Big Sky Christmas. C.J. Carmichael
to lose the baby.”
The words hit Jackson with a mighty punch.
Those first few weeks after Brock’s death had been hell for all of them. And to think Winnie had been dealing with so much more. And he hadn’t had a clue.
“She tried calling you, Olive,” Laurel continued. “She might even have driven down and forced you to talk to her. But she couldn’t. Her doctor had her on bed rest for most of her pregnancy.”
Olive’s eyes flickered. She glanced down at her hands, then toward the window. “I’m sorry. I wish I had known. But after the baby was born...”
“Why didn’t she tell you then?” Laurel’s voice was more gentle now. “It wasn’t an easy birth. And then Bobby had colic. It’s taken a long time for Winnie to recover...mentally and physically. Let’s not forget that she was also grieving the loss of the man she loved throughout all of this.”
Jackson couldn’t listen anymore. He left the room, went for the coffeepot then froze. Winnie was still standing there, her mug empty in her hands.
“What’s Laurel saying out there?” she asked.
She hadn’t turned to look at him, and he studied her profile, the straight line of her nose, the full lips, her small but firm chin. She was such a beautiful woman, and she was strong, too. Much stronger than he had realized.
“She’s telling us what you’ve been through since Brock died.” He cleared his throat. “I had no idea you had such a struggle to keep the baby—”
He stopped talking as Winnie turned to him. Her eyes, normally sparkling with good humor, were dark and sad. She glanced from his face to the empty cup in his hand. Automatically she reached for the coffeepot.
He’d been intending to have a refill. Inexplicably he changed his mind and placed the mug in the dishwasher. Laurel joined them, then. It seemed like a good time to make his escape. He wasn’t sure what to say, anyway. That he felt badly for her? That he wished he could have helped in some way?
As if anything he could have done would have made a difference.
* * *
LAUREL SIGHED AS she reached for the coffeepot. “I had to say something. I couldn’t take listening to her badger you anymore.” She refilled her mug, then Winnie’s.
“Nice of you to try,” Winnie said. “But it won’t make any difference. Olive is always going to blame me for this. In a way, she’s right. But I just didn’t have the strength to handle one more thing.”
As she spoke, Winnie watched Jackson head back to the family room, where he took a chair near Corb. She wondered what he’d been about to say to her. Jackson so rarely voiced an opinion that when he did, it was worth taking note.
But he’d left the kitchen now, so she’d probably never know what he’d been thinking.
“Olive is Olive,” Laurel concluded the point she’d been making. “At least she’s a good grandmother. I’ll give her that.”
“She sure spoils them with gifts. I’m not sure I’m going to be able to fit all that new stuff in my apartment.”
“Maybe you should rethink moving to the cottage. Corb and I would love to have you living next door.”
“That part would be fun,” Winnie admitted.
“Bobby and Stephanie could grow up playing together.”
Winnie groaned. “Stop tempting me.”
“Then move in. You know how much I worried about missing New York. But I love it here.”
“Sure you do. You’re married to Corb. And this is his place.”
“Bobby’s a Lambert, too.”
“Yes, but he’s my son, not my husband. I’m not even thirty years old.” She hesitated, then added, “One day I might start dating again. Can you imagine how weird it would be for my boyfriend to have to drive out to my deceased fiancé’s ranch in order to pick me up?”
Laurel wrinkled her nose. “True enough. Darn. I was really hoping I could talk you into this. But it’s cool you’re thinking of dating. Who’s the guy?”
“There is no guy. I’m speaking hypothetically.”
“There are some awesome single cowboys in the area. I met several when I was working at the café.”
Winnie felt not even a spark of curiosity. She’d only brought up the possibility of dating again so her friend would stop pushing her to move out to the ranch.
“Speaking of the café.” She grasped the opportunity to change the subject. “I want to thank you again. If you hadn’t kept the Cinnamon Stick running while I was laid up at Mom and Dad’s, I’d be out of business by now.”
“Hey, I would have done it for free. And you insisted on paying me a salary.”
“Well, of course. It was the least I could do.”
“You’ve always been there for me when I needed you. And I’m glad I could finally do the same for you.”
Laurel was talking about the years when they’d been young girls on neighboring farms in the Highwood area. Laurel had been only eight when her mother died. Left alone with a cool, distant father, she’d been unofficially adopted by the Hays family. The two girls had spent so much time together they were like sisters—except they rarely fought.
“Tell me. Do you think Jackson’s doing okay?” Winnie had her eyes on him as she asked this. While he was listening to Corb talk, he was watching Bobby. What was he was thinking? She’d noticed how moved he’d been when he’d met her son earlier. Was it the likeness to Brock that got to him?
Laurel sighed. “Corb’s worried about him. We hoped moving to Silver Creek Ranch and working for Maddie Turner might help. But he seems as withdrawn and sad as ever.”
“Did you see how choked up he got when he met Bobby?”
“Yes. But so was Corb. And Olive can’t take her eyes off him, either.”
“I’m a little worried that people are going to expect Bobby to be exactly like his father as he grows up.”
Laurel nodded thoughtfully. “I see what you mean. I hate to say it, but maybe you’re right to keep a little distance between your son and Coffee Creek Ranch.”
And by Coffee Creek Ranch, they both knew she meant Olive.
* * *
WHEN THE EVENING was over, Jackson volunteered to load Bobby’s gifts into Winnie’s car. He wasn’t looking for opportunities to be alone with Winnie, but Laurel and Corb had left five minutes earlier when Stephanie started fussing for her nighttime bottle. And he couldn’t leave Winnie to manage alone.
The babies had managed to make quite a mess and it took him a couple of trips to get everything in the trunk. By then Olive had said her farewells and Winnie had her son strapped into his seat. By the angle of Bobby’s head, Jackson suspected the little guy was already asleep.
Winnie was wearing a red coat that looked great with her dark, wavy hair. The night was clear, the air cold and crisp. Already the tip of Winnie’s nose was turning pink.
She waited until he’d emptied the last of the packages, then closed the trunk. “What a lot of loot. And it’s still six weeks until Christmas.”
“She’ll spoil him then, too,” Jackson predicted.
“God, I hope not. I don’t think I have enough room for all of this, let alone more.”
“Maybe I should build in a storage unit in the new bedroom?”
“What an awesome idea.”
He went to open the driver’s-side door