A Snowglobe Christmas Page 7

  By the time they closed the shop and arrived home, the temperatures had dipped to well below zero and snow fell again. Without a moon, the darkness was absolute.

  “We’ll have a white Christmas,” Dana joked. They always had a white Christmas. “What shall we have for dinner?”

  The living room lights flickered. Both women looked up and then at each other. “That’s not good.”

  The lights blinked again and Amy headed for the kitchen and flashlights.

  “Just in case,” she said. Due to the town’s older electrical system, they’d suffered an outage last winter. “I hope the power doesn’t go down. I want to wrap gifts tonight.”

  Dana smiled. “Wrap gifts all day long and again at night. The life of a gift shop owner.”

  “Personal gifts,” Amy said with a sneaky grin.

  “Personal? How personal? Maybe for a tall, dark and handsome guy who hangs around a lot?”

  Amy groaned. “Mom! Stop matchmaking. I’m talking about your gifts.”

  A knock at the door turned them both around. Dana frowned. “Jeffrey’s out of town. I wonder—”

  Amy opened the door to find Rafe huddled inside his parka, a stocking cap pulled over his ears. His nose and cheeks were red.

  Behind her, Dana made little told-you-so noises. Amy could practically hear her thoughts. See? He hangs around a lot.

  Amy did her best to ignore the noises, but her insides hummed to find Rafe standing in her doorway. Since the sleigh ride, she’d seen him almost daily and it didn’t seem to be enough.

  He ducked his head and tried to look pitiful. “Do you know where a cold man could get a hot cup of coffee?”

  “Oh, silly, get in here.” She plucked at his sleeve, pulling him inside the cozy house.

  The lights flickered, dimmed and then went out.

  “Well.” The three of them stood still for two beats, surprised, eyes adjusting to the darkness until Amy remembered the flashlight in her hand and snapped it on. A yellow beam chased away the darkness in their immediate vicinity, casting them in odd, glowing shadows.

  “I don’t think that could be a breaker, but...” Dana murmured.

  “Probably not, but I’ll check anyway.” Rafe stripped off his coat and gloves. “Where’s your breaker box?”

  Dana crossed to the window and pulled aside the thermal drapes to look out. “Never mind. The entire block is black. I don’t see a light anywhere.”

  Rafe fished his cell phone from a pocket. “Better call the power company.”

  Following the quick call, he said, “Power’s down all over town. Crews have been notified, but it could be a long, cold night.”

  “The churches will open for shelter to anyone without a heat source,” Dana said. “Otherwise, the best thing to do is stay inside and stay warm the best way we can.”

  Amy moved to the brick fireplace. “Glad we have plenty of wood.”

  “You can thank Rafe for that.”

  Amy’s gaze flew to Rafe. She had no idea he’d been their wood supplier this year. “Thanks.”

  The compliment slid off in a shrug. “No big deal.” He rubbed his palms together in a soft shifting sound. “Let’s get a fire going.”

  “Can you stay awhile?” Dana asked. “It’s nice to have a man on hand at times like this.”

  Amy was glad the room was dim, because her mouth fell open. Strong, independent Dana Caldwell was not a delicate, helpless female. The statement was, pure and simple, a ploy to throw Amy and Rafe together. Without making a scene, there was little Amy could do about it—even if she wanted to.

  “Be happy to.” Rafe joined Amy at the fireplace hearth. “That okay with you, Ames?”

  Amy glanced at her mother’s shadow. Though Dana’s expression was invisible, encouragement pulsed from her.

  “Gonna do your famous shadow puppets?”

  He grinned. “If I remember how. Got any marshmallows?”

  “What kind of establishment would this be without marshmallows?”

  He took the log from her hand and positioned it on the grate as they bantered back and forth about silly, meaningless things. She felt good to be natural with Rafe, to just let go and stop worrying about his agenda. Or hers.

  “You know what, kids?” Dana’s voice interrupted. “I am absolutely exhausted.” She faked a yawn, patting at her lips. “I think I’ll go to my room, give Jeffrey a call and then call it a night.”

  “You sure you don’t want to roast marshmallows with us?”

  “Not that I don’t enjoy your company and a good black marshmallow, but this once, I’ll pass.”

  “Jeffrey wins again?” Amy asked and then hoped Mom took the question in the jesting manner it was intended.

  Dana leaned down for a hug. She kissed Amy on the cheek. “Love you, darling.”

  Rafe unwound his long body to stand. Dana hugged him, too. “Night, Dana. Don’t worry about anything down here. We got it covered.”

  “I have no doubt. My daughter and I are in trustworthy hands.”

  Amy resisted an eye roll.

  In minutes after Dana’s departure, Rafe dragged the easy chairs in front of the crackling fireplace while Amy scrounged the kitchen by flashlight for marshmallows and candles.

  “I’d intended to wrap gifts tonight.” She handed him a bag of marshmallows and two skewers.

  Rafe ripped open the plastic bag with his teeth. “This is better. We can talk.”

  “About your house plans?” They were an ongoing discussion both of them enjoyed.

  His glance was cryptic. “Among other things.”

  Her pulse sped up. “What other things?”

  A pause ensued while he carefully—perhaps too carefully—threaded a series of marshmallows onto a skewer. “You. Me. Us. Stuff.”

  “Oh.” Tension sprang up inside her, tight like the spring inside an ink pen, ready to fly to pieces if released.

  Rafe laid the skewers on the hearth and reached for her hands. “I’ve debated for days about bringing up the past. Our past.”

  “I don’t want to fight.” She tugged her hands loose.

  His hopeful expression, gilded by the fire, faded. “I don’t, either. I want to explain.”

  “You explained five years ago. I didn’t understand it then and I don’t now.”

  “I’m sorry. Really sorry for hurting you, Amy. I loved you so much and I thought—” He clasped his hands together in a tight fist and glanced away. “I was young and green and gung-ho. A total idiot, I guess, when it came to you.”

  Amy moved to the fireplace hearth and sat on the hard brick, watching the flickering flames eat away at the wood the same way Rafe’s leaving ate away at her trust. “You broke my heart.”

  “If it’s any consolation, I broke my own, too.”

  She angled to look at him. He leaned forward on the edge of a brown stuffed chair, hands dangling between his knees, his face pensive. Amy wanted to ask why he’d left, why he’d broken their engagement, why he’d thrown away a perfect love. But she knew the answers hadn’t changed. He’d believed in a cause greater than himself. Greater than her. The fact that she had not shared his passion had made no difference.

  “Talking doesn’t change what happened.”

  “I didn’t want to leave you.”

  “You did.”

  “I missed you.”

  She had no response for that.

  “Every day, every night, I thought about you. I prayed for you.”

  His words seared her as if a coal had fallen from the fire into her soul. While she’d been fuming mad and bitter in a safe world, Rafe had prayed for her in a dangerous one.

  “Oh, Rafe.” She relented and curled her fingers into his.

  “I want to put the past beh
ind us, Amy.” He tugged at her, pulling her onto the chair with him. “All of the past.”

  She wasn’t sure what he meant by all, though three tours of war must have left some scars.

  She sat next to him, stiff and fearful but yearning for something more than she’d known for the past five years. “I’d like to but...I don’t know if I can.”

  He was silent for a minute while the fire snapped and flared, gilding his rugged face. “Remember the snowglobe you gave me when we were first engaged?”

  He hesitated on the word as if afraid of a negative reaction. It still hurt to think about his ring on her finger and those euphoric days. But she was a big girl now.

  “I remember. It was a special order.”

  “Just for me. Engraved on the bottom. I carried that little token all over the world.”

  “You still have it?” She tilted her face, discovering that her head had somehow become nestled against his shoulder.

  “I’ll always have it.” The short proclamation spoke volumes.

  “Why?”

  “Because it reminded me of all that was good and right in my life. It reminded me of home and Christmas, and most of all, of you.”

  A chink of ice broke loose inside of Amy. She imagined Rafe in a faraway and dangerous land watching the swirl of a Montana snowfall, dreaming of home. And her.

  In the fire’s glow, she touched his cheek with her fingertips. He turned his face inward and kissed her palm.

  Feelings washed over her, warmer than the log heat and every bit as full of light. When he caressed her face with tender tough hands and drew her closer, she didn’t resist.

  Then his lips touched hers and for a moment she forgot the heartache and long years of mourning. Warm, comforting hands threaded through her hair and held her close. Beneath her touch, Rafe’s chest rose, and his heart thudded strong and certain. Emotion swelled in Amy’s throat, lovely and longing.

  “I never got over you, Amy,” he whispered against her lips. “I thought I had, but I haven’t.”

  She’d never gotten over him, either. She yearned to turn back the clock and erase the past and yet, it lingered. Trust once broken was hard to restore. But oh, she wanted to believe. She wanted to believe so badly.

  * * *

  Rafe felt Amy stiffen, felt her withdrawal, her questions and resistance. He ached at her lack of faith in him, but then why should she believe anything he said? Talk was cheap and, in her view, he’d let her down before. When she slid from the chair and changed the subject to easier topics, he didn’t push, though he missed her nearness.

  He’d not intended to kiss her but he didn’t regret it. The remembered sweetness tempered the bitterness of her withdrawal. Something was stirring between, he was certain, and he prayed for a way to earn her trust again.

  The evening wore on and still the power remained off. They talked of Christmas and when she admitted to buying him a gift, “just a little something,” hope flared again.

  They talked of his house plans though the lack of light kept him from whipping out the papers he’d stuffed inside his coat. Yet, when Amy mentioned her preference for white-and-black kitchens, he made a mental note.

  They munched on marshmallows and peanut butter sandwiches, debating the virtues of crunchy or plain. When a comfortable silence fell, they watched the fireplace from side-by-side chairs, feet propped on the hearth like an old married couple. He thought about heading home but when he mentioned as much, Amy urged him to stay. The choice was easy. A cozy fire and good company made him linger.

  His eyes drooped and he thought of what it would be like if Amy was his wife, if this was their life together. Here, side by side, weathering the storms of life and Montana’s harsh winter, dreaming big dreams, comfortable in conversation or in silence.

  With a deep, almost contented sigh, he let his head loll against the rough upholstery and closed his eyes.

  * * *

  Amy half dozed in the chair, vaguely aware of the wind whistling at the door and the pleasant heat saturating the bottoms of her sock feet. Another sound intruded and she frowned, resistant to fully waking. Here, in the semidream world, her subconscious could relive Rafe’s kiss and the enjoyment of being in his arms again without wrestling with doubts brought on by past hurts.

  The sound came again, a groan. Then a mutter. Finally, a sharp cry.

  Amy jerked to full consciousness and sat up, alert and listening.

  Another groan, this one from Rafe’s chair. Amy dropped her feet to the floor and rose, going to him. His head thrashed against the chair, his face bathed in perspiration as he mumbled and groaned against a nightmare.

  Amy hesitated, hovering. She’d heard the danger of awakening a soldier recently returned from war.

  He cried out, called someone’s name, face contorted in misery.

  Amy hesitated no more.

  “Rafe. You’re dreaming. Wake up.” She touched his shoulder.

  The viselike grip of battle-strengthened fingers closed around her wrist, crushing. She didn’t back away, though tears gathered in her eyes. For Rafe, for the pain in her wrist. “Rafe. Please wake up.”

  His eyelids flew open and he stared wildly, unseeing for one beat and then another.

  “Rafe, please, stop. You’re hurting me.”

  Instantly he released his grip. He yanked her against his chest, holding her tightly. His heart thundered, a storm of protest against some inner battle. Face buried in her neck, he groaned, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

  She nodded, throat tight with tears. “Are you?”

  “Yeah.” But he sounded winded and distraught. “Tell me again.”

  “You’re here, in my house. You had a bad dream.”

  His face moved back and forth against her hair. “No, you. Are you all right? I’d never hurt you. I didn’t mean...”

  “I’m okay. You grabbed my wrist, but I’m fine.” She held his head, stroked his hair. His body trembled. “You aren’t. What happened? A dream about the war?”

  He straightened, pushing her away, distancing himself. His lips tightened and when he spoke, he avoided her eyes. “I apologize. That shouldn’t have happened. I should go home.”

  But she knew him too well. Understanding splashed through her. Rafe was embarrassed. For him, a man of iron will and pride, the nightmare was a weakness he could not control.

  “This happens a lot?”

  He shrugged and stared into the fire. “Some.”

  She didn’t care how much he backed away. He needed her. “You’ve been to war, Rafe, more than once. You’re entitled.”

  “Marines don’t wimp out.”

  She thought the statement was a bunch of macho nonsense but didn’t say as much. “Does your family know about the dreams?”

  “Jake knows. We don’t talk about it.”

  Of course they didn’t. If they didn’t talk about the nightmares, they didn’t happen. She mentally rolled her eyes. Men could be such idiots.

  “What do you dream about?” Amy realized she was treading on delicate ground, but Rafe had held his trouble inside too long. No matter their painful history, she cared. Her stomach tightened. She would always care. “Only a man with a big, open, passionate heart would be this affected. What you experienced matters, Rafe, and some of it goes deep. There’s no shame in caring.”

  Her words melted him as surely as if he’d been a candle against the fire. His expression eased. His shoulders relaxed, and with a heavy rise and fall of his chest, he said, “I’ve never thought about it that way. I want to be in control and forget, but when I’m asleep...” He shook his head. “The dreams are nothing specific, a hodgepodge of events and sounds and the general chaos of battle.”

  Amy slid to the floor in front of him and folded her hands on his knee. In
a soft voice, she asked, “What was it like, being in war?”

  A log cracked and tumbled, shooting sparks. Around them the house had gone silent, listening, too.

  There in the dim, cozy room, safe from war and terrorists, bombs and ambush, he told her. When he finished, a layer of bitterness peeled away from Amy’s heart. The fearless marine, the tough outdoorsman, had seen too much, done too much in the name of good and right. War had scarred his soul, and yet he remained the kindest man she knew.

  She thought of what else he’d said tonight. He’d kept her snowglobe. He’d shared his house plans. He’d prayed for her.

  Amy’s heart squeezed.

  God was trying to tell her something if she’d stop running long enough to listen. Rafe was a good, good man. A man worthy of love...and trust.

  Maybe Christmas was the perfect time for a second chance at love.

  Full of hope, she pressed her face against her folded hands, breathed the essence of Rafe’s cotton jeans, and prayed. For him, for herself and for the future.

  Chapter Ten

  The power outage lasted until early the next evening. Rafe had headed to his parents’ house long after midnight only to return to Amy’s the next morning to be sure all was well. Dana opened The Snowglobe Gift Shoppe without power because of Ginger and her pups, but with the slower business, Amy had chosen, to Rafe’s delight, to hang out with him. Business was slow at Westfield Sports Rentals, too, so leaving Jake in charge, they checked on elderly friends and stocked in a new supply of firewood for anyone that needed it.

  By the time power was restored, Rafe and Amy had organized an impromptu caroling group for that night.

  As they made their way through the residential areas, puffing their joyous song in clouds of vapor, Rafe held Amy’s hand. When she shivered, he put his arm around her and was gratified when she snuggled into his coat and smiled up with happy eyes.