The Perfect Christmas - Debbie Macomber [88]
“Ah, but you did,” he said quietly, nestling against his pillow. “You told Kate about the dollhouse your husband built for his granddaughters. It was easy to read between the lines and…well, I could see this Christmas was difficult for you.”
“It’s better now,” she whispered.
He sighed and curled up against the pillow before closing his eyes. “It’s better for me, too.”
“Merry Christmas, Matt.”
“Merry Christmas, Cathy.”
Len purposely waited until the depot was silent. The even rhythm of breathing told him that almost everyone was asleep. His watch said eleven-thirty, which made it ten-thirty in Rawhide. Amy had mentioned playing the piano at the rest home, and he’d waited until he was fairly confident she’d be home.
The phone card he’d paid for on base had long since expired, so he had to use his credit card. The transaction seemed loud enough to wake the entire room, but as far as Len could see, no one stirred.
When the line connected, the phone rang three times, three of the longest rings Len could ever remember hearing. He was about to give up hope when Amy answered.
“Hello.” Her voice sounded breathless and excited at once.
“Merry Christmas, Amy,” he said, speaking in a whisper for fear of disturbing the others.
“Len, Len, is that you?”
“It’s me.”
“Where are you?”
“The train depot,” he said, wishing he had other news to give her.
“Still? Oh, Len, are you ever going to make it home?”
“And miss seeing my girl? Are you nuts? I’ll walk from here to Rawhide if I have to.”
“Oh, Len! I can’t believe this is happening.”
He’d felt much the same way himself most of the day, but somehow everything had changed after Mr. Kemper brought in the Christmas tree. And after the choir had come and the ladies had brought them a meal. And Sam had read the Christmas story…
In the beginning tempers had flared and folks were impatient and short with each other. Then the kindhearted stationmaster had brought that bare, sad-looking tree and placed it in the center of the room.
Someone had commented that the stupid tree wasn’t worth the buck Kemper had paid for it.
Len had agreed. It’d taken a five-year-old child to teach them. The minute Kate had placed her hair bow on one sagging limb, the Christmas tree had been magically transformed into something beautiful. Not because of what they’d used to decorate its branches, but because of the effect it’d had on all of them, the way it had brought them together.
Everything had changed from then on. Suddenly they weren’t strangers anymore. Suddenly it was a Christmas like those he’d enjoyed when he was a boy. He’d spent Christmas Eve with strangers who’d become so much more. Strangers who’d become family. Granted, it wasn’t the same as if he’d spent Christmas Eve with Amy, but then he expected to be with her for the rest of his life.
“I’ll be home before you know it,” he promised.
“I’ll be here,” she whispered.
The line was quiet a moment while Len gathered his courage. He’d rather propose when he could look into her eyes and see her reaction as he said the words, but that wasn’t possible. He didn’t think he could wait any longer.
“Did you mean what you said earlier?” he asked. “Do you really love me, Amy Sue?”
“Yes,” she admitted as though confessing to a fault. “I…I probably shouldn’t have said it.”
“Why not?” he asked, raising his voice before he could stop himself.
“Because…well, because we’ve never talked about our feelings and—”
“I love you, too, Amy.”
She didn’t say anything for so long Len feared they’d been disconnected.
“Amy?”
“I’m here.”
He could tell from the tremble in her voice that she was close to tears. “Amy, listen, I never intended it to happen like this, but then life doesn’t always go the way we plan it. I decided to come home for another reason besides spending Christmas with my family.”
“What?”
“I was hoping…” Despite rehearsing his proposal, he was tongue-tied and nervous.
“You were hoping…” she encouraged.
“To talk to you about