Have Yourself a Marine Christmas (Always a Marine) by Heather Long Page B

wouldn’t be the first kid who did that—he’d given his mother plenty of gray hairs at that age, always sneaking off to find some adventure.
    The little girl flushed and shot a furtive glance toward where the others had gone. “You won’t tell on me, will you?”
    “I might have to let someone know.” He squinted, but he’d have to be an ogre not to take her crestfallen pout into consideration. “But let’s find Miss Torres and let her decide, okay?”
    “Okay.”
    “I’m Reb…Ryan, Ryan Brun. And what’s your name?” He pushed up from the crouch, wavering a fraction before finding stable footing.
    “I’m Chrissy Carol—like a Christmas carol.” She giggled. “You’re Sergeant Rebel.”
    Chrissy Carol? Really, would someone actually do that to their child? He slowed his pace, but she kept up with him, practically bouncing over the idea of going into the store. He skimmed his gaze over the shoppers inside, searching for Noel. “Who was your assigned buddy, Chrissy?”
    Suspicion tickled at the back of his mind. Call it instinct or simple knowledge, but the group had to have some kind system and no adult would leave someone this young unsupervised.
    “Captain Dexter and Mrs. Dexter.” She spotted their quarry at the same time he did. With a squeal, Chrissy darted after Noel. Noel glanced up from a stack of sweaters and barely turned enough to catch the little locomotive steaming straight toward her. Pulling his phone out, Rebel texted Luke and had a response thirty seconds later.
    We’re on our way .
    Slanting a look at the pleasure on Noel’s face and the equally bright cheer on Chrissy’s, Rebel shrugged and texted . She can shop with us, sir. Unless you had other plans.
    Just a shopping trip for the kids. Secret Santas and toy selection for the run. Meet at food court 1200 for lunch?
    Yes, sir .
    Checking the time, he estimated they had three hours of shopping time before the scheduled rendezvous. Chrissy let out a little shriek and skipped around to dart at a table full of fuzzy pillow pets.
    He eyed Noel’s amused expression. “She’s cute,” he said, and took a position where he could watch the door and Chrissy at the same time. The little angel moved like lightning and he had no intention of letting her slip away into the crowded mall unobserved. “Set up, or did she really just want to hang out with you?”
    “Now, why would I set you up?” The sly tilt to Noel’s smile didn’t waver.
    A lull in the dull roar of conversation let the music piping in rise in volume…and little Chrissy started singing along with Burl Ives.
    “Because you fight dirty.” He stroked his finger down her cheek. Chrissy was dancing with one of the brown pillow pets. “What’s her story?”
    “Rebel….”
    “Shh.” He’d asked the question, he wanted an answer. “What’s her story?”
    Folding up the sweater she’d been examining, Noel said in a low voice, “Her father died in the sandbox. Her mom was also deployed while Chrissy lived with an aunt. Mom was injured, and the whole family came down for the holidays while her mother billets here for her recovery.”
    A violent tug on his heartstrings if there ever was one. “Mom’s status?”
    “She’ll be fine. Lost some nerve function and she had to learn to speak again, but Chrissy reads with her every day.” Casting a glance over her shoulder at the little girl, Noel’s face softened with fondness. “She couldn’t read at all three months ago, but when her mom had to start vocal therapy, one of the exercises was reading out loud—Chrissy learned to read so she could help.”
    “She likes you.”
    “I like her, too—and we need to rescue those pillows before she starts building a fort out of them.” But her warm laughter decried any real concern she had.
    He spent the morning trailing the two from store to store. Noel was a conservative shopper, and she scrutinized every item carefully before she purchased. Chrissy—he noted with