Christmas In Snowflake Canyon

by RaeAnne Thayne

  Oh, how she wished she could go back and relive that time from the perspective she had now. Of course, if that were possible, she never would have been stupid enough to think she could marry Sawyer Danforth.

  A sudden rap on the window startled a squeak out of her. She shifted and saw Dylan standing on the other side of the glass and metal, his gaze concerned.

  He looked gorgeous with snow melting in his brown hair. He had trimmed away almost all the shagginess— for the wedding? she wondered. The cut made him look younger, somehow.

  He continued watching her with concern and she finally sighed, knowing she was going to have to face him eventually, and hit the power button on the window.

  “Everything okay? I saw you pull in. You’ve been sitting here for a couple of minutes without moving.”

  In the corner of the lot, she spied his beat-up old pickup truck. She must have been too distracted when she arrived to notice it.

  “What are you doing here? Why aren’t you with A Warrior’s Hope?”

  “I had a couple of errands to run, so Eden and Mac agreed to let me have a few hours. I’m heading back there. What about you? Why are you just sitting in your car?”

  “Trying to gather my nerve.”

  “Yeah, the tourist traffic can be a real bear on winter Saturdays in Hope’s Crossing.”

  Despite her angst, she managed a smile at his dry tone. “True. I wish that were all that is worrying me. I have to walk over to the bead store and see if I can ransom my wedding dress.”

  He leaned back a little on his heels. “Something tells me there’s a very interesting story behind that particular statement.”

  With a sigh, she climbed out of her SUV. She didn’t want to tell him, as it didn’t show her in a very good light.

  “I had this really gorgeous wedding dress created by this up-and-coming designer in New York,” she finally said. “I wanted hand-beaded accents on it and I wanted Claire McKnight to do them for me. She did a beautiful job, twice, which is a long story in itself. After things fell apart with Sawyer, I never wanted to see that dress again. I told her so.”

  “She still has it?”

  She nodded. “I owe her the last payment for the work she did. I was terrible to Claire. Rude and condescending. I don’t want to face her, especially since I am going there to eat crow.”

  “How?”

  She reached into her purse—another she had sewn— and pulled out the envelope that contained the last of her cash, after helping with Jenna’s plane ticket.

  “This is most of what I still owe her, short a few hundred dollars. I hope to pay her the rest when I sell the house. I should have paid her a long time ago. I know. You don’t have to lecture me.”

  He raised his eyebrow. “I didn’t say a word.”

  “The truth is, I really didn’t want to see the stupid dress again. I guess I was hoping my parents would take care of it while I was in Europe but they can be passiveaggressive about some things. I guess this happened to be one of those times.”

  “Why do you want the dress now?”

  She gazed at the mountains. Why had she never noticed how strong and commanding they looked when they were covered with snow? She had always considered them a prison, keeping her in boring little Hope’s Crossing, but that was yet another perspective that had shifted.

  “It’s a beautiful gown,” she answered. “Someone should wear it. I want to give it to Jenna. She deserves something magical when she and Trey get married tomorrow.”

  For only an instant, she thought she saw something in his eye—a spark, a light, warmth that hadn’t been there before—but then it vanished, probably a trick of the shifting clouds.

  “Right now I need to go to String Fever and face Claire,” she said glumly. “I would rather be scrubbing toilets at The Speckled Lizard.”

  “That can probably be arranged. Pat would probably love to put you to work.”

  “Figure of speech. I have to go to the bead store. I just don’t want to.”

  “Want some company?” He looked as shocked by the offer as she was.

  “You? Seriously?”

  He shrugged and held up a bag in his hand. “I bought the last thing on my list and I’ve got an hour before

  I’m supposed to be back at the recreation center. I’ve got time.”

  Oh, she was turning into such a baby if one tiny gesture of kindness could make her want to burst into tears. “That would be wonderful. I know I shouldn’t be so cowardly.”

  “You made it this far, didn’t you? Now all you’ve got are a few more steps. Anyway, as far as I’m concerned, there’s no shame in being afraid. Only in letting the fear win.”

  Like you’re doing by pushing me away? she wanted to say. But he had offered to help her and she didn’t want to start a fight.

  After he put his parcels in his truck, they started off in the direction of the bead store, sidestepping slushy spots and piles of snow. Usually when they walked together, Dylan seemed determined that she walk on his right side. This time, she was equally determined not to let him try to protect her. She walked stubbornly as close to the edge of the sidewalk as she could manage, where he would have to be in the gutter if he was going to make a point of it.

  He had to get over thinking she would freak out if she touched his residual arm—since she hated the word stump she decided that was what she was going to call it.

  After a few minutes, she decided to push the issue further. “Would it hurt if I held on to you? I’m nervous about the ice. I love these boots but they’re not very practical for a Colorado December.”

  They were gorgeous, she had to admit. She’d bought them in a fabulous shop in the Sixteenth.

  He stopped and held out his right arm. “Come on the other side.”

  She shook her head. “I prefer this side, as long as it doesn’t hurt.”

  “Gen.”

  She gave him a firm look and grabbed his elbow. After a long, awkward moment when she thought he might yank away and leave her standing there alone, he gave a little sigh and continued on his way.

  As they walked, she was aware of the void just below the spot she held. She looked inside herself for any kind of squeamishness and could find nothing like that. She could find plenty of emotions there, thick and heavy. Admiration for what he had been through, as well as sadness that she wouldn’t have many more moments like this with him.

  “I think I may have sold the house.”

  Beneath her fingers, his arm tensed slightly then relaxed. “Really?”

  She nodded. “Eden is looking for her own fixerupper. She came over last night to check out Grandma Pearl’s place and says it’s just what she wanted. It’s in the right location and everything. She even likes the pink tile in the bathroom. Go figure. She wants to figure out her budget but so far the signs look positive.”

  He cleared his throat. “Great. I guess you can shed the dust of Hope’s Crossing earlier than you expected.”

  “I guess.”

  She should probably try to sound more enthusiastic about returning to Paris—that was what she’d been saying all along she wanted, right?—but she couldn’t quite act that well.

  Fearing he would correctly guess the reason she suddenly didn’t want to leave, she turned the subject to one she knew would distract him.

  “Charlotte told me the other day you had surgery some months ago where they implanted an artificial eye.”

  She could feel the tension in him again. “Charlotte talks too much.”

  “Why do you wear the patch if you really don’t need it?”

  “You don’t like the pirate look?”

  She wanted to tell him he was perfect to her, just as he was, but she knew he wouldn’t believe it. “I just wondered. Does it have anything to do with why you avoid wearing your prosthetic?”

  “Which one? I have several. None of them are particularly comfortable. They get in the way and I finally give up in frustration. And no matter how far technology has
come, the eye still looks fake. I can’t see anything out of it anyway.” He paused. “I’m missing a hand and an eye. No prosthetic hand or artificial eye is going to erase that fact. I figure I need to get used to reality, not try to mask it.”

  “Are you thinking you need to face that or everybody else needs to?”

  He slanted a look down at her. “Both.”

  “Can I say something?” she said after a moment. “Any chance I could stop you?”

  She squeezed his arm. “Probably not. I just want to point out that you seem to be the only one focused on what’s missing. When I look at you, all I see is a man of strength and courage trying to adjust to tough changes in his life.”

  He grew silent as they crossed the street and headed for String Fever. Had she overstepped? She really wished she could read him better.

  She didn’t have time to fret about it for long—she had something else entirely to worry about as they reached the charming little bead store, with its colorful display window and hanging sign.

  She used to love coming into String Fever and had even taken a class or two when the store used to be owned by Katherine Thorne. If she were staying in town, she would certainly consider taking another one.

  The store seemed to be busy. She spotted a few people who looked familiar at the worktable and Claire and Evie Thorne standing by the cash register, along with a plump but pretty teenage girl she didn’t know.

  Claire moved away from the counter and headed toward them, trying unsuccessfully to hide the surprise on her soft, pretty features. “Genevieve. And, er, Dylan. Hello. This is an…unexpected pleasure.”

  She really doubted that. The pleasure part, anyway. She tried for a smile. “Hello. I haven’t been into String Fever in a while. I like the new paint color.”

  “Thank you. The walls were looking a little tired. I’m actually glad you stopped by. I owe you an apology.”

  She hadn’t been expecting that. “You…do?”

  “The other night. My mother. I’m so sorry. What she said was unconscionably rude. I’m sorry you had to hear that.”

  Oh. That. “Don’t worry about it. It wasn’t your fault. If I tried to make amends for everything my mother did, it would take me hours just to walk through town.”

  Claire smiled, and Genevieve suddenly remembered what she did have to apologize for.

  “Are you two looking for something in particular? We have some nice premade items that make lovely Christmas gifts.”

  Genevieve turned in the direction Claire indicated, and there, hanging in a glass display case, was her exquisitely designed wedding gown—all that was left of shattered dreams that didn’t seem at all important anymore.

  She had forgotten how gorgeous it was. Gathered bodice that draped, softly flaring skirt, the Swarovski crystals that gleamed in the light.

  Barely realizing what she did, she walked to the case and touched the glass. It was cold against fingers that had been warmed by Dylan’s heat.

  Jenna would look lovely in it. They were a similar height and measurements, though Gen was a little bigger in the bust. Other than that, she was certain the dress would fit.

  She turned and found Dylan at her shoulder, as if he sensed she needed the moral support.

  “First, I… You apologized for your mother. I need to apologize for myself.”

  Claire waited, her expression curious.

  “I don’t need to tell you how terrible I was during my engagement and how I was even worse after things fell apart. I’m ashamed of my behavior and I’m very sorry for the way I treated you, especially when you were nothing but kind to me through everything.”

  Dylan reached for her hand and curled his fingers around hers. She couldn’t look at him or she knew she would start to cry.

  “I don’t know what to say,” Claire said.

  “You don’t have to say anything. I don’t expect you to forgive me. I was awful to you. I know that.”

  “You wanted things to be perfect. Most brides do.”

  “Most brides don’t treat everyone in town like their personal slaves.”

  “It’s done. It was two years ago. From everything I’ve seen and heard since you’ve been back, you’re a different woman than you were then.”

  She desperately wanted to believe that. She still had a long way to go but she wanted to think she was making progress.

  “You said you were here for two reasons,” Claire prompted. “What’s the second one?”

  She reached into her purse. “I would like to take my wedding gown now. This is almost everything I owe you, minus a couple hundred dollars, which I’ll pay you as soon as I—”

  To her shock, Dylan pulled his wallet out and thrust out a debit card. “She’ll pay you the rest now, along with whatever you think is fair in interest and storage fees.”

  Genevieve and Claire both stared at him as if he’d suddenly stripped down to his boxers and started belting out “Jingle Bells.”

  “Dylan!”

  He shifted, not sure why he had made the gesture. He only knew it felt right. It had to have taken her buckets of grit to come in here and face her own mistakes. Beyond that, he found it incredibly sweet that she wanted to give a designer dress worth thousands to a woman she had only just met.

  Crazy, yeah, but sweet, too.

  “Don’t worry about it. I would probably just waste it on Johnnie Walker. Let me do something good with my money for a change.”

  “Fine.” She looked stunned, her eyes soft and shiny. “I’ll pay you back when I sell the house, then.”

  A weird ball of something lodged in his gut at the reminder that she would soon be selling her grandmother’s house and heading across the ocean.

  “Do you mind if I ask who the bride might be?” Claire asked.

  Genevieve smiled. “It’s very romantic. Her name is Jenna Baldwin and she’s a schoolteacher in Georgia. The groom is Trey Evans. He’s one of the guests at A Warrior’s Hope. You might have met him at the welcome reception the other night.”

  “Oh, right. Is he the good-looking guy with the cute Southern accent? As I recall, he’s the only one who didn’t have anyone with him.”

  “He does now.” Genevieve beamed with pleasure and pride.

  “Gen here did a little matchmaking behind the scenes and brought in his ex-fiancée from Georgia to try to patch things up between them.”

  “He’s a really nice young man and he doesn’t have any family to help him through the healing process. It seemed ridiculous to me that any man would turn his back on someone who loved him just because of some silly idea that he’s not perfect anymore.”

  She didn’t look at Dylan when she spoke but somehow he felt her words tug between them anyway. He didn’t miss the glances Claire and Evie exchanged, both of them careful to also avoid looking at him, until he felt as if he were invisible.

  “So you’re loaning her your wedding gown?” Claire said after an awkward pause. “How kind of you.”

  Genevieve shook her head. “Not a loan. A gift.”

  Claire’s expression was clearly surprised. He wanted to tell her to get in line. Gen was full of surprises, when she let down her prickly guard.

  “When is the wedding?” Evie asked.

  “Tomorrow afternoon,” Gen answered. “All the guests are flying home Monday, and Jenna and Trey wanted them to share in their moment. We’ve had to hurry to throw everything together.”

  “How wonderful.” Claire’s eyes, predictably, turned soft and dreamy. All the other women at A Warrior’s Hope had the same expression every time the talk turned to weddings.

  “Riley and I had a Christmas wedding, too,” she said. “I’m sure everything will be lovely.”

  “How can we help?” Evie asked.

  “You want to help?”

  “Yes!” Claire exclaimed. “I can’t imagine throwing together a wedding in such short order. You have to let us pitch in.”

  “Thank you. I don’t know what to say. That’s…very kind
of you both.”

  “Everyone will want to help. You know they will. If Alex finds out we threw a wedding and didn’t ask her to take care of the food, she’ll never forgive any of us.”

  “You know,” Evie said thoughtfully, “Mary Ella probably has all the decorations from her own wedding lying around somewhere.”

  “That’s right!” Claire exclaimed. “Do you think the bride would mind secondhand decorations? They were so elegant—silver, blue, white. Perfect for a wedding during the holidays.”

  Gen looked as if she wanted to burst into tears. “That would be great! I was planning something simple, maybe taking some fresh greenery from the grounds and whatever ribbons and ornaments we could swipe from the guest cabins. But if Mary Ella wouldn’t mind loaning a few things, I’m sure the bride will be very grateful.”

  “I’ll call her right now,” Claire offered.

  As she headed into her office, apparently to use the phone, Evie turned to Gen. “You know, I think we have a necklace-and-earring set that would go perfectly with that dress. I created it for the school-dance season around the corner but it always seemed a little old for a teenage girl.”

  She headed for another jewelry case. When she pulled out a piece, it reflected a swirl of colors.

  “Oh. Look at that,” Gen exclaimed. “Are those Swarovski crystals like the gown?”

  “Yes,” Evie said. “The pearls are Swarovski, as well.”

  “Stunning. Really stunning. I love how light and airy it is, like the gems are suspended there.”

  “Take it for the bride. It can be a wedding gift from me.”

  “Thank you. Thank you so much. I know she’ll love it.”

  When Claire returned, she carried a black clothing bag—for the dress, he assumed.

  “Mary Ella is thrilled to let your bride and groom use their decorations. She and Harry will load everything up tonight in his pickup truck and drop it off at the recreation center. She says for you to use whatever you want and keep the rest in one of the spare rooms at the recreation center. They’ll pick it up Sunday night or Monday.”

  Dylan had a tough time picturing Harry Lange—the wealthiest man in town—delivering wedding decorations for people he didn’t know, but apparently marrying Mary Ella McKnight had a mellowing effect, even on the cranky old codger.