Holiday Homecoming

Kristin studied the man who sank into the empty seat across the aisle. He was good-looking, with disheveled black hair and eyes a sharp aquamarine-blue. The straight blade of a nose, high cheekbones, a simple cut into his chin.

Nope, she didn’t know him, but there was something familiar about him. She didn’t know him from work. Or the gym. Or church. Either in Seattle or Montana… Wait. There was something distinctive about that devastating smile. Those dimples, and that strong jaw.

Then she knew. She saw a flash of a boyish face with longer black hair standing before the podium at a high school assembly. The image of a leaner, younger star running back, whipping off his helmet after the final touchdown of the state championship. The studious salutatorian-to-be ambling down the hall and stopping to open the door to physics class for her.

“Ryan Sanders?” She couldn’t believe it.

JILLIAN HART

makes her home in Washington State, where she has lived most of her life. When Jillian is not hard at work on her next story, she loves to read, go to lunch with her friends and spend quiet evenings with her family.

Holiday Homecoming

Jillian Hart

www.millsandboon.co.uk

These are the things that will endure—faith, hope, and love—and the greatest of these is love.

—1 Corinthians 13:13

Dear Reader,

All of her four sisters have discovered true love, and now it’s Kristin’s turn. I hope that you will be reminded, through this story, of how truly precious God’s blessings are. That this earthly life may not be an easy one, but it is a beautiful gift. But Kristin’s is not the final McKaslin story! The McKaslin cousins are about to find their happily-ever-afters. In April 2005, please watch for Amy’s story, Sweet Blessings, which shows how real love happens, even when a person has given up all hope.

I wish you the sweetest of all blessings,

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Epilogue

Chapter One

November 23

Disaster.

Kristin McKaslin took one look at the snow-caked airplane window and groaned. She was doomed. That window had been only a little bit icy less than twenty minutes ago, when she’d looked up from her work. Now she couldn’t see through it, not that there was anything to see at this altitude and with the plane swinging in the turbulence.

At least it gave her something to think about other than heading home to Montana. Thanksgiving was tomorrow, and that was both good and bad. She loved her sisters. She loved her parents. She loved going home to visit.

What she wasn’t looking forward to was facing her mother’s disappointments. She lived too far away. She didn’t come home to visit enough. She wasn’t married. And she wasn’t married. Mom was doubly unhappy about that one.

Just because she wasn’t married, it didn’t mean she was a failure, right?

Right. So, why did it feel that way? And why was it such a big deal? A marriage certificate came with no guarantees, and as far as she could tell, it didn’t protect a person against heartbreak, disappointment and loneliness.

It wasn’t as if Mom and Dad were ecstatic in their nearly forty years of marriage. But it wasn’t as if she could say that to Mom. She hated pretending, as if nothing had changed in their family, when everything had.

That was the real reason she didn’t want to walk through the front door of her childhood home. It was too painful to think about.

“Kristin McKaslin, is that you?”

She studied the well-dressed man who sank into the empty seat across the aisle. He was good-looking with disheveled black hair and eyes a sharp aquamarine blue. He had a straight blade of a nose, high cheekbones and dimples cut into his cheeks. He was dressed in a casual outfit that shouted, “Money!”

Nope, she didn’t know him, but wait, there was something familiar about him. But what?

She didn’t know him from work, the gym or church—either in Seattle or in Montana. Still, there was something distinctive about that devastating smile, those dimples…and that strong jaw.

Of course! She saw a flash of a boyish face with longer black hair standing before the podium at a high-school assembly. The image of a leaner, younger star running back whipping off his helmet after the final touchdown for the state championship. The caustic face of her mom’s best friend’s son, who wanted to be anywhere but stuck waiting in the car while their mothers talked on the sidewalk in town.

“Ryan Sanders?” She couldn’t believe it. She blinked, and the remembered youthful image of his face blended with the older, wiser one staring back at her across the aisle. “It is you.”

“The one and only. I look different, I know, everybody says so. I went and got respectable.”

“You were always respectable.”

“Nope, I wasn’t. You’re just being nice.” His cute lopsided grin had matured into a slow curve of a smile. “You look better, but the same. Still have your nose in a book.”

“Guilty. I confess.”

Those blue eyes, which could have been cold, sparkled. “That’s how I recognized you.”

“I’m surprised you could see me over the seats. I’m still short.”

“The word is ‘petite.’ I was bored and people-watching and I could see your profile from way back there. I got the last seat on the plane I think.”

“Waited until the last minute?”

“I didn’t think I’d be flying out of Seattle. Hey, you cut your hair. It was always long. Hiding your face. It still does, even short.” He reached across the aisle to touch the curled end of her chin-length hair.

She felt a jolt, like the snap of static shock, as the lock of hair rebounded against her jaw. What was that? And should she act as if she hadn’t felt it? “Your hair’s shorter, too.”

“It goes with my more reputable image.” He shrugged one dependable shoulder.

Yeah, he looked reputable, all right, decked out in a loose-knit black sweater that hugged the lean curves of his muscled shoulders and chest. Black trousers, crisply pleated, completed the image.

He could be a corporate heavyweight, with a stuffy MBA and an impressive portfolio. Except for the black boots, scuffed and rugged, showing there was still a part of the Montana boy in the polished, educated man.

He raked his hand through his short, unruly black locks and leaned into the corner of the seat. A big powerful man, sprawled out like a kid, his large feet crossed at the ankles in the aisle.

“So, what’s a pretty girl like you doing with a laptop and a book at—” he glanced at the gold flash of his Rolex “—9:07 at night?”

“Working.”

“Yeah? I remembered you were studious in high school. What did the valedictorian of Valley High grow up to be?”

“An advertising executive.”

“Well done. You live in Seattle?”

“I do. Not a hard guess, since the flight originated there. You, too?”

“Nope, just up checking out a job offer.” Less comfortable talking about that, he hauled his feet in from the aisle and sat up straight. Too late to change the subject. It wasn’t pretty Kristin McKaslin’s fault his life was messed up.

Okay, it wasn’t a mess yet, but it wasn’t the fit he wanted, either. He’d become a successful doctor. It just didn’t feel right to him. And after the breakup with Francine—

“Wow, a job offer.” Kristin was even prettier when she smiled. “Who in their right mind would hire you?”

“Right. I’m suspicious of their offer right up front.” They’d been good people, that’s what. Professional, smart, with a good, positive focus. Not at all like the profit-oriented outfit he was stuck with in Scottsdale. “What kind of dudes are they, if they want me to join up with ’em?”

“Smart ones. Are you gonna go for it?”

A loaded question, but his problems weren’t Kristin’s, so he’d leave out the personal stuff. “Not sure about what I’m gonna do. I’m looking for a change. I have a great practice, but Phoenix is a little hot for me in the summers. Still, I suppose that’s why air-conditioning was invented.”

“Your practice? Oh, wait. I remember something about you getting into medical school long ago. Knowing you, that couldn’t be true.”

“Hard to believe they actually took a no-account like me.”

“For a jock, you weren’t too dumb. Guess how hard I had to study to beat your GPA?”

“Hard? Good, cuz I worked my toes off and I couldn’t get half as many one hundred percents as you did.”

She sparkled, but not in the way of women who realized he was a single man and a doctor. No, she was quiet class, all the way from her polished brown loafers to the carefully folded neck of her sort-of-brown turtleneck. Warm, though, not stuffy.

Her voice was soft elegance. “What kind of doctor are you?”

“An orthopedic surgeon.”

“Sure, you have the ego for it.”

“Hey, I don’t deserve that. Okay, maybe I do. But I like helping people. Fixing their blown-out knees and torn ankles. What about you? An advertising exec, huh? Does that mean you’re a big shot in the advertising world?”

“Yeah, right. I make sure the agency runs without a hitch. It’s a good job but not very glamorous.”

“I can see you, diligent and kind and handling everything just right.”

“Same old Ryan, charming and full of it. Some things never change.”

“Don’t they? Back in school you were too high and mighty for me.”

“High and mighty?”

“One of the perfect McKaslin girls.”

“Perfect, my foot! Good grief, I’m a mess. A walking disaster.”

“Yeah, uh-huh. You sure look like it.” He rolled his eyes to emphasize his point. Ryan didn’t think there could be a nicer family of women on the planet.

Part of the McKaslin genes, he figured. With Kristin, there was no mistaking her girl-next-door freshness, even in her power suit.

What kind of executive did she make? One who said please and thank-you, was his guess, and it clashed with the ice-princess high-end designer jacket, sweater and slacks she wore.

Maybe he’d lived in a big city for too long. Whoa—that thought was something his mom would say. Not for the first time tonight he wished he’d paid for his mom to come down for Thanksgiving. Montana came with too many lessons learned. Lessons that haunted him to this day.

“It’s weird seeing you like this. On the same plane heading home.” It blew his mind, that’s what, because he didn’t believe in coincidences. All things happened for a reason.

“I haven’t seen you since, what, high school?”

“When I left for college, I left for good. I keep trying to lure Mom to Phoenix, but she won’t do it. She calls every Sunday afternoon, after church. To make sure I’ve gone to worship like a good son.”

“Good. You need someone to keep you in line. I’ve lost track of nearly everyone. It’s weird how in school we had all the time in the world, our future ahead of us, and now that we’re in the middle of those futures, there’s no time at all.”

“Exactly. Now I put in long hours. I’ve got no time.”

“What? You’re a doctor. Why are you working long days? Don’t you people golf on Tuesdays and Fridays?”

“Some do. I have school loans to make good on, and the balance is higher than most people’s mortgages.”

“Ouch. I’m glad I worked my way through school.”

He crooked a doubtful eyebrow. “Worked? Didn’t you get the only four-year scholarship in our graduating class?”

“Yeah, but that was for tuition. I had a part-time job in the university library on the weekends, and I worked during the summers.”

“I was volunteering in clinics and did a year in the Peace Corps so I had a better shot at med school.”

“I’ve heard medical school isn’t all that competitive.”

That made him laugh. “Yeah. I spent a year in the Dominican Republic assisting a physician. That year did more to make a man of me than anything. I hope it made me a much better doctor.”

“I can’t imagine you’re a bad one. Arrogant, maybe.”

“Hey!” He laughed with her. He liked her, he couldn’t help it. But seeing her reminded him of a time in his life that was complicated. “It’s good to see you. I’m glad you’re doing well.”

“You, too.” Kristin closed the laptop and focused her full attention on Ryan Sanders. Dr. Ryan Sanders. That was going to take some getting used to. She could still see the spirited young boy inside the responsible man.

Not that she was interested. So she’d noticed that his left hand was suntanned and ringless. He’d made the effort of renewing their acquaintance. He’d been so complimentary and friendly. Why was she even thinking in this direction?

Doom. Disaster. She’d never wanted a relationship. She would never lean on a man. She was fine all by herself, even if that got lonely sometimes.

“Here comes the beverage cart. I’d better get back to my seat now or I’ll be trapped here.” He rose, all six feet plus of him, filling the aisle. “Maybe I’ll see you around town?”

“Maybe. If I see you on the sidewalk, I won’t run in the opposite direction.”

“Deal. I’ll try not to run into a store and hide from ya.”

And he was gone, ambling down the aisle.

Ryan Sanders. He filled her thoughts as she opened the three-ring binder and flipped up the laptop’s screen. Imagine that, running into him. Had she even heard much about Ryan over the years?

No, just comments from Mom now and then on how Mary’s son had straightened out his life. Finally. And how Mary was lonely for him.

Wasn’t loneliness an integral part of life? Troubled, Kristin tried to concentrate on the Myers budget and couldn’t. The numbers on the screen fuzzed, and she rubbed her tired eyes.

Father, I don’t want to go home. Guilt warred with the other emotions coiling up in her stomach. What do I do?

She couldn’t disappoint her mom. Mom had been pressuring her since Labor Day, to make sure Kristin would come home. What did you do when home was no longer a refuge? A place that hurt instead of sheltered?

A sharp pain slashed like a razor in her stomach and had her digging through her bag for the roll of antacids she ate like candy. She loved her parents. She loved her sisters.

But all her girlhood illusions of family had died along with Allison. Time had not mended the broken places in her heart or in her family.

How could she go home and pretend nothing was wrong?

She wanted to see her sisters. Hold her newest niece, Anna, who’d been born in late summer. Gramma would be there. She wanted to see her parents.

If only there was a way to come home without the pain and sadness…

The plane dipped sharply to the left, and fear shattered her thoughts. She gripped the armrest. Was her heart really beating that fast? She took a deep breath, her chest pounding. What was wrong? She hated flying. Absolutely hated it.

What if it was engine trouble? Ice had crusted over the little window next to her. What if there was a problem with ice or something? She tried not to think of horror stories of air disasters. This was how Allison had died, in a plane crash in bad weather.

“Attention, passengers, this is your captain speaking.”

Kristin’s ears popped. Were they losing altitude? Before she could unscramble her thoughts to pray, the pilot continued speaking. “There’s a blizzard in Missoula so we’re diverting to Boise International.”

A blizzard? That was all? They weren’t going to crash? Relief slid through her like ice water. Thank you, Lord. She clutched the small cross at her neck. That was the good news, but a blizzard? What blizzard?

Sure, it was snowing, but the weatherpeople had promised the snow would be light. Okay, so it wouldn’t be the first time a weatherman was wrong, and this was Montana. Extreme weather happened. But Boise?

Going home might not be the easiest thing, but she missed her sisters. She didn’t want to spend Thanksgiving alone.

See? She would have been better off driving, with snow forecasted or not! There was that Murphy’s Law in effect again. Whatever would turn out worse, she had a habit of picking it.

This will work out for the best. She took a deep breath, willed her tensed muscles to unclench just a little. Right, Lord?

Right. Everything happened as it was meant to be. So this was simply a safer route than if she’d driven over the pass and right into the blizzard. By going to Boise, they were going around the storm. It made sense.

She’d just catch a flight when she got to Boise. Surely there would be a few vacant seats somewhere on a late-night flight to Bozeman.

And if not, she’d just rent a car and drive. The blizzard was in the other direction, right?

Thanksgiving

Wrong. The flights had been canceled. The Boise airport was closing down due to the rapidly approaching surprise storm. The blizzard was bringing dangerous conditions to half the cities in northern Idaho and to all of midwestern Montana.

Great. And if that wasn’t bad enough, there wasn’t a car left to rent in all of Boise. Kristin ought to know. She’d called every place that would answer their phone at 12:06 on Thanksgiving morning.

There were no hotel vacancies, no motel vacancies and the local bed-and-breakfasts weren’t picking up.

Definitely a problem. Kristin buttoned her coat and stared at her reflection in the black windows of the airport terminal. What was she going to do? Fat chunks of snow floated to the white ground on the other side of the glass where a single taxi waited along a vacant curb.

No passengers rushed from baggage claim or hurried to make that last-minute flight. She was practically alone and the security guards were eyeing her suspiciously. The swish of a janitor’s wide mop seemed loud in the echoing silence.

It looked as if she would miss Thanksgiving at home.

No sisters. No baby niece to hug close. No roasted turkey with Gramma’s special stuffing.

On the other hand, she wouldn’t have to face Allison’s empty place at the table.

But not seeing any of her sisters… Her chest ached with sadness. How could she be sad at completely opposite things at once?

So, she’d spend this holiday alone. She lived alone. She spent lots of weekends alone. She was used to it.

Still, loneliness grabbed hard and squeezed. For as much as she dreaded some things, she missed others very much. The way Mom always greeted her at the door, wearing her apron and opening her arms wide for a hug.

The big country kitchen would be warm with the delicious fragrances of roasting turkey and baking bread and desserts set out to cool on the counter.

Her sisters laughing and quibbling while her nieces and nephew toddled around the living room, and everyone turning to shout, “It’s Kristin. Kristin’s here!”

Exhausted from starting work at six o’clock this morning so she could leave early for the airport, she was too tired even to pray. Aching with despair, she buried her face in her hands.

Chapter Two

If that wasn’t a sign from above, Ryan didn’t know what was. He’d stood in line at one car-rental place after another. No rental cars. The passengers had dispersed; he detoured to baggage claim and was stunned to see his suitcase circling. He had the worst luck ever when it came to airport baggage.

Yup, it was a sign. This attempted trip home wasn’t over yet. Okay, he was going to give the rental counters one more try. If there were no cars, then he’d done all he could. It looked as if he wouldn’t be going home for Thanksgiving.

But he couldn’t be that lucky. He was probably the only human being on the continent who was hoping to head away from home.

Of course, there was a last-minute cancellation and an SUV with four-wheel drive just happened to be available—the only car left for rent in the entire city. Providence had spoken. Ryan Sanders was going to spend Thanksgiving with his family. No excuses, no exceptions. He might as well accept it and make the best of it.

It would mean a lot to Mom. That’s what mattered, at least telling himself that gave him enough grit to accept his fate. He loved his mom, he loved his sister, but he didn’t miss Montana. He wanted to put that part of his life away and lock the door tight. Throw the key in a deep well and cover it up. For good. There were some places too painful to go, like the past.

That’s why he believed in going full steam ahead. Why he never looked back. Why he wasn’t thrilled as he loaded up the Jeep and flipped the defroster on high. The Good Lord was making His will pretty clear in spite of the weather. The snowstorm was working up into a blizzard on the other side of the snowy windshield. The wipers couldn’t keep up.

Great, how was he going to see where he was going? Ryan squinted into the dizzying downfall but it didn’t help. He couldn’t read the directional signs through the whiteout conditions. Should he go left or right?

Clueless, he went left. He barely touched the brake and the tires did a little skid on the ice. Talk about dangerous conditions. He was a decent driver, but there was no sense in putting himself or anyone else at risk. A fair amount of his practice was comprised of car-accident victims. He’d done enough rotation time in the E.R. to know what could happen.

Maybe the wisest thing to do was hunt down a hotel room somewhere. Boise was crammed full of stranded travelers who’d booked every available room for the holiday weekend. He knew because he’d spent forty straight minutes on the phone. But maybe there was something available farther down the road, in one of the little towns a few miles north. He’d drive until he found a motel room—he wasn’t picky. He was too tired to drive on icy highways until dawn.

Okay, where had the road gone? It had to be somewhere in front of him. There was a metal post, good thing he didn’t hit it. Wait—a soft glow of light broke through the blizzard.

Perfect. He was headed the wrong way. The snow thinned on the lee side of the terminal as he crept through the empty passenger-loading zone. There was only a lonely taxi waiting alongside the curb with lights blinking. It was quickly being covered by snowfall.

Light from the terminal broke through the downfall to sheen on the road ahead of him and that’s when he saw her in his peripheral vision. Kristin McKaslin in her chic tan coat and designer clothes, sitting with her head in her hands, alone behind the long wall of windows.

She was stranded, too. And all by herself. That just wasn’t right. He eased the vehicle to the curb with a bump. No way was he going to let her sit there. Not when Providence had handed him a four-wheel drive and, like it or not, he was still heading home.

Through the glass, backlit by fluorescent light, he could see her perfectly, with that short golden bob of her hair falling forward as she sat. He could feel her misery.

Yet although she looked every bit the stranded traveler, Kristin McKaslin was still the picture of perfection in her upscale clothes and her every-hair-in-place do.

It must be nice to have a life like hers. He tried not to hold it against her, and the old envy surprised him. It wasn’t exactly envy, but it was close. As a boy growing up, he’d gotten an eyeful of the McKaslins’ storybook life via his mom. He saw the Thomas Kinkade-like coziness of the house she’d grown up in, heard endlessly from Mom how the McKaslin girls never gave their mother any grief the way he did. As a kid, his own inadequacies hurt and he was ashamed of them, so he did his best to cover them up with bravado and stupid recklessness.