An Old-Fashioned Romance

by Marcia Lynn McClure

  Breck shook her head, trying to dispel her worries. It was going to be wonderful—Christmas with Reese’s family. And she was going to enjoy it.

  ❦

  “Oh, you’re here, you’re here, you’re here!” Marjie Thatcher greeted, wiping the flour from her hands onto her apron and throwing her arms around Breck’s neck. The house felt and smelled like heaven—warm, friendly, the scents of pine and gingerbread heavy in the air. “We thought you’d never get here,” Marjie explained. “Were the roads pretty bad, Reese?”

  The roads had been bad. A big snowstorm had begun dumping snow about an hour from the farm, and it made for a stressful drive.

  “There’re roads out there?” Reese teased. He smiled and embraced his mother. “The last twenty miles were really bad. I stopped and chained up, though. And we’re fine.” Marjie stood on her toes and kissed her son’s cheek.

  “Well, you’re here now, and, Breck, we’ve got gingerbread men going in the kitchen. Do you wanna help?” Marjie asked.

  Breck couldn’t help smiling. It felt like—like she’d come home—not just that Reese had.

  “Of course!” Breck giggled.

  “Not before I get my hug,” Ben said, approaching then. Breck smiled as he wrapped her in his strong arms and kissed her cheeks. “Welcome back, sugar,” he added.

  “Thank you for having me,” she told him. Reese helped Breck take off her coat, hanging it on the coatrack behind the door.

  “Better get in the kitchen. Mom will have my hide if I mess up her gingerbread men,” Reese chuckled, kissing Breck quickly on the cheek. Yes, they’d have to share one another now—with Reese’s family. But somehow, Breck didn’t mind too awfully much.

  “Hey, Breck,” Nick greeted as Breck followed Marjie into the kitchen.

  “Hi,” Breck responded with a smile.

  “Man! Reese hasn’t been home this much in years!” Bobby told her. Breck was curious when Nick jabbed Bobby in the ribs with one elbow.

  “You’ve eaten the heads off again?” Marjie exclaimed. “You boys…get out! Out! Get in there and mess up your daddy’s project!”

  “Daddy never has projects, Mom,” Bobby said. “Besides, yours taste better.” Picking up another gingerbread man off the cooling rack, Bobby bit off its head and smiled when his mother spanked him as he left the room.

  Nick followed his brother out, and Marjie said, “Look at that! They always do this. Every year when I’m making my gingerbread men, they sneak in here when my back is turned and bite the heads of at least a dozen!”

  Breck couldn’t help smiling at the sad remains of a dozen headless gingerbread men.

  Her smile broadened as she watched Marjie begin popping the remains in her mouth, saying, “Still, it gives me an excuse to taste my own baking.” Holding out a half-eaten gingerbread man to Breck, she added, “Try one. See what you think.”

  Eat a cookie after Nick or Bobby had already bitten it? Normally the idea would’ve churned Breck’s stomach. But there was something about Reese’s family—something clean and safe. So she took the cookie offered to her and ate it.

  “Mmmm!” she mumbled. “Mrs. Thatcher! This is delicious!” Breck enjoyed the smile of pride that spread across Marjie’s face.

  “Thanks. I think they’re pretty good myself,” Marjie said.

  Marjie helped Breck tie a red apron on, handed her a blob of gingerbread dough and a rolling pin, and asked, “So…how has work been?”

  Breck looked quickly to her. Her question had sounded like she already knew the answer. “Okay. We have some nasty cases in right now…and they kind of wear on me.”

  “I can imagine,” Marjie said. “Do you…do you think you’ll work there for long?”

  Breck shrugged. “I don’t know. It does pay well. But…”

  “Money isn’t everything,” Marjie stated.

  “That’s for sure,” Breck agreed.

  “Has Reese been behaving himself? Where you’re concerned, I mean?”

  Breck blushed slightly. How embarrassing to have your boyfriend’s mother asking such a question. And after all, she did consider Reese to be her boyfriend.

  “Of course,” Breck assured her.

  Marjie sighed with relief. “I’m sure it’s hard for him…but he’s a good boy.” Marjie smiled and popped a pinch of dough into her mouth. “Katie and the girls will be by later,” she said. “Can you believe tomorrow is Christmas Eve? Whew! It sure snuck up on me this year.”

  “I-I brought a few things for everyone, Mrs. Thatcher,” Breck told her then. “Would it be okay if I put them under your tree? I noticed you’ve got quite a pile going already.”

  Breck adored the way Marjie’s eyes lit up at the mention of gifts. “Of course, sweet pea! But…you really didn’t need to bring anything.”

  “I wanted to. You all have been so kind to me…letting me impose on both of your major holidays and…” Breck began. She paused, however, when she felt Marjie place one hand over her own.

  “You are not imposing, sugar,” Marjie said, looking Breck squarely in the eyes. “You’re…like one of the family.” Breck felt a sweet, honeyed warmth drizzle over her. This woman was an angel, and Christmas was going to be wonderful.

  ❦

  As usual, Breck found herself lying awake by four a.m. Christmas Eve morning. All her life she’d loved Christmas Eve even more than Christmas Day! Christmas Eve seemed to hold a certain wonder and magic for her that somehow vanished an hour or so after rising on Christmas morning. She knew Reese’s mother left the lights on her tree burning all night, and she figured they’d be beautiful in the darkness of early morning.

  Quietly, she dressed and tiptoed out into the hallway. Even in the hallway she could see the colorful shadows on the walls of the front room beyond, assuring her the tree was indeed aglow. Stepping into the front room, she sighed with delight at the sight of the tree. Someone had been up before her too, for there was a fire blazing in the fireplace.

  Breck startled as she sat down on the sofa when she heard Ben say, “I like a woman who can get out of bed in the morning.” Breck turned around to see Ben lounging in his favorite chair. No doubt he’d been out already. Probably the boys had been too—feeding the stock and making sure the ice in the watering tanks was busted up.

  “I’m sorry,” Breck told him. “Am I disturbing you?”

  Ben chuckled. “Me? No,” he assured her. “Reese, however…now that’s a different story, isn’t it?” Breck blushed. “I like the way you got him thinkin’, Breck. He needed to do some hard of it.”

  “I’m sure I didn’t have anything to do—” Breck began.

  “Oh, I’m sure you did,” Ben interrupted. “His mother and I have been poundin’ our heads against the wall for years now.” The man sighed and shook his head. “That deal with Tommy…it just cut him so deep. I don’t think we realized how angry and hurt he was at the time. But it wasn’t long before we realized he’d suffered some severe damage emotionally.”

  Breck didn’t say a word. She wanted nothing more at that moment than to hear what Reese’s father had to say.

  “I think he felt guilty at first,” he continued, “I think he felt bad that Tom died and he didn’t. Then it turned into fear…a realization that a man can die. Boys…they have this misconception of being immortal, you see. When they’re young they think they’re so tough that nothin’ can touch them. It’s a hard thing to see your first friend die…and it sure hit Reese the wrong way.

  “After the guilt left and the fear set in, anger was next. He was infuriated that the sheriff couldn’t give him an answer….about what had happened to Tom. He ranted and raved and swore for weeks about it. Rage turned to blame…blaming farm life and small-town mentality for the accident and for not finding an answer. He decided then that he could single-handedly save the world.” Ben smiled at Breck and added, “Personally, I think he read one too many superhero comic books as a kid.”

  Breck giggled.

  “So for years
we’ve been watchin’ him struggle, tryin’ to find himself, where he should be and the like,” Ben said with a sigh. Then he smiled at Breck. “Then you come along, and he finally seems to be pullin’ his head out of the bucket.”

  “I’m sure it’s not me,” Breck told him. And she was sure. “Maybe…maybe just coming home at Thanksgiving—”

  “He wasn’t plannin’ on comin’ home for Thanksgiving…’til you came along,” Ben explained. “Ahh…but I’m interruptin’ your peace and quiet here,” he said, pulling the handle at the side of his chair and sitting upright.

  “Oh, no!” Breck argued. “I love talking with you! It’s the first chance we’ve had to talk, really.”

  Ben chuckled, rather swaggering over to her and cupping her cheek in one strong, roughened hand. “We’ll find our time, pretty girl. Don’t you worry.” And with that, he left Breck alone with the fire and the tree and the feelings of happiness and comfort.

  ❦

  As day broke, everyone else in the Thatcher family trickled into the front room and kitchen. Breck could feel the excitement in the air. Everyone was excited about Christmas Eve, including the men. Katie and her family arrived just after breakfast, and Breck giggled as she watched Lizzy and Sarah shaking the gifts she’d set under the tree for them the night before. She hoped that the stuffed cat with her stuffed litter of kittens would soothe some of the child’s disappointment at Breck being unable to produce a living litter for her. She smiled at the memory of Lizzy asking her if she’d have some babies for her Uncle Reese. It had been a funny moment.

  Most of the late morning and early afternoon, Breck accompanied Marjie as she delivered various baskets filled with breads, cookies, nuts, meats, and cheeses to family friends of surrounding farms. It was wonderful. Reese had volunteered to drive his mother on her errands—being that the storm the night before had left driving a bit dangerous—and it was wonderful, sitting next to Reese in his pickup as his mother chattered away excitedly. It seemed she told Breck the entire family history of every family she visited, and Breck giggled at her merry mood.

  Christmas Eve dinner at the Thatcher farm proved very traditional, with ham, potatoes, and all the fixings. Breck nearly burst into tears as she watched Ben coax his granddaughters up onto his lap as he sat in his lounge chair and began reading from the book of Luke—the story of the birth of the Christ child. The tree twinkled, the fire burned, and Reese, his brothers, Katie and Keith, and Marjie sat in awed quiet as Ben read to the girls.

  After the bible story, Marjie handed Ben a large, beautifully illustrated copy of The Night Before Christmas. Breck watched as Lizzy’s and Sarah’s eyes widened with excitement at the prospect of catching Santa leaving presents under their own tree.

  All during Ben’s reading the stories, Breck had been bathing in the warmth and power of Reese’s embrace as he held her. But he rose suddenly, excusing himself to do a couple of chores outside.

  “Do you want me to help?” Breck asked.

  Reese smiled at her. “Not just now. You stay inside where it’s warm.”

  Instantly, Nick plopped down next to Breck on the sofa. Bobby followed shortly, sitting on the other side of her.

  “Don’t worry, Reese,” Nick chuckled. “We’ll keep her warm for you.”

  “You boys behave,” Marjie scolded, giggling at the same time.

  “I’ll be back in a minute,” Reese assured Breck.

  And so she settled back down and watched Lizzy and Sarah hop down off their grandpa’s lap when the story was through and go back to investigating the presents under the tree.

  Everyone was talking about Christmases past—laughing and telling stories.

  “Remember that dog-ugly tree Pop brought home the year mom had her surgery?” Bobby asked.

  “How could we forget?” Katie sighed as everyone else laughed.

  “It looked like a big twig with a few pine needles on it,” Nick told Breck.

  “That there was a good tree,” Ben defended himself. “It looked just fine when I first chopped it down.”

  “But then you rolled your pickup with the tree in the back…and by the time he got home…it was a twig with a few pine needles,” Nick laughed.

  “It was a lovely tree, Ben,” Marjie assured her husband. She smiled at him, and he winked at her.

  Reese returned then, brushing the snow off the sleeves of his coat.

  “Hey, Breck,” he said, “you wanna grab your coat? I’ve got something to show you.”

  “Sure,” Breck said. She was excited about the prospect of spending some time alone with Reese. She didn’t care if she froze to death riding on the back of the four-wheeler while they traveled around breaking up ice in water tanks. She just wanted some time alone with the man—with the man she loved.

  Reese helped Breck put her coat on, and she frowned, puzzled as the entire family rose from their seats and followed them to the front door. And when Reese opened the front door to reveal an old sleigh—adorned with jingle bells and hitched to a strong-looking mare—she gasped, and everyone smiled at her.

  “Wanna go for a ride?” Reese asked her.

  Breck smiled at him, her eyes filling with tears of joy. “Of course!” she told him.

  He helped her into the sleigh, tucked an old quilt tightly over her lap, and climbed in next to her. As he snapped the reins lightly on the horse’s back, the sleigh lurched forward, and everyone stood on the front porch waving. It wasn’t long before the horse was trotting along at a steady pace—the bells jingling, matching its rhythm.

  “It’s a ‘one-horse open sleigh,’” Reese pointed out.

  “I got that,” Breck giggled, wrapping her arms tightly around one of his strong ones.

  They rode in silence for quite a while, for it seemed that neither one of them wanted to talk and ruin the music of the bells and the sleigh sliding along in the snow. Frost fell through the air, sifting onto the surface of the snow-covered ground like a billion tiny diamonds. The stars were twinkling overhead—bright, happy, and beautiful. It was a moment borne of dreams.

  “You’re quite the romancer,” Breck said quietly.

  Reese smiled. “I try,” he told her.

  Some time later, Breck looked ahead of them and recognized the silhouette of the old Thatcher farmhouse on the dark horizon. Only—this time—something was different. As they turned toward the front of the house, Breck gasped when she saw the beautiful twinkles of color dotting the snow on the ground in front of the house. A brightly lit Christmas tree stood in the bay window at the front of the house, shining out like a beacon of heaven.

  “Reese!” she gasped and heard him chuckle.

  “Do you like it?” he asked her, pulling the horse to a stop in front of the house.

  Breck shook her head and let one tear escape each eye. “It’s…it’s too beautiful for words!” she whispered.

  Reese smiled and climbed down from the sleigh. “Come on then. I have something to show you.”

  Breck stumbled once as he helped her out of the sleigh, for she couldn’t take her eyes off the tree in the window. It seemed to illuminate the entire outside of the house as well. She could’ve sworn the paint looked fresher.

  “Now…stand right here,” Reese instructed, positioning her in a spot in the front yard directly in front of the house. “Don’t move, okay?”

  “Okay,” she agreed. She continued to stare at the beautiful tree—at the happy-looking house. It was amazing what a Christmas tree did for a house: it made it a home.

  Reese dashed up the front porch stairs and hunkered down for a moment. And then, suddenly, the outside of the house lit up as cascades of tiny white icicle lights glimmered from every eave and trim.

  Breck gasped again—breathless for a moment as she took in the wonder of the lights. Reese jogged down the porch steps and came to stand next to her, inspecting the wonder himself.

  “Pretty nice, if I do say so myself,” he said.

  Breck looked at him. “Y-you did all
this?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” he said, pulling her into his arms. “I about broke my dang neck too.”

  Breck returned his embrace, smiling up into his handsome face. “I’m glad you didn’t.”

  “Me too,” he whispered before kissing her upper lip lightly. Breck felt the butterflies take flight in her stomach as his kiss lingered on her lower lip then. He’d kiss her lower lip twice before really kissing—she knew it. He often started their kisses in the same teasing manner. It was as if he were preparing her for greater things to come. And greater things always did.

  They stood there in the snow in front of the old farmhouse—lost in their warm, moist kisses as the frost sifted down over them.

  All at once, Reese pushed her away from him and, grinning at her, said, “Come on. There’s more.”

  Breck giggled, delighted as he pulled her up the front porch steps and into the house. Once he’d closed the door behind them, Breck looked up and drew in a quick breath as she saw the fresh beauty of the room.

  “Reese,” she breathed. It was incredible. The lights from the tree cast color on the freshly painted, white walls. A fire burned warm in the fireplace, and the floor had been polished.

  “It still smells like paint…but it looks good, huh,” he told her, tugging on her hand, coaxing her further into the room.

  “It looks perfect,” Breck whispered. And it did!

  Reese clapped his gloved hands together and nodded with pride. “I worked hard to get it this way.”

  Breck frowned and looked up to him. “You worked hard?”

  “Yep,” he told her. “I know you assumed I was working a case while I was gone, Breck,” he confessed. “But I was here…working on the house…and working some things out in my mind. Are you mad?”

  There was a part of her that was angry. He’d been here on the farm enjoying his family and the escape from the city, while she’d been worried and miserable in the city? And yet, it was his family—his family’s farm. She had no right to be angry, and suddenly—she wasn’t. Fear, however, began to creep into her mind and heart. Reese had obviously put a lot of time and effort into fixing up this old house. Why? Was he thinking of returning? Would he leave her in the city and…