The turnoff to the ranch appeared, and Caleb signaled even though there wasn’t a soul on the road.
Faith stared out the window. He knew the moment she spotted the herd, because she let out a gasp of wonder. Did she even know she’d done it? The sound was pure and sweet, and it did funny things to his lower belly, making it burn like a Yule log. He pulled in and backed up to the barn.
The rolling door went up, and he continued to back right into the breezeway. Dad hit the button, and the door went down. Caleb and Faith climbed out to find the entire family gathered around the tailgate.
“Give the guy some room to breathe.” Caleb made shooing motions.
Mom clasped her hands in front of her chest. “We’re all just so happy.”
“Did it all work out?” Dad asked Faith.
She nodded, her lips pressed together. “The surgery was a success. I was able to remove the cataracts in both eyes, and from what we can tell, Rudy can see without obstruction now.”
“Whoop!” Forest threw his hat in the air and hugged Faith.
She let out an oomph. Caleb was busy untying the tarp, or he’d thump his brother.
Jack caught his eye from across the kennel and laughed. “Relax—he’s not stealing your girl.”
Their quiet conversation was covered up by his family’s happy chatter with Faith about the surgery and recovery. “She’s not mine,” Caleb muttered.
Jack flipped up the first edge of the tarp. “You had two days alone with her and you didn’t get so much as a kiss? I’m disappointed in you.” He shook his head sadly.
“Not all of us kiss for the fun of it—a kiss means something to me,” Caleb fired back.
Jack laughed easily, unperturbed by Caleb’s barb at his active social life. “You’re missing out.”
“Besides,” Caleb continued as if Jack wasn’t trying to talk him into doing something he wanted more than anything else in the world, “she’s leaving after Christmas.” He’d realized that believing in Christmas wasn’t the only obstacle in their way. Though Faith’s gray eyes dancing was one of the prettiest things he’d ever seen.
“Oh.” Jack’s shoulders dropped. “So that’s it, then?”
Caleb shrugged in return. They finished uncovering the kennel, and Caleb threw a look at Jack telling him to distract Faith.
Jack jumped down and took Faith’s arm. “I’ve always wondered about the reindeer’s hooves …” Their voices trailed off as they reached the passenger side door.
Caleb motioned for Pax to open the door, and Forest lunged for the lead rope. “Easy,” Caleb told him as Rudy backed into the crate, frightened by the sudden movement.
At the sound of Caleb’s voice, Rudy cautiously stepped forward. He seemed to meet each set of expectant eyes, matching up the people before him with the fuzzy shapes he’d known before, before stepping off the tailgate into midair.
Mom squeezed her eyes shut in relief, and a single tear escaped. Dad side-hugged her and laughed, pleased as punch to see the reindeer so boldly moving through the air. Pax and Forest exchanged fist bumps.
Caleb hopped down and took the lead rope. “Alright, big guy, enough showing off.”
Rudy trotted in a circle around him, using as much rope as Caleb would give, while he spiraled to the floor. Everyone surged in to rub his neck or his back, cascading compliments over his head. Rudy lapped them up. Then, he took a moment to inspect each of them, running his eyes over the details that had escaped him for over a year. When he got to Dad, he buried his face in Dad’s chest and tears fell from both their eyes.
Faith appeared beside Caleb and linked her arm through his as she had at the sing-along. Did she feel the spirit that was here? The specialness of this moment?
He glanced down to see her eyes glisten. She tipped her chin up and stole his breath with a look. She did feel it. He could see the lightness and the joy reflected in her eyes. Without thinking, he pressed a kiss to her hair. She leaned into him and he soaked in the feeling of her, of sharing this moment with her, of sharing the magic.
“Ahem.”
Blinking, Caleb turned to find Mom staring at the two of them, her eyebrows raised and her arms folded over her chest. Whoa boy. Mom was a lot of things, but silent wasn’t one of them. He braced for her questions and/or comments about that small kiss.
Reaching for Faith, Mom pulled her into a hug. “You’ve done a good thing, dear. A very, very good thing. Thank you.”
Faith returned the hug, and when she stepped back, her smile was huge. “My pleasure. Really. I—” She looked around at all of them. “I can’t tell you what the reindeer have done for me. My heart feels fuller, and it’s because of them. I know it.”
Mom beamed. “They tend to do that to people.”
Everyone chuckled. It was a long-standing inside joke that the reindeer had a way of sneaking up on a person and softening their heart against their will. For that, Caleb would forever be thankful. Faith wasn’t the same person he’d met in the hospital. Well, she was, but she was a better version of herself—freer with her happiness in a way she had kept a lid on before.
“You’re staying for dinner, aren’t you?” Mom asked Faith.
Forest led Rudy into his stall, chatting about all the things the reindeer had missed while he’d been gone. Apparently, two of the bulls had gotten into an argument that they were still sorting out. The rest of the herd had ostracized them for not behaving, and they were in the far end of the enclosure, glaring at each other.
Caleb shook his head. Reindeer!
“I’d like to stay, but I’m scheduled to have dinner with my dad.” She dropped her chin.
Caleb’s heart went out to her. The conversation she planned wasn’t an easy one, but it should bring some closure. “Do you want me to go with you?” he offered.
“No.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “This is something I need to do alone.”
Mom gave Caleb a look that said he’d better fill her in later. He smiled in return.
“Well, in that case …” Mom hugged her again. “Goodbye, and thank you again. You’re welcome at our table anytime. Okay?”
Faith patted Mom’s back. “Thank you. That means a lot to me.”
Dad appeared and put his arm around Mom’s shoulders, steering them back to the house.
Faith watched them walk away. “They’re a great couple. I wonder what their secret to staying married so long is?”
“They’re both too stubborn to leave the ranch,” quipped Forest as he walked toward the door. He flipped around so he was walking backward and winked. “Don’t underestimate a stubborn man if he’s stubborn for all the right reasons.”
Faith laughed and waved as he left. “Somehow I doubt that’s the secret,” she said.
Pax shuffled over, his hands buried in his pockets. “It’s a lot of little things.” He too left through the side door.
Drake followed after them, not offering up any advice or observations. He was 19, an age when he still took for granted that his parents made it work.
Jack hit the button on the wall and the rolling door went up, signaling that someone had to pull the truck out. Caleb handed the keys to Faith, grateful she’d let him drive Rudy home. Somehow, she’d known he needed a job to keep his mind off things.
“By the way,” Jack called. “They’re both wrong.”
“Oh?” Faith spun to focus on him. “Then what is the answer?”
He pumped his eyebrows, and Caleb groaned. “Kissing—and lots of it.” With that, Jack sauntered out, leaving Caleb’s cheeks burning and his mind spinning. Leave it to his twin to make saying goodbye to the woman he’d shared a house with for two days more awkward. Thanks, Jack. Thanks so much.
“So, dinner?” he fumbled, taking off his hat and running his fingers through his hair. He held his hat in front of him like a shield to keep him from doing something stupid—like taking Faith into his arms. They could be good together—so good.
But kissing Faith would be a life
-altering event—one he might be ready for, but he wasn’t sure she was.
Chapter 22
Faith
Faith held the bag of takeout down by her side, feeling like she was sneaking past the guards at a high-security prison rather than vising her dad in a rehab facility. The greasy smell of burgers and fries floated around her like flashing lights, giving away her position.
Residents stuck their heads out of doorways, sniffing the air. And workers in scrubs lifted their noses as if they couldn’t believe something would overpower the stale bleach smell the janitor’s latest mopping had left behind.
Even with all the attention she gathered along the way, she couldn’t get her feet to move any faster. Burdened by the uncomfortable questions she had to ask, she watched as Dad’s door loomed ahead, seeming to get farther away with each step instead of closer. Then, in a blink, she was standing in the open doorway, wondering how she’d gotten there so fast and if she really wanted to go through with this.
She clamped her elbow down on her purse, feeling for the other surprises she’d brought Dad. Depending on how things went tonight, she might take them back with her and leave his room without a decoration.
Taking courage from Caleb’s words that the truth would give her closure, she forced herself into the room. Dad was sitting up in a chair in front of the television, watching a holiday love story unfold on Hallmark. Faith’s fear dipped at the sight. That man—a hopeless romantic, really—wasn’t going to bite her head off for sticking her nose in where it wasn’t wanted. Right?
“Merry Christmas.” She held up the grease-stained bag and wiggled it side to side. “I thought you might want something that didn’t come on a plastic plate.”
A smile spread across Dad’s face, and he held out his arms. “I’d take a hug more than anything.”
She obliged, noticing that he’d lost weight. Being here was harder on him than he let on. The evidence was right there in the lines on his face.
Her heart clenched, and she wondered if she should go through with her plan or let him rest here and gather strength. What if she stressed him out so much he had another heart attack?
She pulled back and dragged the rolling tray away from the bed, putting it between them like a table. “Okay, I know you’re supposed to eat healthy, so these are sweet potato fries—baked, not fried.” She set the first tray on the table. Dad leaned over and sniffed like a bloodhound. “And then this is a turkey burger on a whole wheat bun—no sauces, but I brought you a packet of light ranch.”
His eyes brightened. “You remembered.”
She reached for the only other chair in the room, a stool with wheels, and pulled it to her spot at their makeshift table. “How could I forget? You’re the only person I know who likes ranch dressing on their burger. The waitress made you repeat yourself every year.”
Dad laughed. “And it was the same waitress. What was her name?” He snapped his fingers. “Annabelle … Angela … Agatha …”
“Annalise,” Faith filled in. She didn’t only go to the diner with her dad. She and a good friend, Katie, would go there for milkshakes on Thursday afternoons to commiserate over their math test scores. Not that either of them got anything lower than an A-. Their wallowing had more to do with the time it took to get those grades. Mr. Jenson was anything but an easy A.
“That’s right.” Dad bowed his head.
Faith folded her hands in her lap and said “Amen” when he finished the prayer over the food. That was another thing that had embarrassed her when she was young. He prayed, even in public, before he ate. She didn’t mind it now. In fact, she might just try it herself—over breakfast in the privacy of her home. She’d have to work up to praying in public.
“This is great, Faith. Thank you.”
His humble sincerity was an open window for conversation, and she hurried to climb through. “Dad? I have some questions about things …” She fiddled with the thin napkin in her lap.
“Go ahead.” He chomped three fries at a time, his eyes on her as if he wasn’t afraid of anything she had to say.
“The first Christmas you and Mom split was …” She swallowed, looking for a word without barbs and settling for, “… hard. Where were you? Mom said you didn’t want us. I just … I’ve thought a lot about that memory, and I’m not sure I trust it. I’d like to know your perspective.”
Dad leaned back in his chair and pushed away the burger and fries. He folded one arm over his chest and rested his chin in his other hand. “I don’t want to say anything bad about your mom.”
“You never have.” Unlike what she’s said about you, but Faith didn’t say that part out loud.
“And I don’t want to paint myself as the perfect man—because I’m far from it. Even right now, I have feelings in my heart I’m going to have to talk to Jesus about someday. And it won’t be a pleasant conversation.”
A smile ghosted across Faith’s lips. “I need to know.”
“You deserve to know. I don’t suppose she’s told you the whole story from start to finish?”
Faith pressed her lips together and shook her head.
Dad turned his body so he was talking past her, like it was too much to face her head-on as he relived his past. “When I met your mom, I thought I’d met a ray of sunshine. She was bright and fun and she had a way of making me feel important.” His eyes darted to Faith and away again. “That was one of the follies of my youth. I always wanted to be somebody. A big deal in town. I cared too much about what people thought of me. Your mom fed into that, pumping my ego. And I lapped it up.” He cleared his throat.
This was hard for him, talking about the man he used to be. Faith didn’t remember that man, but she saw glimpses of him every now and then in her dad. The traits he talked about hadn’t disappeared as much as they’d been tempered. She’d like to know how that had happened, so she kept her mouth shut and waited for him to continue.
“We got married and had you ten months later. I thought life was going my way. I didn’t see that your mom struggled. First with … what do they call baby blues these days?”
“Postpartum depression.”
“That’s it.” He touched the side of his nose. “She had it bad and I didn’t know what to do, so, like a coward, I withdrew when she’d cry and cry. I couldn’t get her to stop, and I thought I was a failure. Then she started calling me a failure, and I got angry and pulled back some more.”
Faith shook her head. “How sad for Mom to have to deal with all that on her own. It must have been difficult.”
“I didn’t help it any,” Dad nearly whispered. “As she was coming out of that, she was bitter, angry at me for not supporting her more. She called me names, threw dishes at me when I came home late from work, and then went down to Joe’s on the weekends to forget she was married to a no-good, emotionally distant man.” He coughed, grabbing his chest.
Faith rubbed his arm in support. They’d had to cut open his sternum in order to do the surgery, and a cough had to hurt like the devil.
He settled back, his face drawn. “She left, taking you—which surprised the heck out of me. I thought if she wanted out, she would have left you behind. At first, I was so angry, thinking she had taken you to spite me. Later, I realized she was a decent mom and she loved you—it was just me she didn’t want.”
The version Dad painted was like looking through her memories with a new set of glasses. She could make out lines that weren’t there before, ones that had been crossed by both parties. His admission of emotionally abandoning her mom colored so much of the bitterness her mother spewed against Dad.
Also, knowing her mom wasn’t the saint she painted herself to be shaded Faith’s own feelings toward her. She loved her mom. She did. But there were times when living with her was hard because she’d lose it over the smallest thing—like not hanging up her backpack. Faith was a good kid, better than many who were into drugs, drinking, and sex. They might not have gone to church, but Mom held Faith to a certain stand
ard. The truth was, she hadn’t dared break any of her mom’s rules—spoken or unspoken—because Mom’s temper was volatile. She’d never hit Faith, but she was physically intimidating, throwing plates across the room like Dad talked about and scaring her into being good.
“Christmas?” she prompted, not sure she wanted more of her wounds under the microscope of Dad’s life story.
“I didn’t know where you were,” he said simply.
“What?” Faith leaned forward, not sure she’d heard him.
“I didn’t know where you were. Your mom took off and didn’t make contact until the next February. I was out of my mind with worry over you.”
Faith fell back against the chair. “So you didn’t refuse to send us money?”
His face grew soft and he reached for her hand. “No, baby. When your mom finally called, I offered her the house and everything in it, if she’d move back to town so I could see you. She refused. We divorced, and the courts laid out child support and visitation. By then, she’d established a life for your two in Grafton and I was given holiday visits.”
Faith’s hand curled around his. “Then why didn’t you move to Grafton?” The question was an accusation in and of itself. If he couldn’t get Mom to move here … “Why didn’t you come after me?”
Dad’s shoulders fell. “I thought you were better off if I stayed away.”
“Why?” she yelled, unable to hold back the feelings of abandonment that had grown quietly inside of her for decades.
“It was several things. Your mom made visiting hard by changing times at the last minute, being out of the house when I got there, and sometimes not letting me see you at all. I didn’t want you to be a bargaining chip, but your mom felt that you were the ticket to getting what she wanted from me. After a while, I was flat broke and worn down.”
One Tough Christmas Cookie (The Reindeer Wrangler Ranch Christmas Romance Book 1) Page 15
