Read Home for Christmas for Free Online Page B

for Warren. Every time she looked at him, did she see Warren?
    He wished everyone could forget Miranda had pledged herself to his brother. Why couldn’t they see past what had been? It was over, done with, of little import now. No one seemed to have a problem with Warren having a family; it was time for Miranda to claim those blessings, too.
    “I’m glad to see she’s home,” his mother said softly as she placed the tidy stack of pajamas back in the drawer. “I thought I’d pay her a visit and tell her so.”
    His mother never visited anyone during the holidays without taking along a token gift--cookies or fresh bread or an embroidered kitchen towel. “Do you have a gift for her?”
    “I embroidered a set of pillowcases that were to be a wedding gift. They’ve been waiting in my cedar chest and I still want her to have them.”
    She sounded wistful, as if she still missed Miranda. He knew his parents had loved her like a daughter. Yet they adored Viv and knew she and Warren were happy together. It wasn’t that they wished he hadn’t married Viv--only wished they hadn’t lost Miranda in the process.
    He vaguely remembered his mom stitching a fancy K, for Kendall, onto pillowcases to give Warren and Miranda. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”
    “They’re just pillowcases. She’ll marry someday, and they’ll be a lovely addition to her trousseau.”
    The thought of intentionally reminding Miranda of the broken engagement didn’t sit well. But his mother had always been diplomatic, gentle, accepting. He knew she’d handle the visit and the gift with finesse.
    Hunter had to find the book. He couldn’t add his name to the gift of pillowcases from his parents, not when he knew the book would please Miranda. “I found the perfect gift for her, and it’s missing. I need to find it.”
    “Sainsbury?” His mother took the book from his bookshelves.
    Relived, Hunter accepted the book and sat on the edge of the bed. Good. He leafed through the pages. He couldn’t wait to present it to Miranda. He hoped she’d recite part of the poem for him.
    “I put it away this morning. I wondered about your sudden interest in poetry.” His mother paused in the doorway. “Just as I wonder at your not-so-sudden interest in Miranda Finlay.”
     
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    Determined to enjoy every last minute with her family, Miranda attended the Christmas Eve service. After all, she was home for Christmas for the first time in three long years.
    Her fears had waned. She was stronger than she’d supposed.
    It was time.
    As she entered the church with her parents, brothers, sisters, their spouses and children, she drew a fragrant breath, laced with pine and cinnamon. Hundreds of candles, perched on every flat surface, gave off golden light.
    The reverend’s wife coaxed music from the aging organ. Evergreen boughs adorned the end panels of each wooden pew, adorned with silver bells and velvet ribbons.
    Stepping inside this building reminded her of every Christmas she’d spent here as a child.
    It was the first time she’d entered the building since the day of her canceled wedding.
    An odd mix of nostalgia stole the pain and embarrassment of that last visit. She squeezed Jessie’s hand. She’d done the right thing in coming. She belonged here, with her family, enjoying this holy night.
    Although it occurred to her Warren might be there, she found she didn’t need to search him out. If she saw him, she’d give a polite nod and leave it at that. She doubted anyone expected anything further from either of them.
    Besides, in this crowd, on this holy night, she’d be lost in the music and scripture and joyful celebration. She’d be safe.
    Her family crowded into three pews, midst the neighbors already seated. Miranda waved in greeting to several people she hadn’t seen since leaving home.
    Before Miranda could sit, Warren’s parents hurried down the aisle. Miranda’s breath hitched. She caught herself looking for Warren, but