REBECCA WINTERS, whose family of four children has now swelled to include five beautiful grandchildren, lives in Salt Lake City, Utah, in the land of the Rocky Mountains. With canyons and high alpine meadows full of wildflowers, she never runs out of places to explore. They, plus her favourite vacation spots in Europe, often end up as backgrounds for her romance novels, because writing is her passion, along with her family and church.
Rebecca loves to hear from readers. If you wish to email her, please visit her website: www.cleanromances.com.
To Lib.
What would our youth have been like without each other? I don’t even want to think about it.
JUST TWO WEEKS until Christmas and so-o much to do.
The latest merchandise from suppliers needed to be put in the window. The Hansel and Gretel shop located on Lemon Street in downtown Providence, Rhode Island, was a favorite place all year long for customers wanting imported hand-painted wooden gifts, nutcrackers, little girls’ Bavarian dirndls and little boys’ Tyrolean hats. But especially at Christmas.
Andrea Fleming finished her morning coffee, then quickly dressed in a navy wool skirt and a long-sleeved navy pullover with Snoopy on the front wearing a Santa’s hat. After running a brush through her shoulder-length gilt-blond hair, she slipped into her comfortable wedgies and hurried downstairs to the shop below.
She’d been living here since her husband’s death fourteen months ago. They’d been married only three weeks and had been staying with his parents in Braunschweig, Germany, when they’d been in a car accident and he was killed outright. She’d survived, but had been forced to stay in hospital following an operation.
Her mother had been there to help her recover enough so that she could board a plane. When she returned home it was without her husband and no hope of ever having children.
Though her divorced mom wanted Andrea to live at home with her, she’d preferred to renovate the loft above the shop so she could stay there. She felt closer to Gunter somehow in the store she’d always felt was enchanted.
She’d been twenty-three when he’d first brought merchandise to her family’s store in place of his father. His grandparents were the original creators of the world-famous Braunschweig nutcrackers and wooden pyramids. His dark blond good looks and blue eyes had captivated her and they’d fallen in love. Within the year they were married.
They’d had a wedding reception here in Providence with all her family and friends. His family had held another one for them in Germany. It had been a picture-perfect wedding for both sets of families.
No one could have foreseen the crash that took Andrea’s husband. In one moment she’d lost him as well as her ability to conceive. Never would she have a child with him. Never would she have a child of her own body. A sob escaped her.
Don’t dwell on that right now, Andrea.
After checking the thermostat to make sure the shop was warm enough, she walked out back to start unpacking the boxes from their suppliers that had arrived yesterday afternoon. In the first one she discovered an exquisitely made Braunschweig wooden rocking chair and put the price tag on it.
Without hesitation she carried it through the shop to the window and set it next to the decorated Christmas tree that was part of the Santa’s workshop display. The chair needed something special. She had dozens of dolls, floppy elves and Christmas angels. Any one of them would look cute sitting in it. She would have to think about it while she finished unpacking.
“Oh!” she cried when she opened the last box and found a three-foot-tall gingerbread boy. It was made of dark chocolate-colored dotted Swiss fabric. A red, green and gold plaid ribbon was tied around his neck at a jaunty angle with a little golden bell hanging down.
He had large, shiny blue buttons for eyes, round pink felt cheeks and an impish smiley mouth done in red ribbon as if to say, “You can run and run as fast as you can, but you can’t catch me. I’m the gingerbread man.” The body was outlined in white bric-a-brac trim.
“You’re so perfect I can’t believe it!” She attached the price tag to it. “If Gunter hadn’t had that accident, we’d have a little boy or girl who would love you as much as I do.” Tears stung her eyes as sorrow overwhelmed her.
Surrounded by many items meant for a child, she knew this shop was a constant reminder of her loss. But the store was also a family treasure and legacy she loved, and of course there was the comfort and joy of working alongside her mother, who’d done everything to help her overcome her grief.
Andrea thought she’d been doing a little better, but for some reason this gingerbread man spoke to her inner heart. It was at bittersweet times like this that she had to fight against succumbing to the terrible pain of knowing she’d never have her own baby.
Though her mom gently reminded her that one day she’d meet another man and there was always adoption, Andrea couldn’t imagine it. What man, when given a choice, would want an infertile widow?
After hugging the gingerbread man to her chest until the painful moment passed, she walked over to the window and placed it in the new chair. Once she’d added the latest set of nutcrackers from the Bavarian kings collection to the others, she flipped the switch on the wall and the window display came alive with colored lights and sounds.
On the floor around the tree loaded with wooden ornaments she’d placed an animated elf band with drums, cymbals and horns. Children and adults alike always stopped to watch their antics. Usually it brought people inside
