Vivian loved working with her husband, yet she understood the promotion was something he’d been working toward long before the two of them had met. She recognized the importance he placed on acquiring a better position with a higher salary. As a man he needed to feel that he contributed just as much or more to their family unit as she did. Vivian realized to some women that way of thinking might seem old-fashioned, but it seemed perfectly wonderful to her. Having him love and protect and provide for her made her feel more like a woman than she’d ever felt in her life.
“Hey, Mom, Dad! Come on! We’re dishing up the ice cream!”
Vivian looked across the yard to see Hannah waving to catch their attention.
Sawyer chuckled. “Sounds like we’re wanted for a good cause.”
A short time later, Vivian and Sawyer were sitting with Joseph and Tessa and enjoying the frozen dessert, when Maureen strolled by the table and paused to rest her hands on Sawyer’s shoulders.
“Have you two seen the twins yet?” she asked, directing the question to her son-in-law and daughter.
Vivian laughed. “Barely. With papa bear Blake guarding them like Fort Knox.”
Sawyer said, “They’re a fine pair. I thought Andrew resembled Blake. But with all that brown hair Abigail is a mirror image of her brother Nick.”
“I hope the twins gave you some ideas,” Maureen suggested slyly. “Vivian isn’t getting any younger, you know.”
Vivian let out a playful shriek. “Mom! That’s an awful thing to say about me!”
Joseph turned a loving look on his wife. “The new babies have certainly given Tessa all sorts of ideas. But then, she already had plenty of those before the two tots arrived.”
Tessa pulled a playful face at her husband. “You don’t think we’re going to let little Joseph grow up without siblings, do you?”
He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Not hardly.”
Sawyer glanced up at his mother-in-law. “Don’t worry, Maureen. I’m making plans to add a room onto the house for a nursery. If I have anything to say about it, you’ll have several more grandchildren to spoil.”
Maureen gave him an approving wink, then moved away to mingle with the rest of the crowd.
The moment she was out of earshot, Joseph leaned across the table and spoke in a hushed voice. “Viv, something strange is going on with Mom.”
“Reeva said basically the same thing to me six months ago,” Vivian told him. “Since then I’ve tried to urge Mom to spill what’s on her mind, but she insists there’s nothing wrong.”
Frowning, Joseph shook his head. “She’s covering up something.”
Vivian and Sawyer exchanged concerned glances.
“What makes you think that?” Vivian asked her brother.
“Earlier this evening, when we were in the study, she told me and Blake that she’s weary of dwelling on the cause of Dad’s death. She says as far as she’s concerned she’s closing the door on the idea that the incident was more than an accident.”
Stunned, Vivian shook her head. “That can’t be! Mom has always wanted to uncover the actual cause of Dad’s death. Something has caused her to change her mind. But what?”
“I wish we had the answer, sis. It might help us get to the truth of the matter.”
* * *
Later that night, as Sawyer and Vivian sat on a bale of hay and watched fireworks dance across the starlit sky, he pulled her close to his side.
“You’re not still worrying about your mother, are you?”
With a wan smile, she shook her head. “No. Mom is a very strong woman, but this thing about Dad has hung over her for several years now. I think she just wants to be free of the sadness. To close that chapter of her life and move forward. I can’t blame her for that. You and I have done the same thing and look how happy it’s made us.”
He kissed her lips, then nuzzled a spot close to her ear. “I always wanted a woman who’d give me plenty of fireworks. You’ve given me those and a whole lot more, my beautiful wife. I have to be the happiest man on earth.”
Smiling, she asked, “Were you serious about building an extra room for a nursery?”
His eyes full of love, he traced a finger over her cheek. “Absolutely. Think you’re ready to be a mother again?”
She turned her head just enough to press her lips to his cheek. “With my trusty ranger by my side, I’m ready for anything.”
* * *
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The Firefighter’s Christmas Reunion
by Christy Jeffries
Chapter One
Chief Isaac Jones commanded the stainless steel griddle in the kitchen of the Grange Hall the same way he did the Sugar Falls Fire Station—with a steady hand and a s
light wonder that he’d ended up in this position in the first place.
Flipping a row of pancakes, he caught the flash of a blue shirt and gold neckerchief out of the corner of his eye. “Hey, partner,” Isaac said to one of the young Cub Scouts balancing three loaded paper plates between two small hands. “Can you find Mister Jonesy out there and tell him we’re gonna need more batter?”
“We’re almost out of syrup, too,” the chief of police, who also happened to be the pack leader for Troop 1307, said from the pass-through window separating the kitchen from the rows of tables and chairs set up in the main room. “I’ll run to Duncan’s Market and grab everything they have on their shelves.”
“I knew I should’ve ordered all the supplies before I left,” Isaac mumbled to no one in particular. It might be the last Saturday of October, but Sugar Falls was experiencing an unprecedented heat wave, and the unusually high temperatures meant nobody wanted to linger in the overheated kitchen this morning. When he’d originally volunteered the fire department to cosponsor the Scouts’ pancake breakfast fundraiser, he hadn’t anticipated that the National Guard would move his unit’s annual two-week training up an entire month. Which meant that he hadn’t been in Sugar Falls ordering supplies for today.
“What can I do to help?” someone asked over the whirling of the industrial fan behind him.
The back of Isaac’s neck tingled at the familiar sound of the woman’s voice. His breathing stuttered. He hadn’t seen her in over ten years, and last he’d heard, she was joining the Peace Corps or a similar outfit volunteering in Africa somewhere. So surely it couldn’t be...
His dread was confirmed the second he turned around. Hannah Gregson.
His lungs refused to draw air for at least ten seconds as she stood there, her blond hair twisted into a messy knot and her proud shoulders pushed back as though she was ready to take on the world’s problems. She didn’t wear an ounce of makeup, but her complexion was as pure and fresh as it had been the summer after their senior year of high school.
“Your pancakes are burning,” she said, grabbing the spatula out of his clenched hand and easily swinging her tall, lithe body in front of his to scoop the blackened circles off the griddle.
Had she not recognized him?
Sure, Isaac had filled out a bit since he was eighteen, and he no longer sported the longer, fuller curls he’d worn in his youth. In fact, his hair was more of a fade now, a shorter style he’d grown accustomed to when he’d joined the Army after college. But he hadn’t changed that much.
Of course, the last time she’d seen Isaac was the night of that Labor Day bonfire and neither one of them had been at their finest.
He cleared his throat. “What are you doing here?”
“Making pancakes?” She tossed a cheeky smile over her shoulder. It was then that recognition finally dawned in her pale blue eyes and he experienced a tiny rush of satisfaction that she appeared to be as thrown off by his presence as he was by hers. “Isaac?”
“What’s this about you needing more batter?” Uncle Jonesy asked as he strode into the kitchen at that exact second. The old cowboy took one look at Hannah and said, “Aw, hell.”
“Hi, Jonesy,” Hannah said, lifting the spatula in a feeble wave. Good. At least she was now aware of the uneasiness circling the confines of this kitchen.
Jonesy was quick to recover, though, because he stepped around the stainless steel worktable in the center of the room and lifted Hannah up into a big bear hug. She let out a surprised squeak and Isaac’s uncle chuckled. “I heard you were back in town, hon.”
Isaac’s eyebrows shot to his hairline. He had? It would’ve been nice if the old man had given him a heads-up.
“I just got back a couple of weeks ago,” she said, and Isaac realized that Hannah must’ve arrived right after he’d left for his Guard training. He hooked his thumbs into his pockets, aiming for a casualness he didn’t feel as he studied her. They never had been able to stay around each other long enough to make things work.
“I bet your mama and daddy are excited you’re finally back in Idaho.” Jonesy smiled.
The Gregsons were originally from Boise. Summer kids, like Isaac, who only visited Sugar Falls during the warm months when they were out on school break. After he moved into the dorms at Yale, he’d heard through the grapevine that Hannah had decided to save money by going to Boise State, which must’ve been a real coincidence since Carter Mahoney was also attending that school on a full ride track-and-field scholarship. After hearing that she’d also gone home with Carter for Thanksgiving that same year, Isaac had made it a point to avoid any conversations that had to do with Hannah Gregson and where she was living. Or who she was seeing.
After ten years, he certainly didn’t want to hear about it now. Rocking back onto the heels of his work boots, Isaac heard the annoyance in his own voice when he asked, “Are you two gonna sit around and catch up or are we going to make some pancakes?”
“Guess I’ll run out and try to wrangle us some more mix.” His uncle’s gaze shifted between them as he scrubbed the gray whiskers on his ruddy face, probably eager to beat a hasty retreat. Deserter.
“Then I’ll get started on another bowl of batter.” Hannah passed the spatula to Isaac, her long, slender fingers coming into contact with his palm. A heat that had nothing to do with the nearby empty griddle spread through his gut.
“You don’t need to help.” Isaac’s tone came out more harsh and dismissive than he’d intended. “What I mean is that the fire department and the Scouts are putting the breakfast on. So we don’t really need any outside volunteers.”
“Hmm.” She looked around the empty kitchen. “It appears that you’re rather short-staffed at the moment.”
Okay, so that was slightly true. But he’d rather have no staff than have a bossy do-gooder like Hannah Gregson near him. Her mere presence echoed everything that his venture capitalist mother had drilled into him as a kid. Being an African American woman married to an older white investment banker, Isaac’s mom constantly had to prove herself at her husband’s bank before launching her own private equity firm and taking the biotech world by storm. Whether it was a grade at the science fair or a game at the county fair, his mother always insisted that her only child be better than the best.
Maybe that ingrained competitiveness was why Hannah’s intrinsic need to lead by example had always come across as a challenge to Isaac.
And today was no different.
“I’m only on my own temporarily,” he defended. “My crew is responding to a call at the elementary school.”
She gasped and he quickly held up his free palm, the one that wasn’t still tingling from her earlier touch. “Don’t worry. It’s the thirteenth time they’ve been out there this weekend. The district went with a low-bid contractor to install the new fire detection system. Most likely it’s another false alarm and they’ll be back in ten minutes.”
Hannah’s mouth relaxed, but her eyes sparkled with determination. “Then I can fill in for them in the meantime.”
With the growing number of young Scouts lining up at the pass-through window waiting for more plates of pancakes to serve, Isaac had to admit that he could use another hand. He studied her slender, strong fingers knotting the apron strings in front of her flat stomach. He just wasn’t quite sure he was ready for her hands.
Isaac cleared his throat. “Thanks for offering, but I’m sure one of the kids’ parents can come back here and help us.”
“I am one of the parents,” she replied, and Isaac’s heart slammed into his rib cage.
“Huh?” He must’ve looked as confused as he felt because Hannah rolled her eyes and jerked a thumb toward the dining area.
“My son’s a Cub Scout and his entire den is out there right now, wondering if these pancakes are going to cook themselves.”
* * *
“You have a son
?”
Hannah could see Isaac Jones’s hazel eyes shifting back and forth as his brain made calculations. She hadn’t seen the man in ten years—since before he became a man, really—but some habits were hard to break and she could clearly see that his penchant for jumping to wrong conclusions was one of them. “Yes. His name is Samuel.”
“Is he...? I mean, uh...how old is your...um, son?” Isaac stammered. No doubt that he was expecting the age to coincide with the date they’d last been together and Hannah wondered if the guy’s ego knew no bounds.
Of course, with those wide shoulders and that perfectly warm brownskin with bronze undertones, he was definitely handsome enough to have an ego.
Instead of answering, though, she focused her trembling hands on the task of opening up the only box of pancake mix she could find and dumping it into a stainless steel bowl. After the way Isaac had once broken her trust and her heart, he didn’t even deserve to ask her about the weather, let alone such a personal question.
But her enjoyment at letting him squirm was short-lived because Sammy came into the kitchen at that exact moment. Hannah’s heart melted at her six-year-old’s hesitant steps and his round, wide eyes under the stiff blue cap. Straightening his gold neckerchief, she quietly asked, “How’s it going out there?”
Sammy tugged at her apron and Hannah bent down so she could hear his whispery, soft voice. “Those people sure eat a lot.”
“I know.” Hannah stroked a hand along the boy’s smooth ebony cheek. She’d read all the books and talked to countless other families about the transitioning effects of cross-cultural adoptions and children relocating overseas, especially for a child who had spent most of his life in a village orphanage in Ghana until he’d moved into a small cottage on the same premises with Hannah. “But don’t worry. We will have plenty of food for everyone. Do you want to help me mix up more pancakes?”
A Ranger For Christmas (Linda Lael Miller Presents; Men 0f The West Book 40) Page 20
