Wrapped Up in Christmas Love (Wrapped Up in Christmas #4)

Chapter Eleven

H ead spinning at Zach’s comment, Isabelle leaned back into the bounce house, swinging her legs inside as she fell against the firm surface.

Don’t read anything into what Zach said , she told herself. He was a flirt and hadn’t meant anything by his liking her comment. Nor had he meant anything by the way his mouth had been so close, by how his warm breath had been fanning across her lips.

Which didn’t explain the almost giddy bubbling in her belly. Giddiness because Zach liked her? Was she in middle school or what? Well, she was inside a bouncy house, which she hadn’t been in since probably middle school or even prior to then.

“You could have waited on me,” Zach called from the doorway, where he pulled off his boots.

No, she really couldn’t have. Not after that comment. She’d needed a moment to think, to get her head on straight, to wonder why he’d say that when he’d chosen not to kiss her when she’d wanted him to. What had she been thinking?

There wasn’t enough time in the world for her to figure out that one.

Glancing around at the inside of the inflated globe, she took a deep breath. When in Rome—or inside a giant snow globe—a girl should just go with it, right? Managing to get to her feet, she jumped as high as she could. Floating through the air was liberating and landing on the springy floor didn’t jar her back to earth, so she did it again. And again. Higher and higher.

“I’m coming after you, Blondie,” Zach threatened, crawling through the opening with a grin on his face and a determined gleam in his eyes.

“Oh, really?” Launching off the bouncy floor, she waved her fingers in a bring-it-on motion as she soared upward. “Catch me if you can.”

*

The Butterflies, in carefully constructed snowflake costumes they’d worn for the Miss Pine Hill Snowflake pageant, edged their way closer to the oversized snow globe, where Zach and Isabelle could be seen playing inside the curved, clear PVC outer shell.

“I’m hot.” Rosie paused by the hot cocoa vendor they hid behind to dramatically place the back of her long white-and-silver-bedazzled glove onto where her forehead should be.

“We all know you’re a bit flaky, Rosie.” Maybelle straightened her costume. “It’s just that now, you look the part.”

“Don’t you go talking about the way I look. You obviously got the wrong wardrobe memo.” From where her eyes peered out from the costume’s cut-out opening, Rosie batted her lashes. “We’re supposed to be snowflakes, not icebergs.”

Ruby and Claudia both snickered, then, nudging Claudia, Ruby pointed toward the snow globe. “Do you see what I see?”

“No, my costume keeps slipping over my eyes to where I can barely see a thing.” Using both hands, Claudia adjusted her costume around her face. Then, eyes widening, she grabbed Ruby’s arm. “Do you hear what I hear? I can’t remember the last time I heard Isabelle laugh that hard.”

Moving closer to the edge of the cocoa truck so she could peep around it for a closer look, Maybelle frowned. “Why is she running from him? It’s not as if there’s anywhere to hide in there.”

“If she’s smart, she’ll let him catch her.” Rosie waggled her brows.

“Oh!” Claudia’s hand slapped against Ruby. “He’s got her by the waist.”

“Why is she trying to get free?” Rosie continued. “If that man’s arms were around me, I’d—”

“You’d what?” Maybelle eyed Rosie.

Rosie fluffed a silvery white tentacle and replied, “Things you know nothing about, old woman.”

“Shh… you two quit.” Claudia shushed, her gaze not leaving the couple playing in the bouncy snow globe. “He’s got her, she’s spinning, and down she goes!”

“She’s still laughing,” Ruby pointed out. “It’s good that she’s laughing.”

Rosie leaned back against the truck. “Any chance there’s mistletoe inside that bouncy house?”

Maybelle frowned. “There’s normally children in there.”

“I’m just saying that it would be nice if there was now. Mistletoe, not kids.” Rosie clarified with a laugh.

Claudia clung to the edge of the vendor trailer. “Oh, do you see how she’s looking at him? Why is she fighting how she feels so much?”

“For the same reasons he’s fighting it, I imagine,” Ruby said. “These young people complicate matters so much. Why, my Charlie—”

“We know!” the other three Butterflies said simultaneously.

“You Snowbugs aren’t back here causing mischief, are you?” Clearing his throat, Bodie shined his officer’s flashlight toward them.

Turning to face him, Maybelle shaded her eyes from the bright light. “Now, Bodie, do we look as if we’re causing mischief?”

“Always.”

Four Butterflies burst into laughter.

*

Her stomach in knots that had grown more and more twisted as she drove toward Tennessee, Isabelle eyed the homeless shelter not too far from Fort Campbell. “I can’t believe you convinced me to take off work to do this, especially when it’s probably a complete waste of time.”

From the passenger seat, Zach gave her an empathetic look. “Think of it as an adventure, Blondie.”

“More like a nightmare,” she mumbled, letting out a long sigh.

Zach studied her, something akin to pity on his face. “You sure you’re ready for what we may find out?”

“No, but I’m not sitting in the car while you go in without me. I mean, wouldn’t this man who says he remembers my father be more likely to talk to me than he would to you?”

“True. Let’s just hope that the Cliff this guy remembers was your dad. He says it’s the same guy in the photo I emailed him.”

“It was a long way to drive if it wasn’t.” Isabelle eyed two men sitting outside the building. They leaned against the block exterior, and both had well-worn duffle bags. Had her dad once sat outside this building? Choosing to live in a homeless shelter rather than with his family? “This Mr. Simmons didn’t know where Dad went from here?”

Zach shook his head. “But I got the impression during our phone conversation that he didn’t tell me all he knew. We’re positive your father was here at one time. This guy worked here during that time. It’s logical that he could have met your father.”

Nothing about this trip felt logical. Quite the opposite. Why had finding her father for Sophie’s wedding felt so urgent? Sophie was marrying the man of her dreams. Why did she need their runaway father to walk her down the aisle? Their mother could do the honor. Or Sophie could walk herself to Cole. No dad needed.

“I’ve changed my mind. We don’t need to find my father for Sophie’s wedding.”

“You firing me, Blondie?”

“Consider your lessons thus far as an early Christmas gift. Besides, you’ve finished your table placemats.”

“And that’s all I need to know to make a quilt?”

“It’s not as if you’re really going to make a quilt, Zach. Sure, you’re helping Sarah because you’re staying there, but do you see yourself quilting once you leave Pine Hill?” She shook her head in answer for him. “I don’t think so.”

“You might be surprised.”

She snorted. “The only reason you’re learning to sew is to torture me into giving you lessons.”

He shook his head. “That’s not true. Sarah hooked my interest in becoming involved with Quilts of Valor before I’d met you, Blondie.”

“Fine. I’ll keep up your lessons for however long you’re in town.” She started the car back up. “But we’re stopping this needle in a haystack search. The truth is, I don’t want him found. I’m not sure I ever really did.”

“Turn off the ignition, Isabelle. We’re not leaving without talking to Mr. Simmons.”

“Were you not listening? I no longer want to find my father. Sophie’s wedding will be wonderful without Dad there to walk her down the aisle. Probably more so than if he showed up.”

“I was listening. With my ears and my head.” He reached over and pushed the ignition button to shut off the engine. “I know you’re angry with him. Maybe you have every right to be. But maybe you need to find him to hear his side of the story.”

“Why am I not surprised that you’re taking his side?” She glared at him.

“I’m not taking a side, and if I were”—he lifted her hand from the steering wheel, clasping it within his strong grasp—“I’d always choose yours.”

Isabelle trembled.

“This isn’t about sides,” he continued. “It’s about coming to terms with your father leaving. For you and for Sophie.”

“Sophie’s fine.”

“And you? Are you fine?”

Chin lifting, she pulled her hand free. “Are you implying I’m not?”

“You tell me.”

“I’m a successful businesswoman,” she reminded.

He didn’t say anything.

“I’m an upstanding member of my community.”

He sat in the passenger seat, staring at her.

“I graduated from high school with the highest GPA and had a full scholarship,” she reminded. “All these things aren’t things someone who isn’t okay does.”

“Good. We’ve established that you’re fine. That means there’s no reason for us not to go in and talk to Mr. Simmons. Come on.” And with that, he got out of the car and headed toward the homeless shelter’s entrance, pausing to talk to the people outdoors, but not once did he look back to see if she was following him.

Blasted man. It would serve him right if she restarted the engine and left him to walk back to Pine Hill.

*

Glancing toward the pale woman walking next to him, Zach fought the urge to take her into his arms. An urge he’d been fighting for the past half hour while they talked with the shelter’s director, Bob Simmons. Had he been wrong to push her into going into the shelter? He hadn’t thought so but seeing her so shaken had him second-guessing his belief that she was too logical to have come all this way without at least talking to the man who claimed to have known her father. Not going in would have nagged at her, possibly for forever.

Yet, who was he to have pressed when she’d wanted to leave? Wasn’t that what he’d done himself rather than face his own family issues?

“You okay? What am I asking? I know you’re not okay. You just found out that your dad lived in a homeless shelter less than two hours from Pine Hill on and off for several years.”

“At least now we know Dad really was here.”

“Yep. Bob confirmed that by how much he knew about your family and Pine Hill. It makes more sense that Bob remembered him now that we know Cliff volunteered at the shelter as well as living there. It sounded as if Bob thought a lot of him.”

Isabelle nodded. “Why do you think Dad told him so much about us?”

“It’s normal for a father to talk about his kids.” No doubt his own father bragged about the brilliant son who’d stepped into the family business and was a chip off the old block . When it benefitted the business, he’d guess his old man brought up having a son in the military as well.

“Even fathers who left them?” Isabelle’s voice held such a desperate plea for reassurance that her father had loved his daughters that Zach ached.

“Sounded to me as if the man Bob remembered missed his daughters a lot.” It wasn’t a lie, but Zach would have said most anything to erase the pain shining in her blue gaze.

“Then why did he leave us? Why?” Isabelle demanded, giving voice to her hurt.

“I can’t answer that.” But he had a pretty good idea. Didn’t he stay away from his own family for their own good, too? Their lives were better with him not there. “From what Bob told us, your father suffered from bouts of severe depression.”

“So, he wanted the rest of us to be depressed, too?” With that, his strong, brave Isabelle began to cry and Zach’s inability to do anything other than take her into his arms crumbled right along with her.

Stroking her hair, he held her close, letting his body absorb her sobs. Feeling helpless, he wanted to wave a wand and make her world right. He shouldn’t have brought her today. Or, more accurately, had her bring him since he still wasn’t cleared to drive. Soon, though.

Frustrations he’d been fighting from the moment he’d stepped inside the shelter hit and he held onto Isabelle a little tighter. She’d been looking around the facility and trying to imagine her father there. He’d looked around at the frail, unkempt men and women, and he’d seen people who’d once been proud, productive members of society. Some military, some mental, some just down on their luck.

He’d seen himself.

The dreaded throb in his temple started and his left eye twitched. A sharp stab shot through the side of his head and sweat popped out on his skin. No. Not here. Not now. Not when Isabelle needed him to be strong. He did not need one of his headaches to hit. Or worse. If he blacked out, she’d tell Sarah, and then Bodie would tell Lukas. He might never get back to driving.

He must have tensed because she pulled back and swiped at her face. “I’m so embarrassed. If you tell anyone I did this, I’ll never forgive you.”

“No one knows we’re here, Isabelle,” he reminded, his vision fuzzy as he focused on her face, hanging on to her image to keep himself conscious and slowly feeling the fuzziness brighten.

“Yeah, they all think we’re on some romantic Christmas shopping outing.” She dug in her purse, found a tissue, and blew her nose. “That’s me. Miss Romantic.”

He rubbed his clammy palms over his jeans. “Someone should give you a crown and sash.”

She snorted. “I’m not the beauty queen in my family.”

“Sophie?” He kept his gaze trained on Isabelle’s light to keep the darkness at bay.

“Sophie and Annabelle, but my Grandmother Belle is who was the true beauty queen.”

Glad his head pain was dissipating, he lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss there. “You’re wrong, Blondie. The women in your family are beautiful, but they don’t hold a candle to you.”

An odd noise sounded from deep in her throat. “You don’t have to say nice things just because I was crying. I’m over my boohoo moment.”

Realizing she was serious, he turned her to face the car so they could see their reflection in the window. She closed her eyes.

“Look at yourself, Isabelle,” he ordered. “Look and see what I see.”

She kept her eyes squeezed shut. “A woman whose nose is red from the cold and crying? No thanks. I’d rather not have a visual to go with the wreck I know I am.”

“Open your eyes.” He rubbed his palms over her jacket sleeves in case she really was chilly. “There’s so much more than what you just described. There’s a woman who is strong, determined, who takes care of everyone she loves to the point of selflessness. She graduated with the highest GPA and had a full scholarship to an Ivy League school, where she kicked butt and got a dream job.” Isabelle’s eyes opened, staring back at him in their reflection. “She’s smart and funny and has the sassiest mouth I’ve ever encountered and her eyes… Her eyes suck you in and drown you in their blueness.”

“Suck you in and drown you? Seriously? Is that description supposed to make me feel better?”

“I never claimed to be a poet. Just a man trying to show a beautiful woman what he sees when he looks at her. Admit it, I was doing fairly well up to that point.”

She stared at him in their reflection for a moment, then to his surprise, she twisted to face him and lifted her palm to his cheek. “Thank you, Zach. For being nice to me, for bringing me today, for making me go in and face what I didn’t want to face, and for not judging me for crying.”

“Yeah, I’m a real hero.” And a huge hypocrite.

Because sometimes it really was easier to just stay away than to face one’s shortcomings. Was that what had happened with Isabelle’s father? He’d left and not known how to go home? Afraid of the welcome he’d receive? Convincing himself his family was better off?

*

Backstage at the high school’s theater, Isabelle inspected the baggy robe’s side seam. Someone must have pulled at a loose thread and undone the whole thing. Yeah, she could have that repaired prior to the concert tonight. There were a few hems that needed adjusting, as well, so she’d take those and have them back to the kids prior to time for the show to start.

Annabelle placed one of the dresses onto a hanger. “Can you even believe that Sophie’s wedding is in two weeks and Christmas the week after?”

No, she couldn’t. Nor was she ready for Christmas or her sister’s wedding. She and Zach hadn’t found her father. Sophie had mentioned having Cliff there several times over the past week. Almost to the point that Isabelle wondered if her sister knew.

Maybe she and Zach hadn’t been as sly with their Tennessee trip as they’d thought. She wouldn’t put it past the Butterflies to have tailed them. They probably had an entire dossier on their comings and goings. Had she hired them to find her father, he might be having coffee at Lou’s with some of his old army buddies by now.

Not that she really believed that. Truth was, Zach impressed her with what he’d learned thus far. Since their Tennessee trip, he’d confirmed two additional hits as having been her father. Given time, he would locate Cliff Davis.

Time was what was rapidly ticking away, though. Time to find her father.

And time before Zach would leave Pine Hill.

He’d only been in town a few weeks. Yet, she struggled to recall what life had been like before his arrival or what it would be like when he left. He drove her crazy with his crooked grins and teasing, but he also added vivid colors to the black and white life she’d been content with, making her laugh and feel that vividness being near him filled her with. Chiding herself that a high school Christmas choir concert wasn’t the time for mulling over her father’s whereabouts or how, more and more, she counted time by when she’d next see Zach, she forced a smile.

“Sophie’s wedding will be here before we know it, but tonight is your time to shine. I’m so excited for your Christmas concert tonight. At the shop, I’ve heard you practicing your solo.” After Annabelle’s panicked call about the nativity scene costume, she’d swung by the school to make last-minute repairs. Zach planned to ride with Sarah and Bodie and meet her there—as her pretend boyfriend, of course. What would he think of their small-town high school? What would it have been like if he’d attended their school and they’d been there together? Would he have noticed the nerdy girl who’d rather have her nose stuck in a book than go on a date?

“I’m excited.” Annabelle drew her back to their conversation. “I hope I don’t get nervous and forget every word. Jeff just got home from college yesterday. I’ve not seen him yet, but he’ll be here. I may spot him in the audience and go completely blank.”

“You won’t,” Isabelle assured, hoping it was true. Young love did funny things to a person. Not that she knew personally, but she’d watched it happen often enough. “I know you were heartbroken when his football schedule didn’t allow him to come home at Thanksgiving.”

“Carrie and I both were, but consoled ourselves that he was doing what he loves and would be home for a few weeks over Christmas.” Her eyes, that were nearly identical to Sophie’s, darkened. “Let’s just hope he feels the same about me as when he left for college.”

“He does. You talk to him most days,” Isabelle reminded.

“Don’t mind me.” Annabelle gave her a quick hug. “I’m just nervous because our choir members who are also on the debate team are still competing in Louisville. We all have mixed emotions, as we want them to keep winning, but we need them back for our show.”

“They have plenty of time.”

But when she and Sophie got to the high school that evening and made their way to drop off the altered costume, Trevor appeared frazzled. The always neat man’s hair stuck about his head in total disarray, and he flitted from one group of kids to the next.

“Is everything okay?” she and Sophie asked simultaneously when he rushed over to them.

The music teacher raked his fingers through his wavy hair, explaining the wayward locks. “Not really. The kids on the debate team aren’t going to be back for the show.” Stress etched itself onto his face. “No one thought they’d make it to the state championship round tonight, but they have.”

“That’s wonderful.” At his fretful look, Isabelle added, “Unless you’re their music teacher and some of them are a key part of the choir concert. In which case, their making it to the championship is terrible.”

“Can’t the show go on without them?” Sophie asked, her eyes full of empathy.

No doubt at any moment her sister would be offering to bake cookies to cheer him. Sophie thought cookies solved everything. They often worked.

He nodded. “It’ll have to. I won’t have the kids disappointed. Ever since we realized the tournament was the same weekend as the concert, I’ve known this scenario was a possibility. Just—”

“No one expected them to make the semifinals, much less the championship round?”

“Exactly.” He sighed. “The show won’t be as I’d hoped, but it’ll work with tweaks and leaving off a few songs. All except the last number.” His face pinched. “I could leave it off, too, or just not have our nativity scene, but it’s the grand finale performance and is such a powerful way to end the show.”

He told her what was planned.

“You can’t leave it off,” Sophie insisted. “Izzy and I can help. We sing.”

Isabelle’s face burned. “We aren’t high school choir kids.”

“No, but we sing in church, and you’ve always had a beautiful voice.” Sophie clasped her hands together, smiling big at Trevor. “We’ve got this. Just tell us what you need.”

He didn’t look convinced. “Thank you, but it’ll take a lot more than just the two of you. There are several empty spots to fill in the original program.”

Deep in thought, Sophie put her finger over her mouth. “Fine. Cole and Ben are at the firehall tonight. They’ll be by but won’t be able to help in case a call comes in, but we’ll get volunteers.”

“I’m sure Zach will help.” Annabelle joined them and got caught up in Sophie’s excitement. “He’s always helping with something around the quilt shop.”

“Zach?” Isabelle frowned at her cousin as Sophie praised, “That’s brilliant. He’ll definitely help.”

“He doesn’t sing,” Isabelle insisted, not sure why it felt so imperative that Zach not be a part of the show.

Maybe because she’d just been thinking about how he’d infiltrated so much of her life, and she felt the need to protect this little part of it. Besides, he didn’t sing, other than off-key in the car. Although, she guessed he’d thrown his tone on purpose, trying to cheer her during their drive from Tennessee.

“I don’t need him to sing.” Trevor jumped on board with Sophie’s enthusiasm. “He just needs to stand there and be Joseph. Do you think he’ll do it?”

“No,” Isabelle said at the same time as Sophie and Annabelle replied, “Yes.”

They looked at each other and laughed.

Isabelle grimaced. “Surely, we could ask someone else?”

“Nonsense. I’m sure Zach will help us. Go talk to him and I’ll find the rest of our nativity,” Sophie assured.

*

“You want me to do what?” Zach’s expression hinted that he thought he’d heard Isabelle wrong. “I’m no Joseph.”

“Part of the kids are hung up at the tournament,” she explained. “They’ll be missed, but the show can carry on without them, except the nativity scene. For that, they need stand-ins and Sophie thought—”

“That I should be Joseph?”

Isabelle nodded. “Cole is at the firehall, or she’d have asked him, since she’s going to be Mary. You just have to stand there. It’s a nativity scene, not a major production.”

The glint in Zach’s eyes had unease rising in Isabelle’s stomach. “I’ll do it on one condition.”

*

“Thanks for being my Mary.” Trevor pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and smiled at Isabelle. “Thanks to you and Sophie everything is covered, except the wise men and a few animals.”

A burst of green bubbled to life in Zach’s belly. The music teacher was sweet on Isabelle. Too bad the man was wasting his energy because he couldn’t have her.

The thought had Zach taking a mental step back. Isabelle didn’t belong to him. If asked, she’d say she wasn’t really dating him and claim to not even like him.

She laughed at something the music teacher said that Zach missed. More green bubbled.

You’re leaving as soon as the holidays pass , he reminded himself. Isabelle would be there and deserved to be loved. The music teacher appeared to be halfway there already. They probably had a ton in common. Did Zach and Isabelle have anything in common?

Then again, they were still pretend dating so he shouldn’t just stand there while Trevor Reeves made googly eyes at her.

“Actually, she’s my Mary.” Zach moved closer, placing his palm against Isabelle’s lower back.

Frowning, Isabelle’s expression seemed to ask, what are you doing?

“Come on, Joseph,” she told him, grasping his arm. “We’ve got to go find some wise men.”

Zach followed her back out into the half-full auditorium, not surprised when she headed toward where Lou and Rosie sat up front. Maybelle, John, her Aunt Claudia and Uncle George, and Ruby and Charlie were all already there. Great choice, he thought, when she told the guys what she needed.

Her Uncle George’s eyes widened. “We got here early to get good seats not to participate. As much as I love Annabelle, I’m not an on-stage kind of man.”

Nodding, Isabelle didn’t seem surprised at her uncle’s refusal.

“I’m not sure about standing in one place for an extended time,” John claimed, rubbing his side for emphasis. “My hip fracture from last year is healed, but I try not to tempt fate.”

Lou outright refused, claiming stage fright. “Christmas choirs are spectator events.”

“Now, honey, you know this is your opportunity to let the world know how brilliant you are,” Rosie chided him, patting his cheek.

“They already know better than that,” Maybelle stage-whispered to the others.

Rosie’s gaze cut to her friend.

“He married you, didn’t he?” Maybelle continued, a smile on her coral lips.

“Ha-ha.” Rosie slapped her thigh. “I’m surprised you remembered that in your advanced age. Your mind seems to be slipping so much these days.”

Maybelle’s gaze narrowed. “I remember lots of things.”

Her face failing to hide her disappointment, Isabelle sighed. “I understand you guys don’t want to do this, but we can’t have Annabelle’s last high school Christmas choir concert be anything less than perfect.”

“It won’t.” Maybelle stood and tugged on Ruby’s sleeve. “Come on.”

Ruby stared up at her friend. “Come on where?”

Rather than answer, Maybelle pointed a look at Claudia. “You, too.”

“What do you think you’re doing?” Rosie demanded.

Maybelle made her way out of the aisle, the other two Butterflies right behind her. “Saving the day, as usual.”

Rosie jumped up to follow her friends. “Not without me, you’re not.”