by Janet Dailey
“You’re very welcome,” Tracy said. “We had fun, didn’t we?”
“Uh-huh. Can I come again?”
“Sure, when it’s a good time for both of us,” Tracy said. “I’ll see you two on Saturday”
Clara turned to go, then suddenly stopped. “Tracy, we forgot. You were going to help me write to Santa Claus.”
“Next time,” Tracy said. “Or maybe your dad can help you. Don’t worry. We’ll make sure Santa gets your letter.”
Rush herded the little girl outside and boosted her into the Hummer. She waved at Tracy as they drove away. He could tell she’d had a good time. So had he. But when he thought about where all this was going, he could see nothing ahead but heartache. When the holidays were over, Clara would go home to a self-centered mother and an indifferent father, and probably a new set of caregivers. He might not see her again for years.
And what about him? Losing his little girl a second time was going to rip his heart out. And the prospect for anything lasting with Tracy wasn’t much better. The beautiful judge was still wedded to her late husband. He would try to show her a good time. But he couldn’t—and wouldn’t—compete with a ghost.
For now, all he could do was make the most of every day, until the time came, as it surely would, when he’d be left with nothing but memories.
Chapter 8
Tracy stood on the front porch and watched the Hummer pull away from the curb. Clara waved at her through the rear side window. Smiling, Tracy waved back.
As the Hummer vanished into the swirling snow, she brushed the moisture from her coat and went back inside. Murphy raised his head and wagged his tail, greeting her as if she’d been gone for hours. Dropping her coat and sinking to her knees, she wrapped her arms around the old dog and pressed her face against his neck, inhaling his warm, familiar doggy aroma. A tear dampened her cheek.
Why did love have to hurt so much?
And why, when she knew the hurt would come, had she been foolish enough to open herself to more?
On Saturday, Rush and Clara would come by to take her to brunch at the B and B. If she had any sense, she would make an excuse, tell Rush that she was sick, or that she’d changed her mind. But that wouldn’t keep Clara from begging to see the kittens. As long as the little girl was in town, Tracy would be trapped—a helpless passenger on the one-way train to heartbreak.
* * *
By Saturday morning, the storm had passed. A warm front had moved in, bringing sunny skies and snow melt. Water dripped from the eaves of the houses. Cars in the street splashed melting slush under their tires.
Tracy was waiting when Rush came to the door to pick her up. He steadied her on the slippery pavement as he helped her into the Hummer, where he’d left Clara, who was wearing her new jeans and vest.
“Did our snow angels melt?” Clara asked as Tracy fastened her seat belt.
“If they haven’t already, they will,” Tracy said. “The snow’s going fast.”
“Can we make more angels when it snows again?”
“If it snows again,” Rush said, starting the engine.
“What if it doesn’t snow?” Clara asked.
“Whatever the weather does, all we can do is make the best of it.”
“But what if there isn’t any snow for the parade?” Clara asked. “How will the horses pull the sleigh?”
“We can keep the sleigh on its flatbed trailer,” Rush answered patiently. “The horses can pull it that way.”
“But it wouldn’t be real,” Clara said. “Not without snow.”
“It’s too soon to worry about that,” Tracy said. “The parade is two weeks away. There’s plenty of time for another storm to move in.”
“It’s got to snow. It’s just got to.” Clara was quiet for a moment. “What’s brunch?”
“What’s what?” Rush was caught off guard by the sudden change of subject.
“You said we were going to brunch. What’s that?”
Laughing, Tracy came to his rescue. “It’s like breakfast and lunch put together—a late breakfast or an early lunch.”
“Oh. Br . . . unch.” Clara giggled. “Will I like it?”
“I know you like bacon and eggs and pancakes,” Rush said. “Don’t worry, you’ll like it. And you’ll get to meet some nice people, too.”
“Can I tell them about the kittens, Tracy? You said they’d soon need new homes.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” Tracy said. “Sure, go ahead and tell people if you want to.”
“Okay. But I won’t tell them about Snowflake. He’s the one I love.”
Rush glanced at Tracy, a dismayed look on his face. His precious little girl was setting herself up to have her heart broken.
The Branding Iron Bed and Breakfast was located in an old remodeled house just off Main Street. Most of the parking places were taken, but Rush managed to catch someone leaving and steer the Hummer into the empty spot. As he helped Tracy and Clara out of the vehicle, and the three of them went up the sidewalk together, Tracy battled an attack of self-consciousness. This was a small town. There was bound to be some gossip when people saw her with Rush. But if that bothered her, she mustn’t let it show. She would smile, enjoy her meal, and leave as soon as possible.
Mouthwatering aromas surrounded them as they opened the door. Inside, the spacious dining room was decked out for Christmas with a glittering tree, small wreaths on the tables, and glowing white lights strung from the ceiling. Traditional Christmas music played in the background, turned low enough to allow for conversation. Buffet tables along the far wall were laden with warming pans and trays of fruit, breads, and pastries that looked and smelled heavenly.
Pretty Jess Marsden, the sheriff’s wife, who ran the place with her mother, took Rush’s credit card and showed them to an open table. “Nice to see you, Tracy and Rush. And who is this young lady?”
“I’m Clara. Do you want a kitten? I know who has some. They’re really cute.” Clara had her pitch ready.
Jess smiled. “I hadn’t thought about it,” she said. “But if I find anybody who’d like one, I’ll send them over.”
“Wait! Somebody’s got kittens?” Jess’s mother, Francine, bustling past with a pitcher of juice, stopped in her tracks. “I’ve been pining for a cat since my old Sergeant Pepper crossed the rainbow bridge last summer. He was a ginger tabby. I’d love another one like him.”
“You may be in luck.” Tracy spoke up. “The kittens are at my house. One of them, the feistiest one, is a little ginger. They’re still nursing, but they should be ready to take home by Christmas.”
Francine’s smile broadened. “A little ginger, hmm? And feisty. I like that. Boy or girl?”
“He’s a boy,” Clara said. “And my daddy will give him free shots.”
“Well, that wraps it up!” Francine said. “Save that precious boy for me, and let me know when I can come and get him.” She hurried away, humming a Christmas tune.
“See? That was easy,” Clara said.
“And Ginger will have a great home,” Rush said. “Francine loved that old cat of hers. She’ll love her new cat, too. Come on, let’s get some food before you give away any more kittens.”
* * *
At the buffet table, they loaded their plates with airy scrambled eggs, hash browns, bacon, sausage, and pancakes topped with strawberry sauce and whipped cream. When they returned to their table, cups of steaming coffee and a glass of orange juice for Clara were waiting for them.
“Good?” Rush asked Tracy.
“Mmm-hmmm.” She was eating, but she nodded. Her hazel eyes sparkled, reflecting the Christmas lights that decorated the ceiling overhead.
“I told you it would be good.” Rush liked watching her enjoy herself. And he liked being good to her. Tracy could use more of that, he mused. She needed to know that she wasn’t alone, and that somebody cared about her—even if she might not return his feelings.
“Hey, slow down, princess.” He patted Clara’s shoulder. He’
d remembered her as a picky eater, but this morning she was devouring her breakfast as if every bite might be her last. Rush knew enough to savor times like this. All too soon they would be over, maybe for good.
He’d had a reality flash last night when Cecil had called him from Oklahoma. Annie’s father had survived the stroke but would be disabled for the rest of his life. He and Annie’s mother wouldn’t be able to manage without help.
“I e-mailed our resignation to Sonya,” Cecil had told Rush. “And I let her know that you’ve taken Clara for the holidays.”
“What did she have to say about that?” Rush had asked him.
“As you can imagine, she wasn’t pleased.”
“So, are they coming home early?” The dreaded question needed to be asked.
“No. They know Clara’s in good hands. But I gave her your contact information. As soon as they’re back, you’ll be getting a call from her to arrange for Clara’s return.”
Rush had thanked the good man, ended the call, and lain awake for the rest of the night. Some ties were stronger than blood. For the first three years of her life, he’d been the only father Clara had ever known. How could he just hand her back to her parents and walk out of her life again?
If she never forgave him for that, he wouldn’t blame her.
“I’m getting full.” Clara’s voice broke into his thoughts.
“I believe I am, too,” Tracy said. “Thank you, Rush, for inviting me this morning. It’s been a treat—even though we may have turned a few heads.”
“Is that so bad?”
She laughed. “Maybe not. I could use a little scandal in my life.”
“That’s the spirit.” He wouldn’t mind creating a little scandal with her, Rush thought as he helped Tracy and Clara on with their jackets. Taking her out in public this morning with his little girl had felt almost like they were family. With her on his arm, and Clara holding his hand, he’d felt ten feet tall.
But he’d be a fool to believe anything would come of it. Tracy wasn’t his woman. Clara wasn’t his child—at least not biologically or legally.
“Can we go to Tracy’s house?” Clara asked as he helped her into her booster seat. “I want to play with the kittens.”
“You can go another time—but only if Tracy invites you. Anyway, we’ve got plans for today. Conner’s offered to take us on the four-wheeler, out to where the Christmas trees grow. You’ll have a fun ride, and you can play with Bucket. He likes to go along, too.”
“Can Tracy come with us?”
“If she’s got time, and if she wants to.” He glanced at Tracy, who was in the front seat. She gave a subtle shake of her head. “But Tracy’s got other things to do. She’s one busy lady.” Had he said the wrong thing? He didn’t want Tracy to feel unwelcome; but Clara’s attachment was in danger of becoming a problem.
Tracy looked back at Clara and gave her a smile. “Thanks for inviting me, but I do have a lot to do. I have a stack of briefs to read for the court—that’s part of my job. I was also planning to make treats for my neighbors, do laundry, and work on my computer. Another time, all right? And don’t worry, I’ll invite you to play with the kittens soon. You did a great job of finding Ginger a home this morning.”
Thanks. Rush mouthed the word as he climbed into the driver’s seat. She returned a silent nod. He should have known Tracy would understand. That was just one more thing he liked about her.
They pulled up in front of Tracy’s house. “Thanks again for taking me to brunch, Rush,” she said. “Don’t bother getting out to help me. I’ll be fine.”
She’d opened the door and was about to climb out when Clara spoke up.
“Tracy, will you promise me something?” she asked.
“Maybe, if it’s a good promise. Tell me what it is.”
“Well . . .” Clara paused, taking a deep breath before she plunged ahead. “I know people will want the kittens. But will you save Snowflake for me? I know Daddy said I couldn’t keep him, but maybe something will change. Please, Tracy, promise you won’t give him away.” There were tears in her voice.
Tracy hesitated, but Rush knew she wouldn’t refuse. “All right, I promise for now,” she said. “But if you can’t keep him, he’s going to need a home. I’ll save him for you until Christmas. All right?”
“All right.” Clara’s sigh made it clear that she’d hoped for better terms. “But you promise for sure?”
“Yes, for sure.” Tracy climbed out of the Hummer. “Thanks, you two. Have a good time on the ranch.”
Rush drove, holding his tongue until they reached Main Street. There, the traffic forced him to slow down. Clara lowered the window partway so she could look at the holiday lights and hear the Christmas music that was coming over the loudspeakers. This morning the song was “Joy to the World.”
“Clara,” he said, “do you think that was fair, making Tracy promise to keep Snowflake for you?”
“She didn’t say no, Daddy.”
“She didn’t say no because she’s nice and she doesn’t want you to be sad. But you know that you don’t have any way to keep a kitten. What if Snowflake misses the chance for a good home because you won’t let Tracy give him away?”
“I know what you told me,” Clara said. “But sometimes, if you believe, special things can happen at Christmas. Annie called them miracles. I’m going to believe really hard. If I do, maybe a miracle will happen.”
Rush sighed, knowing better than to crush her childish faith. This holiday season, he needed his own miracle. But he’d long since stopped believing in such things. Anything special that happened would have to be up to him.
* * *
Tracy was about to take off her jacket and hang it up when she remembered that she needed to take Murphy outside. The old dog had raised his head when she came inside, but he was still in his bed.
She whistled softly. “Come on, Murphy, time to go out.”
With effort, Murphy hauled himself to his feet. Head down and tail drooping, he followed her out the kitchen door to the backyard. Was he moving more slowly than he had yesterday? Was he in pain? She watched as he finished his business and hobbled back to be let inside. When he hesitated at the stoop, she helped him by lifting his hindquarters.
His food bowl was in the kitchen. He took a few bites, then wandered back to his bed and closed his eyes. Tracy stroked the massive head, fighting tears. Rush had been right. Soon she would need to start thinking about the next step. But how would she know when it was time? Where would she find the strength to let her beloved dog go?
Her gaze wandered to the photo on the mantel. The memory of that day on the beach with Steve and Murphy replayed in her mind every time she looked at it—Steve laughing under his baseball cap, Murphy wet from the sea, tongue lolling, his face wearing that goofy dog grin. Murphy was no longer the same dog. But he was all she had from that wonderful day. When he was gone, there would be nothing left but the photograph and the memory.
And she would be alone.
There was still time, Tracy told herself. Maybe after Christmas, she’d be ready to face what had to be faced. For now, she would focus on keeping busy.
She gathered up the laundry, sorted it, and loaded the washer with darks. Glancing down into the box, she saw the kittens, curled together in a warm, sleepy ball. Rainbow was spending less time with them now, and they’d started to climb the sides of the box. Soon they’d be getting out, exploring the house, and eating their first solid food. Then it would be time for new homes. Ginger, the boldest of the four, would be a perfect cat for Francine. She could only hope the others would be just as lucky.
Reaching down, she tickled Snowflake’s silky white belly. He opened his eyes, yawned, and went back to sleep. He was the sweetest, calmest, and most affectionate of the kittens. No wonder Clara loved him best. And what a shame it was that there was no way for her to keep him.
The thought of Clara reminded Tracy of her promise. And the promise reminded her of something else
she’d resolved to do. Leaving the laundry room door open for Rainbow, she crossed the hall to the small spare bedroom she used for an office. The legal briefs were on her desk, waiting to be read, but they could wait. Right now, she had something else on her mind. Something personal.
Maybe there was nothing she could do for Rush and Clara. But as a lawyer, she would at least have the background to know something useful when she saw it. Or, if Rush’s case turned out to be hopeless, at least she’d be able to say she’d looked.
Sitting at her desk, she put on her glasses, logged into her computer, and googled the website for Arizona child custody laws.
* * *
The trail to the Christmas trees led along the boundary of the pastureland and over a low hill. In the backseat, Rush hung on to Clara to keep her safe as Conner’s ATV swayed and bumped over the rough ground. The melting snow had left puddles that splattered upward under the wheels. Clara squealed with laughter as the icy water splashed her face.
Bucket sat in front, next to Conner, his nose to the breeze. When a startled jackrabbit leaped out of the way and bounded off across the flat, the fool mutt was off the seat like a rocket, tearing through the sagebrush to give chase. Minutes later, he came trotting back, mouth grinning, tongue lolling, and leaped back onto the empty seat.
Conner laughed and scratched the dog’s shaggy ears. “Got away from you, did he, old boy? Maybe you need to chase something slower.”
“Conner, does Bucket chase cats?” Clara’s small voice was drowned out by the engine. Rush was close enough to catch the question, but Conner hadn’t heard.
“Wait till we stop.” Rush spoke into Clara’s ear. He knew why she was asking. She was still hoping for a way to keep the white kitten. Much as he wanted to make her happy, Rush couldn’t see any way to make her wish come true.
The ATV slowed atop the low hill that hid the pine-carpeted hollow from the road and from the rest of the ranch. Last year, Conner and Travis had discovered the trees, planted years ago by the ranch’s former tenants. Together, they’d come up with the idea of Christmas Tree Ranch. By the time Rush joined the partners last year, the Christmas tree venture was already underway. His good credit and the income from his veterinary practice had lent the ranch much-needed financial stability. And the ranch had given Rush a home and a new start.
