Midwives' Christmas Miracles: A Touch of Christmas Magic / Playboy Doc's Mistletoe Kiss / Her Doctor's Christmas Proposal. Scarlet Wilson
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in the front room. She didn’t want Jacob to see the tree from the street. She wanted him to come through the front door and get the full effect.
A thick green and red garland was wound up the banister on the stairs. Another, set with red twinkling lights, was adorning the mantelpiece in the front room. The fire was burning in the hearth and she’d switched off the main lights so only the twinkling lights and flickering flames warmed the room.
Freya wound her hands around Bonnie’s neck. ‘It’s so beautiful, isn’t it, Mummy?’
‘Yes, honey, it is.’
She so wanted Christmas to be perfect for her daughter. It was beginning to look as if they wouldn’t have found somewhere else to stay by then. Her ex hadn’t even tried to make contact with his daughter—not even once—since they’d moved down here.
It was no real surprise. He hadn’t bothered when they’d stayed in the same town. But she was worried about the effect on her little girl. How must it feel for Freya to know her daddy didn’t love her? Not the way he should.
They finished unpacking the last of the deliveries. A carved wooden nativity scene that Freya helped set out on one of the side tables. Everything really did look perfect.
She heard a car door slam outside and Freya ran and peeked under the blinds. ‘Jacob’s coming. He’s coming, Mummy.’ She jumped up and down on the spot clapping her hands.
Bonnie couldn’t wipe the smile off her face. She stood in the corridor, just at the entrance to the front room—waiting for him to appear.
It only took a few seconds. He walked through the front door, dropping his case and hanging his jacket on the coat stand.
‘Hey, Jacob.’ She smiled.
He smiled back. ‘Hey, yourself,’ then started to frown. He gave a little start, his eyes fixed on the banister behind her.
‘We’ve got a surprise,’ yelled Freya, running through the door.
Bonnie’s skin prickled, her hairs standing on end. He didn’t look happy. He didn’t look anything like happy. Her blood felt as if it were running cold.
All of a sudden she got the feeling that she’d done something very wrong.
Jacob strode past her and into the front room, virtually ignoring Freya.
His face fell as soon as he walked into the middle of the floor, holding his hands out as he spun around, taking in the full effect of the room. She loved it. It was beautiful and really captured the spirit of Christmas with the flickering flames and twinkling festive lights.
Anyone would love it.
Anyone but Jacob, that was.
He looked as if he’d just been sat down in his worst possible nightmare. He walked over to the fireplace and tugged harshly on the beautiful green and red garland, pulling part of it free. ‘What on earth have you done?’ His voice was incredulous. ‘Tell me you’re joking. You’ve done this everywhere? This?’
He stared at the greenery in his hand, then dropped it to the floor. Freya’s mouth was hanging open. She was stunned—as was Bonnie—but, what was more, she looked a little frightened.
He walked over and grabbed the tree, knocking some of the carefully hung red and green ornaments to the floor, one of them breaking with a crash. ‘Who on earth said you could do this? What made you think you could decorate my house without my permission?’ In a surge of anger he pushed the tree to the floor, scattering the decorations everywhere and making the lights flicker dangerously.
He was furious. Really furious. So angry he was trembling. Bonnie had never, ever seen Jacob like this. And although she was bewildered, she wasn’t afraid; in fact, she was angry. But he wasn’t finished. He leaned over the fallen Christmas tree and started yanking the tinsel from it. The harshness of his movements meant the sitting-room air and floor quickly filled with tiny ripped-off strands of multicoloured tinsel all around them. ‘I hate this. I have to tolerate this stuff everywhere else—but not in my house!’
She walked over and put her arm around Freya’s shoulder. ‘What is wrong with you, Jacob? We wanted to do something nice for you—to surprise you.’
But it was almost as if he hadn’t heard her. He was still shaking his head at the twinkling lights. He crossed the room and flicked the switch on one of the plugs, plunging that part of the room into darkness.
Almost as dark as your mood was her fleeting thought as he turned on her again.
‘How dare you do this? Didn’t I tell you I don’t celebrate Christmas? I don’t even like Christmas.’ The words were said with such venom she actually found herself pulling back a little. But it only lasted a second. Because after that the red mist started to descend.
All the hours of work and preparation. The build-up of excitement between her and Freya all day. And he was ruining it all with some angry words and some hand movements. Destroying all their hard work.
She dropped her arm from around Freya’s shoulder and stepped right up to his face. ‘Oh, I get that. I get that you don’t like Christmas. Enough, Jacob!’ she snapped. ‘You’ve made your point. You don’t like Christmas. Well, pardon me for not being a mind reader. And pardon me, and my daughter, for trying to do something to say thank you for letting us stay. We won’t make that mistake again!’
She turned at the sound of a little sob behind her and dropped to her knees, wrapping her arms around Freya’s little body. She would kill him. She would kill him with her bare hands for his pathetic overreaction.
Jacob flinched. It was as if reality had just slapped him on the forehead and he realised the impact his reactions had had on Freya. For the tiniest second he seemed to hesitate, but Bonnie glared at him, furious with him for upsetting her daughter, and he spun on his heel and stalked back along the corridor, slamming the front door behind him.
The blood was pounding in her ears. She’d never been so angry with someone—not even her pathetic husband when she’d found him in bed with her so-called friend. Freya’s shoulders were shaking and her head was buried into the nape of Bonnie’s neck.
Over Christmas decorations? Really?
She didn’t care that this was his house. She didn’t care that on every other occasion Jacob had been a kind and hospitable housemate. This blew everything else out of the water.
He’d upset her daughter.
Jacob Layton was about to find out that hell hath no fury like an angry mother.
* * *
‘Isn’t it about time you went home?’
He lifted his head from the bar and the barman gestured his head towards the clock. The guy obviously wanted to close up.
The old guy shrugged. ‘Can’t be that bad.’
Jacob picked up the now-warm remnants of beer and washed them down. ‘You have no idea.’
He looked out through the murky window. It had started to snow. He didn’t even have a jacket. In his haste to leave the house he hadn’t stopped to pick one up.
How far had he walked? He had no idea. He’d never even been in this pub before. Let alone nearly fallen asleep at the bar.
He gave the barman a little nod and shivered as he walked out of the door and the wind whistled around his thin jumper. With his suit trousers and business shoes it was hardly winter gear. But he hadn’t stopped to think about much before he left.
That was the trouble. He couldn’t think. He’d taken one look at all those Christmas decorations and a whole host of unwanted memories had come flooding back.
It was ridiculous. It was pathetic. He’d spent every year of his life around Christmas decorations.
But not in his space. Not in his home. In other places,