An Impossible Gift: Christmas Past, Present & Future Novellas, #2

By Dawn M. Turner

A Contemporary Christian Romance novella

Even the Impossible Can Happen at Christmas

Charlotte "Charley" Nolan's life has fallen apart. Nothing is as it's supposed to be. To make it worse, she finds herself in the one place she'd rather not be. The tiny town of Hamburg, Arizona. To live with her grandparents, no less. Being told that God turns negatives into positives is the last thing she wants to hear, especially from someone she's just met. She knows better than to believe in the impossible.

Dillon Masterson considers himself blessed. As Hamburg's newest year-round resident, and the town's only police officer, he's found his niche. There's only one thing missing, and he's trusting God to fill that need. Then he meets Charley and wonders, despite her defensive prickliness, if God has answered his prayers.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dawn M. Turner
• Release date: Dec 3, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215009512

Dawn M. Turner

Dawn lives in the high desert of Southern Arizona with her husband of over 20 years and a variety of furry and feathered critters. She enjoys photography, crochet, scrapbooking, spinning her own yarn from wool and alpaca, beading and jewelry-making, and lots of reading. When not doing those things, she writes romance, romantic-suspense, women's fiction under the name Dawn M. Turner, and medieval and urban fantasy with a Christian worldview under the name D.M. Turner. She took first place in the Contemporary Romance category, as well as winning the Grand Prize, in the 2011 Writers on the Storm Category Five Writing Contest.

Book preview

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Wednesday, November 22, 2017

(Day before Thanksgiving)

Outside Hamburg, Arizona

What in the world is she doing? Dillon Masterson slowed his RAM 1500 pickup then stopped.

Facing the woods along the narrow, two-lane road, a woman was bent over fully at the waist, arms extended downward, head and neck relaxed. Light brown hair with a red tint hung in a long ponytail, the last few inches of which pooled on the pavement. Her fingertips brushed the crumbled edge of the asphalt. Super-impressive, considering the three-inch spike heels on her feet. He’d have thought she was stretching, but her upper body just hung there. Besides that, she wasn’t dressed for exercise of any sort.

Though she wore a lightweight jacket, the hem of a dress brushed her calves. That and her choice of footwear provided all the evidence he needed that she wasn’t a jogger taking a break while running up the steep road leading through Ramsey Canyon to the town of Hamburg.

Had someone abandoned her out there? What other reason could a lone woman, dressed like that, possibly have for being on an isolated stretch of road… in the cold… so close to dark?

After a few more seconds, she slowly stood upright in a slow, almost serpentine fashion, as though stacking her vertebra one at a time. A maneuver he’d learned a while back in a Pilates class, not that he’d admit to anyone in Hamburg to ever having done such a thing. Why would anyone do it by the side of a mountain road though?

Once fully upright, she shoved her waist-length ponytail over her shoulder, stared into the woods beside the road, and sighed. Then, rubbing a hand over her forehead, she glanced in his direction and froze.

First impression, dark eyes and a pretty face. The latter almost immediately twisted into a grimace.

Intrigued, Dillon eased to the nearly non-existent shoulder, flicked the switch for his hazard lights, and parked.

Suspicion was readily apparent on her face as he got out of his vehicle and walked toward her. Her shoes brought her height to within three or four inches of his five-foot-ten, which put her at no more than five-four or five-five barefoot. Her slim build matched her height. She was probably close to his twenty-nine years of age.

She glanced behind her, as though contemplating an escape plan.

Like she can run in those shoes. Are you alright? He halted several feet away, hoping to avoid spooking her more than he already had.

Not by any stretch of the imagination. She pointed to the deep creek running along the road.

He followed the motion with his gaze, and his stomach tightened.

A two-door Honda Civic had gone into a creek bed deep enough to hide it from most passing vehicles. The front end was smashed, and steam rose from the engine. In another fifteen minutes or so, shadows from the setting sun would obscure it even further.

He shot her a concerned look. "That’s your car?" If she’d been unable to climb out on her own, how long might she have been stuck there before someone found her? Before she’d possibly frozen to death in the night?

Yes. Tears filled her eyes. She took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders.

Dillon studied her face then scanned the rest of her. No visible blood, and the fact she was on her feet and moving around suggested no broken bones. A nasty bruise formed on her left temple. Possible head trauma? Do I need to call an ambulance?

No. She gently touched her forehead and winced. It’s bruised, but I don’t think it’s serious.

Did you lose consciousness after the accident?

Hesitation flashed. I don’t… think so.

It might be a good idea to have it looked at anyway, to be on the safe side.

It’s not necessary. Tears returned, glistening in dark brown eyes.

Have you called 9-1-1? Doubtful. He’d have been notified—should’ve been—but best not to assume.

No. The word came out with bite. Anger flashed in her eyes. I forgot my stinking phone. Dumb-blond maneuver.

Dillon raised his brows. Had she hit her head harder than she’d realized? Uh… people forget cellphones all the time. Not just blonds. Besides, you’re not blond.

Yes, I am. She yanked on a lock of hair hard enough to make him wince. "This is a dye job. Fat lot of good it’s done me." The more she spoke, the faster the words spilled out and the madder she appeared to get. She turned, trudged away from him a few tottering strides, pivoted abruptly on a three-inch heel, and marched back.

Hopefully she wouldn’t break an ankle in those shoes.

I can change the outside, but I’m stuck with the blond inside, and I apparently have a flashing neon sign over my head that everyone sees but me. It says ‘Abuse me; I like it’. Venom dripped from the words. I never should’ve agreed to come up here. If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have walked out the door without my phone or had to swerve to avoid a stupid cat and put my car in a ditch. Don’t people know better than to let their pets out of the house?

Cat? Hm. He hadn’t seen strays in the area. Domestic pets of any sort didn’t last long in an environment with wild predators. Coyotes, black bears, mountain lions, and bobcats all made the Huachuca Mountains their home. What’d it look like?

A cat. She glared at him, motioning wildly with both hands. Like any other cat. Brown and gray with spots. No tail. Like a big Manx. Or maybe it had a short one. Definitely not a long tail. That much I’m sure of. Why?

Dillon frowned, pulled his smartphone from his pocket, and searched for a picture. Then he held out the phone so she could see the screen. Like this?

She stretched to study the screen but didn’t move closer to him. Yeah, exactly like that. Do you know who owns the thing?

"That’s not a housecat, he ventured cautiously, uncertain how she’d take the news. It’s a bobcat."

Bobcat? Her eyes widened, and she scanned the area. Aren’t those carnivores?

Yes, but you don’t need to worry. They’re pretty timid. It’s amazing you saw it at all.

"Yeah, well, that—she jabbed a finger toward the crumpled car—is far from amazing."

I agree wholeheartedly.

Another obvious battle with tears took place, and she marched away from him again. Several strides later, she returned, only to repeat the process. I never should’ve come up here. If I hadn’t listened to my parents, I’d be safe in my warm apartment. Her hands flew out to her sides and waved around. What am I saying? What good would it do me to hide out there? It’s not like I can keep them out.

Dillon tensed. Them? Who was the them she wanted to keep out of her apartment? Was she in some sort of trouble? She didn’t appear frightened, so they must not be that sort of threat.

On a return trip, she halted and grimaced. I’m sorry. When I’m upset, I have two modes. Rant or cry. You don’t deserve either.

It’s okay. Dillon smiled and shook his head. "As long as you’re not mad at me, you can rant all you like. Tears don’t bother me either."

Really? Her eyes widened. Most guys start looking for the nearest exit when a woman cries.

Maybe so, but not me. He grinned. Having a slew of sisters probably has something to do with it.

She blinked at him, then a faint smile appeared. Tears quickly followed, and she couldn’t seem to push them back.

Would you like me to call for a tow truck? One thing he could do anyway.

A couple of tears escaped. She brushed them away. I don’t know where to have the car taken.

There’s a good mechanic in town. I can have it towed there. If nothing else, it’ll buy you time.

She nodded.

Dillon searched his contacts then pressed CALL.

Miller’s Towing. This is Bob.

Hey, it’s Dillon Masterson. I’m up here on Toll Road. A car’s gone into a ditch about half a mile from the Hamburg town limits. Have time to retrieve it and take it to Halverson’s Garage?

Sure. I can be there in… about twenty minutes.

That’d be super. I appreciate it. See you then.

Yep. Bob hung up.

Dillon smiled at the young woman, who’d started to shiver. I need to get her out of the cold. Bob’ll be here in about twenty minutes. Is someone expecting you?

She nodded. My grandparents.

Who are they?

The Nolans.

On South Outer Loop?

She nodded.

I know them. He motioned to his vehicle. I’d be happy to give you a ride.

Right. A short, barked laugh contained no humor. I may be dumb, but I’m not totally moronic. Do you really think I’m getting into a truck with a man I just met on a back road to nowhere?

Dillon chuckled and reached into his back pocket. I should’ve introduced myself earlier. Sorry. He flipped open his ID so she could see both it and his badge.

~~~

Still wavering treacherously between bursting into tears and launching into a rant of proportions the man had probably never seen, Charley Nolan leaned close enough to scrutinize what he held out at arm’s length. Badge and official identification. You’re a cop?

"The entirety of the Hamburg Police