Authors: Marin Thomas
It had been an eventful afternoon.
Winnie rinsed another teacup, then handed it to Jackson to dry. “Lord knows,” she finally said, “I'm not a big fan of Olive's. But I think I'm starting to feel sorry for her.”
“I know what you mean.”
“On the other hand, Laurel grew up in sort of a similar situation. Her mom died of cancer when she was a little girl and it broke her dad's heart. He never really wanted Laurel after that, and she knew it. That's why she spent so much time at our place.”
“You'd never guess to know her. She's got such a great sense of humor and she's so upbeat.” Jackson opened a cupboard and started putting away the fancy cups. On a top shelf, Winnie noticed. Who knew when they'd be used again?
When Maddie died?
Oh, Lord, what a depressing thought.
“Exactly,” she said. “A person can overcome a tough childhood. But it also makes you realize how much can be lost if you hang on to old resentments and regrets.”
“Is this segueing into a lecture on my behalf?” Jackson teased.
She turned her head so he wouldn't see her guilty flush. “We haven't talked about Brock for a while. I'm hoping it means you've finally put the accident behind you. Have the nightmares stopped?”
“You worry too much. We wouldn't be having this relationship if I was still hung up about Brock's death.” He pulled her away from the sink and into his arms, where they enjoyed a nice, leisurely kiss.
But when it ended, Winnie pulled back to study his eyes. As usual, they were guarded.
He hadn't actually
said
that the nightmares were over.
But she wouldn't push him.
It had been a good week, she reflected. She and Bobby had spent almost every evening here at Silver Creek Ranch. And on Sunday Jackson had promised to take them out to find a couple Christmas trees. A small one for the apartment and something grander for the farmhouse.
They had two reasons for wanting to make it a special Christmas this year. One reason was Maddie. It seemed very likely that this would be her last Christmas.
Whereas for Bobby, who had been born in early January, this would be his first.
Winnie didn't want the holiday to be just an orgy of opening presents. She hoped to instill in her son the importance of family and traditions...and helping others who were less fortunate. Which was why she wanted to take him with her next week when she delivered home-baked Christmas cookies to the Mountain View Care Home.
He might be too young to get the message now. But over the course of many years, she hoped it would sink in.
“You're awfully thoughtful,” Jackson commented.
“I was just thinking about Christmas. I want it to be perfect this year.”
She expected him to agree. But instead he looked concerned. “Don't set your sights too high.”
She wanted to ask him what he meant by that. But Bobby chose that moment to wake up.
“Mama?”
Not wanting him to bother Maddie, she rushed to the other room.
* * *
O
N
S
UNDAY
, W
INNIE
stepped out of her car into six inches of fresh snow. “Good thing I wore my boots, Bobby Boy.”
“Boots!” he echoed happily, kicking his own against his car seat as he waited for her to release him. “Snow!” he said next, when she set him down so she could grab the picnic she'd packed for their Christmas-tree-hunting expedition.
“Hey there!” Jackson emerged from the house with a down parka, hat and gloves. “Talk about a winter wonderland.”
Winnie almost said,
It's perfect,
but stopped herself. It still bothered her that Jackson had warned her not to set her sights too high the other day.
As if he knew that something was going to go wrong.
Well, it wasn't.
“Here, I'll take this little guy.” Jackson leaned over to scoop up Bobby, who squealed with excitement. “And that.” With his other hand he snagged the insulated bag with the picnic snacks inside.
Then he kissed her, softly on the lips, then the nose.
“How did you get so cold already?”
Instead of answering, she tried to make a snowball to throw at him, but the dry fluffy crystals flew away in the breeze and he just laughed at her.
“So I've hitched a couple of Maddie's horses to a sleigh I found in the back of the tractor barn.” Jackson led the way around a grove of aspen trees, with their slender white trunks and graceful bare branches, to the fenced-in pasture that surrounded the cattle barn.
Out front was the team of white draft horses, snorting in the cold. Jackson had combed out their manes and tails and tied red bows to the harness so they looked show ready.
“Wow, Jackson. They're beautiful.”
“Aren't they? Maddie fell in love with them and paid a pretty penny.”
“I thought she was strapped for money.”
“Yes. And it's because of decisions like this. She thinks too much with her heart.” Jackson placed the insulated bag in the sleigh, then took Bobby to say hi to the horses and feed them each a chunk of carrot. “The former owners had a sense of humor. They named them Thelma and Louise.”
Winnie had watched the movie with her mom years ago. “You expect me to let my son ride in a sleigh with a suicidal duo like that?”
But she was already climbing into her seat, excited to get started.
Jackson settled Bobby on her lap before getting into the driver's seat. As soon as they started moving, Bobby began clapping his hands and didn't stop.
“Cow! Cow!” he kept insisting, pointing to the horses and smiling with glee.
“His dad must be rolling over in his grave,” Jackson said.
Winnie just laughed. She wasn't in the mood to correct her son. He'd learn soon enough, and right now he was just so darn cute.
They returned to the ranch an hour and a half later, having found what Winnie considered to be two excellent trees, though Jackson insisted they both could be stand-ins for
A Charlie Brown Christmas.
“Wait until they're decorated,” Winnie insisted.
Jackson carried the bigger tree into the house and set it into the stand to thaw while Winnie warmed up soup and made sandwiches for lunch.
After they'd eaten, Maddie directed them up to the attic, where several boxes of old ornaments and lights were moldering. Jackson wiped off most of the dust before carrying them down the ladder, then spent the next five minutes sneezing.
Digging into the old boxes was like discovering lost treasure. Winnie found old-fashioned strands of lights, colorful glass balls and garlands for the windows.
“These are priceless!”
While Bobby and Maddie napped, Jackson helped her decorate the tree. They strung the lights first, after checking that they still worked, then added garlands.
“Now the ornaments,” Winnie said, handing one to Jackson to place at the top of the tree.
“Decorating the tree is more work than cutting it down.” Jackson's tone was mild, though, as he made the protest.
“You've done this before, I take it,” Winnie said, noting how careful he was not to group similar-colored balls together.
“Olive is a stickler about her Christmas trees. They have to be perfect.”
“And when you were younger, living with your mom. Did you have Christmas trees then?”
He paused. “I don't think so. Not that I remember.”
“But you
did
celebrate Christmas?”
“Most years we exchanged gifts.”
Which implied there had been years when they didn't.
“Christmas wasn't a big deal to us.”
“Really?” She didn't know many little kids who didn't love Christmas.
“Really,” Jackson insisted. “If Mom was sober, I was happy. It was all I ever wanted. I do remember one year we went to Mom's parents for Christmas dinner. The food was good, but the tension between my grandparents and mother was awful. They were fighting before we made it to dessert. I was so glad to get out of there.”
“They weren't nice people?”
“At the time, I was totally on my mother's side. Now that I'm older, I get where my grandparents were coming from. They wanted Mom and me to move in with them. They wanted to pay for her to go back to school. It was all good stuff, but back then I believed my mom when she said they were just trying to control her.”
“Oh, gosh, Jackson.” She felt so lucky in comparison, but it really wasn't fair. Why did some children have so much and others so little?
“Hey. Don't feel sorry for me. It wasn't that bad. At least, not until Mom hooked up with that last boyfriend of hers. But let's stop talking about that. It's almost dark. Why don't we turn out the lights and see how the tree looks?”
Winnie kicked aside the last empty box and went to the switch on the wall. Just as she turned out the lights, Maddie came out of her room and gasped with pleasure.
“Oh, my. That's lovely.”
And it really was.
Energized by the proceedings, Maddie went to the kitchen and added some cinnamon and cloves to her homemade apple cider, heating it on the stove until the entire house smelled like Christmas.
When it was ready, Jackson poured the cider into large mugs and the three of them sat down to admire the tree. Winnie set her mug on a coffee table, then picked up her sleepy son and cuddled him close in her arms.
Maddie sighed with pleasure. “This house hasn't been decorated for Christmas since my mother died. This brings back so many memories.... Thank you both.”
Winnie was stunned into silence by the disclosure. She glanced at Jackson and saw an equally shocked look in his eyes.
That meant Maddie hadn't celebrated Christmas since she was a very little girl. And Olive had grown up without ever decorating a tree or hanging a stocking for Santa.
The more she learned about Olive's past, the more sympathy she felt for the older woman. No wonder she clung to her own children with a ferocity that was almost desperate at times.
Chapter Thirteen
That evening, it started snowing again and Jackson and Maddie both tried to talk Winnie into spending the night.
“I can't. I don't have enough diapers for Bobby.”
“I could drive into town and buy some,” Jackson offered.
Winnie laughed. “Don't be silly. We'll be fine.”
Acquiescing reluctantly, Jackson helped her out to the car. It took a few minutes to figure out how to work the infernal car seat, but he eventually had Bobby buckled in.
“You should own a truck. Not that dinky car,” he told Winnie as he held the driver side door open for her.
“It's an SUV,” she insisted of her little white Toyota RAV4.
“A
baby
SUV,” he insisted, “is not as good as a truck. We can't even fit your tree in here.”
He was nervous about leaving Maddie home alone, but even more nervous about Winnie driving in what was turning out to be a blizzard. “Sure you won't reconsider and stay the night?”
“I really can't. Diapers aren't an option for Bobby at this age. Trust me.”
She was laughing at him, he realized. But he was determined to get the last word. “Okay, then. I'm driving behind you to make sure you get home safely. That way I can bring your tree, too.”
“But you can't leave Maddie alone.”
“I'll phone Corb. Have him on standby in case anything goes wrong.” He went back inside to call Corb and explain the situation, then he told Maddie that if she needed anything at all, she was to phone Corb. He could be at Silver Creek in ten minutes.
“I'll be fine,” Maddie insisted. “I've got my water and my pills. And after such an exciting day, I'm sure I'll sleep well tonight.”
It was satisfying to know she'd enjoyed the day so much.
Decorating for the holidays wasn't really his thing. But hanging out with Winnie and her son was.
Then again, he figured he could muck out a barn with Winnie and still feel like he'd had a good day.
He made sure the phone was within easy reach of the bed, then checked the food and water for the dogs and cats. Finally he was ready to get into his truck. His intention was to see Winnie safely home, then go straight back to Silver Creek.
But when they arrived at Coffee Creek, it seemed only polite to offer to carry Bobby up the stairs for Winnie. Then he made a second trip with the Christmas tree, setting it in a bucket of water for Winnie to deal with later.
And then she invited him inâjust for a few minutes. That was all it took for Winnie to change her sleeping little boy and have him settled in his crib in the new bedroom.
And then the two of them were alone.
A rare luxury.
He only meant to kiss her goodnight. But she responded so passionately that he had second thoughts.
He touched a strand of her hair, running it between his thumb and index finger, enjoying the silky softness. “I guess I should be a gentleman and leave.”
Winnie tilted her head and gave him a provocative sideways look. “Or maybe you should be a gentleman and stay.”
He swallowed, then cupped her head in his hand, holding her still so she had to look at him. “If I stay, I won't be a gentleman.”
* * *
W
INNIE
HAD
NEVER
SEEN
Jackson's eyes this dark. They were almost black. He seemed fascinated by her face. One second her mouth. The next her eyes. Then her mouth again. He traced his finger over her bottom lip.
“You want me to stay, Win?”
She was almost trembling from how much she desired him. He'd worn a charcoal sweater today and she dared to slip her hands under it, to feel the cords of muscles running across his back.
He sucked in a breath, then did the same to her, gliding his hands under her sweater, then up from her waist to her ribcage. Slowly he moved his hands higher, flicked open her bra then pulled her in tight.
“Kiss me,” he demanded, his voice husky.
And when she did, something released in him. It was like a power surge. And suddenly he was out of control, kissing her, holding down her wrists and moving his lips down her neck, inch by sensuous inch.
She had guessed he was holding back the other times they'd been alone together. She'd been right.
“Oh, Jackson.”
He pulled back, eyes hooded, voice deep and rough. “Should I stop?”
“Never.”
* * *
M
ORNING
CAME
much too early. Jackson had stayed the night, and though they'd only slept for a few hours of it, Winnie couldn't remember the last time she'd went down so deeply.
“Morning, beautiful.” Jackson's scruffy morning beard scraped her chin as he gave her a tender kiss.
She put a hand on the side of his face, holding him close for a while longer. “You are...amazing.”
He laughed, but seemed a little embarrassed, too.
“You're not used to staying the night, are you?”
“Not my specialty,” he agreed. “Until now.”
The look he gave her held so much love, she felt a happiness so complete it was almost awe. To think that this gorgeous, strong male should want to be hers.
And then reality struck, reminding her she was, above all, a mother.
“Up, Mama. Up, up, up!”
She groaned and pulled herself to her elbows. “Mama's coming, Bobby.”
“Let me get him,” Jackson offered. A second later he was out of bed, slipping on his jeans and pulling the sweater over his head on his way out the door.
Winnie relaxed back into the pillow and closed her eyes. One more minute, then she'd get up...
The apartment was small. The walls thin. She heard Jackson. “Hey there, Bobby. Are you hungry?”
And then Bobby squealed, “Dada! Up, Dada, up!”
Winnie's hand flew to her throat. She jumped from the bed in one quick flowing movement, grabbing her housecoat from the back of a chair. A second later Jackson was at the entrance to her room.
“Bobby needs you,” he said.
Everything was different. His eyes, his expression, his body language. He was like another man. Very distant and unapproachable.
“I have to go,” he said.
And then he did.
* * *
W
HAT
HAD
HE
DONE
? Oh, God, what had he done?
Jackson took the stairs two at a time, not bothering to put on the jacket he'd grabbed on his way out the door until he reached the truck he'd left parked outside the Cinnamon Stick last night.
The town was quiet this early on Monday morning. But his head was full of sounds. A little boy,
Brock's
little boy, calling him Dada.
The sound of it had broken his heart.
I'm not your daddy. Your daddy is dead. You'll never even meet him. And it's because of me....
He'd thought he was over the guilt, ready to move forward, but he'd been wrong.
He started the truck's engine, then brushed four inches of snow from the windshield. The day was cold, but the sky was clear.
The storm was over.
But inside his heart, it had just begun.
* * *
W
INNIE
DIDN
'
T
HEAR
a word from Jackson all that day. Or the next. She hardly slept either night and didn't have much of an appetite, either. She had to do something to get rid of these knots in her stomach, and calling Jackson didn't seem like the smart thing.
Finally she was so desperate, she actually went back into the kitchen to talk to Vince.
He was sprinkling yeast over a glass bowl filled with warm milk. “Shut that door.”
She guessed he meant for her to be on the other side of it, but she did as he asked.
“I need your advice, Vince.” She perched on a stool, resting her feet on one of the rungs and leaning back against the counter.
“You've come to the wrong place for that.”
It was true, not many people would think about approaching the gruff, ex-bronc rider for his thoughts on matters of the heart. But in this case, Winnie figured he was the perfect choice.
“Things were going so well between Jackson and me. And then Bobby called him daddy. And it spooked him. He went running and hasn't talked to me in two days.”
“Daddy, huh?”
“Well,
dada
to be exact. I'm not sure Bobby even knows what it means, though maybe he does. Every time she sees him, Olive shows him pictures of Brock and says
daddy
about a thousand times. Or maybe he picked it up from the time he's spent with Laurel, Corb and Stephanie.”
Vince rubbed a hand along the side of his unshaven cheek. “Is Jackson kind of uncomfortable around your kid?”
“No. He's great with Bobby. He's a natural dad.”
“So it's not the role of caring for a child that frightens him.”
“Not at all. It's the fact that this child belongs to Brock. Jackson feels guilty that he's taking over Brock's life. Especially since he was the one driving when Brock died.”
Vince rubbed his chin. “I figured he moved to Silver Creek Ranch to put some distance between himself and the Lamberts. But he'll never really be free of them. Not if you two stay together. Because Bobby is a Lambert and always will be.”
Winnie pressed a hand to her forehead. “It's such a mess, isn't it? I felt guilty, too, in the beginning. But I'd grieved for Brock for a year and a half and I realized I was ready to move on. Why can't Jackson?”
“We don't all heal at the same rate. And Jackson, he's had a difficult life. His mother had troubles, with drugs and such. And even once he went to live on Coffee Creek Ranch, he had his trials. Olive didn't want him there. And he knew it.”
“I realize he had a rough childhood. But why does that make it so hard for him to love me?”
“It's not loving you that's hard. It's giving himself permission to be happy.”
Vince's words rang true. Winnie looked at her baker with respect. “That's it. How the heck did a bachelor like you get to be so wise?”
“Aw, heck.” Vince waved his hand as if he were shooing away a fly. “I'm no Dear Abby.”
Despite her worries, Winnie had to laugh, imagining a picture of the wiry old cowboy above a Dear Abby column.
“Your advice is probably just as good as hers.”
“Who'd want to listen to an old man who's made as many mistakes as I have?”
She supposed he was talking about his drinking problem. “At least the only person you harmed was yourself.”
“I wish that was true.”
“What do you mean?”
“Never you mind. Just get the hell out of here. And don't let in a draft or the yeast won't rise.”
* * *
I
F
THIS
WASN
'
T
REAL
, then why could he feel the sun on his face? The roof of the SUV was gone and the airbag had Jackson pressed tightly against the back of his seat.
The three of them had been singing along with the radio, a rowdy song about getting knocked down and getting up again.
But the music was off now, like the engine. Outside Jackson could hear some robins calling back and forth. They sounded worried.
He shouldn't look. He knew it would be awful. But he couldn't stop himself. Slowly he turned his head to the passenger side of the vehicle.
Brock. Oh, God. No. So much blood.
He closed his eyes. Swallowed. Then called to the backseat. “Corb? You okay?”
No answer.
He must have killed them both.
“No!” Jackson shot up from his pillow.
He was in bed. It was still dark.
Hell. The nightmares were back. With a vengeance.
He waited a minute for his heart to stop thundering, then made his way to the washroom, where he rinsed the slick coating of sweat from his face.
He checked the time on his phone. Five-thirty. He might as well do the chores. Downstairs, as he put on his warmest clothes, the dogs sleeping in Maddie's room heard him and came to follow him outdoors.
He almost welcomed the bitter cold. This was the third night he'd woken this way. Jackson was living in his own personal hell again, and he knew he deserved it.
He must have been crazy to think he could take Brock's place in Winnie's life and not pay the consequences.
Olive had been right, after all. That was one of the most annoying things about her. She often was.
After a quick romp in the snow, Trix and Honey went into the barn while he loaded bales on Maddie's old flatbed truck. When he had enough hay, he drove out to the feed bunk, following the trail he'd cleared through the snow after the last storm. The cows were huddled together under the shelter. Kind of a pathetic herd now, but in a few years, that would change.
Snow and even a few icicles clung to the cattle's dark coats. He tossed their bales into the feed bunk, then checked to make sure the heaters were working and the water wasn't frozen.
He drove back to the barn, where he fed the horses and mucked out their stalls. It was warmer in here, but not toasty. He thought longingly of the Lamberts' heated, high-tech barns. It would be at least a decade before he'd have anything that fancy here at Silver Creek.
He was about to head into the house, anticipating that first cup of hot coffee, when he heard the barn door open.
He turned to see the baker from the Cinnamon Stick, Vince Butterfield. He had on a heavy sheepskin jacket, but still the old cowboy looked cold.
“Hell of a morning.”
“Welcome to Montana in December.” He couldn't imagine what Vince was doing here, and a terrible thought occurred to him. “Are Win and her son okay?”
Vince held up a reassuring hand. “They're fine.” He let out a long breath. “Look, I know you must be surprised to see me. But can we talk for a bit?”