Faith surged to her feet. “So you gave up?” Her hands clenched into fists.
Dad nodded. “I was fighting a losing battle, and it was tearing you up.” He lifted his steel-blue eyes to meet hers. “I loved you enough to step aside.”
She drew her arms to her chest and hugged herself. “I wish you’d kept fighting.” She admitted the deepest desire of her heart in a whisper.
“I know. And I’m so sorry.” He hung his head.
His admission of guilt and his apology hung in the air between them, asking Faith if she’d be willing to accept either. “I need a moment.” She stepped into the hallway and leaned against the wall, needing space to breathe and clear her head. She tipped her head back, staring at the popcorn-textured ceiling. “What am I supposed to do?”
Soft piano music started. She strained to make out the tune: “Angels We Have Heard on High.” Following the sound, she found herself in an empty gathering room. The music wasn’t coming from the piano in the corner but through the speakers. Sitting in a folding chair, Faith pulled out her phone and dialed Caleb. She just wanted to hear his voice.
“Merry Christmas,” he answered.
She warmed at his deep timbre. “I’m not sure how merry it is right now,” she said without the usual pleasantries. She’d had breakfast with this man just this morning while wearing her bathrobe; that gave her the right to jump into a conversation.
“Uh-oh, wanna talk about it?”
She heaved a sigh. “I’m still sorting through some things.”
“How’s your dad?”
“Right now? He’s probably wondering if I’m going to chew him out or hug him.”
“Which one do you want to do?”
“Both.”
“Welcome to having a family.”
She warmed at the way he lightened the mood without making light of her feelings. “He’s sorry for what he did, but I’m not sure I can forgive in the blink of an eye.”
“Do you think he’s just barely sorry?”
She thought on that. “No. He’s felt bad about this for years.”
“And he’ll probably feel bad for a while longer.”
“True.” Guilt like the kind Dad carried didn’t go away with a few words. It had to be rooted out by change and through Jesus. “So what’s holding me back?”
“Change isn’t easy.”
What would she have to change? “No, it’s not.”
“And maybe there’s something you want to say to him that’s hard for you too?”
He pinpointed the problem so easily, it startled her. “Caleb Nichollas, you’re pushing all my buttons right now.”
He chuckled. “Sorry. I’m just being honest with you.”
“I appreciate it. … And I don’t.”
He outright laughed, and she warmed all over. She could do this; she could say the things that were in her heart. Even if Dad pushed her away or whatever—as he was a confessed emotional abandoner, it was a possibility—she’d make it through. “Thanks for talking to me.”
“Anytime.”
“How’s Rudy?” She’d been reluctant to leave him at the ranch, but the reindeer seemed at peace there and ready for a nap.
“He’s itching to get to the workout arena. Any idea of when he’ll be ready?”
“Eyes heal fast. He can try a light workout tomorrow afternoon if you’re willing to help him take it slow.”
“He’ll be thrilled with that. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” She cradled the phone, not wanting this warm feeling to go away.
“You’re stalling, aren’t you?”
She laughed. “Yes, and pointing it out isn’t helping.” Except that he was helping, because she felt better, calmer, and more like herself than she had when she’d walked out of her dad’s room. It was strange how Caleb was the person she wanted to call to talk over her feelings. They’d grown close over the time they’d shared a roof, and she didn’t want that to go away. It would have to once she moved back to Grafton. She’d already done the long-distance relationship thing with Dad and wasn’t too thrilled about picking it up with a boyfriend.
Not that Caleb was her boyfriend. He hadn’t even kissed her, and he’d had opportunities. It was just … she’d never been this close to someone before, never been willing to share her pain nor call in an emotional crisis. “Thanks,” she blurted.
“For what?”
“For being someone I can count on. I haven’t had a lot of those in my life, and I recognize a good thing when I see it.”
“And … I’m a good thing.”
Her whole body warmed at his suggestive tone. “Ah, geez. Why do you have to say it like that?”
He laughed. “Because it makes you blush. Admit it, you’re blushing right now.”
“I’m hanging up right now,” she teased him back.
“Faith?” he hurried to say.
“Yeah?”
“I think you’re pretty great too.”
“Oh? You think I’m pretty. Good to know.” Two could play his word game, and she found that being on the other end of it was sweet.
He laughed. “That too. But then, I’ve never made a secret about how gorgeous you are.”
Gorgeous? She giggled. “Now you’re just trying to butter me up—but I like it, so don’t stop.”
“You got it. Good luck with Doc. I hope you two work things out.”
“Thanks. Me too. Let me know how that workout goes.”
“I will.”
They said goodbye and she hung up. Setting the phone in her lap, she stared at it for a moment. The conversation with Dad had shifted her world. That movement was jarring and painful. Caleb was also rearranging things in her heart, but those changes were warm cider and welcome and made her a better person.
She pushed to her feet and made her way back to Dad’s room. He’d eaten a couple more bites of his turkey burger, but other than that, the room was the same as she’d left it. The television was silent and dark, and Dad sat in his chair, his chin down and his arms folded. He was peaceful, like he was praying. Maybe he was.
“Are you praying?” she blurted into the otherwise silent room.
He rubbed his lips together as he lifted his head. “I was.”
She came into the room and sat back down across the rolling table. “I’m afraid to ask what you’re bothering God about.”
He shook his head. “We are never a bother to God. We’re His children, and He loves to hear from us.”
“You’re probably right,” she conceded. Throwing her shoulders back, she looked at her dad. “Thank you for apologizing. I’m …” She took a moment to search her heart. “I’m still confused about some things, and I mourn the time we lost together.”
Dad moved to speak, but she held up a hand. “I’m aware that some of the blame for that lands on my shoulders. I can brush it off as being a teenager—too immature to see further than my Friday night plans—but I wish I had done some things differently too. I could have made an effort to call you more. And since we’re bearing our sins here, the thought crossed my mind often and I shoved it away, rationalizing that if you wanted to know about my life, you’d call more often. In hindsight, I realize how difficult both Mom and I were.” She shook her head. “I guess there’s no good excuse for either of us.”
Dad’s cheeks wrinkled as he gave her a tentative smile. “Perhaps we can start over? From here.”
“I don’t know. I can’t just wipe away the hurt, Dad.”
“I know. I don’t expect you to. And if something comes up you want to talk about, I’m okay to visit that with you. But maybe we could just start acting like the father and daughter we want to be and see where it goes—no holding back.”
Faith’s chest warmed, and she recognized the feeling she’d had at the sing-along: the sense that Jesus was in this moment. And why shouldn’t He be? He was the ultimate forgiver, so He would be here when she faced the challenge of forgiving. “If that’s what you want, then I hav
e something for you.” She stood up and found her purse, pulling out the items she’d brought and holding them up.
Dad’s eyes lit up. “Our stockings.”
She smiled, feeling like she was moving onto firm, supportive ground instead of the rocky path she stumbled over when talking about the past. “How many years did you hang this up?”
“Every year,” he replied fervently.
She reveled in the knowledge that he’d loved her, even from afar, even though she’d held back. “Well, I think we should hang them in your room here. Deal?” She moved to the wall across from his bed, where a bulletin board with several pins hung. They should be strong enough to hold up empty stockings.
He picked up his burger and took a big bite. “We can’t forget to take them home for Santa to fill, though.”
Faith smiled over her shoulder as she worked to push the pin into the tired old cork.
“What? No protest that Santa is real?” Dad goaded her.
She shrugged. “I’m okay with a little Christmas spirit.”
Dad laughed. “There’s hope for you yet, girl.”
She finished and stepped back to admire the stockings. They hung straight and brought a sense of holiday to the room that was missing before. “Well, you’re out of hope, old man. Because I’m going to kick your butt at rummy.” She pulled a deck of cards out of her purse and plunked them on the table.
Dad grinned. “You haven’t beat me yet.”
“I let you win,” she countered.
“For twenty years? I don’t think so.” He finished his burger and cleaned off the table, shoving wrappers and garbage back into the sack so they’d have a place to play.
Faith grinned. “We’ll see. Don’t think I’ll take it easy on you because you have a weak heart.”
“I’d be mad if you did.”
She smiled as she shuffled the deck. They said Christmas was a time for miracles, and maybe this was hers. She’d not only gotten her dad back from a near-fatal heart attack, but she’d gotten him into her life in a way she’d never thought possible. If that wasn’t a miracle, she didn’t know what was.
And then there was Caleb. He’d become an important part of her life too. Undeniable after the way she’d turned to him tonight. But what was she supposed to do about it? He’d never leave that ranch, and her life—financial and otherwise—was in Grafton.
Sure, she and Dad would make this work; any time they spent together would be more time than before. But a romantic relationship would die a slow and painful death with the distance. As fun as it was to flirt with Caleb, she had a feeling he was going to be the one who got away. The thought was like a branding iron to her heart and made her want to cry out in pain.
If just thinking about letting him go caused this much sorrow, what would actually driving away do to her?
Chapter 23
Caleb
Lunch was an hour ago, but that didn’t mean that it was warm on the ranch. Caleb tucked his gloved hands in his pockets and leaned into the wind. Old Man Winter decided to wake up with a vengeance this morning and take it out on North Dakota.
Despite the freezing temperatures, Caleb was determined to get Rudy into the workout arena. Making a flying reindeer go slow was always a project. In the past, they’d used weights and sleighs and lead ropes. Since this was Rudy’s first time flying in a long time, he could be timid. Or he could be a complete idiot and go 0 to 1000 in a blink, slamming himself into the wall or bleachers. It had happened before.
Thankfully, the arena was heated enough that they wouldn’t freeze; it was getting there that was the hard part. His legs were numb and his cheeks burned from exposure. Next time, he’d bring a scarf.
He stumbled into the barn, his feet cold as bricks and making him trip over the smallest pebble. Banging his hands against his legs to encourage circulation, he ducked into the workroom, where Pax was working on the runner for the big sleigh. Pax wore a welding helmet, lifted so he could inspect the curve on the front of the long piece of steel.
“How’s it coming?” Caleb moved closer to the forge, grateful for the heat that poured out of it like warm caramel. The barn was kept at 50 degrees so the animals and humans would be comfortable in the winter, but he was cold enough he needed extra help.
“It’s coming. Those three days it took to set up, vaccinate, and take down put me off schedule. I’ll be lucky to get it done in time for the parade.” Using a sledgehammer, he pounded against the steel, then nodded that he liked the shape. Pax was in his own world out here, comfortable with himself and the work. Though he didn’t seem perturbed that Caleb had interrupted. “You going to work with Rudy?” he asked.
Caleb grinned. “Yep. I promised him he’d get to fly today. I’ve never seen so much prance in his step. We may have to rename him.”
Pax hammered three more times. “He came from Rudolph’s line, though.”
Seeing that his joke had landed flat, Caleb just went along with the conversation instead of trying to explain what he meant. “That he did. So maybe we’ll keep it.” Toasty now, and starting to sweat in all his layers, he moved away from the flame. “Stop over if you want. See how he does.”
“I’ll wait to hear your report over supper.”
“Sounds good.” Caleb patted the doorframe once and then went to get Rudy. Pax was hard to read. Caleb would like a closer, better relationship with his brother, but it took two people. Maybe Pax was fine not ever talking about important things together, but Caleb missed the kid who used to follow him around the ranch and talk his ear off.
Rudy was upside down in his stall, standing on the ceiling just because he could.
“You enjoying the view from up there?” Caleb called.
Rudy ran around the outside walls in a spiral until he was standing in front of Caleb. He headbutted him.
“Yeah—you get to fly today.” Caleb rubbed between his ears. “I expect you’ve been waiting long enough for this, so let’s get you in a harness.” Caleb hurried out to the tack room to find a leather harness that would fit Rudy. The gear hung along the far wall with the reindeer’s name on a board above their stuff. Kind of like a coat room in elementary school. They didn’t have gear for Rudy.
Caleb tapped his chin as he contemplated his options.
Rudy butted his back, anxious to get going.
Startled that the reindeer had followed him into the tack room, Caleb jumped. “Hey, you’re not supposed to come in here.” He laughed. “I didn’t think you ever would, but look at you. You enjoy exploring this ranch, don’t ya?” He turned back to the wall. “I think you’re about the same size as Waffles.” He reached for the butter-colored leather. Waffles didn’t fly but could pull a sleigh. “I won’t tell him you borrowed his getup if you don’t.”
Rudy winked in response. Caleb grinned. The energy coming off the reindeer was all Christmas hope and buckets of faith.
Harnessing a reindeer who wasn’t used to a harness was always an experience, but they usually worked with young reindeer, not almost grown ones. Rudy kept trying to turn around and look at what was happening, making him chase his tail. Which in turn made Caleb laugh and his fingers stumble. “If you don’t hold still, we’re never getting out of here.”
Rudy huffed as if Caleb was the one slowing them down.
“You think so—but it doesn’t take Dunder this long to gear up.”
Rudy scowled.
“Don’t like being compared to a legend, huh?” He leaned closer to Rudy’s ear. “Let’s see about making you a legend too.”
Rudy lowered his head and shook as if he had a full rack on and the move was impressive. It wasn’t so much so without the antlers, but Caleb got the idea. Rudy was feeling his potential, and it was time to get him in the air.
They made a mad dash from the barn to the arena doors. Caleb fumbled with the latch while Rudy watched him with one raised eyebrow, asking, What’s your problem? The weather’s fine.
“Some of us aren’t built for the co
ld.” The door flew open and Caleb fell inside, barely catching himself and staying upright. “The things I do for you,” he mumbled.
Rudy stood inside and stared at all the apparatuses and training tools. They had different level blocks to jump from. The higher ones were for new reindeer—the longer the fall, the more time they had to get their hooves under them. The shorter blocks were for the more experienced reindeer. Santa’s crew had to be able to take off in one leap.
Ramps provided a chance to practice takeoffs on an incline—like a rooftop. The next platform over, with two sloping sides, was for landing on uneven surfaces.
There were also bars for walking across, and then, in the air, were lead ropes. A ladder led up to the platform where the wrangler would attach a wire from the harness to the lead. With this setup, the reindeer could work on flying straight or flying in tandem with another reindeer if they put two together up there. Getting a rhythm was important when pulling a sleigh, and if they were going to be among the chosen eight, they had to be able to fly in sync.
More toys and reindeer games were scattered about, including hoops to jump through and hoops for playing catch. Balls and even dolls filled the toy box.
The outside edges of the arena were tamped down by years of running with reindeer. “Let’s try some laps.” He changed into his running shoes and took up the lead rope. “You can’t fly faster than me, got it?”
Rudy gulped. This was his big day. If he couldn’t make it around the arena without crashing into a wall, his chances of making it to the North Pole were slim.
But Caleb didn’t have to tell him that. They started off at a walk, with Rudy keeping pace beside him, all four feet on the ground. When Caleb felt like he was warm enough to run without pulling a muscle, he gave the command, “On, Rudy,” and threw his arm forward, telling the reindeer to get off the ground.
Rudy tripped over his front feet as he worked to get into the air. The lead rope wouldn’t let him fly higher than Caleb’s elbow, but loft wasn’t their goal. They did two laps before Caleb broke a sweat. Rudy landed on shaking legs with eyes full of satisfaction.
One Tough Christmas Cookie (The Reindeer Wrangler Ranch Christmas Romance Book 1) Page 16
