Cupid's Christmas (Serendipity #3)(49)

“I am?”

“Yes,” she said. “You seem awfully happy about something.”

“I’m just happy to be here with you.”

A puzzled look settled on Lindsay’s face. “Maybe so,” she said, “but you’re not usually this happy.”

“It must be the Christmas season,” Matthew answered.

“I know what you mean,” Lindsay snuggled deeper into his arm and switched the channel to TBS because they were featuring a Holiday Movie Marathon. “Oh, Miracle on Thirty-Fourth Street,” she sighed and developed a grin similar to his.



Humans think Valentine’s Day is my favorite holiday—it’s not. Christmas is. Valentine’s Day is a farce, a joke. It’s a single day of sharing love—but Christmas, well there’s just no measuring the amount of love that stirs up. Humans of all sizes, shapes and ages start walking around with a smile on their face and wishing others Merry Christmas—you know how many do that for Valentine’s Day? None, that’s how many. On Valentine’s Day humans are lucky if they walk away with a greeting card or a little box of chocolates—and don’t even get me started on the number of them who neglect to do even that much and end up in arguments that stretch on for weeks.

Personally, I think Valentine’s Day deserves the same measure of love and happiness as Christmas, but The Boss thinks otherwise, so for now things are going to remain exactly as they are. He said Christmas was all about celebrating His Son’s birthday and of course I came back with—how about celebrating my birthday?

He raised an eyebrow and asked, “Are you willing to give your life to save the humans?”

I had to answer no, which pretty much ended the discussion.





Lindsay’s cast came off four days later, and although her right leg was thinner and weaker, it was definitely cause for celebration. That evening she and Matthew again had dinner at Bistrot La Minette and even though the December night air had a nip to it, they strolled through the park afterward. They walked a short way then sat on a bench gazing at a white moon through the bare branches of trees. The snow flurries began a few moments later.

Lindsay dropped her head onto Matthew’s shoulder, “This is all so perfect,” she sighed, “being here with you, the restaurant, the snow…it’s as if God arranged this especially for us.”

She wasn’t too far from wrong.





Christmas morning Matthew arrived in time for breakfast. Just as John had promised, the side door to the garage was unlocked. Matthew carried the crate in then returned to the car for the dog and the shopping bag filled with presents. He sat the bag on the floor and placed the dog in the crate. “It won’t be long,” he whispered, “but you have to stay here and be quiet.”

The dog cocked its head to the right and whimpered.

“Shhhh,” Matthew shushed, “No noise.” He put his finger to his lips and repeated the shushing sound. For the past eight days he’d worked on teaching the dog not to bark when he walked away. Ever so slowly Matthew backed away from the cage and the dog sat silently. He turned, walked out the door and listened for a few more seconds—silence. Matthew gave a sigh of relief then circled the house and rang the front doorbell.

Lindsay opened the door. She was wearing a Santa hat with a sprig of mistletoe pinned onto it. “Merry Christmas,” she said, and pointed her index finger to the mistletoe.

Matthew set his shopping bag down and kissed her. “You didn’t need the mistletoe,” he whispered in her ear.

“I know,” she whispered back, “but consider it a call to action.”

They were halfway through breakfast when Lindsay heard the yelp. “Was that a dog?” she asked.

Eleanor said nothing but gave Matthew a questioning look. “What? I didn’t hear anything,” he said.

“Shhhh,” Lindsay said, and listened for it to come again but of course it didn’t.

“Must’ve been the wind,” John suggested.

“I guess,” Lindsay sighed, and went back to the conversation they were having.

Minutes later she heard it again. “Anyone hear that?” she asked, but all three of them immediately shook their head no. Lindsay turned to Matthew, “Did you ever get any response on that poster I put up in the office?”

Before she’d finished the question, Matthew shoved a chunk of ham into his mouth and began chewing—“mumph,” he gave a gesture indicating he couldn’t talk with his mouth full.

Eleanor jumped in. “Goodness gracious, will you look at the time! I wonder what’s keeping Ray and Traci?” She followed the question with a lengthy oration on how much having the family together meant to her. Her voice was loud—much louder than normal.

“Are you okay?” Lindsay finally asked.

“Okay? Well of course I’m okay why would you think otherwise—”

“Well you’re talking awfully loud…” Lindsay said.

Fortunately Eleanor didn’t have to respond because the doorbell chimed.

Beyond the noise of people wishing each other Merry Christmas, Eleanor heard it again—the dog. Matthew had indicated he could keep her quiet, but apparently the dog disagreed and Eleanor didn’t want to spoil the surprise. “I think we could use a little Christmas music,” she said and slid a disk into the player. She cranked the volume up three notches.