“Who are you?” Lily demanded of the boy.
Heath admired Mark for not flinching in the face of his grandmother’s brusque manner.
“Mark Fischer,” Mark returned politely.
“My son,” Rachel said, coming to stand behind him, her hands on his shoulders.
Lily turned to look at Heath. “What’s going on here?” she asked, but the question was hopeful, quite unlike her previous demands.
“Please, let me help you get comfortable first,” Rachel said, “then Heath and I’ll explain.”
“All right.” All the fire and irritation seemed to be gone.
Ten minutes later, they’d all gathered in the living room. Heath brought out a bottle of champagne and one of sparkling cider, along with four tall flutes. He sat next to Rachel and placed his arm around her shoulders.
Mark sat on Rachel’s other side. “Can I tell her?” he asked Heath.
Heath nodded.
“My mom and Heath are going to be married!”
Lily didn’t say anything for a moment. “This isn’t a joke, is it?”
“No, Grandma,” Heath explained, “last week Rachel agreed to become my wife.”
Lily nodded, and tears shone in her eyes. “I suspect I don’t have time left to hold a great-grandchild, but it’d do my heart good if God allowed me that.” She looked away and sniffled, then dug inside her pocket for a fresh tissue.
“Why’s she crying?” Mark asked his mother in a loud whisper.
“These aren’t tears,” Lily said imperiously. “I’m feeling sorry for your mother, that’s all. She’s going to have her hands full with this grandson of mine.”
“I like Heath,” Mark told her, leaning forward.
“Now that your mother’s agreed to take him on, there’s hope for him,” Lily said and smiled at the boy through her tears. “This calls for champagne.”
“I’ve already seen to that.” Heath held up the bottle.
Lily held Rachel’s look, then stretched her hand toward the woman Heath loved.
Rachel grasped Lily’s fragile hand with her own.
“I’m so very pleased,” she whispered.
“I’m happy, too.”
“He loves you, you know.”
“I do, and I love him.”
“Hey, Grandma, I thought you said you didn’t like surprises,” Heath said.
“I’m flexible.” Her smile was warm and full of love.
Five
Sarah and Dennis’s house was brimming with activity Thanksgiving Day. This was exactly how Sarah had always dreamed the holidays would be. The turkey, browned to a golden hue, stuffed and fragrant, sat on the counter, ready to be placed in the center of the table. While she finished mashing the potatoes, her mother-in-law, Irene, arranged serving bowls on the large dining-room table, set with fine china, a pink linen tablecloth and matching napkins. Small ceramic pots filled with mauve and gold chrysanthemums were situated at intervals, to pleasing effect.
Maddy sat in a corner of the kitchen, nursing Julianne, an attentive Jeb at his wife’s side. Sarah had never seen her brother happier or more content. Everything she’d ever hoped for him had come to pass.
The swinging door, which led from one room to the other, was tossed open every few seconds as Dennis’s mother carried Thanksgiving dishes to the table, an embarrassing array of them. Sarah had been cooking for days, burying her disappointment at Calla’s rejection in the meal preparation and in setting a table to rival Martha Stewart’s. She’d hoped that if she didn’t have time to think, it might be possible to forget. Unfortunately that tactic didn’t work. Calla’s absence left a giant hole in her heart, as impossible to ignore as it was to fill.
“Everything’s on the table,” Irene announced as Sarah brought the large bowl of creamy mashed potatoes into the dining room.
Dennis called the family to the table; no one needed further encouragement. Sarah watched as her brother tenderly placed his infant daughter in her carrier, then escorted Maddy into the room. So much had changed in all of their lives this past year.
Once everyone was seated, they joined hands and bowed their heads. Joshua waited a moment, then offered grace. His few simple words were followed by a soft chorus of “Amens.”
No one mentioned Calla, although there was a place set for her, in case she changed her mind at the last minute. Sarah wanted everyone to know that her daughter continued to be a part of her life, even though she’d chosen to live with her father.
Soon dishes were being passed around and happy chatter took over. It astonished Sarah that a meal she’d spent days perparing could be consumed in less than an hour. Including dessert.
Once everyone had finished, Joshua looked around the table. His gaze settled on Jeb with Maddy and Julianne, then drifted to Dennis and her. He nodded once, then said, “It seems we have more and more to be grateful for each year.”
“That’s true,” Dennis agreed and reached for Sarah’s hand, gently squeezing it.
Jeb held Maddy’s hand, as well.
“The only person missing is Calla,” Joshua added, glancing toward the empty chair.
As soon as he mentioned her daughter’s name, tears sprang to Sarah’s eyes, mortifying her. She clutched her napkin and tried to hide the emotion that surged within her. Not only had Calla returned the airline ticket, she’d torn it in half, as if to say that being with her mother was the last thing on earth she wanted to do. She hadn’t even bothered to include a letter. Not a single word. The brutal rejection ate at her, tarnishing this lovely time. She’d made mistakes, but she didn’t deserve this.
Dennis’s fingers tightened around hers. “It’s all right, sweetheart,” he whispered.
“No, it isn’t!” Joshua declared, leaping to his feet. “I don’t know what the hell’s gotten into that girl, but I intend to find out.”
“Dad?” Sarah had rarely heard her father so angry. She watched as he marched across the room toward the telephone. “Get me Willie’s phone number,” he demanded.
Without questioning him, Sarah did as he asked. Joshua grabbed for the phone and quickly punched in the number.
“What are you going to say?” Sarah asked, standing next to him.
“What someone should have said a long time ago. I’m going to tell her it’s high time she came home where she belongs.”
“But, Dad—”
He held up his hand and blinked, looking uncertain. “Is this the Willie Stern residence?” he asked. He cupped the receiver. “A woman answered. She sounds drunk.”
“It isn’t Calla, is it?” Horrified, Sarah placed her hand on his elbow.
Her father shook his head. “Willie Stern,” he repeated, then glanced at Sarah. “She went to get him,” he explained.
Even this far from the receiver, Sarah could hear the loud, discordant music. Apparently Willie was throwing a party. Sarah hated to think of Calla in that environment. A helpless, sick sensation came over her. Dennis seemed to sense it, because he moved to stand behind her. His hands rested on her shoulders.
Sarah closed her eyes, grateful for her husband’s support, for his understanding and love.
“Willie?” Joshua asked, sounding unsure. He turned to Sarah and rolled his eyes. “It’s Joshua, Joshua McKenna,” he said loudly. “Listen, perhaps it’d be better if you talked to Sarah.” With an apologetic expression, he handed her the phone.
Sarah took the receiver but she wasn’t happy about it. “Hello, Willie,” she said, trying to hide her disgust for her ex-husband.
“Sarah, how are you?” It was difficult to hear him above the music blaring in the background.
“Just great. Where’s Calla?”
“Calla? Hold on, and I’ll find out.” He left and was gone several minutes. Sarah was about to hang up when he came back on the line. “No one knows for sure,” he said in a thick, slurred voice.
He was stoned on something, probably a combination of drugs and alcohol. It was enough to make Sarah sick to he
r stomach.
“Don’t you think it’s important?” Sarah shouted, despite her best effort to hold on to her temper. With Willie stoned out of his mind, Calla could be missing for days before anyone realized it.
“She has to be around here somewhere.”
“Find her,” Sarah snapped. “I’m not getting off this line until I talk with my daughter.”
“She’s my daughter, too. You know what your problem is?” Willie asked. “You’re uppity. I can’t understand how I got involved with an uppity woman.”
“I want to talk to Calla,” Sarah demanded, barely able to remain civil.
“Fine, you can talk to her. Only I’ve got to find her first.”
“Find her.”
“Yes, your majesty,” Willie taunted.
The phone made a clanking sound as if it’d been dropped. He was gone for several minutes and then returned. “She’s at work,” he said. “I forgot.”
“Where does she work?”
“BurgerHaven. Not a bad job, either. I asked her if she could get her old man on, but they said I had to have a drug test first.” This was followed by uproarious laughter, as if he found the suggestion amusing beyond words.
Sarah closed her eyes until the feeling of revulsion left. “Tell her I phoned.”
His laughter died as suddenly as it had begun. “I might,” he said.
“Never mind, I’ll tell her myself,” Sarah said, not wanting to feel beholden to Willie for anything, even the most basic of courtesies.
Everyone was watching her expectantly, especially Dennis’s parents. Sarah replaced the receiver. She looked at Dennis, then her brother and her in-laws. “Apparently…Calla’s working today.” The words barely made it past her lips before she broke into sobs. Mortified, she retreated into the bedroom, hoping a few minutes alone would help her regain her composure. Normally she was better able to control her emotions.
“Sarah?” Dennis came into the room and closed the door.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “It’s such a wonderful day and here I am crying…I’m so sorry.”
Her husband sat down on the edge of the bed beside her. “You don’t have anything to apologize for. Not one damn thing.”
“But I embarrassed you in front of your parents—”
“Don’t even think that.” He placed his arms around her, and Sarah turned into his embrace, breathing in the warm scent of him, loving him until she felt as if her heart would burst. “I don’t deserve you,” she whispered.
He wove his fingers into her hair and tilted her face toward him. “No, it’s the other way around….”
She shook her head. “I don’t know what I did for Calla to hate me so.”
“You married me. I’m the one she hates.”
Sarah wrapped her arms around him, and they clung to one another. Then, sobbing, she pulled away and wiped the tears from her cheeks. “I didn’t mean to tell you like this…but, Dennis, I think…I’m fairly sure I’m pregnant.”
He stared at her, his face uncomprehending. “You’re pregnant?”
She nodded, smiling through her tears.
“When did you find out?”
“Just yesterday…I talked to Hassie and she recommended one of those home pregnancy tests and…and the stick turned blue.”
Dennis let out a shout of joy so loud it echoed in the room. Racing to the bedroom door, he hurled it open and stuck out his head. “Mom, Dad, we’re pregnant!”
Racing back to her side, he took hold of both her hands. “Oh, Sarah, you don’t know how happy this makes me.”
She knew Dennis wanted children when she married him. Her doubts were multiple, especially since she didn’t seem to be a very successful mother; Calla’s attitude proved as much.
“You’re pregnant?” Irene asked when Dennis and Sarah reappeared. She held her hands to her mouth, tears trickling down her face.
Sarah nodded.
Irene hugged them both. “This is just wonderful news! Just wonderful.”
“It is,” Maddy agreed, embracing Sarah. “I’m so pleased Julianne will have a cousin close to her own age.”
“Congratulations, sis,” Jeb said, hugging her, then slapping Dennis on the back. The two men clasped hands.
“Another grandchild,” Joshua said, tucking his thumbs inside his suspenders. “Now, this is welcome news. Very welcome.” He took a turn and hugged Sarah, too. “I don’t suppose anyone would object if I helped myself to a second piece of pumpkin pie.”
“I’ll join you,” Jeb announced.
“Don’t mind if I do myself,” Norm Urlacher said, trailing Jeb and Joshua into the kitchen.
“I should probably supervise,” Dennis said, following the others. “I want whipped cream on mine,” he called, halfway through the door.
“We just ate,” Sarah complained to Maddy and her mother-in-law. How anyone could get up from a table laden with a meal fit for royalty and be hungry less than half an hour later was beyond her.
“While they’re in there,” Irene said, “let’s suggest they do the dishes.”
“Good idea!”
Soon the three of them were laughing, their excitement about the pregnancy dulling the pain of Calla’s rejection.
Margaret Clemens’s housekeeper wasn’t at all pleased that Margaret had taken it upon herself to invite Matt Eilers to Thanksgiving dinner.
Sadie muttered disparaging comments under her breath all morning as she worked in the kitchen, cooking the turkey, peeling potatoes, slicing green beans and making pumpkin pies.
“You can go now, Sadie,” Margaret told her when she’d finished preparing the last of the vegetable dishes and had set a pie on the counter to cool.
“And leave you alone with that scoundrel?” she bellowed, fists digging into her wide hips. “I think not.”
“Sadie.” Margaret could be just as stubborn. “Matt is a gentleman. Now, go home. Your family’s waiting.”
Still the housekeeper hesitated.
“Go,” Margaret insisted, shooing the older woman out of the kitchen. Sadie had been with the family for as long as Margaret could remember and was as close to a mother as Margaret had. She’d been a blessing, for sure, but distrusted strangers and single men. It didn’t help that Matt fell into both categories. He might have lived and ranched in the area for nearly five years, but as far as Sadie was concerned, he wasn’t one of them and shouldn’t be trusted.
With obvious reluctance the housekeeper removed her apron. “If you need help, you phone.”
“I will,” Margaret assured her, and edged her toward the door. As soon as Sadie was gone, Margaret sighed with relief, thankful she’d finally managed to get Sadie out of the house. This dinner was important, and the last thing Margaret wanted was a chaperone, especially since she was hoping Matt would see fit to kiss her again.
Her guest arrived promptly at four, the time they’d agreed upon. He brought a bouquet of flowers, along with a can of cranberries and a bottle of wine.
“Thank you, Matt,” she murmured, smelling the yellow and bronze mums. Feeling self-conscious, she led him into the kitchen, where she placed the bouquet in a vase. Might as well tell him now and be done with it. “I have a confession to make.”
“Already?” he asked, frowning. “I just got here.”
“I fell short on my part of the bargain.” It probably would have been better if she’d waited until later to own up. “I’m not a very good cook. I’d hoped—actually, I’d planned—to whip up the entire meal on my own, but Sadie convinced me to start with something less demanding before tackling a five-course holiday dinner. So…”
“So in other words Sadie made the turkey?”
Margaret nodded. Well, the turkey and everything else. It hardly seemed surprising that she was pretty much of a lost cause when it came to finding her way around a kitchen. After all, she’d never spent any time learning those skills—she was a rancher, not a cook. The important thing was that, dinner aside, he’d chosen to sp
end the day with her.
Matt glanced at the table already set. “I’m glad not to be alone today. That’s what really matters—not the turkey.”
His words seemed to echo her thoughts, which flustered her so much, she said the next thing that popped into her mind. “Would you like a beer before we eat?”
“Sure.”
Hands and heart trembling, she removed two cans from the refrigerator, emptied them into tall tumblers, then took him to the library. It was her father’s favorite room, and hers, too. They sat in the high-back leather chairs, on opposite sides of the brick fireplace. She’d laid a small fire earlier and lit it just before he arrived. It provided a comforting warmth…and a sensation of intimacy.
At first the silence between them was awkward. Then Matt asked her a question about a new worming product for cattle, and before she knew it, they’d talked nearly an hour. Matt seemed as delighted as she by how easily their conversation had gone.
“I don’t generally talk cattle with women,” he told her, drinking the last of his beer.
Margaret wasn’t sure what he was telling her. He seemed to be implying that he didn’t think of her as a woman, which she found downright depressing. Especially since she’d taken pains to put on a dress. A dress, panty hose, the whole nine yards. It was the same outfit she’d worn for her father’s funeral, although he wouldn’t know that, seeing he hadn’t attended the services.
“I’d better check on dinner,” she said, bolting out of her chair.
“Margaret.” He stopped her as soon as she stood. “Did I say something wrong?”
She shook her head, then decided he probably wanted the truth. “If you don’t talk cattle with other women, then what do you talk about?” She sat on the ottoman facing him, staring at him intently.
Her question appeared to pull him up short, and he avoided eye contact before responding. “We talk about this and that. Nothing important.”
“Oh.”
“I enjoyed our conversation if that’s what concerns you.”
The tension eased out of her shoulders. This was as good as a compliment. She blushed and looked away. “I enjoyed it, too.” At ease once more, she said, “I’ll check on dinner and get us another beer.” She reached for the empty tumblers.
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