Little White Christmas

by J. Lynn Bailey

Shane

  Shane had never spent the night with a woman. Ever. He was a midnight runner. He’d always felt it was too intimate, and he’d never felt the need to.

  But with Sarah Beth, he could stay forever.

  So, when he woke up to the rain, the wind, and the slight light of morning, her naked body pressed to his, he thought it was all a dream.

  He’d had this dream before—of being with Sarah Beth—and he always felt the empty feeling in the pit of his stomach when dawn would come and it was just him.

  Shane tightened his arms around her, just to be sure things were real. He kissed her soft shoulder before he got up and went pee, washed his hands, and made coffee.

  “Good morning,” she said as she walked into the kitchen, the silk robe around her body.

  Shane walked to her and kissed her for a moment. “Good morning. And if you don’t stop wearing this robe, we will never make it out of this house.”

  “Nothing wrong with that, Mr. Sawyer. Besides, if you don’t put a shirt on, I know we won’t leave this house at least until Monday.” She gave him one last kiss.

  “How do you like your coffee?” he asked.

  “Little bit of cream and sugar is fine, thank you.”

  Shane laughed to himself as he made her a cup.

  “What?” she asked.

  “This all feels like a dream.” He looked at her and handed her a cup of coffee. “I actually had to kiss your shoulder this morning and make sure everything was real.” He took a sip of his coffee.

  Sarah Beth smiled, walked over to him, and rested her head on his back. Wrapped her arms around his middle. “Me too.”

  Shane adjusted himself so that she was against his chest. Kissed her head.

  “How are you feeling with the whole Jimmy thing?”

  “Not sure. I suppose I feel real bad for his wife and kids. Can’t get them out of my head.”

  Sarah Beth, he knew, always had a soft spot for kids.

  “Do you want kids, Sarah Beth?” he whispered in her ear.

  “Yeah.”

  “Well”—Shane took Sarah Beth in his arms, and her legs wrapped around his middle—“let’s go try and make some.”

  He kissed her on the mouth, and they spent the morning in bed, making up for lost time.

  When Shane finally peeled himself from Sarah Beth’s bed, he went home to take a cold shower, check on his dad, and make a few calls.

  “Hawthorn, it’s Shane. Call me when you get a minute.” Shane left the message and clicked End.

  He called the 1-800 florist number for the deal that always appeared in advertisements to send flowers to Natalie, Jimmy’s wife, and his girls. Jimmy and his family lived down in Arroyo Grande, which was about six hours south of Dillon Creek. Each of them would receive a big bouquet.

  From roses to peonies or daisies to lilies, he wasn’t sure what to get, so when they asked him what type of flowers, all he said was, “The best kind that live the longest.”

  Shane texted Sarah Beth.

  I love you.

  Bubbles appeared on her end.

  I love you.

  He responded.

  What’s your favorite type of flower? Figured I should know this since we’ve already tried to make a baby together.

  She texted back.

  LOL. Dahlias.

  This time, instead of calling the 1-800 number, he called Juniper at The Flowerpot and ordered twenty dahlias to be sent to Sarah Beth’s house.

  Then, he called Dr. Mason’s office as a follow-up after the MRI. His shoulder hurt today. More than it had ever hurt before. But it was all well worth it.

  “Shane,” he sighed into the phone, “I have good news, and I have bad news.”

  Shane inhaled. “Give me the good first, Doc.”

  “The good news is, no surgery. The ligaments and tendons are stretched. But you’re almost bone on bone. This isn’t the first time this has happened, has it?”

  Shane didn’t answer.

  He’d taken shoulder hits off fences with the horses. Running into steers with his shoulders was how he made his living.

  He’d fallen off horses.

  Endured several shots to his shoulders, and when the pain got to be too much, he’d ask for pain pills or a cortisone shot.

  “A temporary bandage,” the doctor had said. “You’d better get this looked at, Sawyer, before something real bad happens.”

  “Listen, from our conversation the other day, you can’t continue to tear your body up because if you do, you will need surgery, and that could cause a lot of nerve damage, and you could potentially lose at least sixty percent of your shoulder mobility.”

  Shane had expected not-so-great news. But this kind of news took his breath from him. He’d always expected to have the choice between rodeo and walking away—not being forced to walk away from the only sport he excelled in.

  “What are you saying, Doc?”

  “I’m saying, you need to find a different line of work, Shane. If you don’t, then you won’t be able to do much of anything with that shoulder. No helping your dad on the ranch. Nothing.”

  Shane’s words left him. He had so many questions, but he wasn’t sure how to ask them. “Um, how long? How … how long until I’m healed?”

  “At least six months, Shane. At the very least. You shouldn’t be lifting anything. Moving anything.”

  Fuck that, he thought. He also knew he couldn’t say that to the doctor who’d done his dad and him a favor. But he did say to himself, I can’t consider a different career, Doc. It’s not in my blood.

  “Thank you,” he said and hung up the phone.

  Jack was standing in the doorway. “What’d he say?”

  “Everything’s fine. Just some strained ligaments and tendons. Be good as new in a few weeks. I can do what I need to help out here, he said,” Shane lied.

  He couldn’t let his dad down. He knew how proud his dad was of him for making it as far as he had. Hell, he was twenty-seven years old. His body was still young.

  “Help me with moving some hay today?” his dad asked.

  “Yeah, no problem.”

  Later that day, Shane grabbed the last bale. His shoulder was in so much pain, but he pushed through. The agony made him work harder; perhaps it was his best attempt to prove Dr. Mason wrong.

  “Cowboys never show weakness,” his dad always told him.

  Hell, Shane was sure the last time he’d cried was when his mom died, and even then, his dad hadn’t. He told his son that crying wouldn’t bring her back.

  Once they were done for the evening, Shane grabbed a pain pill and got in the shower, allowing the hot water to run down his beaten body as he prayed the pain away.

  His conscience chimed in, You can’t live like this, Shane. You can’t live off pain pills and cortisone.

  But tonight, he could. He’d take Sarah Beth to dinner. He’d make love to her tonight and for as long as she’d have him. He had to get lost in something because life just seemed too overwhelming right now.

  Shane’s phone vibrated across his dresser. It was Hawthorn.

  “Hey, man.”

  “Hey.” Shane could hear the sadness in Hawthorn’s voice. He wasn’t in Dillon Creek, as he was still on the road, going to the next event. Hawthorn sighed, “Natalie doesn’t want a service for Jimmy. She’s too angry. You know where she was it with all the PBR shit. Felt like it was a death sentence.”

  Shane understood. Listened.

  Although both of them were close to Jimmy, Hawthorn was closer. They were both married. Had kids. They had just a bit more in common than Shane.

  Maybe, too, that was why Hawthorn was taking it harder.

  And maybe, too, Shane was real good at pushing his feelings down. Too good. And because of that, he got better at hiding things and convincing himself if he didn’t acknowledge them, then they didn’t exist.

  He heard a knock at the door, and his dad answered.

  Who the hell would be here at six o’clock?
Nobody ever came to the house unless he or his dad was expecting someone.

  “I got to run, man, Keep in touch?”

  “Roger that.”

  They hung up.

  Shane threw on some clothes and walked into the living room.

  A woman stood in the doorway. Her crystal-blue eyes stared past his dad and right at him. Eyes he’d seen before. Eyes he’d thought he’d left in the past. He knew they’d had sex, though his recollection fuzzy, but he didn’t know her name.

  “Shane Sawyer?”

  “Yeah?” He walked up behind his dad.

  “Can … can I help you?” Shane asked.

  “Shane, we met in Texas about three months ago.”

  Yeah, he’d been in Texas three months ago.

  And when Shane was able to see her whole body, he looked down at her swollen belly.

  “Um, I just needed you to know … and I know this is really awkward, but I’m pregnant, and you’re the father.”

  Time stopped.

  And in that time, a loud ringing ensued.

  Nothing could be heard.

  Or seen.

  Life was just frozen.

  His gut wrenched.

  And his heart slammed.

  And this was nothing Shane wanted.

  Oh God. Sarah Beth.

  After Mia left—Shane hadn’t known her name when she showed up on the porch—he texted Sarah Beth and told her he was on his way.

  Shane had been careful. He wore a condom when sleeping with any woman. But it was a blur. He wasn’t even sure it had even happened. But that was what you got with too much booze and painkillers. He’d come off a big win in Texas that night.

  Panic filled his insides, his head included.

  He needed to tell Sarah Beth the truth. He had to. Right? He couldn’t lie to her. Not her.

  Maybe he’d tell her in the morning when they woke up together in her bed. Maybe mornings were easier for news like that.

  But the evening went by, and they made love that night.

  They woke up the next morning, and Shane just hoped it had all been a bad dream and would go away.

  He tried to forget about Mia.

  “Let’s go to The Rusty Nail for breakfast,” Sarah Beth suggested.

  Yes, Mia was mostly gone, on her way back from where she had come from, and maybe she’d find out that it wasn’t his child after all. He’d explained to Mia that he wanted a paternity test as soon as possible. He didn’t dare ask if she was going to keep it.

  Regret and betrayal filled his heart when he climbed into the shower that morning with Sarah Beth.

  They made love again. He touched her, and she touched him.

  And this big secret sat between them.

  He had to tell her.

  I’ll tell her after breakfast, he promised himself.

  She deserved to know. Whatever the outcome, she had to know.

  As they approached The Rusty Nail, Shane’s arm around Sarah Beth, he knew in his heart that she was the only one for him.

  Christmas lingered in the daytime like Christmas movie marathons.

  It brought out the good and the bad in Shane.

  It seemed to brighten Sarah Beth’s spirit, and that was why he thought that maybe he ought to look at Christmas a little differently.

  It was the tap on the shoulder that caught Shane off guard.

  He turned with Sarah Beth under his arm.

  It was Mia who stood before them.

  EIGHT

  The Ladybugs

  “Iheard the woman just walked right up to Sarah Beth and told her that she was having Shane’s baby.” Pearl took a bite of her salad with extra ranch. Shook her head. “Couldn’t hear a damn word they were saying though. I’ve got to get these hearing aids fixed. But whatever words were exchanged, there wasn’t much to it.” She shrugged. “Sarah Beth just walked away. Shane tried to chase her, but she wasn’t having any of it. Looked like she was more heartbroken than angry. But the audacity of that woman …”

  “If that were my son, I’d make her marry that girl. Kids nowadays. Having babies out of wedlock and whatnot. Things never happened like that in our day,” Delveen said. She took a bite of her salad, which was littered with pickled red beets.

  But the Ladybugs grew real quiet when they saw Erla’s reaction to the words that had fallen out of Delveen’s mouth. It was subtle. Quiet. And yet so obvious. It was proven that Erla could drop a crow from the sky with just one look.

  “I-I didn’t mean—well, you know what I meant. Right, Erla?” Delveen looked at Erla, then to Pearl, and back to Erla.

  Erla thought for a moment. The only man she’d ever loved, Don, had died. The man she’d had a child with, Toby, at a very young age and out of wedlock had caused a big rift between her and her daughter most recently.

  “You mean, the baby I had out of wedlock, who Don raised as his own? Is that what you’re talking about, Delveen?”

  Everyone felt the condescending tone move across the table like thick honey.

  And nobody answered Erla’s rhetorical question. Truth be told, she probably wasn’t expecting one.

  “You know what I say to all this?” Erla pointed her bread at the other ladies at the table. “Hogwash. You don’t know this woman’s story, you don’t know Sarah Beth’s story, and you certainly don’t know Shane’s story, so butt out.” Erla stuck her bread in her mouth, mostly so she wouldn’t say something she’d regret.

  They continued their lunch in silence. The Ladybugs hadn’t planned on a meeting today because it wasn’t the last Tuesday of the month at noon sharp. They were meeting about the Christmas auction, their annual fundraiser.

  “Well,” Pearl whispered, “wouldn’t that be great if it wasn’t his baby? Seems to me that Sarah Beth and Shane would be an awfully cute couple. I was reading an article the other day at the beauty shop, waiting for Pixie, about these DNA tests they do while the woman is still pregnant. Boy, that would have fixed a lot of those Jerry Springer shows, wouldn’t it?”

  “Not helping, Pearl,” Clyda said.

  Bless her heart, Pearl was just trying to be funny. She did have a kind spirit and a big mouth, but also a big heart. She wouldn’t be a Ladybug if she didn’t. But she always had awful timing. In lieu of trying to control what she might say next, she shoved a piece of bread in her mouth too. A big piece. To keep her quiet for a while. Bread was hard to eat with her dentures anyway, so maybe it would buy her at least ten more minutes.

  NINE

  Sarah Beth

  Sarah Beth needed a hot bath and the dryer—a hot bath to drown the pieces of her broken heart and the dryer to disguise her cries and the ruckus that Shane was causing outside.

  He pounded on her door for two hours before it stopped finally.

  She poured herself a short glass of whiskey on the rocks. Sarah Beth wasn’t a drinker. Sure, she’d had a few glasses of wine or cocoa with peppermint liquor here and there, but she didn’t drink it for the head change. She drank it because she enjoyed the taste.

  She never drank whiskey, and she definitely didn’t drink it for the taste. And anyone who did drink it for the taste ought to be crazy.

  But she needed two things that night: to unfeel the last twenty-four hours and to forget.

  She knew this one would hit her harder than the last.

  And so she buried herself in the hot water and bubbles and sipped and cried.

  She knew it was against her better judgment—to date not just a cowboy, but also Shane Sawyer. She knew deep down in her heart that everything had aligned too perfectly.

  How could I have been so stupid? she asked herself as tears began to pool in her eyes again.

  Shane proved that an old dog couldn’t learn new tricks.

  She learned that a liar was always a liar.

  Sarah Beth hadn’t told a soul about what transpired today on Main Street. But she was certain that between God, the good folks of Dillon Creek, and nosy Pearl, the whole town was talking. It did
n’t matter.

  She’d turned off her phone hours ago.

  Sarah Beth held her whiskey glass to her lips and took long sip.

  She choked.

  She coughed.

  She gagged.

  And she did it all over again.

  Sipped.

  Choked.

  Coughed.

  Gagged.

  The whiskey quickly slithered around her heart and head and allowed her toes to go numb and her fingers to tingle. While her throat still burned, her head felt lighter. The ache in her heart lessened.

  She knew the madness of all of this would return tomorrow—along with a massive headache and a sour stomach.

  Sarah Beth heard her front door jiggle.

  “Sarah Beth?”

  She breathed a sigh of relief and sadness. “In here.” Sarah Beth’s voice broke.

  Josie appeared in the doorway of the bathroom. “Are you wallowing?” she asked as she crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe.

  Josie had never been one to sit in self-pity, and neither would she allow her best friend the same luxury.

  Sarah Beth said, “She’s pregnant, Jo. Pregnant.”

  “Has a paternity test been taken?”

  “It’s not the fact that she’s pregnant. It’s the fact that he didn’t have the balls to tell me the truth.”

  Josie walked to the toilet seat, put the lid down, and sat. “When did he find out?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Is it his for sure?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “So, let me get this straight. This strange woman—according to Pearl because that’s the version I heard—marched up to you both and told you she was pregnant with Shane’s baby, and you didn’t ask any questions?”

  Well, since Josie put it like that, my reaction does seem a little premature, Sarah Beth thought.

  “But he never said anything about a woman in Texas.”

  Josie let out a cackle. “How do you suppose he would have done that—or rather, when would he have done that? Hell, Sarah Beth, he was just winning you back. I can see why he’d wait. At the very least, give him a chance to share his side of things. You listened to the woman but didn’t give Shane the opportunity to share his piece.”