Sugar Pine Trail--A Small-Town Holiday Romance

by RaeAnne Thayne

  “I’m very glad to hear you’re enjoying yourself. I hope this means you’ll come visit us again.”

  “Maybe,” she answered, though she couldn’t imagine when she would. What would possibly bring her to Hope’s Crossing again? This was a one-time visit only. The realization made her throat ache, but she quickly swallowed the sadness. Tonight everyone had come together to celebrate and support a good cause. For her, it was a once-in-a-lifetime experience, and she wouldn’t ruin it by being maudlin.

  “I heard things are going well with those boys you took in. I’m so glad. Makes my heart happy to hear, it does. What a good thing you’ve done there, my dear.”

  She glowed at his approbation. “Someone needed to. I’m glad I was in the right place to find out what was going on.”

  They talked about the boys a little and about their mother and the hurdles she faced.

  “You know, Spencer and Charlotte don’t just provide services to those who are scarred or have lost limbs. They also open their program to those whose injuries aren’t as easy to see. Make sure their mother knows about this place. It might be just the thing for her, when she begins to heal,” Dermot said.

  “I’ll do that.”

  They lapsed into a comfortable silence as he twirled her around the dance floor. At one point, they danced past Jamie, who stood talking with his brothers. He was watching her with an intense look in his eyes that made her blush and remember those silly, spontaneous, wonderful kisses on the ski slopes earlier.

  “I worry for my Jamie.”

  She felt her face heat more. She didn’t want to talk about Jamie with his father. She really didn’t. But how could she avoid it, when he brought it up? Perhaps Dermot would have insight into some of the mysteries surrounding his son.

  “Why is that?”

  “He’s a good boy who feels things deeply. He always has been. Of all my children, I think he had the hardest time, after his mother’s death. One might think that dubious distinction would go to Charlotte, her being so close to her mother and all, not to mention being the only girl. But Jamie. He struggled mightily. It didn’t help that...”

  He cut off his sentence with a rather guilty look over at his sons.

  “Didn’t help that what?”

  Dermot pressed his lips together. “Jamie was dealing with...other problems around the same time. It was a heavy burden for a lad. Suffice it to say, I worried for him then, and I worry for him now. He’s not happy being alone. He might tell himself otherwise, but a father knows these things.”

  She wasn’t completely sure she agreed with him. If he really wasn’t happy, Jamie had the power to change his life.

  Just as she did.

  The realization seemed sobering and enlightening at the same time. She was the only one keeping herself from living the life she dreamed. If she was tired of living her humdrum existence, she could change things.

  “You should tell him that,” she said.

  “I have. Why would he listen to me? I’m only his father, the one who has loved him since he was no bigger than a hedgehog. We used to call him hedgehog, actually. He had the thickest hair you’ve ever seen, dark and bristling, just like the cutest little hedgehog. He was a stubborn one, too. You should hear the stories I could tell.”

  “Yes, please,” she said promptly, which made him laugh and immediately launch into one.

  * * *

  “POP SEEMS TO be working his usual magic,” Dylan drawled.

  Jamie followed his brother’s gaze to where their father was spinning a laughing Julia around the dance floor. The fairy lights overhead glinted in her soft brown hair, and her eyes sparkled. Even from here, he could see their stunning color and the roses in her cheeks.

  She took his breath away, all dressed up and elegant. He had known she was lovely in her quiet way. Tonight, Julia simply glowed.

  She fit in perfectly with his family. The Caines could be overwhelming for anyone, but Julia took all his brothers’ teasing in stride and even gave some back. And his sister and sisters-in-law had drawn her into their ranks as if she were one of them.

  Now, as he watched her dance with Dermot, he couldn’t shake the unsettling feeling that she belonged here.

  Not necessarily here in Hope’s Crossing, but here among most of the people he loved.

  “I was just about to find her and ask her to dance,” he said with a halfhearted pout. “Maybe Pop ought to find his own girl. Where is Katherine, anyway?”

  Dylan pointed to their stepmother, who was in a corner talking with friends.

  “You could always cut in,” Drew suggested. “Maybe she’s tired of Pop’s blarney and could use a break. The man hasn’t stopped talking all night.”

  “That is an excellent idea,” Jamie said. Already imagining Julia’s soft, curvy body pressed closely to his, he pivoted to head toward them, but Brendan came over before he could step away. The former NFL football player had always been fast on his feet and deadly at the unexpected block.

  “That was quite a display out on the slopes today.”

  Was it his imagination or did his brother look disapproving?

  Jamie bristled. “Don’t know you’re talking about,” he lied.

  Brendan didn’t answer him directly. Instead, his gaze also found Pop dancing with Julia. “She seems like a very nice woman.”

  “She must be, to take in those cute kids.” Dylan added his two cents. “Not to mention, to put up with you living upstairs.”

  Jamie knew his brothers well. Brendan clearly had come over armed with an agenda.

  “She is very nice.” What the hell else could he say?

  “Not your usual type, though,” Brendan observed.

  “I wasn’t aware I had a type,” he said stiffly. “And are you implying the other women I’ve dated aren’t nice?”

  “Who can tell? There have been so many of them. We never really had a chance to find out.”

  Brendan’s easygoing words belied the steel in his gaze. Jamie’s fist curled, then relaxed. He wouldn’t cause a scene at Charlotte’s gala. She would never forgive any of them.

  Anyway, he couldn’t argue either point with Bren. He liked women...and Julia wasn’t his type. She was worlds away from the casual, fun-loving kind of women who didn’t take any effort on his part.

  “I only wanted to make sure you know what you’re doing here,” Brendan said. “Julia seems very nice, and I would hate to see her hurt.”

  Jamie’s fist curled again. They could always take it outside. Char didn’t have to know...

  She would find out, though, and so would Pop—not to mention Lucy, Brendan’s wife and their hostess at the inn. Jamie would probably take the blame and would never hear the end of it.

  “Julia is my friend. I brought her here so the boys could go skiing and so she could be my date tonight while we hobnob with a few athletes and celebrities. That’s all there is to it.”

  “Is it?” Brendan looked clearly skeptical, and Jamie supposed he really couldn’t blame him. There was a high likelihood his entirely too observant brother had seen one or two of those lighthearted, delicious kisses on the ski slopes that afternoon.

  The memory made something inside him ache, especially since he realized too well that Bren was right. He was dragging both of them too close to the edge. He couldn’t have things both ways. If he wanted to be friends with Julia, to help her check off all the bucket-list items on the paper he had found, Jamie had to back off with the flirtatious stuff that came to him as naturally and mindlessly as swallowing.

  He cared about her. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her.

  “That’s all,” he said firmly, hoping to remind himself, too. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go grab a drink.”

  He hurried away from his brothers, feeling
guilty and small and wishing on some level that he had never brought her to Hope’s Crossing.

  * * *

  “THANK YOU, MY DEAR. You are a lovely dancer.”

  Julia smiled at Dermot Caine as the music ended, quite sure the pink in her cheeks was clashing terribly with the mauve of her dress. “It was truly my pleasure.”

  Jamie’s father was delightful, full of wry observations, insightful comments, funny stories.

  Out of the corner of her gaze she caught Jamie heading to the bar, though the view was marred by a stray lock of hair that shouldn’t have been loose, and she realized that as Dermot had whirled her around, a few strands of hair somehow had escaped her updo.

  Her social anxieties reared their ugly heads. She probably looked ridiculous, with messy hair and a borrowed dress.

  She needed to get over herself. She could fix her hair. It wasn’t the end of the world. And Jamie and his father—as well as Charlotte and all her friends—had complimented Julia on the dress. “Will you excuse me, Mr. Caine? I should find the ladies’ room and do what I can to fix this hair and my lipstick.”

  “Of course, of course. I’ll escort you there.”

  “I’m sure I can find it.”

  “Just through the main doors and down the hall to the right.”

  With that Irish accent, she could listen to him all night, even when he was simply giving directions to the restroom.

  “Thank you,” she said with one last smile, then made her way out of the ballroom.

  The Silver Strike lodge was beautiful, the height of Western elegance. Even the ladies’ room was lovely, with gleaming wood and copper accents.

  After fixing her hair and repairing her lipstick, Julia washed her hands and was drying them under hot jets when another woman entered the room. In the mirror, Julia saw she had dyed blond hair and a dress that was pretty, if a little on the tight side. Instead of going into one of the stalls or toward the mirror, she stood directly in Julia’s path.

  “Did I see you come in with Jamie Caine?”

  “I...yes,” she answered, taken aback. What business was it of this woman’s?

  “Are you his girlfriend?” the stranger demanded. Her features were tight, her words a little slurred on the last consonants.

  “No. We’re merely friends.” She did her best to inject a firm note in her voice, trying not to think about those heated kisses on the slopes. Maybe if she said it often enough, she might be able to convince herself.

  “Good. If I were you, I would make sure you keep it that way.”

  Was that a threat or a warning? She couldn’t quite tell and had no idea how to respond—or how to handle this strange interaction at all. Her instincts told her to just walk away, but the woman stood between her and the door, blocking her way.

  “Jamie Caine doesn’t care who he hurts. Just ask my baby sister.” She wiped a hand through her hair, sudden tears spilling down her cheeks. “Oh wait, you can’t, because she’s dead.”

  Julia swallowed her shock and dismay. Who was this stranger, and why was she confronting her? She had no idea how to respond. “I’m sorry.”

  Now the woman’s trickle of tears became a full-on deluge. “Lisa would have been thirty-five this year,” she sniffled. “Five years younger than me. She was so beautiful. You should have seen her! Prettier than anybody else in there. By now she would have been married and maybe had children. She might have gone on to be a nurse, like she always wanted. She had dreams and goals. Ambition. Instead, she never made it past nineteen years old. Thanks to Jamie Caine.”

  She said his name like a vile curse word, spitting it out with so much disgust, Julia felt sick.

  “I don’t—” she began, not sure what she intended to say, only that she felt she must say something.

  “He’ll do the same to you. Just watch. If you’re not careful, he’ll leave you broken, just like he left my baby sister. He doesn’t care about you or your feelings. He uses and he uses and he uses. Are you hearing me?”

  Before Julia could come up with a reply, another woman came into the bathroom. This was someone whose name she remembered, Claire McKnight, a good friend of Jamie’s sister.

  She must have summed up the situation in a moment. She gave Julia a quick look of apology and empathy, then turned to the other woman. “Marla. What’s the matter, honey?”

  The woman looked disoriented at the interruption and at the question. “She’s gone. He’s here and she’s gone. My baby sister.”

  Claire, whom Julia had already noticed seemed to be maternal and kind, put a comforting arm around Marla’s shoulder. “How much have you had to drink, honey? Why don’t we go find your husband?”

  The woman sobbed into her shoulder and Claire made a little I-got-this gesture with her finger for Julia to go.

  She wondered if she should stay and help, yet Claire seemed to have the situation in hand. Julia had a feeling her presence there as Jamie’s date would only exacerbate the situation.

  “Sorry,” Claire mouthed to her as Julia slipped out the door.

  She returned to the gala. The lights were still as glittery, the trees as beautifully decorated, but the evening had lost its magic. Suddenly, she only wanted to go home.

  * * *

  WHAT HAD HAPPENED? Julia was upset, but Jamie couldn’t put his finger on exactly why.

  He had been so looking forward to dancing with her, to holding her in his arms at last and seeing her eyes sparkle in the fairy lights.

  Instead, the smiling, lively woman who’d laughed and joked with his father seemed to have disappeared, replaced by a stiff, disapproving librarian who didn’t meet his gaze and who spoke to him in monosyllables.

  What had he done? He racked his brain but couldn’t think of anything so terribly egregious. Maybe she was annoyed at him for kissing her so often while they skied. She hadn’t acted annoyed, but maybe he wasn’t as great a judge of women as he thought.

  He only knew it was clear she was no longer enjoying herself.

  What happened?

  “Are you ready to leave?” he finally asked. The last thing he wanted to do was torture the woman by keeping her at the gala longer, if she was miserable.

  At last she met his gaze, and he winced inwardly at the relief in her eyes. “We probably should. The boys might be wondering where we are.”

  He doubted that. They were probably either asleep or having the time of their lives staying up late back at Wild Iris House with Bren and Lucy’s kids, under the watchful eye of his niece, Maggie.

  “I’ll grab your coat and have the valet bring the car around,” he said.

  “Thank you. I’ll say my goodbyes to your family.”

  Did she mean that to sound so terribly final? She would see them again. He was certain of it. Eliza would no doubt invite her to her frequent parties at Snow Angel Cove, especially now that all the women in his family had come to know and adore her, too.

  She was subdued when he brought her coat over, though she smiled as she gave one more hug to Lucy and Genevieve before offering a last goodbye and hurrying out of the gala.

  Snowflakes swirled around their vehicle as he helped her into the passenger seat, then climbed in himself and drove away from the Silver Strike Lodge. Julia said little. She sat beside him, her hands tightly laced together on her lap and her gaze fixed out the window as if the lightly falling snow was the most interesting thing she had ever witnessed.

  A jazz station on the stereo softly played a familiar Christmas carol, but Jamie didn’t enjoy a moment of it. They were nearly out of the canyon before he finally broke the silence.

  “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong, or will you make me guess?”

  He didn’t want to ask but he hated this awkward tension between them more than he dreaded her answer.

 
; She blinked at his directness, clearly not expecting it.

  “I’m... I’m sorry. I had a...troubling conversation with someone earlier, and I can’t seem to shake it.”

  He frowned. “Was someone at the gala bothering you? Some of those celebrities Spence brings in for this event can be arrogant jerks, especially when they spy a beautiful woman who appears to be on her own.”

  He wasn’t sure why she looked so startled. Did it shock her that he called her beautiful? She was, inside and out. It was about damn time someone convinced her of that.

  “No. It...wasn’t a celebrity.”

  She didn’t seem inclined to say more, and he wondered how much he should probe. If she wanted to tell him, she would. After a long moment, she sighed. “I suppose I should come right out and ask you, instead of fretting about it.”

  “The straight course is usually a good way to plot a flight path.” Barring headwinds, thunderstorms and weird air currents, anyway.

  “All right.” She drew in a breath. “Who is Lisa, and what happened to her?”

  The tension inside the vehicle suddenly ratcheted to fever pitch.

  Lisa.

  He remembered a pretty cheerleader and the rush of first love and the overpowering guilt of his failures.

  “You spoke with Marla.” It was a question, not a statement. He had spied Marla Ellison at the gala, usually at the bar, glaring at him whenever she had the chance. He should have expected she would be there, since she did some administrative work at the community center where most of the Warrior’s Hope activities were held. He also should have suspected she might confront anyone close to him. That was not exactly out of the ordinary behavior.

  “She cornered me in the ladies’ room and warned me to stay away from you.”

  That must have been when Julia’s mood changed, when the light in her eyes seemed to go dim.

  What had Marla told her? He could only imagine. The truth, most likely. That was more than enough.

  “Probably advice you would do well to follow.”