"I'll get the markers," said Gabriel, shoving back his chair.
"I'll find the glitter." Nicolas rushed off. Markers? Glitter? John Malone? "It'll be trop cool, you'll see," Nicolas said cheerfully over his shoulder.
"Trop cool?" Deke echoed.
"Don't worry," Erin said. She touched his shoulder as she passed. And when he looked up she smiled at him. "It will be fine, Deke."
And then, by God, she bent and kissed his cheek!
Deke spotted the Welcome Home sign flapping from the porch roof of his parents' house as he drove up the following evening.
A twelve-foot-long, three-foot-high swath of butcher paper proclaimed WELCOME HOME in multicolored markers, with BIENVENU written beneath it in neon orange and pink and green, so it could be read, as well, by any French-speaking citizens of Livingston.
"You never know who might see it," Erin had said with a shrug last night. "I don't really think it matters, do you?"
Deke hadn't been thinking much all day—except about Erin having kissed him!
Had it been a "friendly" kiss? Or something more?
She'd breezed out of the room before he could do more than sit bolt upright in response. And when she'd come back from the kitchen, she'd been talking to the kids about the banner, as if she'd never given the kiss another thought.
Probably she hadn't, damn it! Deke didn't know what to think. It had been all he could do not to keep touching the spot, like some goofy, besotted teenager.
Now as he pulled up in front of the house and could read the sign in the yard light as bright as day, he tried to imagine what his father must have thought upon seeing it there. Probably that they'd come to the wrong house.
Grinning, he got out of the truck. As he got closer he could see that each individual letter had been colored in with small seasonal drawings: wreaths and Christmas trees, candy canes and snowmen, and—Deke laughed when he saw them—doves of peace.
Dealing with John Malone, they'd need all the doves of peace they could get.
Erin's Suburban was parked across the street, and Deke wondered what time she'd got there. What had happened to her "quick visit"? Maybe she'd hung the banner earlier and had come back just a little while ago to make an appearance with the kids. That seemed likely.
So maybe he could drop in, congratulate his father on getting home, suffer the daily grilling about the store and then he and Erin could make a getaway together.
But when he opened the door it didn't sound like anyone was going anywhere at all—not soon at least.
"Oh, good, Deke. You're here." His mother beamed at him as she crossed the hall from the kitchen to the family room, carrying a covered dish. "We're just getting ready to eat. In here—with John. He said we should all come in there. Erin brought dinner. Wasn't that lovely of her? And the sign! Did you see the sign she and the children made? John was thrilled."
Thrilled? It didn't sound like his father. And he wanted them all to eat with him in the family room? That didn't sound like his father, either.
Scratching his head, Deke went to investigate. He knew Cash had brought down a bed from upstairs and had put it in the family room so their dad wouldn't have to climb the stairs. Deke had envisioned his father ruling his castle from there—like a king directing his servants, the way he had bossed everyone from his hospital bed.
But at the moment he looked less like a king than like the ringmaster of a three-ring circus. He was in bed, all right, but hardly in regal splendor.
While Deke's mother had obviously decorated the house for Christmas—the perfect tiny tree was sitting on the table under the window, the angel choir of candles sat on the buffet and the requisite sprig of mistletoe hung in the doorway just as he remembered—nothing else was at all the same.
His mother was setting up a buffet line of sorts on the parson's table in the family room. Gabriel was opening up TV trays, while keeping an eye on the action in a hockey game on television. Sophie was sitting on the edge of John Malone's bed showing him an album of photos and talking nineteen to the dozen, and Nicolas and Zack were sprawled on their stomachs on the floor, coloring on another giant piece of paper.
Deke's father, amazingly enough, seemed to be taking it all in stride.
He had an eye on the hockey game, like Gabe. He was listening to Sophie and paging through the album with her. And every once in a while he would lift his gaze in the direction of Nico and Zack. He barely noticed when Deke walked in.
It was Zack who bounced up and came running. "Daaaaad!"
"Hey, there!" Deke swept the little boy up in his arms and gave him a fierce hug, aware as he did so that his father's eyes had settled on him. Judging him. At least, that's what it felt like. He didn't look John's way. Instead he tickled Zack's belly. "Whatcha doin', buddy?"
"Picture," Zack told him. "Big picture!" He lifted his arms and spread them wide, like the sun coming up.
"You makin' a picture for me?"
Zack shook his head. "Pa," he said and pointed at his grandfather.
Deke blinked. "You're making a picture for Grandpa?"
Zack nodded emphatically. "Yep, Pa," he agreed, then wriggled to get down. "Nico me." He pointed to the picture, which was pretty much nonrepresentational as far as Deke could tell. But what Zack lacked in skill he made up for in intensity as he flopped down beside Nicolas and began coloring furiously once more.
"It's a Christmas picture," Nico explained. "'Cause Zack's grandpa says they need a Christmas picture. See. I'm doing a tree an' angels an' Jesus an' the sheep, an' Zack is doin' the sky. Zack's grandpa liked the banner. He said me an' Zack have talent."
"Did he?" Deke looked at his father, surprised.
His father stared back as if daring him to dispute it.
Deke didn't. He just nodded. "He's right," he told Nicolas.
"Hi." Erin's voice made Deke spin around.
She was standing right behind him, bearing a plate of roast, carrots and potatoes. And her smile was enough to make his heart kick over in his chest.
"Hi, yourself." He almost stumbled over his boots trying to get out of her way. And when she had to slide past him to get to the table, their bodies brushed, and he felt like a teenager all over again.
He cleared his throat. "You brought dinner, Ma said?" He nodded at the platter.
"I decided it would be easier. Give your mom a little break." She set the platter on the table.
"That was, um, nice of you." Cripes, he sounded like an idiot. "I'm … sure she appreciates it."
"We both appreciate it," his father said gruffly.
That surprised Deke, too. But the old man was almost smiling. He asked Deke what he thought of that banner, had he ever seen such an amazing banner, and his chest had almost puffed with pride.
He seemed happier than Deke had seen him in years. He was still taciturn and given to the occasional gruff comment during the meal. He told Sophie not to talk with her mouth full, and he narrowed his gaze at Nico when the boy walked in front of the television without saying, "Excuse me."
But he didn't only correct etiquette and issue pronouncements. He actually asked a few questions—questions that sought answers, not ones that demanded defenses like the ones he generally aimed Deke's way.
And even when he made a slighting reference to Erin's having gone "gadding off to France" as a young woman, instead of bristling defensively, Erin just laughed and agreed.
"Call it gadding if you want, but it was wonderful," she said, eyes shining. "It opened my eyes to the world outside of Elmer."
And in the face of her obvious enthusiasm, John only said gruffly, "S'pose you'd need that, coming from such a little bitty place."
As opposed, Deke thought wryly, to a metropolis as huge as Livingston.
But Erin just said, "Oh, yes. And it was the best thing that ever happened to me anyway because I met my husband there."
"Oh, yes?" John said, and Deke held his breath, wondering what comment his father might make about such a romantic p
ronouncement as that. But surprisingly he smiled a little wistfully. "Those are the days, aren't they?" he said. "When you've got all those hopes, all those dreams…"
Deke stared. Hopes? Dreams?
"Pass the potatoes," his father said.
As the days wore on, Erin tried simply to enjoy each day. But while it was easy to counsel herself to live in the moment, it was harder and harder not to have hopes.
Especially when she was falling deeper and deeper in love.
She had always loved the young man Deke had been. She'd admired him, dreamed about him, respected him. And as unrequited as her love had been, she had never really regretted it because, as she had once told Nathalie, loving Deke had taught her what to value, what to look for in the man she married.
She had found those qualities in Jean-Yves. And for twelve years she had loved him with all her heart. Even after his death she had persisted in her love. She still loved him even now, but not in the same way.
Now those feelings focused once again on Deke because all the things about him that she'd once loved were still there. They had developed and matured even as Deke had.
He was the man now she had once thought he could become—a strong, committed, loving father, a still-devoted son trying to please his stubborn old man, a talented photographer, a gentleman, a generous lover, a wonderful friend.
Everything she wanted.
And as the days went on, as he stayed, as he became a part of their lives, she dared to hope. She let down her defenses a little more every day.
She gave her heart to Zack. How could she not? Deke's little son was so openly adoring, so eager to be with her, so ready to call her Mama.
She winced every time he did it around Deke, expecting him to tell Zack that Mama wasn't her name. But he didn't. He acted like he didn't notice.
Maybe he didn't. Erin didn't know. She didn't know how Deke felt at all. Well, no, that wasn't quite true. She knew he liked her. He talked with her the way he always had. He joked with her, teased her, confided in her about his father, about his son.
She was still his "best friend."
Even more, she knew he would still be happy to go to bed with her. She'd seen the way he looked at her when he thought she wasn't noticing. There was a hunger in his eyes that, if she only gave the word, she was sure he would be happy to assuage.
Truth to tell, there was a hunger inside Erin, too, that seemed to grow more insistent every day. When she was with him, she wanted to touch him. The other night she had given in to temptation and kissed his cheek. But she wanted to do a lot more than that.
She wanted to put her fingers on his arm, to slip her hand inside his shirt, to unbuckle his belt and—
Heavens, she could make herself crazy just thinking about it!
Don't! she told herself. Stop!
But somewhere along the line don't and stop faded away and became Don't stop! And as she lay awake every night, tossing and turning, she couldn't stop remembering the love they'd shared.
She wanted it again. She wanted it forever.
She had turned him away from her bed when he'd come back. She'd told him she didn't want that. What if now she told him she did?
Another sleepless night. Two. Tossing. Turning. Wishing.
Hoping.
They had so much in common—their interests, their work, their children, their mutual compatibility in bed. Everything they'd had years ago—and more. Deke looked at her with desire now. He had learned the secrets of her body just as she had learned his.
But did he want her forever?
Did he love her the way she loved him?
* * *
Chapter 11
« ^ »
"Is it time yet?"
"Can we go yet?"
"Can't we start yet?"
The Elmer Christmas Pageant was the community event of the year. From the time Erin had been old enough to toddle until she'd gone away to Paris, she'd been a part of it. And now her children were.
They'd been buzzing with excitement all month. And ever since they'd got up this morning, they'd been fidgeting, unable to sit still, anxiously awaiting the program that night.
"What if I forget my lines?" Gabriel demanded. He was going to recite "The Night before Christmas" as it was pantomimed by the seventh and eighth grades.
"You won't," Erin assured him. He'd said it so many times around the house that she was sure she could prompt him if he had a memory lapse.
"What if I trip on my wings?" Sophie fretted. She was an angel in the Christmas story, and a townsperson in the Frosty the Snowman sequence.
"Keep your wings close to your body," Erin advised. She'd learned that during her own tenure as one of the heavenly host, thirty-odd years ago. "And shuffle your feet."
"What if I throw up?" Nicolas said. He looked a little green around the gills, though whether from pre-pageant nerves or too many Christmas cookies, Erin wasn't sure. He was a shepherd at the manger in one sequence, which shouldn't be worrying him. But he was Parson Brown in the "Winter Wonderland" piece, which meant he had to wear a frock coat and look like he was performing a marriage.
"Celie showed you what to do," his mother reassured him. "You'll be fine."
"I might not be," Nicolas said. "Uncle Taggart says anything can happen at the Elmer Christmas pageant!"
"And probably already has," Erin said.
The Elmer Christmas pageant was probably as old as the town of Elmer itself. The pageant, which was usually put on the last Sunday night before Christmas, was religious and secular, traditional and innovative and, Erin was sure, absolutely politically incorrect.
Fortunately, since it was neither government funded nor compulsory, no one cared.
It did what it was intended to do—bring the community together—and it was one of the things Erin had most looked forward to when she and the children had moved back to Montana.
You never knew what was going to happen at the Elmer Christmas pageant. When Erin was a little girl, two shepherds had got into a fist fight and the manger had fallen on top of them. The year before she'd gone to Paris, Tom Dixon and Margie Kelly had announced their engagement after getting "mock married" by Parson Brown.
A couple of years ago, Taggart had told her, he'd been shanghaied into playing Joseph and the very pregnant Mary McLean—now Mary Holt—had gone into labor right on stage! Gus had spirited her off to the hospital, had stood by her during the birth and had married her two months later.
Last year Erin's old journalist friend Charlie Seeks Elk had been coerced by mayor Polly McMaster into directing the pageant. People were still talking about what a fantastic job Charlie had done creating photo shim backdrops for all the production pieces.
This year the directing job had gone to Polly's sister, Celie Tucker. And for weeks everyone had wondered how she could possibly top Charlie's fantastic sets. And the answer was, of course, she couldn't.
But Celie had her own strengths—which became apparent when the house lights went down and the stage lights came up and, as Jace Tucker began to narrate, everyone got a good look at the man in the bathrobe leading the donkey.
"Ohmigod, it's Sloan!"
"Look! It's Gallagher!"
"Sloan Gallagher's playin' Joseph!" The words were whispered over and over around the hall as the amazed and delighted citizens of Elmer saw that their very own Hollywood heart throb had come home for Christmas.
"An', good grief, that's Polly playin' Mary!"
Sure enough, Sloan's wife, former mayor and postmistress of Elmer, was seated, red-faced with embarrassment, but definitely smiling, on the back of the donkey Sloan led. Everyone was enchanted—and thrilled—that Polly and Sloan hadn't forgotten their "roots," that they'd come back to be part of Elmer's celebration.
And, Erin realized, looking at Polly, to let Elmer become part of theirs. Because the smile she saw on Polly's face when she looked at Sloan was a smile of such love and happiness that she knew their marriage was, indeed, cause for celeb
ration.
Erin felt a pang of envy just looking at them. Two years younger than Polly, Erin had known her and her first husband, Lew, all her life. She'd gone to Polly and Lew's wedding. She remembered the birth of their daughter Sara. In her romantic daydreams, Erin had thought that maybe she and Deke could follow Polly and Lew's example.
Of course they hadn't. But she'd thought of Polly and Lew often over the years. And the news of Lew's death in a plane crash some years ago had touched her deeply.
Later, when her own Jean-Yves had been killed, Erin had felt a deep bond with Polly McMaster. A widow left with plenty of young kids, Polly would have known exactly how Erin was feeling. Aching. Bereft. Alone.
And now … now Polly had found a new love. She had moved on. She was alone no longer. And watching her with Sloan, smiling at him, being smiled at in return, Erin ached to do the same.
Last year at this time who would ever have thought that Sloan Gallagher and Polly McMaster would be together?
No one. Not a soul.
For that matter, who would have thought Jace Tucker and Celie O'Meara would now be man and wife?
Nobody. It was inconceivable. Less likely even than she and Deke!
And how unexpected and unlikely were they?
Erin slanted a glance at the man sitting next to her, the man balancing his unplanned, unexpected, unlikely son on his knee, the man whose arm stretched along the back of her chair and now and again brushed against her shoulders. The man she had walked away from years ago because it seemed that in this lifetime he would never love her.
But entirely unexpected possibilities could become realities.
If a child could become a savior, if the most unlikely people could fall in love, then who knew what miracles could happen?
Erin dared to hope. After all, wasn't that what Christmas was all about?
The phone rang just as Deke was getting ready to close the store on Christmas Eve afternoon. It was the one day of the year the store closed early.
"Five o'clock," his father had said when he'd talked to him the day he'd come home from the hospital. "You can close at five. And not a minute before."
The Cowboy's Christmas Miracle Page 17