Boughs of Holly

by Shanna Hatfield

  As she drove up the mountain and the snow deepened, Holly was glad the roads were plowed. Her little car was great for zipping around town, but it would be a nightmare to drive on slick, snowy roads. Admittedly, Holly had never really driven in the snow much, except for six weeks the winter she was seventeen when her mother decided they’d move to Colorado. They had an old car that weighed a ton and it did okay on the bad roads, but after a blinding snow storm left them stranded miles from home, they packed up and left three days later.

  Eugenia Jones had been an unconventional, eccentric-thinking, devoted mother. She’d raised Holly by herself, since she refused to tell her a single detail about her father. Holly sometimes wondered if her mother actually knew who Holly’s father was. Not that it mattered. Genie, as her mother preferred to be called, had loved her enough for two parents and then some, even if Holly never had roots or a permanent home. Their nomadic lifestyle taught her how to be friendly and outgoing. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have experienced the joys of friendship. Granted, she’d never had a best friend because they failed to remain in one place long enough for a relationship to get that deep.

  For the most part, they stuck to the warmer states in the winter and the cooler ones in the summer. Half the time, they lived out of that old boat of a car, but Holly didn’t mind. She’d never gone hungry and had more adventures than most kids probably ever dreamed of experiencing.

  When she turned eighteen, though, her mother told her she had to do something with her life, something meaningful, so Holly decided to go into nursing. She’d never once regretted that decision in the last ten years, although sometimes it was hard. Really, really hard.

  Holly shifted her thoughts from the past to the present as she drove into the little town of Faraday. Holiday decorations of snowflakes and wreaths tied with big red bows hung from the street lamps. Nearly every storefront boasted some sort of holiday decoration. Even the gas station and mechanic’s garage had lights twinkling in the windows.

  All along Main Street, she swiveled her head back and forth, admiring the neat appearance of the buildings. People greeted each other with warm smiles and friendly handshakes.

  This could be my kind of town.

  Holly had always imagined what it would be like to live in the same place for years on end, a place where everyone knew her and she knew them. A place she could set down roots and finally call home.

  But Faraday wasn’t going to be that town. She was only here to help Mr. Stafford get back on his feet. And from the notes Julie shared, the Stafford Ranch was ten miles out of town, anyway.

  That didn’t stop her from drinking in her fill of the small-town atmosphere. At the edge of town, she pulled onto a wide spot on the road and openly gaped as a camel stood in a pasture between a gorgeous Victorian home and a place with a variety of outbuildings, including a big barn that looked like it belonged on a Christmas card.

  “A camel?” she muttered, amused. If it hadn’t been so cold outside, she would have hopped out to snap a photo. Instead, she gave the animal with two humps on its back one more look before she signaled to pull onto the road.

  Her back tires spun, unable to gain any traction. “Please don’t be stuck, please don’t be stuck,” she chanted. The car suddenly lurched forward and she was on her way again.

  Eight miles later, she turned off the highway onto a rutted road. She wasn’t sure if it had been plowed or just packed down with traffic. It took her thirty minutes to navigate the ruts, potholes and piles of snow.

  By the time she reached the house, her hands were shaking, her shoulders were nearly fused to her ears, and a muscle in her neck twitched from being clenched.

  She parked at the end of the walk and gazed up at the impressive abode. Twin lights glowed through the slate hue of afternoon’s fading light, bracketing an oak door. Three timbers served as posts, holding up the roof over the covered entry. A mixture of river rocks and what appeared to be cedar planks served as siding on the house. Wooden shutters accented long windows with rounded tops. The way the house curved around provided a glimpse at a garage on the far end. Barn doors accented with iron served in place of traditional garage doors. Cedar shakes on the roof completed the look of a house that had a definite mountain home vibe to it.

  According to the notes Betty made, Mr. Stafford was only a step above, or was it below, a typical cavedweller. Perhaps the man didn’t live in a cave, but a mountain cabin fit for a grouchy recluse.

  “Let him do his worst,” Holly whispered as she grabbed her purse and a bag of supplies from the seat beside her before she got out. Quickly flipping up the hood of her coat, she burrowed into its warmth as she moved around her car, grateful she’d worn knee-high boots. Otherwise, the snow would have quickly soaked into her shoes.

  The cold air sliced through her as she hurried down the walk. It had to be at least thirty degrees colder here than it was in Portland. The fifty-degree rainy weather she’d left behind earlier seemed balmy compared to the breath-robbing breeze laced with sleet that blew around her.

  At the imposing front door, she rang the bell and only waited a moment before the sound of footsteps grew louder. When the door opened, Holly stamped snow from her feet, looking down to make sure they were clean as she stepped inside.

  “Hi, I’m Holly with home health. I’ll be taking over Mr. Stafford’s care for the next several weeks,” she said in a friendly tone as she gave her boots a quick wipe on the mat just inside the door. She pushed off her hood and listened as someone sucked in a startled gasp. The door slammed shut, making her jump.

  Her gaze whipped up and clashed with the pale blue eyes of the cowboy she’d assaulted not once, but twice.

  “You,” he said, in shocked surprise.

  “Um… hi,” she said, holding out her hand in greeting, wondering if it was possible for the moment to grow any more awkward.

  Then the cowboy just stood there, staring at her, not making any move to accept her handshake or invite her in.

  She finally dropped her hand and unfastened the togs down the front of her coat. “Like I said, I’m Holly Jones, the nurse with home health.”

  The cowboy’s gaze narrowed while his jaw tightened, yet he remained silent.

  “This is the Stafford home, isn’t it?”

  A full minute of painful quiet passed before he eventually expelled a resigned sigh and slowly nodded his head. “You’re in the right place. I’ll take you back to meet my grandfather.”

  Holly followed Mister Broad Shoulders, with enticingly brooding lips, down a short hall and into a bedroom where an old man rested in bed with a pair of glasses balanced on the edge of his nose. He dozed with a book placed upside down on his chest.

  The cowboy walked over to the bed and carefully adjusted the covers. He removed the glasses resting on the old man’s nose and set them on the nightstand, then reached out to touch his grandfather’s foot to wake him.

  Before he could give it a shake, Holly grabbed his hand. She yanked him out of the room and back into the family room they’d walked through on the way to the bedroom.

  The man followed but pulled his hand away. He crossed his arms over his wide chest, glowering at her. “What are you doing?”

  “Don’t wake him up. He probably isn’t sleeping well and rest is the best thing for him right now,” Holly said, looking up at the cowboy. She placed a hand on his arm. “Please?”

  He stared at her hand as though it held the power to snap off his arm or infect him with some dreaded disease. At least she assumed that was the reason for the intense glare. Finally, he raised his gaze to hers and held out his hand. “I’m Seth Stafford.”

  A little thrill of victory shot through her, accompanied by an electrical jolt as she shook his hand. Unsettled by that unexpected current, she hid it behind a bright smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Seth. We might as well address the huge elephant in the room, or around here do you refer to it as a camel?”

  The corner of his mouth quivered ever so sl
ightly, as though he fought back a smile. “Elephant would be the proper phrase. If you’re referring to the spilled coffee, running into me twice, knocking my best hat into a mud puddle, stealing my parking space, cutting in front of me in traffic and almost causing a wreck, then double-parking behind me at the hospital, consider it addressed.”

  Holly’s mouth formed an “O” before she could press her lips together. She’d known about the coffee, of course, and running into him at the hospital, but the rest of the long list of transgressions were news to her. She did recall pulling in front of someone, but she hadn’t realized she’d nearly cut them off. And she had unintentionally taken someone’s parking spot, but it was a little late to fix it after she’d already parked. What were the odds that of all the vehicles in the hospital parking lot, his pickup was the one she happened to park behind? Maybe she should race into town and purchase a lottery ticket because it seemed the impossible and improbable had happened more than once when she was around Seth Stafford.

  Shame mingled with regret as she snapped her mouth shut and looked up at him. He stood half a dozen inches above her in his stocking feet. His shoulders looked as though they could carry the weight of the world on them, especially encased in a faded denim shirt with the sleeves rolled up almost to his elbows. From smacking into him twice, she already knew his chest was like a wall of granite. For a fleeting moment, Holly wondered what it would be like to be held to a chest like that. Well, specifically to his chest, with his big, long fingers trailing comfortingly along her back.

  Appalled by the direction of her thoughts, she took a step away from Seth, while she mentally repeated his name. It fit him as perfectly as the old blue jeans he wore.

  “I’m so sorry, Mr. Stafford. I had no idea about the parking space, the puddle, cutting you off, or blocking you in at the hospital. Last week was not filled with my finest moments and I apologize.”

  His eyes bore into hers, as though he dug for the truth, to see if she was merely uttering what she thought he wanted to hear or if she truly was sincere. He must have found what he sought, because he nodded his head once. “It probably wasn’t mine either. Let me take your coat. You might as well sit down while Pops finishes his nap.”

  “Thank you,” Holly said, trying not to jump when Seth’s fingers brushed over her hand as he helped her take off her coat. He hung it in a closet in the entry foyer then motioned for her to return to the family room.

  “Would you like something to eat or drink? We have coffee or I could make a cup of tea for you,” he offered as they walked into the room.

  “Tea would be wonderful. Thank you, Mr. Stafford,” Holly said, somewhat distractedly as her gaze swept out the family room’s large picture window. Awed by the view, she drew in a sharp breath. Snow-covered pastures full of red and white cattle were visible against a background of a soaring tree-dotted mountain. The picturesque scene would make an incredible painting. Oh, how her mother, an artist, would love to see it. However, Genie had vowed to never set foot in the snow again, and was happily living with a group of artists in Florida.

  “You better call me Seth, or it’ll get confusing with two Mr. Staffords in the house.” Seth nodded to her. “Have a seat and I’ll be right back with your tea.”

  Holly shook her head. “If you don’t mind, I’ll come with you. Since I’ll be here taking care of Mr. Stafford, I may as well learn where everything is located.”

  Seth nodded again and guided her to the kitchen. The large room would capture the morning sunlight, when it bothered to shine, and was thoughtfully designed. The cupboards and counters looked nearly new, as did the appliances. Everything appeared neat, even if she itched to polish the stovetop and make the window above the sink shine. Housework had always been a chore Holly enjoyed, probably because it remained a novelty to her after years of living on the road or in places that were impossible to clean.

  “It’s a great kitchen, and I love the nook,” she said, walking over to what was clearly their main eating area. Bay windows gave them a fantastic view from the large farmhouse table that could easily seat eight with room to spare.

  “Pops and I aren’t formal, even if we tend to be stubborn and set in our ways.” Seth glanced at her as he turned a knob on the sink and a mug filled with steaming water. “We have two hired hands, Andy and Brian. If you stay, you’ll see them around.”

  Holly watched as Seth took a small wooden basket from a cupboard and slid it toward her. A variety of teas were nestled inside. She studied the selections and chose a bag of tea labeled Christmas Blizzard.

  “One of the women from church sent this out for Pops. He’s not much of a tea drinker, but I don’t mind it. The one you picked is pretty good, but add some sugar to it.” He pointed to a purple tea bag. “Unless you like drinking something that smells like cheap dime-store aftershave and tastes worse, avoid that one.”

  She grinned and dropped the bag she’d chosen into the mug of hot water. “Why don’t you throw it away?”

  An actual, honest-to-goodness grin turned him from hunky to downright model-worthy. “Pops said to keep it for company we don’t like. A cup of that and they’ll be out of here in a hurry.”

  “I can’t wait to meet your grandfather. He sounds like a character.” Holly accepted the spoon Seth handed to her and stirred a scoop of sugar into her tea. When she lifted the cup, she breathed in the aromatic steam, redolent with ginger and peppermint. She took a sip and closed her eyes. “Oh, that tastes as good as it smells. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” Seth motioned to the table in the nook.

  Holly sat where she could look outside and took another sip of the fragrant, delicious tea.

  “Lolly,” Seth said, setting a plate of cookies by her before he sat down across from her. “The camel is Lolly.”

  Mentally scrambling to keep up with him, Holly recalled mentioning the camel to him earlier. “Lolly’s a wonderful name. Is she a pet?”

  Seth chuckled. “You could say that. My best friend’s uncle adopted her when she was abandoned by a circus. When he passed away, Rhett inherited the camel. She keeps things lively for him.” He looked at the window and was quiet for a moment before his gaze returned to her. “Rhett was with me at the hospital the other night.”

  “I’m glad you weren’t there alone,” she said, leaning forward and placing her hand on his arm. When a jolt bolted through her fingers all the way up her shoulder, she pulled her hand back and wrapped it around her mug of tea.

  “Rhett’s like a brother to me, so you might see him around here from time to time.”

  “Do you have siblings, Seth?” Holly tested his name on her lips as she said it and found she liked it far too much.

  He shook his head. “No. It’s just me and Pops.”

  “No wonder he’s special to you.” She sipped her tea and took one of the cookies, nibbling on it as the two of them sat in silence watching big, fluffy flakes begin to drift down from the darkening sky.

  After several moments, Seth cleared his throat and rose to his feet. “I better check on Pops. He’s been asleep for quite a while.”

  “I’ll come with you.” Holly finished the last sip from her mug of tea, popped the remainder of the cookie she held in her mouth and brushed the crumbs on the legs of the skinny jeans she wore tucked into her favorite pair of brown leather boots.

  Seth didn’t respond as he led the way down the hall to the bedroom where his grandfather rested. Quietly, he pushed open the door and walked across the room to the bed. He stood there a moment, watching his grandfather’s chest rise and fall, as though he needed the reassurance the old man was fine.

  Holly moved beside him, studying Sam Stafford. She could see the resemblance in the two men. The shape of their faces was the same. She wondered if Sam’s silver hair had once been the same shade of light brown as Seth’s. It was still thick. Seth sported a short, neatly trimmed beard while his grandfather’s face was smooth-shaven.

  As though he sensed them stu
dying him, Sam made a snorting noise then slowly opened his eyes.

  His gaze centered on Holly as a broad smile spread across his weathered face. “I’ve gone and died because I know for a fact angels are only in heaven.”

  Holly lifted one shapely eyebrow and gave him a dubious look.

  Sam reached out his hand and grasped hers, holding it with his gnarled fingers. “You’re a lovely vision to behold upon awakening, miss.”

  “Holly,” she said, entertained by the old man’s charm. “I’m Holly Jones, your new nurse.”

  “Well, Holly Jones, my beautiful new nurse, welcome to Stafford Ranch. I’m Sam.”

  Holly smiled. “It’s a pleasure to meet you sir. My hope is to help you heal as quickly and carefully as possible.”

  “Well,” Sam drawled, winking at Holly. “If it takes me a while to recover, that just means I get to see your pretty face all that much longer.”

  Holly brushed aside his flattery and got down to business. “I have a proposed schedule of what I’d like to do while I work with you. Would you like to see it?”

  “I trust you, Holly. Whatever you say is fine with me.” Sam patted the seat of the chair by his bed. “How about you sit down and tell me all about you? Did you grow up in Portland?”

  “No, sir.” Holly always dreaded this part of the conversation, when people asked about her past. Like ripping off a bandage, she’d always found it easier just to get it over with. “My mother is a bit of a hippie, a fabulous artist, actually. I have no idea about my father, but she raised me with love and kindness. We traveled all over and experienced any number of fantastic adventures. I like helping people and went into nursing right after I graduated from high school. And yes, my name really is Holly Jones. In fact, it is Holleluiah Nightingale Jones. My mother thought it was funny to play off the word hallelujah, although I’m still searching for the humor in it. If you repeat my name to anyone outside this room, you’ll find prune juice and pistachio pudding are served at each meal. Otherwise, I think we’ll get along famously.”