The Rancher's Holiday Hope

by Brenda Minton

  “I understand that.”

  Her face had paled, her freckles standing in stark contrast against her warm, ivory complexion. He regretted his hastily spoken words.

  “I’m sorry.” He spoke softly, aware that she was scooting back in her chair. If she planned to leave, he planned on stopping her. He didn’t want her to walk away, not from him or from this conversation. Not now, when he thought he finally might be finding the missing pieces to the Sierra Lawson puzzle.

  “I might have had a brief moment when I first saw you,” she admitted, her eyes downcast. “But it wasn’t you, it was everything. The helicopter...”

  “Tell me,” he encouraged, keeping his tone soft.

  She shook her head. “No. That isn’t why we’re having this conversation. I have to go.”

  “Don’t.” He stood to follow her.

  Her back was to him but he saw her shoulders stiffen and then she turned. She closed her eyes for a brief moment and he immediately understood. The noise from the main room.

  “We can close the door,” he offered. He wanted to reach for her. He had the strangest urge to hug her, to comfort her. Those weren’t typical thoughts for a man used to constant motion, working eighteen-hour days, rarely even stopping to talk to his secretary.

  “Please,” she said.

  He nodded once and then closed the door. “Better?” he asked when he returned to her side.

  “Better. It isn’t always like this, but today my nerves are on edge and the noise is too much.”

  “How do you plan weddings? Because that seems like it would be living in constant chaos?” He felt a twinge of anger with Jack West for putting her in that position.

  She grimaced but it almost appeared to be a smile of sorts. Without explanation, she reached in her purse and pulled out earplugs. “When it’s too loud, I put these in. People don’t notice. It doesn’t block voices really, just the background noise.”

  “Nice.” He laughed as she shoved the case back into her purse.

  “You are very nice,” she added. It took him by surprise. “I mean that. And don’t look so shocked, I’m not always rude. I do have some people skills and I can see that you’re a kind person. You’re good to your family, to small children and to the elderly. That says a lot about you.”

  He put a hand to his heart. “Wow, I’m blown away.”

  She laughed at the reaction. “Well, don’t let it go to your head.”

  “I won’t. But I must admit, I wasn’t always a nice person.”

  “So I’ve heard, but I typically ignore gossip.”

  “It isn’t gossip. Every bit of it is true. The drunk and disorderly destruction of public property, the miserable way I treated Amy. I lost my scholarship and my dad had to pay legal bills and college. He shouldn’t have, but he wouldn’t give up on me. Even when I didn’t appreciate it. That’s why I owe them so much. I owe them everything.”

  “You’re blessed to have parents like them. And I don’t think they did it with any thought as to how you would pay it back.”

  “I’m aware of that. When I look at my family, I see the sacrifice and I think of what Jesus meant to us. His birth. His death. His resurrection. He didn’t ask for payment, only acceptance. I’m the prodigal son.”

  Her gaze darted to the doors that had opened while he talked and she smiled. “There’s the rest of our group.”

  She hurried forward to hug Kylie and then the slightly older Tish Stevens. The three returned to their table, talking about Christmas plans, baking and how to finish the planning of the Christmas at the Ranch event in time to pull it all off.

  Kylie shot him a questioning look and he shrugged. What could he say? He had hoped to have lunch with Sierra alone and now realized that maybe it was better to meet with a group.

  The women were discussing food to be served and setting up the committee for serving and cleaning up. They had various sign-up sheets at the local churches for people who would help set up, hand out the gifts and clothes, and clean up afterward.

  At one point Sierra looked across the table, caught his gaze and mouthed that she was sorry. He nodded because he understood. She had a pink troll that sprayed glitter, earplugs to block out the chaotic noise of a wedding reception and dark shadows under her eyes. She was complex, funny, scared, sad—and the first woman to ever touch his heart in a way that frightened him.

  Chapter Eight

  “Do you think we should use the angel or the star for the top?” Glory called out to Sierra from the living room, where the younger woman was busy decorating the Christmas tree.

  Sierra closed her eyes and counted to ten, careful to hold the frosting so that she wouldn’t squeeze it all out and ruin the birthday cake she was making for Patsy’s little boy Teddy.

  Glory had been firing questions at her nonstop for thirty minutes. Garland or beads? Clear lights or multicolored lights? Red and gold decorations or multicolor?

  Sierra hadn’t put up a Christmas tree in years. Not since her sophomore year in high school, the year her mother had left her father. The year her parents had fought, knocked down the tree, and her dad had landed himself in jail. She definitely hadn’t scrapbooked the family Christmas photos or kept ornaments to remember those times.

  But that was then, this was now. Be present in the life you have now, Kylie had encouraged. Jack wanted her to find herself, her dreams. The life she had now was a good life, even with the occasional flashbacks, the memories, the old baggage that she was working to unpack. She didn’t need to keep carrying around all of that stuff.

  “Sierra?”

  She set the tube of frosting on the counter, wiped her hands on a dish towel and wandered into the living room. Standing on a step stool, Glory placed the star on the top of the tree. Her baby, Cara, was in the playpen with a light-up toy that played music. The little girl, now more toddler than baby, grinned up at Sierra and held out pudgy arms.

  “I don’t think so, you droolly little thing.” Sierra leaned down to run her fingers through wispy blond baby curls.

  “She wants you to hold her,” Glory said with her sweet Oklahoma accent and a big grin. Her large black eyeglasses slid down her nose and she pushed them back up.

  “How do you know that? She’s grinning the way she grins when she wants food, her mommy, a diaper change and when she sees the cat outside.”

  “She’s holding her arms out to you.”

  Sierra shook her head. “I came in here to give you some much-needed tree-decorating advice. It looks to me as if you already decided what to put on top of the tree.”

  “I was just trying to get you in here. I thought it might be fun if we decorated together.” Glory hopped down from the step stool, her paisley skirt swirling around her legs. Her blue-gray eyes twinkled from behind her glasses.

  “Tree decorating isn’t my thing,” Sierra told her. “I’ll hold Cara.”

  “No, she doesn’t need to be held. She’s having fun playing and she might take a nap. She was fussy at church today.”

  “She’s never really fussy,” Sierra said. “She’s actually pretty happy and easy to be around. For a baby.”

  Glory didn’t look at all offended. “You like her and you know it.”

  Sierra gave the baby another look and Cara grinned, exposing tiny white teeth and dimples in her cheeks. “I do like her, Glory.”

  “So multicolor or white lights?” Glory grabbed up the two boxes of lights. “It’ll be easier if we both help do this.”

  “You’re determined, aren’t you?”

  “I am. No one should dislike the holidays this much, Sierra. It isn’t healthy.”

  “I have bad memories,” she admitted.

  “Then we’ll make new ones,” Glory said with all of the pluck and optimism of someone young and starting a new life for herself.

  Glory had been through
so much in her childhood. Her parents in and out of jail on drug charges, getting addicted herself, losing her baby. Yet, here she was, optimistic and finding a path to happiness for herself and her baby girl.

  “I’m sorry,” Glory said. She bit down on her lip and cast her gaze away from Sierra. “That wasn’t nice. We all have our own stuff and we all have to work through it in our own way. And I know that I haven’t been through anything like what you’ve been through. I’ve never been to war, or taken captive.”

  “Isn’t there a verse about Him coming to set the captives free?” Sierra offered, a way to change the direction of the conversation.

  Glory’s smile returned. “Yes, there is. In Luke.” She closed her eyes and thought a moment. “‘The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he hath anointed me to preach the gospel to the poor; he hath sent me to heal the brokenhearted, to preach deliverance to the captives, and recovering of sight to the blind, to set at liberty them that are bruised.’”

  “You have it memorized?” she asked as the baby behind her chortled then let out a squeal. Sierra turned and lifted the little girl from the playpen.

  “I memorize a lot. One of my professors said I have an almost photographic memory. I do forget some things.” Glory held up the lights again. “So, which ones?”

  “You don’t give up, do you?”

  “Another thing that more than one person has said to me.” Glory gave her an unabashed grin.

  “White lights and multicolor decorations.” Sierra shifted Cara to her other side because sometimes her right side, her right leg, felt stiff with too much carrying or walking. Not as often now, but it still happened from time to time. She sat in a nearby chair, still holding Cara.

  “What are your plans for Christmas?” she asked Glory as she watched the girl untangle lights and plug them in.

  “I’m going to be here at the ranch. My dad...” She shrugged. “Well, he’s in jail again and my mom moved to Oklahoma City with a friend. I’d prefer it here, anyway. Do you have family?”

  “I do, but they’re in Ohio and I’m not fond of arguments. My mom is remarried and my dad is still himself, so I’ll stay here and have dinner with the Wests.”

  “Someday I want to get married and have a big family with a lot of kids. I want to have holidays where everyone sits at the table together and we all laugh and smile. I know for some people that’s normal. I’d like for it to be my normal.” Glory held up the lights, giving Sierra an expectant look. “Are you going to help me?”

  “I’m going to help you.” She put Cara back in the playpen. “You can have all of those things, Glory.”

  “What about you?”

  Sierra took the lights from the younger woman. “I’ll start at the top on the back and wrap it around. You grab it and bring it back to me.”

  “That wasn’t really an answer,” Glory noted as she took the string of lights to pull them around the front of the tree.

  “No, you’re right. It wasn’t. I don’t have answers. I think I’ll probably always live at the ranch and I’ll always prefer my own company to others.”

  “Why not get married and have kids?”

  “Because that isn’t everyone’s journey. I’m content in my life here. Maybe complacent,” she admitted. “But I’m happy. I’ve had my fair share of bad relationships shaking up my happiness. I’m not going to let that happen again. Can we just decorate the tree now, please?”

  Sierra thought about what Jack had said to her, that he wanted her to find her dream. She could only think of one thing she really loved and that was baking. She was most happy when she baked.

  “Can I ask one more question?”

  Sierra groaned. “Must you?”

  “I must,” Glory said with a sly grin. “What about Max St. James? I mean, he’s not just any man and I can’t see him making anyone unhappy. I mean, he has his own a helicopter!”

  “Max St. James?” What would make Glory bring him up? She gave the other woman a questioning look.

  “I don’t know. I think he’s handsome and he has his own business. He’s good to his family. Also, the two of you look cute together.”

  “No thanks. I’m really very happy with my life the way it is. I don’t want to add anything that might upset the balance.”

  Sierra started hanging ornaments on the tree. Red, silver, gold, blue. She watched as Glory took more time, carefully placing each in a specific place. She was thoughtful and kind, even though she hadn’t been shown a lot of kindness in her life.

  “I have to get something from my room,” Sierra said. “You finish up here.”

  “Wait, you promised to help me,” Glory called out. “You’re not getting out of this.”

  Sierra called back, “Keep decorating and I’ll be right back.”

  Sierra returned a few minutes later with several wrapped gifts. Glory and Cara deserved gifts under the tree.

  “You’ve already been shopping? I thought you didn’t like Christmas.” Glory stepped down from the step stool.

  “It isn’t that I don’t like the holiday itself. I don’t like some memories attached to the day. But I do like you and sweet little Cara. I bought the two of you a few gifts. No big deal.”

  The look on Glory’s face made Sierra want to disappear. “Don’t cry!” she ordered.

  Glory blinked and sniffled. “Sierra, that’s the nicest thing ever. I thought our tree would look empty until I could get to the store, but you’re a step ahead of us as usual.”

  “It isn’t a big deal. I like you and Smelly Britches more than you know.”

  “Oh, we know. And we love you, too.”

  Sierra placed the gifts under the tree. “I’m going to let you finish decorating the tree. I need to get this cake to Patsy for Johnny’s party tomorrow.”

  She tiptoed from the room. Cara had fallen asleep, her pudgy hand under her flushed cherub cheek. She was sometimes smelly but always sweet, and Sierra felt an odd rush of emotion at the thought of that little girl and her mother. She swallowed past the tightness in her throat and hurried back to the safety of her kitchen.

  On her way out a few minutes later, she stopped to see the progress of the decorations. Glory had moved on to hanging wreaths and setting out dust collectors. Sierra smiled in spite of herself. “There’s a roast in the slow cooker if you get hungry before I get back.”

  “Oh, thank you!” Glory paused mid-decorating and waited, glancing around the room as if waiting for a comment or compliment.

  Sierra followed the younger woman’s gaze, a little overwhelmed by the amount of Christmas that had exploded inside their apartment.

  “You don’t like it?” Glory asked.

  Sierra made sure it she smiled at the other woman.

  “I think it’s perfect.” And she meant it.

  Glory gave her a quick hug. “I know you don’t like hugs, but thank you for decorating the tree with me. I didn’t want to do it alone. It makes it more like family if we do it together. And thank you for cooking.”

  Sierra stiffened in Glory’s embrace but then relaxed. “I enjoyed it, too.”

  Sierra’s car was parked under the carport a short distance from the apartment. As she opened the door to place the cake box on the floorboard of the back seat, she heard someone call her name. She looked up and saw that it was Kylie.

  Kylie waved for her to join her at the dog pen.

  “No!” she called back. “No, I don’t want to see cute puppies or kittens.”

  Kylie laughed, the sound carrying across the distance. “Kittens don’t live in the kennel. They live in the barn. Please come over here and met Bub.”

  Curiosity got the better of her. “Bub? Why would you name a dog Bub? I’ve heard Shep, Buddy, Rascal. But Bub?”

  Kylie led the dog from his run and when she raised her hand, the dog sat. He was a scruffy-looking
dog, dark brown with a wiry face that was almost comical. “You sure he’s a Labradoodle?” Sierra asked. “Because he looks like a werewolf.”

  Kylie put her hands over the dog’s ears. “Shh! You’ll hurt his feelings.”

  “I wouldn’t want to do that because he has enough going against him. But really, if you ask me to say he’s cute...”

  “He is cute.”

  “A face only a mother could love,” Sierra said. But she let the dog sniff her hand then ruffled the wiry but somewhat soft hair around his face. “What a mess.”

  “He loves storms.” Kylie leaned to talk to the dog. “Don’t you, Bub? And you love to cuddle and hang out in the mornings with a cup of coffee and toast. He likes crowds of people.”

  “I’m not giving the dog my toast and you know I don’t drink coffee.”

  Kylie smiled up at Sierra. “He’s special, our Bub is. He’s blind in his left eye, so he obviously can’t be a guide dog.”

  “Kylie, I just...” The dog with the dark chocolate eyes looked up at her, his mouth open in what appeared to be a doggy grin.

  “He would love an owner for Christmas. I’ve been working with him at my house. Jack kept him for a couple of months. If you decide you really don’t want him, I can find him a home. But it might take a few months.”

  Sierra balked at that. “If I take this dog, he stays with me.”

  Kylie blinked a few times. “I wouldn’t take him from you.”

  “No, of course you wouldn’t.” She shook her head and tried to laugh it off. “I don’t want to get attached and then have something happen.”

  “Of course not. If you take him, he’s yours.”

  Sierra squatted in front of the dog and they stared each other down. She blinked first. Of course.