On a Snowy Night: The Christmas Basket / The Snow Bride

She frowned, and he wondered if she was going to try to tell him she hadn’t gotten his note. He knew otherwise because he’d personally seen Kristen hand it to her at school.

“The note said eight.”

“Three,” he insisted. Now it was his turn to look perplexed. “I wrote down three o’clock.”

“The note said…” She brought her hand to her mouth. “No, I refuse to believe it.”

“You think Kristen changed the time?”

“She wouldn’t do that.” She shook her head. “I know my sister, and she’d never hurt me like that.”

“How do you explain the discrepancy then?”

“I have no idea.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “I remember it vividly. You’d sent it to me after your math class.”

His defenses were down. Time rolled back, and the events of that day were starting to focus in his mind. The fog of his pain dissipated. Finally he was able to look at the events with a clear head and an analytical eye.

“Kristen spilled soda on it,” Noelle said thoughtfully. “Do you think that might have smudged the number?”

“It might explain part of it—but not the nasty note you left on my windshield.”

She had the grace to blush at the reminder. “After waiting until after ten o’clock, I didn’t know what to do. It was pretty dark by then, and I couldn’t believe you’d just abandon me. I was positive something must’ve happened, so I phoned your house.”

He nodded, encouraging her to go on.

“Your father said you were out with your friends bowling. I went to the alley to see for myself.” Her voice tightened. “Sure enough, you were in there, boozing it up with your buddies.”

“Don’t tell me you actually thought I was having a good time?”

“Looked like it to me.”

“Noelle, I was practically crying in my beer. I felt…I felt as if I’d just learned about some tragedy that was going to change my whole life.”

“Why didn’t you call me? How could you believe I’d stand you up? If you loved me as much as you said, wouldn’t you make some effort to find out what happened?”

“I did.” To be fair, it’d taken him a day, but he had to know, had to discover how he could’ve been so mistaken about Noelle. “I waited until the following afternoon. Your mother answered the phone and said I’d already done enough damage. She hung up on me.”

“She never told me,” Noelle whispered. “She never said a word.”

“Why would she?” Thom murmured. “Your mother assumed I’d done you wrong, just the way everyone else in your family did.”

“I left that horrible note on your car and you still phoned me?”

He nodded.

“I can only imagine what you must have thought.”

“And you,” he said.

They both grew quiet.

“I’m so sorry, Thom,” she finally said. “So very sorry.”

“So am I.” He was afraid to touch her, afraid of what would happen if she came into his arms.

Noelle brushed the hair back from her face and when he glanced at her, he saw tears glistening in her eyes.

“It all worked out for the best, though, don’t you think?” he asked. He had to say something.

She nodded. Then after a moment she spoke in a voice so low he had to lean closer to hear. “Do you really believe that?”

“No.” He reached for her then, crushing her in his arms, lifting her from the picnic table and holding her as if his very life depended on keeping her close to his heart.

His mouth found hers, and her lips were moist and soft, her body melting against his. Their kisses were filled with hunger and passion, with mingled joy and discovery. This sense of rightness was what had been missing from every relationship he’d had since his breakup with Noelle. Nothing had felt right with any other woman. He loved Noelle. He’d always loved her.

She buried her face in his shoulder and he kissed the top of her head. Her arms circled his neck and he ran his fingers through her hair, gathering it in his hands as he closed his eyes and let his emotions run free—from anger to joy. From joy to fear. From fear to relief.

“What happens now?” he asked. They didn’t seem to have many options. Each had made a life without the other.

She didn’t answer him for a long time, but he knew she’d heard the question.

“Noelle,” he said as she raised her head. “What do we do now?”

She blinked back tears. “Do we have to decide this minute? Can’t you just kiss me again?”

He smiled and lowered his mouth to hers. “I think that could be arranged.”

Fresh from Sunday services—where she’d been inspired by a sermon on giving—Mary Sutton drove to the local Walmart store. She refused to show up the following day and not have the items on her list. No doubt Sarah McDowell assumed she’d arrive at the club empty-handed, but Mary fully intended to prove otherwise.

As soon as Greg had settled in front of the television set watching the Seahawks’ play-off game, she was out the door. Shopping this close to Christmas went against every dictate of common sense. Usually she was the organized one. Christmas gifts had been purchased, wrapped and tucked away soon after Thanksgiving. But, with these six Christmas baskets, she had no choice. She had to resort to last-minute shopping.

The parking lot at Walmart was packed. Finding a space at the very rear of the lot, Mary trudged toward the busy store. She dreaded dealing with the mob of shoppers inside. On the off-chance she might have a repeat of that horrible scene in Value-X, she surveyed the lot—looking up one row and down the next—in search of Sarah’s vehicle. She sighed with relief when she didn’t see the other woman’s car.

List in hand, Mary grabbed a cart and headed straight for the toy section. She hoped the store would have Barbie dolls left on the shelf. She hated the thought of a single child being disappointed on Christmas morning. Fortunately, the shelves appeared to have been recently restocked.

Reaching for a Firefighter Barbie doll, she set it inside her basket. With a sense of accomplishment, she wheeled the cart around the corner to the riding toys. To her horror and dismay, she discovered Sarah McDowell reading the label on a toddler-sized car. This was her worst nightmare.

“No,” she muttered, not realizing Sarah would hear her.

Her bitterest enemy turned and their eyes locked. “What are you doing here?” Sarah demanded.

“The same thing you are.”

Sarah gripped her cart with both hands, as if she was prepared to engage in a second ramming session. Frankly, Mary had suffered all the humiliation she could stand and had no desire to go a second round.

“Can’t you buy your grandson’s gifts some other time?”

“How dare you tell me when I can or cannot shop.” Mary couldn’t believe the gall. She would shop when and where she pleased without any guidance from the likes of Sarah McDowell.