Chapter 7
Sophie drove, her eyes on the road and asked herself why she’d opened up to the man at her side.
Other than Jake, who’d found out about her when he saw the order of no contact she’d filed against Frank, her parents who she’d tearfully confessed to, and her attorney in Panama City, no one else knew her history.
Now, Ephraim would know she’d been a fool one too many times.
“How long did it take you to get out of hot water?” he asked quietly and she glanced at him. There wasn’t hatred, pity or anything indicating he thought less of her.
“I made my last payment to my attorney last year,” she said. “I was lucky. I didn’t have to ask my parents for a loan. He believed me when I said I was innocent.”
“And the results?”
“No charges, or at least none after I spent a few thousand proving I was just stupid when it came to choosing men.” She laughed derisively. “I made a promise to God then and there I’d never make a decision without consulting Him first.”
“Yikes. Kinda makes a man feel less than appealing.” He said, clearly making an effort to lighten the mood. She sent him a half smile. “Exactly.”
They made it to the cabin before dusk fell and Sophie insisted on carrying her tree inside. She moved a small side table to the large double window facing the forest and set the tree on it, then stepped back. A few decorations from her stash upstairs in the attic and she’d be set.
She excused herself, explaining she wanted to retrieve her Christmas decorations and went to find the ladder she used to access the attic area.
Surprised that Ephraim hadn’t insisted on doing the errand for her, she propped the old wooden ladder she used to store quilts on and clambered up and into the storage loft, pushing away the wooden square in the ceiling to access the space.
Dust motes floated in the air as she aimed her flashlight toward the area she stored her Christmas in.
A small rustle caught her attention and she mentally made a note to put some mouse deterrent in the attic when she replaced the storage.
Old houses were wonderful, but the critters also thought the wide cracks made from settling structures were great.
She shifted the box labeled tree decorations over to the opening and then cautiously lowered herself onto the upper rungs of the ladder and shifted the box to her shoulder.
Movements honed by habit kicked in and she descended the ladder with the box balanced on one shoulder.
Another quick climb to replace the hatch and she took the ladder back into her bedroom and propped it in the corner, ready for it to house the draped quilts again.
The box had way too many decorations for the little three-foot tree, but Sophie soon had her favorites picked out and even draped the much bigger tree skirt around the potted tree base to conceal the plastic pot and make it look more festive.
She found her phone and started carols then got to work hanging ornaments.
She’d just hung the last one when she realized how quiet the house was. Where was Ephraim? She checked out the patio, then the bedroom and even glanced through the opened bathroom door. He was nowhere to be found.
She’d almost made it to the front door when she heard a knocking. Whirling around, expecting the shadow from the blue car at her patio door, she saw Ephraim, his arms full of greenery.
She tried to open the door then remembered the broom handle in the track. Once she removed it and opened the door, she stepped aside for him to enter. “What is this?”
He dropped the waxy green magnolia leaves and small branches on the floor in front of him and sent an almost bashful smile her way. “I thought I’d make a thing to go on your mantel.”
“A thing?” She asked playfully, touched at his thoughtfulness.
“You know.” He gestured wildly with his arms, spreading them out in a fanning motion. “People put branches and stuff along shelves and mantles. I couldn’t find any pine trees nearby, or at least none I didn’t have to climb.”
Sophie smiled and bent to pick up a small branch, full of dark green magnolia leaves. There was an odd brown one in the mix, but overall, the slight citrus fragrance she always associated with summer drifted to her. “I think it’s wonderful. And it’s called a swag.”
“Swag? Huh.” He bent down and picked up a branch then laid it on the hearth above the old, now nonfunctional fireplace her grandfather had built with the cabin.
When he stepped back to survey the results of his handiwork Sophie burst out laughing at his disappointed look.
“Isn’t it supposed to droop or something? ”
She shook her head and picked up a couple of branches then started arranging them.
With his help she soon had magnolia branches arranged, with some spilling over into a “droop” along the mantle.
They even had enough to decorate the side table under the tree.
Then Ephraim took note of the Christmas decorations.
He touched a small elf, clearly handmade and said, “Yours?”
She nodded. “Mom and Dad made me keep it when they moved to South Carolina. We usually get together over the new year, and they wanted me to keep it for my tree.”
“Cute,” he said and turned to survey the living space. “It looks a lot different than it did this morning.”
It did and the morning seemed so long ago, Sophie thought. She’d spilled her past to him, something she never thought she’d do. She’d engaged in a high-speed chase, she remembered with an almost hysterical giggle, and she’d had a great assistant in her cleaning.
He heard the giggle and turned to look at her.
“I was just thinking, it’s been days since this morning,” she said and headed toward the kitchen area to start dinner.
He followed and they managed to whip up lasagna from a frozen dinner, some traditional snack mix she insisted on eating with the meal, and store-bought eggnog he grimaced at.
“Thick milk.” Once everything was done, they ate with only the lights of the tree on and Christmas carols playing on her phone in the background, finishing with the key lime pie for dessert.
Sophie reminded herself this was just a man in need of some help and who was helping her be safe, nothing more.
But somehow, it felt like more. Once they’d eaten, they cleaned the dishes in companionable silence, the music playing softly in the background.
Finally, Sophie headed to the sofa and sat down in one corner with a mug of eggnog and Ephraim joined her on the other end.
Ephraim glanced over at the small nativity scene Sophie had placed on the lower shelf of her tree stand, as he thought of the side table. A single battery-operated candle illuminated the scene. When Sophie saw him looking at it, she asked him about Christmas when he was a child.
“I was a foster kid. I didn’t have consistent Christmases. Some of them were great, the families would take me in and treat me like one of their own. Some of them I spent in a group home where we got discount underwear and hand me downs. I got to the point I just looked forward to the meals.”
Sophie had leaned back on the couch, half between a sitting and lying position with her head against the pillowed back. Now she turned her head to stare at him. “How long were you in foster care?”
“Sixteen years. Started when I was eighteen months old. My mom died in a car wreck and my dad was nowhere to be found. Evidently there weren’t any relatives to take me in, so I ended up in foster care.” The compassion in her eyes made him bristle, “It wasn’t bad.”
“But it could have been better.” She murmured and then made a face. “Aren’t we the poster children of a very merry Christmas.”
He indicated the nativity scene. “You said you had a tree every year. Is that also a thing you have to have for Christmas?”
She nodded. “It belonged to my grandparents. My grandmother found it at a flea market and brought it home. It’s just an old plastic set, not really worth anything.
But I love it and everything it stands for.
A man who had everything we could possibly imagine came to earth for us, to save us. It’s a pretty big deal.”
“You believe all that?” he said with wonder. She’d been through a lot and admitted to not trusting anyone much anymore. Yet, she believed in a man who’d sacrifice his life for her, for everyone?
“I do.” She looked at him. “You?”
“I don’t know. I got exposed to the story of Christ and Christmas, Easter, the whole nine yards.
Some of my foster families were church goers.
Others, not so much. So, I know all that stuff.
It’s just hard to think about somebody that would be willing to do so much for people he didn’t know. To believe in a higher power.”
“But you do that. Did that, in the military,” she said and at his questioning look said, “You put your life on the line for others, willingly. Both in the military and out of it.
“I was ordered to do it.”
“I don’t believe that,” she said, then stood, stretched and picked up her empty eggnog cup. “I’m heading to bed.”
“I think I’ll stay up a while.”
“Okay. Turn off the lights when you turn in,” she smiled and headed to the kitchen. “Don’t forget the nativity star,” she called as she shut the door. Ephraim chuckled at the thought of a cheap little candle being a star in her eyes.
Christmas morning dawned with fog and drizzle.
Sophie stood at the patio door, watching the odd trickle of water drift down the glass and sipped on her coffee.
She’d awoken to find the sofa empty, the blanket and pillow neatly stacked and a note from Ephraim that said he’d be back by eight.
Where he’d manage to get without a car she had no idea, but she didn’t think he’d wander far.
Christmas along the western coast of Florida was slow and easy, with little of the hustle and bustle that the east coast was famous for.
She started some oatmeal for breakfast and then on a whim found a tube of prepared cinnamon rolls in the back of her refrigerator.
She’d brought them home from a house cleaning job, thinking they might fill a sweet tooth and had promptly forgotten them.
When she peeled back the paper the tube promptly popped open, making her jerk and then laugh at herself.
She put the dough rolls on a baking sheet and spread a little butter and cinnamon sugar on top for extra flavor, then popped them in the oven.
A special Christmas treat, she thought and poured another cup of coffee.
Ephraim entered the front door, his dark hair shining with moisture and his rubber soled shoes muddy. “Gone hunting for a turkey?” Sophie joked at his wet dog appearance and he chuckled before he toed off his shoes at the doorway.
“I figured I needed to get out and start trying to exercise some. This is the longest I’ve been without training and I needed to let off some steam.“
Sophie noted he had his phone in his hand and suspected he’d needed some privacy as well. They’d been in each other’s back pockets for the last few days and if she was honest, the time she’d spent alone decorating the tree the night before had been a relief.
He must have noticed her interest in the phone.
“I just got off the phone with Hank. After his wife blasted me for calling on Christmas, he agreed to send copies of my ID and driver’s license by express.
I’ll be able to pay you back for the purchases you made for me.
” He indicated the sweatpants and shirt she’d given him the night before.
“Consider those a Christmas present.” She held up her coffee cup and gestured to the pot. “It’s fresh and there are cinnamon rolls and oatmeal for breakfast.”
He smiled and headed to the coffee pot where he filled the cup she’d put on the counter. When he turned, his expression was serious. “I think I know who’s after me, or at least I can start narrowing it down.”