A Wedding for Christmas Page 8

  “Heavens.” Marva sipped her tea. “It must be thousands.”

  “All those kids and you can still remember who had a crush on whom?”

  Marva cocked her head. “I’m pretty sharp, but you’re right. I don’t remember everyone. But I could never forget Ryder.”

  Katie leaned forward, careful to make sure her knee wasn’t bobbing and her spine wasn’t overly stiff, nothing to give herself away. “Why not?”

  “He caused me more trouble than any other kid in my tenure at Twilight High.”

  “No kidding?” Katie cradled the teacup in her palms.

  Marva’s lips tipped into a soft smile. “Although your brother Joe was a close second. Those two hellions running together were a principal’s nightmare. But Ryder was much harder to corral than your brother because he didn’t have a stable home life. With Joe, all I had to do was pick up the phone, and your parents would whip him into shape.”

  Katie had not ever considered Ryder from the point of view of authority figures. No matter what trouble he got into, she’d always been one hundred percent on his side.

  “It’s not that Ryder was a bad kid,” Marva continued. “Not deep down. Not at heart where it counts. But he was wild and undisciplined and acting out. He pushed every envelope, broke every rule, defied every edict. Stubborn young bull.”

  Katie didn’t remember him that way. She remembered him taking up for the underdog and being fiercely loyal to her family. And she remembered him with unruly hair and a proud jut to his chin, fists clenched at his sides, ready to fight against whatever injustice the world dished out.

  In those moments, he looked so alone that the earth mother inside her wanted nothing more than to draw him into her arms and promise him everything was going to be okay.

  But she hadn’t dared. Not only had she been a shy ugly duckling, but also Ryder had scared her. He was the kind of boy who cussed and got into trouble on a daily basis and carried a sharp knife.

  And yet, a part of her couldn’t help feeling they had a special bond because he’d saved her life, pushing her out of the way of that float. Whenever he winked at her and called her squirt or Miss Priss, she felt as if she could conquer the world.

  “Such a shame.” Marva clicked her tongue.

  “About what?” Katie set her teacup on the table, her palms still warm from the heat of the liquid.

  “You haven’t heard?” Marva’s eyebrows spiked up on her forehead.

  A prickle of sensation crawled the back of Katie’s neck. “Heard what?”

  “Jax has to sell the Circle S.”

  Katie put a hand against her mouth. “Oh, that’s a shame. What’s happened?”

  Marva scooted closer and lowered her voice, as if by speaking more softly she could blunt the news. “Jax is completely broke, worse than broke. He’s over a hundred thousand dollars in credit card debt.”

  “How did that happen?”

  “This is all hearsay, and I probably shouldn’t be repeating it, but from what I’ve heard, Twyla kept the books. And after she died, Jax discovered the woman had over eighty credit cards and she’d been juggling them to pay the bills each month, writing advance checks on one credit card to pay off another, and it just kept spiraling. On top of that, he’s got both his and Twyla’s medical bills.”

  Marva paused a moment to let it sink in, then finished with, “Looks like Ryder was right all along.”

  “Right about what?”

  Marva drew back, studied Katie for a long moment. “You don’t know why Jax kicked Ryder out of the house when he was sixteen?”

  “I thought it was because Ryder and Twyla couldn’t get along, and Ryder called her a disrespectful name.”

  “That’s true, but there was a lot more to it than that.”

  It was Katie’s turn to lean forward. She rested her elbows on the table and her chin in her open palms. She’d heard the rumors about Ryder’s estrangement from his father, but he never spoke of it, and bristled when other people brought it up. So no one talked about it in his presence, and her parents refused to let anyone gossip about him behind his back.

  Marva lowered her eyelids. “I’m only telling you this because it might shed some light on Ryder’s past for you now that he’s coming back to town and you’ll see him at the wedding.”

  Katie nodded. Part of her wanted to ask Marva to not tell her, but her curiosity got the better of her and she sat there listening.

  “I heard that Twyla accused Ryder of taking out credit cards in her name and running them up with purchases, and for stealing two thousand dollars she kept stashed around the place,” Marva said.

  Yes, Katie had heard accusations that Ryder was a thief, but she hadn’t believed them for a second. He was the most honorable man she’d ever known, and she knew a lot of honorable men.

  “I’m ashamed to say I believed Twyla.” Marva shook her head. “But now it looks like she made Ryder the scapegoat for her uncontrollable spending sprees.”

  Katie’s heart broke for Ryder. Wrongly accused. Thrown out of the house at sixteen. Estranged from his father for the past thirteen years.

  Her heart broke for the senior Southerland as well. Caught between his wife and his son. She imagined Ryder’s father was in a rough place emotionally, wrestling with tough revelations, dealing with the fact that Twyla had been lying all along and he’d alienated his son because of her lies.

  “Jax is going to need a lot of community support. The Circle S has been in his family for four generations. Not to mention how much help he’s going to need cleaning the place up to sell it.”

  Katie’s cell phone rang. She reached to turn it off since she was in a conversation with Marva. But Marva waved a hand. “Go ahead and answer it. I’m getting another cup of tea. Do you want a refill?”

  Shaking her head, Katie answered the cell phone to the honey-dipped voice of Wanda Wright, the home health coordinator. Wanda greeted her with an exuberant “Hello, Katie, it’s Wanda.”

  “Hi,” Katie said, wishing she and Wanda didn’t know each other so well from their volunteer work.

  “I know you’re busy and I hate to pester, but I took Jana’s advice and called Lisa Allbright. But she’s out of town and we’re desperate to get at least a few rooms in a livable condition before Jax Southerland is dismissed from the hospital on Monday.”

  “This is Thursday. There’s no way I can sort through an entire house by Monday.”

  “Just the living room, kitchen, master bedroom, and bathroom,” Wanda bargained. “We’ve got a cleaning service over there now, and they’re wading through the kitchen, but there’s just so much stuff. Besides the obvious trash, we need someone to comb through the junk and figure out what can be thrown or given away and what needs to be kept and where to put it.”

  Katie tightened her grip on the cell phone.

  “You’re our last hope,” Wanda said. “Is there any way you can take on this project?”

  Katie glanced up to see Marva standing in the doorway watching her with a just-do-it expression on her face.

  She did love a challenge and this project sounded like it could be her biggest task to date. Besides, it was still two weeks before Ryder came back to Twilight. With her crew, and the parameters, she should be in and out of the Circle S by Monday.

  “Please,” Wanda begged. “I’ll owe you big-time.”

  How could she refuse? This was Ryder’s dad, after all. And even though he’d treated Ryder shabbily, the man was his father. He was sick and needed help.

  “All right,” Katie agreed. “I’ll do it.”

  But as she hung up, she couldn’t help wondering if she’d made a big mistake.

  Chapter 7

  Homecoming.

  The word had a nice ring to it.

  Homecoming.

  The word was supposed to stir good memories of the place where you’d been hatched and spent your formative years.

  Homecoming.

  The word suggested forgiveness, acceptance,
unity.

  But for Ryder? Not so much.

  The second his Harley hit the Twilight city limits sign, his lungs squeezed tight, and the air tasted thin, and all he could think about was how good it had felt to drive in the opposite direction thirteen years ago when he’d fled to the army.

  He could have said no when Joe had asked him to be his best man. Should have told him no. Why hadn’t he told him no?

  Ryder cruised the main drag of Ruby Street that led to the town square, and his gut kicked. He saw folks fishing off the pier, a woman in a pink tracksuit walking a greyhound puppy, a kid struggling to fly a Batman kite in the whipping wind. But he didn’t see what he really wanted to see.

  Searching.

  He was searching for something, and it wasn’t until he saw a shapely blonde and his heart leapfrogged into his throat that he understood why he was scanning his surroundings so intently.

  He was on the lookout for Katie.

  The blonde turned her head to laugh at something the man she was with had said, and disappointment contracted Ryder’s stomach. No. Not Katie.

  Fool.

  Yes, he knew that. But it didn’t stop him from feeling disappointed.

  Some kids standing on the corner eyed his bike, but no one waved. He didn’t expect them to. Few would recognize him. He’d changed a lot in thirteen years. No longer that punk kid with a two-by-four-sized chip balanced on his shoulder.

  He lifted a hand, waved. People waved back.

  Ryder smiled. Maybe coming home wouldn’t be as bad as he feared.

  Yeah? Who was he kidding?

  He’d learned from reading the Twilight, Texas, Web site that his stepmother had died. No one had called him to let him know that Twyla had passed away. Not Joe. Not Katie. Not even his father.

  A familiar feeling of isolation washed through him, but Ryder didn’t indulge in self-pity. He was a man of action, not reflection.

  But driving down the streets he hadn’t traversed in thirteen years stirred more feelings and a flash flood of memories he couldn’t resist or control.

  The town, which had been such a straitjacket in his formative years, now seemed quaint and receptive in maturity. As a teen, he’d loathed Twilight, vowing never to return once he got out. It symbolized everything that was rigid and suffocating about growing up in a small community.

  And he’d kept his promise.

  Until now.

  He passed the Sweetheart Park, and the Sweetheart Tree with the names of lovers carved into the trunk of the old pecan. His name was carved there too, but he hadn’t been the one doing the carvings. Several of the young women he’d dated had taken a pocketknife to the thick bark and cut out tributes to the fickleness of young love.

  “Amanda & Ryder.”

  “Jodi loves Ryder.”

  “Kristy + Ryder = forever.”

  “Darcy and Ryder XOXO.”

  Everyone knew your business because it was right there on the skin of the tree for all the people to see. No privacy. No keeping things to yourself. No freedom to simply be. Someone was always weighing in and offering unsolicited advice on how you should live your life.

  Ryder zipped past the fountain of the town’s founders, Jon Grant and Rebekka Nash, clasping each other in a forever embrace. On Halloween one year, he and Joe had TP’d the statue, and that had caused an uproar among the town council.

  Passing through the place where he’d grown up, Ryder was struck by how little things had changed. Same yellow-white twinkle lights outlining the historic stone buildings on the square. Same mistletoe hung from the quaint streetlamps, inviting lovers to kiss beneath them. Same banners in the window advertised the Christmas Tour of Homes. Same holiday music blaring over the outdoor speaker system, serenading customers as they shopped.

  Visitors walked the streets, peering into store windows, stopping at kiosks, or buying snacks from street vendors. Signs urged tourists to snag tickets to Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer at the Twilight Playhouse. Encouraged them to pluck a name from the Sweetheart Cherub Tree and make a needy child’s Santa dreams come true. Advised them not to miss the cowboy Christmas concert at the local musical venue.

  The environment made him inexpressibly nostalgic for the kind of idyllic childhood he had not had. Something about the unchanging sameness stirred up personal memories, and set them to whirling despondently like fake snow in a Christmas globe.

  Then, at the corner of Ruby and Market streets, in a building that was reportedly haunted by the ghost of Jesse James, sold John Wayne memorabilia, and housed an old soda fountain at the back of the store, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the long plate-glass window.

  A lone man in a black leather jacket straddling a vintage Harley, and wearing mirrored sunglasses that cast him as mysterious and untouchable. A man apart. Separate. Distant.

  He no longer belonged here. Had he ever? He might be a fourth-generation Twilightite, but he’d forever felt like an outsider.

  Not forever, whispered a voice at the back of his brain, but ever since Mom died.

  His heart thumped hollowly in his chest, an echoing rhythm that sent tingling ripples of self-doubt vibrating through his cells. He hadn’t called ahead. His plan was just to show up, but now that he was in the process of executing the plan it felt disjointed and wrong, catawampus and inappropriate.

  The split-second snapshot of his reflection, wearing the bad-boy suit of armor the town had branded him with all those years ago, rattled him. Stole his breath and left him wondering who he was and questioning why the hell he was here.

  Joe’s wedding, remember? And to check on his dad after finding out about Twyla.

  Oh yeah, those reasons. Reasons loaded with emotional landmines. Honestly, no shit, he’d rather be back in the sandbox of the Middle East. At least there he knew where he stood. Everything was enemy.

  Here? Friends could be enemies. Enemies could be unexpected allies. Nothing was as it seemed.

  Ryder’s fingers tightened on the handlebars.

  This wasn’t going to be fun. No fun at all.

  But then Katie came to mind, and damn if he didn’t smile. Talk about fun. Now there was a playground, and what a sweet diversion from his issues with his father.

  You can’t just pick up where you left off. She never returned your call. She’s not interested. Drop it.

  What if she’d never gotten the message? What if he had the wrong cell phone number? What if she had just been waiting for him to call, and assumed he was the one who wasn’t interested?

  Ryder shook his head, shook off the past. He wasn’t the type to overthink things. Why was he doing it now? She’d made it clear she didn’t want anything more to do with him. He could handle seeing her again, and he could keep his mitts off her. He would. Because it was what she wanted.

  But what if she’d changed her mind? What if she missed him as much as he missed her?

  If that were the case, she would have contacted you. Put Katie out of your mind. You’re here to see your father first. Wedding second. Leave her be. She’s got her life and you’ve got yours and you two will never be compatible. Not for the long term. Not possible.

  Ryder slowed as he passed through the center of town, and pulled over when he reached the marina. Unlike the rest of Twilight, this area had changed. A conference center and hotel had been built since he was here. A boardwalk constructed. Picnic tables and benches added.

  Shutting down the engine, he sat on the bike, looking out across the lake, unsuccessfully trying to stifle the conflicting voices in his head. The thoughts had followed him all the way from California, through the Arizona desert and the mountains of New Mexico. Now here he was back in Twilight and still feeling rudderless. And he hated it.

  Stop thinking about Katie, you’ve got bigger fish to fry. Twyla’s death. The condition of the ranch. Dad. Yeah that. Not easy.

  For the longest time, he stared out across the lake, watching fishing boats bob on the water. As the sun edged past the midpoint of
the sky, Ryder started the Harley, hit the throttle, and headed for the place he did not want to go.

  Fifteen minutes later, Ryder passed the wide-open iron gates of the Circle S. His heart was in his throat as the old farmhouse came into view. Even from a distance, it looked forlorn, like a great white elephant dying alone on the plains.

  There were no cattle in the pasture. No farming equipment in the field. Not even a pickup truck parked in the driveway. There was a silver Camry underneath the carport. Not a vehicle his made-in-America proud dad would drive. But perhaps it was Twyla’s car.

  His cell phone vibrated in his pocket, and he chuffed out a sigh of relief at the interruption. He slowed, pulled over onto the yellowed grass, plucked the phone from his pocket, and smiled when he saw the caller ID.

  “Hello Clara,” he said. “How are you?”

  “Fine, fine. But I miss you.”

  He might not want to admit it, but it felt good to hear his neighbor say that. Not too many people missed him. Clara might be the only one.

  “Trask will change your lightbulbs, and take out the trash for you,” he said, referring to the other bodyguard who sublet his apartment for the month Ryder would be in Twilight. He’d sublet it more so Clara would have someone to turn to if she needed help with anything, than to have someone keep an eye on his place.

  “It’s not the same,” Clara said in a small voice. “Trask is too chatty. I miss your quiet.”

  “Do you want me to speak to him? I’ll speak to him.”

  “No, don’t do that. He is who he is. How are things in Twilight?” she asked. “Have you seen her yet?”

  Ryder thought of Katie. No point in stirring that pot. “Just got here . . . so no, haven’t seen her yet.”

  “But you will see her.”

  “I have to. We’re in a wedding together.”

  “She’s so nice.”

  “You spoke to her all of ten minutes.”

  “Doesn’t matter. I have a sixth sense about people. I can tell right off the bat whether they’re good folks or not.”

  “You’re too trusting, Clara.”

  “Maybe. But if I hadn’t trusted you, we would never have become friends. You like to project that badass, don’t-touch-me persona, but I can see straight through you, Ryder Southerland.”