by Susan Crosby
Karyn could hear Vaughn talking to Cassidy in her room, so she went downstairs to wait. She’d just taken a seat in the living room when Vaughn and Cassidy joined her. Cassidy’s hair was still damp, her curls distinct. She wore jeans shoved into boots that were dressier than the ones she’d left on the porch and a pale blue sweater with snowflakes knitted into it.
“You look very festive,” Karyn said to her. “Christmassy,” she explained when the little girl frowned.
“So do you. I like your sweater.” She raced toward the front door. The girl always seemed to be running.
Karyn saw Vaughn’s gaze drop to her chest. “I like your sweater, too. And your shoes, Hollywood.”
Karyn laughed at the nickname. She slipped her jacket on as they went outdoors into the chilly night. “Do you get snow here?”
“Yes,” Vaughn answered. “Although more on Gold Ridge Mountain than on the ground here. We get enough snow days to make the schoolkids happy.”
“It keeps Bigfoot away,” Cassidy said. She hopped into the backseat of the truck.
“Bigfoot lives here?”
“Oh, yes,” Cassidy said. “And we have lots of UFOs, too. That’s unidentified flying objects.”
“My goodness.” Karyn fastened her seatbelt. “Have you seen one?”
“Not yet. When I’m older I’m going to camp out on the mountain and see for myself. I’m skeptical.”
Karyn laughed at that, noting Vaughn smiled as he put the truck in gear and took off. “I imagine you’re on winter break from school.”
“For two whole weeks. I’m in first grade. We have so much homework to do. I ride the bus.”
“I rode the bus to school, too,” Karyn said. “From kindergarten to eleventh grade.”
“Why did you stop?”
“My brother bought a car. He drove.” The happy memory was welcome, something she hadn’t thought about for a while.
“I wish I had a brother to drive me,” Cassidy said. “I don’t like riding the bus. It takes forever. Hours.”
“Twenty minutes,” Vaughn said, glancing at his rearview mirror.
Cassidy giggled. Apparently it was an ongoing complaint and correction between them.
“The homestead,” Vaughn said, pulling between two other pickup trucks, with several others parked around the property.
“Are we late?”
“Nope. We’re flexible. Everyone has jobs to do, regardless of the holiday, then they need time to get dressed up for the occasion. Whatever works.”
“The house is huge,” Karyn said after she got out.
“Eight bedrooms. They remodeled not too long ago, opened the kitchen and dining room to the living room. They’re anxious for enough grandchildren to fill the bedrooms.” Cassidy jumped into his arms, and he carried her across the yard of the sprawling two-story structure, while Karyn navigated the dirt terrain. A lit Christmas tree was framed by a huge window. Colored lights hung along the eaves and windows, twinkling in the night sky, like the Christmases of her childhood, prompting a twinge of nostalgia for those wonderful times. She couldn’t even blame her parents for their lack of interest now either because she didn’t even decorate her own apartment.
Inside it was magical, with reflections of Christmas everywhere. A roaring fire burned in the hearth below an enormous mantel, where eleven stockings hung. Music competed with laughter. Karyn’s head spun from the cacophony of sights and sounds. Everything was bigger than her own memories of the occasion, more magnificent.
“Here you are,” Vaughn’s mother said, making her way through the crowd.
“Hi, Grammie!”
“Hello, sweet girl. No more red and green hair.”
“I ate it off. Well, some of it,” she said with a glance at her father. “It was good!”
He ruffled her hair.
“C’mere, Karyn. I want to show you the portraits,” Cassidy said.
Karyn followed her into a hallway that held many doors. There was a painting next to each door.
“See?”
Karyn almost choked. Each portrait was of a child sitting atop a horse. A horse! It was bad enough she was supposed to paint a human being, but a horse?
“This is my Daddy’s room.” She pointed to a boy on a horse, wearing all the requisite cowboy riding gear. He looked to be about Cassidy’s age, as did the rest of the children as they continued down the hall. “I want to wear sparkly shoes. Like yours.”
Then Cassidy took off to join a few other children, older and younger. Karyn followed more slowly, in a daze. Vaughn met her at the door into the living room.
“You could’ve told me,” she said. “I can’t do that. A horse? An entire body? I might’ve fudged a normal, chest-up portrait, but not that. No way. No how.”
“We’ll figure out something.”
His mother came up to them. “Is everything okay?”
“Um, yes, thank you. I’ve seen some incredible homes,” Karyn said, gathering composure. “But nothing that compares to this, Dori. You must be able to feed a hundred.”
“Not quite that many, not indoors anyway, but lots. We’ll have thirty tonight. That’s a small crowd for us. Come, I’ll introduce you to everyone. Vaughn, please get her something to drink. We’ve got eggnog or champagne or coffee or tea. Hot chocolate. All kinds of sodas.”
“Champagne, definitely.” Frankly, she wouldn’t have turned down having her own bottle.
Dori took her through the crowd, making introductions. There were brothers and sisters and cowboys and herdsmen and other titles she couldn’t remember.
“I’m going to leave you with my son Mitch’s wife, Annie,” Dori said, “while I tend to dinner.”
“May I help?”
“I’ve had lots of help. We’re down to the last bit, and everything’s under control, but thank you.”
Karyn took a sip of the champagne Vaughn had delivered to her.
“Quite a crowd, isn’t it?” Annie asked. She seemed to be about the same age as Karyn, but she was blonde and curvier. Karyn noticed how Annie and Mitch kept each other in sight and smiled a lot.
Karyn was used to hordes, although the tone was not usually like this happy, congenial group. “A good-looking group, too,” Karyn said. “The men are all ruggedly attractive, and the women are stunning, starting with the matriarch.” She looked around. “I haven’t met the patriarch.”
“He’s tending the beef outdoors. You can’t miss him. The Ryder men were made from the same mold. He’s just an older version. Fit and authoritative, and he loves Dori with his whole heart.” Annie sipped from her mug of cocoa. “I hear you’ve been hired to paint Cass’s portrait. Is that what you do for a living?”
Karyn tried not to roll her eyes. “I do lots of things. Mostly I’m a personal shopper. I live in Hollywood.”
“Really? Dori didn’t tell us that.”
“I don’t think she knows.” Karyn wasn’t sure how much to say but decided to be as honest as possible. “We didn’t get much of a chance to speak when we met.”
“How did Vaughn find you?”
“He did some research and discovered me. What’s your story?”
“I’m a farmer. I grow only organics.”
“How long have you known Mitch?”
“We met last summer and got married in October.”
Karyn keyed in on that. “That was quick.”
“When it’s right, it’s right.”
“Dinner’s on,” Dori shouted while ringing a small cowbell.
A dining room table was set for sixteen, with other smaller tables scattered here and there, most seating four. A long peninsula that separated the kitchen from the dining area was loaded with food—prime rib, a mound of baked potatoes with all the fixings, tortellini with pesto, t
he largest bowl of green beans Karyn had ever seen plus several kinds of salads.
On the far side of the kitchen, on a counter atop two dishwashers, were four pies and four plates stacked with cookies. There was good-natured shoving and insulting until everyone loaded their plates and found seats.
Karyn found herself at the dining room table next to Vaughn’s youngest sister, Jenny, who was home from college.
“No prime rib?” Karyn asked.
“Vegetarian since I was fourteen.”
Karyn stared at her plate, feeling uncomfortable now, drawing a small laugh from the pretty young woman who looked remarkably like her mother.
“If it weren’t for the meat eaters of the world, I would’ve had a very different life, one not nearly as wonderful. Please, eat your beef. It’s just a personal choice for me.”
Karyn took a bite of the best prime rib she’d ever eaten. She’d loaded her plate with a bit of everything, including cranberry Jell-O salad, a green salad with orange slices and almonds plus olives and pickles and carrot sticks. She was enjoying every bite.
“Leave room for dessert,” Jenny said. “There’s nothing better in the world than my mom’s pies. Except for her cookies.”
Conversation may have lagged a little when they first sat down to eat, but it picked up shortly. Karyn looked around. Everyone seemed to be smiling. And talking. And laughing. And kidding around.
Annie was right. The moment Jim Ryder appeared, Karyn had known who he was. It was how Vaughn would look in twenty years.
She sought out Vaughn, who was seated at the other end and across, near his mother and next to his sister-in-law, Annie. Everyone was relaxed, comfortable with each other. They’d welcomed her warmly. But she suddenly missed her formal parents, and her brother, like crazy. Their family dinners had never been big and boisterous like this, but they were her family, her memories, and she ached for them now. Especially now, when it might be different for her parents, not so sad. They’d gotten a tree....
She’d feared she would never be able to celebrate again, would never overcome the deep-down pain she now associated with Christmas. Maybe there was hope after all.
Tears pushed at her eyes. She whispered “Excuse me” to Jenny and tried to seem casual about leaving the room, when she just wanted to run—run far away from all the camaraderie and connection, so lacking in her life.
She found a bathroom, did her best not to slam the door shut, then sank onto the toilet and let the tears flow, hot and full of longing for her so special brother who had been everything to her, her leader, her protector, her fan. He’d never let her down.
Kyle had never mentioned Cassidy’s mother, Ginger, which to Karyn meant she hadn’t been special to him. What was she supposed to take from that? They’d always talked about their relationships, giving each other advice.
A light tapping on the door had Karyn grabbing tissues and swiping at her face. “Yes?”
“It’s Vaughn. Are you all right?”
“Of course. I’ll be out soon.”
“All right.”
She held a cold, wet washcloth to her face, but it didn’t help enough, and she couldn’t hide out for an hour.
Resigned, she opened the door. Vaughn was there, leaning against the wall. He pushed himself upright, stared at her for a few seconds, then, without a word, pulled her into his arms. She’d thought she was done with tears, but that sparked a whole new batch.
“My brother died on Christmas Eve,” she said against his shoulder, his strong, solid, comforting shoulder.
“I’m so sorry.”
“Seeing all of you together, having fun, just triggered...I didn’t know it was possible to miss someone this much. Every year it’s hard. I was with my parents for Christmas when the men came up the walkway. I felt like someone had set me under a boulder then shoved it over on me. I crumbled. I—”
His arms tightened. She squeezed him, digging her fingers into his back. “I don’t want to go back out there.”
“I’ll take you home.”
“No. Cassidy needs to be here—with you. Just let me lie down in one of the bedrooms. When you’re truly ready to go, come get me.”
“Okay.” Vaughn fought the urge to lift her into his arms and carry her, fought his instinctual urge to take care of her. He couldn’t remember seeing someone cry like that, that deeply and mournfully. He guided her down the hall to his old bedroom, which hadn’t changed much through the years. None of their rooms had. His mother preferred to keep them as they were when they each left for college. “This was my room,” he said to Karyn, slipping into the adjoining bathroom he’d shared with Mitch and dampening a washcloth.
She’d already lain down, her shoes toppling against each other on the floor. He lifted an afghan from the foot of the bed and draped it over her. “Maybe you’d prefer to just spend the night here?”
“No.” She didn’t seem to have the strength to say more.
“Here’s a washcloth and towel if you need them.”
“Thank you. I’m sorry.”
He almost leaned down and kissed her head, stopping himself at the last minute. In a strange way, he was glad he’d seen her break down, giving him an insight into her he never would’ve had otherwise. She’d cried a little at her apartment, but this was a full meltdown.
Vaughn returned to the dining room. The table was cleared and leftovers were being stored. After all these years, they had a routine of who did what. No one had to be assigned a task. The men always did the dishes. Vaughn grabbed a dish towel off the counter.
“Is she all right?” his mother asked.
“She’s exhausted, I think. She drove up from L.A. today. Long drive, plus all these people.” He shrugged.
“It seemed more than that. She’s looked sad all night.”
Vaughn weighed his answer. “Her family isn’t like ours. She only had one brother. He was killed in Afghanistan three years ago today.”
“Today? Oh, that poor girl.” She wiped her hands on her apron. “Should I go talk to her?”
“I don’t think so. She’s lying down in my room. I think she would be embarrassed to have you see her like that.”
Dori put her hand on Vaughn’s arm. “I have questions.”
“I can see that, Mom, but not now, please. When I can, I’ll tell you more.” He reached around her and picked up a pot to dry, stopping the conversation.
Much later he noticed Cassidy’s eyes drooping as his father gathered the children to sit on the floor and listen to him read The Night Before Christmas, a family tradition, the book from his childhood. Cass curled up in her granddad’s lap, a sleepy smile on her face, as he read the long poem dramatically. The children were mesmerized.
“And to all a good night” was the cue for everyone to say their goodbyes. A flurry of activity followed, with lots of hugs and kisses. Vaughn carried his daughter to the truck, leaving his brother Adam to watch her while he got Karyn.
He tapped on the bedroom door, but she didn’t answer. He crept inside and found her curled into a ball, her fists under her chin, asleep. He wished he could just leave her, but he knew she didn’t want that, would feel too awkward in the morning, so he laid a hand on her shoulder and quietly said her name.
She woke instantly, looking confused for a few seconds. “What time is it?” she asked.
“Time to go home. Cass is in the truck already.”
She whipped the covers back, slipped her shoes on, climbed out of bed, then leaned over to straighten the bedding. He helped.
“How many people are still here?” she asked.
“Maybe no one but Mom and Dad and my sister Jenny. Everyone was taking off.”
“I need to get my purse and thank your parents.”
“All right.”
She took a coup
le of steps then stopped. “I look horrible, don’t I?”
Honestly, she looked like she’d been wrung through a wringer. “You look tired.”
She sort of laughed. “That was kind—thank you.”
His parents were on the porch saying goodbye to his other sister, Haley.
“Thank you for including me,” Karyn said to his mother. “I’m sorry I conked out on you.”
Dori pulled her in for a hug. Vaughn was afraid it would set Karyn off again, but she did okay.
“We’ll see you tomorrow,” Dori said.
“I’ll try to stay awake. Good night, sir,” Karyn said to Jim, shaking his hand. “You have a wonderful family.”
“Appreciate it,” he said.
Adam shut the back door of the truck as they approached. “She’s out cold.”
“Thanks. See you later.”
The drive was quiet. No conversation, no music, and the weather crystal clear. When they reached his house, he carried Cassidy while Karyn teetered on those amazing high heels. They climbed the stairs together. Karyn opened Cass’s door for them.
“Thanks.”
“Thank you, Vaughn. You’ve been very thoughtful. Good night.”
“Sleep in. We won’t have to leave until eleven.”
She nodded then disappeared into the guest room.
* * *
As he tucked his daughter into bed, his thoughts kept going to Karyn. He couldn’t let himself get attached to her—he knew that for a fact. If she was Cass’s aunt, she would be in their lives forever. If she wasn’t related, this would be it, a one-time visit. They lived too far apart. She had a career in Los Angeles. His was here.
But he was attracted in a big way.
He wandered down the hall to his own room. He liked things neat and tidy, including his relationships. He compartmentalized them according to his need and how the other person filled it. He had women friends, including one he slept with now and then, but no one woman for everything. Maybe no one ever would. He tried to keep his needs to a minimum—all his needs.
“I wish I had a brother,” Cass had said earlier, twisting his gut a little.
He’d like to give her a brother or two, maybe a sister also, but it had to be with the right woman this time. One who would stay forever and be happy at the ranch.
