A Cadence Creek Christmas (Cadence Creek Cowboys)

by Alward, Donna

  He was here. Her stomach tangled into knots and her mouth felt dry. They hadn’t seen each other or spoken since the morning they’d said goodbye. From the strained expression on his face, he wasn’t too happy about tonight, either. As if he could sense her staring, he looked up and met her eyes across the restaurant. She looked away quickly, turning to answer a question of her mother’s about the upcoming event her company was planning.

  Martha brought them all glasses of iced water and placed a basket of hot rolls in the center of the table. That was followed by a fresh romaine salad with red onion, peppers and mandarins in a poppy seed dressing that was delicious. Rhys stayed in the kitchen, out of everyone’s way. The fact that he seemed to be avoiding her stretched her nerves taut, and by the time the main course was served she was a wreck.

  Martha had outdone herself. Glazed carrots, green beans with bacon, creamy mashed potatoes and puffy Yorkshire pudding and gravy complemented the roast, followed by a cranberry bread pudding and custard sauce. By the time the plates were cleared away, Taylor was stuffed to the top. Her father checked his watch. “Seven-fifteen. We’d better get going,” he announced. “The church service starts in fifteen minutes.”

  Everyone got up to leave, reaching for coats and purses and gloves. Everyone but Taylor. They really didn’t see, did they? She’d bet ten bucks that Martha and Rhys probably wanted to go to church, too. According to Callum, most of the community showed up at the local Christmas Eve services. And the Bullocks were going to be stuck here cleaning up the mess instead of enjoying their holiday.

  “Taylor, aren’t you coming?”

  “I’ll be along,” she said lightly. “You go on without me.”

  Avery gave her a long look, then a secret thumbs-up. Taylor returned a small smile, but it was quickly gone once the Shepard crew hit the door.

  She went back to the table and started clearing dessert plates and coffee cups.

  Martha hustled out from the kitchen. “Oh, heavens, girl, don’t you worry about that! You head on to church with your family.”

  “What about you? Aren’t you planning to go to church?”

  Martha looked so dumbfounded that Taylor knew she had guessed right. “If I help it’ll get done faster and we can all make it.”

  “Bless your heart.”

  “Where’s Rhys?” Taylor looked over Martha’s shoulder into the kitchen.

  “He just took a bag of trash to the Dumpster out back. I swear I don’t know what I’d do without that boy. He always says we’re in this together, but he’s got his own job.” She handed Taylor the bin of dirty dishes and briskly wiped off the tables. “It was more than enough that he invested in this place for me. He’s supposed to be a silent partner, but not Rhys. He thinks he needs to take care of me.”

  Taylor nearly dropped the pan of dishes. Silent partner? But Rhys was so determined to stay away from owning a business. How many times had he gotten on her case about it? And this whole time he was part owner in the diner and just neglected to mention it?

  For the briefest of moments, she was very, very angry at him. How dare he judge her? And maybe he hadn’t exactly lied, but he hadn’t been truthful, either.

  She remembered pressing him for something he’d been going to say. Now she got the feeling he’d almost let his stake in the diner slip while they’d been talking, and caught himself just in time.

  “Rhys is part owner of the diner?”

  Martha looked confused. “He didn’t tell you? I mean, he doesn’t say much about it, but I thought the two of you...” Her cheeks flushed. “Oh. I’ve put my foot in it.”

  Taylor shook her head. “Not at all. We’re not...”

  But she didn’t know how to finish that sentence. They weren’t together but they weren’t not together, either.

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Martha said quietly, putting her hand on Taylor’s arm. “You’ve been real good for him these last few weeks. And I think he’s been good for you, too. You smile more. Your cheeks have more color. If I’m wrong tell me to mind my own business.”

  “You’re not exactly wrong.”

  “He’s needed someone like you, Taylor. Not that he’s said a word to me about it.” Her lips twitched. “He’s not exactly the confiding type. Bit like his father that way.”

  Taylor knew that Rhys probably wouldn’t like that comparison.

  “My husband had his faults, but he always meant well. And he loved his family. I wish you were staying around longer, Taylor. You’re a good girl. Not afraid to work hard. And I can tell your family is important to you.”

  She was perilously close to getting overemotional now. “Thanks, Martha. That means a lot to me. And Rhys is a good man. I know that. I’m sorry things can’t work out differently.”

  “Are you?”

  She swallowed. “Yes. Yes, I am.”

  Martha smiled. “Well, never say never.”

  The back door to the kitchen slammed and he came back in. A light snowfall had begun and he shook a few flakes off his hair. Their gazes met again and she fought to school her features. She should be angrier that he hadn’t been totally honest, but instead all she could think of was how he had said he didn’t want his mom to own the place. He’d gone against his own instincts and wishes to make her happy, hadn’t he? Did Martha realize what a personal sacrifice he’d had to make?

  They couldn’t get into this now, if for no other reason than Martha was there and she should talk to him about it in private.

  She marched the dishes into the kitchen. “Should I put these in the dishwasher?”

  “What are you still doing here?”

  “Helping. I thought you and your mom might like to go to the service.”

  “Then maybe you shouldn’t have requested a private dinner after we closed.”

  Guilt heated her cheeks at his condemning tone. “I didn’t know about that until it was a done deal. Avery even suggested they do something at home but my parents insisted.”

  “Really? It kind of struck me as exactly the kind of thing you’d be comfortable asking for. You know, like when you’re planning an event and you just ‘make things happen.’ Right?”

  “Are you really that mad at me, Rhys?” She tried to muster up some annoyance, some justifiable anger, but all she felt was a weary sadness.

  He shoved a cover on the roaster and placed it—none too gently—in the commercial fridge. “I don’t know what I am. I know my mom is tired and was looking forward to a quiet Christmas Eve. Instead she ended up here after hours.”

  “None of the staff would stay?”

  “She insisted they go home to their families. It’s their holiday, too.” His voice held a condemning edge that made her feel even worse.

  He really was put out and honestly she didn’t blame him. She hurried to put the dishes in the dishwasher while Martha put the dining room back to rights. “So you helped.”

  “Of course I did.”

  Yes, of course he did, because this wasn’t just Martha’s diner but his, too. “I’m sorry, Rhys. My parents didn’t think. What can I do now? Can we still make it to the church?”

  “Run the dishwasher while I finish up these pots and pans. We’ll be a little late, and not very well dressed, but we’ll get there.”

  Martha bustled back into the kitchen, either too busy or simply oblivious to the tension between Rhys and Taylor. “My goodness, you’re nearly done in here. Rhys, let’s just leave the sweeping up and stuff until Boxing Day. It’s always slower then anyway.”

  “If that’s what you want.”

  Martha grinned. “Well, what I want is to get a good dose of Christmas carols and candlelight, followed by a double dose of rum in my eggnog.”

  Taylor laughed. “Get your coat while I start this up.”

  Martha disappeared i
nto the office. Rhys frowned at Taylor. “Why did you stay? You could have gone on with your family and been there with time to spare.”

  She shrugged. “Because tonight isn’t about just my family. There are other people to consider, too.” She tilted her head to look at him. “Why didn’t Martha just say no when my father asked?”

  What little softening she’d glimpsed in his expression disappeared as his features hardened. “Your father offered a Christmas tip she couldn’t refuse.”

  Taylor winced. Her dad, Jack, her—they were all used to getting what they wanted. It simply hadn’t occurred to her father that Martha would say no. And it wasn’t that he was mean or unfeeling. Of course he would consider it fair to properly compensate Martha for the inconvenience.

  But she rather wished he hadn’t inconvenienced the Bullocks at all. It would have been more thoughtful.

  “I’m sorry, Rhys. Can we leave it at that and get your mom to the church?”

  His gaze caught hers for a prolonged moment. In that small space of time she remembered what it was to hear him laugh, taste his kiss, feel his body against hers. It had happened so fast, and now here they were, as far apart as ever. Trying to keep from being hurt any more than they already were.

  “You’d better get your coat. You can drive over with us.”

  She rushed to grab her coat and purse and by the time she was ready Rhys was warming up Martha’s car and Martha was shutting off the lights to the diner and locking the door. The parking lot at the church was packed and inside wasn’t any better; the only seats were on the two pews pushed against the back wall. Taylor spied her family, several rows up, but the pew was full from end to end. She squeezed in with the Bullocks, sitting on one side of Rhys while his mother sat on the other. As the congregation sang “The First Noel” she realized that while everyone here was dressed up in their best clothes, Rhys wore jeans and Martha wore her standard cotton pants and comfortable shoes from work.

  It didn’t seem fair.

  They turned the pages of their hymnbook to “Once in Royal David’s City.” It was less familiar to Taylor, and Rhys held out the book so she could see the words better. Their fingers never touched, but there was something about holding the book together that healed the angry words of before. When they finally sat down, Taylor took advantage of the hushed scuffle. “I’m sorry,” she said, leaning toward his ear. “I really am.”

  The minister began to speak and she heard the words “Let us pray,” but she couldn’t. Rhys was staring down into her eyes and she couldn’t look away. Not now. She wanted to tell him how much she hated the way they’d left things. Wanted to ask him why he’d never told her the truth about the diner. Wanted to kiss him and know that she hadn’t just imagined their connection. Instead she sat in a candlelit church that smelled of pine boughs and perfume, the fluid voice of the minister offering a prayer of thanks for the gift of Christmas, and wondered at the miracle that she’d managed to fall utterly and completely in love for the first time in her life.

  Her lower lip quivered the tiniest bit and she looked away. What was done was done.

  And then Rhys moved his hand, sliding it over to take hers, his fingers tangling with her fingers. Nothing had really changed, and there was a bittersweet pain in her heart as she acknowledged the truth of that. At least he wasn’t angry at her anymore.

  During the sermon Taylor looked around at the people gathered to celebrate the holiday. Her big brother cuddling a sleeping Nell in the crook of his arm. Her parents sat in between with Jack on the other side and Amy Wilson beside him—an odd surprise. There was the whole Diamond clan—Molly, Sam, Angela, Clara, Ty, the kids. Melissa Stone and her fiancé, Cooper Ford, sitting with two older couples she assumed were their parents. Many others she recognized as guests from the wedding. Business people, professionals, ranchers. Ordinary folks. This was real. This was life. Not the glammed-up high-paced craziness she was used to living in. Somehow, between Clara’s sunny generosity, Angela’s steady advice and Martha’s ready acceptance she’d managed to become a part of this town instead of remaining on the fringes, where she usually made it a policy to stay.

  She’d changed. And she couldn’t find it within herself to be the least bit sorry.

  As if she could sense her thoughts, Angela Diamond turned in her seat and caught Taylor’s eye. She smiled and turned back around.

  For the first time ever that she could remember, Taylor had no idea what to do next.

  An usher brought around a box with tiny white candles in plastic holders. As the service ended, the choir started with the first verse of “Silent Night” as the minister went along and lit the first candle on the end of each pew. The congregation’s voices joined in for the second verse as Rhys leaned over a little and let the flame from his candle ignite hers. Soon they were all standing with their candles, singing the last verse as the piano stopped playing and there was no sound but two hundred voices singing the age-old carol a cappella.

  It was the most beautiful Christmas tradition Taylor had ever seen.

  And when the song ended, everyone blew out their candles, the minister gave the benediction and a celebratory air took over the sanctuary.

  In the midst of the confusion, Rhys leaned over. “Are you staying at the house or the B&B?”

  “At the house.” She waved at someone she only half recognized and smiled. “Callum and Avery insisted. I got the sofa bed.”

  Rhys’s dark complexion took on a pinkish hue. She shouldn’t have mentioned sleeping arrangements.

  “Can I drive you home?”

  “What about your mom?”

  “I’ll take her now and come back for you.”

  She wasn’t at all sure what she wanted. She had no idea where things stood or even where she wanted them to stand. And yet they both seemed determined to play this out for as long as possible.

  “I’ll wait.”

  He gave her a quick nod and turned to Martha. The older woman had clearly decompressed during the service, and now she looked tired. It didn’t look like Rhys was going to have much fight on his hands, getting her to leave.

  There was a lot of socializing happening in the vestibule. Avery and Callum were working on getting Nell into her snowsuit without waking her up and the other three Shepards were putting on their coats and wishing a Merry Christmas to anyone who stopped by and offered a greeting. Susan saw Taylor and frowned. “You don’t have your coat on! We’re nearly ready to leave.”

  “I’ll be along a little later.”

  “But you didn’t bring your car.”

  Callum joined the group, a blurry-eyed, half-awake Nell fully dressed and snuggled into his shoulder. “We ready to go? Santa will be along soon.”

  “I was just telling Taylor to get her coat.”

  Taylor let out a breath and smiled brightly. “I’ve got a lift home, actually. No worries. You go on ahead.”

  “A lift home?”

  “Rhys is going to drive me.”

  “I just saw him leave with his mother.”

  Taylor resisted the need to grit her teeth. “He’s coming back.”

  Harry stepped in. “Rhys. He was one of Callum’s groomsmen, right? Is there something going on there?”

  Avery looked panicked on Taylor’s behalf and Callum’s brows were raised in brotherly interest but it was Jack, bless him, who stepped in, Amy Wilson hanging back just a bit, as if she was uncertain whether to join the group or not. “Hey, Dad, I’ve been meaning to ask you something about a new property I’m interested in buying.”

  The topic of a property investment was enough to lure her father away and Taylor relaxed. “Don’t worry,” she said to her mother. “We’ll be right behind you.”

  “You’ve got your phone?”

  Taylor laughed. “Of course.”

  “We’ll se
e you in a bit, then.” She hurried off in the direction of Jack and Harry. Avery came over and gave her a hug. “We’re off, too. Good luck.”

  “Thanks.”

  As Avery and Callum walked away, Taylor heard Callum say, “Good luck? What do you know about this, wife?”

  The vestibule thinned out until there were just a handful of people left. Jack got their parents on their way and came back for Amy, offering her a lift home. They’d just turned out of the lot when Taylor saw Rhys pull back into the yard in his truck.

  Her boots squeaked in the snow as she crossed the parking lot, opened the door and hopped up inside the cab. She wasn’t sure what to say now, so silence spun around them as he put the truck in Drive and headed out of the parking lot.

  “I’m sorry I was so hard on your family.” He finally spoke when they hit the outskirts of town.

  “Don’t be. You were right. About a lot of things.”

  “Such as?”

  “Such as this is exactly something I probably would have done. Like you said, I make things happen. That’s my job.”

  “I shouldn’t have said that, either.”

  She chuckled then. “Boy, we can even turn an apology into an argument. We’re good.”

  He laughed, too, but it didn’t do much to lighten the atmosphere in the truck.

  “So you’re really going day after tomorrow.”

  “Yeah.”

  More silence.

  It was only a short drive to the farm. Taylor longed to ask him about the diner but didn’t want to get in another argument and she sensed it would be a sensitive subject. Besides, what did it truly matter now? It really didn’t change anything.

  The damnedest thing was that she did want something to change. And she couldn’t figure out what or how. She just knew it felt wrong. Wrong to leave here. Wrong to say goodbye.

  “You’ve got a couple days off from Diamondback?”

  “Yeah,” he answered. “Actually Sam suggested we all take Friday off, too, so I don’t actually have to be back to work until Monday. I thought I’d sneak Mom to Edmonton one of those days, let her take in some of the Boxing Week sales.”