It Must Be Christmas: Three Holiday Stories

“Still,” he argued, “it’s winter. What if we hadn’t come along? In these temperatures he wouldn’t have survived very long. Even if the intention was to have him found, there would always be a chance he wouldn’t be.” Dave’s face darkened. “Hell of a big gamble to take with your baby’s life.”


“I agree.” She looked up at him and asked the question that had been bothering her for the last two days. “Dave, I can’t go on calling him ‘the baby.’ Is it wrong to want to give him a name?”

Dave chuckled. “Not at all. It’s been getting kind of awkward, actually.” They both looked down at the baby, whose lids were drooping sleepily.

“He looks like an angel,” Charlie whispered. “Even if he does keep me up most of the night. I can’t resist that little face.”

“Then name him after an angel.”

“Gabriel?”

Dave grimaced. “Too predictable.”

“Raphael?”

“The painter or the Ninja Turtle?”

She made a face, then pulled out her phone and Googled angel names. “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Most of the names have i-e-l at the end. Jophiel. Hesediel.”

Dave laughed and ate a forkful of mashed potatoes and gravy. “Yuck.”

“Wait. There are gospels here though. Paul. John. And … ooh. Daniel.”

“I like that.”

“Me too.” She looked up at Dave with surprise. “Hey, did we just name a baby together?”

“Well, temporarily. His birth certificate probably says something else. “

Right. Reality. Not her baby. Not her life. She had to be careful she didn’t start pretending it was. She put her fork and knife on her plate and wiped her lips with her napkin. “I should get back, I suppose. It’ll give me time to feed Daniel…” She tested the name on for size, “… before I start my appointments.”

Dave frowned at her. “You’re going now? Without pie? Is it possible to have a meal here without pie?”

Charlie laughed. “Oh, it’s possible, otherwise I’d be the size of a house. I eat here most noon hours.”

She realized what she’d just said and hoped he didn’t pick up on it. But then, why would he? It was her own embarrassment speaking, that was all.

“Your loss,” he said easily. “Pie comes with my meal and I’m going to take full advantage.”

She opened up her purse to grab her wallet but Dave reached across the table and put his fingers on her wrist.

“Lunch is on me,” he said quietly. “I invited you, remember?”

“I don’t mind paying my share,” she replied, still startled by the intimate touch. It was made worse when she looked up and into his dark, chocolaty eyes. They were so beautiful. The kind of eyes a girl could get lost in if she wasn’t careful.

“Would that make you feel better? So you wouldn’t have to call this a date?”

Her lips fell open, and she tried to respond but didn’t know what to say.

“It’s just lunch,” he finally said, slipping his fingers off her wrist. “Falls under the getting-to-know-you-better category. No biggie, okay? You can get the next one.”

Assuming there would be a next one.

“Then … thank you for lunch.”

“Anytime.”

Why was this so easy for him and so hard for her?

With a parting smile, she hefted the car seat and made her way to the doors, out into the wintery air. If anything, it had only gotten colder outside.

Keeping her distance from Dave was proving to be a challenge. As she started the car and felt the cold blast of air as the fan kicked in, she sighed. It would be easier to avoid him if her heart was really in it …

*

By Thursday night Charlie was going a little crazy. The last text from Dave sat on her phone, mocking her. Thanks for lunch and talk soon, it said. But there was no talking. He’d gotten her message loud and clear.

Charlie plumped the pillow she held in her lap and stared, unseeing, at the evening news. She couldn’t make up her mind what she wanted to do. She’d always been a planner, with the future mapped out in front of her. Things fit into tidy little boxes and that was comforting. Reassuring. And Dave Ricker didn’t fit in a tidy box. He was a nice guy and he liked her and she liked him. Which, if she were being honest, was frustrating as hell. He was definitely a more go-with-the-flow kind of guy, unsure of what came next or where he’d go. He wasn’t a long-term thinker. His relaxed attitude drove type-A people like her a little crazy.

She reached for the glass of merlot she’d poured and took a restorative sip. If Lizzie were here, she’d have some definite opinions …

Charlie snagged the cordless phone from the base and hit the speed dial. It only rang twice when Lizzie answered. “Dr. Howard.”

“Hello, Dr. Howard.”

“Charlie! Hey, girl!”

Charlie laughed. This was so what she’d needed. Lizzie was driven and borderline workaholic, but she was Charlie’s best friend and always knew how to make her laugh, even with a simple greeting. “Hey yourself. Where are you?”

“Driving home.”

“I’ll call you back.”

“Don’t be silly. Bluetooth, baby.”

Charlie chuckled. “You’re in a good mood.”

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