Jason took his time walking back, strolling through the square. It was strange, he discovered, how easy it was to take on the personality of a set of clothes. He felt… well, benevolent. If anyone he’d ever worked with had seen him now, they’d have fallen into the snow in a dead faint. Jason Law had a reputation for being impatient, brutally frank and quick-tempered. He hadn’t won the Pulitzer for benevolence. Yet somehow, at the moment, he felt more satisfaction in the polyester beard and dime store bells than he did with all the awards he’d ever earned.
He was ho-hoing his way along when Clara stepped out of the five-and-dime. She and the little brunette at her side went off in peals of giggles.
“But you’re—”
One narrow-eyed stare from Jason did the trick. Cuttingherself off, Clara cleared her throat and offered her hand. “How do you do, Santa?”
“I do very well, Clara.”
“That’s not Jake,” Marcie informed Clara. She stepped closer to try to recognize the face behind the puffs of white.
Enjoying himself, Jason sent her a wink. “Hello, Marcie.”
The brunette’s eyes widened. “How’d he know my name?” she whispered to her friend.
Clara covered another giggle with her hand. “Santa knows everything, don’t you, Santa?”
“I have my sources.”
“There isn’t any Santa really.” But Marcie’s grown-up sophistication was wavering.
Jason leaned over and flicked at the fluffy ball on top of her cap. “There is in Quiet Valley,” he told her and nearly believed it himself. He saw Marcie stop looking beyond the beard and accept the magic. Deciding against pressing his luck, he continued on down the street.
It wasn’t easy for a fat man in a red suit to slip into a door inconspicuously, but Jason had had some experience. Once he was in the back room of Faith’s shop, he shed the Santa clothes. He wanted to do it again. As Jason slipped into his own slim slacks, he realized he hadn’t had so much fun in years. Part of it had been the look in Faith’s eyes, the way she’d warmed to him, if only briefly. Part had been the simple act of giving pleasure. How long had it been since he’d done something without an angle? On an assignment there was constant bargaining. You give me this, I’ll give you that. He’d had to toughen himself against sympathy, against compassion to find the truth and report it. If his style had a hard edge, it was because he’d always gone for the story that demanded it. It had helped him forget. Now that he’d come home it was impossible not to remember.
What kind of man was he really? He wasn’t sure anymore,but he knew there was one woman who could make or break him. Leaving the suit in the closet, he went to find her.
She had been waiting for him. She was ready to admit she’d been waiting for him for ten years. Throughout the rest of the afternoon, Faith had made her own decisions. She’d made a success of her life. Though the search hadn’t always been easy, she’d found contentment. Confidence had come with the years and she knew she could go on alone. It was time to stop being afraid of what her life would be like when Jason left again and to accept the gift she’d been offered. He was here, now, and she loved him.
When he came into the house, he found her curled in a chair by the tree, her cheek resting on the arm. She waited until he came to her. “Sometimes at night I sit like this. Clara’s asleep upstairs and the house is quiet. I can think about little things, enormous things, just as I did as a child. The lights all blend together and the tree smells like heaven. You can go anywhere, sitting just like this.”
He picked her up, felt her yield, then settled in the chair with her on his lap. “I remember sitting like this with you at Christmastime in your parents’ house. Your father grumbled.”
She snuggled close. There was no padding now, just the long, lean body she knew so well. “My mother dragged him into the kitchen so we could be alone for a little while. She knew you didn’t have a tree at home.”
“Or anything else.”
“I never asked where you live now, Jason, whether you found a place that makes you happy.”
“I move around a lot. I have a base in New York.”
“A base?”
“An apartment.”
“It doesn’t sound like a home,” she murmured. “Do you put a tree in the window at Christmas?”
“I guess I have once or twice, when I’ve been around.”
It broke her heart, but she said nothing. “My mother always said you had wanderlust. Some people are born with it.”
“I had to prove myself, Faith.”
“To whom?”
“To myself.” He rested his cheek on top of her head. “Damn it, to you.”
She breathed in the scent of pine while the lights danced on the tree. They’d sat like this before, so long ago. The memories were nearly as sweet as the reality. “I never needed you to prove anything to me, Jason.”
