Free Home in Time for Christmas by Heather Graham Page B

refrigerator, Jake,” Mona said. He was holding tomatoes, andwatching Keith set deli-wrapped cheese in the refrigerator. “Actually, children, get on out of here and let me manage. Take Jake down and show him the tree that’s set up outside the court house. It’s really just beautiful. All lit up!”
    â€œMom, you do realize that nothing is more lit up than this house, right?” Melody asked her.
    Mona shrugged. “I love Christmas.”
    â€œAnd it’s truly lovely, the way you love it, Mrs. Tarleton,” Jake said.
    â€œYou two go on,” Keith said with a yawn. “I’ll go see what Dad is up to out there. See if he needs any of my help.”
    â€œBe careful, dear,” Mona said.
    â€œWhat—is he trying to transport aliens?” Melody whispered to her brother. He shrugged.
    â€œCome on, Keith!” she said. “Look, I’m actually afraid. I have visions of The Fly going through my mind here, Dad winding up half in one place, half in another.”
    â€œThe Fly?” Mona said.
    â€œI don’t even know if she’s referring to the Vincent Price original or the Jeff Goldblum remake. What do think, Mom?” Keith asked.
    â€œMelody!” her mother remonstrated.
    â€œIt’s a legitimate fear,” Melody said.
    â€œHave faith in your father.”
    â€œI do,” Melody said.
    Mona came to the door, waving her hands. “Melody, go on out. Jake has only seen the church and the grocery store. He’s living in Boston now and hasn’t been around here in ages. Go show him the town.”
    Jake was still wearing a coat, one of Keith’s old ones. God knew, they owned enough coats. He wore Keith’s clothing well. He had the shoulders, and the height. He really was a good-looking man. But it had nothing to do with his stature, his build or even the well-sculpted lines of his features that made him attractive. It was something in his eyes, in his slow smile, and the way he looked at the world around him. With appreciation—with awe.
    It was the way he looked at her, always, with sincerity and appreciation.
    â€œAll right,” she said briskly, “let’s go. But you still haven’t told me what happened. You found records regarding eighteenth-century Mallorys. But—”
    â€œThere was nothing more. Birth records, and baptismal records, for me and Serena. There’s a mention that I went to war. But then…we disappear into history, so it seems.”
    â€œThere was no death record—for either?” Melody asked.
    Jake shook his head. “And it has to mean something,” he said.
    â€œYes, it means you had ancestors. And that maybe neither Jake nor Serena stayed on in Gloucester after the war,” Melody said.
    He turned to look at her, offering a rueful half smile, shaking his head. “You’re never going to believe me, are you?”
    â€œJake, this is what I think, or what I want to think. You do work for an historic company somewhere. I hit you. You thought you were all right, but you’ve really got a concussion.”
    â€œYou want to think that?” he asked.
    â€œIt’s better than thinking that you’re an actor, taking advantage of us in some way,” she said, keeping her eye on the car as they walked out.
    He stopped moving. She turned around. He stood in the snow, tall and straight.
    â€œPerhaps I should leave,” he said.
    â€œOh, good God, what would you think?” she demanded. “Your story is preposterous.”
    â€œI’m not a liar,” he said, his jaw rigid.
    â€œYou’re not a liar. Look, try to understand my position,” she said. “I’m sorry. Please, let’s just go downtown. You’ll love the tree.”
    â€œI’m not a liar, and I’m not a child,” he said. She was startled when he came to her and set his hands on her shoulders. “I’m telling you the truth. I swear,