She undressed and slipped on her nightgown, then eased into the bed. Sam didn't rouse, and for a few minutes Polly allowed herself to try to fathom these new sensations: someone in bed with her, the warmth instead of the chill she usually had to contend with until her own body heat counteracted it. Most amazing, she admitted to herself groggily, was the yearning to scoot across that empty space....
She woke without the usual reluctance to face yet another morning in a long list of chore-filled days. Normally, she spent a few moments trying to will herself to toss back the covers and hasten into the kitchen to build up the fire. Now she felt so comfortable, so languid, yet so ready to face the waiting work. She had slept extremely well. She snuggled down against her pillow, which suddenly felt hard, rather than soft. Something tickled her nose, and she opened her eyes to see a nest of wiry curls, the culprit of the pesky aggravation.
Her mind ordered her to pull away, informing her at once that she was lying on Sam's chest. Yet her body refused to respond. She took inventory of the other points where their bodies were in contact as she languidly lifted her hand and protected her nose by pressing her fingers into the curls before they made her sneeze.
Sam's left arm curled around her back, his hand resting on her hip. Her breasts pressed against his chest, feeling somewhat heavier than usual, and one of her legs curled over his thigh. Her stomach nestled against his side, and she heaved a small sigh. Probing her mind in silent inquiry, she found the answer to the question of what this wonderful feeling was.
Contentment.
"Morning, sweetheart. Sleep well?" Sam's voice rumbled in her ear.
She pulled back to look into his face and answered him honestly. "Better than I have in a long while."
Her gaze locked with his for a precious, long moment, and she lifted a hand to caress his cheek. "Sam, there's something I want to tell you."
He quickly bent to kiss her, then placed a finger on her lips. "This evening. We'll talk this evening, all right? When we don't have to worry about Chrissy interrupting."
She recognized a shadow of worry in his eyes, and her heart fell. He probably wanted to tell her that he intended to put the ranch on the market the day after Christmas. She had to prepare herself, and for the responsibility of divulging to Chrissy they would be moving. But she also firmed her resolve to tell Sam tonight that she would make her home with him wherever he wanted to live. She loved him. She had known it irrefutably ever since his accident with the axe, and come of it what may, she had to reveal her love.
"All right," she agreed. "Tonight."
The day flew by, with whispered conferences between Sam and Chrissy, black head bent to golden one in a corner of the room, and a new package appearing now and then under the tree. Polly joined in the excitement herself a couple times, hiding a package behind her back and sidling up to the tree, then shaking a cautioning finger at Sam and Chrissy when they demanded to at least feel the packages and attempt a guess.
After the noon meal, when Sam handed a warm pair of gloves and an envelope over to Jose and each of the other hands, he gave them the rest of the day off, ordering the hands to spend Christmas tomorrow with their own families, also. He'd pretty much discarded his crutch today, though he still walked with a limp, and he assured them that he could care for the animals himself.
A while later, he and Chrissy came into the kitchen as Polly finished the dishes. Each carried a wreath fashioned from pine boughs and red holly berries.
"We're going out to decorate my other mama and papa's graves," Chrissy solemnly told Polly. "Do you want to come with us?"
"Of course I do, sweetheart," Polly replied.
She hurriedly dried her hands and donned her cloak. Jose was walking toward the grave sites himself, and he waited for them to join him. They silently made their way to the cottonwood tree, and Chrissy and Sam placed a wreath over each cross, then stepped back and bowed their heads.
"Oh, Matt," Jo said with a sigh. "Isn't this wonderful? Can't you just feel the love here? It's so nice of everyone to remember Ron and Christine, too. This is going to be an absolutely splendid Christmas for this family."
When Matt didn't answer, Jo looked over into a frown on his face. "Matt, now don't spoil things. Polly's going to tell Sam that she loves him this evening, and he's going to admit to her how he feels, too. They'll work everything out, once they declare their love for each other."
"I suppose," Matt finally said. "I'm tuned into Polly right now, though. She's just realizing part of the reason Sam's uncomfortable on the ranch is because of his memories of Christine. But it's still breaking her heart to think about leaving here."
"Well, part of loving someone is wanting their happiness above and beyond yours," Jo insisted. "Maybe it will be better for them as a family to build their own memories in a new place."
"Maybe. I guess we can pop back here from time to time to see how things are going."
"We don't have to leave until right before midnight," Jo reminded him. "We can stay around until then. But we don't want to miss our own celebration."
Matt nodded, and they watched the little party by the graves a while longer. Polly took Chrissy's hand, and Jose walked with them back toward the cabin. Sam remained behind, waving a dismissing hand when Polly stopped once to call back a reminder not to linger too long in the cold.
Suddenly a wide smile crossed Matt's face, and he glanced joyously over at Jo. She clapped her hands and sent a delighted look winging overhead.
Polly answered a faint knock on the kitchen door and smiled into Jose's face when he shushed her greeting with a finger on his lips.
"It's all right," she said. "Chrissy's in bed. I guess you want us to come out and get the saddle."
"I have it here, Señora," Jose replied. He pointed beside him, to where the tiny saddle lay against the wall.
"Jose! You shouldn't have carried that here. We would have come for it."
Jose ignored her admonishment and brought something out from behind his back, holding it out to her. "My hands have not pained me so bad for a few days. I made this for the little señorita."
Polly accepted the tiny bridle, hastily cushioning it against her stomach when the little bells on it jingled merrily. Despite Jose's protests, she knew how hard it must have been for him to braid the leather for the bridle and tie the bells on with rawhide thongs. The wizened old man had made the bridle with great effort — love in every pained movement. She leaned over and kissed his weathered cheek.
"It's beautiful, Jose," she breathed. "She'll love it. Come on in and have some hot chocolate with us."
"No, Señora, but I will come back after St. Nick leaves, as I have always done." He gave her a surreptitious wink. "I would not miss the joy of watching Señorita Chrissy open her gifts."
Sam appeared behind Polly as Jose walked away. He spied the saddle against the porch wall and lifted it over an arm to carry across the kitchen. Polly whispered to him that Jose would return around midnight.
In the parlor, Sam knelt and placed the saddle beneath the tree, then draped the bridle Polly handed him across the pommel. "That's everything, isn't it?" he asked, leaning back on his heels.
"I would surely hope so," Polly said with a smile. "The doll is beautiful, Sam. Chrissy will love it."
Suddenly she saw Sam's hand move nonchalantly towards one of the packages under the tree, and she instinctively dropped down beside him, grabbing his arm and jerking it back.
"No! I've been telling you all day you can't feel the packages. You're worse than Chrissy!"
With a chuckle, Sam pulled her into his arms and sat on the floor, snuggling her onto his lap. "Ah," he said, "but that wasn't a real attempt to feel a package. It was a trick. I knew you'd lunge down here and try to stop me. Then I could get my hands on you, not the package."
Polly laughed and swatted him on the shoulder. Gazing up into his mischievously twinkling eyes, she felt a curl of the same contentment she had experienced that morning spread through h
er. "I don't recall giving you permission to feel me, either," she said. "But I don't appear to be denying you."
Sam cupped her chin and kissed her tenderly. "Merry Christmas, Mrs. Butler," he murmured when he reluctantly pulled back from her lips. "I want you to know, I'll remember this Christmas for the rest of my life. I didn't realize when I rode onto this ranch a little over two weeks ago that everything I needed to fill a huge hole in my life was waiting here for me. I love you, Polly. You're my very heart and soul."
Tears misted Polly's eyes, and she caressed his cheek, her fingers rasping on the new growth of shadowy beard. "I wanted to tell you first," she murmured.
"Tell me what?"
"That I love you. That ever since you came here, the cabin has become a home again, instead of just a place to shelter Chrissy and me. My days are exciting, rather than something to get through. In fact, I've never been happier in my life than recently. I love you, Sam, and I'm very pleased to be your wife. Merry Christmas."
Sam captured her mouth again in a deep, thrilling kiss. He crushed her against his chest, but she gloried in the strength of his embrace. One of his hands tangled in her hair, the pins scattering across the floor as the heavy mass fell down her back. Sam's muffled moan of desire fired a deep yearning in her.
She wanted to be his wife completely — shatter this one last barrier between them. The barrier of her virginity was secondary to what she somehow sensed would be the total completeness they would find together as lovers.
Sam groaned and raised his head to glance at the clock on the mantle, and Polly instinctively stretched back towards his lips. "There's lots of time left before midnight," she almost pleaded.
"Woman," Sam said with a low growl, "there's not enough time left in this world for me to love you as much as I want to. Once I get you in that bed, I might never let you out of it."
"Now, now, darling," Polly chastised in a teasing voice. "We have to let Chrissy and Jose open their Christmas presents, too."
Sam buried his face on her shoulder and nuzzled her neck. Her eyelids drifted downward, but an ember popped in the fireplace, and she glanced over to make sure the fire guard was securely in place. Her eyes caught on the rocking chair instead, and she tensed, some of the craving in her body diminishing. Sam appeared to realize immediately that something had intruded upon their closeness. He pushed her back a few inches and stared into her face.
"What is it, darling?" he asked. "You don't need to be afraid. I promise you, I'll open my gift slowly, cherishing every inch of it."
Polly threw her arm around his neck and shook her head. "Everything's fine. Please, kiss me again."
Sam tilted his chin and lifted his mouth beyond her reach. "No. Something's bothering you, and I want to know what it is. I don't want anything hanging between us this evening."
Polly bit her bottom lip for a second, then sighed. "I was just wondering if we could at least take the rocking chair with us. I don't care that much about the rest of the furniture. Well, except maybe this rug. But the rocking chair has a lot of memories attached to it, and they're all good memories."
"Take it where?" Sam asked in an innocent voice, though Polly thought she detected a shuttered slyness on his face. "But I'm glad to know you like the rug. You never said."
"Of course I like the rug," Polly grumbled. "It's perfect in here. Maybe the next woman will want to decorate her own way, but if she wants this furniture, I don't mind. All except the rocking chair."
"Next woman?" Sam said in mock awe. "Are you telling me I can have two wives, Polly, love? You're all I need."
Polly shoved at his chest and scrambled to her feet. Setting her hands on her hips, she glared down at him.
"If you ever so much as sneak a sideways peek at another woman, Sam Butler, I'll crack you up beside the head with my rolling pin so hard you won't have any interest in even me for at least a week. And you know exactly what I'm talking about."
She swung around and looked at the tree. The few candles they had fastened to the limbs remained to be lit, but not until gift opening time. Then they could keep a close eye on them, what with the danger of the drying pine needles catching fire. But the flickering flame in the wall sconce outlined the tiny angel on top, and Polly frowned in confusion when she imagined that the angel winked at her. She stomped over to the settee and grabbed one of the decorative cushions, pillowing it against her stomach as she sat down and glowered at the damnable smirk on Sam's face.
"Sam, my home is with you now," she said. Her voice sounded rather huffy, instead of soft and loving, as she had anticipated this conversation with Sam would be when she told him he meant more to her than the ranch. The smirk stayed, and she tightened her grip on the cushion, fighting the urge to throw it at him. "Wither thou goest," she quoted. "When you sell the ranch, though, the new owner's wife will probably want things her way."
"Sell the ranch?" Sam rose to his feet. "Sell this ranch, after I've worked my fingers to the bone trying to make it a decent home for my wife and child? When we've got all this good, clean air to breathe and open spaces for Chrissy and our future children to grow and thrive in? Why, just look at me." Sam patted his flat stomach. "See? I'm in better shape than I've ever been before in my life. Ranch work seems to agree with me."
Polly clasped a hand to her cheek, blinking her eyes furiously to try to hold back her tears of joy. "I thought ... you said ... when did you decide?"
Sam knelt before her, taking both her hands in his. "Only today," he admitted. "But I think the decision has been in my subconscious for a long while. I've promised myself to be honest with you, Polly, as part of our marriage. You know I thought myself in love with Christine."
When Polly cocked her head in question, he continued, "Yes, thought. Your sister was a lovely person, but I only found out what real love was when I realized I was in love with you. Today, I thanked Christine for knowing what was best not only for herself, but also for me. Any memories I have now of Christine on this ranch will be grateful ones, since because of her, I found you. I found my own soul mate — my own true love."
Polly threw her arms around his neck, almost tumbling them both to the floor. Somehow Sam managed to steady himself, and he rose, sweeping her up and swinging her around once, then again. The room circled, flashes of fireplace, rocking chair and Christmas tree passing her by. She barely noticed them from the corners of her eyes. She couldn't tear her gaze from Sam's face.
"I love you, Sam," she said as soon as he came to a halt. "With all my heart."
"I love you, Polly, sweetheart," he replied. "With my heart, too, but...." He glanced once more at the clock. "I do believe there's plenty of time left before midnight to show you how much my body can love yours, also."
"Oh, but what if we don't want to leave the bed once we get into it?" Polly asked in mock horror. "Chrissy will be so disappointed if she sleeps past our traditional gift opening time."
"Well," Sam mused, dropping a kiss on her nose. "I've come to another decision. The best Christmas gifts are the ones you can savor all year long. I'll force myself out of bed at least five minutes before midnight, knowing that my Christmas present will be something that lasts forever."
"Forever," Polly agreed on a sigh. She snuggled her head against his shoulder as Sam carried her out of the parlor, forever whispering in her mind.
The angel on top of the Christmas tree glowed with a light too bright to be a reflection from the wall sconce, drawing Jo and Matt's satisfied gazes to it. The light drifted upwards, leaving the angel in place on the branch.
"Michael!" Jo said in a delighted voice. "Michael, did you see? This has been a wonderful assignment."
"I saw," came the voice from the light. "I had faith the two of you could do it, despite your own doubts. Let's drop in on Chrissy before we leave."
The three of them drifted through the wall and hovered over Chrissy's bed. Matt reached down and brushed a lock of hair from Chrissy's forehead, and she opened her eyes slightly.
"Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you for making my wish come true."
Her eyes closed again, and Jo said softly, "Merry Christmas, Chrissy."
"Merry Christmas," Chrissy breathed in response.
The angels floated through the ceiling, and Jo paused a hundred yards or so above the small cabin to scan the ranch. Reflected starlight sparkled on the snow, diamond-dotting it with brilliance. Smoke curled lazily into the blue-black night from the chimneys on the cabin and Jose's smaller shack. The scene was so peaceful and serene, a wondrous joy filled Jo's heart, and she looked over at Matt and Michael. They both gave her a nod of agreement and wide smiles.
Suddenly a shaft of light cut through the sky, bathing the ranch yard in new radiance. The three of them turned as one toward the star glowing in the eastern sky.
"Oh," Jo said. "Let's go. Our own celebration will begin pretty soon."
Merging and separating in joyous abandon, the three angels flew toward the Christmas Star.
Trana Mae Simmons
Bio and Contact Info:
Trana Mae Simmons lives in a historical town in East Texas, with her family and pets. She enjoys researching her romances as much as writing them. When not writing, she loves to travel and explore both off-the-beaten-paths and tourist sites. If ghosts happen to be roaming around where she visits, it delights her immensely. Her web site for her romance writing is http://www.tranamaesimmons.com/. Readers interested in her ghost hunting and writing can visit http://www.iseeghosts.com/.
For an excerpt from her time travel romance, Witch Angel, read on after the other contact and book information. Enjoy!
Other Contact Info:
Email: mailto:[email protected] or
mailto:[email protected]
Chrissy's Wish Page 9
