The Christmas Stranger

Sympathy speared his chest along with pain, honed razorsharp by his own losses. “I haven’t given up hope that his murderer will be caught one day, but I’m slowly coming to terms with the fact that we may never know what really happened. The best the police can figure is he was killed by a mugger who stole his shoes, his wallet and his watch.”

Matt’s gut tightened.

Where did you get that watch?

Flipping his wrist, he extended his arm. “A watch like this one, I take it.”

She glanced up from stirring their dinner, and the color drained from her sculpted cheeks. “I—well, yes.”

Without hesitation, he unfastened the clasp and turned the timepiece over, offering it to Holly. “My wife inscribed mine. You can look if you want.”

She frowned and shook her head. “No, I…I believe you. You don’t have to prove anything to me.”

He sighed and squeezed his wife’s gift in his fist. “I just wanted to alleviate any doubt you had.”

Holly bit her bottom lip and, after a brief hesitation, took the watch from him. “To Matt with all my love, Jill,” she read aloud. She turned the watch over and stared at it with moisture puddling in her eyes. “It’s lovely. I know how much you must treasure it.”

He nodded as she handed the timepiece back. “It’s very important to me.”

Primarily as a reminder to him of how he’d failed Jill.

How he’d neglected her because of his work. How he’d taken her for granted. How he’d let her slip into a deep depression without him noticing.

Pushing down the drumbeat of guilt, he rebuckled the strap and inhaled the peppery tomato scent of their dinner. “Dinner smells delicious. What can I do?”

She hitched her head toward the cabinets. “Spoons are in that drawer, by the refrigerator. Everything else is ready, I think. I’ll serve.”

Matt let his gaze roam as he fetched spoons to the table. The airy yellow curtains and cheerful floral wallpaper matched his impressions of Holly. The Big Bird clock and Snoopy cookie jar added a touch of whimsy that left him curious to learn more about the active inner child Holly boasted about. The collection of drawings taped to the refrigerator touched a raw spot inside him, reminding him how much he missed his own children. Not having his children around as they grew up was the hardest thing to accept about his current situation.

But he would change his circumstances, reclaim his children and get his life back on track. Or die trying.

“So you’re a teacher.” Matt paused between bites of chili and salad and gave her an encouraging smile. “Tell me about your class.”

Holly set her spoon down and pressed a hand to the jittery flutter in her stomach. Their get-to-know-each-other chitchat and her fascination with his ruggedly handsome face and brilliant blue eyes made this dinner feel more like a first date than just the good deed she’d intended.

Sure, she could have packed his chili in a disposable container for him to take when she drove him back to town. And she admitted his good looks factored into her decision to serve dinner as a sit-down affair, but—

Heat unrelated to her spicy chili crept up Holly’s neck when other connotations of the word affair waltzed through her mind. She imagined Matt’s startling blue eyes hazed with lust and his full lips drawing close to hers for a kiss…

Holly erased the picture with a quick shake of her head. Clearing her throat, she focused on his question. “I love my class. They’re angels. All fifteen of them.” When he raised his eyebrows skeptically, she amended, “Well, most of them are angels. I do have a couple who are more of a handful. But seeing those eager faces every morning, being around all that childlike innocence and energy keeps me going on days when I’m dragging.” She smiled and took another bite of salad. “I wouldn’t trade my job for anything. Sometimes it feels like I’m getting paid to play all day. I mean, where else could I read stories and color pictures and sing songs and play games, all cleverly disguised to reinforce writing the alphabet and counting and learning to read?” She stabbed a tomato and aimed it at him. “Plus snacks and recess.”

He chuckled, a low, rich sound that tripped pleasantly along her spine. “Sounds like heaven for that inner child of yours.”

“And the mother hen. I can’t wait to have my own kids, but for now, I’ll settle for mothering the fifteen chickadees in my class.”

“I remember my daughter’s first day of kindergarten.” The bittersweet wistfulness of Matt’s expression melted Holly’s heart. “She was so excited to be going to school. Of course, she’s smart as a whip and could already read and write.”

“You have a daughter?” Holly thought of the children at the Community Aid Center. Frustration ballooned in her chest that she couldn’t fix the problems of every family the center served, that children slept in cars or went to bed without supper.

Matt gave her a sad smile. “I have a daughter and a son, Palmer and Miles. Seven and five, respectively.”

“Where…are they?”

He wiped his mouth on a napkin and dropped it in his emptied bowl. “With Jill’s parents just up the road in Iona Falls. Because of my circumstances…they’re better off with their grandparents. For now.” He paused, clamped his lips in a tight scowl. “I haven’t seen my kids in two years.”

A rock settled in her stomach. “Two years? That’s horrible! Won’t they allow you visitation at least?”

“No. There were a lot of hard feelings after Jill died. But…honestly, I don’t want Palmer and Miles to see me like this.”

“But, Matt, you’re their father! They need you in their life regardless of—” She caught herself, unsure how to finish the sentence.

He lifted his eyes to hers, his steely gaze a testament to his determination. “I intend to get them back. As soon as I can. But…I need a better place to live than the run-down apartment where I am now.” He grunted his dissatisfaction. “The Woodgate doesn’t even have working showers in the community bathroom. I can’t subject my kids to those conditions. And I need to find another job.”

Holly seized the opening to do a bit of prying, looking for a way to help Matt. “What kind of job are you looking for?”

He shrugged and gave her an awkward grin. “Anything that pays. I can’t afford to be as picky now as I might have been in my younger days. My kids are counting on me.”

She nodded and rubbed her thumb along her spoon handle as she thought. “Do you have any particular skills or training?”

He held her gaze for a moment, seemed ready to say something but finally sighed and glanced away. “I worked with a construction crew this spring and summer. But the contractor laid off several of us a couple weeks ago when his schedule slowed down.”

Holly sat taller in her chair, her heart hammering. “You’ve done construction? Are you good with renovation work? Drywall, molding, plumbing, that sort of thing?”

He flipped up his palm and blinked. “I suppose. I’m not an expert, but I hold my own.”

Holly bit her bottom lip, calculating, weighing her options, sizing up the uncertainties. An excited flutter stirred in her belly.

She could help Matt. He could help her. The plan was perfect.

“Come work for me.”

Matt’s eyebrows drew together in a skeptical frown. “You?”

“I’m renovating the house, and the process has dragged on far too long already. I want to be done by the end of the year, but my brother-in-law—Jon, not Robert—is doing most of the work and, frankly, he’s been unreliable at best, only showing up half the time and working far too slowly. A pitfall of having a family member doing the job—hard to fire them. But…you could help him,” she said without taking a breath, her hands motioning as she talked. “What with teaching, I only have weekends to give to the project right now and…well, what do you think? I’m redoing the master bathroom at the moment and still need to take out a wall in the study and fix the molding and paint and…well, there’s no shortage of work. I’ll make the arrangements with Jon.”

Matt stared at her, looking a bit pole-axed. “I, uh…I appreciate the offer but…are you sure you want me—?”

“Why not you? You need work, and I need a reliable handyman to finish what’s been started. When my husband and I started these renovations, we had no idea how much work was really needed and how long it would all take.” She was chattering again, gushing without taking a breath, but she couldn’t seem to curb her nervous habit. “The work was fun at first. We spent weekends and vacations hammering and painting and papering, but after Ryan died—” She curled her fingers into her hands, waiting out the stab of pain that assailed her.

“The project lost its meaning,” Matt finished for her. “The fun was gone, but the work was still unfinished.”

Her breath caught, and she gaped at him. He’d nailed it. But how did he know how she felt, where her thoughts were headed?

He lost his wife. He knows. He understands.

Holly nodded. “Yes. Exactly. I just want to be done with it. It’s become more of a burden now than a hobby. Jon, Ryan’s brother, took the job on as a favor to me, but he has other responsibilities. He’s a firefighter for the county department down in Crenshaw, and he works one day out of three, has a girlfriend in Asheville.” Holly paused for a breath, gauging Matt’s expression. Mostly he looked shell-shocked.

She had a way of doing that to people—overwhelming them with her chattering, her openness. Her blind trust in the goodness of people worried her family, but her gut instincts had never let her down. Even Ryan, Mr. Methodical Thinker, had learned to trust her sixth sense about people and impromptu plans.