Silent Night, Star-Lit Night (Second Chance at Star Inn)(9)

She probably should have gone off on him about the dangers of leaving the car and walking into the dark unknown, but she didn’t.

She tucked her phone into her purse, slung the cloth-sided bag over her shoulder, and slipped on a pair of gloves she had stuffed in the console between them. “Let’s do it.”

He wasn’t sure if this was smart or foolhardy, but they had to be almost in the town.

What if you’re not? What if you’ve misjudged this like you’ve done in the past? Mia and her baby are counting on you. Heads up, dude, the lady can’t even button her coat. Is she up for this? Are you?

Old doubts resurfaced. He’d made a few stupid mistakes on the ranch since losing his father, and Uncle Pete didn’t hesitate to remind him fairly often.

What if he was wrong? What if he was leading her into danger? No one knew where they were; no one would be looking for them.

“Ready?”

He turned her way. “This could be dangerous.”

“So could sitting in a stopped car in the middle of a road in the dark and cold of a winter storm where the next person along is going to barrel into us at any moment.”

“A valid point. You’re sure about this?”

“We saw the town. It can’t be far. And someone will take pity on us, I expect. And besides.” She lifted her shoulders in a simple shrug. “We saw the star. Maybe it is like that song; maybe it was shining just for us. In any case, I’m starving and in desperate need of a bathroom and a handsome escort. I’m in if you are.”

She had confidence in him, and that was a lot more welcome than Uncle Pete’s dressing-down at the store before he left. “Meet you at the drift.”

She laughed, but when she swung her door open the harsh wind sucked the laughter away. He took hold of her arm, aimed for where the drift narrowed, and pushed through, head bent to hers. “Can you see anything?”

“Snow.”

“Agreed.” He held tight to her arm, and when her feet slipped he held her upright. Chins down, they fought their way through the first drift, then another and another. The road inclined slightly, and Jed had a momentary surge of panic.

The town had appeared to be in a valley setting. What if they’d been stopped well before the town? Maybe the road climbed and dipped in successive waves, unseen through the snow? He was just about to turn her around and go back to the car when the wind slowed momentarily.

Welcome to Heywood, Oregon.

A wooden sign appeared to Mia’s right, black writing on ivory wood trimmed in dark green scrollwork. Twin ground lights tried to fight the snow to illuminate the sign, and they did, just enough for Jed and Mia to read it.

They’d found the town.

A road went off to the right, and he snugged her arm through his and turned that way. With the wind at their backs, they made better progress. She had to be freezing. He knew he was, but as they crossed a bridge lights began to appear.

“I’ve never been so happy to see civilization in my life.”

“But what kind of civilization?” he muttered, and she poked him in his side.

“The kind with lights and heat,” she hissed back. “My new BFFs.”

He laughed and drew her closer because it felt right, and as he did, the glow of the star appeared to their right. “Follow that star.”

They trudged slightly uphill from the small bridge, followed the curve to the right, and a Currier and Ives postcard town splayed out before them.

White twinkle lights adorned small town trees around an old-fashioned town square park. Centered in the park was a gazebo, trimmed in white lights that peeked through the snow. A brightly lit Christmas tree stood proudly in the center of the gazebo. The buildings blocked the wind somewhat, offering them glimpses of a whitewashed setting.

Drifts of snow crossed the roads and the sidewalks, but quaint streetlights hinted a peaceful countenance in normal times. Each streetlight was adorned with a festive wreath, simple and fitting for the setting. As Mia turned the corner more fully, she grabbed hold of Jed’s arm with both hands. “It’s an inn!”

The white star was fastened to the top of a gracious old Queen Anne colonial with a wooden sign staked firmly in the front: The Star Inn Bed and Breakfast.

“So it seems. Do you think they’re open?”

“Do I care?”

Head ducked, he laughed. “I hear you. Even if they’re not, maybe they’d let us hang out and get warm.” He could tell the front walk of the inn had been shoveled, but new drifts angled from right to left. He kept her tucked close as they hurried that way. One way or another he wanted to get her someplace safe, warm, and dry. Food would be an added bonus.

“This has got to be about the prettiest place I’ve ever seen.” She half-whispered the words as they moved up the broad driveway. Candles lit each upper window. Below the candles, evergreen swags trimmed with big red ribbons hugged the windowsills. White railings edged the wraparound porch, and cheerful loops of lit garland dipped and rose from post to post. The entire setting offered a holiday welcome to weary travelers.

Jed only hoped the setting proved true.

They climbed the front steps and went to the door. Should they knock?

He had reached out to test the handle when the door swung open from inside. “Well, in the name of all that’s good and holy, come in! Come in, get out of that cold, they’re predicting about the worst night we’ve seen in Heywood in a while, and you’re in the nick of time!” A slightly more than middle-aged woman pulled the door wide. She sported spiked blond hair, jangling bracelets, and a shirt that said “Only Five More Sleeps till Christmas” with the image of Henson’s Kermit the Frog dressed like a Dickens character. The shirt hung long over elf-green leggings. “Come in and welcome to the Star Inn!”