His Mistletoe Family

by Ruth Logan Herne

  “Ready?” Haley sent him a look of encouragement and faith. True faith.

  He nodded. “Yes. Finally.”

  She slipped her hand into his free one and they climbed the small hill together.

  Josiah’s name lay centered in gray granite. The dates showed a life cut short, but as Brett positioned the arrangement with care, his face didn’t look tormented. Shaded, yes. But when he stood and they all locked hands, Brett’s words bathed Haley’s heart and soul.

  “Lord, You blessed me with a son once.” He paused, the warmth of a mid-April Easter teasing early songbirds to rejoice. “And now again.” He smiled down at the two little boys flanking them. Todd reached up and Brett obliged him by picking him up, holding the boy alongside his chest. “I’d just like to say thank You for both opportunities.”

  He saluted the grave.

  Solemn, the boys followed suit.

  Haley blinked back tears and slipped an arm around Tyler’s shoulders. “Your turn.”

  Brett set Todd down. The boys moved forward and put the small American flag in place, then they stopped, saluted their big brother and stepped back.

  Brett cleared his throat. Seconds passed. Then he crouched low, hugged both boys and stood, one in each arm. “I think it’s time we went to Grandma’s for dinner.”

  “I’m starving.”

  “Me, too.”

  “Why can’t Derringer come?”

  “Because—”

  “I told you why.”

  “Well, I can’t have Easter without my dog.”

  “Hush, both of you.” Brett’s tone quieted the boys. He set them down alongside the car and bent low again. “We’ll bring Derringer some ham,” he promised Todd. Then he turned Tyler’s way. “And you remind me of another bossy big brother I knew a long time ago.”

  “Really?” Tyler lit up, intrigued. “Who?”

  Brett sighed and motioned for him to get into the car. “Me,” he admitted. He sent Haley a quick smile and a wink as the boys squabbled, racing to get their buckles fastened. “Have I mentioned today how much I love you? And this.” He waved a hand toward the noisy boys, and the smile he sent her...

  That sweet, crooked smile...

  Made her feel like she could handle anything life sent her. “Never often enough,” she declared as she climbed into the car and sneaked a quick kiss. “But I’ll be delighted to spend a lifetime hearing it.”

  “Me, too.”

  * * * * *

  If you enjoyed Ruth Logan Herne’s story, be sure to check out the other books this month from Love Inspired!

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt of Montana Dreams by Jillian Hart!

  Dear Reader,

  On Memorial Day in 2010 I stood alongside a tall, strong forty-something soldier. I didn’t know him. He didn’t know me. He watched that small home-town parade with grave intent. On the back side of his military cap were tiny yellow ribbons, marking two memories in a quiet, private way.

  I knew I had to write a story about him. Whoever he was. That stoic soldier became the basis for Colonel Brett Stanton, retired, U.S. Army. And those two ribbons became symbols for Ben and Josiah. Most of us are honored when others emulate us, but when that example leads loved ones to an early grave, the resulting guilt weighs heavy, especially at holiday time.

  God doesn’t want us to live life with heavy hearts. We are sons and daughters of the King and He wants us happy...but He does expect us to do our best each day. Putting a young woman like Haley in Brett’s path made perfect sense. She’s longed for the stability of a mature man, a man of deep appreciation. A man of faith and hope, the kind who stays the course. And a ready-made family? Isn’t that the best gift of Christmas, a child? In this book we have two beautiful boys in need of a stable, normal home. A chance to be someone’s beloved child again.

  I hope you enjoy reading their story, a tale of faith, hope and love. And homemade chicken and biscuits is never a bad thing! Feel free to email me at ruthy@ruthloganherne.com, visit me at themenofalleganycounty.blogspot.com or my website www.ruthloganherne.com or write to me care of Love Inspired Books, 233 Broadway, Suite 1001, New York, NY 10279.

  God bless you and Merry Christmas!

  Ruthy

  Questions for Discussion

  Haley is en route to a whole new chapter of her life because she’s taking charge of her brother’s orphaned boys, Tyler and Todd. Have you ever had a sharp bend in the road like that? What was it and how did you handle it?

  The Jamison Hose Company is giving up their private holiday celebrations to feed the hungry. Does your town or city sponsor events like this? Have you ever volunteered to staff them? How did that experience work out for you?

  Haley is touched by the gentle outreach that surrounds her at the holiday feast. The older folks are invigorated by her arrival with two little boys. Why are older folks often drawn to small children these days?

  Brett is immediately drawn to the young woman and the boys. They remind him of his brother and his son, both lost at war. Has God ever put people in your path to help you clear emotional hurdles?

  Brett’s holiday weekend is turned upside down when his presence is required at the Crossroads Mini-Mart. Being thrust into a hands-on position revitalizes him. And when he’s able to help Haley feed the boys dinner, another barrier breaks down. He feels needed and appreciated. Has God ever amazed you with multiple circumstances that work together to help you?

  When Brett and Haley meet at church, she realizes she’s smitten, but now she’s doubly cautious because she’s suddenly responsible for two busy, boisterous boys. How difficult would it be for a childless person to suddenly take on the care of two preschoolers?

  The grand opening of Bennington Station has Haley running morning, noon and night. But the boys need care. Guilt grows. How hard is it for parents to find a proper balance of work to play? How important is it to learn to delegate and accept help?

  Brett’s mother has had ups and downs with alcoholism, but meeting the little boys seems to give her new hope. Do you know people who have overcome substance abuse? Has it been an upward struggle for them, too?

  Haley’s promise of a nice, normal Christmas doesn’t seem close to coming true because of the demands on her time. Have you often meant for things to go one way, only to have life push them in the opposite direction? How do you handle that?

  Haley’s guilt over the accident is understandable, but it’s compounded by her lack of experience with children. How difficult would it be to suddenly be responsible for the livelihood of over forty families and two little boys who didn’t know your name a few weeks ago?

  Brett wishes he’d been a better father to Josiah. He’s surprised that Josiah’s mother sees things very differently. Have you ever run into that, where another person’s assessment is the opposite of your own? Have you ever gotten a wake-up call simply through someone else’s commonsense point of view?

  Haley longs for family stability. Brett would love a second chance to be a better father. Fiona would like to make better choices and be loved and accepted. Was it chance or God’s loving plan that brought them all together for a beautiful family-filled Christmas?

  We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Love Inspired story.

  You believe hearts can heal. Love Inspired stories show that faith, forgiveness and hope have the power to lift spirits and change lives—always.

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  Chapter One

  “You always were good for nothing, girl.” Her father’s bitter voice grumbled through the small, unkempt house. “Get the lead out of your lazy butt and fetch me something to eat. I’m gettin’ hungry.”

  Millie Wilson straightened up, mop handle clutched in one hand, closed her eyes and prayed for strength. The Lord had to help her because she wasn’t sure she could do this without Him. The call in the middle of the night, a doctor’s voice on the other end of the line, her father’s collapse and terminal prognosis. If only there had been anyone—anyone at all—to take over his care. “I have to go to the market, Dad.”

  “You should have thought of that earlier,” he barked from the other room.

  And I came back, why? She swished the mop into the sudsy bucket, wrung it out and scoured the last patch of kitchen floor. Marginally better, but it was going to take more than one pass over. She didn’t want to think how long it had been since the floor had a proper cleaning—it would take a scrub brush and a lot of elbow grease to get out the dirt ground into the texture of the linoleum—a job for another time. Her back ached just thinking of it.

  “Millie?” A knock echoed above the hum of the air conditioner. A familiar face smiled in at her, visible through the pane of glass in the door. The foreman tipped his Stetson and rolled the tobacco around to his other cheek while he waited for her to open the door.

  “Hi, Milton. What’s up?” She squinted in the bright summer sun.

  “We got problems. Paychecks bounced. Again.” Milton paused a moment to gather his spit, turn aside and spew a stream of tobacco juice into the barren flower bed. “The boys aren’t going to stand for this. They’ve got rent due and mouths to feed.”

  “I know.” Why didn’t this surprise her either? She rubbed her forehead, which was beginning to pound. “I’m overwhelmed here. I haven’t even thought about Dad’s finances.”

  “They’re a shambles, that’s what.” Milton shook his head, his weathered face lined with a mixture of grief and disgust. “Work is scarce in this part of the county. No one wants to walk away from a job right now. I know Whip is sick, but if he doesn’t take care of his workers, then we can’t work for free. Those cows need to be milked no matter what.”

  “Give me a day to problem solve. Can you ask everyone to wait? I’m here now, I’ve been here for two hours. Let me figure out what’s what, and I’ll do everything I can to make good on those checks.”

  “We appreciate that, Millie. I know you’ll do your best by us, but I don’t know what the boys will go for.” Milton tipped his hat in a combination of thanks and farewell before he ambled toward the steps. “Keep in mind that if things don’t get better...”

  “I hear you.” Someone had to do the work, and it took a team of men to do it. As Milton headed off back down the driveway, Millie wondered if she remembered how to run a milking parlor. That part of her life seemed a world away, nearly forgotten. Probably intentionally.

  “Put ice cream on that list, girl, and get a move on.” In his room, Pa must have hit the remote because the soundtrack from a spaghetti Western drowned out every other noise in the house and kept her from arguing. The pop of gunfire and the drum of galloping horses accompanied her while she upended her mop bucket over the sink, stowed the meager cleaning supplies and made a mental grocery list.

  Time to blow this place. She grabbed her purse and the big ring of farm keys. She called out to her dad, not sure if he could hear her over the blaring television and hopped out the front door.

  “Mom.” Simon looked up, pushed his round glasses higher on his nose with a thumb and held out a handful of wildflowers. “I picked them for you.”

  “You did?” Just what she needed. One look at her nine-year-old son eased the strain of the tough last couple of hours. Love filled her heart like a tidal wave as the black-haired boy with deep blue eyes ran across a lawn that had gone wild. Blossoms danced in his fist as he held them up to her.

  Better than roses any day. “Thank you. They’re wonderful. I love them.”

  “I thought you needed something, you know, to make you smile.” He shrugged his shoulders, his button face puckered up with worry. “You’ve frowned the whole time, ever since you said we had to come here.”

  “Really? Oh, I didn’t mean to. Sorry about that, kiddo.” She took a moment to admire her bouquet of yellow sunflowers, snowy daisies, purple coneflowers and cheerful buttercups. “These certainly should do the trick. Am I smiling?”

  “Yeah. Much better.” When he grinned, deep dimples cut into his cheeks, so like his father’s that it drove straight to her heart.

  It was one pain that would never fade. She’d stopped trying to make it disappear years ago. There was just no use. Once, she’d loved Simon’s father with all the depth of her being. Losing him had shattered her. Ten years later and she still hadn’t found a way to make her heart whole.

  Being back home in this little corner of Montana made her wonder. Just how much would she remember—things she couldn’t hold back? She sighed, thinking of how young she’d been, of how truly she’d loved the man and, yes, it hurt to remember. She ran a hand along her son’s cheek—such a sweet boy—and kept the smile on her face.

  Simon was what mattered now.

  “Guess what?” she asked. “I need a copilot.”

  “I’m on it.” Simon leaped ahead, dashing toward the old Ford pickup. “Where’re we goin’?”

  “To the grocery store, unless you want to eat stale crackers and dried-up peanut butter for supper.”

  “Not so much. Can we have pizza?” He yanked open the black truck’s door. The rusty old thing squeaked and groaned as he scrambled behind the steering wheel and across the ripped bench seat. “It could be the on-sale kind. Want me to see if we got a coupon?”

  “That would be a big help.”

  She eyed the truck warily. It had been a long time since she’d driven a pickup. Totally different from her compact car and she had to adjust the seat, the mirrors and dig for the seat belt—it was buried in the crumbs, hayseed and grain bits that had accumulated in the crack of the seat over what had to be decades.

  “I’m on it.” Simon slipped his hand into the outside pocket of her handbag, extracted an envelope and began sorting through her coupon collection. His forehead furrowed in concentration. His cowlick stood up straight from the crown of his head in a lazy swirl.

  Just like his father’s.

  Stop thinking about that man. She had enough to contend with without borrowing heartache. She refused to wonder what had happened to the man. The love she had for him was long dead and buried. Did he still live around here or had he moved? It wasn’t as if she’d kept in touch with anyone in the valley, so she’d never heard a scrap of the news since her father had thrown her out of the house when she was nineteen.

  “Found it!” Simon’s triumph was drowned out by the roar of the badly timed engine. He waved the coupon while she dug out his seat belt, too. “I hope they have the pepperoni kind at the store.”

  “Me, too.” She couldn’t help trying to smooth down the ruffle of hair, but his cowlick stayed up stubbornly.

  “Mom?”

  “What?” She wrestled the truck into Drive, which shouldn’t be so hard with an automatic, and nosed the pickup down the driveway.

  “How long do we gotta stay here?” He tucked the coupon in the front of the fat envelope.

  “I don’t know. I wish I did, believe me.” Gravel crunched beneath the tires as she fought the pickup around a curve. “I want to go home just as much as you do.”

  “I miss my friends.”

  “Me, too.”

  They smiled together as the pickup bumped down the last stretch of driveway. Cows grazed behind sagging fen
ces. Across the county road, moss glinted on the barn’s roof, which happened to be missing more than a few shingles. As she cranked the steering wheel to the right hard, manhandling the rattling truck onto the pavement, she wondered just how long Dad had been letting things slide and why no one had looked her up to tell her. She may have moved out of state, but she wasn’t that hard to find.

  Amber fields whipped by, grass bronzing in the hot summer sun.

  “How come Grandpa doesn’t share his TV?”

  “That’s just the way he is.” Her mother had a small set in the kitchen, but it was not there now. She had no idea where it went or what had gone on around here in the last ten years. One thing was for certain, a lot of things had changed. The farm was no longer top-notch, money was apparently wanting and her father? The robust man he’d once been had withered away.

  “I know we’ve got to get by and you’re not working or anything.” Simon took a deep breath. “But how am I gonna watch my shows?”

  “That’s a good question. I’ll try and figure something out, okay?”

  “Okay.” He stared off down the road. “Maybe we won’t be here long.”

  “Maybe.” Simon didn’t know that they would be leaving only after her father died. Sorrow burned behind her eyes, which was unexpected considering how she’d once loathed her dad with every fiber of her being. She checked her rearview mirror for traffic out of habit—of course, there was none, not on this rural road—and flicked her gaze to the pavement ahead. Farmland spread around her like a patchwork quilt in irrigated greens, dried ambers and barn roofs glinting in the sun.

  One more corner and they zipped past the little row of rental houses, bright with new paint, where her one-and-only love had lived. Was he still there or had he moved on to bigger and better things? Maybe he’d left town entirely—that’s what she dearly hoped. The last thing she wanted was to run into him, face-to-face. Pain seared her heart, tender after all these years.