by Tanya Hanson
Scott smiled a hello and brought her back to reality. “Hope you don’t mind, Tiffany. No way I can go back to the ranch in this weather.” He looked around. “Where’s Rache?”
Bragg’s voice came through, tinged with worry. “Last I heard, a deposition in Rustic Canyon. Hope she had good sense to stay there. I hate to reckon she’s stuck in the canyon.”
Scott blew through his teeth. “She’s a smart one. I think Nick’s got an aunt or something there. One thing our big sister’s got is brains. Make that two things. Common sense, as well.” He walked over to the coffee table and laid down a package and his laptop.
“What’s that?” Bragg guffawed. “Your survival gear?”
“Yep.” Scott snickered back. “I never travel without my computer. Worse yet, leave it in the truck. I got those handmade chocolates Ma likes. Twenty dollars a pound. I’m not leaving them to freeze to death in my truck. Couldn’t find anything else to get her.”
“Well, we can certainly add them to our starvation rations,” Tiffany said with a laugh. “Hi, Scott. Glad you got here OK.” She held out a hand and Scott grabbed it.
That seemed to bring Tony to life. “Um…I better head out of here before things get worse. Didn’t mean to fall asleep on y’all.”
Scott shook his head, eyes wide with curiosity at Tony’s presence. “You wouldn’t get far. Wind’s tossing snow every which way. There’ll be white-out before long. I barely made it to the church parking lot where I stashed my truck.”
“You walked from there?” Tiffany gasped. “That’s got to be, what, four blocks or more? No wonder you looked like Dr. Zhivago when you walked in.”
All three men dropped their jaws. “Who?” they said in unison.
“A guy during the Russian revolution who deserted and trudged a million miles through blizzards just to get back to the one he loved.” The one he loved? Ah, where had that come from? She rushed on. “Just one of the best movies ever.”
Matty nuzzled her neck. Another feeding was upon them.
“My stepmom’s half-Russian. I was raised on that movie.”
The memories made her ache, and she busied herself with Matty who was squirming with starvation. “Look, you warm up, Scott. I’ve got to change and feed the baby, but I know there are some frozen pizzas in the freezer.”
“I’ll help,” Bragg offered and her heart plummeted to her toes and back up again.
“The pizzas?” Tiffany asked.
“Nope. Matty. He and I are buddies, now.” His half-lidded glance caught her breath.
“Well, he needs a change.”
“I can do that.”
Tiffany’s disbelief must have tightened her mouth or eyes because Bragg rushed on, flushing in a way that brought summertime to his carved cheekbones. Her tummy fluttered.
“Aw, Rachel explained what to do.”
“Explained? So you’ve never exactly done it? Didn’t you have a baby sister?” She couldn’t help teasing him, tingling at his shy smile.
His flush deepened. “Well, nope. To changing a baby’s britches, I mean. I was ‘the baby’ of the family until Chelsea surprised Ma and Pa. I was seven. Guess everybody reckoned I was still too young and helpless to pull diaper duty.”
Tiffany’s laughed. “Then this first time around, I’ll supervise.”
“I can start pizzas.” Scott stated while Tony stood there like a fifth wheel’s flat tire. He looked ill-at-ease, but she couldn’t forget that without him, she’d be stuck in a ditch, covered with snow, and likely on her way to the Promised Land by morning.
And she sure didn’t mean the neighboring town of Promise.
“What time is it?” Bragg asked, worried. She understood. His sisters were out in the storm. When Tiffany had taken the day off to try to repair the damage back home, Chelsea had stepped in on her way to a Christmas party tonight.
“Pushing seven, and dark as death out there,” Tony muttered. “Thanks for letting me crash, but I better push along.”
Well, no matter how discomfiting it might be for him to be here, he had rescued her. She had to do the same. Although she’d only known Rachel two weeks, the woman’s deep faith was palpable, and in her charity, she’d never shove anybody out into a bitter snowstorm. Tiffany took charge.
“Well, you’ll be crashing some more.” she said. “There’s plenty of room here.” She glanced cautiously at the brothers. Both shrugged, but she sensed wariness, so she gave the orders. “Now, you, Tony, you find the DVD and get the movie set up.” She pointed. “Underneath the stairs in the closet.”
“What movie?”
“Dr. Zhivago. You guys’ll love it.”
“Sounds like a snoozer.” Tony clomped over to where she pointed. “How do you know it’s here?”
Bragg spoke up. “Bet it’s there. Rachel’s got every classic movie there is.”
Tony opened the closet door and poked around the collection with a grunt. “Didn’t know your sister’s eighty-nine years old,” he snarked.
Tiffany watched Bragg’s knuckles tense as they headed upstairs to the nursery.
“Of all the people to get snowbound with,” he grumbled.
“Who, me?” Tiffany started to flirt, just to lighten the mood, and regretted it at once. Bragg was off limits. Case closed. She ought to carve it into her brain. But the look he sent her brought to mind endless possibilities, all of them glorious.
All of them impossible.
“Well, I understand there’s bad blood between him and your family, but what else could I do?”
“Aw, you did the right thing. Rachel will approve. Jesus told us what we do for others is like we’re doing it for Him. Let’s get this bad boy cleaned up.” Bragg’s chuckle sounded forced as he laid the baby on the changing table.
Jesus?
Tiffany wanted to grumble, now. Yes, the Martins were deeply committed Christians, but it would be hard to hang around here if they started proselytizing her. Faith sure wasn’t on her list of things to do.
“Bad boy? He’s a darling, a little lamb.” Tiffany sniffed and bent to bury her face in Matty’s tummy, longing for Connor. Matty giggled, his hunger forgotten momentarily. Then his little face crunched, and she read the signal immediately. “You go ahead with the big change, Mr. Mom, and I’ll get a bottle heated up.”
A sudden panic glazed Bragg’s face, and she didn’t have the heart to let him suffer. “You’re scared, aren’t you? Of a teensie-tiny diaper. Think you can handle heating the bottle? Thirty seconds, OK?”
“Aye, aye, captain,” Bragg said with a salute and that half-squint that might one day bring her to her knees. He rushed out of the room as if afraid she’d change her mind.
Tiffany glanced around the nursery, decorated in a cute combo of camouflage and cowboy. It fit; Nick worked the Hearts Crossing as geneticist and served his country in the Middle East. Tiffany had her own room off the kitchen, as Rachel tended her son during the nighttime, but the single bed in the baby’s room would work well for her tonight with the full house going on downstairs.
“Matt, your five-star bottle is warm and ready,” Bragg called out, his footsteps noisy on the stairs.
Her heart tumbled, and she ordered the feelings to stop at once. Even in a perfect world, she doubted they could even be friends. Never could she admit to Bragg how she’d betrayed her brother. The Martins stuck together, defended each other. In the old days, they would have fought to the death. They’d never understand. Besides, they were people of faith. Even she recalled the story of Judas’ betrayal. It was a bad, bad sin. So bad he hadn’t even been able to wait for forgiveness.
“Here ya go.” Bragg handed her a bottle, and she tested it first, nodding in approval. “Unfortunately Scott has decided the fastest way to supper is nuke the pizzas in the microwave. I’m afraid we aren’t in for much of a treat.”
Sinking into the rocking chair, Tiffany laughed with Bragg as Matty gobbled his own dinner. Bragg half-sat at the edge of the bed, elbows poking his kn
ees. Even though she didn’t know him well, she knew the worry etching his face had nothing to do with soggy pizza.
“I’m sure your family’s OK, Bragg. They’ve all lived around here for years.”
“Oh, I know that. When we’re separated, we’re all supposed to contact a family friend in San Antonio. I texted about Scott and me. It went slow, but did send. Cell reception around here isn’t that great on a good day.” He shrugged. “Canyons, hills. Mountains. Seems land lines are down, too. Can’t reach Ma.” He met her gaze, but his eyes were bleak. “She’s a woman of faith and all, but I don’t like her to worry.”
“Well, um…like I said…”
“Wanna pray with me?” His lids dropped.
Whoa. She hesitated long enough for his eyebrows to draw together.
“Aw, I didn’t mean to get personal on you,” he said. “Seems whenever I’ve gotten stuck in the past and didn’t let God in, things got worse fast.”
“Why sure,” she managed. Her response seemed to relax Bragg, and she bowed her head, but didn’t really listen. If there was a God up there, He didn’t need Tiffany Vickers to bother Him. All the faithful Martins bombarding heaven were far more deserving of His attention.
After the prayer, Matty finished his meal and they all headed downstairs. Scott worked the DVD while Tony lounged on his chair and munched on pizza. The aroma of hot coffee swirled around the living room.
Bragg settled on the sofa without a word, Matty content in his lap. Like a missing piece of her personal puzzle, she sat next to him, close, ostensibly to tend the baby as needed. Bragg’s scent of pine and outdoors drifted across her, and the Christmas tree sparkled like a kid’s perfect dream. Almost like a real little family. Tiffany held back the pain and blinked away a sudden flash of tears. Connor…
“Home Alone,” Tony announced without looking at anybody. “Doctor Zhiv got overruled.”
“Seen it.” Scott glanced at Tiffany. “I like that idea of tweaking those photos. I think I’ll get a start.” He reached for the family pictures.
Bragg chortled at Tiffany. “Ever seen a cowboy who’s also a nerd?”
“Thanks, Scott. I think it’ll make a great gift.”
“Thank you, for thinking of it.” Scott grabbed his laptop and headed toward the nook in the kitchen where Rachel had set up a little office space. “Phones are down, but there’s still power, which means the router is OK. I’ll get everybody e-mailed where we are. Just hope Ma remembers to check hers.”
“Ya never know.” Bragg shrugged. “She’s both pioneer and twenty-first century.”
Tiffany chewed through three rubbery bites of pizza because her stomach had begun a loud complaint.
As if he heard, Bragg’s shoulders shook. “Saying grace might help,” he said with a smile.
“All righty.” She pretended, then opened her eyes and took charge. “As temporary head of household tonight, here goes: Somebody can have the sofa-bed in the basement. It’s mostly storage down there, but it is finished and there’s a space heater. I’ll sleep in the nursery with Matty. That leaves my room and the master.”
The three men looked at her, probably surprised at the authority in her voice. Well, she smiled to herself. Rachel hadn’t picked her for nothing. She snagged a chocolate-covered cherry from Rachel’s always filled-to- the- rim candy bowl to chase away the nasty pizza aftertaste.
“And nobody even needs to worry about toothbrushes,” she announced. “Rachel’s Sunday School class made hygiene boxes for charity. We’ve got stuff to spare.”
“Well, I’ve seen this movie, too,” Tony stood, obviously self-conscious. “And I’m done in. Thanks for putting me up.” A hint of embarrassment pinked his cheeks. “I’ll head to the basement. See y’all in the a.m. Hopefully, the roads will get plowed early on.”
“Goodnight, Tony. And thanks backatcha,” Tiffany answered, aware the brothers didn’t say a word. Something else must be stewing. If he was no longer part of Daisy’s life, if she’d forgiven her ex-husband, why still so much leftover animosity?
Oh well. None of her business. She simply basked in the contentment of safe-inside while winter raged outside, a blazing fire warming her toes, and a Christmas tree blinking beauty around the room.
Matty dozed on Bragg’s chest, tummy full. She’d need to check his pants in a bit, but sitting next to Bragg, with his warmth and fragrance seeping into her and the soft couch pillows surrounding her, had her relaxed. Before long, her head lolled against Bragg’s shoulder, and the long day caught up with her. She closed her eyes for just a moment…
“Come on,” Bragg’s voice was soft in her ear. “Movie’s about done, and I’ve got Matty all tucked in.”
She opened her eyes to the old man making peace with his son and granddaughter, and the battered emotions of the day assailed her now. Without any of her usual control, she started to sob. Christmas was the time for healing, for reconciliation, and it wasn’t going to happen. Paul had been home today. She’d seen his car parked at the tip of his long driveway. Of course, he’d heard her on the porch. And now all the carefully chosen presents, the toys she knew Connor would love, would be drowned and sodden in the snow.
Today was his third birthday.
There was no other place to go but Bragg’s arms. She clung to his neck, his warm formless words soothing her ears. Her near-empty stomach wrenched, and she coughed it down. Somewhere in all this mess there had to be hope and healing. She just didn’t know where or how. But tonight, Bragg offered comfort, and she took it willingly.
After the sobs resolved, she rested across his chest, feeling his heart beat, nestling her face in the crook of his neck, where his pulse raced. Without thinking, but with every instinct she possessed, she raised her face. He lowered his. When his mouth searched hers, the naturalness of it calmed her world. The taste of him soothed her hunger.
And her heavy lids tightened with tears and with sleep.
3
In the gray dawn, Bragg fussed with Matty’s diaper. Whatever the “teepee” was, he didn’t know, and of course, the baby sprayed him. But at least he managed to tape the britches on and zip up the little footed jammies with his big old hands without scratching any part of the baby’s tender skin.
Downstairs, Bragg tiptoed past the couch where Tiffany had slept all night. Whatever had broken her heart last night, he’d just let her settle on the couch in front of the fire, wrapped her tight in the blanket. Found it too intimate to carry to her bed.
But right now, even the baby against his chest couldn’t stop his heart from pounding at the sight of her curled tight into the cushions, hair fuzzed all over her head. Embers still blushed on the grate. A funny feeling snaked through him, seeing her dreaming and content.
The baby wiggled in his arms. Bragg looked down, melting at the scene. Home fires burning, warm walls strong and upright around them. A family.
Aw, nuts. No time for domestic urges. She didn’t want him, anyway.
Bragg peeked out the kitchen window as he heated another bottle. A gray dawn tried to claw its way out of knee-high drifts. Phone still down, but hopefully the folks back home had gotten Scott’s email.
Nerves skittered across his neck. He knew these parts and had recognized the moment during the night when the snow had stopped –it made a silent sound he could never explain— but the drifts were deep. Too many Martins had been out in the storm. He hadn’t slept much at all, for a million reasons, the too-short bed being one. Paranoia about tending a sleeping infant another. Kissing Tiffany the biggest one of all.
What happened there? Sure, she’d been a human being in need, but a kiss? His heart hammered now just thinking about their lips touching. Well, she might have refused his date, but she sure hadn’t refused his mouth. He paused for a minute just to rethink the moment and draw her taste into his senses again. His heart raced, and heat raged.
Bragg had taken the baby monitor upstairs so it wouldn’t disturb Tiffany’s rest. However, Matty had slept the w
hole night through. But he hadn’t dozed more than a few minutes in a row. It was a relief when six a.m. came.
As he settled in a kitchen chair, Matty already at work with his bottle in the nook of Bragg’s arm, he sensed her gaze. A delicious warmth spread through him. Last night she’d tasted of cherries and chocolate. The memory hitched his breath.
“You look good there.” Her voice was soft as she walked barefoot into the room.
Matty’s big brown eyes turned to her as his little mouth chugged away. He smiled around the nipple.
“Hi, precious. Your Uncle Bragg took good care of you, huh?” She dropped a kiss on the baby’s forehead. “Sorry about this. Not your job.”
Bragg shrugged. There was no embarrassment as their gazes met. “Rachel asked me to tend my nephew. That’s just what I did.”
“You’re a natural.”
He smiled. He’d never thought far enough ahead to fatherhood. Not even to being a husband. Had to let her know quick he wasn’t on the prowl. “Maybe someday. Right now, I’m pleased as punch with Hoop’s Ella and this little guy. In the last six months, three of my brothers have gotten lassoed with the matrimony rope. I don’t think it’s gonna snare me yet.”
She smiled, shy now. “Last night, well. I…don’t know what came over me.”
“You had a long, bad day. Happens to us all, sometime, or other.” Of course, he wanted to know, but he didn’t want to be nosy. He had his own bag of rocks hanging around his neck and it was sleeping in the basement.
“I…uh.” She padded over and set up the coffeemaker. As it hissed, she took a chair near him. “Things aren’t good with my family. Rachel gave me time off yesterday to…well.” She stopped talking for a long time while the baby ate and the coffee perked. “Do you think Rachel’s OK?”
Deep down, Bragg reckoned his prayers were working, but he was human after all. Worry tittered in his ear even as he offered up another heavenly plea. “I pray so. She’s a smart woman. Likely stayed in Rustic Canyon and tried to make contact, but couldn’t.”