His Christmas Angel

He stared back out at the yard and Cassie’s chest ached. Why did it have to be such hell sometimes? Who had decided Sol should draw the short straw where family was concerned—the shortest of short straws—when Brian had had so much?

She froze that thought. Brian was dead. He didn’t have anything any more.

‘Why didn’t you let me know, Cassie? You could’ve rung or written.’

‘It was Alec’s choice. His decision to make.’ Her hands twisted together in her lap.

‘And?’

His eyes didn’t leave her face. It was almost frightening the way he could still read her. ‘And you didn’t answer the last time I wrote to you.’

His eyes darkened, then shuttered, and something inside Cassie squeezed painfully.

‘I would’ve come back for this.’

But her wedding hadn’t been important enough? It was as if he’d wiped Schofield from his mind completely. And her with it. ‘You left this town and all of us in it far behind.’ And maybe it had been for the best. ‘I never thought you’d come back. Ever. I didn’t try and get in touch with you because I thought hearing from me, hearing from anyone in Schofield, would be just about the last thing you’d want.’

His hands clenched into fists as he turned and stared at her. ‘Then you were wrong.’

‘You could’ve let me know that ten years ago.’

He stared back out at the yard and Cassie shivered. She’d never seen his eyes so dark…so…

Her mouth went dry. ‘Why have you come back, Sol?’

He shrugged. ‘Curiosity, I guess.’

He met her eyes, but the darkness still lurked in them and Cassie knew he was lying. She just didn’t know why.

CHAPTER TWO

‘IT’S pretty hot, Alec. Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer a salad?’

‘Sausages, mash, peas and carrots,’ Alec repeated. ‘I don’t care how hot it is.’

‘Okay, okay.’ She pulled the sausages out of the fridge. ‘Catch.’ She tossed him a carrot. ‘Peel that while I take care of the potatoes.’ She smothered a grin at his grumbling. She knew he liked her being here, bossing him about, not treating him like an invalid. ‘Where’s Sol?’

‘Out.’

‘Out?’ she parroted stupidly, then bit her lip to stop herself from asking, Out where?

‘Why’d you have to go and rile him up earlier?’

Indignation slugged through her. ‘I did no such thing.’

‘Humph.’

Or had she? She popped the sausages under the grill. ‘Maybe being home has riled him.’

‘Humph.’

‘You have to admit he can’t have many fond memories of living here.’

Alec didn’t even humph this time. He stayed silent.

‘Do you like having him back?’ She probably shouldn’t have asked but she couldn’t help it. Alec had not been a kind father. In fact, at times he’d been downright mean. That was what alcohol had done to him. But, as she’d told Sol earlier, Alec hadn’t had a drink in over two years. He’d changed. He’d mellowed. And she sensed he regretted the past.

She sliced the carrot. It didn’t mean he was glad to see Sol, though. Maybe he resented the reminder of a past that filled him with shame?

‘It’s good to see the lad,’ Alec mumbled.

She tried to school her surprise. ‘Good.’ His words made her fiercely glad and fiercely angry all at the same time. ‘Have you told him so?’

‘Humph.’

She turned the sausages. ‘I think you should tell him.’ She met his eyes. ‘Don’t you let him leave like he did last time.’ That would be too awful for words.

The older man’s eyes dropped. ‘He hasn’t come back to see me.’

She had an uncanny feeling Alec was right. ‘Maybe not,’ she agreed. ‘But all the same—’

‘Go on, tell me I deserve it.’

‘Okay, you deserve it.’ A shaft of pity spiked through her as he hunched in his wheelchair. ‘But you’ve an opportunity with him now that you never thought you’d get again. Make the most of it.’

He glanced at her. ‘You think there’s a chance?’

‘There’s always a chance.’ She set a place for him at the table. ‘Just don’t let him leave like he did last time.’

Maybe Alec didn’t deserve a second chance with Sol, but she knew if her mother had given her one she’d have jumped at it.

Maybe Sol was different. Maybe he—

No. She and Sol were two of a kind. Or they always had been, and ten years couldn’t change him that much.

She dropped into the seat opposite. ‘Tell me, Alec, do you have a Christmas tree?’

Cassie bounded up the back steps and into the kitchen. ‘Sorry I’m late, Jean.’ She kissed the older woman’s cheek.

‘You’re not late. You’re right on time.’

Cassie took in the tired lines around Jean’s eyes and a shaft of guilt speared through her. Normally she arrived early on a Thursday night to help prepare the meal. ‘What can I do?’

‘It’s all under control, dear.’ Jean picked up a platter of fried chicken. ‘You could bring those salads through.’

Cassie seized the bowls and followed Jean into the dining room to find the rest of the family already assembled. With a smile she relaxed into them. The Parkers—the family Brian had given her. And Thursday night was family night, when they all gathered here at Jack and Jean’s.

She loved them with a fierceness born of desperation. The desperation of someone who’d never had a family or known family life until they’d hugged her to their collective bosom with a warmth that had taken her breath away.

It still did, really.

She slipped into her seat beside Tracey, Brian’s younger sister, and across from Fran, his older one. Fran’s husband Claude beamed with good health and good cheer beside Fran. Cassie figured he had a lot to be cheerful about. She averted her eyes from the bulge burgeoning under Fran’s dress, tried to dispel the ache that gripped her.

From the corner of her eye she watched Jack as he said grace. He looked tired too. Neither he nor Jean had slept well since Brian’s death. Cassie smothered a sigh. It had been nearly eighteen months. She’d hoped…

Hoped what? Brian had been their golden boy—the whole town’s golden boy. The rugby genius who’d played for Australia and put the town of Schofield on the map. Some things you just didn’t get over, ever. And for Jean and Jack she had a feeling Brian’s death was one of them.

Maybe if she’d produced that much-wanted grandchild…She smothered another sigh and thrust the thought away, averting her eyes from Fran’s tummy as best she could.

‘How is your work going, Cassandra?’

She shot Jack a smile. ‘Fabulous.’ She knew how proud they all were of her community work. But then, they were a community-minded family. It was one of the reasons the town had rallied around so much when Brian had died. ‘Maisie’s twin nieces showed up the day before yesterday.’

‘Ooh, how are they?’ Jean cut in, always interested to hear news of youngsters who no longer lived in Schofield.

‘Great. You’ll never guess what they’ve done.’ She handed the potato salad across to Claude. ‘They’ve packed her a suitcase and whisked her off on a cruise for Christmas.’

‘How lovely.’ Jean clasped her hands together. ‘They always were nice girls, and so was their mother. It was a real tragedy, her dying so young.’

Silence enveloped them. As it always did when death was mentioned. She could almost see the image of Brian sweep across the table.

Tracey cleared her throat. ‘You and Dad should go on a cruise, Mum.’

‘Oh, no, dear, we couldn’t.’

‘Why not?’ Tracey persisted.

‘Well, now…I mean…’

‘Your mother means our life is here.’

Cassie gulped as Jack glared at his youngest daughter. ‘Guess who I saw today?’ she jumped in, before Tracey could argue her point further. ‘You’ll never guess, so I’ll have to tell you.’ She accepted a bread roll from the basket Jean held out to her. She smiled around the table. ‘Sol Adams.’

Tracey and Jack stopped glaring at each other to gape at her. Jean dropped the basket of bread rolls.

‘Sol Adams?’ Fran frowned, as if trying to place him.

‘Yes—you remember,’ Tracey leaned forward, excitement shooting from her in all directions. ‘He was in Cassie and Brian’s year. Seriously hunky.’ She turned to Cassie. ‘Have you actually seen him?’

‘Sure.’ She helped Jean pick up the scattered bread rolls. ‘He’s staying with Alec.’

‘Omigod, all the girls in my year had serious crushes on him.’

Cassie’s eyebrows shot up towards her hairline. ‘Really?’

Tracey rolled her eyes. ‘All the girls in your year just couldn’t see past Brian, but we knew better.’

‘Tracey Phyllis Parker!’ Jean looked as if she were about to cry. ‘How on earth can you say such a thing? And with Cassie sitting here and all.’

Tracey glanced at Cassie, stricken. ‘I’m sorry, Cassie. I didn’t—’

‘Relax, Mum. Cassie’s fine—aren’t you?’ Fran’s even tones broke over them and Cassie nodded gratefully. ‘No sister is going to find her brother a hunk. Not even the sisters of the legendary Brian Parker.’

‘Yes, well, I suppose you’re right,’ Jean sighed. ‘But even so.’

‘Even so what?’ Fran teased.

‘Even so, we know that Sol Adams isn’t half the man Brian was. Isn’t that so, Cassandra?’

A band tightened around Cassie’s chest, trying to suffocate her.

‘Nonsense,’ Tracey scoffed.

‘Isn’t that so, Cassandra?’ Jack persisted.

Cassie forced a smile. ‘I married Brian, so that makes me biased.’ Though maybe not in the way Jack thought. ‘Sol didn’t have things easy.’ Not like Brian. The words hung in the air unsaid. She bit her lip. ‘He was always nice to me. We were neighbours.’ She shrugged. ‘We were friends.’ She could tell Jack didn’t like her words.

‘So what did he have to say? What did you talk about? Has he changed?’

Tracey’s gunfire questions made Cassie laugh. ‘It’s been ten years. Sure he’s changed. We all have.’

‘You’ve got prettier.’ Tracey said the words as a statement of fact. ‘Is Sol hunkier?’

Is he what? But she couldn’t tell them that! ‘I, uh, I don’t know.’ Jack shot Tracey a triumphant glare, and Cassie couldn’t help herself. ‘He’s filled out…grown into all that height. Remember how he used to be kind of gangly and lanky?’ Tracey nodded eagerly. ‘Well, he’s not any more.’

Jack concentrated on the plate of food in front of him and Jean’s gaze darted from Cassie to Tracey and back again. Remorse stabbed her. She shouldn’t have said anything.

‘What did you talk about?’

She wished to heaven she hadn’t mentioned Sol Adams now. She seized another drumstick, even though she hadn’t touched her first. ‘We chatted about Alec, mostly.’

‘And?’

And his hand on mine felt fabulous. But she had no intention of telling anyone that either. ‘And…’ She floundered for a moment. ‘And he’s babysitting my kittens.’

‘He is?’ Tracey blinked. ‘Sol is a cat person?’

That made Cassie grin. ‘No, I don’t think he is. He looked as if he’d sucked a lemon when I asked him.’ She could tell he wasn’t a cat person, but he’d still said yes. The thought warmed her.

Jack smirked. ‘I can’t say I blame him.’

Jack wasn’t a cat person. He wasn’t really a dog person either. He was a hunting and fishing kind of person.

Jean leaned across the table. ‘We should’ve let Cassie keep those kittens here.’

‘Nonsense,’ he chuckled, suddenly smug. ‘Sol Adams can look after them. It serves him right.’

For what? Why didn’t Jack like Sol? She bit back a sigh. Maybe it was another reminder that a person from his son’s generation was alive when his son was not.

‘Can you set me up with him?’ Tracey suddenly demanded.

Cassie choked on fried chicken. ‘What?’

‘Could you arrange a blind date for us or…better yet…have a dinner to welcome him back to town?’

Gee, she could just see Sol jumping at that.

‘How about Saturday night?’

No! It was a terrible idea. It was—

‘For Pete’s sake, Tracey, leave Cassandra in peace.’ Jack’s smugness had fled. His jaw clenched and his eyes flashed fire. ‘Let her finish her dinner.’

Tracey subsided, but Cassie could tell by the stubborn light in her eyes that it was only a momentary reprieve. As soon as Tracey got her alone she’d renew her appeal. Cassie glanced around the table and her heart sank. Since when had she been able to deny any member of this family anything?

Sol knocked, then shifted from one foot to the other. He glanced down at his watch. Hell. It was still early. He hoped Cassie was up.

One thing. She’d asked him to do one thing and he couldn’t even manage that. He’d been a fool to come back.

He knocked again. Under his breath he started to count. ‘One, two…’ He’d knock again when he got to ten. ‘Three, four…’ Would she go ballistic? Every other woman he knew would throw a hissy fit. ‘Five, six…’A reluctant grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. He couldn’t see Cassie throwing a hissy fit. ‘Seven, eight…’ The grin disappeared. She loved those kittens. She’d told him so. ‘Nine—’

The door cracked open a fraction. One velvet eye peered through the gap, then the door flew open. ‘Sol! What are you doing here?’

He stared at her, and for the life of him he couldn’t remember. The thin terry-towelling robe she wore would’ve been more than respectable in ordinary circumstances, but not now—not when she was so wet. He must’ve hauled her out of the shower. He gulped. Her wet hair dripped down the front of the robe, outlining a shape that had his tongue fastening to the roof of his mouth. He dragged in a breath. Keep breathing, Adams. You can do it. It’s easy.

No, it wasn’t. It was damn hard. Cassie’s curves were as lush and gorgeous as the woman herself. Need pierced through him. His knees almost buckled. He wanted to haul her into his arms and—

He tried to extinguish the pictures that rose in his mind. He could see Cassie’s lips moving, but no sound reached his ears. He rubbed a hand over his face.

‘Sol?’ Her forehead creased in concern. ‘Are you okay?’

He was a lot of things, but okay wasn’t one of them. And he had no intention of telling her that. ‘I, er, didn’t sleep too well last night.’ At least that was the truth.

‘What are you doing here?’

Aw, hell—that’s right. The kittens. Remember? Ballistic hissy fits and stuff? Ballistic he could cope with. He eyed her warily. As long as she didn’t cry. ‘I, er…’ He scuffed the toe of his sneaker against the top step.

‘Yes?’ She drew the word out as if tempted to shake him.

‘I seem to have lost one of your kittens.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry, Sol.’

She was sorry? She was sorry!

‘You’d better come in.’ She grabbed his arm and pulled him inside. She tossed a quick glance outside before she slammed the door, then led him into the living room.

He looked around and his jaw dropped.

‘I lied to you, you know?’

He forced himself to focus on her words, her face, rather than the surroundings. If he didn’t he’d explode. Or implode. Or he’d fall into an abyss he’d never get out of again. ‘Lied?’ He latched onto the word.

‘I told you the kittens wouldn’t be any trouble.’

She started to dry her hair vigorously, as if suddenly aware of how it dripped down the front of her robe. The action made bits of her jiggle. Bits he shouldn’t be staring at if he didn’t want himself called a male chauvinist pig.

He stared at the wall behind her. An enormous photo of Brian holding up a trophy and surrounded by his Australian team-mates dominated the space. His gut clenched at the triumphant grin on Brian’s face. He glanced to his left. An enormous trophy cabinet stood there. He swung away to his right and another wall of photographs rose out at him—Brian scoring the winning try in some grand final, Brian awarded the sportsman’s medal of the year, Brian on the shoulders of his team-mates.

Brian. Brian. Brian.

‘What is this?’ he suddenly burst out. ‘A mausoleum?’

He immediately wished he’d kept his fat trap shut when Cassie stepped back from him, her eyes dark.

‘I’m sorry.’ He took a step towards her and she took another step back. He stayed put and held up his hands. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.’

‘I, uh, the kitchen is through there if you want to grab a coffee. I’ll go get dressed.’ And then she was gone.

Sol tossed another glance around, then left the room with a grimace. His gut clenched again when he entered the kitchen. Evidence Cassie had shared this house with Brian was everywhere. His eyes rested on a coffee mug on the sideboard. It read: ‘Old rugby players never die they just…’He didn’t have the heart to turn it over and read the punchline. Brian had been a rugby player, a good one, but he hadn’t been old. And he shouldn’t be dead.

He pushed through the back door, needing air. An enormous dog lifted his head from a kennel, his ears pricked forward. Sol sat on the lowest step, rested his elbows on his knees and stared back. ‘Are you Cassie’s dog or Brian’s?’

The dog sat up, stretched and shook his head.

‘Fair enough,’ Sol said, and patted his knee. The dog trotted over. Sol scratched his ears then reached for the tag around the dog’s neck. ‘Rufus.’ The dog’s tail thumped harder. ‘Ah, the eater of kittens. Well, Rufus, were you sad when Brian died?’ The tail kept thumping. ‘I wasn’t. Not really.’ He hadn’t been happy either, but it hadn’t been till now that the tragedy had hit him—that someone as young as Brian, as full of life as Brian, was dead.

He’d been sad for Cassie, but he hadn’t thought about the living hell she must’ve gone through. Could still be going through. He dragged a hand down his face. She was too young to be a grieving widow. And he hadn’t offered her any kind of condolence, any kind of comfort. His lips twisted. He knew Cassie. She’d have put on a brave face for the rest of the world and then grieved alone. He could’ve helped.

But he hadn’t. And if the truth be known his first emotion when he’d heard about Brian’s death had been one of hope. He shook his head. It could never be that simple, though, could it? He’d always resented Brian. Resented how easy he’d had it. Resented his offhand attitude to everything he had.

And then there’d been Cassie.

A gasp sounded behind him and he spun around. He met Cassie’s eyes through the screen door. They were wide and frightened. A hand fluttered to her mouth.

He leapt to his feet. ‘What’s wrong?’ What had scared her?

She drew in a shaky breath. ‘Upon my word, you like to take your life in your own hands, don’t you, Sol Adams?’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘Rufus here likes to eat strangers for breakfast.’

A smile stretched across his face. He didn’t deserve it, he acknowledged that much, but Cassie cared. She didn’t want him torn limb from limb by a dog.

It doesn’t mean anything, a voice in his head said. Cassie wouldn’t want anyone torn limb from limb.

It’s a start, his stubborn heart returned. ‘Me and Rufus here—’ Rufus wagged his tail ‘—have come to an understanding.’

Cassie folded her arms. ‘Really?’

‘I scratch his belly and he doesn’t eat me. He’s a big pussycat.’

‘Correction. He eats pussycats. And speaking of cats…’

She was right. ‘Let’s go.’ He hoped to hell they could find the kitten. He didn’t want to let her down. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t keep a closer eye on them for you.’

‘It’s not your fault.’ She locked the front door. ‘They’re the Houdini quartet. I bet it’s Rudolph who’s missing.’

‘Rudolph?’

‘The little one.’

He opened the car door for her. ‘Yep.’

‘Do you know how long he’s been gone?’

‘He wasn’t with the others when I let them out of the laundry.’ She bit her lip and fresh wave of guilt engulfed him. The kitten could’ve been out all night.

‘You checked inside the washing machine?’

‘Yep.’ He’d turned the entire laundry upside down. ‘There’s a spot under the washing machine where the floorboards have perished. My guess is he wriggled out of there somehow. I mean, it’s only the smallest of gaps—’

‘Rudolph only needs the smallest of gaps.’ She sighed. ‘We’re lucky the others didn’t follow.’

‘Well, they won’t now. I’ve boarded it up.’

A shadow fell across the car. ‘Is everything okay, Cass?’

Cassie swung around. ‘Keith!’ She beamed at the other man and something dark and ugly slugged through Sol’s gut. She gestured to Sol. ‘Do you remember Sol Adams?’

Sol sure as hell remembered Keith Sinclair, Brian’s best mate. Keith nodded, but didn’t offer his hand. Sol nodded back. He didn’t offer his hand either.

‘Is everything okay?’ Keith repeated.

‘Sure it is.’ Cassie’s smile widened. ‘I talked Sol here into letting me use his back veranda for my kittens, but one of them has got out.’

‘Again?’

Again? Sol felt a little better. If these kittens had priors for escaping…

‘But they’re presents for your oldies.’

Sol didn’t know whether to laugh or not at the look on Keith’s face.

‘I’m sure we’ll find it,’ Cassie soothed, but Keith had already hauled his mobile phone out of his pocket.

‘We’ll help.’

‘Really, Keith, it’s not necessary. You’ll be late for work.’

‘Not a problem, Cass. You know we’re here for you.’

‘But I—’

‘And we know how important those kittens are to you.’

It took Keith less than ten minutes to have a search party organised. A search party that consisted of Brian’s old mates—all members of the Rugby League Club. Sol didn’t know what to say, and he sure didn’t know what to think. Were they all in love with Cassie? Was this some kind of weird collective courting ritual? The dark glares they tossed him had his mind working overtime.

He turned to Cassie and she shrugged an apology. But her eyes danced, as if she wanted to burst out laughing. He glanced around again and had to clamp down on that same impulse. Six grown men crawled around Alec’s backyard calling, ‘Kitty, kitty. Here, kitty, kitty.’ Any of these men would rather be dead than seen cradling a tiny kitten in their arms, yet here they were—

‘What on earth is all this racket?’

Alec burst out onto the back veranda still in his pyjamas, a scowl on his face and a kitten in his lap. Sol and Cassie stared at each other, then Cassie covered a grin with her hand. ‘Didn’t check the house, huh, Sol?’

‘How did it get inside? There’s no way—’

‘The damn thing was mewling out the front in the middle of the night,’ Alec grumbled.

Cassie smiled. ‘So you went out and got him?’

What Sol wouldn’t do to have her smile at him like that.

‘I had to,’ Alec grouched. ‘In the interests of peace and quiet and sleep.’

Sol noticed he didn’t offer to hand the kitten back.

‘The search is over, boys,’ Cassie called out.

‘You want a lift home, Cass?’

‘No, thanks, Keith. I promised to help Alec out with something this morning.’

She had?

‘You’ll make sure she gets home safe, Adams?’

‘Nah,’ some devil made him say, ‘she can catch a cab.’ All the men bristled, and he saw Cassie try to hide another grin. ‘Of course I’ll see her home.’

Muttering, the men left. As the last car drove away, Sol turned to her, arms upraised. ‘What was that all about?’

‘You didn’t get it?’ She stared at him expectantly. ‘C’mon, Sol. All those guys idolised Brian, right?’

He shrugged. ‘I guess.’

‘And I’m Brian’s widow.’ She enunciated each word with deliberate care.

‘Uh-huh.’ He could’ve done without that reminder.

She gave an exaggerated sigh. ‘You still don’t get it? Brian put Schofield on the map and the town adored him for it. As his widow, they adore me too.’

So they should. But for who she was, not because she’d married Brian Parker. Her fragrance curled around him as he followed her into the house. She smelt like Christmas—a cross between pinecones and plum pudding.

‘You have no idea how fabulous this widowhood caper is.’

His jaw dropped. ‘Fabulous?’