Wild West Christmas

by Jenna Kernan

  The figure stepped into the light and for a second Josh, her husband, stood before her. The breath ceased to move in her lungs. That build…those powerful shoulders. It could be him. It could…but that was impossible. Josh had been gone these past five years.

  “Hello, Kathleen.”

  Her breath caught. The voice was Josh’s. But…no…Josh was dead. There had been a funeral…a body…badly scarred.

  The man removed his well-worn Stetson.

  Garrett.

  She let out her breath as recognition set in. Josh’s brother. Older by two years, but still the same lanky build and light brown hair. Everything the same except for his eyes. Josh’s eyes had been brown where Garrett’s were sea-green—the color of a wave with the sun shining through.

  Her own eyes burned. She stood frozen, barely breathing. The turbulence inside of her took her by surprise. She hadn’t an inkling that coming face-to-face with him after all these years would matter. She thought she had matured—moved beyond her past. “Garrett,” she murmured, and felt like she was sixteen again and standing before him in the Satterlys’ barn. It had to be that he was a familiar face. That was all. Nothing more.

  She stepped up to the counter. “How are you? I…I planned to visit once I got settled.” Hopefully, her words weren’t a lie. She just needed to bolster her courage before confronting the Sheridans en masse.

  He nodded, his gaze glued to hers. She couldn’t tell if he believed her. “You’re looking well,” he finally said. “How is…?”

  “Lily.” She frowned slightly at supplying the information. Didn’t he remember? “She’s fine.”

  “Oh, for goodness sake,” Sue said. “Kathleen, you’ve been working hard all day with Christmas coming and all. The shop won’t fall apart if you take a short break and visit for a spell.”

  The shop might not fall apart, but she sure could. She knew she owed the Sheridans an explanation. They were family—Lily’s family—not hers. Never hers. Maybe it was best to get this over with. She knew Garrett slightly better than his parents, although that knowledge wouldn’t make the conversation any easier.

  “Thank you, Sue.” She reached behind her waist and untied her apron. Removing the loop over her head, she hung it on a peg by the window and then washed her hands in a pan of tepid water on the stove. With a quick check of her hair, she tied on her straw bonnet, grabbed her cloak and stepped from behind the counter. “I won’t be long.”

  Garrett held the door open and followed her out into the late-afternoon light that filtered through the pines. They stood for a moment, staring at each other. He was taller than she remembered…taller than Josh. And where Josh’s nose had tilted up in a friendly fashion, Garrett’s was straight as a knife’s blade. He didn’t say a word, just turned and started down the boardwalk.

  She supposed walking—and talking—would be easier than standing still and looking at each other in an awkward attempt at normality. Although her legs ached from standing all day, she fell into step. They headed away from the mill. The sound of the saw’s constant whirring lessened even as the buzz of nervous energy inside her began to build. Their footsteps grew louder on the boards, emphasizing their lack of conversation.

  At the corner he stopped.

  “We could sit.” He tilted his chin toward the bench in front of the hotel.

  “I’d like that.” Stilted. Proper.

  They crossed the street and he waited while she settled herself. He didn’t sit, but leaned against the post that supported the small overhang to the hotel’s front entrance. To anyone passing by it looked like a casual meeting, but the sharpness of his gaze belied that. She drew in a deep breath, filling her lungs with the scent of the crisp mountain air. “I’ve missed the smell of the pines. It’s different on the coast. Salt in the air. Brine.”

  He raised his chin slightly in acknowledgment. Small lines fanned out at the corners of his eyes, yet she doubted with Garrett that the lines were from laughing.

  “So you’re back.”

  She nodded, pasted on a bright smile.

  “Alone?”

  “With my daughter.”

  “Josh’s daughter,” he murmured. The lines deepened between his dark brows. “You named her Lily?”

  “After my grandmother.” He should know this; she’d sent a note after the birth. “She is five now.”

  “Why did you come back?”

  It was more a challenge than a question. She’d been asked the same thing half a dozen times since her return, but now the answer sounded too simple, even to her own ears. “I wanted Lily to grow up here.”

  He seemed to turn her words over in his mind.

  She stiffened her spine. She wasn’t about to blurt out all that had really gone on—the snide comments questioning Lily’s parentage. The suggestive glances and remarks from men who thought she was lonely. Her parents’ constant disappointment in her, in Lily.

  “The memories are still here,” he said.

  Meaning Josh. Those memories. She relaxed slightly. “I have good memories from growing up here—the schoolhouse, swimming in the lake. It’s a good place to raise a child.”

  Again, he seemed to consider her answer, looking past the surface of her words. He’d always done that, even when they’d been younger. Her gaze drifted to his lips, remembering her very first kiss and how sweet and gentle it had been. So different from his brother. She frowned, upset at the comparison. She’d come here to move on with her life, not to dwell in the past.

  She stood, gathered her shawl closer around her and moved to the edge of the porch. “I’d better go. Sue is in a tizzy getting ready for the season.”

  He straightened and moved away from the post. “I’ll walk you back.”

  Always the gentleman. He hadn’t changed in that regard.

  “It’s not necessary. I’ll see myself back to the bakery.” She started down the steps to the street.

  “When can I see Lily?”

  She stopped. She’d been expecting the request, but she wasn’t ready to share her daughter. “Another time.”

  “I don’t get into town very often. I can wait until you’re done working.”

  “No!” It came out fast—unthinkingly—without tact.

  His eyes narrowed. “Do you want to explain why not?”

  “I need to prepare her first.”

  “Prepare her! What the heck for?”

  She raised her chin. “Other than my great-aunt Molly, Lily has no idea she has relatives here.” Before he could say another word, she turned and hurried away.

  * * *

  She hadn’t told Lily anything about his side of the family!

  Garrett kept Kathleen in his sights while she crossed the road, holding the hem of her blue dress out of the mud as she dodged a flatbed wagon. Wispy blond curls escaped from under her hat and whipped across her cheeks, pink from the cool air.

  All peaches and creamy skin—even prettier than he remembered her. His dreams hadn’t done her justice. And trim, like she’d been before Lily. He could probably span her waist with his hands. The only things big on her were her blue eyes—the color of cornflowers. Next to her he felt gangly…and too awkward for the wooden bench she’d sat upon. She disappeared into the bakery without looking back.

  Her answers to his questions had raised more questions. He hadn’t come close to suggesting she move out to the ranch like his mother wanted. Yet…she’d come back. Maybe, just maybe, things could be put right.

  A burst of belly-aching laughter emanated from inside the saloon. Kathleen would be at least another hour at the bakery. He stepped off the porch and headed toward the Rawhide Emporium. A game of darts would while away the time until she was free. He couldn’t go back to the ranch without at least setting eyes on Lily. Family looked after family. How many times had he heard that over the years from his folks? That was all there was to it in their way of thinking. And he agreed.

  All the way up until it had gotten his brother killed.

>   Chapter Two

  Through the bakery’s front window, Kathleen watched Garrett head to the saloon in his long, achingly familiar stride. He’d changed over the course of five years. Leaner, tougher, quieter. She put him from her mind—not an easy task—and turned back to helping Sue for the remainder of the afternoon.

  At closing time, Sue flung her scarf over her head and tied a knot under her chin. “You get home to that daughter of yours, now. I don’t want you working so hard that you give up in a week.”

  “Then I probably shouldn’t have started the week after Thanksgiving.”

  Sue grinned. “Good for me, though. My busiest time of year.” Her eyes twinkled as she closed the door behind her.

  Kathleen finished washing out the bowls, eggbeaters and measuring cups they’d used that day and then wiped off the counter. She wrapped the loaf of bread in brown paper and tucked it under her arm and then turned down the lantern until the flame sputtered out. When she stepped from the shop, stars winked in the darkening sky. The streets were empty except for two men sitting on the upended barrels outside the saloon, smoking their rolled cigarettes. Light from a few establishments—the saloon, the restaurant and the hotel—brightened the otherwise black street.

  She tried to lock the door with her free hand, but without success. There had to be a trick to it.

  “Let me.” Garrett yanked the door shut so that the lock aligned, then turned the key and handed it back to her.

  His presence should have startled her, but a strange intuition had enveloped her ever since their earlier meeting. “Don’t you have a ranch to run?”

  He stayed at her side as she walked across the road. “My father can handle the ranch.”

  “Oh.” She felt a stab of conscience. She hadn’t asked after his folks earlier. “How are your parents?”

  “The same. Guess you’ll find out now that you’re back. They’ll want to see you…to see Lily. You’re family.”

  “No, Garrett. I’m not.”

  He frowned. “You married Josh.”

  “And he’s dead. That pretty much dissolves any family ties, don’t you think?” It was a harsh thing to say—and so unlike her. She wasn’t sure where it had come from, but somewhere deep inside her it had thrust its way to the surface.

  He stopped walking. His face hardened and the air between them chilled a good ten degrees.

  She should apologize for her outburst, but she couldn’t. Barbara and Brent Sheridan had been furious about the shotgun wedding. Although they had never said anything outright, their opinion of her had always been clear. She had lived on their ranch for a few short weeks after the wedding and although they’d been polite, they’d never opened up to her. Even Josh had noticed.

  “It’s been a long day. I don’t want to stand here and argue.” She didn’t have the time or the energy, not with a pile of mending waiting for her after supper. “What do you want, Garrett?”

  “I told you earlier. I want to see Lily.”

  “And you received my answer. Not today.” She started for Molly’s again.

  “I don’t get away from the ranch all that much. It’ll be a while before I come this way again.”

  Panic set in. Lily would be at the door the moment Kathleen opened it and they were nearly there. She stopped walking and faced him. “Look. Coming here has been a huge upheaval in her life…and in mine. Please, just let this go for now.”

  He searched her face and for the first time she thought she glimpsed concern in his eyes. “All right. For now, I’ll wait.”

  She breathed a sigh of relief.

  “But in return, once you’ve talked to her, promise to bring Lily out to the ranch. My folks want to meet her. Show her a bit of her heritage.”

  The thought of facing the Sheridans made her stomach clench, but Garrett didn’t look as though he was going to budge unless she acknowledged her part in this bargain.

  “Very well.”

  “This week.” He backed into the shadows.

  She didn’t answer, but turned and opened the door. With a cry of delight, Lily ran from the kitchen and hugged Kathleen about her hips.

  “You’re home! You’re home! What’s that?” Lily asked, eyeing her package of bread.

  “A present for Molly and you.” Kathleen glanced out into the yard. The night had swallowed Garrett, but she sensed he was still there—watching. She entered the house and shut the door.

  * * *

  Later that night, with her basket of darning supplies held snug against her waist, Kathleen took one more peek at Lily burrowed into her blankets and then closed the bedroom door. She headed for the parlor and sat in the bentwood rocker beside the hearth. She might not keep her eyes open long enough to finish the mending, but she needed a quiet moment. Darning egg and needle in hand, she glanced at her great-aunt, who dozed in the chair across from her. Her gray hair frizzled out from her head in disarray and a big yawn escaped her attempt to stifle it. Her knitting lay untouched in her lap.

  “Garrett Sheridan came by today,” Kathleen said.

  Molly roused and peered over her spectacles.

  “He wants to see Lily.”

  “I’m sure his family will want to help you in any way that they can.”

  “That’s what worries me. In the past whenever I’ve accepted help, it has come with unspoken expectations. It’s better if I manage on my own.”

  Molly picked up her knitting needles. “Garrett’s a good man. Salt of the earth. He’s done a lot of improvements to the ranch. Kept it going after Josh passed.”

  “Next thing you’ll be saying is that I should be happy that he is Lily’s uncle.” On hearing the sarcastic tone in her words, she sighed. “I’m sorry. I know you are friends with the Sheridans.”

  “You could have ended up with a lesser man with that title. That’s for sure. So why is it bothering you?”

  “It’s not… It isn’t.”

  Molly raised her brows. “Could have fooled me. You wouldn’t be thinking on him so hard if everything was fine and dandy.”

  You’re family now.

  The words echoed through Kathleen’s mind. What, exactly, did that mean? Josh had insisted on telling his parents about the pregnancy by himself. Afterward he’d stopped by and nearly put his fist through the door in utter frustration when he knocked. The Sheridans hadn’t taken the news well. During the wedding she’d felt the disapproval beneath their polite words. It was in their worried glances, the flash of a tight smile. It was the same with her father and mother. Josh hadn’t measured up. She hadn’t measured up. Her wedding day should have been a day to remember, but instead it was a day ripe with regrets on all sides. All sides but one. Garrett hadn’t even been there.

  “Did I ever tell you who gave me my first kiss?”

  Molly’s look of puzzlement confirmed she hadn’t.

  “Garrett Sheridan.”

  “Well, now,” Molly murmured, adjusting her spectacles. “How did that come about?”

  “It was a silly game of truth or dare in Satterly’s barn. Lucy Mae and the Bartlett twins dared me to kiss one of the boys. There wasn’t much to choose from—Billy Jenkins, Patrick Onnus and Russell Lakes. Garrett was whistling outside. He’d come to fix the door latch and didn’t know we were inside.”

  “And…?” Molly prodded.

  “I was sixteen—and a bit impulsive. I walked past the others and out to Garrett, told him I hoped he didn’t mind, and then stood on my tiptoes and kissed him.”

  Molly chuckled. “On a dare, then! Doesn’t that beat all.”

  “Yes,” Kathleen murmured, holding in the rest of the memory. Garrett had surprised her. He’d kissed her back. What she had thought would be a gentle peck had been, oh, so much more. Magical. Even now the memory could make her blush when she dwelled on it.

  Afterward she’d been in the clouds with a moon-size infatuation. She’d maneuvered a time or two to talk to him, but he’d never taken the hint or asked her out. And knowing how her father
felt about the Sheridans, she never invited him to the house. It was Josh who’d made her realize the kiss hadn’t meant the same to Garrett. Josh had teased her and said Garrett thought that she was just a silly young girl. At the time his words had hurt. Funny how a year later, Josh had courted her so earnestly that she’d succumbed to his charms. All because of those sonnets…

  She pressed her lips together, pushing the memory back to the past where it belonged. “The Sheridans… It was awkward after we married. They were distant. I’d hoped…” She’d hoped they would accept her but it hadn’t happened. She sighed. “If that’s ‘family’, then I want nothing from them.”

  Molly leaned forward in her chair. “That doesn’t sound like Barbara and Brent.”

  “They didn’t even acknowledge Lily’s birth. As far as Lily and I are concerned, we owe them nothing.”

  “Well, child, I just don’t understand. The Sheridans are founding members of the church here. It doesn’t seem possible that they’d treat you like that.”

  “Maybe that’s why. I ruined their perfect son, their perfect world. Josh wouldn’t have taken that job at the mine if it hadn’t been for me and a baby on the way.” She set down her needle and woolen yarn. “Lily’s all I have. I may have to live with my parents’ disapproval—and with the Sheridans’, too, for that matter, but I don’t want that for her. I left home to get away from that.”

  “Well, you’re going to run into them from time to time. You can’t live in a small town and avoid bumping into people.”

  “I don’t want Lily seeing them if I’m not present.”

  Concern lit Molly’s features, but then she settled back into her chair and began knitting, her needles clicking. After a moment she spoke. “Very well. You have to follow your conscience.”

  “I’ll manage on my own.” She had Molly to help her—and her job at the bakery. She didn’t want things to be this way, but Lily’s happiness was too important. She would protect her daughter at all costs. And Garrett Sheridan would just have to accept that.