Christmas on the Ranch

by Arlene James

  “No, it won’t.” Right, Lord? “It is going to be a huge success.” Brett brushed his knuckles across her cheek. “Go home and take a nap. I rescheduled practice for seven, after the ice sculpture judging.”

  “I can’t nap. Mrs. House has this afternoon off. I have to get Zoey.” She rubbed her neck as if stiffness had set in.

  Without thinking Brett stepped behind her and set his fingers against her shoulder blades, gently working out the tension.

  “I’ll take care of Zoey. You go home and rest.” His senses sang, which meant he had to stop touching her. He pressed her shoulders to force her to turn then lifted her chin to meet his gaze. “For once relax and let me handle it.”

  “Once? I’ve been doing that so much I don’t know how you get any work done at your ranch.” Her gaze clung to his.

  “Dad will chew me out if I slack off too much.” Brett didn’t mention he’d risen to do chores at four this morning so he’d be free if she needed him. “I won’t let you down, Elizabeth,” he assured her, his pulse thudding like a base drum.

  “You never do, Brett. But what if I mess up again?”

  “That’s James speaking,” he said, drawing her into his arms for a brief hug. “And he’s wrong. We’ve got God on our side and the choir’s going to be amazing.” He let her go, waited for her to regain her poise and heaved a sigh of relief when a tremulous smile flickered across her lovely face.

  “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” she whispered. “You’re God’s blessing in my life, Brett.”

  Catching him totally unawares, Doc stood on her tiptoes and kissed him right on the lips. It wasn’t a deep, soulful kiss nor a mere brush of the lips. It said—no, asked—something Brett couldn’t quite define. And when it ended, he wanted more.

  “I accept your offer with Zoey. Thank you.” Then without looking at him, Doc buttoned up her coat, slipped on her gloves and left the sanctuary.

  Brett stifled the urge to call her back. He was in love with her!

  The truth echoed from his heart. He loved Doc’s spirit, her faith in him, her gentleness and her courage. He loved the way she forged ahead despite the nasty hand she’d been dealt. But Brett couldn’t love her—because he’d finally decided to leave Snowflake, to grab his opportunity.

  He couldn’t start his college degree and expect Elizabeth to wait years until he finished. Nor could he expect her to uproot herself and her daughter just when she’d begun rebuilding her life. It wasn’t fair to ask her to toss it all away for his dream, not like James had. Brett would never ask Elizabeth to sacrifice what she’d worked so hard to achieve. Besides, what if he failed? What if the classes were too difficult for him, the instructors too demanding? Beyond all that, a long-distance relationship, stretched over years of him in school—no.

  Brett couldn’t love her.

  Except he already did. He loved Elizabeth Kendall. No matter what he did, that wasn’t going to change. So loving her meant he had one option, which was to do as much as he could to help her with the kids’ choir, to help her shed the lack of confidence she battled. After Christmas he’d leave, but if he could help Doc succeed with the choir, maybe its success would help her become an integral part of Snowflake so she’d feel needed, wanted, able to give.

  So she’ll be here if you come back?

  Brett had to acknowledge that had been in the back of his mind. It was foolish but he couldn’t quite let go of the dream of Doc and Zoey in his world.

  A noise behind him made him turn.

  “Brett, I’m glad you’re still here. You’ve been on my mind a lot this past week. Is there something you’re struggling with?” Pastor Bill frowned at him. “Anything I can do to help?”

  “No, thanks. I—” Brett changed his mind. “Actually I could use your prayers. I’m considering some big changes in my life and I could use God’s guidance.”

  “Clint didn’t mention—”

  “He doesn’t know. No one does.” Brett waited, hoping he’d understand.

  “Then I’ll keep it between us and the Lord as I pray for you, son.” The senior man frowned. “I feel led to repeat a verse that’s been rolling through my mind this week. I’m sure you know it well. ‘Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not to your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him and He will direct your paths.’”

  “I do know it. And I needed to be reminded. Thanks, Pastor.” Brett smiled his appreciation. “I guess I’d better go. I promised Doc I’d watch Zoey this afternoon.”

  He discovered Mrs. House had taken Zoey to the school yard so she could compete in the ice sculpture contest. While watching, Brett was surprised to hear some of the kids grouse that they were tired of working so hard at choir practice.

  He pulled out his phone. Maybe he and Clint could help Doc by adding a little fun to the practice tonight.

  * * *

  Elizabeth hadn’t expected to feel so rested after just a few hours’ sleep and it wasn’t only because she knew Brett would take good care of Zoey. Perhaps her relaxation had to do with her dreams of him; crazy, happy scenarios of building snowmen, skating on the ice rink that now filled the town square and kissing under a Christmas star.

  She certainly didn’t expect to find the handsome cowboy and his dad with the choir kids, in front of the church, building a manger scene in the snow.

  “You’ve been busy,” she said, unable to smother her burst of joy.

  “Isn’t it nice, Mommy?” Zoey was breathless. “Brett said we hafta decorate the front of the church. An’ then we’re gonna put up a big sign about our concert for ad-tizing. Isn’t Brett smart? An’ CC’s gonna put lights so everybody can see Baby Jesus and his mom and dad when it’s dark. It’s gonna be stupendulous.”

  “Stupendous,” Elizabeth corrected gently. “It sure is. Who made the camels?”

  “Brett an’ Ernie. Brett knows all kinds ’a stuff ’bout camels like ’zackly where to put the hump an’ what kinda toes to make.” Zoey dragged her by the hand to inspect every element, but Elizabeth caught herself inspecting Brett most of all.

  “It’s lovely.” She congratulated Clint on his work. “I guess you’ll light the Christmas tree, too?”

  “I’ll put the lights on it but we don’t turn them on until Christmas Eve, after the concert.” The old man winked. “It’s tra—”

  “—dition,” she finished with a laugh, her heart racing when Brett’s chuckle joined hers. “There certainly are a lot of them in Snowflake.”

  “Traditions are what make families and communities.” Clint glanced at Brett. A tiny frown creased his forehead. “It’s what binds us together.”

  Her heart winced at the look that washed over Brett’s face. How difficult the next ten days would be for him. And for Clint.

  Please tell him. Elizabeth hoped he heard her mental plea. Clint would need time to work out his own future, one without his son and perhaps the ranch he loved.

  “Pizza’s here,” Brett called as a car drove up. “Let’s finish up and go have supper. Then you’ll really be able to sing.”

  It was an inspired idea. A surge of joy almost swamped Elizabeth as she listened to her choir chat about the need to sing their very best. Her choir?

  “It’s Your choir, Lord,” she murmured.

  “We made the outside of the church look good,” one boy said. “We better make sure we sound just as good.”

  “You will,” Brett encouraged with a grin. His smile made her toes curl. “Doc’s got a surprise for you tonight so hurry.”

  The entire group, even Zoey, studied her curiously as they added the final details before trooping inside. Elizabeth hung back.

  “Um, what’s my surprise, Brett?” she murmured curiously.

  “The triangles are ready to debut and so are the kids’ costumes.” He chuc
kled at her stare. “I think you’ll like both.”

  Elizabeth managed to swallow a few bites of Hawaiian pizza while silently praying that Mabel hadn’t made good on her threat to sew frilly gold tinsel angel costumes and that the kids could master using Brett’s triangles. Her fear of failing to pull off the kids’ concert and especially her own solo dragged at her spirit like lead. Why couldn’t she trust God? Why did she still hear James’s mocking voice in the back of her head, reminding her of that last Christmas concert?

  You thought you could do it and you failed. You ruined everything.

  “Ready?” Brett’s touch on her arm jerked her out of the shame. Forcing a smile, she rose. “I’d say Dad’s ice-cream cake was a success, wouldn’t you?” He smiled at the red-and-green-tinged mouths around the table.

  “So much better than fruitcake,” she agreed then grinned. “And I don’t care if fruitcake is a tradition in Snowflake. So there.”

  “It isn’t,” Brett shouted with laughter. “Oh, Doc, you’ve changed from the meek and mild lady who first took on this choir.”

  “I wish,” she shot back. “Inside I’m shaking.”

  “Maybe Pastor was thinking of you, too.” Brett gathered debris from the table.

  “Huh?” She frowned at him.

  “He reminded me of a verse today. ‘Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not to your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him and He will direct your paths.’ See what I mean?”

  A current ran through those dark eyes of his, holding her breath prisoner.

  “You and I both need to stop fussing about stuff and trust God to work it out,” he added.

  “Easier said than done.” Elizabeth had to ask, “Have you told your dad yet?”

  He shook his head without looking at her. “I need the right moment.”

  “Brett—” She let him walk away without reminding him that time was short. Telling Clint was his business. She knew he’d do the best for his father, yet she clung to the hope that he’d change his mind about leaving Snowflake.

  How silly was that?

  “Mommy, me and Ariana wanna know what the s’prise is.” Zoey’s auburn head tilted to one side. “Is it ’bout you an’ Brett?”

  “What? No.” Elizabeth studied her daughter’s disappointed face. “Why would you think that?”

  “’Cause you an’ Brett look at each other funny.” Head dropping, voice brimming with disappointment, she murmured, “I thought maybe God was gonna give me a daddy for Christmas.” A tear trickled down her cheek. “Isn’t He gonna give me anything I want?”

  Elizabeth hugged her daughter close, assuring her that God would give her His very best. It seemed Brett wasn’t the only one who needed to have a family talk.

  “You and I will discuss this later, okay?” She smoothed away the tears from Zoey’s cheek. “Remember that I love you, sweetie. Now, let’s go practice.”

  “’Kay.” Sniffing, Zoey took her place in the front row of the choir.

  “Okay, guys. Here’s one of the surprises.” Brett nodded to Mabel, who held up a red velvet cape with a big white satin bow. “This is what you’ll be wearing on Christmas Eve when you sing your songs.”

  “They’re so pretty,” one of the senior girls said. “We’ll match but we won’t look silly.”

  “My mom has a picture of old-fashioned carolers. That looks like what they wore. Cool.” A younger boy grinned. “We gotta sing really good now.”

  “They’re lovely, Mabel. Absolutely perfect. Thank you.” Elizabeth hugged Mabel, who couldn’t stop grinning as she left. “Children, let’s make our music sound as good as we’ll look. Brett’s made us something to help.”

  She watched him pass out the shiny triangles strung with green ribbon. Then he showed the kids how to tap the baton against the metal to get the sound. The next half hour was spent trying to perfect a beat. And failing. Elizabeth was about to give up when Zoey’s friend Ariana let out a piercing whistle that silenced the entire group.

  “Listen,” she said, her cheeks red with irritation. “This is s’posed to sound like bells. Ding, ding, ding. Like in that movie, Home Alone, when the kid runs home to stop the bad guys. You know, Hark how the bells, sweet silver bells—now pay ’tention.”

  Startled gazes moved from the little girl to Elizabeth, who forced down her amusement at Ariana’s battle tone, delighted with the idea she’d just provided.

  “Ariana’s right. Touch the triangle once so we hear one sharp ting on the beat. But watch me so you’ll know when. When my hand moves like this, you ting. Okay?” Most of the group nodded. “Let’s try it.”

  Moments later they had it, a semi-cohesive sound that made Elizabeth smile with delight. She turned to share her joy with Brett, who stood watching her from the back of the church. To her surprise his face looked sober, even sad.

  “Help us, Brett.” She beckoned him forward. “I’m going to play. You count out the rhythm and motion down for them to play on the first and fourth beat.”

  “Listen, Doc, I don’t do—”

  “Wasn’t it you who was just telling me to trust God to work it out?” she reminded.

  When he finally nodded, Elizabeth hid her relief as she walked to the piano.

  “Everybody ready?” They lifted their instruments. “I’ll start. Watch Brett. He’ll show you when you should play. Here we go.” She launched into an introduction of “Carol of the Bells.” “Go,” she called and waited for the chimes.

  It took several starts, which clearly revealed Brett’s frustration. Finally Clint yelled, “Stop!” He walked over to Brett and murmured something to him. His hand moved in a beat that measured the tempo she’d been playing. Brett copied it.

  “Ready to start again?” she called when Clint had returned to his pew.

  “I guess,” Brett muttered. Elizabeth caught Clint’s wink before he lifted his hand as if he, too, would follow the beat.

  So Brett could copy, she suddenly realized as this time the chimes hit every beat.

  “Perfect! You guys are fantastic!” She nodded her thanks at Brett then set out her sheet music. “If you do that well on your singing, we’ll have a fantastic performance.”

  It turned into one of the best rehearsals they’d ever had.

  “Thanks to both of you,” Elizabeth told father and son as the children were picked up by their parents. “Your instruments made the difference, Brett.” She hugged Clint. “And your help got them all playing together. For the first time I’m beginning to think we might pull this off.”

  “So your faith is overcoming your fear?” Brett asked softly.

  “I guess.” But for how long, Elizabeth wondered later that night when she wakened from nightmares of that other Christmas concert and the humiliation she’d endured.

  This is Your will, isn’t it? she whispered.

  The choir, maybe. But Brett in her life? Elizabeth felt no certainty about that.

  Chapter Eight

  One week until Christmas. This had to be the day.

  Brett gathered his courage and cleared his throat, glad Clint had made his uber-strong coffee for breakfast this morning. Maybe that would give him the courage he needed.

  “Dad, can I talk to you about something?”

  “Been wondering when you’d get around to it.” Clint stretched out his legs and studied his boot tips. “It’s about the college scholarship, isn’t it?”

  “You know?” Brett blinked in surprise. “Since when?”

  “Since that first day when your friend called.” Despite his shrug of nonchalance his dad’s tension was evident. “I was in the barn and heard the phone so I picked up the extension and heard your friend offer you a scholarship. Didn’t mean to butt into your business.”

  “Why didn’t you say any
thing?” Brett asked, thoughts jumbled.

  “Figured you’d get around to telling me when you were ready.” Clint did look at him then. “Veterinarian school is what you always wanted so I guess you’re going.”

  “I don’t know.” No fight? No argument? Brett lost his breath like a pricked balloon. “It’s a dream I never thought I’d realize.”

  “Here’s your chance. Go.” Clint’s careless attitude made Brett wonder why he’d worried so much about his father’s reaction.

  “If I accepted, what would you do—about the ranch, I mean?”

  “I’ve got options.” Clint shifted so Brett couldn’t see his face. One hand rubbed a spot on the back of his neck. Noting Brett’s attention it quickly dropped away. “Jeremiah Bremmer’s been asking to buy my Black Angus herd. He’d rent the back forty, too. Or maybe I’ll sell the place, move into town.”

  “You? In town?” Brett couldn’t envision it.

  “Can’t stay here forever.” Clint shrugged. “Be a test of faith. God’s always come through for me before.”

  Meaning his son’s leaving didn’t matter.

  “I’d come back to help when school’s out,” he said quickly then added, “If you want.”

  “No point in tying yourself down to the Double C or Snowflake.” Clint looked totally unconcerned. “Besides, we got Doc Terrier. Town doesn’t need another vet.”

  Brett had considered entering a partnership with Snowflake’s vet when he finished college. His dad’s comment made him wonder how many of the locals would accept him as qualified. They’d always known him as Clint’s kid, a rancher like them, not an educated veterinarian.

  “Better you start over someplace fresh,” the old man suggested. “I’m too old for that. My friends, what’s left of ’em, are here.” A coy smile played with his mouth. “’Sides, I’m kinda taken with that little Zoey. Never knew a kid so full of sass and spice. Reminds me of myself. I’d like to watch her grow up, sorta like a grandfather. She hasn’t got one, you know.”

  “Ah.” His dad wanted to be a grandfather?

  “Doc and Zoey don’t have any other family.” Evidently the two ladies had found a soft spot in Clint’s crusty heart. “Anyway, let me know your decision so I can plan.”