Mistletoe Miracle by Cate Tayler

Author:Cate Tayler [Tayler, Cate]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Elephant Shoes Press

Chapter Eleven

Nessa awakens sometime later, well into the middle of the night, judging by how black the room is. Her heart pounds, an uneasy feeling crawling out of her stomach and skittering over her nerves. Her damp hair sticks to her head, and she shoves the down comforter off her body as quietly as she can, sliding out of the bed and padding across the floor in her sock-clad feet. The air is cool—Hart probably stopped feeding the fire when he went to bed—and she shivers when it hits her clammy skin.

She finds Hart’s flannel that she wore yesterday morning and on silent steps makes her way out of the bedroom and into the great room. A glass of water is all she needs, maybe a damp cloth to her face. She makes it on tiptoe a few feet when a creak startles her. She spins and swallows a squeak of surprise to see Hart sitting in the rocking chair, whittling a piece of wood by the low light of a battery-powered lantern. On the table next to him is a bottle of expensive whisky and a half-full glass.

“You startled me,” she rasps, clutching her chest. “I didn’t think you were still awake. It’s two a.m.” she says, peeking at the clock hanging on the far wall.

“So it is.” His face is in shadows, but Nessa feels his gaze upon her.

“What are you doing?” she asks.

He holds up the piece of wood. “You can’t tell now, but when I’m finished, this will be a bear. I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“No, not you.” She rubs her arms. “I had an anxiety dream. I thought I’d get some water before I tried to go back to sleep.”

He nods, then returns to the wood in his hand. Nessa gets herself a glass of water, then decides to make a cup of cocoa. She makes up a mug for Hart and brings it to him.

“Viel dank,” he says.

“You’re welcome.” She curls up on the recliner, using one of the throw blankets to cover her lap.

“Do you mind?” she asks. “I’m not ready to try to sleep again.”

“You said you have anxiety dreams? Are those like nightmares?”

She shrugs. “I don’t really remember them. I wake up with a feeling like I’m crawling out of my skin and this…dread runs through me. The ones I do remember tend to be things like I’m trying to get somewhere but obstacles keep getting in my way. There aren’t any monsters. They make me anxious, not afraid.”

“Ach so.” He takes a sip of his drink then sets it on the side table. He continues to whittle with his head bent over the wood, causing a silver curl to fall over his left eye. Above him, the crystals on the mistletoe ball catch the light and dance around him.

“What keeps you from sleeping?” she asks.

“I do have monsters in my dreams,” he says, glancing up at her. He gives a wan smile. “When I was little, I lived in Beratzhausen, a little town in Bavaria.

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