Her fingers shook as she held the bit of paper. Alex leaned close to read the story as she blinked to make sense of the words. Seeing it in print, it all came back to her. A twelve-year-old girl was killed. Witnesses said the two children tried to cross a busy intersection. One was hit by an oncoming car. She shook her head, trying to block the image, the pain.
The loss.
Alex reached for her but she couldn’t let him hold her. She’d fall apart if he touched her. She’d shatter. She could already feel the pieces coming apart as she stood there holding the article. He took it from her hands.
“You?”
She nodded at the question.
And then, without asking, he held her. And the pieces that had been shattered for so long seemed to shift. Instead of scattering she felt something else, something she hadn’t expected. In the arms of this man she felt more whole than she’d felt in years. Her heart still ached with loss, with memories, but his arms around her were strong and she felt strong because of them.
She remembered all of those years ago, standing on the sidewalk, alone. It had become a trend. She’d stood to the side at the funeral. Alone. Her parents had held each other. She’d wrapped arms around herself and cried.
Her grandfather had kept the article from the paper. It had gone in the tub with pictures of a wife who had left him, a daughter he didn’t really know and grandchildren he’d never met. He’d been alone, too. She wiped at her eyes and removed herself from the comfort of Alex’s arms.
She wondered if her grandfather had cried over that newspaper clipping. Did he sometimes come up here and go through these memories, piece by piece.
“You’re okay,” he said.
The way he said it, it wasn’t a question. It was a statement. She was okay.
“I’m okay.” She looked at the picture of a smiling Lisa, just twelve years old. “I miss her. My family hasn’t been whole since...”
She shook her head.
“Since she died.” He’d supplied the difficult words and she realized his arm was still around her. She still leaned against him. How was it possible that she’d miss this man she’d known only weeks, and she didn’t really miss the fiancé who had left her?
“Yes. My parents haven’t been the same. It’s as if life stopped. Happiness and laughter ended. Remember when we talked about Christmas for my family? It’s as if we avoided the holiday because it brought back memories of that first Christmas after we lost her.”
“You weren’t responsible.” He said the words that a few friends had tried to impress upon her. Even a counselor she’d talked to had tried to make her see that it had been a horrible accident. That she hadn’t been responsible.
But how could she accept that?
“I talked her into crossing the road. Our parents gave us strict orders to stay on the sidewalk but I wanted to go to the park.”
“You were ten at the time.”
“I should have known better.”
They sat in silence for several minutes. He continued to hold her. She should move. She knew better than to sit in the comfort of his arms, but it felt like a safe haven.
“I’m sure your parents don’t blame you,” he said softly.
“They do blame me. They always have. And I’ve spent years trying to make it up to them. I’ve tried to be the best daughter I could be. I’ve made every decision based on what would please them. My sister was amazing. She was smart and funny. She wouldn’t have crossed that street but she wouldn’t allow me to go alone.”
“It only seemed that way because you were ten and she was your big sister,” he said after a while. “Things happen that change us. What matters is how we move forward. Or don’t.”
She eased from his warm embrace. “You’re speaking from experience?”
He smiled but she wasn’t fooled by the gesture. There was no warmth in his eyes. It was a gesture, nothing more.
“I killed my father,” he said simply, then got up and moved away from her.
* * *
Alex grabbed the plastic tub that was labeled Ornaments and slid it toward the opening in the floor. Marissa continued to watch him, her expression thoughtful. Of course she would have a ton of questions for him.
“Why do you think that?” she asked.
“I was an angry teenager. He’d abused us. He’d taken advantage of people in the community. I just wanted him gone. And that day, when he got on that bull because he had to show me how it was done, I told him I hoped it took him down. And it did.”
“But you didn’t kill him.”
“No. I didn’t. But for a long time, I thought I did.”
“We’re a mess,” she finally said.
He sat down with his back against the container of decorations. “Yeah, I guess. I like to think I’m a survivor. I’ve been trying to get my head on straight and working on realizing that I didn’t write my father’s destiny. He made choices. He wasn’t a good person. And when he got on that bull, my thoughts didn’t control what happened.”
“No, they didn’t.”
He was close enough to touch her, but didn’t. “I do control the choices I make and how I deal with the things that have happened in my life. I’m not perfect. I’m definitely flawed. But I like to think I’m in a better place than I was a few years ago.”
For instance, if he’d been a little braver, he would have told her that he was starting to believe he could be the man who wouldn’t let her down. She needed someone like that. But he knew better than to say the words.
Sitting there on the dusty wood floor of that attic, even in the light of a single bulb hanging from the ceiling, she looked like someone’s princess. Even in jeans, an old denim jacket and her hair framing her face in chunky layers. She didn’t look like a woman a cowboy like him should be thinking about.
It was hard to connect this woman who wore Dan’s old jacket and did her best to drive his truck to the woman she was in Dallas, before she landed on the side of the road in Bluebonnet.
“We should get these decorations back to the house before Dan comes looking for us,” he suggested. Mainly because he needed to get her back before his heart started playing tricks on him. He stood and then reached for her hand.
He knew it was mistake immediately, reaching for her hand. But he held it, pulling her to her feet. Then she was in front of him. He touched her hair, curling the soft strands around his finger. His knuckle brushed her cheek and she closed her eyes.
He took his time as he brushed his lips over hers. Kissing her was a gift. He’d never felt that away about a woman before, as if she should be treasured. This woman made him feel that. And more.
Truth be told, what she really made him feel was scared to death.
He slowly broke contact. She slid her fingers from his.
“Hey. Did you two get lost up there?” Dan yelled from the tack room beneath them.
“No, Dan, just going through all of this stuff you’ve packed away up here. Who knew you were a hoarder? You should be on a reality show.” Alex peeked through the door. “Hey, what do you have in this locked box up here?”
“Stay out of there. That’s my retirement.”
Marissa was restacking boxes and wouldn’t look at him. Alex walked up behind her, smoothed her hair and kissed her cheek.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Not for kissing you. But because you’ve been hurt. I don’t want to be another person who hurts you.”
“You won’t,” she said with confidence.
He wished he could believe that.
“I’ll carry the decorations to the house. Is there anything else you want from up here?”
“No. I think that’s all we need.” She reached for the chain on the light but she didn’t pull. She stared at him for a few seconds.
“You okay?” he asked.
“I’m good.” She managed a smile. “We should go.”
He went first, carrying the decorations on his shoulder as he went down the ladder. Almost to the bottom, Dan took it from him. Alex waited for Marissa to climb down. She didn’t need his help but he waited, just in case. When she reached the bottom, she grinned.
“Let’s go decorate that tree,” she said brightly, as if a short time ago she hadn’t fallen apart, and as if the kiss had meant nothing.
The sun had come out and the clouds were breaking up, showing patches of blue in the sky. The three of them trudged across the lawn with Bub following along. They were almost to the camper when the dog started howling, the ear-splitting noise piercing the quiet. In response to the dog’s warning, the rooster flew across the yard and landed on the porch.
“Car coming,” Dan said as they headed up the stairs of the camper. “He does that when he hears unfamiliar tires on the road.”
Alex kind of doubted the dog was that smart. But sure enough a car had turned off the main road and was easing down Dan’s driveway. Next to him, Marissa drew in a breath and whispered something he couldn’t hear.
“Who is it?” he asked.
She stood on the rickety front porch of Dan’s camper and with a shake of her head walked back down the steps. “My parents.”
They parked next to his truck and sat for a full minute. Alex remained on the porch next to Dan, because he thought Dan might need a friend. But he was torn between Dan and Marissa, who was standing in the yard waiting to greet her parents. He guessed she needed a friend, too.
Not thirty minutes ago she’d felt like a lot more than a friend. She’d felt like the best thing to ever happen to him.
The car doors finally opened and she took a few, hesitant steps forward. He wanted to go to her, to stand next to her. It wasn’t his place, to be at her side. These were her parents. He guessed there was a lot of distance between them but they were still her family.
He was just the cowboy who had picked up a bride on the side of the road. She wasn’t even his bride.
“Let’s go inside and have coffee,” Dan said as he turned away from the scene playing out in the yard.
“I should probably head on home.”
Dan shook his head but he shot a look back at Marissa and her family. “I wouldn’t go if I was you. She’s probably going to want a couple of allies.”
Marissa joined her parents as they got out of the car. They were talking quietly, hugging each other. Yeah, Dan had the right of it. She was going to need a couple of allies. To an outsider, it looked like a normal scene, but there was something a bit off.
“You think you might need an ally, too?” he asked Dan.
The older man gave him a sheepish grin. “I might. I taught that woman to ride a horse and drive a tractor. She was a little bitty thing back then. And I also watched her mom load her up in a car and drive her away from here. Guess I’ll have to watch another little girl get loaded up in a car and dragged away from this ranch.”
“I’m sorry, Dan.” Alex patted him on the shoulder. “If it helps, I think even if she leaves today, she’ll be back.”
“Nice of you to think so. Don’t get your hopes up, cowboy.” With that, Dan opened the camper door and walked inside.
Alex followed him in but he couldn’t help but think that Dan should be involved in the family reunion. After all, it was his daughter and his granddaughter out there. Instead he was fixing himself a cup of coffee as if it didn’t matter. As if it had nothing to do with him.
“Stop staring out the window,” Dan muttered as he kicked back in the recliner. “Ain’t nothing you or me can do about it. She has to make her own decisions. Don’t you have enough on your plate without worrying over what she’s doing to do?”
The ranch. Alex had to agree. He stepped away from the window and allowed Marissa her privacy because he had creditors nipping at his heels and not a lot of time to solve his own problems.
Chapter Twelve
Marissa hugged her mom and then her dad. It didn’t matter that she was an adult or that there was distance between them, they were still her parents and she still wanted their hugs. But in their embrace she still felt like the child they resented, the one who had let them down, the one who hadn’t lived up to their dreams.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered as her mom hugged her a second time.
“Stop,” her mother said, surprising her. “You aren’t the one who should apologize. Aidan should have talked to you. He should have had the decency to end things sooner.”
“And he shouldn’t have hurt you,” her father said. “I can’t imagine how any man would walk out on you.”
It took a minute for the words to sink in.
The words were healing. Her parents were here for her. She swiped at the tears that rolled down her cheeks. Her mom brushed a hand against the dampness, then her fingers sifted through the strands of her now shoulder-length hair.
“Don’t ever become a beautician.”
“Don’t worry. I realize I have no skills in that department,” Marissa assured her. “I have found I’m decent with a tractor and I’m something of a rooster whisperer.”
“Also not skills I’d want to encourage.”
Her mom froze, as if suddenly realizing where she was. She glanced around. “It’s been so long. I’d almost forgotten this place.”
“Come inside.” Marissa took her by the hand.
“I’m not sure if I want to.”
Marissa’s dad moved to her mother’s side. Marissa had seen it all of her life but had somehow missed it. Her parents supported each other. They leaned on one another. She should have wanted that in her relationship with Aidan. Instead she’d only ever thought of him as an escape route. She’d wanted someone—anyone—to be her person. And she hadn’t allowed herself to really see what they had, which had been less than friendship.
“We really just came to take you home,” her mother assured her.
Back to Dallas. Marissa glanced from her parents to the camper. “I’m not quite ready yet. There’s a potluck at church. And a Christmas program. I’d like to be here for those things.”
“This isn’t your home,” her mother insisted.
“No, it isn’t. But I have family here. I have a grandfather. We were getting ready to decorate his Christmas tree. I think he hasn’t had one in a while.”
A family or a tree.
“Marissa, please.” Her mom reached for her but her hand dropped short of contact. “We want you to come home.”
“I will. I promise. But I need to be here right now. Why don’t you come inside, just for a minute? There’s coffee.” She looked from her father to her mother. She called on all of that backbone that had gotten her through life. “And there’s a man in there who is your father.”
Her mom drew in a deep breath, then she nodded. “Okay, a cup of coffee and then we have to go. But you’ll come home before Christmas?”
“I’ll come home before Christmas.”
They walked up the steps of the camper and she opened the door, now more nervous than she had thought she’d be. Alex was inside with her grandfather. What would her parents think of the man who had picked her up on the side of the road?
The three of them made the cramped confines of the camper seem even smaller. Marissa took her mom by the hand. She led her the few feet to where Dan sat in his recliner watching them, his eyes misty as he pretended to sip his coffee.
“It hasn’t changed much,” he said gruffly. “But I guess I have. You certainly have. It’s good to see you, Mary.”
Then he waited, and Marissa knew his heart would break if her mother turned away from him. She knew, because on the day Lisa had died, her mom had turned away from her. She’d closed herself
off and she hadn’t realized that Marissa’s heart was breaking, too.
For a long time Marissa thought it would always be that way, that they would exist in this world separately. They would look like a family, do the things families did, but there would be invisible walls.
Dan put the footstool of the recliner down and pushed himself to his feet. He stood there looking down at his daughter, now a grown woman.
“You look a lot like your mother,” he said. “And I’ve missed you every single day for these forty odd years. Every day. Your mom sent me pictures and occasionally we talked.”
“She talked to you?” Marissa’s mom shook her head. “I thought we left and never looked back.”
He scratched his chin. “I guess in a way you did. But your mom and I, we talked. You know, we never got a divorce. I always kind of thought she’d come back eventually. Maybe she’d get you raised and remember she had a husband.”
“I’m so sorry,” Mary said. “I didn’t know.”
Marissa caught movement out of the corner of her eye. She glanced back as Alex headed for the door, pushing his hat down on his head as he went.
“Don’t you dare leave,” she ordered. “We have a tree to decorate and pies to make.”
He paused at the door. Face shadowed by the brim of the hat, he looked from her mom to her dad and back to her. “I should go.”
No, he shouldn’t. She wanted him there. No, she needed him. And she had never really needed anyone. No, that wasn’t true. She’d needed her parents.
“We’re going to decorate the tree,” she reminded him. The tree was important to her. It was her way of belonging here, in her grandfather’s life.
“Oh, sit back down, Alex. It isn’t like they’ll stay long.” Her grandfather had moved to the kitchen and he was pouring another cup of coffee. “Here, have a cup.”
He held the cup out to Alex. “Mary and what’s your name? Joe? This is my neighbor, Alex Palermo. He helps me out from time to time.”
Marissa’s dad stepped forward to shake Alex’s hand. “Good to meet you, Alex. I’m Joe Walker. And thank you. For everything.”
The Rancher's Christmas Bride Page 13