by Lisa Carter
Frowning, she reread the text. Not what she’d expected. She’d figured Victoria would immediately blame her. She pulled up the next one. Are you all right??? Where are you? Please. Talk to me.
She bit her lip. Victoria actually sounded worried. She’d have thought her stepmother would rejoice to be rid of her.
AnnaBeth scrolled through the rest of the texts, now numbering in the teens. More of the same. Growing increasingly frantic. At some point over the last couple of days, MaryDru and Scott had apparently told Victoria about their feelings for each other. Please, AnnaBeth. Don’t shut me out. We can work this out with your father. Call me. I need to know you’re okay.
Guilt nibbled at AnnaBeth’s conscience. No text from her father, but Victoria had long been his mouthpiece. She hadn’t been fair to him. He must be worried about her. And when he was stressed, he fell into unhealthy habits.
But she wasn’t ready for a confrontation with Victoria. Still... Before she changed her mind, she speed-dialed MaryDru.
Her sister picked up on the first ring. “AnnaBeth? Is that you?”
“It’s me,” she whispered.
MaryDru sucked in a breath. “Oh, A.B. I’m so, so sorry. We’ve been going crazy, not knowing where you are. Mom’s done nothing but cry.”
The knife twisted in her gut. She’d never seen Victoria cry about anything. Crying made wrinkles.
“But Scott told you I was okay, right?”
“He told me what you s-said...” Her voice broke into a sob.
Fresh guilt assaulted AnnaBeth. Her baby sister sounded as if she’d been crying for a long time.
“I meant what I told Scott, MaryDru. I want you two to be free to love each other. Really. It would make me happy to see you happy.”
“Please come home, A.B.” Her sister dissolved into tears. “Mom and I need you. Things aren’t good here with Dad.”
Her heart tore. She couldn’t stand this distance between her and her sister. Emotional and physical.
But already, the FieldStone felt more like home than Victoria’s house ever had.
She fretted the zipper on her puffy vest. “I-I’m not ready to leave the FieldStone Ranch yet, MaryDru.”
If she had her druthers, she’d never leave. But when had AnnaBeth’s wishes ever mattered to her family? To anyone?
She bit her lip. “I’ve got to go now, sis.”
“No! A.B., wait.”
“I—I have to go, MaryDru.”
“But you’ll be home for Christmas, won’t you, A.B.?”
“I don’t know, MaryDru. I can’t make that promise. I just need more time to...”
To what?
She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Tell Victoria I’m fine. I’ll call you soon.” She clicked off before once again she allowed herself to be swept away by her sister’s need.
But this time... This time she refused to disregard her feelings.
For the FieldStone. For Hunter. For his father and how he made her feel. Made her feel about herself.
* * *
The next morning, because snow still blocked remote area roads, Hunter’s preschool was closed for another day.
AnnaBeth shook her head. “I didn’t realize it got more remote than this.” She gestured toward the window overlooking the meadow.
Headed outside, Jonas snagged his hat off the peg. “Hate to break it to you, but the FieldStone’s off one of the main mountain roads, darlin’.”
As soon as the words left his lips, his face flamed.
They stared at each other across the kitchen. Had he said what she thought he said? She mustn’t have heard him right. Had he called her darlin’?
Mouth in a thin, straight line, he clamped his hat on his head and stalked out the door.
“Well, now...”
She jumped. She’d forgotten about Deirdre.
Deirdre smiled over the rim of her coffee cup. “Aunt IdaLee will be so pleased at this turn of events.”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” AnnaBeth took her seat at the breakfast table. “It was nothing more than a slip of the tongue.”
Deirdre laughed. “A Freudian slip.”
Perched on the edge of the chair, she steepled her hands on the table. “Jonas and I might be friends, Deirdre. But I don’t think he like-likes me.”
His mother’s eyes rounded. “Why ever do you think that?”
She dropped her gaze. “He frowns at me a lot. Most of the time, in fact, he glares at me. And scowls.”
“That’s exactly what makes me think he does like-like you, AnnaBeth.”
AnnaBeth’s eyes snapped to hers. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Welcome to the world of men, and most particularly my son, honeybun.”
She pleated her napkin into folds. “Jonas thinks I’m a spoiled, empty-headed rich girl.”
Deirdre reached across the table and placed her hand over AnnaBeth’s, halting her restless plucking of the napkin. “Honeybun, it’s because he doesn’t—can’t—allow himself to smile at you that makes me believe he definitely likes you. Very much, in fact.”
AnnaBeth worried her lower lip with her teeth. “He told me about what happened between him and Hunter’s mother.”
Deirdre’s smile faded. “Kasey hurt him badly. They wanted different things out of life. He’s afraid to let himself feel anything for fear of getting hurt again.” Her eyes lit up. “But I’m so glad he shared that with you. He doesn’t tell many people. He obviously trusts you.”
“I saw the photo of Hunter’s mother.” AnnaBeth lifted her chin. “So gorgeous. So capable. So thin.” She swallowed. “So blond.”
Deirdre picked up her coffee cup. “Seems to me Jonas prefers redheads.”
“Prefers... Oh.” AnnaBeth fingered a dangling tendril of her hair. “You think so?”
Deirdre took a sip. “I think so.”
AnnaBeth insisted on washing the breakfast dishes. When a thud hit the floorboard overhead, they both glanced at the ceiling.
Deirdre smiled. “Hunter’s awake.”
Coming downstairs in his cute cowboy pjs, he was thrilled to learn his snow vacation had been extended another day. After he’d eaten and dressed, he wanted AnnaBeth to read him The Snowy Day again. Deirdre headed to the laundry room to do a load of wash.
Later, after AnnaBeth closed the book, Hunter bounced up, eager to go outside. “We haven’t built our snow people yet.”
AnnaBeth inched out of the chair. “We can’t have that, now, can we?” She gestured. “Get your boots and coat.”
Stopping outside the laundry room, she realized Deirdre was on her mobile phone. AnnaBeth bit back a sigh. The infamous Aunt IdaLee or Dwight?
Which reminded her she needed to call MaryDru again tonight. And find out how things were going with Scott. She didn’t need their breakup on her conscience, too.
Making hand motions, she mouthed to Deirdre that they’d be outside. Smiling, Hunter’s grandmother waved her off.
By the time she donned her winter gear, Hunter was out on the terrace throwing a rope over the plastic steer dummy.
His face brightened when he saw her. “I pwactice ev-wee day.” He pushed up the brim of his hat with the tip of his finger. “I’m going to win.”
She took his earnest little face between her mittens. “I know you will.” Only she wouldn’t be here to see it. “Let’s make some snow people, what do you say?”
“Hoo-way!” He jumped off the terrace and made for a mound of snow Jonas had shoveled into a large pile. “Watch me swide down the mountain, AnnaBef. Wheeeee!”
They spent the next hour packing handfuls of snow between their gloves and rolling them into small, medium and larger balls.
“Cwunch. Cwunch. Cwunch.” Hunter stomped his feet. “I’m walking wike Peter in de book.”<
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She laughed. They created four snowmen of varying sizes. Running over to the edge of the woods, Hunter scoured the ground for branches to make sticklike arms.
Returning, he dragged his feet, slowly making tracks. “Wike Peter.”
AnnaBeth’s heart swelled with an almost maternal pride. He really was the most adorable, sweetest little boy she’d ever known. And so smart.
He stuck a carrot for a nose in the smallest snow person. “Does de snow wook wike dis where you wiv, AnnaBef?”
Unwinding the scarf from her neck, she draped it around the medium-size snow person. “We never get this much snow, and what we get doesn’t stay pretty long with all the cars and people.”
“Looks like you two have been busy.”
She whirled. Drat her heart.
A smile on his hunky features, Jonas stood, arms folded across his coat, under a gigantic evergreen tree.
“I didn’t hear you come up.” She put her hand to her throat in a vain attempt to quiet the rocketing of her pulse. “We were having so much fun.”
He cocked his head, the Stetson at an angle. “So much fun, you never missed me?”
She narrowed her eyes, not sure she was properly interpreting the question she saw in his dark gaze.
Hunter brandished one of the sticks he’d gathered. “Of course, we missed you, Dad.”
Jonas looked at her. “What about you? Did you miss me?”
She’d never before appreciated how thin the air must be here in the mountains. Why else was she having such a hard time breathing?
“When you’re not around, Jonas, I always miss you.”
Her heart drummed in her chest. She’d said it. Actually told him what she was feeling. She didn’t know whether to faint from horror or sigh with relief.
One corner of his mouth curved. Then, the other side. A slow, sweet, buckle-your-knees smile. Just for her.
“Thank you.” His voice had gone all gravelly. “I like spending time with you, too.”
Could Deirdre possibly be right?
She felt like doing a little dance in the snow. Singing a song. Sheer bliss.
Jonas surveyed their handiwork. “What’s this, Hunt?”
Like a barker at a carnival displaying his wares, Hunter swept the stick through the air. “It’s us, Dad.” He pointed to the tallest snowman. “You.”
Deirdre had supplied them with an old cowboy hat and other accessories.
Hunter gestured at the next snow person. “Gwam-ma.”
Jonas scratched his cheek. “Sunglasses?”
Hunter bobbed his head. “’Cause Gwam-ma is cool.”
Jonas laughed. “That she is.”
“Dat’s me.” The smallest snowman also sported a cowboy hat and a red bandanna. A coil of rope hung from one of the stick arms.
AnnaBeth made a sweeping motion toward her scarf-draped snow self. “And me.” She batted her eyelashes. “See the resemblance?”
“I’m not seeing it.” He shook his head. “Where’s the mouth?”
Marching over, she punched him in the arm. “Hey!”
Jonas grinned.
“You guys awe so si-wee.” Hunter poked the evergreen with his stick. With a plop, a patch of snow fell on AnnaBeth’s head.
She screamed.
Jonas laughed.
She brushed the snow out of her eyes. “Don’t make me hurt you.” Then she laughed, too.
“I fink I’m weady to go into de warm house wike Peter.”
Jonas’s stomach growled. “And eat.”
She took one of Hunter’s hands. Jonas took the other. It felt nice walking toward the house. Like they belonged together.
Like a real family?
She reckoned she really must be silly. Stop daydreaming, AnnaBeth. Jonas Stone was way out of her league.
But it was a lot of fun to daydream. No harm in dreaming.
Was there?
* * *
She sat Hunter on a stool in the mudroom. “We need to get these wet socks off.”
His son let out a happy sigh. “Just wike Peter.”
Jonas toed out of his boots. “Looks like I need to read this book if I hope to have a conversation with either one of you ever again.”
His mother wandered into the kitchen. “I got an email saying preschool is back in session tomorrow. Your snow vacation is over. And I saw those lovely snow people you created, sweetie.”
He looked up proudly. “My snow famiwee, Gwam-ma.”
Jonas’s gut knotted. Hunter was getting too attached to AnnaBeth. Every day she appeared more and more comfortable on the ranch. She fit so well into their lives. They were all getting too attached.
His mother’s cough had gotten better, but AnnaBeth insisted on being in charge of dinner. “As long as I’m here, consider yourself on vacation from the kitchen.”
“I’m never gonna want you to leave.” His mother smiled. “If you’re not careful, I could get used to this.”
His heart pricked. So could he. And elaborate, completely delusional scenarios of what it would be like if AnnaBeth stuck around dogged his thoughts the rest of the afternoon.
Only later that evening did he realize he’d never heard from Zach.
AnnaBeth perked, her eyes lighting up. “I have a great idea.”
Those eyes of hers... Green, his new favorite color.
“What’s your great idea?” he rasped.
“Christmas cookies.” She looked from him to his son. “What do you think?”
“Hoo-way!” A human pogo stick, Hunter bobbed in his stocking feet. “I wuv Chwistmas cookies! Can I help?”
“Of course. Who else? You’re the best little cowboy helper I’ve ever had.”
Jonas’s heart constricted. The way she was with his son... It felled him every time.
AnnaBeth headed for the pantry. “Victoria and I make these every year.”
Hunter hopped on the counter stool. “Do you eat them all?”
She deposited the flour and baking powder on the counter. “Only a few. Victoria, my sister and I take the rest to the oncology ward at the hospital.”
His mother tilted her head. “That’s so nice. Why the oncology ward?”
AnnaBeth stopped, midmotion. “I never thought about it before. The only person I know who had cancer was...” She blinked. “My mother.”
“That’s very sweet for your stepmother to make that gesture.”
A line puckered AnnaBeth’s forehead. “I—I guess so.”
His mother moved toward the backstairs. “Call me old-fashioned, I need to finish this year’s Christmas cards. But I’ll look forward to eating a few Christmas cookies at breakfast.”
Jonas hadn’t failed to notice his mother had been doing a lot of that lately—leaving him, AnnaBeth and Hunter alone.
He needed to tackle some paperwork, and hadn’t meant to get involved in the baking, but the laughter between his son and the lovely runaway bride soon drew him in.
Jonas couldn’t think of another place he’d rather be—watching them roll cookie dough and dust each other with flour. He couldn’t take his eyes off AnnaBeth and Hunter.
He didn’t want to miss a single moment.
Chapter Eleven
Filling the coffeemaker with water Wednesday morning, AnnaBeth glanced through the window to see Jonas headed toward the house. Hard at work as usual, it appeared that he’d already been to the barn.
She poured the water as he entered the house. “Good morning.”
Toeing out of his work boots, his head snapped up. “Morning.” He shrugged out of his coat and hung it on the peg in the mudroom. “I didn’t see you there.”
His voice had a raspy, unused quality first thing in the morning. She attributed the high color in his cheekbones to the frosty morning.
She measured out the grounds. “You look like you could use some coffee.”
“That would be great, thank you.” His gaze darted. “Where’s Mom?”
“It was my turn to put breakfast on the table.” AnnaBeth got the coffee percolating and then took out the skillet. “Can I fix you some eggs?”
He removed several mugs from the cabinet. “I can make do with cereal.”
Pursing her lips, she tightened her hold on the iron frying pan. “You work hard, and you need something substantial to tide you over until lunch.”
His eyebrows rose.
She placed her other hand on her hip. “It’s not often I get the chance to cook, so how about letting somebody do something for you for a change?”
His mouth snapped open and shut.
She brandished the skillet. “Why can’t you just say ‘Why thank you, AnnaBeth. Breakfast would be lovely.’” She glared at him. “Unless you’re afraid I’ll poison you. Is that it, Jonas? You’re afraid I’m going to poison you?”
He cocked his head. “Why, thank you, AnnaBeth.” He gave her the slow, slightly crooked smile that made her knees go weak. “Breakfast would be lovely.” He pulled out a chair, sat down and looked at her.
Just looked at her.
“You’re not planning on hitting me over the head with that, are you, AnnaBeth?”
“Not right now.” She lifted her chin. “But the day’s still young.”
He laughed.
With a clang, she set the skillet on the stovetop. “Fried or scrambled?”
“I’ll have what you’re having.”
“I’m not—” She pressed her lips together. “Scrambled then. Maybe Hunter would like some, too.” She looked at the clock on the wall. “Should I make sure he’s awake?”
Jonas scooted out of the chair. “I’ll go get him dressed.”
“Give me ten minutes, and I’ll have breakfast ready.”
“Thanks.” He fingered the stubble on his jaw. “Maybe after breakfast you’d ride into town with me. After we drop Hunter off at school, we can check with Zach about how the repairs are going and how soon he expects to have you on your way.”
Was he hoping she left sooner versus later?