The Christmas Stranger. Beth Cornelison
Keep it light. Keep it casual. Then get out.
Holly answered the rotary-dial wall phone and tucked it under her ear.
“Oh, hi, Jana,” Holly said, sending him an apologetic look and holding up a finger as she mouthed, “Just a minute.”
He waved off her concern and strode over to the salad she’d been fixing to continue chopping vegetables.
“Thanks, but I have plans tonight. I have company for dinner, then I need to make another quick trip to town. It was an impromptu thing…No, I don’t think you know him.” She flicked a self-conscious glance toward him and nibbled her lip. “It’s nothing like that. Don’t get any ideas. No…I—”
The pink stain returned to her cheeks, and Matt acknowledged again how attractive Holly was. But as lovely as her face and physique were, what really caught Matt’s attention was the sparkle in her green eyes, the glow in her cheeks, the joie de vivre that radiated from her—in spite of her tragic loss.
Her bright disposition was contagious. Being around her, Matt found it easier to be optimistic about his future, and he grew more determined to set his life back on an upward trajectory.
Holly finished her call and pressed a hand to her still-flushed cheek. “That was my husband’s sister inviting me over for the evening.” She curled her lips in an embarrassed grin. “I think the idea that I’d made my own plans for Halloween night shocked her. Ryan’s family has been wonderful about looking out for me since his death, but they seem surprised whenever I make steps toward moving on with my life.”
He acknowledged her with a smile, then dragged a hand along his jaw, hesitating. “Would it be rude of me to ask how your husband died?”
“No, it’s a legitimate question.” She inhaled deeply as she met his eyes. “He was murdered.”
Matt’s pulse tripped. He’d expected anything but that. Cancer. A car accident. Even suicide like Jill. But murder?
“I’m so sorry. That had to have been such a shock.”
She pressed her lips in a taut line, nodding as she turned toward the counter.
“Have they caught the person responsible?” he asked, hoping he wasn’t pushing a touchy subject.
Holly lifted the lid from the Crock-Pot to stir the chili, then paused and shook her head. “No.”
Sympathy speared his chest along with pain, honed razorsharp by his own losses. “I haven’t given up hope that his murderer will be caught one day, but I’m slowly coming to terms with the fact that we may never know what really happened. The best the police can figure is he was killed by a mugger who stole his shoes, his wallet and his watch.”
Matt’s gut tightened.
Where did you get that watch?
Flipping his wrist, he extended his arm. “A watch like this one, I take it.”
She glanced up from stirring their dinner, and the color drained from her sculpted cheeks. “I—well, yes.”
Without hesitation, he unfastened the clasp and turned the timepiece over, offering it to Holly. “My wife inscribed mine. You can look if you want.”
She frowned and shook her head. “No, I…I believe you. You don’t have to prove anything to me.”
He sighed and squeezed his wife’s gift in his fist. “I just wanted to alleviate any doubt you had.”
Holly bit her bottom lip and, after a brief hesitation, took the watch from him. “To Matt with all my love, Jill,” she read aloud. She turned the watch over and stared at it with moisture puddling in her eyes. “It’s lovely. I know how much you must treasure it.”
He nodded as she handed the timepiece back. “It’s very important to me.”
Primarily as a reminder to him of how he’d failed Jill.
How he’d neglected her because of his work. How he’d taken her for granted. How he’d let her slip into a deep depression without him noticing.
Pushing down the drumbeat of guilt, he rebuckled the strap and inhaled the peppery tomato scent of their dinner. “Dinner smells delicious. What can I do?”
She hitched her head toward the cabinets. “Spoons are in that drawer, by the refrigerator. Everything else is ready, I think. I’ll serve.”
Matt let his gaze roam as he fetched spoons to the table. The airy yellow curtains and cheerful floral wallpaper matched his impressions of Holly. The Big Bird clock and Snoopy cookie jar added a touch of whimsy that left him curious to learn more about the active inner child Holly boasted about. The collection of drawings taped to the refrigerator touched a raw spot inside him, reminding him how much he missed his own children. Not having his children around as they grew up was the hardest thing to accept about his current situation.
But he would change his circumstances, reclaim his children and get his life back on track. Or die trying.
“So you’re a teacher.” Matt paused between bites of chili and salad and gave her an encouraging smile. “Tell me about your class.”
Holly set her spoon down and pressed a hand to the jittery flutter in her stomach. Their get-to-know-each-other chitchat and her fascination with his ruggedly handsome face and brilliant blue eyes made this dinner feel more like a first date than just the good deed she’d intended.
Sure, she could have packed his chili in a disposable container for him to take when she drove him back to town. And she admitted his good looks factored into her decision to serve dinner as a sit-down affair, but—
Heat unrelated to her spicy chili crept up Holly’s neck when other connotations of the word affair waltzed through her mind. She imagined Matt’s startling blue eyes hazed with lust and his full lips drawing close to hers for a kiss…
Holly erased the picture with a quick shake of her head. Clearing her throat, she focused on his question. “I love my class. They’re angels. All fifteen of them.” When he raised his eyebrows skeptically, she amended, “Well, most of them are angels. I do have a couple who are more of a handful. But seeing those eager faces every morning, being around all that childlike innocence and energy keeps me going on days when I’m dragging.” She smiled and took another bite of salad. “I wouldn’t trade my job for anything. Sometimes it feels like I’m getting paid to play all day. I mean, where else could I read stories and color pictures and sing songs and play games, all cleverly disguised to reinforce writing the alphabet and counting and learning to read?” She stabbed a tomato and aimed it at him. “Plus snacks and recess.”
He chuckled, a low, rich sound that tripped pleasantly along her spine. “Sounds like heaven for that inner child of yours.”
“And the mother hen. I can’t wait to have my own kids, but for now, I’ll settle for mothering the fifteen chickadees in my class.”
“I remember my daughter’s first day of kindergarten.” The bittersweet wistfulness of Matt’s expression melted Holly’s heart. “She was so excited to be going to school. Of course, she’s smart as a whip and could already read and write.”
“You have a daughter?” Holly thought of the children at the Community Aid Center. Frustration ballooned in her chest that she couldn’t fix the problems of every family the center served, that children slept in cars or went to bed without supper.
Matt gave her a sad smile. “I have a daughter and a son, Palmer and Miles. Seven and five, respectively.”
“Where…are they?”
He wiped his mouth on a napkin and dropped it in his emptied bowl. “With Jill’s parents just up the road in Iona Falls. Because of my circumstances…they’re better off with their grandparents. For now.” He paused, clamped his lips in a tight scowl. “I haven’t seen my kids in two years.”
A