High Country Christmas

by Cynthia Thomason

  Was he willing to do what had to be done to repair the relationship with his daughter? She hoped so, but it was too soon to tell, and she didn’t relish the thought of working so closely with him. She’d only kept their past a secret from him for twenty-four hours and he’d figured it out. Could he also tell that she was keeping an even bigger secret?

  He stood and pointed at the money on the table. “That should cover your coffee.”

  “Noah, wait.”

  He grabbed his leather jacket from the back of the chair and hung it over his arm. He didn’t say anything, just stood there waiting.

  Why had she stopped him? What had she intended to say? She didn’t know, but she didn’t want him to leave after confessing to the problems he dealt with every day with Sawyer. She wanted him to know that there was hope for any relationship if feelings were genuine and both parties were open and honest. But she was just an administrator. Her skills were in the field of organization and decision making. She wasn’t trained to help families with deep emotional trauma. But she wanted to help this family.

  After an uncomfortable silence, she said, “What are your plans now? Are you going back to Chapel Hill?”

  “Nope. I’m sticking around. Took a few days off work and arranged for a stay at...of all places...the Hummingbird Inn across the street. Cute.”

  “What do you hope to accomplish?”

  “Who knows? Maybe something. Maybe nothing.” His eyes narrowed. “Nothing against you, Miss Ava, but I’m going to be here for a while just in case.”

  Was he saying he didn’t trust her to take care of his daughter? “Just in case what?”

  He shook his head. “Boy, are there a lot of answers to that question. Nice running into you again, Ava. Who would have thought...? Oh, wait, to be honest, I thought about it a lot.” He turned away, and with a strong and purposeful stride, headed to the door. He nearly bumped into Jace coming inside.

  Jace ambled over to the table, one eye on Ava, the other on the retreating figure of Noah. “Am I misreading this situation or did that guy with the leather jacket and Harley-Davidson boots just get up from your table?”

  “About time, Jace.”

  “So who’s the guy, and is that a twinkle in your eye?”

  How wrong he was. If anything, the twinkle was a telltale tear about—well, any number of things. “It is not,” she said. “I just squeezed some lemon into my water and a drop squirted onto my face.” She blinked to prove her lie.

  “So does he have an actual motorcycle to go with his bad boy outfit?”

  Ava described the noisy, large, black motorcycle that pulled up in front of her office the day before.

  “Lots of chrome?” Jace asked.

  “I don’t know. Does it matter?”

  “Only that at one time in my wasted youth I might have idolized this fella.” Jace took a seat. “So what’s the connection between you and Bad Bart?”

  Ava scowled at him. “His name is Noah Walsh, and our connection is a business one. We have a mutual concern about a resident at the home.”

  Jace paused as he considered what she’d told him. “Could that be the breaking and entering criminal who showed up the night before last?”

  “Carter told you? I’m not surprised.”

  “We’re your brothers, Ava. You hardly ever need our help but we can’t stop watching out for you.”

  “The cross I have to bear.”

  He smiled.

  “Yes. Noah is her father.”

  Wanting to get away from the topic as quickly as possible, Ava opted for a new subject. “How are Nathan and Kayla?”

  Jace’s smile broadened. “My son is fine. Getting good grades, something I never did, and making friends, something I did too much of. As for Kayla, she can’t wait for the next three and a half weeks to fly by so she can make an honest man out of me.”

  “Thank goodness for Kayla,” Ava teased. “Glad someone finally came along who had the gumption to make something of you.” Ava was only partly kidding. Jace had pretty much avoided family responsibilities for years, but since meeting Kayla and Nathan, he had decided to make their mother’s dreams come true and take over management of the family Christmas tree farm. Now he worked two jobs, one at the farm, and one at his original business, High Mountain Rafting.

  Ava signaled for a refill of her coffee mug. “How are the wedding plans coming along?” she asked her brother.

  Jace ordered a cup. “You’re asking me? I’m just the groom. The Crestview Barn is locked down as the venue and I’ve heard Mama and Kayla talking about flowers and stuff. That’s all I know. And Nathan is stoked about being my best man.” Jace chuckled. “A ten-year-old in a tux...how cool is that?”

  Jace had only recently met his child. He’d never known that the relationship he’d had in college had produced a son. He hadn’t seen the boy’s mother again, and truly never even thought about her. But as she lay dying, she asked her best friend, Kayla, to find Nathan’s father and see if a relationship could result between the two. Turns out Susan, Nathan’s mother, had strong intuition. Now the relationship had become a threesome.

  “How is Carter taking the demotion from best man to groomsman?” she asked.

  “He’s okay with it. We’ll be a small group of incredibly debonair guys at the altar, Ava. Me, Nathan, Carter and Sam McCall. Can’t have a Cahill wedding without McCall.”

  Ava couldn’t argue. She and Kayla’s best friend and one cousin would have tough competition measuring up to the groom’s side. “It will be a beautiful Christmas wedding,” she said.

  “Yeah. Don’t I hear Mama say that about every other day. I just want it to be over with.”

  “It will be in just under four weeks. Twenty-seven days and counting, Jace. You’ll officially be a husband, new father with a lot to learn, entrepreneur and Christmas tree farm operator.” Ava smiled. “Who would have thought it?”

  “Not me for a lot of years,” Jace said. “But I’m kind of liking being a tree farmer. Though I hope I’ll have a few days off after the holiday rush.”

  Ava smiled. “I think you can count on some time off, Jace. This may be your first year running the farm, but you’ll find out that people usually don’t buy trees when Christmas is over.”

  “Very funny.”

  “Now why are we here this morning?” Ava asked. “What’s going on?”

  “Okay. Well, I was just thinking. What with the wedding coming up and all, I figure it would be good to spend a little more time with our half-brother, Robert. You know he just had a birthday? He’s thirteen now.”

  “Right, I remember,” Ava said. “I have met Robert before.”

  “Just that one time,” Jace said. “He hadn’t started school then. No one but his mother could help him cope with his autism.”

  Ava would likely never forget the day she and Carter had driven to Wilton Hollow to investigate Gladys Kirshner, a woman to whom their mother, Cora, had been sending fifteen hundred dollars a month since the family’s patriarch, Raymond Cahill, died. Almost nothing Raymond had done in his life surprised his three children, but this—infidelity, a child born out of wedlock, a secret buried for over a decade. Wow. They were still reeling from the shock.

  Cora had made her husband’s debts her debts, and she’d continued his child support payments to Robert without question and without telling her three children why she’d suddenly canceled vacations and maintenance on the family home. But Ava had snooped and discovered her father’s secret family, and she and Carter had confronted Gladys about Robert’s care and the expenses their mother kept paying. At first, Gladys hadn’t been receptive, but now the two families had worked out an agreement and Robert was clearly benefiting.

  A lot had happened since then. Jace, the least likely of the three Cahill offspring to feel family empathy because of the second-rate way their dad had
treated him, had taken to Robert and had had some success in a relationship with him. Jace had gotten Robert into a great school with special education services, and Gladys had been able to go back to work part-time, giving her a chance to grow and eliminating some of the burden from Cora. But despite these strides, the two families had fundamentally remained separate. Apparently Jace wanted to change that now.

  “What are you proposing, Jace?” she asked. “Are you seriously thinking of inviting Gladys and Robert to your wedding?”

  “I am, but I’d like us all to get to know each other better before that.”

  “Jace, have you thought about how this will make Mama feel? Our family and friends will be there. Gladys and Robert will be the glaring truth that Daddy was unfaithful to Mama.”

  “I talked to her about it. Mama is okay with Robert being at the wedding.” He waited for a reaction from Ava. When she remained silent, he added, “He’s our half-brother, Ava. We can’t pretend he doesn’t exist.”

  “I would never do that, Jace. It’s just... I’m still worried about Mama.”

  “Ava, I’ve been seeing Robert every week for almost six months. Kayla and Nathan have met him. He’s been doing well at Blackthorn School. He and I relate well. The doctors all say...”

  “Okay, okay,” Ava said. “He should come to the wedding. I realize you’ve grown close to Robert, and this will be your big day. You don’t need my permission to ask Robert to your wedding if that’s why you wanted to meet me here this morning.”

  “No, that’s not why. I want Robert and Gladys to come to Mama’s for dinner this Sunday and I need to know it will be okay with you.”

  The Cahill Sunday dinner, a cherished sacrament of family ritual and warmhearted sentiment. Ava chuckled. “Well, heck, Jace, why not? You’ve gone this far. Mama said she’s tired of having turkey since Thanksgiving, so she’s planning on a big Italian meal. There should be plenty.”

  “Great.” He reached across the table and patted her hand. “I knew you’d understand. You should invite your new boyfriend, what was his name again... Harley Davidson?”

  “Noah Walsh, and he’s not my boyfriend. Can you even begin to picture me with a guy like that?” Suddenly her mind took a leap back six years when the unnatural and improbable had happened. Suddenly it wasn’t so hard to imagine Ava Cahill with a guy like that.

  Jace put some folded dollars on the table and signaled to Allie that he was done. When he started to rise, Ava said, “Wait. I was just thinking. Maybe I’ll bring someone to dinner also. Maybe I’ll bring Sawyer. She might benefit from being around a normally abnormal family.”

  Jace chuckled. “You got that right. But why stop there? Why not bring her hunky daddy along, too? I’ve noticed lately that you could use someone to talk to.”

  “You’re being ridiculous,” she said. Putting Noah and Sawyer together in a social setting could have benefits for both of them. But she simply couldn’t consider it. The less time she spent with Noah, the better. And the time she was forced to be in his company should be all about Sawyer—the child he knew about. “And besides, it isn’t a good idea,” she added.

  “Have you asked anyone to go to the wedding with you?”

  “No, and you should give up on the idea of Noah coming with me. No way could I wear that dress I’ve got and straddle the back of a motorcycle.”

  “You could be the hit of the show,” he teased.

  Ava watched her brother leave. No, Noah could not be invited to the Cahill family home. Eventually she hoped to bring her precious little Charlie to a Sunday dinner, which would add yet another branch to the Cahill family tree. But she said it often enough to counselors and parents at the school. All families are different. There is no such thing as normal anymore.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  FOR THE NEXT two nights, Ava tossed around the idea of inviting Sawyer to the Cahill home for Sunday dinner. By the time she went to her office on Wednesday morning, she’d decided that, yes, there could be positive advantages to having the girl as part of a safe and friendly family circle. She wouldn’t tell Sawyer about the plan until Saturday. That way Noah would have little opportunity to hear about the invitation that didn’t include him. She had enough to deal with just knowing he remembered their one night together.

  Did her decision not to invite Noah have anything to do with her recent memories of his piercing eyes, rumpled dark hair, ingenuous clueless nature that suggested he needed guidance in his life and relationships? Or her memories of six years ago—soft, skilled hands, toned body, charm that didn’t quit. No, of course not.

  Her decision was strictly logical. Professionally Ava was in the business of helping children. Personally, she avoided awkward and embarrassing situations, especially ones that could lead to unhappy endings.

  Ava was sitting at her desk thinking over the exact way she would propose the invitation to Sawyer when she decided to head to the children’s section of the library and visit with Charlie. She made it a point to speak to him every day, but Wednesday was when his kindergarten class went to the library and the boy seemed comfortable there. With a book in his hand he almost appeared like a child who hadn’t had his world turned upside down.

  Someday this will all be different, Ava thought as she walked the brick pathway to the library. Charlie will come to her with confidence and trust and, if she were lucky, maybe even love.

  She spotted him across the room. He looked, well, precious, the one word that always came easily to Ava’s mind. In jeans, perhaps a size too large, and a Sawtooth Home T-shirt, with his jacket hanging over the back of a chair, and his dark hair sticking out every which way from the wind, he was the boy she longed to hold and to love.

  “Hello, Charlie,” she said, giving him her best smile. “It’s so nice to see you.”

  He looked up, kept the book open on his lap. “Hello, Miss Ava.”

  “What are you reading?”

  He showed her the cover of the book. Cheerful Randolph the Rabbit, wearing a bib and holding a fork sat amidst a mound of carrots. A good day for Randolph, and Ava hoped also a good day for Charlie.

  Charlie’s hair, dark but slightly lighter than Ava’s, settled stick straight to his eyebrows. Both of them had been blessed with thick hair, though neither had the blessing of soft, silky waves. But Charlie’s father... Don’t go there, Ava.

  “Can I sit with you for a moment, sweetheart?” she said, not the least uncomfortable using a term of endearment. This traumatized child needed attention, love, caring, regardless of the fact that he was Ava’s own son.

  Her gaze stayed on Charlie’s face, especially his sad, round blue eyes. What she would give to see that sadness replaced with the natural exuberance of childhood. Children should be happy, always looking forward, not backward. But Charlie had a long way to go before his innocent vision could see anything but loneliness and fear, the benchmarks of his traumatic past. A tragic plane accident had claimed the lives of the two people Ava had entrusted with the privilege of raising her son, and now he was alone.

  Ava settled on a plump pillow next to Charlie. “How is everything in your kindergarten class?” she asked him.

  “Okay.”

  “You still like Mrs. Cramer?”

  “Sure.”

  “Everything okay in your cottage?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I look forward to our visits on Wednesday, Charlie. Is there anything you’d like to talk about?”

  “No.”

  “Can I do anything for you?” For once, she hoped he would think of something. Her conversations with him were so similar. He was okay, he needed nothing, he was doing well... Ava knew it wasn’t true.

  He sat forward in his chair. “There is one thing, Miss Ava.”

  A chance to help her son. Ava was beyond encouraged. “I’d be happy to help if I can,” she said. “What is it?”

>   “Do you think I could get my very own soccer ball?”

  “You want a soccer ball?” She would have lassoed the moon and painted it with black stripes if she’d thought it would bring a smile to her son’s face. “Don’t you have sports equipment in your cottage?”

  “We do, but the bigger kids play with the ball, and I never get a chance to kick it. If I had my own, I could practice.”

  “Then I shall see that you have a soccer ball, sweetie, just as soon as I can find a really good one.”

  “Okay.”

  She started to ask another question, but was interrupted by another Sawtooth Home resident approaching. “Sawyer,” Ava said, surprised to see the teen in the library at the youngest ones’ special time. Something must have happened, and it wasn’t good.

  She spoke softly to Charlie. “You know Sawyer, right? She’s in your cottage.”

  “I know her, but she doesn’t use the soccer ball.”

  Ava smiled. Sawyer came forward, handed a note to Ava and stood with her arms crossed over her chest, a typical teen pose of belligerence. “What’s this about?” Ava asked.

  “Read it,” Sawyer said.

  It was more a dare than an invitation, but Ava unfolded the note which had been handwritten by Mrs. Carmichael, the current cottage parent of Sawyer’s residence. Ava read slowly, careful to grasp the details. When finished, she turned to Charlie. “Would you excuse us for a moment, Charlie? Sawyer and I need to go outside and talk for a few minutes.”

  Wide-eyed, Charlie said, “Are you coming back?”

  “Absolutely. As soon as I’ve spoken with Sawyer. You continue to enjoy your book, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Ava walked outside of the library before she frowned at Sawyer.

  “Go ahead,” the girl said. “Start yelling.”

  “Is it true, Sawyer? Were you smoking?” Ava asked her.

  Sawyer tapped her foot as if Ava was keeping her from something important. “I’m practically an adult and can make my own decisions, so what’s the big deal? I’m not stupid. I know smoking is bad for me.”