A Tale of Two Christmas Letters

by Cathy Gillen Thacker

  Bess shook her head and lifted both hands in surrender. “You’re on your own with that one, Doc.”

  Because, truth to tell, she was aching for a baby, too.

  * * *

  Bess wasn’t quite sure how he’d managed it, but by the time she’d been on her way out his door last night, Jack had somehow managed to convince her to ride with them to the Winfield Golden Retrievers ranch the next morning.

  As usual, the girls were full of questions for her.

  “Why do you want a puppy?”

  “So I won’t have to be so lonely,” Bess said before she could think.

  Jack slanted her a look from behind the wheel.

  Self-conscious, she tried again. “What I mean by that is, if I have a dog, then I won’t have to come home to an empty house at the end of the day.”

  That sounded even worse. Like she didn’t have any friends. Or family. And she had plenty of both.

  Fortunately, Jack seemed to understand what she was trying to say. “You can never underestimate the value of a good companion, girls. Which is why we all like having Bess spend so much time with us. Because she’s great company. Right?”

  “Yes! She’s the best! We love Bess!”

  Bess flushed. She knew Jack’s girls loved her as much as she loved them. Which made her predicament all the worse. She had to stop privately lusting after their father.

  Luckily, more questions followed.

  “Do you want a girl doggy or a boy doggy?”

  Bess replied, “A girl dog, definitely.”

  “What do you think, Daddy? What kind of doggy is best?”

  “I think they’re all great,” Jack said diplomatically.

  A sentiment that was driven home when they arrived at the ranch and entered the carpeted, sunlit room where the litter of four-week-old golden retriever puppies and their mama were housed. A whelping pen stood in one corner. The door was open and the mama lay on her side inside the pen.

  “As you can see, we’ve got six females and three males,” Betty Winfield said. “They’re approximately four to five pounds each right now.”

  Giggling, the girls watched the puppies rollick across the floor, tumbling and leaping over each other, taking turns with the assortment of puppy toys scattered about. “Can we pet them?” Nicole asked, enthralled.

  “Absolutely,” Betty said.

  Chloe beamed. “They are so cuuuute, Daddy!”

  Yes, Bess thought, they were. In fact, the fluffy, golden-haired little pups were so adorable, she was going to have a hard time choosing which one to take home with her in three weeks. She placed her bag on the table next to the door and sank down on the middle of the carpet.

  “How come there are colored dots on their backs?” Lindsay asked.

  “That’s so we can tell them apart,” Betty said. “Each puppy has a different color and we call them by that name right now.”

  “Green likes me!” Nicole said.

  “Red likes Bess,” Chloe noted, cuddling close to Bess and the puppy that had climbed onto her lap.

  “Pet them, Daddy!” Lindsay urged.

  Jack sat down, cross-legged on the floor, next to his daughters. For the next half hour, they all had a chance to get acquainted with all nine puppies. But Red kept coming back to Bess, and Green stayed with Nicole.

  Smiling, Jack finally asked, “Girls, what would you think about getting a puppy here, too?”

  Nicole frowned like he’d just made the worst suggestion ever. “No, Daddy!”

  He blinked in confusion. “No?”

  “Santa Claus is bringing my puppy to me,” Nicole huffed.

  “Yeah, down the chimney at our house!” Lindsay said.

  “On Christmas morning,” Chloe clarified. “With the new baby brother.”

  Now it was a brother, and not just a baby? Bess thought, wincing inwardly. The yuletide dreams continued.

  Betty lifted a brow at Jack. “You’re having a new baby, too?”

  “No!” Briefly, Jack looked like that was the last thing he’d ever wanted. “We’re talking about baby dolls,” he explained.

  “Uh-uh,” Chloe protested. “I want a real baby brother, a little brother, like my friend Darcy has.”

  “Jack’s girls have been talking a lot about what they want to ask Santa for this year,” Bess explained.

  Betty caught on. She smiled and let the subject drop, going back to the real reason why they were all here. “You still get first pick,” she told Bess. “So if you’ve made a decision...?”

  Bess didn’t have to think twice. She looked down at the adorable little puppy curled up in her lap, fast asleep. They had bonded from the moment they’d met. “Red,” she said. “Definitely Red.” And just like that, her holiday season got a whole lot brighter.

  Jack, on the other hand, had quite the problem on his hands.

  Chapter Three

  Five days later

  Bess knew something was up at the conclusion of the Monroe family Thanksgiving dinner, when she and all four of her siblings ended up on the covered porch. It spanned the front of the clan’s iconic Triple Canyon Ranch house. Late-afternoon sunshine spilled across the lawn on the beautiful fall day, while she and her two brothers and two sisters sat down on the cushioned wooden chairs. The children and spouses remained inside.

  More peculiar still, everyone except her seemed to know what this meeting was all about.

  “What is this?” Bess joked, pulling her sweater closer. “An intervention?”

  More looks exchanged all around.

  “Actually,” said Erin, the eldest sibling, who had raised the rest of them after their parents passed, “it kind of is.”

  Bess wrinkled her nose, sure they were joking.

  Except...they weren’t.

  “You all know I don’t do drugs or smoke and I rarely drink, so—”

  “It’s about your private life,” said Gavin, the cardiothoracic expert and ER doctor.

  The youngest, Nick, who ran the family’s famous Western wear clothing store, added, “Specifically, your relationship with Jack McCabe.”

  Bess stared at them, feeling as if she had somehow ended up in the middle of a very bad reality TV show. “You really disapprove of my friendship with one of the most honorable men around?”

  Her twin and fellow nurse, Bridgett, said, “If it were just that, of course we wouldn’t object.”

  “But...” Erin took up the mantle once again. “...it seems like more than that.”

  Bess only wished. “In what way?” she asked tightly, finding it hard not to be offended.

  “In the sense that you are using each other to keep from moving on from your past relationships,” Erin went on, “and getting involved with anyone else.”

  Bess stiffened her spine and glared at her sibs. “Jack isn’t interested in getting married again. Everyone knows that. He was already married to the love of his life.” And lightning did not strike twice. Jack had said that a lot, too.

  “But you are interested in finding your Mr. Right and getting hitched,” Gavin reminded her. “We only had to read your two Christmas letters to realize that.”

  Bess cringed. Was there anyone in Laramie who didn’t know about that?

  “It was a joke,” she fibbed, feeling humiliated all over again. She tried to get the conversation back on track. “Maybe not a very good one, but—”

  Nick, who had recently married and had a baby with his true love, said, “It’s not just a relationship that you’re yearning for. We all know you want a family, too, Bess.” Clearing his throat, he continued, “And we all want that for you.”

  “Which is why,” Bridgett announced with a satisfied grin, “we’ve come up with a plan to not only get you through the holidays, but to help make all your dreams come true, as well.”

&nbs
p; * * *

  Shortly after 9:00 p.m. on Thanksgiving Day, Jack parked at the curb in front of Bess’s home. To his relief, her car was in the driveway and the lights were on. Realizing this was the first time he had dropped by like this, without checking to make sure it was okay first, he paused. Wondering if he should have called.

  Before he could change his mind, the porch light came on, the front door opened and Bess stepped out.

  He’d thought, like himself, she might still be in her holiday dinner clothes. Instead, she was wearing a pair of jeans with holes in the knees and a paint-splattered T-shirt that ended just above the low-slung waistband. Her mane of thick wavy brown hair was swept up on the back of her head, and she held a paint roller in her hand.

  A quizzical, concerned look adorned her face.

  “Everything okay?” she said as she walked down the steps of the porch to her century-old, newly renovated shotgun home.

  He got out of his SUV and met her halfway. “Yeah. Sorry. I didn’t mean to alarm you.” As he gazed into her dark green eyes, he had to push aside the sudden desire to kiss her. “I just wanted to talk to you, maybe ask you a favor.”

  Her shoulders stiffened.

  Aware he had upset her, yet not sure why since they did routine favors for each other all the time, he continued, “Is this a bad time?”

  She shook off whatever it was. “No.” She raked her teeth across her lower lip. “It’s fine. Come on in.” She whirled on her heel and led the way inside.

  The living room and dining area were at the front of the house, the kitchen, walk-in pantry and laundry room were in the middle, and the bathroom and master bedroom behind that. A detached car garage, accessible only from an alley, sat on the other end of her small rectangular backyard, which was enclosed with a new six-foot-high wooden privacy fence.

  He and the girls had seen the place when she’d bought it, but he hadn’t been back in the nine months since. To say it was transformed was putting it mildly. “Wow,” he said, looking around. “New Sheetrock.”

  Still holding the roller, she propped a fist on her hip. “I had no choice when the chimney collapsed on itself.”

  “Right. You mentioned that in your glass-half-empty Christmas letter. You didn’t tell me about it when it happened.”

  Her cheeks registered a pretty pink flush. “Home renovation isn’t really your thing, though, is it?”

  He tracked the strands of silky hair escaping the confines of her messy bun, falling over the nape of her neck and across the upper swell of her breasts. He returned his glance to her face. “No, but...it must have been upsetting.”

  Carefully, she bent and set the roller back in the paint tray. She strode to the kitchen, stripped off the glove she’d worn on the hand with the roller and dropped it into the trash. She reached up to undo the bun, and her hair fell to her shoulders in loose, dark waves. “Bad enough I had to deal with it,” she said, combing the strands into place with her fingers. “I didn’t want to bring anybody else down.”

  Jack ignored the growing pressure at the front of his jeans. “I would have liked to be there for you.”

  She looked at him for a long, thoughtful moment. “What did you say you wanted to ask me?” She strode past him in a wake of lavender perfume.

  Jack figured he’d better concentrate on something else if he didn’t want to end up putting the moves on her. “Why are there three colors of paint on the wall in here?”

  “I’m trying to decide which neutral shade is the most salable.”

  He did a double take. “You’re planning to sell this place?” After all the work she had put into it over the entire last year? Where would she go? Hopefully, not away from Laramie.

  Bess lifted her slender shoulder in an artless shrug. “Eventually. Probably, yeah.” A distant look came into her eyes. “When I get married. I mean, it’s too small for the kind of family I’d like to have, although Gavin and Violet have made a similar floorplan with a small footprint work by adding a second story to accommodate their two children.”

  “So you are seeing someone?”

  She stared at him, affronted. “Why is the idea of that so shocking?”

  Damn, she was irritable tonight. “It’s not,” he rushed to reassure her. He just didn’t want to imagine her with anyone else, for reasons he chose not to examine closely.

  “Then...?”

  Jack ignored the twinge of something tightening his gut. “I just thought we knew a lot about each other.”

  She grimaced at his assessment and shook her head. “Well, obviously we don’t if any of this surprises you.” She huffed out a breath. “Now, for the third time, why did you stop by? You mentioned needing a favor...?”

  Guilt rippled through him. Was he taking advantage here? He stepped back. “Maybe now isn’t the time to ask.”

  “After all this buildup, you’d better!” As if realizing how that sounded, she held up a hand. “I’m sorry for being so crabby.” She sighed, abruptly looking utterly defeated. “It was just a day.”

  The urge to take her in his arms and comfort her grew stronger. “Something happen with your family during dinner?”

  Bess went to the fridge and got out two bottles of lime-flavored sparkling water. She handed him one. “An intervention. They’re all concerned about me and want me to start dating again. And to that end, Bridgett has even fixed me up with Tim Briscoe.”

  Jack pretended an ease he could not begin to feel. “The new pediatrician at the hospital?” Even as he asked, he knew this was none of his business.

  She took a long drink. “Apparently he’s had his eye on me.”

  No surprise there. Bess was beautiful. Talented. Kind. Gentle. Loving. Of course Briscoe wanted to go out with her. Any man in his right mind would.

  She paced back and forth, looking on edge. “Better yet, he wants to settle down and start a family as much as I do. And,” she added wearily, “he’s willing to let himself be fixed up, too, if that will get him what he wants.”

  He slanted her an assessing look. “What about you?”

  She pursed her lips together. “Well, my sibs all seem to think that if I’m ever going to get what I want out of life, I have to get back in the dating pool sooner rather than later. So I said if he asks, I’ll go out with him.” She paused and studied him, frowning. “What? You don’t approve?” She gave him a faintly baiting look. “You think I should just wait for a miracle to happen?”

  He thought she should wait until the time, and the man, were right.

  “Come on, Jack. You may as well tell me what you think. I’ll figure it out anyway.”

  She probably would—she knew him that well. He shrugged. “Okay, if you want me to be honest, I don’t think you should waste your time. Or his. I can already tell the two of you won’t click.”

  Her mouth dropped open in surprise.

  He felt the same. What the hell had gotten into him, weighing in on Bess’s love life?

  She put down her drink and glared up at him. “Well, I don’t know what happened to you, either, today, Jack, but I can tell you this. I really don’t need or want another person telling me just how hard up I am in the romance department!”

  Chiding himself for the unwarranted jealousy, Jack searched for some inner nobility that would give Bess what she needed in a friend while satisfying his craving to forge a deeper connection with her. “I didn’t say that,” he said.

  “Really?” She stepped back, all cordial Texas grace. “Because it seems like you’re implying that no one would be really interested in me. Never mind find me attractive enough to marry and have children with.”

  He tried to ignore the erratic intake of her breath and the definition of her breasts beneath the cotton shirt. “Is that what you think?”

  She kept her eyes on his. “Yes, it’s what I think!” She jammed her finger against the
center of his chest, picking up steam with every second. “Furthermore...” Her lower lip formed a delectable pout. “...just because you don’t find me the least bit desirable, Jack McCabe, does not mean no one else will.”

  She really thought he hadn’t ever noticed how incredibly sexy and beautiful she was? “Of course I find you desirable,” he said. Not that he had ever made a move on her.

  She snorted and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, Doc, right.”

  What had gotten into her? Why was he suddenly the enemy, when all he had ever done was treat her with the kindness, courtesy and respect she deserved? Finding himself beginning to get a little worked up, he lowered his face to her. “You want me to prove it to you?”

  Because suddenly he was ready to do just that. And not just to make a point. He studied the skeptical look in her eyes and guessed with even more disappointment, “You don’t think I can. Do you?”

  She whirled away from him, putting enough distance between them so they were no longer invading each other’s personal space. Then she propped her hands on her hips, the action lifting the fabric of her T-shirt.

  He did his best to keep his eyes on her face. She obviously had no idea the way her current posture was showcasing the luscious curves of her breasts and the strip of silky abdomen above the waistband of her jeans.

  That did not mean he was unaware. He could feel himself getting hard. Not good. Not good at all, when they were supposed to be casual friends and nothing more.

  Oblivious to his growing reaction to her, she tossed her head, almost as if she were daring him to make a pass at her. Silky hair spilled over her shoulders. “You want me to be honest with you?”

  Realizing she wasn’t the only one taking unprecedented risks here, he gritted his teeth and did his best to think of everything that was cold. Ice. Snow. Showers when the water heater was on the fritz. Someone bumping into you and spilling a frozen drink all over your lap. “Yes.”

  Her expression exuded hurt. “Then no,” she told him, “I don’t think you desire me.” She threw up both arms. “And since the last thing that I want right now, Doc, after being pressured into accepting a fixed-up date, is a pity kiss—”