The Cowboy's Christmas Lullaby

by Stella Bagwell

  “Oh, you’re still here.” Rafe walked over to a large space heater positioned a few feet away from the desks. After removing his gloves, he thrust his hands toward the heat. “I was about to call you.”

  Doing his best to shake away his heavy thoughts, Denver left his spot at the window and walked over to where Rafe stood close to the heater.

  “What’s up?” he asked. “Anything wrong?”

  Rafe glanced at him. “No. I came by to make sure everything here in the office was shut down. Instead, I find you.”

  Denver shrugged one shoulder. “I’ve been going over the feed orders. That’s all.”

  Rafe’s wry expression said he didn’t believe a word Denver was saying. “Oh. You do that standing at the window? Staring off into space?”

  Denver’s nostrils flared. He wasn’t ready to deal with Rafe’s personal chitchat. And he sure wasn’t ready to make some sort of revelation about his split with Marcella. It was still too raw and painful. “Is it a crime to look out the window? Or maybe you think I ought to be over there wiping it clean?”

  Rafe merely looked at him and shook his head. “I thought it was too cold for any bees to be flying around, but apparently one found its way under your collar.”

  Grunting, Denver moved over to his desk and switched off the computer. “I’m not in the mood for your sarcasm.”

  “Well, frankly, I’m not too happy with you right now.”

  Denver squinted a questioning look at him. “Why? What have I messed up?”

  “My wife,” Rafe said. “Lilly is very unhappy because Marcella refuses to come out to a little party we’re giving for Dad tomorrow night. Apparently, she doesn’t want to get within ten miles of you.”

  Denver could feel his face turning red-hot. “I can’t help it if Marcella is being unsociable. We’re not a couple anymore.”

  “Hmmp. Like Lilly and I haven’t already figured that out for ourselves. Well, sometimes good intentions just don’t work out. We thought you two would be the perfect pair—but life goes on.”

  Denver crossed the room and pulled his coat off a rack on the wall. As he put on the garment, he tried to ignore the heavy pain in his chest, but the weight of it was practically smothering him.

  “Yeah, life goes on,” he said tightly.

  “So what about you?” Rafe asked. “Can we expect to see you tomorrow night? It’s mostly going to be family and a few friends. Dad has asked Noreen to marry him and she’s accepted. So it’s just a little gathering for drinks and snacks and congratulations. I’m sure later on we’ll be giving them a proper engagement party. But it’s too close to Christmas for that. Especially with the barn party coming up this weekend.”

  Without looking Rafe’s way, Denver zipped up his coat and jammed his hands into a pair of leather work gloves. Parties and gifts, holiday festivities, and now a wedding engagement. A week ago Denver had been making plans to have a special Christmas with Marcella and Harry and Peter. For the first time since Christa had died he’d felt as though he’d be celebrating yuletide with a family of his own. Now all those plans had been ripped to shreds.

  “I’m not going to make any promises, but I’ll try. I’m glad for Orin and Noreen. And I want him to know I wish them the best.”

  “Thanks, Denver. I realize you’re not in a celebratory mood, but Dad considers you his son, too. It would mean a lot to him if you made an appearance. Even a brief one.”

  Denver slanted him a wary glance. “Are you sure Marcella won’t be there?”

  Rafe frowned. “I’m positive. Why? Something really bad must have happened between you two if you don’t even want to be in the same room with her. Nor she with you.”

  Clearly Marcella hadn’t shared the news about the coming baby with Lilly or Ava, Denver concluded. Otherwise, Rafe would have already heard about it and their subsequent breakup. Well, Denver was hardly in the mood to make the announcement, either. He was still trying to come to terms with the idea that he was going to be a father. Much less be comfortable discussing the matter with anyone.

  For years after Christa and the baby had died, he’d sworn he’d never get another woman pregnant. He’d never wanted to risk putting his heart into another position where he stood to lose so much. But somehow it had happened. Now he was afraid to let himself think past tomorrow.

  “I’m sorry, Rafe. I can’t talk about it. Not now. I’m going home and fixing myself some supper.”

  He moved to the door and Rafe followed.

  “Denver,” he said soberly, “I’m sorry this had to happen. Lilly and I never meant for you or Marcella to get hurt. We thought—well, getting you two together would be a good thing. Apparently, we were wrong to play matchmakers and we both feel horrible about it.”

  Shaking his head, Denver said, “You two didn’t do this to me. I did it to myself. So don’t even think about taking the blame.”

  Slapping a hand on his shoulder, Rafe gave him a lopsided smile. “Okay. Let’s forget it.”

  Forget it? As Denver stepped out into the cold night, he realized he’d never be able to forget Marcella or put their broken affair behind him. A baby was coming. And no matter what happened between him and Marcella in the future, he wanted to be a part of his child’s life.

  But what if something goes wrong before the baby is ever born, Denver? What if you lose this child like the last one? What if something happens to Marcella, too? It will be your fault. Instead of blaming her, you need to be owning up to the fact that you got her pregnant.

  The accusing voice in his head stayed with him through the short drive home. By the time he changed out of his dirty work clothes and walked into the kitchen, he was totally out of the mood for food. Which was just as well, as two hungry kittens raced over to him and quickly tried to climb the legs of his jeans.

  “Whoa, you two! You don’t have to tell me it’s time for supper. I’ll get it.”

  Realizing Smokey and Star needed human attention as much as they needed food nourishment, he took a few minutes to cuddle them before he doled canned food onto a clean saucer and placed it on the floor. While he sat at the table watching the duo go after the fishy meal with hungry gusto, he instinctively thought back to the day Peter and Harry had named the two kittens.

  That Thanksgiving Day, Marcella’s boys had been happy to be here in his home and excited to explore the vast outdoors of the ranch. The trip they’d taken with the Calhoun clan to see the old mine had been like a great adventure to them. When they’d returned, both boys had talked nonstop to him and their mother about all they’d seen and learned.

  As Denver had listened to their happy chatter, he’d begun to imagine himself in the role of their father. He’d even allowed himself to think about the future and all the things he wanted to share with the boys. How much he wanted to guide and teach them.

  All of that was gone now. He’d never be a father to Harry and Peter. At the most, he’d only get to be a part-time father to his own child.

  Oh God, that wasn’t the way he wanted things to be. But even if he could somehow rake up enough courage to deal with the pregnancy, he doubted she would ever forgive him. Maybe if she loved him, he might have a chance of making things right. But she’d never so much as hinted the word to him. And even if she had been harboring the feelings in her heart, he’d probably cut all those to pieces with his stupid, selfish behavior.

  With a sigh of regret, he leaned over and stroked his fingers over the backs of both kittens. Harry and Peter probably hated him now, he thought. And the reality of losing the two boys hurt Denver almost as much as losing their mother.

  Chapter Twelve

  The next evening, on her way home from work, Marcella picked up a blue spruce from one of the many Christmas tree vendors that had sprung up around town for the approaching holiday. After a light dinner, her mother, Sau
ndra, came over to help her erect the tree and join in on the trimming.

  Normally, Harry and Peter were more than eager to hang bulbs and ornaments, but this year their effort was halfhearted, which only made Marcella feel worse.

  “The boys act like one of the cats has died,” Saundra said after the two boys had gone to their room to get ready for bed. “Or they’ve lost their best friend.”

  Marcella glanced over at her mother, who was pouring the last of the coffee into her cup. A few days ago, she’d revealed the news to her mother that she was expecting Denver’s child. For the most part, Saundra had been supportive and sympathetic, yet she hadn’t refrained from jabbing Marcella with an I-told-you-so now and then.

  Marcella sank wearily into a kitchen chair. “They have lost their best friend, Mother. Denver had come to mean the world to them. They had big dreams that he would become their father. A real father. Now they’ve been let down again. I can only hope that this doesn’t damage their ideals about manhood and what it means to grow up to be a responsible father. God knows they haven’t had a good example to go by.”

  Shaking her head with disgust, her mother sank into the chair across from Marcella’s.

  “I tried to tell you about the man, honey, but you wouldn’t listen. No, you thought Denver Yates was the grandest thing to come along since sliced bread. Now if—”

  “I don’t want to hear it, Mother,” Marcella interrupted before Saundra could get rolling. “The last thing I need from you right now is a lecture.”

  Her lips pursed with disapproval, Saundra drummed her fingertips on the tabletop. “I’m not going to give you a lecture. But I am wondering about your plans. Have you told your father yet?”

  Marcella blinked her eyes as tears burned at the backs of them. Since her father, Norval, had moved to California, she rarely had the chance to visit with him. A comforting hug from him right now would certainly be welcome.

  “No. I plan to call him to wish him Merry Christmas. But I’m not going to tell him about the baby. Not yet.”

  Saundra frowned at her. “But why? Your father has always loved you. He won’t be judgmental. He’ll be excited to hear he’s getting another grandchild. God knows, your brother, Spence, hasn’t given us any.”

  “Spence is hardly ready to have children. He’s still trying to get over his divorce. And frankly, I’m glad he’s busy helping Grandma and Grandpa on the farm rather than chasing after another heartache,” Marcella muttered.

  Her mother clucked her tongue with disapproval. “You sound so jaded. You need to be thinking positive, Marcella. Maybe this isn’t the most ideal situation for a woman to be in, but I don’t know anyone stronger than you are, my darling daughter. With or without a man, you’ll make a nice life for your family.”

  Marcella smiled at her. “Thanks, Mother. Hearing you say that does make me feel better.”

  Smiling back at her, Saundra said, “By the way, did you know Geena Parcell is expecting again?”

  Marcella gasped at the news of her friend. Geena had recently become a great friend, but between work and her relationship with Denver, she hadn’t taken the time these past few weeks to contact her. “Geena is pregnant? Little George is only about two-and-a-half months old! Where did you hear this?”

  “Annie told me yesterday. She said Geena just found out about it a few days ago. She says Vince is over the moon.”

  He would be, Marcella thought. Vince was crazy in love with Geena and she with him. They’d had their troubles in the past, but thankfully they were a beautiful married couple now.

  “This is incredible,” Marcella murmured thoughtfully. “Back when her first baby, Emma Rose, was born, I would hold her and think I’d never have another baby of my own. Now the two of us are going to have babies together!” She looked questioningly at her mother. “Does Geena know about me being pregnant?”

  “Not that I’m aware of. Annie couldn’t have told her because I haven’t mentioned it to her or anyone.”

  Annie was a mutual friend whose house was situated between Marcella’s and her mother’s. The widow had been a longtime friend, along with being Emma Rose and George’s babysitter.

  “Thanks, Mother. I’m taking time off tomorrow to see my ob-gyn. I’ll try to stop by Geena’s when I’m finished.”

  “Good. It will lift your spirits to see her.” She rose from the chair and walked across to where a plate of iced sugar cookies sat on the cabinet counter. “You stay right there. I’m bringing you some cookies and milk and you’re going to down all of it without argument.”

  Marcella was about to tell her mother how she never quit being a waitress, when several loud thumps sounded from another part of the house. By the time she jumped to her feet, she could hear the boys shouting at each other.

  Rushing through the house, she jerked open the bedroom door to see Harry and Peter rolling wildly on the floor, fists flying as they tried to pummel each other. The sight of the two boys locked in an angry wrestling match was shocking. They often teased and argued, but they’d never come to physical blows before now.

  “Stop this! Stop it right now!” Marcella stopped herself just short of shouting the command.

  Moving past her, Saundra picked up both boys by the collars of their pajamas and planted herself between them.

  “What is going on with you two?” the older woman demanded.

  Instead of answering their grandmother’s question, the two boys glared resentfully at each other.

  Feeling sick inside, Marcella stepped forward to see a long red mark above Peter’s eye and a trickle of blood from one of Harry’s nostrils. “Okay, guys, answer your grandmother’s question. Right now!”

  Peter was the first to capitulate, and when his lip began to tremble uncontrollably, Marcella had to resist the urge to gather him into her arms.

  “Harry said Denver was a creep. That we’d never see him again—that he was just like the daddies that didn’t want us! That ain’t true! Denver will see us again. I know he will,” Peter cried defiantly. “’Cause he loves us.”

  “You’re stupid, Peter!” Harry shouted at him. “Denver don’t love us. He don’t care if he ever sees us! We ain’t nothing to him! Nothing!”

  Tears streaming from his eyes, Peter attempted to throw another punch at his brother, but Marcella managed to grab his arm before it could do harm to anyone.

  “That’s enough, Peter! And, Harry, you should be ashamed for saying such things to your brother. You both should be ashamed for behaving like hooligans and hurting each other. Do you think Denver would be proud of your behavior?”

  “Don’t matter,” Harry muttered in a surly voice. “He won’t be around anyway.”

  Still defiant, Peter swiped at the tears on his cheeks. “He’d be proud of me ’cause I stuck up for him. I didn’t call him no creep, either!”

  Behind Marcella, her mother cleared her throat. “I’m going to let you handle this by yourself, daughter. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.”

  Saundra left the room and quietly closed the door behind them. Marcella put a hand on each boy’s shoulder and guided them over to a bed.

  “Sit down here beside me,” she instructed. “We’re going to have a talk about Denver. And then I’m going to decide how to punish you both for fighting.”

  * * *

  Twenty minutes later, Marcella walked into the living room, dabbing at her tears as she stood staring at the blue spruce sitting in one corner of the room. Over the years, she’d had Christmas trees look far worse than this one with its lopsided tinsel and drooping lights. The appearance of the tree was a perfect example of her life. She was still standing, but she didn’t have much to feel proud about.

  “So much for having a fun evening of tree trimming,” she said glumly. “Instead, my boys end up in a boxing match.”

 
From her seat on the couch, Saundra patted the cushion next to her. “Come here, honey.”

  Marcella crossed the room and gladly welcomed the comfort of her mother’s arms. Even though Saundra was often too bossy and opinionated, she’d always been around to love and support Marcella through all the ups and downs.

  Hugging Marcella tightly, she asked, “Are the boys calmed down now?”

  Easing out of her mother’s embrace, Marcella leaned back against the couch and let out a long sigh. “Yes. I cleaned up their faces and gave them a long talk. When I left their room, they were snuggled together in the same bed.”

  Her mother gave her a wan smile. “You and Spence used to do the same thing. One minute you’d be in a boxing match and the next you’d be hugging each other. It will all pass, honey.”

  Using her fingertips, Marcella massaged her furrowed brow. “I probably made a mistake, Mom. A few minutes ago I promised the boys I’d talk with Denver about spending some time with them. I honestly don’t want to say a word to the man. But Peter and Harry need to understand this breakup is not their fault. Both of them have always believed their fathers deserted them because they weren’t good enough or worthy of a father’s love. Harry and Peter were just beginning to believe that Denver felt differently about them. And then...”

  “Now Harry is hiding behind a tough-guy face and Peter is lashing out with his fists,” Saundra finished ruefully, then turned a thoughtful glance on Marcella. “Did you tell them about the baby?”

  “No. They have enough on their little minds without adding to it.”

  Saundra frowned. “But, honey, learning they’re going to soon get a brother or sister might lift their spirits. And you’re going to have to tell them before too long.”