“Christmas is only nine weeks away.”

Ten-year-old Maddie Tremaine’s face brightened with enthusiasm. “Maybe Miss Caitlyn can stay till Christmas. Wouldn’t that be neat, Daddy? I bet she sings carols like an angel.”

This wasn’t the first time Ben Tremaine had heard about the wonders of Caitlyn Gregory. “I’m sure she’s fun to sing with. But won’t you be glad when Miss Anna comes back? I know how much you like her as your regular choir teacher.”

“Miss Anna’s really nice.” Maddie nodded. “But Miss Caitlyn kinda…sparkles.” She gave a worshipful sigh.

“Just remember, sweetheart—” He debated the warning for a second, then decided to go with it. “Remember, she won’t be here for very long. It’s nice of her to come and help out, but once Miss Anna’s baby is born and the doctor says she can get back to normal, Miss Caitlyn will leave.”

“I know, Daddy.” Maddie’s smile dimmed, then brightened. “But it’s only nine weeks till Christmas!”

Dear Reader,

I remember very clearly being five or six years old and listening with envy to another little girl learning to play the piano. I got my own piano in the third grade, and music has been part of my life ever since. I’ve been involved in children’s church music, as a volunteer, for more than fifteen years. I also play the bassoon and serve as the librarian for our local symphony. Sometimes I’m required to make the hard choice between going to rehearsal and staying home to work on a book!

It was only natural, I think, that when I decided to write a Christmas book, music would play an integral role. Carols are the voice of the season, the means through which most children first learn about the love and joy associated with Yuletide. I can no more imagine Christmas without carols than I can imagine spring without the songs of birds.

The heroine of Shenandoah Christmas, Cait Gregory, has committed her talents to a successful musical career. But she’s been estranged from Christmas—and its songs—for a long time. Widower and fellow skeptic Ben Tremaine goes through the motions of the holiday only for his children’s sake. Helping these two isolated souls discover each other and the true meaning of the season has made writing this book sheer pleasure. Now I hope their story brings you all the laughter and good cheer your heart can hold.

Merry Christmas!

Lynnette Kent

P.S. Reader mail is a wonderful gift. Please feel free to write. Box 1795, Fayetteville, NC 28314 or e-mail lynnette@lynnettekent.com.

Shenandoah Christmas
Lynnette Kent

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For my friends who meet on Sundays at the corner of Ann and Bow Streets, especially all the children who share the laughter and the songs.

And for the women who have taught me so much about music and about sisterhood—

Charlyne, Sharon, Linda and Maryann.

CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

EPILOGUE

PROLOGUE

Eighteen years ago

“WE NEED more feathers.” Ten-year-old Cait Gregory sat back on her heels and surveyed the project on the floor in front of her. “We’ve still got half a wing to cover.”

Her sister, Anna, bent over and pressed a feather into the tiny bit of glue she’d squeezed out of the bottle she held. “We don’t have another pillow.”

“Daddy has pillows.”

“Are you crazy?” Anna pushed back her curly red bangs and stared at Cait in horror. “He wouldn’t let us use his pillows. He’s gonna be mad enough that we used our own.”

“He’s a minister—he has to do what’s good for Christmas.”

“You only say that because you’re the angel in the Christmas Eve pageant this year.” Anna tried to be the boss, just because she was two years older than Cait. “There’s lots more important stuff about Christmas than that.”

“No, there’s not.” On her feet now, Cait propped her hands on her hips. “The whole point of Christmas is the story the pageant tells. And the main part of the story is when the angel announces the birth of the baby to the shepherds. I’ve already got the words learned. ‘Fear not, for I bring you good tidings of great joy…. Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.’ See?”

Her sister shook her head and glued another feather onto the shapes she’d drawn and cut out of white poster board. Anna was an artist, for sure. The wings—wider than Cait’s shoulders and as long as she was tall—curved just like the pictures of angels she’d seen in books. Covered with millions of tiny white feathers, they would be the best wings any announcing angel ever had.

As soon as she found one more pillow.

Prowling the house, she tested every cushion she came across, but only the pillows on her dad’s bed had feathers. Cait stood gazing at them for a long time. Did she dare?

Later that night, lying flat on her bed in the dark room she and Anna shared, with tears drying on her cheeks and her stomach growling because she hadn’t gotten dinner, she wasn’t sorry she’d taken her dad’s pillow. Nothing mattered more than making the pageant the best it could possibly be. This was Christmas, after all.

And for Cait, Christmas would always be the most wonderful day of the year!

CHAPTER ONE

The present

WITH HIS CHISEL poised to make a delicate cut, Ben Tremaine looked up as footsteps crunched through the fallen leaves outside the open door. “Maddie? Shep? That you?”

He had just enough time to put down the tool before two small cyclones whirled into the workshop, bringing with them the crisp scent of autumn. “Daddy!” Maddie dropped her book bag and threw herself into his arms. “We’re home!”

When Shep wiggled in beside her, Ben closed his arms tight around his children, kissing first Shep’s smooth blond head, then Maddie’s tight dark curls. This was his favorite part of the day. “Good to see you guys. How was school?”

“I got a hundred on my math test.” Maddie settled in on his knee. “We had a handwriting quiz—Miss Everett said mine was the prettiest in the class. We played hopscotch at recess and I won. And during story time Miss Everett read what I asked her to—‘How the Leopard Got His Spots’ from Just So Stories. You remember that one, Daddy?”

“I sure do. Sounds like you had a great day. How about you, Shep?” Without answering, the little boy slipped from his hold and moved to the workbench, running his fingers lightly over the fretwork veneer Ben had been working on. “How’d school go?”

His son shrugged one shoulder and gave a small nod. Knowing the futility of pushing any harder—Shep hadn’t said a single word to anyone in the eighteen months since his mother died—Ben stifled a sigh of frustration and looked at Maddie again. “This is Wednesday, so you went to choir right after school, didn’t you?”

“Brenna’s mom took us.” The little girl’s face brightened with enthusiasm. “Miss Caitlyn played her guitar and sang us some of the songs she wrote. They’re so beautiful, I can’t believe it.”

This wasn’t the first time Ben had heard about the wonders of Caitlyn Gregory. “I bet you’ll be glad when Miss Anna can come back, though. I know how much you like her as your regular choir teacher.”

“Miss Anna’s really nice.” Maddie nodded. “But Miss Caitlyn kinda…sparkles.” She gave a worshipful sigh.

“I’m sure she’s fun to sing with. Just remember—” He debated the warning for a second, then decided to go with it. “Remember she won’t be here for very long. She’s pretty famous and she has lots of work to do in other places. It’s nice of her to come and help out, but once Miss Anna’s baby is born and the doctor says she can get back to normal, Miss Caitlyn will be gone.”

“I know.” Maddie’s smile dimmed. “Brenna said Miss Caitlyn’s some kind of big rock star or something.” She slid off his lap and started toward the door, then turned back, her face shining again. “But Christmas is only nine weeks away. Maybe she’ll be here at least until Christmas. Wouldn’t that be neat, Daddy? I bet she sings carols like an angel!”

Ben called up a halfhearted grin. “I wouldn’t be surprised. You and Shep go into the house and get started on your homework. I’ll close up and be right there.” He turned to straighten his tools and clean up the workshop while the kids streaked across the backyard in the gathering dusk.

As he swept cherrywood shavings into a corner, he realized with surprise that more than two-thirds of October had come and gone. Having accustomed himself to the slow pace of life in the country, Ben rarely looked very far ahead anymore. He hadn’t realized how soon the holidays would arrive.

Another Christmas, he thought, deliberately relaxing the set of his jaw and the tight grip of his hands on the broomstick. I can hardly wait.

THE THIRD TIME her brother-in-law David commented on the number of meals they were eating out of cans, Cait’s redheaded temper caught fire. She spent Friday morning studying Anna’s cookbooks and making a grocery list. Just after lunch, while her sister napped, Cait headed for the only grocery store in Goodwill, Virginia.

Driving through the little town, Cait rolled down the car windows to catch the breeze. In the past ten years she hadn’t had time to notice the seasons much, and she was realizing what she’d missed. Old trees lined the narrow streets, their leaves turning gold and maroon and brilliant orange with the arrival of chilly fall nights. The forested mountains to the west blazed in the early afternoon sunshine, an impressionist collage of all the reds and yellows imaginable. Eastward stretched the rolling pastures and fields of the Shenandoah Valley, their gentle summer greens fading now to tawny. Under a wide blue sky, the ancient hills imparted a sense of time to spare. Cait hadn’t felt so free of obligations in years.

Time had, in face, been kind to Goodwill. Set on lush lawns among the colorful trees, many of the houses in the area dated back a century or more; the town had been settled before the American Revolution and had escaped most of the ravages of the Civil War. Windows paned with antique wavy glass looked out over a brick-paved main street called, simply, the Avenue. Old buildings of brick and stone and painted wood siding had aged gracefully, adapting to changed circumstances and purposes with dignity. What had once been the schoolhouse was now a computer software business. The one-time blacksmith’s stable had become a bookstore, and a dress boutique occupied the shoemaker’s shop.

Yet the bakery still used wood-fired ovens built two hundred years ago; descendants of the first attorney in town still practiced in his original building and the physician’s office still housed a pediatrician. Modern intrusions were few and carefully designed, including Food Depot, one block east of the Avenue. Old brick with white wood trim disguised a very modern grocery, while the mature trees standing between the parking spaces out front created an arbor on what would have been a bare asphalt plain.

Inside the store, Cait pulled out her list and prepared to concentrate on shopping. Her dinner preparation usually consisted of making reservations or ordering take-out food. But she didn’t expect to have much trouble cooking a real meal. How hard could pot roast be?

Potatoes were the first problem. Idaho? Golden? Red? New? Cait tried to visualize the last pot roast she’d eaten, but ten years on the road, staying in a different town every night, had buried the memory too deep. She decided she liked the look of the small red ones, and moved on to carrots. Organic versus…what? Did organic change the taste? Would David notice? And should she peel them herself, or be lazy and get the ones already peeled?

The vegetables were easy, however, compared to the meat department. All the plastic-wrapped roasts looked the same. The recipe called for rump roast or shoulder roast or round roast. Which was the best? How was she supposed to choose?

She flipped her braid over her shoulder. “Why isn’t beef just beef?”

“I beg your pardon?” A baritone voice, soft southern vowels, obviously startled.

With her cheeks heating up, Cait glanced at the man standing beside her. “I…um…was talking to myself. Sorry.” He flashed a half smile and returned to studying packs of hamburger.

She took advantage of his preoccupation to steal another look. This was a man to write songs about. Dark-blue eyes, wheat-gold hair in short curls that reminded her of an ancient Roman statue, impressive shoulders under a cinnamon-colored sweater. He reached down to pick up a package of meat, giving her a view of lean hips and long legs in faded jeans.

Wow. Cait mentally fanned herself. She’d shared the stage with several of Hollywood’s biggest heartthrobs at an awards ceremony a few months back, but none of them had left her breathless like this. Who knew Anna’s tiny town could offer such interesting options?

“Excuse me.” Following her impulse, she tugged on the elbow of his sweater.

Her reward was another chance to gaze into those deep, deep eyes. “Yes, ma’am?”

A gentleman all the way. Better and better. “Do you know anything about pot roast?”

His brows, slightly darker than his hair, drew together. “Pot roast?”

Cait gestured at the meat case. “Which one works the best?”

That small smile of his broke again. “Oh. No, I don’t do the fancy stuff. But I think my mother-in-law uses chuck roast.” Leaning across her, he lifted a huge hunk of meat out of the cooler one-handed. “Like this.”

“Ah.” Cait held out her hands and he eased the roast into her grasp. Mother-in-law. So much for options. “Thanks for the help.”

He nodded. “Anytime.”

Don’t I wish. Feeling like a kid denied her lollipop, Cait pushed her cart toward the dairy section. Anna needed to drink milk every day. Two percent? Whole? Skim?

And why were all the really great men already married, anyway?

The ultimate torture was standing behind that same guy in the checkout line—her chance to pick up all the details she’d missed before. An easy stance, a strong jawline, square, long-fingered hands which saw their share of physical labor, if a few healing cuts were anything to go by. Not to mention all the kid groceries in his cart—small juice cartons, boxes of animal crackers, fruit roll snacks and cereal with marshmallow shapes. The guy not only had a mother-in-law. He had children.

A tune from a few years back came to mind, a daughter singing about the strength and love in her daddy’s hands. This man had that kind of caring, working hands. Lucky kids.

Lucky wife.

Cait shook her head and fixed her gaze on the tabloids in the rack beside her cart. After ten exhausting years, her music career was about to break into the big time. She had a New Year’s Eve slot on a major network show and an album scheduled to start production in the spring. Who needed a husband and kids? Or a house to keep?

Anna was the domestic sister, the homemaker, the mom-to-be. Cait knew herself for the wanderer, seldom happy for more than a little while in one place. She hadn’t seen a town she couldn’t leave. Hadn’t met anyone she wanted more than she wanted the smiles and the tears, the sighs and the applause, of a live audience.

But she had to admit, watching the guy in the cinnamon sweater reach for his wallet, that an available man who looked as good as this one might tempt her into changing her mind.

BEN FELT the presence of the woman behind him in the checkout line as if the air around them stirred slightly every time she took a breath. That minute by the meat case had left him with fleeting impressions. Hair in every shade from gold to copper, tamed into a thick braid over her shoulder. Eyes the color of spring leaves, fringed by dark lashes. Skin as smooth as a little girl’s, sprinkled with freckles. A cigarettes-and-whiskey kind of voice which, along with the fact that she looked very much like her sister, told him who she must be. Cait Gregory, superstar, was shopping for pot roast at the Food Depot in Goodwill, Virginia.

He could see what Maddie meant about “sparkle.” Ms. Gregory possessed the kind of charisma he’d noticed in movie stars and politicians during his years with the Secret Service in Washington. If what he’d heard about her recent concert tour was true, she could reduce a rowdy crowd to absolute, focused silence with the sound of her voice. Even “pot roast” sounded sexy when Cait Gregory said it.

Unloading his sacks of groceries into the back of the Suburban, Ben sat behind the wheel with the motor running and faced the fact that he should have introduced himself to his kids’ choir director, if only to be neighborly. They would meet at church eventually. She would wonder why he’d kept quiet, especially since she’d obviously been willing to give him more than just the time of day.

Maybe that was why he hadn’t said more. Cait Gregory demanded acknowledgment as an attractive, sensual member of the very opposite sex. The soft green sweater that molded the curves of her breasts, the snug jeans that emphasized the flare of her hips…

Ben shook his head and jerked the truck into reverse. He’d noticed a hell of a lot more about Cait Gregory than he was comfortable with. He hadn’t thought about a woman as female since Valerie’s death, and he didn’t want to start now.

Especially not with this particular woman. One look at her red hair, at the hint of temper in the arch of her eyebrows and the tilt of her lips, foretold every kind of emotional experience but peace. And peace was all Ben really wanted.

So she could just take her tempest somewhere, and to someone, else. He did not intend to pursue more than the slightest, most temporary acquaintance with the famous Ms. Gregory. His life worked okay these days; he gave everything he had to taking care of Shep and Maddie and to building his custom furniture business. That was the way he liked it and nobody was going to make him change his mind.

Ben dared them even to try.

ON FRIDAY AFTERNOON, Harry Shepherd got home from work an hour later than he’d planned. He usually finished early at the office on Fridays, but today’s meeting had run long, there had been a report to generate afterward, and some new figures faxed in just as he was getting ready to leave. As vice president of one of the country’s leading furniture manufacturers, he never walked out the door until the week’s work was done.

But the grandkids were due for supper any minute. He and Peg took them on Friday nights to give Ben a little privacy and a chance to get out, if he wanted, without worrying about Maddie and Shep. As far as Harry could tell, though, all his son-in-law did with his free time was go back to work. Harry wished that would change. Harry had been the one to suggest Ben set up his own custom-made furniture business and he knew that getting a new enterprise off the ground required a great deal of focused effort. But some time off now and again brought a fresh attitude and increased energy to the job. Besides, Ben needed a social life. A man shouldn’t spend all his days and nights with his kids.

Headlights flashed on the trees at the end of the driveway as Ben’s Suburban pulled in. Within seconds, Maddie jumped out and grabbed Harry around the waist. “Hi, Grandpa! We’re here!”

“I can see that, Magpie.” He rubbed his hand over her curls, so like her mother’s had been at that age. Shep trailed behind her, his head down as he studied the toy plane in his hands. “Very nice,” Harry said. “Is that the one that broke the sound barrier?” The little boy glanced up out of the sides of his eyes and nodded, but didn’t volunteer any more contact. Would they ever see him smile again, or hear his voice?

“Hey, Harry.” Ben joined them and they walked as a group up the steps onto the porch. “You sure you feel up to dealing with these characters tonight?”

Peggy had opened the front door. “Of course we do. Come in, Maddie, darling. Oh, Shep, how did you get that tear in your sweater?”

“That’s what little boys are designed for, Peg.” Harry put a hand on her shoulder, leaned in for his welcome-home kiss. Her cheeks were still rose-petal smooth, although she and Harry had both hit sixty this year. “The apparel industry counts on him to make sure his clothes don’t last too long.”

Unlike Harry’s company, which made furniture that lasted for generations. He took a lot of pride in having helped to build a reputation for quality.

Peggy clucked her tongue, examining Shep’s sleeve. The boy pulled away, leaving the sweater hanging in her hands. “Shameful waste, if you ask me.” She sighed, but only in part, Harry knew, because of the garment. Shep’s withdrawal worried her deeply. “I’ll mend it later. Meanwhile, all of you come in. I’ve got some cheese and crackers set out. What would you like to drink, Maddie?”

Kneeling at the coffee table, Maddie stacked cheese slices and crackers into a tower. “Can I have a soda?”

“No.” Ben still stood near the front door. “You can have juice. Or milk.”

Maddie stuck out her lower lip. “Apple juice, I guess, Grandma.”

“Excuse me?” Her father’s voice was stern.

The little girl got the message. “Please could I have apple juice, Grandma?” She glanced at her brother, who nodded without looking up. “And for Shep, too.”

“Right away. Ben, what can I get you?”

“Nothing, thanks. I need to get back to the house.”

“Oh, but—” To her husband’s surprise, Peggy actually blushed. “I thought you might stay for dinner tonight. I made a big pot roast and…invited some extra people.”

That was a surprise. Friday nights were supposed to be just for the grandkids.

Ben evidently had similar ideas. “Thanks, Peggy, but some other time.” Backing up, he reached for the door handle. As he touched it, the bell rang. He gave his usual half grin. “I’ll get it.”

The grin widened when he glanced outside. “Hi, Anna. How are you? You’re looking great, as usual.” He drew Anna Remington into the house with his left hand and extended his right to her husband. “Hey, Pastor Dave. What’s going on?”

In the midst of giving Anna a kiss on the cheek, Harry saw Ben’s jaw drop for a second, saw him swallow hard. “Come in. Please.”

Harry understood Ben’s shock when Caitlyn Gregory stepped across the threshold. Anna was a sweet and pretty woman, but her sister…well. Caitlyn wasn’t wearing anything fancy, just a gold sweater and a long, narrow black skirt. But she lit up the room like a Roman candle.

He cleared his throat. “Ms. Gregory, I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Harry Shepherd.”

“I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. Shepherd.” She crossed the front hall to shake his hand. That voice alone would scramble a man’s brains. Which might be why Ben was still standing by the open door, letting in the October chill.

“Cait, this is Peggy.” Anna brought her sister farther into the living room. “And I think you know Maddie and Shep.”

“I certainly do. Two of my favorite choir members.” She smiled at Peggy. “Thanks for inviting me, Mrs. Shepherd.”

Peg waved away the formality, as she always did. “Harry and Peggy will do just fine, Caitlyn. And this is Ben Tremaine. Our son-in-law.”

The singer turned back toward Ben with what looked like reluctance. She put out a hand. “How do you do?”

Ben barely brushed her palm with his. “Good to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.” Their eyes locked for a second, then each looked away. Ben finally shut the front door.

Harry stared at his wife, a suspicion forming in his brain. Was there more to this dinner than just friends getting together?

But Peg was immersed in her hostess role, not open to receiving unspoken messages. “Harry will take your coats. Anna, you sit yourself down on the sofa. I’ll bring some juice for you and the children. David, Caitlyn, will you have something? A glass of wine, perhaps?”

The younger woman smiled. “Wine, please.”

The minister took a seat next to his wife. “That would be great, Peggy.”

She looked at Ben. “You’ll be staying, of course. What can I get you?”

Taking Ben’s jacket as he shrugged it off, Harry heard him sigh. Then he said, “A glass of wine sounds good. Can I help?”

“No, no. Y’all just sit and talk. I’ll be right back.” Peg disappeared toward the kitchen. Harry shut the front door, then went to lay the coats on the bed in the guest room. When he returned to the living room, only Maddie was attempting conversation. Shep was busy landing his supersonic aircraft under the coffee table.

“My friend Brenna says you’re a big star.” The little girl bit into a cracker and chewed for a second, staring seriously at Caitlyn Gregory, then swallowed. “Do you like singing for people?”

“All I wanted to be—when I grew up—was a singer.” Cait sat in the armchair closest to the children, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees. She wore a column of thin gold bracelets on each wrist, which drew attention to her pretty hands.

“Our dad used to say Cait sang before she could talk,” Anna told Maddie.

Harry, watching closely, saw the singer’s mouth tighten, then relax. “That might be true. I sang at church a lot, when I was young.”

“I like to sing,” Maddie confided, as a cracker crumbled through her fingers onto the carpet.

Caitlyn nodded, which set her long gold earrings to swaying. “And you have a very good voice. You help the other children learn the songs.”

“My daddy sings, too.”

“I’m sure he does.” Caitlyn lifted her chin, almost defiantly, and gazed at Ben. “I could tell when we talked that he would have a nice singing voice.”

“You’ve already met?” Peg returned with a tray of drinks. “I didn’t know that.” She looked a little put out.

Oh, Peg, Harry groaned silently. What are you trying to pull off this time?

“We ran into each other only this afternoon, as a matter of fact,” Ben drawled, his voice dry. “In the meat department at Food Depot. Over pot roast.”

HE COULD HAVE introduced himself. Cait took the glass of white wine Peggy offered and held the cool bowl between her palms. Her face felt hot, which probably meant she was blushing.

Why had Ben Tremaine pretended not to recognize her? She’d been teaching his children in choir for three weeks. Maybe he’d never heard a single one of her recordings, but she and Anna looked enough alike that he would have known right away whom he was talking to. This was a small town. So far, Cait hadn’t met a single person who didn’t already know who she was and why she was here.

But Ben Tremaine hadn’t even bothered to make her acquaintance through a simple exchange of names. If he’d been married, that would have been a reason, she supposed, for him to steer clear of a single woman who’d made it clear she found him attractive.

That was not quite the case, however. Anna had explained the situation during the drive to the Shepherds’ house tonight. Ben’s wife—Harry and Peggy’s daughter—had been killed in a car wreck. Shep had been in the car with her, and though his physical injuries were minor, he hadn’t spoken a word since. That accounted for why he was attentive, but completely silent, during choir practice. As for Maddie—losing her mother’s love and attention in such a tragic way had caused the little girl to hoard every bit of affection or praise she received.

And Ben must still be in deep mourning for his wife. Did that absolve him from simple friendliness?

Evidently. “Dinner’s ready,” Peggy Shepherd announced, waving through a wide doorway toward the table. Anna had mentioned that this house was one of the town’s oldest, dating back to the early 1800s; beautiful wainscoting and woodwork in the dining room and entry hall testified to the craftsmanship of long ago. “Caitlyn, you sit here on Harry’s left and Ben, you can…” Her voice trailed off, and her eyes widened as Ben took the chair diagonally opposite Cait, as far away as he could manage. “That’s…that’s fine. David and Anna, would you like to sit next to Ben?”

That seated Shep beside Cait, then Maddie next to her grandmother. Harry handed over a platter heaped with carrots and potatoes…and pot roast. “Help yourself.”

“Thanks.” Cait took a healthy portion of the succulent meat and vegetables, then hesitated. Should she serve Shep? Her area of expertise these days was music. What she knew about children she’d learned at choir practice, and that wasn’t much.

“Shep?” When she said his name, the little boy lifted his long-lashed brown gaze to her face. “Would you like some meat and vegetables?”

He looked away again, but nodded. Cait took a deep breath and forked over a piece of roast. “Potatoes?” Another nod. “Carrots?” The little boy shook his head.

“Have some carrots, son,” his dad instructed from across the table. Obviously, Ben Tremaine was keeping an eye on them.

Shep’s pout, as Cait ladled a few of the smaller slices onto his plate, conveyed quite clearly what he thought about carrots. She looked at that full lower lip, stuck way out, and had a strong urge to hug him. Such an adorable little boy.

His grandfather made the same impression. Harry Shepherd was handsome, young-looking, with brown hair that showed only a few strands of gray, and brown eyes like Shep’s that twinkled when he smiled. His wife was simply amazing. Peggy had orchestrated a dinner for eight people, yet looked completely relaxed. Her silver-white hair remained smoothly drawn into a ponytail, her pale blue sweater and slacks didn’t exhibit a single spot of food. So far, Cait couldn’t seem to cook for three without making a mess of herself and the kitchen, a fact Anna’s husband pointed out as often as possible.

But then, her sister’s attraction to this particular man had always been a puzzle to Cait. Thin and balding, though he wasn’t yet thirty-five, David Remington lacked the easy social skills Cait remembered in her father and the other ministers she’d met as a child. David’s eyes were round, as if constantly surprised. He always seemed to be in a hurry, always anxious, always thinking ahead.

Like now. “Are you tired?” he asked Anna, before she’d even sampled her food. “Should we be getting home?”

Anna gave him her sweet smile and shook her head. “I’m fine. I took an extra-long nap after Peggy called to invite us this afternoon, so I could feel good tonight.”

“How many weeks do you have left?” Peggy brought a second basket of biscuits to the table.

“Eleven, if everything goes perfectly.” Anna put down her fork and sighed. “The due date should be January 10. But the doctor doesn’t think I’ll get that far. He’s hoping for the middle of December. The longer, the better, as far as the baby’s concerned.”

The older woman looked at Cait. “Will you be able to stay until then?”

Cait noticed Ben glance up from his plate at Peggy’s question, though his gaze came nowhere near hers. “That’s what I’m planning. After Christmas, my schedule gets hectic, but for now, I’m here to help Anna…and David,” she added belatedly, “any way I can.”

“Oh, boy!” Maddie clapped her hands. “That means you’ll be here for the holidays. Won’t that be cool, Daddy? Miss Cait is going to help us with the Christmas pageant!”

With a roaring in her ears, Cait stared at the little girl.

Christmas pageant? I don’t do Christmas.

Not for the last ten years. Not this year…

Not ever again!

CHAPTER TWO

OH, DEAR. Anna saw resistance dawn on her sister’s face at the mention of Christmas. She’d planned to present the idea gradually, easing Cait into the role of directing the annual holiday program. When the doctor had ordered Anna to stay home and take things easy, she’d known she would have to find someone to take over her responsibility for the pageant. Cait had seemed like the perfect answer—for both their sakes.

But not if she got stubborn. “I hadn’t mentioned that to you,” she said, catching Cait’s eye across the table. “We usually start preparing around the beginning of November.”

“It’s lots of fun,” Maddie said. “We have angels and shepherds and wise men and a procession on Christmas Eve.”

Cait made a visible effort to relax. “We used to have a Christmas pageant when I was growing up. I remember how exciting it was. But—”

“The pageant has been a Goodwill tradition since I was a girl,” Peggy said. “Most of the children in town participate. When I was ten, I got to be the announcing angel.” She smiled at her granddaughter.

Maddie nodded. “That’s what I want to be. I already started learning the part. ‘Fear not…’”

Cait pressed her lips together and lifted her chin, a sure sign she was on the defensive. Anna sat up straighter, trying to think of a distraction. This was not going well at all.

“First, we have to get through Halloween.” Ben Tremaine’s calm voice came as an answer to prayer. “Have you decided on your costume yet, Maddie?”

The little girl nodded. “If we got a angel outfit, then I’d be all set for the Christmas pageant. That’s a good idea, isn’t it?”

There was a second of silence, during which Anna imagined all the adults—herself included—grappling for a way to deal with that question. The very existence of the pageant was in doubt this year. And there would be other children wanting the angel’s role. If she counted too much on getting the part, Maddie might be severely disappointed.

“My favorite Halloween costume of all time was the year I dressed as Zorro,” Cait said.

“You had Zorro when you were growing up?” Maddie’s eyes widened. “I love that movie.”

Cait grinned. “Zorro’s been around a long, long time.”

“But can a girl be Zorro?”

“Why not? Black cape, mask, sword…poof! It’s Zorro.”

“Yeah.” The little girl was obviously taken with the idea. Anna chuckled. Leave it to Cait to come up with the solution nobody else could see.

“And I’ll tell you a secret.” Cait leaned over Shep, pretending to whisper to Maddie. “I taped a crayon to the end of my sword, so I could slash real Z’s everywhere I went. It was incredibly cool.” She imitated the motion with a few flicks of her wrist.

“Wow…”

“And what should we think up for Shep?” Cait’s hand rested lightly on his blond head for a second.

“He likes that guy in X-Men.” Maddie served as her brother’s voice most of the time. “The one who’s sorta like a wolf.”

“Wolverine? I met him at a party once. He’s really cool.” Cait looked down into Shep’s upturned face. “That would be an excellent costume.”

Shep nodded decisively, as if the issue were settled.

“Amazing,” Ben commented, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed, “how an outside perspective can simplify the most complicated problem.” His emphasis on outside was slight, but noticeable, nonetheless.

Another silence fell. “Dessert?” Peggy said at last, a little too brightly.

As the rest of them tried to restore some semblance of civility over brownies and ice cream, Cait stayed quiet, her smile stiff, her cheeks flushed with temper and, Anna knew, hurt pride. Tonight was her first real social venture since she’d arrived in town, and persuading her to come hadn’t been easy. In her frequent phone calls and e-mails, she’d rarely mentioned friends, or even casual acquaintances. The guys in her band—all of them married—were the people Cait spent most of her time with. This visit to a stranger’s house for dinner was an effort on her part.

But then, she wasn’t the only one acting out of character. In the three years she and David had lived in Goodwill, Anna had never known Ben Tremaine to be anything but kind and caring. Even right after Valerie’s death, when he was nearly paralyzed by grief, he’d reached out to express his concern over Anna’s first miscarriage.

Judging by their interaction so far, though, he and Cait seemed to bring out the worst in each other.

And Anna had hoped for something very, very different between them.

She sighed, and David’s hand immediately covered hers. “I really think it’s time for us to go. You should be in bed.”

“I’m fine.”

But David wasn’t listening. “Peggy, Harry, it’s been a great meal.” He was standing behind her, waiting to pull out her chair as she got to her feet. “But I do think Anna’s had enough excitement for one day. Will you forgive us if we don’t stay to help with the dishes?”

Peggy shook her head. “I wouldn’t have that, even if you stayed all night. We’ve been delighted to share your company. And to meet Caitlyn.” She smiled. “Please feel free to drop by any time for a cup of coffee and a chat.”

“Thank you for everything. I’ve enjoyed meeting you.” Now Caitlyn had turned on her “professional” smile—a little too bright, rather unfocused. She turned to Maddie and Shep. “I’ll look forward to seeing you on Sunday at church and at choir next week.” Then she moved away from the table, without a word or a glance in Ben Tremaine’s direction.

“I’ll get your coats.” Harry led them to the front hall, with Peggy and the children following. Anna looked back to see Ben standing just inside the opening between the living and dining rooms.

He lifted his wineglass in a silent toast and gave her a warm smile. “Take care of yourself.”

She didn’t return the smile. “I don’t understand—”

David wrapped her coat around her from behind. “Here we go, sweetheart. Night, Ben.” And then her husband was easing her down the porch steps and into the car like an ancient statue that might break if he set it down too hard.

“We can’t be careful enough,” he said later, in their bedroom, when she told him how she felt.

“The doctor didn’t say—”

“The doctor said you should have as little stress as possible.” He came out of the bathroom wearing a clean white T-shirt and soft flannel pajama bottoms. Brushing her hair, Anna watched her husband moving around the bedroom, getting ready for sleep. David wasn’t handsome, and he wasn’t a big man, or obviously muscular, but he had a lean strength that had always excited her. She loved the smell of the fresh cotton T-shirt combined with David’s own, unique scent. Just the thought was enough to raise her pulse rate.

“Having dinner with Harry and Peggy is not stressful.” Which wasn’t exactly true, considering the way Ben and Cait had behaved, but she wanted David to think so. If he thought she was feeling really well, maybe they could make love. The last time had been before her most recent doctor’s appointment, two weeks ago. Much too long.

She left her hair down around her shoulders, rather than braiding it for sleep, and instead of going to her side of the bed, she went to sit on the edge beside David. Putting her hand over his ribs, she rubbed gently. “Neither is being with you.” With her other hand braced on the pillow beside his head, she leaned close to brush her lips over his.

David’s reaction was everything she hoped for—a quickly drawn breath, an immediate claiming of her mouth with his own. His hands claimed her as well, and she felt the surge of his passion in the grip of his fingers on her shoulders. With a sigh of pleasure and surrender, Anna lowered herself more fully onto his chest.

But instead of drawing her even closer, instead of taking them deeper, David softened his mouth, shortened the kisses.

“You’re so sweet,” he murmured against her temple. “I love you.” Without her cooperation, he sat her up and away from him. “Come to bed.” He put his glasses on the table and pulled the blankets up to his chin.

As she turned off the lamp on the dresser and the light in the bathroom, Anna tried to believe that what she’d heard was an invitation. In the darkened room, though, she slipped into bed to find David on his side, facing away from her. Had he fallen asleep so quickly? Or did he just want her to think so?

She sat up to braid her hair, then eased under the covers again. David was tired, of course. All the responsibilities of running the church fell onto his shoulders, now that she couldn’t work. Typing, answering the phone and handling all the paperwork, plus his normal pastoral duties, kept him working late these days. With a sermon to preach on Sunday, he certainly needed to get a good rest on Friday night.

Still wide-awake, Anna sighed and turned her back on her husband…and on the memory of all the nights she’d fallen asleep in his strong, loving arms.

BEN LEFT the Shepherds’ house as soon as he could get away. Maddie and Shep enjoyed spending the night with their grandparents, so there wasn’t a problem with goodbyes. They knew he’d be back for them around lunchtime tomorrow.

At home again, he headed for the shop without even going into the house first, shivering a little in the frosty darkness. Ever since he was a boy, he’d found a kind of peace in his carpentry. The sweet smell of shaved wood, the physical effort of planing and sanding, the concentration on delicate cutting and carving—his work absorbed him, absolved him of the need to think.

Usually. Tonight, he couldn’t get Cait Gregory’s face out of his mind. Not because she was beautiful, but because she’d been hurt. By him. He’d gone out of his way to insult her, several times over. He might be forgiven for not introducing himself at the grocery store, but his comment to her at dinner had been totally out of line. That the remark had been his only means of defense didn’t matter. He shouldn’t need a defense.

But something about Cait Gregory set off all his alarms. There was an…aliveness…in her eyes that grabbed him and urged him near her. Adventure, challenge, emotion—somehow he knew he could find all of that and more with this redheaded woman.

Adventure had played a big part in his past—the Secret Service provided plenty of action, even on assignments that didn’t involve the White House. He’d cornered counterfeiters and tax evaders during those years, taken out a would-be assassin. Challenge had come his way with the births of his children, with the decision a year ago to build a new life and a new business based on the work of his hands.

And he’d experienced a lifetime’s share of emotion, though he was only thirty-seven years old. Valerie had been his partner, his lover, his best friend, since their second year in college together. They’d established their careers side by side—hers as a lobbyist for a consumer affairs agency, his with the government. They’d planned for their children, prepared for them, rejoiced in their presence. Their family had been a walking advertisement for the American dream.

In a matter of seconds, the dream became a nightmare, one Ben was still trying to escape. From the perfect life, he’d descended into a hell of pain and loss. Eighteen months later, he’d thought he’d climbed out of the pit, at least far enough to find a purpose in living, a willingness to keep trying. For a long time, he’d only functioned to take care of the kids. Nowadays, finally, he took care of himself, too.

But maintaining this equilibrium demanded all his strength. He had nothing left to give to a new relationship. Especially one with a woman like Cait Gregory. A man could lose his soul in her shining green eyes. Ben knew he needed to hold on to what soul he had left.

Still, he shouldn’t flay other people because of his own inadequacies. Cait Gregory didn’t deserve the way he’d treated her. And the injustice bothered him.

So he put down the sandpaper and chair leg he’d been smoothing, dusted his hands and picked up the phone. Dave Remington’s number was on his autodial list—had been since he’d arrived in town after Valerie’s accident. Taking a deep breath, Ben punched the button.

“Hello?” Not Dave’s Virginia accent, or Anna’s clear tone, but a siren’s voice. “Hello?”

He straddled a chair and braced his head on his hand. “Cait? This is Ben Tremaine.”

Immediate frost. “David and Anna have gone to bed. But if it’s an emergency—”

“No. No, I called to…talk to you.”

“Really?” As brittle as breaking icicles. “Was there some aspersion you forgot to cast?”

Strangely, he almost laughed. “I want to apologize. I acted like a jerk, in the grocery and at dinner. No excuses. But I am sorry. You didn’t deserve it.”

“Oh.” Cait sat speechless as she held the phone to her ear, trying to think of the right response. Part of her wanted to punish him, to keep Ben Tremaine groveling for a long time. Part of her wanted to spare him any further embarrassment.

And part of her just wanted to keep him talking. “That’s…that’s okay. No harm done. I’ve had my share of tough reviews over the years. I’ll recover.”

“I’m glad to hear it. I imagine there are legions of fans out there who’d be after me if I slighted their legend.” His voice held a smile.

Cait found herself smiling in response. “Probably not legions. Or a legend. Janis Joplin is a legend. I’m just a singer.”

“I bet you do a good version of ‘Bobby McGee,’ though.”

“I’ve never covered that song.”

“Why not? Your voice would be perfect.”

Her chest went hollow at the idea that he’d noticed her voice. “Um…I don’t know.” Almost without her intent, the melody came to mind, and then the words about being free and being alone. The music possessed her, as a good song always did, and she sang it through, experimenting with intervals and timing. At the end, she was still hearing the possibilities, thinking about variations…until she realized how long the silence had lasted.

Talk about embarrassed. “I—I’m sorry.” She felt her face and neck flush with heat. “I—”

“Don’t apologize.” He cleared his throat. “I was right—you’re dynamite with that song. What do you have to do to get the rights to sing it?”

“Pay big bucks, probably. I’ll get my agent to investigate.”

“Good.” He paused, and Cait could tell he was ready to say goodbye. “Well, I guess I’ll let you go. I hope you know I really am sorry for…everything.”

“Forget it.” She wanted to keep him on the line but, really, what did they have to talk about?

“If you will.”

“Then it’s done.” She took a deep breath and made the break herself. “Good night, Ben.”

“Night…Cait.”

She set down the phone and rolled to her side on the bed, breathing in the lavender scent of Anna’s pillowcases. Flowered wallpaper and crisp, frilly curtains, lace-trimmed pillows and old-fashioned furniture…the guest room reflected Anna’s careful, caring personality, her love of beautiful, comfortable surroundings. After two solid months on the road, sleeping in anonymous motel rooms, Cait reveled in the luxury. If only she could sing her songs, and then come home every night to something like this….

She drifted off to sleep, into dreams she sensed but couldn’t remember, and woke to the smell of coffee. That meant she’d overslept and left Anna and David to get their own breakfast. Of course, ten-thirty was very early on a Saturday morning for most musicians she knew to be out of bed. Cait considered this just one more example of the way she would never fit in with the normal, everyday routine her sister lived. Not to mention Ben Tremaine.

Why bring him up, anyway?

She found Anna alone at the table in the cozy kitchen, looking as if she hadn’t slept very well.

“Everything okay?” Cait poured herself a mug of coffee. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Cait blinked at the unusual sharpness in Anna’s tone. “You look tired, is all.”

Her sister took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you. I guess you’re right—I am tired.”

“Maybe we should have stayed home last night.”

“I’m as tired of staying home as anything else.” Again, the harshness in her usually gentle voice.

“Well, okay. I’ll send you out on my next concert tour. You can ride all day and sleep in two or three hour snatches and eat lousy food two meals out of every three. I’ll stay here and—”

Anna laughed, as Cait had hoped she would. “I get the message. The grass is always greener.” She stared into her orange juice for a minute, then looked up as Cait sat down with her coffee and a sweet roll. “So what do you think about the Christmas pageant?”

After talking with Ben, she hadn’t given the pageant any thought at all. But she didn’t need to. “I’m not the person to be in charge of a program like that. And you know it.”

“I know you think so. I’m not convinced you’re right.”

“You need somebody who believes in—what’s the phrase?—‘the reason for the season.’”

Anna lifted her eyebrows. “Are you an atheist now?”

“N-no.” Cait crumbled a corner of her roll. “But that’s theology. Your program should have a director who likes Christmas.”

“Sweetie, it’s been ten years. Don’t you think you could start to forgive him?”

The unmentionable had just been mentioned. “Has he forgiven me?”

Now her sister avoided her gaze. “We…don’t talk about you.”

Cait nodded. “Because I ceased to exist for him the second I refused to do what he told me to. What kind of father treats a child that way?”

“He wanted so much for you—”

“Without ever bothering to find out what I wanted for myself. And then he chose Christmas—of all times—to force a showdown.”

“I’m sure he’s sorry.”

“I’m not sure of that. But I’m not sorry, either. He handed me the career I wanted by making it impossible for me to do anything else. If he can’t live with my choice, can’t connect with me in spite of our differences, then—” she shrugged “—that’s his choice.”

Anna sighed. “Okay, forget about Dad. The Goodwill Christmas pageant would be a one-time commitment for you. Is that too much to ask?”

“I wouldn’t be any good at it, Anna. I could go through the motions, but that wouldn’t produce the results you want.”

“You won’t even try?”

“I can’t just try something like this. I either do it, or I don’t. And I really would rather not.” She took a fortifying sip of coffee. “There are other churches in town. One of their choir directors could organize the pageant.”

“Mrs. Boringer at the Methodist Church is sixty-five and has really bad arthritis.” Anna ticked off one finger. “John Clay, the Catholic priest, leads their singing, but he won’t take on a project like this. And Lou Miller just accepted a job in a big church in Dallas, leaving the Baptists without a choir director at all. Our church is the only hope for this season. If we don’t do it, Goodwill won’t have a pageant…for the first time in forty-eight years.”

“So let David—”

“David doesn’t sing. You know that. We have to have somebody who sings.”

Cait saw the anxiety in Anna’s face, the tension in her hands wrapped around the mug of tea. This kind of stress couldn’t be good for the baby. And it would kill Anna to lose another baby.

But…just the thought of involving herself in a Christmas pageant was enough to make her head pound and her stomach cramp. Cait closed her eyes for a second, swallowed back bile, then wiped her sweaty palms on her pajama pants.

“Look, let’s do this.” A deep breath. “I’ll get them started on Christmas songs. The story’s still the same, right?” She watched Anna summon up a small smile. “Meanwhile, you can ask around, find a mom or a dad who’s willing to do the actual staging and directing. And, who knows, maybe by the middle of December your baby will be here and you can direct the pageant yourself.”

Anna shook her head. “This isn’t something we can put together in two weeks. Costumes, scenery, everybody learning their lines…”

The details made Cait shudder. “First things first. We’ll start with the music.”

And if I’m lucky, she thought, the music is as far as I’ll have to go.

THE ADULT CHOIR sang for the first time under Cait’s direction in church on Sunday. Three sopranos, two altos and four men was not a very large group, but they all had pleasant voices, strong enough for the old familiar hymn she’d arranged and rehearsed with them.

After the service, it seemed that every member of the small church stopped at the organ to compliment her. “What a pleasure,” Karen Patterson said. “I’m so glad you’re here to help us all out.” She had her arm around her daughter Brenna, Maddie Tremaine’s friend. “Brenna loves what you’re doing with her choir.”

“I have a good time with them, too.” Cait smiled at Brenna. “They sing very well for such a young group.”

Gray-eyed Brenna ducked her head, hiding a pleased smile.

“That was just lovely.” Peggy Shepherd put her arm around Cait’s waist. “I almost called out ‘Encore!’ But I thought David might be insulted.”

Cait grinned. “The sermon is supposed to be the main point, I think.” Her father had always delivered powerful, intelligent—and often intimidating—messages. As far as she knew, he was still preaching, still cautioning his parishioners against the dangers of stray thoughts and wayward deeds.

“A fine song,” Harry Shepherd added. “One of my favorites.”

“That was beautiful, Miss Caitlyn!” Maddie appeared suddenly in the midst of the gathering. “Can we sing that song in our choir?”

“Maybe you could. The melody, anyway.” Cait felt, rather than saw, Ben Tremaine come to the edge of the group. He stood to her right, just out of her line of sight. She wanted to turn to greet him, but couldn’t get up the nerve.

Maddie swung on her arm. “Guess what we’re doing this afternoon, Miss Caitlyn.”

“Um…going swimming?”

“Of course not. It’s too cold to swim. Guess again.”

“Building a snowman?”

“There’s no snow.” She said it chidingly, as if Cait should know better. “We’re having a Halloween party. It’s at Brenna’s house, and we get to wear our costumes.”

“That sounds like so much fun. What did you decide to wear?”

“Zorro, of course. I got a hat and a sword and everything. And Shep’s going to be Wolverine.”

“Wow…that’s great. What are you going to be, Brenna?”

“An Olympic champion,” the little blonde said softly.

“Brenna has horses,” Maddie confided. “She’s got all the fancy clothes, so she just made a gold medal on a ribbon and she’s all set.”

“What a great idea. Maybe you’ll be an Olympic champion for real someday.”

“I hope so,” Brenna said, with the intensity Cait remembered feeling at that age in her desire for a singing career.

“I wish I could see all your costumes.” She was beginning to wonder if Maddie would swing her arm right out of its socket. “Will you come trick-or-treating to Miss Anna’s house?”

The swinging stopped. “Why don’t you come to the party,” Maddie asked. “I’m sure it’s okay with Brenna’s mom. Isn’t it?”

Karen Patterson recovered quickly from her surprise. “O-of course. We’d be delighted to have you come by, Cait. As long as you can stand the noise twelve ten-year-olds will make.”

There was no graceful way out. “I think I can stop by for a few minutes, at least. Where do you live, Mrs. Patterson?”

“Karen, please. We’re kind of far out of town, but it’s not hard to find. If you drive—”

Maddie tugged on her arm again. “You don’t need to drive, Miss Caitlyn. My daddy can bring you with us.”

As she turned to look at the man in question, Cait knew she only imagined that the entire group went completely quiet.

His smile waited for her, rueful, a little embarrassed, maybe slightly annoyed. “Sure,” he said, in that soft, deep drawl. “We’d be glad to take you to the party.”

How she wanted to refuse. But Maddie was staring up at her with wide brown eyes, silently—for once!—pleading. Shep stood just behind Ben, peeking around his dad’s hip like a little mouse out of a hole. Cait thought she saw an expression of hope on his face, as well.

She could brush off a grown man—had done it plenty of times over the past ten years. But disappointing a child was simply beyond Cait’s strength.

“That sounds great.” She grinned at the children, avoiding even a brief glance at their dad. “What time should I be ready?”

CHAPTER THREE

BEN RANG the Remingtons’ bell that afternoon just before four o’clock. One glance at the woman who opened the door drove all good sense out of his head and all his blood…south.

Cait had dressed as a gypsy—her curling copper hair hanging loose under a bright gold scarf, gold bracelets jingling on her wrists and huge hoops in her earlobes, a flowing white shirt and a long skirt in gold and black and red that seemed to glow with a light of its own. Intense makeup darkened her eyes and lips, increased her air of mystery and adventure.

Just what he didn’t need. Ben cleared his throat, fought for the right thing to say. “You look ready for a party.”

Cait smiled—an expression of promise, of invitation. “I love Halloween.”

At the Patterson farm, her presence quickly turned a normal, noisy Halloween party for children into an exceptional event. The kids swamped her as soon as she stepped into the game room, showing off their own costumes, exhibiting their painted pumpkin faces, begging for songs and stories. Shep, as usual, hung back from the crowd, all the while keeping close watch on what was happening. Though Cait tried to defer to Karen’s plan of activities, the tide of popular opinion carried the day.

So the gypsy woman sat beside the fire, telling ghost stories from Ireland, teaching folk songs about fierce battles and dangerous voyages and lost loves. When Karen called the kids to the table for tacos and juice, Cait served food, wiped up several spills, and then led the children in a wild dance through the cold, crisp air, the last rays of the sun and the crackling leaves on the ground.

“I’m sorry,” she said to Karen as the kids began to leave. “I certainly didn’t intend to take over your party.”

“Are you kidding? This is a Halloween they’ll remember forever, and it happened at our house. Brenna is thrilled.” Karen grinned. “Not to mention that in five years you’ll have all the teenagers in Goodwill, Virginia buying your recordings.”

Cait laughed. “You uncovered my real motive—increasing sales.”

Standing nearby, Ben watched the remaining kids playing in the leaves and listened to the two women get to know each other. He hadn’t participated in this kind of…easy…relationship, he realized, since moving to Goodwill. Although he knew most of the folks here by face and name, he didn’t mix much with anyone but Harry and Peggy and, sometimes, Dave Remington. Valerie had been the social secretary in their partnership, keeping up with friends and family on his behalf. With her gone, he hadn’t had the heart to continue the effort.

Cait Gregory made socializing look like a pleasure…one he might want to share.

She’s a professional, he reminded himself. The woman makes her living charming crowds of faceless fans. Do you want to be just another starstruck fool?

For a minute, watching her laugh, Ben was tempted to answer yes. His life had been so somber for so long, now….

“Daddy.” Maddie tugged on the sleeve of his sweater. “Shep’s not feeling good.”

He turned to see his little boy standing pale-faced and heavy-eyed behind him. Going down on one knee, he put a hand on Shep’s forehead. “You do feel hot. Guess we’d better get you home and into bed with some medicine inside you.”

This was something else he hadn’t done much of until Valerie’s death. Sick kids terrified him. What if he missed the difference between a simple cold and pneumonia? Or fell asleep when their fever went too high?

On a deep breath, he stood up again. He hadn’t made a serious mistake so far, right? No reason to think this would be any different. There was always Peggy for backup, or Dr. Hall.

Scooping Shep up against his shoulder, he joined Karen and Cait. “Wolverine here’s a little under the weather. We need to be getting home.”

With four kids of her own, Karen reacted like the typical experienced mom—feeling Shep’s forehead, thinking of practicalities. “There’s a flu going around at school—three kids weren’t able to come today because they’re sick. Some fever medicine and a couple of days’ rest, then you’ll be back to fighting evil, you superhero, you.”

But Cait’s face mirrored some of Ben’s uncertainty. “I’m so sorry,” she murmured, almost crooned. She laid a hand along Shep’s cheek. “It’s no fun being sick, is it?”

Lower lip stuck out in a pout, Shep shook his head. Then he sat up in Ben’s arms, reached over, and practically threw himself into Cait’s embrace.

“Shep…” Ben felt his own face heat up. The woman didn’t need a sick kid clinging to her. “What are you doing, son? Come back here.”

But Shep, who rarely gave adults much notice these days, stuck to Cait like a sand burr. Chuckling, looking panicked and pleased at the same time, she shook her head. “It’s okay. I’ll carry him to the car. Thanks, Karen—it was a great party.”

“Thank you, Cait. Come over and visit sometime this week.”

“Sure.”

In the Suburban, Shep wouldn’t let go of Cait until she agreed to sit in the back seat right beside him. Exasperated, Ben made sure Maddie had buckled herself in on Cait’s other side before climbing into the front all alone.

“Now I know how the president’s driver feels,” he commented, more to himself than anyone else, “waiting for the SAIC to get in beside him.” They passed through the dark farm country like a shadow—the only movement or light to be seen for miles around.

“SAIC?” Cait said.

Ben mentally kicked himself in the butt. Was he showing off for her deliberately? “Sorry. Special Agent in Charge. The agent heading up any maneuver in which the president leaves the White House.”

“Anna said you were with the Secret Service. Quite a glamorous job.”

“Not unless something bad happens. Mostly it’s planning, and more planning, then standing around waiting for the unplanned to occur.”

“There are some radically unbalanced people out there, though, desperate to get noticed any way they can.”

“No kidding. Have you had problems?” He glanced in the rearview mirror, saw her stroking Shep’s head as the boy leaned against her shoulder. On her other side, Maddie had fallen asleep holding the singer’s hand. The sight caught at his throat.

Cait shook her head. “Most people have been very good. A couple of guys stepped over the line, one in Texas and one in California. The police were able to handle them.”

“So you don’t have your own security?”

“My agent pushes for it every time we talk. But music isn’t something I do up here,” she put her hand up high, “while people listen down there behind a barrier. The songs are—to borrow an overused word—organic. They depend on the different needs and desires of everybody involved. If I separate myself from the audience, the music sort of…well, freezes. Solidifies.” Now she met his gaze through the mirror. “I guess that sounds pretty weird.”

“No.” He was surprised to realize he understood. “No, I see what you mean. Wood is like that. Not something dead I impose my will on, but something alive that I work with to reveal what’s inside.”

“Exactly.” Her smile glinted at him in the dark car. “Anna loves the chair you built for her and David. It’s beautiful. Their grandchildren will sit in it, and the generations after them.”

“Hope so.” Driving into Goodwill itself, along the straight streets with lighted houses on either side, Ben let the conversation—confessions?—lapse. He and Cait Gregory didn’t need to understand too much about each other. That would only lead to trouble.

In the driveway of the Remingtons’ house, he got out and opened the rear door. Shep woke up crying when the light hit him in the eyes. His cheeks were now flushed a bright red.

Maddie stirred. “Daddy? What’s happening?”

“Just dropping Miss Caitlyn off, that’s all.” Ben avoided Cait’s smiling gaze. “Can you slide out for a minute?”

Groggily, Maddie got out of the car. But when Cait started to move over, Shep’s sobs escalated to screams. Obviously he was able to make sounds. He just chose not to. Holding his arms out, he pleaded without words for Cait to stay.

She glanced over at Ben. “I hate to upset him when he’s sick.” Turning to Shep again, she brushed back his damp hair, wiped the tears off his cheeks. “Don’t you want to go home now? Get into your pajamas and listen to your dad read a story? I bet he reads really good stories.”

Shep nodded.

Cait leaned over and kissed the boy’s forehead. “Well, darlin’, to do that, you have to let me say goodbye.”

In her smoky voice, that one word—darlin’—was a punch to the gut. Ben took a deep breath.

So did Shep. And then the tears came back, along with the huge, gulping sobs.

“Maybe we should take Shep home and get him settled first.” Cait’s voice was concerned, not angry. “I can call David to come pick me up there.”

Ashamed in the face of her generosity, Ben nevertheless knew he didn’t want to take Cait Gregory to his house. Didn’t want a single memory of her inside the home he shared with his children.

But for his son’s sake, he would risk letting her in. He just hoped he could avoid the consequences.

“Sounds like a plan.” He helped Maddie get into the car and buckled her up again. In the driver’s seat once more, he backed down the Remingtons’ short drive. “We’ll be home in about five seconds flat.”

CAIT CARRIED Shep up the stone steps to the wide front porch and waited while his dad unlocked the door. She felt breathless from the unaccustomed weight of the child in her arms…and from the anticipation of going into Ben Tremaine’s house.

Which was ridiculous. They’d only known each other three days. She’d be leaving town within two months at the outside. What difference did his decorating scheme make?

Still, a feeling of belonging hit her full in the face as she stepped inside. Home. She hadn’t had one for ten years. Before that, she’d been a part of her father’s house, living in his style and according to his rules.

But Ben’s place was a real home. High ceilings, exposed wood beams, windows of different shapes, sizes, angles. Wood floors and cabinets finished with a light stain and a high gloss. Thick, dark-blue rugs under comfortable-looking red leather couches and chairs. A day’s worth of clutter made the room looked lived-in—children’s books stacked on the table and beside a chair, the rolled-up newspaper still waiting to be read, two stuffed dogs confronting each other on one arm of the sofa.

She glimpsed the details as she followed Ben up a freestanding staircase and along the hallway to Shep’s room. Here, the style was Boy—blue walls and gray carpet, X-Men paraphernalia everywhere, Lego, toy cars and Pokémon pieces scattered on the floor, a rumpled bed on which a single teddy bear, nearly as large as the boy himself, lay waiting.

His face flushed, Ben bent to straighten the blue blanket and sheets. “I didn’t get a chance to make beds before we left for church this morning.”

“But now it’s all nice and neat, just waiting for you,” she told Shep as she lowered him to the floor. “Want your dad to help you into pajamas?”

The little boy shook his head violently and grabbed her around the thighs. Cait looked at Ben in dismay. “I—”

“It’s okay.” He pulled a set of colorful pj’s from a drawer in the nearby chest. “I’ll get the medicine while you help him change.”

There was a question in his last words and in his eyes, as if he weren’t sure she could or would help Shep out of his clothes.

“Okay.” She gave him a confident, in-charge smile. “I baby-sat when I was a teenager—I think I remember the process.”

Ben nodded and disappeared. Cait sat down on the bed with Shep between her knees. “Let’s see what we can do here, okay? Ooh…Wolverine pajamas. Are these your favorites?”

He nodded solemnly, his eyes too dull, his cheeks too red. Humming softly, Cait eased him out of his X-Men jumpsuit costume and the long-sleeved T-shirt underneath, putting on the Wolverine pj top. She took off his shoes and socks, pushed his jeans down to his knees…and that was as far as she got. “Ben? Ben, can you come here?”

She sounded more panicked than she’d intended. He appeared immediately at the doorway. “What?”

Cait took a calming breath. “I thought you might want to get a look at Shep’s legs before I cover him up again.”

He knelt on the floor beside them, gazing at the huge red blotches on his son’s legs. “Yeah, he gets a rash like this when he has a cold or the flu. I’ll get some antihistamine. You go ahead and put him to bed.”

She did as she was told and Shep went peacefully enough, holding his bear close to his chest.

“That’s Bumbles,” Maddie said from the doorway. She’d changed into a sweet nightgown with red and blue flowers all over. “Shep let me name him.”

“I like that—Bumbles the Bear. Sounds like a song.” Cait pulled a waltz tune out of her memory and gave it words. “Bumbles the Bear hasn’t a care. He stumbles and fumbles and tumbles along….” Maddie giggled, and even Shep smiled, so they were all pretty cheerful when Ben returned.

“Well, this doesn’t look much like anybody’s sick.” He put bottles and cups and spoons on the top of the chest of drawers.

“Miss Caitlyn made up a song about Bumbles, Daddy.” Maddie sang it through perfectly, after only one hearing. “Isn’t that funny? Is there another verse, Miss Caitlyn?”

Cait moved out of the way and watched as Ben gently but firmly gave Shep the medicine he needed. The little boy struggled, frowning at the taste, but a Popsicle at the end of the ordeal got him smiling again. “I guess we’ll have to make up another verse. Let’s see… Bumbles the Bear, he’s always there, he mumbles and grumbles but never for long….”

They finished three verses of the Bumbles song before Shep drifted into sleep. Cait got to her feet, with a stiffness in her shoulders and neck that testified to the tension she’d felt during this last hour. What kind of responsibility would it be to have the care of these children all day, every day? And all alone, as Ben did?

More than she could imagine. Which was why she was happy to stay single.

“Can you sing to me, Miss Caitlyn?” Maddie had hold of her hand again.

“Are you ready for bed?” Cait glanced at her watch and saw with surprise that it was after eight.

“Daddy lets me read before I go to sleep.”

“Well, if he doesn’t mind…”

Ben stepped out of Shep’s room and pulled the door partway shut. “Sounds great to me. I’ll come up a little later and kiss you good-night, Maddie.”

“Okay.” Maddie’s room was the complete opposite of her brother’s—yellow and white, ruffles and gingham checks and eyelet lace, as neatly kept as Anna’s half of their room had always been.

“This is wonderful, Maddie. You must love having such a special bedroom.” Two dormered windows overlooked the yard, now hidden by the dark.

“Daddy and Grandma and I picked everything out.” The little girl climbed on her bed. “My mommy couldn’t help when we moved here. She went to sleep after the car wreck, and she couldn’t wake up even in the hospital.”

Cait forced words through her closed throat. “I’m so sorry.” They stared at each other for a minute, until she found the control to say, “What shall we sing?”

Maddie asked for some of her favorite hymns from choir, and the theme song of a popular TV show. Her eyelids started to droop and she snuggled down into her bed, holding a beautiful doll with long dark curls in the crook of her arm. “This is Valerie,” she said sleepily. “I named her for my mommy, ’cause they both have curly brown hair. Like me.”

With her fingers trembling, Cait stroked Maddie’s hair. “And you’re as beautiful as she is. One more song?”

Maddie nodded, her eyes closed. Cait sang an Irish lullaby, using the Gaelic in which she’d learned it first. Then she sat, elbows propped on her knees and her chin resting on her fists, just watching the little girl sleep.

“Cait.” Ben’s whisper came from the doorway.

She stood reluctantly, but then pulled herself together and crossed the room. This wasn’t her family, after all, or her house. She was just helping out.

Ben looked in on Shep, then led her to the first floor. At the bottom of the stairs he turned, heading away from the front door. Cait followed, confused, until she remembered she’d said she would call David to come get her. Ben couldn’t leave once the children were asleep.

But in the kitchen, she found the table set with bowls, a plate of bread, and glasses of tea. Ben turned from the stove with a pot in one hand and ladled soup into the bowls. “It’s tomato, from a can. Not very impressive, but it’ll fill you up until you can get back to Anna and David’s house.”

Cait could only stare at him in shock.

“Go on,” he said, putting the pan back on the stove. “Sit down and have something to eat. It’s the least I can do after letting my children abuse you and ruin your Sunday afternoon.”

She sank into a chair because her knees really weren’t too steady. “They didn’t ruin my Sunday. Or abuse me. I had a good time at the party.”

“I’m pretty sure being held hostage by a sick little boy isn’t part of your usual weekend schedule.” He took the seat across the table and picked up his spoon.

“Why are you so convinced you know all about me?” Cait kept her hands folded in her lap. “And why are you so positive you don’t like what you know?”

He put down his spoon. “I—” His cheeks reddened. “I guess that’s pretty much the way I’ve been treating you.”

She nodded. “Pretty much.”

Leaning back in his chair, he rubbed his hands over his face. “Sorry. Just call it a protective instinct.”

“I’m not a threat to you, or anyone else that I know of.”

His hands dropped and he gave her a wry smile. “Looked in the mirror lately?”

Cait felt her cheeks heat. “I saw lots of freckles, a snub nose and bags under my eyes from too many late nights.”

Ben considered her, his head cocked to one side. “Well, yeah. But add to that a great mouth and eyes a man could drown in, plus a voice that sounds like pure sex. Now there’s a threat.” As if he hadn’t just knocked the breath out of her, he took up a spoonful of tomato soup.

Cait finally recovered that voice he’d mentioned. “Sounds like sex?”

He nodded and pushed the plate of bread slices closer to her side of the table.

At a loss, Cait finally tasted what just happened to be her favorite soup. “Nobody’s ever said it like that before.”

“Hard to believe. Maybe you missed a review.”

“My agent uses a press-clipping service. No article is too small.” When her bowl was half-empty, she looked up again. “But that doesn’t explain why I threaten you.”

Under a sweater as blue as his eyes, Ben’s shoulders lifted on a deep breath. He put his hands flat on the table on either side of his bowl. “For someone who writes loves songs, you’re not using much imagination. I find you attractive, Cait Gregory.” His eyes darkened as he stared at her. “Very attractive.”

She opened her mouth, though she wasn’t sure what she would say.

He stopped her with a shake of his head. “But even if I felt the need to date or have some kind of relationship, which I don’t, I’m not into short-term affairs. And I can’t imagine that you, with your career and your schedule, would be into anything else. That leaves me defending myself against—” he made a gesture that seemed to encompass her from head to toe “—you.”

Cait allowed anger to override the embarrassment flooding through her. “You arrogant SOB.” She got to her feet. “You’re still making assumptions. About my morality, my taste in men, my—my lifestyle.”

Ben stood up, crossed his arms over his chest, and stared her down. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

“I don’t have to tell you the time of day.” Dropping her napkin on the table, she turned on her heel and stalked back through the house.

His footsteps pounded after her. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Somewhere else.” She wrenched open the front door.

He caught her by the arm, shut the door again with the other hand. “You can’t walk home in the dark.”

Cait jerked back, trying to break his hold. “Let go of me. I can walk anywhere I damn well please whenever I damn well please. That’s what makes me an adult.” She struggled against his grip. “Let go!”

His free hand came to her other shoulder, not harsh or hurtful, but not to be argued with, either. He stared at her, his blue gaze angry, his mouth a straight, hard line. Cait, gazing up at him, caught the flicker in his eyes as that anger evolved, first to regret, then into desire. She would have continued to fight him, but the softening of his lips provoked a similar reaction within her. Instead of pushing away, her palms rested against his chest, absorbing his heat and the hammering beat of his heart. He was tall enough that she had to lean her head back to see his face; she felt exposed, vulnerable. Available.

Ben closed his eyes, wrinkled his brow as if he were in pain. When he looked at her again, need and passion had replaced all other emotions in his face. He dipped his head and Cait parted her lips, even leaned a little closer to hasten the kiss.

From the stairway behind them, a cry drifted down—small and soft, but they could hear energy gathering behind it to produce a full-blown wail.

Ben tightened his grip for an instant, then released her and backed toward the steps. “Look—I can’t let you walk home by yourself in the dark, not even in this little town. If you insist, I’ll put both the kids in the car and drive you myself. Or you can call David. I’ll go upstairs and stay there until he gets here. I promise. Whichever way you want to do this is fine. Just don’t leave alone.”

Cait blew out a sharp breath. “I’ll call David. And I’ll wait for him to pick me up,” she added, in response to the question in Ben’s eyes. “You go up and make sure Shep is okay.”

“Thanks.” He turned and climbed the stairs with a heavy tread. She heard the murmur of his voice in Shep’s room, the gradual easing of the little boy’s cry. Drained, frustrated, insulted and sorry, Cait went back to the kitchen and called her brother-in-law to come take her home.

WITH ONE LOOK at her sister’s face, Anna judged that the afternoon and evening hadn’t been much of a success. “How was the party?”

Cait began to braid her tangled hair without combing it first. “I don’t honestly know. Karen Patterson was nice, but I’m afraid I got in the way of her plans. The kids just kept asking for songs and stories.”

Anna nodded. “You’ve always been a magnet for children. That’s why—” She stopped herself just in time. Mentioning what their dad had planned for Cait’s future—a career as a church musician working with children—was exactly the wrong thing to say. “You’re later than I’d realized you would be. Did something else come up?”

“Shep started feeling sick. He wanted me to sit with him on the way home. Then he wouldn’t let me out of the car. His father managed to control his disgust of me long enough to get the children to sleep and feed me a bowl of soup.” Cait shrugged. “That’s all.”

That was far from all, Anna knew. “He’s had a rough time,” she said gently. “His whole life was shattered with his wife’s death.”

“And what am I supposed to do about that?” Her temper truly lost now, Cait paced the living room. “I’m not moving in on him. I don’t even want to talk to him. And he doesn’t have to talk to me. With the least bit of luck, we can avoid each other for the rest of the time I’m here. Which will suit me just fine.” She stomped out as David came in from the kitchen.

He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, then looked at Anna. “What was that all about?”

“Cait and Ben seem to strike sparks off each other whenever they’re together.”

“That’s not a signal for you to start matchmaking, Anna.” He sat in the wing chair across the room and let his head fall back, his hands hanging loosely over the arms. “Your sister doesn’t need a boyfriend.”

“I think he would be good for her, give her roots. And she would bring him back to life.”

“I think they would make each other miserable.” He rolled his head from side to side, closed his eyes. “Man, what a day.”

She hadn’t seen him since their lunch with Cait after the church service. “What have you been doing all afternoon and evening?”

“I met with Timothy for a couple of hours, going over the books. The end of the year will be here before we know it. And with everything there is to do at Christmas, I thought I should get ahead.”

Guilt twisted her stomach. “I’m sorry. If you brought some of the work home, I could help out here. I hate having left with you with so much to do.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said gently, though his smile was a little forced. “I’m just in a bad mood tonight, I guess. It’s not all that big a deal. But I am tired. Ready for bed?”

He followed her into the bedroom, took his clothes out of the drawer and went into the bathroom, only returning when he was completely changed. Anna was already in bed, waiting. Hoping.

“Don’t worry about Cait,” he said as he turned off the light. “She can take care of herself. No doubt about that.” With a pat on his wife’s hip, he shifted to his side and pulled up the covers. “You just take care of yourself.”

Anna rolled carefully to face in the opposite direction, closing her eyes against tears. David was right, of course—she only had one responsibility right now, to do whatever was necessary to give this baby a chance. And though his…indifference…hurt her, he was simply doing everything he could to help her make the right choices. The doctor hadn’t forbidden sex, though he’d suggested they keep it gentle. By eliminating their lovemaking, Anna was sure her husband thought he was helping her to keep their son alive.

The baby moved inside her—a little hand or foot pushing gently against her flesh—and she put a hand over the place, hoping he felt her love, her yearning for him to arrive safely.

Don’t be in a hurry, she warned him. I’ll wait, for as long as you need.

We’ll all wait.

ON MONDAY EVENING, Harry sat at his desk long after everyone else in the office had gone for the day. For what was probably the fiftieth time, he picked up the letter he’d received that morning and read it through. The words still hadn’t sunk in.

“New owner.” “Efficiency expert.” “Downsizing.” “Restructuring.” “Early retirement.”

He understood the bottom line—he’d been fired. After thirty-five years of service, he had one week to clear out his desk, hand over his work and get out of the building. There would be a dinner to honor all the retirees at some future date.

Some honor. We’ll eliminate your job and give you a free dinner, maybe a gold watch.

Oh, the benefits were good enough. He’d keep his health insurance, his investment plans, his retirement savings. This so-called efficiency expert simply thought Harry would cost the company less money sitting on his duff at home rather than working. Who was he to argue?

But how was he going to tell Peggy he didn’t have a job anymore?

And what the hell would he do with the rest of his life?

CHAPTER FOUR

NEITHER MADDIE nor Shep came to choir practice on Wednesday afternoon. Cait started the children singing Christmas carols, but without Maddie’s strong voice, the sound just wasn’t the same. Brenna, looking rather wan herself, said Maddie hadn’t been to school all week.

Karen Patterson confirmed the news. “I know Ben’s had his hands full—two sick kids is a lot for one adult to manage.” She put a hand over Brenna’s forehead. “I think I’m about to get my own case to deal with. Come on, honey.” She put an arm around her daughter. “Let’s take you home to bed.”

Brenna looked up in horror. “Mama, it’s Halloween!”

Karen winced. “Oh, yeah. Let’s get some medicine, then, see if you feel well enough to go out tonight.” She looked at Cait. “School might be optional, but trick-or-treating is a mandatory commitment.”

Nodding, Cait kept her face straight. “Makes perfect sense to me.” Then she smiled. “I hope you feel better, Brenna.”

She wondered if Maddie and Shep were still too sick to enjoy Halloween. What a shame, after all the time and thought invested in their costumes. And poor Ben, having to be the one to say no.

Later that night, after the trick-or-treaters had stopped coming and Anna and David had gone to bed, Cait sat in the living room with her guitar, playing with chords she eventually realized had segued into “Bobby McGee.” She might as well go ahead and call, she decided. Then she could get them all off her mind.

“Hello?” Even the one word sounded tired.

“Hi, Ben, This is…Cait. I, um, hear you’ve got two patients to nurse this week.”

“Yeah.” He gave a rough cough. “Which was bad enough before I got sick, too.”

She squeezed her eyes shut. “That’s awful. Have you got someone to help you? Did you call the Shepherds?”

“Nah. They don’t need to come over here and catch this bug. Besides, I’m the parent—I can take care of my kids.”

“But—”

“And we’re doing okay. We sleep a lot. Take our medicines at the same time, read a story or two, doze off in front of a movie. We’ll get through.”

It was hard to argue with such stubborn independence. “Is there anything I can do? Do you need groceries? Drinks? More medicine?”

There was a long pause. “I—I think we’re covered, thanks.” He sounded stunned. “I appreciate the thought, though.”

“Please call if you need something.” He wouldn’t, of course. Why should he think about counting on somebody who was only passing through?

Why was she making trouble for herself by wishing he would?

“I guess you started on the Christmas pageant in choir today,” he said. “Maddie’ll be sorry to have missed that.”

If he wanted to talk… “We sang a few songs. She’ll catch up.”

“I think she knows most of the popular carols by heart already.”

That sounded all too familiar. “You must really enjoy Christmas, having two children to share the season with you.”

He cleared his throat. “To be honest, Christmas is the one time of year I almost wish I’d never had kids. As far as I’m concerned, it’s just another day.”

Now it was Cait’s turn to pause. “Really?”

“And it takes everything I’ve got to get through the damn month of December without exploding—or simply walking away and never, ever coming back.” The bitterness in his voice was barely suppressed.

Shock held her silent. Ben Tremaine, the ultimate dad, didn’t like Christmas, either?

“Sorry,” he said, when she didn’t respond for a minute. “Chalk that insanity up to the fever and forget about it. And thanks for checking in.”

“Don’t cut me off.” Cait sat up straight, clutched the phone tighter, to keep him with her. “You can’t say something like that and just hang up.”

“Sure I can. And should.”

“What happened at Christmas that makes you hate it so much?”

“I can’t just be a grinch on principle?”

“It takes one to know one.” She grinned. “And I know that even grinches have history.”

He drew a rasping breath. “Okay. It’s not too complicated. When I was six years old, the woman who called herself my mother walked out of the house on Christmas Eve and didn’t come back. My dad celebrated the next twenty-two anniversaries of her departure—until he died, that is—by getting drunk and staying that way until the new year. I just never got into the Christmas spirit, somehow.”

Cait was quiet for a long time. Finally, she took the risk. “I know what it’s like to—to dread Christmas.”

“I guess the holidays are a tough time to be traveling from one show to the next.”

Though he couldn’t see her, she shook her head. “No, what’s tough is just watching. From the outside. Knowing you can’t get in.”

“Why can’t you get in?”

The hard part. “I was kicked out, more or less. By my father.”

After a few seconds, he said, “Your turn to explain.”

She sighed. “My senior year in high school, he and I had major disagreements over what I would do after graduation. He was thinking about college, a music education degree, a job as a church choir director and organist.”

“While you wanted the career you’ve got.”

“Exactly. The sooner, the better. And it all came to a head on Christmas Eve, about an hour before the pageant I’d been working on for three months. My dad found the college applications he assumed I’d submitted, hidden where I thought he’d never find them.” She gave a wry laugh. “Just my luck, that was the year he decided to wear his plaid vest, the one packed away in a cedar chest. In the attic. Right underneath all those application papers.”

Ben’s laugh turned into a cough. “I guess he raised holy hell.”

“There wasn’t much holy about it, in my opinion, anyway. He threw me out of the house and forbade me to darken the doors of ‘his’ church that night and at any time in the future.”

“What about your mom?” A gentle question.

“She died when I was four, during a miscarriage.” Cait took a deep breath. “It’s not just the baby we’re worried about with Anna. The ultrasound her doctor did at her six-month checkup showed the same condition my mom had—the placenta is too low in the womb, which could cause serious bleeding. So…we have to be really careful.”

“I didn’t know.”

“Yeah. Anyway, I haven’t given Christmas much thought since the showdown with my dad. I mean, I believe the basic story, but the human applications…”

“Leave a lot to be desired.”

How strange, to be understood. Even Anna didn’t quite comprehend why Cait avoided Christmas. “Definitely.”

“So we’re a couple of Scrooges in the middle of a whole town of Tiny Tims.”

That made her laugh. “I guess so. At least I can hole up in a hotel somewhere until it’s over. You still have to make the holiday for Maddie and Shep, don’t you?”

“My wife—Valerie—pretty much handled Christmas for the family, and let me kind of hang around the edges. But since she was killed…I’m the main source of holiday happenings. Peggy and Harry help, but they’re not here every day for the countdown.”

“It must be tough.”

“I’m always really glad to see that ball fall in Times Square on New Year’s Eve.”

In the pause, a new voice came through the line. “Daddy? My head hurts.” Cait heard the rustle of clothes, a grunt from Ben, then somebody’s sigh. “Is that Maddie?”

“Yeah. The fever’s coming back. For all of us, I think.”

“I’ll let you go, then, and hope the three of you feel better tomorrow morning. Call if you need anything.”

“Sure.”

Ben punched off the phone and sat for a minute, cradling Maddie in his arms and thinking about the woman he was reluctantly coming to know. Caitlyn Gregory, singer and sexy, talented rising star, was someone he could easily keep at a distance.

He wasn’t so sure he’d be able to resist the simpler Cait’s innate charm and warmth, her willingness to give of herself.

Maddie stirred against him and he felt her forehead. “Time for more grape medicine,” he murmured against her curls. As he staggered to his feet, Shep made a small noise upstairs. The reminder brought him back to reality.

Attractive as getting involved with Cait might seem, this situation wasn’t about his wants, his choices. He had a responsibility to keep his children safe from any more pain, any more loss, than was absolutely necessary.

And he’d do whatever he had to in order to protect his kids. Even from a woman as agreeable as Cait Gregory was turning out to be.

“SO, CAIT, what are your plans for the Christmas pageant?” Soprano Ellen Morrow settled into her spot on the pew for Thursday night adult choir rehearsal. “We’re all anxious to get started—costumes take a few weeks, you know.”

Cait flipped the switch to turn on the electric organ. “Um…I don’t think—”

“My boys are bugging me to lend you some ewes for the stable,” Timothy Bellows added. Tall and thin, Timothy sang with a rich baritone voice on Sundays and ran a very successful farming operation during the week. “I’m thinking that would be a good idea. We never had live animals before.”

“Jimmy Martin’s got a donkey. And there are cows all over the place.” Ellen brushed back her long brown hair. “All we would need is a camel. Anybody have a camel?”

“Hugh Jones has a zebra. Will that do?” The banter continued, while Cait tried to decide how to redirect the rehearsal to music. Quickly, before someone asked a question she didn’t want to answer.

“Wait a minute, folks.” Timothy held up a hand and the choir quieted. “We’re getting ahead of ourselves here. We haven’t heard what Cait’s got to say.”

“I thought we’d start on some Christmas music,” Cait said. “But that’s as far as I’ve gone.”

Ellen nodded. “Music is good, but these kids need to learn their parts. Who have you picked for Mary and Joseph? And the announcing angel?”

“I haven’t chosen.”

“You had better get busy.” Regina Thorne, alto, gave her a stern look. “Anna always has these things worked out by now.”

“Anna lives here,” Timothy pointed out, with a grin at Cait. “Caitlyn isn’t quite so settled. But she’ll get into the swing of things. I’m sure her pageant will turn out just fine.”

The tension in the air relaxed, and the singers settled back into their chairs. Now they were all staring at her expectantly, waiting for some grand pronouncement.

“I don’t know that I’ll be directing the program,” Cait said, as confidently as she could manage. “I think the person who does should choose the parts and the costumes and—and all the rest.”

A stunned silence fell across the small choir.

“Why wouldn’t you?” Ellen said, finally.

“I—I expect Anna will have had her baby by then. So I’ll have to get back to work.”

Another lull in the conversation. “But she won’t be ready for all the work the pageant involves. Not with a new baby.” Regina shook her head. “You’ll just have to stay.”

Every member of the choir nodded, as if the issue were settled. Cait couldn’t fight them all, so she simply ignored the issue. “Open your hymn books to page 153. We’ll warm up with a few verses of ‘Silent Night.’”

The rehearsal proceeded smoothly after that, except for the suggestions that popped up with every new Christmas song—ideas about staging and casting and props, until Cait thought she would start pounding out a Bach fugue on the organ, just to keep everyone quiet.

Once they’d finished singing, Timothy joined Cait at the organ. “We’ve got money set aside in the church budget for the pageant, you know. You don’t have to put something together on a shoestring.” He winked at her. “As church treasurer, I might even be able to pad the expense account a little. Just tell me what you need to spend and I’ll see that the money’s there.”

“That’s good to hear,” she told him. “But—”

“No buts.” Timothy squeezed her shoulder and headed for the door. “You just leave it to me.”

Ellen was the last one to leave, standing by while Cait straightened her music. “You’re not really planning to leave Anna stranded on this pageant, are you?”

Cait slapped her notebook closed. “No, I don’t plan to leave her stranded. I plan to be sure there’s someone else to take on this project. You, for instance.” She gazed at the soprano as the obvious finally hit her. “You’d be perfect, and you already have some great ideas.”

“Oh, no. Not me.” Ellen backed away, shaking her head. She was a tall, heavy woman with an incredibly pure voice. “I’m no good at telling people what to do.”

“This won’t be like ordering them to—to clean up their rooms or take out the garbage. They’ll be glad to do whatever will make the pageant work.”

Again, Ellen shook her head. “I’ve got three kids under eight. My husband works up at the furniture factory and he’s not about to baby-sit when he comes home after a ten-hour day. My mama keeps the kids on Thursdays so I can come to choir, but she’d never stand for me putting in the kind of time this program will take. I just can’t.” Walking backward, she reached the door. “You’re the one to do it, Cait. You know that.” And then she was gone.

“No, I’m not,” Cait said to the empty church. Ben Tremaine would understand. Strange, how they were so completely different, and yet they shared this—this phobia, she supposed they should call it, about the holiday most people loved.

“Yulephobia,” she said aloud, walking to Anna’s car through the cold November night. She would have to remember to mention the word to Ben when she had a chance. With pleasure, she could imagine the slow widening of his grin, the dawning laugh in his eyes. She liked making Ben laugh.

Anna didn’t laugh the next morning when Cait recounted the conversation at choir practice. “I could have told you Ellen wouldn’t be able to take on the pageant. She’s got all the responsibility she can handle at home.”

“That’s what she said.” Cait studied her sister, noticing the lack of light in Anna’s brown eyes, the absence of color in her cheeks. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Kinda achy,” Anna admitted. “Tired. The baby moved around a lot last night, and I couldn’t sleep.”

“You should go back to bed. There’s nothing going on that I can’t handle—a few dishes, a little laundry.” She got up and closed her hands around Anna’s shoulders, easing her to her feet. “Go on. Git. I’ll wake you up for lunch.”

With a sigh, Anna headed for the bedroom. “Give me enough time to take a shower first. Peggy Shepherd’s coming by this afternoon. I ought to look halfway decent.” She glanced at the mirror in the hallway. “As if that’s really possible anymore.” Her slow, scuffing footsteps faded as she moved down the hall.

Cait got the chores done, then sat down with her guitar in the living room, still playing around with an arrangement for “Bobby McGee.” Why did the sweet, stirring words automatically bring Ben to mind?

Not much of challenge there—the man was seriously, fatally attractive. And off-limits to a rootless player like herself. One reason his assumptions had made her so angry on Sunday was that he was pretty much correct. The few close relationships she’d experienced hadn’t lasted long. Working in the entertainment industry pulled people apart, no matter how much they cared about each other. And in the end, she’d always chosen the job over the man. So she would just have to put these Ben Tremaine fantasies completely out of her head.

Determined, she strummed up a loud and rowdy version of “Hit the Road, Jack.”

Midmorning, David bolted into the house at his usual double-time speed. “Where’s Anna?”

Cait ran through an arpeggio. “She was tired this morning, so I sent her back to bed.”

He stopped dead in the center of the room. “Is she okay?”

“I think so. Just tired.” David always worried too much.

“Have you checked on her?”

His voice had taken on a harshness she’d never heard before. Startled, Cait stared up at her brother-in-law. “I figured she’d call if she needed something.” By the end of the sentence, she was talking to herself. David had stalked down the hallway to the bedroom, his heels like rocks pounding on the wood floor.

In a minute he was back. “She’s asleep.”

“That’s what I figured.” Cait smiled teasingly. But David didn’t smile back and she let hers fade. “What’s wrong? Why are you so tense?”

He dropped into the chair just behind him, put his bony elbows on his bony knees, then took off his glasses to rub his eyes. “I—I can’t take too much more of this.”

“Of what?”

“The worry. The waiting. Never knowing if the next hour, or the next minute, will bring on a full-scale emergency.” Shaking his head, he let his hands fall between his knees. “I’m so tired.”

She wasn’t sure what to say. “You always have to wait on babies. It’s the nature of the process, right?”

David didn’t answer, just stared at the floor, his head hanging low.

“It will be okay, David. You know it will.”

“Do I?” He looked up again, his eyes bleak. “It wasn’t okay the last two times. We were careful, and we prayed, and…the babies died anyway. There’s no more guarantee with this one. And she’s far enough along that we could lose Anna and the baby.”

“You have to believe that won’t happen.”

“You’re right. I do.” He laughed, but the sound was bitter. “I’m the minister. My faith’s strong, steady, one-hundred percent reliable. ‘Whatever my lot…it is well with my soul,’” he said, quoting an old hymn. Then he muttered a rude word, one Cait had never heard him use.

“Cait? Who’s here?” Anna came into the living room. “Oh, David—what are you doing home in the middle of the morning?” She looked a little more rested, but no less pale.

David cast a warning glance at Cait and got to his feet. “I needed a book I’d left at home to work on Sunday’s sermon.” He crossed to his wife and brushed a kiss over her forehead. “See you for lunch.” Before Anna could say anything else, he left the room, and then the house.

Anna sank onto the couch across from Cait. “What were you two talking about?”

“You, of course. You’re everybody’s favorite topic of conversation.” But Anna shouldn’t have to worry about David’s doubts, so Cait decided to gloss over those details. “I must get asked five times a day how you’re doing, and how much longer it will be and is there something somebody can help you with. You’ve got a lot of friends in this town.”

“They’re good people.” She lay back against the cushions. “That’s why I hate to disappoint them with the Christmas pageant. Maybe I can do it,” Anna said, sitting up again. “I don’t really have to stand up to direct or to plan. I can sit and think—”

“No, you don’t.” Cait put a hand on her sister’s knee. “You do not need the stress of trying to plan and worry. You have to stay calm and relaxed. I’ll find somebody to handle the program for you. I swear. I can’t do it myself, but I won’t leave you in the lurch.”

For the first time that day, Anna actually smiled.

Cait only hoped she could deliver on her promise.

MADDIE AND SHEP were much better on Friday, though they still didn’t go back to school. Ben was on his feet again, although not feeling a hundred percent, and he spent hours clearing away three-days’ worth of mess. When Peggy called to ask about the kids coming for dinner, he was sorely tempted, just so he could flake out for a solid night’s sleep.

But he owed his kids more than that. “I planned to call you and suggest we skip this week. The kids have had the flu—”

“What? Why didn’t you call me? Are they getting better? Have you taken them to see Dr. Hall?”

He smiled a little at her fierce concern. “I didn’t want you and Harry getting sick. And yes, they’re much better—enough that they spent the day running around the house whenever I had my back turned. I’ll probably let them outside tomorrow, or maybe Sunday.”

“Ben, I wish you wouldn’t be quite so independent. They’re our grandkids. We want to help.”

“I know. And when I really need help, you’ll be the first people I ask. But this was just the flu. No big deal.” Discounting his sleepless nights, his foggy, bumbling days. “Anyway, I don’t think we’ll go out tonight. But Sunday everything should be back to normal.” He hoped.

“Well, then, y’all will come to lunch on Sunday so I can fatten you up again.”

“That sounds great. How’s your week been? This cold weather must’ve killed off the last of your garden.”

“It did. We need to clean up all the dead stuff. And I guess there’s going to be plenty of time for that now.” Peggy hesitated. “Harry’s been asked to take early retirement.”

“Just out of the blue?”

“Pretty much. Today is his last day.”

“Jeez…Harry loved his work. Is he okay?”

“He says so. He’s been doing financial calculations every night this week, budgeting, projecting, showing me how our money will work and what we’ll be living on. It’s all very well set up.”

“It would be. Harry’s great with numbers—the IRS should keep records as good as his. So you think he’ll make the transition without too much trouble?”

“I think he has projects lined up to keep him busy for a couple of years. He wants to enlarge the vegetable garden, spruce up the bathrooms—I’ve already bought the paint and paper—and at least a dozen other jobs.”

“That sounds promising.”

“I suppose.” She sighed. “I would have thought he would be more upset—he’s worked at that plant since he was sixteen, full-time since he left the army. But I won’t borrow trouble. You take care of yourself, now. And please call if you need anything.”

“I will. I promise.”

Ben punched off the phone, wishing his mood could be improved with a few kind words. Unfortunately, the one person he’d like to hear those words from was a lady who wasn’t going to be around for long. So it wouldn’t do anyone any good for them to get too close.

Still, when she showed up at his door Saturday morning, he couldn’t deny he was glad to see her.

“Chicken soup,” Cait said, holding up a jar. “It’s store-bought, but it ought to be good for something. Books,” she gestured to her other arm, filled with a stack of colorful paperbacks. “Guaranteed to occupy ten-and six-year olds for at least a couple of hours while their dad grabs a nap.”

“Cait.” He shook his head, laughing. “You didn’t have to do this. What about Anna?”

“David is with Anna. And your poor children need to see someone besides their haggard dad this week. Now, do I get to come in?” She wore a sweater the color of emeralds over black jeans, both snug enough to jump-start a man’s fantasies.

Fortunately for Ben’s imagination, Maddie dashed into the living room, followed by Shep. “Miss Caitlyn!” Ben caught her shoulders just before she grabbed Cait around the legs. “I’m so glad to see you!”

“I’m glad to see you so bright-eyed. And Shep’s looking pretty tough for a guy who’s had the flu. Didn’t let it get you down, did you?”

To Ben’s surprise, Shep shook his head. He rarely responded to direct questions from anyone other than his dad and, sometimes, Peggy.

“Is that soup?” Maddie stared at the jar.

“Chicken soup. Why don’t we go into the kitchen and warm it up?”

The three of them swept through the house, leaving Ben to close the front door. Somehow the presence of another adult in the house made him realize suddenly how ill he really felt. Even though the other person was Cait, and there were at least five good reasons he shouldn’t depend on her, he had an overwhelming desire to go to bed. Alone.

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