“I think so. You should have heard him barking when the boat with the Christmas cat went by.”
Both children giggled at this, though Devin was quite sure Cole’s glower intensified.
“I wish I had a boat so I could put lights on it and be in the parade,” Ty said.
“Me, too,” Jazmyn said. “I would put a Christmas tree on it with little elves who are decorating it.”
“I would put a dog like Buster on mine and have him chasing the Christmas cat around the Christmas tree,” Ty said.
The kids petted the dog for another moment before Cole finally spoke, his voice hard and distant. “Come on, kids. We’ve got a lot of festival to cover before we head back. And didn’t you want to try the cotton candy?”
Food was apparently the only thing that would distract Ty from his new best friend. He jumped up. “Yes! I love cotton candy. Bye, Buster. Bye, Grandpa.”
“See you, young Tyler. Bye, Jazmyn. Bye, Dr. Shaw. Son.”
She and the children waved to him but she noticed that Cole stood as if carved out of the same granite as the Redemption Mountains as the children gave the dog one last hug.
They headed for the concessions and stood in line again for cotton candy. This line wasn’t as long—though long enough for Devin to field a question from Ann Mae Lewis about the recurrence of her gout and from John Hardin about whether he should come in to have his warts burned off.
For all the hype and anticipation, neither Jazmyn nor Ty was very crazy about peppermint cotton candy—something Devin could have quite accurately predicted.
“Try some,” Jazmyn said. “It’s terrible.”
Devin laughed. “Well, with that ringing endorsement, how can I refuse?”
She took a little taste and didn’t quite agree. The fluffy spun sugar melted in her mouth and left behind a minty sweet taste she quite liked.
At his daughter’s urging, Cole tried it, too, and he obviously didn’t mind it, either.
“It must be a grown-up thing,” Ty decided.
They walked for a while, enjoying the Christmas lights sparkling in the trees and listening to the cheerful music from a children’s choir on the stage set up in one corner of the park while they shared a few more tastes of the peppermint cotton candy.
“Are you done with this?” Cole asked after a few moments.
“Completely.”
He chucked the rest into a garbage can, just as she noticed Ty give a huge, jaw-popping yawn. He was still holding his light-up sword but had turned it off some time ago and hadn’t parried against any invisible opponents in a while. Jazmyn appeared bleary-eyed, as well.
“Let’s go find our car so we can warm up,” he said.
“Looks like you’ve got a couple of tired kiddos here,” Devin murmured to Cole when they didn’t argue, just followed along with slightly dazed looks.
He glanced over at them, then made a face. “Yeah. I’m afraid none of us got much sleep last night. Ty had a nightmare about his mom and the accident, which woke up Jaz and me.”
“Does that happen often?”
He shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat. She had the random wish that he would hold her hand but quickly dismissed the urge as completely ridiculous. “Not as often as it did at first. Seems like when they first came to live with me, they took turns. If it wasn’t one having a bad dream, it was the other one.”
“They’ve been through a traumatic experience. Their reaction sounds completely normal, but that doesn’t make it any easier on any of you. What do you do when it happens?”
He shrugged, looking embarrassed. “We read stories or talk or get up and watch something on TV until they calm down enough to sleep again.”
“That’s perfect,” she answered. “It sounds like you’re doing everything right, Cole. You’re a good father.”
He made a disbelieving sound and she nudged him with her shoulder. “I’m serious. You’re doing a great job under difficult circumstances.”
He gazed at her and she saw self-doubt mingled with gratitude. “Thanks,” he finally said. “Most of the time it feels like somebody tossed me over one of those Christmas boats into the deepest part of the lake and all I’m doing is floundering.”
“You just need to trust yourself a little more,” she said as they reached his pickup truck and he opened the door for her. “Sounds to me as if your instincts are exactly right.”
“I don’t want to go home yet,” Jazmyn said when they were all in the pickup truck and Cole had turned on the heater, which began defrosting frozen fingers and toes.
“I don’t, either,” Ty said.
Apparently a little warmth gave them a second wind.
“Can we go look at the lights at the park in Shelter Springs? You said you would take us last week but you didn’t.” Jazmyn’s voice held a faintly accusatory tone.
“We had a bit of a complication with Aunt Tricia having to go to the hospital,” he reminded her.
“I still want to see it. My friend Anna at school said they have a Christmas tree that’s bigger than the mountains!”
“I think that’s probably an exaggeration,” he said. “You mean you haven’t seen enough lights already?”
She shook her head vigorously, an action that Ty mimicked.
“Fine. I’ll take you after we drop Devin off.”
“Don’t you want to see the giant Christmas tree?” Ty asked, a hopeful note in his voice.
How could she refuse? She didn’t necessarily need to see more holiday decorations but she wasn’t quite ready for the evening to end.
“Sure. That sounds fun.”
Cole gazed at her, his face in shadows and an unreadable look in his eyes, then he shrugged and started driving.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
DURING THE DARK MONTHS he spent in prison, Cole used to lie on his bunk and imagine what his perfect day would involve. With plenty of time on his hands, he had run through many scenarios in his head.
A clear spring morning spent planting a vast field of barley, where the air smelled of fresh grass and overturned soil and new life.
A summer day, perhaps, riding up into the mountains above the ranch on a fine horse with the sky a brilliant blue overhead and meadowlark and mountain bluebirds flitting through the trees around him.
A fall afternoon of fly-fishing the Hell’s Fury with sunlight gleaming on cold swirls of water around his waders and hungry rainbow trout going after his best mayfly.
This particular scenario he was living right now never would have entered his mind—driving through a December night with his kids asleep in the backseat and a light snowfall whispering against the windshield.
But as he drove away from the Shelter Springs town boundary and back around the big lake toward Haven Point with the soft and lovely Devin Shaw beside him, all those other imaginary moments seemed to pale into insignificance.
This. This was perfect.
He wanted to keep driving and driving, all night long.
“I think they’re asleep,” Devin murmured.
“They have been for about ten minutes now, since we left the park. They’ve had a long day.”
“I guess Christmastime is exhausting when you’re a kid.”
He smiled briefly, then felt it slide away, replaced by an overwhelming urge to pull over, reach for her hand and tug her into his arms. Then the day would be truly perfect.
What would she do? Would she push him away or would she kiss him back, as she had the other day? Would she taste of mulled wine or of peppermint cotton candy or an intoxicating combination of both?
The memory of their kiss seemed to hover inside the vehicle with them, as tantalizing as it was out of reach. His enjoyment of the evening dimmed slightly and he frowned, upset at himself for yearning
for what he couldn’t have.
Get over it, already. She wasn’t for him.
The evening spent at the Lights on the Lake Festival had been a glaring example of that. She was obviously a valued member of the community, a well-respected physician doing what she could to help her small hometown. Everyone knew her and seemed to love her, seeking her advice or just the chance to talk to her.
What would she ever want with someone like him?
It was a question he couldn’t answer and he decided not to ruin the evening by obsessing about it. She was here, wasn’t she? She seemed to be enjoying herself, at least judging by the relaxed set of her features and the way she hummed along to the Christmas songs the kids had insisted he play on the truck stereo.
For the short time they had left together tonight, he decided to simply savor the moment, to enjoy the strange, unexpected peace he found in her company.
The song on the radio shifted to some kind of piano version of “O Little Town of Bethlehem” and he relaxed a little more, enjoying the freedom of driving where he wanted while he caught occasional glimpses of color on the lake as the boats that had been in the parade earlier made the return trip back to the Haven Point marina.
“Why can’t you give your father a chance?”
So much for the peaceful moment. The relaxed ease seemed to fly out the window as tension crept back in to squeeze his shoulders hard.
“Let it go, Devin. I told you how he abandoned Tricia and me. As far as I’m concerned, he made his choices when he walked away twenty-three years ago. He doesn’t get to waltz back in and pretend like nothing has happened and now we can forgive everything and be one big, happy family.”
“Maybe he’s changed and regrets what he did. I would think you, of all people, could understand that.”
Her words hit him like a rock through the windshield. You, of all people. A man who greatly regretted the man he had been and the choices he had made, who was trying to change.
Their situations weren’t the same.
He turned off the radio. He didn’t need Christmas carols about peace on earth right now.
“You’ve heard of Steps Eight and Nine in twelve-step programs,” he said, his voice low.
“The steps about making amends. Yes. I’m familiar with them.”
“Then tell me how a father can ever make amends for the harm he caused when he abandoned his kids.”
She was quiet and the only sounds in the truck for a long moment were the children’s steady breathing and the wipers slowly beating back the snow.
“It’s not my place to defend the choices your father made,” she finally said. “I couldn’t anyway, because I don’t know what was in his head.”
“You’re right. You don’t. If you did, you would see his head is filled only with thoughts of himself.” He couldn’t seem to help the cold, harsh, ugly tone or words.
“I will just say,” she went on stubbornly, “that maybe he didn’t see it as abandoning you. If you try to look at things from his perspective, maybe he didn’t know what else to do. His job required him to travel and he knew he couldn’t drag the two of you along with him.”
“He could have got another job.”
He hated talking about this. He sounded as if he was still the lost eleven-year-old kid, furious at his mother for dying and his father for leaving and the whole damn world for not turning out the way he wanted it to.
“Was your life so terrible with your grandparents?”
“Of course not,” he said. “They were great. My grandparents were decent, loving, hardworking people. That’s not the point. We weren’t their responsibility until he dumped us here.”
“Would your life have been better if you had stayed with your father? If he had just left you to babysitters or nannies or housekeepers while he traveled?”
“We’ll never know, will we?”
His grandparents had been wonderful but they had already been in their late sixties when he and Tricia had shown up. His grandfather had tried to be the father Stan wasn’t but he was tired most nights from running the ranch. He’d already had one valve replacement and his congestive heart failure left him unable to play ball in the backyard or coach soccer teams or even exercise much control over a willful, wild teenage boy.
Cole had started drinking when he was fourteen. By the time he was sixteen, his drinking was out of control—though that hadn’t stopped him from winning high school rodeo competitions and going on to college for a few years before going on to the PRCA.
He sometimes wondered if a stronger male influence might have turned the tide for him—not that he would ever blame his grandfather for his own choices.
“I shouldn’t have brought it up,” she said. “He just looked so lonely tonight, I thought it was worth trying one more time to see if there’s any chance you could soften your stance a little to let him interact with the children a bit more.”
“I won’t,” he said firmly.
“I get it. I’m sorry. Your scars are your own and I have no business poking at them. Forget I mentioned it.”
“I will, if you tell me what your scars are.”
“My scars? I don’t have any.”
She was lying and both of them knew it. “Sure you do. You can start by telling me why your sister is so protective of you.”
She opened her mouth and he thought for sure she was finally going to tell him but she pointed out the window.
“We’ll have to save that for another time. Looks like we’re here.”
He wanted to keep driving until she talked to him—it was only fair, after she gave him the third degree, right?—but the day had been long and he probably needed to get his kids home to their beds.
Beyond that, he didn’t think she would appreciate being quasi-kidnapped.
With a resigned sigh, he pulled into her driveway and left the vehicle running to keep the children warm as he walked around to her side to let her out.
Though the snowfall was still light, the driveway and sidewalk were covered with about half an inch of powdery precipitation.
“Be careful,” he said as he opened the door for Devin. “It’s slicker than you’d think. Hold on.”
He knew he probably shouldn’t be so thrilled when she slipped her hand through the crook of his elbow and grabbed tight. “The last thing I need is a broken arm,” she said.
He was fiercely aware of the warmth of her against him as they made their way up the walk, of the soft scent of berries and vanilla teasing his senses and leaving him achy and hard.
She seemed small and slight walking beside him, her head barely reaching the top of his shoulder, but size could be deceptive. Within her small stature, she was fiery and determined, the kind of woman his grandmother would have called a dynamo.
At the house, she unlocked the front door and opened it slightly. Warmth and light spilled out of the open doorway into the winter night but Devin hardly seemed to notice.
“I had a great time,” she said. “It was so fun seeing the boat parade through the eyes of your children. Thank you for sharing them with me for the evening.”
“No, thank you. Jazmyn and Ty loved having you with us.”
“And you?”
Despite the teasing note in her voice, awareness still seemed to bloom between them like crocuses burrowing through the snow toward the light.
“I did, too. Probably too much, truth be told.” He muttered the last in a low voice he hoped she didn’t hear.
She sent him a startled look beneath her eyelashes. “Sorry?”
“Nothing. Never mind.” He forced his features into a polite smile. “Anyway. Thanks. It was good for the kids to be part of it. We all had a great time, especially the last little while, looking at the lights.”
“That’s one of my favo
rite parts of Christmas, seeing how everyone decorates their little corner of the world.”
He had never given it much thought before and hadn’t really spent much time looking at Christmas decorations but she had made the evening fun.
“Well, if I don’t see you again before Christmas, I hope it’s a merry one.”
“Thank you, but you’ll probably see me Monday afternoon. That’s the day I’m coming back to the ranch with my yoga class, remember?”
Right. The hot spring. The reminder sent a jumble of conflicting feelings tangling through him. Foremost among them was a burst of joy to know he would be seeing her again in just a few days—followed quickly by a pinch of unease at just how happy that made him.
“Right. We’ll plan on it.”
He was in serious trouble here, if just the idea that he would see her again made the night seem touched by magic, filled with possibilities as bright as the ornaments he could see on her Christmas tree glowing inside.
Yeah. He had it bad. That must be why the next words slipped out of his mouth before he really had time to think them through.
“If you want, your class can stop at the house afterward for hot chocolate and cookies. Letty and the kids have been baking up a storm and we have more Christmas goodies than we know what to do with. The kids would enjoy having someone to share them.”
He immediately regretted the invitation and wanted to snatch it back. She made him do and say the craziest things and he had no idea why.
It was too late to rescind the offer. She gazed at him with green eyes drenched with delight. “Oh, Cole. Thank you. Everyone would truly love that.”
“It’s no big deal. Just cookies and hot chocolate.”
“Don’t tell me it’s not a big deal. You don’t even want my friends to be at the ranch, yet you’ve been so very kind to us.”
He couldn’t let her look at him as if he was some kind of hero. They both knew better.
“I’m not kind,” he growled. “I’m a selfish bastard.”
She scoffed lightly. “Right. Because only someone completely selfish would invite a bunch of older people he doesn’t even know—and doesn’t really want to know—over for refreshments at his house, purely as a favor to me. I don’t think anyone would consider that selfish. What would you possibly hope to gain?”
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