Sugar Pine Trail--A Small-Town Holiday Romance

by RaeAnne Thayne

  They were still quarreling as Julia let them all inside the kitchen and flipped on the light. She felt wholly inadequate. How did parents deal with these squabbles? She feared taking sides would only make things worse.

  This parenting gig was hard.

  “You shut up,” Davy said. “I heard you say it was fun before, and now you’re lying when you say it wasn’t. Why are you being such a jerk?”

  “You’re a jerk.”

  “Boys. That’s enough. You shouldn’t call each other names. Also, it’s rude to tell someone to shut up.”

  “It’s rude to tell a lie, too. Clint’s a big, dumb liar.”

  “I am not!” his brother protested. “I didn’t have fun. There were too many people and food I didn’t like. The mashed potatoes tasted weird, and they didn’t have any blueberry pie. I wanted to have Thanksgiving like we always did. I want my mom.”

  His chin quivered, and in that moment, Julia wanted her mom, too. Mariah would know how to handle these boys. She would be her calm, loving self and get to the root of the problem.

  Her mother wasn’t here, and neither was the boys’ mother. She was it for them right now and would have to fix this herself.

  Julia sat on one of the kitchen chairs and pulled Clint toward her in what was probably the world’s most awkward hug. He didn’t seem to mind. After a moment, he hugged her back, and some of the tension seemed to seep out of his small frame.

  “I know you miss your mom,” she said softly. “That’s normal.”

  That was the root of his rude behavior. She didn’t need Mariah to help figure out that. He was worried and upset. How could she blame him? Everything in his world suddenly had changed.

  “Sometimes we can’t have everything we want,” she said, her voice soft. “It stinks, I know. But simply because everything isn’t perfect doesn’t mean you should throw out the good things you do have. Imagine that I gave you a really delicious chocolate chip cookie, but it only has three chocolate chips, not the four you wanted. Would you throw it on the ground and stomp on it and refuse to eat it?”

  “No,” he scoffed. “That would be stupid.”

  “Right? But it’s kind of the same thing here. You didn’t have everything you wanted today. You miss your mother and are worried for her. I don’t blame you at all for that. In fact, I completely understand. I miss my mom, too. This is my first Thanksgiving without either of my parents, just like you, and it hurts.”

  “I just want everything to be okay.”

  “I know. Remember that Thanksgiving is about being grateful—for airplane rides and nice people who invite us to dinner and leftover turkey we can have for sandwiches tomorrow. It’s okay to be sad about what you don’t have, but don’t let your sadness ruin what you do have. Okay?”

  “Okay.” For just a moment—one small, precious slice of time—he rested his cheek against her. Julia tightened her arms, her heart swelling at the warm, sweet weight of him.

  “It’s been a long day, and I’m sure you’re both tired. Why don’t you take your baths and get in your pajamas, then we can look through the bookshelves in your room for something you’d like me to read to you before bed.”

  “Can you read Green Eggs and Ham?” he asked.

  “You’ve got it. That is definitely a book I know we can find on the bookshelf.”

  “What about the Wild Things book?” Davy asked.

  “I have that one, too. I’m going to put these leftovers Eliza gave us in the refrigerator. You two take care of your part, and we’ll meet in your room when we’re all done. Can everyone be nice, now?”

  They nodded and went together to prepare for bed.

  They were both so sleepy after their exciting day, their eyelids were drooping by the time she finished the first of the five stories they pulled out for her to read.

  “Why don’t we stop there?” she said softly as she closed the book.

  “But what about the other books?” Davy asked, forcing one eye open.

  “They will still be here in the morning. We can read them tomorrow.”

  They made a token protest, too sleepy to put much force into it. Clint climbed up to his top bunk.

  This wasn’t so bad, she thought as she tucked them in and smoothed a hand over each boy’s head. She could handle story time with a half-asleep but appreciative audience.

  “Good night, both of you. Sleep well.”

  “Can the cats stay in here?” Davy asked.

  Empress and Tabitha were curled up at the foot of his bed.

  “For now,” she said. “I’m not sure they’ll stay here all night. They sometimes like to wander, but I can leave the door open a bit so they don’t wake you up when they leave.”

  “Okay. G’night, Miss Julia,” Davy said.

  “Night, Miss Julia,” Clint echoed.

  “You know, since you’re living with me, you don’t have to call me Miss Julia, right? You can simply call me Julia.”

  “Good night, Julia,” both boys said in unison, as if they had rehearsed it.

  She smiled and left the room, closing the door a crack, as she had promised.

  The bathroom was a disaster of wet towels, wet floor, dirty clothes. The mess trailed out into the hall and into the living room. She picked things up, wondering how two boys possibly could generate so much clutter, especially when they had come to her without much in the way of belongings at all.

  She was going to have to do something about that. They needed more clothing, books, a few toys to call their own at her house.

  They might have to make do for a few days. The last thing she wanted to do was take them shopping on Black Friday.

  She was hanging the last towel on the rack when she thought she heard a soft knock on her door.

  Jamie.

  It had to be him. Any other visitors would have rung the doorbell out front.

  She tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear, grimly aware of the fierce punch of her heartbeat.

  Stop it, she told herself as she went to the door and pulled it open to find Jamie wearing a fawn-colored leather jacket and holding a plastic container.

  She had only left Snow Angel Cove an hour earlier. How was it possible that she somehow forgot how delicious he smelled?

  “Hi. Did we forget something?”

  He held out the cardboard. “Pop wanted to make sure you had a few extra slices of boysenberry pie to enjoy later.”

  “Oh, how sweet! He must have seen me inhale some earlier. It was quite possibly the best piece of pie it’s ever been my pleasure to taste.”

  He smiled. “That is one of his specialties.”

  He handed over the container, and though she was more stuffed than she’d been in a long time, her mouth watered in anticipation for the future treat.

  “Your father is a lovely man. I hope you know.”

  “He is. And I do. Mind you, I didn’t always think so, especially during my rebellious teen years.”

  “I’m trying to imagine you as a rebellious teen, but I’m afraid I can’t quite picture it.”

  “I have photographic proof, if you’d like to see it. Long hair, surly expression and all.”

  “I would. Very much.”

  He looked startled for just a moment before he laughed, which sent shivers down her spine and made Audrey wander in from parts unknown to see what was happening.

  “Do me a favor and don’t tell my sister that. She loves any excuse to whip out the photo albums.”

  She smiled, resolving to ignore him and do just that. Charlotte, his only sister, was a dear. The first time Julia met her, it had come as quite a shock to discover she was married to Smokin’ Hot Spence Gregory, who used to pitch for the Portland Pioneers. Over the last few years, she almost had gotten over being tongue-tied a
round the man.

  Now Jamie was the only one who left her flustered.

  “All of your family is wonderful,” she said softly. “You’re very lucky.”

  “I know. And if I ever forget, they’re all quick to remind me.”

  “Good. You should remember it always. It was a wonderful dinner. It’s obvious you all love each other very much.”

  “Again, it hasn’t always been that way,” he answered. “The fighting among us boys could be epic when we were growing up. Our mom used to grab whoever was arguing and force us to sit on the sofa together until we could work things out.”

  “Did it work?”

  He shrugged. “Aidan and I once slept there all night in a spat over ownership of a Stretch Armstrong, but then we got hungry, and Pop was making pancakes, so I gave it back to him.”

  She smiled a little at that, completely charmed to picture one of the world’s most powerful geek gods fighting his younger brother over a toy.

  He gazed down at her for a long moment with an odd expression, then cleared his throat. “Anyway, if you hold on, I have a few other things in the car.”

  “More leftovers? Eliza and Sue already filled a bag for us. I’ve got enough stuffing, mashed potatoes and turkey to last through the weekend.”

  “No. These are for the boys. You can blame Eliza for that. After I told her the situation, she put out the call to my family and friends letting everyone know about the boys. We thought they might need a few things while they’re staying with you. Clothing, coats, toys, books. That sort of thing.”

  Her insides went all soft and gooey at the idea of Jamie Caine calling in the troops to outfit a couple of schoolboys.

  Resisting him was proving harder by the minute.

  “Right before you showed up, I was wondering if we could get by until next week so I don’t have to brave the Black Friday shoppers.”

  “I can’t guarantee you’ll have everything you need, but there are two suitcases full of clothes and a couple plastic bins of toys. That should get you started. Can I start bringing them in?”

  “Of course. Let me grab some shoes, and I’ll come help you.”

  “No, stay here, where it’s warm. I can take care of it.”

  “I don’t mind,” she assured him. After she threw on her boots and shrugged into a coat, they walked into the cold night air. Across the street, the neighbors had turned on their Christmas lights, hanging from every shrub and tree branch. They glowed a lovely blue and white against the lightly falling snow.

  Everyone else in her historic neighborhood went all out for Christmas, decorating their multistory Victorian houses with ribbons and lights and evergreen branches.

  As in all things, her parents had been subdued in their holiday celebrations. When she was a girl, she remembered wreaths in the windows and a few lights around the porch, but since Julia’s father died, her mother hadn’t even wanted to bother with a tree, claiming the cats would only pull off the ornaments.

  But Julia had two young boys living with her now in this sprawling museum of a house. She couldn’t let the holiday pass without some outward show. They needed some Christmas spirit now more than ever, especially with their mother missing and their world filled with uncertainty.

  Perhaps they could go that week and cut down a tree at the farm in Shelter Springs. She would have them help her go through boxes in the attic to find leftover decorations.

  “It’s a beautiful night,” she said, lifting her face to the barely perceptible brush of snow on her cheeks.

  Jamie, opening his cargo door, glanced around the area. “It really is. I’m looking forward to seeing Haven Point all decked out for the holidays.”

  He pulled a couple of suitcases from the back of his SUV and handed them to her, then reached in himself for two large black plastic totes before shoving the door closed and locking it with his key fob.

  “Can I ask you a question?” she asked as they headed back to her house.

  “Shoot.”

  “You’re very close with your family. I saw that today.”

  “I guess so.”

  “Most of them live in Hope’s Crossing. Why, then, would you decide to locate your charter business here, in Haven Point?”

  “Aidan’s here,” he pointed out. “He’s family.”

  “Only half the time. He and Eliza split their time between Haven Point and California.”

  He gave a short laugh. “I believe I’m aware of that, since I’m usually the one flying them back and forth between locations.”

  “So why settle here and not in California? You just...don’t strike me as the small-town sort.”

  “Don’t I?”

  She shrugged, wishing she hadn’t said anything. “I’m sure you know you have a bit of reputation.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “What sort of reputation?”

  Cripes, she had a big mouth. “Nothing. Forget it.”

  “No. I’m interested. I’d like to know what the Helping Hands are saying about me.”

  She sighed. She would have to just brazen through. “Nothing bad. Only that you, um, date. A lot.”

  “A player, do you mean?” He sounded vaguely insulted.

  She quickly shook her head. “No. Not at all. Just that you rarely date the same woman more than a few times.”

  A player was someone who manipulated women and used them for his own gratification. She’d never heard anything like that about Jamie, merely that he liked to go out with a lot of women and always seemed careful to keep things casual.

  “That’s probably true. I always figured the world is a garden, filled with beautiful blooms.” He paused with a rueful expression. “And hearing myself say that out loud, I realize I sound like an idiot.”

  She had to laugh as she shrugged out of her coat inside her living room. “No. Just like the player you say you’re not.”

  “The women I date know I’m not looking for anything serious. I’m always clear about that up front.”

  He spoke with an intensity she didn’t quite understand.

  “Why not?” she asked, then immediately regretted the question. “Sorry. None of my business. Still, if your end goal is variety, I wonder why you didn’t base your flight operations in California, where the, er, flowers grow a little more abundantly than a small town in Idaho, where your dating and business expansion opportunities are limited.”

  “I enjoy Haven Point. It’s a charming little town in a stunning location. I love the lake and the mountains and all the recreational opportunities here, from hiking to boating to fishing to snowshoeing. I can’t say I miss the traffic or the cost of living in northern California.”

  Something told her there was more to the story, but she also sensed he wouldn’t easily reveal himself.

  “What about you?” he asked. “Were you born and raised here?”

  “In this house, actually. Not the born part. I was born in a hospital, of course, but the rest of it. I’ve lived here my whole life, except the three years I lived in Boise while I was in college.”

  His eyes widened in shock. “You haven’t ever wanted to live anywhere else?”

  Julia thought about the dreams of her youth. She had talked with friends about backpacking across Europe after graduation or even joining the Peace Corps, just to widen her horizons a little. She loved reading about adventures but had a compelling urge to live a few herself, to see something beyond this small spot on the map.

  Then, the last half of her senior year, she had met Maksym in an Eastern European literature class. During their whirlwind courtship—a hazy, surreal time that now seemed as if it had happened to someone else—they had talked about moving to his country and building a future together as soon as he finished his degree and his year of mandatory military service.

  M
aksym had proposed a month before finals, spurred by the urgency of having to return to the Ukraine days after graduation.

  Her parents had both freaked. They had been fiercely opposed to the marriage—so opposed, they even refused to meet Maksym. They weren’t exactly xenophobic, but they couldn’t see how a sheltered, quiet girl from a small town in Idaho could possibly be happy with someone from a completely different background and culture. She thought their objections were largely based in fear, that their only daughter would move to another continent and they would never see her again.

  Julia loved him, though, as wildly and impulsively as a twenty-one-year-old could. She defied her parents, the one and only time she had.

  Sadness pinched her heart for those dreams and the choices she had made, the bitter reality that had taken their place. “I never thought I would end up here, but life doesn’t always work out the way we plan,” she said instead.

  “True enough.”

  Enough about the past. This was still Thanksgiving for a few more hours, a time for focusing on gratitude, not missed chances and fate’s cruel twists.

  She turned her attention to the bags of clothes, boots and other items, some that looked almost new.

  “This is wonderful. Please, tell your family how grateful I am. I’ll make sure to keep track of what we use, so I can return things after the boys are either back with their mother or end up with a more permanent placement.”

  “That’s not necessary,” he assured her. “All of these things were eventually headed to Goodwill, so it was no sacrifice, believe me. Send them on with the boys if you want or find another home for them here in Haven Point or at one of the thrift stores in Shelter Springs.”

  “I’ll do that. Thank you.”

  “No problem. We had to guess on sizes, so I’m sure some of it won’t fit. Just donate what you don’t need or want for the boys.”

  “Sounds good. Please, tell everyone thank you for their generosity. And thank you very much for thinking of it in the first place—and for everything else you did today.”

  “It wasn’t much.”

  “I disagree. You took what could have been a rough day for me and for the boys and turned it into something memorable.”