Ruth slumped onto a kitchen stool, feeling deliciously weak, too weak to stay upright. “Oh, Paul, that’s wonderful!”
“I felt like a fool,” he said. “I made my big stand, and I honestly felt I was right, but I didn’t have to force you to decide that very minute. My pride wouldn’t allow me to back off, though.”
“Pride carried me the first week,” she said. “Then I went to see my grandmother, and she told me how she met my grandfather at the end of the war. Their romance was as much of an adventure as everything else she told us.”
“She’s a very special woman,” Paul said. “Just like her granddaughter.”
“I’ll tell you everything later.”
“I can’t wait to hear it. I’m just wondering if history might repeat itself.”
“How?”
“I’m wondering if you’ll be my wife.”
“That’s the perfect question,” Ruth said, and it was perfect for what she had in mind.
She closed her eyes and sighed deeply. “I do believe I’ll send you that telegram after all.”
Yes. Yes. Yes.
EPILOGUE
PAUL REACHED FOR Ruth’s hand beneath the dining-room table. Ruth smiled and gave his hand a squeeze.
“Dinner was fabulous, Grandma,” Ruth said. She’d never expected her grandmother to go to all this effort. “I wish you hadn’t worked so hard, though. Paul and I would’ve taken you out to eat.”
“Nonsense. It’s Christmas Eve. Besides, I rarely get the opportunity to cook for anyone these days. I enjoyed it. And it’s such a treat to have the two of you all to myself.”
“Thank you so much for everything—especially the stockings. You know we’ll treasure them.”
“And thank you, my darling, for the beautiful memoir you’ve created.”
Ruth had made a new version of Helen’s story, including a number of photographs she’d found through her research. She’d scanned the poster declaring Helen and her first husband, Jean-Claude, criminals. She’d also inserted some details Helen had remembered more recently. Finally, she’d had it professionally bound and it was, even if she said so herself, a beautiful piece of work. The memoir was for her grandmother, true, but it was also for everyone in the Shelton family, now and in the future.
Ruth stood and carried the empty dinner plates to the sink. “Paul and I will do the dishes.”
“No need.”
“We insist,” Paul said.
“I don’t want to waste a minute of our time together with dishes,” Helen told him. “I hardly ever see you as it is.”
“Well, that should be changing soon,” Ruth said with a smile.
“I’ve requested Seattle as my next duty station,” Paul explained. “My parents are here, too, and we both love the Pacific Northwest.”
“California is fine, but this is where we want to make our home,” Ruth added.
“Let me get coffee—and the pie,” Helen said, walking into the kitchen behind them.
“You mean, there’s pie, as well as those yummy cookies?” Paul’s eyes lit up.
“Green tomato mincemeat. The tomatoes are from Charlotte Rhodes’s garden. It’s the best you’ll ever taste.”
“I love mincemeat,” Ruth said, resisting the urge to poke her husband, who was making a face.
Helen smiled. “Give it a try and if you don’t like it, I also have fruitcake.”
“I believe I’ll pass on both.”
Ruth’s grandmother ignored his comment and quietly dished up three small slices of pie with vanilla ice cream. Ruth helped her bring the plates into the dining room. Paul followed, carrying two cups and saucers, steaming with freshly brewed coffee. Ruth had declined, saying the pie was enough for her.
“One taste,” she said, waving her fork at him.
Paul grinned. “I doubt anyone could refuse you, Ruth. Especially me.”
“You keep thinking that, okay?”
Ruth watched as her husband sliced off a sliver of the pie. She laughed when she saw his expression change.
“Hey, this is good.”
Helen looked equally pleased. “I’ll tell Charlotte she made a convert out of you.” She paused to sip her coffee. “What are your plans for Christmas Day?”
Paul reached for Ruth’s hand once more. “First, we’re making you breakfast tomorrow morning. It’s the least we can do.” Helen had invited them to stay the night, and they’d accepted. “Then we’re driving to Seattle to spend the day with my parents.”
“And we’re going to visit Mom and Dad for New Year’s,” Ruth said.
“Our Christmas vacation worked out perfectly, since I was able to get a week’s leave at the same time Ruth finished teaching for the semester.”
“There’s nothing like being with family over the holidays.” Helen nodded.
“I couldn’t agree more.” Ruth turned to her husband, who sent her a smile. “Besides, we have news to share...the kind of news we wanted to tell you in person.”
Helen stared at them expectantly.
“We’re going to make you a great-grandma,” Ruth announced, and awaited her grandmother’s reaction. To her surprise, Helen said nothing.
“Grandma Shelton, did you hear?” Paul prodded.
Helen’s face broke into a huge smile. “Congratulations. When are you due?”
“Not until June.”
“June? What a perfect month for a birthday.”
“Oh, Grandma, you’d say that about any month.”
“Probably,” Helen agreed. “I apologize for not responding right away. I was trying to calculate if I had enough time to knit you a special baby blanket and an extra Christmas stocking before then. I suspect I do.”
“Oh, Grandma,” Ruth said, struggling not to laugh.
“This is a blessed Christmas,” Helen said simply, happiness radiating from her face. “There was a time I didn’t believe I’d ever know joy again and yet I feel it every single day.”
“Merry Christmas, Grandma.”
“Merry Christmas to both of you. No—” she raised her coffee cup in a toast “—to all three of you.”
When We Touch
Brenda Novak
Also available from MIRA
The Whiskey Creek series
by New York Times bestselling author Brenda Novak
WHEN LIGHTNING STRIKES
WHEN SNOW FALLS
WHEN SUMMER COMES
HOME TO WHISKEY CREEK
TAKE ME HOME FOR CHRISTMAS
COME HOME TO ME
THE HEART OF CHRISTMAS
THIS HEART OF MINE
A WINTER WEDDING
DISCOVERING YOU
Contents
Prologue
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Epilogue
Prologue
Present Day
IT WAS KYLE HOUSEMAN.
Olivia Lucero hesitated when she saw her
