“Wow,” Molly breathed. “It’s so pretty here! Like a fairy land.”
Hannah gave her a one-armed hug. “I know. I come every year and I never get tired of it. These gorgeous lights will be on until New Year’s Day.”
Cole tugged on her jacket. “Can we go see the horses now? What if there’s a big line and we can’t have a ride?”
“Problem solved. People used to get cold waiting in line, so the town council decided to sell advance tickets for various time slots. I bought ours this morning online.” Hannah reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out an envelope. “People can still line up for any empty seats, but this way we don’t have to wait. All four of us—you, too, Ethan—need to be on the other side of the square in ten minutes.”
Cole and Molly darted ahead. Ethan fell into step with Hannah, both keeping an eye on the kids.
A dusting of snow sparkled in Ethan’s raven hair and on the shoulders of his navy jacket. She suppressed the impulse to brush away the snow and jammed her hands into her pockets. “So, what did you think?”
He angled a glance at her as they strode after the kids. “Nice evening.”
“Just nice? I thought it was beautiful. All of the carolers, the moment the town square was lit up and—look down the street—all of the wreaths on the streetlamps are now lit up, as well. And check out the lovely shop windows. The town has a contest every year for those displays. I just can’t get enough of it all.”
He chuckled at that. “I can tell.”
She frowned, thinking over the day. “You didn’t need to buy four sleds, you know. I hope you didn’t feel obligated when Cole went crazy over all those choices. I can certainly pay you back.”
He looked affronted. “No. Actually, while I’m here, I’d like to help with their expenses. It seems only fair. You must have spent a lot on the winter clothes you bought them today.”
Hannah felt her hackles rise. “Not necessary. It was fun getting them outfitted with some of the things they’ll need here.”
Just ahead, Molly and Cole stopped along the sidewalk where two massive grays, in gleaming black leather and silver harnesses, stood patiently. One shook its head, sending the bells on its harness jingling.
Cole danced excitedly. “Just look at the horses, Aunt Hannah. They’re pretty! And look at the carriage—it has ribbons and bells and Christmas lights!”
Hannah approached the driver, who was dressed in a Santa suit and already calling for those with tickets for the first trip, and then motioned to Ethan and the children. “This is it—our scheduled ride. Climb aboard!”
There were two rows of bench seats behind the raised front seat for the driver. Cole and Molly sat in middle with two other children who were already on board. Ethan and Hannah ended up in the back, wedged together by another seated couple.
Hannah tried to scoot over to avoid being pressed so tightly against Ethan, but to no avail. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“No problem.” He lifted an arm and curved it around her shoulders, which gave them both a bit more room. “Seems like old times—in my old Chevy truck.”
He remembered that?
From the moment he’d appeared at her door she’d been wary of him, suspicious of his motives and worried about the possibility of a looming legal battle over the children’s future. She’d carefully ignored his physical appeal—he was simply a tall, incredibly good-looking guy, nothing more. But that hadn’t been difficult. She’d only had to recall her hurt and anger at the callous way she’d been jilted—and his brother’s cruel words afterward—to put that foolishness to rest.
But now, sitting so close to him, feeling the warmth of his leg against her jeans and his hard-muscled body pressed against hers, she could sense his strength even through the layers of their jackets. He made her feel safe. Protected.
Which made no sense since she knew she couldn’t trust him one bit. Not when something really counted.
The carriage dipped to one side as the driver lumbered up onto his seat and then twisted around to doff his cap in greeting. “Well, folks, happy holidays to you all! I’m Pete. Frank and Earl here have been pulling this carriage for five years, so we should have a good, steady ride for the next half hour. Grab the folded lap robes stored under your seats if you get cold. Any questions before we start?”
Molly raised a timid hand. “Can you ride these horses?”
Pete chuckled. “Sure. Some folks ride draft horses, but I’ve gotten old and prefer driving. Creaky bones, I guess.”
He shook out some slack in the reins and clucked at the team. They dutifully plodded forward, the bells on their harnesses rhythmically jingling, the leather creaking.
The carriage swayed as the horses clopped down Main Street beneath the swags of Christmas lights suspended across the street between lampposts.
“This is just lovely,” Hannah murmured, glancing up at Ethan.
The rhythmic hoof beats, the warm scent of the horses and the aroma of the surrounding pine forest were almost mesmerizing.
The strong line of his jaw and his five-o’clock shadow were more than a little mesmerizing, too.
She pulled her gaze away and leaned forward. “Look to the left, kids. See that antiques and gift shop with the icicle lights hanging in the windows? It belongs to Keeley, who helped bring us Thanksgiving dinner yesterday. We ran out of time today, but we’ll stop by another day. She wants you to try her yummy cookies.”
Cole turned around. “She’s nice.”
Guessing at his thoughts, she smiled. “You’ll both have lots of friends here, soon. I promise. You’ll get to meet lots of kids at church tomorrow, and on Monday you’ll see them in school, too.”
“I don’t want to go to school. Or church, either,” Molly muttered without turning around. “I won’t know anybody.”
The girl next to her had been staring at the Christmas lights and bickering with her brother. But now she angled a curious look at Molly. “What grade are you in?”
“Sixth.”
“I’m in eighth. But my cousin Joanie is in sixth.” The girl shuddered. “I hope you don’t get Mrs. Stone for math. I heard she’s tough.”
Molly shot a desperate glance at Hannah. “Did I? I hate math.”
“You’re all set to start, but I don’t remember everything on the class schedule they sent me. Except that you got Mrs. Fisher for English. She goes to my church and is really nice, I promise. We can check the schedule when we get home.”
Molly bowed her head. “It’s dumb to change schools now, after everybody has already made friends. I’ll never catch up, anyway. Everything will be different and I’ll look stupid.”
“Well, I’m Faith, and you know me. And I’ll tell Joanie you’re really cool, so then you’ll know her. She’s cool, too.” The other girl gave her a gentle, teasing shoulder bump. “And you aren’t the only new one at school. We got two new kids in my classes just last week. Anyway, Christmas vacation comes up soon and after that it’s like we’re all starting new.”
Molly shot her a grateful look then settled back in her seat.
“Thank goodness for small favors,” Hannah said under her breath. “Monday might not be so hard, after all.”
Chapter Six
The next morning Cole and Molly stood at the living room windows in their new flannel pajamas and stared out at the winter wonderland of white in awe.
“This is more than five inches,” Molly whispered. “It has to be.”
Hannah laughed. “A good foot so far. The new forecast predicts about fifteen inches with a possibility of forty-mile-an-hour wind gusts. So what do you think of all this?”
“Does this mean school will be canceled tomorrow?” The desperate note of hope in Molly’s voice was unmistakable. “We never got anything like this in Dallas.”
“I can’t say what will happen with school. We’ll listen to the radio or check the internet for closing announcements. But don’t forget Faith and her cousin Joanie. You’ll have two friends right at the start.”
Molly shot a glum look at her. “I don’t even know what Joanie looks like.”
“After the carriage ride yesterday I started thinking, and I believe that family may have just started attending my church. So if the plow comes in time—which I doubt—we could go into town for the service and you’d probably get to meet Joanie and some of the other kids, too. Wouldn’t that be great?”
Molly plopped into one of the upholstered chairs, her legs dangling over the armrest. “I guess.”
“That was one of my goals for today, anyhow. Another was to make sure we had fun sledding.” She shook her head. “But Old Man Winter sure isn’t cooperating. And though I know you don’t want to hear it, I want to make sure you both are all set for school tomorrow.”
“What about my class schedule?”
“I’ve got it right there on the counter, next to the phone.”
Molly hurried to get it. Squeezed her eyes tight. Then slowly unfolded the letter. “Mrs. Fisher...Miss Hayward...Mr. Coe...Mrs. Belkin...” She fell silent for a long moment then slapped the schedule onto the counter. “And Mrs. Stone. Math. I knew I wouldn’t be lucky, I just knew it,” she wailed. “I’m bad at math, so of course I got the mean one. I’m going to fail.”
“You heard the opinion of just one student,” Hannah said mildly. “And Faith didn’t even have that teacher. Secondhand information isn’t always right. Maybe Faith’s friend was a slacker who didn’t do his or her homework.”
“Or maybe she tried super hard and the teacher failed her just out of spite,” Molly retorted.
“I don’t imagine that will happen. Anyway, math isn’t subjective. Your answers are either right or wrong. But I can promise you that whatever happens, I will help. Okay?”
“Can we go sledding right now?” Cole looked up from pressing his fingertips against the frosted edges of the windowpanes, his eyes bright with excitement and anticipation. “You got us boots and snow pants.”
“You’re definitely all set, but there aren’t good sliding hills nearby—the forest is too dense. We’ll need to drive down to Aspen Creek Park for that—but not in this weather.”
Cole’s face fell. “Can’t we try?”
“We have to wait for the snowplow. I can’t promise when he’ll come—especially if the wind picks up. Blowing and drifting can be a real problem out here, so sometimes the county pulls the plows off the road. Then we just have to wait.”
“But you have a big car. I bet it could go.”
“Even if my SUV could make it, it’s not worth taking any chances. We might get there but not make it back today, and who would feed all the animals?”
“Does that mean Uncle Ethan can’t get here, either?”
The ceiling lights in the kitchen flickered ominously and Molly’s eyes rounded. “What was that?”
“No worries. Sometimes the power goes out during storms if a line goes down somewhere. We usually get it back within a few hours.”
“So in the meantime we could freeze to death, right? And not be found till spring?”
Hannah smothered a smile at Molly’s dramatics. “Not a chance. We have the wood-burning fireplace, plus I have lots of candles, flashlights and several kerosene lamps, so we won’t be sitting in the dark. I also have a generator to keep just the essentials going.” Hannah moved to the fireplace and opened the glass doors. “In fact, I think a little fire would be cheery right now, don’t you?”
Cole followed her. “Can I help?”
Hannah sat on the raised hearth and pointed to the alcove next to the fireplace. “Can you hand me some good pieces of firewood? Four or five should be plenty right now.”
Reaching inside the firebox, she opened the damper then helped him arrange the wood and tinder. She struck the match and in a few minutes the sweet scent of burning pine wafted into the air.
As warmth began to radiate into the room, Maisie, Bootsie and all three cats claimed spots right in front of the fire.
She dusted off her hands. “Great job. Thanks, Cole. Now, who wants to help make chocolate chip cookies?”
“Me,” Cole said softly. “I used to make cookies with my mom. I know how.”
“Super. And you know what? She might have used the same family favorite recipe that she and I got from our mom. How about you, Molly? Want to help?”
“Not me.” Molly headed for her room. “I’m going to read and pray that we get enough snow that school closes for the rest of the year.”
* * *
Ethan turned up the heat of the windshield defroster and peered at the wall of white ahead of him. Following a snowplow had kept his speed at twenty-five, but the snow was too deep to try passing and he doubted he could make it through the drifts ahead of the plow anyhow. With such limited visibility he’d probably end up stuck in a ditch.
He’d passed the turnoff for Aspen Creek Park a few miles back, so the main highway would soon veer to the east, while Spruce Road continued north through the deepening forest for another mile to Hannah’s place.
With only a couple homes on Spruce, it probably wasn’t a high priority, and if the plow didn’t head up that way, the rest of this trip was going to be a true test of what his rental SUV could do.
He’d probably end up finishing the trip on foot, or choosing the wiser course of giving up and turning back for town. How far would he get, trudging through this snow with a brace and a bum leg?
But if the forecasters were right and this storm worsened, how safe were Hannah and the kids up here in such an isolated area if the power went out, the furnace quit or her phone went dead?
If he didn’t reach them now, he wouldn’t rest easy back in town until he did.
Another blast of wind buffeted the side of his SUV and turned the visibility to zero. When the snow cleared he could see the plow rumbling away on the sharp curve to the east. Spruce Road opened up ahead of him like a white tunnel beneath an arched dome of the winter-bare branches of the trees lining either side.
He debated for a second then headed up the lane.
His prayers had never amounted to much—he doubted they’d even been heard much less answered. If God had listened, his best friends would still be alive.
But now he said one under his breath as he leaned forward to peer into the blinding world of white, his hands gripping the steering wheel.
The SUV steadily plowed through the snow, bucking through drifts, shimmying over ice patches. He passed a mailbox, then one more. The driveways leading back into the woods were obscured by drifts.
Finally he caught a faint view of a dead end sign through the falling snow and then Hannah’s mailbox.
For the second time in years he said a prayer. And this time it was heartfelt thanks.
Gathering the grocery bags on the seat next to him, Ethan stepped out into a knee-deep drift and his bad leg buckled. Only his grip on the SUV’s door kept him upright.
He limped to the front entry, cringing at each step, and knocked. From inside came a cacophony of barking and the sounds of dogs clawing at the door. A moment later Hannah peeked through the small window.
She unlocked the door and stared at him in surprise. “What are you doing out in this weather? Have the plows come through already?”
“Just on the highway.”
“And you still managed to make it up Spruce Road? That couldn’t have been easy.” With a twinkle in her eyes, she stepped aside to usher him in. “Especially for a Southern driver.”
“It isn’t that we can’t drive in snow, we’re just smart enough to live where it isn’t an issue.”
He set the groceries on the f
loor, shucked off his boots and hung his jacket on the coatrack by the door. He savored the aroma of warm chocolate chip cookies. “Who’s baking?”
“Me and Aunt Hannah. Molly didn’t want to help, so she went outside to see the chickens and the pony.” Cole stared at Ethan from the kitchen then rushed to grab his own coat. “You got here! That means we can go sledding!”
“Not so fast, buddy.” Ethan ruffled his blond hair. “I was really fortunate to get here. But the roads aren’t good at all.”
The boy’s shoulders slumped. “We gotta have snow to go sledding. But then we get snow and we can’t go anywhere. It isn’t fair.”
“There will be lots of other times. So many that you might even get tired of it, kiddo.” Hannah nodded toward the window. “And, remember, your job is to watch out for the snowplow. Unless it comes too close to dark, we’ll still try to go today.”
Ethan hoped not. The thought of repeatedly trudging up a long hill only for a quick trip down made his knee throb as he carried the two grocery sacks to the kitchen counter. Though he forced himself to walk with a steady gait, he looked up and found Hannah’s gaze riveted on his right leg. Busted.
“What happened to you? You weren’t limping like that before.”
“Took a wrong step when I got out of the SUV. It’s nothing.”
“Right. If you take a seat and prop up that leg on an ottoman, I’ll give you a cold pack.”
“It’s fine.”
“No, it’s not. Sit.” She fluffed up a couple of sofa pillows. “Chair or sofa?”
From her steely look of determination, he knew he might as well give in. “Chair, I guess. But no ice pack.”
She put one pillow against the backrest, waited for him to get settled and then put the other pillow on the ottoman to elevate his leg.
She glanced at him. “Do you mind?”
He started to wave her away but she’d already crouched next to the ottoman. She studied his leg for a moment then ran deft hands down his jeans from mid-thigh to ankle, gently probing here and there.
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