Home for the Holidays

by Leanne Banks

  The children were ecstatic. Jason took along his fire engine to show it to Joe, and Becky brought one of her new books to read on the way. “Remember, you can look, but don’t touch,” Ann Elise warned as they neared the turnoff. “Golden retrievers are amazingly good-natured, but new mamas are always protective. Let her smell your hand, and then—well, we’ll see.”

  She thought of explaining how dogs could read human gestures and facial expressions almost from birth—even better than chimps could, actually, and chimpanzees were considered man’s closest relative.

  “We’ll just play it by ear,” she said, pulling up to the house.

  And I’ll play it by heart, she thought when Joe opened her door and handed her out. There was a moment—a single moment—when she could have stepped into his arms with no thought of tomorrow or all the yesterdays since that long-ago kiss, when he’d first imprinted himself on her heart.

  “Where are they, Annalise?” Jason danced around her, his fire engine forgotten on the back seat.

  “This way, son.” Joe led both children, and Ann Elise brought up the rear. Joe and the children…

  Down, girl!

  “Mom says to tell you all when you’re done admiring the pups, she has fruitcake and more gingerbread.”

  “I like gingerbread,” piped up Jason.

  “I liked it first,” said Becky.

  But then there were the dogs, and all that could be heard was awed whispers as both children knelt beside the ragged quilt where Goldie tended her flock.

  “My mercy, already they look bigger,” Ann Elise murmured to Joe.

  “Just drier. Couple of real bushy ones there. Interesting gene pool. Hey, are you all right?” He looked at her with concern. “You didn’t catch cold or anything, did you?”

  She had a feeling he was referring more to her emotional health than her physical health, but she wasn’t about to venture into that territory. “Sure, I’m fine. We didn’t have a big meal, with tonight and all, but Faith’s the world’s best cook. I’m afraid I made a pig of myself.” She pasted a smile on her face to prove she meant it. “Faith and Gabe are on their way out, too. I guess I pretty much promised the kids a pup…or two. When they’re old enough. The pups, not the children.”

  He laughed softly and edged closer. “You’ll have to be here to check them out first, see that they have all their shots.”

  “Heck of a house call, all the way from Dallas. You’re here—you can take care of all that.”

  His eyes were twinkling. “Hey, show me a horse with the heaves or a cow with warble flies and I’m your guy, but canines?”

  “Bull,” she jeered softly.

  “That’s what I just said.”

  And he laughed, and then so did she, and taking her hand in his, he brought it up to his chest. He flattened her palm over his heart and murmured, “Feel that? That feel normal to you?”

  “Only if you just climbed off a treadmill.”

  Slowly he shook his head. “Treadmills I can handle. Don’t have time for gym work, but then, that’s never been the problem.”

  The barn and the children seemed to fade into the distance as she read the message in his eyes. Out on the highway a car went by, windows down, radio blaring Christmas songs. Becky and Jason were arguing quietly about which pup looked like a fireman and which looked like a Gretel.

  And then Faith and Gabe drove up, and introductions and holiday greetings were exchanged. Joe’s dad, a tall gentleman with a crop of thick white hair and a gentle air, looked at Ann Elise and said, “And who are you, missy? You look like someone I used to know.”

  “I’m Ann Elise, Mr. Halloran, a friend of Joe’s.” The woman you met just last night—the woman who loves your son with all her heart.

  Joe squeezed her hand and they went into the kitchen, where Polly was serving up huge slices of fruitcake and gingerbread. “This will hold you until we get to the club tonight. Here, now, don’t be shy.”

  Gabriel, who’d claimed just the night before not to care for fruitcake, professed it the best he’d ever tasted and ate two large slices to prove it.

  Polly Halloran beamed and patted Jason on the head with one knobby, arthritic hand. “Coconut, instant coffee and cocoa,” she confided to Faith, who requested the recipe.

  The two women launched into a conversation about cooking, and after a while Gabe took the two children back to see the pups again. Joe said to Ann Elise, “Come on, let me show you something.”

  He took her upstairs to his bedroom. Ann Elise half expected his mother to come hurrying after them. This struck her as one of those rare households where fifties mores still reigned.

  But then he shut the door, and they might as well have been alone on the planet. “What—what did you want to show me?” she asked hesitantly, feeling wicked and wary and aroused.

  He opened a desk drawer. The room was tidy, but impersonal. There was a framed photograph of his parents at an earlier age on the wall and shelves full of books, but other than that, little that even hinted at the man who slept in the bed, who stood at the window and looked down on a pasture where a few dozen purebred Angus grazed.

  And then he handed her a sheaf of clippings. Puzzled, she looked at the first one. “Local woman rescues abused Labrador, owner jailed.”

  Another one heralded an award she’d received for single-handedly placing more homeless animals than any other rescue worker.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, this doesn’t mean anything, you know that. All vets do it. Some of the best rescue workers aren’t even vets, just animal lovers. I just happened to be the—”

  “The woman I love,” he said so quietly she almost missed it.

  “And besides…” She blinked at him. “What did you say? You love me? Me?” Dropping the clippings in the drawer, she stared at him, afraid to believe…afraid to hope.

  “Don’t tell me you didn’t know. You think I spent practically a month’s allowance renting a tux and risked getting picked up for driving without a license just to help out a buddy who got himself into some trouble?”

  She dropped down onto his bed. He came down beside her, took her hand in his and said, “Say something. For God’s sake, woman, don’t leave me hanging here.”

  “You didn’t know?” she whispered. “You mean, you never even guessed—not even after yesterday?”

  He looked away, and she could have sworn he was blushing. “Yeah, well…yesterday—I mean, things happen. You know, under the circumstances…”

  “Not to me they don’t. When I make love to a man, it’s just that. Making love, not having sex. Of course I love you, you dunce! I’ve loved you for fourteen years—even before that!”

  Closing his eyes, Joe flopped back onto the bed, his long legs dangling over the side. “I can’t believe we wasted all this time.”

  From downstairs, his mother called up to say that Faith and Gabe and the children were leaving. “Okay, Mom. We’ll be down in a minute.”

  She really needed to go back to get ready for tonight. Instead, she stretched out beside him, one arm across his waist. “Joe…it’s not that simple.”

  He brushed her hair back from her face. “I know. Stuff to work out, but we can handle it.”

  “I’ve got to go back in a few days.”

  “I can’t leave the folks for more than a day at a time. There’s a woman I can get to come help out, but…”

  “I know. It’s a fragile time,” she whispered, wondering if it was any more painful to watch a loved one gradually slip away than to be faced suddenly with the fact that you’d lost both parents.

  “What about…?”

  She knew what he was trying to say. What about her practice, her apartment, her friends? Friends moved, and still remained friends.

  As for the rest… “For the past few months I’ve been toying with the idea of moving to another part of town where there aren’t so many gated communities. All kinds of people have animals, but some people seem to appreciate them more.”


  They were silent for a moment, and then came the sound of voices in the hall below. “Come on, let’s go say goodbye,” Joe said. “Just one thing, though. Could we make it soon?”

  She didn’t pretend not to know what he meant—or why soon was so important. “Give me a month,” she said. “And I can come back home for weekends.”

  “God, I love you,” he groaned, and, wrapping her in his arms, he held her as if he would never let go.

  She knew better than to kiss him. One kiss and they’d never be able to break away. “Come on, let’s hurry. I don’t want your mother to worry about us and try to climb those stairs.”

  Taking her hand, Joe led the way downstairs. Halfway down, he turned and said, “Don’t worry about Mom. She knew why I took you upstairs. She’s already picking out names for her grandkids.”

  Suddenly it sank in. All those sidelong glances, the teasing little smiles she’d been getting from Joe’s mother. “You mean…?”

  “I mean,” he affirmed, and they went on downstairs, where everyone was congregated by the front door. The children had dashed back to say goodbye to Goldie and her babies, with Gabe in attendance. Polly and Faith were talking about lard versus vegetable shortening versus oil, and Mr. Halloran was rocking, gazing out the window.

  “Joe Junior suits me just fine,” she whispered. “To start with.”

  “Hey, I’m easy. Anything but Fireman and Gretel.”

  They both laughed, and everyone looked at them. “Well,” Faith said, glancing at her watch. “We need to go home and start getting ready for tonight. I have a feeling there might be an interesting announcement made at dinner tonight.”

  With a look of quiet satisfaction Joe said, “I have a feeling you might be right.”

  NEW YEAR’S BABY

  Kathie DeNosky

  To my readers, with best wishes for a holiday season filled with hope, happiness and love.

  Chapter 1

  When Marilou Baker noticed the unsavory looking character leering at her from the bank of chairs facing her in the Corpus Christi bus station, she cringed and tried her best to look disapproving and unapproachable. But that was kind of difficult to do, considering that she was almost nine months pregnant and on the verge of tears.

  Sniffling, she looked around. She wasn’t even supposed to be here. It was Christmas Eve day and she was supposed to be on a commuter flight winging her way home to Mission Creek to spend the holidays with her two older sisters, Ann Elise and Faith. And…to face the music.

  She took a deep breath. Once she’d learned that her flight had been canceled due to bad weather, she’d been tempted to call them, make her excuses and go back to her practically empty apartment to spend the holidays alone.

  Unfortunately, that wasn’t an option. Not only had she missed spending Christmas with her sisters for the past three years, a special memorial service for Aunt Beth had been planned for New Year’s Eve. There was no way Marilou could miss that, no matter how much she dreaded her sisters’ reaction when they saw what a mess she’d made of her life. She needed to say goodbye to the woman who had raised her from the time she was six years old.

  Tears welled up in her eyes at the thought of going home and Aunt Beth not being there. Even though it had almost been a year since her passing, Marilou still had a hard time accepting that her beloved aunt was really gone.

  But as upsetting as it would be to attend the memorial service for a woman she’d loved like a mother, Marilou was dreading what Ann Elise and Faith would say when they saw her. They’d always been so protective of her. How would they react when she walked in just weeks away from giving birth without the prospect of a husband anywhere in sight? What would they think of her when they discovered that she’d lied to them about being engaged to Harlan Bridges?

  For the past three months she’d put off thinking about how she would justify that little white lie. But time had run out. In a matter of a few hours, she was going to have to explain that she’d really believed she and Harlan would eventually marry, especially after he’d been so insistent about moving in with her. But after she’d unexpectedly gotten pregnant, he’d started pulling away—distancing himself from her emotionally, as well as physically. That’s when she’d learned just how wrong her assumption had been.

  Sniffling, she closed her eyes and tried not to think about what a fool she’d been. For months, she’d deluded herself into believing that Harlan would come around and see what a wonderful addition to their relationship a baby would be.

  The moisture filling her eyes streamed down her cheeks and she reached for her shoulder bag to see if she could find a tissue. She’d known that Harlan tended to be a bit shallow and self-centered, but she’d honestly thought that once he got used to the idea of being a father, he’d settle down and embrace his role in their child’s life.

  How could she have been so blind? Had she wanted a husband and family so much that she’d overlooked the obvious?

  A white handkerchief was suddenly pressed into her hands. “You look like you could use this.”

  Glancing up to find an extremely handsome cowboy standing in front of her, Marilou swiped at her tears with her fingertips as she shook her head. “Th-thank you, b-but I’m fine.”

  His deep chuckle sent a shiver up her spine and momentarily distracted her from searching for the tissue. “Darlin’, if you’re fine, I’d hate like hell to see you when you’re not.” He dropped his gym bag beside her two small suitcases, then lowered his tall frame onto the chair next to her. “Now, take this.”

  She stared at the handkerchief for several moments, before taking it from him to wipe the tears dripping off her chin. “Th-thank you,” she said, trying her best to pull herself together. She hated crying in front of people. Her nose always turned cherry-red and her cheeks looked as if someone had slapped her.

  They sat in silence for some time before he spoke again. “You know, sometimes it helps to talk about what’s bothering you.”

  “I…don’t think that would be a good idea,” she said, shaking her head. “We don’t know each other and you couldn’t possibly be interested in my problems.”

  “You’re right,” he said, nodding. “We don’t know each other. But that can be easily remedied.” He extended his hand. “I’m Tate Carson and I’m headed home to the Circle C Ranch just outside of Mission Creek.” He smiled. “And you couldn’t be more wrong, darlin’. I am interested in hearing about what made you cry. Maybe I can help.”

  Tate Carson was the man being so nice to her? Marilou stared at him for several long moments. Although he’d been two years ahead of her in school, everyone attending Mission Creek High had known who Tate Carson was. He was not only the cutest, most popular boy in school, he’d also helped the school’s rodeo team win the state title three years in a row. She’d heard that after he graduated, he’d gone on to become a champion bull and bronc rider on the professional rodeo circuit.

  But having him witness her in a weepy moment wasn’t what bothered her the most. He probably didn’t even know who she was. What made her uncomfortable about the situation was that Aunt Beth had been a Wainwright, and from the day Marilou and her sisters had been taken in by her and Uncle Lloyd, they’d been told to steer clear of anyone with the last name of Carson. Marilou had never understood what the dispute had been about, but the two families had a falling out several generations back and had avoided any and all contact with each other ever since. Poor Aunt Beth would probably roll over in her grave if she knew that Marilou was even in the same building with a Carson, let alone talking to one.

  Tate watched the pretty young woman study his face a moment before she slowly slipped her small, delicate hand in his. On contact, a tingling feeling streaked its way up his arm.

  “I… I’m Marilou Baker and I’m on my way to Mission Creek, too,” she said, her voice little more than a whisper. She quickly disengaged her hand from his, as if she’d experienced the same sensation he’d felt when their palms touched. “I’m
spending Christmas and New Year’s with my sisters.”

  “Well, Marilou Baker, it’s nice to meet you.” Checking his watch, he gave her what he hoped was an encouraging smile. “We’ve got a couple of hours before the bus leaves. What do you say we walk down to the coffee shop and grab a cup of joe?”

  To his disappointment, she shook her head. “I can’t drink coffee. Caffeine isn’t good for the baby.”

  “What about some kind of juice or maybe mineral water?” he asked, rising to his feet. “I’m buying.”

  He caught a glimpse of the sleazy-looking guy across from her. The lecherous way he looked at Marilou didn’t sit well with Tate. Had the guy said or done something to frighten her? Could that be another reason she’d been crying?

  The glare he turned on the derelict had the man on his feet and shuffling away in short order. Satisfied that the bum wouldn’t bother her again, Tate turned his attention back to Marilou. “Come on. It’ll help get your mind off your troubles.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Really?”

  He didn’t think she looked fine. She looked like she was at her wit’s end, and he’d bet every rodeo buckle he’d ever won that within the next second or two she was going to turn on the waterworks again.

  She hesitated a moment, then shook her head. “N-no. I’m not…fine. And…I doubt…that I’ll ever be.”

  He watched first one tear, then another trickle down her cheek. Yep. Sure as shootin’ the flood-gates were about to open.

  Sitting back down beside her, he pulled her into his arms. “Aw, darlin’, don’t cry. It can’t be that bad.”

  Tate hated seeing a woman so upset, and especially one who looked like she might have her baby at any moment. He tensed. Could that be what was wrong with her? Was she in labor?

  “Are you in pain?”

  When she shook her head, he blew out a relieved breath and stared at the driving rain just beyond the glass doors of the bus station. He wasn’t sure what the problem was, but he was mighty damned glad they wouldn’t be making a mad dash for the nearest hospital in a gully washer.