A Cowboy's Tears
Page 21
Still, there were some scary moments. Nightmares of inadequacy. Perfectly realistic feelings of having bitten off more than they could chew. There was lots of red tape. There were bureaucratic stalls and governmental snafus.
As the days became weeks and the weeks became months, sometimes they thought they would never see the children. At those times the photos Ian sent of three black-haired, brown-eyed urchins—Marcos, Pilar, and Antonio—seemed like no more than paper dreams.
Finally, a week ago, Ian had called again.
"I'm not going to preach this year," a voice said without preamble. "I'm playing Santa Claus instead."
Mace, who'd been kicking snow off his boots and shaking it out of his hair, took a moment to connect. "Santa Claus? Ian? Is that you? What are you talking about? Santa Claus where?"
"In Bozeman. Christmas Eve. Be at the airport at seven. Santa's bringing you a couple of sons and a daughter."
And now he and Jenny pressed their faces against the glass, their arms around each other, their hearts in their throats as they waited.
Behind them, Mace knew, were their friends.
"Do you mind if we come along?" Felicity and Becky had stopped by to ask them yesterday.
"We have to come," Becky said. "Some people go to stables. Other people go to airports," she explained. "It's what Christmas is all about."
And so they were there—all of them: Felicity, with Taggart holding Willy, and Becky with Abby in her arms; Tess and Noah with their three, Susannah, Clay and Scott; Jed, holding Neile, next to Brenna, and Tuck with Brenna's father leaning on him; Taggart's parents; Maggie and Robert Tanner and their little boys, Jared and Seth and Nick, and Maggie's two brothers, Duncan and Andy. All of them had come to pick up Ian and meet the new arrivals.
Even the middle Tanner brother, Luke, whom Mace barely knew, was there. He'd brought his family to spend Christmas with his brothers. He and his wife, Jill, and children, Keith and Katie and brand-new baby Jack had come to the airport, too. So had Jenny's sister, Teresa, up from Cody for the holidays, and—Mace's biggest shock of all—his rolling stone brother, Shane.
"It's Christmas," he'd said this morning, when Mace had looked astonished at opening the door to find him standing there. "Where else would I be? Besides—" Shane had grinned and punched him lightly on the arm "—a fat guy in a red suit left a lot of toys in my truck and I had to bring 'em to somebody. I don't get to be an uncle every day of the week."
"There it is." Jenny's voice was so quiet in the midst of the hubbub that Mace almost didn't hear her.
But then her fingers dug into his ribs, and he felt her tense against his side, and he pressed his nose against the glass and looked where she was looking, and, yes, there it was!
Blinking lights in the distance. Coming closer. Lower. And then the plane touched down. "I'm scared," Jenny whispered. "Are you scared?"
"Terrified," he admitted.
"We could turn and run," she said in a small voice.
Mace shook his head. "Been there. Done that. It doesn't work." He turned and drew her fully against him. "But we can do this. Together." He looked deep into her eyes. "Can't we?"
Jenny raised herself just enough to touch her lips to his. "Yes," she said. "Oh, yes."
Then the tunnel door opened and the first passengers began to appear. Grandmas and grandpas. Aunts, uncles. Brothers, sisters. Families and friends—home for Christmas—were all swooped down upon by eager relatives. Bundled off amid laughter and hugs and kisses.
And then there was quiet.
And then, at last, there was Ian.
He came out of the doorway with a little girl clutching one side of his coat, a boy clutching the other and a smaller, sleeping boy in his arms.
He stopped when he saw them, his eyes meeting first Jenny's, then Mace's. And then his gaze dropped to the children. The older boy looked worried. The girl looked scared.
"My children," Mace heard Jenny whisper, awed.
The family she'd always wanted. The family he'd wanted more than he'd ever dared admit.
"Our children," Mace corrected her softly. Their fingers squeezed together. Their hearts beat as one.
Together they walked toward Ian and the children.
With tears running down her face, Jenny held out her arms, and Ian settled the sleeping toddler in her embrace.
Mace brushed a finger across Antonio's still-baby-soft cheek, and then he hunkered down until he was on eye level with his brand-new son and daughter. They looked apprehensive, scared, but hopeful.
He felt apprehensive, scared, but hopeful … and as if he'd been given the best Christmas present in the world.
He felt his own tears brimming and did his best to blink them back as he held out his hands to Marcos and Pilar.
"Bienvenidos, mis hijos," he whispered, and if his voice broke, suddenly it didn't matter at all. He gathered them in—his son, his daughter—and held them next to his heart. "Welcome home."
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