The Nanny's Texas Christmas

by Lee Tobin McClain

  He glanced back at Lana, wanting to give her a look that said they’d talk later. His own face was still curved in a smile, remembering what had just happened.

  But Lana’s face had gone pale. “Not...a part...” She trailed off.

  What did she mean? What was wrong?

  She looked around, and he did, too. Saw that everyone in the barnyard had stopped their own conversations and were watching them. He wished they weren’t.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  She lifted a hand like a stop sign, physically cutting him off. The expression on her face grew hard. It was a look he’d never seen her wear.

  “No, I’m not part of the family,” she said, not to Logan but to the small crowd around them. “I might not even be here that long. I have a job offer for next year, in Dallas.”

  A tiny sound from Logan drew Flint’s attention. Even as he was taking in the upset expression on his son’s face, Flint mentally replayed Lana’s words. “I might not even be here that long...job offer for next year...Dallas.”

  Did worst nightmares really rear their heads and turn into reality in daylight? Because this was his. He’d let Lana in, and it was exactly like when his wife left, even down to her destination.

  He pulled Logan to his chest. The voices that rose around them faded to a dull roar.

  She was leaving. Leaving him and Logan, just as Logan’s mother had.

  He felt Logan’s chest shake in a little sob and patted his back, his own heart breaking. What had that been about in the barn? Had she known she was leaving, even while she was kissing him?

  There was a hand on his shoulder, another on Logan’s. “Come on, Logan,” Marnie Binder said. “You promised you’d help me pass out the cookies.”

  “We need to shove off,” Tanner said to Macy. There were more murmurs, more departures.

  “You two need to talk,” he heard Rhetta say to Lana. Then she gestured to Katie, and they both headed back toward the ranch house.

  “I’m not talking to him,” Lana muttered, too low for Rhetta to hear, but loud enough for Flint. “I’ve walked this road before.”

  So had he.

  “Come on with me,” Marnie said to Logan, gently disengaging him from Flint’s arms.

  Which left Flint and Lana alone.

  He looked up in time to see her spin away from him and march back into the barn.

  He stood up and headed away, toward trucks and horses and equipment. Things he understood.

  The smell of sage and the fertile earth pushed into him, and he managed to take a deep breath, then another. Looking up, he saw a small shed that had needed taking down for a while. Logan and the other young boys sometimes played there, but it wasn’t safe.

  He strode into the barn, found an ax and went back out to the shed. There was a right way to take down a building, but he didn’t have time for that. This was small. He’d just chop it down himself, get it done.

  Cowboy appeared at his side, offering a little whine, but Flint nudged the dog away with his leg. He didn’t really want comfort.

  He pounded hard, watched one side crash in. The smell of rotting wood rose up.

  Lana’s face seemed to swim before his eyes. Soft with emotion, a gentle, awakening passion, as he’d kissed her. Hard with bitterness, saying she was leaving town.

  It didn’t compute.

  But over all of that, he couldn’t erase the sight of Logan’s stricken expression.

  He swung the ax harder, bringing down the next wall of the shed. He’d been an idiot. He’d truly fallen for her. And he’d put his son at emotional risk by doing it.

  From the direction of the storage barn, he heard shouts and laughter. The dress rehearsal must be starting. Cowboy’s ears pricked up, and he trotted off toward the action.

  A tiny surge of guilt flashed through him. They might need him. Logan might need him.

  But, no, Logan was with Marnie, and soon he’d play his role in the pageant. He’d stay near Lana, anyway. He adored her.

  Lana must be fine, carrying on the rehearsal. Of course she was. She was a responsible person, a caring one.

  Even in the pain of how she’d rejected him—and rejected Logan, he thought, swinging the ax viciously—he couldn’t paint her as a bad person. He knew she cared for others, did for them, took care of them.

  She just didn’t care for him.

  He leaned his forehead against the one piece of the shed wall remaining upright and shut his eyes. His chest burned. This was what heartache felt like.

  And the hurt was so much deeper than when Stacie had left them. Because then, Logan had been mercifully unaware of the abandonment, being only a few weeks old.

  But there was another reason Lana’s departure hurt so much worse.

  It was because Flint loved her so much more.

  He’d been young when he’d married Stacie, infatuated with her good looks and exciting personality, proud to have her on his arm. He’d loved her, sure, but in an immature way that had more to do with externals than with the things that mattered.

  Lana was also beautiful, even more beautiful than Stacie had been. But her appeal went deeper, to her sweet spirituality and caring heart. Lana was the kind of woman you could grow old with, a woman whose appeal wouldn’t fade when her hair was gray and her waistline thickened. Because it wasn’t about looks. It was the whole person.

  He stared down at the dirt and saw something sparkle. He reached down and picked it up.

  A gold hoop earring. One Lana had lost a few days ago.

  It made him remember seeing her and Logan here outside the shed, sitting on the ground with a little napkin spread in front of them, having a pretend picnic. Logan had told him later that they’d been playing house, and Flint had stifled his own reaction of “that’s no game for a boy.” If Lana thought it was a valid game for Logan, that was good enough for him. He trusted her judgment.

  He closed his fist around the earring, feeling its point dig into his palm. How much she’d given him and Logan in this short time. She’d helped a sad little boy feel like he had a family. She’d taught Flint more about being a dad than he had learned in the previous five years of single parenting.

  Man, he’d miss her.

  They’d both miss her.

  A groan came from deep in his chest and found release, and then he grabbed up the ax again. He couldn’t stand out here yelling, scaring the boys. Had to put his energy to good use.

  He swung the ax and the last pillar of the shed crashed to the ground.

  He’d had the plan to be independent, to raise Logan alone, this whole time. He’d insisted on it, taken pride in it. Even when Lana had come, he’d told himself he’d rather be alone, that he and Logan had no need of a woman’s touch in their lives.

  Now, that plan of solitary independence felt like a prison sentence. When had his view of marriage—of a lifelong try at love with a woman—morphed from “never again” to “maybe...as long as it’s Lana?”

  Only now, Lana didn’t want him.

  He looked at the demolished shed. What a mess. He’d have to clean it up before the boys got into the splintery boards and rusty nails.

  He sighed, bent down, and picked up a load to carry toward the dumpster. He tossed it in, still feeling like there was a hole in his heart.

  Over at the storage barn, lights flashed and music played.

  He should go over there. But he was pretty much unfit for human consumption.

  He blew out a breath and looked up at the sky, now filled with a glittering array of stars.

  Walked back on over to the remains of the shed and sank down onto his knees, thinking to grab another load.

  Looked up at the sky again and felt like a small man, made of nothing but despair.

  Maybe on hi
s knees was the right place to be.

  * * *

  Friday night, Lana went through the motions of preparing to direct the Christmas pageant. She calmed down nervous performers, stitched together rips in costumes, and welcomed the early arrivals, some from the community and some parents from farther away.

  All the while marveling that no one could tell she was nursing a broken heart.

  She kept replaying last night in her mind. She hadn’t slept for replaying it, trying to understand, to figure out how things had gone so wrong so quickly.

  One minute, she and Flint had been kissing in the barn, talking of a promising future.

  The next minute, he’d excluded her from his family in front of a crowd of people.

  Did she have a “jilt me” sign printed on her back, or what?

  She just couldn’t believe it. She’d seen the caring, even love in his eyes, not just when he’d kissed her, but earlier and often. She’d tried not to recognize it, but some part of her had known it was there, known it enough to let her own heart follow suit.

  It just didn’t make sense.

  Flint wasn’t the kind of man who’d lie to a woman just to get a little affection. He was good and upright and moral; she knew that.

  And yet, he’d stated in front of all those people that she wasn’t a part of his family, that it was just him and Logan. There hadn’t even been a question in his voice.

  His declaration had pretty near broken Logan’s heart, too; she’d seen the pain in the boy’s eyes as he’d realized his dream of a mom was going down the tubes. Flint wouldn’t have hurt Logan unless he’d really meant what he’d said.

  Ever since, Logan had avoided her. She’d seen him running around with some of the ranch boys, but he wasn’t his usual self.

  She’d texted Flint to see if he needed her to care for Logan today and had received an abrupt “no, thanks” in response.

  Which had left her to spend the day in her little apartment, crying her eyes out.

  Toward midafternoon she’d forced herself to wrap presents. She had pretty scented candles for Marnie, Katie and Macy. For Rhetta, who didn’t get much time to indulge herself, she’d made up a basket of bath oils and lotions and had tucked in a handmade certificate offering a couple of hours of babysitting.

  She’d splurged on a nice Lego construction set for Logan, knowing it was the type of thing he could enjoy alone or with his father.

  For Flint, she’d ordered his favorite author’s latest hardback, because she’d noticed he mostly read paperbacks from the used bookstore. Like any single parent, he was on a budget.

  But when she’d pulled it out to wrap, it had seemed valueless, boring. The kind of gift an about-to-be-dumped girl would get for a guy she was crushing on. And what could she write on the card, anyway?

  A few more people came in through the barn’s sliding doors, a welcome distraction from her melancholy thoughts.

  The barn came back into focus, and she smelled the familiar aroma of sweaty boys, along with the fragrant pine boughs someone had brought in.

  She crossed the barn to where Bea was chatting with some of the other parents and touched her shoulder. She nodded sideways toward the new arrivals. “Are they okay?” she asked quietly.

  It was a sad reality of working with the at-risk boys on the ranch; some of their parents and guardians were barred from contact with their children. The boys ranch was a small enough operation not to post a guard at the door, but Bea, who knew every detail of every boy’s situation, kept a sharp eye on who came and went and urged everyone else to do the same.

  Bea looked over toward the entrance, frowned and stood, making a quick excuse to the parents she’d been chatting with. She stepped to Lana’s side. “That’s Sam Clark’s dad, and he shouldn’t be here. I don’t recognize the other guy. Text Flint, will you? Just in case I need some backup.”

  Lana did it, wondering if he’d even answer. He’d made himself scarce in the past twenty-four hours. And a text from someone you’d just dumped wouldn’t likely be high on the “eager-to-open” list.

  As she hit Send, the question about the identity of the second man was answered.

  “Papa!” Robby Gonzalez cried, and ran across the barn to throw his arms around the stoop-shouldered man.

  Mr. Gonzalez hugged Robby hard. Then he pulled back and put his hands on his son’s shoulders. Lana couldn’t hear what they were saying, but the obvious emotion of the scene made tears rise to her own eyes.

  Bea was speaking to the other man, and that conversation didn’t appear to be going so smoothly. Automatically, Lana looked around for Sam and saw him quietly watching. Unlike Robby, he hadn’t run to throw himself into his father’s arms. That could be a difference in their personalities—Robby was very outgoing, while Sam was shy, almost backward—or it could mean difficulties in the family relationship. Unfortunately, that was the case with a good number of the boys here.

  She saw the boy swallowing hard and went to him. “Hey,” she said, sitting down on the edge of the stage to be closer to his size. “Guess your dad wanted to see you perform, huh?”

  Sam shrugged and looked away.

  “He might not be allowed to stay, if the judges and courts have made that rule for now,” she said. “But you could write him a letter if you wanted. We could send him a picture of you in the pageant.”

  Sam nodded quickly, glancing at her and then at the heated conversation between Bea and his father.

  “For now,” she said, “run and ask Mrs. Binder to help you with your shepherd’s costume. It’s almost time to start.” She patted his arm.

  He looked almost relieved to have something to do. He even gave her a brief, shy smile as he hurried backstage.

  Lana looked back toward the door in time to see Bea escorting Mr. Clark out.

  Meanwhile, there was Flint, speaking quietly to Robby and his father.

  He looked up and their eyes met. He gestured her over.

  Absurd hope rose in her, and she shoved herself off the stage and started toward them. Cool it. Don’t run like an idiot. It’s probably nothing.

  When she reached the trio, she noticed a muscle working in Flint’s cheek.

  “Could you translate for Mr. Gonzalez and me?” he asked. “I’m trying to explain the rules, and it’s a little complicated.” He gave a subtle nod toward Robby, whose eyes were shiny with tears.

  Clearly, Robby was having trouble telling his dad he couldn’t stay for the show. That was understandable, and Lana’s momentary hurt that Flint just wanted her for her Spanish-speaking abilities dissolved in the emotions this struggling family was obviously feeling.

  She greeted Mr. Gonzalez in Spanish and was rewarded by an emotional explanation of how he’d just returned from a long stint in Mexico, where he’d been working for an agricultural operation deep in the back country. Communication hadn’t been good, and he had only now realized what trouble Robby, his wife and his other children were having. “I came as quickly as I could,” he explained. “We would like to take Robby home, but he thinks there are rules that won’t allow it.”

  “That’s right.” Lana explained gently that, right now, Mr. Gonzalez wasn’t on the approved list and couldn’t stay for the pageant. “We’re taking a lot of pictures,” she promised, “and we’ll send them to you. And Miss Bea will work with you on resolving the family issues. We aren’t trying to keep your son for a bad reason. The ranch helps boys, and he’ll come home stronger.”

  After a little more conversation and some translation for Bea when she came back, they all hugged. Mr. Gonzalez left, and Robby ran to get on his costume, unashamedly crying but with a big smile on his face.

  Lana couldn’t restrain her own smile. Scenes like that made everything they were doing worthwhile. She was sure that family would be back together soon, with
Robby’s challenging times behind him.

  She looked over, instinctively wanting to share this moment with Flint, but he was gone.

  Her heart seemed to dry up and wither inside her, causing her chest to heave a little with the hurt.

  She couldn’t take this. She would have to move to Dallas for real. She couldn’t be close to him, feeling all this longing and wishing that could never come true.

  Around her, recorded Christmas music started into her favorite Christmas song, “Good King Wenceslas.” She remembered a Sunday school teacher reading the class a storybook about the famous king and his quest to relieve the sufferings of the poor.

  Some day, very soon, she’d be able to content herself with a life spent giving to others. She wouldn’t worry about getting love in return. It was the kind of life she’d settled on once her wedding had gone south, but Flint Rawlings and his son had poked a hole in that contentment.

  She’d get it back. But not tonight. She straightened her shoulders and walked toward the stage.

  Macy came down to her. “You okay?” she asked. “You’re not looking so good. It’s about time to start, but if you need me to do the opening...”

  “No, I can do it.” She drew in a breath and forced a little smile at Macy. “Are the boys ready?”

  “They will be after your introduction.” A smoky smell came from backstage, and Macy rolled her eyes. “I told Colby not to light that incense yet. I’d better go back there to supervise.”

  Lana nodded and drew in another deep breath. Sent up a prayer for composure. And then she climbed the steps to the stage and walked over to the podium, looked out at the expectant audience, clad mostly in red and green, and welcomed them to the pageant.

  Of course, the unfolding story and the cute, sometimes moving efforts of the young actors swept her away from her own concerns. The audience clapped and cheered for each of the three short acts, and some wiped tears when the ragtag boys offered their final message.

  As the applause arose, Lana blew out a sigh. God was good.

  He has more for me than I ever expected.

  She remembered when that thought had come to her, wiping away her fears that her life wasn’t going to amount to anything, wasn’t going to give her much, if any happiness.