A Wedding for Christmas

by Lori Wilde

  Those hopes floated back to earth when he saw Clara’s name on the caller ID.

  “Ryder?” Clara’s voice sounded faint.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “What makes you think something is wrong?” she asked.

  “It’s Christmas Eve. You’re always with your daughter and her family on Christmas Eve. If you’re calling me on Christmas Eve something must be wrong.”

  “You know me too well.”

  “What’s happened?” His mind went in a million directions, dreading the worst. Had she broken her hip? Gotten swindled by a scam artist? Found out she had cancer? A lump of despair landed in his stomach. Normally, he did not immediately jump to worst-case scenarios, but when it came to people he loved . . .

  Loved?

  Yes, he’d never admitted to himself before, but he did love Clara. She was the grandmother he’d never had, and for the last two years, she’d been his only version of family.

  “The most beautiful thing has happened,” Clara whispered.

  It took a second for that to sink in. Clara was calling because something good had happened, not something bad.

  “But you’re breathless.”

  “You’d be breathless too if the man you’d loved for almost fifty years just proposed.”

  “Wait. What?”

  “It was the most beautiful thing,” Clara said again.

  “Who? What man?”

  “Roger Fellows.”

  “Who is he?”

  “Oh honey, back in 1967 it was the summer of love. I was rocking mini-dresses and literally wore flowers braided in my hair. And the music, oh my, the music was so wonderful! ‘Light My Fire’ was playing from the head shop that was next door to my father’s print shop and they had the record player cranked so loud you could hear it through the walls. Could smell the pot fumes from next door too, but that’s neither here nor there. It was the first time I ever heard ‘Light My Fire’ and the first time I ever laid eyes on Roger, who’d come in to have copies of flyers made about a Vietnam War protest. We were both twenty-one.”

  “You never told me this story.”

  “Well,” she said. “There are some things people like to keep private, particularly when there’s heartbreak involved.”

  Hell, he got that.

  “It was one of those instant, dizzying love-at-first-sight things.” She sighed dreamily. “Although at the time, because it happened so fast, I feared our chemistry was as much pot fumes and printer’s ink as Roger’s charm and good looks.”

  “So you reconnected,” he said, hoping to speed her along so he could get back on the highway. He wanted to ride. Needed to ride. Craved the wind in his hair, and that long, empty stretch of open road to remind him of how free he was without commitments or community weighing him down.

  “We did. But wait, I have to tell you how we separated. Roger got drafted. I wanted to run away to Canada with him, but he would have none of it. He didn’t believe in the war, but he wasn’t a coward. He didn’t run out on his responsibilities.”

  “He sounds like a good guy.”

  “Yes. The best. Anyway, he got sent overseas and he was captured as a prisoner of war. The government thought he was dead. Told me and his parents he was dead. We grieved and moved on. I married Mr. Kincaid, and we had a nice life, but I never forgot Roger. Much as, I suppose, Katie never forgot you when she was engaged to Matt.”

  “How do you know all this about Katie? You only talked to her once, for maybe ten minutes. A year ago.”

  “There’s a lot you can learn about a person when they replant your Christmas cactus and change a lightbulb for you. Consider the relationship you and I have, for instance. Most of the things I know about you came from when you were helping me.”

  That was true. Whenever he fixed things for Clara, he’d talk because she pretty much put you on the spot and forced you to talk to her.

  “Clara, I hate to rush your story, but I’m sitting on the shoulder of the road on my Harley freezing my ass off in this cold snap on Christmas Eve. Eighteen-wheelers whizzing by.”

  “Oh,” she said. “That’s what that noise is.”

  “Could we cut to the chase, and you can fill me in on the details when I get home? I should be there by Monday morning.”

  “You’re coming home?” Clara inhaled sharply. “Now?”

  “I’m already on the road.”

  “But what about Christmas? What about Katie?”

  “Bah humbug on Christmas.”

  “I see.” She sounded disapproving.

  “See what?”

  “It’s your usual attitude about the holiday. But what about Katie? I thought she’d straightened you out, and had given you a dose of Christmas spirit.”

  “It didn’t take.”

  “You broke up!” Clara’s voice hopped an octave on that last word.

  “It was for the best.”

  “What did you do to her?”

  “Back to Roger,” he prompted, reluctant to dissect what had gone wrong between him and Katie. “How did you two meet back up again?”

  “Facebook of all things,” she said. “Now back to you and Katie.”

  “Look, Clara, I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Too painful?”

  “Yes.”

  “All the more reason to talk about it. Tell me what you did to her. Maybe I can help you salvage it.”

  “I didn’t do anything to her, Clara.” Beyond get her pregnant. But he wasn’t going into all that with his neighbor. “I don’t belong here. I don’t fit in.”

  “You don’t fit here either, Ryder,” she said sadly. “I’m your only real friend. Oh sure, you have guys you’ll go get a beer or ride motorcycles with or take in a baseball game with, but no one who truly knows you. Except me.”

  “Yeah?” His voice came out acrid.

  “Yes,” she answered back, sounding like a prizefighter ready to talk smack. “I know you love Katie with ever fiber in your body. I saw it in your eyes whenever I mentioned her name. I hear it in the anguish of your voice. She gives you what she needs most.”

  “What’s that?”

  “A place to call home. Whether you believe it or not, Ryder Southerland. You belong in Twilight. You belong with Katie.”

  “Easy for you to say. You’re in LA. With Roger.”

  “That’s why I’m saying it! I’m seventy years old and I found love again, and rekindling things with Roger has reminded me of the only reason us humans are put here on earth.”

  “What’s that, Clara?” he asked, because he desperately wanted to know.

  “To love, you ninny. We’re put here to love. You have a wonderful woman who loves the dickens out of you. And I know you love her too. Stop letting your foolish pride and pigheaded beliefs that you’re this bad man stand in your way. You are not a bad person. No matter what some people might have told you. Ryder, you’re good to the bone, but you’ve been playing at being a tough guy for so long you’ve forgotten who you truly are. But Katie knows it. She sees it. That girl is your salvation and if you don’t turn that motorcycle around and go back to her and fix things right now, I’m going to fly to Texas and kick your ass.”

  Clara was right. One hundred percent. Being near Katie made him feel like someone had returned a cherished keepsake he believed forever lost. And she was so connected to the community, whenever he was with her he felt drawn effortlessly into her world.

  He knew people accepted him only because of Katie, but it didn’t change the fact that the acceptance felt good. Because of her, the townsfolk were willing to give the bad boy a second chance.

  Maybe Katie was right. Maybe people in Twilight really did forgive and forget easily. Maybe it was his guilt and shame that caused him to feel isolated and alone.

  And maybe he needed to stop seeing himself through the old lenses. Hard to do when every corner he rounded held memories of his mistakes. He understood now why he had never returned to Twilight. It had as much to do with t
he stranglehold of the past as it did with his soured relationship with his father.

  It was way past time he cleared all that up.

  The Cheek family Christmas Eve was in full swing. Everyone in the world Katie loved was in this house. Everyone, that was, except for Ryder. She tried not to think about him. Tried to keep a smile on her face and her hands busy.

  She helped her mother in the kitchen, ladling food in serving dishes and carrying it to the large dining room table for family-style eating. Joe and Gabi were canoodling in the corner, enveloped in newlywed bliss, eyes only for each other. They would spend Christmas in Twilight and then head to Hawaii for their honeymoon on Monday.

  An image of Ryder’s sexy face popped into her mind, and she couldn’t stop a sad sigh from slipping over her lips.

  She couldn’t believe how rude she’d been to him. Yes, she’d been hurting, but he’d been hurting too. She almost picked up the phone to call and apologize. She should have picked up the phone.

  But she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Even if she apologized, nothing would have changed. The man still couldn’t tell her that he loved her. Nothing to do but put him behind her and start healing. It was for the best.

  Ryder turned his Harley around and drove back to the Circle S. First things first. He had a few issues to straighten out with his father.

  “Dad,” he called, walking into the house with the pizza he’d stopped to pick up before the last pizza place closed on Christmas Eve.

  To his surprise, his father was at the kitchen table with dinner prepared, and damn if there wasn’t a small Christmas tree as a centerpiece.

  “Hey,” Ryder said.

  “Thought we should do something special since it was Christmas Eve,” Dad said.

  “That’s real nice, Dad. I bought pizza.”

  “Pasta Pappa’s?”

  “Of course.”

  “Probably better than this shit I cooked. Just one of those frozen dinners.”

  “We’ll have both,” Ryder declared.

  They sat down to eat.

  “Wanna beer?” Jax asked.

  “Love one.”

  They drank beers and ate pizza and lasagna from the freezer case. They didn’t have presents to exchange, but they exchanged conversation. Pleasant conversation, and that was the best Christmas present of all.

  “I want you to know,” Ryder said. “You’re not going to lose the ranch. You won’t have to sell it.”

  Jax looked suspicious. Hey, Rome wasn’t built in a day. “Why not?”

  “I’m staying,” Ryder said.

  “In Twilight?”

  “Yep.”

  His father blinked at him as if he was speaking in a foreign language, but slowly a hesitant smile hitched up the corners of his mouth as his words sank in. “But . . . but you hate the ranch.”

  “I never hated the ranch, Dad, I just never felt welcome here.”

  “Because of Twyla.” His dad’s voice was brittle, thin and sharp and sad. So many colors of sad. “I married her so you could have some stability.”

  “We were just fine alone.”

  “We weren’t and you know it.”

  “We weren’t any better with Twyla.”

  “I know. But she was my wife, Ryder, and despite her problems, I loved her. Not the way she deserved. I couldn’t love her with all my heart. Not after I lost your mother. Lucy was the love of my life. Twyla knew that, and I can’t help wondering if that was behind her shopping addiction. Why she kept buying more and more stuff until we were drowning in it.”

  “I was a punk to her,” Ryder said. “She wasn’t my mother and I made her pay.”

  Jax nodded. “She wanted to love you, but you just couldn’t let her.”

  “I was a kid. I was hurting. I’d lost my mom and I felt like I was losing you too.”

  “And I was too wrapped up in my own grief to see how I was hurting you.”

  “I judged Twyla instead of trying to understand her. I was a confused kid with his feelings sticking out like porcupine quills,” Ryder said. “But I learned something about her this week that I never understood.”

  “What’s that?”

  “How losing a child can drive you mad with grief and make you do things you never thought you’d do.”

  “Like what?” Jax asked.

  He met his father’s eyes. “Hurt those you love most.”

  Tears trickled down Jax’s face. “I’m so sorry, son. I wished we could have had this conversation thirteen years ago.”

  “I do too, Dad. I do too.”

  Katie had fallen asleep on her parents’ couch, Harry in her lap. She’d not wanted him to miss out on the Christmas Eve festivities. He’d gotten tons of cat toys and special tins of Fancy Feast.

  Her siblings and their children had departed, and it was only she and her parents left, and she was in no hurry to go home to that empty house. She could see her parents sitting at the kitchen table, their foreheads touching as they talked in low voices about the wedding.

  Katie yawned and stretched. Harry followed suit. She glanced at the clock, saw that it was almost ten. It was either time to go home or make peace with spending the night here.

  From outside the house they heard a loud clatter. She and Mom and Dad sprang up, as the sound of “Santa Claus Is Coming to Town” blared out over a loudspeaker. It sounded like it was coming from their front lawn.

  “What the hell?” Dad said.

  All three of them sprang to the window, threw open the sash.

  And there, on the lawn, what indeed did appear, but a brand new minivan and Ryder Southerland sitting on the top of the minivan and holding the boom box over his head.

  “Katieeeee!” he hollered.

  “Romeo bellows,” Mom said. “Best haul him in off the front lawn before the neighbors call the cops. With his reputation, he’s likely to spend the night in jail. Your father and I are off to bed, but keep it down, will you.”

  “Yes, Mom.” She kissed her parents good night.

  “Katieee!” He bellowed again like Stanley bellowing for Stella in A Streetcar Named Desire.

  Katie put on her jacket and went outside. “What is this?” She waved at the minivan.

  “Traded in the Harley.”

  “You didn’t!”

  “Yep.”

  “You can’t do that. The Harley is your pride and joy.”

  “No it’s not. You are. And the kids.”

  “What kids?”

  “Lucy and Spike and the other one.”

  She folded her arms over her chest. “We’re not naming one Spike.”

  “Harley then?” Ryder slid off the front of the minivan and sauntered across the lawn toward her. “Since I had to give up my motorcycle for that rug rat?”

  “Harley might be on the table,” she said. “If you tell me how you got a minivan on Christmas Eve.”

  “Let’s say there’s a certain car dealer in town I used to run with back in the day and I know where the bodies are buried. I made him an offer he couldn’t refuse.”

  “What’s that?”

  “My Harley and the full asking price for the minivan.”

  “You didn’t!”

  “I did.”

  “Ryder! Why?”

  “To prove to you that I can commit. I want to commit to you, Katie Cheek. In frizzy hair or in straight. In ugly cry face or beautiful, beautiful kisser.” He set down the boom box, leaned forward, wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her to him for a long, hot kiss.

  “Wow,” she said. “Wow.”

  “But first, we need to get some things straight.”

  “Such as?”

  “I can be a jackass some of the time.”

  “No kidding.”

  “I am not a poetic man, nor given to expressing my feelings in words. I would much rather take action and show you how I feel.” He winked. “If you get what I mean.”

  “Subtle, Southerland. Real subtle. How will I ever figure out what that means
?” Their breaths were frosty in the cold air. The Cheeks’ house twinkled like the Griswolds’ in National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation.

  “I want you to be happy.” He paused, grinned. “And naked. Naked is always good.” He fiddled with the buttons on her sweater.

  She slapped his hand away. “You haven’t groveled enough.”

  “Good point.” His voice was low-pitched, and she thought dreamily of moonlight, indigo, velvet. “Katie Cheek, the taste of your lips, the smell of your hair, the feel of your skin against my palms keeps me up at night,” he said. “And when I finally fall sleep, dreams of you make it hard to wake up. And when I’m with you . . .” His voice grew husky. “I feel alive.”

  “And you said you weren’t a poetic man.”

  “You might have taught me a thing or two.”

  “Hooray for me.”

  His jaw tightened and his eyes went cold. Chills raced up her spine and she rubbed her arms to warm herself.

  “What?” she asked, unnerved.

  He smoothed her hair from her face with his palm, peered into her eyes. “Don’t you get it? I’d rather have bad times with you than the best of times with anyone else in the world.”

  “Really?”

  “I’d rather have chaos with you than peace without you.”

  “Why not just have peace with me?”

  “I was hoping you’d say that. I love you, Katie. I’ve loved you since I was ten and you were eight years old and I pushed you out of the way of that float. You are the driving force behind everything I do. You are the reason I get up in the morning. You are every fantasy I’ve ever had. And no matter what happens, each day I’m with you is the best day of my life. I’m yours, forever and always.”

  “Wow,” she whispered. “Wow.”

  Her heart leaped, grimy with joy. Love was messy, yes. But worth it, so worth it. And as a wise woman once said, everyone needs a junk drawer.

  Ryder Southerland it seemed, was hers.

  “Marry me, Katie. Say yes and make me the happiest man alive.”

  “Hmm,” she said.

  “What’s that?”

  “Go get the Harley back. I never did get that ride you promised. But, oh, keep the minivan too. It might be a while before we have kids, but doesn’t hurt to start practicing now.”