by Janet Dailey
Behind her, Shane was silent—too silent, Kylie realized. Was something wrong?
“Won’t you come in, Shane?” Muriel asked. “I can rustle you up some leftovers if you’re hungry.”
“I need to be going.” His voice was flat, almost cold. “Good night and have a merry Christmas tomorrow.”
Muriel stood looking after him as the truck roared out of the gate. “Now what was that all about?” she mused. “He acted as if he couldn’t wait to get out of here.”
Kylie glanced down at her wedding ring. Chilled by the night air, it felt cold and heavy against her skin. She twisted it around her finger, wondering as her mind circled the truth.
Why had Shane left so suddenly?
Was it because of her?
Was it because, in an instant’s thoughtless act, she’d already given him the answer he was waiting to hear?
I know you’re still mourning your husband, Kylie . . .
Shane’s words came back to her as she stood on the back porch, the cold wind chilling her face. Tonight Shane had swallowed his pride and laid it all on the line, offering to put off his long-held dream for the chance to build a life with her and her children.
What had it taken for him to make that offer—how much soul-searching, how much sacrifice? He hadn’t told her he loved her, but surely there’d been love behind every word he’d spoken.
She should have accepted his offer right then. Instead she’d hesitated. Then minutes later, like the fool she was, she’d exclaimed over her recovered ring and put it right back on her finger.
No wonder Shane had left so abruptly. As far as he was concerned, he had his answer, and he was finished with her. She would never again feel his arms around her, never again know his kisses. And she would never know the life they might’ve had together.
“You’re shivering,” Muriel said. “Let’s go inside. You must be half frozen. What happened to your car?”
“It just . . . wouldn’t start. I should never have driven it into town.” At least the second part was true. She hated lying to Muriel. Maybe later she’d tell her the truth. But right now all she wanted was to forget tonight had ever happened.
“Are you hungry? I can warm you up some dinner.”
Kylie shook her head. “Thanks, but I’m too tired to eat. I just want to relax and get warm. Thanks for getting my children through Christmas Eve.”
Muriel pulled her close in a hug. “Don’t worry, dear. I know things don’t look so good now. But everything will come right in the end. You’ll see.”
Kylie gazed past the old woman’s shoulder at the forlorn silver tree and the bare floor beneath it. Muriel’s words were meant to cheer her. But she’d stopped believing in Santa a long time ago.
Chapter Twelve
Shane tapped the brake, easing the truck to a stop on the snowy road. A wide-eyed doe and her gangly half-grown fawn stood frozen in his headlights, too startled to move. He watched them a few seconds before his light rap on the horn sent them bounding into a roadside thicket. Shifting down, he drove on toward home. He could only hope the deer were finding enough to eat on this cold Christmas Eve.
For him, spending the holiday alone would be nothing new. This year he’d hoped to have more exciting plans. But Kylie had made her message clear when she’d slipped that ring back on her finger. She still thought of herself as a married woman, and her war hero husband was still the man in her life.
Getting over her would take time. Her beauty, courage, and womanly spunk had crept into his heart and now refused to leave. The mental picture of her sneaking into the cemetery with a saw to cut down a Christmas tree made his mouth twitch in a wistful smile.
It was a good thing he hadn’t told her he loved her. If he had, the blow to his masculine pride would have been too much to stand. At least he’d been able to make a dignified exit.
But it wasn’t just Kylie who’d invaded his heart. Her children had found a place there, too. He remembered Hunter hiding from the bikers, then calling him “Dad” as they left the café. And he remembered Amy, her innocent little smile as she stole out of the shed after hiding the bike’s front axle.
“It’s not fair!” Amy’s cry of complaint echoed in his memory. And it wasn’t fair. Those two great kids had been through a rough time, losing their father, losing their house, and being uprooted from their schools and friends to this cold, lonely place that was nothing like home.
They deserved far better than the Christmas they were getting. But for all their mother’s desperate efforts, they would wake up tomorrow to an ugly tinfoil tree with no presents underneath. That, along with the memory of happier Christmases with their father, would make for a sad, dreary day.
Kylie had given it her all, but nothing had worked out as she’d hoped. Now, with Christmas morning hours away, she’d run out of options.
But had he?
As Shane turned in the gate to his ranch, an idea struck him—an idea crazy enough to make him wonder if he was losing his mind.
Why not? he asked himself. Maybe he wasn’t the man for Kylie. But he cared deeply about her and about her children. Before he started packing to leave, he would give them a bang-up Christmas, one they would never forget.
Most of what he needed he already had. And what he didn’t have he could borrow from Abner Jenkins, his neighbor to the north.
Could he really do this? But there was no time to answer that question. The plan he had in mind would take hours of work to carry out. He needed to get started now.
Stopping the truck in front of his house, he reached for his cell phone and made a call.
Amy and Hunter had hung their traditional Christmas stockings by the fireplace. Kylie filled them with the candy and trinkets she’d bought at Shop Mart. Better than nothing, she thought, but not by much.
She’d used the tracking app on her phone to check the progress of the missing package. The message that came up: Delivery delayed by weather. We apologize for any inconvenience.
“Inconvenience” didn’t begin to cover it.
Muriel had said that Christmas shouldn’t be about gifts, but try telling that to an unhappy pair of kids who were used to getting what they wished for.
Muriel had long since gone to bed. The children, too, had been asleep when she’d last looked in on them. Kylie was alone in the parlor with the dying fire and the sad silver Christmas tree. Sinking onto the couch, she buried her face in her hands.
She’d knocked herself out, trying to provide a good Christmas for her children, but nothing had worked. The presents were still AWOL, and her efforts to get a real tree had landed her in jail. If Shane hadn’t shown up and bailed her out, she’d still be behind bars, sharing Hawaiian pizza with Francine and the deputies.
She remembered Shane’s soul-searing kiss and his offer to put off leaving while they tested their relationship. Saying what he’d said couldn’t have been easy. He’d put his heart on the line and invited her to two-step on it.
What had she done?
By the time he got her home tonight, she’d been too tired to think straight. When Muriel held out the ring, it had seemed the most natural thing in the world to slip it back on her finger. Only after it was too late did she understand the message her gesture had sent Shane.
Shane Taggart was a proud man. After what she’d done to his male ego, she couldn’t imagine he’d give her—or any woman—a second chance. There was nothing to do but face the truth. Whatever future they might’ve had, she’d just blown it out of the sky.
December 25
The mantel clock struck twelve midnight. It was Christmas—the first minute of a day Kylie already wished to be over. Rising off the couch, she yawned, unplugged the tree lights, and headed upstairs to bed.
On the way down the upstairs hall, she paused to check on her children. Hunter and Amy were sleeping soundly, both too old to dream of sugarplums. They’d already learned how life can hurt and disappoint you, even when you don’t deserve it.
In her room, she switched on the bedside lamp, peeled off her clothes, and slipped her warm nightgown over her head. Brad’s silver-framed picture sat on the nightstand. He’d been photographed in uniform. With his beret and his medals, he looked every inch the perfect officer. But his eyes were the eyes a nineteen-year-old girl had fallen in love with. She would always see him in her children’s faces and hold him in her heart. But as she sat on the edge of the bed, looking at that handsome, stubborn face, something told Kylie it was time to say good-bye.
She wasn’t doing this for Shane, she told herself. She couldn’t assume Shane would ever forgive her. Most likely, he would go away and never come back. But he had opened her to the sweet roller-coaster thrill of loving again. It was a precious gift—a gift that had set her free to move on with her life. Whatever happened, she would always be grateful.
Blinking away a tear, she rose, walked to the dresser, and opened her jewelry box. Sliding the gold band off her finger, she slipped it into a tiny silk bag and laid it in a hidden compartment of the box. She would save it—perhaps for Hunter to give to the girl he would marry one day. But she would never wear it again.
It was time to put Brad’s picture away as well. Kylie wrapped it in the silk scarf he’d sent her for her birthday and tucked it into the bottom dresser drawer. That done, she turned down the bed, slid between the sheets, and lay sleepless as the early dawn of Christmas crept around her.
The children would notice that Brad’s picture was missing and that she wasn’t wearing her ring. But something told her they would understand.
Still on his feet, Shane stood by the kitchen counter, gulping down a second cup of coffee. Glimpsed through the west window, a streak of dark sky was fading to gunmetal gray above the flatland. He’d been up all night, working so hard in the bitter cold that he ached in every bone, joint, and muscle. But the surprise he’d prepared was almost ready.
Abner Jenkins had been glad to lend him what he needed. As for the rest, his mother had left boxes of lights, tinsel, and ornaments in the attic—enough to decorate a forest, as his father had always said. Shane had used everything he found.
It was early still, and he was so tired he could barely stay awake. But if he tried to rest, he might nod off and sleep through the morning. Best to stay awake and get an early start on the chores.
By now, the path through the snow to the barn was well trampled. Inside, Abner’s two big gray Percherons, which their owner used to pull the sleigh in the Christmas parade, were munching hay in the spare stalls, where Shane had put them last night. He gave them fresh water and poured them some oats before tending to his own horses. Then he scattered grain for the chickens and gathered the eggs in a wire basket. As he neared the stall where he’d set up the puppy box, Sheila trotted out to greet him. Crouching in the straw, Shane stroked her beautiful head. “How about it, girl?” he murmured. “Are you anxious to go out and play?”
Sheila thumped her tail. Now that her pups were weaned, one of them already gone, she was getting restless. When he was done in the barn, he would let her outside for a romp in the snow. Days from now, he would take her to the vet and have her spayed. Then, as promised, she would go to young Carl.
Even though he knew she’d have a loving home, Shane would miss Sheila when he was gone. He would miss many things about this place—the sunrise over the high plain, the sound of birdcalls in the morning, the hay fields in summer, and the warm, clean smell of the barn when he came in to do winter chores. He would miss the clear view of the stars at night and the friendliness of his neighbors.
He would miss Muriel and Henry, the closest thing he had to family now. He would miss Kylie’s children and the life he might have had with their mother. He had loved Kylie. He would love her for a long time to come. But it was time to move on.
Tomorrow he would go online and start looking for motorcycle parts. If he couldn’t find the right ones, he’d be shopping for a new bike to take on the road.
The three pups were curled up in a corner of the big wooden box. They woke, yipped, and came running as Shane poured puppy chow into their bowl. The little females dived into their food, scattering kibble in all directions. Mickey took a few bites, then sat looking up at Shane as if expecting some attention.
Shane scooped him up with one big hand and snuggled the little dog against his chest. His small body was all wiggles and quivers as he thrust upward to lick the rough stubble on Shane’s chin.
Shane couldn’t help remembering the pup’s father. Mick had been the perfect dog: smart, devoted, and fearless. He’d loved riding the country roads perched on the backseat of Shane’s bike, his nose resting on Shane’s shoulder, eyes closed, nostrils drinking the wind. Little Mickey’s blue and brown markings were identical to his father’s. He had the same alert look and calm manner. He was Mick’s last son. But he wasn’t Mick. Expecting him to be exactly the same would be unfair, even cruel.
Lifting the pup, Shane kissed the satiny head and looked into the melting caramel eyes. “What are you trying to tell me, boy?” he murmured. “If you could talk, what would you have to say about wanting to be a motorcycle dog like your old man?”
Mickey licked Shane’s nose with his warm little pink tongue.
“Something tells me you and I need to have a conversation.” Shane set the pup back in the box to munch up the scattered kibble. “To be continued,” he said. Then he whistled for Sheila, found her favorite red ball, and let her outside to play in the snow.
“I was hoping Shane would come by this morning.” Muriel glanced up from the bacon she was tending on the stove. “He knew he was invited for breakfast.”
Kylie kept quiet as she poured orange juice into the glasses and set them on the table by the plates. She knew Shane wouldn’t be here for breakfast, and she knew why. But the less said about it, the better.
“You’ve taken off your ring, I see,” Muriel said.
“Yes, I’ve put it away for safekeeping. I didn’t want to take a chance on losing it again.” It was, at least, a half-truth.
“A very good idea, dear.” Muriel scooped the bacon onto a tin pie plate, put it in the oven to warm with the biscuits, and began cracking eggs into the skillet. From the parlor came the sound of early-morning Christmas cartoons on TV. Hunter and Amy had been up long enough to get dressed, empty their stockings, and open the warm woolen scarves Muriel had crocheted and wrapped for them. The children were trying to be good sports about the missing presents. But Kylie could see the disappointment in their eyes. This was nothing like the Christmas she’d hoped to give them.
“That smells mighty good, Muriel.” Henry had come in the back door with a long, clumsily giftwrapped bundle under his arm. “This is for you.”
Muriel’s face lit up. “Thank you, Henry. You can put it under the tree for now. I have something for you, too, but breakfast is almost ready. Would you let the children know?”
With the TV turned off and platters of bacon, eggs, golden biscuits, and homemade strawberry jam on the table, they sat down and joined hands for the blessing on the food. Shane’s usual chair was painfully empty. Kylie felt his absence as she reached across the space to join hands with her son. At least she and her children were safe, healthy, and together this Christmas, she reminded herself. That was reason enough to be thankful.
She remembered last night’s talk with Francine in the jail. She couldn’t even imagine how heartbreaking it would have been, holding a baby and knowing it would be for the last time. Francine had been right. This Christmas would pass, and maybe they would learn some lessons of gratitude for the blessings of a warm roof over their heads, good food to eat, and the love of family.
“Why isn’t Shane here?” Amy gazed at the empty chair with her big, sad eyes. “Last night he told us he was coming.”
“Running a ranch is a lot of work.” Kylie didn’t want to lie, but no one at the table was ready to hear the truth. “Maybe he’s busy taking care of his animals.”
“But if he
knew he’d be busy, why did he promise to be here?” Amy demanded. “What if something’s happened to him?”
“Let’s give him a little more time, Amy. I heard him promise, too, and Cowboy always keeps his word. It could be he’s just slow.” Muriel’s eyes held a flicker of mystery, almost as if she knew something the others didn’t.
“I’m getting worried, too,” Hunter said. “If he’s not here by the time we’re done eating, maybe we ought to phone him.”
Kylie’s gaze was fixed on her plate, as she nibbled food for which she had no appetite. If Shane didn’t show up, her children would have one more disappointment to deal with—and it would be all her fault.
They’d almost finished eating when Amy jumped out of her chair. “I hear horses! And jingle bells!” she exclaimed, running to the front window. “Mom! Hunter! Come and look! It’s Santa!”
Catching her excitement, everyone at the table got up and rushed out to the front porch. Coming in through the gate was an honest-to-goodness sleigh drawn by two massive gray horses, with brass bells gleaming on their harnesses. In the driver’s seat was a lanky figure dressed in a baggy red Santa suit, topped by a familiar black felt Stetson.
Kylie’s breath caught. Tears sprang to her eyes. It was Shane.
Pulling the team up to the front of the house, he tipped his hat. “Is anybody here up for a sleigh ride?”
“Me!” Amy bounced up and down.
“And me!” Hunter raced inside to get his coat, with Amy right behind him.
“Anybody else?” Shane surveyed the three adults on the porch, his gaze meeting Kylie’s for no more than a flicker. Close-up he looked as if he hadn’t slept all night. His eyes were sunk in shadow. His cheeks showed an unshaven growth of black stubble. How much time and work had it taken him to prepare this surprise for her children?
