A Country Christmas

by Debbie Macomber

  When Cal’s name was announced, Jane didn’t want to look but couldn’t stop herself. Cal was inside the pen, sitting astride the bull, one end of a rope wrapped around the saddle horn and the other around his hand. She held her sleeping child more tightly and bit her lower lip hard enough to draw blood. Suddenly the gate flew open and fifteen hundred pounds of angry bull charged into the arena.

  Almost immediately, Glen and Ellie were on their feet, shouting. Jane remained seated, her arms around her children. “What’s happening?” she asked Ellie in a tight, urgent voice.

  “Cal’s doing great!” she exclaimed. Jane could barely hear her over the noise of the crowd. Ellie clapped wildly when the buzzer went. “He stayed on!” she crowed. “So far, he’s ahead!”

  Jane nodded. How he’d managed to last all those seconds, she had no idea.

  “Whew. Glad that’s over.” Ellie sank down next to Jane.

  “My brother’s got a real flair for this,” Glen said to no one in particular. “He could’ve gone on the circuit if...” He let the rest fade.

  “If he wasn’t married,” Jane said, completing his thought. Actually Glen’s assessment wasn’t really accurate. Her husband was a long-established rancher before she’d come on the scene. He’d competed in rodeos since he was in his teens, but if he’d been interested in turning professional, he would have done so when he was much younger. She had nothing to do with that decision.

  “Glen,” Ellie said, squeezing her husband’s arm, “who’s that woman over there?” Ellie was staring at a brunette standing near the fence.

  “What woman?” Glen asked.

  “The one talking to Cal.”

  Jane glanced over, and even from this distance she could see that the other woman was lovely. Tall and slender, she looked like a model from the pages of a Western-wear catalog in her tight jeans, red cowboy boots and brightly checked shirt. It was more than just her appearance, though. Jane noticed the confidence with which she held herself, the flirtatious way she flipped back her long brown hair. This was a woman who knew she looked good—especially to men.

  “She seems familiar,” Ellie said, nudging Glen. “Don’t you think?”

  “She does,” he agreed, “but I can’t place her.”

  “Apparently she’s got a lot to say to Cal,” Ellie added, then glanced apologetically toward Jane as though she regretted mentioning it.

  Jane couldn’t help being curious. The woman wasn’t anyone she recognized. She wasn’t the jealous type, but she found herself wondering how this Rodeo Princess knew her husband. It was clear that the woman was speaking animatedly to Cal, gesturing freely; for his part, Cal seemed more interested in what was happening with the rodeo than in listening to her.

  Jane supposed she should be pleased by his lack of interest in another woman, and indeed she was. Then, as if aware of her scrutiny, her husband turned toward the bleachers and surveyed the crowd. His face broke into a wide grin when he caught her eye, and he waved. Earlier she’d been annoyed with him—in fact, she still was—but she’d never been able to resist one of Cal’s smiles. She waved in return and blew him a kiss.

  An hour later, after Cal had been awarded the trophy for the amateur bull-riding competition, they decided to leave. With Mary Ann in the stroller and Paul walking between them, they made one last circuit of the grounds before heading toward the parking lot. They passed the chili cook-off tent, where the winner’s name was posted; for the first time in recent memory, it wasn’t Nell Grant. But then, Jane understood that Nell had declined to enter this year.

  It was near dusk and lights from the carnival rides sparkled, delighting both Paul and Mary Ann. Cal’s arm was around Jane’s shoulder as they skirted the area set aside for the dance. The fiddle players were entertaining the audience while the rest of the musicians set up their equipment. People had gathered around, tapping their feet in anticipation.

  The lively music had Jane swaying to the beat. “I wish we were staying,” she murmured, swallowing her disappointment.

  “We’d better get home,” Cal said, swinging his trophy at his side. “I didn’t want to say anything before, but I’m about as sore as a man can get.”

  “Your rib?” she asked.

  He grimaced, obviously in pain. “Are you going to lecture me?”

  “I should,” she told him. “But I won’t. You knew the risks.”

  He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “You’re right. I did.”

  What really bothered her was that he’d known—and participated, anyway. He was fully aware that he could’ve been badly injured, or worse. And for what? She simply didn’t understand why a man would do anything so foolish when he had so much to lose.

  “I’m ready to go home,” he said. “How about you?”

  Jane nodded, but glanced longingly over her shoulder at the dance floor. Maybe next year.

  * * *

  The phone rang, shattering the night silence. Cal bolted upright and looked at the glowing digital numbers of the clock radio, then snatched the receiver from its cradle without bothering to check call display. It went without saying that anyone phoning at 3:23 a.m. was calling with bad news.

  “Pattersons’,” he barked gruffly.

  “Cal? It’s Stephanie.”

  Jane’s mother. Something was very wrong; he could hear it in her voice. “What’s happened?”

  “It’s...it’s Harry,” she stammered.

  Jane awoke and leaned across the bed to turn on the bedside lamp. “Who is it?” she asked.

  He raised one hand to defer her question. “Where are you?”

  “At the hospital,” Stephanie said, and rattled off the name of a medical facility in Southern California. “Harry’s fallen—he got up the way he sometimes does in the middle of the night and...and he slipped.”

  “Is he all right?”

  “No,” his mother-in-law answered, her voice trembling. She took a moment to compose herself. “That’s why I’m calling. His hip’s broken—and it’s a very bad break. He’s sedated and scheduled for surgery first thing in the morning, but...but the doctors told me it’s going to be weeks before he’s back on his feet.”

  “Cal?” Jane was watching him, frowning, her hair disheveled, her face marked by sleep.

  “It’s your mother,” he said, placing his hand over the mouthpiece.

  “Is this about my dad?”

  Cal nodded.

  “Let me talk to her,” Jane demanded, instantly alert.

  “Stephanie, you’d better talk to Jane yourself,” he said, and handed his wife the phone.

  Cal was pretty much able to follow the conversation from that point. With her medical background, Jane was the best person to talk to in circumstances like this. She asked a number of questions concerning medication and tests that had been done, explained the kind of orthopedic surgery her dad would undergo and reassured her mother. She spoke with such confidence that Cal felt his own sense of foreboding diminish. And then she hesitated.

  “I’ll need to talk to Cal about that,” she told her mother, voice dropping as though he wasn’t supposed to hear.

  “Talk to me about what?” he asked after she’d replaced the receiver.

  Jane paused for a moment, then took a deep breath.

  “Mom wants me and the kids to fly home.”

  “For how long?” The question was purely selfish; still, he needed to know. Being separated would be a hardship on all of them. He understood the situation and was willing to do whatever he could, but he didn’t like the thought of being apart for any length of time.

  “I don’t know. A couple of weeks, maybe longer.”

  “Two weeks?” He hated the telltale irritation in his voice, but it was too late to take back the words.

  Jane said nothing. Then, as though struck by some brilliant idea, she scrambled onto her knee
s and a slow smile spread across her face.

  “Come with us,” she said.

  “To California? Now?” That was out of the question, but he hated to refuse his wife—especially after what he’d done at the rodeo. “Honey, I can’t. Glen and I are getting ready for the bull sale this week. I’m sorry, but this just isn’t a good time for me to be away.”

  “Glen could handle the sale.”

  What she said was true, but the prospect of spending two weeks at his in-laws’ held little appeal. Cal got along with Jane’s mother and he liked her father well enough, but Harry had a few annoying mannerisms. Plus, the two of them tended to become embroiled in ridiculous arguments that served no real purpose and usually went nowhere. Cal suspected it was more a matter of competing for Jane’s attention. Jane was Harry’s only daughter and he doted on her. Cal figured he’d be doing Harry a favor by staying away. Besides, what would he do with himself in a place like Los Angeles?

  “Don’t be so quick to say no,” she said. “We could make this a family vacation. We always talk about going somewhere and it never happens.” She knew he found it hard to leave the ranch for longer than a few days, but still...

  “A vacation? I don’t think so, not with your father laid up and your mother as worried as she is. Besides, Stephanie doesn’t want me there.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “It’s not me she needs, it’s you. Having the kids around will boost your father’s spirits, and your mother’s too. I’d just be in the way.”

  Jane’s disappointment was obvious. “You’re sure?”

  He nodded. “You go. A visit with you and the kids will be the best thing for your parents, and you’ll have a chance to connect with your friends, too. It’ll do everyone good.”

  Still Jane showed reluctance. “You’re sure you don’t mind me being gone that long?”

  “I’ll hate it,” he admitted, and reached for the lamp to turn off the light. Then he drew his wife into his arms.

  Jane released a deep sigh. “I’m going to hate it, too.”

  Cal closed his eyes, already experiencing a sense of loss, and Jane and the children hadn’t even left yet.

  The next morning was hectic. The minute she got up, Jane arranged the flight to California and threw clothes, toiletries, toys and baby supplies into several suitcases. No sooner had she finished than Cal piled them all into the car, and drove his family to San Antonio. Paul was excited about riding in an airplane, and even Mary Ann seemed to realize there was adventure ahead.

  As always, San Antonio International Airport was bustling with activity. Cal quickly ushered Jane and the kids to the airline’s check-in counter, where they received their boarding passes.

  Kneeling down to meet his son at eye level, Cal put both hands on Paul’s shoulders. “You be good for Mommy, understand?”

  His three-year-old nodded solemnly, then threw his small arms around Cal’s neck, hugging him fiercely.

  “I’m counting on you to be as much help to your grandma and grandpa as you can,” Cal added. He felt a wrenching in his stomach. This would be the first time he’d been apart from his children.

  “I will,” Paul promised.

  Cal noted that his son’s “blankey” was tucked inside his backpack, but said nothing. The blanket was badly worn. It’d been a gift from Jane’s friend Annie Porter, and a point of contention between him and Jane. Cal didn’t like the idea of the boy dragging it around, and Jane felt that Paul would give it up when he was ready.

  Cal stood and scooped Mary Ann into his arms. His daughter squirmed, eager to break free and explore this wonderful new place.

  “I’ll phone often,” Jane said when he’d kissed her.

  “We’ll talk every day.”

  Saying goodbye to his family was even more difficult than Cal had expected.

  “I’m going to miss you,” he murmured.

  “Two weeks will go quickly.”

  “Right,” Cal agreed, but at the moment those weeks loomed before him in all their emptiness.

  Juggling two bags and clutching both children, Jane moved toward the security area. Cal left then, waving to the kids as he did. The feeling of emptiness stayed with him, and he knew he’d let his wife down. He should have gone with her; it was what she’d wanted, what she’d asked of him, but he’d refused. He shook his head miserably. This wasn’t the first time he’d disappointed Jane.

  As he made his way to the parking garage, Cal couldn’t shake his reaction to seeing his wife leave. He didn’t want to go to California, and yet he regretted not being on that plane with his family.

  * * *

  “You heard about Jane, didn’t you?” Dovie Hennessey asked her husband. Frank had just come home from the golf course, where he’d played eighteen holes with Phil Patterson, Cal’s father.

  Frank, who’d retired three years earlier from his position as sheriff, nodded and walked straight to the refrigerator. “According to Phil, Cal drove Jane and the kids to the airport yesterday morning.”

  “I give him a week.”

  Frank turned around, a pitcher of iced tea in his hand. “A week before what?”

  “Before Cal comes into town.”

  “Why?”

  Exasperated, Dovie rolled her eyes. “Company. He’s going to rattle around that house like a lost soul.”

  “Cal? No way!” Frank argued, pouring himself a glass of tea. “You seem to forget he was a confirmed bachelor before he met Jane. I was as surprised as anyone when he decided to marry her. Don’t get me wrong. I think it was the smartest thing he ever did....”

  “But?” Dovie said.

  “Cal isn’t any stranger to living alone,” Frank continued, sitting down at the kitchen table with his tea and the newspaper. “He did it for years. Now, I know he loves Jane and the kids, but my guess is he’s looking forward to two weeks of peace and quiet.”

  Dovie couldn’t help herself. Peace and quiet? Frank made it sound as though Cal would welcome a vacation from his own family. Hands on her hips, she glared at her husband. “Frank Hennessey, what a rotten thing to say.”

  He glanced up from his paper, a puzzled expression on his face. “What was so terrible about that?”

  “Jane and the children are not a nuisance in Cal’s life,” she said in a firm voice. “Don’t you realize that?”

  “Now, Dovie—”

  “Furthermore, you seem to be implying that he’s going to enjoy having them gone.”

  “I said no such thing,” Frank insisted. “Cal’s going to miss Jane—of course he is. The children, too. What I was trying to say is that spending a couple of weeks without his wife might not be all that bad.” Flustered and avoiding her eyes, Frank rubbed his face. “That didn’t come out right, either.”

  Dovie suppressed a smile. She knew what he meant, but she liked giving him a hard time once in a while—partly because he made it so easy. He’d remained a bachelor for the first sixty years of his life. Like Cal, he’d grown accustomed to his own company. He and Dovie had been involved for more than ten years, but Frank had resisted marriage until Pastor Wade McMillen had offered a solution. They became husband and wife but kept their own residences. In the beginning, that had worked beautifully, but as time passed, Frank ended up spending more and more nights with her, until it seemed wasteful to maintain two homes. Since he’d retired, Dovie, who owned an antique store, had reduced her hours. They were traveling frequently now, and with Frank taking a role in local politics and becoming active in the senior citizens’ center, why, there just weren’t enough hours in a day.

  Patting her husband’s arm as she passed, Dovie said, “I thought I’d make Cal one of my chicken pot pies and we could take it out to him later this week.”

  Frank nodded, apparently eager to leave the subject behind. “Good idea.” Picking up his paper, he claimed the recliner
and stretched out his legs. Almost immediately, Buttons, the black miniature poodle they’d recently acquired, leaped into Frank’s lap and circled a couple of times before settling into a comfortable position.

  “Nap time?” Dovie asked with a grin.

  “Golf tires me out,” Frank said.

  Dovie laughed. “I meant the dog.”

  “I guess we’re both tired....”

  “You promised to drive me to the grocery store,” she reminded him, although she was perfectly capable of making the trip on her own. It was the small things they did together that she enjoyed most. The ordinary domestic chores that were part of any marriage.

  “In a while,” Frank said sleepily, lowering the newspaper to the floor.

  True to his word, an hour later Frank sought her out, obviously ready to tackle a trip to the supermarket. Once they got there, he found a convenient parking spot, accompanied her inside and grabbed a cart. Dovie marched toward the produce aisle, with Frank close behind.

  “Do you have any idea what Cal would enjoy with his chicken pot pie?” she asked.

  “I know what I’d enjoy,” Frank teased and playfully swatted her backside.

  “Frank Hennessey,” Dovie protested, but not too loudly, since that would only encourage him. She didn’t really mind, though. Frank was openly affectionate, unlike her first husband. Marvin had loved her, she’d never doubted that, but he’d displayed his feelings in less overt ways.

  “Who’s that?” Frank asked, his attention on a tall brunette who stood by the oranges, examining them closely.

  It took Dovie a moment to remember. “Why, that’s Nicole Nelson.”

  “Nicole Nelson,” Frank repeated slowly, as though testing the name. “She’s from Promise?”

  “She lived here a few years back,” Dovie said, taking a plastic bag and choosing the freshest-looking bunch of celery.

  “She seems familiar. How do I know her?” Frank asked, speaking into her ear.

  Which told Dovie that Nicole had never crossed the law. Frank had perfect recall of everyone he’d encountered in his work as sheriff.