A Christmas Rescue Read online

  Contents

  A Christmas Rescue

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Acknowledgements

  About the Authors

  Also by the Authors

  A Christmas

  Rescue

  KIRSTY MCMANUS

  DIANE MICHAELS

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, and events are either fictional or used fictitiously. Any similarity to real people, living or dead, or to actual events is coincidental and not intended by the authors.

  Copyright © 2020 by Kirsty McManus & Diane Michaels

  Cover art by Kirsty McManus

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  First e-book edition: October 2020

  The authors acknowledge the trademark status and owners of products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission and to which the authors are not associated.

  CHAPTER 1

  The icy tingle from a snowflake landing on my nose makes today perfect. Who cares that I’m standing in the Kroger’s parking lot at nine-fifteen on Thanksgiving morning? Life is perfect. The gentle snow flurry puts the cherry on the sundae, the star on the Christmas tree. It’s the beginning of the holiday season, and I’m spending it at home with my family.

  “What is this, a re-enactment of the song, Christmas Wrapping?” My best friend Jojo wheels a shopping cart toward me. “Did you forget cranberries, too?”

  See? I knew today was perfect!

  I squeal, engulfing her in a tight hug. “I love running into you at the supermarket! Yes, we were apart for less than a year and I’ve been home for over four months, but having bonus visits is still such a treat. Have I told you how happy I am to be back in Frankenmuth?”

  “Um, pretty much every day since you came home in July. But I’m not tired of hearing it yet. Or having bonus visits with you when I’m running errands. What’s on your shopping list?”

  “We didn’t buy enough sweet potatoes. I’m sure I’ll receive no fewer than three texts from my mom with additional items while I’m in the store, though. It’s part of the family tradition. My cart may be as full as yours before I make it to the register.”

  Jojo spreads her hands across the three bulging bags in her cart. “I came here only for seltzer if you can believe it.”

  “Your mom texted you last-minute suggestions?”

  “She asked me to pick up an extra hunk of cheese. I may have experienced a moment or two of inspiration while walking through the aisles.” Her sheepish grin is just for show. Something would be seriously wrong if she were to follow a shopping list.

  Ever since kindergarten, Jojo and I have stuck to each other like macaroni and glitter glued to a paper plate, literally and figuratively. There was a glitter incident during crafts. But how could my neatness-obsessed, five-year-old self not fall in love with a girl covered head-to-toe in green glitter? She resembled one of Santa’s elves.

  She shakes my shoulders, her eyes widening. “Are you nervous?”

  Twenty-three years of friendship allows us to talk in shorthand and to change topics on a dime without giving the other a case of whiplash. As we proved last year, we can communicate without words even when we’re in different states. “Kind of. Brett has celebrated holidays at my parents’ house before. But we’re both back in Michigan, and since rekindling our relationship in January, things are great between us. I believe a proposal could come at any time.”

  “After eight years together, definitely. So what if you took a couple of them off? Getting back together at this point in your lives could only mean you are finally prepared to take things the distance.”

  I nod. “And if he’s going to propose, I need to be ready—but not ready ready. I still want him to surprise me.”

  “He should propose at the Candlewalk tomorrow. I have the perfect plan. He could hand you a candle, but instead of lighting it for you, he can slide a ring around it.”

  I cock my head, a swoony smile plastered across my cheeks. “With everyone singing O Tannenbaum in the background!” I stamp my foot. “No. I’ve promised myself I won’t imagine the specific details.”

  She nods. “You’ll be more surprised if you don’t. Has he found an apartment?”

  “Not yet, but he talked about apartment hunting over the weekend. We can’t take the next step with both of us living with our parents, can we?” My phone buzzes. “Probably my mother. I’d better keep moving. Do you want to meet at the Candlewalk? If I don’t already have a sparkly piece of new jewelry to flaunt to you, perhaps you’ll witness the proposal.”

  It’s her turn to squeal. “Count me in! I’ll have my phone poised to capture it. Happy Thanksgiving to you and your family!”

  “The same to you and yours!”

  I check my phone en route to the grocery store to see what else my mom wants me to buy. The text isn't from her.

  Brett: I have a lead on an apartment. I’ll fill you in later. And oh, I won’t make it to dinner today. Sorry. Have to eat with the folks.

  ❅ ❅ ❅

  I refuse to allow Brett’s cancellation to infect the festive spirit in my home. Besides, I’d be the most selfish person in Michigan if I were to hog him all for myself three weeks after he moved home following a six-year stint in New York City. His parents have missed him, too.

  My parents welcomed me home like a conquering hero a few months ago, so I understand. Not that I deserved their welcome after a single year of teaching high school German in a suburb of Cincinnati defeated me. But despite wanting to raise independent children, my family secretly hoped none of the flock would stray too far from home.

  Our house is two blocks away from my mother’s brother’s home, which is next door to their parents. We are in each other’s faces daily. Yet when the entire Stein clan gathers at our house every Thanksgiving, we greet each other like we’ve been apart for decades. And we’ll do the same on Sunday at the annual family Christmas tree decorating party at my grandparents’.

  “Hannah, is that you?” my mother calls from the kitchen.

  “Yup! Armed with sweet potatoes and a box of Ritz Crackers.”

  She wipes the back of her wrist against her brow. “I can’t believe I forgot the crackers. You can’t make a mock apple pie without them.”

  “I couldn’t believe you forgot them, either. Glad you caught me while I was still at the store.”

  “Your dad wouldn’t forgive me for forgetting to make his favorite pie.”

  “Can’t have that.”

  “No, indeed. I remember the first Thanksgiving we celebrated together.”

  Since my fathe
r is from Australia, he regarded our foods and traditions with a sense of wonder at first. But when my mother served the mock apple pie, his sense of humor took over. If eating a pie with apples in its name but not in its filling wasn’t enough for him, he took the word mock to heart and absolutely berated the poor pie, laughing with each insult he hurled at it. He has since turned pie mocking into a Thanksgiving ritual.

  “I can’t wait to hear what he has to say to your dessert this year. Speaking of which, what’s the schedule for today?”

  “I’ll put the turkey in after I take the pecan pie out of the oven. We should have everything under control by the time the Lions game starts at twelve-thirty. I expect we’ll have a full house by noon.”

  “Full house minus one. Brett canceled.”

  My mother deposits the butter dish on the counter. “Oh, poor Hannah. You were looking forward to today. Take a break. I can manage in here without you.” She holds my head to her shoulder, the scent of fabric softener from her blouse commingling with the pecan pie.

  “I’m fine, Mom. He and I will have plenty of time together. What’s next on the punch list? Put me to work.”

  ❅ ❅ ❅

  I don’t know where we would have found the space for Brett at the table, to be honest. We sit knee to knee around my parents’ dining room table, lengthened for the occasion with a folding card table. Well, my nephew Jurgen’s left foot is the closest neighbor to my right knee, and by close, I mean he kicks me once every six seconds.

  “How can you not like stuffing, Julia? Everybody loves stuffing.” My sister-in-law leans over my niece’s plate to cut her slice of turkey breast into bite-sized pieces.

  “Does it come from teddy bears?” Julia asks, her face contorted.

  My father laughs heartily enough to rattle the chandelier. “Does it come from teddy bears? That’s rich. Do you believe your grandmother spent hours in the kitchen whipping up a meal from decapitated toys?”

  Julia, Jurgen, and my cousin Karl’s son Joe stare at my parents. They’ll catch on to my father’s humor when they’re older.

  My mother pats my father’s arm. “Hugh, enough. You’re upsetting the children.”

  My grandmother, sitting to my left and doing a much better job of keeping her feet to herself, leans over my plate. “Is that all you’re eating? You’ll shrink away to nothing. Frieda, pass the knockwurst. The platter must have gone right by Hannah.”

  I wave my mother off. “No, thank you. I have more food on my plate than I can eat. And every bite is delicious, Mom. You outdid yourself!”

  “Better than we can say about the Lions,” my uncle Günter says.

  “You know the rule: you can watch football on Thanksgiving, but discussing the games during dinner is forbidden.” A FaceTime call interrupts my mother’s lecture. She glares at my father, who has pulled his phone from his pocket. “As are phones.”

  “But it’s my sister calling from Australia.” He props the phone against the green bean casserole dish. “Sharon, good to see you!”

  “Good to see you, too. I’ve caught you during dinner. Should I call back?”

  “No. Say hello to everyone.” We call out to my aunt and wave while my father pans the room with the phone.

  “Look at all the food. Hugh, I don’t want to keep you, but I have news about Mum.”

  The clipped manner of her statement sucks the life from our gathering. I hold my hand to my chest to quiet my heart.

  “Is it bad?” My father sits forward.

  “Can’t say. Her next-door neighbor in Noosa called. He’s her emergency contact. Which is a whole other topic for another day. But the gist is she’s in hospital.”

  “Are you flying out to help her?”

  “No. She’s in Indonesia. Something about falling while rescuing sea turtles.” I don’t need to see the phone to register her eye roll. “The hospital will either release her directly to a relative or put her on a plane to Brisbane to be admitted into another hospital. Honestly, Hugh, her injury offers us the ideal opportunity to decide once and for all whether she is able to care for herself. Someone needs to stay with her until at least the end of the year under the pretense of assisting her through her recovery, when in fact, they’ll be spying on her. But that someone can’t be me.”

  CHAPTER 2

  We all look at each other. I feel terrible that my grandmother is injured and that her own daughter doesn’t trust her to care for herself, but I don’t understand why Aunt Sharon can’t look after her. We’re all on the other side of the world. Even Indonesia is closer to Australia than here.

  “Why can’t it be you?” my father asks.

  “Because I can’t take any more time off work. I used up all my annual leave six months ago when Mum made me go up there and help out with the shelter. Remember the greyhound incident?”

  My grandmother lives next door to an animal shelter and is considered an essential employee. Apparently, the place took in fifteen greyhounds after a police operation shut down an illegal racing ring earlier in the year. But because a couple of the shelter’s volunteers were unavailable for additional shifts at the time, Grandma begged my aunt to come up for a working vacation until the greyhounds found new homes. Now that I think about it, I can kind of see Aunt Sharon’s point about my grandmother not being completely of sound mind.

  My father frowns. “Well, you know I can’t fly all the way over there. My doctor doesn’t want me getting on a plane until we sort out my angina.”

  “Someone has to volunteer,” Aunt Sharon reasons.

  Suddenly, I’m aware of many pairs of eyes directed at me.

  “What?” I ask self-consciously. “What about Audrey or Elizabeth?” Aunt Sharon’s daughters—my cousins—would be a more logical choice considering they live in the same country.

  “Audrey has the flu, and Elizabeth is currently dealing with some personal issues. I’m sorry, Hugh, but I really need your help this time.”

  My father purses his lips before training his eyes on me. “Hannah, you’ve often said you wanted to visit Oz again one day.” He sounds like he’s trying to hypnotize me. “Fancy spending the holidays with your grandmother?”

  “But I’ve only just come home! I haven’t even unpacked all my belongings yet.”

  My mother gives me a pointed look. “Honey, you’ve been here for four months. If you haven’t unpacked properly by now, it might be your subconscious trying to tell you something.”

  “If you’re implying I don’t want to be here, in the prettiest town in the United States, spending the holidays with my family, you’re crazy.”

  The reason I still have several boxes in the garage is because I imagined Brett and I would be moving in together once he got resettled back here in Frankenmuth. Why create more work for myself?

  Aunt Sharon cuts in. “Hugh, I’ll leave it up to you to figure it out, but a decision needs to be made soon. Mum will be home by the end of the weekend.”

  “OK, I’ll keep you posted.” He ends the FaceTime call and sighs. “Poor Mum.”

  Dad was born in Melbourne but met my mother here in Michigan when he moved over for work. He’s now a US citizen, but he goes back to Australia every couple of years. I know he feels guilty about living so far away from his mother, but his world is here now.

  I’m not sure why everyone thinks I should be the one to go look after my grandmother, though. I haven’t spoken to her in person in ten years. She never comes here, preferring to visit more exotic locations like Africa and Eastern Europe. I’d probably just make her uncomfortable if I suddenly showed up on her doorstep. Surely, she wouldn’t want a practical stranger looking after her.

  “Hannah, doesn’t your new job allow you to work from anywhere?” Mom asks.

  After quitting my job in Cincinnati, I returned to the auto driving-systems company I was at before I left. But while I used to work in administration, I now translate product and sales manuals into German.

  “Yes, but that’s not the point. I�
�m just settling in. And Brett’s here! Things are finally starting to come together for us.” I don’t mention the impending proposal because I don’t want to jinx it, but I figure I can tell them about the message he sent earlier. “We’re even going house hunting this weekend.”

  “Really?” My mother looks surprised. “And Brett knows about this?”

  “Yes, of course he does. Why? Is it so hard to believe he’d want to live with me?” I contemplate showing her the text message to prove it, but I don’t want her to read his slightly emotionless way of canceling on me today.

  “Well, darling, you’ve been together an awfully long time. I kind of assumed if you were going to take the next step, it would have happened before now.”

  My mother hasn’t been Brett’s biggest fan ever since he moved to New York alone after graduation, effectively breaking up with me in the process. But we obviously worked through it—and if I’m over it, I feel like my mother should be, too.

  I suddenly remember that the rest of my family is at the table and they’re all watching us as if we’re part of a soap opera. I refuse to give them any further gossip.

  “You know what? My relationship with Brett is private, and I’d appreciate not being grilled in front of the entire family.”

  Thankfully, Jurgen knocks over his glass of juice, making him the new center of attention.

  I can’t believe my family wants to send me off to the other side of the world, and they’re trying to justify the perceived lack of commitment in my relationship with Brett to make their case.

  It’s going to be a long evening.

  ❅ ❅ ❅

  After we finish eating, we all break off into two groups: the ones who watch football and the ones who don’t. It seems a little unfair that the ones who don’t are left to clean up the warzone left behind in the kitchen following all the meal prep today, but for once, I’m glad to be keeping busy.