Home In Time For Christmas. Heather Graham
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seriously more than just daft. There was a dignity to the tone of his voice, and a certain sincerity in too many of his words. Maybe she had hit him on the head, and he believed everything that he was saying to her.
“And it’s…Christmastide?” he asked.
“Nearly. At the end of the week.”
He nodded. “Rose petals.”
“What?”
He half smiled, glancing over at her. “Do you believe in magic? ”
“No.”
“Neither did I.”
“Look, I really don’t know what you’re talking about. But… I don’t want to have to take you to the police. You may be hurt. But my mom was a nurse. She retired recently but she can take a look at you. I mean, seriously, if I have injured you, I’d want to pay the bills. But…wow, I don’t know. You should really go to a hospital—”
“Please, no. I’m not injured.”
She should dump him by the side of the road then.
It occurred to her that while Mark would order her to do that kind of thing, her brother would never consider such an action.
Where did she stand herself?
“So, I’m going to take you home with me. I don’t know who you are, if you’re crazy, or whether you sustained a blow to the head. I’m going to have faith that you’re not a dangerous maniac.”
“I’m not a dangerous maniac, I swear.”
“God help me, I’m going to believe you. But there are a couple of things you’re going to have to get straight first,” she said firmly.
“Honestly, I’m just trying to get home,” he assured her.
“So where is home?”
“Gloucester,” he said.
“Fine. I can just drop you off.”
“I have to find out where,” he told her. “And I’m not so sure I can get there by…car.”
“Great. You can walk, skip or jump, once you’ve gotten it figured out,” she said. “But until then, you’re a friend of mine. We met at college.”
“You went to college?” he asked her, fascinated.
“Yes, I went to college,” she said flatly. “So—”
“Where?”
“Boston College. That’s where we met.”
“Boston College,” he repeated.
“Will you listen, please? This is important.”
“Yes, yes, of course. Whatever you wish.”
“We’ll make you a…an English lit major. And your tremendous interest in local history and lore made you go to work for one of the tour companies. That’s why you’re still dressed up à la General George.”
“Dressed up?”
This was ridiculously difficult. “You are wearing old-fashioned clothing. It’s no matter, I can rummage through my brother’s things, and my brother is the type who would literally give anyone the shirt off his back, so we’re fine on that. The traffic was horrendous, I was desperate to get headed north, so I wouldn’t let you go back for your things.”
He was staring straight ahead. She realized that she had come around the curve that led to her house. She was about to take the turn onto the driveway.
“Jake, are you listening to me?” she demanded, trying to slow the car without doing any more skidding.
“My God,” he breathed.
“What?”
The lights.
Of course, it had to be the lights.
Her mother definitely got carried away with lights. The house looked like a giant birthday cake with candles in a multitude of colors. There were reindeer on the lawn—fashioned in wire and covered in lights as well—that burned brilliantly, as well.
Even the old oaks laden in their snow blankets seemed to be glistening. Ablaze.
It was a warm house, a welcoming house. It….
“It’s my home,” Jake said. “It’s my house. Where I live.”
Chapter Two
Okay, that was all she needed.
The mental-man thought that her house was his.
She inhaled deeply. “Okay, okay, I hit you on the head really hard. But you can’t go in there telling my folks that this is your house.”
He was staring at the lights. It was as if he had never seen such a vision.
Well, to be truthful, not many people had. Her folks did get carried away.
“Jake.”
“Um, yes! Sorry.”
He looked at her again. His eyes gave the impression that he was entirely sane, completely honest, and giving her his steadfast attention. She felt a little start. Something that tightened and trembled within her.
Why did he have to be a madman?
They were striking eyes. They made him something other than just a handsome man. They made him real. Deep and hazel, and seeing her, really seeing her.
“Jake, whatever happened before in your fantasy world, trust me. My folks own this home. They paid off the mortgage several years ago. They worked hard, they love it—and they own it.”
“Of course.”
“You’re not ready for this,” she said worriedly.
He had turned to stare at all the lights again in pure wonder. “How do the lights work?” he marveled.
“Electricity. Your buddy, Ben Franklin, laid all the foundations. Hundreds of years later, I think Thomas Edison got it all really going, and hey, now we’re in the age of real technology—you cannot stare at everything like a kid in a candy store!“
He looked at her. “I’m sorry. But it’s just wonderful. The colors, the brilliance! So very, very beautiful. Ben always was a genius.”
“Yes, of course. There have been a few improvements,” she said dryly. Oh, this was going to be a disaster. She leaned her head on the steering wheel and groaned. “What am I going to do?”
He waited. “My dear young woman, it will be all right.” He smiled.
She gave him a fierce stare. “Listen, we can’t tell my family the truth or they will take you to the nearest hospital. Let’s say we know each other for now—until I can figure out what to do. Soo… We met at college. You’re an historian, okay? You dress up and give people tours.”
“All right. Tours of what?” he inquired.
“Um—Boston. You work for Boston Tours, Incorporated. All right?”
“Boston Tours, Incorporated. Yes, I understand.”
He still stared at her.
She shook her head. “Just follow my lead. And don’t gape at anything that’s—that’s not familiar to you in your, um, current state of mind.”
He smiled, but his eyes were grave, as was his tone. “You must understand. I was hanged during the Revolution.”
“Sure.”
He looked at the house with the Christmas lights blazing and then looked back at her, that odd and endearing smile teasing his lips once again. “You need to learn