by Tanya Hanson
Matty grumbled in boredom, and she brought herself back to the moment. She was on her way to church with Bragg. Thinking the absurd sentence had her laugh out loud. She’d already alerted Bragg to the fact that she didn’t date anybody, but of course, she’d totally meant she couldn’t date him. From what she’d learned about Tony, he was just like her, another lost soul with sins to atone, the kind of man she deserved in her iniquitous state. No reason not to accept. It wasn’t a proposal of marriage, or anything. Just dinner with a good-looking guy.
“I’d like that,” she told him, hoping he read her laughter as enthusiasm. He must have because, right then, the front door opened and Tony leaned down, hurrying to place a kiss at the side of her mouth.
He wasn’t Bragg and didn’t taste like Bragg, but she wasn’t repelled and figured that was a good thing.
“Hey, Tiffany. You ready, yet?” Bragg said, dry and toneless from the entryway. The way he looked in a long knit scarf cozied about his neck and Stetson low on his forehead did something crazy to her heart.
4
“I’ll help you get your car soon as we can. But maybe if Rachel makes it back in time, we can go out tonight. If the roads and weather are good, I mean.” Tony was saying, and Bragg clenched his fingers inside his gloves.
Tiffany wasn’t looking at Bragg, even though he’d just asked her a question about being ready. Her face was pink. This was the woman who flat out said she didn’t date anybody. And here she was, planning to go out with Tony O’Neal.
His heart thudded and his jaw clenched. Tony O’Neal!
“We’ll have to see.” Tiffany finally glanced Bragg’s way. “I can’t make any plans without consulting her. Listen, Tony, Bragg and I have Matty to tend to right now. You be safe, OK?”
“Will do.” He saluted as he left, never looking at Bragg. “And thanks.”
Bragg had to hold on to his temper although some of the heat he felt came from the day warming up nicely outside. The sun was showing its head. Well, above freezing on a December day was warm enough for him. Ice would melt, although that did make slick roads after the sun went down. Sending up another quick one, he prayed Rachel and all the kindergarteners would get home safe.
“What was that about?” He asked, trying to be casual without accusing.
“Tony asked me to dinner, sometime. I couldn’t see any reason to say no.”
“Other than the fact you don’t date, of course.” He bit his tongue, but the snark came out, anyway. Jealousy was a bad thing. So was arrogance, thinking he made a better date than O’Neal. He tossed up a prayer for patience.
“Oh, Bragg. You’re related to my employer. It…it could get weird, you know. Let’s just go take that walk.” She handed him a contraption with straps that he reckoned was Matty’s means of transportation.
He didn’t believe that was it, not for a second, not after the kiss, but he left it alone. “You sure you don’t wanna take my truck? Won’t take long to dig it free.”
“Oh, I’d really like a hike. I spent all day yesterday in a vehicle. A good stretch will feel great.”
“But it’s cold outside. Matty…”
“Oh, pshaw. He’s a Colorado baby. This isn’t the first time he’s been out on a deep winter’s day.”
“But…”
“No buts. Come on.” Even though irritation at Tony still raged, her smile weakened his knees.
“But last night you couldn’t believe Scott could trudge all the way…”
“Well, yeah. That was in a blizzard. He couldn’t see a thing. The road’s clear, the day’s bright. Come on.”
“I don’t know…I can help Scott get my truck dug out.”
“Absolutely not! You don’t have a baby seat.” Tiffany stood stern.
“How do you get him around, then?”
“I have one. I…just don’t happen to have my car.” Her eyebrows rose.
“Where does it happen to be?”
“Tony said we were a mile past Shield Nickel crossroads when he stopped.”
“Hmmmmmm. On the way to Hearts Crossing. I can help you get it.”
Anything to keep Tony out of the mix, but then again, she’d just accepted a date with him. Bragg couldn’t help the angry rumble in his gut.
“Come on. Let me get Matty settled,” Tiffany said. “I’ll grab his survival pack and we can head out. Oh, I need his sunglasses, too.”
“Sunglasses? He’s five months old.”
She glared. “He still has eyes. Now, come on.”
Across his shoulders and around his chest she arranged the contraption, then stuck Matty face out in the middle of it. The baby settled comfortably with his little mumbly words. Without even thinking about it, Bragg found the most natural reaction of all was putting his arms around the little one, resting his nose atop the hood. “He looks like an Eskimo,” he mentioned, seeing Matty’s reflection in the foyer mirror.
Tiffany dashed around the room, and then stopped in front of him with a little backpack. “Wipes, diapers, a snack. And these…” She slid miniature shades atop Matty’s nose. “Lead the way.”
Walking out the front door, they entered a Norman Rockwell painting. Everywhere dads and teens shoveled walkways. Little kids tried to make snowmen and snowballs with the soft dry white stuff. Stranded cars hunkered like white elephants. Crisp, cold air wafted around in a gentle breeze. On front doors hung snow-dappled pine wreathes, and here and there, folks had forgotten to turn off their outdoor lights. Hard to recall the havoc of the night before. While a weak sun shone, it peeked out from a veil of gray cloud.
Bragg reckoned they weren’t quite done with nature yet, and a flash of worry for Rachel skimmed across his bones. Not so much worry at her safety, but worry at her longing for her child.
Scott leaned on his snow shovel. “’Bye, now. I’ll go get my truck when I’m done here.”
“Thanks, bro. See you at church. ”
The sidewalks were banked with plowed snow. Carefully, they trudged down the middle of the cleared street, avoiding the slick snow-packed sidewalks. Cars traveled slow on days like this anyway, so pedestrians weren’t in any danger. Shopkeepers busily shoveled snow from their doors, calling out as Bragg waved, sometimes holding Matty’s tiny hand in his while he did.
“Wow. This is like a Christmas card. Nothing like a small town covered in snow.” Tiffany smiled up at him, cheeks as pink as the knit cap and scarf that swathed her face. “Isn’t it beautiful?” She tsked. “Oh, I know you’re worried. But she’ll get here fine.”
“Aw, I know that. But she must be missing Matty something terrible.”
He should have held off those words. Tiffany’s face crumpled as he recalled her pain at missing her little nephew. What kind of family tore itself apart without trying to fix things? Or had she tried? Maybe she’d just run off rather than face making apologies, amends. Forgiveness.
Aw, that nasty word. Something he still had to fix with Tony. He’d just spent the night with the guy, had the chance.
And hadn’t taken it.
As if reading his thoughts, Tiffany laid her hand on his arm. His heart lightened until he realized she was just teetering over a big chunk of snow. “Tony said he didn’t get that job. He’s just hoping to.” Her words turned to mist in the frosty air.
Bragg frowned. “But you said…how do you know?”
“I must have misunderstood yesterday. He told me a bit ago at Rachel’s. Just, um, just before you walked in.”
Hmmmm. His spirits rose at the new possibilities ahead even as he gritted his teeth at Tiffany’s date with Tony. But questions puzzled, too. “Why would he come all this way for an unsure thing?”
It wasn’t to make trouble for Daisy, Bragg knew that. Tony had come to town last summer to try to get her back and been refused before slinking off to Reno. So what now?
Tiffany shrugged. “Face-to-face interview.”
“Oh.” He wanted to ask why she would go out with Tony, but it wasn’t his business at al
l. Even still, her fingers sparked through his thick jacket. Matty burbled happily and with her touching him no matter how casual, he figured he was having a pretty good day.
Boots crunched in the snow, snowplows whirred in the air for several blocks around. As they turned into the driveway at church, the pines standing sentinel around the sanctuary wore plump tufts of snow. Sure as Tiffany said, it was a Christmas card scene.
Several men shoveled around cars in the church parking lot, and a small plow started to level things in readiness for tomorrow’s services. They made their way up freshly-brushed off steps. Bragg held open one side of the big double doors; Pastor Hale always kept them open for anybody needing peace and prayer.
“Oh.” Tiffany stopped in the lobby, sounding out of breath. “My goodness me.” She rubbed her upper arms, shivering.
Bragg got it, knew full well she wasn’t cold at all in the warm interior. Although the scene in front of them was one he’d grown up with, it never failed to stir his heart. No stained glass behind the altar, but a huge clear glass window framing a landscape of pine-covered mountains and snowy rolling hills. How anybody could behold God’s nature in such a setting and not give over his or her life was something Bragg had never been able to get a handle on. But it happened. Tony had worshiped here with Daisy before they both lost their way. Thinking of Tony with Tiffany, Bragg wanted to clench his fists, but standing inside this glorious church was neither the time nor the place for anger.
Two decorated evergreens stood tall behind the pulpit, a forest of smaller undecorated ones to the left. Along the long walls, wreaths of pinecones tied with red bows hung between stained glass windows that depicted favorite Bible scenes.
Tiffany’s head turned back and forth like a kid in a toy shop.
“Goodness, this is magical. Like a fairyland. I don’t know what to call it.”
“How about Heaven?” Bragg asked with a smile, liking her wide eyes when she turned to him.
****
Heaven? That was quite a term, but appropriate since they were inside a church and all. When was the last time? Christmas sometimes with Olga, Tiffany recalled, but that was just for show, for the neighbors’ sake. She’d never had a relationship with God and sure wasn’t good enough for Him now. How nice it would have been to be raised grounded in faith like Bragg and his siblings. Even when Bragg had messed up, he’d known how to fix it. He might be a work in progress about it, but at least he had chosen the right path. Ah, she’d missed out on so much. But Bragg had invited her to Hearts Crossing for Christmas. If she accepted, likely she could come back here and see everything in action.
She and Bragg walked up the center aisle, and it wasn’t lost on her, the bridal-couple thing. But he was out of her league, and she had a date with Tony ahead. Oh well. The giant pines wore unusual decorations all of white and gold, and she stood at the bottom of the steps leading to the altar, feeling too irreverent to get closer.
Bragg stopped, too, and Matty reached out to pull her hair, her cap and scarf now removed in the warm church.
She peered. “Those are beautiful decorations. I’ve never seen things like that at the department stores.”
“They’re Chrismons,” Bragg explained. “It’s kind of a nickname for ‘Christ’s monograms.’ Each is a symbol for His life or teachings. The ladies of the congregation make them. Have for years.”
Like her, he didn’t seem to want to get too much closer, but they walked up a couple of steps. When he pointed, she could see where he meant. “See that cross shaped like an anchor?”
“It’s beautiful. Needlepoint, I think.”
Bragg shrugged and she smiled inside. A cowboy probably wouldn’t recognize needlepoint if he got stuck with it. “It symbolizes a steadfast faith anchored in God. That pomegranate”—the white velvet ball, sliced in half, had pearls for seeds—“is the church. The seeds are the members. That seashell symbolizes baptism…”
It might have been a real white shell stuck with gold and white ribbons. Tiffany couldn’t quite tell. Excitement surged as she started to identify the beautiful symbols. “Roses. And a butterfly made of white feathers!”
“It stands for immortality—our new life in Christ. And the white roses represent the nativity and the Lord’s mother.” Shifting Matty a little, he continued. “The six-pointed Star of David represents Jesus’ Jewish roots. And the five-pointed one, the Epiphany.”
“What?”
“The star that guided the wise men, showing His inclusion of the Gentiles.”
“Oh. How about those? I know they’re Greek letters—I was in a sorority in college…”
“Those are Alpha and Omega.” A soft male voice came behind them. She turned to see a man of maybe sixty, wearing a kindly smile and a green sweatshirt with plaid shirt underneath.
“I’m Pastor Jim Hale,” he said. His warm hand enclosed hers.
Bragg spoke up. “This is Tiffany Vickers. Matty’s nanny and Rachel’s new paralegal.”
“Ah, yes. I remember you from the wedding.”
Oh, that word again. Tiffany wondered if she should blush, but his smile grew wider. “Hope to see you tomorrow if the weather holds off.” He busied himself babbling to Matty, and Tiffany considered the invitation. Doubtful. Maybe Christmas, but nothing extra.
“Well, tell me. The Alpha and Omega stuff,” she said when Pastor Hale looked at her again.
“Those are indeed Greek letters, Α and Ω respectively. Together they refer to Jesus Christ's own self-description in Revelation 22:13. ‘I am the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End, the First and the Last.’”
“Hmmmm.” She didn’t quite get it, but then, it was religion. Not her thing.
Bragg touched her hair where it rested at her cheek. “It means He was with the world at the beginning of time and is with us through everlasting life.”
“Oh.” It sounded lovely and comforting, somehow. But they were here to work, not for Biblical theology. “We better get to the task at hand.”
At Pastor Hale’s raised eyebrows, Bragg explained. “Ma’s stuck at the ranch. Thought we’d take over her caretaking this morning.”
“Sure thing.” Pastor tickled Matty’s chin again and the baby giggled. “We’ve got a fully equipped nursery,” he told Tiffany, motioning to Bragg’s baby sling. “Good-looking Björn there.”
“Aw, this little guy’s good right here.” Bragg was so full of contentment and affection Tiffany’s heart almost burst. “He and I can straighten hymnals together.”
“Well, there is the Tot Rider 2 if you want him to stretch his legs.”
Bragg looked flummoxed and Tiffany burst into a chuckle at a bachelor cowboy hearing about baby products. “I know. It sounds like a sports car or something. It’s sort of a walker thing. His legs won’t reach the floor yet, but there’s enough support for him to sit upright.”
Pastor Hale’s face turned sweetly pink. “Joanne and I just had our second grandchild. We’ve been getting educated in these kinds of things. She even insisted we get fancy car seats of our own so our car is always set up for the little ones.” He mentioned the brand name.
“They live nearby?” Tiffany asked. The brand name he’d rattled off was a pretty pricey investment.
Bragg and the pastor laughed together. “Oregon. But that’s not more than a hop, skip, and jump away. They’ll be here for Christmas Eve.” Pastor Hale’s voice was rich with love. “I can’t wait.”
“Ella can’t, either.” Bragg’s voice held the same tone as he mentioned his oldest brother’s daughter. “She’s an angel in the pageant. Mallie has been gluing real feathers on a frame for the last six weeks.”
“She’ll be magnificent.” Pastor Hale explained to Tiffany. “We have a living nativity of sorts. Put down tarps and hay, bring in a few sheep and ‘Mary’ on a donkey.”
Tiffany’s heart couldn’t help be touched. Almost like a Hollywood musical. But she didn’t dare insult the kindly reverend. Obviously, it would be someth
ing special to see.
“Those empty little trees?” Pastor went on, pointing to the small trees with unadorned branches. “The children have been making simple Chrismons in Sunday school out of Styrofoam and white paper. Moms empty their craft boxes of glitter, buttons, sequins. They march up and decorate those trees during Christmas Eve services. It’s a tradition.”
A tradition. Little children. When she shut her eyelids to hide a rush of tears, she saw Connor with a childish homemade cross, marching up proudly to place it on a little tree. Pain seared her. She’d missed his birthday and wasn’t welcome at his Christmas.
She might never see him again. Only with great resolve did she stop the shudders.
“Bragg, it’s time for me to change Matty.” She reached for the baby to get back to her normal world.
“What? He seems fine,” Bragg started a friendly grumble, and Pastor Hale grinned.
“Popular little guy.”
“I’ll be right back. I don’t want him to get a rash, or chapped.”
“All right.” Bragg helped wrestle Matty from the baby carrier.
“You and I’ll get started on the pews,” Pastor Hale said, pointing to the back of the church. “Tiffany, nursery’s there. To the left of the doorway. That glass window lets parents still be part of services.”
Gulping back unwelcome tears, Tiffany held Matty closer than she needed to, and with his survival pack, made her way to the nursery. It was as nicely equipped as any suburban home, and after his quick-change, she let him stretch and squirm for a bit on the blanket she’d pulled from his pack. Then it was time for a snack. Warily, she unwrapped the pre-packaged formula in its little disposable bottle. If he didn’t go for it, she was stuck.
But he suckled happily, and while she mumbled to him, she couldn’t help but watch Bragg dust pews and replace lost pencils alongside Pastor Hale. They appeared deep in conversation. How lovely to have such a spiritual connection with a man of the cloth. Well, she needed to go help. Spying a stroller, she tucked Matty in and wheeled him quietly into the church.