by Janet Dailey
“Why, I don’t know,” Clara said. “I haven’t even thought about it yet.”
“Your tree always looks so pretty through that big window. At Christmastime, I make my dad drive by your house so I can look at it. Every year, you have the most beautiful tree in town.”
Ellie glanced down at her hands. The thought of Jubal driving past her old home because his daughter wanted to see the tree stirred emotions she’d long since vowed to forget. She had loved Jubal with all the passion of her young heart. She just hadn’t loved him enough to spend the rest of her life in Branding Iron. She’d made that decision once. Given a second chance, she would make the same choice again.
But what was she thinking? Jubal wasn’t the kind of man to offer second chances. As it was, he was barely speaking to her.
“For the past few years, Ben has been the one to get the tree up and decorated.” Clara lifted more strands of hair into the thick braid she was making. “He liked having it ready when Ethan got here for the holidays. But this year he has his own house. And Ethan is going to Boston to spend Christmas with his mother. I can’t get a big tree up myself, and Ellie is certainly in no condition to do it. So who knows? We might not even have a tree this year.”
Gracie sighed.
“How about you, Gracie?” Ellie asked. “When are you getting a tree?”
The look on Gracie’s face told Ellie she’d asked the wrong question. “I don’t know,” the girl said. “I’ve asked my dad but he says it’s too early. He says that if we get a tree now, the needles will fall off. I just hope he remembers. Last year we bought the only one left on the tree lot. It was little and crooked and most of the needles were gone. Hank said we could just have it, but Dad made him take the money. We took it home and put Mom’s decorations on it.”
Beau woke up and yawned. Gracie scratched his ears. “It was a really good Christmas,” she said. “Dad gave me a new saddle for my horse. It must’ve cost a lot, but he said it didn’t matter.”
“You’ve got your own horse?” Ellie asked.
“Uh-huh. His name’s Jocko. I ride him when Dad and I go out to check the cows. Dad says that when I’m older I can go riding by myself. We have dogs, too. But they’re too big and dirty to live in the house like Beau. They sleep in the barn and help with the herding.”
Clara had finished Gracie’s hair. The weaving in started at the crown of her head and ended in a gleaming braid that hung down her back. The flattering style made her look chic, like the young girls featured in ads and on magazine covers. When Gracie saw the full effect in the angled bathroom mirrors, she gasped with delight. “Wow! That’s so cool! I didn’t know my hair could look like that!”
“Your hair is beautiful and so are you,” Ellie said. “But we need to get you home now.”
Gracie sighed. “All right. Maybe sometime I can come back and play with Beau some more.”
“Maybe. We’ll see.” This could become a problem, Ellie realized. She enjoyed Gracie, but something told her Jubal wouldn’t be too pleased with his daughter’s choice of new friends. “Get your coat and say good-bye to Beau,” she said. “Then I’ll run you home to the ranch.”
“Can Beau come with us? I can hold him in the car.”
“It’s cold and dark. Beau will be better off here.”
“Oh—okay.” Gracie put on her jacket. Picking up Beau, she kissed the top of his head and set him on the ottoman. Then she followed Ellie outside.
The BMW was chilly inside but it was warm by the time they passed the city limits. “Did you get your backpack?” Ellie asked, suddenly remembering.
“I’ve got it. I left it right here in the backseat.”
“Your father said you had homework.”
“Not tonight. I usually get my work done in class.”
No homework. Jubal must have wanted an excuse to get his daughter home at a reasonable hour. But she could hardly fault him for that white lie. He was just being a protective father.
“Is it okay if we turn on the radio?” Gracie asked. “I like to listen to Christmas music.”
“Sure.” Ellie recalled the oldies station that played holiday music in December. When she found it on the dial, the familiar notes of “The Little Drummer Boy” boomed from the speakers.
“Sing with me, Ellie.” Gracie’s small, clear voice joined the song. Ellie had never been a singer but, wanting to keep things light and cheerful, she turned up the radio to hide her off-key notes and sang along.
The ranch was several miles out of town. By the time they turned off the highway and onto the narrow side road that skirted other, smaller farms, they’d sung their way through “Frosty the Snowman” and “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.” Needing a break, Ellie lowered the volume.
“Does your dad sing with you?” she asked.
“Sometimes. Not so much lately.”
“Why is that, you think?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he’s remembering Mom and how we all used to sing together in the truck. Or maybe he’s just getting old.”
“Your dad isn’t old, Gracie. He’s not much more than thirty-one.” Ellie steered the car around a pothole in the road. “Do you like it, living out here on the ranch with your dad?”
“Mostly. It’s fun when he’s got workers here to help with the cattle. And I love riding Jocko. But in the winter, when it’s dark and cold, I get lonesome out here. I wish he’d get married again. It would be nice to have a mom, like other kids do.”
“Do you think he might?”
“A bunch of ladies have liked him. Some even brought us cookies and meat loaf and stuff like that. But after a while they stopped coming around. Maybe he just didn’t like them back. But I think he likes you.”
Gracie dropped that bombshell just as Ellie drove through the gate and pulled up to the house. There would be no time to respond because the porch light was on, and standing in its glow, huddled into his sheepskin coat, was Jubal.
Chapter 5
As the BMW’s headlights swung through the front gate, Jubal forced himself to take a deep breath. There was no reason facing Ellie should set him on edge. The past was over. They’d both moved on. But even after ten years—seeing her alone, pregnant, and vulnerable—the old wounds still burned.
He’d have been better off if she’d never come back to Branding Iron. But here she was. And in this small town, there were bound to be encounters—especially since Gracie was so keen on that useless little fluff of a dog. It was time he and Ellie had a talk. If they could come to some kind of understanding, maybe things would be less awkward between them.
After she pulled the car up to the porch and switched off the engine, he came down the steps and opened her door.
“I hope we’re not too late,” she said before he could speak. “Gracie told me her homework is already done.”
“No problem,” he said. “It’s barely eight. Come on in. I’ve got hot chocolate on the stove. It’s okay if you want to bring your dog in.”
“Beau’s at home with my mother. And I hadn’t planned on staying. I just came to drop Gracie off.”
Whatever. He’d shown himself willing, and that was that. It was probably just as well if she didn’t come in.
Jubal was about to wish her a safe drive home when Gracie opened her side of the car and came around with her backpack slung over her shoulder and a pizza box in her hands. Somebody had changed her hair. She looked pretty, but more grown-up somehow. He already missed her little-girl pigtails.
Jubal took the pizza box. “If this is for me, thanks,” he said. “I’ll warm it up later.”
“Please come in, Ellie,” Gracie begged. “Just for a little while.”
Jubal sensed Ellie’s hesitation. Was he the one she wanted to get away from, or was it her memories of his place? “I really don’t think—” she began.
“Please, Ellie! Please come in!” In the glow of the porch light, Gracie’s eyes would have softened any heart.
Ellie sighed, took the key o
ut of the ignition, and slung her purse strap over her shoulder before she climbed out of the car. Taking an extra moment, she locked the door with the remote button. Jubal could have reminded her that out here, with nobody around to steal things, she could have left her keys and purse in the unlocked car. But she’d been away from Branding Iron long enough to develop city habits. Trying to change them wouldn’t be worth his time.
Ellie took the arm Jubal offered as she mounted the steep porch steps. She could tell he was trying not to look at her belly, which stuck out so far that she could no longer see her feet. But he had to be curious about her situation. Was that the reason he’d invited her in, or was he just being polite? At least, given her appearance, she could rule out any desire to rekindle the old flame.
Gracie put her backpack down by the door, took the pizza box from Jubal, and carried it into the kitchen. Ellie released Jubal’s arm as they walked in from the porch. Without asking, he stepped behind her, slipped off her jacket, and hung it on a handy coatrack.
Looking around, she couldn’t help comparing what she saw to the place she remembered from ten years ago, when Jubal’s widowed father was still alive. Seth McFarland had been something of a pack rat. When he’d lived here, ruling the house and ranch like a despot, every surface had been stacked with newspapers, old ranching magazines, bills, and catalogs, which no one except him was allowed to move. Only Jubal’s room had been orderly. Now it was as if everything had been stripped bare and put in order. Coals glowed in the fireplace. Laura’s senior yearbook photo in a simple silver frame was the sole adornment on the mantel. Even the bookshelves, which covered one entire wall, looked organized. Only the refrigerator, seen through the kitchen door, showed signs of clutter. It was covered with drawings, most of them on yellow notebook paper.
When Jubal shed his coat and walked into the kitchen to heat the pan of cocoa on the stove, Ellie followed him. Standing in front of the fridge, she studied the sketches, which could only be Gracie’s. Most of the pictures were of animals—horses, cats, and dogs, along with a few unicorns and dragons. The figures, though imperfectly drawn, had a playful charm about them, as if they were dancing on the paper. Jubal’s daughter had the makings of a talented artist.
Gracie was setting the table with cups and saucers, clearly pretending not to notice that Ellie was looking at her artwork. She glanced up as Ellie spoke her name.
“Gracie, these pictures are really good. I didn’t know you liked to draw.”
“I guess you never asked me,” Gracie said.
“She draws a lot.” Jubal poured the hot cocoa into the cups. “Not much else to do out here on cold winter nights.” He pulled out a wooden chair for Ellie. “Have a seat. Sorry, no marshmallows.”
“That’s fine. I’ve outgrown marshmallows.” Ellie sat, fitting her middle against the edge of the table. The chocolate was hot and good. The taste of it brought back the old days, when he’d made it for her in this very kitchen—with marshmallows. She almost mentioned it, but caught herself in time. The past was a closed book, better left that way.
“Oh—I just remembered something!” Gracie bounded from her chair and raced out of the kitchen. Moments later she was back with a sheet of white paper, which she handed to Ellie. “I made this for you,” she said.
“Oh, my goodness!” Ellie gazed at the life-sized drawing of a little white poodle. “It looks exactly like Beau!” She spoke sincerely. Gracie had done an excellent job of capturing her dog’s personality on paper. “He almost looks as if he could bark!”
“Do you like it?” Gracie asked.
“I love it. I’m going to take this home and put it somewhere special.” She reached out and gave the little girl an impulsive hug. As Gracie’s arms slipped around her neck, Ellie glimpsed Jubal’s face. The pain and concern in his eyes cut into her like a laser. Knowing she’d crossed the line, she eased Gracie away and slipped the drawing into a side compartment of her purse. “Thank you, Gracie,” she murmured.
“Finish your chocolate, Gracie.” Jubal spoke in a flat voice. “Then it’s time you were in bed. You’ve got school tomorrow.”
She glanced at Ellie. “Can’t I stay up just a little longer? Please?”
“Bedtime. Now. I’ll come and tuck you in when you’re ready.” Jubal glanced at Ellie as if to say, See what you’ve set in motion ?
Ellie emptied her cup and rose from her chair. “I really should be going,” she said.
“No, stay. This won’t take long.” We need to talk, his expression told her. Strange, after all these years, how easily they read each other.
Gracie finished her chocolate. “Good night, Ellie,” she said. “Thanks for a wonderful time.”
“You’re welcome,” Ellie said. “I had a good time, too.”
Gracie gave her a hopeful smile. “Maybe we can do it again soon.”
Ellie glanced at Jubal and saw his eyes narrow. “We’ll see,” she said.
Jubal rose. “Brush your teeth, Gracie. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
As she scurried back toward the hall, Jubal began clearing away the cups and saucers from the table. With his back to Ellie he rinsed them in the sink, along with the empty pan, and placed them in the dishwasher before turning back to face her. “I’ll be right back,” he said. “Don’t go.”
With that he strode down the hall toward Gracie’s room. Ellie imagined him tucking her in, hearing her prayers. The Jubal she remembered could be sweet and tender. Was there enough of that tenderness left to spare for his daughter, or had time and grief worn it away, leaving only a hard shell of the man he’d been?
Rising, she walked back into the living room and sank into a corner of the worn leather sofa, which faced the fireplace. She felt exhausted, but her frayed nerves kept her on edge. Whatever she and Jubal had to say to each other was bound to be painful.
A few minutes later she heard the light creak of his footsteps on the hardwood floor. He came around the sofa and sat down at a comfortable distance—close enough to talk but far enough to give her space. The coals in the fireplace cast a glow over his rugged features.
“Are you cold?” he asked. “I can put another log on the fire.”
She shook her head, pointing to her belly with a feeble laugh. “Don’t bother. I’ve got a furnace in here. The house looks nice, by the way.”
“Not much different. Just cleared out some.” He leaned forward, hands resting on his knees as he gazed into the fireplace. “How’ve you been, Ellie?”
“How’ve I been?” The irony of his question struck her. She shook her head. “Since you’re probably wondering, I might as well tell you the whole story. I married a man I met in law school—didn’t finish myself because he had a great offer from a firm in San Francisco. Lived the good life for a few years—fancy condo, cars, clothes, high society. Then I found out he was cheating. I went through counseling with him, trying to make it work. Even after I’d filed for divorce, I let him talk me into a trial reconciliation. It only lasted a few weeks, but”—she glanced down at her bulging middle—“as you see.”
“The jerk left you pregnant?” Jubal actually sounded angry.
“Not quite. By the time I found out I was expecting, he’d already married the current love of his life. I never told him about the baby. He still doesn’t know.”
“Is that wise?” He studied her, eyes narrowing. “The man has a responsibility—”
“I’m aware of that. But he doesn’t deserve this child. And I don’t want him in our lives. I can raise my little girl on my own.”
“Having pretty much done that myself, all I can do is wish you luck. Being a single parent can be tough.”
“Ben told me about your wife’s accident. What an awful tragedy for you and Gracie. I’m so sorry, Jubal.”
He leaned back into the couch, stretching his long legs out in front of him. His cowboy boots were scuffed and worn beneath the frayed hem of his jeans. This was a man who worked hard, with no need for vain trappings. He
was who he was, no excuses, no apologies. Until now Ellie had never realized how much she respected him for that.
“I remember Laura from school,” Ellie said. “She was a lovely girl—the perfect wife for you. I did you a favor by leaving.”
“Did you?” He didn’t look at her. “It’s been four years since the accident. It’s like it happened yesterday. There’s not a morning goes by when I don’t look at Gracie leaving for school and wish her mother was there to fuss over her and send her off looking pretty.”
“But you’ve done a fine job with her. She’s bright, caring, and respectful. And I get the impression she knows how to take care of herself.” Ellie could scarcely believe it. They were talking, almost like old friends. But something told her this truce was too fragile to last.
Jubal gazed into the dying fire. He hadn’t expected to enjoy having Ellie here, sharing his couch and catching him up on her life. He found himself wanting her to stay. But that wasn’t going to happen—especially after she heard what he needed to say. Turning toward her, he forced himself to begin.
“Gracie’s a tough little girl. But losing a mother is something no child survives without emotional scars. She was four when it happened—old enough to remember. She puts on a brave face, but that loss cut deep. It’s made her hungry for a woman’s affection—and set her up to get her heart broken.”
Restless, he rose and stood looking down at her. “I won’t see my daughter hurt again. That’s why I’m asking you to back off. The more time you let Gracie spend with you and your dog, the more devastated she’ll be when you leave. And you will leave, Ellie. You were never meant for Branding Iron. Nobody knows that better than I do.”
Ellie didn’t reply. She sat looking up at him, her face hauntingly beautiful in the firelight. He could almost imagine cupping that face between his hands, then bending down to brush her lips with his—except that a brush-kiss wouldn’t be enough. Pregnant and all, damn the consequences, he wanted to devour her.
“Maybe you should think about getting married again, Jubal,” she said. “Gracie told me there’d been ladies coming around—with cookies and meat loaf, she said. Surely there’s at least one woman out there who could be a good wife to you and a loving mother to your little girl.”