Her Cowboy Till Christmas

by Jill Kemerer

  “It’s big!” Noah ran to him.

  “Then I’ll cut it down.” As he repeated the steps he’d taken with the fir, his mind kept tripping over Brittany’s words. His father would have had friends here. He’d grown up in Rendezvous. Maybe she was onto something.

  Before starting the chain saw, he peered back. Brittany had picked up Noah, and he was chatting in his animated way. They made a striking picture. Like a mother and child.

  Instantly, his thoughts went to Mia. It was as though a foot of snow got dumped on his head. Noah wasn’t Brittany’s child.

  Mason started the chain saw with more force than necessary. His connection with Brittany might still be there, but that didn’t make it right.

  He’d been wrong to spend this time with her. Wrong to talk and be open with her.

  The saw sliced through the trunk of the tree. He wished he could make the same clean break with Brittany.

  Christmas was next week. Then she’d leave. And in the meantime, he’d keep his mind where it belonged—on making a nice Christmas for Noah, taking care of the ranch and finding out why he and Ryder had been separated.

  On anything but Brittany Green.

  * * *

  “You’ll help us decorate, won’t you?” Nan asked Noah and Mason.

  Brittany glanced at Mason stringing the multicolored lights around the tree. The set of his jaw told her he had no intention of staying. He’d been quiet ever since they had their hot chocolate after cutting down the trees. She didn’t know why his mood had changed. But she was glad he’d offered to set up Nan’s tree—she herself had no clue how to do it.

  “Yes!” Noah dug both hands into the garlands of silver tinsel and tossed them into the air, giggling all the while. His joy was contagious and Brittany couldn’t help but chuckle.

  “Can I put the candy canes on?” Noah eyed the box of candy canes sitting on the end table.

  “I don’t see why not.” Nan returned to her recliner to watch their progress.

  Brittany waited for Mason to let Nan down easy, but to her surprise, he didn’t.

  “What’s next?” As he reached to push a light strand over a branch, his gray Henley strained against his chest muscles, and his sinewy forearms flexed. He smelled good—too good—like pine and masculine bodywash. Her insides had been dancing The Nutcracker for hours.

  “Um...bulbs?” A part of her wished he would have declined Nan’s invitation to decorate. His presence was throwing her off balance.

  He made her feel things she didn’t want to feel.

  When he’d said You’ll find a way to make it happen, the words had wrapped around her like a cozy blanket. It had been a long, long time since anyone had believed in her.

  Usually when she confided to friends about her dreams, they meant to be supportive but gave unintentionally hurtful advice. Her last boyfriend had told her to relocate to a different area or find another career. Her friend Angie had been encouraging, but at the same time had warned her not to waste her entire life in the pursuit of a studio. Then Angie had gotten married, moved to Texas and had a baby. They weren’t as close as they used to be. Just one in a long line of friends who’d moved on with marriage, career and family.

  “Can I get through?” Mason pointed to the bins. She stepped aside. He lifted a box of old glass bulbs in a variety of colors. “These okay?”

  “Go for it.” Other things about today disturbed her, too. Like how free and unencumbered it felt to be outside in the wild of Wyoming. And how nice it was to hike down rows of Christmas trees without rushing or worrying about getting to her next job on time.

  The pace of this place was growing on her. And that scared her.

  She didn’t know who she was without the promise of the competitive dance team. She supposed she was a small-time dance instructor, a waitress and a data entry clerk. Real impressive.

  “What are those, Miss Bwittany?” Noah leaned against her shoulder and pointed to a baggie full of plastic reindeer.

  “I remember these.” She held up the bag so Nan could see them. “We bought them at a Christmas-in-July sale. Do you remember, Nan?”

  “Oh, yes. Hill Country Store had good clearances. It’s too bad it shut down.”

  “When did it go out of business?” She opened the baggie and handed a reindeer to Noah. He hung it on a branch.

  “I don’t remember.” Nan looked pensive.

  “It’s no big deal.”

  “My memory isn’t as good as it used to be.”

  “We’ll mention it to the doctor tomorrow.” She’d told Nan about the appointment a few times, but Nan kept forgetting.

  “The doctor? I’m fine. No need to fuss.”

  “I’m not fussing.” She handed Noah another reindeer. “It’s a physical.”

  “Oh.” She wrung her hands. “There’s no need. I’m not sick.”

  “It won’t take long.” Brittany kept her voice soft, gentle, but this exchange reminded her a little too much of the struggles she’d had with Nan over showering. When her grandmother didn’t want to do something, it was difficult to get her to budge.

  “If I remember correctly, Hill Country Store shut down about five years ago.” Mason poked his head around the tree. “The dollar store replaced it.”

  “That’s right.” Nan nodded.

  “I like the dollar store.” Noah took a break from the reindeer to hang four candy canes on one branch. “Grandpa gets me horses and cars from there.”

  “Horses and cars? I’d like those.” Brittany winked at him. “Dollar stores are fun.”

  “I’ll show them to you. I have a lot—” he stretched out his arms wide “—of horses and cars. Come to my house and you can see. You can decorate our tree with us.”

  The flicker in Mason’s cheek told her he didn’t love the idea. That makes two of us. She lowered her head, pretending to fix a hook on one of the reindeer. In all the years she’d been teaching dance, she’d never once wavered about her goal.

  Until today.

  Seeing that eagle soaring above them after Mason’s encouragement had taken away the urgency of her plans.

  She’d had the sensation of freedom.

  But Rendezvous—Mason—wasn’t freedom. It was giving up.

  “That’s so nice of you, Noah,” she said brightly. “But decorating your tree is a special activity for you and your daddy.”

  “You could come, too.” He sidled up to her and touched her hair. “You’re pwetty.”

  The precious little boy. She could scoop him up and tuck him in her pocket, he was that cute.

  “Actually, I thought Auntie Eden and Grandma and Grandpa might want to help us decorate.” Mason hung another bulb on the tree. His expression gave nothing away.

  “Miss Bwittany can help.”

  “Not this time, buckaroo.” His cell phone rang and he excused himself. She watched him stride toward the kitchen, the low tones of his voice fading.

  At least the need for distance was mutual.

  “Look at these!” She held up a pair of mice wearing elf hats to Noah. “Do you want to hang them up?”

  “Yes!” He stretched to hook one near the middle of the tree. “I don’t like real mouses. They’re naughty.”

  “I don’t like real ones, either. If I see one, I scream.” She crouched down on her knees to find more ornaments.

  “I’d save you from them.” Noah touched her hair again.

  He was too sweet. “Thank you. If I saw a mouse, I’d need your protection.”

  He threw his little arms around her neck and hugged her. Her heart melted.

  Mason came back into the room and his gaze darkened as he saw them hug.

  “That was Ryder. He was able to adjust his schedule. He and the girls are coming in on Friday.”

  “That’s great.” Brittany rose and took
a step toward him. He stepped back.

  She froze, doing her best to keep her smile on her face.

  Their truce had defrosted their relationship, but it didn’t mean things could go back to the way they were.

  Mason wasn’t interested in her. Not anymore.

  And she’d be wise not to forget it.

  Chapter Seven

  “I’m concerned about my grandmother.” Brittany joined Doctor Landson in a small office at the clinic late Thursday morning. He’d finished examining Nan, and a nurse was helping her fill out paperwork at the desk. “She forgets things I tell her—sometimes within hours—and gets confused easily. She’s not bathing regularly, and she’s lost weight.”

  “I’ve been taking care of Ada for years.” The older man scanned the forms in his hands. “She’s slowing down, but that’s to be expected at her age. I do an informal test on my elderly patients to check mental functioning. It’s conversational. I ask a few questions about their week and about the past. Your grandmother has some short-term memory loss and maybe mild cognitive impairment.”

  “How serious is it?”

  “If you’re worried about dementia, she’d be in the earliest stages.”

  Dementia. The word Brittany had been dreading. “If she does have dementia, what are her options? How quickly does it progress?”

  “It depends on what’s causing it and on the individual. I don’t see marked changes in her mental functioning from the last time I examined her. If you’re worried, though, I can order an MRI. She’d have to go to the city for it. I can refer you to a neurologist if you’d like.”

  “What would an MRI do?” She didn’t think Nan would agree to an appointment in the city.

  “It would show if she had a stroke, bleeding, a tumor or other complications.”

  “Why haven’t you already ordered one?”

  “Your grandmother has no physical complaints leading me to believe she needs an MRI.”

  The thought comforted her, but there was still one question nagging. “Do you think she needs to live in a nursing home?”

  He frowned. “In my opinion, no. If you’re concerned about her hygiene and eating habits, you could hire a home health aide to come in once or twice a week. She could look into assisted-living homes, too. We have a few in the area.”

  Brittany relaxed a bit. Everything the doctor was saying made sense. Plus, he had a way of speaking that put her at ease.

  “What if she refused to move into an assisted-living facility?”

  “Do you have power of attorney?” He leaned forward, his forearms on the desk and hands lightly clasped.

  “No.”

  “In that case, there’s not much you can do. Talk to her. You can always make an appointment with an attorney to discuss her legal options.”

  “Thank you. This has helped me more than you know.”

  “My pleasure.” He rose and shook her hand.

  She moved to the door but turned back. “Are there any home health aides you could recommend?”

  “We have several in the community. Do you know Gabby Stover? She works at Mountain View Inn. She hired help for her grandmother. She might be able to recommend someone.”

  “Thank you.” Gabby Stover. Hadn’t she heard that name before? She’d pop over to the inn later to get some information. Maybe hiring a home health aide would be the best solution for the time being.

  Brittany exited the room and put her arm around Nan’s shoulders. “Are you ready?”

  Nan looked flustered. She held several sheets of paper, and a nurse told her they would call with the blood test results later in the week.

  “Here, I’ll take those while you button your coat.” Brittany took the papers. “Let’s get some lunch. I’m hungry. Where should we go?”

  One of the ladies behind the counter smiled at them. “Riverview Lounge has homemade lunch specials on weekdays.”

  “Thanks.” Brittany hooked her arm in Nan’s. “I don’t think I’ve been there. Should we try it?”

  “I’d like that.” Nan patted Brittany’s hand.

  After getting directions to the restaurant, she steered Nan outside. The wind plastered her hair against her face as she helped her grandmother into the truck. The white sky matched the white ground. Dreary.

  She drove over the bridge, crossing Silver Rocks River, and into downtown Rendezvous. Soon, they were hurrying into Riverview Lounge. A blast of warm air and lively conversations greeted them inside.

  As soon as they’d settled into a booth near the back, Brittany broached the subject she knew needed to be discussed. She couldn’t put it off forever and now was as good a time as any.

  “Nan, have you done any long-term planning?”

  “What do you mean?” She folded her coat and placed it next to her on the booth. A waiter stopped by to tell them the daily special, took their orders and promised to be right back with their drinks.

  “If anything were to happen to you, who would pay your bills? Or help you make medical decisions?”

  “Nothing’s going to happen to me, dear.” She lightly rubbed her bony hands together in an attempt to warm up.

  “Have you given any thought to appointing a power of attorney?” She tried to keep her tone light, but she felt brittle enough to snap.

  “Attorney? No, I don’t need a lawyer.” Her pursed lips and rigid back didn’t bode well for continuing the conversation.

  “It’s for planning purposes. Like, say, in the event you fell and broke a hip. You wouldn’t be able to pay your bills if you were in the hospital. And what if you were unconscious? Who would make decisions for you?”

  “Mason always takes care of me, honey.” Nan’s expression softened. “I don’t want you worrying.”

  “But legally—”

  “I’m fine. I’ve always paid my bills, and if I fall, I fall. Mason will get me to the hospital.”

  The waiter arrived with two coffees and waters. Brittany smiled her thanks, then watched Nan pour two creamers and a packet of sugar in her coffee. What now? She couldn’t force her to get on board with long-term planning.

  Her foot bounced on the floor, a sign she was anxious. Maybe a different approach would get Nan to budge.

  “Do you ever get lonely?” She raised her mug, holding it between her hands. The rising steam and warmth of the mug helped soothe her.

  “I suppose so. It was worse after Neil died. I thought the loneliness would crush me back then. But time wore on, and I did my best to stay active and social.”

  Brittany had been twelve when her grandfather had died. His death had crushed her, too. He’d been the only father figure in her life. She still missed him.

  “What about now?”

  “It’s different. I don’t need to be around people as much.” Nan ripped open another sugar packet and stirred it into the coffee with shaky fingers.

  Brittany’s chest squeezed. How much time did she really have left with her grandmother? She lived too far away to visit regularly. Maybe she should seriously consider moving Nan out to California with her.

  But Mason was right. Nan had lived her entire life in Rendezvous. Dragging her away would be selfish. It would be cruel to take her away from her lifelong home.

  She’d find Gabby this afternoon. If she couldn’t get Nan to make long-term plans, she could at least hire someone to check on her a few times a week.

  But it didn’t change the fact she might not have much time left with her grandmother—no matter how many solutions she’d come up with.

  * * *

  “Thanks for meeting me.” Mason nodded to Babs O’Rourke in her office at Mountain View Inn. He’d always liked her but tried to avoid her as much as possible. She was a talker. He wasn’t. The woman lived for gossip, and he didn’t like hearsay, especially when it involved him. But she might hold a key to u
nlock some of his and Ryder’s past.

  “Happy to make time for you, sugar.” Although she was technically seated in an office chair behind her desk, he wouldn’t say she was sitting. Hovering, maybe. She reminded him of a hummingbird. Always in motion. “I was shocked—shocked!—when I ran into your twin. What was it like finding out you have a double? Did you have heart palpitations? Stomach cramps? I don’t know what I would do if it happened to me. Probably pass out on the floor. I mean, what if another Babs is out there?”

  “There’s only one Babs O’Rourke.” He couldn’t fathom two of her. The world could only handle one. Her bright red hair was locked in place with hairspray, and she wore thick mascara that reminded him of little spider legs.

  “I suppose you’re right.” She let out a throaty laugh. “One of me is plenty. So how did you find out about him—Ryder, is it? Why were you separated? How’d you find each other? I can’t believe Gus and Beth never told anyone.”

  “I’m looking for some of those answers myself. I thought you might be able to help.” He inwardly cringed at enlisting the help of the town busybody, but he was desperate.

  “Me?” She pressed her palm against her chest, her green eyes widening. “Well, knock me over with a feather. I’m flattered. What can I do?”

  “I thought you might know who my father was friends with. Who did he hang around with in high school?”

  “Let me think.” She grabbed a pen, leaned back and twirled it between her fingers. “John was kind of quiet. Nice kid. Always liked him. When he was younger, he ran around with the Dryden boys. I’m not sure who he hung around with in high school. My daughter Janet was quite a bit younger than him.”

  Mason’s shoulders drooped.

  “But I can find out easily enough.” She straightened, licked her finger and ripped off a piece of paper from a notepad. “Do you know what year he graduated?”

  He told her.

  “Good. That’ll narrow it down. I’ll talk to the gals and get back to you.”

  Talk to the gals... He curled his lips under. They’d all be talking about him.