A Cowboy Christmas

by Marin Thomas

  “Your parents must be so proud of you, Darla,” Mrs. Franks said. “Traveling to China—imagine that.”

  China?

  “Visiting the Great Wall was an incredible experience. If I hadn’t needed to return to Dallas for a trial I would have extended the business trip another week.”

  “Where else have you visited?” Mrs. Franks asked.

  “Ireland, but that was for pleasure, not business.”

  Pleasure—as in pleasure with a guy?

  Feminine voices droned on and Fletcher’s thoughts drifted in another direction. Up until this moment, he’d acknowledged that Darla had lived a vastly different life from him but he’d always believed they had a lot in common. They’d grown up in Junket, knew the same people, went to the same church, same schools, same birthday parties. But all that had ended with their high school graduation.

  The worldly Darla fascinated him, but did down-home Fletcher interest her anymore? He possessed a college degree but remained a small-town guy at heart. Was there any small-town girl left in Darla?

  There he went again…worrying about how the years had changed them, when he needed to steer clear of a serious relationship for the time being. And if what Darla had said was true—that she’d come close to marrying a few times—then she probably wasn’t ready to settle down either.

  “Excuse me, ladies.” Both women jumped. He nodded to Mrs. Franks, before making eye contact with Darla. “We’ll be late for lunch if we don’t head out now.”

  Mrs. Franks glanced between Darla and Fletcher. “I didn’t realize you two were dating.”

  “We’re just—”

  “Friends,” Fletcher interrupted.

  “I see.” The older woman hugged Darla. “I enjoyed our chat. Tell your folks I said hello.” Mrs. Franks joined the other gossipmongers gathering on the front lawn.

  Uncaring that his actions might provoke more gossip, he grasped Darla’s hand and led the way to his truck. When she didn’t tug her hand free, he tightened his grip.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “You’ll see.” He intended to take her to Connie’s Coney Dogs on highway 51—their favorite high-school-date-night hangout.

  Ten minutes later when Fletcher pulled into the gravel lot in front of the hot dog stand, Darla said, “It’s been years since I’ve had a Coney dog.” She laughed. “Remember when you and Logan had a hot-dog-eating contest the day of the homecoming football game?”

  “Yeah, I was sicker than a dog during the game.”

  She grinned at his lame joke. “No wonder—you ate twelve chili dogs.”

  “I won you that crown, didn’t I?” He hesitated before asking, “What did you ever do with that thing?” The headpiece consisted of plastic hot dogs glued end-to-end to form a circle.

  “It’s packed away in a box somewhere.”

  “Really?”

  “You act surprised.”

  “I thought…well…since…” He shrugged.

  “I have the single daisy you gave me in the second grade pressed between the pages of my favorite Sweet Valley High book.” A sigh that sounded as if it had been suppressed for months, maybe years squeezed past her lips. “I saved the poem you wrote for me in tenth grade. The heart-shaped locket you bought me for my sixteenth birthday.”

  “Darla, I’m—”

  “Starving. Let’s order lunch.” She hopped out of the truck and slammed the door, effectively ending his attempt to apologize for his past sins.

  Darla’s confession left Fletcher light-headed as if he’d downed a six-pack, one beer after the other. Was it possible that a little piece of him had remained in Darla’s heart all these years? She must feel something for him if she hadn’t been able to bring herself to toss out his gifts.

  He joined her at the stand and they placed their orders, then took the food to a picnic table beneath the shade of a large bur oak.

  “Mmm. As good as I remembered,” Darla said.

  Fletcher was too caught up in watching her chew to comment.

  “What’s the matter?” she asked.

  “Bee. Hold still.” He brushed the imaginary insect from her neck, his fingers making contact with her skin. She sucked in a quiet breath. There it was—the rush…the heat they felt when they touched. Twelve years and other lovers had done nothing to curb the attraction between them.

  Why did Darla have to drop into his life and tempt him to throw caution to the wind and start over with her? “I’m sorry.”

  Her gaze shifted to the half-eaten hot dog in her hands.

  “I know that sorry doesn’t change the past. Or make you feel better. Or make me any less of a jerk for what I did. But please believe me when I say that I didn’t set out to hurt you on purpose.”

  Her watery gaze sucker punched him in the gut. “I don’t know why I’m crying.” She sniffed. “Good grief, that was another lifetime ago.”

  “I wish it were yesterday.”

  “Why?”

  “I would never have taken Amy Frazer to the drive-in movies. But I was mad at you for deciding that we needed to take a break from each other.”

  Darla’s mouth opened, then closed without making a sound.

  “No matter what others might have said, I didn’t sleep with Amy.”

  “Sissy claimed the windows were steamed.”

  Fletcher grinned. “I never said we didn’t get a little carried away.” Then he sobered. “I wanted to make you jealous so you’d agree to go out with me again. I didn’t expect you to quit speaking to me in the hallways or stop taking my calls.”

  “I forgive you.” Her smile was tinged with sadness. “We were young and stupid.”

  “I have another confession to make,” he said. “I never stopped thinking about you, even while I was married to Sandi.”

  The urge to get up from the table and flee caught Darla by surprise and she forced herself to remain seated. She gazed into Fletcher’s green eyes and the honesty in them stole her breath. She wasn’t the only one who needed closure.

  “I kept the love letters you wrote me in high school. Sandi found them shortly after Danny was born. Those letters were her excuse for having the affair.” He fisted his hands. “She said I was just as guilty of cheating as she was.”

  Fletcher had kept her letters. Darla’s throat ached with sadness. “How did you and Sandi end up together?”

  “I ran into her at a bar in Midland. I was up there on business and stopped to have a beer before heading home.” He shook his head. “After a few drinks we left the bar and ended up in a motel room off the interstate.”

  “Are you telling me Danny’s the result of a one-night stand?”

  “Yep.”

  All these years, Darla believed Fletcher had dated Sandi before they’d gotten married.

  “The next morning Sandi and I agreed to forget about what we did and go our separate ways. Two months later she called me with the news she was pregnant.” He stared off into space. “There was nothing left to do but get married.”

  “If you didn’t love each other why get married?” Today there was little stigma attached to single women having babies out of wedlock.

  “Because I was Danny’s father and no child of mine was coming into this world without my name on the birth certificate.”

  That was the Fletcher she knew—old-fashioned and responsible.

  Learning the particulars of Fletcher’s involvement with Sandi satisfied her curiosity but the truth was bittersweet. For years she’d pined for a man who’d been married to a woman he’d never loved. Created a family with that woman—a family that by all rights should have been hers.

  Maybe the temptation to try again with Fletcher was so strong and so real because she’d always wondered what would have happened to them if they’d kissed and made up. Maybe it was the not knowing that had led to her commitment issues with other men.

  Right now she didn’t want to think about second chances, the past or the future. She checked her watch. “We s
hould get back to your place. Danny probably wonders where we are.”

  The drive to the Rocking J was made in silence.

  “I THOUGHT Dad was supposed to make ornaments,” groused Danny.

  “I’m sure he’ll be back soon,” Darla said.

  When she and Fletcher arrived at the ranch, Fletcher and his father had been called to the breeding barn for an emergency, leaving Darla to entertain Danny. She’d suggested preparing the dough for the ornament making while they waited for his father to return but Danny snubbed his nose at her idea and had left the kitchen.

  Undeterred, Darla went to work, banging pots and pans, hoping to entice the little rascal back into the kitchen. Her plan worked. Danny hovered in the doorway, wearing his usual scowl, but his eyes followed her movements around the room.

  “Danny, where did your mother store the measuring cups?”

  For a moment she thought the boy wouldn’t answer, then he opened a drawer near the sink. “Right there.”

  “Thanks.” She motioned to the bag of flour on the counter. “I could use your help so I don’t spill on my clothes.”

  He hesitated, then said, “Okay.”

  Darla pulled a chair next to the counter and Danny climbed onto the seat. “Measure out two cups of flour and pour it into this bowl.” After he did as instructed, she said, “Now we need one cup of table salt.”

  Danny hopped off the chair and grabbed the salt shaker from the middle of the kitchen table.

  “We’ll need more than that.” She opened and closed cupboards until she found the salt container. “Use this.” Danny spilled extra on the counter and glanced at her. “Don’t worry. We’ll clean up later.”

  “What’s next?” he asked.

  “One cup of water.” After he poured the water into the bowl she said, “The last thing we need is a tablespoon of vegetable oil to help make the dough easier to work with.” The bottle of oil was full so she poured while Danny held the tablespoon over the bowl. “Good. Now stir.” She handed him a fork.

  While Danny struggled to blend the ingredients, Darla put away the flour, oil and salt. “Once you have the dough mixed we’ll add food coloring to make it look Christmasy.”

  “Who cares about Christmas?” Danny muttered.

  Compassion filled Darla and she yearned to reach out to the boy but she had no experience with children. Maybe all he needed was for someone to listen to him. “Sounds like Christmas isn’t your favorite holiday.”

  He shook his head. “It sucks.”

  She ignored the foul language. “Why’s that?”

  “’Cause I won’t get what I want.”

  “Oh? What do you want?”

  “My mom back.”

  “It must be hard not having your mom here everyday.”

  He nodded. “Dad says Mom’s really busy and has to travel all the time, but he’s lying.”

  “Why would your father lie?”

  “Because my mom doesn’t love me anymore.” Danny’s voice cracked and without thinking Darla hugged the child close, brushing his blond locks from his forehead.

  “Your mother loves you, Danny, she—”

  “No, she doesn’t.” He wiggled out of her hold. “You’re just saying that.”

  “I know she loves you and I’ll tell you how I know.” Darla sat at the kitchen table and motioned for Danny to join her. “I grew up with a mother who was always home but never there for me.”

  “Huh?”

  “My mother suffered from an illness called depression. When I was little she’d ignore me or lock herself in her bedroom all day and sleep.”

  “Why?”

  “My mother didn’t do it on purpose. The illness caused her to shut herself off from me and my father. But when I was a little girl I thought my mother didn’t love me. Once I got older and understood more about her illness I realized she loved me the best way she could under the circumstances.”

  “Does my mom have an illness, too?”

  Maybe she shouldn’t have used her own mother as an example. “I don’t think so, Danny. But some people aren’t able to show their love for us like we wish them to.” Then she asked, “If you could change your mom how would you want her to show she loves you?”

  His slim shoulders shrugged. “I would make her live with me. And come watch me play soccer. And cook me breakfast. And hug me.”

  “I bet it’s tough to go without those things.” Darla patted his arm. This time Danny didn’t pull away.

  “My dad hugs me a lot and he goes to my soccer games.”

  “You’re lucky to have a father who loves you so much.”

  “And a grandpa.”

  “That’s right. Your grandpa loves you a whole bunch, too.”

  “Can I make my dad something for Christmas?”

  Danny’s question effectively ended the absentee-mom discussion. “You bet. How about a decoration your dad can put on the desk in his office and see everyday?”

  “Like a snowman?”

  “That’s a great idea.” Darla sectioned off a piece of white dough for Danny to roll into three different size balls. She separated the rest of the dough into two containers, then added red and green food coloring. “You can make a red scarf and a green hat for your snowman.”

  While Danny worked on his project, Darla rolled out the remaining dough and used the cookie cutters she’d found in the pantry to make several Christmas trees, angels and stars. Once those were lined up on a baking sheet, she took the tip of a pencil eraser and poked a hole through the top to make room for a ribbon or tree hook.

  “Ready?” Darla asked when the oven finished preheating.

  “How does it look?” Danny held up his lopsided snowman.

  “He’s terrific. I like how long you made the scarf. Once it’s baked and cooled off you can paint the face.”

  “What’s going on in here?” Daniel McFadden waltzed into the kitchen.

  “I’m making Dad’s Christmas present.” Danny pointed to the object. “Guess what it is.”

  Daniel examined the gift with great care. “I’d say this is best-looking snowman I’ve ever seen.” He ruffled his grandson’s hair.

  “Do you think Dad’s gonna like it?” Danny set the snowman on the baking sheet.

  “Don’t see why not.” Daniel’s gaze shifted around the messy kitchen. “Looks like you two have been busy.”

  Darla slid the baking sheet into the oven. “Making a few tree decorations.”

  Danny carried the dirty bowl and utensils to the sink. “Can I go outside and play on the swings, Grandpa?”

  “Sure.” Once the back door slammed shut Daniel said, “You and Danny appear to be getting along.”

  “He misses his mother.”

  Daniel sat at the table while Darla washed dishes. “Has Fletcher talked about his divorce?”

  “A bit,” she hedged.

  “He and Sandi should never have married.”

  Startled by the comment, Darla scrubbed the dried salt off the cooking utensils and waited for Daniel to continue.

  “I don’t approve of babies being born out of wedlock and I certainly expected my son to stand up and take responsibility for his actions, but it didn’t take a genius to see those two were like oil and water.”

  But Fletcher was an honorable man and felt a duty to marry.

  “Sandi refused to marry at first.”

  Refused?

  “Her father forced her into the marriage. Benjamin worried that the scandal would ruin his banking business.” Daniel shook his head. “The ass. He only cared about his business, not what was best for his daughter or my son.”

  Darla imagined the couple’s wedding was a solemn affair. Then the honeymoon…she closed the door on that thought.

  “I always thought you and Fletcher would tie the knot one day.”

  “Really?”

  “Back when you two dated in high school Fletcher asked me when I knew for sure I wanted to marry his mother. We talked some about relationships
, love and marriage. I told him he could have the land out by the pond to build a house for himself and his bride one day.”

  How many nights had she and Fletcher sat on a blanket and studied the stars by that pond? They’d shared hundred of wishes and dreams with each other.

  “Sandi refused to live at the ranch.” He shook his head. “She didn’t take to motherhood and left most of the child-rearing up to Fletcher, day cares and preschools. When Sandi would take off for days at a time Marilyn would drive up to Midland and help out, but then she got sick and Fletcher was on his own with Danny.”

  That Fletcher’s marriage was anything but a fairy tale gave Darla little comfort. The news made her sad. Sad for Danny, who’d been shamelessly neglected by his mother. Sad for Sandi, who’d thrown the gift of motherhood aside and had put herself first. Sad for Fletcher whose one bad decision had cost him dearly. Sad for herself—a woman who was still searching for her Prince Charming among all the toads.

  “To tell the truth I was damned glad Fletcher caught Sandi cheating,” Daniel said. “Gave him an excuse to send the woman packing.”

  “Were Sandi’s parents upset?”

  “They didn’t blame Fletcher once Sandi confessed she’d been sneaking off with that bull rider her entire marriage.”

  Good Lord, that must have devastated Fletcher. And changed him.

  “I’ve always liked you, Darla. You’ve been a daughter to me since the day you showed up at the door with a bloody knee, accusing Fletcher of pushing you down, so he could be the first one on the school bus.”

  “I pushed him first.” She shared a grin with Daniel.

  “Who pushed who?” Fletcher entered the kitchen, his glance bouncing between his father and Darla.

  Darla popped off her chair and checked the dough in the oven. “I pushed you the first day of kindergarten so I could get on the bus before you.”

  “That’s not the way I remembered it,” Fletcher said.

  “Oh?”

  “I let you push me.” He grinned.

  Darla glanced at the kitchen clock. “I need to return to the motel and freshen up before the barbecue at Sissy’s.”