Never Too Late. RaeAnne Thayne
Christmas a thought between helping Taylor with her wedding, finishing up her E.R. rotation in her second year of residency and dealing with this wild tangle of emotions at learning her true identity.
Finding out she had been kidnapped at the age of three from the arms of a loving family and thrust into the hell she’d lived as a child tended to make everything else on her to-do list fade into the background. How was she supposed to adjust to the fact that the person she thought she was all her life didn’t exist?
She supposed she needed somehow to summon the energy and get busy about the holidays. It was unlike her to procrastinate so long—her friends always teased that she usually had her shopping done by Halloween.
Though she typically only bought a few gifts—something for Taylor and a few other friends, and for Tom and Maryanne Spencer, her foster parents in St. Petersburg—she was stunned by the sudden realization that her list had now grown by leaps and bounds.
She already had something for Taylor, a stained-glass wall hanging she had purchased at the arts festival in Park City last August, but now she would have to find something for Lynn and Sam, for Wyatt, for Gage, and for Allie and her children.
Before she could give in to the panic spurting through her at the idea, Lynn squeezed her hands. “I know I’ve mentioned this at least a dozen times before,” her mother went on, “but I wanted to remind you again that I’m having dinner Christmas Eve at my home in Liberty. We’ll all be together. Even Sam is staying until after the holidays.”
A blush stole across Lynn’s still-lovely skin like autumn’s touch on a delicate leaf and Kate wondered at it. She looked for her father and found him on the dance floor with Allie’s youngest daughter, Anna.
Sam McKinnon was still a handsome man, she thought, even though he was probably nearing sixty. He was exactly the kind of man she would have selected for a father if she’d been given a chance—quiet and strong, with powerful shoulders, a deep desert tan from years of living in Las Vegas, and the nicked and callused hands of a carpenter.
Her parents had divorced decades ago, a year after she’d been kidnapped. Could Lynn still have feelings for Sam after all this time? And if she did, why had she never acted on them?
Did their divorce stem from the trauma of losing a child? Though she knew it was irrational, she couldn’t help a pang of guilt, as if somehow she had been responsible.
“We’ll be eating around seven,” Lynn said. “A little early because of the girls.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” she lied smoothly.
The fact that her words were a lie only made her more angry. These were wonderful people—loving and kind and painfully eager for her to take her place in their family. Why couldn’t she? Why was she so damn conflicted every time she saw the love in their eyes?
Why couldn’t she become the daughter they had lost?
Sam suddenly swung Anna around in their direction through the crowd to join them. The moment they were close enough, Anna jumped from his arms and threw her arms around Gage’s waist.
“Gage-Gage-Gage,” she chattered. “Grandpa Sam and me were dancing. He says I dance just like Clara in The Nutcracker. Wanta see?”
She didn’t give him a chance to answer as she pulled him out to the area of the room that had been cleared of furniture for dancing.
“Looks like I’ve lost my partner,” Sam said with that warm smile of his. “How about if I take my beautiful little girl for a spin around the dance floor instead?”
She gazed at that smile. How many other dances had she missed with her father over the years? What would her life have been like if she’d had Sam, with his broad hands and his warm smile, to help her over all the rough patches along the way?
She thought of the times when her home had been the back seat of a broken-down car, when her stomach had churned with hunger more often than not, when her only friend had been a tattered doll Brenda had picked up at the Salvation Army during one of her good moods.
Suddenly she couldn’t bear this. She cared about these people and she wanted to love them. But how could she, when she couldn’t see past her own bitterness over all that had been taken from her?
She blew out a breath, loathe to disappoint this kind man more than she feared she already had been a great disappointment to all of them. “Um, I’m a bit warm. I think I need to sneak out for a little air. Do you mind?”
“Not at all, honey.” He winked at her and slipped an arm across Lynn’s shoulders. “I’ve been waiting all night for my chance to sweep the mother of the groom off her feet.”
Lynn blushed again but went willingly into his arms. Neither of them noticed as Kate slipped through the huge gathering room of the Bradshaws’ski lodge in Little Cottonwood Canyon with its heavy log beams and soaring cathedral ceiling.
The large home was the perfect place for a December wedding. Besides the huge tree in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, with its twinkling gold lights and plump burgundy ribbons, more lights winked from fresh garlands hanging on the stairway and around the doorways. Gold and burgundy candles speared out of more greenery on the mantel of the huge rock fireplace, where a fire burned merrily.
It was a magical scene, one she would have delighted in for Taylor if circumstances had been different. She barely noticed, though, as she hurried through the house and slipped out the door leading to the wide deck that circled the rear of the house.
The twinkling lights extended out here and gave her just enough light to pick her way carefully across the deck. The December cold was a welcome relief from the warm house and from the heat of her own emotions as she leaned against the railing and lifted her face to the gentle snowfall.
After a moment, she could feel the tension in her shoulders begin to seep away as tiny flakes caught on the mossy-green velvet of her dress, in her hair, on her eyelashes. She relaxed enough that she even stuck her tongue out to catch a few stray snowflakes.
Growing up in Florida, she’d never seen snow as a child. It wasn’t until she came to Utah for college that she had experienced her first snowfall and she still remembered how entranced she’d been by the sheer beauty of it.
Eight years later, she’d seen enough snow for it to lose much of its magic—it was mostly just a pain to drive in and a hassle to scrape off her car on her way to class or to the hospital.
Until moments like this.
Inside, the string quartet played something low and lovely and the mountains gleamed white in the moonlight. Tiny, gentle snowflakes kissed her cheeks.
She wasn’t sure how long she stood there, but she did know this was the nearest thing to peace she had known since Wyatt had revealed to her the results of the DNA testing he had secretly ordered after they’d met through Taylor.
“You stay out here much longer, you’re going to catch pneumonia.”
The voice from the darkness startled her and she whirled so quickly she nearly lost her footing on the snow-slick wood of the deck. A large, dark shape stepped out of the shadows at the edge of the deck and into the light spilling from the lodge windows.
She recognized Hunter Bradshaw, Taylor’s older brother, and pressed a hand to her suddenly racing heart. To her chagrin, she suddenly wasn’t sure if her increased pulse stemmed from being caught unawares or from suddenly finding herself in such close proximity to Hunter.
In a dark suit and white shirt, he was gorgeous, with dark hair the color of hot cocoa, lean, elegant features and dark-blue eyes that gleamed in the night. And, she had to admit, he had been making her pulse race since they’d met five years earlier.
“Sorry,” he said. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“I didn’t realize anyone else was here.” Her voice sounded breathless and she cleared her throat to conceal her reaction to him. “How long have you been standing