The Holiday Gift

by RaeAnne Thayne

  “Sounds like you were doing good work.”

  “I found it very rewarding. Some of my students have made remarkable progress. Music can be a comfort and a joy, as well as open doors to language and auditory processing skills I wouldn’t have imagined before I started in this field.”

  “That sounds interesting.”

  She made a face. “To me, anyway. Sorry. I tend to get a little passionate when I talk about my job.”

  “I admire that in a person.”

  “It’s not all I do, I promise. I did play piano and I sing in a jazz trio on the weekends.”

  “That’s great! Maybe you ought to perform at the holiday show yourself.”

  She made a face. “I probably would be a little out of place, since it sounds like this is mostly a show featuring children. I’m happy enough behind the scenes.”

  The band changed to a slower song, a wistful holiday tune about regret and lost loves.

  “Oh, I love this song,” she exclaimed, swaying a little in time to the music.

  What was the etiquette here? He had come to the party with a woman who was doing her best to stay away from him. Meanwhile another one was making it clear she wanted to dance.

  He didn’t know the social conventions but he figured simple politeness trumped the rules anyway.

  “Would you like to dance?” he finally asked. If Faith would rather hide out in the kitchen than spend time in conversation with him, he probably wasn’t committing some grave faux pas by asking another woman for a simple dance.

  Ella’s smile was soft with delight. “I would, actually. Thanks.”

  How weird was this night turning out? Chase wondered as he led the woman out to the dance floor with about a dozen other couples. He had come to the party hoping to end up with Faith in his arms. Instead, she was currently busy carrying out a pot of soup while he was dancing with a woman he had only just met.

  Ella was a good conversationalist. She asked him about his ranch and Pine Gulch and the surroundings. He told her about Addie and the cruise she was going on with her mother and stepfather over the holidays and his plans to have their own Christmas celebration a few days before the twenty-fifth.

  He actually enjoyed himself more than he might have expected, though beneath the enjoyment he was aware of a simmering frustration at Faith.

  When the song ended, he spotted Ella’s father on the edge of the dance floor speaking with a ranching couple he knew who lived up near Driggs. He led her there, visited with the group for a moment, then made his excuses and headed straight for the kitchen.

  He found Faith plating pieces of apple pie. She was talking to Jenna McRaven but her words seemed to stall when she spotted him.

  “Are you going to hide out in here all night?”

  Her gaze shifted away from his but not before he saw the shadow of nervousness there. “I’m not hiding out,” she protested. “I was just giving Jen a hand for a minute. Anyway, you’ve been busy dancing with Ella Baker.”

  Only because his real date was as slippery as a newborn calf.

  “You’ve done more than enough,” Jenna assured her. “I’m grateful for your help but I’m finally caught up in here. Carson’s plane just landed and he’s on his way here to help me with the rest of the night. You really need to go out and enjoy the party.”

  Faith opened her mouth to protest but Jenna gave her a stern look. “I’m serious, sweetie. Go out and enjoy all this delicious food I’ve been slaving over for a week. Now hand over the apron and back away slowly and nobody will get hurt.”

  “Fine. If you insist.” Faith huffed out a little breath but untied her apron and set it on an empty space on the counter. Chase wasn’t about to let her wriggle away again. He hooked his hand in the crook of her elbow and steered her out into the reception hall and over to the buffet line.

  They grabbed their food, which all appeared delicious, then Faith scanned the room. “I see a couple of chairs over by Em and Ashley. Why don’t we go sit with them?”

  He enjoyed hanging out with their neighbors but right now he would rather find a secluded corner and have this out. Barring that, he would rather just go home and get the hell out of this suit and tie.

  Nothing was working out as he planned and he felt stupid and shortsighted for thinking it might.

  “Sure. Sounds good,” he lied.

  She led the way and as soon as they were seated, she immediately launched into a long conversation with the other couples.

  By the time dinner was over, he was more than ready to throw up his hands and declare the evening a disaster, convinced she was too stubborn to ever consider they could be anything but friends.

  Sitting at this table with their neighbors and friends filled him with a deep-seated envy that left him feeling small. They were all long-married yet still obviously enamored with each other, with casual little touches and private smiles that left him feeling more lonely than ever.

  The band had begun to move away from strictly playing holiday songs and began a cover of a popular upbeat pop song, adding a bluegrass flair, of course. Ashley Hartford lit up. “Oh! I love this song. Come dance with me, darling.”

  Though they had four children and had been married for years, Justin gave her the sort of smoldering look Chase guessed women enjoyed, since the man had made millions on the big screen, before he walked away from it all to come to Pine Gulch.

  “Let’s do it,” he said.

  “We can’t let them show us up,” Emery declared to her husband. “I know you hate to dance but will you, just this once?”

  Nate Cavazos, former army Special Forces and tough as nails, sighed but obediently rose to follow his petite wife out to the dance floor. Their departure left him alone at the table with Faith, along with an awkward silence.

  He gestured to the floor. “Do you want to dance?”

  Panic flickered in her eyes and his gut ached. She had been his friend for nearly two decades. They had laughed together, cried together, confided secrets to each other.

  Why the hell couldn’t she see they were perfect for each other?

  “Forget it,” he said. “You’re not enjoying this. Why don’t I just go get Celeste’s fabulous coat and we can take off?”

  Her lush mouth twisted into a frown. “That’s not fair to you.”

  She looked at the dance floor for a moment, then back at him. “Actually, let’s go dance. I would like it very much.”

  He wanted to call her out for the lie but it seemed stupid to argue. Instead, Chase scraped his chair back, then reached a hand out. She placed her slim, cool, working-rancher hand in his and he led her out to the dance floor.

  Just as they reached it, the music shifted to a song he didn’t know, something slow and dreamy, jazzy and soft. He pulled her into his arms—finally!—and they began to move in time to the music.

  “This is nice,” she murmured, and he took that as encouragement to pull her a little closer. She smelled delicious, that subtle scent he had picked up earlier, and he closed his eyes and tried to burn the moment into his memory.

  She stumbled a little and when he glanced down, she was blushing. “Sorry. I’m not very good at this. I never learned to dance, unless you count some of the native dances we did in South America and Papua New Guinea.”

  “I’d like to see some of those.”

  She laughed. “I doubt I could remember a single one. Hope probably can. She was always more into them than I was. You’re a very good dancer. Why didn’t I know that?”

  “I guess we haven’t had much call to dance together.”

  His mother had taught him, he remembered, when he was about fourteen or fifteen, before his father’s diagnosis and his family fell apart.

  His mother had told him he needed to learn so he wouldn’t be embarrassed at school d
ances. Turns out, he hadn’t needed the lessons. His father’s cancer and the toll the treatment had taken on him had left Chase little time for frivolous things like proms. It was all he could do to keep the ranch running while his mother ran his dad back and forth to the cancer center in Salt Lake City.

  Despite the long, difficult fight, his father had lost the battle. After he died, things had been worse. His mother had completely fallen apart that first year and had slipped into a deep, soul-crushing depression that lasted for a tough four years, until she finally went to visit a sister in Seattle, fell in love with a restaurant owner she met there and moved there permanently.

  Sometimes he wondered what might have happened if his father hadn’t died, if Chase hadn’t been forced to put his own plans for college on the back burner.

  If he had been in a better place to pursue Faith first.

  If.

  It was a word he really hated.

  A few more turns around the dance floor and she appeared to relax and seemed to be enjoying the music and the moment. He even made her laugh a few times. The music shifted into another slow dance and she didn’t seem in a hurry to stop dancing so he decided to just go with it.

  If he had his choice, he would have frozen that moment forever in time, just savoring the scent of her hair and the way her curves brushed against him and the way she fit so perfectly in his arms.

  Too quickly, the music ended and she pulled away.

  “That was nice,” she said. “Thanks.”

  Dancing with him had been a big step for her, he knew.

  “They’re about to serve dessert,” he said on impulse. “What do you say we grab a couple slices of that apple pie in a couple of to-go boxes and take off somewhere to enjoy it where we can look at Christmas lights?”

  “We don’t have to leave if you’re enjoying yourself.”

  “I just want to be with you. I really don’t care where.”

  He probably shouldn’t have been that blunt. She nibbled on her lip, clearly mulling her options, then smiled.

  “Let’s go.”

  * * *

  She hated being a coward.

  Her sister Hope plowed through life, exploring the world as their parents had, experiencing life and collecting friends everywhere she went. Celeste, the youngest, was shy and timid and could be socially awkward. That seemed to have changed significantly since her marriage to Flynn and since her literary career took off, requiring more public appearances and radio interviews. Celeste seemed to be far more comfortable in her own skin these days.

  Now Faith was the timid one.

  Losing her husband and becoming a widow at thirty-two had changed her in substantial ways. Sometimes she wasn’t even sure who she was anymore.

  She had never considered herself particularly brave, though she had tried to put on a strong front for Hope and Celeste after their parents died. They had needed her and while she wanted to curl up into herself, she had tried to set an example of courage for her sisters.

  After Travis died, she had wanted to do the same. That time, her children had needed her. She had to show them that even in the midst of overwhelming grief they could survive and even thrive.

  Right now, that facade of strength seemed about to crumble to dust. In her heart, she was terrified and it seemed to be growing worse. She was so afraid of shaking up the status quo, setting herself up for more pain.

  More than that, she was afraid of hurting Chase.

  She wouldn’t worry about that now. Once they were alone, just the two of them, they could forget all this date nonsense and just be Chase and Faith again, like always.

  Jenna McRaven didn’t ask questions when they asked if she had any to-go boxes. She pulled out a cardboard container that she loaded with two pieces of caramel-topped apple pie.

  A moment later, without giving explanations to anyone, they grabbed Celeste’s luxurious coat and hurried outside into the December night.

  Her breath puffed out as they made their way to his pickup but she wasn’t cold. She wanted to give credit to the fine cashmere wool but in truth she was still overheated from the warm dance floor and her own ridiculous nerves.

  “Where should we go for dessert?” he asked. “What do you think about Orchard Park? It offers a nice view of town.”

  She would rather go back to the Star N and change into jeans and a T-shirt. Barring that, Orchard Park would have to do. “Sounds good,” she answered.

  He turned on a Christmas station and soft, jazzy music filled the interior of his pickup truck as he drove the short distance from the reception hall to an area of new development in Pine Gulch.

  A small subdivision of single-family homes was being built here on land that had once been filled with fruit trees. The streets had names like Apple Blossom Drive, Jubilee Lane and McIntosh Court and only about half the lots had new houses.

  Chase pulled above the last row of houses to a clearing at the end of the road, probably where the developer planned to add more houses eventually.

  He put the vehicle in Park but left the engine running. Warm air poured out of the vents from the heater, wrapping them in a cozy embrace.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t think to get a bottle of wine but I should have some water in my emergency stash.”

  He climbed out and rummaged in a cargo box in the backseat before emerging with a couple of water bottles.

  Given the harsh winters in the region, most people she knew kept kits in their vehicles with water bottles, granola bars and foil emergency blankets in case they were stranded in a blizzard.

  “Don’t forget to replenish your supply,” she said when he slid back in the front seat.

  “I won’t. Nothing worse than being stuck in four-foot-high drifts somewhere with nothing to drink but melted snow.”

  That had never happened to her, thankfully. She unscrewed the cap and took a drink of the water, which was remarkably cold and refreshing, then handed him the to-go carton of pie Jenna had given them along with the fork her friend had provided.

  “I guess it’s fitting we should eat an apple pie here,” she said.

  His teeth gleamed in the darkness as he smiled. “Anything else wouldn’t seem as appropriate, would it?”

  With the glittery stars above them and the colorful lights of town below, she took a bite of her pie and nearly swooned from the sheer sensory overload.

  “Wow. That’s fantastic,” she breathed. It was flaky and crusty and buttery, with just the right hint of caramel. “Jenna is a master of the simple apple pie. I’ve got her recipe but I can never make it just like this. I don’t know what she does differently from me or Aunt Mary or my sisters but it’s so fantastic.”

  “Even without ice cream.”

  She laughed. “I was thinking that but didn’t want to say it.”

  It seemed a perfect moment, so much better away from the public social pressure of the party. She took a deep breath and realized she hadn’t fully filled her lungs all evening. Stupid nerves.

  “I love the view from this area,” she said. “Pine Gulch seems so peaceful and quiet.”

  “I suppose it looks so peaceful because you can’t see from up here how old Doris Packer is such a bitter old hag or how Ben Tillman has a habit of shortchanging his customers at the tavern or how Wilma Rivera is probably talking trash about her sister-in-law.”

  He was so right. “It’s easy to simply look at the surface and think you know a place, isn’t it?”

  “Right.” He sent her a sidelong look. “People are much the same. You have to dig beneath the nice clothes and the polite polish to find the essence of a person.”

  She knew the essence of Chase Brannon. He was a kind, decent, good man who so deserved to be happy.

  She sighed and could feel the heat of his gaze.

 
“That sounded heavy. What’s on your mind?”

  She had a million things racing through her thoughts and didn’t know how to talk to him about any of it. She couldn’t tell him that she felt like she stood on the edge of a precipice, toes tingling from the vast, unknown chasm below her, and she just didn’t know how much courage she had left inside her to jump.

  “I’m feeling bad about taking you away from the party,” she lied.

  “You didn’t take me away. Leaving was my idea, remember?”

  He reached up to loosen his tie. Funny how that simple act seemed to help her remember this was Chase, her best friend. She wanted him to be happy, no matter what.

  “It was a good idea. Still, if we had stayed, maybe you could have danced with Ella Baker again.”

  He said nothing but annoyance suddenly seemed to radiate out of him in pointed rays.

  “She seems very nice,” Faith pressed.

  “Yes.”

  “And she’s musical, too.”

  “Yes.”

  “Not to mention beautiful, don’t you think?”

  “She’s lovely.”

  “You should ask her out, since you suddenly want to start dating again.”

  He made a low sound in the back of his throat, the kind of noise he made when his tractor broke down or one of his ranch hands called in sick too many times.

  “Who said I wanted to start dating again?” he said, his voice clipped.

  “You did. You’re the one who insisted this was a date-date. You made a big deal that it wasn’t just two friends carpooling to the stockgrowers’ party together, remember?”

  “That doesn’t mean I’m ready to start dating again, at least not in general terms. It only means I’m ready to start dating you.”

  There it was.

  Out in the open.

  The reality she had been trying so desperately to avoid. He wanted more from her than friendship and she was scared out of her ever-loving mind at the possibility.