My Kind of Christmas

by Janet Dailey

  “Did that include the bull that stomped you?” Travis asked.

  “Yes, but the Man Upstairs had other plans for me that day,” Conner said. “Still, you can bet your boots, I’m a praying man.”

  “Then you’re welcome to say grace for us,” Travis said.

  Conner’s prayer was brief but heartfelt. He expressed thanks for the food and for Maggie, who’d prepared it. He prayed for the success of their venture, and last of all, he prayed for snow.

  After a hearty Amen chorus, the three hungry, tired men made short work of the meal. There wasn’t much small talk at the table, but Maggie understood that they were pressed for time and needed to get back to work. For now, the appreciation in Travis’s eyes was thanks enough.

  She had gathered up the dinner plates and was standing at the counter to cut and serve the pies when the sound of a car pulling in the gate reached her ears, followed by a sharp rapping on the front door.

  Travis had started to get up when she stopped him. “No need,” she said. “Stay put. I’ll get it.”

  Wiping her hands on a dish towel, she hurried to the door. As she opened it, her heart seemed to drop into the pit of her stomach.

  Hank stood in the doorway. His face was flushed with anger. His fist clutched a half-crumpled page from the Cottonwood Springs newspaper. When he spoke, his voice was flat with sarcasm.

  “As Caesar would have put it, ‘You, too, Maggie? ’ ”

  * * *

  Travis shot to his feet, almost upending his chair. Three long strides carried him from the kitchen to the front door. “Maggie isn’t part of this,” he said in a level voice. “If you’ve got something to say, you can say it to me.”

  Frigid air rushed in through the door. When Hank stepped across the threshold, Maggie closed it behind him. “Have a seat, Hank,” she said. “Would you like some pie?”

  She might as well have been a feather in the wind.

  Father and son faced each other in cold defiance. It was Hank who spoke first.

  “I waited for you when you got out of prison,” he said. “If you had come to me, I would have welcomed you with open arms. I would have taken you into my home, made you a partner in my business, helped pave the way to anything you’d set your mind to accomplish.

  “When I realized you were still bitter about the past, and that you wanted nothing to do with me, I willed myself to accept that. I was proud to see you standing on your own two feet and working this run-down ranch like a man. But this—” He thrust the page with the newspaper ad into Travis’s face. “This is too much! This is a betrayal!”

  Travis’s stony expression betrayed no emotion. “This isn’t a betrayal,” he said. “It’s business. The trees are growing on ranch property. We have every right to sell them. We know you’ve owned the Christmas tree market in this town. But there’s no law against a little healthy competition. If you don’t like it, that’s your problem.”

  “But you could’ve told me. We could’ve worked together and both done better than you’ll do alone.”

  “If you’re talking about any kind of partnership, forget it. Years ago, I came here looking for my father. I found a foul-mouthed drunk who cursed me and said he never wanted to see me again. I wrote you off that night, with no regrets. So far, that hasn’t changed.”

  “What was I supposed to do, you young fool? I couldn’t keep a boy, the way I was living—especially when I’d signed away parental rights for your own good. Your folks could’ve had me arrested. The only right thing I could do was send you home and make sure you didn’t come back. But what about the letters I wrote you in prison—telling you there was a place for you here and inviting you to come?”

  “Whatever was in those letters, I never opened them. I told the guard to send them back. He probably just threw them in the trash.”

  Watching Hank, Maggie saw the fight go out of him. He slumped as if he’d been punched in the gut, but then he squared his shoulders again.

  “Have it your way,” he said. “But this isn’t over. If you want a fight on your hands, by God, you’re going to get one.” Flinging the crumpled newspaper ad at Travis’s feet, he turned away, opened the door, and limped back to his truck.

  Knowing better than to speak, Maggie gazed at Travis in dismay. Conner and Rush sat at the table, looking stunned. Surely Travis had told them about his past. But even if they’d known, the confrontation with his father would have been shocking to watch.

  It was Conner who spoke. “Man, that was brutal.”

  Travis exhaled slowly, as if trying to bring himself under control. “We’d better get back to work,” he said. “Thanks for dinner, Maggie. If you don’t mind leaving it, we’ll have that pie later.”

  Rush and Conner rose and, after murmuring their thanks to Maggie, followed him outside, leaving her alone. She’d been given her walking papers by Travis. It was time to clean up and leave.

  She gripped the chair, a sick, sour ball of anxiety forming in her stomach. It wasn’t being dismissed and left alone that bothered her—that had been pretty much expected. It was that she’d just seen a new side of the man she was falling in love with—a side that was hard, bitter, and unforgiving.

  Still shaken, she recalled every word of the exchange she’d heard. Hank had made the only possible choice in sending his son away. But years later, when he was doing better and Travis was in prison, he’d tried to make amends. He would have helped Travis with the Christmas tree project and probably taught him a lot about the business. But Travis would have none of it.

  Hank had been in the right all along. It was Travis who’d been wrong. Today’s words to his father had been cruel, aimed to wound where they’d hurt the most.

  How could she let herself love such a man?

  But deep down, she knew the answer to that question. Travis was lashing out because he was in pain. And it wasn’t in her power to take that pain away. Only forgiveness could do that.

  Wiping away a tear, she began storing the leftovers, rinsing the dishes, and loading them in the dishwasher. From outside, she could hear the men unloading the trees, followed by the sound of the ATV driving away with the trailer for more. Then the yard was silent.

  She wiped off the table and countertop and started the dishwasher. Maybe today had been a mistake. Maybe she should have stayed clear of Travis until the holiday season was over. He had so many worries on his mind, and her presence was just one more distraction.

  Something soft and damp nudged her hand. Bucket was standing close to her legs, looking up with heart-melting caramel eyes. She gave him a smile. “You old beggar! At least somebody’s in a good mood today.”

  Opening the fridge, she pulled a sliver of turkey meat from the covered platter. Bucket wolfed it down in a single gulp and begged for more, eyes bright, tail wagging.

  “Here you go, just one more.” She fed him another piece. Rush had warned her that too much turkey wasn’t good for dogs. But after years of living on Abner’s farm, eating whatever he came across, Bucket probably had a cast-iron stomach.

  “That’s enough. Go bother somebody else.” She closed the fridge and shooed the dog out the back door. She was just gathering up her things to leave when her phone rang. The caller was Francine. She sounded worried.

  “Maggie, have you seen Hank? He was supposed to be here for dinner at three. He didn’t show up, and he isn’t answering his cell phone. This isn’t like him. I’m afraid something might’ve happened.”

  Maggie hesitated, wondering how much she should tell Francine. But the secret was out now, and her worried friend deserved to know everything.

  “I’m at Travis’s ranch now,” she said. “Hank was here about half an hour ago. He’d found out that Travis and his friends are going to sell Christmas trees. They had an argument, and Hank left.”

  There was a gasp on the other end of the call. “Christmas trees? And you knew all this? Why didn’t you tell me, Maggie?”

  “They wanted to keep it a secret till the
y opened. I only found out by accident. I’m sorry, Francine. I wasn’t free to tell anybody, not even you.”

  Francine sighed. “Well, I guess that’s water under the bridge. The important thing now is to find Hank and make sure he’s all right.”

  “Have you checked the hardware store?”

  “No, I’m still at my daughter’s.”

  “Then let’s meet at the store,” Maggie said. “I’m on my way. I’ll see you there.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Maggie swung her car into a parking spot in front of Hank’s Hardware. Francine’s big, red Buick was already there. So was Hank’s truck. Both vehicles were empty. The two must have found each other and gone inside.

  It would be easy enough to take the coward’s way out and leave them to resolve this mess on their own. But Maggie knew she owed them both an explanation. If she didn’t make this right, any misunderstandings would only fester and grow.

  As she climbed out of her car, she saw Francine and Hank in the Christmas tree lot. They looked up as she came through the gate. Neither of them looked happy.

  She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry for this. If there’s anything I can do—”

  “I thought you were my friend, Maggie.” Hank faced her, a scowl on his usually good-natured face. “You know that Christmas tree sales make the difference between net profit and loss for my business. But you let these upstarts cut into my customer base without so much as a word to me. You were even there, having dinner, when I went to give them a piece of my mind. There are ugly words for what you are. One of them is traitor.”

  The word struck Maggie like a slap. No one had ever called her such a thing before. She felt the sting of tears.

  Francine laid a gentle hand on his arm. “You can’t blame Maggie for this, Hank. Her telling you wouldn’t have made any difference. Besides, she and your son, Travis, are friends.” She met Maggie’s eyes with a knowing expression. “I’d say, more than friends.”

  “I don’t care a lick about that!” Hank sputtered. “I would’ve helped my son if he’d so much as given me the time of day. But you heard him. He doesn’t want anything to do with his old man.”

  “Listen to me, Hank.” Maggie kept her voice low and calm. “I heard what you and Travis said to each other today. For what it’s worth, you were right, and he was wrong. He’s the one who needs to learn—and to forgive.”

  “Well, I’m not expecting that to happen anytime soon.” Hank pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and blew his nose. “Meanwhile, I’ve got to deal with things as they are—a son who hates me and wants to run me out of business. So if you ladies will excuse me, I need some time to work out a plan.”

  He motioned them toward the exit of the Christmas tree lot and closed the gate behind them. The two women walked together to their cars.

  “I’m so sorry, Francine,” Maggie said. “Hank is the nicest man I know. I wouldn’t hurt him for the world.”

  “Like I told him, honey, it’s not your fault.” Francine patted her shoulder. “We’re dealing with two mule-headed men. All you and I can do is wait and hope they’ll work things out. Call me if there’s any news, and I’ll do the same for you.”

  Maggie watched her drive away. Francine was a good person. So was Hank, and so was Travis. How could well-meaning people get themselves into such a mess?

  Walk away, she told herself. There’s nothing you can do. But Maggie knew better than to think she’d take her own advice. She cared about these people, and she wouldn’t rest until she found a way to help them.

  Slowly she walked to her car and drove home.

  * * *

  “You didn’t introduce us to your father, Travis.” Rush lifted the last tree onto the loaded cart.

  “He’s my biological father. My real father was the man who married my mother and raised me. How was I supposed to explain that in an introduction?”

  “He didn’t seem like a bad sort,” Rush said. “Just angry and hurt. You were pretty rough on him.”

  “You wouldn’t blame me if you knew the whole story. Come on, let’s go.”

  Travis climbed into the back of the ATV, leaving the front passenger seat empty for Rush. He checked the hitch on the loaded cart as Conner started the engine. This was the last of the trees they’d cut for sale at the house. Other trees had been trimmed and left in the ground for folks who, for an extra $10, wanted to ride out and choose their own. After some deliberation, they’d decided to sell all the trees for the same $30 price, with free pine boughs left over from the trimming.

  By the time they reached the house, it was getting dark. In the east, a full moon was rising over the low hills. Clouds, smelling of moisture, were rolling in from the west.

  All three men were dragging, but there was more work to be done before they could rest—unloading the last trees, putting up signs along the highway and in town, setting up the refreshment table for hot chocolate, and laying logs in the fire pit for marshmallow roasting.

  “Thank heaven for Maggie and that food she brought!” Conner said. “Otherwise, we’d be half-dead of starvation. Travis, if you ever decide you don’t want that woman, I get dibs on the next place in line.”

  Travis shook his head. “After today, Maggie might not want me anymore. I sounded like a real horse’s ass, didn’t I?”

  “That you did, old friend.” Conner said. “What do you say we wrap this up? I’ll volunteer to unload the trees and set them up. Rush, you can put up the lights and tables. Travis, since you know the town best, why don’t you take the Jeep and put up the signs?”

  “Fine with me.” Travis took the half dozen signs they’d made earlier, some heavy tape, a hammer and a box of tacks, loaded them in the Jeep, and headed for town. A stiff breeze had sprung up. He would need to fasten the signs securely in place to keep them from blowing away.

  Driving into town, he passed Hank’s Hardware. Except for the outside security lights, mounted on poles, the place was dark and deserted. Rows of Christmas trees cast jagged shadows on the bare ground.

  What if he’d been friendlier to Hank—maybe invited him to sit down and try to resolve their differences.

  But that wouldn’t have changed a thing. If they hadn’t been enemies before, they would be tomorrow when their trees went up for sale against each other.

  The signs were painted on white Masonite, sturdy enough to hold up to wind and weather. Travis put up one big sign outside the entrance to the Shop Mart parking lot and a smaller sign next to the park on Main Street. Two larger signs, mounted on sturdy poles, went next to the highway at the north and south ends of town, where anyone driving into Branding Iron would see them.

  The stenciled text read the same on all the signs:

  FRESH CUT CHRISTMAS TREES, $30

  CUSTOM CUT TREE FROM OUR FARM, $40

  FREE HOT CHOCOLATE AND S’MORES BY THE FIRE

  SLEIGH RIDES, SNOW PERMITTING

  CHRISTMAS TREE RANCH, 400 SOUTH RANCH ROAD

  After Travis had put up all the signs but one, he drove back through town. He should have known better than to turn down Maggie’s street. But he did it anyway and drove slowly past her house. The living room drapes were closed, but the dim light behind them told Travis she was still up.

  The urge to stop, knock on her door, and take her in his arms was eating him alive. But he and Maggie had parted on uncertain terms today. He could tell she’d been dismayed by the way he’d spoken to Hank and then gone back to work with barely a thank-you for the dinner she’d brought. If she was still upset with him, stopping by to see her could only make matters worse. Besides, he needed to get back to the ranch to make sure everything was ready for tomorrow. Bracing his resolve, he kept driving.

  He made it all the way to the next corner before he turned around and went back. He wouldn’t stay long, he promised himself. But he couldn’t go home without seeing her.

  The storm front was blowing in. A staggering wind whipped his hair and blew his coat against his body as he mounted the
porch and rang the doorbell.

  Maggie answered. She was wearing her black leggings and an oversized plaid flannel shirt that might have been her father’s. Travis liked the way she dressed for work. But at home, like this, she looked so natural, so vulnerable and sexy, that it made his throat ache.

  She stood gazing up at him without a word.

  “May I come in?” he asked after an awkward pause.

  She nodded, stepped back, and opened the door for him to step inside. He closed it behind him, shoving against the wind.

  Only then did she speak.

  “Today I saw a man I didn’t even know. And I still don’t know what to make of him.”

  “If you’re waiting for an apology, Maggie—”

  “No. An apology just to please me wouldn’t be real. All I want is to understand how the man I know to be so kind and gentle can hate his father so much.”

  “You weren’t there.”

  “No, I wasn’t. But I know that it was a long time ago. And I know that Hank was in no condition to take in a young boy and keep him. The best thing—the only thing—he could have done was send you home to your family and make sure you didn’t try to come back.”

  “That didn’t excuse the things he said.”

  “Didn’t it? What about the letters he sent you in prison? He was offering his support, but you didn’t even open them. Your father said some harsh things a long time ago, Travis. You need to forgive him. If you don’t, that anger will poison your soul forever. And as for you and me, there’ll be no chance for us. I can’t fight that kind of negativity. I won’t.”

  He reached toward her, needing to heal in her arms, but she stepped back. “Get through Christmastime, Travis. When you’ve finished with the tree season and found a way to make peace with your father, come back to me. Until then, we both need some distance.”

  “And the sleigh? What if you still need it?”