Mistletoe and Mischief (Cedar Cove)

Chapter 18

18

“Merry Christmas,” Bruce Peyton whispered as he drew Rachel into his arms.

Smiling, Rachel arched her back and yawned. “Is it morning already?”

“It sure is. I’ve got coffee brewing and Jolene’s up.”

Rachel turned her head to look at the clock. “Bruce, it isn’t even eight.” She could easily have slept another hour. Or two.

“I know, but Jolene’s anxious to get to the presents.”

With some effort, Rachel sat up. She was noticeably pregnant now and the baby was more active every day. Thankfully the worst of the morning sickness had passed.

The pregnancy had been unplanned and Jolene, her thirteen-year-old stepdaughter, hadn’t yet adjusted to her father’s remarriage when she was forced to deal with the news about the baby. The marriage itself had resulted in a difficult transition for the girl, but the pregnancy complicated everything that much more.

Her relationship with Jolene had grown tense. The stress became too much for Rachel and eventually she felt she had no choice but to move out of the family home. Only recently—just weeks ago—had she returned.

The counseling sessions had helped a great deal and they were learning to coexist and work together as a family. Rachel was excited about spending Christmas with her husband and stepdaughter. She and Jolene had planned the dinner menu together and they’d spent most of yesterday in the kitchen, preparing vegetables and side dishes and dessert.

During the afternoon they’d also made a breakfast casserole to put in the oven Christmas morning while they opened gifts. And Jolene had baked her first cinnamon rolls from scratch. Rachel hadn’t told her, but this was her first experience, too. The rolls had turned out well, if Bruce’s lavish praise was anything to go by.

All the while, Poppy, their new dog, had lounged in the warm kitchen, with occasional bursts of activity and escorted trips to the backyard.

“Would you like tea in bed?” her husband asked her.

“I’d love some.”

“And I’d love to bring you some,” he said, grinning. “In fact, I’ll do anything. I’d stand on my head in the middle of the street in a snowstorm if it meant you’d be with me every Christmas morning for the rest of my life.” Leaning forward, he pressed his lips to hers. “Merry Christmas, my beautiful wife.”

“Merry Christmas, my silly husband.”

“I’ll be back in a minute with your tea.” Bruce kissed her again, and then he was gone.

Rachel sat up in bed and rearranged her pillows. She held one hand over her stomach, letting her unborn daughter know how much she was loved. Next Christmas, this little one would be crawling around, eager to tear open packages. Rachel closed her eyes, savoring the vision of all the wonderful things the next year would hold.

Bruce returned with a steaming cup of tea, which he handed her just as Jolene burst into the master bedroom, carrying Poppy.

“Rachel, you’re awake, aren’t you?”

“I’m getting there.”

“Hurry up,” the girl said, holding the puppy close to Rachel. “There are gifts out there just waiting to be opened.”

“Okay, okay,” Rachel said, squinting as Poppy licked her face. “Give me five minutes.”

“That long?” Jolene whined, and then laughed out loud, sounding young and carefree.

“You’re certainly in a good mood,” Bruce teased, hugging his daughter.

“Daddy, it’s Christmas. Everyone’s in a good mood on Christmas Day.”

If only that was true. Memories of her childhood drifted into Rachel’s mind. After her mother’s death, she’d gone to live with an unmarried aunt who’d seen Christmas as a commercial wasteland and refused to partake in anything so frivolous. There’d been no tree, no presents. It was just like every other day, except that Rachel didn’t have to go to school.

She’d listened attentively as her friends told of their wonderful holidays and longed for the time when she’d celebrate Christmas with a family of her own. And here it was, unfolding right before her eyes.

Setting her mug aside, she tossed back the covers and slid out of bed. “Did someone say something about presents?” she asked.

Jolene placed Poppy on the floor, grabbed Rachel’s hand and led her into the living room. “I put the casserole in the oven.”

“Great. Did you preheat it to three hundred and fifty degrees first?”

“Yes, I did.”

“You’re going to be a terrific cook.”

“I already am,” Jolene said. “I made dinner the whole time you were gone and I did a good job, didn’t I, Dad?”

“Yup.” Bruce joined Rachel on the sofa. “Unfortunately, I didn’t have much of an appetite.”

Jolene sighed. “All he could think about was you and the baby.”

“But Rachel’s with us now, and that’s what matters.”

“Hey,” Rachel said, “are we going to sit around all morning discussing the past or are we going to open gifts?”

Her question got the desired results. “Open gifts!” Jolene said with renewed energy.

Rachel went back to the bedroom for her robe and tied it loosely about her waist as she slipped her feet into fuzzy slippers.

Bruce had a nice fire going in the fireplace, and Poppy lay stretched out in front of it, snuffling in her sleep. The radio was tuned to a station that played Christmas music without any commercial interruptions. The casserole was baking in the oven, and the scent of bacon and cheese wafted into the room. This was as idyllic a picture as Rachel could ever have conjured up in some blissful fantasy.

“Who gets to open a gift first?” she asked, settling onto the sofa with her husband.

“I have to sort through them all before we open any,” Jolene said. “I’ll hand everything out and then we open them. One at a time,” she ordered.

“Then get to it, girl,” Bruce said with a laugh, reaching for Rachel’s hand.

Jolene walked over to the lighted tree, which they’d just finished decorating yesterday, and got down on all fours, rooting through the gifts. She pulled one out and sat back, checking the name tag.

“This one’s for Dad,” she said and, stretching forward, passed it to Bruce.

He held the rectangular package close to his ear and shook it. “Who’s it from?”

“Rachel,” Jolene said. “Looks like a shirt to me.”

“Don’t spoil the surprise.”

“Dad, it’s obvious.” Jolene grinned from ear to ear.

She disappeared again, foraging under the tree.

“What are you looking for now?” Bruce asked, setting the box at his feet.

“A special gift,” Jolene said, her voice muffled.

“Who’s it for?”

“Rachel, from me.”

“Oh, I love getting gifts.” Rachel smiled at Bruce. Considering the months of tension between her and Jolene, she was pleased that her stepdaughter was so eager to give her presents. She leaned her head against her husband’s shoulder. This was what she’d always hoped Christmas would be like, surrounded by people she loved and who loved her.

“Here it is,” Jolene announced, scooting out backward from beneath the huge tree.

Rachel took the package from her. It was the size and shape of a shoe box.

“Can Rachel open it now?” Jolene asked her father. “Even though that’s not the rules.”

“That’s up to Rachel.”

Jolene looked at her, eyes dark and serious. “Will you, Rach?”

“If you want me to.”

“I do.” She sat on the floor as she waited for Rachel to unwrap her gift.

“I made it myself,” Jolene said, her eyes bright as she bit her lower lip. “I hope you like it.”

“I’m sure I will.” Rachel carefully slid the ribbon off and peeled back the decorative paper. The box had, indeed, held Jolene’s new gym shoes. Rachel lifted the lid and stared down at a white hand-knit baby blanket, enfolded in pink tissue. Rachel hardly knew what to say. “You...you knit this yourself?” She drew it out, marveling at the complexity of the design.

Jolene nodded. “We learned how to knit in an after-school class. I bought the pattern and the yarn at that craft shop downtown, the one where Mrs. Flemming works. I worked on it every day. I made a lot of mistakes,” she admitted. She hurried to Rachel’s side, kneeling in front of her. “See? Here’s one.”

It was so small Rachel had to squint to see it.

“There are other mistakes, too.”

“Oh, Jolene, it’s perfect. ” Rachel struggled to hold back tears. “I’ll bring your sister home from the hospital in it.”

“You will?”

Rachel leaned forward and brought Jolene toward her, kissing her hair. “I’ll always treasure it, because you made it for me and the baby.”

“Don’t tell me you’re both going to get all weepy on me,” Bruce groaned.

“I might,” she said, struggling to hold back the tears.

Jolene raised her arms and wrapped Rachel in a big hug.

“I love you, Jolene,” Rachel whispered.

“I love you, too... You’re going to be a great mother.”

Bruce put his arms around them both. “She already is a great mom,” he said.

Jolene nodded and met Rachel’s eyes. “Yes, she is.”