The Meaning in Mistletoe - Rachael Bloome Page 0,58

of her scarf.

She knew she’d come back to Hope Hideaway for this very reason, but she still couldn’t bring herself to open it.

The creaking of the attic steps drew her attention to the narrow doorway. Fern emerged carrying two mugs of hot chocolate. “I thought it would be chilly up here.”

Kat smiled, recognizing the excuse to lend moral support. She gratefully accepted the offering, taking a languid sip as Fern eased herself onto a worn armchair in need of new upholstery.

After setting the mug on the scuffed hardwood, Kat flipped open the brass latch. She held her breath as she slowly eased open the lid, scattering specks of dust.

When her gaze fell on the first item resting on top, a small gasp escaped. “Is that…?” Her question trailed off as she caressed the smooth cotton, her fingertips traveling to the name embroidered along the edge in pink thread.

Katherine.

“Your mother made that in an embroidery class at the community center,” Fern told her with a wistful smile. “I remember hearing her mutter under her breath each time she stuck herself with the needle. But she was determined to finish it for you.”

Misty-eyed, Kat grazed the uneven stitching. “I never actually liked my name,” she admitted, recalling how she’d asked to go by Kat at a young age.

“Do you know what it means?”

Kat shook her head, still studying each line of thread painstakingly put in place by her mother’s hand.

“It means pure.”

“Pure?” Kat echoed, not feeling a connection to that description at all. “What an odd thing to name a baby. But then, knowing Helena, she probably named me after some celebrity.”

Fern sipped her hot chocolate before responding, her voice soft and steady. “Your mother scoured baby naming websites nearly every night for a month. When I asked her why she was having so much trouble deciding, you know what she said?”

Sensing that the question was rhetorical, Kat leaned back on her heels, waiting for Fern to continue.

“She said she wanted to do everything in her power to make sure your life didn’t turn out like hers.” Fern sniffled, drying her eyes with the collar of her sweater. “She remained clean and sober for the entire pregnancy. And I thought—I prayed—it would last. When she relapsed, my faith wavered. I couldn’t understand what went wrong. In the end, only the Lord knows a person’s heart. But He gave me an incredible gift amid the heartache.”

Kat fought back tears, wondering what possible silver lining Fern could have found.

“He gave me you, mija.” A solitary tear tumbled down her weathered cheek, and the sob Kat had been holding back broke through her wall of restraint.

Rushing to Fern’s side, she threw her arms around the woman’s neck, not caring about the awkward position or the precarious cup of hot chocolate resting in her lap.

For so long, she’d focused on what she didn’t have. And yet, this whole time, she’d had Fern, who’d given her a mother’s love, no matter what it said on her birth certificate.

Life could be messy and heartbreaking, but it was also wonderful.

When Kat pulled away, Fern set down her mug and rose from the chair. “Come with me. There’s something I want to show you.”

Kat followed her to the other side of the attic, surprised when Fern paused in front of another hope chest. “Helena had two?”

“This one is yours.”

Kat blinked in confusion. Since she was technically a Hope Hideaway employee, not a resident, she never had her own hope chest.

“I started adding things here and there shortly after your mother passed away. I always intended to give it to you when you were ready to leave home.”

Kat stared, too overwhelmed to speak.

“Open it.” Fern gave her a loving nudge.

Kneeling in front of the steamer trunk, Kat admired the rich, chocolatey leather and shiny brass lock. But as beautiful as she found the exterior, she wasn’t prepared for what she discovered inside.

Recipe cards filled with Fern’s favorites, including her top secret Pequeños Milagros, a conch shell so she could hear the ocean no matter where she went, and…

“My own molinillo!” Kat cried, plucking it from among the other items.

“In case you want to carry on the tradition.”

As Kat reminisced about the first time she’d made Fern’s hot chocolate for Jack, a smile sprang to her lips.

“Or maybe you already have….”

Kat blushed. “This would have made it easier.” As she ran her palm along the smooth wood, the reality of Fern’s gesture settled over her.

Fern was giving her permission to leave Hope