by Verna Clay
The engine revved and she backed slowly out of the driveway.
Chapter 24: Let's Talk
Mac stood on the porch watching the taillights of Cecelia's car until she turned the corner. He wanted to bawl like a baby. He'd just messed up the best thing in his life in years. The hurt in her eyes when he'd reprimanded her, when she was just trying to help, did bring tears to his eyes. The worst, or possibly the best part of what she'd said, depending on how you looked at it, was true. He'd had an opportunity to get to know his son, but he'd blown it. His boy was almost a man and he'd been treating him as if he were an adolescent. He needed to make things right, but he had no idea where to begin.
The front door opened and Sean's voice cracked, "I guess I blew it. I'm sorry I made her leave."
Tears leaked from Mac's eyes. He said, "No, son. You didn't blow it. I did." He turned around, "We need to talk. I've got to try and make things right."
*
Sean saw the tears in Mac's eyes and felt like a rat. He wanted to rush past his dad and run for hours; anything to relieve the guilt he was feeling. He wished he'd never discovered his birthfather was living and now he wished he'd stayed away from that locked room. He didn't want to know that his father was a famous painter. He wanted life to return to what it had been. He wanted to be a teenage boy whose greatest worry was how to get the most popular girl in school to notice him. He wanted to escape by playing his guitar, but he'd stupidly left it at home, thinking he'd only be gone for a couple of weeks. Yeah, right. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve. Some Christmas he'd have with his dad in tears and Cecelia hating both of them.
Mac stepped past him and into the living room. Sean gathered his thoughts and emotions. He just wanted to get this crap over with. Maybe he could hitch a ride back to San Diego.
When he entered the room, his father stood beside the couch. He said, "Let's go to the kitchen. I need a cup of coffee. How about you?"
Sean followed and replied, "I'll get a coke out of the fridge."
After retrieving his drink, Sean sat across from Mac who was stirring cream into his coffee. Sean watched the cream swirl. He almost jumped when Mac spoke.
"I remember the day you were born. You were so tiny I was afraid to even touch you. Your mother wasn't, though. She had you cradled in her arms and then laying against her shoulder and then laying in her lap. She was a natural mother."
Sean sipped his soda but couldn't seem to swallow.
Mac continued, "After we brought you home, I got better at handling you. I even changed diapers and burped you." He inhaled a long breath. "Your mother and I met in a foster home. We'd both been orphaned as teens." Mac got a faraway look. "I loved her from the first moment I saw her. She was sweet and gentle and had a gift for music. She could play the piano and guitar by ear. After we married and started to make a good living from my paintings, I bought her a grand piano and the best guitars. I encouraged her to pursue her music professionally, but she said she was happy caring for her baby and didn't want distractions until you were older."
Sean felt so choked up he figured he'd probably start crying.
Mac looked sadly at him. "You see, Sean, neither your mother nor I had happy homes, even before we were orphaned. My mother was an alcoholic and a prostitute and Rose's mother was a drug addict. So, when you were born, all we wanted was to create the perfect home for our baby. Your mother loved you so much. Often, she would just sit and stare at you and then tell me all the places we would visit when you were old enough. She was already making plans to visit Disneyland, Lego Land, zoos, and one of those cruises geared toward children." Mac swiped his eyes. "And I was making plans right along with her."
Sean stared at his drink and wished the ground would swallow him up.
Softly, Mac said, "And then the accident happened and my bubble of happiness not only popped, it exploded. My beautiful wife was dead and I was laid up in the hospital unable to move. At first, the doctors said I may never walk again, which I could deal with. But when they told me I may never paint again, I wanted to die. But I couldn't die because the only bright spot in that sad picture was you. You escaped with only minor scrapes."
Sean swallowed hard to keep tears from leaking.
After a sip of coffee, Mac said, "I had no family to care for you. Sure, I had enough money to hire help, but paid help is not the same as family. I was told my hospital stay would be months and then long-term care and rehabilitation could last for years. I knew that if I couldn't provide proper care for you, the State would step in and you would end up in foster homes just like me. My situation put me into a deep depression and my doctor asked if I wanted to consider adoption. He told me about an organization that searched out homes for children thrust into situations such as the one we were in."
Mac stared at Sean. "Maybe I made the wrong decision, but at the time I truly felt it was in your best interest. My actions have always been geared toward what's best for you. I never wrote to you or came to visit because I wanted your life to be normal. If the press found out you were my son, they would hound you, as they do me whenever they find me." His voice cracked, "But there is another reason I never contacted you." A tear dripped onto the table and Mac said, "I couldn't bear always being reminded of what I had lost. It was pure selfishness on my part."
Neither Mac nor Sean spoke.
Slowly, Sean reached across the table and placed his hand on his father's arm. Mac continued to stare at his coffee cup while an occasional tear dripped. With a choked voice, Sean said, "I'm so sorry for being such a pain in the ass. You're not the selfish one, I am." No longer could he hold back a sob. "I love you, Dad."
Mac placed a hand over his son's and squeezed. "Can we start over?"
"I'd like that."
Reaching for a napkin with his free hand, Mac handed it to Sean and then lifted another one to his own eyes. He said, "I have an idea about how to win Cecelia back, but I need your help. I love that woman."
Chapter 25: The Only Way
Cecelia closed and locked the door to her coffee shop. In a few minutes it would be dark and she needed to get ready to spend Christmas Eve with Miles and Tooty and her niece and nephews. After the fiasco the previous night with Mac and Sean, and her subsequent departure, the thought of spending the entire day alone had turned her stomach. Rather than be alone, she'd opened her coffee shop for business on Christmas Eve. Several locals had visited and wished her a merry Christmas and she was thankful for the distraction afforded by working. Justin had stopped by and chastised her for being open and then proceeded to help with customers. When she'd ordered him to leave, he'd refused. Only when she'd started locking up had he left the shop. Now, with her coffee house closed and Christmas lights twinkling throughout the business district, Cecelia inhaled deeply of the piney air. She glanced upward when snowflakes landed on her coat; the perfect weather for Christmas Eve. In the morning, children would be sledding and building snowmen while wearing new mittens, muffs, and jackets. She stifled a sob. Mothers and fathers would be laughing and playing with their children while she sat alone for yet another Christmas. Maybe I'll open the coffee shop on Christmas.
A noise distracted her and she lowered her head from watching snowflakes. She recognized Sean walking toward her. Clearing her throat she started to apologize for her behavior the night before, but Sean spoke first.
"Don't tell me you opened the shop on Christmas Eve."
"I did."
There was an awkward silence. Cecelia finally said, "I'm sorry about last night."
Sean didn't respond directly to her apology. Instead, he said, "I...ah…got things straightened out with my dad."
Surprised by his revelation, her heart jumped.
Sean continued, "You're not the one who should be apologizing, I am. I walked to your house to do just that, but you weren't home. I decided to see if you were at the coffee shop."
Cecelia said sincerely, "Apology accepted and I'm so happy for you and your father."
Sean asked
, "Can I walk you home?"
"Of course. My brother invited me to his house and I need to get ready to go."
"Well, tell Harris I said hello."
"I will."
They walked in silence amongst dancing snowflakes. When they reached the corner leading to Cecelia's house, Sean said, "I want to show you something." He placed a hand on her arm and gently pulled her in the other direction, toward Mac's house.
"Sean, I don't want to see Mac."
"I promise you don't have to see Mac. But there's something you really don't want to miss."
Cecelia frowned. "I only have a few minutes to spare."
"That's all it will take."
Curious, Cecelia allowed Sean to lead her toward Mac's block. Just before they reached the corner, however, she stopped walking. "Sean, I don't know what's going on, but I–" She sobbed and then reined in her emotions. "I really don't want to see Mac."
Sean stepped to the corner and turned. "Just walk to where I'm standing; that's all I ask."
Cecelia puffed air and watched her breath crystallize in the cold night. She stepped forward until she stood beside Sean under a dim street lamp.
She gasped.
Every house on Mac's block was lit with Christmas lights. Some blinked on and off, some remained steady. But the house with the most lights was Mac's. Movement on his porch captured her attention. Sean pulled her down the sidewalk and closer to the house. She began to recognize people on the porch—Fannie Levinworth and several other neighbors; also, Tooty and Miles and their children. Inside the house more people peeked out the windows, the Branigans, the Martinez, the Tuckers. Fannie's porch was also crowded with the Hackstetters, the Tanners, Justin, Tillie, and so many more. And everywhere there were children. She glanced at Sean with incredulity. "What's going on?"
"I think I'll let Dad explain. Come on." He clasped her hand and pulled her forward. When they reached the porch steps, Fannie said loudly, "Imagine our surprise when we found out we have another celebrity living in our little town. As if a model, three writers, and a rodeo star aren't enough, now we have an artist."
Cecelia's eyes rounded and she searched out Mac standing off to the side. His eyes met hers and she held her breath. Slowly, he smiled and the air rushed from her lungs. When he stepped forward everyone parted. He held his hand out to her. It was a simple gesture that Cecelia knew would set the course for the rest of her life. Lifting her eyes from Mac's hand to his face, she moved to the first step and reached to hold his hand. With their fingers entwined and their eyes locked, he said, "It was the only way I knew to make you realize how much I love you."
As Mac pulled her toward the front door, she knew in her heart that she finally had a family of her own.
Epilogue
Exactly one year later.
Cecelia reached and hid her present for Mac behind the lowest branch of the Christmas tree. She sat back on her heels, sighed, and marveled at all the changes in her life over the past year. In January, she had become Mrs. Connor MacKenzie during a simple ceremony at Miles and Tooty's home. Attended only by close friends and Sean, it had been the highlight of her life—almost. The only event topping it was the adoption of Goldie in August. With the assistance of Loving Homes Adoption Agency, the paperwork had been fast tracked.
Tears pricked her eyes when she remembered Mac reading the Christmas story earlier that evening and Goldie cuddling between them on the couch. At the end of the story, their sweet daughter had lifted luminous eyes and said, "I love baby Jesus and I love my mommy and daddy." Cecelia had looked over Goldie's head to meet Mac's gaze and she could see in his eyes that he had found beautiful peace with his new family.
Glancing around the home they'd purchased on the outskirts of town, she envisioned it in the years to come. Perhaps they could adopt more children and one day be blessed with grandchildren running through the house and playing in the yard. Both she and Mac had fallen in love with the old farmhouse at first sight. Unfortunately, they'd had to erect a privacy fence and security equipment because Mac's whereabouts had been discovered. The townspeople, however, had rallied around their newest residents and protected them as best they could from journalists, just as they did the other high-profile residents living in the area.
Cecelia thought about her coffee shop and grinned. In July she'd promoted Justin to manager with a big raise and reduced her hours in preparation of Goldie's arrival. In fact, she'd surprised all of her employees with raises.
This Christmas, they'd expanded on Santa's Workshop and even invited the local high school thespians to act as real-life elves two nights a week with a play written by them. The event had become so successful that they'd increased it to four nights a week.
As for Sean and Mac, they spoke on the phone every week and Sean had stayed a month with them during the summer and another two weeks at the Lazy M Dude Ranch learning the cowboy way. Harris and Sean were still fast friends and Harris confided that Sean got along great with everyone except Preston.
Mac had encouraged Sean to bring his guitar and the first time his son had played for them, he and Cecelia had stared at each other with big grins. The boy was certainly gifted. Within the week, Mac had hired the transport of the grand piano from his home in Denver, and everyone got teary-eyed the first time Sean played it, knowing it had belonged to his mother. Another leap forward for Mac was finally putting his Denver home up for sale.
A sound interrupted Cecelia's reverie and she turned to see Mac enter the room. He paused in the doorway and said in that sexy voice of his, "The tree is beautiful, honey. I can't wait to see Goldie's face in the morning." He laughed and motioned toward the tree. "I do believe we went overboard with her gifts."
Cecelia stood and walked to encircle her husband's waist. "We did. But I consider it making up for past Christmases."
Mac leaned and grazed his lips lightly across his wife's. "Speaking of gifts, I want to give you yours. Follow me." He entwined his fingers in hers and led her toward the art room. His surgery had been proclaimed a success by his doctor and he now painted daily.
For the past two weeks, he had forbid her to enter the room and so, of course, she knew he was painting something special for her. Her heart pounded.
Mac held the door open and waited for her to enter. Immediately her eyes were drawn to a large draped canvas. He nodded. "Go ahead and remove the drape, sweetheart."
By now, Cecelia's heart was slamming her ribs. Holding her breath, she slowly approached the canvas and with unsteady hands dropped the drape to the ground.
A little sob escaped and she lifted her hands to her mouth in surprise. Mac's usual mystical rendition couldn't have been less like this masterpiece. It was their very own living room with their Christmas tree twinkling and presents overflowing. His trademark of a man and woman hidden in the painting was not to be seen. Instead, the back of a man and woman holding the hands of a little girl between them, and standing before the tree, was painted in vivid detail. The little girl was wearing leg braces and her sweet face was turned so that she was glancing backward at the viewer of the painting.
The most profound aspect of the scene, however, was the expression on the little girl's face. It said louder than words, I AM LOVED. The child, of course, was Goldie.
Softly, Mac said, "The title of this painting is, Mystery Solved. We now know who the figures in my paintings are."
Author's Note
What fun I've had writing this Christmas story! I love the season, especially driving around and viewing all the decorative lights. I hope I was able to capture enough of the magic of Christmas that it overflowed the pages of this novella. And what a relief that Cecelia finally found happiness with Mac in her new town.
As I'm sure you realized while reading the story, I did some set-up for a future romance. Will Tessa fall in love with Preston, Sean, or someone else?
As each story builds on previous ones, I'm finding it challenging to keep the ages of the children consistent to what they should
be. Because I'm more of a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants kind of writer, I often find myself rereading the previous books as a refresher. I abhor making lists. Silly me.
As for the next Romance on the Ranch novella, I haven't decided whether to jump a few years ahead with Tessa's story, or stay closer to this timeframe. I'm considering writing a story about Sarah's sister who was briefly introduced in book one and would be over fifty now. There aren't a lot of romances involving the "mature" woman and I'm toying with the idea of writing one with a sexy "mature" man.
There were many characters in Christmas Kisses that were introduced in Candy Kisses. For those of you who haven't read Candy Kisses, I have included an excerpt. It fits nicely with Christmas Kisses and tells the story of Tessa's father and stepmother, Dirk and Monica Branigan. Because all the stories in this series can be read as stand-alones, it's okay to read them out of order. Fitting the families together is easy.
I have also included an excerpt from the Unconventional Series. Writing historical westerns is another of my passions. The excerpt is from Abby: Mail Order Bride.
As always, I thank you for reading stories that made the transition from my mind to paper and I love hearing from you. My email address is [email protected].
Candy Kisses (Excerpt)
Chapter One: Speak of the Devil
Tooty admonished her boys as they piled out of the van, "Morgan, stop tormenting your brother! Harris, make sure Morgan and Eli are careful when they climb the ladder. And when I call you for lunch, I don't want you dallying around." She grinned. "Oh, and one more thing—have fun!"