The Nanny's Texas Christmas

by Lee Tobin McClain

  He nodded. “It’s a puzzle. I think some other people in the community have been getting similar notes, right?”

  “I guess.” Obviously, the thought of being partnered with her hadn’t flustered him the same way it had flustered her. She put her hands on her hips and surveyed the barn, trying to decide what to do next.

  “So, what else needs to be done tonight?” He came up to stand beside her.

  Her breath hitched. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out. I’d like to have everything ready for tomorrow’s rehearsal, which means having the stage set up for the first scene. And I need to have a table where the sets people can work on the movables. Gifts for the Wise Men, crooks for the shepherds, you know.” As she spoke, she moved just a little bit away from him. There. That helped her calm down. She rubbed her hands together.

  “Since I helped cause the backup, I ought to help you finish up.” Without waiting for her to answer, he went over to a storage stall, slid out a long table, and picked it up easily. “Where do you want it?”

  Man, those muscles! She swallowed. “Um, over there.”

  Once she got herself under control, she appreciated his help. He didn’t talk much, but he was quick to see what was needed, and he did it. When she changed her mind about the placement of the cutout moon and stars, he climbed up to the loft and walked nimbly out on the exposed rafter to move them, making her gasp. They had a laugh over the rough job the younger boys had done at sanding the manger. And when the barn door opened wider and she stepped back into him, worried, he put an arm around her and whistled, and Cowboy came trotting up.

  “Did you know it was him?”

  He chuckled. “Heard him bump open the door with his head. I’ve heard that sound a thousand times.” He gave her shoulders a quick squeeze and then let go, bending down to pat the dog who stared adoringly up at him.

  She set him to work folding the lengths of cloth someone had donated, which would serve as costumes, and sorting them out by size, while she sat on a hay bale making a couple of last-minute changes to the stack of scripts. Even that domestic task he did willingly and well.

  “Thanks!” she said in half an hour, looking around with surprise. “That would have taken me much longer by myself.”

  “More hands lighten the load.” He grinned. “My mom’s saying. Helped keep all of us brothers on task. Are we done here?”

  “I think we are. Thank you.”

  They walked out of the barn together. And maybe it was the moonlight, or the fact that he’d helped her, or the quick touch of his hand at the small of her back, easing her out of the way so he could close and bolt the barn door. Whatever it was, it gave her a soft, romantic feeling right around the heart.

  She watched him test the bolt’s security. There wasn’t an ounce of fanfare or showing off in the man. It couldn’t be easy, being the foreman for a ranch, mentoring a bunch of boys with major challenges, and raising a son alone, but he did it without complaint and found time to help the community in a million small ways, too.

  He just worked hard and did the right thing. Like apologizing when he was wrong; like offering a helping hand.

  With a shock she realized she was coming to like and admire the taciturn cowboy. Not just to think he was attractive, but to actually like him.

  Although, with his face ruggedly handsome, she had to admit he was a pleasure to look at, too.

  He turned back toward her and caught her staring. He took a step toward her, his head tilted a little to one side. “What?” The single word rumbled out, seeming to create a vibration in her own chest.

  “Um, nothing.” She shrugged, laughing nervously.

  He took another step toward her, his eyes speculative. He reached out, put one hand on her shoulder. Then the other hand on her other shoulder. The solid weight of them warmed her, made her feel protected.

  Although, when she looked up into his stormy eyes, she didn’t feel exactly safe.

  Flint Rawlings was kind and helpful. He could be gentle to kids and patient with a balky cow or an interfering acquaintance.

  But he’d seen and done things she’d never even dreamed of. The tiny wrinkles beside his eyes, the scar that, she now saw, crossed his eyebrow and disappeared into his hairline, told her there was a lot she didn’t know about the cowboy.

  And it wasn’t just general life experience. It wasn’t even just the fact that he’d been to war.

  Flint Rawlings was almost ten years older than Lana was. More experienced in relationships, just like everything else.

  Lana gulped in a breath, tasting the hay-scented air and shivering in the night breeze. Her eyes were locked on his. She couldn’t have looked away if her life depended on it.

  But her mind was racing. He was the parent of a child in her classroom. He was her boss. He was...well, he was Flint Rawlings, danger in a tall, rugged package. And she should turn around and run far, far away. Except that she really, really wanted to know what it would feel like to kiss him.

  His two hands came closer together to rest on either side of her face. She could feel their roughness, their size. Now her breathing was rapid, as if she’d just run a race.

  “Sssh,” he said, his mouth quirking up the tiniest bit at one side. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

  “Is it? Am I?” She tried to grasp at her faith, at what God would want her to do, but the man in front of her wouldn’t give her the distance she needed to refocus. Instead, he moved just an inch closer, his hands on her cheeks tightening just slightly.

  She couldn’t have moved if she’d wanted to.

  The trouble was, she didn’t want to.

  “I’d sure like to kiss you right now.” He let his thumb trace her lower lip, slow and lingering, bringing it alive with sensations she’d never felt before. Could he feel it trembling? Feel her trembling, or hear her heart racing?

  She still couldn’t look away as his hand moved to brush back her hair, as gently as you’d touch a sleeping baby.

  Her lips parted a little. Nervously, she bit her bottom lip.

  He closed his eyes for a moment. Opened them and looked off to one side. Took an audible breath, and stepped back, letting his hands fall from her shoulders. “But that wouldn’t be the thing to do, would it?”

  She was still staring at his face, now turned away from her, so she saw a muscle jump in his cheek.

  “Go on inside,” he said in a voice that was barely louder than a whisper.

  “Flint...”

  “Go on, now. Hurry. I’ll watch to make sure you get there safely.”

  Something in his ragged tone scared her. She turned and ran toward the main ranch house as fast as if she were running from an oncoming train.

  * * *

  Flint watched her go, berating himself for being a fool. He’d just gotten back in her good graces, and now he’d insulted her again.

  Whether by talking about kissing, letting her see how much he wanted to kiss her, or by not doing it, he wasn’t sure which.

  He just knew she’d looked more beautiful than any woman he’d ever seen. Her hair had felt as soft as a baby bird’s feathers, and her lips...well. He’d wanted to pull her into his arms and never let go. Wanted to kiss away her worries and the loneliness that always seemed to hide just behind her smiling, helpful exterior.

  And what a big mistake that would have been.

  He’d gotten carried away when he’d learned that she didn’t like the pastor, that the gift he’d assumed came from the other man was actually a poorly executed, juvenile attempt at matchmaking. So he’d been mistaken in thinking that she and the pastor wanted to be together. Figuring that out had made him feel like a weight had been lifted off his chest.

  And then he’d discovered that they could work out a problem together. She’d been mad at him, but then she’d apolo
gized and forgiven him. And she’d truly forgiven him; they weren’t just words. She hadn’t referred to his rudeness again but had joked with him in a totally comfortable way. She could both forgive and forget, it seemed. A rare quality in anyone, but especially in a woman.

  She was the kind of woman a man wanted to kiss, sure. She was breathtakingly beautiful, with a warmth and spark that promised things every man wanted.

  But she was also the kind of woman who would make a great wife. Giving, kind, motherly. Full of life and energy. Able to laugh and have fun, even when pushing bales of hay around a dusty stage.

  He looked up at the sky, now bright with stars. How far away they’d always seemed. How far away God had seemed.

  Now, he seemed to feel the Creator all around him. And some of that, some of his coming back to God, that was Lana, too.

  There was an ache in his chest, like he was coming alive again. His whole body felt awake and eager.

  Once, out hunting as a teenager, he’d seen a black bear emerging from hibernation after a long, cold Colorado winter. He’d watched, fascinated, as it had lumbered out of its den, stretched, shook itself, blinked at the winter sun on snow.

  Eventually, it had meandered off into the woods, picking up speed, majestic and dangerous. Maybe it was just his boyish imagination, but the bear had seemed happy to be awake and moving on to its springtime life.

  For just a minute there, he’d felt as if he was moving on to springtime and new life, like that big old bear.

  Only they weren’t animals, and life wasn’t simple. There was a little boy he needed to look out for. And seeing the innocent longing in Lana’s eyes, he realized there was a vulnerable woman he needed to look out for, too.

  Maybe on a moonlit night at a lonely time of year, Lana Alvarez would have kissed him. Maybe she even thought she liked him a little.

  But she was young and naive. She didn’t know what she’d be getting herself into, connecting with Flint. He came with baggage.

  He turned and walked back toward his empty cabin. Letting himself feel the pain of what he wanted and what he couldn’t have.

  Starting tomorrow, he was going to have to be more clear about that. To himself, to Lana, and to Logan.

  But for tonight, he’d let himself think about what might have been.

  Chapter Eight

  The next evening, Lana wandered through the farm supply store in a happy haze. The place was crowded with people out to finish their errands before the town meeting that Fletcher Snowden Phillips had called for tonight. Despite the seriousness of the meeting, though, people were in a good mood. Christmas music played over the speakers, and one whole aisle of the store was dedicated to Christmas decorations.

  Lana ran a hand over the old-fashioned boxes of tinsel. When she was a kid, she and her parents had decorated the tree together each year, tuning the radio to a Christmas station, drinking rich hot chocolate, and eating buñuelos as they’d filled their live tree with brightly colored lights and tinsel. As often as not, she’d catch her parents kissing under the mistletoe.

  Although those memories were bittersweet, Lana was mostly seeing the sweet of it all today. For the first time, she was daring to hope that she might have family and a Christmas tradition of her own, drawing on what her parents had done, but also including her own creativity and whatever traditions her husband brought from his family.

  And when had she started thinking about a husband as a possibility again?

  But the truth was, she knew exactly when: it was that moment when Flint had gotten close to her, had said he wanted to kiss her.

  The memory brought a smile to her face and a worried flutter of emotions to her heart. Maybe having a half hour to herself, wandering through the store, was not such a good thing.

  “Hey, girl!” Someone tapped her on the shoulder, and she turned to see her friend Rhetta. “I’ve been calling your name for the last five minutes! What are you doing here?”

  Lana blinked and then reached out to hug her friend. “I’m sorry. I guess I was daydreaming.”

  “You’ve been doing that all day. What’s up with you?”

  Lana shrugged, but she couldn’t keep a smile from tugging at the corner of her mouth. “I just...had an interesting evening.”

  “Oh, girl, spill!” Rhetta glanced across the store. “I’ve got at least three minutes before the kiddos get restless and turn into monsters it takes two to handle.” Rhetta waved her hand at the tall African-American man who was walking in their direction, twin three-year-olds tugging at each of his hands. “Go away, Deron, I’ve got girl talk to do.”

  Deron chuckled and veered off toward the aisle containing mysterious looking tools and parts. “I’ll do what I can, for as long as I can,” he tossed over his shoulder in his deep voice.

  “So, what happened last night?” Rhetta tucked Lana’s arm in hers and tugged her toward a display of tiny trucks and tractors.

  “I... I don’t know, exactly.” Lana reached out and fingered the smallest of the toy vehicles. “I’m going to get enough of these for each of the boys in my class. Maybe for each of the girls, too. What do you think?”

  “I think they’ll love it. Don’t change the subject.”

  “I don’t have a subject. Nothing happened. I was just...working on the Christmas pageant, at the ranch, and...I got some company. That’s all.”

  “Uh-huh. Was it a cowboy?” Rhetta murmured. “Who’s a parent in your class?”

  “Maybe.” Lana couldn’t keep the smile off her face.

  “This is the most excited I’ve seen you since school started. Pay attention to that feeling, you hear?”

  Lana shrugged. “I don’t know where it’s going, if anywhere.”

  “Yeah, but...that sparkle in your eye. It’s how I felt when I met Deron.”

  “Did I hear my name?” and “Mama!” came from behind them, and Rhetta leaned back and picked up one of the twins. Deron swooped up the other and put his now-free arm around Rhetta, and Lana felt a sharp longing.

  Would her time ever come? Could it be coming now? Could God have more for her than she’d ever dared to hope, not just a nice man, but a wonderful man with a wonderful little boy?

  Rhetta cuddled her son close and gave Lana a friendly side hug. “Remember, pay attention to that feeling!” she whispered in Lana’s ear.

  Lana watched Rhetta, Deron and the boys head toward the checkout. Dreamily, she picked out small trucks and tractors for her students, dropping them into a red plastic shopping basket. She wanted to do just that. She wanted to let go, to listen to the romantic Christmas songs, and to dream she’d get love for Christmas.

  But why had Flint backed off instead of kissing her? He’d definitely seemed interested. But then he’d sent her away, almost as if he felt it was dangerous for her to stay in his presence. She’d felt glad at the time, nervous as a schoolgirl, frightened of the intensity that rumbled in his voice at the same time that it thrilled her. But now she wondered, if he’d really wanted to kiss her, why hadn’t he?

  Goodness, she was acting just like a teenager. Like the teenager she’d never had the chance to be, because while other girls were giggling together about boys, Lana had been arranging a double funeral and then dealing with the house full of memories, the paperwork and the grief.

  Oh, she’d had help. This community wouldn’t let a young girl handle something so awful alone, and she’d been unofficially adopted by the parents of a school friend within weeks of her parents’ death. In fact, the Waldrops still wrote from Louisiana where they’d moved, and they always invited her to their family holiday celebrations.

  The truth was that even in her pain, she’d been blessed, and she sent up a quick “thank You” to the Father above, who’d seemed to draw her closer every year since she’d lost her earthly parents.

 
There were still twenty minutes until the meeting, so she wandered down the aisles of the feed store, checking out the stacks of poultry and pig feed, inhaling the scent of straw and sawdust, running a hand over the leather harnesses that reminded her of her preteen infatuation with all things horse-related.

  When she heard Flint’s voice, she felt at first that she’d imagined it. But, no, that was him for sure, talking to someone out in the main aisle.

  Her heart gave a funny little flutter, and Rhetta’s words echoed: Pay attention to that feeling.

  Should she go over, talk to him? Would that be too forward?

  She’d just resolved to speak to him when she registered what he was saying.

  “I’m glad you’re happy, man, but it’s not for me. Logan’s all the family I need.”

  Lana froze, her hand on a bag of beet shreds.

  Another man’s voice rumbled, and then she heard Flint again, loud and clear: “I tried marriage once. Not going there again.”

  Very slowly, Lana pulled her arms in and wrapped them around her stomach. Stupid, stupid feelings. Why had she let herself feel those feelings?

  She’d opened herself up to dreaming about the future, dreaming she could have what Rhetta had, that she could be part of a family again. Most especially, that she could have a wonderful man to love, one who loved her back.

  But of course, that wasn’t meant to be. She’d known that, she’d resigned herself to it. She’d accepted the Lord’s calling on her to be a teacher, not a wife and mother.

  That fluttery feeling was just temporary, a silly, earthly thing for a silly woman who had romantic daydreams that couldn’t come true. Why hadn’t she remembered that her daydreams couldn’t come true? You’d think getting jilted in front of a whole church full of people would be enough of a lesson.

  Her eyes burned with tears, ridiculous tears she had no right to shed. Flint hadn’t led her to believe their relationship could be anything but professional. When it had tilted otherwise, he’d wisely and kindly backed away, sent her away.