Light the Dark: A Carolina Moon Christmas Novella Read online

  He was a doctor now, but that didn’t mean he’d forgotten what his years in the military as a medic had taught him about survival. He had to be ready to face whatever waited inside.

  He remained in the shadows as he crept closer to the house. There was no car out front, but someone was clearly inside—or had been inside. That smoke expelled from the chimney at a steady pace, indicating the fire was still burning strong.

  He headed for the back of the house and, at once, memories hit him. Memories he’d tried to bury.

  He should have a little girl running around in this yard. He and Marissa had sat on the back patio and dreamed about what their future would hold. They were going to grow old together here.

  Grief nearly choked him, but he pushed it away.

  He crossed to the rear of the house. A car was parked there, partly concealed behind the detached garage. Interesting. Whoever was here certainly wasn’t trying too hard to hide his or her presence. He peered inside the vehicle and saw some cracker wrappers and empty bottles of water on the floor. The license plate showed the person was from Georgia. There wasn’t much else to indicate who the owner was.

  He glanced at his back door. Was this person a squatter, someone simply taking advantage of the vacant building? Perhaps. But whoever broke in still had no right to trespass. Not on Luke’s property.

  Someone being in his house was like having a criminal tread on his memories and ultimately ruin how sacred they were.

  Carefully he walked onto the back porch, certain to keep his footsteps steady and quiet. He peered through the window but saw nothing. All the furniture, accessories, pictures appeared in place. Even the TV was still there. That was the good news. At least the place hadn’t been ransacked and destroyed. He moved to the next window. Sure enough, a flame crackled in the fireplace.

  He paced to the back door and turned the knob. It was locked.

  He quietly pulled out his keys, unlocked the door, and prodded it open. If someone was in here, he wanted to take him by surprise. Luke had never understood people who announced their arrival at a crime scene. That only gave the bad guys the chance to ready themselves for a fight, for retaliation. Not knowing what he was facing, he had to use whatever he could to his advantage

  His foot barely thudded as it hit the wood floor. He raised his gun, keeping it close to his chest. His finger stretched along the length of the weapon, ready to pull the trigger if he had to.

  Staying close to the wall, he scanned the room for a sign of trouble. He saw nothing that raised any red flags. He edged the room, remaining on guard. His heart lurched at the sight of the house. It didn’t matter how much time passed, the reaction was always the same. The place reminded him of everything he’d lost. It was why he didn’t come here often. Why he couldn’t live here. But why he couldn’t get rid of it either.

  As he rounded the couch, he caught sight of the intruder. He lay on the couch, a blanket pulled around his shoulders and a couch pillow tucked under his head.

  No, not his.

  Her.

  A woman had broken into his house?

  Not what he’d expected.

  But that didn’t mean she wasn’t dangerous. He raised his gun.

  “You have five seconds to get out of my house before I shoot,” he ordered.

  The woman’s eyes darted open. In a split second, she jumped to her feet, her eyes wide with fear.

  She raised her hands, and, as she did, he saw her stomach.

  Her very pregnant stomach.

  What was going on here?

  Chapter Two

  Hope’s heart lurched in her throat until she could hardly breathe. Her gaze zeroed in on the gun until all she saw was the barrel. One pull of the trigger, and it would all be over. Just like that.

  Had she come this far for it all to end this way?

  She shouldn’t have fallen asleep. She’d told herself it would only be for a few hours. That she’d leave at daylight, and no one would ever know she was here. But her body had different ideas. Everything had caught up with her, and, for a moment, she’d felt safe.

  “Please, don’t shoot.” Her voice sounded like a shaky mess, and her entire body tensed, anticipating the worst. Anticipating the sting of a bullet. How everything could end in a flash. But he hadn’t shot her yet. Maybe there was still hope. “Let me just get my purse and I’ll leave. I didn’t mean any harm.”

  The man lowered his gun, a knot wrinkling between his eyes. His gaze assessed her and some of his anger seemed to fade.

  Just at that moment, she saw him beyond the gun. The man was handsome. Tall, thin, solid. Early thirties, if she had to guess. He had blond hair, cut short and neat. His green eyes looked kind but wise. He wore khakis and a button-up blue shirt, and smelled strangely like a mix of antiseptic and leather.

  “Why are you here?” he asked.

  She hadn’t been expecting the question, but at least he wasn’t threatening to kill her anymore. Yet she couldn’t tell him the truth. She couldn’t tell anyone the truth.

  “I . . . I’m sorry. I knew I shouldn’t have come in, but . . .” I was desperate. She didn’t let herself say the words. No need to share more than necessary.

  Her purse. Where had she left it? She had to find it. Now. And go.

  Hope scanned the floor, but her thoughts were incoherent. Her instincts told her to flee, but doing so without a car would spell failure. She wouldn’t make it very far on foot, not in her current condition.

  The man still watched her, still holding that gun, even if it was no longer pointed at her.

  “You still haven’t told me why you’re here,” he said, his voice steady and prodding.

  “It was all a mistake. And I was lost. If I can just find my purse, I’ll be out of your hair. I’m so sorry I used your home.”

  She started across the room, searching for her things. She’d been so hungry when she came inside last night, that all she’d thought about was food. She must have dropped her purse without realizing it.

  She stumbled as her foot caught on the coffee table. Before she hit the floor, the man caught her elbow.

  “Slow down. Please. Don’t hurt yourself.”

  She raked a hand through her hair, trying to gather her thoughts. “I know. I know. I’m sorry.”

  Her hands trembled. She was falling apart, she realized. She couldn’t do that. She had a son who depended on her to keep a level head and stay alive.

  Hope hadn’t always been like this. But losing Clint and then finding out she was pregnant, and now all of this, mixed with her pregnancy hormones . . . it was wreaking havoc on her emotions.

  Tears pushed to the surface as hopelessness threatened to consume her.

  The man touched her elbow again, his gun now tucked into his waistband. “Please, sit down. Take some deep breaths. I’ll help you find your purse.”

  She stared at him, trying to measure his sincerity. His eyes were kind and compassionate. His touch was gentle and cautious.

  Did he mean his words? Or would he call the police? Because if he called the police, she had no doubt that she would die. They wouldn’t be on her side. Not after Raul got through to them—and he was very persuasive.

  The thought rattled her. “No, no, no. I can’t do it. I just have to—”

  “Please, sit.” It was more of a command than a request.

  She lowered herself onto the couch, thankful to sit down. She hadn’t realized it until this moment, but her knees were weak. The pregnancy and stress were breaking her down emotionally and physically.

  As if to remind her, Jace gave her a firm kick in the side.

  She gasped and reached for her belly.

  “Are you okay?” The man still stared at her with a strange look on his face. He started to reach for her but dropped his hand, resting it at his side. His eyes remained narrowed, crinkled on the edges, as he studied her.

  She nodded, taking a deep breath to find her courage. “He’s just a strong one.”

 
He sat down beside her. “When are you due?”

  “Two weeks. Christmas Day.”

  He blanched at her announcement. “When was the last time you had anything to eat or drink?”

  Her cheeks flushed. “I found some canned fruit in your cupboard. I’m sorry. I’ll pay you back—”

  He raised his hand to halt her. “I’m not worried about the fruit. I’m just concerned about you and your baby.”

  More tears threatened to push to the surface. Why was she about to lose it now? In the presence of a man toting a gun? And why did he sound concerned about her? Maybe God had finally had some mercy on her instead of making her face worst-case scenario after worst-case scenario.

  Her life the past few days had been a living nightmare, and all she knew was that she had to fight. For her son’s sake.

  She ran a finger under her eye and drew in a shaky breath. “I just needed a place to rest. I’m sorry—”

  “You don’t have to apologize any more. Are you homeless?”

  How did she answer that? “It’s complicated. I . . . I can’t go home.”

  This was his house, she realized, though she’d known that from the moment she saw him. His name must be one of those on the dusty stockings on the fireplace mantle.

  But he didn’t live here any longer. She’d hoped he lived far away, somewhere too far for him to check on this place. That hadn’t worked out.

  He stood. “Let me take you to town, get you something to eat, and find you a warm place to stay. I won’t press charges, and there are no strings attached. Of course, most of the accommodations in town—bed and breakfast, mainly—are full because of the Christmas bazaar and parade this weekend. We may have to travel outside the town limits.”

  “No! No. I’ll be fine. The fruit was good. I can go. If I could just find my purse . . .” She glanced around again, feeling like a broken record.

  The man’s jaw flexed. “You’re in trouble.”

  “It’s complicated.”

  He blinked slowly. “So you said. My friend is the police chief. Maybe he can help—”

  She rushed to her feet. “No!” She cleared her throat, realizing just how overblown her reaction had seemed. “I mean, no, thank you. I’ll be fine. I just need to recalibrate—”

  “Please calm down. I’m not going to hurt you.” The man’s voice remained firm yet calm.

  She sat back down and pushed a hair behind her ear.

  At that moment, her stomach groaned. She was hungry. She hadn’t been telling the truth when she said the fruit had been enough. No, she wanted protein. Meat. Red meat. And carbs. Like potatoes. With lots of ketchup and salt. Not the most healthy thing she could crave, but she did anyway.

  “You obviously need some help. What can I do for you?” he asked.

  An image of steak and a baked potato fluttered through her mind again. No, she couldn’t say that, even though she suddenly felt famished.

  Accepting his help sounded so nice. So nice.

  But she didn’t know the man. Didn’t know if she could trust him. He had no obligation to her.

  Her best choice right now would be to get out of here.

  “I’m just going to find my purse and leave.” She stood again, and, again, her legs failed her. She started toward the floor when the man caught her arms and lowered her onto the couch.

  It must be a mix of hunger, exhaustion, fear, and stress.

  But she just didn’t have the strength to fight right now. She hoped that realization didn’t get her killed.

  Luke wasn’t sure how his change of heart had happened so fast. But the sight of the pregnant woman with tears in her eyes had done something to his inside, twisting it up in knots until his anger turned into compassion.

  It wasn’t that he was never around pregnant women. He was a doctor. But this woman looked scared and alone. He couldn’t send her out into the cold.

  He realized this could be a mistake. She could be a con artist or a criminal. After all, she had broken into his home. But his gut told him she wasn’t. His gut told him that she desperately needed help.

  He knelt on one knee beside her, worried about her physical health and that of her child. “I’m not going to hurt you. I don’t know who you are or why you’re in my house. I’m probably crazy for saying this, but I feel strangely compelled to help. I’d offer to take you to the hospital, but I have a feeling you’d say no.”

  “I can’t go there. I’m sorry.” Her voice cracked.

  “You’re in trouble?”

  She nodded. “You could say that.”

  He’d seen cases like this before. Abused wives, living in fear. Was that her story? “Is it the baby’s father?”

  She rubbed her lips together as if carefully considering her answer. “No, he’s . . . he’s not in the picture. He died actually. Eight months ago.”

  Something about her words gripped his very soul. “I’m sorry. I’m Luke, by the way.”

  She offered her first smile. “I’m Hope.”

  He leaned toward her, elbows propped on his legs. Sunlight streamed through the window, highlighting the dust and smoke in the air. It was cold in here, even with the fire. This place wasn’t suitable to live in, not in its current state.

  “I’m a doctor, Hope. I don’t want to overstep my boundaries here, but all this stress could send you into early labor. Even though you’re far enough along that the baby should be okay, I’m not equipped here to deliver a baby, so let’s try not to make that happen, okay?”

  She nodded, her anger and fear replaced by a touch of shock, if he had to guess.

  “Why don’t you put your feet up? I’ll get you something to eat.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I know. But I don’t think it was an accident that you showed up here.” He meant the words. As angry as he’d been when he arrived, all of that negativity disappeared when he realized her plight.

  “What do you mean?” She rubbed her throat, her gaze fixated on him.

  He let out a breath, praying he could put her at ease and figure out a solution to whatever had led her here. “Hope, God has shown me over and over again that things don’t happen on accident. So the fact that you showed up in my house means something. Maybe that you need my help.”

  She pressed her lips together again and swallowed, looking like she might spring at any minute. “You don’t know me or owe me anything. You should send me to jail. I broke into your house.”

  “I know. Believe me, I know. I had fully intended on kicking you out and securing the place. But, I don’t care who you are. I can’t put you on the street in your condition. If you’ll allow me, I’d like to help you.”

  Finally, she nodded again, absently rubbing her stomach. But she still didn’t seem sure.

  The woman was beautiful, but that wasn’t why he was helping her. Something about her just seemed so vulnerable and innocent. She was probably in her late twenties, with curly, dark-brown hair. She wore an oversized sweater with sleeves pulled over her hands, along with jeans and boots. Her cheeks glowed, and her big, brown eyes seemed to soak everything in.

  What would have driven a woman like this out here to Hertford? What had led her to break into a home to find refuge? To eat his canned food—was it still good, even?

  One thing was certain: she was in trouble.

  Luke stood when she offered no more information. He paced the room until he reached the fire, and he stoked the flames there. The house was cold—too cold for someone to be living inside.

  Finally, he turned back to her. “Let me get you something to eat. I’m going to have to go into town. I probably won’t be back for an hour, though. Will you still be here?”

  The flash in her eyes told him she was considering running. He should be relieved. But he hated to think about what kind of trouble this woman might run into. What if she found a home to keep her warm, but the owner returned and wasn’t as nice as he was?

  “I’ll . . . stay,” she finally said.<
br />
  “I’d say you could ride with me, but I have a feeling you won’t.”

  “I . . . can’t.”

  “No one delivers food out here. Obviously, there’s no electricity, so I can’t cook anything for you. I’ll get something hot and bring it back.”

  “Why are you being so kind to me?”

  “I don’t like to see people suffer.” Even though he was the king of wallowing in his own sorrow. Maybe that was why it was so easy to identify that very trait in others.

  “Who said I was suffering?” Her voice came out a whisper, one laced with anticipation and anxiety.

  “It’s written all over you.” His words sounded raspy and hoarse, even to his own ears.

  He turned away before she could see the truth in his eyes. The truth that he was suffering just as much as she was. Maybe in different ways. But the pain was still real and haunting and unavoidable.

  “I’ll be back.” He escaped before this house and the memories here got the best of him.

  Chapter Three

  Once Luke left the house, Hope released the air from her lungs. Finally, she could breathe. But the feeling was short-lived.

  The doctor—Luke, he’d said—seemed nice. Some men would seem creepy if they offered to help, but he seemed more like a handsome Prince Charming who’d galloped into her life. He oozed sincerity.

  But what if he returned with the police? Could she really trust him? Even people she’d thought she could rely on had let her down. More than let her down—they’d betrayed her. But she was supposed to trust a stranger?

  The smart thing to do would be to leave. Now.

  But, for just a moment, she’d had visions of staying in this home, by the warm fire, cuddled under the soft blanket. She could practically taste the warm food he’d offered to bring back for her. The smell of smoke from the fireplace was somehow comforting and soothing.

  She was curious about Luke’s story: about the sorrow in his own eyes, about the way this house had been preserved in a moment of time and left abandoned, about why he was being so kind to her when she’d violated his home.