The Cowboy's Christmas Blessings

by Jill Kemerer

  Judd hadn’t said anything, so she glanced his way. Creases had grown in his forehead.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “Nothing. I didn’t realize it would be so time-consuming.”

  Right. He didn’t want to spend his free time baking with her. Could she blame him? They hadn’t made it through dinner without her having to deal with the children multiple times. He probably thought he’d be stuck carrying a kid around while simultaneously trying to whip up gingerbread walls.

  “I shouldn’t have assumed...” She pasted on her brightest smile. “I’ll bake everything.”

  “No, no, I want to be part of it.” The look on his face screamed otherwise.

  “I’ve been making gingerbread houses professionally for years. I’ve got this. You take care of your cattle.” The letdown she was experiencing grew to ridiculous proportions. She’d liked the idea of them making the house together. Doing it alone would be a challenge.

  “And how will you do that with these little ones?” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table.

  She gulped. She had no idea how, but if she’d been able to fix supper tonight, she’d find a way to bake gingerbread, too.

  “We’ll do it together.” His tone was final.

  Together. Phew!

  “What are you doing next weekend?” she asked.

  “Looks like I’m making gingerbread.” The twinkle in his eyes made her tummy flip.

  Judd Wilson was a good man. A handsome man.

  Maybe spending all this time with him wasn’t so smart.

  Her heart had been mangled and left for dead a year ago. She’d mourned for months. The babies had been helping her heal—well, as much as her heart could be healed at this point. But it didn’t mean she was in any shape to have feelings for another man. It wouldn’t be appropriate. It might never be appropriate.

  Oh, sweet mercy, she was being overly dramatic. This was a gingerbread house—a gift for a kind woman—nothing more. And if Nicole happened to enjoy Judd’s company, what would it hurt? Nothing would come of it.

  She was a widow with three babies. He was a mature bachelor with a ranch to run.

  Besides, making this gingerbread house with him would help her get through Christmas. She needed a distraction from the one-year anniversary of Aaron’s death. Then the new year would arrive, and she’d be one step closer to putting the grief behind her for good.

  If there was anything she didn’t need to worry about, it was falling for Judd Wilson.

  Chapter Four

  Tuesday evening, Judd blew dust off the photo albums in his study. He rarely took anything off the study’s shelves, since most of the books and mementos had been his uncle’s. But Nicole had asked him to find pictures of Gretchen’s childhood home so she could design the gingerbread house, and Judd figured he’d find them in here. After his uncle died a few years back, Aunt Gretchen had helped him go through his belongings. They’d kept useful and sentimental items and donated the rest. But the study, well, Judd hadn’t wanted to disturb it. It reminded him of pleasant chats and feeling as if he actually belonged for once. He missed his uncle more than he cared to admit.

  Carrying the stack of albums to the large oak desk, Judd fought a pang of loneliness. Supper with Nicole the past two days had been enjoyable, not to mention delicious. Usually when he was around other people, it made him feel like he didn’t fit in. However, Nicole set him at ease, and he liked helping out with the babies. Amelia, especially. The little girl had wriggled her way into his heart.

  He turned the pages of the top album. The bell-bottoms, mustaches and faded colors in the photographs told him this album was from the wrong decade. Uncle Gus had several pictures of the pretty Victorian two-story home he and Gretchen and Dad grew up in, but they were from the fifties. Judd skimmed through the next album, pausing at several pictures with Gus on horseback working cattle.

  I hope I can be half the man you were. His uncle had taught him to appreciate the terrain and all its vegetation, the animals who made it their home and the four seasons that determined if the herd would thrive or merely survive.

  Judd loved every inch of the land passed down to him. He wanted someone else to appreciate it the same way. Then he wouldn’t have to worry about what would happen to it when he was no longer around.

  No sense dwelling on it now. Wasn’t he supposed to be finding pictures for Nicole?

  On page two of the third album was a picture of Judd and his parents in front of a Christmas tree. He recognized his childhood home in Boston. His parents were grinning for the camera, but his own face lacked the brightness of theirs. How old would he have been? Ten? Eleven? A rush of memories came back of his parents getting dressed up for parties night after night from Thanksgiving until New Year’s while he spent the evenings watching Christmas movies with whichever babysitter they could scrounge up.

  It had been a lonely childhood.

  He’d always wanted life to be like it was in those movies. Christmas made every problem disappear. The people always ended up surrounded by their loved ones, with thoughtful presents, laughter and hearts full of cheer.

  Judd was still waiting for a Christmas like that.

  Swiveling in the chair, he stared out the window, where snowflakes drifted past. Maybe he should call Mom. He’d been toying with the idea of visiting his parents for a few days between Christmas and New Year’s Eve. Last year he’d wanted to come out for a week in the summer, but they’d gotten a last-minute invitation to spend a month out of the country.

  Before he could talk himself out of it, he picked up his phone and pressed his mom’s cell number. As it rang, he absentmindedly leafed through the photo albums.

  “You won’t believe what I’m surrounded with.” She sounded breathless and annoyed. She must be stressed about something. She wasn’t one to rattle easily.

  “Hi, Mom.”

  “Hello to you, too.” A muffled sound came through the line. “Sorry, Judd, I’m in the middle of picking out kitchen decor.”

  “I thought you had the kitchen redone last year.” She was always remodeling one room or another. Maybe he’d gotten it mixed up, though.

  “I did.” She sounded exasperated. “This is for the condo.”

  “What condo?”

  “You know, the condo. The one we bought in Saint Thomas.”

  “Saint Thomas?” He tapped his fingers on the plastic-covered page of the album. His childhood feeling of being on the outside looking in came back full force. “As in the island?”

  His mom’s laugh tinkled. “Of course. Where else would it be? Linda and Jim invited us down this summer, and we loved their place so much, we bought one of our own.”

  “Are you selling the house?”

  “No, no, of course not. We’re just sick and tired of winter. You should see the turquoise water and white-sand beaches. The views are breathtaking. I was sure I told you.”

  This wasn’t the first time his mother was sure she’d told him something major. A few years ago, he’d called her out on it—told her it bothered him that she and his dad never let him in on their plans. She’d sighed and said it wasn’t their intention to hurt him; they simply forgot to call. He’d gritted his teeth and said she could text him. She’d agreed.

  But nothing had changed.

  It never would.

  There was no sense getting all bent out of shape about it.

  “It’s a good thing I called now, I guess.” He rubbed his chin. The timing might work out in his favor. “I want to come out and visit you guys for a few days after Christmas.”

  “After Christmas? That won’t work. We’re flying to Saint Thomas next week. I’ve been in a packing frenzy. We won’t be back in Boston until April.”

  It was as if a swoosh of cold air froze his lungs.

  Shot down. As usual.
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br />   “Okay, well, I could fly to your new place, I guess.” He raked his fingers through his hair. He didn’t want to. Had no desire to book a flight and find his passport and flit around the island with his go-go-go parents. But besides Gretchen, they were the only family he had.

  “We’re going to be very busy. The contractor is almost finished with the remodel, and as soon as we’re settled, we’re island-hopping for a few weeks. Then Linda is booking us a cruise in January.”

  It shouldn’t aggravate him, knowing they were happy to spend the holidays with anyone but their son. It wasn’t as if this was something new. But it still hurt.

  “When did you decide all this?” he asked.

  “The cruise? I don’t have the details yet.”

  “No, the condo.”

  “Oh, let’s see—” she made a clucking sound with her tongue “—September. Or was it October? Gary, when did we buy the condo?”

  “Beginning of October,” his dad yelled in the background. “Are we still on for the Remington Christmas party tomorrow night? Joe asked if we’re going.”

  “Yes, of course. I picked up your suit from the dry cleaners this morning.”

  Judd raised his eyebrows as his parents went back and forth about beating the rush-hour traffic. Ending this call would be best for his blood pressure. “Mom?”

  “Yes?”

  “I love you. Text me a few pictures when you get to Saint Thomas, okay?”

  “We will. Love you, too.” She ended the call.

  Judd tossed the phone onto the desk and resumed looking through the album. The ache in his chest grew. All these years later and he still wanted that Christmas-movie ending. But he didn’t know why he kept thinking his parents would be part of it. They had their own life without him. They always had.

  Sitting back, he closed his eyes briefly and massaged the back of his neck.

  He had to stop wanting something that wasn’t going to happen. His parents weren’t going to change. They loved him. They just didn’t need him.

  Shaking his head, he forced himself to concentrate. The last album contained the pictures of the house he was looking for. He carefully slipped them out of the plastic sleeves, pausing a moment to study each photo. There was a view of the Victorian house with flowers lining the side, another angle from the driveway showing off the long covered porch with a white railing and two rocking chairs, and three additional photos of the front of the house with all the intricate molding and woodwork.

  In the last one, Gus, Gretchen and his dad, Gary, sat on the top step. Gus was smiling and wore jeans and a T-shirt. He looked to be about fourteen. Gretchen, too, looked happy and wore a dress cinched at the waist that flared out past her knees. Her curled hair was pulled back with a thin headband. She must have been about ten. Then there was Gary, the baby of the family. His outfit matched his older brother’s, but he’d propped both elbows on his knees and rested his chin on his fists in a pout.

  For a moment, Judd felt sorry for his dad. His energetic, restless personality was nothing like Gus’s or Gretchen’s. Maybe he’d felt like a misfit, too.

  Judd went over to put the photo albums back on the shelf.

  Looked like he’d be staying right here in Rendezvous for the holidays. Thankfully, he had Aunt Gretchen. She never made him feel like an afterthought. If he didn’t call her, she called him. Knowing he could spend his holidays with her more than made up for his parents not wanting him around.

  Making the gingerbread house with Nicole was a small price to pay for his aunt’s happiness.

  * * *

  Where were her half-sheet pans? Nicole got on her knees to search through the unpacked boxes in her bedroom Wednesday afternoon. She’d found her stand mixer, cookie cutters, rolling pins, pie plates and a huge assortment of sprinkles in boxes in the living room, but she owned a dozen half-sheet pans and couldn’t seem to find them. The pans were vital to baking the gingerbread walls.

  What other tools and ingredients was she missing? She needed to figure it out before they got started.

  She couldn’t wait to begin. In fact, she hadn’t felt this hopeful and good in...well...years.

  Years? Could it be true?

  The hopeful feeling probably wouldn’t last, but for now, she’d cling tight to it. Lois Dern had arrived this morning and stayed until lunchtime to help with the triplets. Gretchen was coming on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and she’d lined up a retired librarian to come on Mondays and another lady on Fridays. They all planned on staying from nine until noon.

  Having the extra hands in the mornings gave Nicole the energy she needed to get through the day. Plus, she appreciated the insights Lois and Gretchen shared about life and babies and relying on the Lord.

  Nicole unfolded the flaps of another box. A neatly folded tablecloth greeted her. She held it up and set it aside. It had been a wedding gift from Aaron’s grandmother. It had been used precisely once, on their first anniversary. Funny how six months ago the sight of the tablecloth would have crushed her. But now it simply held the hint of a memory from her past.

  Which reminded her—she needed to call her in-laws later. Nicole had called them on Thanksgiving to let them know she’d moved, and at least once a week, she texted them pictures of the babies. Lance and Sherry Taylor had been good to her. In some ways they’d been part of her family most of her life. Several years ago, they’d moved to Oklahoma to help Aaron’s two sisters with their children.

  What else did this box hold? Hot pads and old dish towels were jammed in there, and underneath those?

  The half-sheet pans! She took them out and hugged them to her. She’d made so many different recipes with them. Scones and cakes and bars and cookies. The pans were like old friends.

  Noises crackled through the baby monitor. Frowning, she hoisted herself to a standing position. She’d wasted precious nap time to find her pans, and she still had to make the chili so it could simmer awhile before Judd came over tonight.

  Padding into the babies’ room, she inhaled the smell of fresh diapers and baby lotion. The best smells in the world, well, besides coffee or a chocolate cake in the oven. Eli was kicking, and one of his socks had come off. His face scrunched as if he was getting ready to wail.

  Nicole picked him up and took him to the living room. His legs kept making jerking movements as he fussed. It wasn’t time for his bottle—she kept to a strict schedule—so she tried to give him his pacifier, but he spit it out. His face turned red, and he let out a sharp cry.

  “Do you have a tummy ache?” She crouched down on the floor and placed him on his stomach. He lifted his head and grunted, his face growing even redder. He let out another cry. “Well, that doesn’t look comfortable.”

  Picking him back up, she bounced him gently as she cradled him to her. Eli was the gassiest of the three, and sometimes moving him around helped. She kissed the top of his head, thankful her babies were healthy. She couldn’t imagine how hard it would be if any of them had been born with disabilities or had colic. In fact, she’d been shocked when she’d carried them almost to term.

  As Eli calmed, he nestled his cheek into her chest, and she didn’t have the heart to put him back in his crib. She looked around the living room. Opened boxes were everywhere. The place looked a wreck.

  She really should put Eli back to bed, but a wave of tiredness hit her, so instead, she sat on the couch and turned on the television. A Christmas commercial showed a woman reaching up to place a bulb on a tree while a man looked at her adoringly. Her heart pinched.

  It all looked so festive.

  So fun.

  So romantic.

  Real life wasn’t like that.

  Real life was when a husband complained about the cookie-cutter ornaments his wife bought, calling them childish. Real life was him coming home the next day with expensive blue and silver bulbs because they were classy. Real
life was worrying she wasn’t good enough in his mind anymore since she had no goals beyond raising a family and baking delicious treats. Real life was praying a baby would bring them closer but fearing the worst—that Aaron had fallen out of love with her a long time ago.

  She clicked the television off and took Eli back to his crib. It wasn’t fair to mentally dump on Aaron. He was gone and couldn’t even defend himself, and he’d been a good friend to her all her life.

  They’d married young and, as they grew older, they both changed.

  Maybe the babies would have brought them closer together. She’d never know, and she didn’t need to waste time thinking about it.

  As she slowly lowered Eli to his crib, Amelia began to squirm in hers.

  Nicole held her breath and tiptoed out of the room. Please don’t wake up! Once she was safely in the hall, she closed the door and hurried to the kitchen to start the chili. The ground beef sizzled in the pan as she chopped onions and green peppers. With one ear trained on the baby monitor, she let out a sigh of relief when several minutes passed in silence.

  Stirring the meat, she mentally made a list of the gingerbread supplies. She’d found a roll of chart paper to create the wall templates. A box of disposable piping bags sat on the counter along with her rolling pin. She didn’t have any of the ingredients for the actual walls or royal icing, though.

  After adding everything to the ground beef, she gave the pot a stir, turned it down to simmer and found a pad of paper and a pen. Sitting on the couch, she started jotting her supply list.

  Just then Amelia started crying.

  She sighed. Never a dull moment with triplets.

  She set the paper down. Her list would have to wait. The babies called.

  * * *

  “I found the pictures.” Judd placed the envelope on Nicole’s counter when he arrived for supper. She was sorting through a drawer, so he crouched before the babies in their seats.