at the print shop for another two and a half hours.
But she hadn’t been asleep anyway. She’d been up three times during the night, probably because the unfamiliar noises of pets in the house kept waking
her. Shortly before 6:00 a.m., it had become clear that no matter how exhausted she was, she was awake for the duration.
Awake and cowering behind furniture.
She cleared her throat, hoping to project authority. “Sit. I mean it, you guys. Sit!”
The labs’ collective butts hit the floor, their tails sweeping in noisy arcs. Hildie continued to run in demented circles, woofing happily. Two out of three is
close enough. Rachel edged from behind the chair, maintaining stern eye contact while she picked up the leashes. She shrugged into a flannel-lined,
double-breasted coat. It was bulky, especially over her blue sweat suit, but it was indisputably soft, as if she were walking around in a much-needed hug.
Though she’d never been a morning person, there was something surprisingly invigorating about stepping outside into the chilly air, watching the sun rise
in golden-orange streaks that gilded the clouds. That would make a pretty picture. Even if she hadn’t busted her camera last month, she didn’t exactly
have a free hand right now. And the dogs definitely lacked the patience for her to stop and take in picturesque scenes—they were already straining
against their leashes.
They set off at a brisk pace, Rachel’s breath puffing out in foggy bursts. If she was lucky, she might even lose a pound or two before the wedding and her
trip home. Should she return to South Carolina at her current weight, her mom—a slim woman with a closet full of Power Suits—would cluck her tongue
disapprovingly. Mrs. Nietermyer had mastered the many fine nuances of Clucking 101. Mr. Nietermyer habitually called his wife honey, but Rachel swore
that, once or twice, what he’d really said was henny.
Lost in her thoughts and the steady rhythm of the dogs’ toes clicking on the pavement, she was startled when Hildie shot after a trio of sparrows.
“Whoa!” Rachel gripped the leash tightly. “Sit. Sit.”
No one listened. Instead, Hildie’s sudden dash whipped the other two dogs into a fervor. They quickly tangled their lines, threatening to ensnare Rachel.
She managed to sidestep Bristol, but tripped over Rembrandt. Falling toward the sidewalk, Rachel reflexively braced herself with one hand. Which was,
she acknowledged as pain radiated up her arm, stupid. She was lucky she hadn’t broken her wrist. Of more immediate concern, however, was that, in
thrusting her hand out, she’d let go of Hildie’s leash. The little terror went flopping toward the spot where the birds had been.
Dammit. Cold seeped through the layers of cotton covering her butt.
Rachel got to her feet and approached the puppy slowly, not wanting to chase her into the intersection. Though it was still early, some people would be
leaving for work soon and the dog wouldn’t be easily visible in the early-morning light. Scanning the area for any threats or surprises, Rachel sidled toward
the mutt. When movement caught her eye, she turned and saw someone cresting the hill on the parallel sidewalk. A jogger, whose gait and clothes she
recognized even at a distance.
She’d always thought that particular blue T-shirt brought out the color in her husband’s eyes. Her heart thumped against her ribs. She turned to Hildie. “If
you will come to me right now, I swear you can have as many puppy treats as you want when we get home.”
Hildie yipped once, scooting farther away and wagging her tail in appreciation of the new game.
“Dog, I am not playing with you. Get over here.” Now the footsteps across the street were audible. Slap, slap. Slap, slap. Rachel squeezed her eyes shut.
Maybe she wasn’t actually outside at dawn with three dogs who’d alternately tried to escape and hog-tie her. Maybe she was simply having a nightmare.
Her dreams, when she slept long enough to have them, had been bizarrely vivid of late.
“Rach?” Opposite her, David slowed to a stop. The inquisitive note in his voice probably stemmed from wondering why the heck she was out stalking an
ill-behaved puppy instead of comfortably drinking coffee in Winnie’s kitchen while the dogs cavorted in their own backyard. Rachel was wondering the
same thing herself.
“I didn’t expect to see you here,” she said. She’d been so relieved to be out of the oppressive atmosphere in their house that she hadn’t considered she
would be walking dogs in the same neighborhood where he routinely ran. Somewhat unnecessarily, she added, “Hildie got away from me.”
Hearing her name, the adolescent mongrel yipped again, sounding proud of herself. Rachel entertained a couple of fantasies that would probably not be
appreciated by animal activists. David rocked back on his heels, his fledgling smile achingly familiar yet a little surprising, too. There was real amusement
there and less of the strain she’d become accustomed to seeing.
“Need a little help?” he called.
“Thanks, but I’ve got it. You probably just got your pulse rate in the right zone or whatever. Don’t let us derail you.” Wrapping the remaining leash tightly
around her hand, she crouched down and whistled at Hildie. “Here, girl! C’mere, baby.”
Hildie took about two steps in Rachel’s direction, then turned and dashed across another yard, into the Stephensons’ driveway.
There was a muffled laugh from David’s direction, and Rachel snapped her head toward him, heat blooming in her cheeks.
As David crossed the street, her pride warred with practicality. The charm of the early-morning walk had faded, and Rachel was looking forward to getting
out of the cold and spending a few dog-free moments in a hot shower. He stepped up on the curb, extending a hand so carefully that she might have
laughed if she weren’t so miserable. Something about David’s manner mirrored the way she was advancing on the skittish dog.
Up close, Rachel couldn’t help noticing the slight crinkle of laugh lines at the corners of his eyes. He had a great face. Masculine and friendly and
reassuring and sexy all at the same time. Sometimes she just—
“Here, let me at least hold the other two while you round up the little one.”
She nodded, untangling the leash from her hand and passing it to him. David’s fingers closed over hers. Zing. In the early rays of the morning, with two
labs watching her as if she was a moron and an undisciplined puppy leading her on a merry chase, Rachel Waide experienced the most surprising jolt.
David’s fingers were warm but the tiniest bit rough—no girly moisturizing lotion for him, thank you very much—and the scent of him was musky and male.
Her pheromones reacted with an interest they hadn’t shown in months, causing an actual twinge between her thighs.
Her jaw dropped.
“You all right?” David narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing her.
Oh, please, please, don’t let him be able tell. Did he know her well enough to guess that she was unbelievably, unmistakably aroused? She was
mortified. Was she one of those emotionally stunted people who only wanted someone they couldn’t have? Why was she having this inconvenient reaction
now?
Maybe it was a Pavlovian response. After all, he was the only man she’d been with in years, and her body hadn’t yet adjusted to the idea of never touching
him again. Never kissing him, never waking in his arms, never—
Hildie barked, mercifully interrupting the mental tangent. Circling the dog, Rachel spoke in a nonstop, cajoling murmur, forcing herself to stand patiently as
Hildie got closer. Inch by irritating inch. Rachel waited until she knew with absolute certainty that victory was in her reach before she pounced, catching the
wiggling puppy in her hands. Hildie’s brown eyes were wide as she licked Rachel’s cheek.
“Don’t bother with the cute,” Rachel warned. “You are in big trouble, young lady.”
David met her halfway, giving her the other leashes along with a curious once-over. “So, you’re settled in okay at Winnie’s?”
Rachel nodded. “Yeah, I’m good.”
“Really?”
No, not really. But she had to learn how to stand on her own two feet again. She moved her shoulders in a noncommittal shrug.
He bent at the waist, doing a few stretches in preparation for resuming his run. “Well, maybe we’ll meet like this again.”
She laughed ruefully. “I hope not! Somehow I don’t think morning walks are going to become a habit.”
“Guess not.” His smiled had faded. “See you at my parents’ on Friday?”
The whole family was gathering to trim the Christmas tree. She could make an excuse to get out of it, except she’d skipped it last year. As she recalled,
that had been the day she’d learned she wasn’t pregnant—again—and the thought of pretending to be in a festive, holiday mood…Not that this would be
her most festive year, but it would be her last Christmas as a Waide. Was it selfish to want these final precious memories, to store them away in a mental
scrapbook?
Maybe one day she could reexamine those memories and remember just the warmth and good times, without the paralyzing grief.
“I’ll be there,” she said. They’d also see each other on Saturday, but there’d be a bigger crowd at the party for Lilah and Tanner so maybe it wouldn’t be
too awkward. Who are you kidding? She’d be attending a couples’ shower with her estranged husband.
David nodded. “See you this weekend, then.”
As he started off again, she added, “Thanks for your help. I’m grateful our paths crossed.”
He smiled over his shoulder, but didn’t answer. She stared after his back, wondering how he felt.
Down the road, would he be glad that their paths had crossed five years ago, that he’d overcome her laughing protestations that she was only in town for
a short while and had no plans to get involved with someone here? Or would he end up wishing he’d simply stayed on his side of the street and let the
woman from South Carolina pass by without disrupting his life?
DAVID GRIMACED as he reached for the canister of coffee high in the supply cabinet. His sore muscles protested. Maybe he didn’t need caffeine that badly
after all. Maybe what he needed was to stop pushing himself as if he were an indestructible kid half his age. After his encounter with Rachel, he’d sprinted
a double circuit through the subdivision, trying to outrun the effect of seeing her.
She’d looked disarming and maddeningly adorable, all bundled up. Her eyes had been bright, almost silvery, and spots of color had livened a face that
had been far too pale for far too long. This morning she’d reminded him of the woman he’d married, not the much quieter, pinched version she’d become.
Seeing the improvement one night had made, he was forced to conclude that she’d been right—she was better off without him. A groan of enraged
despair rumbled in his throat.
“David?” His mother’s voice, lilting in question, startled him. He’d thought he was alone in the employees-only hallway behind the store.
“Mom.” His arms dropped quickly to his sides, as if she’d caught him reaching for forbidden cookies. “I didn’t know you were in this morning.”
“Brought over some more ornaments for Ari to display. You do a great job running the store, just like your father always has, but neither of you excel when
it comes to decorating for the customers.”
Decorating. He thought about his house, which was completely devoid of holiday cheer. Their first year of marriage, Rachel had barely waited for
Thanksgiving before she started asking if it was too soon to put up Christmas lights. She’d seemed so happy then, as he’d promised her she’d be if she
moved here to Mistletoe, enthusiastic to build their life together.
Susan brought him back to the present. “Why were you growling in the hallway?”
“I, uh, can’t reach the coffee.”
She skewered him with a raised eyebrow, then turned to open the janitorial closet behind her, revealing a small step stool that he’d known perfectly well
was there. “God knows I love your brother and how spirited he is, but he was the one more likely to stubbornly pursue the impossible with no real plan on
how to achieve it. You were the solution-finder.”
Really? Because David was fresh out of solutions. Feeling foolish, he picked up the stool and retrieved the coffee. “Lack of caffeine makes me grouchy.
And stupid.”
Susan Waide’s gaze was steady, all-knowing in that way mothers have. “Want to tell me what’s really wrong?”
“Thanks, Mom, but it’s nothing that can be fixed with a step stool.”
“You and Rachel?”
His pulse pounded. How much of the truth had she guessed? “Is it that obvious that we’ve…hit a rough patch?”
“Oh, darling.” She ruffled his hair, even though she practically had to stand on tiptoe to do it. “I can’t imagine how difficult it was for her to lose that baby,
but she’s been withdrawn for months. And you’ve been tense, short-fused. Not at all the boy I know.”
He missed the man he’d been, the one who had never questioned his wife’s love and their ability to work through any problem.
“Every couple has difficulties,” Susan continued. “Lord knows your father and I have. It’s healthy even. Once you work through to the other side, you’ll be
stronger for it.”
He opened his mouth, then closed it. His biggest fear was that for him and Rachel, there was no other side. I shouldn’t have let her go. He could have
convinced her to at least sleep on it or maybe see a counselor together. Would fighting for her now be the right thing to do or merely the selfish?
“Mom.” He hugged his mother, his voice ragged. It was nearly impossible to spit out the question. “What if—what if I can’t fix this?”
“Nonsense. You’re my son. Besides—” she smiled up at him “—you’re forgetting that it’s Christmas. The season of miracles.”
“HEREYA GO, Chloe.” Rachel passed the box of business cards over the counter. “Why don’t you take a peek at the first few and make sure they’re to your
satisfaction?”
“Oh, I’m sure that’s not necessary.” Chloe Malcolm glanced at the sample card stapled to the outside of the box. “You always do a great job.”
Once, Rachel had helped create regional ad campaigns for a major company. Now, it was an exciting day if she got to help someone lay out business
cards—except that Chloe, who ran her own small company as a Web designer, rarely needed help. She’d brought in her file on CD, all ready to be
printed. There was nothing at work challenging enough to distract Rachel from her embarrassing encounter with David earlier. Of course, there was the
special project she should be working on for Lilah and Tanner’s rehearsal dinner, but she doubted that would improve her mood.
Rachel shook her head. “You couldn’t even have left a formatting error I could resolve?”
“Pardon?” The brunette blinked at her.
“Don’t mind me. Midday blahs,” she told Chloe. “I’m waiting for May to come back so I can take my lunch break. To tell you the truth, the day so far has
been pretty monotonous.”
“Not too much action going on in Mistletoe, huh?” Chloe sounded wistful, which was surprising. Gifted with computers, the young woman was also
incredibly introverted; she’d always given the impression she might panic at the first sign of “action.”
They both glanced reflexively toward the door when it opened, and Rachel’s co-worker May Gideon swept inside, accompanied by a winter-edged
breeze. The pungent odor of a fried fish sandwich wafted from May’s white paper bag, and Rachel’s gut clenched. Her hand shot to her mouth.
“Whoa.” Chloe was blinking again. “You look really pale.”
“I, uh…I—” Terrified that she was about to humiliate herself far worse than she had that morning with the runaway puppy, Rachel bolted for the employee
restroom. After splashing some cold water on her face and taking a couple of deep breaths, she managed to quell the intense nausea. It was gone almost
as suddenly as it had come. Still, she waited a few minutes to make sure.
When she returned to the front of the print shop, she saw that May had completed Chloe’s transaction and was now arguing with Mrs. Nugent, who wanted
them to make a personalized photo calendar as a Christmas present for her mother, but refused to accept that they weren’t allowed to reproduce
copyrighted pictures of her kids.
“After what that studio charged me for the darn things, I should be able to wallpaper my whole house with them if I want to!”
May’s patient expression didn’t waver. “So long as you understand that we can’t print the wallpaper for you.”
This seemed like as good a time as any for Rachel to take her lunch hour. With a guilty half wave in May’s direction, she crept toward the door, not
wanting to get caught up in Mrs. Nugent’s righteous indignation over the “highway robbery” of professional photography. Once Rachel was outside and
contemplating where to go for lunch, she admitted to herself that food was the last thing she wanted.
Finally, something good about stress—it had her stomach so upset it was killing her appetite. Maybe she’d fit into that bridesmaid’s dress after all.
A niggling voice in the back of her head pointed out she’d been stressed all morning, yet hadn’t been in danger of tossing her cookies until that fish smell
hit. It was similar to last spring, when…She stopped dead on the sidewalk. What a ridiculous thought. Still, now that she considered it, when had her last
period been? Rachel bit her lip, not sure. For the first time in nearly two years, she wasn’t obsessively tracking her cycle, trying hard to let go and reach a
healthier emotional state.
Oh, yeah, I’m a picture of mental health. She gave a quick shake of her head. Now that she was off the medications that had regulated her cycles, it
wasn’t surprising that she might skip a period—or two?—as her body adjusted. In fact, her bursting into tears at the drop of a hat lately and her sensory
overreaction to odors was probably just PMS. She’d start her period any day and feel silly about this.
Yep. An-n-ny day now.
Chapter Four
“Hey, Rach! Come in where it’s warm.” Arianne opened the door of her parents’ house. She lived in a garage apartment these days—Susan kept saying
she and Zachariah didn’t need all the space, but they couldn’t bear to put the family home up for sale even though it was just the two of them there. “It’s
finally starting to feel like December, isn’t it? David’s inside getting a fire started.”
Rachel had seen his car out front; he’d probably come straight from work. A stray memory broadsided her of her husband wanting to create a romantic
scene by lighting their first fire in their new home and making love in its glow on the living room sofa. But it had been a ridiculously warm winter that year,
and to make the house cold enough, he’d cranked up the air-conditioning. That was David, determined to control his environment.
Then again, there was something to be said for a man who worked that hard to create a romantic moment for his wife. He’d met her while she was
vacationing in Mistletoe, and knowing their time together might be temporary, he’d systematically pulled out all the stops in wooing her. He’d—
“Rachel?” Arianne prompted.
She started guiltily, as if she’d been caught committing a crime instead of daydreaming about her own spouse. “I had to let the dogs out! Winnie’s dogs, I
mean. Th-that’s why David and I arrived separately.”
“Yeah, we know.” Arianne studied her, looking perplexed.
Well, subterfuge never was my strong suit. Shrugging out of her coat, Rachel scooted past her sister-in-law to greet the rest of the family, which was
segregated along gender lines. She heard Tanner and Zachariah offering unsolicited advice on how to arrange the logs; the women were gathered in the
kitchen. Rachel made a beeline for the latter and hung her jacket over the back of a chair. Her black jeans and red scoop-necked sweater certainly fitted
in the overall color scheme.
Lilah sat at the table in a casual red dress chopping carrots, while Susan, wearing a white-and-red checkered cardigan over dark slacks, seasoned the
pot of stew on the stove. The dishwasher stood ajar. Since Arianne hated to cook, Rachel bet her sister-in-law’s job had been unloading dishes.
“Smells divine in here.” Rachel kissed her mother-in-law’s cheek.
She’d always admired Susan’s aura of balance and domestic elegance. The woman seemed comfortable at home cooking for her husband, but equally
capable when she was juggling volunteer work in town and at the store. Rachel’s own mom had fought hard to be successful in the workplace, devoting a
lot of energy to her career. Though Rachel hadn’t questioned whether she was loved, Mrs. Nietermyer had never seemed completely, well, motherly. As a
girl, Rachel had thought her mother harbored an unspoken disdain for homemakers, as if they weren’t as smart or driven. But Susan Waide was sharp as
a tack, and Rachel now wondered if what she’d perceived from her mom had been, in part, jealousy…envy over skills she herself couldn’t seem to master.
What kind of mother would I have made? Her chest tightened at the thought, and she pushed away the painful “what if.” “What can I do to help?”
“We’re pretty well set in here,” Susan said. “Could you go remind Zachariah that he and Tanner were supposed to put the extra leaf in the dining room
table?”
“Arianne and I can probably take care of that.”
“I appreciate the offer,” Susan said as Ari resumed putting away pots and pans. “But if the boys plan to eat with us, they have to do their part. It won’t hurt
them to work for it, dear.”
Lilah laughed. “That sounds like something Aunt Shelby would say.”
Though Rachel always considered Lilah a Mistletoe native, the woman hadn’t been born here like David and his siblings; she’d moved in with her aunt
and uncle years ago after her parents had died in a crash. Lilah’s uncle Ray would walk her down the aisle.
“That’s because Shelby Tierney is very wise,” Susan said approvingly. “You’ll have no shortage of marital advice, if you want it. I’m always here.” She
swung her shrewd gaze back toward Rachel in clear invitation.
Rachel swallowed. She’d considered discussing the deteriorating state of her marriage with Susan, but it had seemed somehow disloyal to run to
David’s family with their problems. Weren’t the Waides duty-bound to take his side? Well, maybe not Arianne. She regularly labeled her older brothers as
pains in the butt.
I’ll miss them all so much. She turned away. “I’ll go see about having the guys set up the table.”
Before Rachel reached the living room, she heard masculine laughter. From the snatches she gathered, David and his brother were teasing their father
about a fire he’d once tried to start on a camping trip.
“To this day,” Tanner was saying as she entered the room, “Mom still—Oh, hey, Rach.” He crossed the room to hug her, so like his brother in build and
coloring that her return embrace was awkward. It had been such a long time since David had held her just to be close. She used to laugh at the way he’d
hug her from behind at silly times—while she was trying to put away groceries or brush her teeth. She missed those embraces, but as their married life
had grown more tense, their physical relationship had withered.
Now, David watched her wordlessly from the hearth. Their gazes met, held, as the flames behind him crackled. Her stomach somersaulted, not with
nausea this time but jitters. A confusing combination of dread and excitement reminiscent of a teenage crush. Zachariah Waide moved in for his hello,
interrupting the visual contact.
Rachel regained her composure enough to smile up at him. “Your wife sent me to remind you about the table.”
He grunted in acknowledgment. “Knew I forgot to do something. Come on, Tanner. You can help me while Rachel and David start opening boxes.”
The tree stood in the corner. Someone had brought down four large containers, two cardboard and two clear plastic, of Christmas paraphernalia from the
attic. After dinner, they would all help decorate. She thought of the Our New Home ornament she’d put in David’s stocking their first year of marriage. It
had fallen off the tree once, knocking off the chimney and cracking the roof on the little house, but he’d glued it back on, insisting the ornament was as
good as new.
“Hey.” He spoke first, not looking nearly as nervous as she felt.
After a moment, she realized she was studying him a bit too intently. He hitched an eyebrow questioningly.
“So.” Boxes, Rachel told herself. Much safer to divert her attention to the boxes. “Where should we start?”
He glanced down, considering. “The lights. Might as well check to make sure they’re all working before we go to the trouble of putting them on the tree.”
Rachel read Susan’s neat handwriting and meticulous labels. Assuming everything had been put away correctly, the lights should be in the cardboard box
closest to her. She bent at the waist and unfolded the flaps.
Rachel straightened, saying over her shoulder, “Here they—What are you doing?” she demanded as David hurriedly raised his gaze.
“Hmm?” he asked, not meeting her eyes.
Rachel frowned, the tingles shivering through her making her self-conscious. Was she crazy or had he actually been ogling her butt? “Were you…”
“Just standing here. Waiting for you to hand me one end of the lights so we can plug them in.” But she wasn’t the only one who was bad at subterfuge.
Even with his head ducked, she recognized the glint in his eyes—she’d been his lover for five years.
She couldn’t help grinning at how unconvincing he was. “You lie.”
“Oh, really?” He did look up then, his answering smile a challenge. “What exactly are you accusing me of?”
They both knew the answer to that, but she wasn’t quite gutsy enough to vocalize it. She’d felt David pulling away physically, had thought for a while that he
didn’t find her attractive anymore. So, on the one hand, it was validating to catch him staring, made her feel feminine in a way she hadn’t for a long time.
On the other hand, they’d split up, even if they were the only ones here who knew that. Why confuse the issue with flirtatious conversation?
“Never mind,” she backpedaled. “I was mistaken.”
He moved toward her, reaching for the lights. “No, you weren’t.”
Please don’t. She didn’t want to be seduced by the mischievous note in his voice, reminded of everything good they’d shared—sure, the journey had had
some high points, but that didn’t change her unhappiness with where they’d arrived. And if he hadn’t been just as miserable, David Waide would have
fought for her.
When she’d finally dredged up the nerve to confess she didn’t think their marriage was working, that it had long since become a marriage based on
technicalities rather than intimacy, she’d braced herself for argument. He’d always been a man who refused to brook defeat. He’d once planted a tree that
didn’t successfully take root in the soil, but he’d come back with some kind of specialized fertilizer and continued watering it for weeks, not ready to
acknowledge that it was dead. Rachel had anticipated that he’d tell her she was being melodramatic—whenever she’d tried during the past year to
broach the difficult conversation of their not being happy, he’d turned into Mr. Optimism, automatically downplaying her fears and telling her he loved her.
That they could do anything together (except possibly have a child). She wanted to appreciate his positive thinking, but it became more difficult over time
in the wake of her growing frustration that he was not hearing her. After Thanksgiving, she’d been determined to make him finally listen, but she hadn’t
expected him to capitulate so readily. She’d anticipated his saying that things would look better in the morning, his once again proposing immediate
solutions before she’d had a chance to fully articulate what she saw as the problems.
Instead, he’d practically shrugged in agreement. He’d expended more effort on the damn tree.
“Why now?” she muttered under her breath.
David paused. “What do you mean?”
She rolled her shoulders, trying to alleviate some of the growing tension.
Not even the small motion got by him. “You need one of my famous back rubs.”
“I don’t think so.” If the mere brush of his fingers this morning had caused a zing, what would happen with her muscles warm under his touch? Annoyed by
how tempting the offer sounded, she glared. “Don’t flirt with me. Not now, not after months of…”
“What, not touching you?” He was even closer now, his voice lowered to give them privacy. “You pushed me away, Rach. You made it clear you didn’t
want me looking at your body. Unless it was for procreation.”
She flinched. During the hormone treatments, she’d tried to explain to him how the side effects sometimes made her feel like a stranger in her own skin.
But David, for all that he paid lip service to “being there” for her, could grow impatient with discussions that didn’t have easy answers. If she tried to tell
him that she didn’t feel like herself, didn’t feel sexy, he’d roll his eyes and tell her that she was being neurotic, that she looked just fine to him. Somehow,
being called neurotic wasn’t a big turn-on for her.
“If I seemed uninterested,” he continued, “I was just trying to respect your wishes. I wanted to take care of you.”
“I know, David. But that’s not what I wanted.” They were supposed to take care of each other, except that he’d never seemed to need her.
“You don’t consider that part of a husband’s job?” He was looking distinctly irritated now. “Taking care of his wife?”
“It’s a nice sentiment, but you got more and more…” Paternal? That would not sit well with him and wasn’t exactly what she meant anyway. “We don’t have
to talk about this.”
“You mean you don’t want to talk about it.”
Her hands trembled as she uncoiled lights. “We’re supposed to be having a fun, festive family evening. Why ruin it with accusations that won’t change
anything that’s happened?”
“You’re right.” He took his end of the lights toward the outlet, the electric string stretched out between them. A second later, the entire strand began
twinkling white in a cheery rhythm.
Rachel sat back on her heels. “Looks like they all work.”
“Yeah. Guess there’s nothing here I can fix.” With that, he spun on his heel and left.
Which was only fair, she supposed. After all, she’d left him first.
DINNER did a lot more to restore Rachel’s spirits than she would have guessed possible. She sat safely buffered between her father-in-law and Lilah. The
bride-to-be chattered excitedly about her upcoming wedding. Everyone else was mostly free to nod and enjoy the home cooking. Susan’s food was the
old-fashioned, hearty kind that comforted the soul, carbs be damned.
When Arianne finished eating, she pushed away her plate and interrupted discussion of flowers, lace and music with a wicked grin. “You haven’t
mentioned the most important part—the bachelorette party!”
Tanner groaned.
Arianne ignored him. “Come on, Li. I’m the maid of honor. It’s part of my job description. I wasn’t even legally old enough to participate in the champagne
toast when Rachel and David got married—you’re not going to rob me of my fun now, are you? Besides, it will drive my brother crazy wondering what I
have in store, and he picked on me a lot when I was younger.”
Smacking a hand to his forehead, Tanner asked, “Would it help if I apologized for that now?”
“Not so much,” Arianne said sweetly. She turned back to her friend. “You trust me, right?”
Lilah laughed knowingly. “Not even a little. Rach, you’ll help Arianne with the party plans, won’t you? Make sure she doesn’t get too crazy.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Rachel heard herself say. “Maybe we could all use a crazy girls’ night.”
“Yes!” Arianne clapped her palms together. “Good to have you on board. Now, Lilah, you have a valid passport, right?”
Throughout the rest of the meal, Rachel and Arianne brainstormed facetious party ideas, each more outlandish than the last. If anyone noticed that David
wasn’t laughing quite as much as the rest of the family, no one drew attention to it. Clearing the table went quickly with so many helping hands, and they
adjourned to the dining room, where the bare green Christmas tree waited.
“Aunt Shelby always popped popcorn to string on the tree,” Lilah told them, “but Uncle Ray and I usually ate most of it.”
Tanner lifted his hand to her lips, pressing a quick kiss across her knuckles. “Just think, soon we’ll be able to start our own family traditions.”
Susan glanced up from the piles she was making—sorting decorations by the room she planned to use them in—and smiled at Rachel. “How’s your
family doing, dear? They have big plans for the holidays?”
It occurred to Rachel then that her parents had never come to Mistletoe to see her for Christmas; they stayed in South Carolina to celebrate with Kate and
her husband. It would have been nice if just once…Well. That hardly mattered now.
She cleared her throat. “Actually, I talked to my sister the other day, and she did have some big news. They’re expecting their second child.”
Even though Rachel kept her gaze locked on Susan and couldn’t really see David’s expression, she felt him tense, felt his sudden vibe of oh, babe. He
would know more than anyone how deeply Kate’s happy news had cut…and how disgusted Rachel was with herself because of that.
There was a flicker of what might have been pity in Susan’s eyes, too, but she smiled brightly. “Your parents must be thrilled.”
“Undoubtedly,” Rachel said automatically. “You know, I have this craving for hot chocolate. Can I make some for everybody?”
She got several enthusiastic responses and promised extra marshmallows to Tanner before escaping the room. The pot of milk on the stove had barely
begun to bubble when she heard footsteps behind her. Oh, please let that be Arianne. But she knew better.
“Thought I’d come see if you could use some help,” her husband said.
Emotionally frayed, she snapped, “I’m perfectly capable of managing hot chocolate.”
“Rachel.” That was all, just her name and a wealth of understanding.
She slumped, feeling like a shrew. “I’m sorry.” Being around David somehow brought out the worst in her. For that alone, she’d be eager to get out of
Mistletoe. If she couldn’t rediscover the person she’d once been, at least she could reshape herself into someone less wretched.
“You should have told me,” he said. “About Kate.”
Rachel smiled fondly. “And what would you have done?”
He was quiet for a moment, then smiled back. “Been extremely frustrated about the unfairness of life?”
The thing about David was that he believed he was a good listener. He meant well. But he liked solving problems and grew impatient when something
didn’t have a tidy solution. As their marriage went on, the problems between them had become more and more complex. And she’d turned to him less
and less.
“I’m handling it okay,” she lied, spooning cocoa into the mugs on the counter. “I just wasn’t expecting it to come up tonight.”
He crossed to the pantry and retrieved a bag of marshmallows. Then he was at her side, dumping a few into each cup. Rachel couldn’t help breathing in
his scent.
“You smell even better than the chocolate.” Startled, she cast about for a way to take back the words.
“Thank you.” David inclined his head, his expression unreadable. “My wife got me this cologne for my birthday.”
Suddenly there was a hissing sound, and Rachel realized the milk was boiling over, a violent froth spilling from the pot. It would seem that she was
incapable of making hot chocolate without help. Then again, it was her helper who’d distracted her in the first place.
David cleaned up the mess while she filled mugs. He carried the first batch into the next room. When she followed a few moments later, Tanner snapped
his fingers, shaking his head at the archway she’d walked through.
“Another minute,” he said, “and I would have had the mistletoe up. David could have caught you beneath it.”
Arianne, wearing her long-suffering single-gal-surrounded-by-happy-couples expression, thumped him on the shoulder. “They’re married, moron. He can
kiss her anytime. This isn’t like when you were courting Lilah and practically had to trick her into kissing you.”
Lilah muffled a laugh and Tanner looked sheepish. It was no secret that he’d once screwed up their relationship and had to fight to win her back. At least
he thought she was worth fighting for.
Rachel blinked, surprised by her melancholy. She should probably be relieved that David had accepted her decision so easily and hadn’t made the
separation even harder than it was.
From her position at the tree, Susan glanced at her. “Rachel, dear, we should have you take some pictures for us.”
“If I can use your camera?” Rachel set her mug on a coaster. “I broke mine on Thanksgiving.”
“Oh, that’s right.” Her mother-in-law frowned. “I’ll have to dig mine out. I’d gotten so used to you being the family photographer—your pictures always turn
out so well! Zachariah, do you know where our camera is?”
He retrieved it from a closet, handing it to Rachel with an expression of nearly boyish apology. “Afraid it’s the old-fashioned kind that uses actual film.
Places still develop that, don’t they?”
She smiled. According to family stories, Zachariah hadn’t always been the easiest father to live with, but he’d always been a big teddy bear with her. “Of
course. Film is fine.” The bigger problem was whether or not she could keep her hands from shaking with emotion.
It was on Thanksgiving, as she’d tried to set the automatic timer on her digital camera for a group shot, that she’d had the realization. Neither she nor
David had truly been happy for weeks before that, possibly months, but neither of them were quitters. Neither of them had wanted to address the elephant
in the room. But as she’d looked at the Waide family framed in the view window, it had struck her: I don’t belong here. Seeing the way Lilah and Tanner
smiled at each other, trying to recall just when she and David had stopped looking at each other that way, had hurt. Far worse had been watching David
laugh at whatever teasing comment Arianne had been making. His face had been alive with humor and affection, such a contrast to the patient but
shuttered expression he reserved for his wife.
She’d knocked over a seventy-dollar camera, but it had felt as if her world had crashed to the hardwood floor.
Well, she wasn’t as fragile as a camera. As much as she hurt now, she had to believe she would heal eventually. Rachel threw herself into the treedecorating,
managing a smile at the many homemade, childish efforts. Even without glancing at the name on the back or the picture in some cases—such
as Tanner’s photo glued onto a green aluminum ashtray or Arianne’s beaming smile, minus the top two teeth, framed in a construction of Popsicle sticks
and spray-painted macaroni shells—Rachel could tell which Waide kid had made each decoration. Tanner was the one least likely to follow directions,
which meant coloring outside the lines and in one instance, putting the ornament together upside down. Ari was the only one who’d used lace trim, pink
buttons or little velvet bows. David’s were exact. He must have been such a serious child, Rachel thought. Recalling how often she’d cringed at the
prospect of disappointing her own parents, she wondered if the drive to succeed was simply part of the package for the firstborn.
Looking at his ornaments, one might think his personality consisted solely of careful measurements, straight lines and precision cutting. Those were
certainly the aspects of himself he was most comfortable showing. She’d been the curved, crooked one in the relationship, the one whose body didn’t
even work with reliable precision.
“Whatcha got there?” Zachariah leaned over to see the ornament in Rachel’s hand.
Holding it up by the ribbon, she showed him a laminated construction-paper star, each of its points equal to the others. Based on the year written in red
permanent marker, David had probably been in first grade. “You guys have quite a collection.”
Her father-in-law smiled affectionately. “I imagine it will grow even more when the grandkids start coming.”
She couldn’t help wincing.
Zachariah covered her hand with his own large, rough fingers. “More than one way to chase a dream, honey. A few years ago, I wouldn’t have realized
that, too set in my ways. If you want to be a mama, it’ll happen.”
It was hard to speak around the lump in her throat, but she squeezed out a hoarse, “That’s sweet.”
“So who’s going to put the star on top of the tree?” Tanner asked. “Obviously it needs to be someone taller than Ari. Even with the step stool, she’d barely
reach.”
His sister snorted. “Did I mention the really buff male dancers I’m planning for your wife’s bachelorette party? Lilah, feel free to run off with Paolo rather
than shackle yourself to this yahoo.”
Ignoring the antics of his siblings, David asked, “How about you, Dad?”
“Or Lilah,” Susan suggested. “To celebrate her joining the family.”
Zachariah shook his head. “Rachel. She should do it.” He didn’t give a reason, but as head of the family, he didn’t have to. Still, she was caught off guard
by his choice. Did he know? Had he somehow guessed that she wouldn’t be here next year, that this was her goodbye?
He took the small box from his wife and extracted the shining gold ornament. “Here. You know what they say about stars. Make a wish.”
Make a wish? She wouldn’t know where to begin. But as she scooted the stool toward the tree and climbed onto it, her gaze met David’s. The obvious
big wish was how much she’d wanted to be a mommy. If she had it all to do it again, though, there were so many small moments where she wished she’d
made different decisions, tiny moments in a couple’s life that moved them apart so subtly that they hadn’t even realized it until they were staring at each
other from different shores.
Rachel was afraid a single star couldn’t help her. She needed a galaxy or, barring that, a fresh start.
Chapter Five
Rachel parked the car, then sat staring into the gray morning light. You are going to feel like an idiot if you do this. Technically she felt like one already,
driving to the store this early on what felt like a fool’s errand. But it was Saturday; she still hadn’t started her period. What if—?
Stop it. Too many times she’d allowed the painful blade of hope to slip beneath her ribs. She was here simply to rule out the unlikely possibility so that she
could stop torturing herself. Huddling deeper into her hooded knit sweater, she opened her door. As she hurried toward the grocery store, it occurred to
her that there were more cars in the lot than she would have expected on an overcast weekend morning. With temperatures dropping and rain in the
forecast, this was the perfect kind of day for sleeping in—a luxurious concept that Winnie’s dogs did not grasp. Rachel had quickly learned that it was folly
to ignore the whimpering of a puppy who hadn’t been outside yet.
The store’s automatic doors parted, and she sighed at the immediate warm air. On mornings like these, she couldn’t imagine why anyone willingly lived
up north. Inside, she faltered, not entirely ready to know the truth one way or the other. Stalling, she grabbed a cart even though she only intended to buy
one thing. When the test came up negative, it would close another chapter on her marriage—necessary but painful. Like a root canal.
She squared her shoulders and shoved the cart, its one squeaky wheel grating a resolute tattoo against the tile. The pharmacy section was just ahead.
Determined to get this over with, she rounded the corner at top speed, nearly crashing into Mindy Nelson.
“Sorry.” Rachel drew up short. The older woman had her buggy parked directly in front of the section Rachel needed.
“Hi! Haven’t seen you around much lately.” Following Rachel’s gaze, Mindy arched an eyebrow. “Am I in your way, hon?”
Since there was nothing on the other side of the woman but pregnancy tests, Rachel shook her head in quick denial. “No. I was just on this aisle to get
some…lotion.” Blindly she grabbed a container off the shelf closest to her.
“Well, I’m glad I ran into you. You’ll be buying tickets to the winter dance this year, won’t you?” Mindy was one of the administrative staff at the local
seniors’ center. Every year they sponsored a charity ball held at the Mistletoe Inn to benefit the center.
“Sure, put me down for one,” Rachel said distractedly. Even if she didn’t attend, she was happy to make the donation.
“Don’t you mean two?”
“What?” Nervously she grabbed another tube to give her hands something to do. “Oh, two tickets. Of course. My brain’s not really awake yet. Winnie’s
dogs have been getting me up early, so I’m on autopilot for most of the morning.”
“I see.” Mindy peered into Rachel’s cart, making her aware that she’d thoughtlessly accumulated four bottles of lotion.
“My skin gets so dry during the winter,” Rachel babbled. Go away, go away!
“Uh-huh. Well, you take care. And tell that dishy husband of yours I said hello. I look forward to seeing you both at the dance.”
“Right. Bye now.”
Finally, Mindy returned to her cart and leisurely steered it to the next aisle. Rachel waited another moment, her palms sweaty and her heart thudding. One
of the boxes announced in boldfaced type: Now you can know two days before your missed period! She was waaay past that. Taking a deep breath, she
grabbed the box and tossed it into the buggy. It bounced off one of the lotion bottles.
Sighing, she gathered the bottles up and began placing them back on the shelf. Then she headed in the direction of the checkout lanes. She wasn’t sure
exactly what she noticed as she walked by the shampoo aisle, what she glanced in her peripheral vision that left her rooted to the spot. David. Was he so
familiar, imprinted on her brain, that she knew him even with the barest sidelong glimpse? Maybe she’d instinctively recognized his jacket, which she had
given him. Or smelled his familiar soap-shampoo combination. Whatever tipped her off, she took comfort in the fact that he hadn’t noticed her yet. She
had her hood up; maybe she could just—
“Rachel?”
She scrambled around the side of the cart, retrieving the lone item inside and trying to tuck it beneath the hem of her sweater before he noticed. After the
holidays, she needed to think seriously about making her fresh start somewhere else, not a small Georgia town that had only one major grocery store.
“Hi.”
“You’re out and about early,” he said casually. “You looked so tired when you left Mom and Dad’s last night, I expected you would sleep late.”
The same frantic dizziness she’d felt in the car last week overcame her, a hundred times worse. She willed it away. David would probably notice if she
hyperventilated or—
“Miss!” A man in a white shirt and red pharmacy vest was speed-walking down the aisle, waving his hands. “Miss, I’m afraid I need to…Oh, hi, Mrs.
Waide.”
Rachel had refilled enough prescriptions here that most of the pharmacy staff knew her by name.
The bespectacled young man gestured at her hood. “I didn’t realize it was you. Thought you were a shoplifter.”
David laughed outright. “A shoplifter? She once made me turn around and drive back into Atlanta when she realized the restaurant left our dessert off the
bill.”
“Well, I was afraid it would come out of the waiter’s pay,” she said weakly.
Too bad she didn’t have that Christmas-tree star with her now; she knew exactly what she’d wish for—the earth to open up and swallow her whole before
the kid in the vest—
“Well, obviously she’s not a shoplifter. But you wouldn’t believe what people are too embarrassed to buy from this section. When she stuck that box under
her—”
“I was on my way to pay for it!” She flinched at the shrillness of her own voice. The pharmacy guy actually rubbed his ear.
David pinned her with his gaze. “What box?”
“Nothing. Girl stuff,” she prevaricated, already walking toward the register.
Her stubborn husband, holding his green basket of skim milk and men’s deodorant, fell in step with her. “You’re embarrassed? Hell, Rach, I’ve bought
tampons for you before.”
“That was different.”
“You know, you should probably put the ‘girl stuff,’” he said in an exaggerated whisper, “in the cart so that no one else thinks you’re shoplifting.”
“No one else saw me with it.” But when David chose to pursue something, he was doggedly single-minded. It would be just like him to follow her into the
line. She chunked the pregnancy test back into the cart.
His jaw dropped. For a moment, she took satisfaction in having rendered him speechless.
“When,” he demanded, “were you going to tell me?”
“I don’t even know if there’s anything to tell. Hence, the test.”
His blue eyes shone. “You think there’s a chance, though?”
He looked excited, and it was hard to battle back her own automatic eagerness. A baby! What would it be like to hold a baby of her own? She gave a little
jerk of her head. Don’t set yourself up for disappointments.
“I don’t know,” she said.
“You’d have to be more than a month and a half along. Maybe two?” In his enthusiasm, he was getting louder, drawing a few glances. “It’s been at least
that long since—”
“Hey! Do you mind if we don’t have this conversation in the middle of the grocery store?”
“Good point. I’ll follow you to Winnie’s,” he said decisively. “Unless you want to come home?”
No, she had the memory of too many tests there, too many broken-hearted moments. “David, this could be nothing. It’s probably nothing. I can call you
later. Or we could have lunch?” That would give her time to adjust either way.
He stared. “You’ve got to be joking. After everything we went through to…”
You mean everything I went through? It was a knee-jerk reaction. She knew it wasn’t fair. The physical side effects, and a significant portion of the
emotional ones, had been hers to bear, but he’d paid his own price for their attempts.
“All right,” she conceded. “I’ll wait for you at Winnie’s.”
She barely allowed herself to peek at her rearview mirror on the drive to their subdivision, but she exhaled in relief as she approached Winnie’s house.
David wasn’t behind her yet, so she had a few minutes to get her rioting emotions under control. She’d wanted this so badly, for so long, that hope
seemed a natural response. But the timing! Divorce in the middle of a pregnancy? There was fear, too, as she relived the pains that had awakened her in
the spring, the sight of blood and the sudden, excruciating knowledge that she and David wouldn’t be parents by winter after all.
With the back of her hand, she dashed away a few tears. Even from the driveway, she could hear the dogs barking in greeting. It was best not to leave
Hildie inside when she got excited. Besides, the dogs would pitch a fit when David showed up, and Rachel could do without the clamor. Her temples were
throbbing.
By the time David arrived, she’d ushered the dogs into the yard and poured two glasses of tea. It felt strangely formal and a little surreal, her own husband
knocking on the front door. She thought briefly of their first date, the way her pulse had jumped when he’d knocked on the door of her hotel room. She’d
told him when he asked her to dinner that she wouldn’t be in town long. Then you should definitely have dinner with me, he’d said, undeterred. It’s a
limited-time opportunity. He’d been so good-looking.
He still was. The difference was that, back then, she’d delighted in being swept off her feet with no thought for what would happen once she landed.
In the kitchen, she handed him a glass. “Sorry it’s so sweet. I wasn’t expecting you when I brewed it.” David liked his iced tea with barely enough sugar to
still call himself a Southerner.
“Thank you.” He studied her face as if searching for clues. Was he trying to decide if she looked pregnant?
“Or there might be some soda left in the fridge,” she said nervously.
“Rach, I didn’t come over for the drink.”
She gripped the back of a kitchen chair. “I know that. I’m just…”
“Anxious?” He smiled gently.
“Petrified. You?” In this candid moment in an acquaintance’s kitchen, Rachel felt closer to him than she had during the past three months in their own
house. An unspoken truce sheltered them as they teetered on the edge of discovery.
“I’m not sure,” he admitted.
She returned his smile. “David Waide is unsure of something? The David Waide?”
“Yeah, well, we’ll call that big surprise number two of the morning.” He glanced pointedly at the white plastic grocery bag on the counter.
She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “You know that if it turns out…if it had turned out positive, I never would have kept it from you. There didn’t seem
like anything to tell yet. I was still—”
“I get it.” He set his untouched drink on the table. “So.”
Right. The moment of truth. “Why don’t you, uh, have a seat, and I’ll be right back?”
“Okay.” He swallowed. “Rach…”
She looked back over her shoulder.
“I don’t know. I feel like I should say something.” He flashed a wan smile. “Good luck?”
A semihysterical laugh burbled out of her. Once upon a time, the only thing she’d ever worried about before a test was whether her parents would be
satisfied with an A, in case she fell short of an A-plus.
She thoroughly read the instructions, even though she’d done this before. After completing the necessary tasks, she decided to rejoin David. Even with
the strain between them, she didn’t want to wait by herself for the next three minutes. He was pacing restlessly, but halted when he saw her. The question
burned bright in his eyes.
“We’re supposed to wait now,” she explained.
“Oh. How long?”
She glanced at the clock on the microwave. “Probably two more minutes.”
“Ah.” He resumed pacing.
“That’s not helping my nerves,” she said without hostility.
“Actually, it’s not doing much to calm mine, either.” He stopped in midlap, on the opposite side of the kitchen island from her.
Winnie’s floor plan was so similar to theirs that Rachel could easily envision her own copper-bottom pots hanging above them, could practically hear the
ticking of the cuckoo clock they’d bought during a weekend getaway in Helen, Georgia.
Finding yourself on a blind date with a first cousin was probably less awkward than this. “How’s the store doing?” she asked.
“Good. You know we hired Chloe to do a Web site? We’ve already filled our first out-of-state orders.” He sounded understandably proud. The supply store
had been in the family for generations, and it was still improving and growing. All the Waides were involved to some extent, even Tanner, who ran an
independent bookkeeping business.
Had David planned on raising their own child to take a hand in the business?
She considered the hypothetical. If it were up to her, she’d encourage the kid to go see more of the world before deciding to settle here. Mistletoe was a
lovely community but insulated. Set in its ways. If you didn’t already have an idea of who you were and what you wanted, you might not figure it out here.
Instead, you fell into a role other people defined for you. David had put in a good word for her and she’d easily snagged the job with May before their
wedding, but she’d never intended to be there five years later. First enjoying the reduced workload and life as a newlywed, later focused on trying to start
a family, she’d let her career aspirations fall away. Now there was a distinctly empty place in her life.
She’d made major decisions at a time when she was upset about her father’s health and uncertain about her own future—moving here, abandoning her
career…marrying David. The result was that she’d leaned too much on him and the people she’d met in Mistletoe, too much on their hopes of having a
baby. David had seemed to her as chivalrous as a medieval knight rescuing a damsel in distress. He wasn’t to blame for her realization that she didn’t
want to be that damsel. He showed his love by coddling, and she was tired of being smothered. He expressed affection by anticipating her needs, and
she was tired of someone making decisions for her. Whenever she’d gently tried to protest, he’d been confused and she’d felt ungrateful. Wouldn’t he be
better off with someone who fully appreciated his gallantry?
David cleared his throat. “It’s been two minutes. Do you want me to wait here?” There was that underlying uncertainty in his voice again; it touched her in a
way his overbearing confidence never could.
“Why don’t you come with me?” she offered.
Together, they padded silently down the hall. Outside the bathroom, David reached for her hand. She didn’t pull away.
But she did jerk to a stop inches shy of the threshold. “I can’t look. You do it.”
“You sure?”
She just couldn’t. Given the timing, it would probably be for the best if she weren’t pregnant, but emotionally, she couldn’t face another negative response.
“I’m sure. It’s sitting next to the sink.”
Closing her eyes, she waited an interminable heartbeat of time, heard him suck in his breath.
“Oh my God.” His words were a reverent whisper.
“You’re kidding!” She knew he’d never joke about this. Still, maybe he’d misread the test, or…“Let me see.”
He moved aside, letting out an earsplitting whoop even as she viewed the proof for herself. “We’re pregnant!”
Her knees trembled at the sight of the pink plus sign. I’m pregnant?
I’m pregnant! She was carrying David’s baby. Tears welled in her eyes. Before she could classify them as happy crying or something more bittersweet,
David pulled her into his strong arms.
And kissed her.
It caught Rachel totally off guard since she’d anticipated a hug of support or mutual joy. But he lowered his dark head, his intent registering a fraction of a
second before his lips brushed hers. Hunger ignited deep inside her, flaring an excitement through her body that was startling in its force. After all, she’d
kissed this man hundreds of times, the last dozen of which had felt rather obligatory.
This, though. Even knowing it was a mistake, she couldn’t help parting her mouth, tangling her arms around him and leaning into his warmth. He stroked
his tongue against hers, drew back and sucked lightly at her bottom lip. A moan rippled through her. Her already unsteady legs threatened to give out from
under her.
She would have liked to think self-discipline gave her the strength to pull away, but actually it was the realization that she could easily lose her balance.
The two of them toppling over and cracking their skulls on Winnie’s bathtub was not how she wanted to commemorate the moment.
“W-wait.” She angled her head away, her voice breathless. “Wait.”
“Right,” he said sharply. His arms still around her, he maneuvered them into the hallway and began kissing her again.
Oh, she’d missed this. Missed feeling desire, missed feeling desirable. She thrust her tongue into his mouth, bunching his shirt in her hands. It wasn’t
easy to move, pressed as she was between his hard body and the wall at her back, but she didn’t mind. The way their bodies slid together merely fueled
her longing. When David’s hand slipped down the curve of her neck to the slope of her breast, she arched into his palm. But as he began to push aside
the fabric of her shirt, reality clanged a warning bell in her head.
What the hell am I doing? She wasn’t sure, but it felt great. Not the point!
“David? Mmm…David, I—” She tilted her head back, closing her eyes as he kissed the exposed line of her throat. “David!”
He straightened, his expression dazed. Under other circumstances, she would have smiled at that. “Guess we shouldn’t be doing this at Winnie’s house?”
Men truly were from another planet. “We shouldn’t be doing this at all!” While he was still motionless, she took the opportunity to duck under his arm and
scamper away. They needed distance.
“Rachel, you can’t mean it.” His normal composure was already falling back into place. “You wanted me as much as I want you.”
Well, she couldn’t argue that. “It’s true I was caught up in the moment, but temporary insanity aside, it would be a mistake for us to…” Have wild,
passionate sex, the kind that had been the hallmark of their honeymoon? “…do anything physical. We’re separated.” Even as she said the word, a pang
of loss assailed her.
“We were separated.” He held his hands palms up, gesturing toward her abdomen. “This changes everything.”
His presumption would have been annoying if she hadn’t been kissing him fervently ten seconds ago. She could see where that was a mixed signal. “My
being pregnant complicates things,” she said gently, “but it doesn’t necessarily change anything.”
In the last year, angry at her infertile body and feeling she’d settled into a dead-end job, her self-esteem had taken a bit of a beating, something she was
determined to correct. But what would it do to her pride to walk back to a man who’d seemed content to let her go just because she was having his child?
While she understood the theory of staying together for kids, parenthood brought with it plenty of stress. You didn’t try to build houses on cracked
foundations.
“The hell it doesn’t change things.” He looked more bewildered than angry. “Rach, you’re having my baby! I know you were upset because you couldn’t get
pregnant, but…”
Upset hardly seemed adequate for what she’d endured emotionally and physically.
“That wasn’t the only problem,” she reminded him quietly. “And…I hope I’m having a baby. We both know that just because you conceive—” She couldn’t
bring herself to finish the horrible thought.
“Oh, babe. Stop. Don’t even let yourself go there. C’mere.” He cradled her head against his chest. “Let me be there for you. You shouldn’t go through this
all alone. You don’t want the tribulations of being a single mother.”
Not I love you, Rach, I miss you, only You can’t do this by yourself, you need me. She straightened. “I’m glad you were here, David. I really am, but it’s
time you leave.”
“You’re mad.” He studied her with a blend of puzzlement and martyrlike patience. She didn’t know which aggravated her more. “You left, but I’m here trying
to help and somehow you’re angry with me? Maybe it’s hormones making you emotional, but—”
“It’s not the hormones,” she interrupted before he angered her any further. At least, she amended silently, it wasn’t just the hormones. Part of it was
repression. When she was upset or angry, he tried to tell her why she was wrong. When she was scared or worried, instead of hearing out her concerns,
he told her not to entertain negative thoughts. Over time, she’d built up a volcano’s worth of emotions that had blown shortly after Thanksgiving. “Please
go. We have Lilah’s shower this afternoon, and I have a lot to sort through before then.”
“I’ll help,” he said promptly.
“You’re doing it again.” She tried to keep the exasperation out of her voice, but wasn’t entirely successful. “You think you’re listening to me, but you’re not
hearing me. The best help you can give me right now is to leave me alone. Why do you always somehow think you know what I need better than I do?”
“That’s not fair.” He drew back, indignant. “When I met you, you were trying to figure out what you needed. You were overworked, overstressed, looking for
a life change. I was there for you.”
“Yes, you were.” Which was how she’d ended up walking away from the career and home she’d been building and straight into Mistletoe, where his life
had been mapped out since birth. “David, I will always be grateful to you for helping me through a bad time, but the situation’s changed. I’ve changed. I’m
not looking for someone to rescue me.”
He said nothing, but the muscle tic in his jaw suggested that he wasn’t mollified by her words.
She took deep breaths. Whatever else was between them, she’d loved this man with all her heart—still loved him, on some level. And the possibility of
this baby was a miracle. Having his child would bind her to David forever, even if their marriage vows failed to do so. The last thing she wanted was a
future of bitter enmity between them.
“It’s okay,” she relented. “You had good intentions. And maybe you’re right about the hormones exaggerating everything I’m feeling right now. I don’t want
to fight.”
“Me, either.” He ducked his head guiltily. “That can’t be good for the baby. Dr. McDermott would kick my butt. You’ll let me go with you, won’t you? To the
doctor’s?”
“Of course. I want you to have an equal part in this.” That’s what she’d always wanted—equal partnership—though he’d always been affronted when she
tried to explain.
“All right. Then I’ll go so that you can get some rest before the shower.” He smoothed her hair. “But I’m just down the street if you need anything or have
any cravings or—”
“David.” She shook her head. “I’ll be fine. But if I need anything, I know how to find you.”
After he left, she leaned against the front door and pressed a finger to her still-tingling lips. Kissing him had been amazing. She couldn’t help imagining,
just for a second, what it would have been like to allow herself the indulgence of being swept away, of making love to him again. And then what? She’d
meant what she said; the infertility issues had no doubt exacerbated their problems, exposing the fault lines of their marriage, but they hadn’t been why
she left.
It was true that she’d never planned to be a single mom, but nor did she plan to slap this pregnancy over their marriage like a Band-Aid. David had barely
protested when she’d told him the marriage was over. She knew her husband. If he’d wanted to fight for her, nothing on earth would have stopped him.
Fighting for the baby, while understandable, was not the same thing. Marriage wasn’t a cracked Christmas ornament. He couldn’t glue it back together,
hang it on the tree and pretend everything was okay.
Chapter Six
The couples’ shower for Tanner and Lilah was being hosted by Sandra Donavan, one of the other teachers at Whiteberry Elementary, and her husband,
Pat. Rachel had never been to their house before, but the giant white bell-shaped balloon tied to the mailbox outside made it easy to find. What was a bit
more difficult to find was parking—a line of cars had already formed halfway up the street. Rachel climbed out of the car, bracing herself against the
freezing rain, and locked her doors, even though she didn’t know the last time anything was stolen in Mistletoe.
She carried her purse, umbrella and a plastic-wrapped platter with enough ham-and-cheese-melt mini-sandwiches for fourteen guests. It was a good
thing David was bringing the gift from the two of them since she didn’t have a free hand.
“Hey.”
At the sound of David’s voice, she turned on the sidewalk. “I was just thinking about you,” she blurted. She glanced at the silver-wrapped package in his
hands. “I mean, about the fact that you were bringing the present.”
A lot of people, herself included, relied on cute gift bags. Not David. He hand-wrapped everything with precision corners and perfectly coordinated
ribbons.
Out of nowhere, a burble of laughter escaped her. “It’s a good thing you’re so secure in your masculinity.”
“Less secure by the hour.” He fell in step with her, but remained on the street since their open umbrellas didn’t allow for their walking abreast on the
sidewalk. “Just earlier today, I was shot down by a beautiful woman.”
Beautiful? Not sure how to respond, she concentrated on getting out of the rain quickly.
Rachel tried not to think about how many women in town would line up to console him once their separation was public knowledge. Ladies had sought her
out at council meetings and softball games to tell her just how lucky she was. A few of them had sounded a bit jealous, miffed that one of Mistletoe’s most
eligible bachelors had chosen an outsider, but most had simply been sincere. She thought again of how she would miss the people when she left, what
Mistletoe had meant to her when she first visited.
My sanctuary. She’d come to this quaint town on vacation, after her dad had been released from the hospital. She’d worried that he was working himself
to death…and was disturbed by the possibility that she was headed down the same sixty-hour-a-week path in a career she’d never consciously sought.
She’d always let whatever classes she was getting the highest grades in determine her course, shaping her major and eventually her internship with a
marketing firm in Columbia. But there’d never been a moment when she’d sat down, thought it out, and said, “Aha! This is what I want to be when I grow
up.”