Mistletoe Miracles

by Jodi Thomas

  The scent of blood and smoke and burned hide hit Griffin like a blow. He’d helped put out a barn fire once, but no animals had been involved. He’d smelled burning hides a few times, and everyone living knew the smell of blood. But put the three together, and Griffin felt like he’d just filled his lungs with the odor of hell.

  He moved through the dusty barn, barely hearing the horses screaming or stomping in fear. A middle-aged couple worked to his right. They were stacking hay bales against one wall, making room for more horses. They only took the time to nod at him.

  He looked around. All the horses that were standing had leather halters and were tied. Those on the ground didn’t look like they had enough life left in them to stand, much less run.

  The man in his fifties left the woman’s side and stepped forward. Without introducing himself, he brushed the last of the birthing sack off the colt Griffin carried.

  “Get him dry and warmed or he won’t make it.”

  “Doc?”

  Tired eyes seemed to focus on him for the first time. “I am. I was on my way here when the fire broke out. Another hour and I don’t think I could have made it through the pass with this new snow. Whoever you men are, we’re glad you’re here.”

  “We brought supplies. Medicine.” Names weren’t important right now. “My brother is waiting for you to tell him where you want them.”

  Elliot banged through the barn door with the first box.

  “We’ll need them. Most of our supplies were burned before we could get to them. Stack them over there.” The veterinarian was already moving to help Elliot.

  Griffin had planned to hand the newborn colt over to the doc, but he rushed away too fast. Griff moved deeper into the barn, shifting his hold on the colt as he looked for Sunlan. Horses burned, horses hurt, horses dying. If he’d brought ten brothers, that still wouldn’t be enough to handle all that needed to be done.

  He found Sunlan curled up beside a beautiful bay. She was hanging on to the animal’s neck and crying. The horse’s eyes were lifeless.

  Griffin wanted to pull her up and take her away from all this pain. She loved horses, probably more than she’d ever love anyone. But taking her away wouldn’t stop this kind of bone-deep grief. He had to step into the sorrow with her.

  Carefully laying the black colt down beside the dead horse, he whispered, “Easy now, fellow.” The mare was still warm. She’d offer some warmth for the colt.

  Elliot appeared behind him and handed Griffin a couple of blankets. “I’ll help the doc. I might not be great with horses, but I can take orders.” He disappeared before Griffin could answer.

  Rubbing the blanket over the colt, Griffin wiped him dry. The baby horse jerked as he pushed his hand hard over the colt’s mouth and nose covered in ice. He had to make sure the tiny horse could breathe. The ice might block his airways as well as keep him from being able to suck.

  He worked with the colt, fully aware that Sunlan was watching him. “We can’t do anything for this bay, but we got to try to save this colt.”

  Straightening, she placed her hand over his glove. He met her eyes, which were still rimmed in tears. Dear God, even when she was exhausted and covered in mud and blood, she was still the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. Somehow, he had to find a way to help her.

  “We’ll make it through this, Sunlan. We’ll save as many as we can. I’m with you in this until it’s finished.”

  She nodded and began to rub the colt’s legs.

  “I’ll get the other blanket.” When he stood, he had to touch her. Pulling off his glove, he ran his hand over her wild hair. “I’m here,” he said softly. “I always will be if you need me.”

  He wasn’t sure she heard him. All her energy was with the colt that lay cuddled against the dead horse.

  The next several hours were a blur. Griffin circled by Sunlan whenever he could, but there was more work than they could do. Cooper found saddles in one of the horse trailers and saddled up on a half-wild stallion the boys called Thumper. He handed both of his brothers mounts, as well. Griffin’s gelding was a workhorse, a cowboy’s horse, steady and well trained. All three brothers could cover ground between the buildings faster now.

  Cooper rode hard through the snow, back and forth from the crumbling barn. He pulled the horses from the corral a few at a time, still too close to what remained of the barn. As the last flames played out across black remains, the sun slipped behind the hills, but the work didn’t slow. Lights came on along the walkways between the barn and the house. Lanterns were hung in the old barn, and slowly the panic of the day settled.

  The animals that needed doctoring were brought to the hay barn, and those that were merely frightened were taken to the cool shadows of the hangar. It was made of metal and creaked and popped in the wind, but the horses could easily be tied to trailers lining the low sides. They were used to being transported in the trailers and seemed to calm.

  On his third round, Cooper stopped in to check on Sunlan. Griffin watched his little brother walk up to her and give her a bear hug. Cooper didn’t say a word. He just put his hat back on and stepped out into the wind.

  As the day aged, a few of the neighbors showed up on snowmobiles. They helped with the care and feeding. Those who didn’t know horses worked with the foreman’s wife to pass out coffee and sandwiches. No one was hungry, but they ate, knowing they’d need fuel to continue.

  Griffin felt like he’d drunk a gallon of strong coffee trying to get warm from the inside out. Every time he slowed to take a long breath, he saw another dozen things that needed doing.

  Ten horses dead in the fire. Eight were hurt. One had died trying to deliver her foal. But with luck, thirty-six would live. It could have been a lot worse if Sunlan’s caretaker hadn’t been up, watching a mare about to deliver her baby. He’d called the doc before he spotted the fire in the tack room.

  Just after sunset, Cooper brought in one more mare. She was young and must have delivered her first baby amid all the excitement. Cooper talked low and calming to the mare as he walked her to the back where the tiny colt cuddled against a now cold horse.

  He talked to the mare as if she understood every word he said. “Now don’t you be frightened, girl. I just want to introduce you to your baby. He might not look like much, but he’ll grow.”

  Everyone in the barn stood and stared as the horse lowered her head and smelled the sleeping colt. Then she pushed him with her nose. Once, twice. All the time making sounds as if she were waking him up.

  The colt looked up, then slowly tried to stand.

  For the first time in a dozen hours, Sunlan smiled as the colt finally waddled over to the mare and discovered there was a meal waiting.

  Griffin and his brothers were all watching, too. Somehow this one new life made the horror of the day bearable.

  Sunlan turned and moved into Griffin’s arms, hugging him hard as she cried.

  Griffin held her against him and looked up at his brothers. “Thanks,” was the only word he could get out. They’d fought as hard as he had.

  The world seemed to settle a bit after that. The neighbors headed home, promising to come back tomorrow. Cooper, Andy and Dave finally stopped long enough to grab coffee and a few sandwiches each. They talked of the day like young soldiers who’d just survived their first battle, and the hands invited Cooper to sleep on the extra bunk in the loft of the hangar.

  “It’s dry and warm, and we got HBO, if you can stay awake long enough to watch it.”

  Cooper shook his head. “I’m sound asleep on my feet right now. Just point me to a bed and yell timber!”

  Before they could leave, the vet informed them that they’d be doing shift work starting at midnight. “Figure it out, boys. I want one of you watching over this barn while I sleep a few hours.”

  All three nodded and darted out before the doc thought of something else
that needed to be done. Sunlan’s foreman and his wife left, too, saying they’d be back before dawn to cook breakfast and begin the cleanup. On a clear day, their cabin was within sight of Sunlan’s ranch, and his four-wheeler could make the short journey even in a blizzard.

  Griffin kept working. Organizing supplies. Checking on each horse. Making sure all were safe and fed. He’d made up his mind. He would not stop until Sunlan did.

  Long after dark, the embers of the barn had cooled beneath a thick layer of snow, and all the horses were treated and resting. The doc bedded down in the loft of the hay barn, which everyone was now calling the horse hospital.

  Elliot accepted Sunlan’s offer of the guesthouse when she told him she had internet set up there.

  “Andy told me he wanted to be a vet.” Elliot gave her a polite hug. “I thought I’d look up the closest school. He said he might go back to college next semester and work for you on the weekends if he can find a college within driving distance.”

  She shrugged. “He’s been ‘about to go back to school’ for a year. Maybe you can help him get there.”

  Griffin knew his brother just might be able to help. He’d missed his chance to go away to college, but thanks to online classes, Elliot had never stopped learning.

  Finally, the world settled. Even the light snow still falling was silent. Taking one look at Sunlan, Griffin saw she was barely standing. He picked her up and headed toward a little two-story house that looked like it belonged in California, not Colorado.

  Surprisingly, she didn’t protest. She just wrapped her arms around his neck and melted against him. By the time he reached the porch, he had no doubt she was sound asleep. Carefully, he turned the doorknob and carried her inside. The house was warm, inviting, with only the porch light shining though the windows to offer him direction. Someone had lit a fire in a small fireplace, and the smell of coffee still lingered.

  Holding her close, he gently leaned back on a couch and let his muscles relax. He felt like a prizefighter who’d gone a hundred rounds. Worn out. But he was exactly where he’d needed to be. With Sunlan. As he closed his eyes, Griffin smiled. She was safe.

  It occurred to him that having a wife might not be as easy as he thought it might be, but then again, being married to Sunlan would never be boring.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  The Johnsons

  WYATT HAD DONE the dishes Sunday night, thinking Jamie would come back. She’d taken her van but forgotten her coat. She was probably just driving around. He wished he could say that she was like that, but he wasn’t sure what she was like when someone—no, not someone, him—hurt her feelings.

  He didn’t know her well enough to predict. He knew the games and movies she loved. She talked nonstop when she was nervous or happy. He knew she was kind. She had a huge imagination. She had no family to spend Thanksgiving with. No family to run to if she was upset.

  He knew little things about her. But not what counted.

  His backing away when she’d asked him to kiss her must have hurt her feelings, and she’d ran. Add one more fact. He hadn’t even recognized how insensitive he must have been before she was out the door. He should have guessed she’d be a runner. When the creep kept bothering her last weekend, she should have flattened him, not simply turned away. He needed to teach her how to do that.

  He walked out on the porch and for once he didn’t see the beauty of the place. All he saw was the memory of the hurt he’d seen in her eyes.

  The minute she felt uncomfortable, she wouldn’t want to argue. She’d just walk away. That probably explained why no boyfriends or lovers hung around.

  Wyatt closed his eyes. He was standing in the most peaceful spot he’d ever found in this world, and he felt like he was taking hits straight to the chest.

  She ran because he hurt her. She should have kicked him out that first day. If he’d thought he’d ever hurt Jamie, he would have stepped out of her life when they met. Thinking about how she was the one who started the last conversation didn’t help. She’d just said aloud something he’d thought of doing almost since the day he met her.

  He’d even had a few dreams about what would happen if he didn’t hear the click of the lock one night. Or better yet, if she’d just left the door open.

  Around eleven, he walked out to the edge of the lake and watched the lonely moon dance by itself across the water. He wanted to tell her how much this place, her company, had meant to him. He had a feeling he’d dream of her and the little lake house for months. He’d remember the way they laughed and cooked and touched. Hell, he’d probably start watching the Hallmark Channel just so he could close his eyes and drift back, pretending to be on her old couch.

  When she came back, he’d say he was sorry. He’d just had the greatest day he’d had in years, and he’d ruined it by getting serious. Hell! He should have kissed her. What if it did lead to them sleeping together? At least he’d leave her with a memory. That might be all she wanted anyway. Not him so much, just the memory.

  After all, that’s what she collected. The mice tea sets, the Precious Moments figurines, the junky yard art. Memories of where she’d lived or who she’d taught. Jamie even had memories of ancestors she wished she had. A family, friends, a home.

  It was so cold by the lake, he could see his breath, but he didn’t walk back. The midnight water reminded him of sifting sand, always moving, like a living thing. In a week, he’d be back, probably staring out at the desert and thinking about this lake.

  The next mission that always lurked in the back of his mind came full force, front screen now. His team had been talking about it for months, dreading it, putting it off until closer to the end of their tour. Everything would have to go like clockwork. They’d have to go in with the equipment on their backs. The mission would take days. Nights without sleep. Little food. They’d only have room to carry water. Any delay, the loss of one tool, a sandstorm, one guy getting hurt...

  Wyatt shoved the details back. He’d deal with it all when he got back. Right now he need to think about Jamie. If he couldn’t help her, couldn’t promise her time, the least thing he could do was cause no more hurt.

  The wind finally kicked up and clouds shadowed the moon. Wyatt didn’t go back to the little lake house. Not when he started to shiver. Not when he thought he heard her car.

  There were a dozen possibilities he’d thought he might do when he faced her, but Wyatt knew there was also the chance that he’d simply make a bigger fool of himself. They’d kept their friendship light until tonight, and he doubted either one could go back to the way it was.

  He watched the lights go out in the kitchen of her home, the living room, then finally her bedroom. She was closing up, calling it a night. He might not hear her bedroom door closing, the lock clicking, but he felt it all the way to his heart.

  Why hadn’t he kissed her? In play, a light kiss, and then they could have both laughed. Or deep, completely, like he’d thought of doing every night.

  She wasn’t his type. He didn’t have time for a relationship. He didn’t want to hurt her.

  So, why did it matter so much? Why did she matter so much? Why did being with her make him feel like he was living in double time? Stacking up memories, feelings. Growing. Learning.

  He noticed she’d left the porch light on. She’d probably seen him standing out by the lake. She was being considerate, even in her anger. The porch light had been the last light he’d left on every night. He liked having one last look at the lake.

  Slowly, he walked back to the house. He’d pack tonight and be gone before she woke. It wasn’t that far to walk into town. He’d have breakfast at the café, then leave on the first bus passing through town. He’d even tell Dorothy that he couldn’t bear to say goodbye to Jamie, so he’d left her sleeping.

  Which was true. He couldn’t.

  When he slipped back in the house, he picked up t
he box he’d bought at the mall and unwrapped an eight-inch teapot with tiny porcelain mice having Thanksgiving dinner in a circle around the pot. The detail was beautiful. It would fit perfectly beside her other tiny teapots with dancing mice.

  Wyatt shoved it into place on her shelf. “A memory from your pretend husband,” he said. One forever memory that might make her smile as time passed.

  When he stretched out on the couch, he thought about how he’d failed. Not in just being her friend or her pretend husband, but in making her believe that she was pretty. He should have told her that at least once.

  And a dozen more things. How special she was as a person. How her students loved her. How when she smiled his whole world brightened.

  He remembered how he’d thought she was nice, how she wasn’t the kind of woman he was usually interested in. He’d fought never to show her anything but friendship, and now he’d somehow let her believe she wasn’t the kind of woman he’d ever be interested in. He’d backed away when she’d asked for one kiss.

  Every day, he’d noticed things about her that were beautiful. The way she smiled. The way she moved. The graceful way she curled up on her corner of the couch.

  When her alarm went off behind her bedroom door, he was still wide-awake. He heard the bathroom door close. By the time the shower came on, Wyatt was lacing up his boots. Almost daylight. Time to go.

  He stood, shoved the toy turkey in his pack and walked out. She had the teapot. He wanted something to keep. Something to hold a memory.

  Before Jamie had time to turn off the water, he was heading up the hill toward town. For once, he didn’t notice the sunrise or the clouds promising snow to the north. He just marched.

  When he reached the sleepy little town, Wyatt stepped into the empty café, which was just opening. He ordered a breakfast he didn’t have the appetite to eat.

  He sat in the first booth, waiting for a bus to pull up across the street in front of the post office. The town slowly began to move outside the window. Mostly just cars and trucks passing through, barely noticing the little spot in the road with its one stoplight.