His Mistletoe Family. Ruth Herne Logan

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СКАЧАТЬ filled her plate, the scents and sounds of a family Thanksgiving surrounding her, a big-screen TV perched on a table at the far end of the hall covering the day’s football offerings while people gathered at tables eating, chatting, laughing.

      If she’d wished for a perfect Thanksgiving, this would be it.

      The fact that this was as close to family as she could possibly get just made that admission more sad.

      * * *

      Pretty yellow hair?

      And then some, thought Colonel Brett Stanton as he commandeered cleanup in the hall kitchen, the image of Haley’s long, curly blond hair worth remembering.

      He shouldered his way through a nest of female busybodies who’d gathered out of sight to wonder about the blonde and the two boys.

      Brett didn’t wonder. He knew. He’d seen the longing right off. The hunger. The fear and uncertainty clouding their day. He might not know their story, but he knew the wistful look of wanting, wishing, hoping to have or be a family.

      Sadness gripped from within, a clear-cut knife strike, the mistakes of the past wrangling a grip on the future.

      “Aren’t they darling?” LuAnn hurried up beside him, two plates in hand. She handed them off to one of the chatterbox women and grasped Brett’s arm. “Thank you for being so nice to them. I’m sure Haley’s a little overwhelmed at the moment—”

      Brett would have gone straight to shell shock, but he let the understatement pass.

      “And this couldn’t happen at a worse time...”

      Five sets of ears attempted nonchalance as they keened closer like covert agents on an info-gathering mission.

      “But I know she’ll be fine. Just fine. And I’m so glad she saw our sign flashing out front. That’s what drew them in, you know.” LuAnn gave his arm a quick hug. “Brett, thank you for letting us use the sign today.”

      She bustled back out, leaving the women and Brett to fill in the blanks. He finished scrubbing the second big roaster and handed it off to Kate McGee for drying. The elderly woman accepted it and offered, “I don’t know about the rest of you, but it did my heart good to see that little crew come walking in, all tired and bedraggled.”

      “Ah. A Kate-ism looms, no doubt.” Maude McGinnity flashed Brett a grin he couldn’t help but return.

      “Maude, you felt it, too,” Kate insisted. “I saw it in your face, you old bird. You got all moony and goofy the minute you laid eyes on them boys.”

      “I did not.”

      “Did, too, and I know why,” Kate continued. “They were travelers, finding their way home. Needing food. Lodging. So nice and Christmassy.”

      “Oh, my land.” Maude shook her head, shooed the three less-productive women out of the kitchen and made a skeptical face as she layered pots and pans in the kitchen cupboards just so. “You do go on, Kate. Whereas I’d have said they’re hungry, most places are closed and we were mighty handy. What do you say, Brett?”

      Brett didn’t make it through twenty-five years of this man’s army by being slow on the take. Uh-uh. He knew these women, knew they’d been watching his initial exchange with the blonde and the boys and there was no getting by the hawkeyes of the Jamison Hose Company’s Ladies’ Auxiliary.

      Time to employ diversionary tactics and pretend the waiflike family hadn’t affected him. “The little guy’s about the same age as your great-grandson, isn’t he, Kate?”

      “Looks to be.”

      “How’s Aiden doing?”

      “Adorable! Just adorable!” Kate’s face broadened with laughter, family pride deepening each and every wrinkle in her sweet, old face.

      Maude sent Brett a look, half-grudging, half-complimentary, recognizing his ploy. He returned it with a wink, unstoppered the deep commercial-sized sink and moved to the back door. “I’m going to check cleanup outside before it gets too dark.”

      “Thank you, Brett.”

      He tipped the sludge-green brim of his army cap her way before stepping through the back door.

      Bleak November greeted him. Dank. Dark. Gloomy. Gray. Fall had been vibrant with color, but the leaves were pretty much gone now. Here and there a larch tree stood in golden splendor, painting points of light along the Allegany hillsides, their amber needles lingering until late in the season.

      November. A month of remembrance for so many. Veteran’s Day... Thanksgiving...

      The chilly, dull days afforded too much thinking time, Brett determined. The late-autumn month offered too many moments to bow his head and wish he’d done things differently. But it was too late now.

      “Brett, you need help out here?” Charlie Simmons ambled his way, a snug knit cap covering his balding head. LuAnn’s touch, for sure. “Kate said you were looking to make sure nothing got left undone.”

      God bless Kate McGee because they all knew he was more likely escaping too many people. Too much interaction. Too much of a good thing that slipped, quicksilver, through his hands. “Just figured I’d catch a breath and give the women some space in the kitchen.”

      “I hear ya.” Charlie flashed him a knowing smile before he settled his gaze along the now-diminished row of cars in the parking lot. “We did good today.”

      Charlie’s comment embraced more than food. He meant they’d opened doors for folks who might never take a handout, but a party, sponsored by the local firemen and their wives?

      That took the sting out of neediness and put it in a whole new light.

      When I was hungry, you gave me to eat...

      Brett had done that often while deployed. He’d fed locals, helped the downtrodden, guided the weary, all while wearing the uniform of the country he loved. But he’d paid a price he’d never considered, and that realization bit to the core of his being. If only... His wandering thoughts ground to a halt when a warm voice drew his attention to the entrance door.

      The blonde...

      Haley, he corrected himself internally.

      Stepped through the door, her generous smile a flash of sun in a time of rain. The boys followed, their faces more relaxed and somewhat sleepy.

      “Haley!” LuAnn followed with Maude McGinnity. Both women bore bags of covered food dishes, the aluminum foil squeaking protest as they moved. “We need a home for some of these leftovers and you and the boys are just the ticket!”

      Just the ticket?

      The Mayberry-type saying fit the day, the occasion, the people and Jamison, New York, the picturesque little town nestled in the heart of Allegany County.

      Haley turned. Surprise and pleasure brightened her profile. She didn’t wave off the food or pretend not to need it. She helped LuAnn snug the packaged plates between tightly wedged items in the sporty red car, then hugged both women while the boys attempted to fasten СКАЧАТЬ