The Nanny's Texas Christmas

by Lee Tobin McClain

  She studied the photo. “That’s strange,” she said, beckoning Macy over. “Avery’s so fair, but all of her Culpepper ancestors have dark hair and eyes.”

  “Avery’s hair color doesn’t exist in nature.” Macy came over to look at the picture, her arms full of poster board and other craft supplies.

  “Here, let me carry some of that.” Lana took a big box of scissors and glue out of Macy’s arms. “You’re right, I guess, but she’s really fair-skinned, too. Blue eyes. Are you totally sure she’s Cyrus’s long-lost granddaughter?”

  Macy shrugged as they exited the library. “It’s an unusual name. There were just four Avery Culpeppers in the US, and our Avery was the only one in Texas. I left a message for her, and she got back to me a few hours later and said Cyrus was her grandfather.”

  “Did you get any documentation that she’s who she says she is?”

  “She showed us her driver’s license. And I think there might be more paperwork coming, only it got delayed because of the holidays.”

  “I’m sure you’re right. Maybe it’s just because I’m irritated with her that I’m hoping we have the wrong person.”

  “Believe me, with all the trouble she’s stirred up, I’d be happy to find out she was an impostor,” Macy said. “Now you’ve got me wondering.”

  “I think I’ll do a little digging after Christmas. Maybe I’ll find a different Avery. A nicer one.”

  “Sure, go for it, though I don’t have much hope. But look, maybe she’ll leave town of her own accord.” Macy nodded toward the parking lot. Avery was stomping off to her car, her face scrunched with either anger or tears. Flint stood at the edge of the parking lot, arms crossed, shaking his head.

  Lana wondered what he’d said to Avery. Had he just chewed her out for her role in Logan’s accident, or had he saved a little bit of energy to scold her for humiliating Lana in front of a barn full of people?

  “Hey, listen, before we go back inside, sit down with me a minute.” Macy called out to a couple of teenaged boys who were heading back from the house and asked them to carry the supplies inside. Then she led Lana to a wooden bench along the side of the barn. “We never get much chance to talk, but what happened today made me think. How are you doing about the whole broken engagement thing?”

  “You can say it like it is,” Lana said. “I was jilted at the altar.”

  “Well, right, which must have been awful. Are you starting to get over it, though?”

  Lana shrugged. “Getting over Gregory wasn’t actually that hard.”

  “You don’t regret not being married?”

  “To Gregory? No.” Lana looked down at her jeans, running a thumb over a torn spot in the denim. “I should have realized he wasn’t ready to be married. I just wanted a family so bad that I overlooked the signs.”

  “You’re not the first woman who’s made a mistake in love,” Macy said. “Maybe God helped you by having Gregory back out at the last minute.”

  “Maybe He did. But I wish He didn’t give his lessons so harshly.” Lana looked up at the darkening sky. “But who am I to question God? I didn’t listen to my friends when they warned me about Gregory. I was sure he was the one.”

  “Sometimes God has to use a two-by-four,” Macy said.

  “That’s right. But I learned my lesson.”

  “I’m sure you did. You’ll make a better choice next time.”

  Lana opened her mouth to say there wouldn’t be a next time and then closed it again. She didn’t need another lecture on how she was too young to give up hope. For whatever reason, it made people uncomfortable when a woman her age said she was through with love.

  So she stood. “We’d better get back to work,” she said, and walked with her friend back into the barn.

  * * *

  Flint showed two of the teenage boys how to use sandpaper to smooth out the rough edges of the sleigh they were making. Then, after checking on the progress of the boys who were pounding nails into a stable rafter prop, he settled down to do some sanding himself.

  Working with wood—and working with kids—helped his blood pressure settle back to normal after his confrontation with Avery Culpepper. Although they’d started out having a calm discussion, it had gotten heated when he’d brought up Logan and the tractor—and chewed her out for embarrassing Lana. When he’d told her in no uncertain terms to stay away from his son and stop causing trouble at the ranch, she’d gone stomping off even madder.

  Which wasn’t necessarily good for the boys ranch or the Lone Star Cowboy League.

  Mostly, he hadn’t liked her upsetting Lana.

  Why that was his business, Flint didn’t know. Lana was his son’s teacher and temporary nanny, but otherwise not even a friend.

  If that’s the case, why’d you like having her at your house so much?

  He shook off the thought. He’d be concerned about any acquaintance who’d been embarrassed like that. And naturally, a little curious. He didn’t know what the story was about the wedding. Flint wasn’t a person people tended to share gossip with.

  Whatever had happened, there was no call for making Lana almost cry when she was working her fingers to the bone for this ranch.

  “Hey, Dad, Robby says I know my part, so I can come help with props.”

  “Great.” Flint started to nod toward the area where the other younger boys were cutting black paper silhouettes, and then stopped. He was supposed to be spending time with Logan, bonding with him. “Come over here,” he said. “Sit down with me, and I’ll teach you how to sand.”

  “Cool!” Logan dived into the task with his usual enthusiasm. He emulated Flint exactly, and soon was sanding like a pro.

  Flint’s heart squeezed with love for his son. Whatever else he thought of Lana Alvarez, he was glad she’d called him to task for neglecting Logan. Since he’d started focusing more on his son, their relationship felt different.

  Not only that, he realized, but Logan hadn’t run away once.

  After Logan went to find out what the other boys his age were doing, Flint looked up from his work and noticed Lana kneeling down over a bunch of gift-wrapped presents, her dark hair gleaming as she spoke with the preacher. Looked like they were figuring out what gifts went with what boys. She spoke a few minutes more, looking out at the room, nodding toward one boy and then another. The preacher said something that made her laugh, and then Lana stood and walked over to the makeshift stage, gesturing toward a group of boys to come rehearse with her.

  The preacher watched her the whole way. Smiling.

  Flint scolded himself for noticing. What man wouldn’t want to watch Lana, share a joke with her? She was a beautiful woman, inside and out. A beautiful young woman, he reminded himself. Closer to the preacher’s age than to his.

  When Heath Grayson and Josie Markham came over, Flint was glad for the distraction. “What are you two doing here?”

  “Stopped by to bring the gifts we’re donating.” Heath gestured back toward the stack of wrapped gifts, which had grown noticeably just over the course of the afternoon rehearsal.

  “I’ll put you to work,” Flint offered, holding up a hammer.

  “You stay,” Josie said to Heath. “I’m going to find something else to do.”

  But the young boys from Flint’s group stopped her. “Hey, Miss Markham,” Logan said. “You and Mr. Grayson are like Mary and Joseph.”

  “Oh, really?” Josie sank down onto a bale of hay, moving a little awkwardly, and smiled at the boys. “Why’s that?”

  “’Cause you’re going to have a baby,” little TJ Johnson explained, “but you’re not married.”

  Josie blushed and opened her mouth, then closed it again.

  “But Mr. Grayson is gonna marry you. That’s what I heard,” added another boy, Damon Jones, who’d just come to the ranc
h last month.

  Logan frowned. “But God was Jesus’s dad.” He looked up at Josie. “Is God your baby’s daddy, too?”

  “Logan,” Flint scolded. “Ms. Markham doesn’t need a lot of questions. That’s not polite.”

  “It’s okay.” Josie looked up at Heath, who was trying hard not to laugh, and then smiled down at Logan. “My baby’s daddy is my husband, Mr. Markham, who died.”

  “But Mr. Grayson is gonna take care of her and the baby, just like Joseph did.” Damon was nodding thoughtfully.

  “You could be Mary and Joseph in our pageant!” someone suggested.

  Flint figured Heath and Josie had been on the spot enough. “Boys, let’s get back to work,” he said.

  He watched as Heath helped Josie get up off the bale of hay. It was nice to see his friend looking at Josie that way, so possessive and caring, but it made Flint aware of all he was missing in life. He envied Heath, but he’d never marry again himself. One try was enough. He looked over at Logan, safe and happy, teaching the other boys to sand. Logan had to be his focus. And if his heart ached a little every now and then, seeing what he couldn’t have, well, life was like that. You didn’t get everything. You were just grateful for what you had.

  A few minutes later, Heath came back over and squatted down beside Flint. “Nice work.”

  “Not done.” He handed Heath a pair of pliers. “Here, make yourself useful. Bend down the wires on those boards so nobody gets hurt.”

  Working together was comfortable. They’d done a fair amount of that before. “How’s the ranger work going?” he asked Heath. “Glad to be back at it?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Any news on the sabotage?”

  “It’s a mystery. Heard there was some more trouble over at McGarrett’s place. Haven’t had time to look into it.”

  “Avery Culpepper?” Flint measured the width of a board.

  “I don’t know. We were in town shopping right before we came out here and saw Avery driving toward the Blue Bonnet Inn, looking mad as a wet cat.”

  “I could have had something to do with that. She was out here causing trouble, and I had words with her.”

  Heath shook his head. “Like it or not,” he said, “she’s got some power over us. If she goes through with that lawsuit, all this could go away.” He gestured around at the noisy, happy scene.

  “Irks me.” Flint pounded a nail extra hard. “Why a woman like that should have power to destroy—”

  “I didn’t say she had power, not yet. Things may work out. But some say she’s teaming up with Phillips.”

  “Heard that. Wouldn’t be good.”

  They worked for a while longer, side by side. Heath showed some of the boys how to work with pliers, and then got caught up in telling stories about being a Texas Ranger. Which was good. The boys needed to have something to aspire to. Once Heath’s stories shifted over to military life, Flint joined in. Some of the boys weren’t going to have the resources to go to college right away—like he hadn’t himself—and the military was a good option for them. More structure and discipline couldn’t hurt, especially with boys who’d had a rough road growing up.

  Heath finally stood and looked across the room, at which point Flint realized Josie was calling him. Man, he was attuned to her. It was like she was carrying his baby.

  Or more like, he loved her.

  As his friend threw an arm around his wife-to-be, Flint felt a little left out. What was that old country song about all your rowdy friends settling down? Not that he and Heath had ever been all that rowdy, but they’d been through a lot together. And until recently, Heath had shared Flint’s desire to stay single.

  Obviously, that was gone.

  Flint scanned the rest of the room, and his eyes settled on Lana, just as she approached the table where people had been labeling gifts. Someone said something to her and handed her one, and as he watched, Flint made out that the gift had her name on it.

  She smiled and started to put it aside, but the person who’d handed it to her said something, and she laughed and opened it.

  For whatever reason, Flint decided he needed to stretch his legs and strolled over closer, covering his curiosity with getting a water bottle from the case beside the door.

  “What is it, Miss Alvarez?” a boy asked.

  Several people turned to look; Flint wasn’t the only one.

  She pulled out a tin cross on a chain, then a brochure of some sort.

  “Hey,” Josie said, “we saw that show. Are there tickets?”

  “No,” Lana said, looking curious. “Just the brochure. I’ve been wanting to see this show.”

  “And you like a cross, too,” Josie said. “Looks like you have a secret Santa.”

  “Is there a note?” someone asked.

  Lana looked into the box and found an envelope. She opened it, read the note inside, and then looked around, her face skeptical. “Where’s Pastor Andrew?”

  “He left,” Josie said.

  Macy Swanson came over, and the three women put their heads together over the gift and note.

  Flint turned away.

  So the pastor was sweet on Lana. Planning to take her to a show in Dallas, and apparently Lana was game.

  Well, that was good. A useful warning to him.

  A woman like Lana—young, pretty, appealing—wouldn’t last long in Haven. She’d want bigger and better things. Just like Logan’s mother, she’d take the next train out of town when there was a new opportunity.

  Or a new guy.

  Flint walked over to the door of the barn and looked out into the deepening twilight. Listened to the sound of an owl hooting in a nearby tree, of the creek rushing by. Smelled the hay that had been cut just today.

  This was the world he had for himself and his boy, and it was enough. It was safe and secure. There were good people here, friends, folks who’d help him look out for Logan.

  Longing for more was just stupid. Falling for a pretty young woman, even stupider. He’d been fooled once, and he couldn’t let himself be fooled again. Not just for the sake of his own heart, but for Logan’s.

  He turned back into the barn and went back over to the sets project, keeping his face steadily turned away from Lana Alvarez. Keeping his distance.

  * * *

  But keeping his distance turned out to be harder than Flint had expected. Especially when he’d promised to help her move her things out to the ranch.

  She’d tried to insist that she could do the work herself, could fit what she needed into her car, but Flint had been raised better than that. You didn’t stand by while a lady did a bunch of physical labor.

  Not that women weren’t capable. Someone like Josie Markham proved that every day, working like a ranch hand while being seven months pregnant.

  So he didn’t stop Lana from carrying boxes down to his truck; he just made sure she had the lighter ones.

  “Want me to box up the stuff from your fridge?” he asked, opening it.

  She came and looked over his shoulder. “Now you’ve found me out. There’s nothing perishable inside.” She grinned at him. “I’m not exactly Susie homemaker.”

  “You cooked a mean chili,” Flint said.

  “I can cook,” she said. “In fact, I like to. But there’s nothing lonelier than eating by yourself. I end up over at the pizza place or Lila’s Café pretty often.”

  “Now you can eat at the ranch.” Flint hoisted a box containing coffee, tea and snacks. “Logan and I usually get at least one meal a day there. Marnie makes a pretty good lunch.”

  “I’m looking forward to that. She said I could help in the kitchen.” That made him pause and lean against her counter. “You’re going to wear yourself out with helping people,” he said. “Don’t you ever take a break?”


  A pretty flush crossed her face. “I like to keep busy.”

  “Sure, me, too, but what you do puts just about everyone else to shame.”

  She turned away, her face closed. “Are we ready to go?”

  “Sure.” He waited while she locked up and then held the door for her. She got in like a queen, but didn’t say one more word to him the whole ride to the ranch.

  As they pulled onto the dirt road that led to the Triple C, he had to speak up. “Was there something I said that offended you, back there?”

  “I just...you don’t know what it’s like to be alone in the world, so don’t judge how I cope with it, okay?”

  Flint stopped the truck, frowning. “It’s true, I have family and Logan. But don’t underestimate other people’s loneliness. It’s possible to be lonely as a single parent, or among a big crowd of married family members. Or in a marriage, for that matter.”

  She arched an eyebrow at him. “Voice of experience?”

  “Yeah.”

  Their eyes met, and there was compassion and understanding in hers, and he was pretty sure his own eyes reflected the same. They were two people who’d known loneliness and lived through it. Were still living through it.

  Wouldn’t it be nice if...

  No. Flint halted his own urge to lean toward her, to brush back her hair, to kiss that sad look off her face. Lana Alvarez might want comfort, but he wasn’t the man to provide it, and it was best to remember that. “Come on,” he said, opening his car door. “Let’s get you moved in.”

  Even as he said it, he realized that he was moving temptation that much closer to himself and Logan.

  Chapter Six

  Early Sunday morning, curled up in an armchair in her new apartment, Lana finished her morning prayers and set aside her Bible. Then she jumped up and went to her closet to pick out clothes for church.

  The red dress, that would be Christmassy.

  But she felt uneasy, and a moment’s reflection told her why. She had a little unfinished business to do first. She needed to text Avery Culpepper and let her know that she wouldn’t be picking her up for church as planned.