Unto them a child was born, and the effect of the Savior could be seen in the love and peace that abounded beneath their snow-drifted roof. From tender glances between her mother and father, to secret smiles between Faith and Collin or Charity and Mitch, Katie saw actions far more familiar to newlyweds than those married for so many years. Brady hovered and Lizzie cooed, the baby in her arms their primary focus, while through it all, cousins ran wild with cousins, all breathless with excitement. Katie smiled at Sean sparring with Steven over chess as Emma chatted with Mrs. Gerson, their blind neighbor who’d shared every Christmas that Katie could remember. And amid all the teases and giggles and happy shrieks of children, Christmas carols floated from her father’s radio, heralding a season of hope for a country so badly in need.
The doorbell rang, and Katie eyed the clock on the mantel. Seven o’clock – Parker was on time, prompt as usual. Her father looked up from his newspaper – a Christmas allowance from her mother. “Finally – the competition is here! I get so tired of demoralizing my family.”
“We heard that,” Sean said, eyes focused on the chessboard between him and Steven.
“Maybe it’s time we let the professionals take over,” Steven countered, “although I
am
kicking your backside rather nicely tonight.” He slanted back in his chair with a cocky grin.
“You’re all lightweights next to Parker,” Patrick said with a chuckle, “which I admit, pains me to say.” He winked at Katie as she jumped up to answer the door. “We could use some of his skill in the gene pool, Katie Rose.”
“Father, don’t start,” she said with a rush of heat in her cheeks. “For pity’s sake, he’s my boss, and we’re friends and nothing more.” She sidestepped a game of checkers between Gabe and Collin on the floor and hurried to the foyer, heaving the door open with the glow of Christmas in her cheeks.
Parker stood on the threshold with a bag of presents in his arms and a ruddy smile on his face. Between the twinkle in his eye and his red nose and cheeks, he reminded Katie of a handsome St. Nick.
“Merry Christmas!” he said as snowflakes lighted on his coat and hair.
She smiled at the man she’d spent every day with for the last month, if not at work, then for Saturday night dinners and mass on Sundays. Parker’s loneliness was as keen as hers, she quickly discovered, bonding them in a way she had never expected. Their friendship had deepened over sack lunches in his office or doing dinner dishes in her kitchen while her father eyed his chessboard, a hunter awaiting his prey. Her smile edged into a grin when a snowflake melted into his dimple, drawing her attention to the fact that in his own quiet way, Parker Riley was an attractive man.
She took his arm and pulled him inside. “We’re going to have to thaw you out by the fire, I suspect,” she said with a chuckle.
He butted the door closed, then shifted the bag from one arm to another to slip off his coat before tossing it on the rack. He yanked his gloves off with his teeth and shoved them in his coat pockets, then pressed a red, chapped hand to her cheek. “You think?”
“Oh, goodness, you’re like ice!” Clasping his hand between both of hers, she rubbed hard, trying to build heat with some friction. “Is that better?” she asked, blowing on his palm.
His eyes instantly took on that same dreamy quality she’d seen in Jack’s, a kind of half-lidded stare that settled on her mouth. “Much,” he whispered, and his fingers twined with hers.
She gulped.
Talk about friction!
Katie jerked her hand back as if his were an icy snowball, stinging her palm. Heat whooshed in her cheeks as she spun around to take refuge in the kitchen. “Put your presents under the tree, then put Father out of his misery and let him beat you at chess. Do you want eggnog?” she asked, shooting a shaky smile over her shoulder.
He stood in the foyer, a bit bewildered like a little boy who was lost, sandy hair askew from the bluster outside. “Sure . . . but let me help.” He took a tentative step forward.
“No! You sit, and I’ll be right back.” She dashed through the swinging door and stopped, hand to her chest as the wood thudded against her back.
Sweet saints in heaven, what just
happened?
“Ninety-six, ninety-seven, ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one hundred! Ready or not, here I come.” Hope Dennehy, Charity’s eight-year-old daughter and Henry’s twin, whirled around from her corner in the kitchen and screeched to a stop, her gentle eyes wide with concern. “Goodness, Aunt Katie, are you okay? You look as white as the snowman Henry built.”
Katie swallowed hard and forced a smile. “Yes, sweetie, I’m fine. Just a little dizzy, I suppose, from all the excitement.” She peeked out the door, then turned to give her niece a mischievous smile. She crooked her finger, indicating for Hope to come close, then bent to whisper in the little girl’s ear. “Don’t say I told you so, but I think they all barreled up the stairs, and if I’m not mistaken, I may have heard mention of Grandma and Grandpa’s room . . . I think from Henry.”
A giggle as soft as an angel’s breath fluttered from her niece’s lips as her blue eyes sparkled. “Oh, won’t Henry be mad? Thanks, Aunt Katie, you’re the best!” She flew from the room as if she had wings.
A chuckle bubbled in Katie’s chest and then quickly popped at the thought of Parker. Her breathing slowed as she hurried to the icebox to pour him an eggnog, wondering what in the world she was going to do. He couldn’t be falling for her!
Could he?
She leaned against the counter and closed her eyes, reflecting on the last month that they’d spent so much time together. His gentle encouragement, so soothing and strong, or the occasional hug that provided comfort between friends. Surely nothing more than a shoulder to cry on or lips to encourage, right?
And kiss?
Her eyes flipped open. For him, apparently, given the look in his eyes. She poured the eggnog, watching as it slithered into the mug, slow and creamy and as thick as the shock coating her throat. She gulped again.
But for her?
Her hands shook as she hefted the pitcher of eggnog back into the icebox. She closed the icebox door and then her eyes, tentatively testing the waters by allowing herself to think about Luke for the first time in weeks. The pain was immediate – sharp and wrenching, stealing the breath from her throat with such force, she bent with a groan. She blinked quickly to stem the tears with a hand to her mouth.
Oh,
God, help me, please!
The door squealed open, and she spun around.
“Gabe says you’re next up for checkers. Apparently Collin went down in flames.” Parker leaned against the door, arms folded and a faint smile on his face.
She flinched at the guarded look in his eyes, as if he guessed what she’d been thinking.
He strolled in and lifted the mug from the counter. “Is this for me?”
She nodded and moved toward the door while he followed, managing a nervous smile. “Poor Faith – she just hates it when Gabe beats Collin at checkers. He tends to sulk, you know.”
Before she could leave, he stopped her with a gentle hand to her arm. “Katie,” he said in a quiet voice. “You don’t have to worry. I value our friendship way too much.”
A lump shifted in her throat as she turned to look up into his eyes, her heart buckling at what she saw – tenderness, compassion, and the faintest glimmer of hurt. “Parker, I . . . I’m just not ready for . . . anything right now . . . anything more.”
He squeezed her shoulder, resignation softening the distress in his eyes. “I know, Katie, and like I said – your friendship is precious to me. I will never do anything to jeopardize that.”
She nodded and exhaled slowly. “Thanks, Parker, I appreciate that.” She sucked in a deep breath and gave him a crooked smile. “Now, if you’re ready, I believe we both have some humility to impart, Mr. Riley. Shall we divide and conquer?”
The evening was all she’d hoped for. She beat Gabe soundly at checkers, as did Parker her father at chess, and Collin seemed none the worse for wear as he munched on cookies and nuzzled his wife in his lap. Katie and Parker all but embarrassed Charity and Mitch at Pinochle, which they didn’t seem to mind, although their winning streak ended abruptly when Sean and Emma came to call. When the cookies and wassail were gone, sleepy-eyed children sagged against parents, protesting the chore of going home. The house finally stilled and creaked beneath a blanket of snow while the hearth flickered low and the scent of pine lingered on.
“Will you lock the front door, Katie Rose, after Parker goes home?” Her father shuffled out of the bathroom in his robe and slippers, stifling a yawn. “Always good to see you, Parker, although you’d make more points if you’d throw a game or two.”
Parker chuckled as he slipped his coat on at the door. “Sorry, Mr. O’Connor, but if it’s any consolation, I have to work a lot harder with you than I used to with Luke.”
A grin spread across Patrick’s tired face as he scratched the back of his head. “Yes, it is some minor consolation, I suppose, meager as it might be. But a day is coming, my boy – you mark my words – when your wins won’t always come so easily.”
Parker’s eyes sparkled. “I look forward to the challenge, sir. Merry Christmas.”
Patrick squinted at the clock in the parlor and yawned again. “I suppose it is. Merry Christmas, Parker. We’ll see you tomorrow.”
Katie hurried to kiss her father good night. “I’m going to walk Parker out, but I’ll be right back, and I’ll be sure to lock the door when I come in. Good night, Father.”
“Katie, it’s cold out and the snow is deep – stay inside.” Parker pulled his collar up and tugged on his gloves.
“No, I need to tell you something,” she whispered. She bundled up in her coat and gloves, then opened the door.
They stepped out into the night, and silence swallowed them up whole while soft swirls of snow feathered their cheeks. Katie breathed in the clean, crisp air, feeling as if she had stepped into a Currier & Ives print of a winter wonderland. Enormous snowflakes fluttered onto her lashes and she giggled, trying to catch them with her tongue.
“You better go in, you’re going to freeze out here,” Parker said, ever the sensible friend.
“I will, but there’s something I forgot to tell you,” she whispered, suddenly shy as her thoughts returned to when he’d arrived earlier in the evening. She had told him then that she wasn’t ready for anything more, and she wasn’t, but something had happened tonight in the warm cocoon of Christmas. As if a dormant yearning had somehow been awakened, she became keenly aware of the common landscape she saw every day of her life. Her father’s squeeze of her mother’s hand, or Collin’s kiss at the back of Faith’s neck. Mitch looking at Charity as if he wanted to devour her, and Brady snuggling Lizzie while their baby slept in his lap. And then, in the midst of children playing and family sharing, the unthinkable had happened. Luke’s face had appeared as if he belonged – playing chess with her father and cutting up with Collin, teasing Gabe or talking with Brady. Suddenly tears had threatened, and Katie had fled – praying for release in the shelter of the kitchen.
Please, God . . . take him out of my heart.
Composing herself once again, she’d returned to the sofa to talk to Emma, giving her ample opportunity to study the man who played chess with her father. The man who would love her . . . if only she would let him. His chiseled profile was nothing like Luke’s, serious and strong where Luke’s was stubborn and proud and always a tease on those wide, full lips. Brown eyes that were pensive and bore the weight of her problems rather than a piercing blue that fluttered her stomach. A gentle man, solid and calm, contrasting a passionate one who stirred her blood with his kisses. And then, somewhere between Emma’s account of a shoplifter at the store and her father’s triumph at besting Parker with a move, she suddenly found herself wondering . . . could she be happy with a man like Parker Riley?
She stirred from her thoughts and returned to the present, a smile tilting her lips at the snow in his hair and the concern in his eyes. “Merry Christmas, Parker,” she whispered, then lifted on tiptoe to brush her lips against his.
His manner stiffened for several seconds, as if the cold had iced him to the spot, and then in the time it took for a snowflake to dissolve against her cheek, he pulled her close with a low moan and deepened the kiss.
Suddenly he wrenched away, his labored breathing billowing into the night. “Katie, I’m sorry . . .”
She touched a hand to his cheek. “Don’t be, Parker. I kissed you, remember?”
A smile pulled at the corners of his mouth as those serious eyes studied her, cautious and nervous and so full of love. “Why did you?”
She rested her cheek against his chest, drawing comfort from the steady beat of his heart. “I don’t know. I had no intentions, as you know, but then . . . something happened tonight. Call it Christmas or family or the fact that Betty and Luke are gone and you and I are still here. But I watched you playing chess with my father and mingling with my family as if you belonged, and suddenly . . . I . . . wanted to know you better.”
He held her away as his eyes searched hers. “What do you want from me, Katie?” he asked quietly. “Friendship or more?”
She licked her dry lips before her eyes met his. “I think I want more. Slowly . . . but more.”
A smile curved at the edges of his mouth. “You’re in luck, Katie Rose,” he whispered, “‘Slow’ is my middle name.” He gloved a hand to her cheek, his eyes suddenly serious. “But I think it’s only fair to warn you – I’m falling in love with you, my friend.”
The muscles in her throat worked hard. “I have to admit, that does scare me a little.”
He suddenly grinned. “Me too.” The grin gave way as he looked in her eyes, and the dreamy quality returned once again. As slowly as if time were standing still, he bent to caress her mouth with his own, and her body relaxed, gentled by his touch. He pulled away and she remained there, face lifted and eyes closed, thinking Parker’s kiss was unlike any she’d ever had. Not hungry and tempestuous like Luke’s or Jack’s, but quiet and steady . . . like the man himself.
She opened her eyes and smiled. “Good night, Parker, and Merry Christmas.”