Christmas in Evergreen Tidings of Joy - Nancy Naigle Page 0,86

Ben Preston. How had she not noticed he was helping decorate the cutest fire department–themed Christmas tree ever?

Then again, Cole had always had a knack for capturing all her attention, and that was before she’d realized he was her wounded warrior.

“Hey, Ben.” Sophie had always liked the good-natured man she’d known since high school. He’d been a couple of years ahead in her dear friend Sarah’s class rather than Sophie’s, but they’d all hung out together in their church’s youth group. Ben’s frequent smiles, sparkly dark eyes, and his love of God, had impressed Sophie. She’d crushed on him a bit in high school, but she’d missed the boat; the only time he’d shown interest, she’d had other obligations. Now, she could only see him as a friend.

“No, Cole…er, Santa Cole, hasn’t threatened me with the naughty list.”

Ben smiled and went to stand near Cole, who’d not taken a step or said a word since spotting her.

“Good to know he hasn’t been bothering you.”

Not unless one counted how his written words tore at her peace of mind and invaded her dreams. If those were factored in, then Cole had bothered her a great deal.

Cole studied her with an intensity that didn’t at all match his white wig locks, bushy white brows, and thick fake mustache and beard. “There must be some mistake,” he said. “How could you have something of mine?”

Not wanting to explain where everyone could overhear, she replied, “I promise I’ll only take a few minutes of your time if you’ll humor me a bit in private, please.”

“See, that Santa suit is already bringing you good luck.” Ben elbowed Cole’s arm and earned a quick glare. “Go talk to the lady.”

Ignoring Ben and looking puzzled, Cole’s gaze held hers. “Okay if I go change first?”

Sophie nodded, because, really, what else could she do?

One of Sophie’s favorite Christmas carols came on and she attempted to let the song ease her mounting nerves at just standing in the large, open area of the firehall where the men were gathered. Surely, thoughts of Santa being up on the housetop would calm her jitteriness.

But it wasn’t working. Because Cole was now Santa in her head. A Santa in desperate need of a good seamstress, which she just so happened to be.

Sucking in a deep breath, which triggered a grin from Andrew who still stood next to her, Sophie ditched him to walk over to where Ben had returned to decorating the tree. “How’s LaTonya doing?”

Ben smiled at the mention of his twin. “Living the lawyer high life in Louisville as she fights for justice for all.” Visibly proud, Ben told of his latest phone conversation with his sister.

Sophie tried to keep her attention on him, but her mind kept straying to Cole. Maybe Ben wouldn’t notice how many times she said Mm-hmm and Oh, really?

When Cole came back into the festively decorated firehall, he glanced around at the others who were watching them intently, then frowned. “We can go outside. It’s not private, but it’s better than being the main event in here for these jokers.”

“Yes. Going outside sounds like a great idea.”

Maybe she would be able to breathe better outdoors.

Sophie waved goodbye to Ben and Andrew, then smiled at Cole, grateful that she’d be able to give him the journal privately so he could tuck it away if he didn’t want the others to see.

His coworkers might already know about his time in the military, but if not, he should be the one to decide who knew about the things he’d gone through. No one else.

Which made her feel a smidge guilty at having read his journal in the first place, but there had been no name. She’d only meant to read enough to try to figure out whose diary it was, but once she’d started, the pages had beckoned to her with a call she hadn’t been able to resist.

Even after reading it completely, she’d still not found a name. All she’d known was that the author was a male Marine who’d seen and endured too much, just as her father had. Not having a name or a face to assign to the journal meant that the connection between the two men had blurred.

For a week, the intense journal had haunted her. Nightly, she’d picked it up to reread passages that had left her chilled and aching for the man who’d written the heart-wrenching words. Who was he? Where was he? Had he pieced his life back together or…or had