by Hebby Roman
“No problem. Every child should have joyous Christmas memories.”
Alma leaned over and kissed her cheek. Melody could smell the powdery scent she wore, reminding her of her own mother. “You have a nice time tonight, whatever you’re doing. You’ll have to come and visit me sometime soon.”
Melody winked at her. “I’ll do that. You have a good time tonight too.”
Alma turned and walked away. Melody felt a rush of affection for her friend as she watched her cross the room to the stairs, her gait a bit unsteady. Maybe because she was raised by her mother and grandmother, she’d always gravitated toward older women. And she’d felt a special bond with Alma since first meeting her last year when she moved to this town—a town she hoped would be her forever home.
Once the older woman disappeared from view, the thought of the man who broke her heart marrying someone else flooded back into her brain. Suddenly tonight’s plan of a girl’s night out with her friends didn’t sound appealing anymore.
The woman arranging items for sale on the table next to her looked up and smiled at her. “If you want to buy something early, you can.”
“Oh, nothing for me...Scratch that. How much is that Mason jar full of cookies-to-be?”
Chapter Four
December 2
Leland barreled down the highway, muttering to himself while occasionally banging the steering wheel with his fist. “Call Faith,” he shouted out in his car.
He listened to the ringing and then, once again, to her recorded message saying she couldn’t come to the phone right now but to please leave a message.
“Faith, do not discuss anything with that woman until I get there! I’m ten minutes away.”
He hung up, steaming from the ears. He couldn’t believe his sister had the gall to set this up without consulting him. And when did she plan to tell him?
His phone rang, and he swore under his breath, seeing it was a rancher whose horse he’d had to stitch up yesterday after she sliced her side open on a fence. He listened to the voicemail.
He sucked in his cheeks and shouted out to his phone. “Call Faith.” He went through the routine again of listening to her not answer her phone and left a message. “Hey, I got an emergency. I don’t know how long I’ll be. Call that woman off! I’m serious. I’ve asked around about her. She’s got a bad reputation.”
Swearing under his breath, Leland swung the van around. With a thud, a gift one of his clients gave him fell on the floor of the car, losing its top. A fruitcake with candied red and green fruit tumbled out.
The wheels squealed in protest. Just as he completed the arc, a car came into the intersection out of nowhere. He slammed on the brakes, but to his horror, he felt the wheels skidding on ice as the small white car grew closer. Miraculously, his van stopped moments before T-boning the other car. With his heart in his throat, he sat staring at the woman in the fuzzy pink hat sitting at the wheel of the other car which had come to a screeching halt. The bobble headed kitten on the dashboard jerked back and forth with violent throes.
Her mouth was frozen into an “O”. Then as he watched, her features transformed from shock to anger, and a loud bellow rent the air as she laid on the horn. He raised his hands in apology. When she lowered her window, he did the same.
“You big horse’s ass!” She yelled out her window before putting her car in reverse and then lurching forward again, swerving around his van.
He gaped after the white car driving away until it disappeared over a rise.
* * *
Her heart pounded like a jackhammer in her chest. She drove away but had to pull over to catch her breath. Her pulse rate slowed down in time to the dancing kitten on the dashboard, which was gently swaying now. That was a close call! Driving along, minding her own business and that big van swings right into her path. The startled look on the other driver’s face was seared in her brain. His hatband struck a memory. Ornate, beaded band with splashes of turquoise. It was the cowboy from town she gave the middle finger to the other day. Now she was glad she did that! Idiot.
Chapter Five
The scent of gingerbread baking in the kitchen of Alma’s house wafted through the air. Taking in the spicy smell, Melody closed her eyes and let her mind wander back to all Christmases past, warm, and happy. The cushion sank next to her and her eyes snapped open.
Alma sat down heavily, a stack of old photo albums in her lap. “Found them! The old timers had some grand old weddings here.” She pushed her glasses back on her nose.
Now the gingerbread competed with the dusty smell of old books. Melody put her hand on the tooled leather cover, cracked and dark with age. Alma opened the cover and slid it toward Melody.
“Here we are,” said Alma after flipping through pages of black and white photos set on the thick, black paper to a photo of a large wedding. “This is how we used to store our memories back in the time of dinosaurs!” She laughed.
Melody studied the picture. A line of people in their best clothes spread either side of the bride and groom with the mountains in the background. The bride had on a heavily ruched gown with a wasp waist. The date written under the photo said the year was 1916.
She flipped through a few more pages of past generations on the ranch. She stopped at another wedding photo. This one was a flapper era wedding. Same mountains in the background. “These are lovely.” She tapped her lip. “You know, if you wouldn’t mind I could scan these and use the photos in an article I have to write. In fact, it might be fun to frame some to use as decorations at weddings! Couldn’t you see what a conversation piece they’d make on tables at a wedding reception?”
“Of course, you may.”
“I’d take good care of them.”
“I’m sure you would. It would be nice to have folks look at them again. They just sit here collecting dust.”
“This is a lovely picture. Is this on your property?” Her finger hovered over a picture of a family picnicking on the bank of a creek.
“Yes, you’ve hit on one of my favorite spots where the creek widens out at the bend. I keep telling my son he needs to build me a gazebo there, so when I’m old and infirm, he can just set me down there. Leave me with a thermos of coffee and a set of binoculars, and I’ll be happy bird watching all day.”
Flipping through the pages another photo caught her attention. A large gathering of people of every age stood together in a field. It was an old black and white photo with the women in turn of the century garments.
“Who are all these people? Family?”
Alma smiled. “That’s a Founders Day picnic. Once a year all the families who came here as homesteaders and managed to stick it out, have a picnic.”
“That’s a lot people.”
“Yes, I think back on how their lives started here. A brave man and a maybe braver woman decided to make their fortune here, and it went on and on to this point. I can’t imagine the hardships they faced. For a while, when I was a young bride, you could still see the remains of the sod house the first settler on this property built. It was used as a root cellar once this house was built. You know, the homesteaders had to build some kind of house within a certain time period in order to keep the land. When there weren’t many trees, they had to make do by cutting blocks of turf to construct a house. It was small and dirty.”
“I couldn’t do it.”
“Well, they had each other. The ones who stuck it out. They must have had a lot of faith and love. I’m sure there were many times in the early days it was hard to get out of bed and put one foot in front of the other, and with so little comfort, but if you’ve got the right partner…Do you smell something burning? I better go check on the cookies. You have a good look through all of these.” Alma slid the books over to Melody’s lap and stood up.
Melody paused over the photograph of the founders, her finger hovering over each face, trying to read their expressions. An elderly couple smiling lovingly at each other caught her
attention.
From the kitchen, the screech of the oven door opening, followed by the sounds of metal trays sliding out, told her the cookies must indeed be done. Just as she was about to call out, she heard tires on gravel outside the house. Heavy boots pounded up the porch steps. Someone is sure in a hurry. She fixed her sights on the door to see who the visitor was.
* * *
Leland took the turn too fast coming into the yard and slammed on the brakes, coming to a stop in front of the house.
His jaw fell when he saw the car parked there. “I do not believe this.”
The kitten on the dashboard wasn’t dancing now. One paw, permanently held up in a wave, greeted him.
He pulled the keys out of the ignition and flung open the door with more force than necessary as he jumped out. As he passed it, he gave the empty car a quick glance and then took the porch steps two at a time. The fury in him built. The nerve of some people. Taking advantage of an old lady living alone.
He shoved open the heavy front door so hard the holiday wreath fell to the ground. Swearing under his breath, he grabbed the evergreen wreath off the porch and tried to place it back on the door, but he saw the nail had come out. In frustration, he marched into the entryway, wreath in hand.
The house was surprisingly quiet. The only sound, his footfalls on the hardwood floor, echoed hollowly in his ears.
When he got to the living room, he spotted her right away. Sitting on the sofa as if she had every right to be there. The woman looked at him wide-eyed and clutched a book to her chest. As they were alone, he didn’t see any reason for civility. He knew what she was about, and she knew he knew.
“You again! I don’t know what you think you’re pulling, but you’re going to have to deal with me first.” He hissed the words through gritted teeth.
Chapter Six
It was a little hard to put together at first. Melody’s mind went blank for a moment trying to put these images together. A cowboy standing in the doorway, glaring at her, angry for some reason, and... holding a Christmas wreath.
Then something registered. Turquoise beading. Mr. Fancy Hatband.
I can’t believe this is happening. Melody held the photo album to her chest like a shield. She blinked her eyes rapidly. Her mind raced. She’d never experienced road rage before. He’d actually tracked her down—because she rolled down her window and swore at him? She pushed herself back against the sofa and planted her feet on the ground ready to jump and run.
“Leland?” Alma walked in from the kitchen.
His eyes softened and he struggled to regain composure. “Hi, Ma.”
Ma? Melody could have fallen off the sofa.
“Did you bring me a present?”
“What?” He looked down at the wreath in his hands and understanding dawned on his features. “Oh, no...I... Here.” He held out the wreath.
“I have one just like it!”
“This is it. This is your wreath.”
“Why did you bring it indoors?”
“I knocked it off the door. I’ll put it back.”
She looked at him oddly, then shrugged. “Melody, I’d like you to meet my son Leland. Leland is a veterinarian!”
“Large animals only.” He replied automatically like it was a response he frequently had to dole out. His hands worried back and forth over the wreath. “Ma, I have to say my piece—”
Melody inclined her head toward Alma. “Maybe I should take my leave. If there’s a family matter….”
“No! Stay. You were going to help me ice all those cookies. Leland, take your hat off. You know better than that. And go put that wreath back where it belongs—and leave your hat and coat in the hall on the way.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He retreated back the way he’d come and then was back again in a minute. Without his hat, Melody got a better view of his face. Nice-looking for a madman.
He looked hard at Melody. “Now, I was saying, we don’t want you sniffing around here. I know you’ve been bothering my sister and doing a good job of wearing her down, but we are not selling the ranch.”
“Well, that’s fine by me because I’m not looking to buy a ranch. I don’t know who you think―”
“So, you want me to believe you’re not that realtor gal pestering Faith?”
Alma and Melody looked at each other in confusion. Then Alma giggled. “Leland, sit down. You’re making a fool of yourself. This is my friend, Melody. She came by to make cookies with me.”
He narrowed his eyes and tilted his head. “Cookies, huh? Where did you meet this new friend?”
“At the Woman’s Club. Now, act like a gentleman. A realtor did call me and wanted to come by but I told her I didn’t want to talk to her today.” She patted Melody on the arm. “Because, my friend and I were going to spend the afternoon baking.”
Melody took a quick look at him while he stared at his mother. His eyes were an unusual shade of blue. Solid sapphire. His wavy brown hair with golden highlights was pushed back from his forehead. He seemed to be weighing things in his mind, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Then he sighed and sat down in a chair opposite the sofa. He stared at her with a hard look in his eyes, arms folded tight, high on his chest. Melody clutched the album tighter to her body.
He nodded his chin up at her. “What’cha got there? That looks like our photo album.”
Alma stepped in. “That’s exactly what it is. We were looking at old family photos while the cookies baked.”
“Because who doesn’t like looking at other people’s family photos?” he said in a voice thick with sarcasm.
What’s up with this guy? What an ass. Out of the corner of her eye, Melody saw Alma flinch, but she kept her eyes trained on him. “As a matter of fact, I asked your mother if I could see them. I have a professional interest―”
He quirked an eyebrow. “Oh, here we go. Do you have a way of preserving the old photos or something? Is that your business?”
Melody felt her temper rising to a dangerous level. “I’m a wedding planner. I specialize in ranch weddings, and I thought I could scan the photos to use for inspiration or even use them in my promotional material. I was going to offer your mother money, in fact. Not the other way around.” She could hear the tightness of her throat reflected in the clipped words bouncing in the air between them.
Alma patted her hand. “You don’t have to pay me!” When Leland looked like he was going to say something again, she waved him off. “Now, we have some cookies to decorate. Leland will you be taking off, or do you want to stay for a cup of coffee?”
They sat in a heavy silence for an unnaturally long moment. He looked at Melody. “I believe I’ll visit for a spell.” He tilted his chin up. “Maybe even decorate some cookies.”
Chapter Seven
He knew there was something about this woman from the first time he saw her. It’s always good to listen to your instincts, Leland congratulated himself on his intuition. He watched her sit down at the large old, wooden harvest table in the middle of the kitchen. She was a pretty thing, he’d acknowledge that. Heart shaped face, with a dusting of freckles over high cheekbones, full, pouty lips, and long, strawberry blonde hair. He knew a con artist when he saw one.
His mother winked at him. “Leland is single.”
He winced and lifted his sights heavenward. “Mother—”
The woman (Melody, was it?) shifted in her seat. “Single, huh? That fact does surprise me.”
He narrowed his eyes at her to let her know her sarcasm was noted and not appreciated.
“Can I get anyone coffee? I just made it.” His mother wiped her hands on her apron.
Melody looked up and he could see her eyes were a warm, amber brown. “None for me, thanks.”
“I’ll get my own.” He grabbed a mug from the cabinet and went to the fridge for milk. His hand, reaching for the milk stopped in surprise. “Ma, is this where we keep the flour now? Are the pantry moths back?”
&nbs
p; His mother’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, no, I didn’t mean to put it in there!” Her laughter tinkled in the air. “I get more absent-minded every day.”
Frowning, he pulled the bag of flour out and placed it in the cabinet where it belonged. He poured himself a cup of coffee and added a dollop of milk. The steam rose, hot and fragrant. He drew in a deep breath taking in the scent of coffee and baking spices. It triggered a feeling of nostalgia. He shook it off.
He looked at the racks of cooling cookies set out over the table, along with bowls of colored icing and decorative sprinkles. The women were already at work spreading icing on the cookies and setting them on waxed paper. He grabbed one off the rack nearest to him and sat down.
His mother slapped his hand. “Wait until we decorate them, please. In fact, why don’t you give us a hand?”
“What? You want me to decorate cookies?”
“You used to love to do that.”
“When I was six.”
Melody wrinkled her nose with distaste. He ignored her and picked through the old hat box full of cookie cutters. He pulled out one and his heart leaped with joy.
“Mustang Muldoon!” He cried out before he thought about it.
* * *
The delight in his voice took Melody by surprise. Her hand stilled in the middle of reaching for another cookie to decorate. She looked up at Leland and witnessed a transformation in his face. He held an ancient-looking cookie cutter. His eyes were crinkled and sparkling, a contagious grin spread across his face.
“What is that?” she couldn’t help but ask, pointing to the vaguely humanoid shape in his hand.
He flicked a look of annoyance in her direction. “He’s a cowboy, of course.”
“Oh, you used to love making cowboy cookies!” Alma picked up a cookie and handed it to him. “Why don’t you decorate him for me.”
Melody studied the blob-shaped cookie with a pointed head. “That’s a cowboy? I don’t see it.”
