Golden Christmas Read Online Free Page B

you."
    Despite the Christmas decorations and
unmistakable air of celebration, the circumstances stopped Vicky
from feeling guilty for being here—she was only doing Jonathan a
favor.
    She held out her fingers towards the heat of
the fire and wriggled them, relieved to be somewhere warm. "Do you
have a maintenance man on the estate who could help me?"
    "Why?"
    "The heating in the gatehouse isn't
working."
    Jonathan frowned. "I'm sorry. Normally we
have a full staff working out of the estate office, but my brother
gave them all time off over Christmas while he's away. I'll call
the agents who rent the properties for us and get them to send out
a repairman."
    "I tried that when I arrived. The agents
don't think they can get anyone out until after Christmas."
    Jonathan frowned. "They're happy enough to
take their cut for managing the properties. I'll take a look on the
way back and see if I can get it running."
    "Thanks. It'll be great if you can fix it."
Although Vicky couldn't imagine how he'd fix a boiler if he
couldn't see. But she didn't want to say that, so she picked up a
menu and ran her gaze down the list of dishes. "What do you
recommend?"
    "I'm told the sea bass is good."
    "Is that what you're going to have?"
    He grinned. "Nope. I'll have my usual, game
pie. Shelly makes the best pies. They've won awards."
    "She makes them herself?" Vicky had assumed
she was front of house.
    "She trained as a chef and does some of the
cooking. She has a business partner who's also a chef who does the
rest."
    A waitress took their order, then returned
with the drinks—soda and lime for Vicky, and a pint of local ale
for Jonathan.
    They chatted about his family and when he
asked about hers, she didn't immediately change the subject—her
normal defensive reaction. Instead she briefly told him about her
parents.
    "Why aren't you spending Christmas with
them?"
    Vicky opened her mouth to give the usual
stock reply that they weren't close, but the words didn't come.
Instead she closed her eyes against the sudden prick of tears as
memories of Colin and Josh swelled inside until she couldn't hold
them back.
    "I don't celebrate Christmas," she said, her
voice little more than a whisper.
    Jonathan was quiet for a moment, then he
said, "Do you want to tell me why?"
    Vicky pressed her lips together as the room
fractured into a kaleidoscope of colors through the tears in her
eyes. "I lost my husband and four-year-old son in an accident four
years ago. On Christmas morning." The final three words came out as
a croak through her tight throat.
    Jonathan laid his fingers on her arm and slid
them down to her hand. He squeezed gently and she clung to him, his
warm hand suddenly feeling like a lifeline.
    For long moments she fought her tears,
confused by her sudden urge to confide in a man she'd only just
met. She'd never told anybody about that morning, not even her mum
and dad. Even though they'd encouraged her to share, suggesting it
might help her heal.
    Something about Jonathan set her at ease,
gave her the feeling he wouldn't press her if she didn't want to
talk. And strangely it helped that he couldn't see her face. Maybe
it was because he'd lived through his own tragedy. If anyone could
understand how difficult it was to come to terms with her loss, he
would.
    In halting words, she explained what had
happened. "If I had the time again, I would never have let them go
to the park without me. Life's so unfair."
    "But then you might have been hit by the car
as well," Jonathan said. A moment later his breath hissed in as
understanding dawned. "I'm sure your husband and son are relieved
you survived and want you to be happy."
    He put his arms around her, drawing her
close. She rested her cheek against the soft fabric of his sweater,
the steady beat of his heart in her ear.
    "I didn't lose any family," he said softly,
"but I lost three good men in the attack that ended my army career.
I believe I was the lucky one. God spared me, and I got to