An Untouchable Christmas (Untouchables) Read online

  When Eli launched at Logan, the momentum would have sent Logan flat on his back if the sofa weren’t bolstering him.

  “I love it, I love it, I love it.”

  He smacked a kiss on Logan’s cheek before repeating the ritual with his mother, but Logan was stuck in the previous moment. Emotion hit Logan with the same force as Eli’s embrace. He loved the kid. Not simply because he was Sofia’s son. Not simply because saving Eli had helped heal the pain of losing another kidnapping victim. No, he loved the little boy who wanted to wrestle and play on the floor and snuggle when he was worn out from the rest. Eli was his own being—outside of Sofia—and lovable in his own right. The feeling pounding in Logan’s chest was just as powerful and erratic and out of control as the little boy, and it hit Logan just as hard.

  He’d always liked kids in the abstract, but Eli was reality. The chaos of Christmas with a kid made the yearning in Logan grow. He wanted more than one Christmas and a few stolen moments with Sofia. Knowing it, he didn’t want to wait, but—

  Overthinking again. Logan forced himself into the moment. Eli finished his frantic present-fest. He pulled a long, slender box from the tree and handed it to Logan.

  “I didn’t think there was anything left under there,” Logan teased.

  Eli stood with his feet and ankles pressed against Logan’s thigh. “Open it.”

  The flat box didn’t make any noise when he shook it, so Logan slowly peeled the wrapping. Inside was a picture of Eli and Logan at the playground a few blocks away. The frame was white and black with crayon markings filling in a hodgepodge of pictures along the rim.

  Eli fingered the edges of the frame. “I made it.”

  “It’s one of a kind. I love it, I love it, I love it,” he said, mimicking Eli’s earlier voice.

  Eli’s grin nearly split his round cheeks.

  “He made it in preschool,” Sofia whispered softly. “I thought you needed a picture to replace the one on your wall.”

  The picture on his wall was of a kidnapping victim who had died at age ten. The picture of Eli and Logan was a miracle. The photo replaced the memory of a victim he’d lost with another of the boy he had saved. Emotions clogged his throat, but Logan forced them down with a manly cough. “Best gift ever.” And he meant it more than simple words could express.

  Eli smiled like an angel, with his dark eyes and curly hair catching the sunlight shining through the front window. “One more. From Mama.”

  A similar size, this box held a picture of the three of them on a hike with the Colorado foothills in the background. It represented what he wanted now more than ever. His Christmas wish was for them to be a family. The picture was a start, an indication that maybe Sofia felt the same. God, he hoped so, because in a few short months, they had become his life.

  Logan couldn’t stop the instinctive move to connect. He didn’t have words to express what the gift meant, so he pulled her in for a kiss. This was the first time they’d kissed in front of Eli. They hadn’t discussed it, but Logan knew Sofia was a private person and a fiercely protective mother. They’d kept the PDA to a minimum, but today Logan couldn’t contain the emotions roiling around his chest. They kept the interaction light and short, but Eli stared closely at them for several tense moments after.

  Had he gone too far? Logan wondered but stopped when Eli climbed into his lap. He didn’t fling his arms around Logan the way he had with his mother. No, Eli slipped his arms gently around Logan’s neck as if afraid. Of what? God, what the kid had seen in his young life.

  Logan hauled him close for a bear hug before climbing to his feet and swinging Eli around the living room. “Come on. Let’s clean up our mess.” Logan fell to the ground where Eli used the dinos to eat through Christmas wrap. Together, they scooped the paper into a pile and stuffed the shredded mess into a waiting garbage bag while Sofia clicked away with her cell phone.

  She shrugged. “He doesn’t have much of a baby album. Or any album, really.”

  “Wait, where’s Mama’s present?” Eli asked, dropping some wrap on the floor.

  “Do you think I got her a present?”

  Eli nodded solemnly.

  “You’re right. Hold on.” Logan loped up the stairs and grabbed the largest gift from the nightstand. The others could wait. Later, when he wasn’t feeling so… He rolled his shoulders. Just later.

  Sofia dug into the wrapping like Eli had, her enthusiasm surprising as the paper went flying.

  “I’d have guessed you for a slow unwrapping and folding the paper.”

  “You figured wrong. I like this kind of surprise.” She pulled out the red-and-black running jacket and held it to the light. She’d recently started trail running—something that made her feel free—and the red and black was sure to draw attention, something she didn’t fight as much as she once did. “Thank you, but…” Her head jerked to the staircase. “Weren’t there more presents up there?”

  Logan slid his glance toward the kid. “Not fit for public consumption,” he said with a knowing look.

  She shook her head and laughed. “That sounds more like a present for you.”

  “It’s for both of us—”

  The doorbell rang before he could finish his thought.

  “Wait.” Sofia glanced around the living room, her eyes round. Her phone rang, but she ignored it with a hasty swipe. “They can’t be here yet. It’s a mess and the meal is nowhere near ready.”

  “They’re here to help,” Logan assured her. “And this isn’t a mess. This is Christmas.”

  The ease of the morning vanished as she hopped to her feet. Eli raced to the door, nearly giving Sofia a heart attack by the look of panic on her face. “Eli,” she barked, but he was already opening the door to Logan’s parents.

  Hugs all around, and then the hauling in of Christmas loot. “For Michelle and the girls,” his mother said. She eyed Eli. “And you, of course, Master Eli. Can you haul those to the tree?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Call me Nana.” She glanced at Sofia. “If that’s okay with you? It’s what the girls call me. I thought it would be less confusing for Eli.”

  Sofia’s face fell into the blank mask Logan had learned to despise, because it hid her real feelings. It represented her backsliding into the woman she’d been before they met. Nothing good hid behind her neutral features.

  Chapter Two

  The buzz of an incoming message vibrated in Sofia’s pocket, but she couldn’t answer it. She could barely keep up with the sweeping energy of Sandy Stone. The atmosphere had changed the minute she breezed into the foyer. The look of adoration on Eli’s face said he would follow Sandy anywhere, which might have something to do with the Santa-size sack of presents near the door. Eli hugged her leg and called her Nana.

  Sofia cleared her throat to push away the unexpected sting of tears. They hadn’t had family in a long time. “That’s fine, Sandy.” Pride swelled when her voice didn’t crack. “Eli, sweetie, is that too heavy?” Please, God, let the boy need help. She needed a minute away from the arriving horde, as Logan called them, but Eli shook his head as he dragged the bag across the flooring like a man hauling a dead body.

  God, what was wrong with her? When would such horrific images quit coming to mind? “I’ll put on a fresh pot of coffee,” she said to no one in particular. The need for a few minutes alone was an undeniable urge. She checked her phone as she walked. The phone call had been Vicki. Figured. The unnatural cheerfulness of Vicki’s tone in the message had Sofia turning away from Logan and Sandy.

  “No, this does not mean I’m coming to dinner. I’m in Fort Collins, so I’d never make it. Besides, you’ve got Mr. Law and Order, so you’re fine without me. Probably better anyway, but do me a favor? Keep an extra close watch on Eli the next few weeks. There’s a lot going on I can’t explain right now. Just…” Her voice lowered, and Sofia had to strain to hear it over the crowd. “Be careful.”

  The hands she used to hit the call button shook. The return ca
ll went straight to voicemail, so she had no hope of getting more information. She glanced at Eli, surrounded by Logan’s parents, who all but petted Eli’s mass of dark curls. The boy had plenty of eyes on him today, and she had plenty of other things to worry about. Like cooking dinner with witnesses.

  She measured the coffee while counting her breath, trying to slow it down. Logan came up behind her, and she jumped. Again. Dang it. “Maybe you should just quit coming up behind me,” she muttered, her voice harsher than she meant. At least she hadn’t said it as loud as the negative thoughts in her head.

  He kissed her temple. “What can I do to help?”

  The influx of guests so early in the day had thrown her off. Vicki’s phone call had stressed her out. She needed a minute or ten to balance her erratic emotions. “Entertain them.” That sounded awful. Ungrateful. “Please. That will give me time to start peeling potatoes.” The checklist sitting on the counter by the stove was shot now that his parents had arrived so early.

  “They came to help,” he said in her ear.

  “Christmas isn’t dinner, honey.” Sandy walked into the kitchen and pushed up the sleeves of her reindeer sweatshirt. “Christmas is the whole day, and we do it together.”

  Well. Sofia slumped against Logan. His parents swept through her orderly kitchen like a whirlwind. Logan’s dad was put to work at the sink with his tall shoulders hunched over a bag of potatoes.

  “Call me Steve,” he said, grabbing a paring knife from the rack on the counter. “I’m a champion potato peeler, since it’s the only thing Sandy trusts me to do in the kitchen.”

  “That’s not true.” Sandy bumped her ample hip against Steve. “You do a fine job carving the bird.”

  “Oh, thank God,” Sofia said, some of her stress relieved by their easy banter. “I wasn’t sure I wanted to try that for the first time in front of an audience.”

  “I’d be honored.” Steve plopped a peeled potato in the pan and grabbed a fresh one from the bag. “Now, what’s next on your list?”

  Sandy grabbed the list and perused it slowly. “Aren’t you an organized soul? How about I start chopping the greens for a salad?” She grabbed vegetables from the fridge as she spoke. “And you won’t need to make stuffing unless you really want. I brought our corn bread stuffing. Family tradition.”

  Logan brought it in and set it on the warm stovetop. Sandy set up at the granite countertop near the window and Steve. The two flirted over their knife work. They’d been married for over thirty years, and they still flirted. The sight of them, the sounds of their easy conversation, was a balm to Sofia. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen a married couple act like they loved each other. There was really something wrong with her. Why did she fill her head with such negativity? Her grandparents had loved each other, so why did Sofia act like a lasting love didn’t exist?

  Smiling as he walked past, Logan set another of his mother’s pots on the stove to keep warm. There was enough food to feed the horde Logan had warned her about. Maybe it was a good thing Sandy had brought the food, because Sofia hadn’t planned this much. It was a relief to have experienced help in the kitchen instead of the judgment she feared. Behind her, Bert and Ernie did their best to entertain Eli on the television.

  Sandy and Steve made quick work of the cutting and peeling. In short order, Sofia was made irrelevant in her own kitchen. She watched them, a little in awe at how they worked so well together. A unit, all of them a solid unit. She thought of every family she’d ever envied, and these people embodied the best of them.

  She swiped a hand over her eyes, determined to hold it together. Logan came up and wove his fingers through hers. “What’s your favorite Christmas dish?”

  “Um.” She thought about it. “My grandmother’s cranberries.” As a child, she’d thought cranberries were the scourge of the earth, but now it wasn’t Christmas without them.

  “Show me how you make them.” He drew her into the kitchen, into the unit, like an army preparing for battle in the kitchen.

  With a quick glance to make sure Eli was still watching TV, she drew out the fresh cranberries and an orange she needed for the zest. “Can you get the sugar from the pantry?”

  Sandy moved closer to watch over Sofia’s shoulder. “My mother made that recipe, too,” she said, “but I didn’t make it because it doesn’t travel well.” The family had driven down from Denver.

  “I’m glad you didn’t. It’s comforting to make my grandmother’s recipe.”

  Sandy lifted on tiptoes and kissed Sofia’s cheek. “She’s in this room, honey.”

  The ache gradually faded as Sofia stirred the sugar and cranberries. Sharing the kitchen—sharing stories and memories—wasn’t so bad. It was like book group. You had to do the meet and greet before and the cookies after. All part of the experience. She had her emotions pulled together by the time Logan’s sister and her family arrived. More hugs and kisses. Sofia was emotionally exhausted, and the day wasn’t half over yet.

  Twin girls dropped their coats by the door and pulled Eli into the playroom, a small alcove off the living room meant to be an office. What were their names again? God, she was a complete failure as a hostess. The girls were bigger than Eli by several inches, school aged if she remembered, but despite the age difference, they seemed content to play dinosaurs as well as dolls.

  Michelle was short like Sandy but with her father’s dark hair and dimples. She added another pie to the growing dessert buffet before giving Sofia a side hug in passing. “Ma, the girls are driving me crazy. Can we open presents so they’ll be occupied and I can help?”

  Michelle’s husband, Peter, grabbed the remote and turned on a game. He dropped to the couch and stretched his long legs without a word. Her grandfather had never watched, and Nick had watched every sport while his bookies made the odds in the gambling side of the business. As a result, Sofia never watched sports. Today it made her feel inadequate somehow. Disconnected. What warm-blooded American woman didn’t know what sport was played on Christmas Day?

  Michelle laid her coat over a chair before peeking over her mother’s shoulder. “Are you making fruit salad this year?”

  “If we have time,” Sandy answered, shooing her daughter.

  Sofia watched them take over her house, her life. There had never been so many people in her space, and she wasn’t sure how she liked it. The silence of several years—her exile—was now effectively at an end. The TV, the laughter, the kids, all combined to turn her house into a family home.

  “Watch it or you’ll burn it,” Sandy warned her.

  The cranberries and orange zest boiled in the sugar water. She set the timer for a minute. “Presents in five?” she said, seeking Sandy’s guidance.

  Sandy’s plump face rounded into a smile. “Perfect.”

  “Emma and Anna,” Michelle called over the sounds emanating from the television. “Divide up the presents by name.”

  They dug into the bag Sandy and Steve had brought and started piling them near chairs and on the floor. The timer went off, so Sofia turned off the burner and dumped the sauce into her grandmother’s crystal serving dish. Logan covered the dish with clear wrap and set it in the fridge to solidify.

  “How did you know?” Sofia asked.

  “My grandma’s recipe, too. Almost identical.”

  Gran would approve, not just of the recipe but also the loudness of the house and the day and the family dispersed around her. The Christmas music was barely audible over the sounds of people.

  Logan dropped a gentle kiss to her lips.

  “Knock it off, you two,” Sandy said, intentionally bumping into them on the way into the living room. “Time for presents.”

  Sofia watched the controlled chaos of family, surprised to receive a vibrant scarf from Sandy and Steve. Had Logan told them she was trying to brighten up her wardrobe or had they guessed?

  Logan had bought presents for everyone and signed the cards from both of them. He hadn’t even told her—he’d
just done what needed doing. Next year, she vowed, if there was a next year, she would buy these wonderful, loud, and amazing people gifts that meant as much as what they gave her. A family Christmas.

  Eli came to show her his gift from Sandy and Steve. The size of a brick, it was a sandy block as hard as cement with fake dino bones buried inside. To get the bones, he needed to chip away the sand. “Not in the house,” she told him. “We’ll take it outside after we eat.”

  Something sputtered in the kitchen. Sofia raced back to see water boiling over the edges of the pan of potatoes Steve had peeled. She turned the burner down and cleaned off the stovetop.

  “All right, troops,” Sandy said, raising her voice. “That’s our cue. Back to the trenches. Kids, you’re in charge of cleaning up the wrapping and taking out the garbage.”

  It didn’t feel like an invasion anymore as bodies wove through the kitchen like some messy dance. It felt like family.

  …

  The mask Logan hated slowly dissolved from Sofia’s features as his family swarmed her house. Sofia’s original plan had been to eat at lunchtime, but as these things went, they ran behind getting the rolls and gravy done after pulling the turkey from the oven. The doorbell rang, but only Logan noticed. At the door were two of the meanest-looking fighters he’d ever seen. The first was a tall blond built like a bodyguard, while the other was shorter and meaner with a yellowing bruise just under his cheekbone.

  “You going to invite us in?” the shorter man asked.

  Logan stared at them for too long. “Depends. What’s the password?”

  “Spartans.” The name of their former high school football team. The man with the bruised face grinned. “Now let us in, asshole.”

  “Blake, man it’s good to see you.” Logan pulled him in for a hug and then replaced him with the blond tank. Mick pounded Logan’s back so hard he was bound to leave bruises. “So good to see you guys.” He led the way into the house.