Authors: Brenda Minton
“Aaron, yeah, it has. I didn't touch anything, but I can tell you it wasn't like this yesterday.”
“Didn't figure you left it a mess. And I know Lawton was a stickler for neatness. Someone was looking for something in the filing cabinet. It's pried open. Funny, because I'm not seeing anything but feed bills and farm equipment receipts.”
“That's really all that we kept in here.”
“Anything in the house that someone would want?”
“I guess there could still be paperwork or research in Lawton's office. He took most of his work to Austin but sometimes he worked at home,” Jake responded. He tried to remember anything Lawton had said or even hinted at. Had they had prowlers before? It wasn't unheard-of these days.
The country used to be safe. They hadn't locked their doors for more years than he could remember. Yeah, life had changed. People didn't mind stealing from neighbors. Worse than that, now they even stole from the church if they got a chance.
What had happened to respect? Leaning against the door frame, he shook his head at the turn of his thoughts. “I'll take a look around, and see if I can find anything that might have been interesting to a burglar.”
“Could be it isn't a burglar, Jake.” The deputy closed the filing cabinet drawer and walked out of the office. “Could be they're searching for something and it isn't a random break-in. Lawton developed some pretty serious financial software. Could he have left something around here that he was working on? Something new?”
“Yeah, maybe,” Jake agreed, trying hard not to think about how this put the twins, and Breezy, in danger. If someone was searching for Lawton's latest project, what would they do to get their hands on it?
“I'll make sure we send a patrol by here a couple of times a day, and you all keep the alarm system activated.” The deputy gave Breezy a look this time. “And keep the doors locked.”
Jake walked Aaron out. They discussed the odds of it being someone they knew. They talked about the weather and Christmas. As they talked, Breezy walked out of the barn, closing the door behind her. She told Jake she'd meet him at the house.
She was still wearing his jacket. He watched her walk down the driveway, his dog next to her. He knew her scent would linger on his jacket. Every time he pulled it on, he'd smell that light spring fragrance.
Jake had been around awhile. He knew temptation when he saw it, when it walked away with his dog and his coat. And maybe took a little of his common sense with it.
It had been years since he'd met temptation head-on like this, but he still recognized it for what it was. And he still knew where that road led. He knew he wasn't going there.
Chapter Five
A
fter Jake left, Breezy decided to unpack her few belongings. She'd been putting off the task of settling in, thinking something would happen, preparing for the reality that this, too, could be taken from her. She'd kept her clothes in her suitcase and her toiletries in the bag she'd put on the bathroom counter. Unpacking meant staying. Unpacking meant a commitment to remain here and help raise two little girls.
It meant staying in Jake Martin's life. For a long, long time. Always being the person he tolerated. A person he'd rather not have in his world.
She had news for him. He was no picnic, either. But they were stuck with each other and she'd make the best of it.
The decision to stay meant picking a room. There were two bedrooms and a craft room upstairs. She had picked a spare room on the ground floor, close to the room that had belonged to the twins. A room those twins would return to in time. They would spend nights with her. Maybe even weeks.
Breezy's new room was pretty with tan, textured walls and another wall of stone, with a fireplace in the center and French doors that led to a patio. She stood in the middle of that room and tried to imagine herself living there. She tried to picture herself helping Jake Martin raise two little girls, picture them growing up. She would be there as they went to school, as they started to think about boys and dating, and then someday they would leave. And where would she be then? Still in Martin's Crossing, still single and wishing she could find a place to belong?
What if she grew to love this town?
How would it feel to grow old in Martin's Crossing? For some reason, images of Jake Martin popped into her mind. Unattainable, undeniably gorgeous, a man with rules, a man of faith. She would be coparenting those little girls with a man who was everything she'd never been.
She headed down the hall to the kitchen, where she quickly made a list of things she needed from the store. What she really needed was to get out of the house. Breezy headed for Martin's Crossing, AKA: The One-Horse Town. As she drove she called Mia. She needed to tell her sister everything that had happened. She also needed to know she still had an ally, someone who trusted her.
“Hey, sis.” Mia sounded bright, happy. Of course she was happy; she'd found the man of her dreams in Slade McKennon and the two of them were having a baby. “How are you?”
“I'm good. It looks as if I'll be staying here awhile.”
“Really? But...”
“Lawton left me something in his will.” Her voice choked as she said it, and she blinked away the threat of tears.
“Breezy, are you okay? Do you need me to come down?”
Breezy cleared her throat. “I'm good. Mia, he left me joint custody of his little girls.”
“Girls. As in children?”
“Twins. They're toddlers.” She paused, because saying it would make it real. “I'm going to have to stay here.”
“Oh, Breezy, no. You were just getting settled. You still have your things at my house.”
A few things in boxes she'd never unpacked. Even at Mia's she'd had a hard time believing she had a place to stay. And there wasn't much in those boxes. A few stray seashells, a photograph of herself singing at a coffee shop in Pasadena and a Christmas ornament. Because families had Christmas ornaments they kept and hung up each year. She'd bought one for her tree at Mia's.
“I'll be able to come up eventually. But for now, I'm going to have to stay close to Martin's Crossing.”
“Are you sure you're okay?” Mia, a former federal agent, couldn't let go of that instinct to look beneath the surface. Breezy smiled, thankful, so thankful, for her sister. They'd spent almost twenty years apart but they'd been busy reconnecting, making up for that lost time.
“I'm really okay. I've been in worse places.” Homeless shelters, on the street, alone.
“I'll be praying for you.”
Mia's words came so easily. Her life with the Coopers had been grounded in faith. She had a foundation, one that included a loving and stable family. Breezy's path had been different. She hesitated to answer and Mia knew.
“Breezy, it gets easier.”
Believing, having faith, trusting. Yes, she was sure it would get easier. “I know. I'm going to work through this, Mia.”
“I know you will. So tell me about the girls.”
She smiled. “They're beautiful. They're two and almost identical. They have dark hair and blue eyes.”
A long pause. “And who are you sharing this guardianship with?”
“Lawton's brother-in-law, Jake Martin.”
“Oh.”
Breezy smiled a little. “Don't say it like that. He's horrible, an absolutely straitlaced grouch.”
“And there's nothing worse than straitlaced grouches, right?” Mia teased. “Who, other than you, calls a man âstraitlaced'? Does he wear cardigans with elbow patches, maybe he has thick glasses and...”
Breezy laughed at the image. “Stop! He's just... Well, he has rules.”
Their discussion of Jake unfortunately brought an image of the man to mind, and it sure wasn't straitlaced. He was a man who made a girl dream of chivalry, of being rescued, of being protected. She'd never counted on being rescued, and she'd learned at an early age that she could only count on herself.
For years Mia had been on the list of people she didn't count on. As a little girl, Breezy had spent several years waiting for her sister to find her, to rescue her. Because as children it was Mia who looked out for her. Mia had made sure she didn't go hungry. But Mia hadn't shown up and Breezy, the child, hadn't understood that her sister had been a child, too.
“Shudder! A man with rules,” Mia said, bringing her back to the conversation.
“You're not helping.”
“No,” Mia agreed, “I'm not. I'm sure he's perfectly horrible. I think I'll look up Jake Martin of Martin's Crossing on Google and see what I come up with.”
“Please don't.” Because she knew that would only convince Mia to begin plotting Breezy's demise. Or marriage. “Just say your prayers for me and I'll keep you posted.”
“I love you, Breeze,” Mia said. The words, even spoken from so far away, made all the difference.
“Love you, too.”
Breezy ended the call as she drove past the city-limit sign of Martin's Crossing, population 678. She wasn't quite to town. There were a few farmhouses with barns scattered about, and a flea market with a gravel parking lot a little farther in. The building that housed the flea market was decorated for Christmas with lights wrapped around the posts, and plastic deer with red bows on their necks placed along the exterior. A tree, big and tacky, had been decorated with garland and big ornaments.
Ahead of her she could see the gas station on the left. On the right was the Martin's Crossing Community Church and fellowship hall. Next to it was a large open area and a park. A block down from the church she knew would be a left-hand turn that was the main street of Martin's Crossing. A street that was wide, and had a couple of businesses on either side. She'd noticed a restaurant called Duke's No Bar and Grill, just down from it was the feed store and across from that was the grocery and a tiny gift and clothing store. She had seen a couple of other businesses that she would check out in time.
Welcome to Martin's Crossing.
She pulled into a parking space in front of the grocery store and got out. In front of her a man had just opened a ladder and was climbing up it, holding a string of lights. The building in front of him was tiny and narrow, with a single door and a window. The sign on the window claimed it to be the home of the wood-carved nativity. Above that sign was one that heralded the name of the building as Lefty's Arts and Antiques.
“Hey there, young lady.” He smiled down at her.
“Hello.”
“You must be Lawton's sister.”
Breezy was surprised. “How did you know?”
He grinned. “Word travels fast in a town like Martin's Crossing.”
“Yes, I'm sure it does.”
“Could you hand me up the string of lights and hold them as I hook them up to this overhang?” He grinned down at her again. He had white hair, gray eyes and a smile that took away her reservations, that part of her that always held back.
“Of course.” She held up the lights and he pulled a hammer out of the tool belt hanging from his waist.
“Thank you. My name's Lefty. Lefty Mueller. I've been in this town all of my life.”
“I see,” she said, not knowing what else to say. His gray brows drew together as he squinted, watching her with equally gray eyes.
“And your name is...?” he asked as he raised his arms to hook lights along the overhang.
“Oh, I'm sorry. I'm Breezy Hernandez.”
“Lovely, very lovely. Well, I'm glad you've come to Martin's Crossing, Breezy Hernandez.” He grinned. “We can always use a fresh breeze.”
She smiled at the turn of phrase. “You're very charming.”
“I do my best.” He slipped lights over another hook. “And I love to think that I help bring Christmas cheer to this little town. I've got these lights now. You go on inside and look around.”
She glanced toward the grocery store, wondering what time it closed, then gave up and walked through the door of Lefty's little shop. As she stepped inside a Christmas carol played, ending abruptly when the door latched. The interior of the store made it easy to believe that Christmas was less than four weeks away.
The tiny shop was a maze of tables filled with all types of nativities. A nativity mobile hung from the ceiling in the center of the room and another nativity lit with candles spun in a slow circle on the counter. Breezy stopped in front of one that had the tiniest baby Jesus, his minuscule hands reaching for his mother as Joseph looked over Mary's shoulder with obvious pride. A music box attached to the side had a switch and she flipped it. “Away in a Manger” played in soft, music-box tones and the angel on top of the manger spun with wings spread.
The door opened. She turned, smiling at the creator of this art that she never would have imagined in a town like Martin's Crossing.
“Do you like it?” Lefty stepped close, settling a pair of wire-framed glasses on his rather large nose.
“They're all beautiful,” she answered.
“This one is yours.” He indicated the one she'd been looking at.
“No, I can't. I mean...”
He smiled back at her. “Breezy, you should have a nativity. Do you have one?”
She'd never had one in her life. She'd seen them in front of churches, sometimes homemade, sometimes made from brightly colored plastic. She had loved the one that Mia's family put up in their home each year. But she'd never had one of her own. She didn't want to think about all of the things she hadn't had because they'd moved so often. She'd had a few dolls, but each time they moved on the dolls were left behind. The books were left. Friends were left. She'd learned early that getting attached hurt.
It had become easier to not have, to not get attached. Lefty Mueller stood behind the counter, staring at her over the frames of his glasses. She managed a smile and he nodded, as if that meant acceptance.
“It's yours, so don't argue. It's my welcome gift to you. You see, my great grandfather was German. He settled here, where he continued to do his wood carvings, and he taught his son, who taught his son. What good is such a gift if it can't be shared with people we meet?”
“But you can't just give it to me. I can buy it.”
“Then it wouldn't be a gift, my friend. It wouldn't be a story you can share someday, about an old man who shared a piece of Christmas with you.”
As he'd been talking, he had been wrapping the nativity in paper and then settling the pieces in a box.
“Thank you.” She spoke softly, afraid she would cry at his kindness.
“You're very welcome. Someday you will tell stories about this nativity. Let them be stories of faith, of an old man who carved what he knew best, a savior.”
She nodded as he handed her the box. He came out from behind the counter and she gave him a quick hug. He chuckled as he hugged her back.
“I will treasure it forever, Lefty.”
“And I hope you find the meaning of it all, Breezy.”
“Yes, of course.”
He opened the door for her and she walked out, putting the nativity in the front seat of her car. Across the street, a car door slammed. She looked that way and saw Jake Martin. Of course it was. He would be everywhere in this small town. He waved, then proceeded to pull a pine tree from the bed of his truck. He wore gloves and a long-sleeved shirt. His hat was pulled low.
She turned away from him and bumped into a man coming down the sidewalk. He steadied her but then moved back. Breezy studied the elderly man with an oversize coat, dusty, bent-up hat and several days' growth of whiskers on his craggy face.
“I'm so sorry,” she said quickly.
“No need to apologize, miss. I wasn't really watching where I was going, either.” He grinned a little, holding tight to a potted poinsettia. “But I wasn't watching Jake Martin, either.”
“Oh, I...”
“No need,” he said. “I would guess you're the aunt of those two little girls.”
“I am.” Did
everyone
in town know her business? She didn't even know this man's name. “And you are?”
“Joe, I'm Joe.”
“You live here in Martin's Crossing?”
His smile shifted and she saw sadness in his eyes. “Oh, I guess I do. I'm passing through, eventually. But it seemed a good place to spend Christmas.”
“Yes, it does seem like it would be.” She studied his face, his eyes, and she thought she understood Joe.
“Let me offer you this lovely welcoming gift.” Joe held out the plant with its bright red flowers.