Hearts Evergreen: A Cloud Mountain Christmas\A Match Made for Christmas (18 page)

“I
f Mary and Joseph had this much company, I'm beginning to understand why they fled to Egypt.”

“Shh.” Sarah suppressed a smile and tried to ignore him. Not that she'd been successful so far. They'd been together for over an hour but the steady stream of people passing the stable had made it impossible to talk. Sarah counted that as a blessing. The glint in Connor's eye told her Jennifer had spilled the beans about their latest Good News-grams. The ones he hadn't been included in.

“Sarah! It's Sarah!” A little girl broke away from the crowd of people and skipped up to them.

Beth Carmichael.

“Hi, Beth.” Sarah broke character as Francine's daughter slipped between the rails of the fence separating the stable from the visitors. The one designed to keep the animals in and small children out.

“Look at my new coat.” Beth struck a catalog pose. “We all got new coats. Even my mom. Some ladies came over this afternoon and dropped off all kinds of presents…and a turkey. I like macaroni and cheese better than turkey but mom said—”

“Beth!” Francine caught up to her wayward daughter, her face as red as the stripes in the scarf knotted around her neck. “I'm so sorry, Sarah. I didn't realize she'd know anyone here.”

“That's all right. I'm glad you came.” Sarah shifted the doll to one side as Beth wiggled right into her lap.

“I know who this is,” the little girl said, touching the lifelike hair on the doll's head. “It's Jesus. One of the ladies who came over today read me and Bryan a story about him.”

“That's right.” Sarah was aware of the smiles and whispers of the people pressing in closer to see this unscripted version of the nativity. “Christmas is the day we celebrate Jesus' birthday.”

“Was he really born in a barn? With animals?” Beth looked envious.

“A stable.” Sarah nodded.

“Willa was born in a hospital.” Beth tugged on Jesus's foot and Sarah got the hint. She eased the baby into Beth's arms.

“The ladies said they brought us all that stuff because Jesus loves us,” Beth announced, her clear voice audible in the silence that had descended around the stable. “So I'm going to love Him back.” She pressed a gentle kiss on the doll's head.

Sarah swallowed hard, a millisecond from losing it in front of half the population of Jackson Lake. Connor squeezed her shoulder, the warmth of his hand stemming the emotion that threatened to overflow.

“I'm glad, honey,” she whispered.

Beth spotted her “angel” friends and with a shriek of delight, scrambled off Sarah's lap and skipped toward them.

Francine hesitated. “The people from church…I didn't expect…” She leaned forward and Sarah hoped she wasn't going to apologize for Beth's behavior. The child's simple declaration of faith had not only touched her but everyone around them. “Thank you, Sarah.”

Sarah couldn't find her voice so she nodded. But Francine wasn't done. Her smile was shy but hopeful. “I just wanted you to know…what Beth said? It goes for me, too.”

“It can't be that simple.”

“It is.”

Connor hadn't realized he'd spoken the words out loud until he heard Sarah's soft-spoken response.

He flashed an impatient look, taking advantage of the momentarily lull to peel off a corner of his beard and scratch at the adhesive stuck to his chin. “Life is too complicated.”

“Life is complicated,” Sarah agreed, surprising him. “That's why God gave us one answer. Jesus. He even told his followers they needed to have faith like a child.”

“Accepting everything they're taught without asking questions.” Connor's lips twisted.

“Not childish,
childlike.
It's about trust. And coming to God with an open heart. A curious heart. A desire to have a close relationship with our Father that nothing will get between.”

Sarah's earnest words burned their way through him. And now he had an image of what she meant. Beth. Who'd come to the conclusion that if Jesus loved her enough to send someone with a new winter coat for her, she was going to love Him, too.

Connor decided the safest thing to do was change the subject. He still had his mother's Bible somewhere in his father's house but he'd never bothered to read it. He'd decided long ago that if God hadn't listened to Natalie's prayers and spared her, he knew God wouldn't listen to him—an angry little boy desperately missing his mother. So they'd stopped talking.

Or maybe,
he'd
stopped listening.

“So, the girls must be done delivering Good News-grams for the year?” He'd learned retreat was sometimes the wisest course of action.

Sarah's quick intake of breath said she was on to him. The look she tossed in his direction called him a coward. “I thought you probably had enough material to write your article.”

“Really.” He didn't want to admit that as much as Sarah's proximity sent him off balance, he'd actually missed being part of the group. Bracing his poor eardrums for the blast of the trumpet. Seeing the expressions on peoples' faces when the girls sang a familiar Christmas carol.

“We have two more.” She gave in. “One on Tuesday. One on Friday.”

“That wasn't so hard, was it?”

“Hey, you two!” One of the shepherds waved his crook at them. “Nine o'clock. Time to punch out and call it a night.”

“Speaking of punch…” Connor motioned toward the welcoming lights of the church in the distance. “You're staying, right?”

Sarah shook her head and a curl sprang out from under the scarf. “Tomorrow is Saturday. I've got a class in the morning.”

“A class?” Unexpected disappointment arrowed through him.

“A scrapbooking class. I teach them twice a month.” She rose to her feet and handed him the doll. “Jennifer and the girls will keep you company.”

The last time she'd seen him, she'd accused him of running away. So why did he get the feeling
she
was the one running away this time?

The next morning, Connor found Sarah drowning in a sea of colorful scraps of paper. He took a tentative step into the shop and winced when something crunched under his foot.

“Earthquake?”

“Cub Scouts.”

“That was the class you taught this morning?” Connor couldn't help it. He laughed. “You gave boys scissors and glue? On purpose?”

“And paper punches.”

“I hope you learned a valuable lesson.”

“It seemed like a good idea at the time.” Sarah sighed. “They came in to make mini-albums for their parents for Christmas. It taught me to appreciate the girls more. They lack that special ability to turn colored pencils into swords. And javelins.”

“Speaking of making albums for parents. I brought you the box of photos.” He almost felt guilty giving her another project. Until she smiled.

“Bring them in. I'll be here for a while.” Hands on her hips, Sarah surveyed the empty paper cups that had somehow ended up on the floor. “They're definitely not going to earn their recycling badges this year.”

When Connor returned several minutes later, Sarah was waiting for him, holding the door open. “Just put them in the back room. Past the register.”

Memory Lane, Connor thought as he pushed his way through the narrow space between the card tables Sarah had set up, could replace blood pressure medication. A store that sold rubber stamps and scissors and paper shouldn't be the kind of place that brought a feeling of peace. Tempted a person to relax. With the Christmas tree and homey holiday decorations, the interior of the store looked more like someone's living room than a business.

Sarah paused to reset the CD player, check the level of cider in the carafe and unveil another platter of star-shaped sugar cookies. Her movements were graceful and unhurried, despite the fact her shop had served as a holding pen for a group of rambunctious boys most of the morning.

Maybe, Connor realized, it wasn't the store that reduced stress. Maybe it was Sarah.

He pushed through the colorful fabric panels separating the back room from the rest of the store and almost dropped the box of photos.

“Sarah, there's a mountain lion on your desk. Wearing a Santa hat.”

He heard Sarah chuckle. “That's Keebler. My cat.”

“I know what cats look like. This is not a cat.” Connor eyed the enormous animal staring back at him with unblinking peridot eyes, looking like a fur-covered sphinx.

The curtain brushed aside and Sarah stood beside him. “I adopted him from the animal shelter. He usually stays upstairs in my apartment, but he visits the shop on the weekends. He loves everyone. Although after the Cub Scout troop this morning, he might have changed his criteria to only love people more than five feet tall.” She rubbed the underside of Keebler's chin and the cat's eyes drifted shut in absolute contentment. Connor didn't blame him a bit.

“I'd take half a dozen if I had the room. And a dog, too. I would be nice to have them all waiting for me at the end of the day.”

Connor set the box down on the floor and reached out, flicking the white pom-pom on the Santa hat with the tip of his finger. “This is probably the reason he's hiding back here, you know. Animals need to maintain their dignity.”

“You've had pets?”

“Not unless you count the rat I shared a room with in Thailand. My job takes me away at a moment's notice and I can't worry about leaving someone behind. I don't even have a houseplant.”

“Mom felt the same way. She always told me it wouldn't be fair to drag an animal around the country, but that didn't stop me from begging for something…anything. I remember I tried to lure a prairie dog into the car once.”

Connor didn't laugh along with her. He had a clear picture of Sarah's childhood and what it must have been like for her to grow up the only child of a famous nature photographer. She'd shared her mother's dream for years, and with her talent she could have easily stepped into Anne's shoes. But given the choice, she'd chosen something else. Her own business housed in a hundred-year old brick building. A menagerie of pets. A close-knit community. Church. All served up homestyle, compliments of Jackson Lake.

In some ways he was like Anne Elliott. A wanderer. Someone more committed to his career than to people. To ask Sarah to leave would be like uprooting a sugar maple and transplanting it in the desert. To ask her to wait would be selfish…

The room blurred and Connor braced one hand against the table for support. Not that it did any good. He still had the sensation he was falling.

For Sarah.

When he came to, Sarah was still talking. “…better back a dump truck in here now and get rid of some of this mess.”

“I'll help.” He was as surprised as Sarah at the offer. That's what she did to him. She turned him inside out, leaving his heart exposed.

Now would be a good time to run, Lawe. You're only here on a temporary assignment and Sarah Kendle is a permanent type of woman
.

He ignored the voice of reason for the first time and tuned in to his heart instead. Even though choosing to spend more time with Sarah reminded him of the time he'd flown over the Gulf of Mexico while a hurricane bounced the plane in the air like a rubber ball. Exhilarating. Terrifying. A scared-spitless-let's-do-it-again feeling.

“I never turn down help.” Sarah hadn't known up until this moment how challenging it was to fake a bright smile. There had to be an article out there somewhere about the correct way to do it.

She'd already spent a restless night thinking about Connor. Praying for Connor. And trying very hard to fight her growing attraction to Connor.

Which was getting harder every time she was with the man. She wished he'd revert back to the frustrating, cynical journalist she'd met at Roscoe's Diner that night. But no. She'd been with him enough to catch fascinating glimpses of a man with an offbeat sense of humor, an unexpected sense of chivalry and a soft heart.

If he insisted on helping her clean up, she'd assign him a task that would take him out of her line of vision. Because at the moment—in his bulky fisherman's sweater and worn blue jeans—Connor was the most eye-catching item in the shop.

“Can you take out the trash?” That would at least put him in the alley behind the building.

The ring tone on Connor's phone suddenly played a jazzy version of Jingle Bells.

Sarah raised an eyebrow and Connor scowled as he yanked it out of his coat pocket. “It wasn't me. Jennifer changed it last night…hello?”

His eyes darkened. “Where is he now?”

“Connor?” Alarmed by his expression, Sarah instinctively moved closer as he snapped the phone shut.

“That was Cissy. Dad is at the office. He's having chest pains.”