by Lisa Carter
She sucked in a breath. As if she could ever hate her beloved baby sister. And she knew MaryDru would’ve never set out to hurt her. Nor Scott, either.
AnnaBeth scrolled farther down the feed. Another one from Mary Dru. Tell me you’re okay. I’m so worried, A.B. Please call. Scott and I will never see one another again.
Not at all what AnnaBeth wanted. MaryDru’s happiness was why she’d run away in the first place.
She opened Scott’s message.
Contrite, sincere Scott. Taking the blame for waiting so long to be honest with himself and her. Begging for her forgiveness. Promising to never see MaryDru again if AnnaBeth would just come home.
Sinking onto the pillow, she closed her eyes. Scott had been a fixture in their lives. The son her father always wanted. Like a brother to her. She now suspected that had been the problem all along.
Yet when he’d looked at MaryDru at the church...
Perhaps no one would ever look at AnnaBeth that way, but she wouldn’t stand by and allow MaryDru to miss her chance at true love.
Rolling onto her stomach, AnnaBeth texted Scott. Nothing to forgive. I want you both to be happy. Don’t give up on MaryDru. Tell her I’m safe and well.
She hit Send. There. That would hopefully get them talking to each other again.
The chain of messages from Victoria mocked her. But without a fortifying cup of coffee, no way she was up to facing those. She turned off the phone.
With one glance at the bedside clock, she threw off the covers. After donning jeans and one of her favorite sweaters, she padded downstairs in her stockinged feet, eager to lend a hand, but she found Deirdre almost finished with breakfast preparations.
“Deirdre, I’m so sorry. I meant to help with breakfast, but I overslept.”
Jonas’s mother stirred the pot on the stove. “After yesterday, I’m sure you were completely wiped out.” After setting the ladle on a ceramic spoon rest, she replaced the lid on the pot. “And not only physically.”
AnnaBeth wrung her hands. “But I wanted to do something to repay you for your generosity.”
Deirdre’s gaze scanned her face. Her eyes were kind. “No need to repay us. It’s our pleasure to have you here for as long as you need us.”
AnnaBeth wasn’t so sure. Despite Jonas’s words last night, she seemed to get on his last nerve. Maybe if she could manage to stay out of his way as much as possible for the duration...
“I’m not so sure your son would agree with your open-ended hospitality, Deirdre.”
“My son doesn’t mean to come off so harsh.” She glanced out the window that overlooked the barnyard. “As a child, Jonas was always my quiet little guy, but after what happened with Hunter’s mother, he’s become so withdrawn.”
What had happened with Jonas’s wife? She wouldn’t dream of prying. Especially not with her own life in such disarray.
“It’s not healthy for him or Hunter.” Deirdre’s chin trembled. “I’m afraid Jonas has lost the ability to trust, to hope. He tries to hide it, but underneath the gruffness, he’s unhappy.”
AnnaBeth’s heart contracted. “I’m sorry.”
His mother swiped her finger under her eye. “I don’t mean to unload on you like this, but you’re very easy to talk to.”
AnnaBeth nodded. “I get that a lot. I suppose I have the kind of face that invites confidences. And I promise I’d never breathe a word of what you’ve told me to anyone else.”
“I sensed that about you immediately.” She cupped AnnaBeth’s cheek. “I think your ability to empathize is a rare gift. Your family must be so proud of you.”
AnnaBeth’s eyes moistened. “My family is complicated. And what happened yesterday will only make things worse.” She blinked away the tears.
Deirdre squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry, honey, for what you went through yesterday. It must have been a painful blow losing your fiancé.”
“It’s not that.” AnnaBeth fingered her earring. “You see, I never loved Scott.”
Deirdre threw her a startled look. “You knew you didn’t love him?”
She took a quick breath. “Jonas and Hunter are blessed to have you. You’re also very easy to talk to.”
If only her real mother hadn’t died. If only Victoria had been like Deirdre Fielding, how different would her life had been?
Deirdre took off the lid and stirred the oatmeal on the stovetop. “Church has been canceled due to the snow. We’ll have our own service here at the lodge.” She stopped stirring. “But don’t feel obligated to participate if that’s not something you’re interested in.”
“I’d love to celebrate the Lord’s Day with your family, Miss Deirdre.”
Yet thinking about the uptown congregation which she’d fled from so ingloriously, she winced. Her father must have been livid at having to send home the wedding guests. Not to mention Victoria’s undoubted complete mortification.
AnnaBeth desperately needed a distraction. “How about I set the table?”
“Thank you, honey. That would be a help.” She opened a cabinet door and removed a set of porcelain bowls. “You know where to find the utensils.”
“Breakfast for four?” Pulling out a drawer, AnnaBeth tried for a nonchalance she didn’t feel. “Where is everyone?”
“Jonas is in the barn. And Hunter is getting in his roping practice on the terrace.”
She stopped counting spoons. “Roping?”
Deirdre ladled the steaming oatmeal into a bowl. “At last year’s championship, he won second place in his age division. He’s determined to win first place in March.”
She nudged the drawer shut with her hip. “There’s a roping championship for four-year-olds?”
Deirdre set the bowl of oatmeal on the red-checked place mat. “There sure is.”
After placing the spoons at each place setting, she began folding the napkins like Victoria had taught her. “He’ll win a trophy, I guess?”
Deirdre returned to the table with another bowl. “Not a trophy. A silver rodeo belt buckle.”
“For real?”
“Rodeo buckles mean bragging rights, even for a four-year-old.” Deirdre transferred a container of blueberries into a pottery bowl. “Hunter is simply following in his dad’s footsteps.”
“I didn’t realize Jonas was a rodeo champion.”
She handed AnnaBeth the bowl to put on the table. “Not in roping, but before Hunter was born Jonas spent a few years on the rodeo circuit as a bronc buster.”
“Wow.” AnnaBeth blinked.
Jonas Stone was the real deal.
The back door creaked open.
“Bronc riding?” Glancing toward the door, AnnaBeth frowned. “Isn’t that dangerous?”
Jonas leaned the lanky length of himself against the door frame. “Only if you fall off.”
She blushed.
Deirdre spooned brown sugar into a small crystal bowl. “Somebody call Hunter to breakfast.”
“I will.” Moving toward the back door, she had to squeeze past Jonas. “Um... Excuse me...”
Stepping over his feet at the same moment he decided to retract them, she stumbled. Grabbing both her elbows, he caught her. And she found herself face-to-chest with the soft, green-checked flannel of his shirt.
AnnaBeth felt a tidal wave of crimson surge from the collar of her sweater up her neck. “Sorry to be so clumsy.”
She risked a swift glance at his features.
His cheeks above the beard stubble flushed. “It’s my fault. Shouldn’t have taken up so much space.”
Their eyes locked and held.
“No, it’s—”
“Hello? Yoo-hoo...” An amused smile on her face, Deirdre tapped her shoe on the floor. “Call Hunter. Remember?”
Immediately, Jonas dropped his hold on AnnaBeth. “Right.”
&nbs
p; “Of course.” Smoothing her hair, AnnaBeth stepped back. “I’m on it.”
Throwing open the door, she closed her eyelids for a second, allowing the rush of air to cool her cheeks.
She heard the clatter of boots, and in a whoosh, small arms encircled her hips. Her eyes flew open.
“AnnaBef!” His face buried in her sweater, Hunter’s voice was muffled. “I missed you.”
She smiled. “While you were asleep, you missed me?”
Cowboy hat pushed to his hairline, Hunter lifted his head. “I’m so happy you’re here wif me.” He twined his little fingers into her hand.
Her heart skipped a beat. So, so sweet. “I’m happy to be here with you, too, Hunter.” It was true.
Because of the sixth sense she always got around Jonas, even before he spoke, somehow she knew he was standing close behind her.
“Grandma has breakfast ready, Hunt. Time to come inside.”
Hunter didn’t let go of her hand. “Okay, Dad.” He pulled her across the threshold with him.
The glower had returned to Jonas’s face. “Wash your hands, please.” He touched Hunter’s shoulder.
Hunter gave AnnaBeth an endearing smile. “I’ll be wight back, AnnaBef. Okay?”
“Okay,” she whispered, disentangling her fingers from his.
She and Jonas watched him disappear into the lavatory off the mudroom.
Jonas sighed. “I’ve never seen him take to someone like he does you. But if he becomes a pest—”
“Hunter’s wonderful.” AnnaBeth opened her hands. “Who wouldn’t be proud to have such a sweet son like him?”
“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” Jonas ran his hand over his hair. “But not everyone...” His Adam’s apple bobbing, he turned toward the kitchen.
She supposed some people might be annoyed by kids, but not her. She loved children.
Later, at the table, Jonas relayed what he’d learned about getting her car fixed. “Until the roads are cleared, I’m afraid you’re stranded at the ranch.”
“AnnaBeth wants to worship with us this morning, son.”
Hunkered over his coffee, Jonas said nothing.
But the little cowboy perked in his booster seat. “I bee-weave in God. Do you, AnnaBef?”
A sudden silence fell over the table. Deirdre and Jonas exchanged glances.
“Not everyone is as comfortable talking about God as our family, Hunter.” Deirdre touched his arm. “AnnaBeth may not want to—”
“It’s okay.” She lifted her gaze. “Yes, Hunter, I believe in God.”
“Yay!” Hunter turned toward his father. “Bee-weaving is important, wight, Dad? If AnnaBef is going to be my—”
“Believing is important for everyone, Hunter.” Cheeks reddening, Jonas dropped his gaze.
She wished her feelings about God could be as simple as Hunter’s childlike faith. She’d been only slightly older than him when her mother died. Her childhood had been lonely.
Coming to live with her father and his new wife, she’d felt alone most of the time. Always on the outside, especially with her dad, Hayes. And after yesterday, when she’d failed her father so badly...
She wondered if God still believed in her.
“Can I sit with AnnaBef while you wead, Dad?”
Jonas’s eyes darted to her.
She smiled. “Of course he can.”
Almost before she could finish speaking, Hunter scrambled out of his chair and hopped into her lap. Sighing, he nestled into her arms.
Scooting back his chair, Jonas ventured over to the built-in desk and returned carrying a small black bible. Sitting down again, Jonas began flipping pages. “Where were we last time?”
“Last time?” She arched an eyebrow. “Do you often become snowbound?”
“Thankfully, no.” Deirdre laughed. “Our church is doing a read-through-the-bible program this year. And Jonas also does a devotional for interested guests on summer Sundays.”
Hunter nodded. “I wuv cowboy Sundays.”
Jonas continued to turn pages. “My stepdad built a small amphitheater behind the cabins overlooking the Blue Ridge.”
AnnaBeth tilted her head. “I can’t imagine a more wonderful setting. The glory of God’s creation and God’s Word celebrated by God’s people.”
Jonas looked up sharply. “That’s how I’ve always felt, too.”
“Today’s the First Sunday of Advent.” Deirdre motioned. “Why don’t you do the reading from Isaiah 9, son?”
“What’s Advent?” Hunter asked.
“It means coming.” Jonas cleared his throat. “The First Sunday of Advent celebrates our hope.”
AnnaBeth could sure use some hope after yesterday. Hunter leaned into her. She smiled. His hair smelled like baby shampoo.
Jonas read the passage from the bible.
“I wuv Chwistmas.” Resting his head against her shoulder, Hunter scrutinized her face. “Do you wuv Chwistmas, AnnaBef?”
At the Cummings house, Christmas consisted of a never-ending, social merry-go-round. And impossible expectations of family perfection. Frayed nerves often led to arguments between her father and Victoria.
She gazed into Hunter’s sweet face. “Maybe this year...”
Hunter grinned. “I know what we should do today.”
Jonas raised his eyebrows. “I’m almost afraid to ask.”
Deirdre shushed him. “What is it we ought to do today, Hunter?”
“We should decowate a Chwistmas tree today.”
Deirdre looked at Jonas. “We usually decorate the house the weekend after Thanksgiving.”
AnnaBeth straightened. “That sounds like fun. I’d love to help.”
Jonas frowned. “I’ve attached the snowplow to the tractor. I’m going to try to clear a path to the main road, but we don’t have our tree yet, Hunt. And we won’t be able to get to town to buy one. Not today.”
Hunter’s face fell. “Can’t we do something fun? It’s a snow day, Dad.”
“The ranch doesn’t run itself.” Jonas fingered the handle on his coffee cup. “Snow means I’ve just got more work to do.”
His mother’s lips pursed. “Work is all you ever do, Jonas.”
Decorating the tree had sounded fun. And not just because of Hunter’s Christmas joy. Yet what of her resolution to avoid Jonas? She should be glad he was too busy to hang around the house.
She stole a look at his rugged features. Perhaps he didn’t want to hang around because of her. Trundling Hunter off her lap, she scraped back her chair to gather the dirty silverware.
Deirdre tried shooing her away. “You don’t have to wash up.”
“I like keeping busy.” She reached for Jonas’s empty bowl. “You cooked, Deirdre. It’s only right that I clean. And then I’ll get out of everyone’s way, I promise.”
“You’re not in the way, AnnaBeth. My mom and Hunter are happy to have you with us.” Jonas grabbed the other side of the bowl and held on. “And so am I.”
Her being here made Jonas happy? Don’t read too much into what he said. He’s just being polite.
But she couldn’t help feeling pleased. She smiled at him. Abruptly, he let go of the bowl.
Passing a hand over his face, he took a deep breath. “Maybe we can string popcorn tonight for when we have a tree to decorate. How would that be?”
Hunter bounced in his boots. “Hoo-way!”
And though his words had undoubtedly been meant for his son, she couldn’t help noticing that his gaze remained fixed.
On her.
Chapter Five
Ensconced in what had become her favorite chair in the lodge, AnnaBeth spent the next hour with her laptop working on her blog.
For the last half hour, Hunter had zoomed a miniature green tractor around the braided rug at her feet. Pausing
his rumbling engine noises, he popped his head above the arm of the chair. “Can we go pway outside, AnnaBef?”
Gazing out the window at the frosty landscape, she would just as soon sit by the well-stoked fire and drink hot chocolate. But one look at his wistful brown eyes, and she surged to her feet.
“That sounds like a great idea.”
Hunter fist-pumped the air. “Yay!”
Deirdre strolled into the living room. “What’s with all the commotion?”
“AnnaBef and I awe going outside to pway, Gwam-ma.” His eyes shone. “She’s de best Chwistmas pwesent ever.”
She cut her eyes at his grandmother. “What?”
“Uh... Get your hat and coat, Hunt. And your boots.”
Was it AnnaBeth’s imagination, or had Deirdre deliberately ignored her question?
Hunter raced toward the mudroom.
“Not your cowboy boots,” Deirdre called after him. “Your snow boots.” She turned toward AnnaBeth. “Thank you for taking him outside. Having to stay cooped up indoors is hard on him. His father was the same way.”
Both women cringed at the sound of a dull thud.
“Sowee, Gwam-ma!”
They exchanged amused glances.
“I’d take him out myself, but this cold...” Deirdre put a hand across her chest. “Every year, winter feels colder to my joints.”
AnnaBeth tucked her phone into her pocket. “I don’t mind. Truly I don’t. I love spending time with Hunter.”
“That’s so sweet of you to say.”
“I mean it.”
His grandmother smiled. “I know you do. You’ll make a wonderful mother one day.”
She flushed. “Thank you. Hunter is very easy to love. But after yesterday’s fiasco, motherhood isn’t something even remotely on my horizon.”
“The thing about horizons? Sometimes you only need to look up.” Deirdre gestured toward the mountain ridge, visible through the windowpane. “As the day progresses, the view only gets better... Oh, no.”
AnnaBeth stiffened. “What is it?”
Hunter’s grandmother put her hand to her mouth. “Please tell me you weren’t planning a honeymoon to the Bahamas. Do you have any winter clothing in your suitcase?”
