Read Home For Christmas for Free Online Page B

developing family traditions, giving to those less fortunate than myself and the opportunity to give thanks for the year gone, and to look forward to the year ahead. None of that has anything to do with trees, lights, decorations or tinsel, which are all parts of my business, not my reason for celebrating Christmas .
    If you’re not loving Christmas, then you’re not doing it right!
    I don’t know why that is but I’d love the opportunity to share this special time of year with you. I’ve felt a connection with you from that first email. If you let me, I’d like to keep in touch and be part of your life. Let’s start as friends and see where it takes us. We could talk about cricket?
    Layla .
    PS: Are you married? Because if you are, please ignore this email and we’ll go back to not emailing. I don’t want to upset your wife. (I’m single, BTW)
    PPS: A girl doesn’t send an impromptu photo of herself halfway across the world unless she 1. Likes you a lot and 2. Wants you to send one back .
    PPPS: I didn’t get the forms to rejoin the local RSL last week for the bingo, the line dancing or the Tuesday night curry buffet. I wanted to sign up so you and I can go out for dinner there when you get home .
    PPPPS: Stay safe!
    As he read Layla’s email, the pressure in Tate’s chest eased. It all but disappeared after he read the postscripts. She was going to rejoin the RSL? For him? He reached down into the long thigh pocket of his fatigues, and emptied it. First the WSC cards, then Layla’s postcard and business card, and lastly, a black and white print of her photo that had cost him six chocolate bars and the cricket magazine. It was worth it. The print was grainy, but her infectious smile shone out at him.
    He re-read the handwritten cards, then fanned the cricket cards out and looked through them. What would her father think of this long distance relationship, if he were still alive? Her brother? They’d both been in the military, and yet despite the fact she’d grown up with army men, Layla wasn’t running scared. Instead she was extending the hand of friendship. Maybe more?
    He put the WSC cards aside, turned back to the screen and skimmed Layla’s words again. He smiled at ‘ Likes you a lot ’, but the smile faded as he read farther down.
    She was right.
    He wasn’t doing Christmas properly. He wasn’t ‘doing’ Christmas at all. Or family. He’d opted out of Christmas, and his family, the day he’d left for his initial training. And even when he’d visited his mother when he was back home, he’d never really been there for her.
    Tate stared down at his boots. When he looked at it like that, how different was he to the man who’d fathered him and hit the road not long after? None of the men in his mother’s life were there for her, so she drifted from no-hoper to no-hoper, and found love and acceptance in the only place she knew she was guaranteed to find it. A bottle. Bile soured his throat and he swallowed it down. He could do better. He would do better.
    He hit reply and changed the subject heading. Single male seeks companion for dinner at the RSL . Then he saved the email to the draft folder. He would email Layla in a minute. There was something he had to do first. He clicked ‘new email’ and tabbed to the subject line.
    Happy New Year Mum .
    ***
    Layla pushed her stool back and reached her arms towards the ceiling, enjoying the stretch along her spine. Soldering was hot, fiddly work but at last, her prototype was ready to paint. She checked the clock on the far wall and wrote down the time. Nineteen minutes wasn’t bad for a first attempt. Once she had her process down pat, the cutting and construction time would halve, and she’d make more efficiencies when she started batch processing.
    A thick metal stake anchored her creation in the soil of her crafting pot. Five hand-made flowers were attached to the stake by varying lengths of coiled wire. When painted, it would be a riot of