Christmas on the Ranch

by Arlene James

  That’s it? Brett wanted to yell.

  “Guess I’ll go check on that mare.” Clint loaded his dishes in the dishwasher. “Jessie Endstrom wants the colt. Offered me a good price. I’ll probably sell him all the horses.”

  “Even Sheba?” He couldn’t believe this. “You’ve had her since she was born!”

  “She’s getting old and she needs to be ridden more often. Prob’ly for the best.” His father dragged on his sheepskin jacket, his hand rubbing his neck again. “Decision’s yours, son. Just let me know. I’m goin’ to town later. I’ll have lunch there.”

  Stunned, Brett watched his father leave. That hadn’t gone as he expected. Far from asking, no, begging, him to stay, Clint had almost helped him out the door.

  He cleared up the breakfast remains, restoring the nook to tidiness, reminded of the many times he and his father had shared things across this very table. Leaving the ranch wasn’t going to be easy for him, but it was going to be much harder for his father, no matter how casual he acted.

  Is this right? he prayed as he pulled on his warmest gear, preparing to check fences on the back range before they got more snow. Am I making a big mistake? But then why would You send this opportunity? What’s the best decision for us both, God?

  As Brett trotted his horse across the pasture and headed north Elizabeth’s face swam into his thoughts. Not to see her again, not to be there if she and Zoey needed him... What if Doc began to doubt herself again? The choir’s progress seemed to have rebuilt her confidence but what if Zoey’s dad came back for some reason? Or what if Elizabeth met someone else?

  Man, Brett hated that thought. She was his.

  But she wasn’t. He had no claim on Elizabeth. There was nothing to keep her from building a new friendship with someone who would be here for her and Zoey.

  As he repaired fences, ate his sandwich and drank coffee from his thermos, scanned the hills for predators and checked cattle, two questions rolled through Brett’s brain.

  How could he leave his home and the woman who’d taken root in his heart?

  But how could he give up the opportunity to have his dream come true?

  He had no answers. All he could do was pray.

  * * *

  “Why doesn’t he answer?” Elizabeth demanded of her cell phone.

  “Who?” Zoey looked up from her plate of spaghetti, her face a mess of red sauce.

  “Brett.” She sighed, rose and scraped her uneaten meal into the garbage, trying to stem the tide of doubt that had taken root this morning after she’d treated six children with severe cases of the flu.

  “Maybe he’s sick. Three kids in my class had to go home today. Everybody’s getting sick. Even Mrs. House. I hope Mrs. Beasley doesn’t get sick,” Zoey said with a frown. “Do dogs get the flu?”

  “I don’t know, sweetheart.” If I ever get hold of Brett you can ask him. “You’d better go wash up. We have choir practice tonight.” If anybody shows.

  Why wouldn’t these doubts leave her? She’d tried so hard to turn everything over to God, to do what she could and leave the outcome to Him. And yet, especially after what Elizabeth had learned today, she couldn’t quite shake this dark cloud of worry.

  If I truly trust God, worry has no place in my heart. Elizabeth whispered a plea for forgiveness as she cleaned up the kitchen.

  “The choir is yours, God. The Christmas Eve service is Yours. You are in control. I will do my part to glorify You.” Saying it aloud chased away some of the doubt, though bits of misgiving lingered on the fringes of her mind.

  When they arrived at the church and found only half the usual number of children present, Elizabeth’s misgivings returned tenfold, accompanied by the memory of past repudiation.

  You think saying you’re a Christian means God will fix anything you take on. Then you fail and wonder why. You don’t have Superwoman abilities, Lizzie. You’re not specially called out by God Himself. You’re ordinary, nothing special. Plain. And you mess up more things than anyone I’ve ever known. You’re embarrassing.

  She surveyed the small group of kids and wondered if maybe James was right.

  “Sorry I’m late. Had a problem with a steer.” Brett stood in the doorway of the sanctuary, his smile fading. “Where is everybody?”

  “They gots flu.” Zoey grinned at him. “But we don’t.”

  “Oh, boy.” Brett walked slowly forward, his gaze holding Elizabeth’s so she couldn’t look away. “Dad’s down with something, too. Came on late this afternoon, I guess. He seems really depressed.” He didn’t have the usual warmth in his eyes so she was surprised when he came close enough to touch her shoulder. “How are you feeling?”

  “Me? I’m fine, but—maybe we should cancel this,” she murmured, turning to shield her words from the kids who waited.

  “No!” Brett’s eyes narrowed. “You can’t give up, Doc.”

  “Aren’t we gonna sing, Mommy?” Zoey’s plaintive question held the other kids’ focus. “We’ve been practicing really hard. And we got those nice covers to wear an’ the bells an’ everything. We gotta sing!”

  The rest of the choir nodded, faces resolute.

  “How can you naysay faith like that?” Brett whispered in her ear.

  “I can’t.” She heaved a sigh of resignation. “Okay, let’s get at it. Brett, you’ll have to take your father’s part because we need to practice our entrances.”

  “That’s why I’m here.” His dazzling smile turned her knees to jelly before he walked to the side and arranged his readings. “I’m ready.”

  Nervous, uncertain yet somehow steadied by Brett’s confidence in her, Elizabeth waited for the recorded music to start. The choir is Yours. I’ll do my best for You. Then she lifted her hand to direct the small group.

  The kids did their best, came in at the proper time, sang lustily and smiled constantly. They were doing everything right. Even the chiming of the triangles was on the beat. It was just that the sound they made seemed weak in the large sanctuary.

  “This is where you sing your solo, isn’t it?” Brett asked. “Why not rehearse it now?”

  With everyone watching? Elizabeth gulped but nodded. If she was going to trust God, then she had to trust Him with everything. She leaned to one side, pressed a button to start the recorded music then exhaled.

  She knew her first notes wobbled, heard the tentative sound in her voice and the feebleness as she stretched to reach the highest note. A tiny movement to her left caught her eye. Brett smiled at her, encouraging her to give her best.

  Elizabeth tried to infuse her song with all the heartfelt feeling it deserved. But the entire time she sang she heard James’s voice. Embarrassing. Ashamed. The words held her back, warning her she would be mocked. As she finished she glanced at Zoey, knowing her daughter wouldn’t be able to hide the truth. Sure enough Zoey’s little face was troubled.

  “You have to practice harder, Mommy,” she insisted. “We hafta do our very bestest to celebrate Jesus’s birthday.”

  “You’re right, sweetie.” She smiled, struggling to infuse certainty in her voice when all she felt was a horrible cloying fear of failure. “Now Clint reads another part. Brett?”

  He studied her with uncertainty, his dark gaze troubled, as if he, too, wondered if she could pull it off. Regrouping he read the appropriate section and the practice continued. Elizabeth caught herself hurrying the children, eager to get the rehearsal finished so she could get Zoey into bed and finally be alone. Maybe then she could figure out what was wrong.

  “Okay, guys. That’s all for now.” She called a halt when they’d barely finished the last song. “One more practice then a dress rehearsal when we go through everything exactly as we will on Christmas Eve. Stay healthy so you can sing your best.”

  “An’ ’vite lots of people,” Zoey commanded
. “We’re gonna sing good.”

  “Yes, you are,” Brett agreed with a smile. “And everyone will love it. Let’s pray before you leave.”

  I should have thought of that, Elizabeth thought guiltily. She bowed her head, listening as Brett asked God to bless their efforts, to heal those who were sick and help them to remember Jesus was the reason for Christmas, the reason they were singing.

  When he finished, Elizabeth busied herself with organizing her sheet music to avoid the accusation she knew she’d find in his eyes. Her head jerked up when he chuckled at something one of the kids said.

  “No, it wasn’t our best practice but that means we can do better, right?” His carefree laugh when they shouted back an exuberant “Yes!” made her frown.

  “You look cranky,” he said as Zoey gathered up the triangles. “What’s wrong?”

  “Didn’t you hear me?” she asked, suddenly furious. “I sounded like a cat in pain. I’m going to be mortified when this thing is finished. And it’s all your fault.”

  Brett studied her with that unflappable stare.

  “Well?” she demanded.

  “It’s not about you, or me or them,” he said quietly. “It’s about Him.” He pointed upward. “Remember?”

  “He’s going to be ashamed, too,” she mumbled, ducking her head in humiliation.

  “Doc,” Brett gently chastised, pressing his finger under her chin to force her to look at him. “You know that’s not right. He takes our efforts and uses them for His will, to work out things His way.”

  How could he say that? Didn’t he understand? She really looked at him then. Something had changed. Brett looked lighter, more carefree.

  “I spoke to my dad this morning, Doc.” His eyes glowed. “He knew about the scholarship and he’s all in favor of me going. He’s talking about selling the ranch and moving into town.”

  “He’ll have to,” she said automatically, her mind mentally scanning the report she’d seen.

  “He even sounded happy about selling the stock and renting out his land to a neighbor. He—” Brett stopped suddenly, frowned. “Wait a minute—why’d you say that? Why would he have to?”

  Catching the flu might be the reason Clint hadn’t told him but Elizabeth guessed his father was deliberately hiding the truth from his son. And she couldn’t say anything, not a word, or she’d breach patient confidentiality, if she hadn’t already.

  “So you’ve decided to leave for college, after all?” Funny how the thought of not seeing Brett, not being able to depend on him for support and courage—made her feel empty. Alone.

  “Yes, but—”

  “You must be very excited. Congratulations. I wish you much success.” She focused on Zoey, struggling to put on her boots. “We’ll miss you. Thank you for all your help. Excuse me.”

  She wanted to get away before she burst into tears. Instead she knelt and helped her daughter slide on her boots only to rise and find Brett holding her coat. When she shrugged into it, he turned her around and began fastening the buttons.

  “I’m going to miss you, too, Doc. You give me a new perspective on life.” He rested his palms on her shoulders. “Thanks to you I’ve figured out what I want.”

  “I’m glad.” Elizabeth ached to fling her arms around Brett’s neck and beg him not to leave Snowflake. But she couldn’t ask him not to grab at his dream. And she couldn’t tell him that his father had cancer. All she could do for this man she loved was silently care for him and be there for his dad.

  “I wanted to tell you—”

  “Can we go home, Mommy? My tummy feels funny.”

  “Another time.” Brett brushed his lips against her cheek.

  “Sure,” Elizabeth agreed, willing herself not to turn her head and return his kiss. As she drove home she determined to smother her feelings for the handsome rancher and do everything she could to make this Christmas the best Brett and his father ever had.

  Don’t let it be their last, God. Please?

  Chapter Nine

  “Something’s wrong with Dad.” Brett faced his pastor the next morning and laid bare his aching heart. “Doc knows. I asked her to tell me but she won’t.”

  “She can’t.”

  “But I need to know. This is my father!” Brett winced at the thought of losing his only parent.

  “I just have secondhand information about this, son. I’m going to share it because I believe you should know. Clint should be telling you, but since he hasn’t—” Pastor Bill squeezed his eyes closed in a silent prayer before he looked directly at Brett.

  “It’s bad, isn’t it?” He sucked in his breath when the pastor, his face grave, nodded. He exhaled. “Okay. Tell me.”

  “Your father has an aggressive form of skin cancer. He needs immediate surgery and treatment.”

  Brett gasped in stunned disbelief. “But—” He couldn’t grasp it, couldn’t make sense of it. Of all the things he’d imagined, cancer hadn’t even made the list.

  “He doesn’t want you to know.” The minister squeezed his shoulder. “Clint thinks he has to push through this alone. He intends to divest himself of the home, land and animals he loves to focus on his treatment.” His voice dropped. “And free you from having to care for him.”

  “But why Dad? He’s healthy except for the stroke—was that what did it?”

  Questions poured out but Pastor Bill didn’t have the answers Brett needed. The only thing Bill could offer was to listen and then to pray with him.

  Two hours later Brett left the church office, still in a turmoil, still unable to absorb it. Cancer. He wandered around town facing the knowledge that his father might not be here next time he came home. That he might die. He tried to pray but his heart only cried, Why?

  “Brett?” Elizabeth’s voice and the touch of her fingers on his arm brought him back to reality. “Are you all right?”

  “No,” he said softly. “How can I be? Pastor Bill just told me my father is dying.”

  “He—You don’t know that...” Elizabeth stopped when he shook his head. He didn’t want to hear platitudes.

  “You knew about his diagnosis,” he said bluntly. “You knew and you didn’t tell me.”

  “I happened to see his lab report, but I couldn’t tell you, Brett. You know my professional oath doesn’t allow that.”

  “I know.” He felt as if his world had cracked. “But...”

  “I have the afternoon off. Let’s have lunch and talk.” She slipped her hand through his arm.

  With the sun gilding her silvery hair and her high-heeled boots skimming over the slippery sidewalks, Doc looked like something out of this world, certainly out of Brett’s world. He accompanied her to the nearest café, sat where she indicated and let her order two soups and a sandwich to split. When it arrived, Brett ate because she insisted.

  “Tell me your thoughts,” she murmured when he’d finished the soup.

  “That I must have really angered God.” Fear, hurt and bitterness surged inside him. “I’ve tried hard to be the son Dad deserves but I’ve never done anything noteworthy and now I never will.”

  “You do realize you’re quoting Wanda?” She arched a brow. “So I’ll tell you the same thing you once told me about James—you’ve still got her somewhere in here.” Doc tapped his forehead, her cheeks hot pink in annoyance. “You still believe her lies.”

  Brett loved the way she defended him, the way her hair curled around her cheeks in a caress, the way she didn’t skip over the important stuff; in short, he loved everything about Dr. Elizabeth Kendall. But he wasn’t rich or smart like her ex.

  He blinked as his brain caught up to her words. “Lies?”

  “They were lies, Brett. She was just like James.”

  He frowned at the comparison. “How?”

  “
When we met, James’s driving goal was to become a surgeon to help scarred children. As a kid his best friend had burn scars no one could remove. James wanted to be able to do that.”

  Brett’s heart sank. She was comparing him to a surgeon?

  “I loved that,” she murmured. “It’s why I put off my own dreams and worked extra hours, so he could become that doctor.”

  He waited warily.

  “But James got caught up in money and prestige. He began replacing free clinic time with paid-for nose jobs.” The sadness in her voice mirrored the grief in her eyes. “James was drinking when he got a call. He was hurrying to an appointment with a twenty-eight-year-old celebrity who wanted a chin lift. Rex died because of James’s greed.”

  There was nothing to say so Brett slid his hand over hers and held it.

  “James became someone I didn’t know. Zoey and I didn’t mean anything to him.” Elizabeth blinked. “Just like Wanda.”

  “Wanda?” He didn’t get it.

  “She was a teacher and a good one from what I’ve heard. She must have liked teaching kids once. But her focus got skewed. A guy who loved her wasn’t enough. She changed. Like you have.”

  “I’m nothing like Wanda or your ex, Doc.” Brett’s shoulders went back indignantly.

  “We all get sidetracked.” She shook her head. “Like I did with Rex.”

  “I haven’t changed.” Doc’s enigmatic expression intrigued Brett.

  “Haven’t you?” Her eyes said different. “When I first met you I thought, wow, here’s a guy who makes his faith work. He encourages and builds up and makes people’s lives better. He loves animals so he finds way to improve their worlds, too. His dad’s a grump and they don’t share the same dream, but Brett works the spread as if it were his own. The kids’ choir needs a leader so he cons me into helping. Props needed? He builds them.” She smiled. “I thought, Brett does what he can and trusts God with the rest. This guy has faith figured out.”

  “Reality sucks, huh?”