Free Home for Christmas by Kristin Holt

It seemed so much easier to breathe. The unbearable burden she’d carried these past years….it was dissipating. Already, she felt so much freer.
    “Thank you, Hunter.”
    Now, it seemed, she could look beyond herself. “Are they happy? Warren and Viv?”
    “Yes.” He paused. Seemed to gather his thoughts. “They’ve moved on. It’s time for you to move on, too.”
    She nodded, hearing no pity in his voice, no hint he condemned her for clinging to a part of her past that had altered the course of her life.
    “Are you going to be all right?”
    “Yes.” She met his gaze, elementally pleased by the affection warming his expression. “Yes, I’ll be all right.”
     

 
     
     
     
     
     
    CHAPTER SIX
     
    <><>
     
    With his stomach comfortably full after the traditional Christmas dinner, Hunter lounged on his mother’s best parlor furniture and stared out the window.
    The grandfather clock in the front entryway chimed twice, echoing in the silent house.
    He wondered how much longer he could bear to wait until he visited Miranda.
    He wanted to see her, wanted to absorb the noise and celebration and watch the children play with their toys. Where her house bustled with activity, the rooms so packed with family a body couldn’t turn around without bumping into someone, his house was disturbingly quiet.
    Viv was napping. Dad and Warren had taken Matthew sledding. Mother worked in the kitchen, preparing their evening meal.
    All Hunter could think about was Miranda and their late night talk.
    He wanted to see her beautiful face, to see the peace and happiness on her features and know he hadn’t imagined her acceptance of Warren’s reasons.
    She’d clearly been relieved to know the truth. But not hurt. Joy sparkled within him.
    Now that she was through grieving for Warren, he finally had a chance. A real chance, unfettered by Warren breaking their engagement so long ago.
    He stood and paced to the window. A light snow began to fall, sifting through the gray skies like powdered sugar. It seemed surreal, beautiful, weaving Christmas magic into the familiar scenery surrounding his home.
    He paced back to the fire, past the gifts left unwrapped and displayed beneath the tree. His family’s Christmas celebration was essentially over. Supper would be an informal affair.
    He figured the Finlays were still in the thick of things. He wondered what they’d think if he showed up, uninvited and unexpected.
    He smiled. Maybe not entirely unexpected. He’d spent enough time there enough since Miranda’s arrival home that they probably thought he’d moved in.
     
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    Each and every Christmas Day since Mother and Daddy’s Christmas wedding thirty-four years earlier, the entire Finlay family gathered in the parlor for a family portrait.
    The photographer had a standing appointment for each Christmas Day at three o’clock, and none of the Finlays--except Miranda, during the Denver years--would consider breaching tradition and find themselves anywhere else.
    In the confusion of the crowded parlor, Miranda hadn’t heard Hunter knock. But she felt the cold air creep across the floor when someone let him inside, and thrilled to see him again. Her smile came quickly, easily, warmly.
    Separated by more than a dozen other people, Hunter mouthed, “Merry Christmas.” He returned her smile, the connection midst chaos doing strange things to her equilibrium.
    He seemed as though he belonged. As one of them. She realized the vague loneliness during last night’s pageant was due to missing him. Somehow, he’d crossed the line between visitor, neighbor, and former would-be-brother-in-law, to something altogether different.
    He greeted her brothers and sisters, shaking hands, complimenting Angela’s new Christmas dress, and made his way toward her. He paused to greet Effie O’Leary and wish her a happy Christmas.
    Anticipation swirled in Miranda’s belly. Hunter settled a warm hand on her shoulder. The heat of his touch