Celeste was a vision in gold and white when she welcomed Hope into her home. “The house is lovely, Celeste,” she said. “I haven’t been here since you decorated for the holidays.”
“Thank you, sugar. I’m just like a little kid when it comes to Christmas and I love, love, love to display my angel collection.”
Display she did, Hope discovered as she toured the house. She wondered how many man-hours Celeste had invested in tastefully positioning angels everywhere one looked.
Hope finished placing her gifts beneath a lovely live tree in the parlor as a large group of visitors arrived. The Murphys, the Callahans, and the Raffertys filled the room with excited, chattering preschoolers, bright-eyed toddlers, and infants dressed like elves. “Saint Stephen’s added a late afternoon children’s service this year,” Nic explained. “We’re on our way home from there, so the excitement level is really ramped up.”
Hope sat on a chair ottoman to speak to the Callahan twins. “What is Santa bringing you tonight?”
“We each get a big present, a little present, and a surprise,” Cari Callahan said.
Her twin, Meg, added, “I asked for a sled and a new stuffed puppy.”
Cari rolled her eyes. “Daddy said we don’t have any room in our bedroom for more stuffed puppies, but Mommy just laughed and told him he was being silly. She tells him that a lot.”
“She likes stuffed animals as much as me,” Meg added. “When we start school next year and you are our teacher, can I bring a puppy backpack?”
“Absolutely,” Hope said. “I love puppy backpacks, and I can’t wait to have you two in my class.”
As the precocious little girls continued to talk, Hope sensed the attention of a newcomer. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Lucca standing out in the hallway sipping eggnog from a punch cup and watching her with unreadable eyes.
Her throat tightened, but she turned her attention back to the Callahan twins and enjoyed a story about their father’s aging boxer, Clarence. Soon, Jack Davenport wandered into the room, his little Johnny in his arms. Still under a year old, Johnny Davenport sported a darling reindeer outfit, and bright eyes as big as saucers. He pointed toward the Christmas tree and said, “Da Da Da Da.”
“He’s is such a little doll, Jack,” Hope said.
“He’s such a little anvil,” Jack replied. “I’ll be glad when he starts walking. I don’t know why his twenty pounds is heavier than twenty pounds of weights.”
Hope hesitated. Could she do this?
“Gladly! I noticed Sarah set out a cookie tray on the dining room table. Mind if I pawn him off on you long enough to score some pinwheels before they’re all gone?”
“Not if you promise to bring me one.”
“I’ll bring you two,” Jack promised, handing over his son.
Hope talked softly to the boy, who babbled back, pointing toward decorations on the tree. He smelled like baby powder and Cheerios, and Hope drew in the heavenly scent and tried not to notice that her heart was shattering into little pieces. When she walked Johnny over to the fireplace mantel where an animated angel figurine choir played carol bells, she again caught sight of Lucca standing in the hallway, this time eating the meatball appetizer she’d brought. His gaze remained focused on her.
Cat Davenport found her a few moments later and repossessed Johnny. Hope wandered toward the dining room, thinking she’d try a cup of the hot spiced cider whose aroma drifted on the air. But as she passed the music room, she spied Cam Murphy sitting in a chair and digging in the diaper bag, trying to comfort a fussy Michael at the same time.
“Here, let me help,” Hope said, scooping Michael from his father’s arms. Was it strength or self-punishment that caused her to interact with these babies? She wasn’t certain.
“Thank you,” Cam said, lifting the diaper bag into his lap. “I swear, Sarah carries everything but the kitchen sink in here.”
Hope rocked the fussing baby and patted his back until Cam pulled a bottle from the bag with a victorious “Yes!”
“Mind if I give him his bottle?” Hope asked.
“I’d love it.” Cam shot to his feet, then motioned for her to take a seat. Once she settled in, he handed her the bottle and said, “Can I bring you anything?”
Not hot cider since she was feeding the baby. She smiled up at him. “I’d love a glass of water.”
“Be right back.”
Hope settled back into the chair and discovered that it was a rocker. She offered the bottle to Michael and smiled tenderly down at him when he latched onto the nipple as if he’d not eaten in a week. She tried not to remember the sensation of Holly at her breast, forcing herself not to picture the same with the baby she carried within her. Cam returned with her water and asked if she needed anything else. When she assured him she was fine, he made excuses to raid the dining table.
After a few minutes, she gently tugged the bottle from Michael’s mouth and lifted him to her shoulder. She gently patted his back, listening for the burp. Rewarded, she cradled him again and offered the bottle once more, murmuring sweet encouragement all the while.
Upon feeling Lucca’s stare yet again, she looked up, lifted her chin, and challenged him to do something more than stare. “Merry Christmas, Lucca.”
“No, I can’t say that it is.” He turned and walked away.
Hope clutched little Michael Murphy a little tighter and blinked back tears. “I will not cry,” she whispered to him. “It’s Christmas.”
Anger and frustration heated Lucca’s blood, so he stepped outside into the winter air in an attempt to cool off and find his Christmas peace and joy. He gripped the wooden porch railing with bare hands and gazed out at the snow-covered grounds of Angel’s Rest. His breath fogged as he released a heavy sigh. Hope Montgomery made him crazy.
He heard the door open behind him, and he glanced over his shoulder. He wasn’t surprised to see his twin attempting to maneuver through the doorway on his crutches. Tony undoubtedly sensed his turmoil.
“Hold on a minute,” Lucca said, moving toward him. “Let me get the door.”
After Tony crossed the threshold, he tossed Lucca the jacket he’d draped over one crutch. “Do us both a favor and put this on before Mom sees you.”
Lucca’s mouth twisted, but he did as his brother asked and then returned to his spot at the railing. Tony hobbled across the porch and stood beside him. “So, do you want to tell me what’s wrong?”
“Yeah, but later. Not here.”
Tony nodded. “It’s obvious that you have a beef of some sort with Hope, so I’m offering a distraction. I have a favor to ask you, bro. A big one.”
“Oh?” The prospect of having something to think about other than the situation with Hope pleased him. “Okay, ask it.”
“The doctors tell me I’m not gonna heal on my own this time around. I need to have surgery.”
Lucca grimaced. “Dammit, Tony. I’m sorry. I feel responsible.”
“Good. Because I need your help. My doctor has an opening in his schedule later this week, but our team leaves for New York the day after tomorrow. My head assistant coach is out with the chicken pox, of all things. He caught it from his kindergartener. So …” He met Lucca’s gaze. “I need you to fill in for me at the Holiday Classic.”
Lucca’s heart thudded. His mouth went dry. “Coach? You want me to coach?”
“It’s an important tournament. You know my system. I need you.”
Return to collegiate coaching? Lucca’s first reaction was to refuse out of hand, but even as the words formed on his tongue, he hesitated, and his thoughts went to Hope.
How could he argue against her allowing fear to rule her life when he was guilty of the same offense?
He couldn’t. He had to do this. For the sake of his child and his child’s mother. For the sake of the family he wanted, he needed to defeat this particular fear. He sucked in a deep breath, filling his lungs with freezing air, then exhaled in a rush. “Okay. Yes. I’ll do it. I’ll coach the Holiday Classic in your place.”
Tony’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. “Excellent,” he said, his smile wide. “I’m so glad. That’s the best gift ever.”
