Hometown Holiday

by Caro Carson

  “Do we have any minuses yet? One?”

  She stepped closer and wrapped her arms around his waist. “Considering how I want you to come back the first possible moment you can, it’s not in my best interest to point out any downsides. You’re looking pretty serious. Are you thinking of something negative?”

  “Not when I’m looking at you.”

  She didn’t know whether to melt into a puddle or squeeze him fiercely at those words. Her body kind of shivered in a mixture of the two. He broke his own rule with a swift kiss, then resumed their walk.

  They didn’t have far to go. Now that Kristen saw it through his eyes, the town really was small. At the end of the street, she turned to walk a block along the river that had overflowed its banks two years ago. Tonight, the river was as tame and steady as it had been most of her life. The town might be really small, but it was really perfect.

  Kristen tried to imagine what was missing, what kind of thing would count as a minus when Ryan went through the pros and cons to make the decision she was certain his heart had already made.

  When she’d moved away, finances had been in her minus column in New York. Ryan wasn’t a broke college student, however. He must do very well on the rodeo circuit. His boots and belt were very fine leather. Even the buttons of his shirt were a quality she’d never seen on the shirts her father ordered from the Sears catalog.

  Her father had missed her while she’d been at college, of course, and she’d missed him. Maybe family was an issue for Ryan.

  “Would moving to Rust Creek Falls bring you closer to your parents, or farther away?”

  He slowed his steps. “Much farther away, and you read my mind.”

  “Missing your parents would be a big minus, then. Will they be surprised if you choose Rust Creek Falls when you settle down?”

  “Shocked, but if I decide to do this, they’ll support me. They’ve always been very goal-oriented people, but their main goal has always been to see their kids happy.”

  “Even if the pursuit of happiness leads away from home?”

  “My brother and sister have already put them through that test. My brother most of all, when he decided to look for his birth mother. If that was what his pursuit of happiness required, then my parents supported him one hundred percent.”

  “Are you adopted, too?”

  “All three of us, each adopted separately. We’re not genetically siblings. Closed adoptions. It was a challenge for my brother to locate his birth family.”

  She felt her lips quirk in a Ryan-like half smile. “You sound like me, giving the answers to the frequently asked questions before anyone asks them. Mine goes, ‘We’re identical, not fraternal, there were no fertility drugs involved and twins do not run in the family.’ Oh—and, ‘Yes, I do believe my parents were surprised. Wouldn’t you be?’”

  He chuckled. “Should I admit that I didn’t realize you were identical? In my defense, we only danced past your sister a few times. You are so uniquely you, though. I can’t imagine mistaking you for anyone else. Does it happen a lot?”

  “Sure. My parents have never been fooled, though.”

  “Parents are like that.”

  Kristen swung their hands a little and looked up at the stars. It was fully night and a little chilly, but she felt so content with the world at the moment she didn’t mind a thing. “So, your brother found his birth family. Have you looked for your birth mother?”

  “No.” He rubbed his jaw, and she wondered if it still hurt where the horse had hit him. “That is—no. I’ve got no need to.”

  Why not? The question was on the tip of her tongue, but his no had been so curt, she hesitated.

  As the breeze from the river teased the ends of her hair, he frowned a bit. “The temperature has dropped. You must be freezing.”

  Despite the warm day, it usually dropped into the fifties at night, and she was in a halter dress that left a lot of her upper half bare. She’d jumped into her brother’s truck to come to the wedding reception, and that was where she’d left her jacket and her phone, darn it.

  “I’ll be fine.” Just to make her out as a liar, her body betrayed her by shivering. “You could put your arm around me.”

  He did, and they continued along the river, but he was silent and a little edgy beside her.

  “This is Main Street.” She wanted to lighten up the mood of their little tour. “It’s one-stop shopping here for all your municipal needs.”

  “You’ve got goose bumps.” He let go of her and started unbuttoning his shirt.

  “Are you literally going to give me the shirt off your back? You can’t walk around here undressed. I mean, I’ve never actually looked up the public indecency laws, but that can’t be right. Not that the women of this town would mind a bunch of shirtless cowboys wandering around, but—”

  “I’m literally wearing two shirts, and you’ve got none.”

  Sure enough, when he took off his dress shirt, he had a T-shirt on underneath. A tight, white, body-hugging T-shirt, tucked into his jeans. Good heavens, the universe was pulling out all the stops.

  “Ryan…”

  When she reached for him, he started dressing her in his shirt, tugging a sleeve over her outstretched hand. His moves were efficient, but it was undeniably sensual to feel his warm shirt on her arms and feel the tickle of his shirt collar on the back of her neck.

  “Better?” he asked.

  “Thanks.” She pulled her long hair free from the collar as he tied the shirttails in a knot at her waist.

  His hands lingered for a moment, before he put them on his own hips and squarely faced her. It occurred to her that he could hook his thumbs in his belt loops and yank off a pair of tear-away pants just like that. Not that she’d seen too many male stripper movies.

  “I didn’t mean to be so curt about my adoption. I’m not curious about my birth mother the way my brother was about his, because I remember her.”

  In a flash, all the sexual thoughts she’d been entertaining were banked, and concern for him took center stage.

  “He was adopted as an infant, but I was almost four. That’s still too young to remember much, but what I remember is… It’s enough.”

  And it was enough to make him withdraw from her. The change was subtle, but his stance was tight, controlled. Like he was braced for a fight.

  “Did she hurt you?” The idea of Ryan being abused as a toddler was enough to make her sick. All the wedding punch and picnic food churned in her stomach.

  It must have showed on her face, because he took her hand again, his grip strong as he threaded his fingers through hers. “As far as anyone could tell, I hadn’t been battered in any way. I’ve been told I was a little underweight, but not significantly malnourished.”

  “Well, that’s good.” Such weak words, but she didn’t know what else to say. The child he’d been had to be an important part of the man he’d become, but she couldn’t pepper him with questions, not like she had over dinner. Not on this topic.

  Somewhere on a pop psychology blog, she’d read that men were more comfortable talking when they had something physical to do, so rather than stare at the dark river, she started walking. They turned onto Main Street, silently, together.

  Kristen caught her breath at the scene. The street was completely deserted, not one car parked on the edge of the road. The streetlights were soft yellow globes, evenly spaced, drawing the eye down the dark road. The buildings flanked them on either side, standing like timeless brick sentinels in long rows that disappeared into the darkness a few blocks away. Beyond them, the snowcapped mountains marked the horizon, their white peaks lit by the full moon.

  “I’ve never seen it like this,” she whispered into the night. “It’s like we’re the only two people in the entire town. Just you and me.”

  They
left the sidewalk to walk down the center of the deserted street. He must have felt the magic, too. They were the only two people in the world, safe and intimate in the open air. Where better to confide secrets?

  As they walked, Ryan began to do just that. “She left me standing on the steps of a church.”

  “Do you remember her face?”

  “I remember the backs of her legs. I remember the hem of her dress as she walked away. She was irritated with me, but I still wanted to follow her. I didn’t have anyone else to belong to. The only person I knew in the whole world was walking away.”

  Kristen held tightly to his hand. He was so tall and athletic, her cowboy, confident, too. It should have been hard to imagine him as a vulnerable preschooler, but the look in his eyes as he remembered that moment touched her heart.

  “I’m so sorry. That’s a terrible memory.”

  “It’s a useful memory. Without it, I would probably be like my brother, wondering if I had a birth parent out there, and wondering if they would be glad or horrified to hear from me. It’s not easy to decide to start that search. In my case, I don’t have to go through that. I already know. She didn’t want me. She wasn’t being noble and giving an accidental baby a chance at a better life. She wasn’t torn up inside because she couldn’t provide for a child. She just ditched me without any tenderness. Knowing that has saved me from wasting my time and money searching for a woman who wouldn’t be glad to hear from me.”

  Kristen was afraid she’d sob if she spoke, if she could have even thought of something appropriate to say, which she couldn’t. She also couldn’t stand that remote coolness in his voice. She had to do something.

  So she hugged him. She simply wrapped her arms around him and rested her cheek on his chest and hugged him.

  His arms came around her immediately, reassuringly. “It’s okay, Kristen. It was thirty years ago. Are you crying?”

  “Only a little.” She sniffed in hard to stop the tears, determined not to soak the cotton of his T-shirt. “Tell me that your adoptive parents were wonderful.”

  “My parents were wonderful. They are wonderful still. Why?”

  “I just want your story to have a happy ending.”

  She didn’t think he’d found it yet. Then again, they hadn’t met before today. She hugged him harder, hoping he could see how much better their lives would be when they could pursue happiness together.

  * * *

  Ryan tried to get his emotions under control. Why in the hell had he shared the worst memory of his life?

  He’d come here to see Maggie’s new baby. That should have been enough for this trip far from Los Angeles. A pleasant wedding, a Montana-style wedding toast from a paper cup, and he should have been on his way.

  Instead, Kristen had waltzed into his arms, and now he never wanted to leave.

  He had to. If he didn’t fly out tomorrow, a struggling screenwriter whose day in court had come would surely lose his challenge. His material had been stolen by a powerful studio. The man’s life’s work could go unrecognized and unrecompensed. Ryan was trying to stop a robbery in progress—and that was just Monday’s case.

  Los Angeles was his life. Today was just pretend, but Kristen’s arms wrapped around him were real. Her tears were, too, and he’d unintentionally caused them. He never spoke about his birth mother. He shouldn’t have started now. He and Kristen had precious little time left, and he didn’t want to spend it making a lovely woman sad.

  Her tour had been charming, her list of positive check marks all hopelessly naive and yet there was an undeniable truth that school spirit and homemade pastries were two of life’s joys. He wanted the tour to continue.

  I want her to show me something that will make me come back to stay. For real.

  How could he possibly justify this move? Telling Kristen about his abandonment hadn’t helped. It had only reinforced how much he owed to his parents. If he couldn’t leave Roarke and Associates because clients needed him, then he absolutely couldn’t leave the Roarkes themselves after all they’d done for him.

  Convince me anyway, Kristen.

  He ran his palm over her hair. She relaxed her grip and looked up at him, her blue eyes bright with unshed tears, her smile outshining them with her effervescent spirit.

  Ryan lost his heart.

  He wanted to believe something could come of it.

  “Let’s finish this tour. You were telling me about the wonders of Main Street.” He turned to walk toward that faraway white-capped mountain, leaving the last Victorian facades as the buildings became more modern, with spacious stretches of grass between them. “I don’t see a year on the keystone of this one. In fact, I don’t see a keystone.”

  “The library. Built in, um…”

  “No trickery.”

  “Well, I went to story hours there as a little girl, so I can guesstimate that the building is roughly twenty-five years old.” She gestured to the other side of the street. “I know this one exactly. The community center is brand-spanking-new, built after the flood. The funds came in from an anonymous donor.”

  Ryan didn’t stop her monologue, but he knew all about the Grace Traub Community Center. Shane’s birth father had contributed the money in honor of Shane’s deceased birth mother.

  “They built it in the perfect spot,” she said, drawing him back onto the sidewalk as they continued past the community center. She stopped to point out the two-story town hall across the street, telling him about the monthly town meetings and how accessible he’d find the mayor when he moved here.

  Looming at their backs was the church where the day’s wedding had taken place, a traditional structure with a steeple that reached for the night stars. Wide, white steps led from the arched double doors down to the sidewalk. He ignored them.

  “Living in a town this size is efficient. I’ll give you the classic example, one every good Rust Creek Falls resident makes use of eventually, even though we all joke about it. You get your marriage license at the city hall.” Kristen turned to look up at the church. “You walk across the street to the church and make your promises in front of the preacher, and then you head to the community center to cut your cake and have your first dance.”

  A bridal couple would have to pass the exact spot where they stood. Ryan had parked behind the church this afternoon and had entered through a side door. It hadn’t been an intentional move to avoid church steps. He never did that—they were only concrete, after all. Tonight, they looked ominous, a ridiculous trick of the mind after an emotional day.

  Kristen started up the steps ahead of him, taking them briskly, talking cheerfully. “Having the reception at the Fourth of July celebration today was a real departure from tradition.”

  It had been cold the day his mother left him. The church had been having some kind of Christmas festival, and he’d been given one of those cheap plastic snow globes. He could remember the hard feel of it in his hands as he’d watched his mother walk away.

  “I’ve never seen a patriotic wedding like today’s. The red, white and blue thing worked out great, didn’t you think?”

  Ryan put his boot on the first step and he saw, in his mind’s eye, a shattered snow globe. He’d dropped the snow globe after his mother left. He’d forgotten that. For thirty years, he’d forgotten that, until now.

  He saw the splattered water darkening the white steps. The shards of plastic. The bits of glitter that weren’t as magical when they weren’t clustered together. He didn’t remember being sad in that moment, only resigned. He’d known before his fourth birthday that nothing good lasted very long.

  Kristen’s voice came down softly from above him. “Ah, church steps.”

  Her intuition was amazing to him. From the first moment they’d danced together, she’d been able to read the most subtle change in him.

  She came do
wn to the sidewalk. When he kept staring at his boot on the step, she slipped her hand into the bend of his elbow, as if he were escorting her to a formal affair. “Maybe if a man stood on a set of church steps with his bride beside him, it would give him a better memory to wipe that old one away.”

  She set her foot next to his, the fancy leather scrollwork of her boot obliterating the vision of the shattered snow globe. She was a bold one, this delicate-looking beauty raised in the land of glaciers and grizzlies.

  “Maybe it would,” he said quietly. “Maybe the ghost of young Ryan Michaels would finally disappear.”

  He wanted to believe so. Everything good didn’t have to end. He’d just handled too many divorces and worked with too many people who were on their third and fourth marriages. In Rust Creek Falls, it seemed possible that two people could stick to one promise. Something good could last.

  “I think young Ryan Michaels turned into a good man,” Kristen said softly.

  He lifted Kristen’s hand to press a kiss in her palm. Everything seemed possible today, that the child Ryan Michaels and the man Ryan Roarke weren’t so completely separate. That he, Ryan, could even meet the one perfect woman for him.

  Kristen climbed the step to stand face-to-face with him. She rested her forehead against his, and he closed his eyes.

  “Maybe,” she said, “a man and a woman could decide to skip the church steps altogether. They could get their license and say their vows, too, in the town hall.”

  “But that’s not how it’s usually done in this town. If the bride had grown up here, she might feel like she missed out on her big day.” If she tied herself down to a man no one knew, a man who was a stranger to the local norms. “People would talk.”

  “People would wonder why, but if it made the grown-up version of Ryan Michaels happier not to think about church steps at all, then she’d be happier if she could skip that part, too. They’re promising to be a team from that day forward, and if it would make a less stressful wedding day for them as a team, that would be all that mattered.”