“Sorry.”
Her heart dropped a little. She’d learned to jump on Sally, a dark-brown quarter horse. The two of them had won three medals together, and Joanna had considered Sally her best friend for most of her adolescence.
“But do you remember Maranatha?” he continued.
The memory pushed a wide smile across her face. “The Morgan my mom loved to ride.”
“Mari’s grandson is down at the end there.” He pointed out the last stall on the opposite side of the barn. “Big Red looks just like her. About sixteen hands tall, beautiful auburn coat.”
Joanna hurried to the stall and peered over the door. Dark-chocolate eyes met hers, and the shiny, copper-red horse stalked straight for her.
“What’s your fancy, Big Red? Carrot, apple, or sugar?”
She placed two sugar cubes on her palm and offered them to him. He lapped them up without hesitation, then looked back for something more.
“No need to be a pig about it,” she teased, and she extended a long, fat carrot on the flat of her hand, which he then devoured. Jed stepped next to her, and Joanna sighed. “He’s gorgeous.”
“A little temperamental like his grandmother, but a beauty.”
Joanna rubbed the Morgan’s neck before making her way past the rest of the stalls, handing out snacks and snuggles and soft greetings.
Jed walked along beside her in silence until he observed, “You’re in your element here, Jo-Jo.”
“It feels like another life in some ways.” She twisted the end of the plastic bread bag she’d used for the stable treats. “And still, it’s like I never left.”
“What’s Indiana been like for you? I’ve wondered about your life there.”
“It wasn’t much of a life.” She chuckled at the admission. “I mean, I kind of bounced around a lot. I loved my last job, but I was laid off just before getting the news about Tuck.”
“What were you doing? At the job you loved.”
“I started out as a receptionist, just answering phones and taking messages. But it evolved into more of an overall administrative thing, and I felt like I was really finding my niche, you know?”
“Running the place.” He nodded with a mock-serious expression. “I can see where that would be a good fit for a bossy little thing like you.”
She nudged his rib with her elbow and laughed. “You’ve hardly changed a bit, you know that?”
“You either.”
As they reached the open door of the stable, Jed grabbed the collar of her coat, pulling gently until she faced him. He had nearly a foot of height on her, and as he gazed down, his normally light-brown eyes churned, stormy and dark.
“You remember the day you kissed me in this barn, Jo-Jo?”
She chuckled and looked away, but he used one finger to nudge her face back toward him until their eyes met again.
“I remember.” Her voice came out raspy.
“You couldn’t have been twelve years old.”
“I was fourteen.”
He thought it over, then nodded. “That would have made me twenty.”
She pressed her lips together and shrugged. “Sounds about right.”
“You said something like, ‘I won’t always be just a kid to you, Jedediah Weatherly.’”
Joanna remembered like it was yesterday.
“And then you wrapped those skinny arms of yours around my neck and planted one on me.”
“After which, you shoved me away and told me to go on home.”
“Did I?” he asked.
“Yes. So I did.”
“I seem to recall you hated me a little bit after that for a very long time.”
She sighed. “I didn’t hate you. Not ever.”
“No?”
Their gazes locked for a long and meaningful moment before she spoke. “No.”
“You were right about one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“You sure don’t seem like a little kid to me now.”
“I grew up.”
Jed lifted her braid and stroked it. “I’ll say you did.”
Joanna wondered if anyone’s heart ever spontaneously combusted out of nothing but nearness to someone like this. If not, she figured she might be a first for the medical books.
Suddenly, a little afraid of her own feelings, she pulled away from him, lifted her chin, and stomped back toward the house.
“Hey, wait up!” Jed called, jogging to catch up to Joanna. She seemed to make it a point not to slow down in the least, so he mimicked her stride and caught up to her. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable back there.”
“You didn’t.”
“Liar.”
She giggled softly before lowering her head, watching the ground intently as they strolled toward the house.
“All I meant to say is that you’ve . . . changed.” When she glanced over at him, he laughed and slipped his arm around her shoulders, drawing her close. “In a good way, Jo-Jo. Don’t get your dander up.”
“I’m not,” she objected. “You just reminded me of one of my most embarrassing life moments, Jed. Hey, don’t you know anything about women?”
“I thought I did,” he said with a laugh. “Guess not.”
“Nope. Not so much.”
When he released his hold on her, Joanna slipped her arm through his. After a stretch of silence, she nodded toward his small house in the distance. “You still living down there?”
“Yup. Did some work on it last year, too? It’s looking pretty good.”
“What kind of work?”
“Upgraded the appliances in the kitchen, added some new tile work.”
Joanna halted. “You know, Jed, Sarah told me you were working out at the Triple Z to make money for upkeep around here. Why would you do that?”
“The leftover inheritance from Tuck’s folks kept the place going pretty good for a while, but all three of the ranch hands who stuck around took pay cuts to help out. Then the taxes came due before Tuck died, Jo-Jo. One of the outbuildings all but fell apart, and there was a massive leak in one of the back bedrooms of the main house. I couldn’t reach you or your sisters; Tuck was gone. I had to do something. We’ll get some help in a few weeks when we can take those thoroughbreds to auction. They should bring enough to keep things going for a while.”
She sighed and looked hard into his eyes. “I’m so sorry. I hope you’ve kept a log of your expenditures. We all just went our own ways and put this place behind us, didn’t we? When we heard our father had come home to the horse farm, we just figured . . .”
Jed stroked the sleeve of her coat. “It wasn’t like the old life was calling any of you back here.”
“No. Not at all.”
“I get it,” he reassured her. “But you’re here now. Any chance the others will join you?”
“I doubt it.” She looped her arm through his again as they walked on. “I wish they would, if only for one last Christmas hurrah, you know?”
“You’re planning to sell the place then.”
“I’m not bringing that up to my sisters just yet. We can discuss that if—when—they come back at Christmas. But I think we almost have to. You said yourself the place isn’t self-sustaining.”
“Still. I’d sure hate to see it sold.”
Joanna looked up at him with understanding in her striking, greenish eyes. “You’ve lived here more years than I ever did, haven’t you? I guess it’s home to you and Sarah as much as—or even more than—it is to any of us.”
“Yeah,” he said, surveying the land with a wistful sigh. “No denying it feels like home.” With a sharp inhale, he added, “But there’s been some interest in the land. The Realtor’s name is Dan, and he volunteers with the rescues sometimes.”
The idea of moving on left a hollow feeling beneath his ribs. Oh sure, he could probably find another job somewhere, maybe even a permanent thing out at the Triple Z . . . but still. Leave this place?
“Thanks, Jed.” She placed h
er free hand over the other one locked onto his arm and leaned into him as they walked. “I suddenly feel like it might be a hard good-bye. For me, at least.”
For us all.
As they neared the house, the front door opened and the three ranch hands filed out.
“Hey, Jed,” Gil shouted, and the others waved at him.
“Second string has had their grub,” Jed announced, returning their waves. “Time to go over the day’s chores and get out to the Triple Z.”
“I just hate it that you’re working two jobs, Jed.”
“Nah. It might open the door for a new gig if this one dries up.” He tried to sound lighthearted for her sake, despite not feeling it.
“I’ll go help Sarah with the cleanup,” she said, dropping her arm from his. “Will I see you later?”
“Probably. And Mom’s got some plans to cook for a family in need today. Maybe you’ll want to go along.”
“I think I’d like to stick close to h-home,” she said. Jed couldn’t help noticing how she tripped over the word. “Maybe Skype with my sisters and catch them up.”
Jed planted a kiss on her cheek. “It’s likely I’ll see you for supper.”
Was it his imagination or had her porcelain face flushed with pink?
“Okay.” She lowered her head as she released his arm and headed toward the main house.
“Hey, Jo-Jo?”
She stopped and turned back to look at him, both eyebrows arched and those hazel-green eyes of hers flashing. “Yeah?”
“I’m glad you’re home.”
“Thanks, Jed,” she replied.
He wished she’d said, “Me, too,” but she hadn’t. He watched as she widened the gap between them, wondering how long she planned to stick around . . . whether she’d find herself happy to be home again . . . and just how long such a shift in thinking might take for the likes of Joanna Tucker.
Chapter Four
Jo-Jo. You got bangs!”
Joanna fingered her long bangs and chuckled. “Yeah. A girl I worked with thought it was a good idea. She went to hairdressing school before switching to sales, and one Friday night she talked me into letting her cut my hair.”
“It looks good.”
“They’re always in my eyes.”
“You could trim them shorter. They look really good on you.”
“They bug me.”
Bella laughed, and the sound of it rang against Joanna’s heart like church bells chiming somewhere in the distance. Familiar and sweet. So much of what she needed just then.
Joanna leaned closer to the computer screen and touched Bella’s virtual face, traced her shoulder-length brown hair with one finger. “I miss you so much.”
“I miss you, too. Why don’t you come up to Chicago for a visit? Maybe spend Christmas with me. I don’t have another trip scheduled until after the first of the year, and we could have so much fun together. What do you think?”
She sighed. “I would love to spend Christmas with you. But I have an even better idea.”
“Why do those words still make me shudder a little?”
“Come to Kentucky,” Joanna blurted. “We need to decide what to do with this place. Did you know Jed has been working a second job to keep things going for us? Anyway, wouldn’t it be nice to spend Christmas here together while we make that decision?”
“What, all of us?”
“Why not? We could dig out those holiday treasure boxes of Mom’s and really do it up right. Relive all the traditions she loved. Bake some snickerdoodles and those little butter cookies with the gun that makes them into shapes. Remember those?”
“You know Amy and Soph will have nothing to do with this harebrained idea of yours, right?”
“If I can convince them, will you come?”
Bella stared at her through the screen, a blank expression on her pretty face.
“Or even if I can’t convince Amy and Sophie, won’t you come, Isabella? Please?”
“Jo-Jo—”
“C’mon. I need you.”
“Why can’t you come to Chicago instead? You can need me here as well as there.”
“If I tell them you’re coming, won’t Amy and Sophie be more likely to join us?” Before Bella could answer, an idea sparked and Joanna gasped. “I know. I’ll bring them in now.”
“Jo-Jo—”
“Hang on, hang on. I’m calling Soph.” She opened the Skype menu and clicked on the plus sign, then on Sophie’s number.
When her sister didn’t respond, she tried Amy. Joanna’s heart dropped slightly when there was no answer there either.
“It’s just as well,” Bella told her. “They’re never going to—”
“Remember what Mom used to say?” Joanna interrupted. “Life and death are in the power of the tongue. Don’t you speak those negative predictions like you always do. Give me a chance to bring them around. Try and think positive about it, would you?”
“Oh, I’m pretty positive they—”
“Stop,” Joanna exclaimed, but she couldn’t suppress the chuckles that rolled out of her. “Stop it right now.”
“Fine.” Bella tossed her hands in surrender. “You just go right on believing, little sis. But I think you’re going to be very disappointed.”
“No, I’m not. You’ll see. We deserve one more family Christmas here, don’t we, Bella? Mom would so love that.”
“You’re impossible.” Bella shook her head.
“But that’s why you love me.” Jo-Jo grinned.
“Nooo. I love you in spite of your impossibleness. Don’t get that twisted.”
“Tomato, tomahto. I’ll call them on my cell later today, and I’ll let you know when to arrive.”
Bella shook her head and smiled. “Impossible.”
Joanna waved at her. “Talk to you soon. I love you.”
Her older sister sighed. “I love you, too.”
The instant Joanna shut down her laptop, she scurried out of the bedroom on the steam of pure adrenaline. She headed straight down the hall and up the wide staircase that led to the attic loft that had once been the girls’ magnificent playroom. The Victorian dollhouse she and Bella had received the Christmas Joanna was eight caught her eye immediately. It still sat on the low, trestle table with a plank top and distressed black finish. Her mother had loved that table so much.
The antique key still protruded from the narrow drawer on the front, but the once-shiny purple tassel dangling from it had seen better days. Joanna approached it with apprehension, turned the key until it clicked, and pulled open the drawer. A messy stack of weathered photographs filled the drawer to overflowing.
She gathered them with both hands and went over to the faded-green settee by the window to look through them. Yellow beams of sunlight turned bluish and green through the filter of the floral pattern of stained glass set into the window frame. She remembered the top photograph as if it had been taken just a month ago. Sophie and Bella lounging under the Christmas tree in those matching flannel nightgowns their mother had made for all four girls. Red-and-green plaid with starched white cuffs and Peter Pan collars. Her neck itched a little at the memory.
She laid the picture facedown beside her on the settee. The next one gripped her throat like a vice. Her beautiful mother leaning onto the outstretched arm of her husband, Tuck, her pregnant belly fat with their youngest—Joanna. She turned that one over atop the other and methodically went through the entire stack.
When she’d finished, Joanna crouched low and peered through the kitchen window of the dollhouse. The teeny table was still meticulously set with Lilliputian china and glassware. The imaginary occupants used to gather there to enjoy hypothetical holiday meals of roast goose, mincemeat pies, and plum pudding borrowed from the writings of Charles Dickens, or sometimes they ate chestnut soup, smoked salmon, and herb-roasted chicken on loan from a Parisian menu Bella had read about in one of her books.
“You girls used to love that precious dollhouse,” Sarah said from the top
of the stairs, startling Joanna. “I’m sorry. Did I scare you?”
“I didn’t hear you on the stairs.” She straightened.
“Doing a little remembering?”
“I came up here to dig out my mother’s Christmas boxes, but I was hijacked.”
“A lot of nostalgia in this house for you.” Sarah pulled open the first of four low doors built into the side wall of the sloping roof. “I think the Christmas boxes are in this one.”
The small woman nearly disappeared inside. “Are you planning to do a little decorating for the holidays?”
“I’m hoping to convince my sisters to come back and spend Christmas. It might be our last time here with all of us together.”
Sarah dragged a large box through the opening and scuffed it across the floor before retreating inside for another. Joanna spotted the marking on the side of the tattered box, written in thick, black marker in her mother’s loopy cursive hand.
Ornaments.
Sarah pushed a hefty plastic tub toward her, and Joanna tugged it the rest of the way until it rested at her feet. “Wreaths, stockings, and snowmen,” Sarah read aloud, tapping her finger on the identification written on masking tape across the lid.
“The snowmen.” Joanna excitedly popped the lid from the tub and grinned down at the large cotton-ball snowman with a top hat and an orange-glitter, carrot-shaped nose. “Mister Henderson!” She removed the snowman and stood him on the table against the storage wall. “Amy made him.”
“I remember he had a place of honor each year on the ledge of the front window,” Sarah reminisced. “Wasn’t there a second one like it?”
“Yeah, the one Sophie and Bella made fell apart a long time ago. They didn’t use enough glue.”
“And you? Did you make a snowman, too?”
“We had to throw him away. I thought it was a genius idea to make him out of Styrofoam and cover him in glitter. But Mom was still cleaning up glitter the next September, so we couldn’t put him out again.” Joanna dug through the bin in search of— “Oh, look!” she gasped, gingerly removing another snowman from captivity, this one more beautiful than the others, and she cradled it in her arm. “Mom bought this one at the Christmas bazaar in town.”
All I Want for Christmas Page 3