An Unexpected Gift (Insta-Spark Book 4) Read online

  And I had the most special one to give him.

  I slipped the small square from my pocket. “I bought you something.”

  He grinned eagerly, holding out his hand in anticipation. He loved presents, and I had a feeling this one might top them all. I handed him the package, smiling as he studied it.

  “Too small for a sofa.”

  “Nope.”

  He pursed his lips. “Not a friend for Chester. Too square.”

  I laughed. “Open it.”

  He slid off the simple brown paper and rattan ribbon and lifted up the tiny square frame. It was simple, a creamy yellow with ducks on it. Evan frowned. “Ducks. How…whimsical. Ah, a new frame for our next adventure?”

  I chuckled. “Actually, we’ve already had this adventure. Look closer, Evan. Look inside.”

  He stared at the black-and-white image which he had thought to be nothing. I knew the second he realized what he was looking at. His entire body froze, and he lifted his head, his expression one of such joy—filled with so much love and tenderness that it took my breath away.

  “Holly?” he uttered. “Really? A baby?” He swallowed. “My baby? Our baby?”

  I nodded, unable to speak.

  In a moment, he was on his knees in front of me, and I was wrapped in his embrace. He pressed kisses to my cheeks, forehead, nose, and mouth, finally dropping his head to my lap. He looked up, his large hands spread wide across my stomach.

  “Are you okay? Is everything all right?”

  “Yes,” I assured him. “Carol took me to see the doctor today, and he did the ultrasound. He said everything looked fine. Our baby is due at the start of January.”

  “I missed the ultrasound?”

  “You can come to the next one.”

  “To all of them,” he insisted. “I’ll be there for everything.”

  “Okay.”

  “Say it, Holly. Tell me.”

  “You’re going to be a daddy, Evan.”

  “I think I just found another set of favorite words.”

  I laughed. “I knew you’d like them.”

  His smile was wide. “A baby. Oh God, Holly, I love you.”

  I cupped his face. “I love you. We both love you.”

  His happiness couldn’t be contained. He wrapped me in his arms, holding me safe and secure. “I love you, Holly. Thank you, my Angel.”

  12

  Evan

  Christmas Eve Day

  Holly was asleep on the sofa, curled up under the blanket I had draped over her. I loved watching her sleep. She always smiled and muttered, lost in a dream world I would never know about. Except the fact that she often said my name, which made me smile; I liked knowing I was in there somewhere.

  Today, however, she grimaced more than smiled, and her feet moved restlessly. The storm was making her nervous and disturbing her sleep. I leaned up from my place on the floor, where I had been gazing at the lights on our Christmas tree, and rubbed her rounded tummy soothingly, murmuring nonsensical words to our daughter. That did the trick, as it always did. The rapid movements stopped for both of them, and my girls relaxed. Smiling, I left my hand on Holly's stomach as I watched her, thinking about the last two years.

  The happiest two years of my life.

  Holly was everything I had been looking for but never knew I needed. She filled a void in my life I hadn't even known existed. She showed me how to be happy being Evan, and I showed her how it felt to be someone's priority. Everything I did, every decision was made with her happiness in mind.

  Together, we built a home and a life.

  Together, we were strong.

  As I expected, Carol, Dan, Tara, and Andrew loved her. Carol took her under her wing, and Holly blossomed. I stopped trying to gain the approval of my family and instead basked in the unconditional love of the Whittaker clan. They became the family both Holly and I never had.

  Holly decided not to go to school and instead worked as an aide in the local kindergarten. She was loved by the kids and teachers alike, and she enjoyed the freedom of not having to worry about money anymore. My favorite days were when she hung out with me in my shop, handing me tools, singing along with the radio, as I’d discovered she loved to do on our winter drive here, or chatting about plans we had. Other times she painted or sketched in the studio above my shop, and I could hear her humming and moving around, content to have her nearby. We traveled and explored the Maritimes, falling more in love with the East Coast with every new discovery.

  My Angel blossomed with the love that now surrounded her. I blossomed because of hers.

  So many memories stirred as I watched my wife slumber.

  The day I stumbled alone and frozen into Holly's life.

  The day she said she loved me and I knew my heart would never again feel so cold.

  Our quiet, beautiful wedding in our home, where we promised each other we'd never be alone again.

  The poignant moment she told me I was going to be a father and the joy that I felt tear through my entire being.

  All the laughter and tears we had shared. The deep peace and happiness she brought to my life.

  One memory stirred, making my smile even wider.

  I’d arranged an overnight trip for Holly, Carol, and Tara to a spa retreat I had heard a lot about. They had a special package that catered to mothers-to-be. Holly had been having difficulty sleeping—experiencing leg cramps, and struggling to get comfortable at times, so I sent all my girls off to be pampered, hoping some massages and relaxation would help.

  As soon as the car was out of sight, Dan and Andrew showed up, and we got to work. We worked on the nursery, turning the room beside Holly’s and mine into a woodland playroom for the baby. I had taken one of Holly’s paintings of the woods around the house and had it turned into a mural for the wall. She had added some whimsical forest creatures into her painting, planning on hanging it in the nursery, and now the scene graced the wall behind the crib. A cute bunny, an inquisitive fawn, a pair of turtle doves perched on a branch, and even a sleepy owl could be found. We painted the walls a creamy yellow and moved in the furniture I had been working on secretly. A beautiful crib and dresser that had belonged to Carol and Dan now shone new and fresh under the lights. I had stripped and refinished them in natural tones, and Dan helped me build a changing table that matched. I added a thick rug, some stuffed animals, and a rocker Holly loved from my shop. Carol had been in on the project and had sewn the curtains and pretty bedding that went in the crib. All the room needed was our daughter.

  From the day we found out it was a girl, I was beside myself in excitement. I vowed I would love and protect her with everything in me. She would never doubt how much she was loved, and she would always be safe and cared for in a stable, warm home. The loneliness Holly and I had each experienced in our childhoods would not be repeated. Not by my children.

  Holly’s reaction to the room was nothing short of effusive. She had stood in the middle of the room, slowly turning, taking it all in. Then she’d burst into tears and flung herself into my arms.

  “Happy tears?” I asked. It was hard to tell these days. She cried about a lot of things, and I was never completely sure if I needed to kick someone’s ass or simply hold her.

  “It-it’s beautiful! All we need is our girl.”

  I slid my hand over her rounded tummy. “Soon,” I crooned. “A few more months.”

  In fact, the truth was that I was as impatient as Holly for our girl to arrive. I could hardly wait to meet her, hold her, and begin to show her the love I felt for her.

  And soon, she would be here.

  Suddenly, I needed to be closer to Holly. I needed to touch her. I moved up and tenderly traced her cheek with my mouth, her supple skin warm under my lips. Her eyes fluttered open, and she grinned at me. "Hey."

  "Hi," I whispered.

  "You okay, sweetheart?"

  I nodded. "I just needed to kiss you."

  "Well, then—” She smiled sleepily. "Kiss away."r />
  I pressed my lips to hers happily, and we moved together effortlessly, our kiss indulgent and loving. I cupped her face, stroking her skin in gentle circles with my thumbs.

  Holly abruptly stiffened and pulled away.

  "What's wrong?"

  Her eyes flew down to her stomach before meeting mine. "I think your daughter is ready to meet you. My-my water just broke."

  I was on my feet in a second.

  "Now? She’s early and it’s storming! Tell her to wait!"

  Holly began to chuckle. "I don't think that’s gonna work, Daddy." She held out her hand, and I helped her sit up. "Call Andrew. He has the truck ready in case." She grimaced. "That damn Tara is always right. She said it would be today."

  I was already on the phone. After Andrew assured me he was on the way and Tara would call Carol and Dan, I hurried back to Holly. "He's on his way."

  She smiled calmly. "My bag is by the door. I need to change. Can you help, please?"

  I fumbled, trying to get her dressed in our bedroom, my hands shaking with nerves. "Evan," she soothed. "Relax. Everything is fine."

  I nodded as I tugged on her boots, unable to speak and not sure how she could be so calm right now.

  She tilted up my face. "Hey."

  I looked up into her warm but worried eyes.

  "Evan, I need you right now. You've been so strong my whole pregnancy. Don't lose it now."

  I swallowed, unsure how to explain my sudden panic. "What if—"

  "What if, what?"

  "What if I'm an awful father? I didn't have a good example growing up." Another terrible thought occurred to me. "What if she doesn't like me?"

  Holly cupped my face firmly. "You are nothing like your father. You are going to be an amazing daddy. You'll be funny, kind, loving, and affectionate. Your daughter is going to adore you. Just like I do."

  I drew in a shaky breath. "Promise?"

  "Promise."

  "Okay."

  "I love you."

  The words never failed to make me smile. "I love you, Angel."

  My daughter was perfect. Tiny and wiggly, her skin a mottled pink, and her fist jammed into her little rosebud mouth. I couldn't bear to put her down for a second. Angela Carol Brooks had already stolen my heart. I didn't know it was possible for one person to feel this much love.

  Holly had worked so hard to bring her into this world. Her labor had been long, but finally, after seventeen hours, my daughter had screamed her way into our life, protesting loudly at being moved from her little nest.

  I looked over at Holly, who was watching us wearily, a tired smile on her face. "You need to put her in her bassinet, Evan."

  "Soon," I lied.

  Carol and Dan had been there the whole time Holly was in labor, refusing to leave. Tara and Andrew came and went, bringing food, coffee, and support. Once Angela was born, they had all seen her and Holly, then finally left me alone with my family. I knew they’d be back in the morning, so I was determined to take advantage of the time I had with my girls.

  A nurse walked in and checked on Holly. She smiled as she shook her head at me, knowing full well I had been holding Angela since the last time she’d checked on my wife. "What a good daddy," she crooned. "Get some sleep, Mrs. Brooks. You'll need it." She paused on her way out of the room. "Merry Christmas."

  I smiled at her. "It certainly is."

  I looked down at my slumbering daughter. "I met your mommy two years ago. She was like an angel to me." I chuckled as I stroked Angela’s downy little cheek. "We shared our first Christmas together, and I fell in love with her on that special day as well. She was an unexpected gift to me then, and now I have another one." I stood up and placed her into Holly's outstretched arms. Leaning down, I kissed them both and smiled as I took in the sight of both of my girls. My family.

  "Now I have two angels."

  My wife smiled at me. "Merry Christmas, Evan."

  I kissed her again.

  My Holly. My life. I was so blessed.

  "Merry Christmas, Angel.”

  Epilogue

  A few years later…

  I stood back, eyeing the large sideboard critically. It was a find Holly and I discovered one weekend when we were traveling around the island. The piece was in disrepair, the doors stuck shut from being exposed to the elements in an unused corner of a shed on a farmer’s property. It was still beautiful despite the dirt, wear, and cracked wood, and Holly fell in love with it, insisting it would look perfect in our dining room. I had to agree with her and after making a deal with the owner, made the trip back with Dan in my truck, pulling the heavy piece from the shed and bringing it to my shop. I spent hours filling, repairing, and sanding to get it to this point. The doors now swung freely, the cracks and damage restored. The wood was smooth, the details brought back to life, and it was ready to be cleaned, stained, then taken into the house.

  Holly would be so excited.

  I pulled off my mask. The atmosphere around me swam with dust motes, the smell of freshly sanded wood heavy in the air. A fine layer of sawdust covered my shop, but the end result was worth the days of effort, buckets of sweat, and hours of painstaking detail.

  I pulled open the barn door, letting the fresh, cold air rush in. The sun that had shone brightly earlier, glittering off the water at the front of the house, was now dimmer, clouds gathering and casting shadows on the branches of the trees that were gradually coming to life. Spring was slow to arrive this year, the colder weather still keeping us in its grip. I didn’t mind too much, whereas once I’d dreaded winter—the long nights, the days of endless hours on hand when projects were few. Now I loved them. It gave me more time with my family, and Holly and I passed the time with our girls playing games, reading, listening to their stories, watching them grow. And with the snow came our favorite time of year—Christmas. The once lonely holiday now held a vastly different place in my heart. It was a time of joy, celebration, and family. The family Holly and I shared, as well as Dan, Carol, Andrew, and Tara.

  Still, I was ready for the spring to arrive and looked forward to the time I could spend in the shop. I still loved “repairing broken pieces of history,” as Holly phrased it, and the hours I toiled in my shop were fruitful and satisfying. Because of Holly, I finally accepted the joy my work brought me and was proud of what I did. Together, we had a great life.

  Turning, I once again studied the sideboard, running my hand over the smooth surface of the wood making sure it was finished. I heard the telltale squeak of the back-porch door and a smile broke out on my face, knowing it must be lunchtime. I walked back to the open door of my shop to watch my girls come to me.

  Angela hurried down the path, her long, straight, dark hair blowing behind her. Tall for her age and slender, she resembled me, except for her eyes. They were the same soft blue as Holly’s, and they danced with mischief and laughter all the time.

  “Daddy!” she squealed, launching herself into my arms, acting as if it had been days not hours since she’d seen me at breakfast. She loved to be with me in the shop, but on days when I was sanding or using heavy machinery, I didn’t allow her in, not wanting to expose her to the dust or danger. When she was older, I had a feeling it would be harder to keep her away—she loved “working” in my shop and “helping” me. She listened with fascination as I showed her simple things like how to sand a piece of wood or add glue to mend a broken board. Together we had built birdhouses and little projects I came up with, and I looked forward to when I could show her more. But for now, I practiced caution. At four, she was smart, stubborn, and sweet. I adored my little girl.

  I set her on her feet, pressing a kiss to her forehead, brushing her hair behind her ear. “Hey, Angel-girl.”

  “We made a studio picnic!”

  “Awesome.” I grinned. Studio picnics were our favorite—all the fun of regular picnics, but in the warmth and comfort of Holly’s studio, surrounded by blankets and soft cushions. My more “mature” bones thanked me at the end of the
picnics, plus it was too cool to eat outside today. “Did you help Momma?”

  She nodded furiously. “She said she couldn’t do it without me.”

  “I bet she did.”

  I stood, my smile growing wider. Holly walked slowly, a huge basket in one hand, her other hand at her side. Our youngest daughter, Hannah, toddled beside her, her steps wonky and slow, but determined. Hannah was short, chubby, with a head of wild, curly red ringlets that bounced as she wobbled, clutching Holly’s fingers to stay upright. When Hannah saw me, she stopped, letting go of Holly’s hand, her eyes, the same green color as mine, lighting up. She began babbling in her high, animated voice, her hands flapping in excitement so fast she fell on her butt, still chirping in enthusiasm at seeing me. As usual, her exuberance made me laugh, and I hurried forward, lifting her from the cold ground and swinging her into the air.

  “Hello, my little dumpling.” I brought her close and blew a long raspberry on her cheek.

  “Dadadada,” she chortled, laughing and squirming, patting my face, reaching up with wet kisses and smiles.

  My heart soared. Holly’s love had brought such a sense of peace, acceptance, and light to my life, and my children’s affection healed me totally. My past no longer mattered or held me in its dark grip. My girls’ love was freely given, absolute, and complete. To them, I was the greatest man on earth and could do no wrong.

  Unless I said no.

  Luckily, that didn’t happen very often.

  I picked up Angela, holding both my daughters in my arms. I bent low and kissed my wife. “Hi.”

  She beamed up at me, laying her hand on my chest. “Hi, yourself. Hope you’re hungry. Angela insisted you would be starving, so we had to make lots of sandwiches.”

  “Yep. Starving.”

  She winked. “Somehow I’m not surprised.”

  I laughed. I was always hungry these days. Holly was a great cook, and I had filled out over the years. My shoulders were wider, my chest broad, and my waist thick. Between my work, my girls, and life in general, my body had changed—growing sturdier the same way my determination and confidence had. I liked it. I felt strong and capable—a protector for my family.