The Secret of Santa

by Liz Isaacson

  “I miss my mother sometimes,” she said, her voice hoarse. “It makes no sense, because I’m so angry with her, and I don’t even like her. But sometimes…sometimes I really miss her. The holidays are one of those times, and she always brought us to the tree lighting, and I don’t know.”

  She sighed out the rest of her breath, her head spinning so fast.

  Ace searched her face, probably trying to absorb everything she’d said. “It’s okay to miss your mother.”

  “Is it, though? Would you miss someone who abandoned you, just walked out one day and tried to make it seem like she had no other choice?”

  “I don’t know how to answer that, Holly Ann.”

  She nodded and took a step, gently pulling on his hand. “Sorry,” she murmured. “That’s the secret.”

  “I want to revisit the roots one too,” he said just as quietly. “We never did finish that.”

  Holly Ann looked across the parking lot, unsure about going back to that topic. She had promised him they would, but she still felt as unsettled about it now as she had then. “I don’t know if I want kids,” she said. “Because I don’t want to wake up one day the way my mother did and leave them.” She looked up at Ace. “I’m so much like her, Ace, and I know you don’t think I am, but I am.”

  Tears filled her eyes, and she hated that she’d taken this night in this direction. She sniffled and looked away again. The horizon faded into darkness, and it was deep and all-encompassing, pulling at her soul to go explore what she could outside the borders of Three Rivers.

  “I don’t want to have a family and then feel trapped by them. I don’t want to pretend I’m happy when I’m not. I don’t—I will not—get to the point where I simply can’t make it through another day as it is, so I snap, pack a bag, and leave everything behind for my own sanity.”

  Ace said nothing, and that only added to the unrest swirling in her soul. It also gave her plenty of space to keep talking. She tried to resist the temptation, but she couldn’t, and as he guided her toward his pickup truck, she said, “That’s why I like not having roots. It’s why I’ve never taken anyone home to meet my family, and it’s why I haven’t had a boyfriend for longer than a few months.”

  “We’ve been out for longer than a few months,” he said. “And I met your family.”

  “Now you know why I’m terrified,” Holly Ann said, flashing a smile that nearly fell off her face.

  “Hey,” he said, pausing at the passenger door of the truck. “Hey, look at me, okay?”

  Holly Ann tried not to, but Ace Glover possessed a huge gravitational pull over her heart and soul, and her eyes found his easily. He wore nothing but compassion in his gaze, and he cupped her face in both of his hands.

  “You are an amazing woman, Holly Ann,” he said, his voice filled with the same power and fervor she’d heard his mother pray with. “I like you so, so much.” He swallowed, pushing his one hand through her hair and bringing it back to the side of her face, his fingers wrapping around her ear and the back of her neck.

  “I know you’re worried about doing the same things your mother did, but baby, can’t you see that you won’t? Can you see that you know how horrible it was for you and Bethany Rose, and because of that experience, you’ll never do it?”

  Holly Ann tried to find the lie in his face or his voice. She couldn’t, so she said nothing.

  “I just don’t believe it,” he said. “Once we know how something feels, and we know how devastating something is, we would never do it to another human being, let alone our own flesh and blood.” He shook his head. “I just do not think A, that you could do that to someone, even without your personal experience, and B, that you’ll do it to your husband and children.”

  She nodded, because his reasoning made sense. Her mind warped her thoughts sometimes, and she really disliked that. “What’s your secret?”

  His kind smile covered his face, and he adjusted his hands on the sides of her face. “I haven’t kissed you in a while, and I’m dying a slow death with every passing hour where your lips aren’t on mine.”

  Holly Ann giggled. “Well, I can’t be responsible for a cowboy’s death.”

  “Mm.” Ace held her face right where he wanted it, and he kissed her. Holly Ann melted into his touch, into every powerful stroke of his mouth against hers, matching him and hopefully showing him how very much she liked him too.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Willa sang to herself as she unloaded the dishwasher. It was one of her most hated chores, but she found if she sang her favorite aria, the two-minute job got done easily. She wasn’t even sure why she couldn’t put the clean dishes where they belonged without souring her mood, only that it sometimes irritated her so much that she hand-washed dishes instead of emptying the dishwasher so she could put the dirty dishes in it.

  With that done, she opened a container of wet dog food and mixed in the joint supplement that smelled more like dirt than anything healthy. Abe came over from his normal spot on the couch, his nose working overtime.

  He could bite at his front right joint day and night and refuse to get off the couch to go out in the morning, but the moment the wet dog food came out, he was as spry as a pup. She grinned down at him and sang the end of her aria.

  Abe just grinned his doggy grin, his tongue hanging out of his mouth. Willa knew he wouldn’t live forever, as she’d adopted him from the shelter in Temple the day her divorce had been finalized. They didn’t know how old Abe was, and they’d said she could rename him. She hadn’t, because the springer spaniel’s name fit him so well.

  She put the bowl down on his food mat and held up her hand. Abe sat right away, his eyes trained on the food she’d prepared for him. “Abe,” she said, and he moved his gaze to hers. Satisfied, she said, “Okay,” and he streaked past her to the bowl.

  Willa hummed as she finished getting ready, her thoughts on the tree lighting from a week ago. Cactus Glover had marched right up to her in front of Mariah and Gigi, and Willa’s first thought had been to hide the girls behind her and deal with the cowboy with a firm hand.

  She hadn’t expected him to sweep his cowboy hat off his head and hold it against his heartbeat. Cactus had a head full of gorgeous, chestnut brown hair, and the most magical voice that said, “Willa, please forgive me. I’m so sorry for what happened in church.”

  He’d toed the ground and dropped those navy eyes down. Looking back at her, he’d added. “Please. I can’t go another night thinking about my terrible behavior and how it hurt you.”

  Willa really admired someone who could stand up and admit they were wrong. She’d had to do it in the past, and such a thing was not easy. She’d been married to someone who had not been able to apologize, and she knew the weakness such a thing really demonstrated.

  Cactus possessed amazing strength, and looking into his eyes, she’d forgiven him instantly. “I forgive you,” she’d said. “If—” She’d held up her hand. “If you’ll forgive me as well. My behavior was inappropriate as well, and I said unkind things. I hope you don’t think too badly of me, and I apologize too.”

  He’d nodded, his jaw jumping. With his cowboy hat back on, Willa could’ve swooned on the spot. His handsomeness was indescribable, and Willa hadn’t been as attracted to a man as much as she was Cactus Glover. Ever.

  Are you here alone? Would you like to have dinner with us?

  She’d asked him those questions, and he’d said yes though he hadn’t come alone. He’d cleared it with his cousin, and he’d spent the evening with her and her nieces. Willa had enjoyed herself immensely, and she’d been to a few other holiday activities over the past week.

  She’d looked for Cactus as the Stories for Soldiers event on Monday evening, as well as the gingerbread house decorating contest. He hadn’t attended either. She’d searched for him at church, but he’d stayed away for yet another week.

  Last night, after stewing about him all afternoon while she visited with Patrick and his girls, she’d finally
reached down deep into her well of courage, and she’d texted him. What does it take to get you off that ranch? Food? Salty popcorn? A chocolate cake?

  He’d called, which Willa also really liked. It spoke of his maturity and character, and some of his first words after she’d answered were, “I really hate texting sometimes. I find it so much easier to call. Hope that’s okay.”

  She’d assured him it was, and then she’d said, “I’d like to see you again, Cactus. Would you have time to go to lunch with me tomorrow?”

  “Are you askin’ me on a date, Willa?” Cactus had asked, his bass voice gruff.

  “Yes, sir,” she’d said, actually lifting her chin while she sat in her car in her own driveway.

  He’d remained silent for several long moments, each one accelerating Willa’s heartbeat until she felt sure her chest would explode. Then he’d cleared his throat and said, “I can move some things around and make lunch work.”

  “The church is sponsoring ice skating this afternoon,” she said. “And I heard there’s a peppermint candy tasting at the community center tonight….”

  “Do you want to go ice skating, or…?”

  Willa laughed lightly, glancing over to the cane she’d use to walk into the house. She never used it in public, and a lot of walking was difficult for her. An afternoon and evening out with Cactus…she might have to use the cane or find reasons to sit down often.

  “Ice skating is fine,” she said, and the call ended.

  Her nerves had cascaded through her as the day wore on, and the sea of memories she held back with a makeshift dike threatened to flood her and drag her under about every other minute.

  She tilted her head as she threaded her second earring through the hole in her lobe, her fingers shaking slightly. This time, it wasn’t because of the car accident she’d been in over a year ago, but actual nerves.

  A glance at the clock told her Cactus would be here any minute, and she needed to brush her teeth. Women still needed to brush their teeth before dates, right?

  “Not with Cactus Glover,” she muttered. She couldn’t imagine kissing him that night, not on the first date. She wasn’t counting the couple of hours they’d spent together at the tree lighting. That was just a coincidence that they’d been in the same place at the same time.

  Her doorbell rang as she rinsed her mouth, and Abe started barking in his rusty voice. He wasn’t very loud, but he ran into the bedroom, barked at her, and ran back toward the front door. Because her home was a modest one-bedroom in an old part of Three Rivers named Monkeytown, Abe could run back and forth from the front door to her bedroom in a few seconds.

  Willa followed the dog into the small living room and glanced into her kitchen. The scent of toast and coffee still hung in the air, but she told herself it could’ve been something worse.

  “Stop it,” she said to the dog, reaching past him to open the door. His tail wagged aggressively, hitting her calves as he stepped into the doorway as if Cactus had come to see him and him alone.

  “Hello there,” Cactus said, looking at Abe and then up to Willa. “Can I?”

  “Go ahead.”

  Cactus bent over, his smile real and glorious as he scrubbed Abe’s jowls with both of his hands. “Look at you, dog.” He tilted Abe’s head slightly. “You’re an old man, aren’t you?” He chuckled. “Me too, bud. Me too.”

  He even groaned as he straightened, his smile fading as he drank in Willa in front of him. She’d been soaking in his presence too, admiring the black jeans, black cowboy boots, and black cowboy hat. His leather jacket wasn’t black, but brown, with a dark green shirt underneath. It had a plaid pattern on it in white and black, and he was the picture of cowboy perfection. If she wrapped him in a red bow, he’d be the source of all the merry in her Christmas.

  “You look fantastic,” he said, finally bringing his eyes back to hers.

  “Thank you,” Willa said, looking down at what she’d chosen to wear. Her jeans were the classic blue, and she’d put on a pair of leather boots with cream-colored fur along the tops. Along with a cream and pale purple sweater, she felt somewhat like a unicorn candy cane, and almost pretty enough to be on Cactus’s arm. “You look great too.”

  She wanted to take the words back as soon as she said them. Everything between them felt wooden, robotic. She wanted the easy conversation they’d enjoyed at the tree lighting, and she wondered how to get it.

  “Should we go?” he asked. “I looked up good lunch places that serve soup, and I found one I think you’ll like.”

  “That was just a suggestion,” she said, reaching for the jacket she’d laid over the back of her couch. “Go on, Abe. Back inside.” The springer spaniel obeyed her, and she caught sight of his hopeful face as she closed the door behind her.

  As she met Cactus’s eyes again, she said, “We can go anywhere.”

  “Bowled Over has lots of stuff,” he said. “Have you been there?”

  “No.” She took her time moving down the few steps to the narrow sidewalk, and she eyed his huge truck as she neared it. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

  He followed her around to her door and opened it for her. Willa wasn’t sure she could get in, and humiliation filled her. Her stomach turned, and the flood started. She tried to hold it back, but the memories kept coming at her.

  “You okay?” Cactus asked, a gentleness to his tone Willa really liked. It had been a while since a man besides her brother had spoken to her with such kindness.

  “Uh, I don’t know if I can get in this truck.” She turned around, fear filling her eyes. She was going to have to tell him something she hadn’t planned on revealing today. Or for a long, long time. “I was in a car accident a while ago, and I sometimes need a cane if I’ve been walking for a while. Steep stairs are hard, and….” She turned and looked at the running board, trying to judge if she could lift her leg that high or not.

  “I’m sorry, Willa,” Cactus said. “I didn’t know.” He exhaled and turned back toward her house, but she didn’t have a garage. “Do you have a car? We could just take it.”

  Another dose of humiliation filled her. “No, I don’t have a car.” No reason to have a car when she couldn’t have a driver’s license. “I think I can do it.” She reached down and put her hand beneath her knee, lifting it up and putting her foot on the running board.

  Cactus pressed in close behind her, and the heat from his body sent her hormones into overdrive. Willa once again felt like a sixteen-year-old with her first boyfriend, and Cactus put his hand on her hip. “There you go. I’ve got you.”

  She pushed off with her good leg and quickly put her foot on the running board. She grunted, thrilled she’d been able to do it. She put her bad leg inside the truck first, then lowered herself to the seat. Heat filled her face, but she turned toward Cactus anyway.

  He wore sympathy on his face, and she hated that. He erased it when his eyes met hers, and he said, “Okay?”

  She nodded, her voice suddenly on vacation. He backed up and closed the door. As he rounded the hood of the truck, she buckled her seatbelt, wondering how many more times she’d need to get in this truck. “You did it once,” she whispered to herself. “You can do it again.”

  Cactus got behind the wheel and started the truck. “This isn’t even my vehicle,” he said. “I—” He cleared his throat. “This is the first time I’ve come to town by myself in…years.”

  “Years?”

  He put the truck in reverse and backed out of her driveway. “Yes, years.”

  “But you know how to drive?”

  “Sure,” he said. “I remember how to drive. I just don’t like coming to town, and I don’t need to, so therefore, I don’t need a car.” He cut a glance at her, and questions streamed through Willa’s mind. He probably had plenty of his own too, about her lack of a vehicle and the accident. There was plenty more too, and Willa wondered what in the world she was doing. If this date led to a second one, and then a third, and then she and Cactus started dat
ing, she’d have to tell him so many things she’d stopped talking about.

  She’d have to let the memories out. She’d have to relive the worst moments of her life.

  Willa hadn’t been on a first date in a very long time, but she knew how to talk to people, so she glanced at Cactus and asked, “Did you grow up here in Three Rivers?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said. “Right up on that ranch where I still live.” A smile played with the corners of his mouth, and he glanced at her. “What about you?”

  “I grew up in a tiny town in the Hill Country. I most recently lived in Temple before coming here with Patrick.”

  “You must be close to him.”

  “Yes,” Willa said, smiling at the thought of her brother. “We’re close and always have been.”

  “Just the two of you in your family?”

  “Yes,” she said. “He’s a few years younger than me, and I’ve always been overprotective of him. He struggled growing up, you see, and other kids made fun of him.”

  “Kids can be cruel,” Cactus said.

  “That they can.” Willa looked out the window, her thoughts sailing far away. She reeled them back in and cleared her throat. “You have how many siblings? Ten?”

  “Only six,” he said. “Dear Lord, if I had ten siblings….” He chuckled and shook his head. “I can barely tolerate the ones I’ve got.”

  “Is that so? I thought you guys seemed really close.”

  “Oh, we’re close,” he said. “Sometimes a little too close, for those of us who like our privacy.”

  “Ah, I see.” She smiled, because she understood the need for privacy. “I swear there are more than seven of you.” She thought of the two rows those Glovers took up. “There are at least ten.”

  “Those are my cousins,” he said. “Seven kids in my family. Five in my uncle’s family. There’s twelve of us.”

  “Amazing,” Willa said, grinning.

  “What’s amazing is that we haven’t killed each other yet.”