Tanya Michaels - Their Precious Christmas Miracle - Mistletoe Baby / In the Spirit of...Christmas / A Baby By Christmas

“It’s okay,” she relented. “You had good intentions. And maybe you’re right about the hormones exaggerating everything I’m feeling right now. I don’t want to fight.”

“Me, either.” He ducked his head guiltily. “That can’t be good for the baby. Dr. McDermott would kick my butt. You’ll let me go with you, won’t you? To the doctor’s?”

“Of course. I want you to have an equal part in this.” That’s what she’d always wanted—equal partnership—though he’d always been affronted when she tried to explain.

“All right. Then I’ll go so that you can get some rest before the shower.” He smoothed her hair. “But I’m just down the street if you need anything or have any cravings or—”

“David.” She shook her head. “I’ll be fine. But if I need anything, I know how to find you.”

After he left, she leaned against the front door and pressed a finger to her still-tingling lips. Kissing him had been amazing. She couldn’t help imagining, just for a second, what it would have been like to allow herself the indulgence of being swept away, of making love to him again. And then what? She’d meant what she said; the infertility issues had no doubt exacerbated their problems, exposing the fault lines of their marriage, but they hadn’t been why she left.

It was true that she’d never planned to be a single mom, but nor did she plan to slap this pregnancy over their marriage like a Band-Aid. David had barely protested when she’d told him the marriage was over. She knew her husband. If he’d wanted to fight for her, nothing on earth would have stopped him. Fighting for the baby, while understandable, was not the same thing. Marriage wasn’t a cracked Christmas ornament. He couldn’t glue it back together, hang it on the tree and pretend everything was okay.

The couples’ shower for Tanner and Lilah was being hosted by Sandra Donavan, one of the other teachers at Whiteberry Elementary, and her husband, Pat. Rachel had never been to their house before, but the giant white bell-shaped balloon tied to the mailbox outside made it easy to find. What was a bit more difficult to find was parking—a line of cars had already formed halfway up the street. Rachel climbed out of the car, bracing herself against the freezing rain, and locked her doors, even though she didn’t know the last time anything was stolen in Mistletoe.

She carried her purse, umbrella and a plastic-wrapped platter with enough ham-and-cheese-melt mini-sandwiches for fourteen guests. It was a good thing David was bringing the gift from the two of them since she didn’t have a free hand.

“Hey.”

At the sound of David’s voice, she turned on the sidewalk. “I was just thinking about you,” she blurted. She glanced at the silver-wrapped package in his hands. “I mean, about the fact that you were bringing the present.”

A lot of people, herself included, relied on cute gift bags. Not David. He hand-wrapped everything with precision corners and perfectly coordinated ribbons.

Out of nowhere, a burble of laughter escaped her. “It’s a good thing you’re so secure in your masculinity.”

“Less secure by the hour.” He fell in step with her, but remained on the street since their open umbrellas didn’t allow for their walking abreast on the sidewalk. “Just earlier today, I was shot down by a beautiful woman.”

Beautiful? Not sure how to respond, she concentrated on getting out of the rain quickly.

Rachel tried not to think about how many women in town would line up to console him once their separation was public knowledge. Ladies had sought her out at council meetings and softball games to tell her just how lucky she was. A few of them had sounded a bit jealous, miffed that one of Mistletoe’s most eligible bachelors had chosen an outsider, but most had simply been sincere. She thought again of how she would miss the people when she left, what Mistletoe had meant to her when she first visited.

My sanctuary . She’d come to this quaint town on vacation, after her dad had been released from the hospital. She’d worried that he was working himself to death … and was disturbed by the possibility that she was headed down the same sixty-hour-a-week path in a career she’d never consciously sought. She’d always let whatever classes she was getting the highest grades in determine her course, shaping her major and eventually her internship with a marketing firm in Columbia. But there’d never been a moment when she’d sat down, thought it out, and said, “Aha! This is what I want to be when I grow up.”

So she’d taken some personal time from work, hiking in North Georgia, taking scads of pictures and letting herself be charmed by small-town citizens. One in particular. She’d warned David that her time here was temporary and that she wasn’t interested in a brief fling, yet she’d dated him anyway. Guided by his vision of the future, she’d suddenly been able to see what she wanted, her nebulous plans crystallized into brilliant focus. David had made it seem so matter-of-fact; she would move here, be with him. They would raise a family and be deliriously happy, end of story. For a woman who had always obligingly gone with the flow, pleasing people around her and ignoring any selfish impulses, it had been intoxicating to consider such a bold move. After a few months of long-distance dating, they’d wound up engaged and she’d moved here exactly as he’d outlined. For a little while, they had been deliriously happy.

Now that they were apart, she’d known she couldn’t bear to stay in Mistletoe. It was too small—there wasn’t enough room for her, her ex and five years of accumulated memories. But then, she hadn’t counted on parenting from two different zip codes. She had to figure out a life plan that was good for their baby without jeopardizing her own sanity or further damaging her heart. David had had a point this morning; the pregnancy did change things. She just had to figure out which things and how much.

Turning, she headed up the sidewalk, glad that she and David were arriving together so that she didn’t babble through another explanation of why they’d taken two separate cars. Sandra opened the door, calling out a cheerful hello. As they stepped inside the two-story stone-and-wood house, each wiping their feet on the entry mat, Sandra looked back out the glass door.

“Heck of a day we picked to have a party, huh?”

Rachel handed over her tray of sandwiches. “At least you weren’t planning to do this in the backyard.”

“I’ve cooked out in worse weather,” her husband, Pat, said as he came into the foyer to greet them.

Rolling her eyes, Sandra laughed. “My husband thinks of barbecuing as an extreme sport.”

Pat mock-glared. “Never heard you complain while eating my award-winning brisket.” He reached out and squeezed her shoulder, both of them grinning.

Rachel’s throat constricted—it was just the teasing byplay of two people in love who were comfortable with each other, but it was easy to take for granted until you lost it. She and David hadn’t been comfortable in months; they’d become as hard and fragile as peanut brittle.

“Rachel, David.” Lilah appeared in the archway behind their hosts. “You guys made it! We’re just waiting on Amy and Steve.”

Steve played on Tanner’s softball team, and his wife, Amy, worked in the administration office of the elementary school. Gathered inside the Donavans’ living room already were Lilah’s aunt Shelby and uncle Ray, Vonda Kerrigan and her white-haired boyfriend Peter Joel and Quinn and Ari, who’d jokingly agreed to be each other’s dates since neither of them was currently seeing anyone special. Susan and Zachariah Waide had also been invited, but they were working at the store so their children could all attend. The Christmas season was the busiest time of year in retail.