by Beth Ciotta
Mason’s heart hurt for a half a dozen reasons. Instead of pulling Chrissy into his arms, something he didn’t sense she’d appreciate right now, he reached over and covered her hand with his own. “I get it.”
She chanced his gaze. “Do you?”
“I do. Except, you’re thinking about music from your perspective. Your experiences.” He dragged a hand over his stubbly jaw. “I could be talking out my ass here, but after our meeting I googled the hell out of deaf children. I wanted to educate myself. I wanted to…help. If I could.
“I ran across this article about a young teen,” he hurried on. “A profoundly deaf girl who tried out for cheerleading position and made the squad. She couldn’t hear the count offs for the cheers or the stunts, but learned and participated by sight and touch. She couldn’t hear the roar of the spectators, but she could see their reactions to the plays on the field. She had spirit, determination and skill and, with the support of her family and teammates, she fully engaged and excelled in what’s considered a hearing person’s sport.”
Chrissy blew out a breath. “You’re telling me Melody can appreciate and enjoy musical experiences in her own way. I know. Or at least, I see it now. The Mile High Christmas Extravaganza opened my eyes in that regard. And I know I can count on you to expose Mel to even more audio-based experiences. That means the world to me, Mason. But I need you to know that, although I’ll go along with whatever, I can’t fully engage myself. Don’t expect me to haul my fiddle out of the cedar chest just because you feel like jamming.”
Something told him this grudge with music ran even deeper, but she pushed off the bed, signaling an end to the discussion.
“I just want you to be happy, Chrissy. Whatever that entails.”
She moved into his arms of her own accord and hugged him hard. “Like father, like daughter.”
* * *
Reclaiming pure joy and finding her happy was proving a jumbled affair. Chrissy knew it wouldn’t be easy, but she wished ID.com hadn’t been so cryptic. Had they sent her the tickets intending to reawaken her love of music or to rekindle her affair with Mason? Was it as simple as seeing and accepting the impact music could have on Melody’s life?
Maybe it was all three.
Maybe those tickets were the impetus for owning and controlling one’s fate.
Maybe the key to full-blown happy was to trust in the fortitude and tolerance of family and friends.
One thing was certain, the more she expressed her thoughts, her trials and hardships, her challenges and concerns rather than locking them away, the lighter she felt. That thought fueled her eagerness to come clean with her parents and Zeke. About Mason and their past. Not to mention their intended future.
But first she needed to plant a seed with Mel.
The morning was cold, but clear. The plow and salt trucks had done their thing, probably twice by now. The roads were dodgy, but manageable. Joe Savage’s place was just down the way and around the corner. Mason insisted on driving. Chrissy didn’t argue. Yesterday Mrs. W had likened her to a ball of tightly wound rubber bands. Today she felt one twist from snapping.
“Nice house,” Mason said as the renovated Victorian came into view.
“Savage invested a lot of time and money into this property,” Chrissy said, while fiddling with her scarf. “It used to be attached to a small amusement park—Rootin’ Tootin’ Funland. He inherited it from his uncle. Unfortunately, the park suffered a beating. Storms and neglect. He ended up razing it—much to our disappointment. Funland used to be a draw for locals and tourists. A vibrant and viable business. Happy to say he’s rebuilding a modernized version closer to town. The grand opening for Wonderland is scheduled for early spring. Good news for Nowhere. Unlike the closure of The Coyote Club.”
Mason glanced sideways and Chrissy realized she was rambling. She’d touched on Funland/Wonderland last night when talking about her friends. But instead of commenting on her bout of nerves, he blew her away.
“What would you say if I told you I was thinking about approaching Bryce Morgan with an investment offer?”
“Why would you do that?”
“Even though I don’t have to work, I like to work. I like people and I’ve spent a good amount of time in various nightclubs and bars. I have the money and I might just have the vision to turn that place around.”
“You haven’t even seen Coyote’s.”
“I didn’t say it was a done deal. I said I’m thinking about it. Depends on the venue. On Morgan. Figured I’d swing by for a look after we speak with your folks. After that I’ll head out to Denver. Most of my stuff is already in boxes. I just need to hire a moving company, tie up some loose business strings, and pack up Rush. I’ll be back in time for the Jingles Jamboree. Thursday evening, right?”
“Lease a house that Mel and I already feel comfortable in. Commit to smoothing things over with my family. Save a local business and several jobs. Move mountains to get back here in time so we can take Mel to a holiday function together.” Chrissy narrowed her eyes. “Your idea of keeping it real is seriously warped.”
“Can’t help myself.” He furrowed his brow. “Hey, maybe adopting a pair of angel wings during the holiday season is my dream gig.”
“What?”
“Never mind.” He flexed his fingers on the wheel while rolling through the gated entrance to Bella’s new home. “Oh, hell. Okay. I’m officially nervous. I won’t be able to communicate with Melody. Not properly.”
Chrissy had concerns, too, but that wasn’t one of them. She wanted Mel and Mason to hit it off. She was pretty sure they would. Then again things had been going a little too smoothly with this Hallmark-like reunion. Something had to go horribly wrong at some point. Didn’t it?
“I’ll translate for you,” she said, once again placing herself in his shoes. No matter what she was feeling right now, Mason’s anxiety had to be two-fold. “I do it all the time in the course of our daily lives. She’s used to it. Also Bella and Georgie are pretty fluent in signing. Savage, not as much, but he gets by.” She reached across the seat and squeezed his thigh. “Just be yourself. An angel,” she teased.
Mason smirked, but reached over and squeezed her leg as well. “Let’s do this,” he said, then hopped out and rounded the hood to help her down. The drive was plowed but the drifts were high.
Chrissy glanced at the porch as the front door opened and her cousin stepped out with a bright smile and a welcoming wave. “That’s Bella,” she told Mason. “You remember her from Denver. And that cat circling her ankles? That’s Killer.”
“Not for anything, but the big red bow on his collar dilutes the fierceness of the name.”
“Bella’s doing, I’m sure.”
Just then Georgie squeezed into the doorframe and Mason tensed. “They’re going to eat me alive.”
They’d given him a hard time in Denver, that’s for sure. But that was then. Chrissy smiled. “You’re wrong.” She’d texted them yesterday and again this morning. Angel and Emma, too. They all knew the gist of the scoop. Chrissy nabbed Mason’s hand in a show of solidarity and affection as they climbed the stairs. “Hey, guys,” she said to her friends. “Thanks so much for taking care of Mel.”
“Our pleasure,” Georgie said then glanced at Mason and raised a brow. “Welcome to Nowhere, Romeo.”
Bella nudged her. “We’ve got hot coffee and homemade cookies. Come on in.” She led them into a toasty living area. Every inch of the room sported some kind of festive decoration.
“Geez, Bella,” Chrissy said. “It looks like a holiday factory exploded in here.”
“I like it,” Mason said, his gaze landing on the six-foot spruce. Not that you could see even one needle, what with all the garland, tinsel, and ornaments.
“Mel helped with the popcorn garland,” Bella said. “She’s in the dining room right now with Joe. They’ve been working on a craft. You know those two when it comes to art. My husband’s an artist,” she said to Mason.
; “Former cop. Working artist. The brains behind Wonderland. Chrissy told me.”
Chrissy sensed his impatience. She was anxious, too. She shifted and peeked in the dining room, her heart pounding as she caught sight of her daughter, head down and focused intently on her craft.
Savage saw Chrissy and touched Melody’s arm.
Mel looked up and smiled. She bolted from her chair and came barreling into the room.
Chrissy let go of Mason’s hand in order to stoop down and brace for her daughter’s affectionate assault. Mel practically knocked her flat. Laughing, Chrissy hugged her hard then eased the munchkin to arm’s length. She spoke and signed. “Hi, baby. Did you have fun?”
Mel’s hands and fingers flew. Her eyes—the same shade of blue as Mason’s—danced.
Chrissy responded. “Yes, I saw the popcorn string. Good job! Hey, I brought a friend. Remember this guy?”
Mason dropped to his knees beside her and awkwardly signed, “Hi, Mel,” one letter at a time.
Chrissy’s heart squeezed. He must’ve boned up on basic finger spelling.
Mel beamed at him and signed, “Hi.” She glanced at Bella.
Bella signed and said, “Yes, this is the man I told you about. Mommy’s friend, Mason.”
Mel did a one-eighty, ran past Savage giving him a high-five, and zipped back to the dining room table.
Mason’s shoulders slumped, but Chrissy knew her daughter well. She knew by the way Mel had smiled at Mason that she liked him. Chrissy squeezed his shoulder and motioned him toward the sofa. By the time they’d shed their coats and sat down, side-by-side, Mel had raced back. She had two homemade ornaments in hand. She passed one to Chrissy.
“So beautiful,” Chrissy signed and said. “Thank you, baby.”
Then Mel handed a similar ornament to Mason and signed.
Chrissy blew out a breath and put one arm around the emotional man who was staring teary-eyed at his gift. A snowflake cut out of construction paper and accented with green glitter and an “M” made out of red yarn. “She said, Merry Christmas, Mason. This is for your tree.”
He smiled at Melody. “Tell her I love it. Tell her I’d love it even more if she’d help hang it on my tree. Tell her I have a dog…”
He whipped out his phone and scrolled to a picture of Rush. He showed the picture to Mel.
Chrissy scrambled to speak his heart. “Mason and Rush are moving here,” she told her daughter. “They want us to visit and play.”
Mel beamed at the picture of the dog, then beamed at Mason and pumped a happy fist. Then she signed and skipped off.
Chrissy translated. “She wants to make an ornament for Rush.”
Mason pressed his thumbs to his moist eyes. “Oh, hell.”
Savage stepped in, saving the day two seconds from Chrissy losing it. “Coffee, anyone? Right. I could use a hand, Rivers.”
* * *
Emotionally coldcocked, Mason stumbled into his host’s kitchen like a zombie.
The man turned and offered a hand in formal greeting. “Joe Savage.”
“Mason Rivers.
“You okay?”
“Do I look okay?” Mason braced his hands on his knees, dropped his head. “Damn.”
“Bella filled me in. Must be one hell of an adjustment.”
“You can say that again.” This time when he laid eyes on the little girl with the long blond hair and huge blue eyes, she wasn’t just a cute stranger, she was his beautiful daughter.
That smile. So warm and accepting.
Those eyes. Full of intelligence and joy.
As she’d chatted with her mom about popcorn garland, Mason had reflected on the photos Chrissy had shared the night before. Snapshots of Mel’s life. A montage of “firsts”. He made a mental note to keep it together enough when he got back out there to ask Bella to snap a phone shot of him with Chrissy and Melody. Their first family photo. “Ah, Christ.”
“Hang tight.”
Rubbing his chest, Mason glanced up as Savage pulled a bottle of liquor from a cupboard.
He poured two fingers of whiskey and passed the glass to Mason. “Mel’s a sweet kid. Chrissy… She’s a tough nut, but I like her. Lots of people like her. Including the county sheriff, Ryan McClure, who, by the way, is Georgie’s half-brother. McClure’s also tight with Chrissy’s brother, Zeke.”
“You going somewhere with this?
Savage leaned back against the counter and folded his arms. “I’m going to put a spin on something McClure said to me after I set my sights on Bella.” He cocked his head and regarded Mason with a textbook bad-cop stare. “Hurt Chrissy or Melody and I’ll kick your ass.”
Mason downed the whiskey in one swallow, knowing he had the meeting with Roger and Zeke Mooney in front of him, remembering his daughter’s smile and digging in for the long haul. “Get in line. According to Chrissy, her dad and brother have been primed to bust my butt for years.”
Savage smiled—good-cop style. “We’re not a bad lot, just a protective one.” He nabbed a carafe of coffee, setting it on a tray along with several holiday mugs. “Ready for a second round with your daughter?”
Mason rolled back his shoulders. “Good to go.”
“There’s a capped snowman tumbler on the top shelf of the fridge. Juice for Mel. Grab that and the tray of cookies.”
Encouraged by the man’s support, Mason shot “biker dude”—as Chrissy had called him—a grateful look. “Thanks for the save.”
“Sure,” he said as they moved toward the sights and sounds of holiday cheer. “Just remember the warning.”
Chapter Ten
“You sure about this?”
“After that hour with my daughter, I can endure anything.” Mason parked his SUV behind Zeke’s monster wheels. “I can tell you one thing. I promise not to cry when I meet your parents.”
Chrissy’s lip twitched. Mason had gotten teary with his daughter twice. Although he kept those tears in check, it had been damned sweet all the same. “In order to salvage your pride,” she teased, “I pretended not to notice.”
“Everyone noticed.” He killed the engine and glanced toward the main cabin. “What about you? Braced for your family’s reaction?”
“I am.” Chrissy tugged her cap lower, then stiffened her spine. “They know I’m bringing a guy over to meet them. They’re happy about that, so they’re in a good mood. I’m going to spit out the details, roll right over the crappy stuff, and lay out our intentions. I’m focused on the future, Mason. On us. On happy.”
He reached across the seat, cupping the back of her neck, and angling in for a kiss. Brief. Tender. Hot. “A kind heart and fierce determination. Some things haven’t changed at all.” He held her gaze. “I love you, Christmas Joy Mooney.”
Her heart pounded and her throat squeezed. Her brain went on vacation for a day or forty. Time blurred as she fought for a sane thought and word. “I…um…” Wow? “Did you have to tell me that right this instant?”
He smiled. “Yeah. I kind of did.”
“Are you waiting for me to say it back?”
“I can wait.”
“I don’t do sappy. I haven’t since Napa.”
“Okay.”
How could he possibly be so nice? So unflappable? So charming? “Damn you, Romeo.” She cradled the sides of his face and poured her heart into a kiss. Not so brief. Not so tender. Lava hot.
She eased away and he nodded. “Read you loud and clear, Juliet.”
“Let’s do this.” Primed to get this meeting over, to shed the last of her secrets and to embrace pure joy, Chrissy pushed out of the car, meeting Mason before he got a chance to open her door. She grasped his hand and hurried him toward the rambling log house with the smoking chimney.
The wreath on the front door bounced as the door swung in and Zeke stepped out.
Chrissy smiled. “Hey, Zeke. This is—”
“I know who it is.” Instead of offering his hand in greeting, he clipped Mason’s jaw with a right hook.
Caught off guard, Mason stumbled back, falling off the porch and landing in a snow drift.
Chrissy gasped or screamed, she wasn’t sure, but she definitely gave Zeke hell as she scrambled to help Mason to his feet.
“Dammit, boy.” Roger Mooney grabbed his son by the shoulder and jerked him back.
“I thought I’d feel better,” Zeke said while shaking out his fist. He grinned at his parents then scowled at Mason. “I do.”
Wide-eyed, Eva glanced from Chrissy to Mason and back. “Georgie slipped to Ryan. Ryan called Zeke.”
“You’ve got some explaining to do,” Roger said, and then waved them both inside.
The house was warm and inviting. Not so much her family. Chrissy’s plan fell apart as she scrambled for words. Any words.
Mason broke the tense silence. “My name is Mason Rivers, sir.” He extended a hand to her father while working his assaulted jaw. “Your daughter and I met five years ago, a whirlwind romance. I’ll spare you the details of that week—”
“Smart.”
“And tell you simply that I loved her then and I love her now.”
“What the hell happened in between?” Zeke blasted.
“I didn’t know about Melody. There was a miscommunication. I don’t have that part figured out yet. But I swear to you, if I had known I had a child, I would have offered my full support.”
“But if you loved one another,” Eva asked Chrissy, “why did you split up in the first place. Why keep the relationship secret? You could have at least told us his name.”
“She was afraid if you knew my name, you’d track me down,” Mason said.
“She’s right about that,” Roger said with an enigmatic glance at his daughter.
“Someone intercepted Chrissy’s email, an email meant for me, and shared the news of her pregnancy with my father. Who in turn instructed his lawyer, our family lawyer, to write a cease and desist letter of sorts to Chrissy. That letter made threats pertaining to your family’s financial ruin should she ever contact our family again.” Mason rolled back his shoulders then took her hand. “That’s why your daughter withheld my identity and forged ahead as a single mother. She was protecting you and Melody.”
