The dulcet, melancholy notes of Joni Mitchell’s “River” filled the cab of Jack’s truck as he rumbled along the familiar road with his windows cracked open. He relished the icy chill whipping past him, promising another snowstorm on the horizon.
Poppy Creek usually saw only a couple of snowstorms a year, and Jack looked forward to every single one. Something about witnessing the entire world enveloped in white reminded him of a blank slate.
And now more than ever, he appreciated the comparison.
Even though he drove alone, he sensed Kat’s presence. He could almost hear her captivating voice harmonizing with each line of the song, encouraging him to take this leap of faith and forgiveness.
She may not fully realize it, but she was the embodiment of Fern’s sage wisdom. Kat had the most generous heart he’d ever known. And he longed for the moment he could tell her exactly that.
But before he could look to the future, he needed to face his past.
When he rang the doorbell, and the melodic chime echoed inside, Jack expected the housekeeper to greet him. He wasn’t prepared for his father’s startled expression.
“Jack?” Once the shock settled, Rich stepped to the side, allowing his son to enter. “Were we expecting you?”
“Nope. I was just passing by.” Jack cringed as he moved into the expansive foyer. Just passing by? Really? Man, he was terrible at this.
Michael Bublé’s “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” drifted down the hallway along with the sweet scent of sugar cookies.
“Your mom and Lucy are baking in the kitchen,” Rich explained, noticing the not-so-subtle way Jack sniffed the air.
Incredulous, Jack inhaled deeply, detecting the faintest whiff of almond extract—his mother’s secret ingredient. He’d assumed she didn’t bake anymore. Wasn’t that why she’d hired the private chef with a flair for French pastries?
He tried to refocus on Kat’s words from the other night, remembering why he was there.
Love is generous. It chooses to see the good in people.
There were times it felt like he’d need a magnifying glass to find the good in his father. But he also knew years of holding a grudge could cloud a person’s perspective.
“I’m starting my New Year’s resolution a few weeks early,” he said, mustering up his nerve. “It’s a new trend called talking about your feelings.”
Rich’s eyes widened.
“I still haven’t worked out all the kinks, but I’ll give it my best shot.” Jack drew in a fortifying breath, squaring his shoulders. “Ever since your business took off, it seemed like the success changed you—changed us, as a family. But the real kicker was when you offered Ashley the job in New York. That crushed me, Dad.” His throat tightened, but he forced himself to push through the discomfort. “It may seem foolish to ask after all these years, but I have to know… why’d you do it? The real, honest answer. Why’d you offer her the job?”
For several minutes, Rich didn’t respond. And when he finally met Jack’s gaze, his eyes were filled with sorrow. “Because I knew she’d take it.”
Silence stretched between them.
“I don’t understand.”
Rich sighed, deep and pained. “I offered her the job because I knew she’d never stay in Poppy Creek. Not long term, anyway. And if you’d married her like you’d planned, it would’ve hurt a whole lot more when she walked away.”
Jack winced, wounded by his father’s words as though they’d been an actual blow to the gut. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”
“Would you have listened to me if I had?”
As Jack pondered his father’s question, uneasiness settled in the pit of his stomach because he honestly wasn’t sure.
“Look, son. I have my share of regrets,” Rich admitted with some effort. “I may have stepped in when I shouldn’t have. And it would be a lie to tell you that my pride and disappointment didn’t play into my decision.”
Jack’s spirits fell at his father’s admission, and it took every ounce of strength to stay positive. Look for the good….
“You may not believe this,” Rich continued, his voice hoarse, “but you’re still my son, and I love you. My greatest regret is losing you and letting my arrogance prevent me from fixing my mistakes. Having you here last night made me realize how wrong I’ve been. And how much time I’ve thrown away.”
Jack stared, dumbfounded. He’d never heard his dad apologize. Or speak so freely about his feelings.
“Tell me what I can do to make it right.”
Jack hesitated. He’d waited most of his life to hear his father say those words. And during the countless times he’d played out the conversation in his mind, he’d had plenty to say in return.
But now, standing before the man who’d caused him so much pain, Jack had no desire to lash out. Or make his father grovel. “I’m sorry I’ve been so stubborn. We should’ve had this conversation years ago.”
“What changed?” Rich asked. “Or let me guess… a certain beguiling redhead with pipes like Judy Garland?”
Jack grinned. “Something like that.”
“This time,” Rich said with an air of humility. “I’ll simply tell you my advice. Don’t let this one get away.”
“I don’t plan on it.”
The entire drive back to Hope Hideaway, Kat thought of Jack. She wanted to call and ask if he’d spoken with his father and if he wanted to talk about it. But she wasn’t sure what to say when he inevitably asked about her return.
She didn’t have a plan.
Kat knew two things: She needed to look through Helena’s hope chest—a task she’d been avoiding since her mother passed away. And she needed to help Fern find a way to save the shelter.
Penny, bless her heart, had offered the tiny nest egg she and Colt had been saving to buy a house. But Kat couldn’t accept. She had to believe God would provide another way—a miracle, as Fern put it.
As thoughts of Fern flooded her mind, Kat’s grip on the steering wheel relaxed. She looked forward to seeing the woman who always knew exactly what to say. Although, Kat suspected her soothing words may have more to do with the love behind them than the words themselves.
Fern’s greeting when she arrived—an enveloping hug and heaping plate of Milagros—instantly calmed her troubled heart.
Kat may not be home anymore, but she was definitely with family.
“How was the drive, mija? Are you hungry? I have tamales. Or I can heat up a bowl of posole?”
“The cookies are perfect, thank you.” As Kat shrugged out of her coat, her hand flew to her throat. “My scarf! I must have dropped it somewhere.”
Her mind flashed to the first afternoon she’d met Jack, and her chest suddenly ached.
“Oh, that reminds me.” Fern scurried to the table in the entryway and returned with a brown shopping bag with a telltale red ribbon on the handle.
Clara Holland had opened The Red Ribbon Gift Shoppe in honor of her late grandmother, who always wrapped her presents with a shiny red ribbon. The store quickly became Starcross Cove’s go-to spot for special, one-of-a-kind gifts.
As Kat settled on the couch, Fern handed her the bag, a delighted smile on her lips.
“But you already sent me my Christmas present,” Kat reminded her. “The perfume.”
“This isn’t from me.” Fern settled on the armchair by the fireplace, her eyes twinkling.
“Then who is it from?”
“I don’t know. Clara said she got a call from a gentleman this afternoon looking for a very specific item. When she told him she had it, he paid for it over the phone and asked if he could pay extra to have it delivered.”
Her heart racing, Kat reached for the bow. “He didn’t leave a message?”
“He gave Clara his name with his credit card, but said you wouldn’t need it.”
“How strange….” Her heart soared with hope as she tugged the end of the ribbon and it slipped to the floor.
The second she glimpsed the gift nestled in red tissue paper, tears sprang to her eyes.
“What is it?” Fern asked, leaning forward.
Kat lifted the beautiful, feather-soft scarf from the bag and brought it to her cheek, nuzzling the silky fabric.
The plaid pattern—so synonymous with the gift’s sender—couldn’t have been more perfect.
“You’re glowing.” Fern smiled as Kat wrapped the scarf around her neck. “It must be from someone pretty special.”
“It is. And I can’t wait to tell you all about him.”