Silent Night, Star-Lit Night

by Ruth Logan Herne

  She leaned back against the seat. “You’re being nice to me.”

  Her words swelled his country-boy heart.

  She got choked up because he was being nice to her. Because he was concerned for her comfort. Because Dan wasn’t here to do that. No one had been around to do that throughout this pregnancy.

  Jed stared ahead, thinking of the hard time he’d given his mother and Auntie P. about this trip.

  He shouldn’t be away right now. They were all aware of that. Uncle Pete was already on a tear at the store, and it wouldn’t surprise Jed if half the staff walked out after the holidays, because Pete hadn’t had a good day in months. And as good-hearted as the women were, neither one could step into Jed’s shoes at the store or the ranch and this month’s sales were a huge part of end-of-year profit margins.

  But Mia was shedding tears because someone was being nice to her, and that meant his mother was right. Again.

  He took the ramp onto the interstate and aimed north. “You good with this?” He jutted his chin toward the traffic-filled highway in front of them. “Or would you rather take Route Ninety-Nine?”

  “You did your homework on the way.”

  He wouldn’t mention that he’d been studying the fastest, most direct way home so he could get back to work.

  “The interstate’s fine. I know this isn’t what you expected to be doing during the busiest time of the year at the store.”

  “December’s busy, sure.” He tapped his finger against the steering wheel, trying to gauge the flow of traffic, but the number of impatient drivers zipping in and out of lanes made that impossible. “But April and May have taken hold as the busiest. The seed and feed side of the store is busy from open to close then, and farm supplies have taken off since the Gables closed up their shop.” Chet Gable and his wife had run a small feed supply store east of the Taylors’ store, just off I-90.

  “Gables’ closed?”

  Jed nodded as he changed lanes. “Tim’s a P.A. in Seattle and Becky’s a schoolteacher in Ellensburg. Chet passed away just before we lost my dad, and Jean shut things down. With no kids to hand the business down to, she sold things off and moved closer to Ellensburg to be near the grandkids. We absorbed some of their inventory to help out. And a good share of their business, too.”

  “And time goes on.”

  “You know what we need?” The melancholy look on Mia’s face pushed him to hit the radio button. “Christmas music.” He started to scroll through stations, then gave up to focus on the road. “You’re riding shotgun; that puts you in charge of music while I try to navigate more traffic than should be humanly allowed. Don’t any of these folks know there’s like a bajillion acres in the heartland? Why would anyone live in all this, given a choice?” He didn’t ease to the next lane left; he shot into it, in a kill-or-be-killed NASCAR-style move.

  “Your country roots are showing.”

  He grinned, eyes on the road. “All-American boy, at your service.”

  She tuned in eighties mellow rock, guaranteed to put him to sleep at the wheel by mid-day, but Jed kept his mouth shut. If this soothed her, then good. The sun-soaked highway seemed more beach friendly and less holiday themed, but he’d left twelve inches of early snow on the level in Roslyn.

  They’d get to dreaming of an old-fashioned white Christmas soon enough.

  Chapter Three

  Christmas music? Mia stabbed the radio tuner with more force than necessary, because if she could figure out a way to stop Christmas from coming . . .

  She sighed, sounding more Grinch-like than anyone should be.

  Next year she’d play the part. She’d do all of the things a new mom was supposed to do to show her daughter the beauty of the holiday season. She’d take her baby to see bright lights, animated figures, maybe even a living Nativity.

  But this year Mia still kind of wanted to punch someone, and that wasn’t exactly the Christmas spirit folks wrote home about.

  Don’t do much good for a body to waste time lookin’ round at others when there’s so much to improve in ourselves.

  Grandpa Joe’s wisdom. He’d worked so hard to give her a sense of normal, him and Aunt Pauline both. Why had she taken his health at his age for granted? Why hadn’t she visited more often?

  She knew why.

  He’d see what she’d kept hidden the past few years. He’d know something was wrong and want to know what, and she was embarrassed. How does a successful young woman explain a cheating husband and a surprise half-brother to her unborn baby?

  She’d been stupid to believe Daniel’s promises. “Once a cheater, always a cheater . . .” She’d heard the adage many times, so had she been downright foolish to forgive? Or had she taken Daniel back because she was desperate for a fairy-tale ending?

  And here was Jed, Dan’s best friend, playing the knight in shining armor by escorting the grieving widow. When he eventually found out the truth, how would he feel? Would he be disappointed in his friend? In Daniel’s choices? And maybe in her.

  She hated that people would wonder what she lacked that made Daniel go looking. Mostly because it was a question she asked herself every single day.

  The baby stretched as if uncomfortable in her confined surroundings. She stretched again, then rolled enough for Mia’s shirt to flutter.

  “Is that the baby kicking?”

  They’d slowed to a crawl for a road construction bottleneck, and Jed’s amazed expression made Mia smile. “She’s begging for space right now.”

  “I’ll say. Oops.” He cringed as if expecting a blow after his earlier reaction to Mia’s size. “I meant nothing by that. You’re not big. You’re . . .” He paused, pretending to search for a word that would keep him alive. “Perfect.”

  She smiled. “Better. Comparisons to beached whales aren’t welcome at any stage of the game.”

  “Is it hard to work in the E.R. when you’re this pregnant?”

  Now was as good a time as any to tell him the truth. “I left my job this week.”

  “You did?”

  She winced and nodded. “I love working the E.R., but I want something different for us.” She laid a protective hand on top of the baby and the baby responded with a kick-kick-roll move followed by a long stretch of tiny arms and legs.

  “I can’t believe you have all that going on inside you”—Jed dropped his gaze to the baby’s gymnast-style moves—“and you left your job.”

  “I had six weeks of vacation stored up, and my savings. I just—” Traffic started moving again. Jed shifted his attention back to the road. “I need to change things up. That’s all.”

  “We all do, now and again.” Facing forward, he merged left as traffic accelerated. “How do you manage to sleep with all that twisting and turning going on?”

  “The baby?”

  “Yeah.”

  She laughed softly. “In spurts, but I guess that gets you ready for the reality of having a baby around, right?”

  “Cows make it look so easy.”

  “And this takes us right back to not comparing preggos with huge, lumbering animals, Jed.” She yawned. Talking about lack of sleep reminded her of how restless she’d been the past forty-eight hours.

  He grinned, eyes ahead. “If you want to take a nap now, go ahead. I can turn the radio off.”

  “No need.” She yawned again, grabbed the small pillow from the backseat, and tucked it under her head. “I probably won’t fall asleep.”

  “Then rest.” He flashed that easygoing smile her way. “Resting is good, too.”

  “It is.” She closed her eyes and let herself relax. Someone else had the wheel of life at the moment, and as the car moved north the hum of good tires on smooth pavement gave just the right amount of movement and white noise.

  She slept.

  * * *

  Jed silenced his phone when her eyes drifted closed. He didn’t touch hers, but if sleep was as rare as she said, he didn’t want a phone call to wake her.

  He drove north
along the interstate, blanketed in endless sun.

  It was a great respite from the November rains and the surprising dump of snow guaranteeing Roslyn a white Christmas, but he heard the longing in Mia’s voice. California wasn’t home. But with her grandpa dying and the discord in her family, was Roslyn home?

  Maybe. Maybe not.

  She woke up as he maneuvered toward a rest stop mid-day. “I fell asleep?” She stirred, stretched, and yawned, surprised.

  “About two and a half hours back.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yup.” He pulled into a parking spot at a convenience store with restrooms and pointed up the road. “They’ve got plenty of food places here, but it’s up to you. I’m going to gas up here; then we can decide.”

  “Bathroom first and foremost with pregnant ladies. Then we’ll talk food. Where are we?”

  “About halfway up the longest state ever, which in and of itself seems self-defeating. About five hours to go before we take the turn to Ninety-Seven.”

  “And then a few hours to the hotel.” She pressed her hand to her back and nodded. “Okay.”

  “Is your back hurting?” He moved to her side and put his hand at the small of her back. “Are you in pain? Are you in labor or something?”

  “Yes, no, and no. I’m fine, just back twinges from shifting an extra twenty pounds of weight all strapped to my middle. Envision a bowling ball tied around your waist. You have to shift weight to support it. That’s all.”

  That was all? The scenario would be dicey, for sure.

  “And I promise.” She teased him with a smile. “If I go into labor, you will be the first to know. I couldn’t possibly be in better hands, could I? Think of all the cows you’ve delivered.”

  “I don’t want to think about that in human terms; it’s different. It’s got to be different,” he insisted, but her expression said he might be wrong. “I’ll gas up while you—”

  She moved toward the store’s double doors. “It’s a plan.”

  By the time they arrived at the inn in Klamath Falls, Oregon, she looked beat. She stepped out of the car, grabbed the side, and just breathed.

  “What’s wrong?” He hurried around her side, sure this was it, and hadn’t he told her to bring things for the baby? Fortunately, he’d been smart enough to grab a box of newborn diapers and baby wipes at a convenience store while she was in one of the many restrooms they’d frequented on the trip.

  A good rancher is always prepared for the unexpected on the trail, and this baby wasn’t one bit unexpected, which meant one of them had to be on top of things.

  “Leg cramp. I just have to flex my foot.” She stretched her leg out, heel down, toes up. “It’ll go away in a minute.”

  “Cows have it easy.”

  She lifted amused, tired eyes his way. “They might disagree.”

  “I mean logistically. Four legs versus two. Baby in supine position rather than upright or upside down. More surface area, less pressure on smaller, specific region for weight distribution. Do you think we’re a flawed design?”

  She burst out laughing as she tugged on a worn zippered plum-toned hoodie, a leftover from her Cle Elum–Roslyn High School days. He noted the throwback-style jacket with two brows up. “I think we’re just as God intended, but you’re used to cows, not women. And Grandpa bought this for me when I was watching you guys hustle for touchdowns every week. He saved part of his government check every month to get this. I’ll never part with it.”

  She humbled him.

  He grabbed the laptop and roller bag and his backpack.

  He knew her grandfather was on assistance while they were going to school, but he didn’t get what that really meant back then.

  And then she was off to nursing school, Dan had enlisted in ROTC, and Jed had stayed home on the ranch, muscling cattle and charting strong genetics and retail pricing at the store. Dan and Mia had reconnected when she was working in Portland before Dan’s first deployment. It seemed like a perfect ending, because that meant Dan had grown up. If he was marrying Mia, then he’d stopped being a ladies’ man, uncommitted to anything but looking good in a uniform and having one-night stands.

  That was five years ago. And here he was, bringing Dan’s widow home.

  It felt wrong and right, so Jed shoved the thoughts aside and carried the bags into the lobby. “You okay with a six o’clock wake-up call?” he asked her. “I tracked that snow on my phone and we should just miss it if we get out of here about then.”

  “You’ll miss the free breakfast,” the desk clerk told them. “And Ronnie is on tomorrow. He’s Jamaican and he makes the best custom omelettes and French toast known to man. We open the breakfast at six on the dot, so if you take time to eat, you should still be on your way at a reasonable hour.”

  Jed scrubbed his hand to his neck, but when Mia’s eyes lit up at the words “French toast,” he caved. “Breakfast at six, then we’re on the road. Sound all right?”

  “It sounds marvelous. I’m too tired to think about food right now, which is ridiculous after doing nothing but sitting for twelve hours.”

  “Sitting is the most tiring thing there is,” the clerk assured her as they went through the registration process. “Especially when you’re expecting.”

  “So, yes, Jed.” Mia faced him and fought a yawn. “Breakfast would be awesome. Then we’ll toss the stuff in the car and get on our way. And by tomorrow night, we’ll have you back to your assigned duties at home and the store.”

  He flinched, because she’d read his mind. “They’re both fine, I’m sure, despite Uncle Pete’s texts to the contrary. Mom would say I need to let go and let others step in. And she’d be right,” he admitted. “With Dad gone, things are different. You’d think after two years I’d be used to it.” He lifted his shoulders and grimaced. “I’m not.”

  “Your dad was a cornerstone of Taylor industries. The ranch and the store. I’m really sorry you lost him, Jed.”

  “Me, too. He loved this time of year, even though it all gets a little bit crazy. He used to say working the cows grounded him in God’s reality after dealing with retail for a few days. The barns and the cows made him think of Bethlehem, and simpler times. He loved that.”

  “What a beautiful thought.” She laid her hand on Jed’s arm as the desk clerk slipped magnetic keys into two slim envelopes. “Do the girls help at the store?”

  “Grace and Marty help. Kate’s got two kids and she stays busy on the ranch, working with Mom at the house and in the barn. They share kid duty.”

  “That’s some real family right there, Jed.” She moved ahead of him toward the elevator after thanking the friendly clerk. “And while working with family might be a pain sometimes, I bet it’s mostly fun.”

  It should be, he decided, but as Uncle Pete’s foul moods increased, the joy of their busy retail business had waned. “I may have forgotten how to do fun along the way.”

  “I hear you.” Her eyes shadowed. She sighed softly, but then her hand went to her rounded middle. “She’s stretching to remind me that a whole new brand of fun is on the way.”

  “New life. Rebirth. New chances. All good things.” He waited until she was safely in her room on the second floor, then raised his phone. “If anything happens, call me, okay? I’m right down the hall.”

  “I will. And Jed?”

  He turned back, waiting.

  She hesitated, then shrugged one shoulder. “Thank you for coming down. It’s been a lot nicer traveling up the coast with you than it would have been on my own. I really do appreciate it.”

  He grinned. “What a difference twelve hours can make, ma’am.”

  She acknowledged her morning objections with a little smile.

  “I’ll see you in the morning. Sleep well.”

  “You, too.”

  Chapter Four

  December 19, Klamath Falls, Oregon

  She did sleep well.

  She hadn’t slept well in weeks, months, maybe, but when she woke
up at five-thirty the next morning she felt rested for the first time in a long time. She got up, showered quickly, and joined him downstairs at six o’clock sharp.

  Concern darkened his features, but he erased the look when he saw her heading his way. “Good morning.”

  “Hey.” She glanced from him to the wall-mounted wide-screen television showing PNW weather. “The forecast has you worried.”

  He winced slightly. “Let’s go with ‘concerned.’ The storm seems to have slowed and intensified, so now it’s bigger and gathering speed.”

  “Then let’s go.” She put a hand on his arm, glad for the steadiness of this man. “We can grab food on the way and eat in the car.”

  The Jamaican cook flipped an omelette just then, then did the same with two thick slices of cinnamon French toast.

  Jed moved toward one of the empty tables. “I don’t go back on my promises. I do believe I promised you—both of you—breakfast here.” He pulled out a chair and dropped his gaze to the seat.

  “But—”

  “I’ve driven through snow before. I’ll drive through it again. If necessary, we’ll find a place to hang out until it passes. Maybe God’s way of telling me to slow down. Take a breath.”

  “God and your mother combined, perhaps.”

  He laughed, unoffended. “They’re a team. And always on my side, so that’s good. Omelette and French toast? Or there’s a huge array of things on the breakfast bar.”

  She’d been thinking about this breakfast since she rolled out of bed. Some days she had no appetite at all. Others she was ravenous. Ravenous won today. “Both, absolutely. I’ll order and go see about checking out.”

  “All taken care of.”

  “Jed, I can pay my way.”

  He nodded, unperturbed. “Know that. But you could use a lesson in how to just smile and say thank you when folks do something nice for you.”

  She started to argue.

  He raised one thick brow in her direction, and his expression hinted “smug” because he knew she’d argue.