The Christmas Room

by Catherine Anderson

  • • •

  While Kirstin nursed Cam’s face, he could see that she trembled with anger. “I can’t believe him. He’s gone way too far this time.”

  Cam grabbed her wrist to stop her from dabbing at his mouth with the cool cloth. “You need to calm down. You can bet he’s regretting his actions right now. He’ll realize how wrong he was and apologize.”

  “Apologize? As if that will make up for his behavior?”

  Cam pressed the now-bloody rag against his nose, which still trickled. “Kirstin, we all do and say things at some point that we can never take back. It’s not as if he seriously hurt me. And of course an apology will make up for his behavior. And after he apologizes, everything will be good between him and me.”

  “Nothing will ever again be good between him and me. That’s the problem you’re failing to see.”

  “That’s just plain silly, Kirstin. I’m not hurt that bad. A banged-up nose, a split lip, and a sore cheekbone. Trust me, your father could have done far worse, but he held back.”

  She looked at him as if he were crazy. Cam tossed aside the rag, grabbed her arm, and drew her forward to sit on his knee. Once she was settled, he slipped his arms around her. “Women think differently than men. I needed to make a point, and so did your father. Both of us were successful. Did you think your dad would suddenly back down from a lifelong battle to protect his daughter without throwing a punch or two? Hell, no. I encroached on his territory. We’re like a couple of male dogs, pissing to mark the bushes. Whether Sam is right or wrong doesn’t matter. In his mind, he was establishing his footing with me and staking his claim on you.”

  Kirstin shook her head. “I don’t understand my father, and now I’m not sure I understand you, either. How can you be so cavalier about getting punched in the face?”

  Cam tightened his arms around her. “Taking a couple of blows to the face is a small price to pay for a peaceful relationship with your dad. And it will be peaceful from now on. Whether Sam likes me or detests me, there will be no more punching. He has established himself as the top dog, and it’s only right that he should be. I respect that, just as I would have with my own dad. Now you and I can explore the possibilities of our relationship without interference from him. I showed him deference. Things will be okay.”

  Kirstin sighed, and some of the tension eased from her body. “All right, if you say so. But I think I know my dad a lot better than you do.”

  “You certainly do. But this is a guy thing.” Cam cupped her chin in one hand and forced her to look at him. “I’ll remind you again of that night when you found him in the living room. After he hit me, you told him you hated him and would leave forever in the morning. Can you imagine how he’s feeling right now? I think you need to go talk with him.”

  “Talk with him?” She squirmed to get off his lap. “I meant what I said.”

  “That you hate him and you’re never coming back.”

  Her face crumpled. “I hate him right now.”

  “You don’t hate him, Kirstin. You’re just furious with him. I don’t blame you, but please, don’t leave those words ringing in his mind all night. They were a lot more hurtful for him than those punches were for me.”

  Her shoulders slumped. “Oh, all right. I’ll talk to the mean old codger, but I’m not going to like it. After acting like that, he deserves to suffer a little.”

  • • •

  Kirstin’s walk to the main house seemed like one of the longest journeys of her life. When she reached the door, she stood on the mat and rubbed her palms back and forth on her jeans. She didn’t want to go in. Anger bubbled within her like hot water in the stem of a percolating coffeepot. She loved Cam, and she had every right to be with him. She was tired of being monitored. Tired of plotting and lying to lead a normal life. She wanted nothing more than to go inside and scream at her father some more.

  She opened the door and quietly stepped into the entry hall. She expected to find her dad halfway through a jug of whiskey. Instead he was sitting on the large hearth with his head in his hands. Kirstin paused in the archway. In that moment he looked so old—old and tired and defeated.

  As if he sensed her presence, he suddenly looked up. His expression was tortured, and tears trailed down his cheeks, pooling in the creases that age and exposure to the elements had carved into his face. It hurt her heart to see him like that.

  “I love you,” he pushed out. “I don’t want you to leave without knowing that.”

  “Oh, Daddy.” Kirstin ran across the expansive living room to sit beside him and throw her arms around him. “I’m not leaving.”

  He hugged her close. She felt his chest jerking. Then, as he struggled to control his emotions, his whole body stiffened, and his embrace tightened until it was almost painful for her. “I handled that all wrong,” he confessed. “I don’t think highly of your boyfriend, but I’ll never hit him again. I’ll swear it on the family Bible, if that’s what it takes to keep you on the ranch. I’ll even walk over and apologize to the pansy-assed son of a bitch.”

  Kirstin ran her palm over his back, which was still padded with steely muscle. “I was furious with you, Dad, and I said things I didn’t truly mean. I don’t hate you. I love you. It’s just that sometimes you’re so impossible that you drive me clear over the edge.”

  “I know,” he admitted. “I think I’ve got one of them damned split personalities. The real me stands there shaking his head while the other me does and says stupid things.”

  Kirstin patted his shoulder. “Dad, if you really feel that way, maybe you should consider seeing a counselor.”

  He dropped his arms from around her and turned to face outward from the fireplace. “You can forget that shit.”

  The response was so typical of her father that Kirstin almost smiled. “Well, if that is beyond the realm of possibility, you and I need to reach a few understandings. I’m no longer a child. I can’t lead a satisfying life under my father’s thumb. As I’m sure you already know, my sick friend, Marcy, doesn’t exist. I lied about that so I could go out and have fun without you pitching a huge fit.”

  “I don’t pitch fits.”

  Kirstin wasn’t about to argue with him about that, so she ignored the denial and plowed forward. “Cam isn’t the first man I’ve been intimate with.”

  “Dear God. Bite your tongue, girl. I can’t stomach hearing about your sex life.”

  Kirstin sighed. “As I just said, Cam isn’t the first man, but I have feelings for him that run deep, and I hope he’ll be the last. You don’t have to think highly of him.”

  “Well, that’s a damned good thing, because I sure as hell don’t.”

  “You don’t even have to like him.”

  “Now you’re talkin’.”

  “What matters is that I do like him, Dad, and you need to back off if you really want me to live on the ranch. That’s not a threat. I can live elsewhere and still be here every day. This land is my heritage. You worked your whole life to build this place for me.”

  “Damned straight.”

  Kirstin sighed. “I think your split personality is taking over again.”

  “Don’t get sassy. I apologized. I admitted I did wrong. That doesn’t mean I’m not entitled to feel however the hell I want to feel.”

  “I’ll grant you that privilege. But if I stay in that house next door, I’m going to need my space. I need my freedom. I need to come and go as I please. And if I want a man to stay the night with me, it’ll be none of your business. I’m a grown woman. If you can’t allow me those liberties, I can rent a place in town and still work the ranch with you.”

  “You’re driving a hard bargain.”

  “It’s the only bargain I’m offering, Dad. Take it or leave it. I love you, but I deserve to have my own life.” Kirstin studied his profile. His expression had gone rigid. “You act so self-righteo
us. Do you realize that? Answer me honestly. Did you have sex with my mother before you married her?”

  His steel blue eyes, so much like her own, shifted to meet her gaze. “Leave your mother out of this, and don’t dishonor her memory by asking me such a question.”

  Kirstin patted his knee. “Thanks, Dad. I now know the answer to that question. You did have sex with her before you exchanged vows. And I’ll bet she was still a virgin as well. Yet you curse Cam for daring to touch me. He’s one rung above you on the honorable ladder, because I wasn’t a virgin.” She stood up. “You may be Sam Conacher, but that doesn’t give you the privilege of living by a different set of rules than you expect Cam to follow. I hope you’ll think about that.” She turned to face him. “Do we have a bargain? Or should I start looking for a place to rent tomorrow?”

  He raked callused and scarred fingers through his nearly white hair. It was as thick and straight as a polar bear’s coat. “How nice do I have to treat him?”

  Kirstin struggled not to grin. “Sugar better melt in your mouth.”

  “Sugar doesn’t melt in my mouth when I talk to anybody.”

  She allowed her smile to break through. “I know. That’s why I’m setting the bar high.”

  He pushed to his feet. He loomed over her, a rangy man with a muscle-roped body. He looked deceptively slender, but Kirstin had seen him in only an undershirt that summer and knew he still had the body of a man half his age. His skin had gone a bit wrinkly on his neck and upper arms, but he was still a force to be reckoned with.

  “Don’t push it, Kirstin.”

  “I won’t. And from now on I expect the same from you.” She turned and walked toward the door, feeling much lighter of heart than she had when she entered. “Good night, Dad. I love you.”

  His deep voice rang out behind her. “G’night, baby girl. I love you, too.”

  Kirstin nearly stopped to tell him she wanted him to quit calling her his baby girl. But she decided that would have been silly. She’d finally held her ground with her dad, and she needed to leave it at that.

  • • •

  When Kirstin got back to her house, she found Cam in the kitchen and threw herself into his arms. “I did it! I told him I love him and that I’ll never leave the ranch, but I also stood up to him and held my ground.”

  Cam hugged her waist and executed a dizzying twirl. His warmth and strength enveloped her, feeling absolutely delicious. When he set her on her feet, he managed a lopsided grin with his puffy and split lip. His cheek had gone deep red, indicating that he’d sport a nasty bruise along the bone. But to Kirstin he was still irresistibly handsome.

  “Did you yell?”

  Kirstin frowned, trying to remember. “I don’t think so.”

  He gingerly kissed her forehead. “Congratulations. Second question: did he yell?”

  She sighed. “No, but he was difficult. And very sorry. Admitted he was wrong. He even offered to come over and apologize to you, but I chose not to press him on that.”

  “Wise decision.”

  Kirstin felt curiously lightweight, as if the pull of gravity had lessened. “I feel so free, Cam. I laid down rules that he has to follow if he wants me to live on the ranch. I made it clear that I could live elsewhere and still work here, but that I wouldn’t stay here without absolute license to live my life however I want.” She couldn’t resist grinning. “That includes having you stay for the night.”

  Cam chuckled. “Now all you need is a footloose and fancy-free boyfriend, especially if you mean tonight.”

  “Oh, right.” Her heart sank. “Caleb. Setting a good example.”

  “Don’t look so disappointed,” he said. “I can text him and Mom that you got into a nasty squabble with your dad, and I’m going to stay over to be with you. It’s not the absolute truth, but it’s not a lie, either.”

  Kirstin splayed her hands over his chest, loving the hardness and heat of his body. “Will Caleb buy that?”

  “Sure. He knows your dad is difficult and doesn’t want us seeing each other.” He retreated a step to pull his phone from his hip pocket. He quickly sent the message. “Group text.” He winked at her. “I’m all yours for the night.”

  She smiled and grabbed his hand to lead him to her bedroom. Cam stopped inside the door and gave the suite a long study. “Nice.”

  “I’ll give you the grand tour tomorrow.”

  She reached behind him to turn off the wall switch and blanket the room in moon silvery shadows. Then she began unbuttoning his shirt, eager to run her hands over the mat of hair on his chest and feel his bare skin. His breathing quickened.

  When his upper body was bare, he slowly unsnapped her shirt. After drawing the garment off her, he carried her to the bed.

  • • •

  In the morning Cam awakened before Kirstin did. After grabbing a quick shower and dressing, he studied his battered face in the mirror. Not too bad, he decided. But his mother would still come unglued when she saw him. He went into Kirstin’s kitchen, learned his way around, and put on a pot of coffee. As the rich aroma filled the room, he heard Kirstin getting up. The sound of the shower reached him. Minutes later, she appeared, dressed for her workday in a shirt, jeans, and boots. Hair still damp from the shower, she looked so beautiful that Cam wanted to carry her back to the bedroom.

  Instead they took their coffee outside and sat on the covered paver deck in Adirondack chairs to enjoy the morning sunlight and fresh air. In the distance he heard ducks calling. Then he heard an eagle cry. The varied scents of a working ranch drifted on the air, a pleasant blend of alfalfa, grass hay, grain, and the ever-present scent of pine. It was the kind of day that tempted a man to sit still and admire the beauty of nature, how the leaves of cottonwood trees danced in lively patterns while evergreen boughs swayed in a lazy waltz.

  About an eighth of a mile away, Cam saw a small herd of Black Angus cows milling in a pasture with one of the biggest bulls he’d ever seen.

  “That’s Satan, our cleanup bull,” Kirstin explained. “Dad brought cows in from a grazing parcel, and some of them didn’t test positive for pregnancy. When the main breeding bulls fail to cover some of the cows, Satan takes care of them.”

  “In California I rented a bull once. It cost me so much money that I attended a school to get certified in bovine artificial insemination, so I could save money by inseminating the cows myself the next year.”

  “Careful with that,” she said with a laugh. “It sounds like you’re getting way too friendly with your cows.”

  He rewarded her with a slight smile. “Good one, but I can’t really laugh. My lip still smarts. Before I got the job offer here with Long Barrel Ranches, I planned to start a business doing the same for other small operations. So many people run a few cows and don’t have a bull.”

  Kirstin nodded. “I tried to convince Dad to get rid of Satan and just hire someone to artificially inseminate the cows that get missed, but he’s old-school about that. He prefers getting the job done the natural way. Plus Satan sires high-quality calves, and they run small for the heifers.”

  Cam took a careful sip of his coffee, acutely aware of the woman who sat beside him. She didn’t look sturdy enough to work with bulls that size, yet he knew she did. “Is Satan’s name indicative of his nature?”

  “Yes, which is why I think he should have become ground beef a long time ago. Sometimes, like right now, he’s placid, and then for no apparent reason, he goes berserk. That’s why Dad pastures him on the ranch. If we put him on grazing land, he’d be too hard to catch during the roundup season.”

  “Has Sam finished rounding them up yet?”

  “No. Dad is so shorthanded that there aren’t enough hours in the day. Things that need to be done are piling up on us.” Still gazing at the bull, she savored another sip of coffee. “Satan’s one of them. He’s done his job with those cows, and for w
ell over a week Dad’s been meaning to move him into the bull pasture, but he hasn’t had time.”

  “Is it important to get him moved soon?”

  “Satan gets territorial when he’s left with cows. It makes it difficult, if not impossible, for us to vaccinate, worm, and test for pregnancy.”

  Cam glanced at his watch. “I can help move him. I have a meeting at one in Missoula, but otherwise my day’s wide-open.”

  She gave him a questioning look. “Do you know what you’re doing?”

  Cam didn’t want to overstate his experience, but he didn’t wish to sound totally ignorant, either. “I’m a decent rider, and I’ve entered some cutting competitions. I won’t say I’m an expert, but I’m not a greenhorn.”

  She raked her nearly dry hair back from her face. “Dad would probably appreciate the help.”

  Cam stood and tossed the dregs of his coffee over the edge of the patio onto the lawn. “Let’s whip up a quick breakfast and then take on old Satan.”

  • • •

  Before Kirstin and Cam reached the French doors that led into the dining room, Sam appeared at the back corner of the house. He wore his scorched Stetson, a blue chambray shirt, Wrangler jeans, and beat-up Western boots, his usual attire for a workday. He touched the ruined brim of his hat.

  “Good morning, Cam,” he said.

  From just behind Kirstin, Cam replied, “Good morning.”

  To Kirstin, Sam said, “Miguel and I are heading up to the grazing land. I’d like to line you out with a couple of chores before I leave.”

  “I’ll go ahead and get breakfast started,” Cam said.

  Kirstin heard the door click closed and knew Cam had gone inside. Her father pursed his lips, which had been his version of a smile for almost seven years now. Arching an eyebrow at her, he asked, “How’d that rank on your sugar-melting scale?”

  Fully aware that her father had no business to discuss with her, Kirstin fixed her gaze on his. He’d heard their voices and walked over specifically to greet Cam. “On a scale of one to ten, about a two, but I’ll take it.”