A Cold Creek Christmas Story. RaeAnne Thayne

it must have been a trick of the Christmas lights.

      “Oh, I nearly forget,” she exclaimed suddenly. “I have another birthday present for you. Two, actually.”

      “You do?” Olivia lit up.

      “Well, it’s not actually your birthday yet, so I completely understand if you want to wait. I can just give them to your dad to hold until the big day.”

      As he might have predicted, Olivia didn’t look all that thrilled at the suggestion. “I should open them now while you’re here.”

      “I guess I should have asked your dad first.”

      He shrugged, figuring it was too late to stop the cart now. “Go ahead.”

      With a rueful, apologetic smile, she handed the bag to Olivia. “It’s not wrapped, since I didn’t know it was your birthday when I came over. I’m sorry.”

      His daughter apparently didn’t care. She reached into the bag and pulled out a book with colorful illustrations on the cover.

      “Ohhh,” she breathed. “It’s another Sparkle and the Magic Snowball book!”

      “This one is signed by both me and my sister, who did the illustrations. I figured since it’s your favorite book, you ought to have a signed copy.”

      “I love it. Thank you!”

      “There’s something else,” Celeste said when his daughter looked as if she were going to settle in right on the spot to reread the story for the hundredth time.

      Olivia reached into the bag and pulled out a second book. While it was obvious the artist had been the same, this had different, more muted colors than the original Sparkle book and hearts instead of Christmas ornaments.

      “I haven’t seen this one! Sparkle and the Valentine Surprise.”

      “That’s because it’s brand-new. It’s not even in stores yet. It’s coming out in a few weeks.”

      “Dad, look!”

      She hurried over to him, barely limping, and held out the book.

      “Very nice. We can read it tonight at bedtime.”

      “I can’t wait that long! Can I read it now?”

      “Sure. First, do you have something to say to Ms. Nichols?”

      Olivia gazed at the woman with absolute adoration. “Thank you so much! I just love these books and the stuffed Sparkle.” Again, she surprised him by hugging Celeste tightly, then hurried to the window seat that she had claimed as her own when they’d first arrived at Charlotte’s house.

      He gazed after her for a moment, then turned back to Celeste.

      “How did you just do that?” he asked, his voice low so that Olivia couldn’t hear.

      She blinked, confusion on her features. “Do what?”

      “That’s the first time I’ve seen her hug anyone but me in months.”

      “Oh.” Her voice was small, sad, telling him without words that she knew what had happened to Elise and Olivia and about Brandon Lowell.

      “I guess you probably know my daughter was shot three months ago and her mother was killed.”

      Her lovely features tightened and her eyes filled with sorrow. “I do. I followed the case, not because I wanted to read about something so terribly tragic, but because I...knew you, once upon a time.”

      Color rose on her cheeks again, but he had no idea why.

      “She’s been very withdrawn because of the post-traumatic stress. I haven’t seen her warm up to anyone this quickly since it happened.”

      “Oh.” She gazed at Olivia with a soft look in her eyes. “It’s not me,” she assured him. “Sparkle is a magic little reindeer. He has a comforting way about him.”

      He was quite certain Celeste was the one with the comforting way, especially as she had created the fictional version of the reindeer, but he didn’t say so.

      “Whatever the reason, I appreciate it. I had hoped bringing her here to Idaho where we can be away from the spotlight for a few weeks might help her finally begin to heal. It’s good to know I might have been right.”

      * * *

      The concern and love in his voice came through loud and clear. Flynn obviously was a devoted father trying his best to help his daughter heal.

      Celeste’s throat felt tight and achy. This poor little girl had watched her mother’s life slip away. “She’s been through a horrible ordeal. It might be years before the nightmares fade.”

      “You sound as if you know a little something about nightmares.” He studied her closely.

      She didn’t want to tell him she still had nightmares from those terrible weeks in captivity and then their miraculous rescue with its tragic consequences. She had cried herself to sleep just about every night for weeks. In a second rapid-fire blow, just as the overwhelming pain of losing their father had begun to ease a little, their mother had lost her short but intense battle with cancer and they had come here to stay with Uncle Claude and Aunt Mary.

      She couldn’t tell him that. She barely knew the man, and he had demons of his own to fight. He didn’t need to share hers.

      “Everybody has nightmares,” she answered. “To paraphrase John Irving, you don’t get to pick them. They pick you.”

      “True enough.”

      Her dog made a little whiny sound and started looking anxious, which meant he probably needed to go out.

      “I need to take Linus home. Sorry again to drop in on you like this out of the blue.”

      He smiled a little. “Are you kidding? This has been the best thing to happen to us in a long time. She’s completely thrilled. And thanks for helping with the Christmas tree. It looks great.”

      “You’re welcome. If you need anything while you’re here, my family is just a short walk away. Oh. I nearly forgot. This is for you.”

      She reached into the bag and pulled out the pie Aunt Mary had boxed up for easier transport.

      “What is it?”

      “My aunt makes amazing berry pies. She had an extra and wanted you to have it.”

      He looked stunned at the gesture. “That’s very kind. Please give her my thanks.”

      “I’ll do that.” She reached for her coat but he beat her to it, tugging it from the rack so he could help her into it.

      She was aware of him behind her again, the heat and strength of him, and her insides jumped and twirled like Linus when he was especially happy.

      She was being ridiculous, she told herself. She wasn’t a thirteen-year-old girl with a crush anymore.

      She quickly shoved her arms through the sleeves and stepped away to tie her scarf.

      “Are you sure you’re okay walking home?” he asked. “Looks as if it’s snowing harder. Let me grab my keys and we’ll drive you home.”

      She shook her head, even as she felt a warm little glow at his concern. “Not necessary. It’s not far. I like to walk, even in the snow, and Linus still has a little energy to burn off. Thank you, though.”

      He still looked uncertain, but she didn’t give him a chance to press the matter. She returned to the living room doorway and waved at his daughter.

      “Goodbye, Olivia. I hope you enjoy the book.”

      She looked up with that distracted, lost-in-the-story sort of look Celeste knew she wore frequently herself. “I’m already almost done. It’s super good.”

      It