The Christmas Stranger Page 7

  Holly stiffened at his superior tone and pressed her lips in a firm line. She met Robert’s challenging glare with her own. “Maybe so, but…I went in because I felt closer to Ryan there. I wanted to see where he died once more before the place was demolished. The police haven’t given me many answers about his death, so I was looking for clues of my own.”

  “And did you find any?”

  Robert’s cool tone rubbed her the wrong way, but she shoved down her irritation in deference to her relationship to Ryan’s family. “Maybe I did.” She nodded to the stained glass. “This was in the room where Ryan died.”

  “I thought it looked familiar. I remember seeing it the night Ryan—” Robert stopped abruptly and cut an apologetic look to her.

  “You saw the stained glass the night you found Ryan?”

  Robert gave a tight nod. “He asked me to meet him at the church to help him with something. Could have been to save that window.”

  But by the time Robert had arrived, Ryan was already dead.

  Holly faced the window, staring at it as if it held the answers to Ryan’s murder. “I know he’d have loved it. He’d have wanted it just like I did when I saw it. I just wish I knew…”

  Where did she start? There were so many unanswered questions.

  Bracing his hands on his hips, Robert sucked in a deep breath and let it out in a whoosh. “I’m sorry, Holly. The unknowns frustrate me, too.” He raised a dark gaze and aimed a finger at her. “But that’s no excuse for you to have gone into that condemned church. Leave the investigation to the police. I promise you, we’re doing everything we can to bring Ryan’s killer in. Finish the house. Plan a trip. Go see your family. The best thing you can do now is put his death behind you and move on with your life.”

  A sharp pain sliced through her, and Holly wrapped her arms around her middle in a vain effort to staunch the ache. “I’m trying.”

  He touched her shoulder gently, then slipped out the door without further comment.

  Holly stood in the foyer, staring at the stained glass long after Robert left. The hollowness that always filled her when she discussed Ryan’s death returned but didn’t seem as overwhelming today. Maybe time was healing her wounds.

  Like the bird in that window, you’re testing your wings again and taking flight.

  Matt’s assessment stirred a warmth in her blood that chased out the gloomy chill of grief. Squaring her shoulders, she resolved to install the window before completing any other renovation projects. Not only did the window serve as a beautiful reminder of Ryan, but the hope and renewal depicted in the image of the dove buoyed her spirits.

  And she’d need all the inspiration she could get to make it through the holidays alone.

  Or would she be alone?

  She glanced toward the stairs. Matt didn’t have anyone this holiday, either. Perhaps they would survive the loneliness of the coming weeks by spending it together.

  The prospect of sharing Thanksgiving and Christmas with Matt brought a smile to her lips. Maybe a special holiday season, filled with all the joy and promise of Christmas, was just what Matt needed to start healing the pain from his past.

  Holly intended to find out.

  In the days that followed, Matt immersed himself in the remodeling and repair projects at Holly’s farmhouse. He stained the floor in the study, helped Jon install the stained glass over her front door and began tearing out the old plumbing in the master bathroom. Having something productive to do and seeing the tangible results of his efforts filled him with a sense of purpose and accomplishment that gave his spirits a healthy boost. Sharing time with Holly, though, was a mixed blessing.

  As much as he treasured their growing friendship, he struggled with the knowledge that he was keeping vital information from her. Through his silence about Ryan’s part in his past, he was living a lie, a deception based on omission.

  But once he completed the renovations for Holly, he would move on, and she didn’t have to ever know who he really was.

  Just do the work and get out of her life. No harm, no foul.

  He could almost convince himself he had nothing to feel bad about. Then Holly would bestow another piece of her trust in him—giving him a key to the farmhouse, loaning him her truck to make a trip to the hardware store—and the nagging guilt would gnaw at him again.

  His uneasiness over keeping his past from Holly became more tangled when he acknowledged his attraction to her. More than an awareness of Holly’s beauty, the pull Matt fought was organic, rooted deep inside him. His senses crackled on high alert when she was near. Thoughts of her filled every waking hour and taunted him in his sleep. She fascinated him, tempted him, challenged him, encouraged him. She made him feel more alive than he had in years.

  One November afternoon as he raked leaves in her yard, she strolled toward him from the house, carrying two glasses of lemonade. Leaning on his rake, he paused to appreciate her gracefulness, the shimmer of sunlight in her hair and the pink tint the cool autumn afternoon painted on her cheeks. As always, his body thrummed, and she captivated his attention.

  She handed him one of the glasses, then motioned to the pile of leaves behind him. “Raking my yard isn’t your job.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t mind. After spending most of the day around varnish fumes, I thought the fresh air would do me good. Besides, it won’t be long before the weather turns cold.”

  “True. Well, suit yourself.” Holly sipped her drink, and Matt caught a glimpse of purple on her chin.

  A bruise?

  He stepped closer for a better look. “You have a mark on your throat, under your chin.”

  She raised a hand to her neck. “Where?”

  When he guided her hand to the spot, he felt the hitch in her pulse under his finger. “It looks like—”

  “Paint. We had art today in class. I always come home with paint in the strangest places.”

  He quirked an eyebrow as bittersweet memories assailed him. “I can remember Palmer coming home from kindergarten with glitter in her hair or paint on her shoes. Art days were always interesting.”

  Her answering grin washed through him like a balmy breeze. Holly’s smiles always involved her whole face—bright eyes, glowing cheeks and a flash of teeth.

  Then she tipped her head, her expression turning speculative.

  Matt chuckled. “What’s that look for?”

  She set her glass on the ground and took the rake from him. “I was wondering if you wanted to go with me to the Community Aid Center tomorrow. I’m supposed to be volunteering there and thought you might like a day off from renovations.”

  Matt stuck his thumbs in his pockets. “I don’t need a break. I enjoy the work and staying busy. And if we’re going to get done by Christmas, days off are a luxury I’m not sure we can afford.”

  She collected the leaves he’d raked into a taller, neater pile then propped the rake against the nearby maple tree. “I’m not cooking dinner tomorrow. I always eat at the center on the nights I volunteer…if that influences your decision.” She flashed him an impish grin.

  Matt folded his arms over his chest and admired the spark of sunlight that danced in her eyes. “So if I want to eat tomorrow, I should listen to the boss and tag along, huh?”

  “Something like that.” She turned her back to the leaves and toppled backward. The pile scattered as she flopped into it and tossed handfuls into the air with childlike glee.

  He sent her a playful scowl. “Do you know how long it took to rake those up?” He waved a hand toward her, grinning. “Look what you did to my pile.”

  Wiggling her eyebrow, she scooped an armful of fallen foliage and hurled them at Matt.

  “Hey!” he said in mock affront as he bent to toss a large handful on her in return.

  Holly’s peals of laughter tripped through him, warming his heart. As a battle of flying leaves erupted, his spirits lifted. Cutting loose, acting silly and enjoying Holly’s playfulness felt good.

  When, at
last, he collapsed beside her in the scattered remains of the leaf pile, his laughter joining hers, he sighed contentedly. “I used to play like this with Palmer and Miles. Their favorite game was to have me bury them in leaves so they could burst out and scatter the pile everywhere like a Tasmanian devil.” When she laced her fingers with his, he gave her a bittersweet smile. “I miss the simple moments like that with my kids the most.”

  Holly squeezed his fingers and brought his knuckles up for a light kiss before releasing his hand. “You’ll have more moments like that with them.”

  His body jangled from the warm brush of her lips, and as he fought down the surge of fire in his blood, he frowned. “I don’t know that.”

  Scowling at him, Holly narrowed a fierce gaze. “I do. And you have to believe it, too, if you want to make it happen.”

  “I have to be realistic, Holly. I may never—”

  “No.” She sat up and met his eyes with fire and conviction filling her face. “Can’t never could. That’s what I tell my class. The first step to achieving something is believing it can happen. Don’t stop believing, Matt. You will get your children back. I know you will.”

  Matt’s heart swelled, full to bursting with the faith she gave him, the hope she inspired. “You’re amazing. You know that? I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone with your optimism and can-do strength.”

  She seemed startled by his assessment, leaning back and cocking her head at a curious angle. “Well…thanks. I try. It’s easier to be all sunshine and roses when you’re talking about someone else’s life instead of your own. I’ve had my share of defeatist moments since Ryan died. Especially when I consider the fact that his killer has never been caught.”

  She chewed her bottom lip and idly tore bits from one of the maple leaves.

  “They’ll catch his murderer.” He stilled her fidgeting hands with his own, and her gaze darted up to his. Matt’s pulse throbbed, and he longed to pull her into his arms and kiss away the doubts that dimmed her eyes. “Believe it, Holly.”

  She tugged up one corner of her mouth. “Follow my own advice, eh?”

  He tweaked her chin. “That’s about the size of it.”

  After pushing to his feet, he offered her a hand up, trying not to think about how perfectly her hand fit his or how right touching her felt. Leaving at the end of her renovation project would be hard enough without harboring any notions of what he’d be losing when he said goodbye to her.

  Chapter 6

  The next day after school, when Holly picked Matt up, they drove to the Community Aid Center as planned. She headed into the kitchen, where the other volunteers had already started the evening meal, and was surprised when Matt followed her. When she gave him a quizzical look, he took an apron off one of the hooks by the door.

  “I came to serve, not be served,” he said simply before finding a place at the counter where the meal was being prepared and rolling up his sleeves.

  Holly nudged her way in beside him, layering sliced ham on the bread he spread with mustard before passing the sandwich to the next volunteer for lettuce and tomato. The assembly line produced fifty sandwiches in record time, and Holly and Matt moved on to heating soup and putting cookies on a tray.

  When the dinner line opened, Holly ladled vegetable soup while Matt passed out bags of potato chips to those who wanted one.

  During a lull in the dinnertime traffic, Holly glanced at Matt and found him staring at the crowded dining room with a heartbreaking expression on his face. “What is it, Matt?”

  He snapped his gaze to hers as if jolted out of his thoughts and shook his head. “It’s just not right for so many children to be living out of cars or sleeping in alleys. What kind of life is that for a kid?”

  “A hard one,” she agreed softly, touched as much by his concern as by her own worry for the homeless families.

  A mother with two young girls approached them and helped her daughters fill a tray with food. While she helped one daughter pick a cookie for dessert, the older girl began coughing. Matt focused on the older child whose deep, croupy coughing continued for nearly a minute.

  Without a word, Matt left the serving line and circled through the kitchen out to the floor of the dining room to intercept the mother and her daughters.

  Holly held her breath, watching as Matt spoke to the mother, then knelt in front of the sick child. He laid a hand on her forehead, frowned, then pressed his ear to her chest. The girl took several deep breaths for him before another bout of coughing seized her.

  Deep lines creased Matt’s brow, and as he rose to his feet again, he guided the mother to a corner away from the crowd.

  Concerned, Holly left her spot in the serving line, as well, and joined Matt and the mother in the far corner.

  The woman was shaking her head as Holly approached. “I don’t have money for a doctor, and even if I did, I couldn’t afford the medicine.” The woman lifted a shoulder, though her expression didn’t match the indifference of the shrug. “She’s had colds before, and they always go away in time on their own.”

  “She doesn’t have a cold. She has pneumonia, and if she doesn’t get an antibiotic soon, she might need to be put in the hospital.” Matt’s grim expression told Holly just how critical the child’s condition was. A muscle in his jaw tensed as he shifted his attention back to the little girl. “If I gave you a prescription, is there any way you could fill it tonight?”

  The mother rubbed her thumb on the palm of her other hand, gnawing her bottom lip until it bled. “I told you. I don’t have money for medicine.”

  Matt’s jaw tightened again, the muscles jumping. “Do you not have Medicaid or some other financial assistance? It’s very important. Left untreated, pneumonia can kill a child her age.”

  Tears filled the woman’s eyes, and Holly had seen enough.

  “I’ll pay for the medicine.”

  Both the mother and Matt turned startled looks toward her as she stepped forward. Holly took the mother’s hand in hers and met her disbelieving stare.

  “I’ll go with you to the pharmacy and pay for a full course of whatever antibiotic Matt thinks is best. We’re going to get your baby girl well. I promise.”

  “But—”

  “No buts.” She hitched her head toward the door and smiled. “Let’s go now before Hill’s pharmacy closes.”

  Tears dripped from the woman’s eyes. “Oh, ma’am, how can I ever thank you?”

  Holly patted her hand. “You just did.”

  “That was a wonderfully generous thing you did tonight,” Matt said as she drove him back to the low-rent apartment where he lived.

  She dismissed his praise with a shrug. “It was nothing. What’s a few dollars compared to saving a child’s life?” In the dim cab of her truck, the dashboard lights played across the rugged cut of his jaw. Even in the low light, compassion and kindness shone from his eyes. “You’re the one who was alert to the girl’s need, caught her illness so it could be treated before she became critical.”

  “I’ve heard that croupy cough enough times to recognize it instantly. I’m just glad I came with you today and that I made the effort to keep my medical license up-to-date so I could write her script. Where would that girl be if we hadn’t helped her?”

  Holly nodded, stared at the road spotlighted by her high beams and squeezed the steering wheel. “I’m afraid her case isn’t unique. We get sick kids through the center all the time. It’s heartbreaking.”

  When she heard Matt huff in disgust, she cast a side glance at him. His face was rigid, tense with emotion.

  “What?”

  He shook his head. “There has to be something we can do, some way to get those kids the help they need.”

  Holly’s chest filled with a sweet warmth. Matt, who had so little of his own, who faced the monumental task of regaining custody of his children, who scrimped to find the money to get back on his feet, was passionately concerned over the well-being of the homeless children in their community. If she�
�d had any doubts about her choice to employ Matt, to allow him into her life, they vanished.

  Along with another piece of her heart.

  Matt grew dearer and more important to her every day. His thoughtfulness, his compassion, his sinfully handsome smile nestled deep in her soul.

  “Maybe we can do something,” she offered. “Where there’s a will and all that…. Perhaps between us, we can figure something out?”

  He stared out the windshield a little while before glancing her way. “Food for thought, huh?” He laid a hand on her arm and gave her a gentle squeeze. “Thanks for the ride. See you tomorrow?”

  She nodded. “Right after school.”

  As he disappeared inside the dilapidated building he called home, an idea took root in her mind. By the time she reached her farmhouse, she’d examined her plan from every angle. She’d worked through every drawback, justified every argument and enumerated all the benefits. Just the same, she wanted someone to bounce her idea off of, someone to tell her that she wasn’t crazy.

  Still sitting in her truck, she picked up her cell phone and began dialing her older sister. She knew practical, cautious Paige would help her make a reasoned and rational decision.

  But logic and prudence weren’t what she wanted. She needed someone to share her enthusiasm and excitement, someone to tell her it was okay to follow the tug of her heart. So she dialed Zoey’s number instead.

  “Hey, sis, how’s Siberia?”

  Holly chuckled. “Why don’t you come visit me and find out?”

  “Tempting, but…I met somebody—his name’s Derek, and he’s so hot!” Zoey’s enthusiasm crackled over the phone. “Anyway, I was thinking I’d spend Thanksgiving with him. Are you horribly disappointed?”

  A pang settled in her chest. She saw so little of her sisters since she moved to North Carolina, every missed holiday hurt. “Well, sure, I’ll miss seeing you, but that’s not why I called.”

  “Oh? What’s up?”

  “I want to ask Matt to move in with me.”