A Texas Christmas

by Thomas, Jodi Jodi Thomas

  “Hey, tadpole and little lady, tonight is the day-day before Christmas, so let’s have an iced cream picnic.” Rand placed a spoon in each dish and handed them to the children before he grabbed up a handful of cookies and walked to the hearth.

  “Wait just a minute. I need to go get something.” Rand headed for the little room off the kitchen. Returning, he placed divinity that he’d purchased from the bazaar on top of the plate of cookies.

  “Candy!” the twins yelled and snatched pieces of the sweet stuff before Rand even knew what had happened.

  “I guess I had a premonition when I got some of Aunt Dixie’s divinity from the bazaar yesterday.”

  Rand found a comfy spot on the rug and sat cross-legged close to the fire. Damon was quick to join him, while Addie Claire lagged, staying close to Sarah’s side, alternating eating the sugary treat with iced cream.

  The blacksmith elbowed Damon and kidded him about how much iced cream he was eating on top of candy. In turn the little boy tried to elbow Rand, but only managed to smack the bowl, causing it to tip. As quick as if he was handling red-hot coals with his bare hands, Rand caught the dish and licked the splashes of syrupy snow from his hands.

  Sarah tried not to laugh out loud but failed miserably. Biting her lip, she studied Rand.

  Rand threw back his head and smiled warmly at her before he let out a hearty laugh.

  Addie Claire joined her brother and they rolled on the floor in hilarity, no doubt to impress their new buddy, who elbowed Damon again.

  Peering back at Sarah, Rand shot her a mischievous smile, stoking a gently growing fire within her. A slender, delicate thread of understanding began to form between them.

  He turned back and gathered the twins and tucked them, one at a time, under his arm and tickled them until they could no longer squeal.

  As much as Sarah hated to separate the children from their newfound friend, she had little choice but to begin getting them ready for bed. It was later than they usually went down for the night, but as Rand said, it was the day-day before Christmas.

  “Go put your bowls on the table. It’s time for bed,” she forced herself to say.

  “Do I have to go, too?” Rand good-naturedly asked.

  “You’re a big man, and I think you’re old enough to make a decision when you want to go to bed without my help.” Sarah stopped before she added, Indeed, a very big, forceful man, who sets my heart to racing just thinking about going to bed! She drew in air, held it a second or two, then exhaled, praying her wayward thoughts had returned to their hiding place within her heart.

  “Skedaddle, tadpole, and take little lady with you,” Rand said as he drew to his feet.

  The twins were halfway to the stairs when they whirled around and ran back to him. Catching him by his pants legs, they both gave him a hug and in chorus, said, “Thank you for the snow.”

  He patted them on the head like little puppies. “You’re welcome. Sleep tight.” He limped back to the stairs dragging a kid on each leg. “Don’t let a bear get you.”

  Sarah almost ran into them, but with a little nudging they released their hold on Rand and scurried upstairs.

  “Thank you.” She pulled up her skirt a tad to take the first step, then turned back to him. “I think I’ll sit with them and tell them a story. Sleep tight, yourself.”

  She thought for a flash he just might kiss her, but he suddenly stepped back without taking his eyes off her. He seemed to be appraising her like she was a prize mare he was considering adding to his stables. He finally said, “I have some things to tend to before bedtime.”

  After dressing the twins in their nightclothes and brushing their teeth, Sarah let them help her thread yarn through the holes she’d put in the top of a few gingerbread men cookies that she’d brought upstairs earlier in the day.

  Sarah tucked the children into bed, told them a story, and within minutes they were fast asleep. She put the cookies back in the box and set them aside. They were ready to put on the tree Rand was making.

  Picking up the quilt to begin work, Sarah thought back on the last two days.

  The children had enjoyed themselves and had experienced some of the best times they had ever had in their three years of life, and she’d felt relaxed and happy for the first time in a while. There had been no good-meaning citizen, with an overly active imagination and a burning need to protect the children, around. Nobody to question her decision to keep the twins. And certainly, no one to judge her.

  The howling wind drew her attention to the small window. Outside, the snow danced around and seemed to have lightened up as the day had worn on. A sure sign that their time in Kasota Springs would come to an end before long, and she’d return to the nothingness of her life in Carroll Springs.

  Sarah prayed for more snow.

  Chapter 11

  Reenergized and with some ideas on how to make a merry Christmas for Sarah and the children, Rand worked in the shop until way late into the night.

  He stepped back and studied his creations. Pleased with himself, he could only visualize how the tree would look once it was decorated with the ornaments Sarah had told him about over supper. Rand could hardly wait to see the children’s faces.

  For the first time in a long time, he had a reason for being. And it was to make sure the children and Sarah had a Christmas.

  Ambling into the great room, he immediately noticed light coming from underneath the door to the children’s room. He presumed that Sarah had fallen asleep in the rocker and he relished the idea of picking her up like last night and taking her to his bed. Perhaps she was already in bed, and if so, he needed to turn down the lantern and check on the twins.

  He climbed the stairs and, as he neared his mother’s room, heard soft humming. Gingerly he knocked so as not to wake the children.

  No answer. He eased the door open and halted in midstep shocked to find Sarah sitting in the rocker with a quilt lying across her lap, humming softly.

  Rand took a step backward and tried to control the rampart hammering of his heart. Inhaling deeply, he stared more at the quilt than Sarah.

  The quilt in her lap! Not any ol’ quilt, but the one that he kept stored in his mother’s trunk . . . the cherished coverlet that he didn’t plan on another woman touching.

  Sarah peered up at him.

  Setting his jaw, Rand clenched his fist, then took a deep breath before he was able to corral his thoughts enough to say, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

  His first inclination had been to rip the quilt out of her hands and light into her about touching something that wasn’t hers. But his earlier words rushed in and tapped into his brain. He distinctly remembered telling her about some of his mother’s handiwork stored in the trunk. And he hadn’t lost sight of the fact that he had made it plain that as long as she was staying with him, his home was hers.

  Sarah continued to stare at him. “That’s okay.” Before she could say anything further, Rand closed the door and headed for the stairs.

  In a flash Sarah was by his side. When she touched him on his arm, he stopped in his tracks. “What’s the matter, Rand?” Not giving him a chance to answer, she continued, “Did I forget to do something before I retired?”

  He turned his head slightly. The fringe of her lashes cast shadows on her cheeks, and unwelcome tension loomed between them like the heavy drifts of snow outside the window.

  In a broken voice, she said, “You’re angry with me.”

  A lump came to his throat. There was actually a woman holding on to his arm who had done everything possible to please him since she came into his life, yet he was angry at her for something she didn’t even know she had done.

  “Just surprised that you were still up,” he lied. “I was checking on the children.”

  Sarah grabbed the neck of her dressing gown in her fist, apparently feeling uncomfortable that he was staring at her in her bedclothes.

  “I’m going back to work.” He wasn’t sure if his frustration
was because she found the quilt or because he had a burning need to take her in his arms and apologize in a very physical way.

  She frowned as if dealing with a temperamental child and placed her hands on her hips.

  “Randall Humphrey! You’re acting like a jackaninny! And you’re not going to go hide from me every time a subject comes up that makes you feel uncomfortable.” She took one step toward him, and with defiance etched on her face and a challenge in her voice, she said, “Not this time you won’t.”

  Rand smiled inwardly at her outburst. She might well be right about him not wanting to discuss certain matters in his life, but he’d never run away and hide from it. Or had he?

  Managing a meager smile, he hoped to ease the tension between them, but from the look in her eyes he’d failed miserably, so he turned and walked down the stairs.

  After stoking the fire, Rand located a bottle of whiskey in the back of the pie safe. He grabbed a glass, then on impulse picked up another one. Intuition told him that Sarah wasn’t finished with him.

  No doubt she was not only as stubborn as a mule, but wouldn’t be happy unless she had the final word. He could bet money that he wouldn’t be drinking alone tonight.

  Rand barely finished pouring two shots of Tennessee’s finest when he heard Sarah’s footsteps descending the stairs. Looking up as she entered the kitchen, he noticed she had put on a light blue robe over her gown, which only emphasized the sparkle in her sapphire eyes.

  “Aren’t you going to pour a drink for me?” She eased in the chair opposite him.

  He slid his glass to her, then commenced pouring three fingers in the other one for himself. “I didn’t figure you for a two-fisted drinker, but more of a mint julep sipper.” He kept his gaze on her as he belted back a pretty hefty slug, praying it would wash away the unadulterated desire for Sarah that burned below his belt. For some reason neither his heart, nor anything else in his body, was listening to the warning his brain gave.

  To his surprise she took a healthy swig. Although he expected her to make a funny face, shiver, and upchuck, she didn’t. She took a second swallow. “I haven’t had any Black Jack in so long I’d almost forgotten how smooth it is.”

  “Now that we have the formalities out of the way, Sarah, I’m really sorry for making you think I was mad at you.”

  “Don’t take me for a fool, Randall. I could see it on your face and in your eyes.” Sarah finished off her drink and slid her glass to him for a refill. “It was the quilt, wasn’t it?”

  “No—not really.” Rand dilly-dallied a little before he poured her no more than half an inch of whiskey.

  Rand didn’t offer her further explanation and changed the subject. “I looked everywhere I could think of for your missing bag and couldn’t find it.”

  “It’s okay. At first I was a little upset because it has Christmas gifts for the children in it. But we’ll manage. They’re young enough that they’d toss aside the toys to play with the wrapping paper and bows.” Sarah pulled her robe closed and crossed her arms across her chest. “Addie Claire and Damon have never had much of a Christmas, so just being here will make it special.”

  Rand ached because of the sadness that seeped into her voice, making him more determined than ever that the twins would have a Christmas to remember.

  As if frozen in time, not knowing what to say, they stared at one another. Sarah broke the silence. “It’s time you tell me the truth, Rand. You were angry about the quilt, but why? I just thought it was so close to being finished that I could have it done and it’d be a nice surprise for you. I wanted to thank you for taking us in and being so patient with the children, and thought that’d be a way to do it. I’m sorry. I had no right to lay a hand on your mother’s quilt without asking first.”

  “If you’ll stop talking and take a breath, I’ll answer some of your questions.” He picked up the Jack Daniel’s cap. “The quilt didn’t belong to my mother.”

  Baffled, she blinked. “Not your mother’s?”

  Taking a deep breath helped him organize his thoughts. He considered whether there was a need for him to explain further, because it’d open up a hole in his heart and let out the pain and memories hidden so deep for so long. But if he didn’t explain, Sarah would likely pry until he came clean.

  “This will take a while, so I might as well fix us another drink before I begin. I have questions for you, too.”

  And he began . . .

  “It’s my wife’s.”

  “You’re married?” She barely spoke above a whisper.

  “No. Not anymore. Dad, Mother, and I came down to Waco to work on the Waco suspension bridge project. Shortly after, my half brother, James Crockett who you know joined us. It wasn’t long before I began courting Jenny. We married and I got her in the family way. I was pretty happy about becoming a father.” His memories made him stop for a second or two. “My father got his leg mangled on the job, and it changed him. Jenny and the baby she carried died three years ago tomorrow—”

  “Christmas Eve?”

  He nodded. “Yes. She was going over to her mother’s for dinner just a few miles out of town and I didn’t want to go. Thought I was too busy, something I’ve regretted ever since. Dad was supposed to make sure her rig was in good shape and drive her over. I knew the axle needed repairing and took him at his word that he’d make sure it was done before they left.

  “Later I found out that something came up and my father didn’t take her, nor did he fix the carriage. Might’ve been a need for some pain relief, which seemed to always come with a woman attached to a whiskey bottle, but I don’t know. Jenny was pretty stubborn and ended up driving herself without any of us knowing. Something must’ve spooked the horses, because they bolted. Her rig went off the road and she was thrown out.” He inhaled deeply, and tried to stay strong enough to confront his memories out loud. “When she didn’t return, I set out to her parents’ place and found her. She was lying in a ravine, and there was nothing the doctor could do to save her or our baby.” As much as he wanted to fall into Sarah’s arms and cry until he had no more tears, he couldn’t do that to her. “I never knew if the child was a boy or a girl.”

  “I’m so sorry, Rand. I had no idea.” Tears welled in her eyes. “Then what did you do?”

  “I quit my job and wandered until I thought the break in my heart had somewhat healed. But it hadn’t. Since Dad wasn’t fit to work anyways, we picked up stakes, and much to Mother’s encouragement we came to Kasota Springs and set up shop.”

  “Did you build this building?”

  “Sure did. Board by board. Stone by stone. And before you ask, I pretty much considered my life over with and had no desire to make friends. Mama made a lot of ’em, but she died a few months back. My father moved on to greener pastures, and I’ve tried to take care of Jim the best I know how.”

  “He was very nice and considerate of us.”

  “Considerate enough that he left you and the babies to walk to my place in the snow.”

  “I’m not sure what was going on, but right before we got in town a big cowboy met us on the road. I couldn’t hear everything, but I did catch a few words. Jacks Bluff for one, and I think James called him Tegeler. They talked briefly about the storm coming and something about a bazaar in town, which I found odd. That was all I could hear with all the wind before the cowboy rode off.”

  “Then what happened?”

  “He got us to the edge of town, gave me directions to your shop, and said he had something he had to do and drove off. I never saw him after that.”

  “He was here some time or another because he exchanged the horses and the rig for my mule, Jughead. Guess that answers one question.”

  So far, Rand had mixed feelings. He’d talked about something very personal that gave him a sense of relief, but at the same time he felt wounded by the account of James on the road. He would have had enough time to get to town and steal the money for the orphanage. That’s the only reason he and Teg Tegeler woul
d have discussed the bazaar. The foreman of the Jacks Bluff outfit had a reputation as a stand-up cowboy, so Rand figured he had nothing to do with what James was involved in.

  Sarah ran her index finger around the lip of her glass. “Rand, I’m sorry that I forced you to talk about something so private. I’m truly sorry.”

  To Sarah’s surprise, Rand looked up and she could almost see relief on his face. He smiled at her in a different way than he’d done before, so enduring and understanding.

  “It helped to talk. That’s probably what I needed long before now, but just couldn’t bring myself to show the world anything but a headstrong, tough guy who didn’t give a damn whether he was liked or not. It shielded me from having to care again; but Sarah, I have a notion you might well know how it feels. Are you married?” He stared straight in her eyes.

  Tightness came to her chest. “No.” That was all she could manage to say.

  “No, not right now or no, never?”

  “No, never.” She felt tears choking her. “And please don’t judge me before you hear all of the story.” She hesitated, then said, “I’m not the twins’ birth mother.”

  “You . . . how? You didn’t kidnap them or anything like that?” He raised an eyebrow.

  “No, of course not. The woman who gave birth to them was my cousin, niece to Aunt Edwinna. She worked as a saloon girl in Carroll Creek, and I think she delivered a little more to the customers than their drinks. She found herself expecting and couldn’t care for the babies, so she gave them to me to care for. The next thing I knew Viola rode out of town with the first railroad crew headed west.”

  “So that’s why you’re so protective of them. You’re afraid she’ll come back and take them away from you.”

  “Something like that, but I didn’t realize it until I met you. The kids never had a man around them, so I guess I was a little jealous seeing them drawn to you so quickly. I don’t want them to get hurt when we have to go back and they won’t see you again.”