Christmas Star (Contemporary, Romance)

by Roz Denny Fox

  From the moment the two riders entered the corral they were kept busy fielding questions thrown at them by Harrison and the two excited kids.

  Hank Rogers, bless him, rode in from the range about then and took over the care of both muddy horses.

  “Hold on a minute, Harris.” Clay placed a staying hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Do you mind if Starr and I clean up and find some decent food before you continue with this inquisition?”

  Starr darted him a look of thanks over SeLi’s head. “A shower. I mostly want a shower and clean clothes,” she said, pausing to give SeLi another hug.

  “Sure, sure,” Harrison muttered. “I’m sorry to press. But dammit, Clay, what’s all this about a container? I won’t rest until I have the facts.”

  “I think you’re a little late with your concern, big bro.” Clay picked up the plastic-wrapped cylinder in one hand and placed the other at Starr’s waist as he began moving the entourage toward the house.

  Tension arced between the brothers. “You accusing me of something again, Clay?” Harrison demanded.

  Clay stopped. “Like what, Harrison?”

  The senator glanced from Clay to Starr, then shrugged eloquently. “I don’t have the faintest idea. By the way, Starr, Stanley Ellsworth called last night. Said he got our number from directory assistance when he heard about the storm. You’d better call him back. He seems to think your being stranded in a snowstorm with my brother is tantamount to hitchhiking across the country with the Marquis de Sade.”

  “Mom,” SeLi whined, “why is that yo-yo callin’ you? Don’t he know we’re on vacation?”

  “SeLi, please. I think it was sweet of Stanley. Friends worry about friends, honey. I’ll call him the first chance I get.”

  Clay was glad to hear her use the term friends. Although he thought Starr was underestimating old Stanley.

  “C’mon, Morgan,” SeLi said with disgust. “If that Christmas star’d just show its face again tonight, we’d take care of Stanley Stupid.”

  “SeLi!” Starr was left shouting at the wind. SeLi had grabbed Morgan’s hand and the two were streaking toward the ranch house.

  “I’m going to go shower and change in the motor home,” Starr said after a long sigh. “Shall we settle now on transporting the canister?”

  Clay nodded. “I’ll lock it in my safe until I can fly it out. You can either write instructions to send with me or go along.”

  Harrison looked pensive and rubbed his clean-shaven jaw as Starr said she’d decide while she showered, then thanked Clay for keeping it safe.

  Clean and turbaned, Starr took a moment before drying her hair to jot down all the tests she wanted to have run on the fluid in the canister. She wished she could go with Clay, but it wouldn’t be fair to leave SeLi again so soon. If he flew it to Berkeley, by the time she drove home, the lab should have most of the results.

  SeLi showed up as Starr finished dressing. The girl regaled her mother with nonstop tales about her sleepover at the McLeods’.

  “Morgan’s dad is cool for a pinstripe,” SeLi declared as she bounced on the bed. Then, more seriously, her chin resting in her palm, she said, “He’s not a stud muffin like Morgan’s uncle or nothin’. But he’s a rad dad for a guy that’s heavy sugar.”

  Starr paused in the middle of brushing her hair to gape at her daughter. “Sometimes, SeLi, I need an interpreter with you.”

  “Whazzat?”

  “An interpreter? Someone who explains what you just said in terms your poor mother can understand.”

  SeLi grinned. “Gotcha. For nerds and cubes,” she drawled. “I said Morgan’s dad is okay for a suit. For a rich suit. You know, heavy sugar. His uncle Clay, though, is—”

  “Never mind! I think I got the reference to Morgan’s uncle. Could we move on? How’s the schoolwork coming? No tutor today?”

  SeLi’s head bobbed. “He’s there, but I get to skip. ‘Cause I missed you so much, Mom.” She threw her scrawny arms around Starr’s waist and buried her face below Starr’s heart.

  “I missed you, too, Skeeter.” Starr swallowed the big lump in her throat. “Come on. Walk me over to the house. I need a minute with Morgan’s dad.”

  “Mom, do you think they’ll move back to San Francisco?” SeLi slipped her hand into Starr’s as they went outside. “Morgan likes goin’ to school with me and Kevin and Mike.”

  “Maybe not, honey. I understand his mother doesn’t enjoy big cities.” She squeezed the child’s hand to soften the blow.

  “I don’t like the city, neither. I wanna stay here at the ranch. It’s the greatest.”

  Starr slowed her steps. She’d never imagined that SeLi wouldn’t want to go home. “This is a vacation. Vacations are nice, but they always end.”

  “But...if we stayed, I wouldn’t have to see Buffy or Heather again.”

  “Or Woody or Trader John.” Starr felt guilty using those two old fellows when she intended to wean SeLi from the dock. Sometimes though, mothers had to be creative and resourceful.

  The little girl stopped at the door to the ranch house. She was teary-eyed. “I didn’t think ‘bout them. But Woody and Trader John, they got each other. Morgan’s lonesome. Like you were when you were a kid, Mom.”

  “Why, I...SeLi, I wasn’t...” Starr trailed off. She had been lonely as a child. But how did SeLi know? As she grappled for some explanation, the front door opened. Starr was relieved to see Morgan. And more relieved when the children dashed off hand in hand. Yet the allusion to her unhappy childhood took longer to shake off.

  Harrison stepped out of the den and gestured her to enter. Behind him, a fire danced warmly. Starr’s heart skipped a beat when she saw that Clay was present, along with Vanessa.

  Just seeing Clay made her heart kick over and speed up. His stance, the way he leaned carelessly against the mantel, was reminiscent of the one in the photo SeLi had borrowed.

  Starr simply couldn’t bring herself to use the term stolen. Not when the reason SeLi took them was that she so desperately wanted a family to talk about in class. According to Wanda Manning, a family consisted of two parents and a child. Starr felt a surge of fear. She would do better to concentrate on the current gathering of the clan than to think about her problems with the social worker.

  Clay had changed into a black turtleneck and close-fitting black jeans. His hair glinted in the firelight, and his mustache was neatly trimmed. His slow smile when he looked up and saw her made her heart turn over.

  Oh, God, SeLi’s not the only one who wants this man to stay in our lives.

  Starr forced her limbs to move. All three McLeods had begun to stare at her oddly. She blushed, hoping they couldn’t read what had gone through her mind. She realized the senator had been talking. Oh, Lord, what was he saying?

  “...so you see, Starr, testing the canister is a moot point. Mere hours ago Calexco filed a lease on a thousand acres up there. It’s all nice and legal.”

  Starr suddenly had trouble breathing. “With whom? Filing doesn’t mean squat. You can’t believe the Land Bureau will approve the lease when they hear about the sheep—when they know about the Drixathyon.”

  Harrison smiled and spread his palms. “It’s out of our hands, Starr. Now it’s between the Federal Bureau of Land Management and Calexco. By tomorrow every newspaper in California will carry news of a promising oil strike. Considering the ailing economy, I rather think public pressure will be in Calexco’s favor.”

  Starr shook her head. She looked to Clay, but found him studying his brother, his own face impassive. Turning again to the senator, she said, “If they sanction use of Drixathyon on that reserve, they’ll be signing a death warrant for hundreds of bighorns. You can’t let that happen. Do something, Senator!”

  Harrison slipped an arm around Vanessa’s slender waist. “I intend to. New Year’s Day I’m taking my wife and son on a long-overdue vacation.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “As I said before, you and SeLi are welcome to stay and share our Christma
s.” He patted his wife’s hand and she snuggled against his shoulder.

  The feeling of betrayal made Starr less cautious. “How can you ignore what Calexco has done? It’s murder.”

  Harrison’s lips tightened. “You disappoint me, Starr. I thought you were a realist. It appears you’re more your mother’s daughter than I’d imagined. Patrice was always one for drama.”

  “You’re disappointed in me?“ Starr’s jaw dropped. Again her eyes sought Clay, who had straightened away from the mantel. His lake blue eyes were decidedly cool.

  “Harris, you know I intend to take the contents of the canister in to be tested,” he said. “Ask your friends at Calexco to hold off going public until we see the results.”

  “Now, Clay, don’t concern yourself with politics at this late date. And you don’t have time to fly to San Francisco. You have to go to L.A. tomorrow to meet Mom and Dad’s flight. This...disagreement between us will only upset them.”

  “I rather think they’ve heard us squabble before,” Clay said dryly.

  “But Vanessa’s dad’s coming tomorrow, too. On the train. Thurgood isn’t well. He has a bad heart.”

  “I didn’t know.” Clay shot his sister-in-law a sympathetic glance.

  Harrison turned back to Starr. “If you and SeLi decide to stay, I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you not to start one of these arguments.”

  Starr waited for Clay to say something more, but he only frowned and shoved his hands into his back pockets.

  “Not only will SeLi and I not be staying,” Starr informed the room at large, “but I’m taking the cylinder back for testing. After that, I’ll be blowing the whistle on Calexco.” Spinning away, she marched toward the door.

  Harrison stepped in front of her, blocking her path. “Aren’t you forgetting who hired you for this job? Even if that doesn’t cut any ice with you, don’t forget who came through for you when you needed help with SeLi’s adoption.”

  Clay moved away from the fireplace. He grabbed Harrison’s arm. “That sounds like blackmail, big brother. It also sounds like you’re protecting Calexco. Are they holding something over your head?”

  Starr felt faint. Of course Clay meant SeLi’s parentage. Why couldn’t he let it drop? Surprisingly, though, the outrage didn’t come from Harrison, but rather from his wife. It was the delicate-looking Vanessa McLeod who stepped between the brothers with her dainty hands clenched.

  “Barclay McLeod,” she fumed, “how dare you take the side of a stranger against your own flesh and blood! If you have no consideration for your brother, at least think about Morgan. Think about me.”

  Starr saw the woman’s huge violet eyes fill with tears. Her own stomach knotted. Starr waited for Clay to see through the woman’s act. When he begged Vanessa not to cry, Starr knew who’d won. Sick at heart, she hefted the wrapped canister, stepped around the senator and left the room in search of SeLi.

  She didn’t hear Clay take on his brother. “Have you any idea how close Starr came to dying after she drank the water from that stream? If my horse hadn’t stumbled over her on the trail, I wouldn’t have found her at all. What then, brother?”

  The senator said nothing.

  Vanessa left from the room and swept toward Starr, who was busy herding her protesting daughter to-ward the front door, like an avenging angel. “Family stands behind family in this house, no matter how much you interfere.” Vanessa’s soft-spoken Southern drawl curled around Starr like bands of steel.

  This must be how SeLi felt at school, Starr thought. Like an unwanted outsider. It was plain to see that the beautiful Vanessa held both McLeod men in the palm of her lily-white hand.

  The silence that rode in the wake of Vanessa’s statement was broken by the shrill ringing of the phone. Starr hesitated as Vanessa picked up the hall phone. It might be Stanley calling back.

  But it wasn’t; it was Wanda Manning for Clay. Starr knew, because Wanda’s voice boomed over the wire loud enough for Starr to identify the social worker.

  Clay picked up the extension in the den. Vanessa hadn’t yet hung up the hall phone, and Starr heard Wanda tell Clay she had interesting news concerning a certain birth certificate. Starr jerked open the door and shoved SeLi out.

  Oh, God. How had the season of good cheer evolved into this nightmare? Starr had thought Harrison was a nice man, but he condoned death and destruction. She had given Clay her heart, yet he conspired with an evil woman to block SeLi’s adoption. And then there was Vanessa. Starr had totally underestimated the woman who led the McLeod troops into battle like a warrior queen.

  Struggling with the unwieldy canister, Starr caught SeLi by the hand and ran blindly with her across the clearing. Halfway to the motor home, she thought she heard Clay call for her to stop—to wait. But it only lent wings to her feet.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  OUT OF BREATH, Starr eventually slowed down. The wind stung her face and dried her tears, but didn’t come close to cooling her anger.

  “Mom, are you crazy?” SeLi squealed. “What’s wrong with everybody?”

  Starr dropped the girl’s hand to look for her door key. Her fingers shook, although the minute she stepped inside, the blast of warm air wilted her. “Pack your books and toys, SeLi. We’re going back to San Francisco.”

  “Now?” SeLi’s face crumpled. “Morgan said we were gonna stay here for Christmas.”

  “Oh, honey, I don’t expect you to understand. It concerns the sheep. We can’t stay, that’s all. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

  SeLi stamped her foot. “I don’t want to leave! Last night me and Morgan saw the Christmas star. I said all the words like he told me.” Tears ran openly down her cheeks. “Morgan said I’d get three wishes, so I wished for Clay to be my dad. I wished we’d come and live at the ranch. And I wished for a sister so we could all be a family. Now we won’t be and it’s your fault,” she howled.

  Starr had never seen SeLi so distressed. Not since the night her mother had died. “Oh, sweetheart,” was all she managed to say. How could she explain to a nine-year-old that the McLeods’ cheery fireplace, their wonderfully decorated tree and the outward picture they presented as California’s perfect family was a travesty?

  There was no way. She numbly shook her head. When she got back to San Francisco she had to report Calexco. The media would come. The fight would get dirty. Wanda would arrive with a court order and take SeLi away. Starr’s shoulders bent under the load. What had, a month ago, promised to be the happiest Christmas of her life was about to become the worst.

  “Do as I say,” she pleaded. “I want to leave in half an hour.” Pulling on her gloves, she took a wrench and went outside to disconnect the hookups.

  Had it really only been a week since Clay showed up in the middle of the night to tease her about her neon sleepers? It seemed an eternity.

  He’d saved her life. He’d helped find the canister. They’d shared laughter and passion. Didn’t it mean anything to him? Because if it did, he would sweep in here on a white charger and prove to her that the promises they’d made to each other with their lovemaking were stronger than blood ties. Nothing and nobody would stop him.

  In less than ten minutes Starr had secured everything in the motor home. It was hardest leaving behind the Christmas lights that Clay had put up. For SeLi, he’d said, who now sobbed uncontrollably.

  Near tears herself, Starr coiled the colorful lights carefully in a box and left them beside the utility pole.

  Nothing she said to SeLi made any difference. But then, why should it when her own heart was breaking into a thousand pieces?

  Starr had had years of learning how to deal with disappointment during this season of love, peace and goodwill. Did you ever get over the pain—or the expectations? she wondered as she started the engine and pulled away without looking back. Darn it all, she’d wanted more for SeLi. Much more.

  On the way down the mountain, Starr rounded a sharp corner and the lights of Riverside spread out below. And ab
ove, it was as if they’d met all the stars in heaven. But there in the distance shone one star, brighter than any other.

  She squinted. Was it SeLi’s Christmas star?

  Determination stole over Starr. SeLi deserved the most wonderful Christmas of her young life, and Starr intended to see that she got it. Even if she had to call out the National Guard to hold off Wanda Manning.

  Starr glanced around uneasily, wondering if there was indeed magic overhead.

  “SeLi, honey,” she murmured to the child who had stubbornly turned her face away from the twinkling panorama. “Christmas is about more than wishes and presents. It’s about being honest even if that means risking something you value very much. And it’s about doing what you think is right, even if it loses you a friend.” Quietly she gave SeLi a simplified version of events at the ranch and ended by telling her the story of the first Christmas. When she finished, Starr thought she noted a slight softening of SeLi’s tense features.

  Shortly thereafter, the little girl curled up in the seat and fell asleep. The miles ticked slowly by. Los Angeles after dark was a sight to behold. Decked out for Christmas, this—the city of angels—screamed out with a commercialism that belied everything Starr had just tried to impress upon SeLi.

  Here among the glare of neon lights, she lost the Christmas star. The city of angels—where her father’s opulent home lay nestled in the hills of Hollywood a bit northeast of the freeway—was a world of lies and fantasies. It was the world Starr had been born into. Obviously it was Clay McLeod’s world, too.

  No wonder Starr found it so hard to believe in Christmas stars and Christmas miracles. In twenty-nine years, she had yet to witness one.

  Sending a last mournful glance in the direction of the house where for years she’d dreamed of having her parents back together, Starr pressed the gas pedal to the floor and left childish dreams behind.