by Renee Blare
Chapter Nine
The Texas sun glared through the open window, casting a beam of light across the kitchen table. Angela blew on her coffee. “I can’t do this much longer, Pete.”
Warm fingers dug into her tense shoulders and began their slow massage. “Remember what we talked about last night? From now on, we do this together.”
Her husband’s whisper lifted the hair from her cheek and Angie stared into her cup. Deep inside, she knew he was right.
Pete sat down. “Angela?”
“How can you be so confident?” She blinked back the tears burning at her eyes. “Aren’t you afraid?”
Anger flicked across her husband’s face before a veil slipped in place. “Honey, I’m doing my best to hold it together, but I can’t do this by myself. I may be praying for Bianca to come home, but I need you too.”
The hot liquid scorched a path down her throat but it saved her from answering. A tear slid down her cheek. “We can’t lose her, Pete.”
“She was never ours in the first place, baby.” Pete traced circles on the table with his finger. “I released our daughter into God’s hands the day she was born.”
Dust particles sparkling in the sunlight mesmerized her for a moment, and Angela cleared her throat. She winced. She’d cried so much the last two days, every part of her body ached.
A glimpse at the lonely tree in the other room caused her chest to seize. The tears pooled in her eyes. “But it’s Christmas.”
“Yes, it is, and I love you.” Pete removed a box from his pocket and placed it next to her mug. His lips brushed her cheek before he rose. He stopped in the arched doorway. “Merry Christmas, Angie.”
A stab of guilt shot through her as she stared at the package. Presents. She’d been waiting to shop for her husband. It’d been such a grand plan, at least in her mind. Their Christmas Eve spree, flitting from one store to the next, grabbing a gift for Pete along the way. A grand plan until a winter storm hit the Rockies and turn her world upside down.
Angela cradled the box in her hands and moaned. During her two-day rampage, she’d forgotten Christmas, her favorite day of the year.
* * *
“Here’s another one.” Devon let the golden ball swing on the end of his finger by the hanger. “Which color do you want now?”
Bianca hung the ornament and rubbed her nose. “I’m not sure.”
“I don’t think you need any more.” Frustration peppered his tone. “It’s awesome.”
Bianca ducked her head, heat rushing up her neck. “Thanks, but what about some more red?” She pointed at the center of the tree and held out her hand.
“Yes, ma’am.” Devon hooked a hanger and plopped the ornament in her palm. “Anything else?”
He began rummaging through a tote. “Mom had some garland or beads or something. Do you want that?”
She lifted a shoulder in a small shrug. “I guess.”
He looked up, a frown puckering his brow. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Bianca tossed one of the empty cartons into a tote. “I just wish my mom—”
His warm hand stopped her. “The snow’s lightened up and the wind’s died down quite a bit. They should get the roads open soon. I’ll be able to take you to town. Your family’s gotta be worried sick.”
Her mom and dad. Her stomach flipped at the thought of seeing her parents again. Joy mingled with apprehension as nausea crept into her throat. Were they really as excited as they professed or was duty forcing their hand? She ground the heel of her hand into her forehead before peeking at him through her lashes. “My parents are probably relieved I’m not there.”
His finger lifted her chin. “What on earth are you talking about?”
A tear slipped past her defenses and tracked down her cheek. “You’re not looking at the most prized daughter, Devon. Believe me, your parents wouldn’t want you near me.”
“I don’t think you have dibs on being the worst child in the world, Bee. In fact, I may have that honor.” His lips twisted and he wiped the moisture from her chin.
“Maybe, but that doesn’t mean my parents aren’t mad.” She attempted a smile. It fell flat and she shrugged. “I can’t blame them. After the things I’ve done?”
A long silence settled on the room. She waited for Devon to respond but he didn’t look her way. Instead, he opened another box of decorations and pulled out a string of lights. Tiny multi-colored bulbs flashed along its strand of green wire when he plugged them into the wall.
“Cool. They work.” A boyish grin on the cowboy’s face struck a chord in her heart. “Where you want ’em?”
A sudden flicker of pain sent her to his side. “Give me those. You’re ridiculous.”
He hugged his arm protectively. “Hey, I waited, didn’t I? I wanted to hang these first.”
Bianca rolled her eyes. The rude sound slipped through her nose and Devon’s eyebrow shot up. “Yeah, right. And I’d have been decorating with the Walking Dead. No, thanks.”
“The what?”
Confusion added a cute lilt to his western drawl, and Bianca doubled over with laughter. She climbed on the step stool he’d dug up from the storage room. “Never mind. Let’s say you were exhausted enough. You really need to get a television, dude.”
A rough sound bounced off her back as she looped the string of lights over the first hook. “It’s so cool your mom kept these up here.”
“Mmm…she loved this room. She’d doll it up for every season of the year.” Devon picked his way through the scattered boxes. “She called it her sanctuary.”
Heat spread through the small of her back at his touch and she looked down. “From what? The ranch?”
A dimple dug into his cheek and his silver gray eyes sparkled. “Sort of. From the larger creatures.”
“I bet.” Bianca giggled. “But which ones?”
A wounded expression passed over his face. “I have no clue what you’re talking about.”
She fought the ongoing battle with her laughter and lost. “Stop it. I need to get these hung up before I make Christmas dinner.”
A few minutes later, Bianca stepped down from the stool. “Well? What do you think?” When she was met with silence, she glanced over her shoulder. “Devon?”
Instead of surveying her recent hard labor, he scrubbed at his chin and stared at the floor. “What a mess.”
“Not that.” Her sharp tone brought his head up with a snap. She gestured toward the window. “The lights?”
Devon surveyed the twinkling strand and nodded. “Looks good.”
Bianca mumbled beneath her breath and scooped up the step stool. “Well, don’t worry, my cooking’s better than my decorating.”
“We don’t need a big meal.” He relieved her of the small stool with one swoop. “If you want, I’ll throw burgers on the grill.”
A shudder rocked her. The mere thought of such a meal caused her stomach to turn. “I don’t mind cooking. Besides, it’s snowing outside. I found a chicken in your freezer, and its thawed and ready go. If you’re tired, take a nap. I’ll wake you when it’s done.”
Devon cocked his head to the side and took a step closer. “Trying to get rid of me so soon? Or do you want to join me?”
“No.” Heat rushed to her face as a nervous laugh worked loose. “I’m sure your arm’s hurting and—”
His lips swooped down and silenced her flustered ramble. Bianca wrapped her arms around his neck, careful not to press on his injured shoulder. She floated into the kiss while her heart explored uncharted territory.
* * *
“Yes, sir. Thank you for calling.” Relief pulsed through him. The telephone shook and Pete almost missed the cradle.
“Honey?” His wife popped into his office. Her hair poked out from all sides as if she’d stuck her head under a pillow. “Who was on the phone?”
Rolling his chair back, he waved her into the room. “Come here, baby. I have news.”
“Good, I hope.”
&n
bsp; He wrapped an arm around her waist. The fact that she settled in his lap without a tug from him sent joy pulsing through his soul. Two days ago, this would never have happened. He’d been praying for her to talk to him, much less touch him.
“I believe so.” Pete nuzzled the nape of her neck, following it with a kiss. “The storm’s allowed the plows to get out and they’re expecting to start the search soon.”
“Oh, praise the Lord.” Her bellow perforated the room.
His ears rang but he cradled her close to his chest. Pete swallowed the rock resting in the center of his throat. His wife was back. She’d returned from whatever hole she’d fled into.
“Yes, I agree.” He chuckled. “He’s worthy of our praise. And He’s watching over our daughter.”
Angela twisted in his arms. Large droplets hung on her lashes as she searched his eyes. “You never had any doubts, did you?”
“About the Lord?” Pete thumbed the tears away. “No. But honey, if it was left up to me, I’d be in Wyoming right now.”
He traced the deep line that separated her eyebrows. “Now, don’t get mad. I’m not saying I’d leave you. But I am her father. I don’t know where our baby is and I don’t like it.”
Her jaw jutted forward and Pete sighed. Great. He’d ticked her off. Again.
Angela’s spine stiffened into a board. “And all that stuff about trust and pray?”
Latching onto her hips, Pete kept her on his lap. “Angela—”
“Why tell me to do it if you weren’t going to bother with it yourself?”
“I never said that. This isn’t coming out right.” Pete groaned. “I do trust God and I pray.”
Doubt clouded his wife’s face, but she didn’t utter a word. She simply stared at him with that “keep talking” expression. The one that told him he needed to do damage control fast. Or his daughter may be coming home to a war zone. Pearl Harbor, Waterloo, D-Day—nothing would compare to the destruction in this house.
“Look, I may not know where our daughter is, but God does. He’s more powerful than I can ever be, so I’ve decided to let Him handle this one. Otherwise, this whole thing will destroy me.” His windpipe closed and his voice broke.
Weakness—not a manly trait. Kolceski’s didn’t cry. They didn’t whine. But right now, he didn’t care. All he wanted was his little girl home.
Angela’s silky tresses brushed his cheek as she laid her head on his shoulder. For the first time in a long while, his wife’s arms encircled him without any provocation.
“Oh, Pete.” The mumbled words into his arm barely reached his ears. “I’m so sorry. I’m the selfish monster in all of this. I didn’t consider what you’re going through.”
“You haven’t been that bad.” Even as he said the words, she reared back and glared at him.
“Don’t do that.” Angela shook his hand from the back of her head. “Remember what we promised each other? No lies. I’ve been awful and you know it. Do you forgive me?”
Pete’s dismissal of her burden vanished at her question. She didn’t beg as he expected. No. His beautiful wife—so much like his missing daughter—asked in matter-of-fact fashion for a pardon. His hand tightened on her neck. “Yes.”
She reached behind her and peeled his fingers loose. Placing the present in his hand, Angela gave him a small smile. “Merry Christmas, honey. I love you.”
Chapter Ten
The day room smelled of spiced chicken and mushrooms. A covered bowl slid next to the mashed potatoes, and Bianca joined him.
She spread the napkin on her lap. “I hope you like flat bread. The rolls didn’t rise.”
“Works for me.” Devon peeked beneath the kitchen towel.
Her teeth chewed on her bottom lip. “Are you ready?”
“Almost. I need to thank God for something first.” He reached for her hand. A rosy hue caressed her cheeks and he grinned when she ducked her head.
No matter how long—or short—of a time he spent with this woman, it wasn’t enough. He wanted more. Devon squeezed her fingers as he bowed his head. “Father God, I thank You for this day, for the gift of your Son who died on the cross, and the love You offer each one of us through Him. Forgive me for the bitter man I’ve become. That’s not what You wanted for me. Thank you for sending Bee to me. Be with her on her journey home. Provide traveling mercies and reconciliation with her parents. You know what’s needed. But for now, let us enjoy this Christmas meal with grace. Bless this food and the time we have together.”
He lifted his head and winked at the beautiful woman across the table. Ignoring her wide eyes, Devon scooped a spoonful of beans and piled them on his plate. The mushroom gravy coated the vegetables with perfection, and his mouth watered. He plopped a chicken breast in the center before digging into the mashed potatoes. When Bianca speared a piece of meat as well, his hand froze on the bread bowl. “I thought you didn’t eat chicken?”
Green, yellow, even orange? Wasn’t that what she’d said in her tinkling tones? Although the chicken breast was white meat, at this particular moment, with Bianca’s preparation, it may be construed as orange.
“I eat it on occasion, as well as fish, especially if it’s fresh.” Blue eyes the color of the tropical sea danced across the table as she proceeded to load her plate with as much food as a teenage boy. “And I saw your brood in the barn.”
“How do you know this is one of my chickens?” He stuffed a piece of bread in his mouth.
“I’m a chef, Devon.” She poured gravy over her potatoes, not bothering to look at him. “I can recognize a plucked and butchered chicken even if it is frozen.”
“Yes, well, my mom was an amazing woman.” His vision blurred and he directed his gaze to the windows. He blinked. “Hey, the snow’s almost stopped. Wow, the mountains are beautiful.”
A smile stretched across her face as she followed the light flakes drifting down in front of the blanketed Big Horns. “Oh, I wish I had a camera. I’ve always dreamed of a white Christmas.”
Devon chuckled as excitement transformed his guest. Bianca shuffled in her seat as she shoveled one bite after the other in her mouth, her gaze fixed on the winter wonderland outside. He wiped his mouth and pushed away from the table. “Yes, absolutely beautiful. But how would you like to experience Christmas…Wyoming style?”
* * *
Bianca ducked too late and a snowball exploded against her cheek. “Doggone you. This is war.”
She scooped up a pile of snow and fashioned it into the biggest ball yet and heaved it toward the fleeing culprit, a limping cowboy in jeans and yellow parka. “You can run but you can’t hide!”
“Oh, yeah? Watch me.” Devon’s muffled dare came from behind the truck. Another snowball flew and a grunt followed. “Hey, you hit me with a rock that time.”
“I did not.” Creeping closer to the vehicle, Bianca held her breath. Maybe she had tossed a stone at him, but it’d been a little one. “You’re such a baby.”
“What did you call me?” His head popped out from behind the bumper of his pickup. His eyebrows were obscured, arched high beneath his knitted cap. Suddenly, his eyes narrowed and he crept forward.
“Nothing.” The determined glint in his gaze meant only one thing, and she wheeled around, snow flying. Bianca made it two steps before landing face-first in a powdery bank of white.
His warm back pressed into her and she lay there, frozen, until his fingers began to dance along her ribcage.
“Oh no, you don’t.” She bucked but couldn’t shake the solid cowboy loose. Soon, the torture proved too much for her willpower. Her laughter rang throughout the ranch. “Okay, uncle, uncle! I yield.”
“About time.” His grunt accompanied the sudden release of his weight. Devon rolled her to her back. “Man, you’re stubborn.”
Flakes clung to her lashes and he brushed them from her face. His silver eyes never ceased to amaze her. Who could be born with those eyes and not have every woman in the world falling at his feet? A giggle bubble
d in her chest. That’s exactly what she’d done.
A slight wince marred Devon’s forehead when he shifted to the side and his ribcage pushed against her elbow. A gasp climbed into her throat. “Your ribs. Are they—”
“They’re fine.” His bare hand caressed her cheek. It fell to her neck as his lips brushed her lips. A gust of air cooled their kiss and they broke apart. He touched her nose with a finger before scrambling to his feet. “In fact, it’s turned into an amazing Christmas.”
Bianca brushed the snow from her jeans and rose. Blue sky peeked through the bank of clouds hanging low over the mountains. She glanced over her shoulder and bit her lip. The snowman they’d built together stared at her, Devon’s ratty cowboy hat tipped forward as if in farewell. My time in paradise may have run out.
* * *
“And they’re sure it’s her car?” His wife’s voice wobbled.
Angela resembled the statues on the courthouse lawn with her back as rigid as a stone pillar. Because of fear or excitement, he couldn’t decide which, since she faced the kitchen window. She’d been subdued all morning, content to explore the options on her Christmas gift, a new Smart Watch for her phone. Of course, he was sure she’d dialed Bianca a time or two, only to see tears shimmering in her eyes when met with her voicemail.
So much for distraction. Good intentions always came back to bite him where it hurt the most—his heart. “Yes, honey, but they’re still searching. The woman said the skies are clearing and the weather is supposed to hold for the rest of the weekend.”
“But they aren’t very optimistic, are they?”
Pete could’ve crawled into her arms that very minute and cried on her shoulder. He’d placed his daughter in the arms of Jesus. But now the search had begun, he wanted to snatch her back. “Give them time.”
“I’m trying.” Angela spun away from the sink and stalked to the table. She dropped into a chair, the floor shaking with the impact. “This has been one of the hardest days of my life. One minute I’m praying for strength and am at peace, the next…I can’t explain it. My emotions are all over the place. I wish I was strong like you.”