Christmas in a Snowstorm Page 2

Surprisingly, the children remained silent.

  “Is it okay if we say grace first?” Joy asked quietly.

  “Of course. That’s a necessity in our family, too.” Sam sat and bowed his head, ashamed that he’d needed the reminder. But when you were used to grabbing something while in pursuit of a story or running for your life, saying grace often got left out. Probably one of the reasons God now felt so distant.

  “Thank You, Father, for this meal and this lovely home. We ask that You bless us and be with those in the storm. Amen.” Joy lifted her strawberry-blond head and met his gaze with a smile. “We very much appreciate you coming home for Christmas, Sam. We especially appreciate that you chose tonight to return.”

  “Glad to be of service,” he said, quoting his dad’s favorite homily. “Let’s eat.”

  It took some doing, but he finally got the kids chatting freely between mouthfuls.

  “So, Josh, you’re eight going on nine. Becca’s five, and Cris?” Sam waited while the little boy chewed his last crust of bread. “Let me guess? Four?”

  Cris nodded his flaxen head. “Uh-huh.”

  They ate in silence for a few minutes without questioning him. Sam didn’t mind. He didn’t want to explain about his past. Not now. Not ever.

  “Who wants some peach pie?” he said.

  The kids did not respond.

  “You don’t want pie? Are you guys for real?” Figuring they were embarrassed or thought there wouldn’t be enough, Sam got some plates and cut a slice. “I don’t know who made it, but this looks and smells delicious.”

  “It’s Mom’s,” Josh told him.

  “Huh?” Sam frowned at Joy. “You brought a pie in that suitcase?”

  The kids giggled.

  “Josh means it came from my bakery. That’s my mark in the middle of the crust.” Joy smiled. “The children have already eaten peach pie three times this week, so they’re probably tired of it.”

  “Who gets tired of peach pie?” Sam asked in disbelief. “Not me.” He took a bite, closed his eyes, and let the tangy flavor roll over his tongue. “Delicious. Cinnamon and a tiny hint of nutmeg. “What bakery?”

  “Yes, cinnamon and a few other spices,” Joy agreed before grimacing. “My bakery. I run—ran a bakery from our home. The bakery in Sunshine closed last year. That’s why we moved here. I’ve been trying to negotiate with a company called Possibilities, who bought the old bakery building.”

  She took a sip of her coffee while the big lump in Sam’s throat expanded until he was almost choking.

  “I want to rent the building and equipment from them so I can reopen it,” Joy told him calmly.

  “I see,” he finally managed to croak. “And?”

  “And nothing. Everything is on hold because Possibilities hasn’t responded to any of my letters. If they don’t answer me pretty soon, I’ll have to look elsewhere.” Disappointment dimmed her eyes.

  “I see.” Oh, boy, you’re in trouble, Sam’s brain chided. You should have come home sooner.

  “Waiting so long for a response is why I had my kitchen at our house—your house—” she corrected “—certified by the health department. Until I can find something else to rent, I’ve been baking there to fill the orders I get.”

  “Ah.” Now he understood her earlier irritation.

  “At least, I was doing that. Until that tree fell.” Worry wrinkled her brow. “I don’t know what happens now. I only know that bakery building would have been perfect. With the Christmas season coming, I could have...” Her shoulders drooped. “It doesn’t matter now.”

  “Mom can’t bake in our house anymore,” Josh muttered.

  “’Cause it’s bwoken,” Becca explained.

  “It sure is.” Sam grimaced.

  There’d been too many emails, too many scathing comments and demeaning castigations filling his inbox. Sam had stopped reading them because he just couldn’t take it anymore. Now he wished he hadn’t. Obviously he’d missed some information from his dad explaining about his rental house. If he’d read his emails, he might have been able to save Joy and her kids all this hassle.

  “It’s my fault you’re in this situation. I apologize.”

  “No, it isn’t. It’s the tree’s fault,” she said, barely managing a smile.

  “Whatever.” He wouldn’t let himself off the hook so easily. “I’m really sorry, Joy. I’d planned to be back home before Thanksgiving. I thought I’d have time to check on your place and make sure it was ready for winter, but I failed.” Again. He paused, frowned. “Can you bake tomorrow’s orders here?”

  “I don’t have any supplies,” she said as she glanced around. “But assuming I got some from my place and the oven works, I guess I could manage.”

  “But?” He knew there was one because of her frown.

  “You see, the thing is, I have a big party order to fill for the weekend. I doubt...” She left her thought hanging as she surveyed the small kitchen, obviously running scenarios in her head.

  Sam guessed Joy didn’t want to discuss it with her children present, listening to every word, so he rose and began clearing their dishes. The kids quickly pitched in, obviously having done it before. Josh was a master at loading the dishwasher, and soon the house was back in order.

  “If only I could have gotten into the old Bits and Bites bakery building,” Joy said, her tone slightly sour, nodding when he held up the coffeepot. He refilled their cups as she continued, “If I could have persuaded Possibilities to let me rent immediately, I’d have plenty of space. Besides that, all the equipment I need to make my bakery dream come true is already there, waiting to be used.”

  “Ah.” What could Sam say to that? He wished he’d read his email.

  “The lawyer for Possibilities has ignored my letters. They refuse to even give me a chance.” Her eyes glistened like icicles in sunlight.

  “Bits and Bites—that was the name of the bakery? The big building beside an empty lot on the corner, across from the bank?” Sam clarified. Joy nodded. “It wasn’t called that last time I was home,” he mused.

  “I think the previous owners only ran it for a short time before they had trouble and let it go back to the bank. Apparently it was then bought by Possibilities. I can’t figure out how to talk to whomever Possibilities is.” Her lips pursed.

  “If you could, what would you say to them?” Sam asked, and then wondered if he should have.

  “I’d give them an earful about possibilities,” Joy shot back. “This town needs a bakery. The more businesses Sunshine loses, the sooner folks will leave and—Sorry,” she apologized suddenly, looking embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to dump on you.”

  “No problem. And as it happens, I agree with you. Sunshine must remain vital, with plenty of businesses, for it to survive. That’s something I’ve been—” He stopped, grimaced. “Now I’m dumping.”

  Joy’s words clearly echoed Sam’s own private vision for his hometown. That was the very reason he had begun buying old buildings and renovating them, to try to coax new business into town. He’d always had this desire for Sunshine to remain attractive, a good place to do business, so that it wouldn’t fail like so many other small towns nearby had. He’d given a lot of thought to how the town could do that. But he didn’t need to blurt it all out now.

  “What are you so quiet about?” Joy murmured.

  “Trying to remember.” He studied her, once more admiring the sheen on her hair in the flickering firelight. “I thought I heard something about a wonky floor in that bakery building.”

  “It’s an original wooden floor, from the early fifties. Of course it’s wonky! That’s part of the charm.” Joy sounded irritated. Her nails tapping against the table added to that impression. “Nobody erects a big expansive building like that anymore or puts in those massive storefront windows. They would be perfect for display or a little coff
ee nook. I haven’t been able to get inside recently, but I’m sure there’s enough room in the basement for a Mother’s Day cake-decorating event for kids, or catering, or...”

  “Wow! You have plans,” Sam said, his respect for her growing.

  “Fat lot of good they do me now. My bakery dreams collapsed when that tree fell.” She shook it off before rising. “Okay, kids. It looks like we’re staying here tonight, so it’s time to get ready for bed. Pj’s are in the suitcase, along with toothbrushes. Take turns nicely.”

  As if he’d been assigned the task, Josh shepherded his siblings toward the bathroom. Joy faced Sam, her luminous face enhanced by the glow from the Christmas tree. Beautiful, but so weary.

  “I’m sorry not to sound more grateful for your help,” she apologized, summoning a smile. “It’s just that lately I can’t seem to catch a break. I’d really hoped to get my bakery going before Christmas. I’ll just have to keep praying about it, I guess.”

  “Do that. I will, too.” Sam remembered as he said it that he hadn’t been able to pray for a while. Ever since he’d been captured... He shoved that thought away as a new idea began to percolate. “Rest tonight.”

  “That’s easy to say,” Joy mumbled.

  “Try to let it all go for the next few hours,” he advised gently. “In the morning we’ll go back to your place and see what we can salvage so you can get back to baking. All is not lost yet, Mrs. Baker.”

  “I wish I dared to believe that.” She turned away so he wouldn’t see her secret delight at his nickname for her.

  “Is there anyone you need to contact?” Sam asked softly. “Family?”

  * * *

  Family? Sadness welled inside but Joy tamped it down.

  “No family. It’s just me and my kids.” This man didn’t need to know her sad history.

  “I was an orphan, too,” Sam told her, his voice thoughtful. “Our parents were killed in a car accident near here. After some surgeries, Ben and Bonnie nursed us back to health then brought us here to Hanging Hearts Ranch and adopted the three of us Calhoun boys.”

  “I’ve met them. They’re very kind.” She gulped then blurted, “I’m not an orphan, though. My parents disowned me.”

  “Oh. Why?” His calm, quiet question helped Joy regain control.

  She figured his ability to empathize was probably the reason why Sam had been so effective at reporting. Except for that last time...

  “Joy? You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want.”

  “No, it’s okay. It’s old history. I got pregnant right after high school,” she said, still embarrassed to admit her mistake. “I thought I could make it right by marrying Nick, though my parents insisted he wasn’t trustworthy. But I was stubborn. They said they’d disown me if I married him. I did, and they’ve kept their word. I haven’t seen or heard from them in a long time. They won’t even respond to my letters.” She scowled. “It’s galling to admit, but it turns out they were right about Nick, too.”

  “That doesn’t make it any easier,” Sam commiserated with a frown. “Surely if they knew about your kids, they’d want to get to know their grandchildren?”

  “I thought that, too, so I went to see them once.” She remembered that dark day so well. “It was right after Nick was killed. He’d left us to live his dream, at the circus,” she explained. “He was killed three days later by an angry elephant. I was pregnant with Cris. I thought maybe if my parents knew I’d been widowed they’d forgive me, but they told me to go away.”

  “I’m so sorry, Joy.” Sam’s hand covered hers.

  “Yeah. Me, too.” She huffed out a sigh of regret and then shrugged it off. “Their loss. My kids are amazing.”

  “Yes, they are,” he agreed with a grin. She liked him very much for saying that, but she still withdrew her hand from his.

  Becca appeared, holding her precious though ragged teddy bear.

  “Teeth clean, face and hands washed, sweetie?” she asked her only daughter.

  “Uh-huh.” Becca hugged her leg. “I’m gonna pway, too, Mommy. ’Cause God loves us, wight?”

  “Yes, He does, darling.” Joy hugged her little girl, striving to regain her brave face. “You and Cris find my Bible in the suitcase and we’ll read a story before bed, just as soon as Josh is ready. You guys decide which one.”

  When Becca dashed away calling the others to come, Joy chuckled.

  “What’s so funny?” Sam asked, eyes wide.

  “She’ll ask the others to choose Daniel in the lions’ den. For Cris. He loves that story.” Her smile faltered. “I think it’s tied up with him not having a dad. Cris tries so hard to be brave.”

  “Don’t we all?” Sam’s face suddenly altered, making her think he was reminded of something horrible in his past. Then he jumped up, grabbed his coat off the hook and thrust his arms into it. “I’ll let you get on with bedtime then.”

  “Thank you for everything, Sam. We really appreciate it.” Joy gnawed on her bottom lip. “I don’t know what we would have done—”

  “You would have managed because that’s what you moms always do. I’m in awe of your managerial abilities.” He grinned and she knew he was trying to lighten the atmosphere. “Please don’t worry about anything. There’s a way to fix this and I will find it. If you need anything in the night, there’s an intercom system in the master bedroom. Press the red button and I’ll answer. Okay?” He waited for her assent.

  “Thank you, Sam.” Joy nodded. “I promise, we won’t be staying here long. I’ll figure this out and stand on my own two feet again. Soon.” Her smile felt forced. “Till then I’m truly grateful for everything you’ve done.”

  “My pleasure. Good night.” Sam left his car outside her door and walked across the snowy yard to the main house, where he disappeared inside.

  Joy peered out the window. Through the gusts of whirling snowflakes, she eventually caught the flickering light of a fire illuminating a room in the big house. She figured Sam must be tired if he’d been traveling for a while. She’d heard about his recent return from the Middle East. That’s where he’d made that false report, wasn’t it? She couldn’t help wondering if other reporters’ diatribes she’d heard against Sam actually told the whole story about his recent firing from his longtime network. Or was there more to it and the business in the Middle East than had been publicized?

  “Mommy?”

  “Coming.” Joy read the kids their story, prayed with each one and then tucked them into bed, so grateful they were snug and warm and safe tonight.

  But what about tomorrow?

  “I’m trying to learn to trust You, but I just can’t see a way out of this, God,” she prayed when she was once more alone and seated in front of the fire. “Please show me.”

  After a while her thoughts drifted back to Sam. The well-known journalist who had frequently appeared on television with heart-wrenching human-interest stories had been a favorite of hers for years. Sam Calhoun covered a story honestly. He didn’t embellish or pretend or make up news. He gave the facts, but in a way that reached out and grabbed your heart.

  Until that last story. The way he’d presented it had been so unlike him: cold, almost detached, as if he was reading someone else’s work. What could have happened to make him file a story so easily proven false? And why hadn’t he immediately corrected his report, made an excuse, or explained to his many viewers why he’d done it?

  In the six weeks that followed his erroneous coverage, Sam Calhoun hadn’t clarified anything. Not that it mattered, because by the time he appeared in public, he’d already been vilified by the very colleagues and agencies who’d sung his praises and awarded him for his work mere weeks earlier. His disgrace seemed total when even his own network had publicly disowned him.

  Now Sam was home. He must feel embarrassed and ashamed about his illustrious career derailing so publicly. Maybe h
e’d returned to lick his wounds or maybe he was home for good. Only—what would a world-class journalist do on Hanging Hearts Ranch?

  Stop thinking about Sam Calhoun! He’ll probably leave soon anyway. Focus on your future, her brain chastised.

  Joy pulled a pad of paper close and began making a list. But half an hour later her mind still hadn’t let go of the lean, tanned, six-foot reporter with the melting coffee eyes and shaggy brown hair who’d rescued her and her kids in the storm. Funny how she’d known immediately that she could trust Sam Calhoun.

  And that was a problem. Joy couldn’t afford to trust another man. She was a single parent to three children and entirely on her own. That wasn’t going to change. It had taken her almost five years to recover financially from Nick’s abandonment of her. Healing mentally from the knowledge that a man she’d loved had dumped her and his kids—whom he’d professed to love with his whole heart—would take Joy a lot longer to forget. The only good thing about it all was that she had learned a hard lesson.

  Depend on no one but God. The only way to make it through life was to be strong, to make your dreams come true yourself. Even a stranger’s helping hand in a dire emergency would not dissuade her from that path.

  Chapter Two

  Joy rose at 5:30 a.m. For the past hour she’d worked quickly but as silently as possible. Now she needed a break. With her warm coffee mug snuggled against her cheek, she swiveled her gaze from the clock to the pans of cooling shortbread, and then to the scribbles across her notepad on the table.

  Her heart sank to her toes. She’d gone over and over the figures. Earlier this morning, using supplies she’d found here, she’d baked enough shortbread to fill three orders. But that wouldn’t be nearly enough to meet her obligations.

  Thanks to a stupid tree, the unresponsiveness of a company called Possibilities and the neglect of her home’s owner—that was Sam, she remembered glumly—her venture as Sunshine’s newest baker was over.

  “Now what, Lord?” she whispered and then waited for some heavenly guidance.