Together for Christmas: 5-B Poppy LaneWhen We TouchWelcome to Icicle FallsStarstruck Read online

  This Christmas, visit four of your favorite towns, created by four of your favorite authors! Listen to some of the stories people tell at Christmas…

  5-B Poppy Lane by Debbie Macomber

  In Cedar Cove, Washington, you’ll meet Helen Shelton, her granddaughter Ruth and Ruth’s husband, Paul. You’ll find out how Ruth and Paul met—and you’ll learn about Helen’s breathtaking adventures during the Second World War.

  When We Touch by Brenda Novak

  Whiskey Creek, California, the site of a Victorian Days Christmas celebration, is where you’ll find out how Noelle stole Olivia’s fiancé, Kyle, and what happened next! But is there any chance the sisters can reconcile, especially at Christmas, the time of forgiveness and peace?

  Welcome to Icicle Falls by Sheila Roberts

  Come to Icicle Falls, Washington, for a Christmas cookie exchange at Muriel Sterling’s house. Hear about the summer Muriel fell in love with a handsome stranger. Her dad expected her to take over Sweet Dreams, the family’s chocolate company, but Muriel had sweet dreams of her own…

  Starstruck by RaeAnne Thayne

  And in Cold Creek, Idaho, visit with former Hollywood stuntman Justin Hartford, his daughter, Ruby, and wife, Ashley. Ruby and her friends love the story of how her dad and her new mom met!

  There’s something special about sharing our memories when we’re together for Christmas!

  A Note from Debbie Macomber

  Christmas in a small town…

  is a special kind of celebration—in life and in stories. Join me as we visit four special towns this Christmas: my own Cedar Cove, Washington, as well as Brenda Novak’s Whiskey Creek, Sheila Roberts’s Icicle Falls and RaeAnne Thayne’s Cold Creek.

  These three authors are among my favorite storytellers. Each brings something unique to contemporary romance and to the town she’s created for her series. Like so many of our readers, we’re drawn to places like this because of the sense of community and belonging they create.

  I also enjoy the way people, all of us, tell stories when we’re together for Christmas, the way we share memories that explain who we are. These four stories are memories of how love came to be.

  So let’s light the Christmas tree, throw a log on the fire (real or virtual!) and enjoy this collection.

  ABOUT THE AUTHORS

  Debbie Macomber is a #1 New York Times bestselling author who has become a leading voice in women’s fiction worldwide. Her work has appeared on every major bestseller list, and she is a multiple award winner. Two of her Harlequin MIRA Christmas titles have been made into Hallmark Channel Original Movies, and the Hallmark Channel is broadcasting a television series based on Debbie’s popular Cedar Cove books.

  Brenda Novak, who lives in Sacramento, is the New York Times bestselling author of the Whiskey Creek series, as well as many other books. She has won a number of awards and has been lauded for her highly successful online auction, which raises funds for diabetes research.

  Sheila Roberts is a bestselling author who has had two of her Christmas stories made into TV movies, including one for the Hallmark Channel in 2014. Her Icicle Falls stories have struck a chord with women worldwide.

  RaeAnne Thayne, a New York Times bestselling author, lives in the beautiful mountains of northern Utah. Her books have won numerous honors, and she is known for her acclaimed Western-focused series.

  #1 NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR

  DEBBIE MACOMBER

  NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR

  BRENDA NOVAK

  NATIONAL BESTSELLING AUTHOR

  SHEILA ROBERTS

  NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR

  RAEANNE THAYNE

  Together for Christmas

  Table of Contents

  5-B Poppy Lane - Debbie Macomber

  When We Touch - Brenda Novak

  Welcome to Icicle Falls - Sheila Roberts

  Starstruck - RaeAnne Thayne

  5-B Poppy Lane

  Also available from Harlequin MIRA

  The Cedar Cove novels by #1 New York Times bestselling author Debbie Macomber

  16 LIGHTHOUSE ROAD

  204 ROSEWOOD LANE

  311 PELICAN COURT

  44 CRANBERRY POINT

  50 HARBOR STREET

  6 RAINIER DRIVE

  74 SEASIDE AVENUE

  8 SANDPIPER WAY

  92 PACIFIC BOULEVARD

  1022 EVERGREEN PLACE

  1105 YAKIMA STREET

  1225 CHRISTMAS TREE LANE

  Also:

  5-B POPPY LANE

  A CEDAR COVE CHRISTMAS

  DEBBIE MACOMBER’S CEDAR COVE COOKBOOK

  Other titles by this author available in ebook format.

  To my parents, Ted and Connie Adler, who married July 25, 1942, before my father headed off to war

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  IT WAS EARLY AFTERNOON, CHRISTMAS EVE. Snow was falling lightly, adding to the festive atmosphere inside and out. Helen Shelton fussed with the decorations in her small Cedar Cove duplex, making sure everything was in place. The tree, a real one, featured the ornaments she’d started acquiring when she’d married Sam in 1946. He’d bought her many of these, and as she hung them carefully on the branches she’d relived their history, hers and Sam’s. He’d died almost thirty years ago but she remembered every Christmas they’d spent together.

  The Nativity pieces were arranged on her coffee table with the Infant Jesus nestled in the manger, surrounded by the other familiar figurines. A large evergreen wreath hung on her front door. The house was redolent with the scents of spruce and spice—ready for Christmas.

  Helen wanted everything perfect when her only granddaughter and her husband arrived. In preparation she’d mulled cider and baked Ruth’s favorite Christmas cookies from an old gingerbread recipe; they’d first made it together when Ruth was a child. Even now, after all these years, Helen remembered the thrill she’d felt when her granddaughter was born. Oh, she loved her grandsons, but for a grandmother there was something special about a girl.

  The doorbell chimed and Helen peeked outside to see her dear friend Charlotte Rhodes standing on the porch. Delighted, she opened the door and quickly ushered Charlotte inside. They were both getting on in years, and Helen suspected neither of them had many Christmases left. She didn’t have a fatalistic view of life by any means, but she was a practical woman. Helen knew what it was to face death. She had no fear of dying.

  “Merry Christmas,” Charlotte said, unwrapping a hand-knit lace scarf from around her neck. Her friend was the most exquisite knitter. Many a time she’d assisted Helen with her knitting projects. She gave her the confidence to try new things. Why, with Charlotte’s help a few years back, Helen had completed a complicated Fair Isle sweater. She still felt a bit of pride whenever she wore that sweater. She was a competent knitter in her own right; she did
n’t mean to discount her skills. But Charlotte had such an encouraging way about her, and not just when it came to knitting. Helen had confided in Charlotte about what had happened to her during the war, and Charlotte had urged her to share it with her family. Eventually, she had....

  “Merry Christmas,” Helen said, taking Charlotte’s coat and scarf and hanging them up. She led her friend into the kitchen. “This is such a pleasant surprise.”

  “I knew your granddaughter and her husband were stopping by, so I brought some of my green tomato mincemeat.” She removed two beribboned jars from her ever-present knitting bag.

  “Oh, Charlotte, thank you.” Helen accepted the jars and put them on the counter to admire. Charlotte was well aware that Helen had a weakness for her homemade green tomato mincemeat.

  “Consider this a small Christmas gift,” Charlotte said, looking pleased at Helen’s reaction.

  “Didn’t you say it was too much work this year?” Helen could swear Charlotte had claimed she was finished with canning. And who would blame her?

  “I did say that, and then I took a look at all those green tomatoes and I couldn’t help myself. Besides, Ben swears mincemeat is his favorite pie.”

  “I thought your peach pie was his favorite.”

  Charlotte actually blushed. Those two had been married for several years now but they still behaved like newlyweds. It always made Helen smile.

  “Ben says that about all my pies.”

  “Well, I’m very happy to get these. I’ll make a pie for tonight’s dessert.” Helen automatically set the teakettle on the burner, dropping tea bags into her best china pot.

  “What time is your granddaughter getting here?”

  Helen glanced at the kitchen clock. “Not for several hours. Around five.”

  Charlotte pulled out a chair and sat down, reaching into her voluminous bag for her knitting. Socks again. Charlotte was never without her knitting, and these days it was usually socks. Helen had recently made socks, too, but not ones you’d wear. She’d knit both Ruth and Paul Christmas stockings to hang by the fireplace. Because of the intricate pattern, it had taken her the better part of three months. She planned to give them their made-with-love Christmas stockings when they exchanged gifts that evening.

  It wasn’t long before the tea was ready and the two of them sat across the table from each other, a plate of the gingerbread cookies between them.

  “I’ve met your granddaughter, haven’t I?” Charlotte asked, picking up her teacup and frowning slightly.

  “Yes, don’t you recall? Ruth certainly remembers you.”

  “She does?”

  “It was a few years ago. She was in quite a state when she came by to visit. She was absolutely beside herself because she wasn’t sure what to do about Paul.”

  Charlotte looked confused.

  “That was shortly after they met,” Helen explained, surprised her friend had apparently forgotten the episode, since Charlotte had answered Ruth’s knock at the door. “They’d been corresponding for a while. Paul was in the marines. Well, he still is, but that’s not the point.”

  Charlotte chose a cookie. “It’s coming back to me now,” she said. “They had a lovely romance, didn’t they?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  She took a bite. “Mmm. Delicious. Now, remind me again how they met.”

  Helen settled back in her chair and picked up her own cup of tea. This was such a wonderful story. Her own love story was part of it, too. All those years ago during the Second World War. There were fewer and fewer people who knew what that war had really been like.

  For more than fifty years she’d refused to talk about that time, refused to even think about her adventures and ordeals. She’d lost so much—and yet, she’d gained, too. At the urging of the few friends she’d confided in, including Charlotte, she’d finally told Ruth what had happened. Ruth and her Paul. Afterward, her granddaughter had said that her experiences were more than family history; they were history.

  “Helen,” Charlotte murmured, shaking her out of her reverie. “You were going to tell me about Ruth and Paul.”

  “Oh, yes. The story of how they fell in love...” She settled back, listening to the comforting click of Charlotte’s needles, and began.

  Chapter 1

  RUTH SHELTON HURRIED OUT OF her classroom-management lecture at the University of Washington, where she was completing her master’s of education degree. Clutching her books, she dashed across campus, in a rush to get home. By now the mail would have been delivered to her small rental house three blocks from the school.

  “Ruth,” Tina Dupont called, stopping her in midflight. “There’s another antiwar rally this afternoon at—”

  “Sorry, I’ve got to run,” Ruth said, jogging past her friend and feeling more than a little guilty. Other students cleared a path for her; wherever she was headed must have seemed urgent—and it was, but only to her. Since Christmas, four months ago, she’d been corresponding with Sergeant Paul Gordon, USMC, who was stationed in Afghanistan. There’d been recent reports of fighting, and she hadn’t received a letter or an email from Paul in three days. Three interminable days. Not since they’d initially begun their correspondence had there been such a lapse. Paul usually wrote every day and she did, too. They emailed as often as possible. Ruth had strong feelings about the war in Iraq, although her opinions didn’t match those of her parents.

  Earlier in the school year, Ruth had been part of a protest rally on campus. But no matter what her political views on the subject, she felt it was important to support American troops wherever they might be serving. In an effort to do that, Ruth had voluntarily mailed a Christmas card and letter to a nameless soldier.

  Paul Gordon was the young man who’d received that Christmas card, and to Ruth’s surprise he’d written her back and enclosed his photograph. Paul was from Seattle and he’d chosen her card because of the Seattle postmark. He’d asked her lots of questions—about her history, her family, her interests—and closed with a postscript that said he hoped to hear from her again.

  When she first got his letter, Ruth had hesitated. She felt she’d done her duty, supported the armed services in a way she was comfortable doing. This man she’d never met was asking her to continue corresponding with him. She wasn’t sure she wanted to become that involved. Feeling uncertain, she’d waited a few days before deciding.

  During that time, Ruth had read and reread his letter and studied the head shot of the clean-cut handsome marine sergeant in dress uniform. His dark brown eyes had seemed to stare straight through her—and directly into her heart. After two days, she answered his letter with a short one of her own and added her email address at the bottom of the page. Ruth had a few concerns she wanted him to address before she could commit herself to beginning this correspondence. Being as straightforward and honest as possible, she explained her objections to the war in Iraq. She felt there was a more legitimate reason for troops to be in Afghanistan and wanted to know his stand. A few days later he emailed her. Paul didn’t mince words. He told her he believed the United States had done the right thing in entering Iraq and gave his reasons. He left it up to her to decide if she wanted to continue their correspondence. Ruth emailed him back and once again listed her objections to the American presence in the Middle East. His response came a day later, suggesting they “agree to disagree.” He ended the email with the same question he’d asked her earlier. Would she write him?

  At first, Ruth wasn’t going to. They were diametrically opposed in their political views. But in the end, even recognizing the conflict between their opinions, she did write. Their correspondence started slowly. She enjoyed his wry wit and his unflinching determination to make a difference in the world. His father had fought in Vietnam, he said, and in some ways the war in Afghanistan seemed similar—the hostile terrain, the unpredictabil
ity of the enemy, the difficult conditions. For her part, she mentioned that at twenty-five she’d returned to school to obtain her master’s of education degree. Then, gradually, without being fully aware of how it had happened, Ruth found herself spending part of every day writing or emailing Paul. Despite the instant nature of email, and its convenience, they both enjoyed interspersing their online messages with more formal letters. There was something so...permanent about a real letter. As well, depending on his duty assignment, Paul didn’t always have computer access.

  After they’d been corresponding regularly for a couple of months, Paul asked for her picture. Eventually she’d mailed him her photograph, but only after she’d had her hair and makeup done at one of those “glamour” studios. Although she wasn’t fashion-model beautiful, she considered herself fairly attractive and wanted to look her absolute best for Paul, although she didn’t entirely understand why it mattered so much. For years, she’d been resigned to the fact that she wasn’t much good at relationships. In high school she’d been shy, and while she was an undergraduate, she’d dated a little but tended to be reserved and studious. Her quiet manner didn’t seem to appeal to the guys she met. It was only when she stepped in front of a classroom that she truly became herself. She loved teaching, every single aspect of it. In the process, Ruth lost her hesitation and her restraint, and to her astonishment discovered that this enthusiasm had begun to spill over into the rest of her life. Suddenly men started to notice her. She enjoyed the attention—who wouldn’t?—and had dated more in the past few months than in the preceding four years.

  For the picture, her short brown hair had been styled in loose curls. Her blue eyes were smiling and friendly, which was exactly the impression she hoped to convey. She was a little shocked by the importance of Paul’s reaction—by her need that he find her attractive.

  She waited impatiently for his response. A week later she received an email. Paul seemed to like what he saw in her photograph and soon they were writing and emailing back and forth at a feverish pace. A day without some form of communication from Paul felt empty now.