Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

Colby could see his enthusiasm was rubbing off on Brynn, even if she didn’t want to admit it. He carried the oversized box into the living room and set it in the middle of the coffee table. Then he returned to the kitchen for the Christmas tree ornament.

This he put in the middle of the empty hearth. “Place of honor,” he said, tossing a grin in her direction.

She smiled in return. Promising.

“Now, my mama always taught me that atmosphere is everything, so we have to set the stage.”

He ignored her raised eyebrows and proceeded to start a fire in the fireplace. Thankfully everything in the chimney seemed to be working correctly. Then he went back to the kitchen and made them each a cup of hot chocolate with some packets he’d seen in the cabinet.

He brought the mugs back, handing over the one with the cute little snowman on it to Brynn. “I don’t have any whipped cream or marshmallows, so plain will have to do.”

Setting his cup down on the table next to the couch, he turned back to the box. “Let’s see what we have here,” he said. “The classic tinsel garland in red and green.”

He pulled the long strands from the box and looked around the room. Focusing in on the hearth, he twisted the two colors around each other, then laid the tinsel rope along a ridge at the back of the mantle. “Nice backdrop.”

There were two hatboxes. One was filled with small glass balls with swirls of gold glitter, another with hand-painted ceramic ornaments covering the classics like angels, Christmas trees, wreaths, and the like. He handed the glass balls over to Brynn. “Good thing these have hangers on them already.”

He held a wreath ornament up to each ear. “They slip on so much easier. Are these my color?”

Brynn glanced over, then laughed. “You’re silly.”

“Makes life easier if you’re having fun. You should try it.”

Immediately she sobered. “I don’t think I ever learned how.”

Then he would do his best to teach her.

He took some totally ‘90s stuffed teddy bears with red and green plaid bowties out of the box and set them on each end of the mantle. “One of the most tragic parts of adult life is we forget to have fun.” He paused with a tangle of big-bulbed Christmas lights in his hands. A look people would now call “retro,” but Colby had always enjoyed. This style was now making a comeback, but these were definitely original.

“I think we get under this impression that we have to be silly to have fun, and adults don’t want to be seen as silly.” He wiggled his brows, prompting a chuckle from her. “As you can see, I don’t have that problem.”

“I’ve somehow gotten that impression.”

“It happens to make some very serious situations a lot easier. But we’ve just forgotten how to have fun in general. Let go of the responsibility and just enjoy yourself.” He started to make headway with the knots in the jumble of lights. “You don’t have to play tag, unless you want to, but quietly watching the sunset. Making a snowman. Baking, if you like that. Doing a craft. It’s all good.”

Brynn remained silent, but he could hear the pace of her breathing pick up. He glanced in her direction to see her staring intently out the window into the glare of the sun off the ice-covered yard.

Maybe he sounded preachy? After all, he’d rarely seen anyone as tightly wound as Brynn. His words might be hitting too close to home. Time for another direction.

“We had quite a few memorable Christmases growing up on my granddad’s farm, but one certainly beat out all the others. Wanna hear about it?”

She turned back from the window to dig through the box again. “Sure.”

“We cut down a tree on my granddad’s property every year, and one year we just happened to bring a visitor home with it.”

Brynn paused to look at him. “Oh no.”

“Yep. A squirrel. What amazed me is it stayed in the tree as we carried it all the way home. Set it up in the stand outside. Everything. Nary a peep out of it. Then we got it inside and boom—it was the Mississippi squirrel revival all over again. Talk about jumpin’ pews!”

His chest warmed as he heard Brynn giggle. She hooked a starched lace angel to the garland, then traced the wings with her fingers.

“Our first Christmas in Oregon, we had absolutely no decorations,” she said. “And very little money. I thought we weren’t gonna have a Christmas, but I should have known my daddy loved it too much to miss.”

Colby plugged in the lights, delighted when they all lit up, then laid them out on the same trails as the garland. It would have been cool to trace the ceiling peaks, but probably wasn’t safe to get on a ladder right now. If he fell, there was no way he was getting to a hospital.

Brynn continued in a voice soft with memories.

“He drove us over two hours to a little discount store on the edge of the next town, and bought a little Charlie Brown tree from the lot next door. Then we went inside and got lights and ornaments and stockings. It felt like a ton of stuff but I bet he only spent about fifty dollars. We were together. We were safe. That was what really mattered.”

Colby was tempted to probe that last statement, but he didn’t want to bring her attention to it. “Where’s your mother?” he asked instead.

“She died when I was born. Daddy said they didn’t make it to the hospital in time. It was always just me and my dad.”

Oh, right. “I seem to remember my mama saying Mr. Asher was a widower.”

Brynn froze, as if afraid she’d given something important away. He twisted around to see her face but she started to shake her head. “I know this sounds weird, but please don’t tell anyone.”

He stepped closer, worried. Why would she react like this? “Why not? What’s the matter, Brynn?”

She covered her face with her hands, her breath coming so rapidly he was afraid she would pass out. He laid his hands on her shoulders, hoping to comfort her. Using his most soothing rescuer voice, he said, “It’s okay, Brynn. Whatever it is, I’ll keep you safe.”

She shook her head again, then let her hands drop away to look him in the eyes. Her hazel irises seemed almost swallowed up by her pupils. “I’m afraid of what they’ll do to me.”

“I don’t understand.” He wasn’t tracking this with anything she’d spoken about until now. Then again, she’d told him very little about who she was now.

“I shouldn’t have said anything.” She dragged in a couple of deep breaths. “Letting people close makes you vulnerable.”

He squeezed her shoulders for a second, hoping to reassure her. “For most people, it’s worth it. Yes, being vulnerable is scary, but it’s a good thing.”

“Why?”

“Then you’ve always got someone at your back.”

Her whole body went still. Her gaze lifted until she met Colby’s eyes once more. “But how do you know you can trust them?” she whispered.

He reached up to cup his warm palms against her cheeks, cradling her face with his lips inches from hers. Deep down inside he knew this moment was monumental, though he wasn’t sure why. What had happened to her and her father? He’d wondered since the first time she hadn’t shown up on the bus in elementary school. “Try me.”

She squeezed her eyes shut. “My father was a photographer,” she whispered, her words slow but gaining speed. “I mean, he was a farmer. All this land is still his. But he was also incredibly creative, whether he was renovating a house, making me a costume for the school play, or taking pictures.”

She took a deep breath, shifting on her feet. Colby eased them both down to the rug so they could sit facing the fire. Maybe the telling would be a little easier as the flames mesmerized her, distracted her. But he couldn’t stop himself from curling his arm around her shoulders.

“He took photographs of all of the large city events, some of the churches too. One day he realized he was seeing a pattern of something that was wrong, something scary. He had pictures of something he shouldn’t have. He didn’t think anyone would notice.”

Colby felt her shuddering breath against his rib cage.

“But he couldn’t let people continue being hurt, so he got more pictures. This time, deliberate pictures. And someone found out. Then he worried I would be the next target. When we left here, my father dragged me out in the middle of the night, terrified someone would come after us.”

She went quiet for long moments, her gaze unfocused, before she went on. “It took years for me to piece the story together. He told me on his death bed that those pictures are somewhere in this house. He hid them because he couldn’t risk anyone finding them. So, I came back for them.”

“Why?” Colby whispered, not sure he was ready for her answer.

Brynn lifted her chin as if in defiance, giving him a perfect view of her silhouette against the icy window.

“Because I plan to make them pay.”