by Jane Porter
‡
They arrived at Bigfork at a little after midnight, the high full moon reflecting white off Flathead Lake as they drove south fifteen miles on Highway 35 to the little town of Cherry Lake.
If they kept going another eighteen miles they’d come to Polson.
Trey’s mom, Catherine Cray, had spent her early years outside Cherry Lake, a member of the Bitterroot Salish tribe that formed part of the Confederated Salish and Kootenai Tribes of the Flathead Nation.
All but the northern tip of Flathead Lake was part of the extensive Flathead Indian Reservation, and when Trey’s mother’s grandparents died, they left an old cabin on the lower slope of the Mission Mountains, and a couple acres of land to their daughter, hoping she’d return and raise her sons on the land of her ancestors.
Trey’s father hadn’t minded taking the boys to the cabin with its spectacular view of Flathead Lake for fishing trips, but he wasn’t interested in his wife’s native ancestry. She wasn’t even half Salish and he wasn’t about to raise his sons as native this, or that.
Trey hadn’t been to the cabin in years, but until recently Cormac visited regularly, and apparently just this past summer Brock had brought Harley and the kids for a ten-day vacation, using the time to rebuild the old stone fireplace, install a new stove in the kitchen, and make a number of smaller repairs.
“Know where we’re going now?” Trey asked McKenna as they drove past the turn-off to sleepy little Cherry Lake, a Flathead Lake town that came alive in summer with tourists and the colorful fresh fruit stands dotting the road selling crates of Lamberts, Rainier and Hardy Giant cherries.
“I had a suspicion when you took 83 north,” McKenna answered, shifting TJ to free her arm, which had gone numb sometime in the last half hour. “When’s the last time you were here?”
“It’s been a long time, but you were here with me. It was a couple years before TJ was born.”
“I remember,” she said softly. They’d driven from Marietta for a long weekend at the cabin in late September. Most of the tourists were gone and the local kids were all in school. It jad felt like they had the lake and town to themselves. “We had fun.”
He shot her a swift glance, expression somber. “We did,” he agreed. “And we will again.”
The last words were spoken so quietly she wasn’t sure he’d even said them. She glanced at him but his attention was on the steep private road that wound back to the cabin.
*
The keys to the Cray cabin were right where they’d always been, tucked high up the hollowed leg of the wooden grizzly cub gracing the cabin’s front porch. Trey unlocked the cabin’s front door, flipped on the light switch and was gratified to see light flood the open main room, a combination of living room, dining room and small kitchen.
The one and a half story log cabin had been built in the late 1940’s and had just the bare minimum in maintenance until Cormac started paying regular visits ten years ago. The cabin was still rustic, with stacked log walls and exposed trusses in the vaulted ceiling but everything looked clean and weather proofed.
Trey did a quick walk through, flipping on lights in the two downstairs bedrooms and turning on the heater. The windows in both bedrooms were original, and weren’t double paned. Once the wooden shutters were removed, the bedrooms would be a lot colder. He hoped the big cedar chest in the master bedroom still held all the sheets, quilts and comforters. They were going to need to make up the beds and get extra blankets on them, too.
He returned to the truck where McKenna and TJ were waiting. “Got the heater on and the lights on,” he said. “But we’ll need to get the beds made up.”
“If you’ve got clean sheets, I can do that,” she said, shivering as she handed TJ over.
“The cedar chest should be full of them.”
McKenna lifted her full skirts high as she followed Trey up the path to the cabin. Her heels weren’t designed for hiking up a rutted dirt path. “I don’t suppose there are any clothes here? I’m not going to want to put this dress back on tomorrow.”
“I’m sure we can find something for the night, and then tomorrow we’ll go shopping in Cherry Lake, and if Cherry Lake doesn’t have it, Polson or Bigfork will.”
*
McKenna quickly made up both twin beds with sheets and blankets in the smaller bedroom, before taking a sleepy and disoriented TJ to the bathroom where she stripped off his pants, shoes and socks and then tucked him into one of the twin beds in his shirt.
Trey made up the queen size bed in the master bedroom while she put TJ to bed. She’d slept in the master bedroom the last time she was here. It seemed as if they’d spent most of their time at the cabin in bed.
But she wouldn’t think about that. There was no point dwelling on the past. She hadn’t agreed to let TJ spend Christmas with his dad so she and Trey could rekindle a romance. She wasn’t interested in romance. She’d like to be friends with Trey, though. And she’d like to see TJ and Trey have the kind of father-son relationship they both craved.
*
McKenna could hear Trey moving around in the central room, bringing in firewood and stacking it next to the big stone fireplace.
She lay on her side in the narrow twin bed listening to him open and close doors and arrange the firewood.
It was strange lying here, listening to him work. It was one in the morning. Wasn’t he tired?
Or was he out there working because he felt all wound up, too?
McKenna turned onto her back and stared at the ceiling. She wasn’t sure how she felt, being back at the Cray cabin. This was a place shared by the five Sheenan brothers. They never invited outsiders. It was just for family. When Trey had brought her here that September, they were still newly engaged.
Now she was back and her emotions were all over the place.
It might not have been a good idea, coming here for Christmas.
But then, this Christmas wasn’t about her, and what she wanted. This Christmas was about Trey and TJ. This Christmas was about them having a special holiday together.
Restless, she flipped her covers and quilt back, floorboards creaking beneath her bare feet as she went to his bed. Even though Trey had left the wooden blinds closed, slivers of moonlight slipped through the cracks and streaked the log frame.
TJ looked small in the twin bed, his cheek nestled deep into the down pillow, his hair dark on the crisp white pillowcase.
She leaned over and lightly kissed his warm cheek, before tugging the covers higher on his shoulder.
She loved him so much. From the beginning she’d tried to do everything right. She wanted him to have everything a little boy needed. Halloween costumes and Christmas traditions. Swim lessons, summer vacations, Saturday matinee movies.
But despite her best efforts, she hadn’t been able to give TJ everything. He didn’t have a daddy that was there, and it was the only thing he asked for.
Again and again and again.
A daddy to take him fishing. A daddy for cub scouting. A daddy for wrestling and hugging and loving.
A lump formed in her throat. She’d agreed to marry Lawrence for TJ’s sake. It was a terrible thing to admit. She didn’t need the company as much as TJ needed a father figure.
She’d thought Lawrence was the answer. At least, she’d hoped he was the answer. But Lawrence and TJ had never really clicked. She could admit that now. She could see that she’d tried to force them to like each other, planning activities to help them get along. She’d thought if she tried hard enough eventually they’d grow fond of each other but it hadn’t happened. Lawrence, a forty-year old bachelor when he’d begun dating McKenna, couldn’t relate to a headstrong little boy who wasn’t interested in learning cribbage and chess. TJ wanted Lawrence to box and run and wrestle. He wanted physical activity not quiet games.
Lawrence criticized McKenna’s parenting.
McKenna privately pleaded with TJ to do the activities Lawrence enjoyed so they could all be happy together.
McKenna loved his sense of humor. She loved his personality. She didn’t want him to be anybody but himself.
The only times she and Lawrence argued was over how she was raising TJ.
Now, asleep, TJ looked impossibly angelic, and nothing like a little monster. She lightly placed one last kiss on his soft cheek. She could feel his warm breath as she straightened.
Her boy. And Trey’s boy.
TJ’s lashes fluttered. He opened his eyes and looked up at her. “Mommy, what are you doing?” he asked, his voice rough with sleep.
“Checking on you.”
“Where are you sleeping?”
“In here, with you. Now go back to sleep.”
“Good night, Mommy.”
“Good night, sweet boy.”
He closed his eyes and yawned. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
*
It was late, after two in the morning, but Trey couldn’t sleep in the big bed in the master bedroom.
He’d taken a hot shower after finishing stacking the firewood and laying a fire for the next morning. And he was physically tired but he couldn’t clear his mind long enough to let him relax.
McKenna and TJ were here, under his roof.
It was incredible, so incredible he didn’t know how to process it. This morning he’d woken up, sick that he’d lost McKenna, and desperate to make sure he didn’t lose TJ, too.
It’d been an intense afternoon and everything that could have gone wrong…didn’t.
By some miracle, McKenna and his son were here, with him. Not with Lawrence. By some miracle he had been given a chance…
It was time he redeemed himself.
And he would.
God…fate…whatever you called it… had given him this opportunity, and this time Trey wouldn’t blow it.
He loved his family. He needed his family. And he was prepared to do whatever it took to prove that he was here for them, too.
*
Even though Trey had fallen asleep late, he was up early to turn up the heat and light the fire. He was lucky that there were clothes he could wear—jeans and t-shirts and flannel shirts, boots and a pair of running shoes, left by his brothers.
There was nothing for TJ to wear in any of the cabin closets but McKenna could maybe get away with a pair of sweat pants and a flannel shirt and the running shoes.
He left the clothes folded outside their bedroom door before grabbing his keys and driving into town to pick up coffee, eggs, bread, milk, butter, bacon and juice from the twenty-four hour convenience store attached to the gas station. He was just about to walk out when he spotted a couple bright red sweatshirts with the slogan Stay and Play at Cherry Lake folded up on a shelf with other souvenir items. The smallest size they had was a Youth Medium but Trey grabbed it, thinking it would at least give TJ something warm to wear.
Back at the cabin, he stoked the fire, added another log, and then made coffee in the old coffee machine he found in one of the kitchen cupboards.
He was busy frying bacon and whisking eggs when the bedroom door opened and McKenna appeared, still wearing the red flannel shirt from Trey’s truck.
And from the looks of it, only wearing the red flannel shirt.
“Sleep okay?” Trey asked, whisking the eggs more vigorously, forcing himself to look away. She was almost too beautiful, her long hair loose and spilling over her shoulders, the soft flannel fabric outlining the swell of her breasts and the shirt hem reaching only to mid thigh, leaving her long shapely legs gloriously bare.
“Better than you, I think,” she answered, smiling and crossing behind him to check the coffee. “Can I have a cup?”
“Please do.”
“Have you had any yet?”
“No. It has only just finished brewing.”
She opened the upper cabinet doors until she found two mugs and rinsed them out at the sink before filling them. The coffee was hot and she set a steaming cup at his elbow. “You don’t know how much I wanted this,” she said, circling her cup with her hands. “I don’t do well without my coffee in the morning.”
He smiled ruefully. “I remembered.”
She leaned against the counter, watching him flip the sizzling bacon. “I thought I would be freezing this morning but you’ve made it toasty warm in here.”
“Didn’t want you and TJ cold.”
“You’ve been up for a while, haven’t you?”
“Hard to sleep with so much on my mind.”
She sipped her coffee, and a long lock red hair fell forward. Carelessly she pushed it back, anchoring the curl behind an ear. “What’s on your mind?”
He placed another skillet on the stove, turned on the burner, and added butter to the pan. “I want you and TJ happy,” he said after a moment.
“TJ’s happy.”
He shot her a look over his shoulder. “I want you happy, too.”
She didn’t look at him. She stared at the pan, watching the butter melt. “We’re here for TJ. This is about him.”
“Not for me.”
“Trey, it’s important I be straight with you. I want to be fair to you. I’m not interested in romance, or a relationship with you. But I would like to be friends. Good friends. That way we can raise TJ amicably, without tension.”
“I agree.”
“But a romantic or sexual relationship would just complicate everything. You know it would. The sex thing always gets us in trouble.”
He’d learned a lot living for the past four years with little personal space and zero privacy. He’d learned to check his emotions by removing himself from a situation. He did that now, aware that this wasn’t about him, but her, and what she needed. McKenna needed to feel safe. She needed space. She needed time. No problem.
He nodded as he poured the beaten eggs into the skillet with the melted butter. “You’re right,” he said. “The sex was a problem.”
Her jaw dropped ever so slightly. “You think so?”
“I do.” He put the ceramic bowl in the sink and rinsed it out before reaching for one of the green checked dishtowels to dry his hands. “The problem is that the physical side of our relationship was too good. Making love felt so natural that I think we expected the rest of our relationship to be that way.” He glanced at her. “Now, I don’t regret the sex. It was hot. Pretty damn amazing. You know how much I love your body, but maybe the touching and kissing got in the way.”
She blinked. “Wow. I’m….shocked. But in a good way.”
“That’s good.” He smiled at her. “It’s nice that we are on the same page.”
She pushed her hand through her hair, shoving it back from her face, and he told himself he hadn’t noticed the way her shirt cupped her breasts or lifted to reveal several inches of pale creamy skin high on her thigh.
They weren’t lovers anymore. They were friends. Platonic friends. Platonic friends who didn’t have fringe benefits. He’d make sure of that. And he’d be the best platonic friend she ever had. So good that she’d be the one to begging to get back into his bed.
He gestured to the pile of clothes still stacked outside her door. “I picked up a sweatshirt for TJ at the convenience store, and found some clothes that belong to one of my brothers that will get you covered and warm until we can go shopping after breakfast. Feel free to top off your coffee before you shower and dress. I’m sure you’ll feel far more comfortable and less naked once you’re out of that old shirt and dressed.”
She stared at him a moment, and then nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”
Chapter Eleven
‡
It was the twenty-first of December, the last Sunday before Christmas, and Cherry Lake sparkled beneath the sunlit blue sky, Main
Street picture book pretty with festive green boughs and red ribbons on the lights and carols playing from invisible speakers. The cafes and shops lining the street were perfectly festive, too, decorated with fragrant wreaths, frosted windows, and charming holiday displays.
But trying to find everything they needed in Cherry Lake took some creativity and visits to six different stores to purchase the necessary undergarments, outer garments, shoes and coats. In the past, Trey had dragged his feet on shopping trips, but his patience and good spirits this morning amazed McKenna. He carried all the bags, kept TJ entertained, and hummed along with the carols, reminding her that he had a gorgeous voice.
He was gorgeous, too, and she wasn’t the only one who’d noticed. Women in the shops stared appreciatively, while others passing them on Main Street, cast swift, furtive second and third glances.
McKenna had forgotten what it felt like to be out with a man that drew tons of female admiration. Lawrence had been pleasant looking, attractive in that wholesome kind of way, but Trey was in a whole other league. Trey was darkly beautiful, sinfully beautiful, and she understood why women looked.
Men weren’t that handsome in real life.
Men weren’t that tall and muscular. They didn’t have hair that thick and dark or eyes that brilliant a blue. Their cheekbones weren’t that high or their jaws that chiseled. They didn’t flash dimples when they laughed. Their laughter and voices didn’t rumble in their chests. They simply weren’t made so perfectly.
They weren’t.
But Trey was. And his brother Troy. However, Troy wasn’t Trey, and McKenna had only ever had eyes for Trey since seeing him at Marietta High, surrounded by a group of guys that looked like they were up to no good.
And they weren’t. Trey’s friends cut class, showed up drunk or stoned, and spent more time in the front office than in class.
McKenna shouldn’t have been intrigued. She shouldn’t have been attracted to someone so obviously bad.
But when Trey looked at her, his gaze would always soften, his expression gentling. It happened so quickly she didn’t know if he was even conscious that his expression changed, and he didn’t look at anyone else that way. She knew because she watched him. She watched him a lot, fascinated by the way he carried himself, and the way others whispered about him, saying he was dangerous, reckless, saying he didn’t care about anybody, saying he would probably die young.
