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Yuletide Homecoming by Linda Goodnight

Five years ago, Rafe Westfield broke his fiancée’s heart when he left to join the military. Now the battle-scarred soldier is back in Snowglobe. Amy Caldwell tries to keep her distance, but the holidays, family and a sweet stray dog keep bringing her and Rafe together...maybe this time, forever.

A Family’s Christmas Wish by Lissa Manley

Abandoned by her husband when she was eight months pregnant, single mother Sara Kincaid vowed to rely only on herself. But then she makes a deal with handsome widowed father Owen Larsen to provide babysitting services in exchange for his carpentry work on her inn. Can two pint-size matchmakers help them see beyond the past in time for Christmas?

Praise for Linda Goodnight

“Goodnight’s emotion-packed story celebrates accepting life with its laughter, sorrow and love.”

—RT Book Reviews on The Baby Bond

“A truly inspiring story of overcoming trying circumstances and discovering personal strength.”

—RT Book Reviews on The Last Bridge Home

“This is a touching story that will renew the reader’s holiday spirit and belief in miracles.”

—RT Book Reviews on The Christmas Child

Praise for Lissa Manley

“Wonderful chemistry between the main characters makes this a delightful story with a couple of sweet secondary romances.”

—RT Book Reviews on Family to the Rescue

“[A] smart, touching story about two people who have every reason to resist love… Strong, sympathetic characters, realistic situations and a charming setting set this novel apart.”

—RT Book Reviews on In a Cowboy’s Arms

“[P]lenty of twists and turns along with

enough laughter to keep readers interested in Lissa Manley’s inventive plot.”

—RT Book Reviews on The Bachelor Chronicles

About the Authors

Winner of a RITA® Award for excellence in inspirational fiction, LINDA GOODNIGHT has also won a Booksellers’ Best Award, an ACFW Book of the Year award and a Reviewers’ Choice Award from RT Book Reviews. Linda has appeared on the Christian bestseller list and her romance novels have been translated into more than a dozen languages. Active in orphan ministry, this former nurse and teacher enjoys writing fiction that carries a message of hope and light in a sometimes dark world. She and her husband, Gene, live in Oklahoma. Readers can write to her at linda@lindagoodnight.com, or c/o Love Inspired Books, 233 Broadway, Suite 1001, New York, NY 10279.

LISSA MANLEY decided she wanted to be a published author at the ripe old age of twelve. She read her first romance novel as a teenager when a neighbor gave her a box of old books, and she quickly decided romance was her favorite genre. Although she still enjoys digging into a good medical thriller.

When her youngest was still in diapers, Lissa needed a break from strollers and runny noses, so she sat down and started crafting a romance, and she has been writing ever since. Nine years later, she sold her first book, fulfilling her childhood dream. She feels blessed to be able to write what she loves, and intends to be writing until her fingers quit working or she runs out of heartwarming stories to tell. She’s betting the fingers will go first.

Lissa lives in the beautiful city of Portland, Oregon, with her wonderful husband of twenty-seven years, a grown daughter and college-aged son, and two bossy poodles who rule the house and get away with it. When she’s not writing, she enjoys reading, crafting, bargain hunting, cooking and decorating. She loves hearing from her readers and can be reached through her website, www.lissamanley.com, or through Love Inspired Books.

A Snowglobe Christmas

Yuletide Homecoming

Linda Goodnight

A Family’s Christmas Wish

Lissa Manley

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Contents

Yuletide Homecoming

A Family's Christmas Wish

Yuletide Homecoming

Linda Goodnight

In memory of my brother, Stan Case.

I miss you, bro.

Cause me to hear your loving kindness

in the morning, for in you do I trust.

—Psalms 143:8

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Epilogue

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

Chapter One

High above Snowglobe, Montana, Amy Caldwell’s blue Ford Focus wound round and round the narrow road as she made her way into the valley nestled snugly between two snowcapped mountains. As if the creative hand of God had reached down and given the earth a loving shake, snow swirled upward in a constant circle so the small picturesque village of tiny stores and houses was forever captured in time and space like a snowglobe.

The colorful scatter of buildings and snow-kissed evergreens rested inside a bowl of milk-white snow. Smoke curled from rooftops and pulled Amy in like a long-lost friend. Her heart leaped at the sight.

“Home.” The word tasted foreign on her tongue. If all went as planned, she was home to stay.

Time and distance and a growing faith may not have healed the heartache she’d left behind, but it was time to let go, to come home, to do this one thing that her mother asked. At least she would no longer have to face Rafe Westfield and his betrayal.

When her car reached the village, she turned onto Main Street and headed straight for The Snowglobe Gift Shoppe. She parked in a slant at the curb and slammed out of the car, eager as her boots crunched on fresh, powdery snow. Before she reached the glass-fronted shop, a slender woman in dark slacks and a red scoop neck pullover rushed out the door, her shoulder-length black hair flying.

“Mom!” Amy said just as she was enveloped in a hug that smelled of hothouse roses and potpourri. At fifty, Dana Caldwell’s Spanish rose beauty still made Amy wish she looked more like her mom and less like her absentee father, the golden boy who had turned out to have brass feet.

“You made it. I was starting to worry.”

Amy smiled. Her mother always said that. “Safe and sound. And excited.”

“Are you? Oh, honey, I’m so ready to retire.”

“Semi-retire. You’re not leaving me alone with this store.”

Dana laughed. “Well, not yet. But you know the retail gift business as well as I do. Better. You have a degree!”

The degree in marketing meant more to her mom than it did to Amy or to her employers in Spokane. Former employers, she thought with a happy little step as her mom looped their arms together and tugged her into the shop.

Gently played symphonic Christmas music practically sucked her inside, alluring and lovely. Amy closed her eyes and breathed deeply of the warm, welcoming scent of Christmas past and present. “I love this smell.”

For as long as she could remember, cinnamon and pine, snow and flowers, and this shop with snowglobes and poinsettias in the vast picture window had meant Christmas.

“Christmas is the best smell of the year.”

They both giggled and hugged once more, a spontaneous action Amy knew would be repeated time and again. Her mama was a hands-on kind of woman.

Amy stepped away from her mother’s embrace to survey the gloriously decorated store.

“The shop looks amazing.” She turned a slow circle, examining every detail. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen it look bet—”

The word died an abrupt death, jammed down into her throat like a fist.

“Hello, Amy.” The gently masculine voice was as familiar as Christmas and as unwelcome as a lump of coal.

Amy’s heart jerked against her rib cage.

Rafe Westfield, the man who’d taken her heart and then handed it back again, leaned against the glass-topped counter. Bundled to the ears in a sheepskin jacket, and out of place amidst the singing Santas and dainty angels, he was handsomer than ever. His brown hair had grown out from the last time she’d seen him, after the recruiter had buzzed him bald, and now lay in gentle waves above a forehead no longer smooth and boyish but creased with fine worry lines. If anything they made him more rugged, more delicious.

Like his mouth. He had the most perfect lips a man could have, the bottom full and curved with the top a long, low M like the mountains surrounding Snowglobe. She remembered the feel of that mouth, the kisses they’d shared when he’d loved her. Or claimed to. He never really had; she knew that now. If he’d loved her, he would not have joined the military against her wishes.

She licked her own lips, gone bone-dry.

“Rafe?” she managed. “What are you doing here?”

She’d worked hard to let go of the bitterness, to forgive and move on, but in one moment, the old feelings came rushing back like a tidal wave.

“I live here,” he said. Below a slash of dark brows, his winter-blue eyes were solemn and aloof. The sparkle was gone, the teasing glint, the ready smile. He had changed. But then, so had she. Amy was no longer the gullible little college grad who’d dreamed of nothing but being Mrs. Rafe Westfield and making a home in Snowglobe, Montana.

“No, you don’t,” she insisted. “You can’t live here. You’re in the marines. You’re in the Middle East somewhere.”

“Was. Now I’m home.”

Home? He was calling Snowglobe home? The flutter of panic that had started way down in Amy’s belly soared through her bloodstream. He couldn’t be here permanently. Not if she was.

“What happened to your military career?”

The career that was more important than a life with me.

A muscle above one cheekbone flinched. It was the only indication that her question had hit a sore spot.

“Three tours was enough.” Abruptly he turned to the counter and collected two giant pots of scarlet poinsettias. To her mother, he said, “I’ll drop these off on my way.”

“Thanks for doing that, Rafe. The shop’s so busy, I’m not sure when I could get out there.”

“No problem.”

Then, exactly as he had five years ago, he turned and walked out the door.

“Mother!” Amy spun around, fingers gripping the counter’s edge. “What is he doing here?”

With mild reproof Dana said, “You’re repeating yourself, Amy. Rafe has lived in Snowglobe all his life, just as you have.”

“That’s not true. He left. He said he wasn’t coming back. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Her mother pretended to rearrange a lighted ceramic village behind the cash register. “If I recall—and I do—you forbade me to ever speak his name again. You said the relationship was done and over with and you wanted to move on. And you did.”

“You should have told me anyway,” Amy answered, feeling unreasonable and petulant.

“Would you have come home? Would you have agreed to take over the shop?”

“No, I wouldn’t have. I don’t want to be constantly reminded of how he humiliated me. It’s hard enough to come back to Snowglobe knowing that everyone in town pitied poor little Amy Caldwell when Rafe broke off our engagement to join the military.”

“Oh, precious girl.” Her mom repositioned a jingling reindeer before taking Amy by the shoulders. “That was a long time ago. You’ve enjoyed a nice career, friends, dates, travel. If you’d married so young, look at what you would have missed. I thought you’d forgiven and forgotten all about Rafe Westfield.”

“I said I’ve forgiven him. I’ll never forget. How could I? We were engaged. I’d picked out a dress!”

She’d loved him so much she thought she’d die when he chose the marines over her. Yet, he had, and there was no changing the past. After six months of feeling sorry for herself and dealing with the pitying stares, she’d taken the job in Spokane. She’d found a good church, made friends, had a great life.

So why was she letting Rafe get to her now?

The internal question shook her. Why indeed? Rafe Westfield was nothing but a bad memory.

The tiny bell over the shop door jingled and two customers entered. Her mother moved into action, leaving Amy to wander through the beautiful Christmas displays. Maybe the sights and smells would calm her stress and bring back the excitement of being home.

She shucked her jacket, leaving the bright turquoise scarf to dangle over her long black sweater.

She didn’t understand why she was so upset. She was completely over Rafe. He was old news. It wasn’t like she hadn’t had a boyfriend in the past five years. She had and yet, the old hurt had flown in her face like an out of control downhiller.

She rounded the corner of the greeting card display and heard someone say, “Amy? Is that you? I heard you were coming home for Christmas.”

“Katie?” Amy’s mood rose at the sight of her bouncy blonde friend from high school. With a squeal, the two women exchanged a brief hug. “It’s so good to see you. What are you doing?”

“Trying to find the perfect birthday card for Todd.” Katie had married a local boy right out of high school. “I’m having a little Christmas-style birthday party in his honor on Saturday. Why don’t you come? It’ll be a great way to see old friends again.”

“I’d love to! Are you sure it’s okay? I don’t want to be a fifth wheel.”

Katie made a noise in the back of her throat. “Stop. This is Snowglobe. No one is a fifth wheel here. Bring a little gift for the gift exchange if you want. It’ll be fun.”

“Are you playing Dirty Santa?”

Katie fingered a particularly pretty birthday card before putting it back on the shelf and selecting one with a grinning mule on the front. “We play Nice Santa, sort of. All the gifts are decent, but some are great. No one loses, but it’s lots of fun to see the guys in a friendly fight over a new snowboard and the girls bartering for a gift certificate to Molly’s Massage.”

“Mmm. Molly’s Massage.” Amy rotated her shoulders, tight after the unexpected confrontation with Rafe. “Sounds wonderful. I’m in.”

“Last year I ended up with a set of deer antler salt and pepper shakers.” Katie laughed. “Todd thought they were so cool!”

Amy laughed, too, feeling much better after reconnecting with her old friend. When Katie left, a steady stream of customers entered the shop, most of them people Amy knew, though a few tourists had already begun to gather for the annual Christmas ski race. Vacationers usually rented cabins and lodges in the countryside or stayed at the Snowglobe Bed-and-Breakfast, eager to catch the spirit of a small-town Christmas in the snowy Rockies.

Amy fell into the familiar rhythm of working the store, aware that business was brisk. But no matter how busy they were, she kept picturing her handsome, rugged ex-fiancé leaning against the glass counter.

During a lull, her mother said, “There’s mulled cider in the urn. Let’s grab a cup while we can.”

“Got any cookies to go with it?”

“Gingerbread from Porter’s Bakery. Becka made it fresh this morning.”

“Oh, yum.” They headed to the back corner of the store where a silver urn brewed something year-round according to the season. For Christmas, the small table was draped with green linen brightened by red napkins and Spode Christmas tree China. The centered urn emitted the warm, cozy smell of spiced cider, and beneath a glass cake stand sugar-sprinkled slices of gingerbread tempted the shopper to linger. In the background, a recorded harpist strummed “White Christmas.”

Dana Caldwell was a master at presentation.

“Aren’t you glad you’re home?” her mother asked, handing her a steaming mug complete with cinnamon stick.

“I am, Mom. Really,” she said when Dana pressed her lips together in the mother’s sign of concern.

“Goodness. After your reaction to Rafe, I was afraid you might back out on me. I can’t wait to turn this shop over to you and kick up my heels a little.”

“Mom? Kick up your heels?”

A rosy flush darkened her mother’s cheeks. “I don’t mean go wild, but I would like to travel and do some things while I’m still healthy and young enough.”

Amy lifted the steaming mug to her lips and sipped, thinking. As a child, she’d never considered her mother as anyone but a mom and shopkeeper. Now, as an adult, she was a little taken aback to realize her mom might want something more, something for herself.

“I guess running the shop tied you down.”

“Don’t think I’m complaining. I love this shop. God provided a way for me to raise my daughter and make a living without shortchanging either, and working with beautiful things is right up my alley. But now, you need this place. And I don’t. I’m so glad you’re here to take over, and I pray this shop is as wonderful to you as it has been to me.”

“You’re incredible, you know that?” Wasn’t it sad that she’d waited twenty-eight years to realize such a thing?

With a smile, her mother fluttered a hand. “You weren’t thinking that a few minutes ago when Rafe was here.”

“Not true. I’ve always known I have an exceptional mother.” She stirred the cinnamon stick around in the mug. “Rafe was the past. I can’t let his presence ruin this homecoming.”

Dana took two thick slices of gingerbread and slid them onto China saucers. “That’s my girl. No looking back.”

Exactly. She hoped.

As they settled into the dainty chairs with their snacks, Amy turned her thoughts from herself to her mother. After Amy’s father had left, Dana Caldwell had thrown herself into the store without complaint, making it better than ever. She must have been devastated by Dad’s betrayal, but Amy had been too young and heartbroken to consider anyone else’s feelings. Now she saw things in a different light. Like King David in the Bible, her mom had grieved the loss. Then she’d wiped her tears, set her eyes on the future and moved on, never looking back at what she could not change.

Was that what God expected her to do? Even with Rafe living in the same town?

She took a nibble of the spiced bread, thinking about how she had changed in the past five years. She’d grown up, grown closer to the Lord. She’d been so ready to come home and take over the shop. She couldn’t let her mother down.

But she hadn’t reckoned on Rafe.

Chapter Two

By closing time, Amy was in the swing of things at the gift shop. She’d made sales, wrapped gifts with shiny foiled papers and voluminous colored ribbons, unpacked the new stock of handcrafted glass ornaments and delivered flowers to New Life Church.

At the latter, she’d enjoyed a chat with Pastor Jacobson and allowed herself, with little effort, to be persuaded to help with the charity food basket preparation and delivery.

“I’ve always loved doing the Blessing Baskets,” she’d told her mother when she’d returned to the shop.

Dana was cleaning up, setting the shop to rights for closing time. With a smile, she said, “It’s a good thing to do and the interaction will put you right back in the heart of Snowglobe’s Christmas celebrations.”

“That’s what I was thinking.” Amy took the bottle of Windex from her mother’s hands and spritzed the glass countertop. “Pastor says he’s had more applications for help than ever this year.”

“Times are difficult for many people. That’s why it’s important to do what we can. Some towns have angel trees. In Snowglobe we have food and gift baskets.”

“Apparently the church has had a mountain of donations but not enough volunteers signed up to help sort, box and deliver. Pastor seemed thrilled that I wanted to.”

“Interesting. I know several who’ve mentioned helping. In fact...” Mom’s voice trailed away and she got a strange expression on her face.

“What?”

Her mother reclaimed the Windex bottle and grabbed a paper towel. Without answering, she crossed to the plate glass window and spritzed, rubbing the pane with all her might.

“Mom.” Amy carefully pushed aside a box of glass ornaments and followed her mother. “What’s the deal? Why are you acting weird?”

Outside the gleaming windows, the sidewalk shone dark and damp beneath golden street lamps adorned with red bows. Snowflakes swirled fat and lazy like falling feathers. Cars motored down the streets past other businesses dressed for the holidays. The tiny town of Snowglobe was a Christmas fantasy, a wish come true.

Inside the warm, sweet-smelling gift shop, Dana lowered the Windex bottle and turned slowly to meet her daughter’s gaze. “Did Pastor Jacobson mention who was in charge of the Blessing Basket drive this year?”

“I thought Pastor was.”

“No, he’s not. Rafe is.”

“Rafe!”

Two people passed the shop windows and slowed to admire the display of a snowy lighted village.

“Working with Rafe won’t be a problem, will it?”

Amy swallowed past the protest rising like a volcano. Work with Rafe? In the same room? For hours on end?

“No,” she managed. “No problem at all.”

* * *

Returning from a test drive, Rafe parked the snowmobile in the maintenance bay of Westfield Sports Rentals and dismounted. He pulled off his goggles and helmet, hanging them on the back wall with the rows of similar rental equipment.

His younger brother, Jake, exited the office and strode in his direction. Brotherly love swelled in Rafe’s chest. If not for Jake, he would have arrived home another jobless vet. But before he’d left for the marines, while he was still licking his wounds over losing Amy, he and Jake had come up with the idea of opening a sports rental business. With Rafe’s money, thanks to several years of combat pay, Jake had done the hard work of building the business from the ground up. Knowing this business and his little brother were depending on him had given Rafe something to focus on when war had threatened to overwhelm.

He’d told Jake none of this, of course. But he was grateful.

“How’d she do?” Jake asked, nodding toward the Polaris. In jeans and pullover sweater, he looked like the college man he would be if not for the shop. Good-looking guy, even if Rafe did say so himself. Dark curly hair, blue eyes and a grin that warned the onlooker he was up to something. Mom claimed her sons looked alike but Rafe figured Jake won the handsome dog contest.

“The carburetor’s still not right,” Rafe answered.

“I’ll break it down tomorrow. There must be some sludge buildup in one of the jets.”

“That’s what I was thinking.” Rafe fell into step with his brother and returned to the office, a cozy room that served as both business center and customer service area. Rock music boomed from the piped-in stereo. “You gotta change that to Christmas music.”

Jake shrank back in horror. “A steady dose of smarmy muzak about chestnuts and reindeer? Dude! That stuff poisons the soul.”

Rafe grinned a little at his brother’s over-the-top reaction. “Customers like it.”

Jake gripped his throat and made a strangling sound.

“Deal with it. Customer service and all that.” Rafe tapped a fist against his brother’s shoulder. “Besides, a dose of real Christmas would be good for your soul, not poison.”

“Brother, you’re scaring me. You’ve turned into an old man.”

The comment, meant as a sibling jest, struck a tender spot. Jake didn’t get it. He hadn’t been where Rafe had been. He hadn’t seen and done and heard things that make a man ponder the important things in life. Rafe thanked God for that. And there was the crux. God. Like Rafe had been before joining the military, Jake’s faith didn’t mean much. He was morally a decent man. That was enough.

Or so Rafe had thought.

If there was one fact big brother had learned on the front lines, it was that men die with God on their lips. Some curse Him. Some call on Him.

The latter died in peace. Rafe still heard the former in his dreams.

The song changed to hard-driving heavy metal. He’d heard plenty of that in the desert, too.

Everyone needed a little Christmas with its promise of hope and peace. Especially him. If that made him an old man...

He turned down the stereo. “All the rentals back in for the day?”

“Two still out.” Jake arched a black eyebrow toward the darkening sky. “Shouldn’t be much longer. Wanna help me count the money?”

Rafe grinned. “Won’t turn that down. You’re making me a rich man.”

Both brothers laughed. They were far from rich and, like most new businesses, struggled at times, but they were growing, too. Rafe moved behind the long, low counter that served as a desk. The counter reminded him of Dana Caldwell’s gift shop. And Amy.

“You’ll never guess who I ran into today,” he said as casually as he could.

“Amy?”

He looked up in surprise. “News travels fast.”

“That’s a fact. So, how is she?”

Rafe let a beat pass while he thought about how to answer. Amy, in her jaunty knit beret with her warm smile and her voice breathy and excited, had stolen his senses the moment she’d sailed into The Snowglobe Gift Shoppe arm-in-arm with her mother. He’d had a minute to compose himself, to pretend he hadn’t thought about her every day for the past five years, but her effect lingered with him still.

She looked the same with shaggy blond hair that flew around her face in wisps and honey-brown eyes she considered too small and plain for beauty. She was wrong about that. Amy sparkled.

He’d known she was coming home, had even prepared himself to see her again. At least he’d thought so.

“She’s home to take over The Snowglobe Gift Shoppe,” he said, pleased at how light and normal his voice sounded. “Dana told me.”

“How do you feel about that?”

“How do I feel?” Rafe made a rude noise. “You sound like a psychiatrist. How I feel about anything doesn’t mean squat.”

“Yeah, yeah. Tell it to someone who doesn’t know better.” Jake clapped him on the shoulder. “I was there, dude. Remember?”

Rafe kept his head down, sorting rental receipts into neat stacks. “Ancient history.”

“She broke your heart.”

“I broke hers.” Amy had wanted to get married before he left for the military. He’d wanted to wait. He was still fuzzy on the particulars but at some point, they’d fought until she’d handed him his ring.

“Reciprocal stupidity if you ask me.”

“I didn’t. We made the right decision.” If he’d been killed in combat, Amy would have been a widow. He couldn’t bear the thought of what that would have done to her. Or worse, what if she’d had a baby? A fatherless baby to raise by herself. The break-up was the best gift he could give her before he left.

“That was then,” Jake said. “This is now.”

“My brother the philosopher.”

“So, when are you going to ask her out?”

Rafe’s heart jerked. Ask her out? “She wasn’t exactly excited to see me.”

“Ask her anyway.”

“I’ll pass.” No use digging up dry bones.

Jake slid the cash receipts into a zippered bag for the night deposit at the bank. “You still in love with her?”

“You’re not going to let this go, are you?” Rafe made a notation on the paper pad. Later, he’d do the data entry on the computer.

“Can’t. My big brother spent four years of his life making the world a better place. I want him to be happy.”

Rafe grunted. Little brother knew how to get to him. “I am happy. This business makes me happy. Being home makes me happy.” He cast an eye toward the stereo. “Christmas music would make me happier.”

Jake snorted but didn’t go away. “Amy’s pretty hot-looking. Nice girl. So...just to be clear on the subject. If I ask her out, you’d be okay with it?”

Before Rafe could stop the reaction, he was up and out of his chair, scowling at his little brother over the counter.

A slow, knowing smile spread over Jake’s face. “Gotcha.”

Chapter Three

Amy’s boots echoed in the empty hall between the side door and the family center at the back of New Life Church. All day long she’d felt jittery about coming tonight. Now, to make her even jumpier, the church seemed unusually quiet. She’d expected a crowd to help sort the boxes of donated foods and gifts, and to act as a buffer between her and her ex-fiancé.

Slipping her gloves from her fingers, she stuffed them into her pockets and rolled her suddenly stiff shoulders. As she entered the large common room, Pastor Jacobson spotted her and came forward, his ruddy face open and smiling.

“Amy, you made it.” He offered his hand, swallowing hers in his much larger one. The forty-something former pro wrestler was the size of Paul Bunyan with an equally big heart.

She returned the smile and unwound a thick scarf from her neck. “I must be early. Where is everyone?”

“You may be it,” he said. “A scout troop was scheduled for tonight but something’s going on at the school and they canceled. With time short, we’re falling behind, so Rafe comes in most nights for a few hours. You’re a blessing for volunteering to help him.”

Blessing? She sure didn’t feel that way, and when Rafe appeared from the kitchen area toting a box labeled “green beans,” she wished she’d not come at all.

“No one else volunteered?”

“A few others may pop in. You never know.” Pastor patted her shoulder. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m headed over to the hospital. Sadie took a fall. Keep her in your prayers.”

Amy stared in dismay at the pastor’s departing back. Just like that, she was alone with Rafe Westfield. All day she’d considered backing out. Now she wished she had. But when she’d mentioned working late at the gift shop, her mom had pushed her out the door.

Behind her, Rafe slammed a box onto a table. Amy spun around.

“Hi,” he said, calm as could be. “Thanks for volunteering. We’re shorthanded.”

Amy swallowed a flutter of nerves. “So I see.”

“Might as well take off your coat and get comfortable. There’s a lot to do.”

Get comfortable? That was not likely to happen. But she shed her coat and hat, wondering how she’d gotten into this miserable situation.

“Look, I—uh...” She pressed her lips together, trying to think of a reason to leave but nothing came. The truth was she loved this project, had volunteered all through high school and beyond. Why should she allow an unimportant man to take that pleasure from her the way he’d taken her heart? With a soft exhale, she said, “Tell me where to start.”

She could do this. She would do this. Rafe didn’t need to know how awkward she felt. Or that the anger and resentment of their broken engagement simmered just beneath the surface of civility. Resentment she’d thought was long gone.

Rafe zipped a knife along the top of a box and flipped up the flaps.

“We set up empties on those tables,” he said, pointing, “and the finished ones over there. And these are the donated items to pull from.”

“Just like always.”

“Yes. Like old times.”

Old times? She didn’t think so. In old times, this would have been fun. They would have laughed and teased and made a game of sorting and packing. He would have tossed a bag of rice at her and later, when he wasn’t looking, she would have taped his shoe to the floor. Between the pranks and hijinks, they would have talked about any and everything and planned their holiday adventures.

Those times were as gone as their love.

Stiff as a mid-January icicle, Amy took a list and began sorting through random items donated by service groups and individuals. Several minutes passed while neither spoke. The tension in Amy’s neck tightened. She was intensely aware of Rafe’s every movement, of being alone with him for the first time since their break-up. The huge, mostly empty hall echoed with painful silence, except for the rattle of cans and scrape of boxes. She could even hear herself swallow!

“A-w-k-w-a-r-d,” she muttered to a can of yams.

“Did you say something?”

Amy didn’t look up. She didn’t need to look to know Rafe was burning her with a questioning stare. “Nothing.”

Tin cans clattered against the brown Formica tabletops while she repeated her mantra. She was doing this for Jesus and the needy. Rafe could go take a leap in a snowbank. She didn’t like him. He’d left her, broken her heart. She could work beside him for the sake of others. He would not affect her.

As if he read her thoughts, Rafe moved his half-filled box directly across from hers so they were standing face-to-face. His gray-blue eyes searched hers. “You all right?”

“Fine.”

He nodded, all the while stacking canned goods into a box with automated efficiency. Tension simmered. If he didn’t feel it and get the message that she didn’t want to talk to him, he was an insensitive slob.

“Snowglobe’s a great place to be during the holidays,” he said, rattling boxes of macaroni and cheese.

Really? Then why had he left? “It’s a great place to be any time.”

If he comprehended the jab, he dodged it. “Spokane must have agreed with you.”

“What?” Frowning, she glanced up. “Why?”

“You look good.”

“Oh. Well. Thanks. I enjoyed the time there.”

“Your mother seems really happy to have you home.”

“She is.” Now shut up and leave me alone. And stop looking at me as if you’re even the slightest bit interested in my life.

“Are you happy about taking over the shop?”

Amy suppressed a sigh. He was as insensitive as she’d thought. “For the most part. I’ve missed the small-town things we do at Christmas. The tree lighting, caroling door-to-door.”

“I’m looking forward to those myself. The ski race, too.”

She resisted the urge to ask why he’d changed his mind and come home. She didn’t want to care why he did anything.

When she didn’t speak, another uncomfortable silence fell. With an inner groan, Amy wondered which was worse, talking to Rafe or dealing with the awkward silence.

She stacked four cans of corn into a box and stole a glance toward the doorway. Not another soul anywhere around.

When she could bear the quiet no longer, she asked, “Are you competing?”

“In the race?” He shook his head. “No, but Jake is. I’m minding the store. The recreational rental business should be brisk when tourists hit town.”

“So, how’s that working out for you?”

With a box of stuffing in each hand, he grinned, transforming his serious expression into a thing of beauty. Thick lines radiated from the corner of his eyes, lines that hadn’t been there five years ago. A pinch of concern prodded Amy. She wasn’t stupid or uninformed. She knew where he’d been for most of his military career, and now she wondered what kind of toll war had taken on the breezy young athlete she remembered.

“I play with big boys’ toys all day,” he said. “Can’t beat a job like that.”

She studied him, bothered by her thoughts and this sudden, unwanted curiosity about his life. “Business must be good.”

“We’re doing all right. You should come by sometime and check us out. Take a spin on one of the new Arctic Cats.” Using a black marker, he labeled a filled box and set it aside.

“Maybe I’ll do that.” When Antarctica melts. Though she was itching to ask why he’d left the military, she refrained, struggling not to care one way or the other. But something new about him disturbed her, something more than their painful break-up.

When he came around the table toward her then, she took a step backward, wary. The last thing she wanted was for him to touch her or apologize or...whatever he was about to do.

“I’ll get the filled boxes for you,” he said, indicating the two she’d packed and slid to one side. “They get pretty heavy.”

“Oh,” she said, feeling silly. “Thanks, but I’ve still got some muscle.” She raised her sweater-clad arm and made a muscle to prove the point.

Rafe was still a little too close, so much so that his outdoorsy scent tinkled her nose. Amy’s breath caught in her throat as memories flooded her. Her chest filled with an ache too big to hold. She’d once loved him so very, very much.

Heedless of her inward battle, Rafe’s powerful fingers lightly squeezed her relatively small muscle. He whistled. “Spokane girls got the power.”

Yes, they did. The power to back away and remember what Rafe Westfield had done five years ago.

She dropped her arm to her side and turned away to rummage in the donation boxes.

They worked in silence again, sorting, stacking, boxing. Amy tried to focus on the good she was doing, on the families who would benefit from the food and toys they’d deliver to homes shortly before Christmas.

“I wish we had a radio,” she said suddenly.

“Want to use my iPod? I’ve got earbuds.”

“You downloaded Christmas carols?”

“Are you insinuating that guys don’t listen to Christmas music?”

“No, of course not—” Amy looked up to see he was teasing. “How did you know I wanted Christmas music?”

“Because you always did.” Expression easy, he pointed a cake mix at her. “You drove me nuts singing ‘Jingle Bells’ at the first sign of snow.”

Not wanting to remember those good times, Amy tossed her head. “Maybe I’ve changed.”

He stared at her for two beats before saying, “I guess we both have. You gonna sing in the Christmas cantata?”

“I hadn’t thought about it.” But she was thinking about what he’d said. They’d both changed. For some reason, the statement made her sad.

“You should. Trust me, the choir needs your soprano.”

“I doubt that.” She added packs of beans and rice to the three new boxes she’d set between them as barriers. “New Life has plenty of strong voices.”

“None as sweet and pure as yours.”

“Is that a compliment?” She looked up, smiling in spite of her resolve.

His perfect mouth shrugged while his eyes twinkled. “Maybe. Or maybe Darlene Clifford is jockeying to sing a solo.”

Amy clapped a hand to each cheek. “Argh. Say it ain’t so!”

Holding a tea box to his chest, he nodded in mock seriousness. “And we both know Darlene’s voice could take the paint off the walls.”

Amy sniggered. Then she laughed. Rafe joined her. And in the next minute, through shared silliness, she relaxed a little.

“Shame on you.” Amy tossed a bag of noodles at him.

He one-handed it. “You laughed first.”

So she had. Rafe could always make her laugh.

But she’d still be glad when the evening was over.

* * *

The scream jerked him awake. He bolted upright in bed, shaking, heart thundering inside his chest. The rat-a-tat of gunfire resounded in his head. His nostrils full of fire and dust and that peculiar, sickly sweet smell of death.

Rafe shook his head, fighting to gain reality. He was home. In Snowglobe. In his old bedroom. He’d done his job. Let it go.

He sat up on the side of the bed, elbows on his knees and head in his hands. Cold night air prickled the sweat trickling down his neck.

He could hear his own ragged breathing, loud and harsh in the silent night.

The doorknob rattled and the door opened. Light from the hall bathroom crept in around his feet.

He looked up to find Jake a dark shadow standing in the doorway.

“Are you all right?” Jake asked, voice low and worried.

Rafe ran splayed fingers through the top of his hair, collecting himself for the sake of little brother. “Yeah.”

“I heard you.”

Shame calmed the pounding of his pulse. Jake’s room was next to his just as it had always been. Rafe was thankful Mom and Dad were at the other end of the house. But he didn’t want his brother thinking he was a sissy. “Sorry.”

Jake padded across the soft carpet, quiet as a cat, and a welcome presence. “Another nightmare?”

As much as he hated to admit it.

“Something like that. No big deal. Must have been the chili dog.”

Jake hovered, uncertain. “I can get you something. Water. Milk. Ibuprofen.”

Rafe wondered if he’d screamed, if he’d cried out like a scared girl. He wondered if he’d said anything he shouldn’t. But he didn’t ask. Couldn’t. He was a marine. “Go back to bed.”

“You sure? I could stay. Talk.”

“I’m good.” He could handle it. “Don’t say anything to Mom about this, okay?”

Jake hesitated for another few seconds, then squeezed Rafe’s shoulder, slipped quietly out of the room and shut the door with a soft click.

In total darkness again, Rafe sat on the side of the bed, adrenaline jacked, his sleep shot for the night. He couldn’t remember details of the dreams but they left him feeling weak and helpless and frustrated that war had followed him home. They didn’t come often—maybe once a week—but when they did, they wrecked him.

He bowed his head, hands clasped between his still shaky knees and prayed. Afterward, he rose and went to the window, pulling up the heavy insulated shades to look outside. The world was peaceful here. Peaceful and safe. Snow fell in the moonlight and glistened like the inside of a snowglobe. He thought of the one he’d carried with him all around the world. The snowglobe Amy had given him.

“Amy,” he muttered against the cold windowpane.

Tonight had been strange. He’d known she hadn’t wanted to be alone with him at the food pantry. Even though he understood her reasons, he was bothered. They’d been such good friends, able to talk about anything and everything, even before becoming engaged. But that, like everything else in his life, had changed.

He wondered again if he should broach the topic of their broken engagement and explain how sorry he was for hurting her.

He scrubbed both hands over his face, whiskers scraping.

He and Amy lived in the same town, attended the same church, but they might as well be as far apart as Spokane and Afghanistan. She hadn’t understood then. She certainly wouldn’t understand now.

Heart heavy, he clicked on a lamp, went to his closet and took down the small snowglobe. As he had so many times before, he twisted the key on the bottom and gave the globe a shake. He returned to his bed and lay down. Globe balanced on his chest, he propped his hands behind his head to watch the make-believe snow fall over the pretty little village and let the melody of “Silent Night” serenade him toward dawn.

Chapter Four

“What are these things?” Rafe asked, holding up a skewer of meat and fruit.

Jake leaned in and took a bite. Mouth full, he said, “I don’t know but they’re good. Katie knows how to throw a party, huh?”

The birthday/Christmas party was in full swing, the voices of thirty-plus adults competing with a blasting CD player. Rafe figured there was enough food spread on the table, the bar and the end tables to feed everyone in town for a week, and he aimed to sample all of it. Always a gregarious guy, he was having a good time.

“Hey.” Jake’s elbow jabbed his ribs. “Look who just walked in.”

Rafe knew before he looked. Lots of people had come through the front door tonight but Jake would only mention one. Amy.

“So?” he asked, choking down a cracker covered in spicy cheese spread.

“So, go talk to her. She looks lost.”

Rafe made a rude noise. “You should get lost.”

But he watched Amy step inside, her smile tentative, holding a wrapped gift to add to the pile already stacked a foot high under Katie’s twinkling Douglas fir. She did look a little lost as if she’d forgotten how to mingle with old friends.

Before he could consider all the reasons why he shouldn’t, he excused his way through the packed room to her side.

At his approach, Amy looked up, startled. “Rafe. I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Same here.” He was glad she’d come. The room seemed brighter, merrier with Amy in it. “You’re late.”

Amy bent to place her gift beneath the tree. Her blond hair shone like the tinsel and a few stray hairs danced with static electricity. Rafe remembered how soft and smooth her hair was and how he’d liked the feel on his rough fingers.

He remembered a lot of things about Amy that he’d liked. Maybe Jake was right. Maybe they could...

She stood, cutting off the thought he shouldn’t be thinking.

“Worked late. Mom had something to do tonight.” Her nose was red, her eyes sparkling from the outdoor chill. She looked energized, the way she always had when she’d been outside in the winter. The same way he felt now that she was here.

When she rubbed her reddened hands together, Rafe resisted the urge to warm them as he used to. He wondered if she remembered.

“Let me take your coat,” he said, not wanting to let her get away but not knowing what else to say.

“You don’t have to.” She unsnapped the down anorak and slid it from her shoulders.

Rafe took it anyway. The scent of fresh, frigid air and Amy’s warm perfume wafted from the thick jacket. “Cold outside.”

Amy gave him a slight smile as if to say, “This is Montana in the winter. Hello! It’s always cold,” but she didn’t say anything. Still, he felt a little schoolboy stupid.

“I’ll put this in the back with the others.” He was gratified when she followed him through the jostling crowd.

Friends stopped them along the way to say hello, joking, and making merry. Amy hugged Todd, the birthday boy, and teased him about getting old. Rafe had a moment of wishing she’d be that warm and friendly with him, not that he deserved anything except the polite reserve he got.

He didn’t know why he couldn’t give it up. Guilt, he supposed. He owed her.

“It feels good to be home for Christmas, doesn’t it?” he asked when they were alone, just for a minute, in the hallway.

“Yes, it does. What’s to eat? I’m starving.” She looked back toward the kitchen as if regretting her decision to follow him toward the coat room.

“No time for dinner?”

“No. This is the busy season.”

He tossed the coat on Katie’s bed with a stack of others and steered her back through the crush. “I highly recommend those kabob things and the hot cheese dip and the pizza and those whirly pinwheel things over there.”

Amy’s eyes widened. “You tried all those?”

“Just getting started, too. What’s your pleasure?” He handed her a red paper plate decorated with a smiling reindeer. “There’s dessert but you need sustenance first.”

“Sustenance. Good word. How about the fruit dip and some of those veggies?”

“Girl food, but okay. Beats MREs.” Rafe popped a cookie in his mouth, having a better time than he’d expected. At least Amy was talking to him. She was cool but conversant.

The need to discuss the past pushed in. He pushed back. Don’t mess up the moment. This time last year he’d been lying in a dirt sleeping hole in the barren outposts of Afghanistan. He’d daydreamed of home, of Christmas parties like this, of good friends and good times, and if Amy occupied a lot of those dreams, it was only natural. They’d been together since junior high.

“Amy. Rafe.” Katie appeared next to them. “This is awesome. I wasn’t sure you’d both come, but seeing you together again just makes my day.”

Amy made some light remark before Katie moved on, but Rafe felt her withdrawal. She went from friendly Amy to a stiff stranger who quickly wandered away. And Rafe was left out in the cold.

* * *

The party was great. The food was delicious. The Dirty Santa game hilarious. Watching grown men finagle and fuss over a pair of snow goggles proved to be the hit of the night. Amy was having fun. Truly. She’d reconnected with her high school friends, including Mack Jennings, who showed more than a passing interest in her homecoming.

“I’m going for more punch,” Mack, standing at her elbow, said. “Want some?”

“Sure, if you don’t mind.”

With a wink, he took her cup and disappeared through the crush. She took an olive from a tray and swiveled around on the bar stool. The first person she spotted was Rafe. She started to turn away but curiosity got the better of her. He hadn’t seemed the least bothered by her avoidance of him. That was good, she supposed. They were both going on with their lives, dealing with the past the way mature adults should.

Katie’s comment, her insinuation that Rafe and Amy were together, had bothered her. So much so that she’d slipped away from Rafe at the first opportunity. No matter what well-meaning friends thought, painful experience had taught her to protect her heart. Sure, Rafe was the hometown hero, the nice guy who delivered food baskets and taught disabled kids to ski, but that didn’t make him trustworthy.

She watched him now, sitting across the big living room in an armchair sharing laughs with his brother and Gabby Ralick. The Westfield brothers, in her opinion, were the best-looking men in the room, and Gabby, a divorcée with two kids, seemed to be thrilled with the attention.

Mack returned with her refilled cup of punch and slid onto the stool next to her. “It’s not polite to stare.”

Amy lowered her gaze to the paper cup and nonchalantly sipped the sweet liquid. “I wasn’t staring.”

“He was.”

“No, he wasn’t! Why would he be?”

“Maybe he still has a thing for you.”

“I certainly hope not,” she said hotly, but a flutter of...something...stirred beneath her rib cage.

Mack lifted his cup in a toast. “I’ll drink to that.”

They bumped cups.

“The clinic is having a party next Wednesday afternoon. Want to come over and hang out with us medical types?”

The invitation caught Amy off guard. Mack was a radiology tech at the local medical clinic, and she knew practically everyone else who worked there, too. At least, she used to know them. While she was considering her reply, the growl of Katie and Todd’s karaoke machine interrupted.

“Karaoke Christmas, everyone!” Todd shouted into the microphone, which caused a feedback squeal that killed any notion of conversation.

Amy pressed her hands to both ears, laughing.

Todd kicked off the karaoke by barking a hilarious rendition of “Jingle Bells,” and others followed, singing the silliest holiday tunes they could find. Mack brought the house down when he sang “I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas” in a girly soprano, and not to be outdone, Jake warbled and acted out “Randolph, the Bowlegged Cowboy.”

When he finished and the stomps and claps subsided, Jake shot an ornery grin toward Amy and then toward his brother. Amy got a funny feeling in her stomach and slid down on the bar stool.

“Who wants to hear Rafe and Amy sing?” Jake shouted. “Just like old times. A duet.”

Amy’s gaze flew toward Rafe, who had the same deer-in-the-headlights expression she suspected was on her own face. But unlike Amy, Rafe unwound his tall form from the armchair, shedding Gabby as he came toward the front of the room and the karaoke machine.

“How about it, Amy?” Jake called, urging her on, his grin so annoying she wanted to pinch him. “Come on, now, don’t be shy. Amy. Amy.”

The crowd picked up the chant. “Amy. Amy.”

As much as she didn’t want to sing “their” duet, the situation was getting embarrassing.

She shot a frantic look at Mack, who hitched his chin toward the front. “Might as well get it over with.”

Gulping down panic, Amy headed to the front amidst good-natured catcalls and whistles. If any of these so-called friends recalled the history between Rafe and Amy, they’d been struck with a sudden case of group amnesia.

Or maybe that’s why they were so insistent.

Well, she’d show them. She could sing with anyone. But she would not sing their song.

She’d no more than thought the thought than Todd slipped a CD into the karaoke machine and the music started. She looked at Rafe in panic.

“No,” she whispered.

“Don’t make a big deal of it.” He squeezed her hand. “It’s just a song.”

Just a song? Did he know how much that hurt?

And when had he taken hold of her hand?

He smiled into her eyes.

“I don’t even like you,” she whispered.

His lips curved upward. “I know.”

Then the intro ended and Rafe began to sing the first verse of “All I Want for Christmas is You.”

Amy had sung for events since she was a tot. Singing didn’t scare her. But she didn’t want anyone in this room to think she still pined for Rafe Westfield.

She whirled around and grabbed Jake by the collar, crooning her first two lines into his surprised face.

Then she spun toward Todd and grabbed him, proclaiming that he could make her wish come true.

“Hey!” Katie hollered, pretending insult. “He’s taken. Except for when he snores.”

The room erupted in laughter and Amy relaxed. They were singing silly songs and she’d made this one fit the theme.

Todd took her hand and gave her a spin, turning her back toward Rafe. She stumbled in the spin and he caught her, reeled her in and stared down into her face as he sang of wanting to hold her tight.

Putting on an act for the crowd, he hugged her close in mock affection, but Amy felt the rattle of his heart through his shirt. He was as embarrassed by the attention as she was and probably wished he hadn’t come to the party. He probably wished she’d stayed in Spokane.

An urge to snuggle into his broad chest and listen to his strong baritone troubled her. He smelled good, like the woods in spring, and she felt so secure in his arms.

She stiffened, remembering. She was not secure with Rafe, war hero or not. She could not trust him, never could, though she’d been foolish enough to believe for a while.

She backed away, fanning herself, playing the game, giving their friends a good laugh as she and Rafe finished the performance with a dramatic flourish.

Amy hoped no one noticed that her smile was a little too tight.

Rafe leaned into her ear and whispered, “Sorry to put you on the spot. You okay?”

She nodded, face frozen in a fake smile. Of course she was okay, even if she felt like crying.

Chapter Five

Amy thought about the Christmas party for days afterward, and each time she and Rafe ran into each other—an inevitability in Snowglobe—she was reminded again of that one tiny moment. The moment he’d pulled her close, even in jest, she’d flashed back to those perfect days of feeling secure in his love.

She rang up a customer’s purchase, a set of keepsake ornaments.

“No time for a cup of hot cider?” she asked the woman, a teacher at the elementary school.

“Not today, Amy. We have a family gathering tonight to decorate the tree. I still need to put on a ham and bake a pie.”

“Sounds fun.” Smiling, she handed the woman her bag. “Enjoy. And Merry Christmas!”

The jingle bells on the door wreath jangled merrily as the customer departed. Her mom, who looked especially pretty in a bright blue top with a flowy jacket, came from the back of the shop where she’d been unpacking today’s shipment of gift items.

“Are you working at the church tonight?”

“That’s the plan,” Amy said, nonchalantly. “How about you?”

Dana shook her head, dark hair swinging like something out of a shampoo commercial. “Not tonight. I have other plans.”

Before Amy could ask what those plans might be, her mom rushed on. “Why don’t you go ahead and leave? You’ll need to eat first anyway. I’ll close up and see you at home later tonight. Okay?”

Amy blinked, noticing the sudden bloom of color on her mother’s cheeks. Was her mom trying to get rid of her?

“Are you sure? I don’t mind staying. Rafe has plenty of help scheduled tonight. I saw the list myself.”

Mom’s hands stilled on a display of glossy gold wrapping paper. “How is that working out? You and Rafe?”

“If you mean, are we civil, the answer is yes.” She got her purse from beneath the counter.

“I heard you had fun together at Katie’s party.”

“Really? You heard that?”

“Did you?”

Had she? “Jake put us in an embarrassing spot. He forced us to sing a duet.”

“The two of you always sounded good together. Your sweet soprano and his strong baritone.”

She didn’t appreciate reminders of Rafe’s baritone crooning a love song in her ear. “We survived.”

“Mmm,” Mom said. “I heard there were sparks. That Rafe couldn’t take his eyes off you all night.”

Amy’s heart jumped. Was that even the slightest bit true? “Come on, Mother. You can’t want us to get back together.”

“I would never interfere in your life.” Her mom grinned. “Not much anyway. But Rafe is a good man who lives his faith. I want that for my child, a man who loves God with everything he has. Faith matters, baby.”

Amy heard what her mother would never say. Amy’s dad had attended church on special occasions, but he’d never really served God. He’d never really loved his wife and daughter, either. If he had, he wouldn’t have walked out on them.

“I’ll find a Christian guy. Don’t worry, Mom.”

Dana gave her a quick hug. “I just want you to be happy.”

“I am.” Most of the time. She’d love to settle down and have a family, but God would send her someone. She hoped.

After slipping into her coat, she headed to her car, her mother’s words ringing in her head. Rafe was a good man. He was. He always had been, but his faith had been wobbly back then. Since coming home she’d seen how he’d thrown himself into the town, into the church, into his business, into the needs of others. He’d matured.

Okay, so she appreciated the man he appeared to have become, but she knew better than most that appearances could be deceiving.

* * *

The church family hall was crowded on this particular night, but Rafe knew the minute Amy arrived. The truth troubled him. Any time Amy was anywhere in the vicinity, he felt her presence. He’d thought he was over her, but the more he saw her, the more he wondered. She was a reminder of his failures as a man, but she also reminded him of what it had been like to be crazy in love. He’d never come close to that feeling with any other woman.

He’d prayed about it lately. Almost as much as he prayed about the bad dreams. Apparently, God wanted him to notice her. Maybe the Lord was pushing him to bring up the past, set it to rights. He certainly thought about it often enough, just as he thought about her.

She came toward him, shedding her coat, and he let himself enjoy the sight. Vibrant, glowing with health and energy, Amy made him appreciate the differences in male and female.

“What’s my assignment, Chief?” she asked.

“Early deliveries start tomorrow. Since you’re our premiere basket wrapper, why don’t you show some of the other ladies how to fancy up the finished boxes with those bow thingies your mom donated.”

“Works for me. Should we wrap the toys, too, or leave those for the parents to wrap?”

“Leave them. We’ll include gift wrap in the boxes. Your mother donated that, too.”

“Great lady, my mom.” Amy moved away to do his bidding and gathered a group of women around a table. In minutes, colored ribbon became fancy bows and boxes became pretty gift packages. The lady had a knack for making things beautiful.

Busy sorting and directing and keeping an eye on all phases of the operation, Rafe could work anywhere he chose. And he chose to work near Amy. He directed conversation her way and was gratified when she didn’t freeze him out. The talk turned from the Christmas tree lighting and the annual church drama to the amount of snow on the ski slopes.

“Have you been skiing yet?” he asked, pretending the question was casual conversation for all, though he directed it at Amy. There were at least twenty other people in the room, most of them asking him questions from time to time, and yet he kept returning to Amy.

Something was going on here, whether he liked it or not.

“I’ve been too busy with the shop,” Amy said as she wound ribbon around her outstretched fingers to deftly, quickly create a glittering bow. “Mom wants to go part-time after the holidays so I’m in a time crunch to learn everything.”

She zipped the edge of her scissors along the dangling length of red and silver ribbon. The strips curled into long ringlets around the central bow.

“You’ve worked in that shop all your life.”

“But Mom did all the ordering, dealt with vendors and billing. I know how. I just have to learn the nuances.”

“Ah, those pesky nuances,” he said wryly and handed her a roll of cellophane tape.

She laughed and the sound pleased him, warming him like a mug of hot chocolate after a fast ride on the Arctic Cat.

“How’s the sports rental business? Jake says you’re making a killing.”

She ripped off a strip of tape and handed him the dispenser. He laid it aside and went back to checking his list. When had she talked to Jake? And why? Was his brother up to something?

“The ski race brings in a lot of tourists,” he said. “Tourists want to have fun. The Westfield brothers are the kings of fun.”

Amy’s eyes puckered in amusement. “Who knew the two of us could become regular entrepreneurs?”

“We’ve always had a lot in common.”

Her smile faded. “Yeah, well...” She fluffed an already fluffy bow and then scooted a box marked with a name and address to one side. “This family is really far from town. Who’s doing the deliveries on the distant homes?”

He wasn’t sure what he’d said to upset her, but he wanted her smile back. “Don’t know yet. No one’s signed up for the outer limits yet.”

“I will.”

“You’ll have to take a snowmobile to most of these places.” He tapped a finger on the cardboard box. “Crick Pass is impassable in any other vehicle this time of year.”

She cocked her head to one side, eyes twinkling. “Then why do they call it a pass?”

Ah, there she was, the real Amy, the girl who loved to have fun. Suddenly, he felt better.

“Come on. The list of addresses is in the office. Let’s go map out the houses we can only reach by snowmobile.”

“You gonna let me take one of your fancy new rides? Or do I have to drive Mom’s old sled?”

“Is that thing still running?”

“Most of the time.”

“I think you better try out Jake’s new Arctic Cat. It’s a sweet machine.”

“Sounds like a plan.” She moved away from the table toward the office in the back of the Family Center. “You have GPS?”

“On everything we rent now.”

“Good. Map out the route, and I’ll dress up in my elf suit and start delivering tomorrow afternoon.”

Rafe stopped in his tracks. “You have an elf suit?”

Her eyebrows wiggled playfully. “Doesn’t everyone?”

Then she did something the old Amy would have done. She bumped him in the side with her shoulder and giggled.

* * *

The next afternoon the air was so still Amy could hear the ground snow crackle like breakfast cereal. She blew out her breath, a frosty cloud, though she was so heavily attired she’d probably be sweating shortly.

She pushed open the door to Westfield Sports Rentals and stepped inside the warm warehouselike structure. Loud rock music jarred the space. It was her first visit to Rafe’s business and she took in the orderly rows of equipment, the well-swept concrete floor, the waiting area. A couple of round tables with chairs encouraged customers to relax, and on a table against one wall, a pot sent up the fragrance of good-quality coffee.

Jake, busy outfitting a family with snowboards, lifted a hand to wave. She wiggled her fingers at him.

“Rafe’s out back, getting the sleds ready.”

“Okay. Thanks.” She followed the direction of his point, through a metal door that led outside.

“There you are,” he said, looking up with that welcoming smile and those new lines around his eyes she found particularly attractive. “Ready?”

Looking at the line of snowmobiles, ready and waiting for a rider, Amy asked, “Which one do I take?”

“You choose. I’ll ride one of these with the passenger sleigh on back to haul the food baskets.” He patted the fender of a big blue machine connected to an oval-shaped enclosure on skids.

She noticed then that he was geared up for the weather. “You’re going?”

His too-serious eyes squinted. “Wasn’t that the plan?”

Amy blinked. Had it been? “I thought I was going alone.”

“Not going to happen. Too dangerous.”

Her hackles went up. “I’ve been riding these mountains all my life. I’m perfectly capable.”

“I didn’t say you weren’t. I just don’t think it’s a good idea for you to go alone.”

Her grip tightened on the handlebar of the machine. “I can make that decision for myself.”

He looked as though he wanted to argue but refrained. The tension between them crackled. Hands on his hips, Rafe looked off toward the snow-covered mountains for several long seconds. When his focus came back to her, his annoyance was gone.

Gently, with just a touch of humor, he chided, “What are you trying to do, Ames? Hog up all the blessings for yourself?”

Ames. No one had called her Ames in a long, long time. She opened her mouth to argue but the words didn’t come. He’d worked harder on this project than she had, and delivering was the greatest blessing and the most fun.

An array of emotions shifted through her. An afternoon alone in the wilderness with Rafe?

She mounted the snowmobile and started the engine. “Just try to keep up.”

A slow grin slid over his handsome features. “You’re on, Ames. You’re on.”

Chapter Six

“He’s thinking of selling out next spring,” Rafe said as he and Amy left the last of the remote homes, a forlorn-looking ranch house with smoke spiraling from the chimney. “Economic times are hard enough and now winter’s taken a toll on his animals.”

“It must be incredibly hard for him to ranch and care for three kids since his wife died.”

While Rafe had talked with the rancher and warmed himself by the woodstove Amy had played with the motherless baby. Her heart ached for the man and his children.

“He seemed pretty down—embarrassed, too.” Vapor clouds puffed from his lips like smoke rings. “A real man doesn’t like taking charity, but he wanted his kids to have Christmas.”

“I’m so sad for all of them. I wish I knew some other way to help. The ranch is so far out here, he can’t have many visitors.”

“The life of a Montana rancher.” Rafe pulled his helmet into place and mounted the snowmobile.

“I suppose.” Still, she wanted to do more. The smiles and gratitude of the other families had blessed her, but the proud rancher and his kids tugged at her heart. “It was nice of you to offer to come up and drive them to the church drama.”

He shrugged a thickly clad shoulder, the silky material whispering. “I have the equipment. Not a big deal.”

“It was to them.” She spun the snowmobile around and started back along the tracks they’d made coming in, thinking. About her blessings. About the rancher’s plight. About Rafe.

They rode for a mile or two, road wind flapping around them, snow spitting up from the ground. After a bit, Rafe gunned his engine and passed her, lifting one gloved hand to point behind him. She got his message. He could beat her even pulling a passenger sled. Challenged, Amy caught up and returned the favor, mood elevated a little to play in the great Montana outdoors with Rafe.

Miles and miles of pristine snow frosted the meadows and forests. In places, drifts many feet high stacked against the cliffs and mountains. They’d carved a route on their way up but even now, snow flew around them like a blizzard until her vision was obscured. It was a wonderland of beauty and treachery.

As they neared the outskirts of Snowglobe, the land flattened into an area sparsely populated. In the powder bowl ahead, the amber lights of town and home glowed like angel halos. Rafe pulled alongside her and motioned for her to stop.

Curious, Amy followed his lead and drove across a bumpy thicket of snow, through a scattering of tall pines toward...nothing. An empty snowy meadow. Rafe stopped and killed his engine, straddling the snowmobile.

Amy pulled up next to him and flipped up her visor. “Why are we stopping?”

Rafe ripped off his helmet and speared her with an incomprehensible look, gaze as gray and intense as the sky above. “Wanted to show you something.”

Amy parked her ride and dismounted, the rumble of the machine still humming through her muscles though she’d shut down the engine.

Rafe came up beside her. “Look around at this place. What do you think?”

She looked at him first, saw an eager hope and knew he was showing her something important. Taking her time, she turned slowly, gazing over the ripples and hills of snow, taking in the mountain backdrop, the forest, the panorama of sky above and valley below.

“In spring a creek runs along the back,” he said, pointing, “through that line of trees and down toward the valley. The land is fairly flat here, plenty of space.”

And then she knew. A lump formed in her throat. “You bought it.”

“Next spring, if all goes well, I’ll start building.”

They’d once talked about building their own little paradise in the mountains. Now Rafe was going ahead with their dreams. A moment of sadness at all they’d lost came and went, and then she was glad for him.

“You deserve to have a wonderful place.”

“Mom and Dad have been great since I got home, but it’s time I moved out.”

“This will be perfect.”

As if he’d been awaiting her approval, Rafe eagerly launched into the plans.

“What do you think about putting the house right here?”

“Facing the valley or the mountains?”

He stopped, frowning. “Good question.”

“I know,” she said. “Do both. Build a house with incredible views open to both sides. Lots of tall windows, a double deck.”

“Skylights.” His smile widened. He raised both arms, fists clenched in a victory punch, reminding her of a little boy at Christmas. “Ames, you’re a genius. Will you help me with the plans? I need your artistic eye.”

The compliment sizzled along her nerve endings and she caught his excitement. “How many square feet?”

“Flexible.”

“Cathedral ceilings or two-story?”

“Yes.”

She laughed and the sound puffed out in a noisy, foggy cloud that startled the birds from a nearby pine. She laughed again. “Tell me what you have in mind. This is exciting.”

Rafe’s quick description included an enormous beamed living room with a full wall fireplace and a game room. “It’s the kitchen and all that stuff I have trouble with. I mean, how much room does a man need for a microwave?”

Amy thumped a gloved hand against his thickly coated arm. “Goofy. An incredible kitchen is everything. Even if you don’t cook a lot, you’ll want a beautiful space, just in case.” Just in case you get married. Just in case you fall in love. The idea of Rafe and another woman pinched, but she let it go, clasping the pleasure of the moment. “Lots of gleaming wood, granite, a center island that opens up the whole living/dining area.”

Rafe grinned and looped an elbow around her neck, snugging her close to his side. “See why I need you? You’re brilliant.”

“Well, of course I am. I am woman.”

She’d meant the statement as a joke, but Rafe’s expression went serious as he gazed down into her face. “Yes, you are. And quite a woman, at that.”

Her grin softened to a smile, a mere curve of lips, as she gazed back at him. They were different people now. Grownups. She could spend this time with him, enjoy his company, throw herself into planning his dream home. After all, she had forgiven him even if she hadn’t forgotten.

The quiet of the day, broken only by the crackle of frozen earth and the occasional cry of a bird surrounded them in a cocoon of winter wonderland. Rafe’s warmth seeped through his jacket into hers, his arm feeling right and good around her. Without thinking too much, a nasty habit of hers, she circled his lean waist with one arm and leaned against his solid bulk.

He hugged her closer until his chin rested on her hair. “Ames?” he said.

Her pulse thudded in her throat. “What?”

A second passed and then two while she wondered what he was about to say, and wondered even more if she wanted to hear it. Something was stirring inside her again for Rafe Westfield. Maybe Mom was right.

She licked suddenly dry lips and lifted her chin. “You were saying?”

Rafe stared out across the clearing for another second before saying, “Nothing important.”

Slight disappointment tugged at her. “Oh.”

She started to pull away but Rafe pulled her back. “On second thought, I was about to say something.”

Her heart bumped. “Which was?”

“The Chamber is offering sleigh rides after the tree lighting. Want to come along? Maybe lead the kids in some Christmas carols?”

She studied his face, certain he’d had something else in mind. But even this sounded too close, too personal, too scary. “Are you driving the sleigh for the foster kids?”

“Yep. Just like always.”

“Santa Rafe.” Don’t do it, her brain yelled. Don’t do it.

He grinned. “I like that. Will you come?”

Ignoring the inner sentries she’d erected against this particular man, she said, “I’d love it.”

He kissed the top of her head. “Afterward, if it’s not too late, I’ll ply you with pizza and show you my fledgling house designs. How does that sound?”

A lot better than it should.

* * *

On the ride home, they’d raced, thrown snow on each other and laughed like loons. All the while the feel of Rafe’s casual kiss on the head warmed a place long empty inside of Amy. Though she was unsure of what it meant, a new relationship was slowly developing. She didn’t know how she felt about it, but Rafe was clearly an unresolved issue or she wouldn’t think about him so much.

Perhaps this was the answer to her prayers, a chance to resolve the past and move forward, one way or the other. It was the other that made her nervous.

After they’d parked the snowmobiles and warmed up, Rafe walked her to her car. He opened the door, waited until she was inside and closed it, motioning for her to roll down the window. He leaned in as she cranked the engine. “Thanks for sharing the blessings. I enjoyed it.”

“Me, too.”

He did the quiet thing again, staring at her as if something heavy plagued his mind. Finally, he cupped her cheek with a gloved hand and smiled, then slapped the window opening with a single pop and backed away. “Be safe.”

Night closed in as Amy headed for home through the cheery lighted town, her insides glowing like the lights of Snowglobe. The snowplow had scraped the narrow streets during her absence, a constant in the tiny town. Thoughts of Rafe and the afternoon, of the rancher and his motherless kids, and of the dream home Rafe would build filled her head. He was eager, it seemed, to move on with life after the military, a revelation that had caused her opinion to shift a little. She’d never asked him why he’d given up the career he’d claimed to want more than marriage to her. He’d come home to Snowglobe, just as she had. And he was putting down roots. Building a home. Making a life. She knew he wasn’t seeing anyone special, but a man didn’t build a house to live in it alone. Did he?

If Rafe found someone else, would she mind?

The answer was yes. Even with their painful parting years ago, she still had feelings for Rafe Westfield.

A thought both elated and scared her. Could she let go and see where this tangle of feelings might take her? Did she dare trust him again?

As she pulled into her mother’s drive, she noticed an unfamiliar truck parked outside. Her mom had company. Probably one of the ladies from the Bible study or the hospital auxiliary. Dana was on so many committees, the visitor could be anyone in town.

Amy bounded up the steps eager for the warmth inside the cozy house. She pushed open the door and stepped in. Her first impressions were of the recently hung garlands festooning the living room and the spicy scent of Mexican casserole. She followed the scent toward the kitchen, expecting to find her mother.

She rounded the door frame and blinked in confusion. A man carried a casserole dish toward the glass-topped table while her mother filled two coffee cups.

“Amy! I didn’t hear you come in.” Dana’s olive skin flushed beneath dark eyes that sparkled with an energy Amy had never observed before.

What was going on here?

“Honey, I want you to meet Jeffrey Fischer.” Looking flustered, her mom set the cups on the table and looped elbows with the man. He was blond, like Dad, with piercing blue eyes. Amy’s stomach twisted at the thought of her long-absent, uncaring father. “He bought the old Cleveland house and moved up from Helena last spring.”

“Hi.” Amy nodded toward the newcomer. “Nice to meet you.” Sort of. What are you doing here with my mother?

Jeffrey reached out and shook her hand. Then he slid an arm around her mom and smiled into Dana’s face with an expression of affection. “Your mother’s told me so much about you.”

Wish I could say the same about you. But Amy found her manners in time to say with humor, “Don’t believe a word of it. I’m not that bad.”

“I’m sorry the two of you haven’t met before. I was waiting for the right time.” Again, Mom seemed flustered as though worried about Amy’s approval. “I thought we might all have Christmas dinner, spend the day together. Jeffrey has a daughter in California who may come for a visit. Her name is Lisa. You’ll like her. Very sweet young woman.”

Dana Caldwell was not one to prattle on nervously. The fact that she did raised Amy’s suspicion that Jeffrey was more than a casual acquaintance.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, sweetie,” Jeffrey said to Dana with a tender look. “But what I think you’re trying to say is that we’ve been spending a lot of time together and we hope to spend more.” To Amy he said, “Your mother is an amazing woman. The day I stumbled into her shop to order flowers for Lisa’s birthday was one of the best days of my life.”

“And the rest, as they say, is history,” Dana said with an airy flutter of fingers.

Stunned realization slid down Amy’s back. Whoa. Mom had a boyfriend? When had this happened?

Amy looked from Jeffrey’s face to her mother’s and back again. This man was in love with her mother. And maybe her mom felt the same.

The sudden paradigm shift was too much for Amy to take in. Silly as it was, she felt alone and left out, an unwanted intruder. “Don’t let me interrupt your dinner. You two go ahead.”

“Why don’t you join us, honey? There’s plenty. Jeffrey brought his special Mexican chicken dish.”

“Makes enough to feed an army,” Jeffrey said. “Afterward, we’ll finish decorating the tree and watch It’s a Wonderful Life.”

Mom’s favorite movie. Amy’s, too. Watching it together was their tradition.

Amy managed a weak smile. “I’m pretty tired. I think I’ll head off to my room and a hot bath. Warm up after the afternoon on a snowmobile.”

If she expected her mother to argue, she was wrong. Confused and a little hurt, Amy left the kitchen. Her mother had a boyfriend. She wasn’t surprised that a nice man would find Dana attractive. Mom was gorgeous and smart and successful. But since Amy’s father walked out, Dana had never dated anyone. Not that Amy knew about. Mom’s desire to retire and “kick up her heels” suddenly made a lot more sense.

Just as suddenly Amy felt as intrusive as the proverbial fifth wheel. She should be glad for her mother. She knew that. Rationally she was. Dana deserved something besides work and charitable deeds, but try as she might, Amy felt adrift and lonely, like a windsock dangling from a pole. Exactly the way she’d felt when Dad left. And again when Rafe had joined the marines.

Alone in her bedroom, Amy hung up her coat and sat on the side of the bed. Her heart thudded against her chest.

“Lord, I’m confused,” she murmured. “I want to get over myself. I want to be happy for Mom. I want to get over Rafe.”

There it was. The deep wound that wouldn’t heal. She’d never gotten over the heartbreak of losing Rafe no matter where she went or what she did. Tonight, seeing her mom with a man, happy and fluttery and falling in love, brought the issue to a head.

She wanted what her mother had found, but she was too scared of getting hurt again to do anything about it.

Chapter Seven

The song “Let it Snow! Let it Snow! Let it Snow!” drifted from the shop’s piped-in music as Amy locked up for the night.

“Appropriate,” she muttered with a glance out at the heavy snow falling on the nearly abandoned streets. The wind had picked up, along with the snow, and the meteorologist said they were in for a storm. Across the street, Hank Redford battled the wind, head down, as he hurried from his pharmacy to his car. They might be in for another blizzard.

Going to the back, she emptied and washed the urn, sealed the leftover pumpkin cookies, and tidied up. The last customer had come and gone, along with her mother who’d gone off to Kalispell hours ago with Jeffrey. A little worry niggled and Amy prayed they’d have a safe return.

As she moved toward the front, turning off little trees and fragrance burners as she went, she heard a sound above the wind. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch. She cocked her head, eyes squinted to listen. Not tree limbs. There were no trees near enough.

Curious, Amy rounded the sales counter to find a sad-faced dog staring at her through the front door glass. “You poor thing. You’re shivering.”

Though Mom would not take kindly to a large dog inside the shop of delicate merchandise, Amy’s tender heart got the better of her. She opened the door. Wind and snow whipped inside so fast it took Amy’s breath. She shivered, too.

The dog waited for no invitation. She rushed inside and shook herself.

Snow sprayed Amy’s clothes and sprinkled the tile floor with wet drops. “You’re going to get us both in a lot of trouble. Sit.”

To her surprise, the dog plopped down on her bottom. She was a large mixed breed, brindle brown with floppy ears and expressive liquid eyes that stared desperately at Amy. In a second, she was up again, pacing in circles, her sides heaving. Amy saw the problem. The dog was pregnant. Very pregnant.

Amy rushed to the back for a towel. When she returned the dog was behind the counter, scratching scattered pieces of wrapping paper into one spot.

“Good thing I haven’t swept yet. You’re making a bed, aren’t you, girl? And not a very comfy one.” Amy added the towel atop the wadded papers and then went back for a few more, along with a roll of paper towels, a plastic cup of water and the pumpkin cookies. The poor dog looked hungry and cold and about to deliver puppies.

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