Wrapped Up In Christmas

“I can’t take the credit. It’s the furniture Aunt Jean’s in-laws bought more than half a century ago. There’s still cookies and drinks in the kitchen if you want some.”

He’d grabbed something during his last pit stop to let Harry out and to stretch both their legs, but he wasn’t one to turn down Sarah’s cookies.

He started to follow her to the kitchen but, with her face looking a little pale, she stopped him. “I… Wait in the living room, and I’ll bring them there.”

With that, she went to the kitchen and left him in the hallway. Bodie watched her go, then went back to the foyer to make his way to the living room. In the foyer, he paused to look at the photos on the stairwell.

Specifically, the photo of Sarah.

He took a deep breath and went to the living room. Barely inside the doorway, his gaze immediately went to where his quilt lay on the rocker. Walking over to it, he picked it up.

It was warm.

When he’d gotten there, Sarah had been beneath the quilt.

“I figured I should use it since I couldn’t regift it to Quilts of Valor. They only accept new quilts.”

Continuing to hold the quilt, he turned to her. “If they’d have taken it, would you have given it to another soldier, Sarah?”

Her gaze dropped to the quilt. Her eyes closed, then she shook her head. “No.”

“Because?”

Opening her eyes, she took on a steely resolve, lifting her chin and asking, “Why are you here, Bodie?”

But Bodie wasn’t stopping until he had answers, until he gave her answers. They had a lot to discuss and it all began with the quilt he held. “Why wouldn’t you have given the quilt away again, Sarah?”

“Because I… It’s your quilt, Bodie. I made it for you.”

“You didn’t know me when you made this.”

“As crazy as it sounds, I still made it for you.” She set the tray of cookies and drinks on a side table, turned to stare at the quilt he held. “My mother made a quilt for a soldier once. It wasn’t a Quilt of Valor, but a quilt of love she made for my father while he was overseas. She poured love into every stitch.” She pointed to his quilt. “Every Quilt of Valor quilt Aunt Jean made was for Roy. I did the same thing when I made that quilt.”

She gave a self-derisive laugh, then met his gaze. “I was grieving for Aunt Jean, poured my heart into making the quilt because I knew that’s what she did with Roy. Only with my quilt, I dreamed of you, my very own soldier, with every stitch I sewed. I didn’t know you and yet,” her shoulders moved in a slight shrug, “I did.”

She crossed the room, took the quilt from him, and tossed it back onto the rocker. “There’s my Christmas confession. Now, tell me why you’re here.”

“To tell you Merry Christmas.”

“You could have just called.” Her chin lifted a notch. “Or texted.”

Knowing he had zero experience with romance and would probably completely botch this, Bodie reached into his jacket pocket and wrapped his fingers around what he’d put in there hours before.

“I could have, but then, I couldn’t have done this.”

He pulled out the sprig of green he’d borrowed from Kelly and Lukas and held it out to a stunned Sarah.

Was Sarah still asleep and dreaming? She decided she had to be. No way was Bodie in Hamilton House holding out a piece of mistletoe.

“I—I don’t understand.”

“No, I don’t suppose you do.” He placed the mistletoe in her hand, closing her fingers around the greenery. “I got ahead of myself.”

Sarah opened her palm, looked down at the mistletoe, then back up at Bodie.

“When I left here, I believed I needed my job with iSecure in order to feel whole again, to fill the missing pieces while I put myself back together. To find purpose by serving and protecting others.”

Although he was saying things she already knew, Sarah listened closely, trying to decipher what had brought him back to Hamilton House, afraid to let her mind wander as to why he was h