A Cowboy for Christmas Page 28

  He pulled his truck and trailer over onto the shoulder of the road and stopped behind the forlorn-looking woman. He took off his Stetson, ran a hand through his hair, and got out. “Evening, ma’am,” he called. “You having trouble?”

  “Yes, please, thank you so much for stopping. I think it’s the radiator. It started smoking underneath the hood.”

  Radiator. That might not be so bad. A little water in the radiator and he could follow her to the nearest gas station.

  “You should have Triple A, ma’am,” he said, walking closer. “Seeing as how you have a young one and all. It can be dangerous out here in the desert alone.”

  “I can’t afford no Triple A. Don’t even got a cell phone.”

  She kept shifting her weight, edgy, nervous. The baby looked thin and gaunt. The outside of his diaper was covered in dirt, and from the smell of it the inside was dirty too.

  Apprehension rippled over him. The woman was painfully thin and she had dark circles under her eyes. It was hard to determine her age. She might be thirty, but she could just have easily been a hard-living twenty. She forked fingers through her matted hair. Her thin cotton dress was torn. She kept sniffling, and when she spoke he noticed she was missing teeth.

  “Let’s just take a look,” he said, alarm running through him. Could he really let her drive off even if he got her engine running? Clearly, the baby was being neglected. Maybe he should call the cops. Call CPS. Call somebody. “Pop the hood.”

  “Yeah, okay.” She ran the back of her hand underneath her nose, opened the car door, sat down behind the wheel, and pulled a latch that released the hood.

  Rafferty raised the hood. The car was so old it had one of those thin metal braces to hold the hood up. He propped it open. The radiator was bone cold. He scowled. “Ma’am, you sure you saw smoke?”

  A noise sounded behind him. Boots on rocks.

  Before Rafferty could turn around, he felt something smash hard against his head and he stumbled into abject darkness.

  Claudia and Stewart puttered in the kitchen, making eggnog. Lissette knew they were in there sneaking kisses. She didn’t mind. She was happy for her mother-in-law. It was long past time that she found happiness.

  Lissette was also happy that she and Claudia had mended their rift. But Lissette just couldn’t help feeling a little sorrow for herself. She didn’t have anyone.

  Snap out of it.

  Through knowing Rafferty, she had at least learned one thing. She was far stronger than she’d ever given herself credit for. No, that wasn’t giving him the credit he deserved. He’d taught her so much more than that. He’d shown her how to speak up for herself. To express her needs instead of burying them. She recalled the things he’d taught her in the bedroom and felt her face flush. The way he’d explored her body! He’d given her a life-changing gift of her own sexuality.

  A smug smile curled the edges of her lips. Kyle saw her smile. He picked up a storybook from the stack on the coffee table and brought it over to her. She put down her knitting, opened her arms, and welcomed her little boy into her lap.

  He nestled in the crook of her arm and opened the book. The fire crackled in the fireplace. Stockings hung from the mantel. Lights twinkled from the real Christmas tree that Stewart had cut down and set up for her. She and Claudia and Kyle had decorated it. Their first Christmas without Jake would have been a sad affair if not for Stewart and all the friends who’d been dropping by all day.

  Kyle pressed one hand to her mouth and tapped on the book with the other.

  Slowly, she started reading The Night Before Christmas. Kyle’s gaze fixed intently on the pictures as his fingers gently combed her lips. How quickly he’d learned. The child had an amazing adaptability. She was a bit jealous. She wished she could navigate life as quickly as Kyle.

  When she finished the story, she glanced up at the clock. Nine P.M.

  Not that she was looking or counting the hours.

  Liar.

  He’s not coming.

  It’s okay if he doesn’t come. You’ll be fine. Stop looking at the clock.

  When she finished the story, Kyle opened it back at the beginning. Lissette started the story all over again.

  Stewart and Claudia came into the living room, giggling like teenagers, their socked feet padding softly against the hardwood floor. The air smelled of cinnamon and nutmeg. Claudia settled a glass of eggnog on the end table beside Lissette, along with a small plate of cowboy Santa cookies.

  “He’s asleep,” her mother-in-law whispered.

  “What? Oh?”

  Claudia reached for Kyle. Lissette shifted and allowed her to take him. “I’ll put him to bed for you.”

  “Thank you.” She smiled.

  Stewart sat down on the chair across from the sofa where Lissette was sitting. “She appreciates your forgiveness,” he said when Claudia was out of earshot.

  “I know.”

  “It’s torturing her to think that she broke you and Rafferty up.”

  “It wasn’t Claudia’s doing,” she said. “We didn’t break up because we were never really together. It was just one of those things.”

  “Two ships passing in the night, huh?”

  “You’re good for her,” Lissette told him. “She’s happy again.”

  “Only because you forgave her. It had nothing to do with me.”

  “Don’t sell yourself short, Stewart.” Lissette shifted her gaze to the clock. Nine-thirty. Two and a half hours left. If Rafferty wasn’t here by midnight, it meant he realized that she’d been right, that their feelings for each other weren’t real. Just illusion, a result of bonding during a difficult time. She drew in her breath.

  Don’t think about it.

  “Are you expecting someone?” Stewart asked. “You’ve been looking at the clock all evening.”

  “Waiting on Santa.” She forced a smile.

  “Why don’t you just call him?”

  “Santa?”

  “You know who.”

  She glanced away. “Can’t.”

  “Too much pride?”

  “It’s not that.”

  Rafferty had to make his own decision. He had to come back to her on his own. If she called and he came back she would never know if it had been fully his decision or if he returned simply because she called him. She would not break down. Would not give in. And if he did not come, well, then at least she would not have made a fool of herself.

  “Pride means less the older you get,” Stewart said. “You realize your time here on earth is extremely short and it’s not worth losing out on love just to save face.”

  “Would you excuse me?” she asked, getting up from the sofa.

  He nodded. “Certainly.”

  She picked up the afghan from the back of the sofa and tugged it around her shoulders, plodded to the kitchen, then stepped out onto the back porch. A half moon hung in the sky. The air was frosty, and when she exhaled, her breath came out in a puff of white.

  “Rafferty,” she whispered. “Where are you?”

  She swallowed hard, remembering what she’d told him. Be back here by Christmas Eve. If you’re not back by midnight on Christmas Eve, then I’ll know you got home and had a change of heart.

  Why had she drawn a line in the sand? Of course he would feel pressured as Christmas Eve ticked away. By setting a ticking clock she’d closed off all other options.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Carolers showed up on Lissette’s doorstep singing, “Hark! The Herald Angels Sing” just minutes after Claudia and Stewart left at ten P.M. Lissette stood on the porch, tolerating their bright, smiling faces and cheerful voices. It wasn’t their fault that the clock was ticking and Rafferty had not appeared. They had not set up this arbitrary deadline. They were not the ones with conflicted hopes and dreams.

  What was wrong with her?

  Once the carolers left, she shut the door and wandered into the kitchen. Bake. It would keep her occupied.

  She baked cowboy co
okies. She sifted flour and scooped sugar. It calmed her. These measured details.

  She’d told Rafferty that she was a big-picture person, but that wasn’t true. She was just as detailed oriented as he was. She liked the comfort of measuring and weighing. A baker needed instructions, rules.

  A cook was another matter A cook could throw a handful of this and a handful of that. A cook could eyeball something, guesstimate. Jake had been like that. Not bound by rules. She, on the other hand, needed a recipe to follow.

  The cookies would not turn out if you just tossed in whatever came into your head. Baking was more of a science, cooking more of an art. She and Rafferty had more in common than she imagined. Where had she gotten the idea that she was an organic artist? Did it come from being with Jake? She had a tendency to take on the characteristics of the people she was around. Tofu. She was tofu. Not any flavor on her own. She tasted like who or what she mixed with. No personality on her own.

  Bullshit.

  It was Rafferty’s voice she heard in her head.

  You have plenty of personality. You just tuck it away because you’re afraid to go out on a limb and express who you really are. You’re not tofu, Lissette. You just pretend you are because you’re scared of your own power. Be bold.

  Lissette looked down at the dough she was stirring. Which was she? A structured baker or a daring cook or a little of both?

  Really, deep inside? It was okay to be a baker if that’s who she really was. That was the question. Who was she?

  She wiped her hands on her apron, wandered over to the pantry.

  Be bold. Be strong. Feel your power.

  Blindly, she began grabbing up ingredients. She was going to find out precisely who she was.

  She started tossing things into the batter, measuring nothing, a palm full of chocolate chips, a sprinkle of cinnamon, a capful of vanilla. She stirred it all in. Held her breath.

  Who are you?

  The batter seemed the right consistency, the recipe unknown. It felt scary. Forbidden. The same way she’d felt when she made love to Rafferty.

  A part of her sang, Do it. Do it.

  She spooned batter on a cookie sheet and slipped it into the oven. Soon the delicious smell of baking cookies filled the house. She heard a noise from the bedroom and went to check on Kyle. He was sitting up in bed. He looked at her. Signed cookie.

  “Cookie,” she said slowly so he could read her lips.

  It was late. She should put him back to bed, but she didn’t. She’d had enough of doing what she should do. No harm would come of allowing him to stay up late on Christmas Eve. She bent and scooped him from his bed. He nestled his head against her neck.

  Her baby. Her boy.

  She thought of Claudia and in that instant understood her. Once upon a time Claudia had felt like this over Jake. Lissette hugged Kyle close. Kissed his head and briefly closed her eyes, inhaled his scent, savored the moment. It was a beautiful moment she would never have again. Her heart tightened.

  Precious.

  All the minutes of the day, every single one of them, even as they ticked away.

  “Cookie,” she whispered as the timer on the oven went off.

  She carried Kyle to the kitchen table and seated him on his booster seat. She went to the oven and took out the cookies. While they cooled, she poured him a glass of milk in his sippy cup, and then came back for a cookie. She broke off a piece and settled it into her mouth. It dissolved hot and melty.

  Heaven.

  It was the best damn cookie she’d ever eaten. As she put two on a plate for Kyle, a smug smile tipped up the corners of her lips.

  She glanced at the clock. Midnight. Christmas Eve.

  Rafferty wasn’t coming.

  Lissette couldn’t sleep. She lay in bed staring at the ceiling. Rafferty had not come.

  She had to deal with that.

  He was gone, but he’d left her with a precious gift—the knowledge that she was strong enough to survive. He had listened to her. He had heard her. It was time to put the past behind her and move forward.

  Their relationship had served its purpose. He’d helped her deal with Kyle’s deafness. He’d been the right person at the right time. She had to accept that the small time they’d had together was all that it was meant to be. She could let go now, and that meant dealing with Jake’s personal effects that she hadn’t had the heart to deal with before.

  Restlessly, she threw back the covers, got up, and padded to Jake’s closet on the left side of the bedroom. She hadn’t touched his things since he’d died, but cleaning out the closet would be a symbol.

  An act of bravery.

  She was accepting her losses and moving on. She opened up the closet door and switched on the light.

  One by one, she pulled his clothes off the hangers, sorting them into piles. Salvation Army or Goodwill for the clothes in good shape. The trash bin for the worn-out clothes he’d liked to lounge around the house in. The peace that fell over her was comforting. This was the right thing. She felt confident.

  An hour passed. Then two. The closet was almost empty. Clothes were piled on the bedroom floor.

  She moved a duffel bag that was on the floor behind his accumulated shoes. Beneath the duffel bag was a metal lockbox. Lissette held her breath. Jake kept a lot of secrets. Did she really want to know what was in that box? Maybe she should give it to Claudia. But what if he had pictures of naked women in there or something? Claudia didn’t need to deal with that.

  Tell you what. If it’s unlocked, you can look in it. If it’s locked, then stick it in the attic and leave it there for twenty years.

  Solid plan.

  Lissette took the lockbox to her bed and sat down on the end of the mattress. She ran her fingers over the cool metal. “How many secrets did you have, Jake?”

  Gingerly, she touched the lock, pushed on it.

  The lid sprang open. If there were deep secrets in there, wouldn’t he have locked it?

  In it was a video camera she’d never seen before. She turned it on. Surprisingly, the battery was good. There was a disc in the camera. Should she watch it?

  Holding her breath, she turned it on.

  Jake’s face filled the screen. He was dressed in military fatigues and wearing his dog tags, but he was sitting on their bed. On the quilt his mother had made. Her heart lurched at the sight of him.

  “Hey Lissy,” he said. “If you’re watching this I guess that means I’m dead because I know you don’t snoop in my things.”

  Oh God. She splayed her palm over her chest. Did she really have the strength for this? In the wee hours of Christmas morning?

  “Damn you, Jake. Why did you have to make a video?” she said out loud.

  “I’m screwed up. We both know that. I was screwed up before the war, but since I’ve been over there”—he fisted his hands on his knees—“I can’t feel things the way I’m supposed to feel them. Not love. Not happiness, Not joy. I’m numb. I play at it. I try to pretend, but I don’t feel anything. Not when I look at you. Not when I look at Kyle. I want to love you. I used to love you, but I can’t anymore. It’s not your fault. The only thing that makes me feel alive is war. The adrenaline. It’s like a drug. I gotta have it. Knowin’ that each step, each breath just might be my last, well it’s the only time I feel alive. It’s fucked. I know that. I wish it wasn’t this way, but it is.”

  He’d been so tormented. She wished she could have helped him.

  “Babe, you deserve better than I can give. Kyle deserves better. I can’t be what you need. I can’t be a normal husband. That’s why I reenlisted after I promised you I’d get out of the army. If I’m dead and you’re watching this, then don’t cry for me, Lissy. I’m finally at peace.”

  Her entire insides iced up, until she was completely numb. She wanted to turn off the camera but her fingers wouldn’t move.

  “You’re probably cussin’ me out right now and I don’t blame you. I deserve it. I know you have one burning question on your min
d. Why the hell did I leave my life insurance money to Rafferty instead of you and Kyle? Call it my lame attempt to make amends.”

  “Did you go completely off your rocker, Jake?” she asked him.

  “One thing that ate at me for years is the fact that I had a brother I could not recognize. My mother wouldn’t hear of it and I understand her position. After my dad died, I went to California to meet him. Well, shit, I get there and there’s this amazing kid who got all of our old man’s good traits and none of his bad. Unlike me. He was only sixteen and working two jobs and raising his younger brother and sister and cleaning up his wack job mother’s messes and he was so damn happy to see me. I felt ripped off for not being able to know him and for the fact our old man completely turned his back on the kid.”

  Jake paused in the video, ran a hand over his head. “This feels weird, recording my final words. Anyway, it ate at me that Rafferty was never recognized as a Moncrief so I made him beneficiary on my life insurance policy and death gratituity benefits. It was the best I could do for him. We got married right after that. I thought about changing the policy, but I didn’t. Then we had Kyle and I still didn’t change it. I was gonna change it and then it hit me. If I didn’t change it, I knew Rafferty would come to Texas to give the money to you. He’s that kind of guy. And once he was here, he would make sure you were taken care of. Sorta underhanded I know, but both of you got a lot of pride. It was the only way I could think of to get you two together. Anyway, if you guys end up hooking up, and I kinda hope you will, you’ve got my blessing.”

  And then Jake got up and turned off the camera.

  Stunned, Lissy sat there, trying to wrap her head around what she’d just seen and heard. Jake had been playing matchmaker from the grave.

  One last time she cried for Jake and what had happened to him. Then she got up and destroyed the disc, burning it up in the fireplace. She never wanted Claudia to see this. When she was done, she fell exhausted into her bed, only to be awakened a short time later by a little boy who wanted to see what Santa Claus had brought.