To Santa With Love

by Janet Dailey

  “I know,” she sighed, glancing helplessly at Choya’s grim expression.

  “Go up to the house, Jacquie,” he ordered. His arm tightened around his son’s waist. “I’ll handle this.”

  Jacquie opened her mouth but nothing came out. She closed it, briefly meeting Sam’s puzzled look, and darted for the house. From her room, she could hear Robbie protesting the news of her imminent departure, followed by his crying sobs. If only she could have told Robbie herself, found some way to ease his pain.

  But it had to happen, sooner or later. Choya had ended the stalemate and done what needed to be done.

  Without regard to neatness or order, she jammed her clothes and belongings into the suitcases. Inside, her heart was crying as tearfully as Robbie was. From her wallet, she took out enough money to cover the car repairs and the motel bill. She slipped it under the alarm clock on the nightstand. When the last suitcase was filled, Choya appeared in the doorway of her room.

  “Are you ready?” he asked.

  Jacquie nodded, passing a hand across her face as though making certain no tears were on her cheeks. Choya picked up the two largest suitcases and juggled a third, leaving her to carry two small bags.

  As she walked out of the room, she didn’t pause for a last look. Whatever she might have left was going to stay left, and she didn’t need a last glance to be able to remember the room and this ranch in the months ahead.

  When they walked outdoors, Robbie was huddled in a shadowy corner beneath the overhang. Jacquie looked at his bowed head with deep compassion and shared hurt. While Choya stowed her luggage in the back of her car, Sam limped forward. “I was just beginning to get used to having you around.” He smiled wryly and held out his hand. “If you’d stayed a while longer, you mighta learned to cook.”

  Jacquie returned his smile weakly. “Thanks for everything, Sam.”

  The elderly man nodded his gray head and stepped back. He glanced toward the house where Robbie was hunched in his ball of misery.

  “Aren’t you going to come and say good-bye to Jacquie?” his grandfather called. The amiable question was met with silence. “You don’t want her to leave without saying that, do you, Robbie?” Sam asked again. Nothing. He glanced apologetically at Jacquie. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with that boy’s manners. I’ll go get him.”

  “No.” She placed a hand on his arm to stop him. “I . . . I understand how Robbie feels. It’s okay, really.”

  The last of her belongings were packed in the car. Choya stepped away from the open door. There was a lump in her throat as her gaze lingered on his impassive face.

  The car keys were in her hand and the driver’s door was open. But if Choya would say the right words, Jacquie knew she would never slide behind the wheel. He said nothing. Swallowing hard, she moved to get in.

  “Jacquie!” It was Robbie who hurried toward her. “Jacquie, I don’t want you to go!” He stopped in front of her, his face stained with tears and more were running down his cheeks. “I want you to stay!”

  She knelt beside him. “I have to go, Robbie,” she explained with a tight smile. “It’s not your fault. Don’t ever think that, okay?”

  He hurled himself into her arms, wrapping his small hands around her neck to cling to her desperately. Jacquie hugged him, closing her eyes as the pain in her heart became unbearable.

  “Please don’t go,” he sobbed into her blouse. “Please, Jacquie!”

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. Her mouth formed the words against his silky, fine hair, almost the same shade of pale gold as her own.

  “Please,” he begged. “I love you. Please!”

  A tear squeezed through her lashes, followed by another. “I love you too, Robbie,” Jacquie murmured, “but I have to leave.”

  “Why?” he pleaded to understand and clutched her tighter.

  Jacquie knew if she had a hundred years to explain, it wouldn’t be enough. Her brief stay on the ranch had been mistaken from start to finish. She’d tried to do her best but expecting a motherless child to think of her as a pal was the biggest mistake of all. When it came right down to it, she had a lot of growing up to do and she was going to have to do it on her own.

  Without Choya. He had a son to raise and better things to do with his life than chase her or argue with her or—love her.

  But oh, it was hard to say good-bye to them all. So hard. Opening her eyes, she focused her blurred vision on Choya, mutely appealing to him for help.

  His gaze narrowed. He seemed about to say something, then the line of his mouth thinned. Stepping forward, he gripped Robbie by the shoulders and drew him away from her.

  “Good-bye,” she whispered, but it was really said to Choya, not Robbie. She slid behind the wheel of the car before she completely lost control.

  “You can’t go!” Robbie started forward, partially checked by his father’s hand on his shoulders. “We’re supposed to go to Fort Bowie on Saturday, Jacquie. You can’t leave until after that.”

  “I can’t stay until Saturday,” she said, forcing an artificially bright smile. “I guess I’ll have to see it some other time.”

  “You’ll never find it by yourself,” Robbie argued. “You’ve got to look through this pipe to find it and everything.” She closed the car door and slipped the key into the ignition. “Don’t go, Jacquie! Please stay!”

  There were too many unshed tears lodged in her throat for Jacquie to reply. Staring straight ahead, she started the engine. Robbie’s cries were much too poignant for her to listen to many more without giving in. She didn’t look back until she was driving down the lane. Then she glanced in her rearview mirror.

  Robbie had broken free of Choya and was running after the car but not fast enough to have a prayer of catching up. She could see that he was calling to her. Thank God she couldn’t hear him. Soon she couldn’t see him either as her eyes blurred with tears and the dust cloud from her accelerating car obscured him from view.

  Chapter 10

  Too tired to think, Jacquie stepped from the car. Automatically, she walked to the side door of the twostory white house, stretching shoulder muscles cramped from the long drive from Tombstone. The door was locked to morning visitors, but the scent of bacon frying was drifting through an open kitchen window. Jacquie knocked and waited.

  A woman with light brown hair peered cautiously through the door’s window. Her blue eyes rounded in a mixture of disbelief and delight. There was a momentary fumbling with the lock, then the door was thrown open and the screen door unhooked to admit Jacquie.

  “Hello, Mom,” Jacquie managed before she was engulfed in her mother’s embrace.

  “Jacquie! Honey!” she exclaimed before she stepped back to look at her daughter. “We’ve missed you so much! Just that one voicemail message and you didn’t say where you were, just that you were all right—”

  Her mother was bubbling over with happiness. “And then that collect call—oh, my goodness, I’ve hardly been able to live with your father, he’s been so upset about that ever since.”

  “I’m sorry, I—”

  “Look at me,” her mother declared with a laughing sigh. “You’ve barely walked in the door and I’m already scolding you like you were a child. I’m so happy you’re back!”

  “So am I.” At this moment, Jacquie was just glad to be there, with her mother’s arm curved warmly around her waist.

  Which made her think of Choya, holding her—never again, she reminded herself. She was going to have to get used to that.

  “You look exhausted. Why don’t you come sit down? I was just fixing breakfast for your father. Would you like some? Did you drive all night?”

  “Yes to everything,” Jacquie laughed at her mother’s tumbling words.

  Her mother paused and sighed with happiness, her eyes twinkling brightly. “Good answer. I’ve forgotten the questions.”

  “What’s all the commotion, Maureen?” Her father appeared in the doorway, tucking in his shirt, silver hai
r glinting in the light. Jacquie looked at him lovingly, wondering how she could have forgotten how very handsome he was.

  The entire angry argument that had preceded her departure seemed as if it hadn’t happened. “I’m back, Dad,” she said softly.

  His mouth curved faintly with a smile and he opened up his arms to her. “Welcome home, baby.”

  Jacquie flew into the bear hug of his arms with the same abandon Robbie had once shown to her. “I’m so sorry about everything,” she declared with a tiny sob.

  “So am I.” He kissed her soundly on the cheek. “Let’s just forget about it.”

  Her eyes sparkled with affection and a touch of mischief. “I bet I’m going to be surprised by how much you’ve learned since I’ve been away.”

  “Oh? You mean I got smarter?” he teased. “That’s a sure sign that my little girl has done some growing up.”

  “Quite a bit.” Jacquie nodded. She filled them both in on the ranch and the Barnetts, talking animatedly. She’d rehearsed most of it on the road, wanting to sound confident.

  “Sit down, you two,” her mother instructed. “Breakfast is ready.” She started pouring the orange juice as father and daughter moved to the small dinette table. “So, how was the weather on the way?”

  “Getting chilly. It’s really cold at night in the high desert.”

  “Why did you decide to stay on in Tombstone?” her mother asked blandly. Jacquie wasn’t fooled. “Robbie sounds like an awfully nice little boy. And you must have gotten along well with his parents.”

  “It was just his dad,” Jacquie said hastily. “Robbie’s mother died several years ago.”

  Her mother’s delicate eyebrows raised ever so slightly. “Oh. You didn’t mention that just now.”

  “I thought I had.” She met her father’s inquiring look. “What?”

  “Oh—nothing,” he said.

  “That’s right, Dad,” was her light reply. “Nothing to report. Mr. Barnett was very nice and I enjoyed being with his family, but he was looking for someone permanent.”

  She smiled up at her mother. “I can’t believe I’m sitting here eating breakfast with you. This is delicious, by the way.”

  Her father sighed as he helped himself to more bacon. “Well, it sounds like your first foray into the real world went well. Maybe you’ll make it to Los Angeles on your next go.”

  “I’d like to try.” Jacquie sipped at her orange juice and carefully avoided the curious glances of her parents. “It’s a big world out there. I want to see more of it.”

  “So tell us about Tombstone. It’s not very big, is it?” It was her father who asked.

  “No, but they call themselves The Town Too Tough To Die.” She made a joke out of it. “I hadn’t been there more than a minute when I cracked up the car—oh, it wasn’t that serious,” she said hastily at her mother’s indrawn breath. “But I had to have it repaired before I could go on. Then I lost my wallet with all my money, ID, et cetera, and couldn’t pay to get my car out of the shop.”

  “Is that when you called me?” Cameron asked. At Jacquie’s silent nod, he sighed. “I was angry when you did. Your mother and I had just been arguing about the way I’d lost my temper before you left. I kicked myself a thousand times after you phoned for not finding out where you were. Your cell phone went straight to voicemail, so we figured you’d lost the charger.”

  “I left it here,” she said.

  “I understand. I do that myself all the time,” her father said. “Of course, I stick closer to home.”

  “We were glad to hear from you, though,” her mother said, not looking at her husband but at Jacquie. “No matter what, you can always call home.”

  Her father echoed the statement. Jacquie understood that to mean he was sorry he’d lost his temper and refused her collect call to him. She really was happy to just let it go.

  “It was strange not having you here,” her father mused. He’d finished his breakfast and was leaning back in his chair.

  She nodded. “I had second thoughts. I almost didn’t realize it at the time—I was kind of overwhelmed at the beginning.” Jacquie smiled faintly.

  “I think you have a lot of spunk,” her mother declared. “There you were stranded with no money and no car and what did you do but get yourself a job. I’m proud of you. I stopped being frantic with worry as soon as we got the message you left. Now tell me more—you were talking sort of fast.”

  Spreading jam on her buttered toast turned into a project for Jacquie. She went right to the edges, very carefully, then set her knife aside. “Well, being housekeeper and cook on a ranch was all right. Some days it seemed to never end and some days I had time on my hands.”

  “My little girl doing housework and cooking!” Her dad laughed incredulously. “We should have been there, Maureen. That would have been a sight worth seeing!”

  “Cam!” her mother said warningly.

  “Dad’s right.” Jacquie wanted to keep the conversation light and avoid any questions that might become too probing. “It was ridiculous. Ch—Mr. Barnett had this monster antique stove that I had to do the cooking on. He referred to my meals as ‘burnt offerings.’”

  “What about his wife? I mean his late wife. How long had he been married?” her mother asked.

  “I never asked. He’d been a widower for a while. The strong and silent type.” She shifted quickly away from his marital status. “His little boy, Robbie, wasn’t much like him. I wish you could have met him, Mom. What a scamp. You would have fallen in love instantly.”

  “Sounds like you did,” her father commented at the warmth in her voice.

  “Yes,” Jacquie admitted. She put the memory of their emotional parting firmly aside. She’d done a lot of crying on the lonely road home, and she’d do more—but not in front of her parents. She bit into the slice of toast and coughed a bit. “Crumbs,” she explained. Jacquie put the toast down and wiped her eyes with a napkin.

  “It must have paid well for you to earn enough to get the car fixed and have enough money to come home,” her father observed.

  Did she detect a note of suspicion in his voice? Or was it her own guilty conscience? Jacquie wasn’t certain which it was.

  “Actually my wallet was found with everything in it, money and all. But by that time I’d already decided that I wanted to come home,” she explained, adding with a bright smile, “and here I am!”

  “What are you going to do now?” Her father eyed her thoughtfully. “Do you plan on getting another job around here or what?”

  “I know it’s way too late to enroll for the next term at the university,” Jacquie answered, “but I thought I’d talk to a couple of my professors and see if I can sit in on a few classes.”

  “I thought college was a waste of time,” he mocked her gently.

  “That was ages ago,” she teased him back, “when I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life.” She smiled, not offended or angered by his reminder of her past outburst. “I think I might like to teach elementary school. Maybe the first or second grade with children Robbie’s age.”

  “My girl leaves a rebel and comes back a woman in less than a month.” He shook his silvery head, marveling at the idea. “I don’t know if it’s the rancher I should thank for this change, but I’d certainly like to shake his hand someday.”

  Jacquie’s face crimsoned. She couldn’t help herself. His statement was the truth, but he had been speaking figuratively.

  “I couldn’t have been that bad when I left,” she laughed self-consciously, hoping neither of her observant parents would guess the reason for her blush.

  “You were a handful, but no, not that bad.” Her father smiled.

  “That’s good to know.” She breathed in deeply. “Well, what have you two been doing while I was gone?” she asked, diverting the conversation to a safer topic.

  “The usual. Cam and I lead boring lives, don’t we, honey?”

  Her father parried with a compliment. “Life is never bo
ring with you and Jacquie around, Maureen.”

  She laughed and then remembered something. “Jacquie, we got a wonderful invitation in the mail yesterday from Gale and Dudley. They wanted to know if we would join them in Galveston for Christmas. You were included, of course. Do you want to go?”

  Jacquie forced a smile to her lips. “You mean skip decorating the tree and the party and everything we do here?” Spending the holiday with her father’s second cousin and his screechy wife didn’t sound magical.

  “It would be a change, don’t you think?”

  Her father said something about not minding a trip to the beach in December, but Jacquie didn’t really hear it.

  Her father left for his office shortly after breakfast. He still did executive consulting in his field, too energetic to fully enjoy his early retirement from the insurance company. Jacquie helped her mother clear the table, letting her do most of the talking. Together they unloaded the car, carrying the luggage to Jacquie’s bedroom.

  “Is something wrong, Jacquie?” Maureen Grey tipped her head to one side and studied her daughter’s face.

  “Wrong?” Jacquie tensed, smiling nervously. “What do you mean?”

  “You seem . . . well . . . preoccupied, I guess.” Her mother frowned.

  She gave a shrug. “I suppose I’m just tired from the long drive and lack of sleep.”

  “Of course—you need rest and I’ve been chattering away like a magpie. We can finish unpacking later,” her mother suggested. “Meanwhile, you climb into bed and get some sleep. We have plenty of time to talk.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” Jacquie suddenly felt as tired as she had claimed to be. She gave her mother a quick hug. “It’s good to be home.”

  Tears shimmered in her mother’s warm blue eyes. “You have no idea how glad your father and I are to have you back. Now get some sleep.”

  “I will,” Jacquie promised.

  There was a cool nip in the air, although Dallas in December was nowhere near as cold as the mountain desert outside of Tombstone. Jacquie gathered books and papers from the passenger seat and stepped from the car. The university had allowed her to audit a few classes for no credit since the fall term was nearly over, but she was taking her studies seriously. Another night of analytical reading was ahead of her, making up for the times when she’d merely squeaked by with the minimum of effort.