A Cold Creek Christmas Story. RaeAnne Thayne

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СКАЧАТЬ a handful and help me. It will be fun.”

      She shook her head and continued staring out at the falling snow.

      Since the shooting, these moods had come over her out of nowhere. She would seem to be handling things fine and then a few moments later would become fearful, withdrawn and just want him to leave her alone.

      The counselor she had seen regularly assured him it was a natural result of the trauma Olivia had endured. He hated that each step in her recovery—physical and emotional—had become such a struggle for her.

      After hanging a few more strands, he finally gave up. What was the point when she didn’t seem inclined to help him, especially since he’d never much liked tinsel on trees anyway?

      His father hadn’t, either, he remembered. He had a stray memory of one of his parents’ epic fights over it one year. Diane had loved tinsel, naturally. Anything with glitz had been right down her alley. Her favorite nights of the year had been red carpet events, either for her own movie premieres or those of her friends.

      His father, on the other hand, had thought tinsel was stupid and only made a mess.

      One night when he was about seven or eight, a few years before they’d finally divorced, his mother had spent hours hanging pink tinsel on their tree over his father’s objections, carefully arranging each piece over a bough.

      When they’d woken up, the tinsel had been mysteriously gone. As it turned out, Tom had arisen hours before anyone else and had pulled off every last shiny strand.

      After a dramatic screaming fight—all on his mother’s side—she had stormed out of their Bel Air house and hadn’t been back for several days, as he recalled.

      Ah, memories.

      He pushed away the bitterness of his past and turned back to his daughter. “If you don’t want to hang any more tinsel, I guess we’re done. Do you want to do the honors and turn out the lights so we can take a look at it?”

      She didn’t answer him, her gaze suddenly focused on something through the window.

      “Someone’s coming,” Olivia announced, her voice tight. She jumped up from the window seat. “I’m going to my room.”

      He was never sure which she disliked more: large, unruly crowds or unexpected visitors showing up at the door. Nor was he certain she would ever be able to move past either fear.

      With effort he forced his voice to be calm and comforting. “There’s no reason to go to your room. Everything is fine. I’m right here. You’re okay.”

      She darted longing little glances down the hall to the relative safety of her bedroom, but to her credit she sat down again in the window seat. When the doorbell rang through the house, Flynn didn’t miss her instinctive flinch or the tense set of her shoulders.

      He hoped whoever it was had a darn good excuse for showing up out of the blue like this and frightening his little girl half to death.

      To his shock, the pretty librarian and author stood on the porch with a bag in her hand and a black-and-brown dog at the end of a leash. In the glow from the porch light he could see her nose and cheeks were pink from the cold, and those long, luscious dark curls were tucked under a beanie. She also wasn’t wearing her glasses. Without the thick dark frames, her eyes were a lovely green.

      “Hello.” She gave him a fleeting, tentative smile that appeared and disappeared as quickly as a little bird hunting for berries on a winter-bare shrub.

      “Celeste. Ms. Nichols. Hello.”

      She gave him another of those brief smiles, then tried to look behind him to where Olivia had approached. At least his daughter now looked more surprised and delighted than fearful.

      “And hello, Miss Olivia,” the librarian said. “How are you tonight?”

      Her voice was soft, calm, with a gentleness he couldn’t help but appreciate.

      “Hi. I’m fine, thank you,” she said shyly. “Is that your dog?”

      Celeste smiled as the dog sniffed at Olivia’s feet. “This is Linus. He’s a Yorkshire terrier and his best friend is a black cat named Lucy.”

      “Like in Charlie Brown’s Christmas!” She looked delighted at making the connection.

      “Just like that, except Linus and Lucy are brother and sister. My Linus and Lucy are just friends.”

      Olivia slanted her head to look closer at the little dog. “Will he bite?”

      Celeste smiled. “He’s a very sweet dog and loves everybody, but especially blonde girls with pretty red sweaters.”

      Olivia giggled at this, and after another moment during which she gathered her courage, she held out her hand. The little furball licked it three times in quick succession, which earned another giggle from his daughter.

      “Hi, Linus,” she said in a soft voice. “Hi. I’m Olivia.”

      The dog wagged his tail but didn’t bark, which Flynn had to appreciate given how skittish Olivia had been all evening.

      She knelt down and started petting the dog—using her injured left arm, he saw with great surprise.

      “He likes me!” Olivia exclaimed after a moment, her features alight with a pleasure and excitement he hadn’t seen in a long time.

      “Of course he does.” Celeste smiled down at her with a soft light in her eyes that touched something deep inside him.

      “I’m sorry to just drop in like this, but I couldn’t help thinking tonight about what you told me earlier, how the Sparkle book helped you in the hospital.”

      “It’s my favorite book. I still read it all the time.”

      “I’m so happy to hear that. I told my sister, who drew all the pictures, and she was happy, too. We wanted to give you something.”

      “Is it for my birthday in three days? I’m going to be seven years old.”

      “I had no idea it was your birthday in three days!” Celeste exclaimed. “We can certainly consider this an early birthday present. That would be perfect!”

      She reached into the bag and pulled out a small stuffed animal.

      “That’s Sparkle from the book!” Olivia rose to see it more closely.

      “That’s right. My sister made this while she was drawing the pictures for the first Sparkle book last Christmas. We have just a few of them left over from the original hundred or so she made, and I wondered if you might like one.”

      Olivia’s eyes went huge. “Really? I can keep it?”

      “If you want to.”

      “Oh, I do!” Almost warily, she reached for the stuffed animal Celeste held out. When it was in her hands, she hugged it to her chest as if afraid someone would yank it away.

      For just a moment she looked like any other СКАЧАТЬ