A Brand of Christmas

by Maggie Shayne

  Chapter 17

  She'd been resting in the hospital all day. Heck of a way to spend Christmas Eve. Caleb had been in and out a half-dozen times, each time seeming a little more tense. He brought flowers the first time, candy the second, a pair of giant teddy bears the third. He kept saying he had a very busy schedule today, but that he couldn't stay away from her and the babies for more than a couple of hours at a time.

  She wished he wouldn't say things like that unless he really meant them-at least, the way she wanted him to mean them. She was sure he was sincere where the babies were concerned, but she was equally certain he could bear to be away from her just fine, if need be.

  At any rate, he certainly was heroic. She'd had the TV on for the past hour, and the coverage of the storm told her more than she'd already known about how bad it had been last night. The last time a blizzard of this magnitude had hit Big Falls had been in the latter part of the last century. Caleb had literally risked his life to get to her.

  Her admiration for him-her love for him-grew even deeper at the knowledge.

  The door opened, and she looked up, wondering which of her frequent visitors would appear there. Selene, Kara, her mother, Caleb-or Mel, who was in a room down the hall recovering from her brush with hypothermia. Aside from a touch of frostbite, she was going to be just fine. They'd promised she could go home today. Maya and the babies would be released on Christmas morning.

  But the visitor was none of those people. It was, instead, Cain Caleb Montgomery II. He hesitated in the doorway, peering in at her, leaning on his cane. "I can come back later, if you're resting," he said.

  "No, no, please come in."

  He did, his cane thumping the floor with every other step.

  "Have you seen the babies yet?"

  He looked at her with a smile?an actual smile. She hadn't seen one on him until then. "I've been in the nursery for the past half hour." The smile grew. "They let me hold them. I didn't want to put them down."

  "I'm glad I'm not the only one," she said. "Come in and sit down, Mr. Montgomery."

  "Oh, now. You call me Cain." He sat down, pursed his lips. "Actually, I'm hoping that, down the road, you might want to call me Dad, instead. I mean, you know, since you're marrying my son."

  Her hand touched her chest involuntarily-in response to a small flutter there. "I haven't called anyone that in years."

  "Yes, well?" He cleared his throat. "I owe you an apology, Maya. I came here judging you, insulting you and your family, and the truth was, I was only reacting out of fear that you were going to take my son away from me. Instead, you've given me?such a precious gift."

  She didn't know how to respond to that, so she said nothing.

  "I want you to know that Caleb and I have had a long talk. I've told him already that whatever he decides to do or not do with his life is fine with me. Just so long as I have plenty of time with his?his family."

  "Oh, my goodness." She had to dab at her eyes. "That must have meant so much to him. And it does to me, too. Thank you Cain?Dad."

  His smile was quick and bright. "Well, I won't keep you. We have lots to do tonight after all. But um?I have a little gift for you first. Two, actually, but um-"

  Caleb came in then, glanced at his father, then at Maya, and smiled warmly.

  "Good, good, you're here. You should be," Cain said. "Would you kindly get the package I left outside the door there, son?"

  Caleb frowned, but did as his father asked. He came back with a huge package wrapped in gleaming gold foil, with elaborate ribbons. "It's for Maya," Cain said.

  Caleb brought the package to her and laid it across her lap on the bed.

  "My goodness, it's almost too beautiful to open."

  But she opened it anyway. She tore the paper aside and took the cover off the large box it had concealed.

  And then she felt her mouth fall open and tears spring to her eyes as she stared down at the wedding gown of ivory satin and lace. She looked up at Cain, who hurried forward and took the dress from the box by its shoulders, holding it up so she could see it better. The full skirt spilled free, and Maya caught her breath. "I don't know what to say. It's?it's beautiful. The most beautiful gown I could imagine."

  "I knew you were planning to have the ceremony before the birth," Cain said. "So I thought you probably didn't have a dress-at least, not one that would fit you now."

  "Well, you were right," Maya said, still admiring the gown.

  "This was?this was Caleb's mother's."

  Her gaze shifted to Cain. "Oh?oh, my?." Pushing aside her covers, sending the box and wrappings to the floor, Maya got to her feet, went to the older man and kissed him softly on the cheek. "Thank you. You don't know how much this means to me."

  He grinned and handed Caleb the dress. "I'll go now, so you can give her the other present."

  "Thanks, Dad. Or should I say Grandpa?"

  "Grandpa is a title I'll bear with great pride." He winked at his son and limped out the door, with a decided bounce in his step.

  Caleb opened the small closet and carefully arranged the dress on a hanger. Then he turned to where Maya was still standing.

  "You should be lying down. Resting."

  "I've been lying down all day, Caleb. I'm fine, really."

  He smiled. "You sure are."

  Feeling her cheeks heat, she averted her face, walked to the chair beside the bed and sat down. Caleb went to the bed, sat on its edge. "I want to talk to you about our?um?our arrangement."

  Her head came up fast. "You do?" Worry gnawed at her. Had he changed his mind? Had he decided he didn't want to marry a woman he didn't love after all?

  "Things have changed, Maya. And?well, I just don't think it would be fair to let you go through with this marriage without being perfectly honest with you."

  Lifting her chin, bracing herself, Maya looked him in the eye. "All right. I'm listening."

  Drawing a breath, he took her hands in his. "First of all, I've decided not to run for the Senate. In fact, I'm pulling out of politics altogether."

  It was not what she'd expected to hear.

  "I thought I'd go into private practice. Open a law office right here in Big Falls. How would you feel about that?"

  She knew she was gaping, but she couldn't seem to stop. Shaking herself, she finally let her relief show. "I'd feel?wonderful. God, Caleb, that's almost everything I've been hoping for."

  "Really?" He smiled. "Why didn't you say so?"

  She shook her head. "I?I didn't want to start making career decisions for you, Caleb. I don't have the right to do that."

  He came off the bed, still holding both her hands. "You have every right. Maya?." He hesitated, bit his lip. "You said that was almost everything you'd been hoping for. What else was there?"

  She looked away fast. "Nothing. It doesn't matter, Caleb."

  One hand rose, palm gentle on her cheek, turning her to face him again. "Come on, Maya, tell me the truth. Please. Because?I'm hoping for more, too."

  She felt her eyes widen as she searched his. "Caleb?"

  "I'm in love with you, Maya. I don't want to marry you for the sake of the babies, or to save your reputation or mine, or anything else. I want to marry you because I don't ever want to have to spend a day of my life without you. And I'm sitting here like a big idiot hoping to God you feel the same way about me."

  Her lips trembled, and tears spilled onto her cheeks. "I do love you, Caleb. I have all along."

  He cupped her face and kissed her, long and slow and deeply. And when he straightened away again, he took a small velvet box from his pocket. "This is the other gift Dad mentioned." He opened the lid to reveal a glittering diamond engagement ring, its large teardrop-shaped stone utterly flawless. "This was my mother's, as well. And I know she'd want you to wear it."

  Taking the ring from its nest, he slipped it onto Maya's finger. "Will you marry me, Maya? For real?"

  "Yes," she whispered. "Yes, Caleb, I will."

  He kissed her softly a
gain. "In an hour?"

  "I?" Her eyes flew open. "An hour?"

  "What did you think I'd been running around planning for all day?"

  "But?an hour?"

  "What's wrong, darling? Do you need help getting ready that soon?"

  "Maybe a little," she said, her tone sarcastic.

  He grinned at her, gave her a devilish wink and one last kiss, then went to the door and pulled it open. "Would all my pending in-laws please come in now?"

  One by one, her sisters came in the door. Selene, and then Mel, and then Kara. Her mother came in last and let the door go.

  "No, no, no. That's not everybody," Caleb said, snatching the door before it closed all the way, opening it wide once more. "I said all my pending in-laws."

  Several confused frowns were aimed at him. And then it became clear.

  Edain Brand, the prodigal daughter, walked through the door, looking even more beautiful than she had when she'd left home two years before.

  "Edie? Oh my God, Edie?" Maya cried.

  Kara, Selene and Mel mobbed her with hugs, and when they parted, Edie faced Vidalia.

  Their eyes met, and for just one brief second Maya wondered if the old tension would rise up yet again between them. But then Vidalia smiled and opened her arms, and Edie rushed into them.

  Maya met Caleb's eyes across the room. "You did this, didn't you?"

  "Merry Christmas," he said.

  Edie and Vidalia pulled apart, and Edie went to Maya, hugged her gently, and said, "I can't believe I'm an aunt twice over."

  "It's so good to have you home, Edie."

  "It's good to be home, hon."

  They separated, and again Maya looked toward the door. Caleb blew her a kiss and slipped quietly out of the room.

  An hour later, Caleb waited in the elaborately decorated hospital chapel as his bride walked toward him. His children were held in the loving arms of their grandmother and grandfather, and every time he looked at them, he felt his chest swell with pride.

  When he looked at their mother, it was more like awe. He couldn't believe he'd gotten so lucky. But maybe? maybe luck had nothing to do with it. Selene kept insisting that it was no coincidence that caused him to have a flat tire in front of the OK Corral almost nine months ago. She kept saying it was something far more powerful. Something like fate.

  When Maya stood beside him and slipped her hand into his, smiling up into his eyes with love shining from hers, he thought maybe his bride's kid sister was wiser than any of them.

  He slid a glance toward where Selene was sitting.

  She gave him a nod as if she knew exactly what he was thinking.

  Epilogue

  So that's the whole story. Well, not the whole story, but that's how it began. I'm sitting here now on the wide front porch of my log cabin. The snow melted almost before Christmas Day was over; spring came as it always does. From here, I can look down on the farmhouse on the far side of the wildflower-dotted meadow below. It's within shouting distance. Not that shouting is ever needed. My mom and sisters are up here as often as Caleb and the babies and I are down there. But we always were a close family. Always will be, too.

  Edie's still here. She's been quiet and moody, and I think Mom has been letting her get away with that for the past few months, but her patience is wearing thin. Any day now I expect her to tell Edie enough is enough and it's time to stop licking her wounds and tell us what went wrong out there in La-La-Land. Something sure did.

  My dream house is almost exactly the way I pictured it. I say "almost" because I never pictured it this big and sprawling, but I guess that's what happens when you marry a millionaire. Caleb got rid of the Lexus sports coupe, though. Bought a minivan for me and an Explorer sports utility for him. Eddie Bauer Edition, of course, but that's okay. He managed to rent office space in town, just around the corner from Sunny's Place, and he hung up a shingle that says Montgomery Law Office. He takes all kinds of cases-and many of his clients can't afford to pay him. But he says that, luckily, he can afford to represent them.

  He's a hell of a guy, my husband.

  Here he comes now, walking across the meadow from Mom's house, a baby in each arm. Look at him, smiling and talking to them as if they can understand every word. Sometimes, the way they look at him, I almost think they can. We wanted to name our little girl after my mom. Vidalia. But Mom insisted we call her Dahlia instead. You know, like the flower. Mom said as much as she might deny it, it wasn't easy growing up with an onion for a name. As for little Caleb, we call him Cal, just to avoid confusion. Tough having three men in the family with the same name. And Caleb's father is around enough so that he finally broke down and rented a house in town, so he has a permanent residence out here. He could stay with us when he visits, of course, but he's too stubborn to want to appear dependent. Still, he's out here more than he's in Tulsa. He took Caleb's decision not to run for office far better than either of us expected him to. The old goat is so madly in love with his grandchildren that there isn't much Caleb or I can say or do to upset him. But if he brings any more toys to the house, I don't know where we'll put them.

  Caleb's halfway to the house now. He just looked up and caught my eye. And the breeze is ruffling his hair. Gosh, when he looks at me like that, my stomach still clenches up. I love that man more than I ever thought possible. He healed my old wounds for me?and I like to think I helped mend some of his. And he gave me something more precious than gold-our babies. And his love.

  And we're happy-deliriously happy with our little family. And I think we will be for a long, long time.

  Click here for an excerpt from Edie's book,

  Brand New Heartache.

  The Baddest Virgin in Texas

  Prologue

  Little Lash Monroe sat in the hard wooden pew in the front row and listened to his foster father, the Reverend Ezekiel Stanton, pontificate in a loud, booming voice about the wages of sin and the wrath of the Almighty. Hellfire and damnation tended to be at the heart of most of the preacher's sermons. And Lash, being only nine, supposed one day he'd understand why the bumper sticker on the back of the Reverend Mr. Stanton's battered pickup truck read God Is Love when he talked about God as if He were a fire-breathing dragon from a horrific fairy tale. His words sent chills down Lash's spine.

  And the light in the preacher's eyes gleamed like...like that new gray-blue cat's-eye marble Lash had won this morning from Gulliver Scuttle. Lash smiled and tucked his hand into his pocket to feel the cool, smooth marble he'd been gunning for all these weeks. His, at last. Then the smile leaped from his face when the preacher struck his fist hard on the podium in front of him to punctuate the word Vengeance in the quote Lash figured must be his favorite, "Vengeance is mine, sayeth the Lord."

  Lash met the preacher's piercing gaze and forced himself to stop thinking about the marble, and the shooting match this morning, and to pay attention. After all, the preacher wasn't so bad. Strict, yes, but not mean. It wasn't his fault Lash was miserable living with him and Missus Olive, who would have blown away in a strong wind or fainted at the sound of a cuss word. Yeah, they were wearing on him some. Especially her, being so helpless and delicate and requiring a houseful of men and boys just to take care of her every little need. Lash had never known a whinier, more dependent woman in his life. But still and all, she was better than his own mom, who'd been drunk most of the time, and even more helpless. So helpless she'd said she couldn't take care of two boys all alone, and dumped Lash and Jimmy off at a shelter one night.

  Jimmy had been sent to live with a family in Texas. And Lash had been brought here, to the preacher who wanted plenty of sons, and his wife who was unable to give him any. And really, despite their shortcomings, they'd treated him just swell.

  It was the boys he couldn't stand. They were the ones who made his life pure misery in every way they could think of. All older than him, all bigger, and every one of them way meaner. Especially Zane, the oldest, biggest, meanest of them all. Zane was twelve, Jack eleven
, and Peter-who claimed his name was really Pedro and that he had a rich uncle in Mexico who would come for him one day-was ten. Peter made them all call him Pedro when the Stantons weren't within earshot. And if they forgot, they were liable to get clubbed for it. Lash tended to call him Petey, despite the repercussions, just because it bugged the other boy so much. Rich relatives, indeed. The king of beef, Peter said they called his uncle. Sure. The kid was full of blue mud.

  In comparison to Lash's measly nine years of age, the other boys were practically grown-ups. They didn't act that way, though. Lash still had sore ribs from the minor beating they'd given him last week, when Zane ordered Lash to do his share of the chores, and Lash was foolish enough to refuse. He'd ended up doing Zane's chores anyway, only doing them while hurting like crazy. Next time he'd just agree right off the bat.

  But he had a feeling that wouldn't be enough to satisfy Zane. He thought Zane liked tormenting him.

  It was as this thought entered Lash's mind that he first felt the itching, creeping sensation around his ankles and calves...and then higher. He dropped one hand to scratch his leg, all the while keeping his eyes respectfully focused on the preacher. But the itch didn't go away. In fact, it spread higher. And then, all of a sudden, it became a pinching feeling. Lash slapped hard at his legs, jerking his gaze floorward at the same moment. Oddly, he noticed several other members of the congregation itching and slapping themselves, too.

  And then he saw them. Ants. There must have been a million of 'em. It looked as if someone had scattered handfuls of them across the floor near the front pew. A hundred of the shiny black buggers-some the size of guinea pigs, Lash noted with alarm-were swarming over his shoes and disappearing beneath the hem of his pant legs. He jumped to his feet, howling out loud and hopping up and down like a Mexican jumping bean, slapping his legs as if they were on fire. And he barely noticed at least six other people doing a similar jig. They looked like Indians from a John Wayne movie doing a war dance before the big shoot-'em-up scene. Mrs. Potter threw her walker so high and so hard that it formed a perfect arch in the air before coming down hard on the three people in the pew behind her. Sally Kenyon was standing in her seat, screaming at the top of her lungs and tugging on her blond ringlets. Girls. Sheesh, did she really think all that fussin' was going to help anything? Old Leroy LaRue just stood there, stooped as always, nailing ants one by one with his walking stick, just lifting it up and jamming it down, again and again. With his snow-white hair sticking up and his beak of a nose crinkling, he grinned toothlessly. "Gotcha, ya sneaky little buggers!" Bam, bam, bam. "There! Ha! Gotcha!" Bam-bam! "An' you, too! I see ya sneaking away!" Bam-bam-bam-bam.

  Lash would've laughed at Leroy's counterattack if he hadn't been so busy trying to shake the entire ant army out of his pant legs. He managed to kick off his shoes in a frenzied effort to rid himself of the biting little demons. The shoes flew forward, and one hit the Reverend Mr. Stanton square dead center of his forehead. The second one landed on the podium, no doubt leaving a dirty mark all over the fire-and-brimstone sermon the preacher had spent all week composing. Lash barely noticed that the fire and brimstone from the sermon was becoming apparent in the Reverend Stanton's face. He was too busy hopping on one foot to peel off the other sock and then reversing the procedure.

  It was only as Lash accomplished this and danced his bare feet away from the platoon of ants trooping over the church floor, that he noticed Zane, sitting safely two rows back. He was doubled over, clutching his spare-tire belly and laughing so hard his face was beet red and tears squeezed from the corners of his eyes.

  And then Lash's view was blocked by the members of the congregation, all rising and making their way toward the exits to avoid being attacked by Zane's killer ants.

  Safe for the moment, Lash stood there shaking his head. And then a heavy hand clapped down on his shoulder from behind, and he knew darn well whose hand it was. And he also knew he was in major trouble. Because of all the boys in the preacher's household, Lash was the only one with an ant farm. And even if he denied responsibility for this, it wouldn't hold water when Zane and Jack and Peter gave their version of things. They'd make sure their stories matched, and they'd make sure Lash was implicated. They always did.

  "I think," said the Reverend Mr. Stanton, "that you are going to have some new Bible verses to memorize.

  Lash glanced up at the preacher, and he could have sworn that behind that weathered, stern face, the preacher was battling against the urge to grin. But he couldn't be, Lash reasoned. The preacher was too upstanding to find any of this funny. Still, Lash found himself awfully glad that memorizing Bible verses was the most severe punishment in the man's collection. It wouldn't be so bad.

  "How many this time, sir?" Lash asked.

  The preacher's bushy brows rose. "For this? Oh, I'd say...a hundred might be sufficient."

  "A hundred!"

  The preacher nodded. "You may recite them before the entire congregation next Sunday-after you've delivered your apology to them, of course."

  With a heavy sigh, Lash nodded. "Yes, sir."

  "I swear, Lash, I've never come upon a boy with such a love of mischief-making as you. But I'm bound to reform you, son. Or die trying." His hand, leathery and firm, gave Lash's shoulder a squeeze.

  He'd die trying, Lash thought. Lord, but he wasn't the one who was supposed to learn a hundred Bible verses in one week's time. He wasn't the one who'd be embarrassed right to the roots of his teeth getting up in front of all these people, who'd probably still be itching from their ant bites, to apologize and recite all those verses. Lash was. But Lash wasn't the one who'd orchestrated this whole fiasco in the first place.

  He met Zane's triumphant beady little eyes across the room. An ant bit hard, and Lash jumped and slapped at his leg, and when he did, that pretty gray-blue cat's eye marble he'd been trying to win for a month popped right out of his pocket, rolled under the pew behind him and kept on rolling. And before he could get hold of it again, pudgy Zane with his ugly mug was knocking people out of the way to wedge himself under a pew two rows back. When he got up again, he held that marble between his thumb and forefinger and admired it, just to be sure Lash would see. Then he dropped it into his own pocket, and turned to saunter out of the church, acting like he wasn't even aware of all the hopping and slapping and shouting going on around him.

  Silently Lash vowed that he would never, ever for the rest of his life, want to be plunked down into the middle of a huge family. Especially one with so many older, bigger, meaner brothers! Never!

  He made his way out of the church, and on the way, he caught the pale gaze of Olive Stanton, his foster mom, and he knew just by looking at her that she'd seen what Zane had just done. She knew that Lash wasn't the one responsible for all of this. Heck, as far as brains went, she had twice as many as her husband, even if he was a preacher and all.

  But all Missus Stanton did was shake her head sadly and send a reproachful look toward Zane's retreating back. She wouldn't say anything. The woman didn't have any backbone at all when it came to telling her husband-or anyone else, for that matter-that they were wrong. She'd sooner be hung by her toes than disagree with anyone, and she never raised her voice above a whisper. Lash wasn't sure if that was because she appreciated all their coddling so much she didn't want to seem ungrateful, or if she just didn't have a lick of courage. But he did know he didn't want to be around females who got themselves used to being waited on. It made them soft and yellow, as far as he was concerned. Nope. Once Lash grew up and moved away from the Stantons of Maplewood, Illinois, he was going to keep himself clear of coddled girls, big families and older brothers for the rest of his life...and maybe even longer than that!

  He didn't like having chores to do, Bible verses to memorize. He didn't like having to answer to the Reverend Mr. Stanton. He detested having to wait on Missus Olive. He just plain hated having to watch his every step in case he crossed those bullies he was forced to live with.

 
When he grew up, Lash was never going to have to answer to anybody. He'd be free as a bird. Why, when he got tired of living in one place, he'd just throw his stuff in a bag and head off to someplace new and different. Every trip would be a brand-new adventure. Life was going to be fun and carefree, not an endless cycle of rules to be followed and orders to be obeyed. Not for Lash.

  He was kinda hoping he could look up his real brother, Jimmy, who was in Texas now, and talk him into going along with this plan. They'd be drifters. Free and happy. No women or families allowed.

  Meanwhile...Lash picked up his Bible, riffled the pages to be sure no ants were waiting in ambush inside, and then opened it to see if he could find a hundred verses the preacher hadn't already made him memorize. As often as he got himself into trouble-with plenty of help from Zane and Petey the beef prince-he kinda doubted he'd find many.