A Wedding for Christmas Read online

Me too. Tyler texted back.

  Can you pick up some milk on your way back? Arman knocked over an entire carton.

  Sure thing. We’re almost done here. Tyler pocketed his phone and whistled for his dog. “Brownie, Bree. Time to go.”

  Several dogs and their owners ran around on the grassy knoll, but none of them looked like Brownie and Bree.

  “Bree!” Adrenaline shot through Tyler’s veins. “Brownie!”

  He dashed across the grass, shouting for them. Bree was only a six-year-old girl. Where could she be? Where would she have gone with the dog? Had she been lured away from the park? Why wasn’t the dog answering?

  “Bree! Brownie!” He ran up to other dog owners who were playing with their pets. “Has anyone seen my little girl? Blond with a brown dog? Anyone?”

  People gathered around, making sympathetic murmurs.

  “We’ll help you find her.”

  “She couldn’t have gotten far.”

  “We’d better find her before it gets dark.”

  Tyler had no choice but to trust the people offering to help. This wasn’t the same as getting lost in a mall or store where they had security cameras and guards. This was a public park—a large one in the middle of an urban area. There were many exits and entrances. Many nooks and crannies. Many buildings ranging from museums to shacks, and a large underground parking garage.

  “We meet back here in fifteen minutes,” he took command. “I’m calling the police, and we fan out from here, three hundred sixty degrees. Remember, fifteen minutes. Come back, no matter what.”

  2

  ~ Tyler ~

  Tyler called the police, and they dispatched officers. The volunteers fanned out, calling for Bree. Even though he wanted to beat every bush and scour under every tree, he had to remain calm and stay close to the last place he saw her.

  If he ran one direction, she could be in the opposite direction. If he left the grassy knoll, she might come back. Besides, the dispatcher told him to stay put so they could talk to him—possibly put him on TV to make an appeal to the public.

  Sweat ringed his neck, and a weight pressed over his chest. He felt like a caged animal, pacing back and forth. The park was large, and she could be anywhere. His only consolation was that Brownie was with Bree. Brownie was a stray dog from Afghanistan who’d saved his life many times. Brownie would never let anyone hurt Bree. He was a fighter, and he was big.

  A police car pulled up, and two officers jumped from their vehicle. They asked him questions, and even though Tyler gave them everything they needed, he couldn’t help feeling they suspected him of making up the entire report.

  “I’m telling you, she was playing with her dog and running around throwing a ball,” Tyler said. “We need a coordinated search. If someone bad picked her up, she could be anywhere.”

  “Can someone corroborate you were actually with this child?” one of the officers asked. “You say she’s your daughter.”

  “I have pictures on my phone with her,” Tyler said. “She’s almost my daughter. I’m adopting her in a few weeks.”

  He scrolled to this photo collection and showed them. “Here we are, my fiancée who’s Bree’s mother, my son, Bree, and I. Here’s the dog.”

  “If you’re not legally the father, we’ll need to talk to her mother,” the other officer said. “Give me her address and we’ll send someone there.”

  “Let me call her first,” Tyler said.

  “Actually, we prefer to go straight to her door,” the first officer said.

  Tyler produced the address. “Aren’t you guys going to help me find her?”

  “We’ve already put our lost child protocol in place,” the second officer said. “But since you admit you’re not the legal father, we can’t release her to you unless her mother agrees.”

  Tyler’s gut clenched at how lackadaisical the officers seemed. This was his child who was missing. His precious girl. He was wasting time with these officers, who were more interested in taking down information than finding Bree.

  “Am I free to go?” he asked. “Because I have to find my daughter.”

  Anger steamed from his breath, as he followed a trail toward a playground. The sooner he adopted Bree, the better. He understood why the officers had to be careful, but they should be more concerned about finding the lost child than giving him the nth degree.

  “Woof, woof.” A familiar bark sounded in the distance.

  “Brownie. Here boy,” he called, running toward the sound of the bark.

  The dog bounded toward him, but there was no sign of Bree.

  “Where’s Bree? Where is she?” Tyler grabbed Brownie’s collar and attached the leash.

  Brownie only barked. Unlike the dogs on TV, he didn’t try to get anyone to follow him.

  Tyler marked the copse of trees Brownie had come back from, and he ran toward them. Bree was wearing a bright pink jacket, and she shouldn’t be too hard to spot.

  The officers followed him, their hands over their weapons.

  “Come on, boy,” Tyler said to Brownie. “Show me where she is. Show me she’s not hurt.”

  “Boo.” A shadow fell over Tyler, and Bree jumped from a tree into his arms. “I’m practicing parachuting from the sky.”

  “Bree.” He grabbed her and held her tight.

  “Let her go and put your hands up.” The first police officer reached his side.

  Tyler set Bree down and raised his hands. He didn’t want to give the officers any excuse to brutalize him.

  “Don’t arrest my father,” Bree said, holding onto Tyler.

  “Let’s get the mother here, so we can get this straightened out.” The second police officer pointed to the car.

  “Why’d you run off?” Tyler asked Bree as they walked to the police cruiser. “You need to stay with me and not talk to strangers.”

  “He wasn’t a stranger,” Bree said. “I saw Matt from school and he wanted to pet Brownie. Then his father took pictures of us.”

  “Pictures?” A warning bell jangled in Tyler’s mind. These days, one could hardly stop anyone from taking pictures, but still, it was creepy that a stranger, even if he was a parent of one of Bree’s schoolmates, would take pictures of her.

  Tyler stopped the policeman. “Did you hear that? She says a man she doesn’t know took pictures of her.”

  “I heard her say she met up with a friend from school,” the officer replied. “No crime in that.”

  “What kind of parent leaves her alone in a tree?” Tyler argued.

  “Be glad your child was found,” the policeman said. “You won’t believe the number of missing children reports we get.”

  Tyler took a deep breath and pressed his hand over his thudding heart. It could have been a lot worse. At least Bree was safe.

  Except he couldn’t get the nagging feeling out of his gut that something was majorly wrong with a grown man taking pictures of his daughter without his consent.

  ~ Kelly ~

  My heart flies to my throat when I spot the police car in front of our house. Bree and Tyler clamber out the back seat along with Brownie.

  I swing open the door and walk halfway down the stoop to meet them.

  “Ma’am,” the lead officer says. “We want to confirm this is your daughter, and the man in question is allowed to associate with her.”

  “Yes, she’s my daughter, and Tyler’s my fiancé. Everything’s okay.” I pick Bree up and hold her close.

  Tyler gives them a shrug like he tried to tell them, and they nod and say goodbye.

  “What happened?” I ask Tyler after the policemen drive away.

  “Bree got lost while I was texting you.” He heads into the house.

  “For how long?” I bring Bree in, along with Brownie.

  “Not more than fifteen, twenty minutes,” Tyler says. “I called the cops to help. Even though I found Bree, they wouldn’t release her to me without verifying it was okay.”

  I’m glad the police are so diligent, but I can te
ll Tyler’s pride is hurt. “At least they’re being careful. It’s not anything against you, but the way things are in our world today.”

  “Mama,” Bree cuts in. “They think Papa’s not my real dad. It’s because my last name is still Kennedy. When will I be Bree Manning?”

  “Very soon. Now, wash your hands and get ready for dinner.” I put her down.

  After she goes into the powder room, I corner Tyler. “What really happened? How could you lose track of her for so long?”

  “She says she saw a friend from school and went over to talk to him. She showed him her dog, but what weirds me out is that the boy’s father took pictures of her. When I found her, she was sitting alone in a tree while Brownie ran back to me.”

  “Who’s the boy?”

  “Someone named Matt. Bree says he’s her friend.”

  “Matt Sanders?” My jaw drops, and I gape at Tyler. “He’s the kid who gets in trouble for teasing and bullying Bree. Why would she speak to him?”

  “I don’t know, but what bothers me more are the pictures his father took.” Tyler clenches his fist. “I don’t like it one bit.”

  “Neither do I.” I finally allow myself to hug Tyler. As angry as I am, I can’t go ballistic over it. I, myself, had lost Bree for a short period of time two years ago. I well remember the panic I was in. That was when I met Tyler who’d found her. “We can’t obsess over what could have happened, but we can sure keep a better eye on her.”

  Although the creeps chill my spine, I can’t give in to irrational panic. It was probably an innocent thing. Bree saw a classmate and …

  But no. What normal person would take pictures of another person’s child? I have to speak to Matt’s mother the next time I see her picking him up after school.

  Unfortunately, there’s enough bad blood between us because of the fights and teasing going on between the two of them. She blames Bree for starting it, and of course, I blame her boy for not leaving Bree alone.

  3

  ~ Kelly ~

  Monday afternoon couldn’t come fast enough for me. All day, I stewed over Matt’s father taking pictures of Bree. I tried googling him, but I had no idea what the father’s name would be.

  I get to the school building early and stake out a parking spot. This isn’t the first time I’ve had to confront Matt’s mother. All last year, her son pulled Bree’s hair and called her names, like “bird brain,” and chased her around asking, “Who’s your daddy?”

  After checking my watch, I spy on the other parents hovering around for a parking spot. The school is in the middle of the city and does not have a circular where parents can simply drive up and pick up their child. Nope. In the city, they have to park and wait at the gate. Of course, traffic is at a standstill, but this works to my advantage. Mrs. Sanders can’t run off without speaking to me.

  I exit my van when I spot her parallel parking her Tesla—or rather, the car is parking itself. The woman’s a parasite lawyer, one of those ambulance chasers. I don’t know what her husband does, because he never comes to the parents’ meetings, but both of them are at fault for Matt running wild.

  I’m standing on the sidewalk by the time the bright white Tesla completes its picture perfect parking. Matt’s mother takes off her sunglasses and pretends she doesn’t see me.

  I take a moment to remember her name is Sheryl Sanders.

  I rap on her passenger window and she lowers it. Her feral brown eyes narrow, and her pointy nose twitches before she bares her bucked teeth. “Don’t tell me you need change for the meter.”

  “Skip the snark. I want to know why Matt’s father took pictures of my daughter yesterday afternoon at Golden Gate Park.”

  She narrows her eyes and sneers, exposing her canines. “Are you off your meds? Bree’s father took pictures of my son. I was about to ask you what that’s all about.”

  “Bree’s father lost her for fifteen minutes, and during that time, Bree says your husband took pictures of her.” I get in her face to let her know I’m not afraid of her and her insults.

  Sheryl stabs her finger at me. “You need to delete those pictures off your fiancé’s phone. Stalking my son—that’s not right.”

  My jaw drops, and I gape at her. I can’t believe that in her twisted mind, she believes Tyler is the one at fault here.

  “My fiancé called the police because he couldn’t find Bree. She told the police your husband took pictures of her. I’m asking you to erase those pictures. Do I have to take you to court for this?”

  “As a matter of fact, I’ll be glad to see you in court.” Sheryl resorts to her legal voice. “Try kidnapping and false imprisonment for starters.”

  “You have no proof, because the pictures on your husband’s phone will show his guilt. Don’t believe me? Go take a look for yourself tonight after he gets home.”

  Sheryl pushes a button and the power window raises. I step back in time to not get caught in it. She gets out of the car and comes around to the sidewalk. “If you think Matt’s going to spend his Christmas Day holding your rings, forget it.”

  “What?” Now my jaw slams onto the sidewalk. “Who asked your Matt to be our ring bearer?”

  A grinding feeling in my stomach hits me as soon as Bree appears from the schoolyard.

  “Mama!” She skips toward me. “Matt says he’s going to be the ring bearer. We get to kiss.”

  Sure enough, the bratty boy who’s always harassing my daughter follows behind her, wearing a crap-eating grin. I wonder if they’ve already kissed.

  “Mom,” Matt says to Sheryl. “Can Bree come to our house to practice?”

  “I need some real flower petals instead of leaves,” Bree says. “To make sure they throw the same way.”

  “I need a pillow and two rings,” Matt adds.

  The two of them chatter nonstop until Sheryl barks at her son, “Hold it. Stop talking. Ms. Kennedy and I are having a grown up conversation.”

  “Oh …” Matt quiets down immediately. He whispers something in Bree’s ear and she giggles.

  “Did Tyler ask Matt to be the ring bearer?” I glare at Matt’s mother.

  She glares back at me. “He asked, but I haven’t agreed.”

  Meanwhile, Matt and Bree are running circles around each other and chattering like best buddies.

  “I had no idea. My fiancé hasn’t told me who he selected.”

  “If your Tyler didn’t take the pictures, then who did? My husband says Matt wandered away from him, but he saw him in the distance playing with Bree, so he wasn’t worried.” For the first time, Sheryl doesn’t look so hostile.

  “Did he see anyone taking pictures of the kids?”

  “I’ll have to ask him,” Sheryl says. “I’m sorry what I said about not helping with your wedding, but you understand, it’s Christmas Day and there are other things we want to do.”

  “Hey, no problem. I’ll ask Tyler to find someone else.”

  “It’s not you or anything, but my father’s coming over for Christmas, you know, it should be a family time.”

  Except her husband is Tyler’s only family, not that it matters to her.

  “You don’t have to explain. Not at all. It’s really up to you. I had no idea Tyler even asked.”

  “My father raised me and is very close to Matt. It’s really nothing against you or Bree.”

  The more she explains, the worse I feel. We both know we don’t like each other.

  “Like I said, it’s okay. Maybe we should ask the children to describe the man who took pictures of them.”

  “I already asked. Matt thought he was Bree’s dad, and as you said, Bree thought he was Matt’s dad.”

  “Which means he’s at least Caucasian with light brown hair and possibly blue eyes, or hazel.”

  “Right, like that narrows it down. What did the police say?” Sheryl takes out a phone. “I’m going to report it.”

  “It won’t hurt. The police didn’t take it seriously because at the time, Bree said her friend’s fathe
r took the pictures.” I gather Bree’s backpack from the sidewalk. “You have my phone number. Let me know if you need anything.”

  “Sure.”

  “Bree, say goodbye to Matt.” I still have to stop by Arman’s daycare before the deadline to pick him up.

  “Bye.” She gives Matt a hug, and he hugs her back.

  “Bye, flower girl!” he teases, grinning and bouncing up and down the way little boys do when they’re overexcited.

  As she turns to leave, he pulls her hair and instead of whining and complaining, she smiles and wiggles her hips.

  Wonderful. Not only is my daughter having her first crush, but now I get the unenviable job of breaking her little heart.

  4

  ~ Tyler ~

  Tyler was in a rush. He’d gotten off work late and had a half an hour before the prayer meeting he attended at the Redwood Warriors Recon Center, a PTSD support group.

  He grabbed a hotdog from a street vendor and peeled back the wrapper to eat, while walking fast.

  The light changed, and he hurried to cross the street.

  “Watch where you’re going.”

  “What’s the rush?”

  Several pedestrians glared at him as he zigzagged around them. Someone shoved him. The hotdog went flying, and he tripped, breaking his fall on the body of a homeless person sitting at the side of a building.

  “Ow,” she screamed. “That hurt.”

  Tyler’s elbow and knee hurt, too, but he was more concerned about the person he fell on top of.

  “I’m so sorry.” He got up off her. “Are you okay?”

  “You want your hotdog back?” The woman snagged the hotdog from the dirty sidewalk.

  “No, but buy yourself another one.” Tyler dusted himself off and picked up his Bible. He dug a twenty dollar bill from his pocket and handed it to her.

  “Thanks.” The woman brushed her long, matted hair from her face and smiled.

  Tyler’s heart stopped. He’d know her anywhere.