The Secret Christmas Child. Lee Tobin McClain
Izzy’s what’s important.
I’ll take care of you. I’ll do right by you.
Izzy was her joy out of sorrow, and she gave Gabby’s life purpose and meaning. No, Gabby wouldn’t have the caring family she’d dreamed of growing up, or at least, she wouldn’t have a man to protect her; her dreams of a white knight had turned to dust. But she’d give Izzy a sense of security. That was paramount.
“It’s a real godsend, your being here.” Nana dutifully forked up a green bean. “I’ve been wanting to get to know my great-granddaughter.”
Gabby patted her grandmother’s thin arm. “I’m so glad we’ll get to spend Christmas together.”
And one of the first orders of business was to decorate. Normally, by December 1, Nana would have had the entire house decked out in red and green. The fact that there were no Christmas decorations out said it all about how sick her grandmother had been.
The doorbell chimed through the little house. Izzy yowled her indignation at the unfamiliar sound.
Nana set aside her plate and held out her arms for the baby. “Get the door,” she said to Gabby, then pulled Izzy to her chest and made soothing noises at her. “It’s okay, sweetie. You’re okay.”
Izzy quieted instantly, and Gabby smiled her thanks before heading toward the front door. Nana truly was a baby whisperer, and it would be wonderful to have her help with Izzy.
Not if the price was working for Reese, however. That, she couldn’t tolerate. There was too much history between them, too much pain.
Nana’s cat, Pickles—so named because of his sour disposition—sneaked toward the door, barely visible in the front room’s dim light.
Gabby was wise to the feline’s tricks. “No, you don’t,” she said, sweeping the cat into her arms. “It’s too cold for you to go outside, and you’re too old to spend the night out, anyway.” As she spoke, she opened the door.
Reese Markowski stood on the porch in the winter twilight, a bag of groceries in one arm.
“Oh...” Gabby took a step back, sucking in a breath. She hadn’t seen Reese for well over a year. His hair was shorter—the military thing—and his shoulders seemed broader.
And he had no smile for her now.
The cat screeched in her arms and she realized she was squeezing him. “Come in,” she said to Reese, but the words came out in a croak, and she cleared her throat and repeated them, holding on to the struggling cat. She stepped back farther, the cat providing a convenient barrier.
Reese stepped inside and shut the door behind him, and she let the cat escape, watched it stalk off behind the couch. She’d rather look anywhere than at Reese’s eyes.
“I didn’t know you were here,” he said stiffly. “I was at the store. Brought your grandmother a few things.”
“I can take them. Thank you.” Although that would involve stepping closer to the man she’d once loved with all her now broken heart.
“I’ll put them in the kitchen. Heavy bag.” He walked past her without a second glance.
Clearly he felt at home in Nana’s house. How long had he been helping out her grandmother this way?
And then realization came crashing in: he’d find out about Izzy.
She couldn’t bear that, couldn’t bear his questions, whether spoken or unspoken. She needed time to figure out how to present the facts of the case, how to frame the reality that she’d had a baby less than nine months after he’d left for the service. She hurried after him. “Thanks. Nana’s sleeping. I’ll take care of these from here.”
“I usually put them away for her.” He’d set the bag down on the counter and was shifting cans into a cupboard.
“It’s not necessary.”
“I can do it.” His voice was sharp. “I still have one good hand.”
Only then did she notice he was using only one hand for unloading the groceries. She couldn’t see his other hand beneath his jacket.
“Did something...happen?” she asked.
“IED explosion. Amputated below the elbow.” He used his left hand to flap the other jacket sleeve back and forth briefly before going back to shelving groceries. The sleeve was empty.
She sucked in a breath and searched his face, taking in his tight jaw, the way his brows drew together. So that was why he hadn’t finished his tour of duty. “I didn’t know.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know.”
“But you were going to be a carpenter. Can you still...” She trailed off.
He shook his head. “Not the way I wanted to.”
Pain wrapped around her stomach and squeezed. All his dreams. All that talent. Automatically, her eyes went to the cherrywood display case he’d made her, still in a place of honor on Nana’s kitchen wall, holding her high school treasures—a trophy from a cheerleading competition, a silly clay figurine she’d made in art class, a photo of her and Nana on graduation day, Gabby’s cap knocked askew, both of them laughing.
The case was beautiful, a work of fine craftsmanship that many men twice Reese’s age couldn’t have produced.
When she turned back toward him, he was looking at the display case, too. His lips tightened. “Don’t waste your pity on me. See to your grandmother. She’s not doing so well.” He turned on his heel and strode out of the house, letting the door slam shut behind him.
Gabby wrapped her arms around her middle and stared after him, her heart twisting with so many emotions she didn’t know how to begin to process them.
Reese had lost part of his arm serving his country. He could no longer do the thing he loved best.
Nana was sicker than she seemed.
Also, even before learning about Izzy, Reese seemed to hate her.
The next morning, Reese walked into the rehabbed barn that housed his program for at-risk kids, still trying to recover from the encounter with Gabby.
He’d made a fool of himself, not that it mattered. Acting touchy and defensive about his amputation. Implying she’d been a bad granddaughter. Showing his hurt feelings about what she’d done to him.
You’d think he was one of the at-risk kids in his own program, lashing out and blaming others.
He guessed he had the right to blame Gabby, since she’d lied about her feelings and cheated on him in a very public way. But he’d thought he’d overcome that, what with all that had happened since then.
Nope. Seeing her had brought out every immature desire to retaliate that he’d had when he’d first seen his cousin’s social media post, arm slung around Gabby. “My new girl,” it had said.
In his grim barracks in Afghanistan, Reese had ripped down his photo of her, discarded the letter he’d been writing, blocked her on everything.
He didn’t need to go back to that time when his hope had overcome his good sense. He needed to focus on the Rescue Haven program and forget about his old dreams of love and family.
“I’m here,” called a strident voice out in the barn. “Just in time for the little rebels. Want me to feed and water them?”
He went to the door. “Hey, Tammy,” he said to the woman who occasionally filled in for his assistant. “Thanks for coming in on short notice. Why don’t you let them hang around and see to the dogs for half an hour and then settle them down with a snack? This interview I’m doing shouldn’t take long.” Gabby’s grandmother