Their Precious Christmas Miracle: Mistletoe Baby / In the Spirit of...Christmas / A Baby By Christmas

“If I can use your camera?” Rachel set her mug on a coaster. “I broke mine on Thanksgiving.”

“Oh, that’s right.” Her mother-in-law frowned. “I’ll have to dig mine out. I’d gotten so used to you being the family photographer—your pictures always turn out so well! Zachariah, do you know where our camera is?”

He retrieved it from a closet, handing it to Rachel with an expression of nearly boyish apology. “Afraid it’s the old-fashioned kind that uses actual film. Places still develop that, don’t they?”

She smiled. According to family stories, Zachariah hadn’t always been the easiest father to live with, but he’d always been a big teddy bear with her. “Of course. Film is fine.” The bigger problem was whether or not she could keep her hands from shaking with emotion.

It was on Thanksgiving, as she’d tried to set the automatic timer on her digital camera for a group shot, that she’d had the realization. Neither she nor David had truly been happy for weeks before that, possibly months, but neither of them were quitters. Neither of them had wanted to address the elephant in the room. But as she’d looked at the Waide family framed in the view window, it had struck her: I don’t belong here. Seeing the way Lilah and Tanner smiled at each other, trying to recall just when she and David had stopped looking at each other that way, had hurt. Far worse had been watching David laugh at whatever teasing comment Arianne had been making. His face had been alive with humor and affection, such a contrast to the patient but shuttered expression he reserved for his wife.

She’d knocked over a seventy-dollar camera, but it had felt as if her world had crashed to the hardwood floor.

Well, she wasn’t as fragile as a camera. As much as she hurt now, she had to believe she would heal eventually. Rachel threw herself into the tree-decorating, managing a smile at the many homemade, childish efforts. Even without glancing at the name on the back or the picture in some cases—such as Tanner’s photo glued onto a green aluminum ashtray or Arianne’s beaming smile, minus the top two teeth, framed in a construction of Popsicle sticks and spray-painted macaroni shells—Rachel could tell which Waide kid had made each decoration. Tanner was the one least likely to follow directions, which meant coloring outside the lines and in one instance, putting the ornament together upside down. Ari was the only one who’d used lace trim, pink buttons or little velvet bows. David’s were exact. He must have been such a serious child, Rachel thought. Recalling how often she’d cringed at the prospect of disappointing her own parents, she wondered if the drive to succeed was simply part of the package for the firstborn.

Looking at his ornaments, one might think his personality consisted solely of careful measurements, straight lines and precision cutting. Those were certainly the aspects of himself he was most comfortable showing. She’d been the curved, crooked one in the relationship, the one whose body didn’t even work with reliable precision.

“Whatcha got there?” Zachariah leaned over to see the ornament in Rachel’s hand.

Holding it up by the ribbon, she showed him a laminated construction-paper star, each of its points equal to the others. Based on the year written in red permanent marker, David had probably been in first grade. “You guys have quite a collection.”

Her father-in-law smiled affectionately. “I imagine it will grow even more when the grandkids start coming.”

She couldn’t help wincing.

Zachariah covered her hand with his own large, rough fingers. “More than one way to chase a dream, honey. A few years ago, I wouldn’t have realized that, too set in my ways. If you want to be a mama, it’ll happen.”

It was hard to speak around the lump in her throat, but she squeezed out a hoarse, “That’s sweet.”

“So who’s going to put the star on top of the tree?” Tanner asked. “Obviously it needs to be someone taller than Ari. Even with the step stool, she’d barely reach.”

His sister snorted. “Did I mention the really buff male dancers I’m planning for your wife’s bachelorette party? Lilah, feel free to run off with Paolo rather than shackle yourself to this yahoo.”

Ignoring the antics of his siblings, David asked, “How about you, Dad?”

“Or Lilah,” Susan suggested. “To celebrate her joining the family.”

Zachariah shook his head. “Rachel. She should do it.” He didn’t give a reason, but as head of the family, he didn’t have to. Still, she was caught off guard by his choice. Did he know? Had he somehow guessed that she wouldn’t be here next year, that this was her goodbye?

He took the small box from his wife and extracted the shining gold ornament. “Here. You know what they say about stars. Make a wish.”

Make a wish? She wouldn’t know where to begin. But as she scooted the stool toward the tree and climbed onto it, her gaze met David’s. The obvious big wish was how much she’d wanted to be a mommy. If she had it all to do it again, though, there were so many small moments where she wished she’d made different decisions, tiny moments in a couple’s life that moved them apart so subtly that they hadn’t even realized it until they were staring at each other from different shores.

Rachel was afraid a single star couldn’t help her. She needed a galaxy or, barring that, a fresh start.

Chapter Five

Rachel parked the car, then sat staring into the gray morning light. You are going to feel like an idiot if you do this. Technically she felt like one already, driving to the store this early on what felt like a fool’s errand. But it was Saturday; she still hadn’t started her period. What if—?

Stop it. Too many times she’d allowed the painful blade of hope to slip beneath her ribs. She was here simply to rule out the unlikely possibility so that she could stop torturing herself. Huddling deeper into her hooded knit sweater, she opened her door. As she hurried toward the grocery store, it occurred to her that there were more cars in the lot than she would have expected on an overcast weekend morning. With temperatures dropping and rain in the forecast, this was the perfect kind of day for sleeping in—a luxurious concept that Winnie’s dogs did not grasp. Rachel had quickly learned that it was folly to ignore the whimpering of a puppy who hadn’t been outside yet.

The store’s automatic doors parted, and she sighed at the immediate warm air. On mornings like these, she couldn’t imagine why anyone willingly lived up north. Inside, she faltered, not entirely ready to know the truth one way or the other. Stalling, she grabbed a cart even though she only intended to buy one thing. When the test came up negative, it would close another chapter on her marriage—necessary but painful. Like a root canal.

She squared her shoulders and shoved the cart, its one squeaky wheel grating a resolute tattoo against the tile. The pharmacy section was just ahead. Determined to get this over with, she rounded the corner at top speed, nearly crashing into Mindy Nelson.

“Sorry.” Rachel drew up short. The older woman had her buggy parked directly in front of the section Rachel needed.

“Hi! Haven’t seen you around much lately.” Following Rachel’s gaze, Mindy arched an eyebrow. “Am I in your way, hon?”

Since there was nothing on the other side of the woman but pregnancy tests, Rachel shook her head in quick denial. “No. I was just on this aisle to get some … lotion.” Blindly she grabbed a container off the shelf closest to her.

“Well, I’m glad I ran into you. You’ll be buying tickets to the winter dance this year, won’t you?” Mindy was one of the administrative staff at the local seniors’ center. Every year they sponsored a charity ball held at the Mistletoe Inn to benefit the center.

“Sure, put me down for one,” Rachel said distractedly. Even if she didn’t attend, she was happy to make the donation.

“Don’t you mean two?”

“What?” Nervously she grabbed another tube to give her hands something to do. “Oh, two tickets. Of course. My brain’s not really awake yet. Winnie’s dogs have been getting me up early, so I’m on autopilot for most of the morning.”

“I see.” Mindy peered into Rachel’s cart, making her aware that she’d thoughtlessly accumulated four bottles of lotion.

“My skin gets so dry during the winter,” Rachel babbled. Go away, go away!

“Uh-huh. Well, you take care. And tell that dishy husband of yours I said hello. I look forward to seeing you both at the dance.”

“Right. Bye now.”

Finally, Mindy returned to her cart and leisurely steered it to the next aisle. Rachel waited another moment, her palms sweaty and her heart thudding. One of the boxes announced in boldfaced type: Now you can know two days before your missed period! She was waaay past that. Taking a deep breath, she grabbed the box and tossed it into the buggy. It bounced off one of the lotion bottles.

Sighing, she gathered the bottles up and began placing them back on the shelf. Then she headed in the direction of the checkout lanes. She wasn’t sure exactly what she noticed as she walked by the shampoo aisle, what she glanced in her peripheral vision that left her rooted to the spot. David. Was he so familiar, imprinted on her brain, that she knew him even with the barest sidelong glimpse? Maybe she’d instinctively recognized his jacket, which she had given him. Or smelled his familiar soap-shampoo combination. Whatever tipped her off, she took comfort in the fact that he hadn’t noticed her yet. She had her hood up; maybe she could just—

“Rachel?”

She scrambled around the side of the cart, retrieving the lone item inside and trying to tuck it beneath the hem of her sweater before he noticed. After the holidays, she needed to think seriously about making her fresh start somewhere else, not a small Georgia town that had only one major grocery store. “Hi.”

“You’re out and about early,” he said casually. “You looked so tired when you left Mom and Dad’s last night, I expected you would sleep late.”

The same frantic dizziness she’d felt in the car last week overcame her, a hundred times worse. She willed it away. David would probably notice if she hyperventilated or—

“Miss!” A man in a white shirt and red pharmacy vest was speed-walking down the aisle, waving his hands. “Miss, I’m afraid I need to … Oh, hi, Mrs. Waide.”

Rachel had refilled enough prescriptions here that most of the pharmacy staff knew her by name.

The bespectacled young man gestured at her hood. “I didn’t realize it was you. Thought you were a shoplifter.”

David laughed outright. “A shoplifter? She once made me turn around and drive back into Atlanta when she realized the restaurant left our dessert off the bill.”

“Well, I was afraid it would come out of the waiter’s pay,” she said weakly.

Too bad she didn’t have that Christmas-tree star with her now; she knew exactly what she’d wish for—the earth to open up and swallow her whole before the kid in the vest—