Jingle Bell Rock (21 page)
“Michael!” she blurted when she could speak. “This is too much. I can’t—”
“Yes, you can,” he said calmly, taking the engagement ring from the box and slipping it onto her finger. “And I’ll have you know I’m not into long engagements,” he added as he slipped his fingers through hers. “I figure we can get married next week.”
“Next week?” She was surprised, but found herself smiling.
“Unless you think you might change your mind.”
She leaned in close and kissed him quickly. “No chance of that, piano man. Next week it is.”
Contented, Michael leaned back against the couch and turned to the tree, and his daughter. “Megan,” he said softly, “you have one more present.”
“I do?” She jumped up, forgetting her keyboard for the moment to come to the sofa and stand before Michael with her hands on his knees and wonder in her eyes. “Really?”
Michael held up a finger, indicating that she should wait a moment. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a large white tag and a smashed gold bow. The sticky-backed bow he slapped to his chest, and the tag he slipped over his wrist. Megan furrowed her brow and bent over the tag.
“I can see my name, but I can’t read all that writing.” She gave him a slightly censuring glance. “I’m only four, you know.”
“Maybe Mommy can read it for you.”
Laura’s heart was in her throat as she turned the tag her way and began to read aloud. “For Megan. One daddy, slightly imperfect and gently used. Needs hugs and kisses daily to thrive. Must share with Mommy.”
Megan’s eyes got big, and then a wide smile grew, spreading across her face until she wore a full-blown grin. “Yeah!” she said, jumping into Michael’s lap and throwing her arms around his neck. “Oh, you’ll make the best daddy, I just know you will.”
“I’m gonna try,” Michael said softly, wrapping his arms around his daughter.
Laura leaned her head on Michael’s shoulder and placed a hand on Megan’s back, and for a long, wonderful moment, they were all very still. Laura drank in the perfection of the moment, reveled in the touch of the two people she loved most in the world.
With Megan, the cherished moments of warmth and silence and stillness never lasted long, and this was no exception. She scrambled off Michael’s lap—without injuring him this time—and planted herself before him with her chin in the air.
“I hab a pwesent for you, too,” she said smugly. “Elbis and I hab been working on it for days.”
Megan looked up and to her left, as if someone tall stood there. She giggled, then looked at Michael and wrinkled her nose. “He’s wearing a Santa hat today.” Then she nodded once, and began to sing.
It was a song Laura had never heard before. Beautiful and sad, it was a love song about cold rain and lost love. She didn’t think much of it—after all, it might have been a song Megan heard on the radio or on YouTube while she’d been with Jennifer. Jennifer had hundreds of songs on her mp3 player, and maybe this was one of them.
It wasn’t until she looked at Michael, who had gone deathly pale, that she knew something was wrong.
Megan sang, looking up occasionally to her invisible partner. She even lifted her hand into the air, where it hovered as if someone were holding it gently.
When she finished, apparently in the middle of the song, there was a moment of complete silence.
“That was very good, Megan,” Laura said. “Where did you learn that song?”
“Elbis taught it to me.”
“Megan—”
“Maybe he did,” Michael whispered, and Laura turned to see that his face was still much too pale.
“Don’t encourage her.”
Michael shook his head. “I’m not, Laura. That’s my song, the one I’m writing for Modine. The tune’s written down and locked in a safe in my office, and the words are here,”—he tapped his temple—“and nowhere else. I’ve been having trouble finishing it. And just now while they... while
she
was singing, the ending came to me in a flash, the way it sometimes does.” He looked thoroughly confused. “Megan just helped me finish my song. It wasn’t the sad ending I usually end up with, but it’s right.”
Megan placed her hands on his knees. “Elbis said you were...” She looked up and waited for inspiration or instruction. “Blocked. He said you need to remember that sometimes wainy nights are happy. And he also says that girl who’s supposed to sing it needs another key.”
Megan turned her head to look at her mother. “Why does she need a key to sing? I can sing without a key. Does she need a door key or a car key...”
Laura tried to think of a logical explanation for all this, but nothing came to her offhand.
Megan climbed onto Michael’s lap again, and placed her little hands on his face. “Elbis says you can make ‘em cry, but you hab happy songs in your heart, too.”
“Did you tell her...” Michael began, his eyes firmly planted on his daughter.
“No,” Laura said softly, and then she took a deep breath.
There had to be a logical explanation... but she couldn’t think of one. Her eyes searched the room for a sign, a ghostly image in white polyester, maybe, or levitating blue suede shoes. She saw nothing, but all of a sudden she heard the same radio that had been playing last night. “Always On My Mind,” haunting and distant, and yet somehow very close. “Do you hear that?” she whispered.
“Hear what?” Michael asked.
“Music.” Laura swallowed hard. “‘Always On My Mind.’ Please tell me you hear it.”
Michael shook his head. “I don’t hear anything. If this is your idea of a joke...” He looked into her eyes and apparently saw that she was definitely not joking. “I talked to this guy in the lobby last night, and he was... he was singing.” She could almost see the working of his mind in the narrowing of his eyes and the set of his mouth. “Amazing. Do you know what this means?”
Instinctively, she leaned close to him, searching for comfort and security. She found both. “I don’t know. Another plane? Ghosts? Life after death?”
Michael shook his head slowly. “It means Elvis sang one of my songs.” Impossibly, he smiled.
The music died away, fading gradually until she heard nothing. For a second, just a split second, she was certain she saw a shimmering of something gold and blue and insubstantial beside the tree. And then it was gone.
Megan touched her pert little nose to Michael’s long one, and smiled the smile of a child who had just received the gift she wished for with all her heart. “Mewwy Cwistmas, Daddy.”
“Merry Christmas, baby,” he whispered back.
Megan narrowed her eyes and cocked her head first one way and then another, studying her new daddy as if searching for faults. Apparently satisfied after a short inspection, she turned to her mother with a grin. “Next year,” she said softly, “I want a sister.”
Recent releases
Behind the Mask
; three historical novellas in one volume
Bride by Midnight
; A Columbyana novel
Running Wild
, Ballantine, written with Linda Howard
For a complete list of previous releases, visit
www.lindawinsteadjones.com
Linda Winstead Jones
Linda's first book, the historical romance
Guardian Angel
, was released in 1994, and in the years since she's written in several romance sub-genres under several names. In order of appearance, Linda Winstead; Linda Jones; Linda Winstead Jones; Linda Devlin; and Linda Fallon. She's a six time finalist for the RITA Award and a winner (for
Shades of Midnight
, writing as Linda Fallon) in the paranormal category. She’s a
New York Times
and
USA Today
bestselling author of seventy books. Most recently she's been writing as Linda Jones in a couple of joint projects with Linda Howard, and rereleasing some of her backlist in ebook format. She can be found at any one of a variety of Facebook pages (search for Linda Winstead Jones and Linda Howard/Linda Jones) and at
www.lindawinsteadjones.com
.
Linda lives in Huntsville, Alabama. She can be reached at: Website:
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