He heard the giggle and turned to look at her.
“I was just thinking, it’s been days since this morning,” she said and headed toward the kitchen area to start dinner.
He followed and they managed to whip up lasagna from a frozen dinner, some traditional snack mix she insisted on eating with the meal, and store-bought eggnog he grimaced at. “Thick milk.” Once everything was done, they ate with only the lights of the tree on and Christmas carols playing on her phone in the background, finishing with the key lime pie for dessert. Sophie reminded herself this was just a man in need of some help and who was helping her be safe, nothing more. But somehow, it felt like more. Once they’d eaten, they cleaned the dishes in companionable silence, the music playing softly in the background. Finally, Sophie headed to the sofa and sat down in one corner with a mug of eggnog and Ephraim joined her on the other end.
Ephraim glanced over at the small nativity scene Sophie had placed on the lower shelf of her tree stand, as he thought of the side table. A single battery-operated candle illuminated the scene. When Sophie saw him looking at it, she asked him about Christmas when he was a child.
“I was a foster kid. I didn’t have consistent Christmases. Some of them were great, the families would take me in and treat me like one of their own. Some of them I spent in a group home where we got discount underwear and hand me downs. I got to the point I just looked forward to the meals.”
Sophie had leaned back on the couch, half between a sitting and lying position with her head against the pillowed back. Now she turned her head to stare at him. “How long were you in foster care?”
“Sixteen years. Started when I was eighteen months old. My mom died in a car wreck and my dad was nowhere to be found. Evidently there weren’t any relatives to take me in, so I ended up in foster care.” The compassion in her eyes made him bristle, “It wasn’t bad.”
“But it could have been better.” She murmured and then made a face. “Aren’t we the poster children of a very merry Christmas.”
He indicated the nativity scene. “You said you had a tree every year. Is that also a thing you have to have for Christmas?”
She nodded. “It belonged to my grandparents. My grandmother found it at a flea market and brought it home. It’s just an old plastic set, not really worth anything. But I love it and everything it stands for. A man who had everything we could possibly imagine came to earth for us, to save us. It’s a pretty big deal.”
“You believe all that?” he said with wonder. She’d been through a lot and admitted to not trusting anyone much anymore. Yet, she believed in a man who’d sacrifice his life for her, for everyone?
“I do.” She looked at him. “You?”
“I don’t know. I got exposed to the story of Christ and Christmas, Easter, the whole nine yards. Some of my foster families were church goers. Others, not so much. So, I know allthat stuff. It’s just hard to think about somebody that would be willing to do so much for people he didn’t know. To believe in a higher power.”
“But you do that. Did that, in the military,” she said and at his questioning look said, “You put your life on the line for others, willingly. Both in the military and out of it.
“I was ordered to do it.”
“I don’t believe that,” she said, then stood, stretched and picked up her empty eggnog cup. “I’m heading to bed.”
“I think I’ll stay up a while.”
“Okay. Turn off the lights when you turn in,” she smiled and headed to the kitchen. “Don’t forget the nativity star,” she called as she shut the door. Ephraim chuckled at the thought of a cheap little candle being a star in her eyes.
Christmas morning dawned with fog and drizzle. Sophie stood at the patio door, watching the odd trickle of water drift down the glass and sipped on her coffee. She’d awoken to find the sofa empty, the blanket and pillow neatly stacked and a note from Ephraim that said he’d be back by eight. Where he’d manage to get without a car she had no idea, but she didn’t think he’d wander far. Christmas along the western coast of Florida was slow and easy, with little of the hustle and bustle that the east coast was famous for.
She started some oatmeal for breakfast and then on a whim found a tube of prepared cinnamon rolls in the back of her refrigerator. She’d brought them home from a house cleaning job, thinking they might fill a sweet tooth and had promptly forgotten them. When she peeled back the paper the tube promptly popped open, making her jerk and then laugh at herself. She put the dough rolls on a baking sheet and spread a little butter and cinnamon sugar on top for extra flavor, then popped them in the oven. A special Christmas treat, she thought and poured another cup of coffee.
Ephraim entered the front door, his dark hair shining with moisture and his rubber soled shoes muddy. “Gone hunting for a turkey?” Sophie joked at his wet dog appearance and he chuckled before he toed off his shoes at the doorway.
“I figured I needed to get out and start trying to exercise some. This is the longest I’ve been without training and I needed to let off some steam.“
Sophie noted he had his phone in his hand and suspected he’d needed some privacy as well. They’d been in each other’s back pockets for the last few days and if she was honest, the time she’d spent alone decorating the tree the night before had been a relief.
He must have noticed her interest in the phone. “I just got off the phone with Hank. After his wife blasted me for calling on Christmas, he agreed to send copies of my ID and driver’s license by express. I’ll be able to pay you back for the purchases you made for me.” He indicated the sweatpants and shirt she’d given him the night before.
“Consider those a Christmas present.” She held up her coffee cup and gestured to the pot. “It’s fresh and there are cinnamon rolls and oatmeal for breakfast.”
He smiled and headed to the coffee pot where he filled the cup she’d put on the counter. When he turned, his expression was serious. “I think I know who’s after me, or at least I can start narrowing it down.”
CHAPTER 8
“You’ve figured it out?”she said and sat down at the table, the baking and cooking forgotten.
He joined her and set the coffee down before taking a seat across from her. “Yes and no. The guy in the dark blue car is a hired gun. Basically, me until last year. He’s known for working for the highest bidder and we’ve crossed paths a few times in the past. I figure, and Hank agrees, that my past is coming back to bite me.”
She smelled an acrid scent and stood to check first on the rolls, which were ready to remove from the oven, then the oatmeal, which was turning an unattractive brown in the pot. She grumbled and pulled it off the stove then dumped the pan in the sink and started filling it with water to soak. Turning back to him, she leaned against the sink, her hands braced behind her. “Your past?”
