The Cowboy's Christmas Family. DONNA ALWARD
his help, missed having someone to talk to at the end of the day, missed having someone to tuck her against his side in bed at night and make her feel secure and safe and not so damned alone. Even though things had been strained during the final months of their marriage, she’d thought they’d work through it. She’d thought it was just the adjustment to having twins and being parents and not having as much time for each other.
Tears were streaming down her face as she went to get Liam, who was snuffling and wiping his eyes with a fist. She took him downstairs so Luke could still sleep, and put him down before she sank into the couch cushions.
He was a year old, couldn’t speak, didn’t understand a bit of why she was upset. But at that moment, he patted her on her knee, lifted his arms for up, and when she picked him up and held him in her arms, he didn’t fuss. He just snuggled in against her chest, tucked his face against the warm curve of her neck and put his pudgy little hand on her cheek.
“I love you, little man,” she said softly, sinking back into the corner of the sofa and folding her legs yoga-style. She turned her head a little and kissed his soft hair, and he patted her cheek with his fingers, a move she knew he found consoling. Like a constant reassurance that she was there. Not going anywhere.
Five minutes later she stretched out her legs, slid down in the cushions and looked down at Liam’s sleeping face.
Safe. Secure. Not alone.
She could provide that for her son. And she was living proof that she could make it on her own. But sometimes she wished someone was there to take away her loneliness, too.
The Gibson Christmas tree lighting was a big event. In past years, it had been a simple one-hour community occasion that was decently attended. But this year, with the advent of Snowflake Days, it was bigger and better. As Maddy parked her car in the fire department lot, she was amazed at the crowd already gathered. The lighting wasn’t for another forty minutes.
Her mom was in the passenger seat and her dad was squished in with the boys and their car seats in the back. “Are you guys okay with the stroller and stuff? I didn’t think I’d be needed this early.”
Her mom, Shirley, laughed. “Honey, the boys will be fine. We’ll just sneak a little rum and nutmeg into their milk and...”
“Mom!”
Her dad’s chuckle came from the back. “Maddy, you go. Leave us the keys, though, will you? So we can make sure we have everything and can lock it?”
She nodded and handed over the keys. “No candy canes for the boys, okay? I don’t want them to choke.”
She hopped out of the car and left the diaper bag behind for her parents. No candy canes? Ha. She’d learned one thing about grandparents very quickly. They nodded and agreed and then spoiled kids as soon as Mom’s back was turned. Maddy reminded herself that her mom had raised three kids and they’d all survived. Besides, she was too grateful for the help to say much at all. Since her brothers both lived out of state, she figured that one day she’d be able to repay the favor when her parents got older and needed help.
Cole was at the food donation station already, and he looked up and smiled as she approached. “Hey, there,” he greeted, and she couldn’t help but smile. He was bundled up in a heavy jacket and boots and mittens, but wore a ridiculously plush Santa hat on his head. “Sorry I missed you at the house today. I had errands for the festival and didn’t get back in time.”
“It was no problem. I hope the chili was okay.”
“It was perfect.” He took a bag of food items from one family and thanked them. “Okay. So here’s what I’ve done. Canned goods in one box, paper and cleaning items in another, pasta and rice and all the other stuff in this box. There are extra boxes under the table here if you need them.” He grinned, showing his perfectly white teeth. “And by the looks of this crowd, you’re gonna need them.”
She’d been half happy, half disappointed Cole hadn’t been at the house when she’d dropped by, and when Tanner had come in for lunch she’d kept busy making the chili while he ate rather than sitting and talking. And now she had this overjoyed feeling at seeing Cole again. She was a little embarrassed, bashful when their eyes met, a delicious twirly sensation tumbling in her stomach when she heard his deep voice. She surely wasn’t ready to move on, so why did she constantly feel like a schoolgirl around Cole Hudson? She reminded herself that he tended to have this effect on girls. He always had, even when they were in school. And yet he’d never had the reputation of being a ladies’ man. Not like his brother.
She stepped forward and accepted a grocery bag of donations from a family, finding an assortment of toothpaste, soap and shampoo inside. She put it in the proper box and jumped in surprise when she turned around and Cole put his Santa hat on her head.
“What are you doing?”
“Whoever works the station has to wear the hat,” he decreed.
“I’ve got a knitted one,” she protested, but then realized she’d left it in the diaper bag. With her parents.
“Is it invisible?” he asked.
She smiled at a teenage couple who came over, holding hands, and offered a jar of peanut butter and another of jelly. Cute.
“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” she asked, annoyed. And amused, damn him. She let the hat sit atop her head where he’d awkwardly placed it.
“Sure do. I get to plug in the lights. Let’s hope I don’t have one of those Clark Griswold moments where I plug them in and nothing happens.”
She did laugh at that. Christmas Vacation was one of her favorite holiday movies.
“I don’t want to keep you. Maybe you’d better check each one individually. And definitely make sure they’re twinkling.”
He leaned forward, a devilish look in his eye that made her realize that he and Tanner really did resemble each other. He touched the tip of her nose with his finger. “You are cheeky tonight,” he said, and he winked at her. Winked! “I like it.”
Her lips fell open and she scrambled for a crushing response, but before her brain kicked back into gear, he was gone.
The hat was warm from his head and she tucked it closer around her ears as the crowd grew and the food donation boxes filled. She greeted neighbors and friends, people she knew by sight but not by name by virtue of working in the library, and nearly everyone wished her a merry Christmas. The high school band teacher conducted a few instrument ensembles for background music, the trills of flutes and jazzy notes of saxophones brightening the air. Several feet away the business association, small though it was, had a table set up with cookies from the market and huge urns filled with hot chocolate and mulled cider. The rich, spicy scent was delicious.
At 7:00 p.m. sharp, Cole stood on a podium and got everyone’s attention with a sharp whistle. “Merry Christmas, everyone!” he called out.
Holiday wishes were returned enthusiastically by the crowd, along with clapping.
“I don’t have a microphone, so I’ll keep this short and sweet. Welcome to Gibson’s first ever Snowflake Days! Tonight we’re going to light our tree and sing a few carols and have an all-around good time. Tomorrow there’s a craft sale at the church, and you won’t want to miss it. I heard Gilda Turner’s made her famous fudge.”
There were laughs through the crowd. Gilda was getting close to ninety and every boy and girl who’d grown up in Gibson had, at some point, tasted Gilda’s fudge. There was none like it anywhere.
“And at the library tomorrow afternoon, we’ve got wagon rides for the kids, plus treats and story time. Finally, tomorrow night at the Silver Dollar, we have a dance for the grown-ups. Admission is ten dollars at the door and all the proceeds are going to the playground