by Diana Palmer
Kass had come back into his life, and suddenly, he felt the power of hope once more flooding his soul. As he hung a paper ornament carefully on the end of a branch, he was amazed how one person could completely turn his life upside down and inside out in the best of ways. Kass had always been like that for him: a lucky charm, a lifeline, and a life giver. It was just who she was. How could he have let her go?
“Hey,” Kass said, pointing to the decoration he was hanging, “isn’t that your first dog, Champ?” She had the box of Christmas decorations on the coffee table, gently pulling them out, not wanting to tear or destroy any of the more fragile ornaments.
He hesitated. “Yes, my collie,” he said.
She grinned, straightened, and walked over to him. Pushing her hair away from her face, she looked up at the branch. “He was such a beautiful collie, Travis. And so loving. He was your best friend for the first twelve years of your life.”
He carefully affixed the decoration dangling on a gold thread, allowing it to hang on its own. Savoring Kass’s closeness, her bright, warm spirit, his hands fell to his side. Slanting a glance over at her, he said, “This must be good memory time,” he teased, understanding why she’d come over to assist him. Kass was never in a person’s face. Rather, for as long as Travis could recall, Kass would quietly ease into a person’s space and somehow, in her own gentle, quiet way, get the person to see something they hadn’t seen before. He saw her pink lips curve, her eyes shining with laughter.
“Absolutely. Remember how Champ loved to chase that old, raggedy white tennis ball you’d always throw for him?”
He nodded. “Yeah . . . good times. And then I’d toss you the ball and he’d run toward you.”
“And then I’d toss the ball back to you.” She smiled fondly. “He got an awful lot of exercise that way.”
“Sure did.”
She looked around. “Have you ever thought of maybe going down to the no kill shelter in Wind River and picking out another doggy companion for yourself? That might give you some company and lift your spirits a bit, Travis.”
He desperately wanted to turn and ease his hands around her shoulders and draw Kass close to him. It was eating him alive and now, he was fighting a new battle within himself: to draw Kass as close as he could. “No . . . I honestly hadn’t thought about that.” He reached out, unable to stop himself, sliding his finger beneath a curl that refused to leave her temple, and guided it behind her delicate ear. He saw her eyes grow lustrous over his unexpected touch. As if inviting him forward, to touch and explore her some more . . .
There had been a slight hitch in her breath as he’d done it, too. For a moment, Travis froze. And in the next second, he pulled his hand away, wanting her so badly, but so afraid she’d reject him on that more intimate level. Friendship didn’t mean going to bed with one another, he sourly reminded himself. And as he took a step away from Kass, bitterness coated his mouth. Travis had no one but himself to blame for the awkwardness now hovering between them. This was his fault. All his fault.
Clearing her throat, Kass took a step back. “Hey, are you ready for another decoration?”
Sensing her sudden nervousness, he nodded. “Sure.” He turned to go to the box.
Reaching out, her hand coming to rest on his lower arm, she whispered, “Stay here . . . let me get it for you.” Flashing him a small smile, Kass added, “I’m looking for particular decorations from when we were kids.”
Her hand felt warm and comforting upon his arm. A shock of pleasure moved up his limb and he felt bereft as her fingers left it. “Sure, go ahead. Find another positive memory for me,” he said, trying to sound teasing.
Standing there, watching the way Kass walked, that wonderfully feminine sway of her hips, those long legs, made him burn for her. His mind kept telling him it was too soon to be intimate with her. His heart, however, had a mind of its own, and it was pushing him hard to make more intimate gestures toward Kass, that she would be open to them and desired him as much as he did her. He felt like a man stretched between two opposite ropes, being pulled apart from the inside out.
“Ah!” Kass crowed, a glow in her face. “Here’s the one I was looking for!” Triumphantly, she held it up for Travis to see. “Remember when you made this one? Your first horse? That Appaloosa pony, Spot, that your parents bought for you when you were seven years old?” She brought over the paper decoration, laying it in his opened palm.
“Remember how we sat at your mom and dad’s kitchen table with crayons and paper and scissors, drawing this picture, then cutting it out? Your mom was urging you to make a decoration for the tree that you’d always like to look at.”
He studied the black pony with a white rump and the huge black spots all over it. “Yeah, I do.” Looking into her eyes that danced with such joy, he said, “But you were the one who told me to draw and color Spot for the tree. You knew how important that pony was to me at that time.” His mouth curved faintly as he gently touched the cardboard, memories flowing back to him.
“True,” she murmured. “I remember how surprised you were when your parents gave Spot to you on your birthday. You’d just had appendicitis surgery three months earlier and been laid low with it. You had to have our teacher, Mrs. Herot, get all your lessons together for you so that you could keep up with them at home. Your mom did homeschooling with you during that time.”
“It was tough on me. I was used to running around and then, bam, appendicitis. And it sidelined me but good.”
“That was because there was a secondary infection from the surgery,” Kass said. “I remember my mom bringing me over to visit you every week.”
He warmed to her low, emotional tone. “You have no idea how I looked forward to spending a few hours with you, Kass. You lifted the depression I was feeling then. I missed school, I missed all my friends. You caught me up on what they were doing. You were the only one who came to my house and visited me, though.”
Shrugging, she said, “I just put myself in your shoes, Travis. How would I feel if that had happened to me? Not being able to go to school to be with my friends and have fun?”
He hung the horse on a lower branch. “I’ve never had anyone as loyal as you were, Kass,” he murmured. “And it took me a long time to realize the gift you’d given me.”
She patted his shoulder. “You were always there for me, Travis. Remember when we were ice-skating on that pond outside my home? I slipped and sprained my ankle and couldn’t walk. You were twelve, and you picked me up in your arms and you carried me back to my house all the way down that snow-covered path without dropping me.”
“You were a lightweight,” he teased, smiling fully. “And you were wriggling around, kept telling me not to let you fall.”
“Well, you were weaving around with me. What was I to think?”
Chuckling, he said, “You probably were thinking I’d drop you and break one of your legs.”
Kass wrinkled her nose. “No, I wasn’t. I was clinging to you, my arms around your neck so tight, you probably felt like I was choking the air out of you.”
“That’s okay. We both survived.”
“That was a nice day,” Kass sighed, going back to the box on the coffee table. “You stayed with me. My mom put a package of frozen peas over the ankle and the swelling went down a lot. You and Dad went out to the kitchen, and he made us both a cup of hot chocolate.”
So many good memories. Shaking his head, Travis said quietly, “I’ve got to be the lamest-brained cowpoke in the county, Kass.”
Looking up, she said, “Why?”
“Just talking about these times makes my anxiety reduce a lot. It’s never done that before.”
“Maybe because you have some human company?” she wondered, bringing over a picture of his parents that he’d made and then glued a red ribbon around for a frame. “It can get awful lonely out here, Travis. Don’t you get lonely?” She searched his eyes as she handed the picture to him.
Just the soft touch of her fing
ertips brushing his palm sent wild tingles up into his wrist and lower arm. “Yeah,” he admitted, “I get lonely, Kass.”
She stood back, her hands clasped in front of her, watching him as he placed the framed picture up near the top of the tree. “I wish you hadn’t put me off-limits to seeing you. I might have been able to help you.”
His mouth quirked. Placing the framed picture on the tree, he shook his head. “I wasn’t in the right space when I got out, Kass. I wasn’t thinking straight at all. At that time, I felt like a wounded animal, and all I wanted to do was crawl in a hole and pull it in after me.” He saw sadness come to her eyes. Her mouth was so delicious looking. She wore no makeup because she had none on her. Kass had always had natural beauty that he preferred.
She stood there, holding his gaze. “I’m glad you’re in a different space now. Does this mean you might drop into my café from time to time?”
“I’d like that, Kass. I guess by having you here it’s making me aware that I’ve hidden too much.”
“You like my company, huh?” She grinned playfully, turning and going back to the box.
She was always elfin, challenging him, but not in a bad way. He smiled a little. “Yeah, I do like your company. I’m not happy about how it happened, but I’m glad you’re here, Kass. I really am.” Travis saw her lift her head, a tender expression coming to her face as she held several decorations between her hands. “I hope,” he added, “that you feel the same. Or do you wish you were home?”
“No, I like right where I am. My mom knows I’m okay, and everything will be fine at the café while I’m on vacay here. Talking to her yesterday evening made her relax.” She lifted up two decorations. “Which one next?”
“How about Tommy, the cat we had?”
“Good choice.” Sighing, she gave the yellow cat with the darker stripes of buff color across his back. “For being a tomcat? He just loved you.” She walked over and placed it in his hand. “Tommy adored you,” she said. “Whenever you came home after school, that cat was sitting on the porch, waiting for you.”
“I remember.” He hung the cat decoration between Spot, his horse, and the one above it, the framed picture. “I think he thought I was a cat in disguise.” Turning, he saw Kass smile gently.
“I think Tommy thought you were an odd-looking two-legged son of his.” She chuckled.
“He lived to be sixteen. I was in the military and Mom had to email me and tell me that he’d died.”
She gazed up at the cat ornament. “I always liked Tommy.”
“He loved you as well as me,” Travis said, giving her a warm glance. “Any time you came over, he was in your lap or purring around your legs, telling you hello, that he liked you.”
“I loved him, too. I love all things.”
“You have a huge heart,” Travis agreed. “Tell me something. What do you want for Christmas?” He saw her cheeks redden a bit.
“It’s a silly thing,” she said, waving her hand as she walked to the box.
Travis followed her. He sat down, watching her move her long fingers delicately through the box, sifting through the fragile paper decorations. Having no right, but his body responding anyway, he wondered what it would feel like to have Kass’s fingers trailing all over his naked body as they made love with one another. Swallowing hard, he forced himself to stop going in that direction. “Tell me,” he urged. “No present is silly.”
“You’ll probably laugh,” she said, sitting near him, the ornaments in her hands. “My mom’s grandmother, who died when I was very young, has a broken rocker. I was trying to find someone to fix it, but it’s a very old rocker and the people who could fix it didn’t want to try and find the right replacement parts for it. They said that it would take an antique wood specialist to carve another one for it, match the color of the wood and all that stuff.”
“Then this isn’t a gift for you, but for your mom?” How like Kass. She never thought of herself; she always thought of others first. Travis wondered if that was because she was an orphan. Since she had no one, anyone who would want her would become more important in her life than herself. He said nothing, but this was something he hoped to discuss with her later because he wanted to understand her drive on a deeper level.
“Yes, for my mom. She cried when it broke. She rocked me every day in it after they adopted me. And when I was older, maybe three, she would rock me in it nearly every night, reading me a story. I loved those times with her. I love that beat-up old rocker.”
“Maybe I could do some work on it for her? I work almost entirely with eighteenth- and nineteenth-century designs. Everyone wants a replica from that period, it seems. Would you let me take a look at it?” He saw her face light up, hope suddenly spring to her eyes.
“Seriously? You would?”
“Sure. When 89 is cleared off after this blizzard and we get a wrecker in here to take your car out of the ditch, I can drive you home. Maybe we could stop at your folks’ home and I can check it out? Do you think your mom would mind?”
“I’d love that! Oh! This is a wonderful idea, Travis, because your woodwork and the furniture in your studio is so beautiful.”
He felt heat, need, and his heart opening beneath her sudden joy. “Okay,” he said, “we’ll do that. In the meantime, do you have a rocking chair in your home?”
“No, but I’ve always wanted one. However, I don’t want a modern-day rocker, Travis. I want an old one like my mom has.” She gave a shy shrug. “I guess . . . well, I guess it’s because it reminds me of all the love, holding and kisses she would always give me when she was rocking me after feeding me a bottle, or later, she’d read from a book, finish a chapter, and then tuck me into bed. That rocker holds so many wonderful memories of nights with her. My dad would read to me at night, too. They took turns, but both came in to kiss me good night afterward.”
“Those are nice memories,” he agreed in a low tone, touched deeply by her reaction. She had no family hand-me-downs from earlier generations. That pained him in another way. His folks had hundred-year-old furniture pieces that he loved to this day and the provenance, or stories, that they held was meaningful to all of them. It was like having their family with them, even though they had passed on.
Kass had no such things in her life. She had to be lonely in a way he couldn’t begin to fathom. The loss in her eyes was telling, even though she was trying to keep a light tone. Travis knew her too well, and dammit, he wanted to do something to ease her terrible losses.
“Would you,” she ventured hesitantly, “come and have Christmas breakfast with me and my folks? It will only be us.” She gave him a pleading look.
“My parents have already asked me for Christmas Eve dinner, Kass.”
“But this would be Christmas morning. Mom makes her and me a wonderful breakfast and then we all open our gifts. My dad died a decade ago of a heart attack. I know Red and Melba told you about it. If you can find an arm for that rocker, wouldn’t you like to be there to see my mom’s face? I know she’ll be so surprised and grateful. Please say yes, Travis? It would mean so much to me.” She pressed her hand against her heart.
His chest exploded with such a fierce love for Kass in that moment, he couldn’t speak. Travis was afraid she’d take his hesitation as a negative. He gave a nod of his head. Gulping, he rasped, “Yes, they told me of your dad’s passing, and I’m sorry you lost him. And yes, I’d like to do that, Kass. I’m sure I can find the right arm to fix Jade’s rocker.”
“Oh, thank you!” She leaped up and bent over him, throwing her arms around his shoulders, squeezing the daylights out of him.
Travis managed a partial laugh, slid his arms around her shoulders, and gently squeezed her. “You’re welcome,” he said in a gravelly tone, his face pressed against the cool silk of her hair.
Chapter Seven
December 23
Travis put the finishing touches on Jade Murphy’s antique rocker. The sun was shining brightly through the double-paned windows at t
he other end of his studio, making the hickory wood glow gold beneath his final polish of the new arm he’d installed to fix the rocker.
Kass’s mother had a 1775 Windsor rocking chair, bought in Philadelphia a year before the Declaration of Independence.
He had placed a tarp beneath the rocker, kneeling beside it, sliding his fingers lightly along the curved and polished wood. Kass had thought that he could buy a new arm for Jade’s rocker. What she didn’t realize was that there was nothing available in the design of the rocker arm. He’d spent a day finding the right color of hickory and then creating and shaping the new one for it, and then installing it.
Pleased with the satiny finish of the wood beneath his fingers, he stood and picked up the rocker, taking it directly into full sunlight near the huge window. Outdoors, the landscape was nothing but blindingly white, glistening snow. The deciduous trees were barren and naked, the evergreens coated heavily with white. The sky was so blue that it hurt a person’s eyes to look up at it for any length of time. If they were lucky, they might even get sunshine over the Christmas holiday, which would be rare but mightily welcomed in this part of Wyoming.
Setting the rocker down in the light, he moved it slowly around at different angles, making sure the new rocker arm exactly matched the color of the rest of the wood on the antique rocker. It did. Satisfaction moved through him. This had been a labor of love. And he was glad to do it. Yes, this rocker meant the world to Kass. And he wanted to give her the world.
Setting it aside, Travis wiped it down one last time with a clean cloth that had some lemon oil on it. The citrusy scent wafted and mingled with the fragrance of the different woods that permeated this place where he loved to work. He wondered if Jade or Kass knew how much a chair like this would bring on the auction block. Antique buyers would easily spend ten thousand dollars to purchase such a rocker. Probably more.