by Meg Maxwell
“But I am at peace with one thing,” he said, “one very important thing, and I guess it helps make everything else easier to swallow.”
She leaned forward, curious. “What?”
“I ran into Delia Cooper today in the grocery store. She lives next door to the ranch I grew up on. She and my mother were friendly, but I wasn’t sure if she would know anything about my mother’s personal life. Turns out she did. My father did know I wasn’t his biological child.”
As she listened to him talk about everything Delia had said, she could see that same sense of peace that had been on Phoebe’s face on his face now as he spoke about something that tilted the world on its axis for him again.
“Oh, Logan,” she said, reaching for his hand, so moved by the story of his father proposing to the woman he’d always loved, taking responsibility for another’s man child and vowing to raise that child as his own. “That’s a beautiful history.”
“It definitely helped me feel more okay about the whole mess. I know more about my history. And there are no secrets—Phoebe knows how we’re connected. Everything is more out in the open instead of hidden away. Sometimes I do want to sweep it all back under the rug, but then sometimes I really do know it’s best it’s not. I hate secrets.”
Clementine nodded. “Me too. You did Phoebe a huge service today, Logan. You changed her life. Heck, I think you fixed her heart in a lot of ways.”
He leaned back in his chair, clearly uncomfortable with the train of conversation.
“I do wish she responded to me the way she does to you,” she said, sipping her tea and wrapping her hands around the comforting warmth of the mug. “I know that’s small of me to be...envious. But I do wish we had that same kind of closeness.”
“She’ll come around, Clem. You know that, right?”
Clementine wasn’t so sure. “You’re just such a natural father figure. You took on the boys straight from the rodeo circuit. You’d never even been around kids before. And here you are, raising them without a hitch.”
He raised an eyebrow. “The first two months I was scared to death of my nephews. And scared of failing them. I didn’t know what I was doing.”
“But you did everything right. Like I said, you’re a natural. You just seem to get how to act and talk around kids.”
“Clementine, you’re running the kids’ Christmas show. Of course you know what you’re doing with kids.”
“I have a lot of help. I thought I was good with kids from all the babysitting I do. But I can’t seem to connect with Phoebe at all. She won’t talk to me. She gives one-word answers and I always get the sense she wants me to leave her alone.” Tears started pricking Clementine’s eyes and she blinked them away.
“Hey,” he said, reaching a hand over to squeeze hers. “It’s just gonna take time, Clem. Maybe she’s just afraid to get too close to you. One word from you and she’s gone, just like with Mrs. Nivens. Just like with her aunt. Just like with her mother.”
Clementine’s eyes welled with tears as she wondered if that was true. It broke her heart to think that the sweet girl had internalized her fear to that degree. Clementine tried to blink back the tears, but they came slipping down her cheeks anyway. She covered her face in her hands and felt Logan wrapping his arms around her.
“It’s going to be okay,” he said. “Just give it time and remember you can’t rush some things.”
She wanted to just stay in his arms, to feel his strength, his belief in her and that everything really would work out, but Logan was going to smash her heart to smithereens and she didn’t think she could bear it.
Her heart was already always on the verge of breaking because of how much she wanted to forge a strong relationship with Phoebe and how much the girl backed away from her. Trying to win Logan’s love too? She couldn’t even try anymore. First of all, she shouldn’t have to try. Second, he’d already broken her heart once. She had to let go of the dream of a future with Logan. He didn’t want her in his life. He’d told her so tonight.
“I’d better get going,” she said, rushing up. “Oh—I almost forgot to ask for the cap.”
He eyed her, then stood up. They headed toward the door and he reached for the baseball cap on a peg. “If I can help,” he said, “bridge the gap or make things easier, just call me.” He handed her the cap.
I wish we could just be one big happy family, she thought. You, me, the boys and Phoebe. Clementine hadn’t had a Christmas wish in so long, so many years. But now she did. A wish that wasn’t going to come true.
From now on, she had to distance herself from Logan Grainger. She’d allow Phoebe all the time with him that Logan permitted, of course, but she wouldn’t look for him at rehearsal drop-off and pickup anymore. She wouldn’t let herself think about him, wouldn’t let herself drift off to sleep fantasizing about him.
She had to let him go.
* * *
As the weeks passed, Clementine focused on building her relationship with Phoebe, teaching her how to cook the way her mother had taught Clementine, making omelets and burgers and desserts, helping her with fourth-grade projects and studying for quizzes, taking her shopping for clothes and admiring how Phoebe stuck with her own style, despite the mean-spirited teasing of Emily Catwaller, whom she’d learned to ignore. Plus, they spent three evenings a week at rehearsal together. Working on the show was a labor of love and everyone was enjoying themselves, from running through the show top to bottom to digging out the backdrops from years past and setting everything up on the stage. Clementine wasn’t able to volunteer at the foster home as often as she had before, but Louisa was thrilled that Clementine had become a foster mother herself and more than once had offered sage advice to Clementine. The advice was the same from everyone: give it time. Somehow over the past few weeks, Clementine’s mantra went from enthusiastic trumpets to broken record.
And three more times, she’d taken Phoebe over to Logan’s to learn the ropes of working on a cattle ranch, each time in a different area—first was the cattle, then the barn, then the land itself. Logan had even promised Clementine he’d continue her horseback riding lessons since that was the way to start learning how to be a bronc rider. The girl idolized Logan, and she tended to make it easy for him to be around her by not talking about anything but the ranch and the rodeo.
It was interesting to Clementine that Phoebe didn’t talk much about Clyde with Logan; in fact, she’d only mention him in the most casual way, such as, Oh yeah, Clyde once told me that bull riding is all about staying grounded on the bull’s back and keeping your core balance—that means focusing on your grip and your hips. Logan always seemed charmed by how much Phoebe knew about bull riding. But she tended not to say personal things about Clyde, and while Clementine was surprised about that, Logan seemed relieved at the end of every “work” week with Phoebe.
And still, the distance between Clementine and Phoebe remained. Clementine was beginning to accept it. Three weeks wasn’t that long. She might have to give up Logan Grainger ever loving her, ever wanting a future with her, but she’d never give up on Phoebe and breaking through the brick wall. Never.
Now, as Clementine waited for Phoebe in front of the elementary school so they could walk to the Blue Gulch Children’s Christmas Spectacular dress rehearsal together, Phoebe said, “Do you think we could make a stop at Blue Gulch Gifts? I finally earned enough money to buy what I was saving up for.”
“Sure,” Clementine said. She was dying to know what it was, then realized it was probably a Christmas present for Logan.
They headed down Blue Gulch Street, passing the smoothie shop and coffee shop and the library and finally reached the gift shop. “Would you like me to come in with you or do you want some privacy?”
“I’ll be fine on my own,” Phoebe said.
Clementine wasn’t surprised to hear that. Fifteen minutes
later, Clementine almost went in to look for Phoebe and let her know they had to get to the rehearsal, but a minute later Phoebe was back with a small bag. “I’ll put it in my backpack to keep it safe,” she said, kneeling down on the sidewalk and carefully sliding the bag in.
“I’m glad you were able to buy what you wanted. You worked hard for that money.”
Phoebe glanced up at her and smiled, but didn’t say another word until they arrived at the town hall and she ran ahead with some girls she’d become friends with. It was no surprise to Clementine that Emily Catwaller had not auditioned for the Christmas show.
Tonight was a big night for the kids and everyone was excited: it was the final dress rehearsal, and then tomorrow night, the curtain would rise. The show, then Christmas Eve in three days. It was a big week.
Inside the bustling community room, Clementine put on her official director’s Santa hat and was about to go onstage to call the dress rehearsal to begin when a volunteer mentioned that their lead actress would be ten minutes late. “Let’s break up into groups one last time,” Clementine announced. “Run through your songs until it’s time to start.”
“Hi, Clementine!” Harry Grainger said with a devilish smile as he ran over from the play area. He was in his rancher costume, wearing his little brown cowboy hat and his chaps.
She scooped him up and tickled his belly, then set him down. “Where, oh where could your brother be, I wonder?” She heard a familiar giggle from behind her, then leaned down and scooped up Henry, giving him a tickle too. “You boys head over to your group. Do you see Miss Sarah over there?” Clementine asked, pointing.
“I see her!” Harry said.
“I saw her first!” Henry said and they beelined over.
God, she adored those boys. She watched them for a moment, trying not to think about their handsome uncle, then was overcome with the sensation that someone was watching her. She followed the feeling until her gaze landed on her birth mother.
Over the past month, Clementine had been glad that Lacey Woolen only showed up to volunteer once a week. Whenever Lacey would enter the community room, Clementine would be aware of her to the point of distraction, despite the fact that Lacey avoided her at rehearsals. The usual, Clementine would think. Close but not too close. There, but not there in a way that would bridge the gap between them. These days, Clementine’s heart, mind and soul were occupied with bridging the gap between herself and a certain nine-year-old girl whom she adored, but Lacey Woolen still managed to upend her.
She looked at Lacey sitting in the back row, full-on stared at the woman, and Lacey looked away. She was going to have to let Lacey go too, she knew. Just like she’d been trying so hard to let Logan go. He was never out of her thoughts, but she tried to push him out whenever he muscled his way in with an image of his handsome face or a memory of something kind he’d said or done.
Yes—she was going to have to let her birth mother go. And that was on Clementine, something she had to do inside herself; it had nothing to do with Lacey Woolen at all, involved no conversation, no heart-to-heart. First of all, Lacey didn’t do heart-to-hearts. Second, if Clementine needed Phoebe to accept hard truths about her life, then Clementine herself needed to start doing the same. Lacey would never be accessible and that was simply that.
The determination, the decision, helped her get her mind off her birth mother and on to the rehearsal. Their young lead actress should be here any minute. Except just when the girl walked in the door with a big sorry!, Louisa came over and reported that one of the counselors for the eight-to-ten-year-olds had called in sick just as the other counselor staggered over looking pale and said she wasn’t feeling well. Clementine sent the poor counselors home and hoped they’d feel better tomorrow, if not by Christmas. In the meantime, she had no choice but to assign herself and Lacey to work with Phoebe’s group.
The thought made her kind of uneasy, but she put the three of them together, directing the small, always boisterous group of kids to the back row where Lacey sat. Phoebe’s expression didn’t change as she sat down two seats away from Lacey. Clementine had introduced the two the first week that Phoebe came to Blue Gulch. Watching her birth mother and her foster child assess each other during that introduction had been a very strange thing. Since then, Phoebe was quiet around Lacey and tended to move away whenever the woman came near. Clementine had expected questions from Phoebe about Lacey, about what it was like to have her birth mother living right in the same town, but Phoebe had never brought her up. Clementine wasn’t entirely sure if Phoebe was avoiding asking or really wasn’t interested.
“Clementine, can I go get a drink of water?” Joey Parker asked, pulling her out of her thoughts. The nine-year-old was one of Clementine’s best singers. “I need to water my voice.”
“Me too!” another boy said.
At Clementine’s okay, the entire group of eight-to-ten-year-olds followed Joey to the water fountain on the far side of the room. Except Phoebe. She stayed where she was at the end of the row, Clementine next to her, and Lacey on the other side of Clementine.
Phoebe leaned forward and looked at Lacey. “Is it weird to know you have a daughter that someone else raised?”
Clementine gasped. Where the heck had that come from? Phoebe had barely said two words to Lacey in the past month. “Phoebe, I—”
Lacey held up a hand, pushing her long dark braid behind her shoulder. “No, her question is a fair one. And it’s one of the great things about kids, isn’t it? That they say what’s on their minds, say it straight.”
“So is it weird?” Phoebe asked, her voice flat. “I mean, don’t you wish things were different even though you’re the one who made them the way they are. The way they were?”
So Phoebe was interested. Of course she was. She’d been holding back, the way she’d held back with Clementine, but something in her burst free tonight.
To Phoebe, Lacey represented her own mother, Clementine realized. She wanted her questions answered. Once and for all.
Please say the right things, Lacey, whatever those things are, Clementine thought. When Clementine had asked her questions over the years, Lacey mostly avoided answering directly. Clementine had no idea what her birth mother would say. She glanced around, glad the other kids had gone to the water fountain, glad for all the singing in the room. No one could hear their conversation.
“It is weird,” Lacey said. “It’s weird and it hurts in a very deep place. But when Clementine was a kid, I couldn’t take care of her. I wanted to, but sometimes, something even stronger than my love for Clementine gripped me and took over.”
“My mom isn’t even really my mom anymore,” Phoebe said, her voice low and sad. “I know she’s not coming for Christmas. She’s never coming back.”
Clementine blinked back her tears. She wanted to break into the conversation, but she knew she should stay silent. Right now, Phoebe and Lacey could do more for each other than Clementine could by putting in her own thoughts.
“I’m so sorry to hear that,” Lacey said. “I wanted to be a mother, a good mother, to Clementine. But I couldn’t. No matter how much I wanted to in my heart. You want to know something?”
“What?” Phoebe asked a little nervously.
“I loved Clementine with all my heart when she was born. When she was two and five and eight—when I terminated my parental rights so that another mother could be what I couldn’t be,” she whispered. “It doesn’t mean I didn’t love her. I did. And I do.”
Clementine stared at Lacey. She’d never heard the woman say anything like that before.
“Do you think my mother loves me?” Phoebe asked Lacey.
“Yes,” Lacey said, and Clementine’s heart almost burst out of her chest. She had said the right thing for sure. “I’m one hundred percent sure of it.”
“Well, I don’t believe that,” Phoebe said. “
You’re here. You’ve always been here. My mother left and that was it.” Her face crumpled and she shot up and ran right through the door.
Oh no. Clementine rushed over to Louisa and asked her to take over the rehearsal, then went running out the door, Lacey behind her.
They stopped by the huge Christmas tree, looking in every direction. There was no sign of Phoebe. They ran around to the back of the town hall to the playground, but she wasn’t on the tire swings or at the top of the slide or behind any of the trees or sitting along the fence.
“Let’s split up,” Lacey said. “Whoever finds her texts the other.”
Clementine nodded, her heart beating out of her chest. “Okay. And thank you.”
They rushed back around the building, Lacey heading across Blue Gulch Street, looking all around.
Clementine started up the other side of the street, glancing in the doorways, hoping to see that little face she’d come to love so much, those dear hazel eyes. But she didn’t see Phoebe anywhere.
She pulled her out her cell phone and punched in Logan’s number.
“Everything okay with the twins?” he asked.
“Yes. But Phoebe ran off in tears,” she said in one breath. “I’m so scared, Logan. I can’t find her anywhere.”
“I’m on my way,” he said and for a moment, relief flooded her until she spun around, looking in all directions for the child who’d become her daughter and was nowhere in sight. “We’ll find her.”
We’ll find her, she repeated to herself. Everything is going to be okay, she added, trying to hold on to Logan’s promise.
* * *
Logan had checked everywhere he could think for Phoebe, including his own ranch, not that the girl could have made it out here on her own. She was somewhere in town, somewhere near the town hall. He thought about last August, when Harry had gone missing in the woods through a torn fence on his property. Detective Nick Slater, who was now married to Clementine’s sister, Georgia, had noticed the silver stripe of Henry’s sneakers poking out under an evergreen, and Logan had almost fainted with relief. He had to think like Detective Slater, look for orange sneakers sticking out—close to where she’d gone missing.