Close to Heaven: A Colorado High Country Christmas

by Pamela Clare

  Then it hit her as it hadn’t before that she and Lark would never face hardship again. She would never have to choose between food and gas. Or work two jobs to make ends meet. Or wonder if she would ever be able to retire.

  “What’s wrong with Mom? Is she okay?”

  “I just told her my net worth, and she almost fainted.”

  Rain had never fainted before, not once in her life.

  “Oh.” Lark sounded unimpressed. “Geez, Mom, Dad’s a billionaire. Get over it. Sometimes good things happen, you know?”

  Yes, sometimes good things happened.

  Rain drew a breath to steady herself and sat up, the dizziness ebbing. “I’m okay. I’m fine, really. That was just… I mean I knew you had money, but… Really?”

  Joe rubbed one of her hands between his. “Really.”

  “Can we please go for a drive?” Lark’s excitement made Rain smile. “We don’t have to go far. I just want to see how it feels.”

  “Sure.” Rain sat up, got slowly to her feet, and walked with Joe to the mudroom, stopping to grab her parka and step into her boots.

  Billionaire? That was crazy!

  She followed the excited sound of Lark’s voice outside, and there the driveway stood a shiny white Mazda CX5, gleaming brand new in the midday sunshine.

  “Isn’t it amazing?” Lark asked.

  “It certainly is,” Rain said.

  All of this was amazing.

  Rain climbed into the backseat, leaving Joe to sit up front to explain the vehicle’s features to Lark, who was all but bouncing in the driver’s seat. Joe had had the dealership add additional safety features, which made Rain happy, but holy shit! A billionaire?

  She laughed to herself, shook her head.

  Lark stuck the key in the ignition, started the engine.

  Joe turned to look back at Rain, reaching for her hand. “You okay?”

  Rain nodded. “I am now.”

  Those delicious lips of his curved into a big grin. “Well, hang on, honey, because it’s going to be one hell of a new year.”

  Epilogue

  August 14

  Joe walked into Scarlet Springs Town Hall, hand in hand with Rain, letting her set the pace. She was due in twelve days and easily got out of breath. “Stop if you need to. We’re in no hurry.”

  She halted just outside the entrance, breathing as deeply as she could with eight pounds of baby taking up all the space in her abdomen.

  Joe hadn’t given much thought to the things women endured during pregnancy, but he’d been witnessing it up close and in stereo for the past eight-and-a-half months, as Vicki was almost due to have her first, too. Between the nausea, backache, sore breasts, swollen ankles, and mood swings, it sure didn’t seem like fun to him.

  He’d done what he could to make things easier for Rain, bringing in extra help to cover for both of them when they’d gone through morning sickness. He’d put a sofa in his office so both women could lie down and take naps at work. He’d brought in a massage therapist to the pub once a week to give Rain massages. But he couldn’t take away the visceral reality of pregnancy from her—or go through labor for her. All the pain, all the risk to health and life, was hers.

  That was the part that scared her, and he could do nothing to change it. All he could do was assure her that she wouldn’t be alone.

  He waited for Rain to catch her breath, then opened the door for her.

  “Thanks.” She waddled past him. “There are a lot of people here tonight.”

  “I’m betting the articles in the Gazette have something to do with that.”

  Mrs. Beech had died in her sleep in January. Joe and Rain had attended her service, along with most of the rest of the town. A month after she’d been laid to rest, Joe created an anonymous nonprofit foundation to build and stock a library in Scarlet Springs. Then, as a private citizen, he had announced his intention to donate Silas’ journals to the library for research purposes. The paper had covered this news, too, and published key passages that revealed Silas for the man he was.

  It was the most-read series of stories in the paper’s recent history.

  Tonight was the next step in what felt to Joe like settling a very old score. Tonight, the Scarlet Springs Town Council would vote on Joe’s request to rename Moffat Street, stripping Silas of an honor he had never deserved.

  Hawke and Vicki were already inside the crowded council chambers. Hawke waved them over. “I saved you a few seats.”

  “Thanks.” Rain sat, caught her breath.

  “Is Lark coming?” Vicki asked. “She’s a Moffat, too, now.”

  Joe had adopted Lark, starting the process shortly after the New Year. She was now officially his daughter and a legal heir to his estate. “Chey was going to cover for her tonight but got caught up in traffic.”

  A moment later, Lark breezed in and sat next to her mom. “Did I miss anything?”

  “The meeting hasn’t started yet,” Rain said.

  Lark had moved back to Scarlet after graduation to be close to Rain during this pregnancy and now lived in Rain’s rebuilt house. She had developed an interest in brewing beer and had asked Joe to teach her the business from the ground up.

  She glanced around. “It looks like the whole town is here.”

  The chamber only held two hundred people, so that wasn’t literally possible, but it seemed to Joe that most of the people he knew well were here. Mitch had come, of course, because Megs was on the council. Austin and Lexi were there with most of the rest of the Team. Kendra was sitting with Rose. Ellie and Jesse Moretti were there with their twins. Brandon Silver had come in his turnout pants. Sheriff’s Deputy Julia Marcs was also in uniform. Bear stood in the back. Even Hank had showed up.

  The six council members and the mayor came out of the back room and took their seats, among them Megs, Bob Jewell, and Marcia.

  The mayor, Michael Taylor, Austin’s father, opened the meeting. “Our first piece of business tonight is to decide whether to rename Moffat Street. This is a request made by Joe Moffat, the only living descendant of Silas Moffat, in whose honor the street was named back in 1920. I think we’re all aware of the recent revelations regarding Silas Moffat. The man was a rapist and a murderer. Of that, there is no doubt. I would like to open up the mic to input from the public.”

  A couple of homeowners on Moffat Street said they were concerned the switch would cost them time and money as they would have to change their address with everyone from their banks and credit cards to the DMV.

  Joe could appreciate that. He just couldn’t see a way around it.

  Then Hank stepped up to the mic. “This happened a long time ago. Does anybody really care what Silas did? What do I say if someone asks me for directions—‘Turn left on the street formerly known as Moffat Street’?”

  Laughter.

  “Well, Hank, that’s part of what we have to decide,” Mayor Taylor said. “Does anyone else have anything to add?”

  Rose got up, walked to the mic, and said, “I just want all of us to appreciate this present moment. We are agents of karma tonight. If you do vote to change the name, we could rename it Ellery Street, in honor of my great-great-grandmother, who was a woman ahead of her time.”

  “Name it after a whore?” Bob blurted from the dais.

  “She was a sex worker,” Rose snapped.

  More laughter.

  Joe gave Rain’s hand a squeeze, then stood and walked up to the mic. “Silas Moffat got away with murder. He got away with raping and abusing young women in his employ. Changing a street name can’t undo any of that, but it does set the record straight. It gives his victims the only justice we can give them by ensuring that future generations won’t grow up thinking of Silas as anything other than a criminal.”

  Applause.

  Joe went back to his seat, threaded his fingers through Rain’s.

  “I love you,” she whispered.

  Mayor Taylor turned to his fellow council members. “Ready to vote?”
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  Six heads nodded.

  Joe found it hard to breathe.

  “All in favor of stripping Silas Moffat’s name from the street say, ‘Aye.’”

  Six voices said “aye” in unison.

  “It’s unanimous. The name Moffat Street is to be changed.”

  Joe let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, a weight he’d carried for more than twenty years finally lifting from his shoulders.

  It was done. It was over.

  Rain leaned closer. “I’m so proud of you.”

  Looking like he was fighting a grin, Taylor glanced over at Marcia, who nodded. “There is a motion before the council to change the street’s name from ‘Moffat Street’ to ‘Moffat Street’ in honor of Joe Moffat, a man of outstanding character who has done so much for our town.”

  The room exploded into laughter and applause.

  Joe stared open-mouthed. “What? No! I—”

  “You deserve this, Dad,” Lark assured him.

  “This wasn’t my intention. What the hell…?”

  “All in favor of changing the name of Moffat Street to Moffat Street in honor of Joe Moffat say, ‘Aye.’”

  This time, the audience said “aye” right along with the council members.

  “Shit.” Joe shook his head, stunned.

  Rain laughed. “It’s okay, Joe. You’ll live.”

  He was about to stand and say something—he had no idea what—when Rain gasped—and looked down. “My water. It just broke.”

  “Oh, my God!” Lark jumped to her feet. “My mom is having the baby!”

  “Not here she’s not.” Joe helped Rain to her feet, looked up to find the whole room watching them. “Thanks for taking this seriously, and thanks very much for the honor. It means a lot to me. Marcia, you and I will be having a long conversation. But right now, I need to go.”

  Shouts of “good luck!” and “take care!” followed them out the door.

  Rain surfed through TV channels while Joe and Lark played Bananagrams—again. There was nothing on that she felt like watching. She glanced at the monitor, saw another contraction begin, rising until it reached the top of the graph.

  She couldn’t feel a thing.

  Thank God for epidurals.

  They had arrived at the hospital a couple of hours ago, after driving home so that she could get her overnight bag and change out of her wet pants. By the time they’d gotten to the hospital, she was having regular contractions—nothing too strong. Leah had checked her and the baby and found that she was already dilated to three centimeters. Leah had kept her promise and called in the anesthetist, who had given Rain her epidural. Having a needle stuck in her back hadn’t been fun, but it had been worth it. Rain had suffered through just a few hard contractions before going blissfully numb.

  “Bananas!” Joe exclaimed.

  “Want to play another round?” Lark asked.

  “We ought to let your mom get some rest.” Joe turned to Rain. “It’s almost midnight. You’re going to need your strength later.”

  “You’re probably right.” Rain turned off the TV, turned onto her left side, facing Joe and Lark. She watched while they put away their game and then sacked out, Lark on a folding chair near the foot of the bed, Joe on the chair beside her.

  He bent over her, kissed her forehead, turned out the lights. “Sleep.”

  “I’ll try.”

  “Are you afraid?”

  “A little. Mostly, I’m just excited for this to be over with and to have the baby in my arms. How about you?”

  Joe looked confused, as if he had no idea how he felt. “I’m good.”

  She threaded her fingers through his, closed her eyes, and quickly fell asleep. She woke once when a nurse came in to check her vitals, then once more when Lark’s cell phone rang, but fell asleep quickly.

  It was pain that finally woke her.

  She moaned, the sensation muted but still intense. “The epidural is wearing off.

  She shifted onto her back, and the pain grew stronger.

  Joe took her hand. “Lark, go get the nurse. It’s going to be okay, Rain. I’m sure they can do something.”

  The pain grew worse until Rain found herself trying to remember the breathing exercises from her childbirth class. “This doesn’t help!”

  Unlike a contraction, this pain didn’t come and go. It just got worse.

  The nurse came in, Lark behind her. “Are you having pain?”

  “Yes,” Joe answered for her. “We need you to fix the epidural.”

  “Let’s check her first.” The nurse put on a glove on one hand, sat, and lifted the sheet with the other. “Bend your knees, and let them fall open.”

  A moment later, the nurse sat back, pulled off her glove. “What you’re feeling isn’t contraction pain. It’s pressure. This baby is plus-two station. It’s almost here.”

  “Did you hear that, Mom? It’s almost here.”

  Rain was too focused on coping at this point to pay attention to what was happening around her, her world constricted by pain.

  Joe held her hand, kissed her forehead, reassured her. “It’s going to be over soon, and you won’t ever have to go through this again.”

  Then Leah was there in her blue medical garb. “We don’t have time to break down the bed. She’s crowning.”

  That brought Rain’s eyes open. “I’m crowning?”

  “Oh, my God, Mom! I can see its head. It has lots of dark hair.”

  “It’s going to be a boy,” Joe said. “Moffats always have boys.”

  “It’s going to be a girl,” Lark said. “Times change.”

  “You don’t know the sex?” the nurse asked.

  “They wanted it to be a surprise,” Lark answered.

  Leah sat at the foot of the bed, near Rain’s feet. “Rain, give me your hand.”

  Rain reached down between her legs, let Leah guide her fingers until she felt the wet, hard top of the baby’s head. She smiled, despite the pain, genuinely excited now. “Oh, my God. My baby.”

  “Dad, do you want to catch? Yours can be the first hands to touch your baby.”

  Joe shook his head. “I’ll stay with this end of Rain.”

  Something about the way Joe said it, combined with the overwhelmed look on his face, made Rain laugh.

  “There you go,” Leah said. “Laugh that baby out.”

  Rain laughed, then shrieked in pain—and it was over.

  “Oh, Mom!” she heard Lark say.

  Instinctively, Rain reached down for her baby and drew it up between her legs and cradled it against her chest. The nurse unsnapped her gown so that she could put the baby to her breast and give it skin-to-skin contact. The baby didn’t cry but looked around as if trying to figure out what had happened. “Hey, sweetie. Aren’t you beautiful?”

  The nurse rubbed it with a towel. “Happy birthday, little one.”

  Rain looked up at Joe, found him staring, wonder on his face, tears in his eyes. He reached down, stroked the baby’s head. “It’s … so little.”

  “Is it a boy or a girl?” Lark asked.

  Rain turned the baby so that Joe and Lark could see.

  “It’s a girl.” Joe looked astonished. “She’s a girl. We have a girl.”

  “She’s beautiful!” Lark had tears on her cheeks, too. “I have a little sister. See, Dad? Times change.”

  While Rain slept, Joe held his newborn daughter, amazed by her. Eight pounds nine ounces. Ten fingers. Ten tiny toes. Itty-bitty eyelashes. Dark, downy hair.

  She was perfect.

  She sucked on her little fist, making tiny baby noises that melted his heart, her eyes bright and alert, her scent sweet.

  “Are you hungry, baby girl?” It was almost four in the morning, and she hadn’t nursed for a couple of hours.

  Joe hadn’t realized it was possible to love someone so quickly—or so fiercely. He’d seen her emerge from Rain’s body, had watched her draw her first breath, and in the next heartbeat couldn�
��t have imagined his world without her. She was a part of him as if she’d always been there. He could think of only two events that had affected him as much as the birth—the night she’d been conceived and the night he had married her mother.

  He glanced over at Rain, glad to see she was still asleep, relieved that this was behind her. She would be sore for a long time and needed to heal. The past nine months had given him a whole new respect for his wife and all women.

  He walked the length of the room, bouncing the baby gently in his arms, humming to her—some Mudbugs tune that probably wasn’t suitable for a child. But then he didn’t know a single lullaby.

  “I love watching you with her.” Rain sat up, wincing as she shifted her position.

  Joe walked back to the bed. “I think she’s getting hungry.”

  He placed the baby in her mother’s arms, helped Rain open her gown so that she could breastfeed. The baby latched on quickly this time and began to suckle. Joe stroked her little head with one hand, his other hand on Rain’s shoulder, emotions stirring behind his breastbone that were too sublime to name or even fathom.

  “This time a year ago, I fought every day to pretend I wasn’t attracted to you. I was set on never marrying, never having kids. Now, I have a wife, an adult daughter, and a new baby girl. Somewhere, God must be laughing.”

  Rain was laughing, too. “A year ago, I was trying to figure out how to face life alone because my daughter had moved out and my boss was too much of a good guy to jump my bones.”

  “Idiot.”

  “Lark grew up with nothing—hand-me-downs, thrift store toys. This little girl is going to grow up with everything, including a father.”

  “Lark had you.”

  “I was always afraid I wasn’t enough.”

  “You have nothing to worry about this time around. You’re not going to raise this baby alone.”

  Rain leaned her cheek against his hand. “I’ve been thinking about names again.”

  “Uh-oh.”

  Rain had talked about naming the baby after Jenny if it was a girl, but Joe had found it morbid to name his daughter after someone her own ancestor had destroyed, a woman who’d lived a short and tragic life. He wanted to leave the past in the past.