Long, Tall Christmas

by Janet Dailey

  Kylie glanced at her children. Amy looked tired. Hunter was yawning. “Time for bed, both of you,” she said. “Don’t forget to brush your teeth. Hunter, before you get ready for bed, I want a word with you—upstairs.”

  Hunter’s expression told her he knew what was coming. He’d broken rules and would have to face the consequences. He rose from his seat and slunk toward the stairs.

  “I’ll be going, too,” Shane said, rising. “Thanks for the cocoa, Muriel.”

  “Wait, Cowboy.” Muriel’s voice stopped him. “Stay a minute and talk with an old woman. I have something to get off my chest. Don’t worry, it won’t take long.”

  As Kylie left the kitchen and followed her son upstairs, Shane took his seat again. Muriel looked serious. What was on her mind?

  He was about to find out.

  Chapter Nine

  “What’s up, Muriel?” Shane studied his longtime neighbor across the table. He’d known Muriel Summerfield since his boyhood. They’d shared years of casual conversation, but this was the first time in memory she’d asked him to sit down for a serious talk. “Is something wrong?” he asked, suddenly concerned. “Are you all right?”

  “Oh, I’m fine.” She gave him a smile. “This isn’t about me, Cowboy. It’s about you.”

  “About me?” A prickle of apprehension crawled up Shane’s backbone.

  “About you and that lady who just left us.”

  Shane stifled a groan. He should’ve guessed what the woman was up to. “Whoa! Kylie and I are just friends, if that’s what you’re getting at.” It was a bald-faced lie if he’d ever heard one. His relationship with Kylie could hardly be called “friendly.” Throw in that kiss, and their connection was more like a lightning storm.

  Muriel leaned closer across the table, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Listen, I’m getting too old to waste time beating around the bush. I know you’re planning to sell and leave. But if you’re looking for what’s missing in your life, maybe you should stop and look around. Right here, you’ve got a woman, who lights you up like a Christmas tree, and two wonderful kids, who need a father. You’ve been lonesome all your life, Cowboy. If you hit the road on your bike, you’ll go on being lonesome, maybe for the rest of your life. But it doesn’t have to be that way. You could have it all. You could have a real family.”

  Shane shook his head. “You’re jumping the gun, Muriel. Even if I agreed with you—and I’m not saying I do—the lady’s still wearing her wedding ring—or, at least, she’s searching for it. She’s still married to her late husband. I can’t compete with a dead war hero.”

  “Horsefeathers! I’ve noticed the way she looks at you. She may be fighting the attraction, but a little encouragement from you could win her over.”

  “What if I were to win her over, along with the kids, and then still decide to leave? Sorry, Muriel, I know you mean well. But when I hit the road, I want a clean getaway with no emotional baggage left behind.”

  Muriel’s mouth formed a girlish pout. “Promise me you’ll at least keep an open mind. All right?”

  Shane stood. “I’m not in a position to promise anything. Helen’s found a prospective buyer for the ranch, a couple from up north. They’re coming to look at the place after the holidays. If they take it, I’ll be out of here early.”

  Muriel sighed. “Well, at least that gives you a little time. Think it over, Cowboy. You may be riding away from your one chance at happiness.”

  He gave her a scowl. She only smiled. “Yes, I know I’m an old busybody, sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong. But I think the world of Kylie and those young ones—and I think the world of you. To see all of you together as a family would give me a happy old age.”

  Lord, but this woman knows how to twist that guilt knife.

  “Put it out of your mind, Muriel,” he said. “I could give you a whole list of reasons why it wouldn’t work. But it’s getting late, so I’m going to leave before I start on them. Good night, and thanks again for the cocoa. Tell Henry I’ll be back tomorrow to work on the bike.”

  With that, he headed out the back door.

  Kylie returned to the kitchen to find Muriel alone at the table. “Where’s Shane?” she asked. “I wanted to pass on Hunter’s thanks for finding him.”

  “He just walked out,” Muriel said. “You might be able to catch him. Either way, he’ll be back tomorrow to work on the bike.”

  As Kylie hurried out onto the porch, she heard the slam of the truck door and the growl of the starting engine. An instant later, Shane’s pickup rolled down the snowy drive toward the gate. She paused, her spirits sinking. Foolish as the idea was, she’d looked forward to thanking him again and seeing him off. But she was too late. She’d missed him.

  Not that it should matter. Muriel had said he was coming back. Hunter could thank him in person tomorrow.

  Tomorrow!

  Tomorrow was Christmas Eve. Christmas Eve with no tree and no presents. Nothing but the same old Christmas music on the radio and the lame Christmas reruns on TV.

  Kylie watched the red taillights vanish down the road. She’d had such wonderful plans for this holiday. But they’d all gone as flat as punctured party balloons. She was running out of options. And she had no one to blame but herself.

  December 24

  The sky was pink with winter sunrise when the delivery van came rolling through the gate. Kylie and her children were sharing Muriel’s favorite breakfast of hot oatmeal with cream and brown sugar. Through the kitchen window, Amy spotted the big brown vehicle. With a squeal, she jumped out of her chair and dashed for the front door. Kylie and Hunter rushed after her.

  The three of them were standing on the front steps when the driver came up the shoveled walk, carrying a cardboard box large enough to hide his upper body from sight. Was it the Christmas presents or the warm winter clothes she’d ordered? Either one would be welcome, but she knew what her children were hoping for.

  “Here you go. Merry Christmas.” The driver set the box down on the porch. Kylie glanced at the label. It was from the online store where she’d ordered their coats, gloves, and boots—not the presents.

  “I was expecting two boxes,” she said. “Is there another one for us in your van?”

  The driver shook his head. “Sorry. It’s probably in a different shipment. But don’t give up. We’re doing our best to get everything delivered by Christmas.”

  As he hurried back to the van, Kylie turned to her downcast children. “Hey, don’t look so sad! You have new, warm winter clothes! Amy, now you can play in the snow. Hunter, you don’t have to wear that old plaid coat anymore. And our presents may still get here in time.”

  Amy managed a smile. “Let’s go in and open the box. At least we’ll be opening something.”

  “Good idea.” Kylie reached for the box, but Hunter grabbed it, hoisted it to his shoulder, and carried it inside. Last night they’d discussed his punishment for running away and causing so much worry. Grounding him seemed useless, since he was already pretty much confined to the farm. But he’d lost his phone privileges for a week. To his credit, he hadn’t argued or whined about it. Her son was growing up.

  “Leave the box by the sofa, Hunter,” she said. “We’ll need to finish breakfast before we open it.”

  “Aw, Mom, it’ll only take a minute.”

  “It’ll keep. Finish your breakfast before it gets cold. After the table’s cleared, we’ll open the box.”

  The meal was finished and the table cleared in record time. Then Hunter and Amy tore into the box. The children had picked out their own winter clothes online, so there were no surprises. Still, they were excited to have something new. The puffy, hooded coats were quilted with synthetic down fill; Amy’s was deep rose, Hunter’s navy blue. The sturdy boots were lined with warm fleece. The gloves were wool.

  Kylie’s coat was emerald green, a color that flattered her fair hair and complexion. “Now I can stop borrowing your coat, Aunt Muriel,” she sai
d, pirouetting to show it off.

  “It’s lovely, dear.” Muriel began running water on the breakfast dishes.

  “No, you don’t!” Kylie pulled off the coat and flew to the sink to nudge her aside. “You cooked breakfast. I’ll do the dishes. Just sit down and keep me company.”

  “Well, if you insist.” Muriel took a seat at the table as Hunter and Amy, already dressed in their warm winter outfits, dashed out the back door to play in the snow. Kylie added a squirt of detergent to the warm water and began washing the dishes.

  “You haven’t found your ring yet?” Muriel asked.

  “No, and I’ve looked everywhere.”

  “So have I, dear. This morning before you came down to breakfast, I searched every inch of the kitchen. When I see Henry, I’ll ask him to take the drain apart, in case it’s fallen down there.”

  “I’m so sorry for the trouble,” Kylie said. “My big worry is that I lost the ring outside in the snow.”

  “Well, dear, sooner or later, the snow will melt.”

  “That’s just what Shane said.”

  Muriel sat in silence for a moment. A ray of morning light filtered through the window to gleam on her soft silver hair. “Did you ever stop to think that you might have lost your ring for a reason?” she asked.

  Kylie turned to stare at her. “Whatever do you mean?”

  “Somebody needs to say this, Kylie. You’ve been a widow for nineteen months, and your husband had been gone for nearly a year when you lost him. Maybe the disappearance of your ring is a sign.”

  “A sign?”

  “A sign that it’s time to move on.”

  Something tightened in Kylie’s throat. Muriel was a wise woman, but she’d never married. What did she know about love and loss? “Move on? But what is there to move on to, Aunt Muriel?”

  “You’re still young and pretty, and you have so much to give. There’s a new life waiting for you out there. All you need is to open yourself to it.”

  Kylie shook her head and went back to washing the dishes. How could she just walk away from her vows and memories? How could she let go of the past when, apart from her children, the past was all she had?

  “What about you, Aunt Muriel?” she said, deliberately changing the subject. “When Amy asked you why you never married, you said the right man never asked you. So I’m wondering, was there a right man?”

  “Perhaps.” A little smile flickered across her lips. For a moment, she looked young.

  “Who was he? What was his name?”

  “His name doesn’t matter anymore.” Muriel’s eyes seemed to be gazing into the past. “He worked for my father. I fell in love the first time I set eyes on him. But he was never anything but polite and respectful toward me. I suspect if he cared for me at all, he thought I was too fine for him. How wrong he was.”

  “So you never encouraged him?”

  “I was shy, nothing like girls are these days. I had no idea how to encourage a man. And later on, of course, I had my father to take care of.”

  “So, what finally happened?”

  “Nothing. We just got old.” Still wearing that faraway look, Muriel got up and left the kitchen.

  Deep in musings, Kylie finished the dishes. She’d told herself that her great-aunt knew nothing about love and loss. But she’d been wrong. No doubt Muriel had been talking about Henry, who’d stayed by her side all these years without ever speaking his mind. It was a beautiful love story—but such a sad one.

  Was it too late for the two of them? Would they go to their graves without knowing the truth? Something needed to change. But how could she nudge them in the right direction without embarrassing two very dignified, very private people? Or even worse, wrecking a relationship built on years of trust?

  She was drying the dishes when Amy burst into the kitchen. Her coat was dusted with snow. Her eyes were dancing. “Henry told us how to make snow angels! It’s fun! Come out and play with us, Mom!”

  Play?

  For Kylie the word had almost lost its meaning. How long had it been since she’d put aside her worries and played with her children? How long since she’d laughed with them? In the months since Brad’s death, every day had been about survival, with no time or energy for anything else. She’d missed playing, she realized. So had her children, especially Amy.

  “Please, Mom.” Amy tugged at her arm.

  Giving in, Kylie tossed the dish towel aside and grabbed her new coat and boots. “I haven’t made snow angels since I was your age,” she said. “Let’s see if I can remember how.”

  It was cold outside. Amy and Hunter’s faces were flushed from playing in the snow. Their breaths made white puffs of vapor in the icy air. But it was their smiles Kylie noticed first. She couldn’t remember when she’d seen her children look so happy.

  “Come on, Mom!” Amy dashed into the knee-deep snow. “Let’s see you make a snow angel!”

  Kylie put up the hood of her coat and pulled her new gloves out of the pockets where she’d stuffed them.

  “Right here.” Amy guided her to a patch of fresh untouched snow. Kylie braced herself for the shock, took a deep breath and willed herself to fall straight backward. She gasped as the snow closed around her. The landing was like a tumble into icy cold feathers, but the lower layers of snow supported her weight and kept her from sinking too deep. Remembering what to do, she butterflied her arms up and down to make angel wings and thrashed her legs apart and together to make the skirt. Done. Now to get up without wrecking her angel.

  “Help!” She held up her arms. Hunter and Amy each grabbed a hand and pulled. Kylie staggered to her feet, lost her balance and, laughing, fell back on her rear. Her perfect angel was ruined, but the sound of her children’s laughter had been worth it.

  “Make another one!” Amy said.

  “Not on your life!” Kylie brushed the snow off her jeans. “I’ve got a better idea. Let me show you how to play Fox and Geese.”

  After morning chores and a quick breakfast, Shane drove his pickup over the snowy road to Muriel’s farm. He’d planned on spending a few hours in the shed, examining the wrecked bike and judging which parts were usable. So far, Henry hadn’t sounded optimistic about fixing it. But Shane wasn’t ready to give up. When the ranch sold, he’d have plenty of money for a new top-of-the-line machine. But the idea of touring the back roads on his old Harley had the ring of a promise kept. He would do his best to keep the patient alive.

  Kylie would be there, he reminded himself as he turned up the drive. But he planned to keep his distance. Kissing her last night had almost melted his boot soles. But he couldn’t allow it to mean anything. He was almost a free man. Getting tangled up with a pretty widow and her two likable kids was the last thing he needed. And as far as he could tell, the lady felt the same way toward him.

  Up ahead, between the barnyard and the house, something was going on. Dressed in jewel-colored coats, Kylie and her children were romping in the snow, falling down, getting up, and pelting each other with snowballs. Their winter clothes and boots must’ve arrived.

  Shane’s foot eased off on the gas as he neared the house. Rolling down the window, he could hear them shouting. The sight of Kylie, tumbling and playing in the snow like a little girl, made him want to sit back and enjoy watching her. Seeing her sparkle like that—her face flushed with cold, her mouth laughing—almost made him want to fall in love with her. But what was he thinking? Was Muriel’s advice getting to him?

  They’d noticed him now. Their play stopped as Shane pulled the truck up to the house and parked. Kylie waved at him as he climbed to the ground. “Hunter has something to tell you,” she said, motioning her son over.

  Hunter shuffled his new boots in the snow. “I’m sorry I ran away and caused so much trouble, Shane. Thanks for coming to drive me home.”

  Shane gave him a serious look. “Thanks for your apology, Hunter. I hope you’ve learned your lesson.”

  Hunter nodded sheepishly. “Are we square?”

/>   “I’d say so.” Shane allowed himself to smile. “When you’re through playing in the snow, you’re welcome to come out to the shed. Henry and I will be working on the bike. If you want to watch, maybe you can learn a thing or two.”

  “Hey, I’d like that!” Hunter chased off after his sister, who’d just thrown a snowball at his back. Kylie stood looking up at Shane, her eyes narrowed against the glare of sun on snow.

  “Sorry if I overstepped myself,” Shane said. “I guess I should’ve asked your permission before I invited him out to the shed.”

  “No, it’s fine,” she said. “It’ll be something new for him—the sort of thing he’d never learn from his mother. It hasn’t been easy, raising a boy on my own and trying to teach him man skills.”

  “So you aren’t worried about my being a bad influence on him?” Shane couldn’t resist needling her.

  “Oh, stop it! I was just being overprotective. Given the way you came to our rescue last night, I feel like a fool.”

  “You’re anything but a fool, Kylie. And I’d say you’re doing a fine job of teaching your son man skills—like courtesy and responsibility.”

  Her laugh was brief but warm. “Sometimes I wonder about that. But thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  She’d made no move to leave. The eyes that looked up at him were as blue as the favorite marble he’d carried in his pocket as a boy. Perfect little Kylie Summerfield. Was she thinking about last night’s gasket-blowing kiss? He sure as hell was. And right now, he wouldn’t mind a replay. Too bad they had an audience.

  Something thumped against the back of Shane’s coat. Turning around, he saw a grinning Amy about to fling a second snowball at him. He threw his hands in the air. “Hey, I surrender! Name it—anything you want!”

  She lowered her hand. Her eyebrows slid together in a mock scowl. “You owe me a snowmobile ride,” she said. “You took Hunter, but I didn’t have a coat, so I couldn’t go. Now I can go, and I want to see your puppies. Hunter says you have horses, too.” She caught her mother’s frown. “Please,” she added.