by P. Creeden
The whole time he’d spoken, Winnie had stood there in shock. There was so much going on that she had no understanding of. But she knew one thing. “You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me,” she whispered. “I don’t hate you at all. I love you, Clark Masterson. And God willing, I’ll never leave you.”
He blinked as though he didn’t understand what she said. Confusion clouded his eyes.
Without another word, Winnie stepped forward, wrapped her arms around his neck and embraced him. This time, it was his turn to stiffen, but he only did so for about half a second before his arms wrapped around her and pulled her tighter to him. He crushed her body up against his and then stood up straight, lifting her off her feet. Then he whooped and swung her around in a circle.
Laughter bubbled up from her chest as he set her down on her feet. Then he stepped back, looked her in the eye and said, “You’ve made me the happiest man in the world. Only you could turn a sad, horrible day into a happy one.”
Then he stepped forward, put an arm around her waist and pulled her in toward him again. To her surprise, their lips met before she was ready. A sudden shock went through her body and she tingled from head to toe. His warm lips on hers sparked a fire in her core that she’d never known could exist in the cold environment that had been there before. She closed her eyes and gripped his shoulders to steady herself and keep from falling. Then he pulled back just a little, turned his head and deepened the kiss. Stars popped in her vision and her ears rang. She’d never felt anything like it.
Then his lips smiled against hers, and he pulled away, his fingers weaving into hers. “You know that I’m never going to let you go, right? But for now, I think we better head back before I do something scandalous.”
He tugged on her arm and chuckled. She laughed behind him and they started back through the woods toward the church feeling lighter after leaving all their burdens at the stream.
Epilogue
Christmas morning, Winnie had made the biscuits and Mrs. Harp, the sausage gravy. As Clark passed through the kitchen on the way to the dining table, he came over and set a hand on Winnie’s waist and kissed her cheek. Then he smiled down at her. “Good morning, and Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas,” she said and stood on her tip-toes to kiss him on the cheek back. He helped carry plates into the dining area where Uncle Simon sat with Joe and the two cowboys. Simon may have been larger than life, but he was also a down to earth sort of man who didn’t mind sitting with workers at Christmas Breakfast.
Once everyone was seated at the table, Simon said grace and then they all tucked in to one of the most delicious Christmas breakfasts that any of them had had. Clark smiled. “This is different. I don’t believe I’ve ever had anything like this.”
Mrs. Harp grinned wide. “I’ve been just about dying to make this meal for about ten years. It was one of my favorites. My mom used to make it for the logging camp we lived at in West Virginia. And it’s a taste I’ve had from childhood. But I couldn’t make the biscuits just right, so I’ve not had a chance to make this dish. Now, with Winnie here to bake, we can finally indulge.”
“These biscuits are tremendous,” Uncle Simon cried out with a smile toward Winnie. “Light and fluffy. You really should think about opening a bakery.”
Winnie opened her mouth to answer, but Mrs. Harp chimed in instead, “That’s what the women in the church choir said when she brought in a batch of her Christmas Buns.”
“Well, thank you all, but I’m happy just baking for the family.” Because that’s what each and every one of the people sitting at the table where to Winnie. Her family. The kind of family she’d always longed for. And they were hers, really and truly.
As they finished up breakfast, Winnie and Mrs. Harp stood to clear the table. and Uncle Simon cleared his throat. “Well, I’ve thought long and hard about what to give you, Clark, for this Christmas, and I’ve finally decided. The gentleman pulled out some papers from the briefcase he always carried about. “These are the deeds to the eastern and western land tracts—the pastures that you’ve been using that I owned. I’m giving them both to you.”
Clark blinked, his eyes turning wide. “What?”
The elder Masterson chuckled. “Yes. I’m giving them both to you, scot free. You see, I didn’t realize that my ownership of the land had you pinned down in such a way that bad people like Sykes could come in here and make you bend over backwards to accommodate them just because of the fact that the land wasn’t owned by you. One thing they got right is that you are my only heir. And as such, I’d like you to go ahead and stop waiting until I die. You can have them, now.”
Excitement built up in Winnie’s chest. She knew in her heart that this was what Clark really wanted but had never dared to ask. Clark, on the other hand, frowned and shook his head. “I can’t ask you to do that, Uncle Simon. At least you should let me pay for it.”
Simon hissed. “Hodgepodge. Who pays for their own Christmas gift? Let me be generous.”
“But I already planned on sending the proceeds from the sale of the cattle in the spring to pay for the tract.”
Simon held up a hand and stopped Clark from saying any more. “Then use it to start a bakery in town. I think that would be the best investment for your money.”
Winnie’s heart leapt. “A bakery?”
“Sure,” Simon said with a smile. “You definitely bake well enough. I bet you’ll have customers breaking down the door for your biscuits and buns.”
“But, Uncle Simon—” Clark started.
“No!” Simon yelled, slamming his palm down upon the table with enough force to make the silverware shake. “I won’t hear another word about it. I’m giving you the land for Christmas. Now be a good nephew and just say thank you.”
Clark’s gaze met Winnie’s for a long moment, and slowly his frown turned into a smile. “Fine, Uncle Simon. Thank you.”
Laughter and chuckles filled the room as the jovial atmosphere returned and everyone congratulated Clark as Simon turned over the deeds to both tracts of land. Winnie and Mrs. Harp went back to clearing the table while the men began singing an old Christmas hymn. The joy in the house was overwhelming, and truly felt like Christmas.
“Look!” Billie called out from the kitchen door. “It’s snowing!”
Everyone rushed to the back of the house and spilled out into the yard. All around them, fat flakes of white snow fell slowly in the quiet hush of the morning.
“I’ll be,” said Mrs. Harp. “I think this is the first white Christmas we’ve had in Oklahoma since Joe and I moved here.”
“It is!” Joe exclaimed as he danced a jig in the snow.
All of the family laughed and started working to catch snowflakes on their tongues as though they were children. Even though she was having great fun, a chill made Winnie shiver. Suddenly, a warm shawl was draped over her shoulders and two large hands rested on her upper arms before pulling her into a warm back. Clark rested his chin upon her shoulder as he wrapped his arms around her chest.
“Merry Christmas,” he whispered.
She turned her head toward him. “Merry Christmas.”
And then he kissed her lightly upon the lips.
The end.
About the Author
P. Creeden is the sweet romance and mystery pen name for USA Today Bestselling Author, Pauline Creeden. Her stories feature down-to-earth characters who often feel like they are undeserving of love for one reason or another and are surprised when love finds them.
Animals are the supporting characters of many of her stories, because they occupy her daily life on the farm, too. From dogs, cats, and goldfish to horses, chickens, and geckos -- she believes life around pets is so much better, even if they are fictional. P. Creeden married her college sweetheart, who she also met at a horse farm. Together they raise a menagerie of animals and their one son, an avid reader, himself.
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