Читать книгу Jingle Bell Bride - Jillian Hart - Страница 12

Chapter Three

Michael nudged the small plastic hanger into place, tried to keep his attention on the eight or so inches of white stuff piled precariously on the roof over his head and failed. His gaze slid to the woman clutching the gutter lip with what appeared to be all her strength. Why didn’t she just let him do this? “Are you always this stubborn?”

“Usually more.” If she gripped the gutter any tighter, something was going to break. “Rumor has it, stubborn is my middle name.”

“Hey, mine too.” His own laughter surprised him, causing him to almost lose his balance. The ladder wobbled, his hand shot out, hit the snow on the roof and a cold avalanche rained over him. Icy stuff hit him in the face, slid down his coat collar and kept coming in a glittery white fall, blinding him. He probably looked like an idiot.

“Good one,” she quipped. “Now who has a death grip on the gutter?”

“I’m usually more suave than this. Smooth. Debonair.” He batted snow out of his face.

“I noticed that the first instant we met.” Humor laced her words.

She had to remind him of that, didn’t she? Not that he could see her just now because another wave of falling snow smacked him in the face.

“Need any help?” she asked.

“No.” Debonair he was not. He blinked snow out of his eyes. “This looked easier from the ground.”

“It always does.”

The avalanche finally stopped and he ran a gloved hand over his eyes, able to blink. Ice clung to his lashes and gleamed in the sun so when he looked at her, she seemed framed by light, surreal, a vision come to life.

“Maybe it would have been smarter to let the sun melt some of this before we started, but did I think of it? No.” She clipped her string of lights into the plastic hook. “My sisters wanted to get the lights up before Dad gets home.”

“So he’s usually on light duty?”

“True, but one of us always helps him. The job goes faster that way and besides, you can’t help wanting to spend time with Dad.”

“So this time you want to surprise him?” He cringed when a trickle of ice slipped between his shirt and his collarbone.

“Something like that. See, Dad always put up the lights with Mom’s supervision. Since she’s been gone...” There were no words to describe the loss. She focused on stringing the lights, getting them to sit just right in the clips. “Mom was big into Christmas. Lights and decorations and Christmas carols playing. The works.”

“You don’t want your father to feel her loss while he’s hanging the lights.” Understanding softened his granite features and warmed the low notes of his voice. “It’s easier to go on when you don’t stop to feel the loss.”

“Exactly.” Interesting that they had this in common. She didn’t like that her estimation of him crept up a notch. “Is that what you do? You try not to feel the grief?”

“I try to forget it. Bury it. Psychologists might not agree, but it works for me.”

“Me, too. Last Christmas we couldn’t put up as much as a tree.” She thought of the seasonal cheer, the festive joy, the touches of caring her mother had brought to the holiday and to her family. “This year, we’re trying to do Christmas the way she would have wanted.”

“It’s a tough thing to do. Two Christmases have gone by for us, this will be our third.” He hung another length of lights. “It was hardest on Macie.”

“I’m so sorry for that. Do you have other family in the area?”

“My folks live in town. They moved here after I set up practice, to be closer to their granddaughter.” The wind gusted, ruffling his sandy brown hair. “Mom always does Christmas right, and she can cook. Can’t wait for her turkey and stuffing.”

“My mom was a good cook, too. But me? Not so much.” She clipped more lights in place, ignoring the fact that her fingertips were numb with cold.

“You? A bad cook? I don’t believe that. You look like there’s nothing you do badly.”

She would not be charmed by his compliment and a hint of a dimple. “I’m too clinical. I approach cooking like a lab experiment. Exact measurements with the potential of anything going wrong.”

“But the outcome is edible.”

“Mostly, but it’s been frozen dinners for years. Med school, intern, resident. No time.”

“I remember well.” His gaze met hers, zooming across the distance between them as if there were no distance, as if they were no longer strangers, as if he were way too close.

Shyness swept through her and she jerked her gaze away. Her forearm bumped the gutter and snow tumbled onto her head, momentarily blinding her.

“Don’t worry.” His words carried on the wind. “Eventually the ice melts and then you’re just wet.”

“Something to look forward to.” The snow just kept on coming. She sputtered, held onto the gutter for dear life and thought she heard the rattle of a ladder that sounded suspiciously closer than it used to be. Sure enough, the avalanche stopped and there was Michael so near she could reach out and push him.

“At least the lights look good.” He leaned across the foot and half of space between them to brush snow from her face.

Air stalled in her throat, choking her. Really, she could do it herself, but she didn’t move. She blinked, able to see the shaven texture of his strong, square jaw and flecks of ice blue in his irises.

“Are you okay?” Concern crinkled pleasantly in the corners of those irresistible eyes.

“Sure. That was invigorating.”

“Nothing like a snowy winter’s morning on the roof.” His glove swiped snow away from her coat collar.

That was really nice of him, but he was making her dizzy. Somehow she managed to draw in air. “Thanks, but I’m not Macie.”

“Right, got it.” He handily grabbed the end of her lights dangling from the clip and plugged his string in. The icicle lights dangled and glowed, lovely even in the daylight. “I just didn’t want you falling.”

“I appreciate that.” She cleared her throat, surprised that her words came out a little strained. “Falling would be a bad thing for many reasons. Just think, if I landed in the rosebushes, they’d never be the same.”

A dog’s happy bark rang like a bell from beneath the porch, scattering sparrows away from the bird feeder. Dee pranced down the steps and down the walkway, head held high, tongue lolling, as excited as if she were leading a parade down Main Street. Macie followed with a few telltale cookie crumbs on her coat, flanked by Sara Beth. Meg shut the front door and trailed down the porch steps after them.

Finally, her sisters had come to rescue her. Not that hanging around with Michael Kramer had been so terrible. No, she certainly couldn’t say that. “Looks like your daughter has come looking for you.”

“So I see. I guess that’s my cue to leave, unless you want me to stay and help.”

“Oh no, I have plenty of help, if I can motivate my sisters, and you have a daughter to take care of.” She gripped the top rung and moved carefully down one step and the next. “Plus, I’m anxious to see what she’s done to her cast. Let me see, Macie.”

“It’s all Christmassy now.” The girl held her arm up for all to see. “They had lots of stickers, Dad. It was awesome.”

“But in the end we went with an animal and Christmas theme,” Sara Beth explained, folding a lock of straight dark hair behind her slim shoulder. “Doesn’t it look stunning?”

“I think the color scheme works,” Meg added, her dark eyes twinkling.

“Do you like it, Dad?” Macie beamed, her pink cast artfully decorated with candy cane stickers, white snowflakes and gold stars, Christmas trees and cats and dogs. “And I got to pet Burt.”

“Who’s Burt?” he asked.

“Burt liked that, I’m sure.” Chelsea leaned in to check out the stickers. Her light chestnut hair tumbled across her face, shielding her as she admired Macie’s sticker choices. “Now that’s one fantastic cast.”

“I know,” she said in her high, sweet voice. “Burt is a cat, Dad. You know, what I’m asking for Christmas.”

“I’m well aware.” No secret there. He caught hold of his child’s shoulder, nudging her toward the car.

“I was going to ask for a white kitty, but now I want a gray striped one like Burt.” Macie crunched through the snow with her pink boots.

That was already on his Christmas to-do list. Find a kitten for Macie. Not that he knew where to find kittens. The pet store? Ads in the paper?

The Lab gave a cheerful bark and loped ahead, glancing over her shoulder to smile at them in her doggy way.

“And I want one that hugs me,” Macie reminded him for the fiftieth time.

“I know.” He yanked open the SUV’s passenger door. “I’m still planning on giving you a stocking full of coal. No presents at all.”

“Oh, Daddy.” Macie rolled her eyes, not believing him. He couldn’t imagine why.

He swung her up onto the seat. “Time to go, little one. You’re looking a little pale around the gills.”

“Fish have gills. Not me.”

“Sure you do.” He helped her buckle up, aware of the women standing nearby, especially one woman, although he couldn’t explain it. He didn’t have to turn around to picture her standing ankle deep in snow in her navy coat and with her wavy chestnut hair dancing in the wind.

“Thank you for the stickers,” Macie called over his shoulder.

“You let me know if you need more. We have plenty,” Sara Beth answered, although it wasn’t her that he noticed as he turned to close the door.

“The icicle lights look the best. You were right, Macie.” Chelsea gestured toward the house where two strings of lights flashed in the glancing sunlight. “Thanks for the help, Michael. It’s more than my own sisters would do.”

“Hey, I could have done it,” Sara Beth corrected good-naturedly.

“But I just didn’t want to,” Meg confessed with a smile.

“This is what I get for being the oldest. It’s a burden.” Chelsea rolled her eyes, feigning displeasure, but her smile gave her away.

Had he ever seen a day so bright? He couldn’t remember one. The light blue sky shone vivid against snowy clouds sailing by in speeding puffs. The gleam and glitter of sunshine on the miles of snow stole his breath. And Chelsea shone the brightest of all, making him notice.

Two vehicles rolled into sight, cresting the roll of Wyoming prairie.

“It’s Dad,” she announced and bit her bottom lip.

“Early.” Meg shook her head.

“And the lights aren’t finished.” Sara Beth sighed. “Oh, well. It was a good thought.”

“It was.” Chelsea waved to her father behind the steering wheel. The chains on his pickup chinked as he rumbled around Michael’s SUV in the driveway and pulled up in front of the garage. A familiar beige vehicle lumbered into view. “Hey, there’s my car.”

“Rescued by another sister?” Michael asked as he opened his door.

“Yes, no idea what I’d do without Johanna.” She waved to the youngest of the McKaslin sisters. Johanna waved back, her neon blue mittens flashing behind the glare of the windshield before she pulled into the garage.

“I hope the rest of the light hanging goes well.” He folded his six-foot-plus frame into the front seat, his door thudded shut and the engine purred to life. His window rolled down. “I’ll see you around, Chelsea McKaslin.”

Whether that was a threat or a promise, she couldn’t tell.

The SUV motored away as Macie waved with her good hand, and Dee barked and whined, perhaps disappointed she wasn’t the one going for a ride.

“He was totally good-looking,” Meg commented. “An eleven on a scale of ten.”

“Was he? You know me. I’m not looking.” Although she couldn’t explain why she watched Michael’s SUV rumble down the road and out of sight. It didn’t mean she was interested in him. No way. “I have a no-man plan, remember?”

“I thought it was a five-year plan.” Sara Beth just had to point that out, didn’t she?

“A five-year plan, a no-man plan. Same difference.” She forced her gaze away from the swell in the prairie that had swallowed Michael’s SUV from her sight and turned on her heel, concentrating on the one man she could count on. “Dad.”

Dee spotted him and barked, leaping to race to his side and pant up at him adoringly.

“Hey, girls.” Grant McKaslin patted the Lab on her head. “I see you’re putting up the house lights. Looks good.”

His words sounded strained. Emotion gleamed in his eyes.

“Love the lights!” Johanna bounded out of the garage as the door lowered behind her. “Time for lunch, but, Chelsea, I’ll pitch in after we eat. I can’t wait to see them all lit up.”

“Your mom would be pleased.” Dad said the words they were all thinking. He held out one arm to draw Johanna close, the other to pull in Meg. “Let’s get in and warm up. Chelsea, we found your car at the side of the road.”

“Thanks for bringing her in.”

“No problem. I hope you girls have soup on the stove. I’m frozen clean through.”

Dee raced ahead, tail wagging, leading the way to the front door. Chelsea glanced over her shoulder to catch a last look at the half-finished lights dangling from the roofline. If only Mom were here, she thought, full of longing, but that was not to be. With a sigh, she tapped up the porch steps behind her sisters. As Dad held the door open for them, a gust of wind chased her inside and stirred the icicle lights above as if with a loving hand.

* * *

Michael tucked the fleece throw gently around his sleeping daughter while the TV hummed with a kid’s movie in the background. Clouds had moved in to dim the sun shining through the living room window, hinting at more snow on the way.

Macie sighed in her sleep, snuggling against her pillow pet. Her brown hair tumbled over her forehead, framing her face. Such a sweet girl. He pressed a kiss to her cheek, backed away from the couch and padded across the carpet, careful not to wake her.

The house phone rang. He caught it on the third electronic jingle, lifting the cordless receiver out of its cradle. He recognized the name on the electronic display. “Hey, Steve.”

“Hey.” His colleague sounded chipper. “I’m about to head out with my wife, but I wanted to check on your girl. How’s her arm?”

“Doing as well as can be expected. She’s napping now.” He tucked the receiver against his shoulder and eyed the lunch dishes in the sink. “What are you doing checking up on patients? You just can’t take a weekend off, can you?”

“I’m trying. We’re going snowmobiling. We’re just about to head out.”

“Sounds fun, so what are you doing on the phone with me?” He opened the dishwasher.

“Fine, so I’m not cutting back on my workload like I planned.” Steve didn’t sound guilty about that, not at all. “Eventually I’ll have to, since the new doctor I hired to help me starts on Monday.”

“I had no idea. Last I heard you were going to wait until January to start looking for someone.” He turned on the faucet and ran a lunch plate through the stream.

“I’ve had my eye on this doctor for a while, she’s available and the timing is right.” Steve’s smile warmed his words. “One of these days I won’t have to come into the office at all. The rest of you are so good, I’ll be absolutely unnecessary.”

“You? No chance of that.” Steve Swift was one of the most knowledgeable doctors around. “No one can fill your shoes.”

“I don’t believe it for a second.” Steven chuckled and it was good to hear him sounding happy. “My wife is calling. Better go.”

“Have fun. No more thinking about work. You’re not on call, remember?” He slipped a plate into the dishwasher rack, trying to imagine the unathletic man on a snowmobile. “And no accidents, got it?”

“Got it. No worries, Laura has done this before. We’re going on a tour up in the mountains. Great, now she’s honking. I really do have to go.”

“Have fun, Steve.” He set the phone on the counter, shaking his head. Seeing Steve broadening his horizons was gonna be very interesting. Maybe because although twenty years separated them, they were very alike. Workaholics dedicated to their profession, men of science and men who didn’t have room for much else in their lives.

What about the new doctor? And why hadn’t Steve said more before this? Why the mystery? Then again, that had been the plan since his health scare. He’d had a minor heart attack, but it had been a wake-up call for Steve. Less time at work, he’d said in the break room one day. More time spent living life to the fullest.

Couldn’t argue with that. The light clink of the dishes as he loaded the dishwasher kept him company in the lonely room. In Michael’s opinion, this was living life to the fullest. He had a job he loved, a comfortable home and a daughter to care for. Speaking of which, he grabbed the phone, dialed his mom and waited for the phone to connect. He swished the soup pan through the water, fit it into the bottom rack and closed the dishwasher door as she answered, sounding breathless.

“Am I catching you at a bad time?” He reached for the paper towel roll.

“No, just came in from running errands. It’s cold out there!” June Kramer blew out a breath for emphasis and something in the background rustled. “The grocery store was crazy. Everyone stocking up for the next storm. They say it’s going to be a doozy. How’s my granddaughter?”

“Napping.” He peeked around the corner. Yep, still asleep.

“Good, she needs rest to heal. Say, I bought cookie makings. Figured she might want to help me with my first batch of Christmas cookies. That ought to be a proper excuse to spend time with her. How does tomorrow sound?”

“I’m sure she’ll like it.” He was thankful to the Lord that his mom was the kind of grandmother who would step in and fill the void in Macie’s life. His mom was gold in a hundred different ways. “Why don’t you take her home after church? I’ll pack a bag if you want to keep her overnight.”

“Yes, yes, yes! Oh, you’ve just made me a very happy grammy.” More rustling bags and the sound of a refrigerator opening. “I’m glad I bought the supplies for her favorite supper.”

“You were already planning, admit it.” He grabbed a paper towel and a spray bottle of eco-friendly cleaner. “That I suggested you keep her worked into your master plan.”

“It did. Your dad will take her to school come Monday, as long as it’s not a snow day. Then, again, maybe we’ll keep her forever.”

“Sure, go ahead and try.” He squirted the length of counter and wiped it down. “In the meantime, I need your help with one of Macie’s Christmas gifts.”

“Do you mean the Christmas gift, the only one she wants?”

“The kitten.” No idea how that was going to work out, and he was a little afraid to think about it. “Where do I find one? I want a good one. The right one.”

He had no idea how to know which one would be the right one. Surely all kittens were nice, but how did he find the one that would be the loving friend Macie wanted?

“I have no idea. I know, not what you wanted to hear. But I have my sources. Let me make a few calls and talk to some friends. I’ll get back to you.”

“Mom, you’re fantastic.”

“Don’t I know it,” she agreed happily.

Relieved, he turned the conversation to what was going on in his parents’ lives. He listened while he wiped down the table and started sorting clothes in the laundry room. Wind gusted against the side of the house, and the last of the sunlight bled from the sky. He said goodbye to his mom and lit a fire in the fireplace. By the time the new storm’s first snowflakes fell, the Kramer house felt warm and snug. This was as good as life got, he thought, watching his daughter sleep. He couldn’t ask for anything more.