Finding Her Christmas Family

by Ruth Logan Herne

  “We’re all important, darling.” Naomi’s sincerity had grabbed her heart when she’d walked in the door. “I’m a doctor and I work on sick babies. Teensy, tinsy babies, like you guys were when you were born, I bet.”

  “She was the smallest.” Naomi pointed to Kristi as if to set the record straight. “Then Chloe, and I was the biggest baby but still small I think. But not as small. But Chloe’s oldest and no matter what, I will never, ever get to be older than her. Just bigger.”

  Chloe’s smug expression indicated she liked being one up on her sisters.

  Naomi reached over and touched Sarah’s honey-toned hair. “We match.”

  The innocence of those two words made a difference because Sarah understood not matching only too well. Despite the gift of two loving parents, there had always been that question of where did I come from? And why did they let me go? “We do, don’t we?”

  “Bella matches us, too,” Chloe declared. She got up and danced around the room as if sitting too long annoyed her. “And Stefan. And Jamie. So you’re not the only one. But there are kids in school who don’t match us, even a little. Like Gracie J. And she’s my bestie.”

  “Those are kids in her preschool class,” Renzo explained before he shifted his attention back to the girls. Suddenly his phone pinged an incoming text.

  Chloe leaped to the sofa, snagged the phone and handed it to Renzo. “Is it about Papa? Is he okay? Is he coming home?”

  He hesitated, scanned the message, then shook his head. “They’ve given him some medication to help him, and when he’s feeling better, they’re going to take him to a hospital that’s near Aunt Sarah’s home. Because he can get the best care there.”

  “And then he’ll come home,” said Naomi. “So we’ll be extra good for Mama Gina while he’s gone.”

  If he came home. And right now that was a big “if.” Sarah studied the girls, then Renzo.

  He didn’t return the look. He grabbed a book off the couch and read it to the girls, then read one more before he announced it was time for bed.

  The message from his mother left him unsettled.

  Your presence might have something to do with that, a few hours after you informed him that you want to take custody of the girls.

  The truth resonated, and when he finished tucking the girls into bed, she faced him squarely. “I know this whole situation is awkward.”

  “You think?” He didn’t mess around, and she liked that about him.

  “Will your mother stay with your dad?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “And your brother will take care of the ranch and the angry cows?” She’d pushed the incessant bawling to the back of her mind, but now that the girls were in bed, the noise seemed to intensify.

  “They’ll quiet down in a day or two,” he told her gruffly. Then he drew a breath. When he did that, he seemed full of life, nothing like the men she’d known in the city. “Listen, Sarah, my job makes me careful with words. If I say too much, a suspect goes free. If I say too little, I’m denying rights. So I’m cautious by necessity, but right now I’m weighing everything I say, wondering how you’re going to use it against me in a court of law. I don’t want to think about that with my father fighting for his life, my mother gone and the girls facing a possible tragic loss. I need a truce.”

  She locked eyes with him, and once again, she didn’t want to break the connection. That was dangerous ground. “Terms?”

  “I have vacation time coming, so I can take a short leave from the force, but I don’t want to have to doublethink everything I say. If you’d consider being on hand to help with the girls, get to know them, have time with them, I’d like to put the legal discussion on hold. Not because you don’t deserve to be part of their lives. But because it’s a lot to handle at this moment. And I think Mom’s got enough on her plate, don’t you?”

  He was right.

  She knew it. Understood it. But something ate away inside her at the thought. And yet—

  He was sincere. She felt it. Believed it. So could she put her quest for custody on hold to help them through this situation?

  Do you have a choice?

  The question hit home.

  She wasn’t giving up on her goal of bringing her family back together. She was simply putting it on hold.

  She drew a deep breath and reached out her hand. “Agreed. I didn’t come here to cause division.”

  “You did,” he corrected her softly, but he still took her hand. “But I’m pretty sure I’d be doing the same thing in your shoes. So for the moment, let’s take time for the girls to get to know you and for our lives to settle back down. Okay?”

  She was being foolish.

  The time to stake a claim would be now. What court would award custody of three preschoolers to an older couple with severe health issues?

  But when he gripped her hand, there was a part of her that wished he’d go on gripping it forever.

  Clearly she’d been working too hard.

  She tugged her hand back and faced him square. “Okay. But on one condition.”

  He waited, and she had to hand it to him. He didn’t have a “tell” and if he did, he was good at keeping it under wraps. “And that is?”

  “My mother’s in town,” she told him. “She’s a wonderful person, and she’s going to want to be involved. Just so you know, there is absolutely no way of stopping her. And you have to be okay with that.”

  His gaze relaxed. A hint of a smile eased his jaw. “Yes, bring your mother along. Family is family, and my mother would skin me alive if I didn’t put out the welcome mat. I’ll put a call into work and then I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? Bright and early. They sleep soundly, but they don’t sleep late. We’ll be flipping pancakes by 7:00 a.m.”

  He wasn’t just allowing her access. He was swinging the door wide-open, and she hadn’t prepared herself for that. Or for the way her heart had reacted when he’d read that text from his mother. When sorrow had filled his gaze. Sorrow he’d tamped down when he faced the girls with false calm. “We’ll be here. And Renzo?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Thank you.”

  He winced. Then scrubbed a hand across the nape of his neck and sighed softly. “See you tomorrow.”

  Chapter Four

  “You failed to mention that he’s gorgeous,” Lindsay Brown whispered when she caught sight of Renzo the next morning. He must have seen their car pull in because he’d called for them to come in when they reached the front door. The scent of pancakes and warm syrup offered an explanation why when they stepped inside and crossed to the kitchen. Lindsay sent Sarah a look of surprise, but when Renzo turned around, her mother’s face was serene, a trick Lindsay Brown did well.

  “I hear footsteps,” he warned as he flipped a pancake without using a spatula. He simply gave an upward jerk to the griddle and the pancake went up, turned over and came back down.

  “Unbelievable.” Her mother knew her way around a kitchen, unlike Sarah, so when her eyes rounded, it was utterly sincere. “That’s impressive, right there.”

  “Renzo Calloway,” he told her with a smile that widened when footsteps came their way. “Nice to meet you, ma’am.” The calves and cows could still be heard bawling outside, but they’d moved farther from the house so the noise wasn’t quite as deafening today. “Here come the girls.”

  The triplets clattered down the broad, open stairs and when her mother spotted them, she sat right down on a kitchen chair and cried.

  “Mom?” Sarah squatted next to her, alarmed. She thrust a paper napkin from the table into her mother’s hand and all three girls paused, uncertain what to do. “Mom, are you okay?”

  “I can’t believe it,” she whispered, then swiped the tears from her eyes and replaced them with a bright smile. “Girls, you look so much like Sarah did when she was little. It just took me b
y surprise.”

  “We look like our mom,” Chloe corrected her. Then she raced across the room, snatched Jenn’s picture from the table and brought it back. “See?”

  “Chloe June.” Renzo’s tone was calm, but it held warning.

  The name put a flush in the girl’s cheeks, which was all it took to wipe the sassy tone from her voice.

  “Oh, she’s so beautiful, isn’t she?” Lindsay admired the picture with a warm look. “She and Sarah look a lot alike. That’s not always the case with sisters,” she told them.

  “It’s not?” Naomi looked skeptical. So did Kristi. Chloe still looked a little combative.

  Lindsay pulled out her phone and drew up a photograph. “These are my sisters. That’s Carolina and that’s Leslie.”

  “They don’t look like you even a little bit,” Chloe observed grudgingly. “Are you sure they’re your sisters?” she pressed.

  “Except this one has pretty eyes like you,” noted Naomi, pointing toward Leslie.

  “Naomi notices everything,” said Renzo as he flipped another pancake onto a platter. “It’s her nature. A born reporter.”

  His words made Naomi preen.

  “Carolina looks like our mom,” Lindsay explained. “Leslie looks like our Dad. And I look a little like both, but mostly like my grandma. Isn’t that funny?”

  “Weird.” Chloe made the pronouncement in a quiet voice, but Renzo heard it.

  “Not weird. Genetics,” he told her. “Pancakes are ready, ladies.”

  “With apples from CeeCee’s farm?” asked Naomi.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Apple pancakes are my bestest favorite of all,” breathed Kristi. “Thank you, Renzo!”

  “You’re welcome, kid.”

  “Did Mama Gina call?” Naomi moved closer to Renzo’s side. “How is Papa?”

  Her question made the other girls pause to hear the answer. All three seemed a little guilty that they hadn’t asked first thing.

  “Mom said he’s resting.”

  Those were his words. His eyes told a different story.

  “We’ll know more in a few days,” he promised them. “It takes time for the brain to heal. Sometimes a long time.”

  “When Papa comes home, everything will be all right again.” Sarah wasn’t sure which child spoke, but when all three exchanged looks, she realized they were bright children, and none of them assumed that everything was really going to be all right ever again.

  “In the meantime, Aunt Sarah and I have everything under control,” Renzo told them as he handed out two pitchers of maple syrup. One was real. One was flavored. And to Sarah’s surprise, the girls had very different ideas on how they liked their apple pancakes.

  Naomi picked up the real maple syrup.

  Chloe picked up the bottle of maple-flavored syrup and applied more than any child should have in one day.

  And Kristi simply buttered her pancakes with real butter, then shook powdered sugar over them with an old-fashioned sifter.

  Once the girls dug in, all three agreed these were the best apple pancakes they’d ever had. When Renzo finished cooking the last two, he made a dubious face at them. “You say that every time so you can sweet-talk me into making them again.”

  “Well, Mama G. kind of burns them.”

  “Because she’s so busy,” Naomi explained, as if his mother needed defending.

  “And then she cuts off the burned part,” added Kristi around a mouthful of pancake.

  “But you can still taste it and that’s not the best.”

  “And Papa can’t cook at all.” Chloe kind of snorted the words, as if teasing Renzo’s father. Then she remembered what happened. Tears suddenly filled her eyes. She didn’t cry, though. She blinked them back, and Sarah glimpsed herself in the child’s stoicism.

  “Mrs. Brown, would you like pancakes?” Renzo asked.

  “Call me Lindsay, please, and I’d love some.”

  “What about you, Sarah?”

  He turned her way. Strength and compassion.

  That’s what she read in his gaze. The kind of man who was strong enough to be gentle. A leader.

  His phone pinged just then. Then it rang, almost simultaneously, and the ringtone was a catchy dance tune.

  “Uh-oh.” Kristi made a silly face. “I think that’s your girlfriend, Renzo!”

  All three girls giggled, and Sarah put a firm clamp on her quick reaction to Renzo’s big blue eyes.

  He tossed a fake frown at the girls. “She’s not my girlfriend. We just work together.” Then he answered the phone, walking into the other room with it, so Sarah couldn’t hear what he was saying.

  When he came back, his brow was drawn tight. Too tight. As if the big guy had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

  The back door pushed open just then. A chill wind blew through the cozy kitchen, and Renzo’s brother stepped into the room. He spotted her, then her mother, but didn’t bother with pleasantries. He looked straight at Renzo. “I texted you from the barn. Will these gals mind watching the girls while you help me with chores?”

  Renzo was angled away, so the girls and his brother missed his look of frustration.

  Not Sarah. And when he turned to face his brother, he’d wiped it clean. “Sarah, are you okay here for about two hours?”

  “We’re happy for the chance to get to know the girls.” Sarah smiled at them.

  “And I can echo the girls’ compliments, Lorenzo.” Lindsay smiled up at him from her seat. “These are the best pancakes I’ve ever had.”

  The compliment didn’t seem to make him uncomfortable. He flashed her a quick, sincere smile. “Not burning them does help. My competition is somewhat weak in that department, but she makes great stew.” He turned toward his brother. “I’ll be right there.”

  Kyle gave his brother a long, slow look, then stepped back. “I’ll go get started.”

  He walked out, still not acknowledging her mother or chatting with the girls. Was he a jerk or just totally stressed?

  Sarah didn’t know, but you didn’t get through med school and residency without an occasional face-off. In the end, those confrontations might have prepared her for her biggest fight of all: seeking custody of her sister’s children.

  Renzo tugged on a couple of layers of clothes and thick, waterproof boots. Resolve sculpted the planes of his face.

  “Will the cows stop crying soon?” Kristi asked. “I’m so sorry for them right now because they just want to be with their mamas.”

  “I don’t know why everyone can’t be with their mama,” Chloe grumbled under her breath. She darted a dark look in the direction of the lowing cattle, then Sarah. “I don’t believe that God should ever take mamas away.”

  “I know,” Naomi agreed, suddenly glum, and for just a moment, Sarah wondered what to say, what to do.

  But then Renzo got down on one knee between Chloe and Naomi. “I don’t have answers for why people get sick,” he told them firmly. “But I do know that God puts people in our path to make things better. To love us. To cherish us. And when your grandpa was too sick to take care of you guys, he knew you had a home with us for as long as you needed because that’s what you do when you love someone. You help them. You care for them. It’s not the same, I know.” His phone pinged a text right then, but he didn’t pull it out. Instead, he took the time to stretch an arm around the girls and kiss each forehead in turn, then reached around Naomi to do the same with Kristi. “But it’s still a blessing.”

  “I love you, Renzo!” Naomi threw her arms around his neck. “So much! You are the best person in the whole wide world!”

  “Triple best.” Kristi scrambled down from her chair and made it a group hug. Chloe followed. She didn’t speak, but she hugged him fiercely, and when he stood, all three girls clung to him like monkeys in a tree, laughing and g
ripping in what seemed to be a familiar game as he pretended to try to shake them loose.

  “Gotta go.” He made eye contact with Naomi.

  She nodded and slid off without prodding. Kristi did, too. Only Chloe clung tight, and when she locked eyes with Renzo, Sarah’s chest squeezed because the look they exchanged was raw pathos. He hugged Chloe close, whispered something in her ear, then eased her down.

  She looked up at him. Then Sarah. Then nodded.

  He smiled, palmed her head and turned. “I’ll be back shortly. I’ll text if I need to. Feel free to do the same.”

  Sarah stood up and took a step toward him. Just one, and while moving toward this man felt right, he was going to be a major obstacle in her goal, so she paused after that initial step. “And we’ll be here, waiting.”

  He gave her a crisp nod, then offered a tiny salute to her mother. “It is a pleasure, ma’am. And I mean that sincerely.”

  “Mine, too,” replied her mother, and when he’d gone through the side door, Lindsay turned to her daughter. She whooshed out a breath, then stood and crossed to the coffee maker. “Not that I’m pushing, but this guy scores a solid ten in a couple of departments. And bonus points in others.” She whistled softly under her breath so only Sarah would hear.

  “Mom...”

  “If he makes a solid pot of coffee,” Lindsay announced, “I will be absolutely over the moon. Coffee, apple pancakes and three wonderful girls?” She flashed Sarah a smile. “I’m all in.”

  So was Sarah, but she’d seen the expression that Renzo hid from the girls. From his brother.

  He hid pain.

  Well, so did she, but she’d had no choice in the matter that brought her here yesterday. One way or another, she was going to fix a mistake that had happened over thirty years before, and nothing—and no one—would stop her.

  * * *

  Kyle didn’t need his help, Renzo thought as he descended the back steps. He wanted Renzo’s help, and that was what separated the two brothers lately.

  He moved toward the barn through the thin morning fog. Huge, nearly marketable calves bawled to his left. On his right, the mamas called out their lament. Folks often thought winter calving was the toughest part of beef production in a northern climate, and while guiding cows to safe areas in bad weather wasn’t a picnic, he’d grown up doing it and he did it well.