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A Texas Holiday Miracle. Linda Warren
Читать онлайн.Название A Texas Holiday Miracle
Год выпуска 0
isbn 9781472071569
Автор произведения Linda Warren
Серия Mills & Boon American Romance
Издательство HarperCollins
Was he doing the right thing? Then why did he feel as if he was in a deep dark hole without any chance for survival?
As she left, he wondered what had just happened. He’d talked so much in the past few minutes that his throat burned. And he realized how much he missed talking. How he missed a lot of things. Maybe there was a light at the end of his long dark tunnel. A green light.
* * *
LACEY STOOD ON her patio and took a deep breath. She needed it to calm her emotions before she went into the house. Gabe’s pain touched her heart. She feared this might be the last straw for him. But she would do everything she could to help him. She was just glad he was in a receptive mood, because he didn’t need to go through this alone.
She knew about loneliness, death, suffering and the unimaginable pain that went along with them. Maybe they could find solace together. She was still reeling from him talking to her. He had a deep, strong voice, and she could picture him in a courtroom. There wasn’t much on this earth he couldn’t handle, she imagined, except the death of his son.
Shivering, she wrapped her arms around her waist. Soon there had to be some relief for Gabe. He couldn’t continue to live the way he had been, and the fact that he’d actually confided in her gave her hope. She wiped away an errant tear.
Now she had another problem. How was she going to tell Emma about Pepper? Once again, death was going to derail them for a short time. It was too much, though. Too much for a six-year-old girl to handle. Too much for a twenty-eight-year-old woman to handle. And definitely too much for the man next door to handle.
She opened the door and went inside. Emma sat at the table, drawing.
Emma lifted her head. “Look. I drew a picture of Pepper.”
Lacey removed her jacket and stared at the black dog on the paper with the blue sky, green grass and tall trees. A happy scene.
How was she going to tell Emma?
“Very nice.”
“Did you talk to Mr. Gabe?”
“Yes, and—”
The doorbell rang, interrupting her. She hurried to answer it, glad for the reprieve. Bradley Wilson and his son Brad stood on the doorstep.
“Hi, Lacey,” Bradley said. “My son has something to say to Emma.”
Emma ran into the room. Lacey caught her before she could do anything stupid. “Brad has come to see you.”
“I don’t want to see him,” Emma replied. “I want to hit him.”
Bradley poked his son.
“Emma, I’m sorry I ruined your Christmas,” Brad said, as if he’d memorized the words or as if someone had quoted them to him.
Emma glared at him and Lacey bent and whispered in her ear, “Say thank-you for the apology.”
Now Emma glared at her. Lacey lifted an eyebrow and Emma repeated the words. At the end she tacked on, “I still want to hit you.”
“Don’t worry, Emma,” Bradley said. “Brad has asked Santa for an Xbox, and since he believes there is no Santa and has told this to other children, he won’t be getting an Xbox.”
“Dad!” Brad wailed.
Bradley looked at Lacey. “I’m really sorry about this.”
“Thank you, and thanks for the apology.”
They walked off, and Lacey and Emma went into the living room. “That was nice of Brad.”
“He’s a big baby.”
“Emma...”
“It’s true, Lacey. He’s crying like a baby ’cause he’s not gonna get an Xbox.”
Lacey sat on the sofa, flipping through the imaginary book in her head. “Let’s talk about belief.”
Emma hopped up beside her. “Why?”
“Because belief can be a powerful thing. If you believe strong enough, long enough, wonderful things can happen.”
“Like maybe there really is a Santa.”
Lacey tucked a stray curl behind Emma’s ear. “Could be. All you have to do is believe.”
“You’re getting really weird, Lacey.”
Lacey kissed the tip of Emma’s nose. “Just believe, that’s all you have to do.”
“I’ll try. But I know the truth and I can’t forget it.”
Lacey pulled Emma onto her lap, knowing they had to talk about something much more important. She had to tell Emma about Pepper.
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