The Christmas Gift

By Janet Eaves

Christina Montgomery dreads another Christmas with questions about her soldier husband, Johnny, hanging over her head. She believes he died with his small sniper squadron a little over two years earlier, even though his was the only body unaccounted for. The Marine Corps have all but called Johnny a defector. There are even a few Legend locals who believe it, too. This is something Christina refuses to consider.

Until one snowy evening two weeks before Christmas.

An injured man, looking like a slightly older version of the husband she remembers, arrives at her Tennessee farm with no idea of who he is. Even with a blizzard about to hit the area hard, she can’t focus on anything but the questions clouding her mind. Is his sudden appearance a Christmas miracle? Or has her worst nightmare just come true?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Janet Eaves
• Release date: Nov 10, 2015
• ISBN: 9781944454852

Janet Eaves

Multi-published author of Legend Series books set in Legend, Tennessee, as well as other sweet to sexy romances, Janet Eaves strives to write stories that awaken the senses. She hopes you smell, feel, hear, taste, as well as see the scenes playing out her character's lives and struggles as they fall in love.Janet shares the Legend, Tennessee, series with her three SisterWriters, though each author (Janet Eaves, Maddie James, Jan Scarbrough, and Magdalena Scott) write and publish their own books within the Legend series. Check them out! You'll find sometimes, our characters visit each other in this wonderful small town!

Book preview

The Christmas Gift

By Janet Eaves

A Legend Series Christmas Novella

Copyright © 2015, Janet Eaves

Digital ISBN: 978-1-944454-85-2

Copyediting by KJ Jacobs

Cover Art by KJ Jacobs

Digital Release: November 2015

Prior Release: December 2012

Warning: All rights reserved. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work, in whole or part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, is illegal and forbidden, without the written permission of the author.

This is a work of fiction. Characters, settings, names, and occurrences are a product of the author’s imagination and bear no resemblance to any actual person, living or dead, places or settings, and/or occurrences. Any incidences of resemblance are purely coincidental.

This edition is published by Mystic Waters Books, Tennessee, USA.

THE CHRISTMAS GIFT

Christina Montgomery dreads another Christmas with questions about her soldier husband, Johnny, hanging over her head. She believes he died with his small sniper squadron a little over two years earlier, even though his was the only body unaccounted for. The Marine Corps have all but called Johnny a defector. There are even a few Legend locals who believe it, too. This is something Christina refuses to consider.

Until one snowy evening two weeks before Christmas.

An injured man, looking like a slightly older version of the husband she remembers, arrives at her Tennessee farm with no idea of who he is. Even with a blizzard about to hit the area hard, she can’t focus on anything but the questions clouding her mind. Is his sudden appearance a Christmas miracle? Or has her worst nightmare just come true?

Prologue

Christina Montgomery hit the remote, effectively turning off the stereo, heartbroken she still couldn’t listen to the song she’d loved since her first memories of Christmas. The old Bing Crosby song, I’ll Be Home for Christmas, had been sung around her parents’ piano every year, their friends’ and neighbors’ voices raised, some lovely, some not so lovely, but all filled with the joy of the season.

She’d loved those Christmases, had looked forward to them as children do, with anticipation of both presents and communion with her friends. Friends who, like the generations before, stayed close even after graduations and marriages. Life had been so simple then, so fun.

Times had certainly changed.

Now the song brought tears to her eyes, shattered her heart all over again, reminding her of all she’d lost. Her friends had stopped coming around because they didn’t know how to deal with the situation of someone so young losing so much, nor the questions that hung over her head like a ton of steel beams precariously bound by cotton threads. Their lives were still filled with love and laughter, new babies, new homes, new everything.

Her life was at a standstill. And had been since that fateful day two years, one month, and twenty-nine days before when two uniformed Marines showed up at her door, the older of the pair with a white collar around his throat.

She’d known even before they spoke, had felt the very life drain from her soul. The tears started and didn’t stop for days. She hadn’t been able to function for weeks. Her sweet baby girl hadn’t understood, having already missed so much time with a father who had spent the better part of her life serving his country.

In some ways it was a blessing that Lisa barely remembered Johnny. She hadn’t suffered the loss as deeply as she would have if there had been more memories. At the same time, Christina felt Lisa had been cheated out of knowing a great man. A man who would have made a wonderful father if he hadn’t died only three weeks shy of the end of his final tour of duty.

Fury built, replacing sorrow. Her husband was dead. She knew it in her heart. She didn’t believe what was being said, what had been insinuated. She refused to believe that just because his body had never been found, it meant he may have deserted. She knew him. They all knew him, which made it all that much harder to know that they still wondered if he was capable of such a deed.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then opened them to the deep concern clouding the eyes of her tow-headed seven-year old. A child who was every beat of her heart. Hey, baby. Good morning.

Lisa opened her arms to be lifted for a hug. You’re sad again, Mommy.

Christina embraced her tightly, hating that Lisa had caught her in low spirits—again. She was doing better. Had been for a while now. But that song had torn open the wound.

Mommy just has something in her eyes, she said, sitting her daughter back down. You run on to your room and get dressed for school. I’ll fix you some breakfast so you have all kinds of energy for today’s fieldtrip.

Lisa nodded, her blond curls flying. Okay! We get to send letters to Santa today and I’m getting a miracle!

Christina smiled through the lump in her throat, curious, but knowing better than to ask what Lisa was going to ask of Santa. She could wait for Miss Cameron, Lisa’s second grade teacher, to call her, as she would each parent who didn’t have internet capabilities, with the children’s lists.

Her spirits lifted with an all encompassing love as she watched her baby girl skip her way down the hall to her room. Life was so much easier when you believed in Santa Claus… when you still believed in miracles.

She headed for the kitchen, determined to put her tears away for good. To give Lisa the best Christmas she could. To bury her sorrow, and begin again.

Chapter One

Expected snowfall turned to blizzard faster than the weather forecaster had predicted that morning. Since there should have been nothing more than flurries until nightfall, he’d felt confident he could take care of the problem and get back to the solitude of his temporary home without difficulty. It was the only reason he’d agreed to take the call, then drove twenty miles up the mountain’s winding two lane road, and was now belted and boot-hooked to a utility pole his bucket-truck couldn’t manage to reach.

He shivered deliberately, knocking snow from his upper body, wondering if he’d be able to repair the damage to the television cable line that had sucked out at the pole before he’d have to pack it in.

Of course Cartwright Cable Company, the company he’d contracted with to upgrade their old, outdated system, would throw a hissy if he allowed their customers to miss the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. Or, more importantly, the football games that would follow for the rest of the afternoon. Especially the contest between the Dallas Cowboys and the New England Patriots. Hell, he couldn’t blame them. He’d be pissed if he missed that game himself. But, as the only contractor who’d stayed in town because he had no family to spend the holiday with, on this very family oriented holiday, if anybody got left out in the cold, literally and figuratively, it promised to be him.

Which meant he kept his freezing butt nearly thirty feet in the air, and his numb fingers functioning until he reconnected the three piece connector to the coax cable and tap, making it all ready to function once again for Cartwright’s customers. Then he’d use his meter to check the strength of the signal. And finally, if everything checked out, he’d have to interrupt one of CCC’s local customers to make sure his or her TV viewing needs were being met.

He hoped everything went off—or in this case on—without a hitch as there was no way he was climbing back up on a pole that was swaying in the howling wind. Given the current conditions, a whiteout was imminent, which took the choice out of his hands anyway. Once he climbed down, he’d be lucky to get himself and his bucket-truck back to his tiny rented cabin without incident.

Shivering for real this time, he tightened the last screw, knocked the additional inch of snow off his hardhat and shoulders, connected the meter and ran his test, and was eternally grateful the specs were within the required limits. Though not dead-on, it was as perfect a signal as he was going to get on a day like this, and if that wasn’t good enough for Cartwright, they could send one of their