Deke had interviewed half a dozen guys with barely disguised drinking problems, one who couldn't seem to remember what time his interview actually was, three more who didn't seem to know pork from lamb, and a couple of teenagers who thought dropping out of school and working would be a lark.
He could have hired one, he supposed, but chances were his old man would have another heart attack over the quality of work—or lack thereof.
He had just started talking to the latest spotty teenage hopeful when Leo Arbogast stopped in on his way to pick up some venison he stored in the freezer locker that John had in back.
Leo, who was pushing seventy, was a recent widower who had been at loose ends since his wife, Dorothy, died in July.
"There's just so much fishin' a feller can do," he said now, talking to Deke over the whine of the meat saw as Deke cut steaks and tried to interview the spotty teenager at the same time.
"Never thought I'd get enough of it." Leo leaned against the meat counter and chatted on. "But there ain't nobody home now to tell my fish stories to. Huntin' stories neither. Did I tell you 'bout shootin' this buck?"
"You did, Leo," Deke said.
The teenager snapped his gum, glanced at his watch and yawned. Another customer appeared behind the one waiting for the steaks.
"Deke," Evelyn called. "The vegetable shipper's on the phone."
Deke sighed and looked hopefully at the teenager who was supposed to want this job desperately. The boy looked blankly back.
"Say," Leo said, "you want me to do that?"
Deke finished the cut and looked up. "Do what?"
"I can cut them steaks," Leo offered. "Used to work in a butcher shop years back in Miles City."
"Er," Deke said, staring at Leo, who was looking hopeful as well as helpful. The customer tapped his foot. Evelyn waved the phone at him. "Sure," Deke said. "Why not?"
Half an hour later he had Leo in an apron behind the meat counter, and the spotty teenager was long gone.
It was the answer to a prayer. Leo was in his element, charming the ladies who came for their pork chops or roasts, swapping fishing stories with the men who dropped in for some cold cuts, cutting everything with a lot more expertise than Deke brought to it.
"Well, now," Leo said when they were closing that night, "that was fun." He heaved a satisfied sigh. "You serious about this job?"
Deke nodded. "Absolutely." He was prepared to battle his father over it, though.
"Leo Arbogast? You hired Leo? You're joking." John said half an hour later when Deke stopped by the hospital on his way home.
"I'm not," Deke said stubbornly. "He knows what he's doing and he'll work hard. He's glad to be there. Likes the people. You couldn't get a better man." Not that he expected his father would agree.
John Malone sat silent for a full minute, possibly longer, while Deke tried to anticipate the arguments he'd need. Finally his father just shrugged. "Leo's a good man." He looked away out the window into the winter night. "So," he remarked after a moment, "I reckon you'll be leavin' then."
Leaving?
Deke hadn't even thought about it. But it was what he wanted, wasn't it?
He'd been absolutely clear about that from the very beginning. He would help out because it was necessary. That didn't mean he was staying. He wasn't staying. He had a life in New Mexico. He had a home, a career. He had no intention of working in the grocery store for the rest of his life.
And yet now that he could leave, he felt strangely reluctant.
He shifted from one boot to the other and rubbed a hand against the back of his neck, aware that while his father wasn't looking at him directly, he was staring at Deke's reflection in the window glass.
And Deke, feeling his gaze, shrugged irritably. "It's not like I'm sure Leo knows what he's doing. Can't expect Evelyn to ride herd on 'em all."
His father's brows lifted fractionally and he turned his head and looked straight at him now. His chest expanded. His breathing seemed to come a little easier. "Reckon so."
"Besides, you're not out of the hospital yet. If Leo or Evelyn has questions, they can't keep running up here to talk to you, can they? And even when you're home, you're not going to want them pestering you every minute."
Deke was prowling around the room as he spoke, aware of his father's eyes on him, assessing him, aware that riding herd on his father's employees had little to do with what was nagging at him. He couldn't even articulate what was. He jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans and hunched his shoulders as he paced. When he reached the end of the room, he spun around. He could settle part of the issue now. "Unless you want me gone," he challenged his old man.
They stared at each other. The old man, the young man. The hidden agendas neither would speak.
Finally, slowly, almost imperceptibly, John Malone shook his head. "Stay as long as you want."
Hardly a welcome. But a damn sight closer to one than what he'd got when he'd arrived at Thanksgiving.
Deke almost smiled. But he wasn't sure there was that much to smile about. Not yet. Instead he gave one quick, jerky nod of his head. "Well, fine. That's settled, then."
"Deke! Deke! Didja see the lights?"
"Deke! Look! We made cookies! You can have an angel or a snowman or a tree!"
"Deke! How do you shoot Christmas lights at night?"
"Da-ad! Cookie?"
The kids swooped down on him like a pack of boisterous puppies the minute Deke opened the back door. They'd been watching out the window for his truck for the past half hour.
"He'll be here. Relax," Erin told them over and over. But deep down she was almost as eager as they were to have him home. A mistake, she assured herself. But knowing that it was and being able to do something about it were two different things.
"I saw the lights," Deke said. He was grinning as he shed his jacket. It had started to snow about an hour ago, and there was a light dusting on it and on his hat. He hung them up and then reached down to scoop Zack up in his arms. "The lights are terrific," he told Nicolas. "I could see 'em almost as soon as I turned off the highway. Like beacons guiding me home." He lifted his gaze from Nico's and met Erin's, and there was a warmth in his eyes that made her heart kick over.
Sophie shoved a plate of the cookies at him and he admired them. "Great cookies. Do I get to eat 'em or are they just for looking at?"
Sophie giggled. "You can eat them. I made the angels. Have an angel."
"How about after dinner? Don't want to spoil my appetite. It smells so darn good." Another quick smile in Erin's direction and a deep sigh of appreciation. "And we'll go out and try to shoot the lights after dinner, too, okay?" he said to Gabe, who nodded.
Then Deke turned to his son. "Did you make cookies today, buddy?"
And Zack bounced in his arms and nodded, beaming and pointing at the plate Sophie held. "Cookies! Mama cookies."
Mama? Once more Deke's eyes sought Erin's.
She felt her cheeks burn and quickly she shook her head. "I didn't teach him that. He just hears what the other kids call me." She certainly didn't want Deke thinking she was getting ideas. "Come and eat," she said now. "Dinner's ready." She motioned everyone to sit down.
They all sat and began passing dishes. She'd made chili and salad and had sliced up some of the bread she'd baked earlier. Deke filled a bowl with chili and another with salad, took a bite and smiled blissfully. "Terrific. Thank you."
"You're welcome. How'd things go today? How's your dad?"
"Doing pretty well, I think. Sitting up. Bossing nurses and my mom." He flashed her a conspiratorial grin. "But amazingly enough he was actually satisfied with the butcher I hired."
Erin's stomach turned to lead. "You hired a butcher?"
She knew that almost right away Deke had found two young women to work as checkers and stackers along with Evelyn, his dad's old standby. But from everything he'd said, he hadn't found a good butcher. They were either too inexperienced or too incompetent or too untrustworthy or som
ething. And though she'd never admitted it—even to herself—she'd been glad to hear it. She hoped he'd take his time, hoped that he wouldn't find one. Not for a while at least. As long as he didn't find a butcher, he wouldn't leave.
But now he had.
Erin paused, her fork halfway to her mouth, and mustered a smile. "Really? Who is it? Do I know him?"
"Leo Arbogast."
She knew Leo. "I remember his wife more than him. Dorothy substitute taught up here when I was in high school. So, Leo's doing it?" That pretty much clinched the leaden stomach feeling. Leo Arbogast wasn't going to turn out to be a dud. He'd be there, rain or shine, and he'd get the job done.
Apparently Deke thought so, too. He nodded happily. "Came in to pick up some venison from his locker today—and ended up working the rest of the afternoon. Dad's pretty pleased."
"I'll bet. So," she said cautiously, "that's all, then?" She tried to make her voice sound perky and upbeat. "All the people you're hiring, I mean?"
Deke nodded. "That's all. Zack, stop that. No throwing lettuce. Gabe, pass me a napkin. Did you try shooting the shadows like I told you?"
And that was the end of that. The conversation moved on. Deke said nothing else about the hiring he'd done. Nothing else about the grocery store at all. Or about his father. He talked to Gabriel about the shots he'd suggested Gabriel try. And he ate cookies—five of them—one each of the cutout figures that Sophie made. Then after dinner, Nicolas dragged him into the living room to admire candles and the snow globe and the stockings that were hanging from the mantel.
"Mama's making Zack one," Nicolas told Deke. "Just like ours."
"Because every boy should have a stocking," Erin said quickly. "To take wherever he goes." In case Deke thought she was angling to hang another one on their mantel and make them stay.
"Do you have time to do that?" he asked doubtfully.
"Of course I have time."
Her annoyance must have been apparent because he took a step back and raised his hands, palms outward. "I was only askin'. I don't expect—"
"I know you don't expect. I want to do it. For Zack."
He nodded. "Of course. For Zack."
They stared at each other for a long moment. Erin, who had never had any trouble reading Deke's expressions before, found him inscrutable now.
"Can we go shoot lights?" Gabriel asked.
Deke turned. "Sure. Let's." He got his camera and, hoisting Zack into his arms, he followed Gabriel out of the house without looking back. Nicolas, bouncing puppy-like, went too.
"Are you going to hem my angel costume, Mama?"
"What? Oh, yes." Erin turned away from the window and shoved a hand through her hair as she smiled at her daughter. "Good idea. We'll do it now."
"And then if you show me how, maybe can I do a little of the embroidery on Zack's stocking?" Sophie said eagerly.
"Of course." Erin smiled. "That would be nice."
She spent the rest of the evening busy with Sophie, always aware of Deke in the background, hearing his deep voice as he talked to the boys or played with Zack, memorizing the sound of it, knowing it wouldn't be long now.
But he didn't say anything. It was like waiting for the other shoe to drop.
It wasn't until later, after all her kids had gone to bed and she was embroidering the A in Zack's name on his stocking, that Deke came downstairs and wandered into the living room. She knew he'd just finished reading to Zack and putting him down. It was a time she ordinarily cherished—the few minutes a day when they would have a cup of coffee or tea together and talk about the day.
But tonight she wished she didn't have to listen. She didn't want to hear what he was going to say.
"Coffee?" he said. "Or tea?"
"I'm pretty tired," she said, setting down the stocking. "Maybe I'll just go up now." Put off the inevitable.
"Oh, come on. You can't be that tired. You've only decorated an entire house, baked several thousand cookies, a dozen loaves of bread, outfitted a choir of angels and supervised an almost-two-year-old all day. How can you possibly say you're tired?" He was grinning at her.
And Erin couldn't help smiling back. Damn, damn, damn. "Fine," she said, giving in. "Tea, please."
He went into the kitchen and put on the kettle, then came back into the living room. She was used to him sitting in the leather armchair next to the fireplace. But tonight he didn't sit down, he prowled around the room, shoved his hands in the back pockets of his jeans, prowled some more. Then he hunkered down and poked at the fire in the fireplace. When the kettle whistled, he jumped up again.
"I'll get it."
Erin poked the needle in and out of the wool of the stocking and felt increasing dread. Just say it, she told him silently. Get it over with. Tell me you're going to leave.
He came back with the tea and handed her a cup, then, carrying his, prowled some more. He picked up the snow globe and stared at it. It was the Riesenrad, the giant Ferris wheel in Vienna, and she and Jean-Yves had seen it snow like that in Vienna just like it was snowing now as Deke tipped it and watched the flakes come down.
"Doesn't snow that much in Santa Fe," he said after a while. "Can't count on a white Christmas."
"Or in Paris, either," she agreed. "I loved it there. But it's nice to be here where snow is pretty much a given."
"Yeah."
"Not that it can't be nice elsewhere," she added quickly, determined again that he wouldn't think she was trying to make him stay.
"Never celebrated much before," Deke said, still studying the globe. "Not much point—just me."
"Well, you have Zack now."
"Yeah." He glanced her way. "Thanks for bein' so good to him—and for including him. And for his stocking and all."
"I'm glad to. I told you. You can hang it for him every year—no matter where you are." There. That was as close as she could come.
Deke nodded, one corner of his mouth lifting. "He'll like that." He set down the globe and went to stand with his back to the fireplace. He cradled the mug in his hands. "He likes it here."
Erin looked up. The needle stilled in her hand. "We've enjoyed having him."
He nodded and rocked back on his heels. "I don't know if he'll even remember it. But he might. I'd … like him to have the memories."
Unsure she was following him, Erin didn't say a word.
"I kind of have to keep an eye on things at the store," he said hurriedly. "I'm pretty sure Leo will work out well, and the girls, too. But my dad isn't even out of the hospital yet. And my mom would like it if Zack was around and—" he raked a hand through his hair "—I wondered if you'd mind putting up with us a while longer?"
"Longer?" Erin faltered. Her heart had skipped a beat.
"Till after Christmas?" Deke said. "I know it's a lot longer than you expected. It's a real imposition. But Zack's so happy. He's settled in. And it would be really good to have the holiday here."
Her heart was beating steadily again. Fast. Eagerly. More happily than she could have imagined. "You want to stay?" She was smiling now, dancing inside. Fool, she called herself. You're just delaying the inevitable.
But if it was true, she didn't care. He was staying through Christmas!
He nodded. "If you're sure you don't mind?"
Erin smiled and shook her head. "I don't mind at all."
* * *
Chapter 10
« ^ »
It was the holiday season of her youthful dreams—she and Deke together, children chattering around them as they went up to the ranch to cut a Christmas tree on Sunday afternoon.
Erin hadn't expected him to come along. It was the only day of the week he didn't have to work at the store and could do what he wanted to do. She thought he might take Zack and go see his sister or something. She was very careful to assure him that he didn't have to come on the Christmas tree expedition.
"Not come?" Deke frowned. "Why wouldn't I?"
"I don't know. I thought maybe you might want a little time on
your own. Away from the store. Away from the kids."
"Away from the store, yes." Deke agreed with that wholeheartedly. "But not the kids. Or you."
Or you.
He didn't come down with both feet on the words. He didn't give her a lascivious wink or a come-hither leer. If he had, Erin thought in a moment of honesty, she might well have run in the other direction. But his casual inclusion of her made her smile. And on top of the kiss he'd given her on Friday night…
Don't, she warned herself. Do not get your hopes up.
And she wasn't—really she wasn't. She was just going to enjoy the afternoon, just going to enjoy the whole holiday season. Nothing wrong with that.
So right after lunch they all clambered into Deke's truck and set off for the ranch. Gabriel brought his camera, Deke brought his, and Erin couldn't resist bringing hers along, too. The photos she'd taken of their sledding experience had turned out wonderfully. She had found herself looking at them over and over, staring at the pictures of Deke and Zack, of Deke and her kids. Of Deke.
She had even framed one of them—of all of them on the toboggan. She told herself she picked the one she did because it was good of Sophie and Nicolas. But if she was honest, she picked the one where it was good of all of them—but best of Deke. Whenever she looked at it, she simply couldn't keep her eyes off Deke.
She kept it on her dresser next to the one of Jean-Yves and Gabriel as they'd come up the walk that afternoon almost three years ago. And every night she looked at the photos before she went to bed. She smiled a little and felt sad a little.
"Life goes on," Jean-Yves always said. It was what had got him through the hardest parts of his job. It was what had got her through his death. "You can't hang on to the past," he had told her years ago when she had told him about her unrequited love of Deke.
"Do you hope to go back to him in the future?" he'd asked her.
And she'd shaken her head. "No." There had been no point. No chance of that.
"Then you must go forward," he said simply. "You must make the most of what you have."
The Cowboy's Christmas Miracle Page 15