Page 48 of Wishing for Christmas
He laughed. The tender moment was not what he’d expected, but it was just as sweet.
As the two of them baked cookies side by side, Brent thought about the last time he’d felt this happy. It had probably been a year ago, when he and Clara had first begun to date, before the deployment. He thought back to how simple things were back then—before the realities of military life reared their ugly head into their new relationship.
Brent wondered again about the toll the deployment had taken on them as a couple. He knew Clara was uncomfortable talking about it. He knew she hadn’t accepted being a part of military life yet. He also knew that when all of that was taken out of the equation, they were a perfect match.
He wanted this feeling to last forever. He breathed in the scents of the kitchen, rich and creamy, like butterscotch. The smell of burning dust from the unused oven lingered in the air. It reminded him of that time of year when the weather would turn cold, and he would switch on his heater for the first time of the season. That welcome smoky scent that signaled the return of the comforting chill of winter.
He watched Clara at the sink, washing out a mixing bowl. His house looked the way he wanted it to—after months of renovations and a year away from it. His kitchen smelled better than anything he could dream up. And Clara, his fiancée, was right here—and happy. What more could he ask for? Maybe some of his hard work had paid off after all. When the two of them were together like this, everything was exactly as it should be.
The notes of “Blue Christmas” sounded from Clara’s phone, interrupting his thoughts. It was sitting on top of the counter, but she didn’t hear it between the music and the running water. Brent stole a quick glance at the screen. It showed an incoming call from Matthew. A picture of a man with dark hair and astrong jaw stared back at him. He looked like a model for a toothpaste ad, taunting Brent with his flawless smile.
Brent clenched his fists, and his stomach hardened. Why washecalling? Brent forced himself to remain calm. He supposed it was only reasonable that they kept in touch, especially since they’d worked so closely together over the past year. His jaw tightened at the reminder.
Clara used to fill him in on everything that went on at work; the things she was learning, the skills she was developing. Working with her ex was an unfortunate requirement of the job, but one that he’d accepted. She’d assured him it was never an issue, that they’d always remained professional. Still, he hated it.
The call went unanswered, but a few seconds later, a text appeared on the screen.
Hey, Clar, just checking in to see how you’re doing.
Brent’s blood boiled. Why did Matthew need to see howhisfiancée was doing? He wondered if it was a professional call or a personal one. The use of the familiar “Clar” would suggest the latter.
From their conversations over the past year, Brent had gotten the impression that Clara was no longer sure that hotel management was what she wanted to do for the long term. Maybe she had changed her mind about that and was keeping Matthew around for his industry connections. Was there still a friendship there? Was there still a personal connection?
After all, Matthew had been there beside her throughout the past year. Brent may as well have been a million miles away.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CLARA
“Tell me what we’re doing with all these cookies again.”
Clara was exhausted in the best way possible. She and Brent had been baking for hours, and she had completely lost track of time. It always did seem to fly by when she was with him.
“Operation Cookie Drop,” he said.
“Sounds top secret.” She raised her eyebrows. “Are you sure I’m allowed to know about this?”
He laughed. “It’s something the military spouses coordinate each year on base.”
She flinched. There was something about the words “military spouse” that still made her body tighten up.
Brent didn’t seem to notice. “But since you’ll be one of those soon, I think you can be privy.”
She ignored the sour taste in her mouth.
He began placing the dozens of cookies they’d made into round tins. “After we pack these up, we’ll bring them over to the squadron.”
Clara helped him. “And what do we do with them there?”
“Well, the spouses in the squadron, along with other volunteers from the community, get together to package them up and deliver them to the airmen living in the dorms.”
“The dorms? Why?”
“The dorms are, for the most part, occupied by young, single airmen. Many of these folks are new to the military and may not be used to being away from home. Some may be alone for Christmas for the first time ever. It’s a way of spreading a little cheer to those who may be missing having their family around for the holidays.”
“That’s nice.” Clara let out a sigh of satisfaction. She cast a glance around Brent’s kitchen. The scents of vanilla, ginger, and cinnamon filled the air. It smelled like Christmas. She couldn’t imagine not having a beautiful kitchen to bake cookies in, and shecertainlycouldn’t imagine not having your loved ones nearby to spend Christmas with. Clara thought about how Brent had spent last Christmas without his family and his home. She couldn’t imagine how lonely it must have been for him. She wished she could have been there for him during that time—actually been there.
She shook off any feeling of regret and decided to instead focus on the task at hand. Bringing holiday cheer to others, especially the troops, was an effort she wanted to be a part of, military spouse or not.
