Christmas on Crimson Mountain

by Michelle Major

  “I’m neither,” he muttered.

  “She invited all of us. I think it would be nice for the girls to get out of the cabin for a bit, and I’d like to pick up a few more Christmas gifts for them. I got some things when they first arrived, but tomorrow needs to be special.”

  “Everything you do is special,” he whispered, and the honesty in his tone made her heart melt a little more.

  No matter how frustrated he made her, she was a useless puddle of goo around this man. “Will you come with us?”

  He shook his head. “I didn’t handle a trip to town so well the last time.”

  “You’re different now.”

  “It’s been a week,” he said with a wry smile.

  She put aside her own worries and took his hand. “A lot can happen in a week.”

  He brushed a delicate kiss over her knuckles. “Why can’t I say no to you?”

  Chapter Ten

  Why hadn’t he said no?

  Connor pressed two fingers to his forehead, which was throbbing so hard he thought a vein might actually pop. He stood off to the edge of the bakery, pretending to look at the display of mugs and small gifts housed on a farmhouse-style set of shelves. He could feel April’s worried gaze and looked up long enough to give her a thumbs-up. She did the same and added a shoulder shrug and an apologetic smile.

  But she had nothing to feel sorry about, and it was clear she belonged to this community and her friends. They’d been polite, if wary, when she’d made introductions earlier. He doubted there was a person in this room who didn’t know his story, which made his skin prickle as if it were shrinking with every overly kind smile he received.

  There seemed to be a line of people waiting to speak to her, and even now she was surrounded by a group of women who were taking turns giving her supportive hugs and gentle back pats. He wondered if they were sympathizing that she’d had to care for the broken-down author while the rest of them were enjoying Christmas vacation.

  “That was the fakiest thumbs-up I’ve ever seen.”

  He turned to find Ranie at his side, arms crossed over her chest in her signature posture.

  “Fakiest isn’t a word.”

  “Neither is fun if this party is any indication.”

  He nodded at where Shay was busy at a café table, decorating cookies with a group of children her age. “Your sister might disagree.”

  “Because she’s a little kid.”

  He arched a brow. “And you’re so wise and mature?”

  A dismissive sniff was his answer.

  “I can ask around to see if there are any Christmas pageants being performed tonight. We might find you a gig as one of the three wise guys who visited the baby Jesus.”

  “You’re not like other adults,” she answered after a moment.

  He nodded. “I’m real messed up.”

  “I’d say you’re just real. Everyone else looks at me like they know exactly what happened with my mom. April’s friends are nice, but they give me extralong hugs and I don’t even know them.”

  “Hugs aren’t too bad.”

  “You don’t give out a lot of hugs,” she countered.

  He made his voice even. “Do you want one?”

  “No. I just don’t want people to pretend like nothing’s wrong when they look at me as if I’m some baby bird with a broken wing. Like they have to be extra careful.”

  “I like that imagery,” he told her. “Have you ever thought about writing down your thoughts?”

  “Like in a diary?” she asked.

  “Sure. A journal works. Or poems. Or whatever interests you.”

  “Did you keep a journal after your wife and son died?”

  “I kept a tight grip on the liquor bottle.”

  She barked out a laugh. “I don’t think you’re supposed to admit that to a kid.”

  “You like real, remember.” He put a hand on her back, not quite a hug, but letting her know she wasn’t alone. “Losing a family member changes you. It’s a hole that can’t be filled.” He believed the words, but lately the hole inside him hadn’t felt so cavernous.

  “I think it takes time,” Ranie told him. “At least that’s what the adults say.”

  “They say that because they’re afraid of your sadness, and hope is an easy thing to offer.”

  Her blue eyes flicked to him, and he cursed himself. What the hell was wrong with his mood? He wasn’t supposed to be bringing down a twelve-year-old girl with his own baggage. That was a total jerk move.

  “I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “Don’t pay any attention to me.”

  “April’s pretty good at filling holes,” she said softly.

  “Yep.” He looked to where April stood, the circle of friends surrounding her bigger than it was a few minutes earlier. She touched the woman in front of her on the cheek and then wrapped her in a tight hug. His heart sped up. “She gives good hugs, too.”

  Ranie groaned. “Eww. Don’t corrupt me.”

  At that moment, a tall, strapping man with blond hair, blue eyes and shoulders wide enough to look at home on a football field approached them. A boy who looked to be a year or two older than Ranie was with him.

  “I’m Logan Travers,” he said, holding out a hand. “Josh’s brother.”

  Connor shook his hand. “Connor Pierce.”

  “You’re the one staying at Cloud Cabin?”

  “I am.”

  “I built that cabin.”

  “You do good work.”

  Logan nudged forward the boy next to him. “This is Jordan Dempsey. He lives here in town.” The boy said a quiet “hello, sir” and grasped Connor’s hand.

  “Nice to meet you, Jordan.” Connor turned to his side before realizing Ranie had stepped all the way behind him. He moved so she could be seen, earning him a dark look. “This is Ranie. She’s staying with April over the holidays.”

  “Hey,” she whispered, offering a small wave to Logan and Jordan.

  Logan nudged Jordan again. The boy cleared his throat. “It sucks about your mom. My dad left town a while back so I don’t see him, but at least I know he’s still alive.”

  Ranie stared at the kid for a minute then said, “Um...thanks...I think.”

  Logan placed a large hand on Jordan’s back. “Too much information, buddy. Didn’t you want to ask her something?”

  “Oh, right. Katie has a basketball net out back. Do you want to go shoot some hoops? Otherwise, they’re going to rope us into helping the little kids with their cookies.”

  As if on cue, Katie glanced from the crowded cookie table in their direction.

  Connor cleared his throat. “Ranie likes—”

  “Sure,” she said, stepping fully away from Connor. He had the ridiculous urge to pull her back. She glanced up at him. “Will you let April know where I went?”

  He nodded. “Don’t go anywhere else, and come right back in if you need me.”

  She gave him a funny look. “Need you for what?”

  From somewhere long forgotten, he summoned his best fatherly stare. “Anything.”

  “Relax,” she whispered. “It’s just basketball.” She turned to Jordan. “You lead the way, but I have to warn you I’m not very good.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” he said. “Anything is better than putting sprinkles on cookies.”

  Connor watched as they disappeared through the swinging metal door behind the display counter.

  “He’s a good boy,” Logan said.

  Connor felt his eyes narrow. “He better be.” Unfamiliar protective instincts raged through him. “She’s young.”

  “They’re both kids. Are you close to April and the two girls?”

  Connor blinked as his mind registered how his attitude must lo
ok. “Not exactly. But I’m looking out for them while I’m here.”

  “Josh told me you’re a writer.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Pretty famous, right?”

  “In some circles.”

  Logan let out a deep laugh. “For someone who makes a living with words, you sure don’t use many of them when you speak.”

  “What do you want to talk about?” Connor asked with a sidelong glance. “My dead wife and kid?”

  To his credit, Logan didn’t react to the rude and inappropriate question. “About as much as I want to unload about the drunk-driving accident that killed my sister.”

  Connor closed his eyes and let out a breath. The thing about being so wrapped up in his own grief was that he forgot that his story, while tragic, wasn’t new or even all that rare. Most people carried pain or tragedy within them. It was only a matter of who could cope the best. He hated to admit that he’d felt a lot like Ranie at this gathering, mistrustful of the kindness in the eyes of the people he met and sure that all they felt for him was pity.

  He’d been too long out of the real world. He’d had friends in California once, but he’d cut them out of his life after the accident. In doing so, he’d forgotten how to act like a normal person. April was helping him, giving him strength with her unconditional caring. He owed it to her to make an effort.

  He laughed since that was exactly what he’d promised her.

  “Something funny about my sister’s death?” Logan asked, his tone icy as the top of a fourteener in a blizzard.

  “No, of course not.” Connor turned fully to face the other man. “I’m sorry. I was laughing at my own ignorance and insensitivity, although come to think of it, neither of those is funny.” He shrugged. “Basically, I’m a jackass.”

  Logan stared at him for a moment, then threw back his head and laughed. “When you decide to use the words, you sure do make them count.”

  Make an effort. Make his words count.

  If Connor took only those two maxims from his time in Colorado, it would be a gift he could never hope to repay. He might not be able to make the changes April wanted him to, but he could begin the promise of rebuilding a life outside the walls of his apartment.

  “Tell me more about building Cloud Cabin,” he said to Logan, and started down the path of once again becoming part of the world around him.

  * * *

  “Wake up, April. It’s Christmas. Santa found us.”

  April blinked several times as her eyes adjusted to the faint light of her bedroom. Only a dim cast of blue light filtered in through the curtains, which meant the sun hadn’t yet risen. There was a weight on top of her that she quickly realized was Shay. The girl’s face was only inches from hers.

  A sticky finger tapped on her cheeks. “Are you awake yet?”

  “I’m awake,” she said around a yawn. “What time is it?”

  “Time for Christmas presents,” Shay shouted, hopping off the bed to flip on the light switch.

  April shaded her eyes with one hand as she struggled to wake up. Normally, she was an early bird, but she wasn’t sure this hour even counted as morning. Add in the fact that Connor had kept her awake until the wee hours of the night, and she was definitely not at her perkiest.

  “It’s too early for this,” Ranie muttered from the doorway. Apparently, April wasn’t the only one who could have used more sleep.

  She swung her legs over the side of the bed and pointed at Shay. “Are you eating a candy cane?”

  The girl flashed a wide smile. “Santa filled our stockings, too. Connor said I could pick one thing.”

  “Breakfast of champions,” Connor said, appearing in the doorway behind Ranie.

  “You’re awake already?”

  “And I made coffee.” He stepped into the room and handed her a steaming mug.

  “Oh, thank you,” she said with a grateful breath. “I lo—” She ducked her head. “You’re the best.”

  “Can we open presents now?” Shay was practically buzzing with energy. It had been a long time since April had witnessed a child’s excitement on Christmas morning. As tired as she was, she couldn’t help but smile.

  “Give me a minute to wash my face and I’ll be down,” April told her.

  “Your face isn’t even dirty,” Shay complained.

  “Let’s go, squirt.” Connor took Shay’s shoulders and turned her toward the door. “You can count your presents while you wait.”

  Her eyes wide, Shay darted from the room and Ranie followed.

  Connor turned and cupped April’s face in his hands. “Merry Christmas,” he whispered with a gentle kiss. He tasted of toothpaste and spice, and April realized that the taste of him was just one more thing she’d miss when he was gone.

  She forced a smile, determined not to let thoughts of losing him crowd her mind today. “You know, I didn’t fill stockings last night,” she told him. After the girls had gone to bed, she and Connor had wrapped the gifts she’d bought and placed them under the tree.

  “Maybe Santa Claus really paid a visit to the cabin,” he said with a wink.

  She kissed him again and he took the mug from her hands, placing it on top of the dresser so he could pull her in tight. After a few minutes, she moved away, her breath ragged. “I need to get moving. Counting presents will only keep her busy for so long.”

  “I can buy you some time.” He pressed one more kiss to the tip of her nose. “I’ll have her put on boots so we can go outside and look for reindeer prints.”

  She stopped at the door to the bathroom, glanced over her shoulder. “Hoofprints?”

  He ran a hand through his hair, looking almost embarrassed. “You know they leave a trail of sparkles on the ground under where they take off.”

  “I actually did not know that. Connor Pierce, you’ve been hiding your holiday spirit.”

  “Merry Christmas,” he said with a smile, and then he was gone.

  Just as April walked down the stairs fifteen minutes later, Connor and the girls were stomping back into the house, their boots coated with fresh snow.

  “I saw the reindeer tracks,” Shay called, slipping off her coat and boots and rushing toward April. “They left red and silver sparkles in the snow.”

  Even Ranie looked impressed. “It was cool,” she said, and glanced at Connor before picking up the coat Shay had dropped on the floor and hanging it on a peg.

  April took Connor’s cold hand as he came toward her, and laced her fingers with his. “How did you know to make reindeer prints?” she whispered.

  “It was one of Emmett’s favorite things about Christmas morning.”

  April smiled around the lump in her throat. “Thank you for sharing that tradition with us.”

  “Come on, people,” Shay called impatiently from the family room. “We’re ready to open presents now.”

  April settled on the couch with Connor across from her in one of the leather club chairs. “Let the Christmas madness begin,” he announced.

  Shay let out a squeal of delight, but instead of digging into her own gifts, she took two small bags from deep under the tree and handed one to April and the other to Connor. “Open them,” she said, her cheeks flushed and her eyes bright. “They’re from Ranie and me.”

  April swiped her fingers under her eyes and sniffed. “Are you sure you don’t want to start with your gifts?”

  Shay shook her head.

  “They’re not a big deal,” Ranie said, her eyes watchful.

  April started to assure her they were, but Connor said, “Let’s open them and find out.”

  The girl grinned at him, and April was once again amazed at the bond that had formed so quickly between the three of them. All of their rough edges seemed to fit together perfectly, and another wave of sadness wash
ed over her knowing Ranie might not get that type of understanding from her uncle in California. The kind of soul-deep knowing she’d be lucky to have from any other man in her life.

  “Are you gonna cry the happy tears again?” Shay asked.

  “Probably,” April admitted, and tore off the wrapping paper on the small package. Inside was a pinecone figure. The arms and legs were pipe cleaners, and plastic googly eyes had been glued to what would be the head. Wrapped in one pipe-cleaner arm was a small roll of blue felt.

  “We made them while you were sick with the craft kits you bought us.” Shay placed a finger on the felt. “This is your yoga mat. Connor has a book.”

  “I love it,” April whispered, and glanced at Connor. He was staring at the pinecone figure, a slight smile tugging one corner of his mouth. “Let me see yours, Connor.”

  He held it up, and she noticed his hand was shaking just a little. “The book says ‘#1 bestseller’ on the cover.”

  “That’s what you want, right?” Ranie asked.

  “Yes,” he said softly. “Thank you both. This is a very big deal.”

  April pulled Shay in for a tight hug. “Thank you so much. I’ll keep it forever.”

  “Put them on the coffee table,” Shay said, her eyes dancing. “We made ones for Ranie and me, too. They can all be together.”

  The waiting Christmas gifts momentarily forgotten, Shay ran to a corner of the room, bent at one of the low cabinets under the bookshelf and pulled out two smaller decorated pinecones. She ran back over and arranged the Connor-and-April pinecones on either side of the smaller two.

  “It’s a pinecone family,” she said, and April’s heart cracked in two. They weren’t a family. These two weeks were like make-believe, a time Shay would remember years from now as a fuzzy series of events, if she thought of this holiday at all. Or maybe the memory these girls would hold hadn’t even been made yet. What if what they carried with them was the impending end? The point where the woman their mother had entrusted with their future walked away because she was too scared to commit to them.

  “They look great,” April managed, her throat raw from the effort of holding back tears.

  “They were Shay’s idea,” Ranie said, looking between April and Connor as if she couldn’t figure out what about a few decorated pinecones was making the adults react so strangely.