The Christmas Proposition by Cindy Kirk

strong unexpectedly began to tremble. She twisted a strand of hair around one finger, her green eyes clouded. “By the time I finally got home it was dark. I was really scared. Aunt Amy was worried, but Uncle Wayne was mad. She wouldn’t let him go bowling until she knew I was safe.”
    The pain in the child’s voice told Derek everything. He could only imagine how “Uncle Wayne” had treated the child once she’d gotten home. He tightened his fingers around his soup spoon.
    “I hadn’t lived there long, but I knew what happened when you made Uncle Wayne mad,” Mickie said. “Especially when he was drinking beer. And he was always drinking beer.”
    Silence descended over the table for several heartbeats.
    “Did he hit you?” Rachel asked finally.
    Mickie lifted a shoulder, then let it drop. “Sometimes.”
    Fred, who’d been lying on the floor at Mickie’s feet, sat up. Without looking down she scratched his head.
    The muscle jumping in Rachel’s jaw told Derek exactly what she’d like to do to Uncle Wayne.
    He understood. He felt the same way. Although he’d seen it often enough in his role as a Big Brother, the harming of a child never went down easy. He shoved down the rage rising inside him and forced a casual tone. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”
    He placed his spoon on the table and took an unfrosted sugar cookie from the plate in the center of the table. He broke it into two pieces, handed one to Mickieand kept the other for himself. “He shouldn’t have hit you.”
    Mickie took a bite of cookie. “I know lots of kids who get hit.”
    Derek winced. Yeah, he did, too.
    “That won’t happen here,” Rachel said softly. “You’re safe with me.”
    Mickie crumbled the rest of the cookie between her fingers. “What if I say or do something that makes you mad?”
    “It doesn’t matter,” Rachel said, her eyes filled with compassion. “An adult should never hit a child. For any reason, but especially not out of anger.”
    Derek remained silent. This conversation was between mother and daughter, er, between Rachel and Mickie.
    “Do you understand?” Rachel covered the girl’s hand with hers.
    Mickie nodded her head in several quick jerks.
    “And I want you to know you can be honest with me about your feelings,” she continued.
    The child’s face scrunched into a frown. “I don’t…understand.”
    “Just tell me what you want when I ask,” Rachel said.
    “In other words, if you don’t like anchovies, it’s okay to say you don’t like them,” Derek clarified.
    “If you’re worried or afraid, I want to know that, too.” Rachel grabbed a cookie and absently took a bite. “I can’t make something better unless I know it’s an issue.”
    Derek took another cookie. These were even betterthan the ones his mother made every Christmas. In fact, they were the best he’d had in years. He caught Mickie staring as he popped half the cookie into his mouth.
    “Okay, I understand.” Mickie’s gaze shifted back to Rachel. “But can we decorate the cookies before you and Mr. Rossi eat them all?”
    Rachel chuckled.
    Derek grinned.
    Mickie giggled.
    Fred woofed.
    And in the cozy kitchen, with the light streaming through the windows, for the first time in years, Derek felt part of a family.

Chapter Six
    R achel had expected Derek to leave immediately after lunch. In fact, when he’d first arrived, she’d thought of several excuses, er, reasons, to make sure that happened. She’d been concerned that he would misconstrue her generosity and think she was interested in him.
    But he’d been a perfect gentleman and they’d been having such a good time that she’d impulsively asked him to stay and decorate sugar cookies with her and Mickie. Even though applying frosting and sprinkles was more of a “girly” thing to do, she’d been confident he’d say yes. After all, from how many he’d eaten it was apparent he loved her cookies. She’d been shocked when he’d begged off with