He looked deflated, but it couldn’t be helped. “Will you at least stay for Christmas?”
“Until the day after, but no longer...and no matter what, you cannot try to hold me by saying things like...well, things.”
“Things like there’s that pull between us that says we were meant for each other. I can’t think I’m the only one to have felt it.”
All she could do was stare silently at him, because she did feel that pull. If she denied it, it would only ring of a lie.
“Things like ‘I love you’?”
“Don’t say that, Joe.”
“And what if I accidentally blurt it out?”
“It would make it so much harder for me to go...and clearly I have to.”
“Looks clear as mud to me, but for the sake of the children, I accept your terms.”
She nodded, stood up, then with a shrug that could mean anything from I’ve done my duty to please make me change my mind—she had no idea which—she turned toward the staircase.
Joe’s hand caught hers from behind, and none too gently. He whirled her about so that she fell against him. Then with his hands cupping her face, he kissed her...made a meal of her, more like. One hand slipped behind her head, then the other curled around her back to draw her tight to his chest.
She was not going to respond to this seduction, she couldn’t...except for one tiny moment so she could memorize the taste and the scent of her temporary husband.
After a long moment, he let go of her and set her at arm’s length.
“We had an agreement,” she sputtered.
“You told me not to say anything.” The humor in his grin matched the mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “I didn’t.”
“Humph!” She twirled about and headed for the staircase.
Halfway up, she heard him.
“Mary, there’s more to a marriage than procreation.”
* * *
By noon the next day, Mary had become Mrs. Joe Landon. So said the marriage certificate that she had signed with her own shaking fingers.
The adoption process had been started and an hour later the Christmas tree tied behind the big sleigh that Joe had rented.
They were going home—at least, the children were.
For all her misgivings about what she had done, she could not help but be infected by the high, joyful spirits.
Five children now had a father when they had not even had the hope of one the day before...and not just any father. They had Joe, a man who had put them first. When he might have gone on with his life, untroubled by attachments, he had loved them, had chosen them to be his own.
She was married to a rare and wonderful person...until the day after Christmas. As much as she regretted it, her father was right. Watching Joe with the children only proved that. Someday he would hold an infant of his own and he would know that she had done what was for the best.
“Pa,” Dan said, his voice cracking on the word. “Can you show me how to drive the team?”
“Come on up here, son. Take hold of the reins.”
Dan clambered over the seat back. In the past, he hadn’t smiled easily, but the grin on his face at the moment gave her a glimpse of the boy he must have been before his parents became the victims of bank robbers.
“I have a pa and a sister...lots of brothers, too,” Maudie said, snuggled under a blanket with her and Amelia. “So I reckon Santa’s going to leave a real special ma under the tree for me on Christmas morning, don’t you?”
“I...well... I—” she mumbled, having no idea of how to respond.
Joe turned about to shoot her a glance, then saved her from having to reply by plucking his harmonica from his coat pocket and asking Maudie to sing along.
A lump the size of an apple clogged her throat because if her body was like a normal woman’s, she would dive into marriage with Joe headfirst. Without a second thought she would sit under the tree on Christmas morning and open her arms wide, claim Maudie as her daughter.
But she did not have a normal woman’s body...only a normal woman’s heart.
“Look there in the distance, children.” Joe pointed to a large two-story house that would have been indistinguishable from the snow had it not been for the smoke curling out of four tall chimneys. “We’re almost home.”
A single tear slipped down Mary’s cheek because she was happy for them all...certainly, that was why.
“Good thing, Pa,” Dan said. Clearly he was fond of using the title. “Looks like it might snow.”
Mary wiped her cheek on the blanket so that no one would see the dampness.
Chapter Eight
As soon as the sleigh glided into the yard, his mother flung open the front door and rushed onto the porch, hands on her hips and a welcoming smile rounding her flushed cheeks.
The spicy scents of cinnamon and cloves drifted from the house.
“You making gingerbread men, Ma?”
“I am if you’re bringing company for Christmas.”
Joe leaped from the wagon and bounded up the stairs two at a time. He gave his mother a great hug, feeling the warmth of home fill him up.
This woman had given him so much over the years. He was grateful to finally be able to give her something in return...something he knew she had dreamed of for a long time.
“Not visitors, Ma...grandchildren.” Naturally, she looked properly stunned. “I’ve adopted them. Three boys and two girls.”
“Oh, my lands,” she whispered, waving her white apron to express her joy. “And the young lady?”
“That’s Mary... I’ll need to talk to you about her later.”
“You’re sweet on the little gal! I see it in your eyes.”
“More than sweet on her, I reckon... Ma, she’s my wife.”
It was a lucky thing that his mother was a strong woman, full of faith. The news of an instant family might send one with less backbone to the floor in a fit of vapors.
Still might send Ma there when she discovered that Mary was leaving him the day after Christmas.
“Maudie, Dan, Brody, Caleb...this is your grandma Cornelia.”
Mary mounted the steps and handed the baby to his mother. Not everyone would have noticed, but he did and it broke his heart...the ever so slight hesitation as she gave the baby over.
“This is Amelia,” Mary said with a smile that he knew was given with the greatest effort. “Your son saved her life.”
With her free arm, Cornelia folded Mary up in a hug.
“That’s my boy. He’s been fetching home baby this and thats for as long as he’s been mine.” With her arm still about Mary, she lifted up on her toes and kissed Joe’s cheek. “Grandchildren this time? I could not be happier, son, or more proud of you. Now, take your children upstairs and find who belongs to what room while I take my daughter-in-law on a tour of her new home.”
The sooner he spoke to his mother about Mary the better, but for now he figured it couldn’t hurt to have them get acquainted.
Could be Ma might convince Mary to stay.
There had been a time, early in her marriage, when his mother had grieved over not being able to bear children of her own, but that didn’t keep her from becoming the most loving mother on God’s good earth.
“Dan, boy,” he said. “How’d you like a room that overlooks the paddock and the barn?”
The grin on his freckled face answered for him.
“Pa?” Brody yanked on his pant leg. “Can Rover stay in the house?”
“That’s up to Grandma Cornelia.”
“He’s a real good dog, Granny,” Caleb explained. “He only piddles on the woodpile.”
“The dog’s the one who really saved the baby’s life,” Joe explained because his mother had never allowed a dog in the house before. “He’s a protector.”
With a long glance at each anxious face, his mother nodded.
“I reckon he can stay as long as he cleans up the crumbs from under the kitchen table.”
“Thanks, Granny!
He’s real good at crumbs.” Brody whooped.
The twins hugged her skirt, one on each side.
“How will I tell the two of you apart?” his mother asked with a pat to each wavy-haired head.
“I’m Caleb.”
“And I’m Brody.”
Unless he missed his bet, his mother would know who was who among the flying feathers of a pillow fight.
Over by the doorway, Joe’s brother, Clay, stood shyly, hanging back as was his way among strangers. As big as he was, blending in wasn’t easy.
“Clay, baby, come over here and meet some special people,” his mother said.
“People for me?” Clay always asked this question upon meeting strangers. Ma did not always answer yes, but when she did, it meant that she trusted them not to be unkind to her special boy. Joe reckoned his brother must recognize this distinction, because whenever Ma said they were his, he gave them his heart...a very special gift, in Joe’s opinion.
“Yes, my love.” Ma smiled at Clay with the warmth that she always had for him. “Maudie, dear, wouldn’t you like to go into the kitchen with your new brother and help him put eyes on the gingerbread men?”
Even though Clay was actually the children’s uncle, and quite a bit older in age, with Clay the way he was, Joe reckoned his mother figured brother was the more appropriate relationship.
With a bright smile, Maudie skipped to Clay and took his hand.
“Yesterday,” she said, tipping her head back to peer up at Clay, “I didn’t have any brothers. This morning I got three and now I have four.”
“Me, too,” answered Clay.
“On Christmas morning Santa is going to bring me a ma. I’m going to wait all night by the tree.”
“Can I wait, too?”
“I’d be grateful, Clay,” she said, then she disappeared into the kitchen hand in hand with her newest brother.
He dared a glance at Mary. Just like he figured, she seemed distressed.
“Let’s get you all settled upstairs,” he said, then herded his brood of boys toward the big stairway in the parlor.
He glanced back once more to see his mother with Amelia cradled in one arm and her other about Mary’s waist.
Gray head bent to golden one, his mother carried on a quiet conversation with his wife.
Tonight, he ought to write a letter to Santa and ask for a special favor...that Ma would be able to succeed in luring Mary to make her home here at the ranch.
He sure hoped so since, thus far, he had not even come close to being able to.
The very last thing he wanted was to send his wife away the day after Christmas with a friendly fare-thee-well...as though she did not mean everything to him.
* * *
It had been Mary’s intention to remain in her bedroom, to hide out and ignore the pull that this home had on her heart.
Cornelia, clearly not realizing that Mary was only a temporary member of the household, had lovingly presented every corner and crevice of the house as though she were sharing a precious gift. And so she would have been, had circumstances been different.
With the home’s lovely wide stairway, big fireplaces and picturesque windows, it was the stuff of her dreams. And it was not only the walls and polished floors that enticed her. It was the loving spirit of the place. For all that she tried to hide from it, Landon Ranch called her to stay and make it home.
She would have remained shut away in the room, safe from the temptation to give in to selfishness and live here forever, had Joe not been standing outside her door playing “Jingle Bells” on his harmonica.
But he was, and with December 23 only hours away from slipping into Christmas Eve, she could not resist his invitation to a starry sleigh ride any more than she could a kiss in the moonlight if he were to offer one.
She ought to know better than to flirt with temptation, but her toe had been tapping to his tune. She let him help her into the sleigh, enjoying the joyful yet oddly melancholy feeling that being around him caused.
How puzzling that as time with Joe grew shorter, the stronger both the joy and her melancholy became.
“You warm enough, love?”
He shouldn’t call her that. It would only make the parting harder.
“I’m bundled in furs with warm bricks at my feet.” And because his endearment warmed her insides, she couldn’t find the backbone to protest it. “How about you?”
“Warm...real warm with my wife beside me.”
She started to remind him of the brevity of their marriage...their arrangement, but he lifted the harmonica to his lips and began to play “Jingle Bells” again.
And after that he played “O Holy Night.”
And maybe it was.
With Christmas Eve so near and the full moon casting long shadows on the snow, with an icy breeze scratching through the bare branches of the trees, the night was both peaceful and expectant.
She looked up at the stars and sang along. Next, Joe played a tune about Christmas trees and she let her voice ring out to that one, as well.
After a time, Joe quit playing and pulled the team to a halt at the top of the ridge that overlooked the valley where the house was built. Smoke curled from each of the chimneys, then whisked away into the dark. A few of the windows glowed soft amber.
She and Joe looked at each other and laughed, because she figured that while he had a talent for his instrument, her singing voice left something to be desired.
He put his arm about her shoulder, drawing her close to his side.
He smelled warm, so very male. She glanced sideways at him, watched his breath puff white in the icy air. She sighed, feeling the tug to her heart that only happened when she was close to him. Against her better instincts, she rested her head on his shoulder...couldn’t help it.
Yesterday it had seemed that bad weather was coming, then the wind had risen and blown it away. But just now a cloud snuffed out the moonlight that had been reflecting on the snow. In a few moments it drifted on, but a gathering of storm clouds mounded on the horizon.
“What will you do? After Christmas, I mean?” Joe asked.
“Spend some time with my parents in Virginia, I suppose.” It had been too long since she had seen them. “Until I find another position.”
With two gloved fingers, he touched her chin, tipped her face toward him.
“Don’t go, Mary.”
“I have to, I—”
Lowering his lips to hers, he silenced her with a long, tender kiss that made her forget how cold it was beyond his embrace.
“No...you don’t. Stay here...let me be a real husband to you. Let me love you.”
She buried her face into the warmth of his neck. He was everything to her.
Because she loved him, that made her decision to leave all the more valid.
“That would so be easy, Joe.” When she spoke, her lips brushed the bit of warm skin exposed beneath his ear. “You are offering me everything I ever dreamed of. A home...a family.”
What could she say to make him understand?
“Tell me,” she said after a long, confidence-gathering breath. “What kind of person would I be to repay your affection with selfishness? And...and I do care for you, Joe. But you need a woman who can give you children.”
“First of all, I don’t have affection for you. I love you. And second, you’ve given me five and we’ve only been married a couple of days.”
And she would be forever grateful for what he had done for them, but that didn’t change what she had to do.
“Can you honestly tell me—” she looked him hard in the eye to make sure he understood “—that you wouldn’t miss having the experience of lying with your wife and hoping that your seed would bear life...that you don’t want to feel the bump of the little one under your hand? Being there to hear its first cries... I can’t give you that and I won’t deny you having it.”
He set her at arm’s length but kept his hands on her shoulders while he held her gaze.
; “Hell, Mary...I would like that. So would you...but there are more important things.”
“What could possibly be?”
“Loving. It’s all that remains in the end.” He touched her cheek, then her bottom lip. “Any pair of fools can give birth to a child. Not everyone can give them what you can. Every day I see how you give of yourself.”
Yes, she did love the children. When she was gone she would think of them every day. Pray for them every night before she fell asleep.
“That doesn’t change the fact that I’m not a whole woman.”
“A whole woman? Do you think that my mother is not? That my father felt cheated in any way? I can tell you he didn’t, not one single day. He loved me and Clay as if we had been born to him...more, maybe, because he didn’t expect to ever be a father.”
What could she say to that? Clearly, Cornelia was not lacking in any way.
“I’m sure he was a rare and special man.”
And Joe was not? Her argument fell apart like a snowflake hitting hot water.
Still, she wasn’t wrong in her determination to leave him and let him find a woman who could give him a more fulfilling life.
No matter how Joe denied it, men wanted fertile women. Her father and her past had taught her that.
“I’ve had suitors in my life.” She glanced down at her glove-bound hands, folded in a knot on her lap. “To a man, they walked away once I told them.”
“I’m not a suitor. I’m your husband.” He drew her close again, folding her up in a great hug. “Those men were fools. I loved you before I knew, and now that I do, I love you all the more.”
“How could you possibly?”
“What if I were sterile? Would you abandon me?” His chest rumbled against her when he spoke. The warmth of his breath brushed her ear. “I don’t believe you would.”
“I’m not abandoning you.” She shoved away from him, because she would never leave him for that reason. Confusion hit her from every which way. “We had a bargain. It’s not the same thing.”
Clearly, he was hurt. It was her fault. She turned her face from him. If she had to look at the pain in his expression for one more moment she would burst out sobbing.
Dreaming of a Western Christmas: His Christmas BelleThe Cowboy of Christmas PastSnowbound with the Cowboy Page 25