Читать книгу An Aspen Creek Christmas - Roxanne Rustand - Страница 11
ОглавлениеHannah Dorchester studied her travel-weary, disheveled niece and nephew sitting across from her in the McDonald’s booth.
Neither had spoken since she’d picked them up at the Minneapolis–St. Paul airport a half hour ago, except to refuse every restaurant she could think of that might be open on Thanksgiving evening—hence, the fast food.
Though even in this child-friendly atmosphere they hadn’t touched a bite of their meals. And no wonder. Today they’d faced yet another huge change in their young lives.
After they were orphaned seven months ago in Texas when their parents died in a head-on collision with a semi, their elderly great-aunt Cynthia in Dallas had been adamant about gaining custody.
But two weeks ago she’d tripped over a toy truck and broke her hip badly. She’d then informed Hannah she simply couldn’t handle the children any longer—not while facing a long and painful recuperation.
Hannah had immediately begun the process of gaining out-of-state custody of the children. With a family law attorney at her side, she’d then gone to court to gain temporary guardianship.
Given that there were no other options besides Hannah or long-term foster care, social services and the court—bless them all—had expedited the process.
Scowling, Molly poked at the paper wrapping of her cheeseburger, then shoved it aside. “I don’t even know why we had to come way up here. I don’t like Wisconsin.”
“You’ve never been here, honey.” Hannah chose her words carefully. “It takes a long time to recover from a broken hip, and now Aunt Cynthia realizes she can’t keep you and your brother any longer, because she...um...just isn’t young enough to raise two children. But I know you’re going to make some great friends here. And if you start missing her, maybe we can all go down for a visit—”
“She didn’t even like us,” Molly scoffed. “She was mean.”
Hannah blinked. Cynthia was an elegant, austere woman who had never been particularly friendly during the few times Hannah had seen her. But mean? “Maybe she just isn’t used to being around kids.”
“She kept saying our uncle Ethan would be coming to take us, and he’d make us behave or else. ’Cause he’s some kind of soldier.”
Ethan?
Hannah swallowed hard, willing away the painful memories of the man she hadn’t seen for thirteen years. A man she never, ever, wanted to see again. “I’m sure she didn’t really mean—”
“Why would he want us? We never even met him.” Molly angled an accusing glare at Hannah, then dropped her gaze to her lap. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “And even you didn’t want us till now.”
“I did, honey. Believe me. But Texas prefers to keep children in their home state, if possible, so they’ll face less disruption. The judge decided Cynthia could provide a good home and keep you in your same schools.”
Left unsaid was the fact that Cynthia, a wealthy widow who owned a major western wear company, kept a team of lawyers on retainer who had made very sure that her wishes were met. Hannah hadn’t stood a chance in family court back then.
But now Cynthia’s determination made more sense. Ethan was Cynthia’s nephew. She’d apparently wanted to keep the children in Dallas, so the transition to his guardianship would be easier.
He’d probably even insisted on it.
Yet, seven months after the car wreck, he’d never showed up—no surprise there—and Cynthia was no longer capable, so now Hannah finally had a chance to give these kids the stable, loving home they deserved.
“We’ve got an hour drive ahead of us. Would you like to bring your food along?” she asked gently, wishing she could reach through the wall of grief surrounding them both.
Cole, only six years old, lifted his teary gaze briefly, shook his head and then slumped lower in his seat. “My m-mommy always h-had turkey an’ everything on Thanksgiving.”
His voice was so soft, so broken, that Hannah’s heart clenched. “I know, sweetheart. But since you traveled today, I thought maybe we could have our big dinner tomorrow. Is that all right?”
The bleak expression in his eyes reaffirmed what she already knew.
This wasn’t about the pumpkin pie or the holiday feast. It was about memories of happier times...and about loss. He just wanted his parents back.
And that could never be.
* * *
The next morning Hannah awoke early and made herself a cup of coffee, eager for the kids to wake up.
How life had changed in the blink of an eye—and how grateful she was for this wonderful blessing—a chance to finally surround her sister’s children with love and healing.
Until two weeks ago she’d devoted herself to her career as a physician’s assistant at the Aspen Creek Clinic and the ongoing renovation of this pretty little cottage on a hill north of Aspen Creek. Her only roomies had been the assorted rescue animals she took in, rehabbed and re-homed.
She’d had so much to arrange in a hurry after Cynthia’s injury—both here and down in Texas—that there’d been no time to create a welcoming home for Molly and Cole. So they’d stayed a couple extra nights with one of Cynthia’s friends while Hannah flew home to get the house ready.
Exhausted after their day of air travel and the sixty-mile drive from the airport, both children had been dazed and silent when she’d driven into her driveway at ten o’clock last night. They’d barely looked at their rooms before tumbling into bed without a whimper.
She’d checked on them several times during the night, but sometime during the early morning hours Cole had quietly dragged his quilt into Molly’s room and went back to sleep wrapped up like a mummy on the floor at the side of her bed.
Hannah’s stomach tightened. The poor little guy. Had he been scared? How had she failed to hear him?
Please, Lord, let this be an easy transition for them. They’ve been through so, so much.
A white-faced golden retriever limped to her side and bumped her hand, eliciting an ear rub. “So what do you think?” she whispered. “Will they be happy here?”
The dog, one of her rescues who had yet to find the perfect forever home, waved her flag of a tail and stared up at Hannah with pure adoration in her cloudy eyes. “I’d like to think you’re telling me yes, Maisie.”
The old dog crept silently into Molly’s room and sniffed at Cole’s makeshift sleeping bag, then gently curled up next to him.
The little boy stirred, mumbling something in his sleep. Cuddling closer to her warmth, he flung an arm over her soft neck.
Hannah felt her eyes burn at the dog’s instinctive compassion. She’d started to tiptoe away when the puffy pink-and-purple comforter stirred on the bed.
Molly sat up and frowned as she surveyed the bedroom, her long, curly brown hair framing her face.
“Good morning, sweetie,” Hannah whispered, stepping just inside the door. “What do you think of your new room?”
The walls were now a pale rose, the woodwork a crisp white. The bookshelves and a bedroom set were ivory with gold trim. Keeley, who owned an antique shop in town, had brought lovely lace curtains as well as a stained-glass lamp in pink, green and blue for the bedside table.
It was a fairy tale of a room that Hannah would have loved for herself as a child, but Molly just shrugged.
“Are you hungry for breakfast?”
Molly shook her head and flopped back down on her pillow, pulling the quilt up to her nose.
“Remember when I came to see you in Texas last time and made chocolate chip pancakes? I can make them this morning, or I have that chocolate cereal that you like.”
“No.” Molly yanked at the quilt to cover her head and turned toward the wall, clearly ending any further conversation.
Hannah tiptoed down the short hall to the kitchen, where a trio of cats sat staring at the refrigerator door, apparently willing it to provide an extra meal.
She stepped over a basset hound snoring in the middle of the floor, nudged the cats aside to grab a gallon of milk and then made her homemade version of a café-au-lait in her favorite mug.
Settling down at the breakfast bar overlooking the living room, she contemplated the stack of twelve, extra-large, newly delivered FedEx boxes sitting just inside the front door.
Each had felt like it had to weigh over fifty pounds when she’d dragged them in from the porch. Each had given her a pang of sorrow.
They represented the remnants of her sister’s life, after Cynthia had summarily sent all the adult clothing to Goodwill and hired an auction house to dispose of the apartment furnishings.
It was heartbreaking to think that everything left of the children’s lives had been distilled into just twelve cartons.
The question now was how she should most tactfully deal with all of this without upsetting them. Would they cry at the finality of seeing those labels and the contents? Things they’d seen in their old home, before a drunken truck driver had plowed into their parents’ car and everything went so terribly wrong?
Hannah pushed away from the breakfast counter and moved over to the boxes to read the labels written in Cynthia’s elegant hand.
Hannah quickly stowed Dee and Rob’s boxes out of sight in her own bedroom closet to consider later. Then she lugged one of the Home Office boxes across the living room and began searching for school and health records, categorizing the contents into neat piles on the sofa.
At a knock on the door she looked up, startled at the silhouette of a tall, broad-shouldered man standing outside the front door. The basset hound gave a single, bored woof and went back to sleep.
She was usually working at the clinic during the day, so none of her friends would think to visit her at this time of the morning. It was probably just another shipment of boxes from Cynthia—who must have paid a fortune for such quick delivery.
She pulled back the lace curtain to look outside before unlocking the dead bolt.
She froze. It was Ethan Williams.
And he’d seen her. There was no way she could step away from the door and pretend she wasn’t home.
From all the way down in Texas—or wherever it was that he’d been—Ethan had somehow found her, deep in this pine forest, five miles out of Aspen Creek on a winding gravel road.
He was the last person she’d ever wanted to see again. The cruelest man she’d ever met. And she knew his arrival spelled just one thing.
Trouble.
* * *
One glance at Hannah’s horrified expression through the multipaned window in the door and Ethan knew his chances of being allowed inside were slim to none.
He deserved that and worse. But he’d traveled a long way. This visit wasn’t about the troubled history between them. It was about the kids and their welfare, and he knew he had to handle this carefully or there’d be a battle every step of the way. It wasn’t one he planned to lose.
After a long moment of hesitation, Hannah closed her eyes briefly, as if saying a silent prayer, then cracked the door open without releasing the safety chain. She focused her gaze somewhere above his left shoulder. “Yes?”
He drew in a jagged breath.
She was even more beautiful than when he’d seen her last—thirteen years ago. Slim, shapely, with honey-gold hair that fell to her shoulders in waves and startling, light blue eyes.
They’d first met at his brother Rob’s wedding rehearsal, and their mutual attraction had been immediate. He hadn’t taken his eyes off her for a second during the rehearsal and wedding, and despite all the years since then, he now felt that same rush of emotion all over again.
From a lifelong habit he nearly offered his right hand—or what was left of it—but caught himself just in time. “It’s been a long time, Hannah. But you haven’t changed a bit.”
“If that’s a compliment, don’t think it will get you anywhere, Ethan. I’ve grown up since you last saw me and I’m not the fool I was when we first met. Understand?”
He nodded, edging the toe of his boot forward and bracing his left hand high on the door frame in case she tried to shut the door in his face. “Totally. Two adults. All business. That’s fair enough.”
“I can’t imagine what business we would have after all these years.” She bit her lower lip then reluctantly unhooked the safety chain. “Come in, but try to be quiet. The kids are still sleeping.” She waved him past two tall stacks of boxes and toward a sofa and upholstered chairs arranged in front of a fieldstone fireplace.
The sofa was covered with stacks of papers, apparently taken from a shipping carton sitting on an ottoman, so he eased into one of the chairs, setting his jaw against the familiar stab of pain in his right knee.
Open suitcases stood just inside the door with children’s clothing cascading out onto the floor, while a heap of winter jackets lay tossed over a chair.
Three cats, positioned like sphinx guardians in front of the refrigerator, glared at him from across the room.
“Nice place you have here,” he said as he surveyed the warm amber walls and abundance of multipaned windows looking out into the timber.
“It’s a mess right now. We got back from the airport pretty late last night.”
“Beautiful country.”
“I’ve got ten fenced acres, with state forest surrounding the house on three sides.” She perched stiffly on the arm of the upholstered chair opposite his, still avoiding his eyes. “This is a perfect place to raise the kids. There’s lots of room to play.”
He ignored her pointed tone. “After coming up your road, I’m glad I chose an SUV instead of a sedan at the airport. You must not get much traffic up here.”
She didn’t return his smile. “There are only a few homes on Spruce Road. I’m at the end of the line, actually. Public access to the government preserve is south of here. But I’m sure you didn’t come all this way to discuss real estate.”
“No.” He’d rehearsed his speech during the flight north. Weighed different approaches. Honed his logic, to best make his points clear and get this done as efficiently as possible.
If only he’d returned to Dallas a few weeks sooner, before Cynthia’s injury, the children’s transition into his care would have gone smoothly. But from the steely glint in Hannah’s eyes, he already knew that wasn’t going to happen.
His conversations with Cynthia and social services in Dallas had made it clear that the situation was now far more complicated.
Maybe the children hadn’t had time to settle in and bond with her, but Hannah had been granted temporary custody and had already brought the children north. He couldn’t legally swoop in and whisk them back to Texas now—even though it was the right thing to do.
Unless he could convince her that it would be best for everyone involved. And why wouldn’t she be relieved? The Hannah he remembered had been flighty, irresponsible. Surely she would understand that if he took the kids, her life would be a lot easier.
She crossed her legs and folded her arms over her chest. “Well?”
“I’m here to see Molly and Cole.”
“Because...?”
“They’re my niece and nephew,” he said easily, “just as they are yours.”
“You’ve missed them a lot, I’m sure.” Her eyes narrowed. “Since you’ve seen them so often.”
The ever-present phantom pain in his right arm began to pulse in deep, stabbing waves in response to his rising tension. “I’ve been overseas in the military. As you probably know.”
“But you never went home to see your family? Not even,” she added in a measured tone, her gaze fixed on his, “when the kids were born? Or your own brother’s funeral? At least, I didn’t see you there.”
“I wasn’t.”
He hadn’t been able to arrange for leave in time to fly back from the Middle East for the christenings. And as for the double funeral this spring...
He flinched as a cascade of images slammed through his brain. Gunfire. Explosions. Screams and blood and wrenching pain. And, finally, blessed darkness. That first long, hard and drug-fogged month at Walter Reed had left him incapable of anything more than simply existing.
“The kids say they’ve never met you.”
“I saw Molly when she was toddler, and I made it back when Cole was starting to walk, but they were probably too young to remember. I plan to make that up to them, though.”
“By finally finding time to visit them way up here?” The veiled note of sarcasm in Hannah’s voice was unmistakable.
“Actually, now that I’m stateside, I want to take them back to Texas, where they belong.”
“No.” Her eyes flashed fire and she shook her head decisively. “I don’t think so.”
She’d definitely changed.
When he’d spent those three weeks with Hannah years ago, she’d been a fun, lighthearted nineteen-year-old with a sense of adventure and daring that matched his own.
Impulsive and giddy, she’d dared him to go cliff diving at the reservoir and had matched him shot for shot at a gun range. She’d invited him on five-mile runs in the moonlight, after the oppressive heat of those Texas summer days had faded.
She’d also been impetuous and immature, he’d realized in retrospect, though at the time he’d been sure she was his soul mate—if there was such a thing. He hadn’t wanted to miss a minute of her company during the brief time he’d been stateside.
But now, instead of a sparkling sense of fun in her eyes, he saw only keen intelligence, absolute determination and a heartfelt wish that he would simply disappear.
After what he’d done to her, he expected nothing more.
But that didn’t mean he was going to give in. No matter how difficult it was going to be, he owed it to Rob to make sure his kids were raised right, and were raised where they belonged.
“You do know that your custody is just temporary.”
“That doesn’t mean it will end. I spent considerable time with the children’s caseworker, my Texas lawyer and in court. Even in a situation like this, involving out-of-state custody, the children’s welfare and happiness are still paramount. So we’ll have home visits and interviews by a caseworker after thirty days to evaluate how the kids are doing. Then again at three and six months—at which time I will petition for permanent custody and ultimately adopt them, if Molly and Cole agree.”
He ground his teeth. Perhaps the nineteen-year-old he’d dated had grown up—but she was not the right person to take on this responsibility. “Clearly, there are lots of uncertainties. Is it fair to get them settled clear up here, when they’ll need to move again?”
“That won’t be the case.”
He cleared his throat. “We need to straighten out this situation, the sooner the better. I honestly think they’d be better off coming back to Texas with me. You’d be free of responsibility, and they could be back in a familiar school, with their friends. Close to relatives and—”
Her smile vanished. “Close to what other relatives? Cynthia? Who didn’t want to deal with them? And their uncle Ethan? Who travels the world? Who else is there to give them consistent day-to-day time and attention? Your dad is in a residential facility. Your mom and grandfather are gone. Would you need to hire a nanny for the months you’re away?”
“What can you offer them?”
“A stable home. A loving home in the country with lots of animals and a huge fenced yard. I have lots of close friends with children they can play with. A warm church family. This is a friendly small town, where people know each other well and watch out for each other. Good schools. And,” she added, meeting his eyes squarely, “I work at the Aspen Creek Clinic, so they’ll have the best of medical care. I can guarantee it.”
“It seems you’ve given this some thought.”
“Since the day of the accident—not just when you showed up at my door. The kids don’t even know you, Ethan. I heard Cole asking who you were and wondering why you’d never visited—at least that he could remember. Anyway, I’m their godmother—which ought to tell you something about their parents’ wishes.”
He snorted at that. “And I’m their godfather, so I guess we’re even.”
Her mouth dropped open. “I don’t believe it. No one ever mentioned a thing about that. You certainly weren’t at the christenings.”
“I was stationed out of the country and couldn’t make it back in time. I guess I was never able to make it back for anything important,” he admitted with a twinge of regret. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t make up for lost time. And I plan to, even if it means that we need to take this back to court.”
Hannah flung a hand in the air to silence him and glanced over her shoulder.
A little boy in Batman pajamas suddenly appeared in the arched doorway that probably led to the bedrooms, his hand on a white-faced golden retriever. He blinked at the sunlight streaming in through the wall of windows facing the driveway and forest beyond.
Hannah immediately went to him, kneeled and gave him a hug. “Good morning, sweetie. Did you have a good night’s sleep?”
He rubbed his eyes and gave Ethan a brief, blank look, then regarded her with an achingly solemn expression. “Do we have to go back on the plane now?”
“No, of course not.” She rested a gentle hand on his cheek. “Do you remember what your great-aunt Cynthia said before you left Texas?”
“She said we had to come here.” His lower lip trembled and his eyes welled with tears. “But Mommy and Daddy are there, and our toys, and everything. And I gotta go back.”
