Silent Night, Star-Lit Night (Second Chance at Star Inn)(29)



She couldn’t think of a better time to fix old wounds than now, or a better place than here. “I expect so, too.”

“Come to Christmas dinner,” Deanna told him. “Right around three o’clock, but it’s always late, so come early and figure on three-thirty.”

He handed the baby back to her and stood. “You don’t mind?”

“We’d be honored.”

He held tight to his hat, flustered, but he looked a little pleased, too. “All right, then. Three o’clock. Christmas. I’ll be there.” He turned Mia’s way one last time. “You did beautiful, Mia. Just like your mother.”

Her heart squeezed more open than she’d have thought possible.

She’d forgotten this Ray Folsom. He’d been gone for so long that she’d forgotten his existence. As she watched him leave, the thought of staying put and finding just the right place for her and Josie in Roslyn didn’t seem nearly as tough as she’d thought the day before.





Chapter Thirteen

December 25, Roslyn, Washington

“Best Christmas ever.” Jed came up behind her as she navigated more snaps than she would have thought possible on such a tiny garment. “You must be exhausted, Mia. I can change her. Go sit.”

“Those big hands and this tiny baby?” She slanted a look up at him, a look that almost got her kissed, then and there.

“Kate’s tenacious. She made me learn. Now I’m glad I did. Go sit down and I’ll bring her right over.”

“A wise nurse never stands when she can sit.” She let him take over and curled up on the sofa. The rest of the family had congregated in the big family room, allowing her privacy to nurse the baby in relative quiet. “It’s beautiful here, Jed.”

“It’s a house meant for family. When things settle down, I’ll take you around the corner to see my place.”

“I’d love that. I’ll be interested to see what kind of house tempted you away from your mother’s kitchen.”

“Yeah?” He tucked the baby into his arm as naturally as he used to hold a football. “It’s a work in progress, but I’d love to have a couple of solid reasons to finish things up this winter.”

Two solid reasons. Her . . . and this precious newborn. A man who seemed willing to accept another man’s child. Beyond Jed was the family Nativity scene, where a tiny light pooled around a caring figure of Joseph, watching over a child not his own.

“I did some research you might find helpful. The Ellensburg hospital is a thirty-three-minute drive. Urgent care and Roslyn Clinic are both about eight minutes from here.”

“You’re that anxious to put me back to work?”

He settled onto the seat next to her and shook his head. “I’m that anxious for you to stay, so if I can remove any barriers from that decision, I’ll do it.” He swept a finger across his phone. “Look what Angel sent me today.” He held up a picture of G-G Jude, Brad, and Ivy, surrounded by a young family. “Jude has reconciled with her granddaughter. All is calm. All is bright. A Merry Christmas in Heywood.”

The picture meant that the letters Mia had written for Jude had been well received. The old woman’s resolve had changed the lives of two small children. “I’m so glad!”

“Me, too. It was the best trip I’ve ever taken, Mia.”

The man had flown and driven half the country or more, doing cattle deals and buying for the store. “You’ve been everywhere, Jed.”

“Here and there,” he admitted. “I’ve hauled a lot of cargo in my time, but nothing as precious as this past week. That’s a trump card right there.” He leaned forward and caught her lips in a tender kiss. “Merry Christmas, Mia.”

The kiss lingered and grew, and when he broke the kiss she reached up her free hand to cup his bristled cheek. “The best Christmas I’ve ever had, Jed.”

His lazy grin promised more to come. “So far,” he corrected her softly, his lips hovering just above hers. “The best Christmas you’ve had so far. Here’s hoping for many more.”

Faith. Hope. Love. Trust. All the elements she’d been missing, now gathered around her.

She smiled against his mouth and kissed him lightly. “I’d love that, Jed Taylor.”

He sighed, smiling, and stroked her cheek one more time. “Me, too.”

Ruth Logan Herne's Books