The Secret Christmas Child

Chapter Three

“I’m so glad Cleo’s Crafts and Café is still here.” Gabby sipped peppermint hot chocolate and looked around the cozy place. Steam blurred the windows, making the café its own little world. There were only about ten tables. Up front, a pastry case held Cleo’s famous concoctions, heavily leaning toward Christmas items at this time of year: chocolate pinwheel cookies and gingerbread boys and chocolate-pecan chess pie.

Reese looked around, too. “You haven’t been gone that long, have you?” He sipped his own flavored coffee. “I’m surprised you’re surprised.”

“It seems like forever ago.” Then she flushed, because she wasn’t referring to the last time she’d been home; she was referring to their high school years, when they’d been falling in love.

“It’s different because we’re different,” he said. Maybe he didn’t know it, but his hand went to his arm. Today, he was wearing a prosthetic, obvious because of the pincerlike hook in place of his right hand.

Curiosity won out over decorum. “Why do you wear a prosthetic some days and not others?”

“Getting used to it. It’s a process.” He leveled a steady gaze at her. “You seem different from when we were kids, too.”

I’m different because I’m a mom. “We should figure out the show,” she said briskly, trying to get back to business. And avoid telling him about Izzy. Which shouldn’t be a big deal, but she hated the thought of his questions. Despite all her counseling, she still felt a heated rush of shame at the idea of talking about it. “I feel bad to have volunteered you for something you don’t want to do, but I think it’ll be great.”

“Maybe.” He shrugged. “Tell me what you were thinking. I don’t exactly have a vision.”

She pulled out a pad of paper and a pen. “Tell me about your boys. Ages, abilities, things like that.”

He nodded, sipping coffee. “Like I mentioned to Jacob, they’re eleven to fifteen. But skewed toward the younger side. I think we have...three each of eleven-and twelve-year-olds. Two thirteen-year-olds, and one each of fourteen and fifteen. Two fifteen-year-olds if Jacob joins.”

She nodded, making notes. “And how do the dogs fit in?” She’d seen them when she’d been in the barn before: the one Doberman that seemed to roam around, a row of kennels in the back of the barn and an open yard area separate from where the boys gathered in the front.

“In a way, the dogs are similar to the boys,” he said wryly. “Most have behavior problems and that’s why they were surrendered.”

“All breeds?”

He nodded. “But I try to make it so there’s one dog per boy. Their job is to train that one dog.”

She put down her pen. “Uh-oh. Will Jacob mess that up? Can he get a dog this late in the game?”

“There are always dogs that need help,” he said. “See, the overall vision is...” He trailed off, looking just a little shy.

“Tell me.” She set her cup down and leaned forward a little. Reese had always been a dreamer, the rare kind who could put his dreams into action. When she’d been falling in love with him in high school, his dreams had been of beautiful cabinets and chairs and tables he could make. He’d looked at a piece of wood, even scrap wood, and seen all its possibilities.

“Well. I got into training dogs, a little, in rehab.” He made a disparaging gesture toward his prosthetic. “They had therapy dogs, and I kind of bonded with one of them who was about to flunk out. Got him over his fear of prosthetics, actually. Showed a talent, so they gave me a couple other troubled dogs to train.”

“That’s cool, but how’d you learn to do it? I mean, your aunt and uncle had Fifi, but...”

He rolled his eyes. “Fifi. May she rest in peace after eighteen years of giving everyone nothing but trouble.”

“She wasn’t exactly trained, it’s true.” Gabby chuckled. “She did have a lot of cute outfits, though.”

“Don’t remind me. But you know...” He trailed off, looking thoughtful. “I’d guess that, now, with what I’ve learned, I could actually train Fifi.”

She was fascinated, because he’d taken on the same dreamy-yet-passionate look he’d had when she’d known him years ago. “How did you learn what you know?”

“Online videos. Books. After I got better, they let me take a couple of dogs through agility training.”

“All this was through the VA?”

He nodded. “Because while I thought I was rehabilitating dogs, I was actually getting rehabilitated myself.” He sipped coffee. “So when I came home, and there was no possibility of carpentry, there was a need for someone to take over a grant-funded after-school program for at-risk boys. I added the element of dog training, and...Rescue Haven was born.”

“I have a feeling there was more to it.” But she admired his sense of industry, going directly into another line of work. “Reese, can I ask...why’d you come back to Bethlehem Springs?”

He looked out the window. The street was busy with people: couples strolling, families with kids, Christmas shoppers overloaded with bags. “My aunt and uncle needed me.”

“But they always—” She broke off. “I’m impressed that you did that for them, is all.”

“Because they favored Brock? Didn’t really want to take me in? I know,” he said. “But when he passed, they were devastated. Aunt Catherine, especially. My uncle came to visit me at the VA hospital and asked me to come back for at least a year, just to try to pull her out of her slump.”

She stared at him, remembering the cold, snobbish woman who’d rarely had a kind word for anyone. “You did that for her.”

He shrugged. “Uncle Clive pulled strings to get me funding for the dog aspect of the Rescue Haven program,” he explained. “I figured, if I couldn’t do what I wanted to do, at least I could do some good.” He drained his coffee. “Come on. Let’s walk and talk.”

She remembered that about him, then, that he always preferred to be moving. It was why he’d wanted to work with his hands rather than in an office; it was part of the reason he’d gone into the military.

They carried their cups to the counter and then headed outside.

The sun peeked through clouds, and there was a dusting of snow on the ground. The cold air made Gabby wrap her scarf around her neck and put up her furry hood. Reese, just like he used to, went bareheaded.

The temptation to reach for his hand was strong. They’d flowed so easily back into talking, just like old times. Sharing dreams.

He looked down at her as they walked, and she got the strangest feeling that he was fighting the same impulse. They’d strolled down these streets together so many times.

But he looked away and straightened. “Anyway,” he said, his voice going businesslike, “we should figure out this show, because we’re going to need to start practicing and getting organized right away.”

“True.” She frowned, thinking. “It’s got to be a kids and dogs show, somehow. Ooh, let’s go into Mistletoe from Mindy,” she said as they turned a corner. “It’s sure to give us some ideas.”

“You think?” he asked, sounding skeptical. But he held the door for her while they walked into the Christmas-themed shop. The scents of pine and gingerbread filled the air, and every possible display spot held ornaments, garlands and Christmas dishes.

Gabby spun slowly, looking at everything. “We should bring the boys here. It’ll help them get creative.”

Reese groaned. “The thought of all those big, clumsy boys in here... No. Just no.”

“Then what do you suggest?”

“It’s in a church,” he said. “Shouldn’t it be, like, a nativity pageant or something?”

“Dressing the dogs up like stable animals?” She frowned. “That would be cute, but would the boys go for it?”

“Doubtful,” he said.

She’d learned in her education classes that kids needed a sense of control. “In fact, we probably should let them do the planning, make up the show.”

He stared at her. “Do you know how...inappropriate a bunch of boys can be?”

“Oh, I’m sure they can.” She fingered a Santa ornament. “But if we explain to them that it’s for a church, and that it will help keep the program going, they may step up.”

He looked skeptical as they meandered through the shop.

“The alternative is having them sneer through a kid-like program they hate.” She was thinking of Jacob now.

“You have a good point,” he admitted. “At the same time, this is really important to me. The show is like a test. Do we really want to leave it in the hands of a small group of troubled boys?”

She bit her lip. “It’s scary. But if we explain how high the stakes are...”

“Let me think about it,” he said as they reached the door again and headed out of the shop. “That’s going to take an awful lot of trust.”

“In the boys?”

“In God,” he said.

She tilted her head, looking at him. That wasn’t something the younger Reese would have said.

“How about we ask Jacob his opinion? That’ll give us a test run of what the boys might think of, and also draw him into the program.” He met her eyes, his own crinkling in the now bright sunlight.

She drew in a sharp breath. Reese was so handsome. Tall, muscular and athletic, with those rare blue eyes that stood out against his dark complexion and hair.

Add a sincere faith and compassion into the mix, and he was almost irresistible.

Except she had to resist him. Because he was inevitably going to find out about Izzy, and she knew intuitively how much that would upset him. They’d both valued saving intimacy for marriage.

That choice had been taken away from Gabby.

Reese could never, ever find out about the circumstances of Izzy’s conception. That would devastate him and his whole family. And even though she knew better intellectually, it would cause her shame.

So she needed to flip the switch on this attraction to Reese. Unfortunately, she had the feeling it wasn’t going to be easy to do.

That night, Reese looked down at the big, drooling dog beside him and took a deep breath. “I don’t know if this’ll work, Biff. You’ll have to be on good behavior.”

The dog ignored him, lifting his leg in the light of the streetlamp in front of Nana’s house.

So much for making a good impression. He urged the dog up the porch steps, brushed a hand over his hair and reached down to adjust Biff’s floppy ear before ringing Nana’s doorbell.

Jacob opened the door, which Reese figured was a good sign. At least the teen wasn’t sulking in his room.

In fact, when he looked past Jacob, he saw a puzzle on a card table in the middle of the living room. Gabby and Nana were sitting at the table, and a soda by a third chair suggested that Jacob had been working on the puzzle, too. A Christmas movie was on the old-fashioned TV in the corner. Evergreen garlands looped up the stair railing, and a small, lopsided tree stood in the corner, half-decorated.

The house was shabby, but Reese had always appreciated how homey it was.

“I was hoping I could come in and talk to you for a few minutes,” he said to Jacob. “Problem is, I have someone with me. Would your grandmother mind if I brought in a dog?”

Jacob looked down, and his eyes widened. “Come on in,” he said, and pulled the door wide open.

“Sit,” Reese commanded, keeping the dog in the entryway.

Biff cocked his enormous head as if he was trying to understand.

Reese gave up and looked past Jacob to Nana. “Biff is big, but gentle,” he said. “I was hoping to talk to Jacob for a few minutes about him, but I know not everyone likes dogs in the house. Should I take him back outside?”

“Come in, come in,” she said in her raspy voice. “We’d love to have a visit. Gabby, could you take his coat and get him something to drink?”

“Um, sure.” There was a pause, and then Gabby stood. She seemed to swallow before walking across the room and then holding out a hand for his coat. Her smile looked forced, and it seemed as if she was dragging her feet with every step. She didn’t even seem to notice the dog.

Reese must have misread her signals this afternoon. He had gotten the feeling that maybe Gabby still had some of the old feelings. But now she looked like she’d rather see anyone else than him.

Focus on the boy and dog, he counseled himself.

“Can I get you something to drink?” Her words were wooden.

“No. I won’t be staying long.” Since you’re obviously not happy to see me. “I just wanted to get a little input from Jacob before we talk to the rest of the boys about the show tomorrow. And introduce him to Biff.”

Jacob was standing a few feet away from the dog, staring at him. “Why do you want to introduce me to this dog?”

“Because I’m hoping you’ll take him on as your project,” he said, “if you decide to do our program. He’s a little much for the other boys to handle, but since you’re bigger and older than most of them, I think you’d be good at it. Up to you, though.”

Gabby gave him a quick glance, looking much more friendly. Thank you, she mouthed to him.

Warmth suffused his chest. He was glad he’d come.

“I don’t know much about dogs,” Jacob said, “but I’d like to learn.”

Now Gabby and Nana stared at each other, eyebrows raised in identical expressions. Reese was guessing that Jacob’s attitude hadn’t been consistently upbeat and eager to learn thus far.

“Terrific.” Reese kept his voice casual. You didn’t want to show too much enthusiasm around teenagers or they’d balk. “Maybe you could get to know him a little. And would you mind talking to Gabby and me about this show we’re being asked to put on?”

“Sure.”

They walked into the front room, and Gabby turned down the sound on the television. Quickly, Reese explained about the show and how important it was. “So we were thinking the boys could plan the show, but I’m wondering whether they’ll be up to it. Wanted to get a teenager’s perspective.”

“We watch videos all the time,” Jacob said with a shrug. “Probably could make a show like some of those.”

“Those music videos are full of bad language,” Nana said. “Why, I’ve learned words I never heard in my life, volunteering down at the mission for families.”

“The show’s going to be in a church. There can’t be any bad language.” Gabby looked at Jacob. “Do you think the boys will be able to do that?”

“How would I know?” Jacob stuffed his hands into his pockets, still staring at the dog. “I don’t even know these kids.”

Reese accepted Jacob’s mood shift with equanimity. He’d learned a ton about kids in a few short months, and that went with the territory. “What would make a project like that fun for you?”

“Being able to do whatever we wanted,” Jacob said. “And music.”

“Like Christmas carols?” Gabby asked.

“No way!” Jacob said. “But...”

“Yeah?” Reese dangled a treat in front of Biff’s nose, trying to get him to lie down. It didn’t work.

“There is some good Christmas music that’s popular,” Jacob said reluctantly. “Maybe the guys would go for that.”

“Maybe you could help talk them into it.” Reese kept his eyes on the dog, not wanting to pressure Jacob too much. “You’re older and from out of town. They might listen to you.”

“That’s if I do the program.”

“Right.” Reese stood to leave. “I sure hope you do, for Biff’s sake, if nothing else.” He pounded the dog’s side. “He doesn’t seem to be learning anything I try to teach him.”

Jacob reached out a hand and touched Biff’s head, and his face morphed into a smile as he ran a hand over the dog’s soft ears.

A sound came from one of the bedrooms at the back of the house. It sounded almost like... Yes, that was a baby’s cry, now rising to a higher volume.

Huh? Reese looked at the three people gathered. “You have a baby here?”

Nana smiled. “My great-granddaughter,” she said proudly.

“Who never shuts up,” Jacob added, rolling his eyes.

Gabby looked sick.

Reese tried to puzzle this out. Nana’s great-granddaughter must be... He stared at Gabby.

“I was hoping she was down for the night,” Nana said. “Guess that’s too much to ask for from a nine-month-old baby.”

Reese’s head was spinning. “Whose baby?” he asked as he did the math in his mind.

The baby’s cries got louder.

“Better go get her,” Nana said to Gabby, who’d been standing as if paralyzed, looking toward the back of the house.

Without a glance at Reese, Gabby left the room.

Nana watched after her proudly. “She’s such a good mom. Hasn’t had an easy time of it, but she does a fine job.”

He knelt to pet the dog, counting the months again, hoping he was wrong.

He wasn’t. Anger surged inside him.

Gabby’s baby must have been conceived the summer he’d left for the Middle East. Early in the summer, if she was nine months old now.

But they’d been together early in the summer. He’d left at the end of June.

That meant her baby had been conceived while they were dating. And he knew 100 percent that he wasn’t the father. He’d respected her boundaries, shared them. They’d never gone beyond a kiss.

Apparently, she hadn’t kept the same boundaries with someone else...even while she was promising Reese that she cared and would wait for him.

Chapter Four

Gabby had hoped that Reese would have settled down by Monday morning, but as soon as she pushed open the barn door and saw his face—narrow eyes, clenched jaw—she knew it hadn’t happened.

Most of the boys had already arrived, and she checked the time on her phone. 9:00 a.m., but apparently she and Jacob should arrive earlier, quarter till at the latest.

She put her purse and the file folder of ideas she’d brought onto the shelf outside of Reese’s office, amid the sound of boys yelling and laughing, quiet country music playing and dogs barking. Bales of hay and heaps of straw sent their fragrance through the air.

It could have been kind of idyllic. But there was Jacob, already off in a corner and standing sullenly by himself. There were two of the boys clearly trying to impress the others by baiting one of the dogs, holding a toy in front of its nose and then jerking it away. And when she started toward them to put a stop to it, there was Reese, stepping in front of her, giving her a dismissive wave that clearly said he didn’t think she was competent to take care of the situation.

Meeting their deadline, putting a show together in a week, wasn’t going to be easy. Especially if Reese was hating on her.

Without consulting her or acting like she was a part of things, Reese called the boys together and explained the need for a show. He suggested that they look online for some Christmas pageant scripts, which didn’t exactly make the boys enthusiastic. She waited for him to mention the idea of letting the boys take some control and making up their own show, but he didn’t.

He was discounting her ideas and keeping her out of the authority loop, making her seem like just a helper. It wasn’t the way he’d described the job to her, but she needed to make money, and she needed for this job to work. It was best for Jacob, for Nana and for Izzy.

She should just hold back, let him run the program the way he wanted to run it, stay on the sidelines. But when a couple of boys started covertly punching each other while Reese was trying unsuccessfully to get Jacob to share his ideas, she couldn’t keep quiet.

Maybe letting the boys have a strong voice in planning their own show would be a disaster, but would it be any worse than what was happening right now? She raised her hand, and when Reese didn’t notice, she stood and waved her hand more visibly, at the same time stepping between the two boys who were fighting.

“Could I make a suggestion?” she asked. “And I’d need everyone to pay attention,” she added, looking sternly at the boys who’d been fighting.

Oh, how Reese wanted to say no: it was obvious, written in every tense line of his body. But to his credit, he didn’t display his lack of enthusiasm in front of the kids. “Go ahead,” he said.

“Maybe some of the boys could brainstorm about an original show while others do online research about Christmas pageants that are already out there. We could regroup and report out. I think that would help some of the boys focus.” She gave another warning glance to the two fighting boys, to let them know she was onto their tricks. “And if you don’t have a different idea for grouping them, I’m going to suggest that we count off.”

Reese frowned. “How about the boys can choose whether they want to work on original ideas or do research. Original-idea guys, over at the table. Research guys, gather around the computers. And anyone who doesn’t choose, we’ll count you off and assign you to a group.”

The boys immediately went to one group or the other, probably because nobody wanted to get counted off like kindergartners. The group around original ideas was bigger, but there were enough boys willing to cluster around the program’s two laptops that it wasn’t too bad of a discrepancy. By unspoken agreement, she and Reese circulated between the two groups, and eventually, both hummed along in a rowdy kind of productivity.

She kept glancing over at Reese, but he never met her eyes. Of course not. He was furious that she’d conceived a baby while they were dating, at least, as he saw it.

The idea of talking to him about it made her insides twist. She hated thinking about that horrible night. She’d had counseling, yes, and she’d sort of dealt with it, but she still felt that slick twist of shame every time she approached it mentally, so she usually refocused on other things whenever thoughts of Izzy’s conception came up.

Avoiding the subject wasn’t doable now, though. She was going to have to work with Reese, and if he was going to be sullen and angry, it would be conveyed to the boys. It would interfere with the job they had to do. That wasn’t right.

When the boys showed signs of being pretty involved with their projects, she approached Reese, heart pounding. “Could we talk for a few minutes?” she asked.

He frowned. “Don’t you think they need supervision?”

“Well...” She shrugged. “Yes, but I also think we need to clear the air. How about if we meet in the outer office where we can keep an eye on them?”

His lips tightened and he looked off to the side. He was going to say no.

But finally, he nodded.

She followed him to the anteroom of his office, stopping when he turned to face her. His arms were crossed, his expression set.

Her heart sank. Could she speak the truth to someone as closed-off as Reese? Someone she’d once loved, or thought she did?

Part of the truth, at least. She cleared her throat. “Last night, you found out I have a child,” she began.

He looked out toward the boys. A muscle jumped in his jaw.

“I know it must have made you angry.”

“I have no right to get angry,” he said, still without looking at her. “It’s in the past.”

“I agree you have no right,” she said, “but you are angry. And if we’re going to work together, I think I need to tell you a few things.”

He sighed and met her eyes. “Look, Gabby, I really don’t want to talk about it.”

“Don’t talk, then. Listen.” She drew in a breath. She couldn’t tell him about his cousin. When Brock had died only hours after assaulting her, she’d made the decision not to disturb his family’s memory of him. She wasn’t crazy about Brock’s parents, but they’d been devastated about the loss of their only son. She’d prayed about it, and talked to her counselor about it and decided not to add to their trauma.

Now, after a year and a half, no one would believe her, least of all Reese.

Brock had been a popular athlete; she was a poor girl from the wrong side of the tracks. He’d warned her not to tell anyone, asserting that they wouldn’t believe she hadn’t consented, right before getting drunkenly into the car that he’d driven to his death.

She didn’t respect Brock’s opinion about much, but she knew he was right about that.

Now, to Reese, she’d say what she could of the truth. “I could tell you were counting the months,” she said, “and from your reaction, I’d guess you’re thinking Izzy was conceived when we were seeing each other. But she was six weeks premature.”

He looked skeptical. “Convenient excuse.”

Anger fired inside her, a hot ball in her chest. “Actually, it wasn’t convenient at all. She almost died, and I did, too, from preeclampsia.” What she didn’t say was that she’d wanted to die.

Most of that was about the assault and carrying Brock’s baby. Lots of hormones washing around in her system. Being isolated as a pregnant girl, then a young mother in a college town full of partying teenagers.

And the fact that you’d dumped me by email didn’t help.

She’d thought they had a great relationship. When she’d pulled herself back together after the assault, all she’d wanted was to talk to Reese, cry on his shoulder even if by phone. But she hadn’t been able to reach him for several weeks.

She’d thought he was busy with soldier stuff, but in mid-August, she’d gotten the stiff, cold email from him: I don’t want to be involved with you anymore. Please stop contacting me.

In the year and a half since then, she’d gained some perspective. Wartime did things to people, not the least of which was throwing soldiers together in intense, emotional situations. He’d probably met someone else, or realized he wanted to, and hadn’t known how to tell her.

She’d gotten over it, or mostly. Been too busy to think about it. Moved on. Could he do the same?

His eyebrows came together as he studied her, and she could see the debate inside him of whether to believe her about Izzy’s being premature.

When he didn’t speak, just kept looking at her, she spread her hands and shrugged. “Look, it’s nothing to do with you and I’m not going to dig up medical records to prove she was premature. I just wanted to let you know that I didn’t... That nothing happened when we were dating.”

“So it happened when you went back to college... Sorry.” He held up a hand, shook his head. “Never mind. Not my business.”

She hesitated. “Right.” And then she felt like a liar. She meant he was right that it wasn’t his business, but of course, Izzy hadn’t been conceived back at college, but right here in Bethlehem Springs. He’d think she was agreeing with him that she’d been conceived at college.

But did it matter, when she wasn’t ever going to tell him the full circumstances of what had happened?

“Is her father...involved?”

She swallowed. “No.”

Sweat dripped down between her shoulder blades despite the cold day. Her stomach churned. Talking about Izzy’s father with Reese felt surreal. She didn’t know if she could handle much more of it. She should never have taken this job.

In fact, she felt like running away, and she even turned toward the door. But looking out, she caught a glimpse of her brother’s endearing cowlick, saw him laughing with a couple of other boys.

Doing this program was going to be good for Jacob. And working this close to Nana’s house would be good for both Nana and Izzy.

Gabby’s own sensitive feelings didn’t figure into the equation, couldn’t. She stiffened her spine and turned back to Reese. “Are we all right here? Can we work together without you acting hostile toward me?”

“Of course,” he said. His eyes held something like compassion. “I’m sorry I reacted in such an immature way, Gabby. I seemed to sort of plunge back into the way I felt when I found out... Well. After I was overseas. I’m more mature now, I hope, and I’ll try to act it.”

Curious wording. What had he found out when he’d been overseas? His brief note hadn’t indicated any reason for ending things, but she’d figured he’d lost the feelings he’d had for her in their younger days.

He couldn’t have found out Brock had assaulted her. No one had known about that.

Water under the bridge.

She’d always held a faint hope, in the back of her mind, that he would think about her fondly, want to reconnect. Now, she knew he’d been dealing with rehab. And she, of course, had been learning to be a mother.

They’d both been through a lot. Now he was offering to let the past go. “Thank you,” she said.

“We’d better get back to the boys.” He leaned to the side to scan the open barn area where they were working.

“Do you mind if I call Nana first? She was coughing a lot this morning and I want to see if she needs to visit a doctor.”

“No problem. I’ll handle them.” He started to head out, then turned back. “Is your grandmother well enough to take care of a baby?”

Gabby bit her lip. “I worry about that myself, but whenever she’s with Izzy, she seems to perk up. She loves babies, and helping me with Izzy makes her feel useful.”

“We all need to feel useful.” He seemed about to say more, but instead, he swung around and walked out into the main room of the barn.

As she waited for Nana to answer—which could take a while, as the woman had gotten rid of her house phone line but rarely remembered to keep her prepaid cell phone at her side—she watched Reese walk around to the groups of boys and then over to a simple wooden shelf on a work bench. One of the more solitary boys, Jericho, had drifted over to study it. As Gabby watched, Reese spoke to the boy and gestured. He seemed to be explaining something about the project. Then he used his amputated arm to hold the shelf steady while he sawed with a jigsaw.

His sleeves were rolled up, and his muscles worked beneath his Henley shirt. He was still one of the best-built men she’d ever seen. He hadn’t gone soft at all.

He got the shelf most of the way sawed through, and then the saw slipped, making the cut go uneven. He tensed, then straightened and went about trying to trim the excess wood off.

Even making a simple shelf was hard for him—Reese, who’d been known for his superior, elaborate woodworking. Her heart broke a little.