Captain’s Christmas Bride (Trinity Falls: Home for Christmas #9)

1. Jenny

JENNY

Jenny set a basket of warm rolls on the Thanksgiving table and let out a little sigh of happiness.

The table was practically groaning under the weight of every holiday dish she could think of from her own childhood, as well as two new things she’d never tried before. And the whole apartment smelled heavenly.

“Okay, Gael,” she called.

A moment later, her son appeared in the kitchen, his dark eyes wide as he surveyed the feast.

The eager nine-year-old had helped her with preparations for most of the day. When he finally started to lose some steam, she’d sent him out to the living room to find them the perfect Christmas movie to watch after dinner.

“Whoa,” he murmured. “That’s a lot of food.”

“Well, I have lots to be thankful for,” Jenny said with a smile.

He smiled back at her, dimples popping, and she felt like her heart would just melt.

If this were another Thanksgiving alone, she would have grabbed a turkey hoagie and curled up on the couch all day to crochet while watching the Macy’s parade on TV. She certainly didn’t need a whole turkey with all the trimmings for herself.

But Gael deserved anything and everything that could make the holiday feel special. If she could have baked him up a table full of relatives to celebrate with, she would have done that too.

As things were, all they had was each other, and she wanted to make sure it felt like enough.

“You have candles,” he noticed, heading over to the table to admire her two pumpkin spice candles in glass holders.

“I’ve had those forever,” she laughed. “I just never had a special enough occasion for them until now.”

Jenny thought that her first Thanksgiving as a mom qualified as something pretty special.

“Here you are, ma’am,” Gael said, pulling her chair out for her with a big goofy smile on his sweet face.

“Why thank you, sir,” she said, sitting.

“I did that for Abuela on special days,” Gael said, his smile fading a little. “It cracked her up, but I think she liked it.”

“I’ll bet she loved it,” Jenny said firmly. “Do you think she would be happy to know that you made two dishes in her honor?”

“The pernil won’t be the same,” Gael said, looking sadly at the slow-roasted pork shoulder Jenny had proudly placed on the table.

Not for the first time, Jenny silently lamented that the social workers hadn’t thought to pack up a few of Gael’s grandmother’s things as well as his own before they brought him to live with Jenny.

By the time he’d been in her care long enough to open up to her about his old life, it was too late.

The apartment had been emptied out—his grandmother’s shoebox of photos and the beloved handwritten recipes she kept on the fridge were gone.

“We did our best with that pernil,” Jenny told him. “And we can make it again and again, as many times as it takes to get it just right.”

“That sounds good,” he said, his smile brightening up a little.

“Would you like to say grace for us?” she offered.

He nodded and they joined hands over the bounty of good food.

She closed her eyes and listened as Gael expressed his enthusiasm for the great big dinner and his new home, and asked for a special blessing for his grandmother in heaven.

Jenny had never prayed before meals until Gael came to her, but it was a beautiful tradition that she appreciated now. She always added her own silent prayer for her husband Jason, who had also passed too soon.

“That was lovely,” she told him when he was finished.

“Thank you,” he said, his eyes shining. “Can we eat now?”

She’d planned on having them say what they were thankful for, but this day was all about Gael, and she was planning to say yes to anything he could think to ask for today, as long as it wasn’t dangerous or expensive.

“Of course,” she told him.

They began loading up their plates while Gael told her about all the different movies he’d found for them to watch after dinner, and his opinion on which ones might be really good. She wasn’t surprised when he seemed most interested in the most dramatic options.

Gael’s parents had never really been part of the picture, but he and his grandmother shared a beautiful life together until he lost her last year around this time.

And in addition to passing along her passion for delicious home cooking, his abuela had also given the boy an enduring love of soap operas.

This preference for a story full of unexpected twists and turns spilled over into the comic books Gael loved to read, staying up to all hours whenever he was allowed, with his flashlight and his beloved superheroes and space invaders.

And it always impacted his choice of movies for the weekly movie night Jenny had instituted soon after he arrived at her apartment.

Of course they kept up with Abuela’s stories too, pulling up an episode each day after school and watching it with bated breath while they snacked on homemade pretzels or bowls of sliced fruit with yogurt.

Jenny had never really watched the soaps before, but she had quickly grown to look forward to the fun ritual.

Each of them had a favorite character, and they loved trying to predict what might happen next in the wild storylines.

Jenny’s guesses usually missed the mark, but Gael was good enough at it that she wondered if he might want to be a writer himself one day.

For now, she was just happy that they were settling into a routine together, and learning to live day by day alongside their ghosts.

Back when she’d first applied to be a foster parent, Jenny had left her teaching job to work online, doing homeschool tutoring for a big company.

She had pictured herself caring for a baby or a toddler, and maybe even being allowed to adopt them one day, and she’d thought a more flexible work-from-home schedule would be a help with a little one.

But when the first call came, it was for an eight-year-old boy who had just lost his only family. And her whole heart told her instantly that he was her son.

It turned out that working from home was still a blessing. Even though Gael spent his days at school, Jenny was very glad to be right there waiting the moment he got off the bus.

She only wished that Jason were still here, and Gael could be coming home to a real family.

But if Jason were here, she wasn’t sure they would have chosen to adopt a child, so maybe things had turned out as they were supposed to. Life was complicated, but sometimes it led you through a sea of pain, only to land among such unexpected sweetness.

“Hey, can we do that thing?” Gael asked suddenly.

His plate was still half full, but he was leaned back in his chair, patting his belly. They had barely made a dent in all the food, but it would be nice to enjoy the leftovers all week.

“What thing?” she asked.

“You know, like on TV,” he said. “Where you say what you’re thankful for?”

“Oh yes,” she said, smiling. “I was hoping we would do that.”

“You first,” he said.

“Okay,” she said, taking a moment to gather her thoughts.

“I’m so thankful that you’re my son, Gael.

You’re so much fun to spend time with, you taught me how to appreciate a good story, and you’re so patient when we cook something new.

I’m really thankful that I get to be your mom.

And I’m thankful to have a job, and a roof over our heads, and good food to eat too. ”

She braced herself for him to tell her she was being corny or overly sentimental, but she didn’t need to worry—that wasn’t his style.

“That’s nice,” Gael said with a gentle smile.

“Thanks,” she told him. “Your turn now.”

“Okay,” he said, looking around the table. “I’m thankful for all this good food. And I’m thankful for the Christmas episode of Ridley Hospital coming up. And I’m thankful for my teachers. But mostly, I’m thankful for my mom.”

He stopped on the word mom, knowing it hit Jenny hard every time.

And like always, she felt tears prickling her eyes as she smiled at him.

“Hey, the candle went out,” Gael said, looking at the candle closest to the drafty window.

“Oh dear,” Jenny said.

“Can I light it?” Gael asked.

“Only because I’m right here with you,” Jenny said carefully. “The lighter is the junk drawer in the kitchen.”

Gael darted off to the kitchen.

“Whoa,” she heard him say in the other room. “What’s this?”

He wandered back in carrying something, and she felt a jolt of discomfort as soon as she saw the thick sheet of embossed paper. Why had she shoved it in the junk drawer instead of throwing it away?

“It looks really fancy,” Gael said, his eyes wide. “It’s a wedding invitation. You didn’t tell me we were going to a fancy wedding. I never went to a wedding before.”

“We’re not actually going,” Jenny said quickly.

“Why not?” Gael asked, his eyes going to hers. “It’s on New Year’s Eve, so there’s no school.”

He looked so betrayed that she almost couldn’t bear to explain it to him.

“We would have to get plane tickets,” she told him. “And I haven’t seen the groom in years.”

Both of those things were the truth, even if they weren’t the whole truth.

“Erik Anderson,” Gael read out loud, then glanced back up at her. “That’s the groom, right?”

Jenny nodded, wishing that the sound of his name didn’t still cause a pang in her chest.

“We were friends in college,” she told Gael, skipping over the part where she was pretty sure she had been in love with Erik, though the timing had been all wrong.

How many times had she dreamed of marrying him herself back then?

The two of them had been part of a small group of holdovers—the kids who stayed in the dorms over the holidays for one reason or another. And they did their best to have a nice time, even though all of them were pretty homesick.