Let It Be Christmas

by Hebby Roman

  “Yes, I would like that, and we have plenty of room. We’ve three bedrooms in the main house, and Bart’s cabin has two bedrooms. Not to mention an indoor privy.”

  “Really? How nice. I would love to see it and to use it, too.” Abby chuckled.

  “Yes, they’re nice. I got accustomed to them in Boston.”

  “Do you need anyone to walk with you to the station?”

  “No, I’ll be fine. It’s only a couple of blocks. The train should be along in less than hour.”

  “If it’s on time.”

  They kissed and hugged again.

  But before she could open the front door, someone called to her from the top of the stairs. “Lindsay, wait. Do you have a minute before you go?”

  Hesitant, but brimming with hope at the sound of Bart’s voice, she dropped her carpetbag and ascended the stairs. He was leaning against the doorway, his left arm in a sling. He was thinner and his deep tan had faded. He looked as she had imagined he would, weak and pale.

  Gazing at him, a lump rose in her throat, and her eyes stung with unshed tears. Not trusting herself to speak, she merely nodded and walked inside his room. He moved to one side to let her pass and then followed her.

  The room was empty. Where was Rose? Out back, no doubt, soon to return.

  She shook her head; she mustn’t think that way.

  She had to get past being judgmental. After all, everyone made mistakes. Why couldn’t she, like Abby or Ginny, accept people for themselves, instead of labeling them as if she was identifying some rare specimen for a zoo—as if she had to apply a distinguishing sign like marking a sheep? Couldn’t she just deal with each person as an individual?

  She’d believed, when she did charitable works, she was helping people. But did she see those people as individuals with wishes and hopes and dreams like hers, or were they merely subjects upon whom she carried out experiments in social work to boost her own self-esteem or atone for her sins?

  Had she learned too well the lessons from her Aunt Minerva, size people up and make a quick decision as to whether they were acceptable or not? But her aunt had also taught her about charitable works. How could she separate the two? Were only certain people deserving of her charity—and if that was so—was it really charity?

  Love… love made the difference. Her aunt was rigorously strict to the point of severity. But she’d forgiven her sin, hadn’t she? Why was that? Because her aunt loved her. And to be truly charitable, you had to have love in your heart or it was an empty gesture.

  She loved Bart and always would, no matter what happened, and that changed everything. Didn’t it?

  Finally finding her voice, she asked, “Where’s Rose?”

  “Didn’t Abby tell you?”

  She shook her head.

  “She left this morning on the eastbound train.”

  “I didn’t know she was leaving.”

  Bart started to shrug, but he winced and stopped himself. “It was time for her to go. Her mother needs her. She only stayed to be sure I was all right.” He paused and added, “As you can see, I’m getting around.”

  Lindsay felt a twinge of regret. She had dismissed Bart’s story about Rose’s stepfather when he told her, but she hadn’t forgotten it. She’d hoped to make amends, not to Bart, but to Rose. If Lindsay didn’t have her rich Aunt Minerva and half of the ranch to support her, what would she have done?

  Technically, she was ruined, too. And no one had forced her.

  Bart had tried to tell her the same thing, but she’d been too angry and jealous to listen. Thinking of her life in those terms made her realize she and Rose were sisters under the skin. Lindsay didn’t know what she would have said or done to make amends to Rose, though. But she wished she’d had the chance.

  Now it was too late.

  Rose had left without a farewell. Bart was standing before her. She wanted to talk to him, but it was past difficult to find the right words to say.

  She glanced at the stark, white bandage covering half of his torso and asked, “What does Doc Rodgers say about your shoulder? Is it healing?”

  “My shoulder is doing better than expected—no infection. The doctor tells me to rest and eat a lot. That’s not hard around here. Your friend, Abby, runs a nice house and the meals are delicious. But I’ve got to get back to the ranch and help your brother with the shearing.”

  “No, you should rest. Chad has handled the shearing before. Besides, with an injured shoulder, you’ll have a hard time helping out.”

  He lowered his head. “Yeah, I guess I am kind of useless, but I still think I should be there. Tell Chad I’ll be along in a couple of days. I think the Doc will let me go by then.” He paused and lifted his head. “I appreciate you staying to see if I was going to make it.” He tried to shrug again, caught himself, and half-smiled. “And I owe you my life. You were the one who called out to warn me about the Boyd brothers. I haven’t had the chance to thank you properly.”

  “But your appreciation didn’t extend to letting me see you, did it?” Lindsay blurted out.

  As soon as the words left her mouth, she could have bitten her tongue in two. Why had she said that? Couldn’t she have been pleased he recognized her help and was acknowledging it?

  He scowled and looked away. His features appeared as if they were carved in stone when he turned back and gazed at her. “I thought it best you didn’t visit me.”

  Having come this far, she wasn’t going to back down without a proper answer. She had to ask. “Why?”

  “Because Rose was here, taking care of me. I thought it would be awkward for you.”

  Based on the things she’d said about Rose; she couldn't blame him for feeling that way. She wanted to explain how she felt about Rose now. How she wished she could make amends, but she doubted he would believe her. Better to tell him the reason she’d tried to see him when he was first wounded.

  She exhaled and admitted, “I wanted to see you… to apologize, Bart.”

  “What for?”

  “For not trusting you about Rose, for one thing.”

  He grinned. “For your information, Rose slept on the trundle bed.” He shook his head. “Besides, with the pain, I wasn’t in an amorous mood.” He looked up and caught her gaze. “What’s the other thing?”

  “For blaming you about Chad. My brother did what he did that night and chose to involve himself. You didn’t force him. Did you?”

  “No, I didn’t, but there is some merit to what you said. I’ve thought about it a lot. Had a lot of time to think about it, laying around.” He winced again and closed his eyes. He sank onto the edge of the bed. “I probably shouldn’t hang around because Red will be back. If I leave, he might not come back to Langtry.”

  “What about the partnership—your share of the ranch?”

  “Chad can buy me out over time.”

  “And me and the baby… our marriage.”

  He wiped the perspiration off his forehead with his good hand. It was obvious he was still weaker than he cared to admit.

  “Oh, I’ll stay for the baby, and we’ll get a proper divorce. Just have to hope Red Boyd won’t be back before then.”

  “But he’ll still come back for Chad, won’t he?”

  “Yes, there is that possibility.”

  “Then wouldn’t it be safer if the two of you were together to watch each other’s backs?”

  “Maybe.” He thrust out his chin. “But things didn’t turn out how I thought they would, and I don’t know if I want to hang around, not after what has happened.”

  “Can’t you try and forgive me? I’m sorry I didn’t trust you and blamed you for everything.” She lowered her head and scuffed her boot along the edge of the rag rug. “I don’t know if things can ever be the same between us—”

  “Give it a rest,” he cut her off. “Things can never be the same. Now, I don't trust you.”

  She gasped. “How can you say such a thing? What h
ave I done to make you mistrust me?”

  “Be honest with yourself, for one thing. You said you accepted me and the partnership, knowing my past. But when you got upset and jealous, your real feelings came pouring out.” He shook his head again. “I don’t think you can stop judging people, Lindsay.”

  She closed her eyes and fought back the tears. He was confirming her worst fears. Was there no hope for her? Everyone could change, couldn’t they? And she wanted to change.

  “You don’t think I deserve a second chance?”

  Bart rose from the edge of the bed and said, “I’m afraid my manners have been lacking. Would you care to sit down? There’s a rocker in the corner.”

  “No, I prefer to stand.”

  He nodded and gingerly massaged his wounded shoulder.

  A tight knot of desperation coiled inside Lindsay's abdomen, making her sick to her stomach. It took every ounce of willpower she possessed to keep from running downstairs to the kitchen and vomiting. And she knew Bart was stalling for time because he didn’t want to answer her question.

  When he looked at her, his powder-blue eyes stared straight through her, as if he was weighing her soul and finding it lacking.

  His words were soft and low, the voice a lover would use, when he finally said, “I don’t think this is about second chances. It’s about your basic nature, and I don’t know if I have the right to demand you to change yourself to suit me.”

  “But what if I want to change—not for you—but for myself?”

  “Do you really mean that?”

  The coil tightened in her stomach, squeezing like a vise. How could she convince him? Strip her soul bare and lay it before him? Would he believe her, then?

  “I do want to change. This shooting has made me realize how precious life is.” She touched her abdomen. “More precious than anything. And seeing Abby with her newborn has made me realize people are the most important thing. Even if they’ve made mistakes. How can I possibly want to help others if I’m busy judging them?”

  She turned away and fought to hide her tears. “I don’t know what to think anymore. Am I a sham? I must be—if I worry about appearances and labels and everything except what’s important—what’s in the hearts of people.” She covered her eyes with her hands and gulped. “I know I sound crazy.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry, it’s all so confusing.”

  She didn’t hear his approach and was startled by his touch on her arm.

  “You’re not crazy. And I think you’re asking yourself the right questions. If you want to change, it must be for yourself.” He sighed. “You don’t know much about me, do you?”

  “No, not really.”

  “Would it surprise you to know my father was a Methodist preacher?”

  “I think Chad mentioned something about that.”

  “Yes, but my mother was the true Christian. She was, in some ways, a lot like you. She was only happy when she was doing ‘good’ works, helping other people. She was nursing some children with typhoid and caught the fever herself. She died when I was only about ten.”

  “Oh, Bart, I’m so sorry.”

  “That’s not all, Lindsay. Here’s the important part. My father, a Christian minister, was harsh and ugly and… judgmental. All he saw was fire and brimstone, and other people’s mistakes. He knew nothing of Christian kindness, nothing of Christian forgiveness.” He shook his head. “I went home when he was dying and tried to make things right between us, but on his dying bed, he turned me away. Judging me, damning me.”

  “Oh, no, I had no idea.”

  “How could you? We haven’t opened ourselves to each other. But now you can understand how I feel about judging others.”

  She lowered her head and bit her lip to keep from sobbing. “Yes, I understand. So, what about us?” She raised her head and gazed at him, pleading with her eyes. “What if I change, really change?”

  “I don’t know, Lindsay. That evening in the barn, a lot of ugly words were exchanged. You said things I never dreamed you thought… especially about me. Your judgment of me is hard to forget.”

  “But over time, maybe you can?”

  “I don’t know. Right now, everything is too fresh in my mind. We’ll see. Let’s give it some time.” He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “And if you don’t leave soon, you’ll miss your train.”

  Chapter Ten

  Lindsay passed Ginny her rouge pot and rearranged Ginny’s light brown curls, dangling them over the bare-shouldered dress she’d given her friend. They’d had to take the gown in at the waist and shorten the skirt, but other than that, the green silk dress fit Ginny as if it had been made for her.

  She leaned over Ginny’s shoulder and gazed into the looking glass on the vanity. “You look beautiful.”

  Her friend shrugged. “I don’t know why I bother, except to please you. Chad is already taken, Lindsay. We can’t change that.”

  “Don’t be so certain. I don’t think Chad’s heart is really in it.”

  “I know you’ve told me before you thought Chad proposed last Christmas because he was desperate to do something to help your ranch and, with Vi Lea being Sam’s only child, by marrying they’d put the ranches together and have a bigger spread.”

  “Yes, but since then, my brother found Bart and took him on as a partner with fresh capital, and I’ve come home.”

  Ginny touched her arm and shook her head. “It’s too late, though, Chad’s honor won’t allow him to go back on his proposal.”

  “How do you know that?”

  Ginny smiled. “Because he can’t possibly love me, not the way he’s treated me, Lindsay.” She folded her hands in her lap. “Remember what happened at Panther Cave?”

  “Yes, he shouldn’t have taken you there when he was already engaged.”

  Ginny nodded and took her friend’s hand. “And shearing time was pure agony, being around Chad and knowing he was engaged. I stayed so I could help you.”

  “And I couldn’t have done it without you. I appreciated your help.”

  “But at the shearing dance, even though you’d dressed me and fixed my hair, he ignored me once Vi Lea came.” She sighed. “He found me on the porch during the band’s intermission and kept swearing he wanted to break off his engagement. But he claimed he didn’t know how to do it.” Ginny lowered her head. “I wanted to scream with frustration. He’s just making excuses.”

  “I know. My brother hasn’t treated you right, but I think he cares for you more than he realizes. Unfortunately, he’s torn between his duty and loving you.” She shook her head. “He didn’t even bother to tell me about his engagement. I had to learn about it from you.”

  Not that she was surprised Chad had kept his engagement to Vi Lea a secret from her. Vi Lea was one of the Bakers from Devil’s River, neighbors to Clint Graham, Abby’s husband. And Chad knew Lindsay had never liked Vi Lea, finding her mean-spirited and whiny from the first time they’d met when Lindsay’s family had settled near Langtry.

  “Yes, and that’s why I didn’t tell you everything that was going on. You had your hands full, being pregnant for the first time. And I didn’t want to disappoint you if he chose to stay with Vi Lea.” Her friend glanced down at Lindsay’s protruding stomach. “Besides, I wasn’t the only one who kept secrets for a time.”

  Lindsay felt her face go hot. “You’re right. But I told you the truth when you asked. Before that, we’d only been friends for a little while.”

  “So, you understand why I didn’t tell you about Chad and me, at least, not right away.”

  “Yes, I guess I understand. I just wish—”

  “What?”

  “That my brother wasn’t so damned honorable.”

  Ginny turned back on the vanity stool. “Not only is your brother honor bound, but I don’t have anything to offer him, except my love. Mama doesn’t have any money to dower me with.” She shook her head. “You know how it is with us.”

 
Lindsay squeezed her shoulders and then applied some of Ginny’s homemade perfume, a light minty fragrance, to her wrists and the pulse points behind her ears.

  “Yes, I know, how it is. But one look at you tonight, and I pray my brother will know you’re the right one for him, no matter his honor.”

  “I hope you’re right.” Ginny turned back and gazed at her reflection in the mirror. “I’ve never shown so much bare skin in all my life.”

  Lindsay laughed. “Well, it was the latest fashion when I left Boston. And the color suits your brown eyes and hair.” She clasped the pearl choker onto Ginny’s throat. “And these are so beautiful, especially against your skin.”

  “They’re the only thing my mother owns of any value. Handed down for generations on my Mama’s side.” She touched the pearls at her throat. “Mama gave them to me, to wear tonight, as an early Christmas present.”

  “Well, I approve, they’re perfect with your dress and complexion.”

  “Thank you.” Ginny adjusted the choker and asked, “Will Bart be coming tonight?”

  Lindsay lowered her gaze and fiddled with Ginny’s curls again. “No, I don’t think so.”

  “Oh, Lindsay, I’m so sorry. Nothing has changed between you two?”

  “No, nothing has changed.” She dropped her hands and laced them over her protruding stomach.

  “I shouldn’t have brought it up.” Ginny dusted some loose face powder on her nose. “We need to make merry, it’s our Christmas celebration.” She swiveled around on the vanity bench again and took Lindsay’s hands.

  “Just wait until you see the backyard. Mama, Isabella, Lucia, and me worked hard to get the decorations up.”

  “I’m sure I will love what you’ve done. And it was kind of you to host the Christmas social. Being in Langtry, it’s so much easier for the children than walking all the way to the ranch.”

  Ginny rose and pulled on Lindsay’s hands. “Then come on, I can’t wait to show you.”

  Lindsay gazed at the yard behind Ginny’s house. Gone was the huge boiling pot and the countless clothes lines. In their stead, the Browns had outdone themselves, decorating the yard for their Christmas social.