Debra Kastner - A Holiday Prayer

Cover Page

Excerpt He couldn’t be Neil March! He just couldn’t! He’d said his name was Rory. But…he hadn’t admitted his last name. Maddie’s mind screamed for a logical explanation. Anything but the truth. Anything that would make this nightmare go away. Neil March. The kind, gentle man named Rory who had been romancing her and little Nicky was Neil March, her sworn enemy. She had very nearly given her heart to this man. Her foolish, foolish heart. Maddie couldn’t bare to face the truth. The man who had given life and laughter back to her and her son was Neil March. How could it be?

About The Author DEBRA KASTNER Deb is the wife of a Reformed Episcopal minister, so it was natural for her to find her niche in the Christian/inspirational romance market. She enjoys tackling the issues of faith and trust within the context of romance. Her characters range from upbeat and humorous to (her favorite) dark and broody heroes. Her plots fall anywhere in between, from a playful romp to the deeply emotional. When she’s not writing, she enjoys spending time with her husband and three girls and, whenever she can manage, attending touring Broadway musicals and regional dinner theater.

Title Page A Holiday Prayer Debra Kastner www.millsandboon.co.uk

Epigraph As in water face reveals face, so a man’s heart reveals the man. — Proverbs 27:19

Dedication To my three precious daughters, Annie, Kimberly and Katie, who have brought so much joy and meaning to my life. Thank you for showing me every day what it means to have faith as a child. And to Keith and Dena Rice, for the blessing and inspiration your music and acting have been to me. Keith was the first, and best, Phantom I’ve ever had the privilege of seeing. Thanks to you both, and to Mark Vogel, for granting me the honor of using your song in this book.

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Epilogue

Dear Reader

Copyright

He’d said his name was Rory. But…he hadn’t admitted his last name.

Maddie’s mind screamed for a logical explanation. Anything but the truth. Anything that would make this nightmare go away.

Neil March. The kind, gentle man named Rory who had been romancing her and little Nicky was Neil March, her sworn enemy.

She had very nearly given her heart to this man. Her foolish, foolish heart. Maddie couldn’t bare to face the truth. The man who had given life and laughter back to her and her son was Neil March.

How could it be?

Deb is the wife of a Reformed Episcopal minister, so it was natural for her to find her niche in the Christian/inspirational romance market. She enjoys tackling the issues of faith and trust within the context of romance. Her characters range from upbeat and humorous to (her favorite) dark and broody heroes. Her plots fall anywhere in between, from a playful romp to the deeply emotional.

When she’s not writing, she enjoys spending time with her husband and three girls and, whenever she can manage, attending touring Broadway musicals and regional dinner theater.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

As in water face reveals face, so a man’s heart reveals the man.

— Proverbs 27:19

To my three precious daughters, Annie, Kimberly and Katie, who have brought so much joy and meaning to my life. Thank you for showing me every day what it means to have faith as a child.

And to Keith and Dena Rice, for the blessing and inspiration your music and acting have been to me. Keith was the first, and best, Phantom I’ve ever had the privilege of seeing. Thanks to you both, and to Mark Vogel, for granting me the honor of using your song in this book.

Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.

—Joshua 1:9

“Why won’t they just leave me alone?”

Maddie Carlton glared at the offensive pile of giltedged invitations crammed through the mail slot of her town house, then shook her head at her bulldog Max. “Don’t they have anyone else to bother?” Max lifted his soulful eyes to her and shook his jowls.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” she mumbled. With a tired sigh, she bent down and retrieved her mail, tucking it under her arm as she shuffled into the kitchen. She hadn’t bothered dressing for the day, and was still in a frayed gray terry-cloth bathrobe and matted slippers.

It was her mourning outfit.

She usually dressed and showered before waking her six-year-old son Nicky, but today it was too much effort.

Christmas. Her first Christmas without Peter. And the anniversary of his death. All wrapped up in one morbid package.

The first months of grieving. Peter’s birthday. Their wedding anniversary. Each date came and went, the sun rose and set, and Maddie was still walking and breathing, still cleaning and cooking—though sometimes it amazed her.

Life went on. But it was always a struggle.

It was Nicky who kept her rising every morning, moving through the day. For Nicky’s sake she would do anything. Even get dressed when she felt like staying in bed, her head buried under mounds of covers.

With a cup of coffee to increase her fortitude, she slumped at the kitchen table, spreading her mail before her. Invitations, mostly. Every charity this side of the Mississippi River had heard of her tragedy, and every one of them wanted to partake of her monetary settlement, the flower that they believed grew from the ashes.

Maddie snorted aloud, causing Max, who was trying to nap at her feet, to sniff and give her his best doggie put-down for disturbing his rest. If he could, Maddie thought, he’d be rolling his eyes. As it was, he groaned, rolled to his feet, turned his back on her, and flopped to the floor again.

“Sorry, Max.” She took a handful of envelopes and flipped through them. Who wanted her money today?

She was about to toss the whole unopened lot into “file thirteen” when a bright green envelope caught her eye. Usually the invitations and pleas came in fancy silver or burgundy, or at the very least in a crisp business envelope.

In addition to being a merry Christmas green, this envelope had a child’s drawing of Santa and his reindeer.

Children’s Hospital.

Even the name made her tremble. The other envelopes dropped unnoticed to the floor as she ran a quivering finger across the seal.

For Children’s Hospital, she would at least take a look.

Father, I cannot see tomorrow, Father, I find it hard to pray, Father, feeling these tears of sorrow, Carry this weight…Show me the way. Open up my eyes, Open up my ears, Open up my heart. Father, hear my prayer.

—Heartfelt

An ocean of masked party-goers washed toward the Brown Palace Hotel, their laughter echoing in the cold evening air. Maddie closed her eyes, trying to recall the feeling of gurgling laughter caught in her chest, bubbling up into her throat.