Christmas Miracle Page 10

  “Who is it?” she called out, as if he might be a serial rapist who politely knocked before entering.

  “It’s me, Mick. I thought of a solution to your problem. Let me in.”

  She opened the door a crack, and he realized he probably should have given her a call on his way over. Her long blondish hair was a mass of tangled knots hanging limply over her shoulder. The eyes that peeked at him were not the dazzling blue he remembered, but tinged with red as though she suffered allergies. She was wearing an old, washed-out Phillies Eagles sweatshirt and black leggings.

  If he eyed her from the bottom up, she still looked good.

  “What smells?” She pushed her mop of hair out of her eyes.

  “It might be me,” he said lifting the bag up and waving it under her nose, “but I hope it’s the Starbucks you’re talking about.”

  “Why are you here?” she asked, eyes on the enticing bag.

  “I’m here to have breakfast with you and then I’m taking you to the park. It’s a wonderful day. The sun is shining, fresh snow has fallen, the birds are chirping, and we are going on an adventure.”

  “What kind of adventure?” Sarah blocked the door with her shoulder as if unconvinced. Had she been crying? Her blue eyes were bloodshot, her nose red.

  “The kind that will be a surprise. Now if you will please step aside, I’ll bring in this delicious breakfast and you can thank me later.” He opened the bag and waved it in her face.

  Her nose twitched. “Hmm, it does smell good. But what kind of thanks are you expecting? Free rides, or something more personal?”

  “Just a thank you will work for me.”

  “Okay.” She stepped away from the door and he followed her inside. He dropped the bag on the granite island that separated the kitchen from the family room.

  “You can have your choice.” He pulled out the still steaming cups of flavored drinks, telling her the names of both. “And we have high protein egg bites, which are every bit as delicious as they look. One’s got bacon and gruyere, the other’s more spicy.”

  “Wow. This was so nice of you.” She grabbed two side plates and napkins and indicated the bar stool for him to sit. “Let’s have it here.” She snagged the non-spicy option, and the white chocolate mocha, standing on the opposite side of the counter rather than taking a seat.

  “They’re both healthy. Figured you, as a nurse, would find proper nutrition important.” He hid his smile, having pegged her taste perfectly. “You want to share the food, have one of each?”

  “Sure. We could do that.” He swapped out one of the two on each plate, and dug into his chicken chorizo tortilla. Sauce oozed out and he licked the sides of his mouth.

  “So do you eat like this every morning?” she asked, picking at her egg white. “I didn’t picture you as a Starbucks guy.”

  “Why? Because I’m not in a camel coat or expensive suit?”

  “Yeah, something like that.”

  “I’m just a man with great taste.” He reached out and moved a strand of her hair from touching her plate. “Did you get into a fight with your hairbrush this morning?”

  She rolled her eyes and huffed. “I wasn’t expecting company. Your bad luck for not calling.” After a big sip of her mocha her eyes regained some of their spark. “Now you see the real me. Not pretty, is it?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. The fresh out of bed, messy hair look has a strange allure. I kind of like it.”

  She slapped at his hand. “I haven’t brushed it yet, and it needs washing. So what are your great words of wisdom? Your solution to my problems, may I ask?”

  “Oh, that. It’s simple. We’re going to take your mind off your troubles. Go have fun, and let the decision-making rest for another week or two.” He had seen enough of death, and if he could help this little unborn baby out, well, that might earn him a brownie point when he met his maker in the sky.

  “You’re a frickin’ genius,” she said sarcastically, stuffing another bite in her mouth.

  “Thank you, but I’m not done yet.” He took a drink of his hot beverage, adding, “You have plenty of time, so don’t go forcing a decision until you’re ready. The right choice will open up to you in its own time.”

  “Well, that’s just great. Why didn’t I think of that? Kumbaya, and all that.”

  “What does that really mean?” Mick licked some whipped cream off his mouth. “Kumbaya?”

  “It means, like…whatever.”

  “No, it doesn’t.” He laughed, and picked up the second egg bite that was the shape of a muffin, but a healthier choice. “It’s kind of a prayer. Maybe Kumbaya is an Egyptian God, or it is African? Heck if I know.”

  “You’re right, you don’t know. Google it.”

  “Can’t. No phone. No laptop.”

  “No life.” She pushed her plate away and put her elbow on the counter, chin in her hand. “How do you live? Seriously? No computer. No phone, no texting friends. I can’t imagine it.”

  “I get by. Kumbaya.” He grinned. “Giving up all possessions is step one to a happier, less stressful life.”

  “Why don’t you move to a commune somewhere? California might be a good start.”

  “You got something against communes?”

  “Plenty, but I don’t know where to start.” She finished off her beverage and wiped her mouth. “California is gorgeous, don’t get me wrong, but too many fires and earthquakes, mud slides…and that fault line? No thank you.”

  “Okay, so Heaven it is. I agree. No better place to live. On earth, anyway.”

  She snorted a laugh. “What is it about this place? It’s like a cult or something.”

  “If I’m brainwashed, let me be.” He started cleaning up, gathering the empty packages into the brown paper bag it had come in. “Unless you want to go out the way you are, I suggest you get changed. Dress warm. We’re going ice skating in the park.”

  “What makes you think I can ice skate?”

  “Well, if you can’t, you’ll have to hold on to me tight.” He hadn’t given it any thought, but he knew the Shaunnessy family had come from upstate New York, so it was likely they’d learned as kids.

  She looked at him with puzzlement in her eyes and then shook her head. What was she thinking, he wanted to know. Wondering where that shabby, hopeless man from last year had gone?

  He was still hanging around. Mick had just learned how to keep him submerged deeper, and only saw glimpses of him now and again. But not today. The sun was shining, the snow was pristine, and he had a troubled woman that he needed to cheer up.

  Fifteen minutes past and Sarah hadn’t returned to the kitchen, so Mick browsed the array of books on the living room shelf, thinking how intelligent and diverse Byron was for a man content to mix drinks for a living.

  Mick had grown up with the belief that he’d only be one thing. A cop. His father had been a cop, and his grand-dad too. With both of them dead long before their time, he’d signed up for the Marine Corp. Now he was on disability, got a small pension, and had no idea what to do with the rest of his life.

  Hell, he was only thirty-four. The hospital work gave him a purpose, but he couldn’t see himself doing that forever. Even though he didn’t own one, he’d always been good with computers, yet an office job would be too confining for a man like him.

  He was in the living room, staring at the enormous tree and counting the number of presents under it when Sarah joined him. He whistled with appreciation. Her wild hair was tamed into a long, single braid that hung over one shoulder. Her blue-green eyes sparkled again, her cheeks were slightly flushed, and she was wearing the tightest jeans he’d ever seen. Looked pasted on. How would a man get them off her, he wondered. Surprised that his mind had gone there, he coughed and said, “Okay, grab your parka and some warm gloves. We’re gonna need them.”

  He tried not to look at the shape of her ass as she walked in front of him, but of course he did. Winter coats were lined up in the hall closet and she took a lime green one down
, with a fur-lined hood. When she put it on she damn near took his breath away. He almost preferred her messy bedroom look. What would she taste like if he kissed her? He hadn’t kissed a woman in a long time, but he still remembered the fire in his belly and the sweet pleasure of exploring a woman’s mouth. And other things.

  He shrugged into his own navy parka, drew on his gloves, and opened the door. “Do you need a key?”

  “Got it,” she replied. “Jean pocket.”

  How the hell did it fit in there, he wondered. “Are those things comfortable?”

  “They stretch,” she said, an eyebrow raised. “Don’t they wear these in Afghanistan?”

  “’Fraid not. A girl that looked as good as you would be locked up or treated like a whore.” She looked affronted, so he apologized. “They don’t respect or appreciate women, like we do here.” His eyes flickered over her with sincere appreciation. “Like I am right now.”

  Her wide mouth opened in a surprised smile. “Thank you, Mick. I’m looking forward to our adventure today. Lead on.”

  They reached the sidewalk and Sarah hooked her arm through his, and they walked six blocks to the town park. The trees were massive here, the snow in parts deep, but a wide paved boulevard went right through the middle and was plowed each day. To the right was a forlorn looking Ferris wheel that he’d like to take her on come spring. A colorful carousel stood next to it, with painted ponies, large swans that sat two, and giraffes and ostriches—a fanciful ride for children and the young at heart.

  Sarah smiled when she saw it. “I can imagine all the children love to come here. Meghan will be able to walk, pushing her baby carriage. I wonder what she will name the baby, don’t you?” The smile faded and she glanced away. “Take me to the skating rink, Mick. Help me forget.”

  He heard the hitch in her voice, and put his hands on her arms, turning her so that she faced him. With a gloved finger, he swiped under her lashes to brush away a tear. “Sarah.” Their eyes met and he had no idea what she was feeling, but his heart pounded foolishly.

  He’d had girls when he’d been on leave, and dated a young woman during their infantry course. He’d romanced an armor officer, 2nd Lt. Linda Hill, who’d led a Marine tank platoon. But he hadn’t been with a woman since his discharge. And none of them had made him feel like this.

  “I’m okay,” she said, using her chin to show him the path she wanted to take. “Let’s go have fun. Put our worries behind us.” She tucked her hand through his arm again, and they headed down the shoveled path.

  “We don’t have our own skates, so we’ve got to rent from the rink. But, if I like it enough, I might buy a pair and come down here nights to skate on the lake.” He used to play hockey as a kid and enjoyed ice under his feet. “It’s pretty cool watching the first stars come out.”

  “Sounds nice. Do you come down here a lot?”

  “I lived in these woods for a few months, until Chief Brown caught me. He told me I could not sleep on a park bench, or make a tent in the woods. I did it anyway, and every night he’d come and arrest me,” he said, chuckling at the shock on Sarah’s face. “He’d lock me up in the cell for the night to stay warm, and bring me a bagel and coffee in the morning, then set me free—no charges.”

  “That’s very cool.”

  “Agreed. One night he didn’t lock me up but took me to an apartment. Same one I’m living in now.”

  “Wow.” She blinked rapidly. “No wonder he stood by you at the store. What a great guy. He really cares about you.”

  “Cares about everyone. He’s a good cop. My dad was too.”

  They had arrived at the rink and were in line at the booth where they rented skates. Music was playing in the circular outdoor rink, and dozens of people skated with partners, with children, or by themselves.

  “This is wonderful,” she told him, squeezing his arm. “I’m so glad you didn’t go to work today.”

  “So am I.” The attendant asked him for shoe size, and Mick answered ten. “Sarah?”

  “I’m a seven and a half. Not sure about ice skates.”

  The attendant came back with two pairs. “Try them on and if it’s not a fit bring them back. No problem. Have fun,” he told them, his eyes on Sarah.

  “We will,” she said with a dazzling smile.

  Mick didn’t like the way the young lad was looking at her, but he had to admit the kid had good taste.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Sarah couldn’t remember the last time she’d been on ice. Maybe when she and Meghan were in their teens. Certainly not since. Likely her knees would wobble, but she had a feeling that Mick would stop at nothing to hold her steady.

  They took their skates over to a bench and he helped with her laces, then tied his own. He stood, perfectly balanced, and held out his hand. “You ready?”

  She swallowed and shook her head. “I guess. Can’t promise anything, but I’ll give it a shot.”

  “Good enough for me.” He skated backwards, watching her. “Just get a feel for the skates under you. Try walking a few steps.”

  She did, but felt clumsy, her ankles weak. “I knew this would be tough. It’s probably been about fifteen years, maybe more.”

  He skated to her side. “Hold my hand. Trust me, I won’t let you fall.”

  “All right then.” She looked into his clean-shaven face, wondering why she’d never realized how attractive Mick was, with a firm jawline, a masculine nose that may have been broken more than once, warm brown eyes that made her heart skip a little, and a smile that could break her heart. Her pulse was beating quickly. It had to be her messed up hormones.

  “If I fall, you’re going down with me,” she warned.

  “We are not going to fall.” His eyes smiled at her and she found herself smiling back.

  They waited for a break in the traffic of skaters whizzing by, then stepped out onto the rink. He put a hand on her back and guided her along, taking it slow for the first full circle, gently increasing speed as she began to relax. Her legs were tremulous and stiff, but she tried to match his movements, and not have him pulling her along.

  After the first terrified minutes, she dared to look up, and noticed how graceful and carefree he was on ice, like he’d been doing it half his life. “Okay, showoff.” She bumped his arm. “How long have you been skating?”

  “Played hockey from pee-wee to twelfth grade. Won a handful of trophies, but more importantly, had a lot of fun.”

  “How do I cross my one foot over the other on a turn, without tripping myself?” she asked, attempting to do just that, and nearly falling on her ass.

  “Get comfortable first. Don’t force it. Just relax, enjoy being outdoors, the exercise, the sun shining and the people around you having a good time. When you’re ready you’ll be able to make the move easily enough, but for now just glide. Let your legs and body relax.” He tightened his grip on her waist, and hip to hip, he led her around and around the rink, faster with every heart-pounding lap until they passed people in a blur.

  “Stop,” she called, “I’m getting dizzy.”

  He slowed their speed until she gained control and then led her to the exit. “Let’s take a break. I’ll get you a hot chocolate and if you want to do more then we will.”

  “That sounds like a perfect plan.” Sarah sat down at one of the benches while he hustled off to get their drinks. She watched the beauty of the others on the rink, mesmerized by the ease and perfect synchronicity as pairs glided together.

  Christmas music blared through hidden speakers but it wasn’t intrusive. There was a large Christmas tree in the center of the rink, and four wreaths the size of her Prius on each corner. Colored lights framed the small hut that rented skates and sold snacks and hot drinks.

  Sarah couldn’t imagine a better day than this, and it was all thanks to Mick. He winked at her when he got close and handed her a Styrofoam cup topped with whipped cream. “You okay?” he asked.

  “Couldn’t be better. This was a great idea, Mick.�
� She toasted him with her hot chocolate. “Your solution worked.”

  “Good! And I have plenty more where this one came from.” He sat next to her. “I have a cookie in my pocket if you want it.”

  “Why do you have a cookie in your pocket?” she asked, smiling.

  “Because, I only have two hands, and didn’t want to carry it in my mouth.”

  “What kind of cookie—not that I’m the least bit hungry.”

  “Shortbread, in the shape of a snowman, with red and green sprinkles.”

  “Oh, that is so sweet.” She took her glove off and dipped her hand into his right pocket, carefully pulling it out. “Oh, no. It’s broken. Now we’ll have to share.”

  She lifted one of the broken pieces, green sprinkles on shortbread against his lower lip. “You go first.”

  He took it in one large bite, nipping her fingers a little. His eyes were shining and she wanted to hug him. Or kiss the cookie crumbs around his mouth.

  My goodness! Where had that thought come from? What was she doing? Flirting?

  She bumped his shoulder again. “Tell me more about yourself, Mick Johnson. I want to know little Mickey, the hockey player. What were his hopes and dreams?”

  “That’s hard to answer, Sarah Shaunnessy.” He took a long sip from his hot chocolate, and wiped the cream off his upper lip.

  “Start at the beginning.”

  “Well, you know I was raised in the Bronx. I told you my dad was a cop, actually he was a lieutenant in the force, kind of a bigshot. Mom was a teacher, and my sister was Miss Goody-Two-Shoes who got straight As without even trying. Me, I was the kid who ran the streets at night, picking up basketball games, skateboarding, or hockey. Never in trouble, but not the kind who wanted to stay home.”

  “I can see you like that. Bet you were the ringleader too.”

  He ducked his head and grimaced. “Not always. Jay Shoresky was “the man” in those days. Until he got in trouble selling dope. Dad had him arrested and I had to find a new group of friends. Wasn’t long after that when Dad was killed in the line of duty.”