Western Christmas Wishes

by Brenda Minton

  “Potato soup.” Laurel was glad for the reminder. She reached under the cabinet for the potatoes she’d bought the previous day. “And, of course, homemade hot cocoa.”

  “Homemade?” Rose’s gaze shot up for a brief moment. “Like not out of a package?”

  “Not out of a package.”

  “Whoa, that’s awesome. Did you invite Cam to come over?”

  Laurel poured the popcorn into a bowl. “I did but I don’t think he’s coming down.”

  “Hmm, okay.” Rose slid another cranberry onto the string. “Are you staying until Christmas?”

  “No, probably not. I have to move out of my apartment by the end of the month. And my mom is going to try to come down here for a few days.”

  Rose was silent. Laurel took a handful of popcorn from the bowl, not caring that it wasn’t salted or buttered. She chewed on a few kernels as she watched the teenager struggle to continue smiling.

  “Rose?”

  Rose swiped at a tear rolling down her cheek and shook her head. “Don’t be all nice and sympathetic. It doesn’t matter.”

  “What doesn’t matter?”

  “Don’t you understand? If you leave town, and Gladys isn’t here, the caseworker will move me to a foster home. Not that it matters to you, because you don’t really know me and I guess you don’t even know your grandmother. But I know her, and I don’t want to leave.”

  “Rose, I’ll do my best to make sure they don’t take you. I know my grandmother doesn’t want them to take you.”

  “But if you stay...”

  “I can’t stay.” Laurel felt the words were less than convincing. The look Rose gave her confirmed her suspicions. “I have to get a job. I have college classes. My life isn’t here in Hope.”

  “I guess not.” Rose shrugged it off. “It’s fine. People leave.”

  “We have two weeks until Christmas. I won’t leave for a week or so. That gives us time to figure something out.”

  “Yeah, okay.” Laurel looked at the bright red berry in her hand. “They aren’t real berries, are they?”

  “No, I don’t think so. I’m not sure, though.”

  Rose eyed the fruit, then smiled up at Laurel. “Can you eat them raw?”

  “I guess you can but I wouldn’t if I were you.”

  “Dare me to try it?”

  Laurel shook her head. “No, I don’t.”

  Rose popped the cranberry in her mouth and immediately winced. But she didn’t spit it out. She chewed and chewed and finally swallowed.

  “Oh, wow. That was horrible. Who eats those things?”

  “People generally cook them with a lot of sugar before they eat them.”

  Rose reached for her glass of water. “That’s just wrong.”

  Laurel couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, well, if I was you, I’d eat the muffins I made this morning. It’ll get the taste out of your mouth.”

  “That sounds good.” But then she popped another cranberry in her mouth.

  “Why?” Laurel asked.

  “Because I just had to. I don’t know why. They were there, they’re bright red, they’re shiny. Try one.” She gave Laurel one.

  “I don’t think I want to.” She looked at the shiny berry in her hand. Were they berries?

  A knock on the door diverted Laurel’s attention. “I’ll get that.”

  She headed for the door, and for some crazy reason she put the cranberry in her mouth. She opened the door as she chewed, her eyes watering as the sour tanginess filled her mouth.

  Cameron stepped inside, holding up a bag. “I brought pinecones for decorations.”

  His narrow-eyed gaze was on her as he removed his hat and stuck it on the hook next to the door. He faced her again, and she could only see him. The man. Not the scars on his face. Not the growl that he hid behind. She saw a man who was worth knowing. A man who cared that a recalcitrant teen had a merry Christmas.

  “We’re tasting cranberries,” Rose called out from the kitchen as the two adults stood staring at one another. “Want one?”

  “Uncooked?” Cameron looked to her for an answer. She nodded.

  “Uncooked.” Laurel headed for the kitchen and the popcorn. “I didn’t mean to. I had it in my hand and suddenly it was in my mouth. At least I didn’t eat two of them.”

  Rose spluttered a bit. “I had to. I mean, it was just there and then I couldn’t decide if I liked it or not. It’s like I didn’t like it but in a weird way, I did.”

  “I brought ingredients to make my secret-recipe hot cocoa.” He set a bag on the counter. “I happen to make the best.”

  “Marshmallows?” Rose asked.

  “It’s so good, you don’t need marshmallows, but if you must,” he told her.

  Laurel watched as he made himself at home in Gladys’s kitchen, pulling a pan from the cabinet and then pouring in the ingredients. Cocoa, sugar, cinnamon, real vanilla and milk with a drop of cream added for extra richness. The aroma was wonderful. She opened the container with the muffins she’d made that morning.

  “I don’t have cookies, but we have these.” She set three out on plates. “Much better than raw cranberries.”

  He half grinned as he leaned a hip against the counter. “I’m going to take your word on that and stick to the muffins.”

  “This is the best time ever.” Rose grabbed a muffin and went back to work. “I used to make up things like this. When kids at school would talk about what they were doing for Christmas, I’d pretend my mom and I were going shopping and making candy.” She looked up from the string of fruit. “Do you make candy?”

  Laurel had to swallow the lump in her throat before she could answer. “I do make candy. Do you want to make fudge or toffee?”

  “Both,” Rose said. But then her expression fell. “Will we have time? I mean, before you leave.”

  “We can make it tonight.” Laurel avoided eye contact with Cameron because she didn’t want to see the disappointment in his expression. Not that she thought he would be disappointed, at least not for himself. He’d be disappointed for Rose.

  “We could make candy for the nursing home,” Rose responded. “We have to save Christmas for those people. It isn’t fair that they might not have anything.”

  The teen concentrated on pushing the needle through more cranberries, but her expression was about more than the residents of Lakeside Manor. Cameron turned the flame under the pan of hot chocolate down to simmer. He touched Laurel’s shoulder as he left the room, leaving them alone.

  Laurel realized that she knew very little about children. And she especially didn’t know about teenagers. But she did remember how she’d felt as a teen, being the girl who didn’t have a father. In her imagination he was sometimes a soldier, sometimes a doctor, maybe a cowboy. In her imagination he’d always been a perfect hero, not a real-life man.

  Real-life men were sometimes flawed, sometimes scarred. But they were real and worth knowing.

  The situation before her was complex. A girl who wanted a family, who feared being cut off from a life she’d just started to embrace, and the overwhelming fact that without intervention she might have to go away.

  “Rose, do you believe in God?”

  Rose looked up, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “Of course I do. I mean, I had God when I didn’t have anyone else.”

  Laurel felt the air go out of her. When had she ever had such a clearly defined view of faith? She’d been trying to find words to help a child, but the child had all the answers.

  “Then we have to trust Him, don’t we? Trust that God has a plan, that His ways are higher than our ways and the path He has for us is there, even if we can’t see it. Yet.”

  “What if His plan is for me to leave here?” Rose swallowed. “Or what if the caseworkers aren’t listening to God?”

  “First, if
He has a different plan, we trust it is the best plan. Second, if they aren’t listening, we pray that they will listen.”

  Rose absently reached for another raw cranberry. “They’re starting to grow on me.”

  Laurel laughed. “I could say the same about you.”

  She heard Cameron’s booted steps, and when he entered the kitchen, she had a moment of hesitation. It felt like her heart briefly took a rest and waited for her to catch up. She knew it was attraction but she greatly admired this quiet man, as well.

  She would miss the two of them when she left Hope.

  * * *

  Cameron poured hot cocoa in three cups and watched as Laurel showed Rose how to measure the ingredients for fudge. They’d made a pan of peanut-butter fudge and this would be the first pan of chocolate.

  “Okay, your turn to stir.” Laurel removed her apron.

  It took him a moment to understand what she meant but it became obviously clear as she lifted the apron and gave him a look, one ginger eyebrow arched and her lips pursed.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Lean down so I can help you put this on. If you don’t hurry, that fudge will burn and my hot cocoa won’t be hot.”

  “Come on, cowboy, time to make some fudge.”

  He leaned just a little and he wished he’d just stayed home. This close to her, she was Christmas. She smelled like cocoa, evergreen and cinnamon. For the past few years he’d convinced himself this couldn’t happen—this attraction, this longing to spend more time with someone. And yet here it was, and, of course, it would be with this woman, the one determined to do her time in Hope like it was a prison sentence.

  She stilled, her hands holding the apron above him. Her breath caught and she blinked a few times. And then she dropped the apron over his head and backed away.

  “Turn around and I’ll tie it for you.” She said it quietly.

  He turned and she quickly tied the apron at his waist.

  “What do I do now?” he asked, and the question was loaded. It was about the fudge, about her, about this situation he’d found himself in.

  “I’ve finished cutting the fudge that’s cool,” Rose said. She stared at the two of them, half amused. “I’m going to feed my dog, then start decorating the tree.”

  “The stray,” Cameron and Laurel said in unison.

  “Try to deal with this before I return. Just FYI, I’m a child and I don’t like PDA,” Rose said pointedly.

  “There’s not going to be any PDA,” Laurel said with a determined tone.

  “Right.” Rose rolled her eyes and took off.

  “She’s hilarious,” Laurel said as she melted butter in a saucepan.

  Cameron glanced down at her. She stood next to him at the stove. It was a unique experience. He’d never shared a kitchen with a woman. They were surrounded by the scent of chocolate, sugar and butter. From the living room, Christmas carols were playing and Rose began to sing along. “Deck the Halls,” very off-key.

  “I did think about kissing you,” he admitted. “But then I realized we’re chaperoning a thirteen-year-old.”

  “Plus, I’m leaving soon,” she said softly, glancing up at him. “Where did I put the sugar?”

  “Right in front of you,” he responded, finding humor in the fact that she was disconcerted by what he’d said. “I was a geek in school.”

  “What?”

  He checked the thermometer in the pan. “What temperature?”

  She looked at the timer. “In one minute add the chocolate, marshmallow and vanilla. And explain yourself.”

  “Tall, skinny, glasses. My nose was too big for my face. I liked striped shirts and cowboy boots. I studied a lot. Not a chick magnet. The one girl I dated in college, the one who said she would marry me, broke it off when I returned from Afghanistan and claimed I wasn’t the man she’d known.”

  “I’m not sure what to say.”

  “I just wanted you to know... I’m not the man who spends his time hitting on women. I’m not arrogant. I’m not sure of myself. I’ve had to work really hard to get to the point that I can even go to town, to church.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He stirred ingredients into the saucepan. “I don’t need apologies, I’m just explaining a fact. If a car backfires, I might grab you and push you against a wall.”

  “I’m not made of glass—I’ll survive.”

  “I know.” He considered to stir the fudge. “I want to kiss you. I want to see if you really taste like Christmas. Because that’s what I imagine. More than that, I want to see if there is something between us that should be explored further.”

  “Explored?”

  He’d reduced her to one-word sentences. He had to put a stop to that. He reached for her hand. She didn’t argue, so he pulled her close and moved his other hand to her back. Cameron lowered his head and touched his lips to hers. He moved his hand to her neck and felt her sigh beneath his touch. She kissed him back. It was like a gift. A gift a man should cherish, one he wouldn’t want to give back or exchange.

  She touched his shoulder and then his face. The left side of his face. Her fingers traced the scars and he allowed it.

  “Gross!” Rose yelled from the entrance between the dining room and living room. “Incoming impressionable child.”

  Laurel gave a shaky laugh and pulled away.

  Cameron reached over to turn down the stove. “It’s boiling.”

  She returned her attention to the toffee and gasped. “I think it’s too late. I shouldn’t have let it get this hot.”

  Rose slid into the kitchen on stocking feet. She watched as Laurel tried to save the candy, stirring quickly and then pouring it onto the buttered pan.

  “If you’re done, can we decorate the tree now?”

  “Sure thing,” Cameron said.

  Anything to get his mind off the woman at his side. He needed to refocus and remember that she was from a world completely removed from his. A world she would return to.

  Soon.

  Chapter Seven

  Rose’s caseworker showed up at ten o’clock Thursday morning. She was Laurel’s age with dark hair pulled back in a ponytail and a friendly smile. She wasn’t the enemy, Laurel realized. She was a woman who cared about Rose and wanted to make sure she was safe.

  She introduced herself as Carlie and entered the house, taking in the Christmas tree they’d finished decorating the previous evening, as well as the multitude of paper snowflakes hanging from curtain rods, cabinet knobs and anywhere else that Rose deemed necessary. There were also a good dozen for the residents of Lakeside Manor.

  “It looks like you’ve been decorating for Christmas,” Carlie said as she took a seat at the kitchen island. “You wouldn’t have coffee, would you? Gladys always has coffee.”

  “Yes, of course.” Laurel grabbed a cup and filled it for her.

  “Thank you,” she sighed as she inhaled the aroma. “I had a call at five this morning. This job is never easy and some of it is downright hard. But Rose, she’s going to be our success story, right?”

  “I hope she is. She loves being here with Gladys. And Gladys loves her.”

  “Gladys is your grandmother, correct?” Carlie pulled out a laptop. “We have the paperwork she had you fill out.”

  “Yes, she is my grandmother and yes, I filled out paperwork and left it with her.”

  “You know we have concerns. Her age is a strike against her.”

  “Gladys is more fit than a lot of younger people I know,” Laurel said.

  “You don’t have to tell me,” Carlie agreed. “I know, I’ve met her. I’m just saying, there are some people who worry. I say, let’s worry when there’s something to really worry about. I do need to do a background check on you. I mean, we ran a quick one through the local police, but we’ll have to do one through the state.” />
  “I don’t mind. But I’m only going to be here for another week or so.”

  “Yeah, I get that. But rules are rules.” She pulled a paper out of her file. “It’s pretty simple and if you can do it now, I’ll take it in. We will also have to get your fingerprints. You’ll need to go to Grove for that.”

  “But I’m only going to—”

  Carlie waved her hand. “Yeah, yeah, but you’re caring for one of our kids and we take their safety seriously. I get it, you’re a nice person, but I am responsible for her welfare.”

  “So am I.” Laurel blinked as she said the words. “Okay, just make a list of what I need to do.”

  Carlie grinned. “Thank you.”

  “Is there any chance her mom is coming back?” Laurel asked.

  The caseworker shook her head. “I doubt it. She’s been doing this to Rose for thirteen years. She dumps the kid with a friend or family and takes off. We’re going to make sure it doesn’t happen again. And as far as I know, her mom is in jail in California.”

  “Rose doesn’t know that?”

  “No. I just found out a few days ago.”

  Laurel poured herself a cup of coffee. “Should I tell her?”

  “I think so. No matter what, these kids love their parents. They fantasize about the perfect reunion, where the parent comes back clean and sober, ready to be the mom they always imagined. Who knows, maybe someday Tarin will grow up and be that mom. For now, she isn’t able. But Rose is safe and loved and she’s got a home. A real home for the first time in her life.”

  Laurel got it. She herself had felt safe here as a child. Rose was just now figuring out what it meant to be safe.

  “So, about Christmas. I have gifts for her. I mean, you all can do what you want for her. She’ll love everything you do, including all of this decorating. But I have to warn you, they really are considering moving her to a home with younger foster parents.”

  “They can’t do that.” Laurel felt herself go cold at the thought. “Why would they do that when she’s safe here and loved? You just said—”

  Again Carlie stopped her. “I said what I think. But I’m not in charge. I mean, I am. I’m her caseworker, but I have people I answer to. Those people will make the final decision. We have a court date in January.”