His Mistletoe Family. Ruth Logan Herne
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tiny smile quirked the man’s left cheek, just enough to show amusement tempered with respect, book-end qualities that few men in Haley’s age range possessed.
This man had both and more, his take-charge attitude calming the confusion within her without speaking a word. He squatted to the boys’ level, but didn’t invade their space. His sensitivity loosened their grip on Haley’s hands, her arms, as if willing to meet the big guy halfway. A neat trick, all told.
“You hungry, boys?”
“Yes.” Todd nodded, emphatic.
“Starving.” Tyler sent a bullish look Haley’s way. “She drove all day and didn’t want to stop anyplace.”
“Ah.” The man appeared to weigh Tyler’s words. “Traveling on a holiday can be tough. Stores close early. Some restaurants don’t open at all.”
“Really?” Tyler poked his head closer to the man, then hooked a thumb back to Haley. “That’s what she said, but I figured she was making it up.”
The man’s gaze traveled up, and not all that quickly, as if appreciating the journey. Deep hazel eyes locked and held her attention long enough to make her heart trip faster. “Does she have a name?”
“Aunt Haley.” Tyler said the words with more than a little distrust.
“She’s pwetty.” Todd leaned closer to the man, too, following his brother’s lead. “And I like her yellow hair.”
“It’s drop-dead gorgeous,” the man agreed easily. He spiked that crooked smile up to Haley and had no idea what his gentle manner was doing to her. He winked at her, stood, reached for the boys’ hands, and to Haley’s surprise, they moved forward. “You guys ready to have Thanksgiving dinner with us?”
“Yes!”
“I am.” Tyler nodded, firm, obviously trying to contain his excitement. His reaction told Haley he was accustomed to disappointment. Her heart broke because she knew that feeling all too well.
“Haley? Haley, is that you?”
The little woman who helped run the mom-and-pop convenience store at the interstate junction bustled out from the kitchen and hurried their way. She flapped her apron and grinned, her high-wattage smile enough to make everything seem almost all right. “LuAnn.”
“And Charlie’s here, too,” the older woman fussed, her silver hair dancing sparks from the fluorescent lights above. “He’s going to be so excited to see you, dear, but who are your friends?” LuAnn Simmons bent low and stuck out a hand, but Haley noticed she handled the boys with deference, like the man had done, hanging back, not encroaching their space.
“My nephews,” Haley explained.
The man palmed Tyler’s head in a sweet gesture, but he moved back as LuAnn stormed in. He didn’t smile but his eyes grazed Haley, LuAnn and the boys. He dipped his chin slightly, noting the white-haired woman. “You’re in good hands. No one goes hungry with Charlie and LuAnn around.”
Haley knew that. She was a constant customer at their little store, its proximity to her new business venture making the Crossroads Mini-Mart a perfect spot for quick food. Consumed with building a new shopping cooperative just across the road, quick and easy food had become a mainstay in her life.
LuAnn’s head bobbed, excited. “‘When I was hungry, you gave me to eat. When I was thirsty, you gave me to drink.’”
The man’s face darkened as if a shade had been pulled. He moved back to the kitchen area while LuAnn steered the boys to the still-laden buffet.
Todd cringed back, hesitating, but his nose twitched as if the smell of food broke an unseen barrier. “This is Todd, LuAnn.”
“Todd.” He didn’t take LuAnn’s hand and she didn’t force the issue. She sent him a bright smile, and her cheerful brown eyes made Haley feel less worried and alone. Amazing what a smile can do.
And a half smile, she noted as the tall man rejoined volunteers in the kitchen preparation area.
“And this is Tyler. He’s five.”
Tyler extended his hand to LuAnn. Haley sent him a smile of encouragement. “Thank you, Tyler. LuAnn is my friend. She and I work at stores near each other.”
“Oh.” Tyler tried to look polite, then failed as his eyes darted to the buffet table. “Can we eat now?”
“You most certainly can.” LuAnn drew him forward. She picked up a sturdy stoneware plate and waved a hand. “I know you’re big enough to pick out your own food, Tyler, but this table’s a little high. I think if I hold your plate and you tell me every little thing you want on it, we’d make a good team. What do you say?” She angled a birdlike glance his way. “May I be your partner?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Haley owed the older woman for handling Tyler so easily. She wouldn’t have had a clue. She followed LuAnn’s example, showing Todd the food, letting him choose as he held the black cat snug beneath his arm, unconcerned when he wanted twelve black olives because LuAnn hadn’t protested when Tyler asked for extra gherkins and stuffing. By the time they got the boy’s meat cut and grace said, LuAnn took a place alongside the boys and between a dozen gathered folks and waved Haley away. “Go. Fill your plate. I’ve got this covered.” She flashed a smile at the boys, watching as Todd struggled with the height of the table and the plate.
“Try this, LuAnn.”
The warm rumble of the man’s voice pulled Haley’s attention away from food. She would have thought that feat impossible at the moment, but something in that tone...
With one arm he hiked Todd up, then slipped a thick old-time phone book beneath Todd’s bottom. He resettled Todd onto his new raised “seat,” and the better vantage point made the little boy shine with delight. He peeked up at the man and offered a dimpled grin and a quick salute.
The man’s smile faded.
Pain stilled his jaw. Shadowed his eyes.
LuAnn sent him a motherly look of concern, but said nothing.
He stepped back, turned and moved off to the kitchen again, in the crowd but not of it, Haley was sure on that.
LuAnn shoulder-nudged Haley’s leg. “You. Food. Go.”
Haley 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