Close to Heaven

  They smiled when they saw him, offered their congratulations.

  “I think that’s the most fun Old Man ever had at a wedding,” Chaska said. “He’s still talking about the food.”

  “I’m glad he enjoyed himself. We’re grateful that he agreed to officiate with so little notice. Rain adores him.”

  “Can I help you find something?” Naomi asked.

  “I’m not sure what I’m looking for. I’d like to get something for Rain. The trouble is that she’s very easy to please.”

  Naomi nodded as if she understood. “Let’s see if we can find something special.”

  “She doesn’t need jewelry.” Joe realized the moment he said it that jewelry made up most of Naomi’s inventory. She was, after all, a jewelry maker.

  Naomi came out from behind the counter, led him around her store. “We’ve got nativity sculptures. These are all made by Native American artists. Does she like photography or painting?”

  Joe was about to answer when he saw it—a silver, heart-shaped ornament with two crystal snowflakes hanging from its top by little silver chains. He walked to the display, lifted it from its hook, read the engraving.

  Our First Christmas Together.

  He stared at it, something about it putting an ache in his chest. It was nothing really. Just a bit of polished silver. Less than thirty dollars. But he knew Rain would love it. “Can I get this gift-wrapped?”

  Naomi nodded. “Of course.”

  He left the store, his spirits lifting. Maybe buying Christmas gifts wasn’t about trying to find something expensive and cool. Maybe it was about giving the people you loved gifts that held meaning for you both.

  The idea struck Joe as a revelation. Could it really be so simple?

  Excited now, he walked the short distance to Knockers, ideas filling his mind. He went to his office and logged onto his computer.

  An hour later, he made his way back to their meeting spot. He stowed his gifts in the back of the Land Rover, covered them with a tarp, then looked around for Rain and Lark. He found them, huddled together against the cold, listening to a small group of carolers from St. Barbara’s Church.

  “God rest ye merry, gentlemen / let nothing you dismay.”

  Rain and Lark smiled when they saw him, Rain reaching out her gloved hand for him, her cheeks pink from the cold. “There you are.”

  He took her hand, came to stand beside her, drawing both women close, doing his best to shelter them from the wind with his bigger frame. The music drifted over them, the sun dipping behind the mountains and turning the sky pink, cheery Christmas lights twinkling all around them.

  “Isn’t this beautiful?” Rain asked.

  He looked down at her. “Beautiful.”

  And for the first time in his life, Joe thought he might just understand what people meant when they talked about the Christmas spirit.

  “Bananas!” Lark cheered.

  “I can see now why you like this game.” Joe frowned, but there was a light in his eyes that told Rain he was joking. “You always win.”

  “Lark dominates Bananagrams.” Rain was proud of her daughter, proud of how much she knew and how smart she was.

  Joe got to his feet, went to check the stuffed shells. “These are almost done.”

  Rain stood, looked over at Lark. “Want to help me set the table?”

  Joe had shown her his grandmother’s fine china when they’d gotten home, wanting her to know she was free to use it if she chose. “I almost forgot it was here.”

  White with dark blue flowers and lacy edges, it was obviously old but still beautiful. Rain and Lark had liberated what they would need from dusty boxes and had washed it by hand. Some of the pieces were chipped, but that only added to the charm. There was everything a person could possibly want for a dinner party—lots of place settings, serving dishes galore, platters, candleholders, a gravy boat, and some things Rain couldn’t identify.

  They ate dinner—stuffed shells, salad, French bread— then popped corn and poured cranberries in a bowl to make a garland for the birds.

  “It’s not going to be much of a garland if you eat all the popcorn, Larkness,” Joe had teased, calling Lark by the new nickname he’d started using.

  They’d ended up with about six feet of garland in the end. They’d gone out together and hung it from the boughs of a nearby pine tree, then come back inside where it was warm.

  They settled in front of the TV to share their favorite Christmas movies with Joe, Rain resting her head against Joe’s chest. By the time they reached the end of It’s A Wonderful Life, she was in tears.

  “She always cries when we watch this,” Lark told Joe.

  Rain sat up. “It hits closer to home this year. A month ago, I was thinking of leaving Scarlet, of moving somewhere and trying to start over. I felt like my life was going nowhere. I was certain you would never notice me, and I thought I would have to spend Christmas alone. I’m so glad I didn’t leave. This is my home.”

  She could see on Joe’s face that he understood. So much had changed in such a short time for both of them.

  Joe reached over, wiped the tears from her cheeks. “That feels like a hundred years ago now, doesn’t it? Everything turned out so much better than either of us could have possibly imagined.”

  She wiped her eyes, smiled. “Yes. Much better.”

  “Should we hang our stockings now?” Lark asked.

  “Stockings?” Joe frowned. “We have stockings?”

  Rain and Lark had picked matching stockings of gray embroidered velvet, along with stocking holders, from a little Christmas market behind Food Mart. Lark dashed upstairs to get them.

  “Are you having fun?” Rain asked Joe. “Truly?”

  He drew her into his arms, kissed her. “My family never spent time together like this. By the time I was ten, I opened Christmas presents alone that staff had bought for me because my parents couldn’t stand to be in the same room. How could I not be having fun? Every moment I’m with you and Lark feels new and exciting.”

  Lark returned, the stockings and stocking holders still in the bag. She walked over to the gas fireplace. “Is it safe to hang them on the mantel?”

  Joe stood, walked over to the wall, turned off the fireplace. “Now it is.”

  Lark handed the bag to Rain, who drew out Lark’s stocking first. It was embroidered with silver stars. “Here you go.”

  Next, she reached in for the stocking holder—a small silver picture frame that held a photo of Lark from the wedding, looking brilliant in her red dress.

  “Cool,” Joe said. “How did you get the photos?”

  Rain had asked the photographer to print a few and to leave them in her mailbox, which was still standing, even if her house was not. But she didn’t tell Joe this. “I have connections.”

  Joe’s eyebrows rose. “Is that so?”

  Then she pulled out Joe’s stocking, which was embroidered with the shape of a reindeer with antlers.

  “We figured the antlers meant this had to be yours,” Lark said.

  Joe leaned down, whispered loudly, “Female reindeer have antlers, too.”

  “Really?” Lark looked up at him, surprised.

  Rain handed the stocking to him, together with his stocking holder, which contained a photo of him in his tux. “I love this photo of you.”

  Rain pulled out her stocking next. It was embroidered with silver and gold snowflakes, her stocking holder complete with a photo of her in her wedding gown. She put hers up between Joe’s and Lark’s. “There.”

  Rain watched Joe’s face as Lark took the bag from her and pulled out a fourth stocking, this one with little silver snowmen. Its stocking holder held no photo.

  He exhaled—a little gust of air—and reached out to touch the empty picture frame, tenderness on his face. There was awe in his voice when he spoke. “Next year, there will be a new little face here, someone we know and love.”

  Lark beamed. “I can’t wait.”

  Jo
e made love to Rain with so much finesse and tenderness that night that it made her heart ache. He showed her how much she meant to him with every kiss, every touch, every caress. Never had she felt more cherished. Then he’d kissed her and held her as she drifted off to sleep in his arms.

  Christmas morning got a somewhat later start than usual, as it took Rain a couple of hours to get away from the bathroom. Joe made breakfast for himself and Lark in the meantime, warning Lark repeatedly to stay away from the tree and the stockings.

  “No cheating!”

  Rain was finally able to join them in the late morning, pale but happy.

  There weren’t a lot of presents around the tree, but Joe didn’t care. There’d been lots of packages to open when he was a kid, lots of gifts, but everything had been purchased by his mother’s staff. None of it was personal. None of it was heartfelt. By contrast, everything under this tree meant something to the person who had placed it there. That’s what mattered.

  Lark went first. Rain had gotten her some pretty clothes and some sniffy stuff—lotion, body wash, foot cream. “Thanks, Mom. I love this scent.”

  “Merry Christmas, baby.”

  Then Lark opened the small box from Joe. “Oh, my God. My own diamond studs. Are they real?”

  Joe couldn’t help but laugh. He reached over tousled Lark’s hair. “Of course, they’re real.”

  Lark crawled over to him and threw her arms around his neck. “Thanks, Dad.”

  Joe hugged her back. It meant so much to him when she used those words. “Merry Christmas, kiddo.”

  “You’re going to spoil her, you know,” Rain said.

  Joe shrugged. “Father’s privilege.”

  Rain opened her gifts next—a pretty silver barrette with turquoise stones. “That’s beautiful. Thanks, honey. I love it.”

  “I figured you could use something pretty now that you’re done with dreads for good. You are done with them for good now, right?” Lark asked, hopeful.

  Rain pulled back her hair and clipped the barrette into place. “I make no promises.”

  She reached under the tree, drew out the box from Joe, and unwrapped it, her face lighting up like a thousand sunrises when she saw it. “Oh, it’s beautiful. I love the crystal snowflakes.”

  He’d known she would like it.

  She held up the ornament. “It’s our first ornament.”

  Lark reached out, turned it so she could see it. “That’s so cute!”

  Rain got to her feet, walked to the tree, hung it front and center, stepping back to adjust it until it faced forward perfectly. “There.”

  There was more love in that single action than Joe had ever seen his mother put into anything at Christmastime.

  Rain sat beside Joe on the floor, kissed him. “Thanks. It’s perfect.”

  “You’ve got something else under the tree.” Joe pointed to the envelope.

  Rain picked it up. “This scares me.”

  “Why?”

  “With you, the smaller the package, the more expensive the gift.”

  Joe wasn’t sure why his spending money on her bothered her, but they had time to sort through that later. “Open it.”

  She tore through the envelope, took out the piece of paper and read through it, her eyes filling with tears. “Oh, Joe. Only you…”

  “What is it?” Lark leaned closer, trying to see.

  Rain handed the piece of paper to her daughter.

  “A year’s worth of singing lessons.” Lark reached out and took her mother’s hand. “This is perfect. You had to give all of that up when I came along, and now you can have it back.”

  “I don’t know. I’m not very good.”

  “Stop.” Joe had heard that so many times, and he’d always let it pass. Not any longer. “You’ve got one of the sweetest voices I’ve ever heard. You have perfect pitch, an intuitive sense of harmony and rhythm. You sing like an angel. Don’t let the past stop you from doing what you love.”

  Rain sniffed. “You really think I can do it?”

  He wiped a tear from her face. “You’ll never know if you don’t try. If I learned anything this past month, it’s to grab onto your dreams with both hands, or they might just get away from you.”

  “Your turn.” Lark reached under the tree for the last remaining package and pushed it across the floor to Joe, a look of anticipation on her face.

  Joe tore off the paper, opened the box, and drew out a silver triptych-style picture frame. He opened it, expecting photos from the wedding. Instead, there were three portraits that had clearly been taken yesterday—an 8x10 of Rain and Lark together, and one of each of them alone. “My new family.”

  The only true family he’d ever had.

  They were beautiful, professional portraits. Joe would bet Rain had paid a bundle for them, too, given that it had been a rush job.

  “Do you like them?”

  “I love them.”

  “They’re for your office,” Lark said. “It needs some sprucing up.”

  “Now you’ll have us with you all the time.”

  “I’m a lucky man.” It was the best Christmas gift he’d ever received.

  Rain took down Joe’s stocking and dropped it in his lap. “You went last with gifts, so you get to dig into your stocking first.”

  Joe reached in, drew out a few candy canes. Next, he found the gift card for the cinema that Lark had gotten him. “This will be fun. You’ll have to tell me what movie you want to see. Thanks, Larkness.”

  Last of all, he drew out the tiny pair of white newborn baby booties Rain had bought. He unwrapped them, tossed aside the tissue paper, and set them side by side on his palm. “There is no way that babies’ feet are this small.”

  Rain couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh, yes, they are.”

  Rain found a gift card to the coffee shop in her stocking. “Caffeine! This is proof you love me. Thanks, Lark.”

  There were candy canes, too, and a small box.

  “Is this from you?” she asked Joe, knowing full well that it was.

  He gave her a sexy grin. “Just open it.”

  She peeled back the lovely embossed wrapping paper, took off the top, and stared down at two pink diamond earrings, each surrounded by a halo of tiny pavé diamonds. “Oh, they’re beautiful! Joe, you really shouldn’t You’re spoiling me.”

  “Oh, nice, Dad!” Lark said.

  “Husband’s privilege.” He winked at Lark. “This was part of your original Christmas present. You needed something to go with the ring.”

  “I have you to go with the ring.” Rain took the earrings one at a time from the box and put them on. “How do they look?”

  “Beautiful,” Lark said. “Mom, you’re so pretty anyway.”

  Joe agreed with that.

  “My turn.” Lark hopped up, hurried to the fireplace, and took down her own stocking, which she dumped out onto the sofa. “Candy canes. Yum. A gift card to the university book store. Thanks, Mom. And a little box.”

  “Joe,” Rain said. “Seriously.”

  Joe shrugged, grinned.

  Lark sat down between them, opened it—and shrieked. “Car keys? Oh, Joe!”

  In the next instant, she was on her feet again. “Where is it? What is it? Can I see it? Can I drive it today? Is it really mine?”

  “They delivered it late last night. It’s out in the driveway, and, yes, it’s yours—unless you fail to make the insurance payments.”

  Lark took off at a run toward the garage. “My own car!”

  Joe helped Rain to her feet. “Come on.”

  Rain held him back. “You really are going to spoil her—and me, too.”

  “What’s wrong with a little of that? It’s just money.”

  “Yes, but she’s never had it. Neither have I. I don’t want to change, and I don’t want her to change. I don’t want my daughter becoming some privileged brat you read about in the tabloids with drug problems and car wrecks and pet monkeys.”

  “Pet monkeys?” Joe lau
ghed. “I will definitely draw the line there.”

  A scream of delight came from outside.

  “Okay, I hear what you’re saying, but you raised that kid right. I don’t think either of you is in danger of becoming the next brainless heiress. I don’t like to throw money around. You know that. But the two of you have had a hard life. I want to make things easier for you, give you a few luxuries. Money has only ever been a burden in my life. It destroyed four generations of my family. It has soured every relationship I’ve ever had. Now, for the first time, it feels like a good thing because I can share it with you. I hope you’ll let me. If you start to change, I promise to let you know.”

  Rain drew a deep breath. “Okay. All right. It’s just so new to us.”

  “I get that. I really do. We can make rules if you want, set limits for Lark.” Joe kissed her. “Which reminds me… I haven’t told you.”

  “Told me what?”

  “My net worth.”

  Rain shook her head. “Oh, you don’t have to—”

  “Yes, I do. Everything I own is now yours, too, so it’s important that you know. My attorney is drawing up the paperwork, so I’ll have documents from the banks for you to sign sometime next week.”

  “Banks. In the plural?”

  He nodded, gave a little laugh. “Believe it or not, I don’t keep all of my one-point-eight billion in the Scarlet Springs Savings and Loan.”

  “What?” Rain couldn’t have heard him right. The breath left her lungs, dizziness overtaking her, the floor seeming to rush up at her. “One point eight bill … bill …”

  “Breathe, Rain. Deep breaths.” Joe caught her, steadied her, led her to the couch.

  Lark ran into the room. “It’s beautiful!”

  Joe settled Rain on the sofa, concern on his face. “Lie down. Breathe. It’s okay.”

  Rain’s mind still reeled. Joe was a freaking billionaire? That was a thousand million dollars. She couldn’t even imagine that much money.

  Then it hit her as it hadn’t before that she and Lark would never face hardship again. She would never have to choose between food and gas. Or work two jobs to make ends meet. Or wonder if she would ever be able to retire.