Ciara's Homecoming Christmas

By Carol Henry

At a crossroads in her military career, coming home to Willow Springs, Vermont, is bittersweet for Ciara Miller. Her parents have moved to Florida, her great aunt resides at New Eden Assisted Living, and her high school sweetheart is a widower raising twin girls.

Eight years ago, Tad Brownley, a lowly mechanic in his father's garage, felt he had nothing to offer Ciara, the love of his life, so he let her go to chase her dream to serve as a military nurse. Now she's back on leave and he still doesn't have much to offer or the time for a relationship no matter how fleeting.

Despite Tad's mother and Ciara's great aunt's matchmaking efforts, can their renewed romance sustain a long-term relationship? Or will her call to duty split them apart again?

• Language: Unknown
• Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
• Release date: Dec 2, 2019
• ISBN: 9781509229307

Carol Henry

Carol Henry is an author of Destination: Romance--Exotic Romantic Suspense Adventures, as well as contemporary romance, and historic women's fiction. She is an international traveler, and travel writer of exotic locations for major cruise lines' deluxe in-cabin books. Carol lives with her husband in the beautiful New York State Finger Lakes region where they are surrounded by family and friends.

Book preview

friendship.

Chapter One

It was nighttime when Ciara drove her rented four-wheel SUV down the long drive of Deerbourne Inn’s three-story mansion, decorated for Christmas in all its glory. Lit candles burned in every window, and evergreen garlands outlined the trim. It was a far cry better-looking than she remembered it before enlisting in the military eight years ago. But now it brought back all the warm, fuzzy memories of Christmases past, making her homecoming bittersweet. She’d often wondered if leaving her high school sweetheart behind to pursue a career as a military nurse was the right decision.

Still hesitant to get out of the vehicle and face her demons, she stepped onto the cleared drive and headed up the walk. A winter breeze blew at her hair, and the soft cashmere scarf around her neck buffeted her cheeks as she walked up the porch steps. Her mother had told her Tad Brownley had married four years ago and had twin daughters. If she hadn’t left him all those years ago, would they have married? Had children of their own?

She approached the large, wreath-covered double doors and took a moment to catch her breath. Built in 1756 as a homestead, the home was turned into an inn sometime in the 1780s, with various renovations over the years. Ciara remembered how rundown it had become when she was a teen, and had often wondered how a lovely, iconic building could fall into such a state of neglect. She was curious when her parents’ recent email informed her that Bertha Deerbourne had died and left the estate to some well-known chef from New York a couple years ago, who apparently had the money to fix the place up and reopen it as an inn. Upon learning of this, she had immediately emailed her parents asking them to book a room for her while she was on leave. From the outside, at least, the results of the chef’s renovations were impressive.

She entered through the heavy oak doors and stood in awe. A wide archway to her right opened into an opulent parlor with oriental rugs, overstuffed furniture, crocheted doilies and brass lamps on the side tables, and a roll-top desk and oak chair to the side. The large fireplace with a polished granite hearth and mantel, decorated with fresh evergreen garlands and red accents, was lit, adding seasonal ambiance to warm anyone’s soul. It certainly lifted her spirits. Shaking her melancholy thoughts aside, she followed the bird’s-eye birch paneling to her right and headed straight to the registration desk. Not recognizing the receptionist who greeted her, she returned the young man’s smile.

Welcome to Deerbourne Inn. My name is Jared. I hope you have reservations on this cold Vermont winter night. His smile was wide and welcoming, but it was his sparkling blue eyes that caught her attention—warm and sincere.

Yes. Ciara Miller. My parents made the reservation.

Jared opened the registration book and slid his long fingers down the ledger. Ah, yes. Here it is. You are registered through the day after Christmas. Plenty of time to enjoy our winter festivities here in Willow Springs.

She signed her name to the registry and accepted the key to her room. I’ll be sure to check out the holiday events while I’m in town.

Jared assured her Liz, the inn’s housekeeper, had her room ready. She thanked him and then wheeled her small luggage to her appointed room on the second floor. She opened the paneled oak door to a simple but beautifully appointed haven. A crystal bowl of dried flower potpourri scented the air.

Several Vermont landscape prints accented the pale blue walls and were hung between the two tall windows. She wheeled her suitcase over to the old-fashioned maple chifforobe and set it aside. She had plenty of time to deal with its contents tomorrow. Right now the queen-sized bed beckoned. She had fourteen days to make up her mind whether to continue her career as a military nurse or to look for employment closer to home. In the meantime, the inn was her home. Exhausted from her flight, her drive from the airport, and her decision-making thoughts, she didn’t hesitate to make her way to the bed. After years of falling asleep when the opportunity presented itself, after long shifts in the OR or in the field, she kicked her shoes off, turned the light off, and plopped on the bed. Her eyes shut seconds after her head hit the pillow.

****

Ciara jumped from bed the following morning, refreshed. She dressed, grabbed a cup of coffee from the reception area, and waved to Jared as she headed out the door. Her first order of business was to visit her great-aunt Noelle at the New Eden Assisted Living Facility.

The cold hit her the minute she stepped out onto the front porch. It had snowed an inch during the night, but thankfully the drive was plowed, and the roadway looked clear. She was going to need to purchase a pair of boots if she was going to stay in Willow Springs the next couple of weeks. But at least for today, the morning sun sparkled on the fresh blanket of white with a promise of renewal. As she climbed into her car and pulled out from Deerbourne Inn, a large, dark-gray, almost black cat darted across the driveway in front of her vehicle. She slammed on the brakes. The car lurched forward. She wasn’t superstitious, but darn it, it was Friday the thirteenth. She didn’t need thoughts of omens messing with her mind. Coming back to Willow Springs was hard enough on her psyche.

She shook her thoughts aside and turned onto Maple Run toward Sugarbush Lane. Minutes later she pulled her SUV into New Eden’s drive. Like many of the establishments in town, the facility was decorated for Christmas. A large statue of Father Christmas decked out in holiday splendor stood in the interim foyer. Ciara entered through the sliding glass double doors, signed in, and then made her way to her great-aunt’s room on the second floor. Her aunt was sitting at a small dining table eating breakfast, dressed in a red sweater with a holly wreath on the front, and black slacks. Her snow-white hair was trimmed short; her bangs hung to her large, clear-framed glasses. As usual, her clear hazel eyes lit up when she spotted Ciara.

It had been a long time. This visit was overdue.

Aunt Noelle, it’s so good to see you. Ciara gently tucked her arms around her aunt and kissed her cheeks. You look wonderful. Better than those pictures Mom and Dad emailed me before they left town.

"Well, young lady, as much as I love finally seeing you in person, you aren’t looking so good yourself. You look