Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Sunday. Blessed Sunday. Tessa burrowed under the quilt, determined to stay unconscious.
The parade wrung her out like a dishcloth, left her aching in muscles she didn’t know she had. And Cade had opened himself on the way home, heavy truths about his father that still weighed on her chest.
It had been a lot.
Ping.
She groaned, groped for her phone, cracked one eye.
Fiona’s text glowed:
So proud of you! Jamie’s still talking about the parade. The minis were perfect. You nailed it.
Okay, that was nice. A smile slipped across her mouth. She had nailed it. Then she dropped the phone and yanked the quilt higher.
Ping.
Facebook notifications. The comment section of her Rent-a-Reindeer page exploded overnight.
Cutest reindeer ever!
Highlight of the parade!
Where do we book?
Do you do birthday parties?
Her stomach flipped. “Book” meant contracts. Schedules. Real business. Ugh.
“Nope.” She shoved the phone across the mattress hard enough that it slid off the other side and hit the floor with a thud. “Not today. Today is for sleeping and possibly eating cookies in bed. That’s it. That’s the whole agenda.”
The pillow smelled faintly of peppermint shampoo, the fancy stuff she splurged on last week because adulting was hard and she deserved nice things.
Riiiiing.
“Oh, come on!” She shot upright, hair sticking out in directions that defied gravity. The phone vibrated on the floor like an angry bee in a jar. Who even called people anymore? Texting existed so she could ignore people.
She leaned over the edge of the bed, snagged the phone, and jabbed the screen. “Hello?”
“Hi!” A tone so chipper it should’ve been illegal before noon chirped through. “I saw your adorable reindeer at the parade yesterday! Just darling! We’re hosting a Christmas party Friday for our women’s club and wondered if you might be available? We’d love to have real reindeer!”
Tessa’s brain scrambled. Party? Friday? Real reindeer? She squinted at the clock. 7:47 AM.
On a Sunday.
“They’re actually miniature horses,” she said.
“Oh, even better! How whimsical! So are you available?”
Available? She wasn’t even awake. She stared at the ceiling, wondering if this was karma for shooting off her mouth one time too many.
“I’ll…have to check my calendar and get back to you,” she croaked. Which was code for I need coffee before I can form sentences.
“Oh wonderful. I’ll email you all the details. Can’t wait.”
Click.
Tessa dropped the phone and sprawled back on the bed, arms flung wide. “That’s it. I’m changing my number. Moving to Peru. Becoming a hermit who lives in a cave and only talks to goats.”
Her body melted into the mattress. All she wanted was one lazy morning. One. Single. Morning. Was that too much to ask? She drifted off to sleep.
Knock. Knock.
“No.”
Knock-knock-knock.
“Tessa?”
Her heart did a stupid little jump. Cade.
“I know you’re in there,” he said.
“It’s Sunday!” she yelled, muffled by her pillow.
“Einstein says you promised him extra oats.”
“Einstein’s a liar and I’m asleep.”
“But you’re talking to me right now.”
Tessa sighed, and trudged to the door, quilt wrapped around her like a cape. She caught sight of herself in the dresser mirror. Hair tangled, mascara smudged where she hadn’t removed it last night, one sock missing. He’d just have to deal.
With a grunt, she yanked the door open.
Cade filled the frame, polished and pressed, boots gleaming, hat square.
“What?” she snapped.
His gaze flicked over her blanket cape, bare skin peeking where her top had ridden up. Color rose in his cheeks before he jerked his eyes back to hers.
“You ready for church?”
“Church?”
“It’s Sunday.”
“I’m aware. Day of rest. I was resting.” She clutched the quilt tighter. “And I never agreed to church.”
“Come on.” His tone was the one he used on the minis, patient, certain. “Service starts in an hour.”
“An hour of glorious, life-changing sleep, you mean.”
“Tessa. I go to church every Sunday.”
“Fine.” The blanket slid to the floor in defeat.
Cade’s eyes flicked down, then back up fast. His blush deepened.
She folded her arms. “Fine, I’ll get dressed. But I’m not promising happy. Or awake. Or functional.”
“Okay.”
“And I’ll need coffee. Buckets of it.”
“I’ll put the pot on.”
“And I’m not singing. Churches always want singing. I’m tone deaf.”
“I’ll warn the choir.”
Her glare wavered. He looked at her like she was something precious, even with pillow creases on her cheek. Her stomach twisted. She wasn’t ready to deal with that before caffeine.
“Give me twenty minutes,” she muttered, already plotting which dress could pass church-lady inspection. “And Cade?”
“Yeah?”
“You owe me pancakes. A mountain of pancakes.”
His grin spread. “Deal.”
She shut the door quick, before she did something reckless, like pull him into the bed she just abandoned. Pancakes would have to do.
For now.
* * *
The bell tolled over Evergreen Springs. Cade tugged at the collar of the white shirt Tessa insisted he buy the day they went shopping.
“Quit fussing,” she said, pulling her coat tight as they climbed the church steps. “You look good.”
He dropped his hands, though the collar still felt like a noose. Her compliment sat warm in his chest, which was foolish. A man his age shouldn’t preen like a rooster just because a woman said he cleaned up nice.
The vestibule doors swung wide. Evergreen and pine boughs draped the walls, fresh green scent tangled with furniture polish and the faint promise of coffee drifting from deeper inside.
For a moment, it could’ve been any year, 1878 or 2025. Cade’s boots paused on the threshold, his heart giving a strange thud.
Wyatt spotted them first. His grin widened, the same grin Cade trusted a thousand nights under the stars.
“Well, well.” His palm smacked Cade’s shoulder, nearly knocking him back a step. “That parade. People are buzzing. Mrs. Yancy cornered me in the hardware store and went on twenty minutes about those ‘darling reindeer.’”
Eliza wasn’t far behind. She hugged Tessa. “Einstein behaved better than half the men in this town.”
Tessa laughed. “Don’t tell him that, he’ll demand better feed.”
Wyatt leaned in, eyes gleaming. “Looks like you’ve got yourself a business now. Half the Chamber’s bragging about booking you.”
“Lucky me,” Tessa muttered, the words light but her eyes clouded with the weight of responsibility.
The organ music swelled. Wyatt steered them down the aisle. “Seats up front. Megan, Fiona, and Jamie are waiting.”
They slid into the pew. Tessa went first, Cade beside her, Wyatt and Eliza filling the space. The wood was worn smooth, decades of hands polishing it through prayer, celebration, grief. Cade’s palm rested there a moment grounding himself.
The organ boomed and the congregation rose as one. Cade opened his hymnal. Ma loved church. It was her solace and she’d past that love onto her kids. He let loose, the words rising from someplace older than memory.
“O come, all ye faithful, joyful and triumphant,” he sang. The sound filled him. For the first time since stepping into this century, he felt tethered to something familiar.
Beside him, Tessa barely moved her lips. She swayed once, caught herself on the pew in front, then stifled a yawn.
He sang louder, as if he could carry them both.
The hymn ended, the congregation sat, and the preacher began his sermon. Cade bowed his head, but from the corner of his eye he caught Tessa’s knee bouncing, her thumb skimming her phone screen.
The sermon called for patience, endurance, building on rock, not sand. Tessa fidgeted like a wild thing ready to bolt. He wanted to fit here, with her, with this century, but every restless movement reminded him how much behind he lagged.
The second hymn began. Wyatt’s harmony blended with his, same as the cattle drives, same as it had always been. Cade clung to the memory. At least that part of his world was here.
Beside him, Tessa yawned so wide her eyes watered. She blinked, rubbed her face, swayed.
They sat again after the song and he guided her down beside him. The preacher talked about loving their neighbor.
Her head tipped, slow as dusk, until her temple found his shoulder. Heat shot through him. Every muscle locked. His first instinct said move, wake her, sit proper, but her breath warmed through his shirt, and something inside him craved the feel of her head on his shoulder.
She wasn’t like his father, restless and reckless. This was Tessa, trusting him enough to lay her whole weight against him in front of the town.
The preachers words faded from his hearing. Her peppermint-scent hair tickled his nose. Her body heat seeped through his sleeve. The curl of her small hand marked his skin.
His shoulder ached from the weight of her. He didn’t care.
The final hymn swelled. The congregation rose. Cade stayed still for a heartbeat longer, holding on to moment. Then he stood, gently bringing her up with him.
She blinked awake, confusion flooding her face. Color climbed her cheeks. “I—did I—oh gosh, I’m sorry—”
“Don’t be.” He opened the hymnal, found the page, and angled it between them. “Sing with me.”
Her mouth parted, then closed. She grabbed the other side of the book, blending her voice with his as they sang together.
And for the first time since leaving 1878, Cade let himself believe he could stay.
* * *
Tessa couldn’t wait for a big old stack of pancakes. Or waffles. Maybe she’d go for waffles. She loved the way syrup pooled in the little squares, creating perfect sweet traps.
Plus, waffles seemed festive. Christmassy. And after surviving both church and falling asleep on Cade’s shoulder. Had she really drooled on him? She deserved festive carbs.
“Morning, y’all,” Ginger, the hostess, greeted with a grin that stretched her whole face. “Those reindeer of yours stole the show, Tessa. Never seen minis so calm. Even that rascal Einstein.”
“Miracles happen,” Tessa said.
Though miracle was giving Einstein too much credit. More like Cade who whispered some cowboy magic and turned her chaos crew into a synchronized act.
“And you,” Ginger added, tipping her chin toward Cade, “folks say you’ve got a gift. Natural horseman.”
Cade gave a single nod. Nothing more. No swagger, no deflection. He accepted the words like weather as just a fact, not worth embellishment.
Ginger waved them through. “Booth just opened up.”
They trailed past clattering dishes and the smell of frying bacon. A toddler broke free of his high chair and made a wobbly sprint for the kitchen.
Tessa swooped him up by the overalls, zooming him through the air until he squealed like a jet engine. His mother mouthed “thank you” over her coffee cup, eyes bleary with exhaustion.
“They all bounce like springs at that age,” Tessa said, ruffling his hair before handing him back.
Their booth welcomed. Cade slid in beside her, posture straight as a fence post. Wyatt and Eliza crowded in opposite. Ginger poured coffee into white mugs.
Tessa’s phone buzzed. She peeked. Three texts about Rent-a-Reindeer, a missed call from a strange number, an email with URGENT CHRISTMAS BOOKING in the subject line.
She shoved it back into her pocket, and wrapped both hands around her mug. Coffee first. Problems later.
“Waffles,” she told Ginger when it was her turn. “Extra butter. Side of bacon.”
“My girl,” Ginger said.
Cade ordered eggs, wheat toast, hash browns. Solid, reliable.
“Make the hash browns extra crispy,” Tessa added. “He likes them that way.”
Cade turned his head to look at her, one eyebrow up.
“What? You do,” she said. “You get sad when they’re soggy. You have a sad harsh brown face.”
“I do not.”
“You absolutely do. You also have an overcooked-egg face, a too-loud-town face, and a ‘did that horse just outsmart me’ face—”
Wyatt covered his grin with his coffee mug. “She’s got your number, partner after only four days of knowing you.”
Eliza snorted. “Tessa’s got everybody’s number.”
Tessa smirked. Her phone buzzed again. She ignored it, dumping cream into her mug until it turned the right shade of caramel.
Food came fast, Ginger balancing a tray like a pro. Waffles golden and steaming, butter melting into the squares. Hash browns crisp, bacon curling at the edges.
Tessa drowned her plate in maple syrup.
“Want some waffle with that syrup?” Cade asked.
“Waffles are syrup delivery systems. Basic knowledge.”
For a few minutes, she let herself enjoy it. The hot food, good friends, Cade’s thigh a reliable presence beside hers.
Eliza told a funny story about Wyatt battling her electric mixer like it was possessed.
Wyatt defended himself with mock gravity. “Anything that makes that kind of noise back home usually needed putting down.”
Tessa chuckled in the right spots, but suddenly he waffle tasted too sweet, her stomach rolling under the weight of it. And then the after-church crowd migrated their way.
Mr. Holbrook from the hardware store stopped first. “Never thought I’d see Einstein walk a parade without chewing somebody’s hat. That was magic.”
“Motivated by peppermints,” Tessa said.
“Motivated by good handling,” he said, nodding toward Cade.
Mrs. Yancy drifted up next, lavender trailing behind her. She beamed. “Those animals adore you.” She hand patted Tessa’s arm. “Your grandfather’s dream come alive at last. You running his place like a real farm. He would be so proud.”
More neighbors pressed close. Compliments stacked like pancakes, each sweet and well-meaning and somehow each heavier than the last. She smiled, nodded, thanked them. But each word added weight she couldn’t carry.
Under the table, Cade’s hand closed over hers. His fingers slid between hers, solid, stabilizing.
Her fork slipped, clattering loud against the plate.
Voices around her seemed louder, the diner’s chatter swelling until it pressed against her skull. She tried to swallow, but the knot in her throat wouldn’t budge.
“I—” She pushed her plate forward, coffee sloshing. “I need out.”
Cade slid back without hesitation, giving her space. She slipped past him, muttering apologies as she wove between tables, shoved outside.
Cold slapped her cheeks. She caught herself against Zeke’s brick wall, fingers scraping over the rough surface.
Next door, scaffolding wrapped Holbrook’s Hardware. The grime had been completely cleaned off the mural and if she squinted she could make the barest outline of what looked like four ghostly images. She dragged in lungfuls of winter.
Through the diner’s glow she saw. His eyes found hers. He moved for the door with the same calm he used on spooked stock.
He coming for her.