Christmas in a Snowstorm by Lois Richer

Author:Lois Richer
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2020-09-11T20:23:04+00:00

* * *

The rifle shot repeatedly crackled, deafening him. Sam wanted to cover his ears, to run away, but he knew both were impossible. The ropes on his wrists and around his ankles kept him prisoner. Anyway, even if he could move, they’d just repeat the whole agonizing process all over again.

“Sam?” A soft, soothing voice beckoned him from the nightmare.

He didn’t say anything. They’d only use it against him, use it to hurt...

“Please, Sam. You’re safe. Come back to me.”

Back?

Skin like velvet pressed against his face. Was it another trick? A way to get him to condemn himself, to reveal who—He kept his eyes closed, but seconds passed and curiosity overwhelmed him so he slowly opened them.

“Hi, there. You’re safe now, Sam,” a charming voice reassured him. It matched the pretty face in front of him.

He blinked away the clouds, trying to comprehend where he was. Ah, the bakery.

“Joy?” he croaked, his throat so dry.

“Yes, it’s me. Here, drink this.”

Sam felt a cup pressed to his lips. The smell of coffee filled his nostrils. He drank then made a face. “I don’t take sugar,” he said.

“Today you do. A little more.” She held the cup to his lips, forcing him to swallow the too-sweet brew. Finally she took it away and replaced it with a napkin-wrapped pastry. “You missed eating lunch, didn’t you?”

“Did I?” When was lunch? Sam frowned at the blank spot in his brain.

“Doesn’t matter,” Joy said. “Take a bite.”

He bit into the pastry. Somehow the savory tang began chasing the fog from his mind. Or was that the sugar hitting his system?

“Another bite,” she directed.

“Shouldn’t you be working?” he asked when he could speak.

“Miss Partridge is covering. Can’t you hear her?” Joy teased as she inclined her head toward the front.

“Oh, I’m sure Joy will be having a grand opening, dear,” Sam heard a familiar voice insist. “But perhaps it will be in the New Year, after our festival. Now how about some doughnuts? I know how Howard likes those.”

“She’s quite a saleswoman,” he mumbled.

“You remember her?” Joy’s scrutiny bothered Sam.

“Of course I remember her,” he said firmly. “Grace Partridge isn’t an easily forgotten woman. Why would you think I had forgotten?”

“Sam.” Joy pulled a five-gallon pail up beside him and sat on it. “You blanked out. Zoned out. Whatever you want to call it,” she said quietly. “Why did that happen?”

“I had a flashback.” He knew it wouldn’t be enough. He’d have to give a fuller explanation. He’d have to tell Joy more. But—

“You had a flashback,” she repeated, her voice brimming with disbelief. “That’s it? That’s your explanation?”

“It’s difficult to explain,” Sam murmured, struggling to find a way to clarify without saying too much. “When I was in the Middle East, on my last assignment...” he clarified, to be sure she understood.

“Go on.” Her wide-eyed gaze rested on him, waiting for more.

“Okay. So, um...” Her huff of irritation at his delay made him smile. “I have to tell this my way, Joy.”

“Sorry,” she mumbled. “Go on whenever you’re ready.

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