Lissa Manley - A Snowglobe Christmas - Yuletide Homecoming / A Family's Christmas Wish

His perfect mouth shrugged while his eyes twinkled. “Maybe. Or maybe Darlene Clifford is jockeying to sing a solo.”

Amy clapped a hand to each cheek. “Argh. Say it ain’t so!”

Holding a tea box to his chest, he nodded in mock seriousness. “And we both know Darlene’s voice could take the paint off the walls.”

Amy sniggered. Then she laughed. Rafe joined her. And in the next minute, through shared silliness, she relaxed a little.

“Shame on you.” Amy tossed a bag of noodles at him.

He one-handed it. “You laughed first.”

So she had. Rafe could always make her laugh.

But she’d still be glad when the evening was over.

* * *

The scream jerked him awake. He bolted upright in bed, shaking, heart thundering inside his chest. The rat-a-tat of gunfire resounded in his head. His nostrils full of fire and dust and that peculiar, sickly sweet smell of death.

Rafe shook his head, fighting to gain reality. He was home. In Snowglobe. In his old bedroom. He’d done his job. Let it go.

He sat up on the side of the bed, elbows on his knees and head in his hands. Cold night air prickled the sweat trickling down his neck.

He could hear his own ragged breathing, loud and harsh in the silent night.

The doorknob rattled and the door opened. Light from the hall bathroom crept in around his feet.

He looked up to find Jake a dark shadow standing in the doorway.

“Are you all right?” Jake asked, voice low and worried.

Rafe ran splayed fingers through the top of his hair, collecting himself for the sake of little brother. “Yeah.”

“I heard you.”

Shame calmed the pounding of his pulse. Jake’s room was next to his just as it had always been. Rafe was thankful Mom and Dad were at the other end of the house. But he didn’t want his brother thinking he was a sissy. “Sorry.”

Jake padded across the soft carpet, quiet as a cat, and a welcome presence. “Another nightmare?”

As much as he hated to admit it.

“Something like that. No big deal. Must have been the chili dog.”

Jake hovered, uncertain. “I can get you something. Water. Milk. Ibuprofen.”

Rafe wondered if he’d screamed, if he’d cried out like a scared girl. He wondered if he’d said anything he shouldn’t. But he didn’t ask. Couldn’t. He was a marine. “Go back to bed.”

“You sure? I could stay. Talk.”

“I’m good.” He could handle it. “Don’t say anything to Mom about this, okay?”

Jake hesitated for another few seconds, then squeezed Rafe’s shoulder, slipped quietly out of the room and shut the door with a soft click.

In total darkness again, Rafe sat on the side of the bed, adrenaline jacked, his sleep shot for the night. He couldn’t remember details of the dreams but they left him feeling weak and helpless and frustrated that war had followed him home. They didn’t come often—maybe once a week—but when they did, they wrecked him.

He bowed his head, hands clasped between his still shaky knees and prayed. Afterward, he rose and went to the window, pulling up the heavy insulated shades to look outside. The world was peaceful here. Peaceful and safe. Snow fell in the moonlight and glistened like the inside of a snowglobe. He thought of the one he’d carried with him all around the world. The snowglobe Amy had given him.

“Amy,” he muttered against the cold windowpane.

Tonight had been strange. He’d known she hadn’t wanted to be alone with him at the food pantry. Even though he understood her reasons, he was bothered. They’d been such good friends, able to talk about anything and everything, even before becoming engaged. But that, like everything else in his life, had changed.

He wondered again if he should broach the topic of their broken engagement and explain how sorry he was for hurting her.

He scrubbed both hands over his face, whiskers scraping.

He and Amy lived in the same town, attended the same church, but they might as well be as far apart as Spokane and Afghanistan. She hadn’t understood then. She certainly wouldn’t understand now.

Heart heavy, he clicked on a lamp, went to his closet and took down the small snowglobe. As he had so many times before, he twisted the key on the bottom and gave the globe a shake. He returned to his bed and lay down. Globe balanced on his chest, he propped his hands behind his head to watch the make-believe snow fall over the pretty little village and let the melody of “Silent Night” serenade him toward dawn.

Chapter Four

“What are these things?” Rafe asked, holding up a skewer of meat and fruit.

Jake leaned in and took a bite. Mouth full, he said, “I don’t know but they’re good. Katie knows how to throw a party, huh?”

The birthday/Christmas party was in full swing, the voices of thirty-plus adults competing with a blasting CD player. Rafe figured there was enough food spread on the table, the bar and the end tables to feed everyone in town for a week, and he aimed to sample all of it. Always a gregarious guy, he was having a good time.

“Hey.” Jake’s elbow jabbed his ribs. “Look who just walked in.”

Rafe knew before he looked. Lots of people had come through the front door tonight but Jake would only mention one. Amy.

“So?” he asked, choking down a cracker covered in spicy cheese spread.

“So, go talk to her. She looks lost.”

Rafe made a rude noise. “You should get lost.”

But he watched Amy step inside, her smile tentative, holding a wrapped gift to add to the pile already stacked a foot high under Katie’s twinkling Douglas fir. She did look a little lost as if she’d forgotten how to mingle with old friends.

Before he could consider all the reasons why he shouldn’t, he excused his way through the packed room to her side.

At his approach, Amy looked up, startled. “Rafe. I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Same here.” He was glad she’d come. The room seemed brighter, merrier with Amy in it. “You’re late.”

Amy bent to place her gift beneath the tree. Her blond hair shone like the tinsel and a few stray hairs danced with static electricity. Rafe remembered how soft and smooth her hair was and how he’d liked the feel on his rough fingers.

He remembered a lot of things about Amy that he’d liked. Maybe Jake was right. Maybe they could...

She stood, cutting off the thought he shouldn’t be thinking.

“Worked late. Mom had something to do tonight.” Her nose was red, her eyes sparkling from the outdoor chill. She looked energized, the way she always had when she’d been outside in the winter. The same way he felt now that she was here.

When she rubbed her reddened hands together, Rafe resisted the urge to warm them as he used to. He wondered if she remembered.

“Let me take your coat,” he said, not wanting to let her get away but not knowing what else to say.

“You don’t have to.” She unsnapped the down anorak and slid it from her shoulders.

Rafe took it anyway. The scent of fresh, frigid air and Amy’s warm perfume wafted from the thick jacket. “Cold outside.”

Amy gave him a slight smile as if to say, “This is Montana in the winter. Hello! It’s always cold,” but she didn’t say anything. Still, he felt a little schoolboy stupid.

“I’ll put this in the back with the others.” He was gratified when she followed him through the jostling crowd.

Friends stopped them along the way to say hello, joking, and making merry. Amy hugged Todd, the birthday boy, and teased him about getting old. Rafe had a moment of wishing she’d be that warm and friendly with him, not that he deserved anything except the polite reserve he got.

He didn’t know why he couldn’t give it up. Guilt, he supposed. He owed her.