The Twins' Family Christmas. Lee Tobin McClain
the laughter of the children, punctuated by some booming laughs from him, made loneliness squeeze Lily’s stomach, but she straightened her back and drew in the deep, cleansing breath she’d learned about from her army therapist. She deserved to be lonely.
Because the father-daughter fun outside didn’t make up for what was missing from the picture: a mom. Beautiful, mysterious Pam, who hadn’t gotten to spend nearly enough time with her husband and kids in the years before her death.
Don’t dwell on what you can’t change. Lily looked away from the trio’s good spirits toward Long John’s cabin. She’d seen the undecorated Christmas tree, the single strand of lights around the porch railing, the pizza box beside the trash can. All of it spoke of a man alone, and Long John wasn’t in such good shape.
Having a trained medic—her—up here over the holidays, when the older man was likely to be cut off from his support system, might be a blessing. Something God had planned. It was another way Lily could make up for her past.
When she looked back at the little twins, they were building something out of rocks, possibly a house for the bright collection of toys on the ground. Normally, she didn’t understand kids—they were aliens to her. But these girls’ serious, intent faces made her smile. They were focused on fun, just as kids should be.
Fun. It wasn’t something she’d thought a lot about. No time. She’d joined the army at eighteen, gotten trained as a medic and then a combat photographer, done pretty well for a poor girl from a rough background. After that, college on the GI Bill at an accelerated pace.
Everyone told her to slow down, but she didn’t want to. Slowing down gave her the time to think.
It wasn’t until she heard the knock on the door that she realized the girls’ father was nowhere in sight.
As she went to answer a second knock, she glanced through the window.
Carson Blair stood on her front porch. Her heart thumped, and she inhaled a bracing breath. She’d wanted to investigate the man, to make sure he was treating Pam’s girls well.
It looked like the opportunity had just fallen into her lap.
Carson waited for the mysterious Lily to answer his knock, wondering at his own intense curiosity.
The pastor part of him had noticed the sad, distant look in her eyes. There was some kind of pain there, and it tugged at his heart. He’d try to establish at least an initial connection. There was plenty of time to do more probing, as Penny had requested, within the next few days.
He also wanted to get a better look at her, and honesty compelled him to ask himself why. Surely not because he found her attractive? He did, of course—he was human, and she was gorgeous—but gorgeous women were not for him. He wanted to marry again, if God willed it; his girls needed a mother, and his own work as a pastor would be enhanced if he had a wife ministering at his side. Not to mention how long and lonely winter evenings could be when you didn’t have a partner to talk to and love.
But this woman wasn’t a prospect.
The door jerked open. “Can I help you?” came a voice out of the cabin’s dimness. A voice that wasn’t exactly friendly.
“We didn’t have the chance to introduce ourselves. I’m Carson Blair. Just came by to say hello, since it looks like we’re going to be neighbors over the holiday.”
“Pleased to meet you.” Her voice didn’t sound pleased. “I’m Lily. What brings you to the ranch? Penny mentioned you live nearby.”
Her interrogation surprised him—in his counseling role, he needed to find out about her, not vice versa—and it made him feel oddly defensive. “My daughters and I are looking for a peaceful Christmas, away from our daily stresses and strains.”
“Your girls are stressed?” She came forward into the light, standing on the threshold. Her wheat-blond hair seemed to glow, and her high cheekbones and full lips were model-pretty.
So were her big, slate-colored eyes. Eyes that glared, almost like she had it in for him.
He took a breath and reminded himself of that old counseling cliché: hurt people hurt people. “I guess it’s just me that’s stressed,” he admitted, keeping his tone easy and relaxed. “Busy time of year for a pastor. But the girls are thrilled to be up here with Long John and the dogs.”
Her face softened a little. “It is nice up here. Good feel to the place.”
“Yes, there is.” He paused. “Say, Penny mentioned that you’re a photographer. And that she’d asked you to take some family photos of us as a Christmas present.”
“That’s right. When are you available?”
Noting that her body language was still tense, Carson decided that this wasn’t the time to work out details. Besides, she wasn’t inviting him in, and her short-sleeved shirt and faded jeans weren’t cold-weather gear. She must be freezing. “We can figure that out in the next day or two. Meanwhile, if you need anything, I’m right next door.”
He turned to go down the steps when two blond heads popped up next to the railing. “Hi,” Sunny, always the bolder of the two, called out to Lily. “What’s your name?”
Carson walked halfway down the steps and stopped in front of his curious girls. “I think Miss...” He realized he didn’t know her last name. “I’m sure our neighbor is busy right now.”
“Whatcha doing?” Sunny slid under the wooden rail and climbed the rest of the way up the steps. “Can we see your cabin?”
Skye, easing up the stairs behind Sunny, didn’t speak, but it was plain to see that she was equally interested.
“Girls.” He put a hand on each shoulder. “We don’t go where we’re not invited.” Watching the pouts start to form, he added, “Besides, we’ve got unpacking to do, and then some dogs to meet.”
“Dogs!” they both said at the same time, their curiosity about the lady next door forgotten.
“Unpacking first,” he said, herding them down the steps. But as he turned to offer an apologetic wave to their neighbor, he thought her stance on the porch looked lonely, her eyes almost...hungry.
* * *
The next morning, Lily shivered in the bright sun, looked at the newly slick, icy road out of the ranch and had a crisis of confidence.
Could her ancient, bald-tired Camaro handle the trip into town?
If not, could she handle staying up here without coffee?
The lack of caffeine had left her head too fuzzy to figure out how to investigate her surprise neighbors, and there was no coffee or coffee maker in the cabin.
She could go to Long John or Carson to see what she could borrow, but she didn’t want to open up that kind of neighborly relationship with Carson, not when she was trying to ascertain his suitability as a father. And she’d heard Long John say that he didn’t drink coffee.
Her caffeine-withdrawal headache was setting in big-time. So she had to go, and now, full daylight with the sun shining, was the right time, rather than waiting until later when it was likely to snow. And when all the shops would be closed for Christmas Eve.
Because most people wanted to be with their families.
You’re not an orphan; you’re just making a choice. Her father was still living, and he would have certainly taken her in for Christmas. If she could find him, and if he had a roof over his head. And if he was sober.
But in all the years she’d spent Christmas with her parents as a child, she couldn’t remember one where he’d made it through the holiday without heavy drinking. There was no reason