“I’ll be right back.” She nodded in agreement and plopped down on the couch. Had she been wrong about him? Certainly Pastor Ben liked him. And Jenny and the boys did as well.

  He returned with a large cardboard box and placed it on the floor. He left again, this time for garage and returned with a handful of candles and saucers. He placed the candles on the saucers and set them on the steps to illuminate the tree. Then he went to the kitchen and returned with popcorn and a popcorn popper for the fireplace. These he set down on the hearth. He disappeared once more and came back with two glasses of iced tea.

  “I would make hot chocolate, but I thought we could do that later after we decorate the tree.

  “Iced tea is fine.”

  “I have these little traditions when I put up my tree. Usually I play some Christmas music, pop popcorn, and have a little cocoa.”

  “You do this by yourself.”

  “Some years I have, yes. Other years, my parents come over. This year you are here.”

  He stepped over to the box and pulled the flaps open. Glitter sparkled from the opening.

  “I love Christmas. Don’t you?” he asked as he pulled the first ornament from the box.

  Erica relaxed. She could figure it all out later. For tonight, he’d said he wouldn’t touch her, and oddly enough, for some illogical reason, she believed him. “Yes, I do. It’s my favorite time of the year. I would say we could play Christmas songs on my phone, but I need to keep it charged in case my mother calls.”

  His eyes lit up again, “Great idea. We can use my phone.”

  He retrieved it from his desk drawer and set it on the steps next to a candle. Bing Crosby filled the room crooning, “I’m dreaming of a white Christmas…” Peace eased into Erica’s spirit. Everything and everyone would be ok for one night while she decorated this tree and thought of the Savior who came one night as a tiny child.

  Chapter 9

  “Are you awake?” Quiet as a breath, the question startled her. Jack was laying on his back in his sleeping bag, one arm under his head, looking at her. She was snuggled down under two blankets on the couch in front of the fire. Flames illuminated the room casting warm shadows.

  “Yes.” She whispered back. It reminded her of sleepovers at Ann’s house. Ann’s parents had strict rules about bedtimes. Erica’s mother never did. It was more magical somehow to stay up late talking at Ann’s.

  “Want some cocoa or something?”

  “Can’t you sleep?” Erica yawned. She had drifted to consciousness for some reason she didn’t know or care about and felt herself drifting back toward sleep. The temperature in the room made her dream of heat maps. Radiating rings of heat emanating from the fire diminished in warmth as they battled the chill in the room. Erica, on the couch, was on the cusp of the boundary ring. Cold at the back, warm at the front. She didn’t want to get out of the the blankets. Besides she didn’t like the idea of being awake with Jack Callahan in the middle of the night. Her response to his kiss was unmistakeable. If he did it again she didn’t know if she could say no.

  “I seem to be awake for now.”

  “Well, if you’re gonna make it anyway, I’ll have some”

  Jack responded by wriggling out of his sleeping bag and walking toward the kitchen. Erica stayed nestled down, listening to his movements, drifting in and out of a dreamy fantasy where she did not say no.

  The kitchen floor was an iceberg even through his socks. Jack didn’t know why he was awake, but he was glad Erica had wakened too. He stirred the hot chocolate, once again thankful that his mother had talked him into the big gas stove. A cook he was not, and he wasn’t ever going to be, but when his mother had heard he had decided against a whole house generator—the type he had insisted should be installed in his parents house—she advised him to get a gas stove. “If the power’s out, you gotta be able to boil water,” she had argued. He had conceded because it made her happy. This hot chocolate was not the first time he was glad he had listened to her.

  Nighttime. Erica in the nighttime was almost more than he could resist. But interestingly enough, his faith was why he would respect her conviction. That didn’t make it easy. She wasn’t going to react well if he moved too fast, and he was ready to ask her now. But she was probably right to take things slow. He had waited this long. He would just have to wait a few more days, which could really be broken down into hours. He took a deep breath, stretched out his arms, and did a couple of jumping jacks to tamp down the hum of electricity lighting his brain with possibilities. He poured the cocoa into mugs and headed toward the living room. Too bad he wasn’t very good at waiting.

  She was still groggy when he handed her a mug.

  “It’s hot.” He winced as she tried to resettle herself into a sitting position while balancing the cup. He grabbed it just in time to avoid a scalding. After she was situated, he handed it back.

  He wanted to sit on the end of the couch, but chose an adjacent chair instead.

  She looked at him over the steaming cup. She was lovely. Yes, lovely was the word. Her hair mussed from sleep, her eyes and skin smoothed by rest, illuminated by flames. He reached for his sleeping bag and draped it over his lap.

  “I love your house. Did you build it?”

  “Yep. About ten years ago.”

  “It’s nice that your parents are close by.” It was a stilted beginning, but that was ok. It was his turn. Nighttime was a time for confidences, and he was going to ask the questions.

  “Tell me about your parents.” She smiled at him. It was not a sarcastic grimace, which she used often in conversation with him. This time it was a genuine smile full of warmth. “I was just thinking of them.”

  Her parents met in college and were married immediately thereafter. Her father was a mathematician and her mother was a lawyer.

  “My father died when I was five. My mother has told me since then that she has had her love, and she will see him again when she goes home.”

  “So she hasn’t dated since his death?” Really? Of course he had heard of that, but given the last five years of his chosen life of celibacy, he knew it couldn’t have been easy to live that long without your love. Would he do that if Erica was taken from him?

  “I think she may have gone on one or two, with our family physician after his wife died, and maybe when she was much younger. But if she did, nothing ever took.”

  “It couldn’t have been easy,” fell out of his mouth before he could capture it.

  “I don’t know. I’ve never been married.”

  “Never?”

  “Nope. God just never sent the right one. And I was always so busy with work. Time seems to have slipped away from me. I’m forty-five. Never married. No children.”

  “Does it bother you?”

  “No.” She blew on her hot chocolate and took a sip. He waited. “Sometimes. You know about being successful. It takes a lot of time. I enjoyed my job,” she looked into the fire.

  “But?” he prompted

  “But I see my friend Ann with her children and I do wish sometimes that I had made some time for that. That God had sent a man for me to marry.” She blushed as she looked at him quickly and turned back toward the fire. He held onto the arms of the chair to restrain himself from vaulting over the chair to give her all the children she wanted. “ When I retired, I came home to live with my mom. She seems so frail to me now. I don’t want her to go home yet.” Tears welled up in the corner of her eyes. He moved to sit on the floor in front of the couch and took her free hand. “She’s all I’ve got.”

  It was too soon to tell her what he believed had been revealed to his heart, so he sat and held her hand quietly knowing that she would not be alone, not as long as he was alive.

  Chapter 10

  Erica opened her eyes to see Jack with his back to her standing in front of the fireplace. Ann Berry was right: he was “a real good looking pig”. Only, she was beginning to wonder about the pig part. The good looking part was confirmed every time she looked at him.

  This morning his broad shoulders were covered in a green plaid flannel shirt that tapered into a well worn pair of jeans.

  Who knew that stocking feet could be so intimate?

  He squatted down to adjust the fire, one arm resting on his knee. There was something in his hard masculinity that made her feel safe. He had been up about every two hours or so all night tending the fire. She could imagine that he would do that for his family. Heck, for that matter, he would do that for whoever it was that he found himself stranded with including Paster Ben and Jenny and her four boys. Last night, though, he had done it for her. She snuggled deeper into the couch. She was comfortable and she didn’t want to move.

  Erica sat straight up at the sound of jingling bells. She kicked her feet free of blankets and swung her legs around from the couch to the floor. Jack was still squatting in front of the fire. His sleeping bag lay rumpled off to the side. The door flew open with a whoosh of cold air.

  “Good morning!” An older woman came in carrying a cast iron dutch oven with two hands. “I brought cinnamon buns!” Erica’s stomach growled. She stood, picked up her blanket and held it to her midsection.

  Behind the woman stood a taller, older version of Jack Callahan, carrying a large quilted satchel full of yarn and knitting needles.

  His parents. What will they think?

  “Hey!” Jack rose from the fire, took the dutch oven and placed it on a table by the couch, spread his arms wide, and hugged both of them.

  I need to call Mom.

  “You must be Erica.” The woman extended her hand, “I am Bonnie Callahan, Jack’s mother. This is Red.” Erica dropped the blanket and extended her hand. Bonnie hugged Erica’s handshake in her two hands.

  “Nice to meetcha.” Red beamed.

  “Jack told us you got stuck in the snow. Thank God you weren’t on your way home and got stuck out there somewhere on the way to Brightwood. It was a nasty storm last night.” Erica relaxed at the concern in Bonnie’s soft gray eyes.

  “Yes, thank you.”

  “How about some coffee?” Jack crossed through the small circle with the cinnamon buns and headed toward the kitchen. Jack’s parents followed. Erica folded the blankets and stacked them along with pillows on a chair. Grabbed her purse and headed to the bathroom.

  She pulled out her phone and sent her mother a text.

  “Howz it going?”

  “Good. Power still on. Praise God. Are you on your way?”

  “No. Power still out. Will check on powerline and let you know.”

  “Heard 50,000 people without power. It could take days.”

  “Great.”

  “Hang in there.”

  “Love ya.”

  “Loves.”

  Great. She didn’t need to worry about her mother. Now she just needed to worry about herself falling for the very unsuitable Jack Callahan. Laughter at the table pulled on the corners of her mouth. Memories of their shared laughter last night tugged at her heart. She had avoided asking him about younger women and more importantly what he had meant about wanting to kiss her since he met her at the airport. She hadn’t wanted to spoil the fun of decorating the tree, or the intimacy of the hot chocolate shared in the night. Her abruptness had messed up more than one holiday she could remember. More laughter drifted through the door. They seemed to be such good people. Jack liked his parents.

  Did she like her mother?

  Yes. Yes, she did. She always had enjoyed their time together. Her mother would share stories of her cases and Erica would tell of her analysis. They shared their faith, too. Yes, Erica liked her mother and looked forward to telling her so when she got home. She smiled when she pictured her mother safe and sound at home with the power on, nice and warm.

  After she had told Jack about her mother, she had felt a calming peace drift into her soul. She had not shared those feelings with anyone. Jack had then told her of his meeting Pastor Ben and how that meeting had led to his faith. They had fallen asleep just before dawn.

  That peace had not left her, and as she listened to the laughter at the table, she wondered if perhaps she had been wrong about Jack Callahan. Maybe her judgement had been too quick and too harsh. He definitely wasn’t Ron Brownly. Jack lacked the slimy selfishness that Ron was slathered in.

  Was Ann right? Could the heart be trusted to provide input to such a decision? Her head always ruled, and she had always succeeded in every area but one. Had she missed something? Could Jack Callahan be the man that God had for her?

  He appeared to be ranking pretty well in her model on all the major points. He was kind, generous, respectful, and he loved his mother. Of course social models are terribly subjective, but they do help a body think through a problem. And of course she hadn’t had time to really do any calculations. She would have to do that when she could be alone with her computer. But in a purely qualitative way, he was doing pretty well. Could he be the man she had waited for?

  Erica washed her face, and ran fingers through her hair, put it up in a Scrunchy she kept in her purse for that purpose, and went out to join them.

  “We saved some for you.” Jack offered her the plate of oversized pastries. Her mouth watered, and she wondered if it would be rude to have two. While she carefully selected one bun, Jack placed a large mug of tea at her elbow.

  “Dad and I are going to check on Pastor Ben and Jenny.”

  “I thought you and I could stay here where it’s warm.” Bonnie smiled at Erica.

  “Sure.” It would give her some time away from Jack to clear her head, and maybe she could work on Diana’s christmas sweater. It wasn’t going to knit itself.

  The men left directly after breakfast, and Erica and Bonnie settled down in front of the fire to knit. Erica pulled out Diana’s sweater and began to knit the rows. She was working in the round and found her rhythm quickly. Bonnie was rummaging through her enormous bag.

  “So, how did you meet Jack?”

  Erica looked up from her needles. It was abrupt, but then she was known for abruptness herself.

  “Actually I just came to interview him for the Brightwood paper. I should have left earlier, I probably could have gotten home, but the tree fell across the driveway. I still would have left except for the downed power line.”

  “For some reason, I thought you knew him before that.”

  Erica looked up again, truly startled this time. Why would she know about that?

  “Well, technically I did meet him about a year ago in an airport, but it wasn’t a real meeting. I didn’t even know his name. We just had one of those airport conversations that strangers sometimes have.”

  “I love the colors you chose for that sweater.” Bonnie pointed to the sweater forming on Erica’s needles.

  “Thanks. Nothing compared to Jack. His studio is amazing.”

  “It took him a year to build it.”

  “Really?”

  “It had to be right for the light. Don’t know where he gets it from. Red and I are like wooden decoys when it comes to art.”

  “I don’t know about that. The colors of your husbands sweater and your own match in a non-obvious way.”

  “You noticed that.”

  Erica smiled in return. She wondered if Jack’s painting inspired the color matching of his parents or if Bonnie’s color choices inspired Jack’s painting. She would have to ask Jack.

  The rest of time that Jack and Red were gone, Bonnie recounted to Erica numerous stories of Jack’s four older sisters and their children. Erica was fascinated. She’d had no idea that Jack had any family outside of his parents. From the paintings, she’d assumed he was an only child.

  “We saw power trucks on our way back. We should have power soon.” Red blasted into the room with a rush of cold air. Erica allowed her needles to relax on her lap. She was relieved the workman were in the area but she wasn’t sure she wanted to go just yet.

  She had to settle this feeling she had before she left. Suppose she had been wrong about Jack Callahan? Suppose he had been telling the truth that he had not forgotten her in a year. It was worth it to find out even if it did make her uncomfortable for another evening. And really, all data analysis requires data. She definitely needed more data.

  Bonnie and Red stayed for lunch and then prepared to set out for home in their sleigh.

  “I bet your fire is out. Are you sure you don’t want to stay here?” Erica asked as Jack went for their coats.

  “I’m sure it’s out, but it doesn’t matter. We have a generator.” Bonnie smiled back at her. “Don’t worry about us, Red knows what he’s doing.” Jack came back with coats, and together they walked the older couple out to the sleigh.

  “Jack insisted we have a generator when he built the house. I told him he should have one, too.“

  “I don’t need it,” Jack said quietly.

  “So he says. It’s been so nice to meet you, Erica. I’m looking forward to seeing you again soon.” Bonnie gave her a little hug.

  Erica didn’t know how to respond to that. She had no reason to see Mrs. Callahan again soon. “It was nice to meet you, too.” Was all she could muster, but it was heartfelt. She really did like Bonnie Callahan and it would be wonderful to see her again someday should their paths cross.

  After waving them off, Jack led Erica toward the garage.

  The driveway was piled high with snow, but the sky was clear.

  “Wanna help me shovel the driveway?”

  “Oh, yes. I’m tired of sitting.”

  Erica looked down the long path toward the road. She was, in fact, glad of the opportunity for some exercise, but she didn’t think she wanted to work quite that hard.

  “You shovel all that?”

  “No, I use the tractor down there, but it’s better to shovel up here by the house.”

  “Where do we start.”

  Jack grinned and handed her a bright orange snow shovel.

  It had been cold enough that the snow was fluffy and easy to move. The kind that wouldn’t hold together well for a snowball. They had cleared the first section near the house and were heading to where the driveway near the house blended toward the long section he used the tractor for when the first snowball flew.