Fiona smiled, the happiness pervading her chest still something she did not dare trust. It felt so long since she had known happiness, she barely knew what to do. Did she dare sing? Dance? Such things might be considered scandalous but might prove release to her soul. He loved her. Didn’t he? Oh, how wonderful to feel this way…
Staci eyed her words, finger hovering over the delete key. Too schmaltzy? Maybe. But she’d leave it, for the moment at least. How could she not? Last night had proved the perfect inspiration for her words today, the writing flowing, her words shaping this story into something with heart, and soul, and passion.
She sighed, glanced at the clock. And James would soon be coming!
A press of the keyboard to save today’s work, and she pushed away from the desk. Tugged at her shirt. Would he like this color? Not that a twenty-first-century liberated woman should really mind about such things—and she sensed that he wouldn’t mind what she wore, anyway—but it was nice to have this happy glow of anticipation riding through her veins.
The phone rang. She snatched it up. “Hello?”
“Anastacia?”
“Gran? Oh, how are you?”
“Much better, thank you, dear. I wanted to call and see how you were doing. I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you, too.” The snatched phone calls during her lunch breaks weren’t nearly long enough. But Gran had insisted Staci work, had said she would not wish to be a burden on her granddaughter not completing her work on time.
“How is the story coming along?”
“It’s nearly there. Just a few more chapters and it should be done by the end of the week. That should give me some more time to proofread and revise as necessary before the twenty-fourth.”
“So you’ll get it done?”
“It would appear so,” Staci said. “Thank God.”
“I do. I have been praying.”
“I know you have, Gran. Thank you.”
“Well, I’m very pleased to hear it. It will be good to know I’m not going to impinge upon your time too much.”
“Oh, have they given you a discharge date?”
“Dr. Wells mentioned something about early next week.”
“That’s wonderful!”
“It will be good to get home,” Gran admitted. “They keep telling me to rest, but it’s something of a challenge when there are always so many people around. And the noise! I know you think Penny can be a little noisy, but that’s nothing compared to here. But I shouldn’t complain. The staff have been very kind, and I certainly haven’t wanted for visitors.”
“You certainly haven’t,” Staci said, smiling.
Every phone call she’d had with her grandmother this week had seen Gran interrupted by a friend or two from church, or one of the ladies from Gran’s sewing circle, or one of her long-time neighbors. It seemed Staci had met—via video calls—more townsfolk visiting Gran’s hospital bedside than she had walking up the street. Anna Morely and her grandmother, Dorothy; Anna’s friends Jackie and Toni Wakefield; even the Thomas family whom she’d once falsely claimed to know. One such phone call had even led to an invitation to Staci from Serena and her friends, including Toni Wakefield, to join Serena’s upcoming Christmas ‘soiree’—a dinner party being held in the week before Christmas. Staci had demurred, not sure about her manuscript deadline, but had expressed hope she might be invited to a future event. A girl needed female friends, after all. Just like she needed to make the most of family.
“I can’t wait for you to be here,” Staci said to her grandmother.
“Well, we’ll know a bit more come Monday morning. Just as long as my return won’t be putting you out anymore.”
“I’ll be fine, Gran. Don’t worry about a thing.”
“And Penny?”
“Jenny and Mitch have been looking after her. I’m pretty sure Mitch thinks he can train her for you while you’re away, but I don’t know if either Penny or Jenny agree.”
Gran chuckled, her laughter nestling in Staci’s heart. How wonderful to hear her joy, when once upon a time Staci had wondered if Gran would ever wake again.
“And how is that handsome doctor son of theirs? I understand he’s been keeping company with a certain granddaughter of mine.”
“Oh, Gran, I meant to tell you, but it’s all rather new. I didn’t think anyone knew, except for Jenny and Mitch.”
“Now you don’t need to worry that the hospital rumor mill is working overtime. James came and spoke with me about you today.”
“He did?” She swallowed. “That, um, sounds rather official.”
“It’s nothing to worry about. He was simply demonstrating his gentlemanly qualities.”
But what did ‘demonstrating his gentlemanly qualities’ actually mean? It didn’t sound like something heading to a proposal…
She slapped her forehead. Seriously? This wasn’t the 1800s. This was all so new she shouldn’t even be thinking about proposals.
“Well, it looks like my dinner has arrived, so I’d better go. Goodnight, dearest Annie.”
“Goodnight, dearest Gran.”
Staci pressed end on the call and replaced the phone in its position on top of the microwave. Surely James had to be serious about her if he wanted Gran’s blessing? But what did that mean?
She sank into the dining chair, all thoughts of dinner having flown away. Her readers would never buy a successful happy-ever-after relationship based on mere weeks of interaction. How could it even work? James had said he hoped to return to Africa by Easter. That was less than four months away. Would he expect them to conduct a long-distance relationship? She’d vaguely expected things could progress while she lived in Chicago and he continued to work here, especially given the ability to visit on weekends. She could manage it. Trains would likely work, if she didn’t feel up to driving. He could always fly to visit her.
Her heart jolted. What if this did get serious, and he wanted to get married and take her with him to Africa? Traveling by train certainly wouldn’t work. She doubted even ships would. There really was only one way to travel to Africa, most likely in aircraft without the North American safety ratings she’d scorned. Could she do it? Even if she loved him?
She exhaled. This was stupid. This was another case of too much imagination. They hadn’t mentioned the ‘L’ word! It was way too soon, way too new. But if he did, they’d need to have another honest discussion. For the memories of the past would not let her get into a plane.
“Stop it, brain!” The words echoed around the living room. “Just relax.”
James was coming over, with dinner supplied by his mother, and a promise to put up the tree he’d wrestled off the truck last night and propped into a bucket of water in the garage. Her heart beat with anticipation. What else might tonight have in store?
She’d just turned on the oven when a knock came at the door. “It’s open!” she called.
She limped over, twisted the handle, and admitted James, closing the door against the cold night air. “It’s so cold out there.”
“But warm in here.” He held a casserole dish in mitted hands and smiled, as if seeing her was the bright spot of his day. “Hi, Staci.”
“Hello, stranger,” she said, her smile holding a new shyness since his kiss yesterday.
The mutual smiling continued a moment longer, and she wondered if she should limp closer and see if he wanted a hug, when she realized he still held the ceramic dish.
“Oh! Does that need to go in the oven?”
He glanced down, as if noticing it, then shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe?” He placed it on the kitchen counter and took off the glass lid.
A tantalizing sweet-savory smell scented the air. “Smells amazing.”
“Apricot chicken. One of Mom’s favorites.”
After agreeing it could probably be reheated for a few minutes, he slid it in the oven, which left them staring at each other once again.
“How’s the patient?”
“Good. Happy to see you. How’s the doctor?”
“Good. Happy to see you.”
They shared new smiles, and he opened his arms, and she limped into a careful embrace. Oh, how good it was to be here, to hear the thump, thump of his heart, to feel a sense of assurance that might even tip her into confidence.
“I saw Rose today,” he murmured, lips grazing her hair. “Apparently she thinks I’m your beau.”
“How funny that she should think that,” she murmured, eyes closed as she drank in his scent of spiced oranges.
“I thought so, too. Although it’s even funnier that everyone I’ve come across today seems to hold the same impression.”
She drew back from her careful one-armed hug. “Really? That is most peculiar.”
“Isn’t it?”
His gaze swept to her lips, and a little thrill pulsated down her spine. Would he kiss her again? Now?
But instead he pulled away. “I left something in the car. I’ll be right back.”
“Okay.”
She busied herself with retrieving plates and silverware and popping garlic bread in the oven. Garlic bread went with everything, didn’t it? It was a kind of universal food, suitable for nearly every occasion. As was chocolate. And ice-cream. And—
“Roses?” She stared at the pink blooms before her, smiling. “Oh, you are quite the romantic, aren’t you?”
He grinned, his cheeks turning pink. “I don’t suppose I should tell you that Rose’s friend Dorothy told me today I should give them to you.”
Staci laughed. “No, I don’t suppose that you should.”
“Consider it unsaid then.”
She hobbled to where Gran kept the vases and filled a square crystal vase with water. “Why would she feel you need to do this?”
“I don’t know. Maybe your grandmother said something.” He shrugged. “I was passing the hospital gift shop and she asked me why I looked happy, and—”
Oh. Her heart glowed. “Thank you.” She limped back and gave him a one-armed hug. “I’m glad you were happy today.”
He stared into her eyes, and again she could feel the attraction pulsing between them.
A sloshing sound broke the connection as he hurried to turn off the faucet. “That reminds me. I better make sure the tree’s bucket in the garage hasn’t tipped over. Be back in a moment.”
She busied herself with arranging the rose stems then finished setting the table as he lugged in the tree complete with bucket of refilled water.
“It’s so lovely,” she admired when he’d positioned the tree by the front window. “A perfect shape. You chose well.”
He grinned, dusting off his hands. “That’s the other thing Dorothy told me.”
“What is?”
“That I chose well.”
She had a feeling he wasn’t talking about the tree. “Was it indeed?”
“Uh huh. But I wasn’t sure I should tell you.”
“Were you worried someone might get a big head?”
He drew closer, and still closer, then pressed his lips into her hair. “I like this head just fine the way it is.”
After dinner—most delicious, she’d need to beg Jenny for the recipe—she settled on the couch, as per his instructions, as he sat on the coffee table before her.
“Before we get to decorating, I wanted to give you something else,” he said, drawing a small package from his jacket pocket. “I didn’t want you thinking I needed advice from elderly ladies all the time.”
He handed her a red-ribbon wrapped gold box, something that made her heart beat fast. “Oh, James. You shouldn’t have.”
“It’s not much. But I hope you like it.”
She pulled the red ribbon bow, and the gold cardboard sides gently collapsed to reveal a glass bauble filled with paper curls of printed words. She peered closely at it, recognizing some lines from Jane Austen’s works. “This is beautiful,” she breathed.
“I saw it the other day at Brandi’s. I know you write historical novels, and Mom has always gone on about how Jane Austen is one of the best, so that’s what made me think of you.”
Tears pricked at his thoughtfulness. “You’re very sweet.”
“I know,” he said meekly.
She chuckled, and the mood released into the ease of earlier encounters. Her precious bauble had to receive prime position at the front of the tree, near where she instructed the prized London ornament from her parents to be placed.
Her heart was full. How wonderful was this man, helping her in such a manner?
“What about now?” he called, peering from behind prickly branches.
“Just move that painted one of the manger scene to the center branch,” she instructed.
“Here?”
“No, the next one along.”
He unhooked the intricately decorated bauble and moved it once again. “Better?”
“Much.” She smiled. “Thank you.”
“Are you always this much of a tyrant when it comes to decorating?”
“I’ve never really decorated before,” she admitted. “Not since I was a child, so it must just be my control issues asserting themselves.”
“Control issues, huh?”
“Best you know what you’re dealing with.”
He placed the last ornament on the tree and moved closer. “Oh, I have a pretty good idea.”
“You do, do you?” She sank more deeply into the sofa as he leaned down, arms bracing either side so her face was only inches away from his.
“I’ve got a pretty excellent idea, actually,” he murmured, his gaze dipping to her mouth. “Especially now we’re here, with no spectators around.”
And with that he closed the space between them and placed his lips on hers.
She could taste the sweetness and tang of apricots on his lips, could feel the whirling sensations as his lips possessed hers in a gentle, yet thorough, exploration. Her left hand crept up to his face, then curved behind his neck, tugging him ever so slightly closer.
He made a noise deep in his throat, something her heroes would often do—so it was true!—then tilted her head back, one hand cradling her head. He kissed her tenderly, yet possessively, as if her lips held secrets he longed to know.
Ooh! Her eyes snapped open. She should so write that down.
He pulled away, confusion in his eyes. “What is it?”
“Sorry,” she said, reaching across to the coffee table for a pen and paper. “I just thought of something.”
“While we were kissing?”
“It’s a compliment, really,” she said, grabbing the pen and writing down the phrase. “There! Done.” She smiled up at him.
“I don’t understand.”
She tossed the pen and paper aside and tugged him closer again. “You’re such an excellent kisser that I had to write down how you made me feel.” She pressed her lips to his.
He inched back. “Seriously?”
“Well, yes. That’s what I do. Inspiration strikes, words and phrases come, and I have to write it down before it’s lost forever.”
“You’d write about private matters in your books for anyone to read?”
“Well, it’s not all true, you know. I do write fiction. I’ve never married an earl, for example.”
At his look of uncertainty, she rushed to reassure him. “Look, if you don’t want me to, I won’t include it.” She scrunched up the paper, stifling a sigh. “See?”
He chuckled, although it sounded uncertain. “I’ve never dated an author.”
“Well, if it’s any comfort, I’ve never dated a doctor.”
“I guess we’re even then.”
“I guess we are.”
He met her small smile with his own. “I suppose I should let the author go finish authoring.”
“I suppose.”
“But if you happen to get things finished, let me know? I’d like to do this again.” His brows rose hopefully.
“Decorate another tree?” she said, purposefully misunderstanding.
“Spend time getting to know you,” he murmured, eyes dark with intention.
Via kissing? Yes, please. “Then you’d better go, before you get to know how crazy this author gets when she’s feeling the pressure.”
“You’ve got my number?”
“You gave it to me before. Go. How about I call you if I can’t get things done by six tomorrow night?”
“Sounds like a plan.” He swooped in and brushed another kiss on her cheek. “I really like you, Miss Everton.”
“And I really like you, Dr. Wells,” she murmured.
He departed, closing the door behind him, leaving her to wonder at the magic of the evening, her story far from mind. And to wonder if this mutual liking could ever lead to something that was lasting.
“Did she like it?” Brandi asked eagerly the next day.
“She loved it. Thanks for your help.” He smiled at his former almost-sister-in-law.
“Well, she’s an author, and I figured she’d enjoy all kinds of bookish things. Have you read anything she’s written?”
“No.”
“I think we have some of her books here. When your mom mentioned her, I knew I recognized the name.” She moved to the bookshelf and drew a couple of books from the shelf. “Here.”
He stared at the covers, one, the pirate book he’d seen a few days ago, called Secrets of the Wind; the other cover was far more eye popping, and made him blush and look away.
“I, er, didn’t know she wrote that kind of novel.”
Brandi chuckled. “Yeah, I don’t think it’s as bad as what the cover makes out. Not according to the Goodreads comments.”
“Goodreads?” There seemed very little good about that second book. Heaven forbid Dr. Hollis ever saw it.
“You don’t know about Goodreads?” Brandi looked at him sympathetically. “Poor James. You have been living under a rock, haven’t you?”
No, just been away, focused on matters of life and death. He kept that to himself.
She went on to explain that the Goodreads community generally held Staci Everton’s books in high regard, that she was known for pumping out good fiction with realistic characters and settings that were great to escape into. “I mean, we’re not talking Austen, but I’m sure her books would be kind of fun.” She raised her brows suggestively. “You could get an insight into how she thinks, James, what she might consider is romantic.”
“No thanks.” He already had a reasonable idea. Roses. Candlelight. Kisses.
“Oh, come on.” She glanced around, then lowered her voice. “I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but you can buy them as e-books also. That way no-one will ever know.”
“E-books?”
“Oh my goodness, James, I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that. Look, you want to read her book, don’t you?” She smiled. “Don’t worry, nobody will ever know what you’re reading. One of the blessings of technology these days. You want the first one?”
Well, he certainly didn’t want the second. “Uh, okay?”
“Great! I’ll load it on an e-reader you can borrow.”
A few minutes later he was outside the bookstore, feeling like he’d participated in a conversation where he only knew half the words, and had been steamrolled into something guaranteed to have complications.
Yes, he wanted to know more about Staci’s world, to learn about what went on in her pretty little head. But the thought of reading her words both tantalized and terrified. What if he came across more vivid descriptions of kissing, and he started wondering about whom she’d been thinking when she wrote such things? Worse, what if there were… other descriptive, revealing passages? He didn’t know what to think.
“James?”
He started at Pastor McPherson’s voice, pasted on a smile. “Forgive me. I didn’t see you.”
“I didn’t expect to see you out shopping during the day.” He glanced at the paper bag which held Brandi’s e-reader. “Got time for a coffee?”
“Uh, sure.” They moved past the Nuthouse, past the vintage toyshop, down the block and across to The Coffee Blend, each step James took increasingly laden with dread. What would Pastor McPherson say if he knew how Staci made a living? What would Dr. Hollis say? Would something like that count as a scandal, the likes of which might affect his future at the hospital?
He lifted a hand to Suzy as he entered the coffee shop, motioning to a booth.
“TDH for you?” she called.
He nodded. “And a glass of water. Thanks.”
The pastor ordered and they sat at the same booth he’d sat with Staci two days prior. James glanced up. The string of mistletoe still beckoned.
Pastor McPherson saw where his attention was and chuckled. “Want to switch booths, huh?”
“I’m good.” He doubted Suzy would be teasing about kisses today.
They chatted in general terms about the weather, about the tree lighting, about the Christmas lunch. “You planning to volunteer?”
“I need to check my schedule at the hospital.” And check on Staci’s plans. Was she planning to return to Chicago?
“No pressure. Your mom has been a great support these past years. We usually have plenty of volunteers.”
James nodded, turning as Suzy approached with their coffees.
“Howdy pastor, good to see you again. And Dr. Wells, how’s that lovely girl of yours?”
“Staci?” James questioned.
“How many do you have?” she teased.
“Only one,” he said, heat creeping up his neck. Now was definitely not the time for Dr. Hollis to overhear.
“Tell her I hope she can find you some more mistletoe, okay?”
Yeah, definitely glad Dr. Hollis wasn’t here.
“You and Staci Everton, huh?” the pastor said.
James nodded, sipping his coffee to avoid answering.
“Well, well. That’s mighty interesting. Mighty interesting, indeed.”
“How so?”
The pastor sipped his hot chocolate. “Oh, you’ve both been in my prayers. In different prayers,” he hastened to add, eyes twinkling.
“So this isn’t some divine matchup?”
“Well, I can’t comment on that. Let’s just say I think it’s nice to see people find happiness at Christmas.” Pastor McPherson sat back in his chair. “Have you told her yet about your future plans?”
“Regarding Africa?”
The pastor nodded.
“I can’t, because I still haven’t heard.”
“And what if they say you’re cleared to return?”
James sighed. “That’s the question. I still don’t know.”
“Forgive me, but she doesn’t really strike me as being Africa-friendly.”
“I don’t think she’d be unfriendly, but I know she’s not used to traveling, or what it means to live abroad.” He traced the woodgrain in the table. “I don’t want to ask her to give up what she’s used to.”
“Would she go if you asked her?”
“Maybe. I don’t know.”
“Would you cope staying here if the answer is no?”
James smiled without humor. “Maybe. I don’t know.”
“Seems you have a predicament.”
“You can say that again. But I’d prefer you didn’t.”
Pastor McPherson chuckled. “I’ll be praying. For the both of you this time.”
“Thanks.” He drained his coffee, eyed his pastor. “There’s something else. You know she writes romance?”
“She told me so herself. Historicals for the secular market, right?”
James nodded, relieved he wouldn’t have to go into long explanations. “I just saw her books in Brandi’s bookstore, and the covers are, uh, kinda not what I’d expected.”
“And this is a problem because…?”
He lowered his voice. “Because if the hospital board was to find out that we were, well, dating, then there might be questions.”
The pastor’s brows arched.
James tugged at his collar. “Dr. Hollis has told me he doesn’t want any scandal attached to the hospital. I get the feeling he’s pretty conservative and wouldn’t approve of her books.”
The pastor’s graying head tilted. “I’m not Reginald Hollis, but he’s always been very big on traditional family values. I’ve heard him give addresses and seen the way he’s voted before.”
“Well, if you can add some prayers into these areas as well, I’d really appreciate it.”
“Of course, my friend. Will do.”
But the tension would not leave him, even as the pastor paid and left, and James was left wondering how to proceed, when progression in this relationship might lead to broken hearts and dreams.