Chapter 10 Red
The sleigh creaked under his weight as Red settled onto the bench beside Jack, who already had the reins in his hands and a look of calm focus on his face.
Copper gave a faint whinny ahead of them, his hooves shifting in the snow.
The big Belgian Draft horse looked surprised to be attached to the sleigh but had—somehow, with Nicole’s help—gotten himself moving.
Red still wasn’t sure if it was a Christmas miracle or sheer dumb luck.
Jack glanced over. “Ready?”
Red grunted. “As long as I don’t have to put that itchy jacket on and pretend to like kids, I’ll ride this thing all day.”
“You don’t like being Santa, Red?”
“I’m over it, as the kids say. Too old, too tired, too…well, I guess you can’t be too fat to be Santa.”
“You’re not any of those things.” Jack clicked his tongue and gave the reins a tug. Copper took a few tentative steps, then found his rhythm. “You’re Grumpy Santa, king of social media.”
Red snorted. “I don’t quite get why, but it’s working,” he said. “Benny told me this morning we have another thousand followers.”
“And no one knows yet? Not Cindy or MJ?”
Red held up his hand. “Let’s keep it that way, Jack. The kid wants a dog so bad for Christmas, and he’s sure that his mom will be furious at him—and me—for playing with the phone. She’s adamant about him not having one of those things, or access to mine.”
“That’s strict,” Jack noted.
“She’s a single mother,” Red said, rising to his granddaughter’s defense. “She has to be strict. Benny knows if he strays too far from the rules, it’ll cost him his doggo.”
“Then maybe he shouldn’t be on social media accruing thousands of followers,” Jack said with a wry smile.
“Maybe not. But we’re in a bind so bad that you left…whatever it is you have in Vermont and flew here to run this sleigh.”
Jack slid him a look, not answering.
“And I,” Red continued, “agreed to put that stupid jacket on once more and promise to give kids toys they might not ever get.”
That made Jack smile while Red leaned back, sparing a glance at one of the cabins, seeing a lone gentleman step outside Cabin Five and raise his hand in greeting.
“We’re all doing something, taking a risk, upsettin’ our lives—all for Snowberry Lodge.”
“That’s true,” Jack agreed.
“So’s Benny. We’ll come clean on Christmas morning—right about the time he’s holding a new puppy.”
“I get it,” Jack said. “The secret is safe.”
Copper slowed again, but Jack flicked the reins, and the horse picked up the pace, pulling the sleigh around the bend of the last cabin, headed toward the open trail that curved behind the property.
“This place looks great,” Jack observed, squinting into the bright winter sun bouncing off the snow.
“Nature looks great,” Red corrected as they came around the long drive to the house where he lived with Gracie and Benny. “The place is…old, like I am.”
“Looks pretty good to me,” Jack said.
Red tried to see his home of eighty-two years through another man’s eyes, and he had to admit, it did look like a fine place.
The rolling hills around Snowberry Lodge stretched wide and white in front of them, soft mounds of snow blanketing the fields and trees dusted with frost.
Of course, he knew every inch of this land. His entire life was pressed into this land—hard winters, achingly beautiful summers, the smell of pine and earth, the laughter of kids who’d grown up in the middle of Utah’s breathtaking landscape.
“Vermont’s pretty and all,” Jack said, his gaze traveling the same path as Red’s, his thoughts maybe on their own journey. “But this piece of the country is spectacular.”
At the wistful note in Jack’s voice, Red eyed him carefully, trying to gauge what the man was really feeling.
Red cleared his throat, not wanting to dwell on old hurts. If Cindy could get over it, then he could, too. Plus, Jack had come to help them, and that meant something to Red. Meant a lot.
“Can’t believe that horse is actually movin’,” he mused, more to coax Jack into talking than state the obvious.
Jack chuckled. “Nic’s got a way with the little prince. Should I head up to Pinecone Ridge?”
“I’d go where Copper leads,” Red said. “As long as you’re mapping out a route for the rides.”
“I am,” Jack said, keeping his eyes on the snowy trail ahead.
A few long beats of silence passed, with nothing but the winter wind and the soft hoofbeats, the hiss of the runners gliding over snow.
Red wasn’t good at talking nonsense. MJ was the one who filled silence like a radio station. Cindy, too, when she wasn’t bogged down in books and bills. But Red didn’t like dancing around things, especially not with a man like Jack.
But some things had to be said between them, and now was as good a time as any.
“How’s it feel to be back?” he asked, hoping that was enough to get a conversation going.
“Different,” Jack replied without hesitation. “Like an outsider looking in.”
“You are.”
“I wasn’t, once.” He threw Red a look. “But being here is like I’m standing at a storefront window and wanting everything that’s inside, but I can’t afford a thing.”
The comment really threw Red. He wasn’t expecting the man to sound either nostalgic or regretful.
Red considered that, staring at the passing pine trees. “Well, this place has a way of gettin’ under your skin.”
“Yeah.” Jack tugged on the reins as Copper veered too close to a snowbank. “I missed it. More than I realized.”
Red nodded, keen on the candor. There was a time when he and Jack could talk about anything. George, too, when MJ’s husband was still alive. The three of them were the men of Snowberry. Jack and George were the sons that Red never had.
George died—which was sad. But Jack left—which was dumb.
“Then why’d you leave, Jack?” he asked, the question rising up and coming right out. Oh, well. He was entitled to honesty and bluntness at his ripe old age.
Jack didn’t answer right away. The jingle of the sleigh bells filled the space.
“I got a second chance at my dream,” Jack said after a moment. “After my injury, I thought I was done with the world of competitive skiing—which, as you know, isn’t like everyday, ordinary skiing.”
“I know what it is,” Red said.
“But the ESPN job? It gave me a purpose again. Made me feel like I mattered.”
“You always mattered,” Red muttered. “You mattered to Cindy, and to Nicole. Heck, you mattered to me. You mattered for the years you juggled this life and that one.”
“I couldn’t juggle anymore,” he admitted gruffly. “The travel was constant. Cindy wanted me to choose and…”
And he chose ESPN and skiing and the rush of his old life. Red tried to understand—he always did—but he still had a rough time with the choice Jack had made. And Cindy’s rather rushed decision to file for divorce.
“We were all crushed when you left,” Red said. “I get it, I guess. But I didn’t back then.”
Jack turned to look at him. “I know that now, Red. I don’t blame you, really.
It felt like I had to choose between being somebody or staying behind and fading away.
” He stared straight ahead at Copper’s swooshing tail as they glided forward.
“I felt like I was settling for a life that was quiet and mundane, and I got this opportunity, you know? I’m not saying it was the right choice, but it was the one I made. ”
Red grunted. “Mundane can be good.”
“I know that now,” Jack whispered.
Red didn’t speak while he watched a hawk circle lazily overhead.
“Cindy was heartbroken, you know,” he said.
“Of course I know that. I was, too. I wished she hadn’t asked me to choose—”
“And she wished you’d chosen her.”
Jack winced. “I know, Red. She told me today she forgave me, and I guess it’s…fine.”
“Oh, she probably did forgive you. Ten years’ll do that to you. But it isn’t fine.” Red gave him a hard look. “She never really got fine after you left.”
Jack’s hands tightened on the reins. “She divorced me, remember?”
“Like it was yesterday,” Red replied. “I always thought she jumped the gun a bit on that one, but you know Cindy. She’s a fixer.
Sometimes her solutions are dumber than the problem.
But when she’s not happy with something, she’s gonna change it, like it or not.
Can’t stop her. Nicole, too. But, whoa, the cost was high.
You missed a lot, Jack. Birthdays. Snowstorms. Flat tires. Real life.”
Jack’s eyes shuttered as he sighed, his exhale making a little puff of fog in the crisp wintery air. “I’m sorry, Red, for whatever that’s worth. Being back here has made me realize just how much of a…”
Red waited, inching closer, wondering what he was going to say.
“How much of a mistake I made.” The admission came rushing out, his words picking up speed like the sleigh when Copper trotted down a small hill.
Red rubbed a hand over his face, blinking against the wind that stung his eyes—well, something stung them.
“Jack,” he said on a gruff whisper. “I held a grudge. I’ll own up to it. You were like a son to me. I was proud of you. Proud you loved my daughter, proud of the family you two made. Then it was all over.”
Jack didn’t defend himself.
Red looked over again. “But I get it. Took me eighty years to figure it out, but sometimes a man screws up for what he thinks is the right reason. Doesn’t mean he wanted to hurt anyone. Just means he was trying to find his own way.”
Jack swallowed, pulling the reins gently as if he was the one trying to find his way.
“You could always stay,” Red said plainly.
Jack whipped around. “Here?”
“We need a young man at this place.”
“Young?” Jack laughed. “I’m sixty.”
“We’ll, I’m eighty-two and Benny’s ten. You could fill the hole.”
Jack was quiet just long enough for Red to know he was actually thinking about it, and the amount of hope that gave him should be illegal.
Finally, Jack shook his head. “It’s not that simple.”
“Sure it is,” Red said. “The true mark of a man isn’t never messing up. It’s being able to admit when he has. And fixing it.”
“After ten years?”
Red shrugged. “Time’s all you got, son. I say make things right, while there’s still time.
Tell people you love them when they’re right in front of you.
’Cause one day…” He swallowed a lump in his throat, running a hand through the thick of his beard, thinking of Cora, of course.
But also, his parents, and George, his other son-in-law.
“They’re not right in front of you anymore. ”
Jack turned for a moment, giving Red an expression that he could tell was genuine sympathy. “You’ve lost some good people in your life, Red.”
“But I had ’em, and that’s what counts.” Red cleared his throat, adjusting against the sleigh seat, which was killing his old back. “Cora’s here in spirit, I think. And I see her in my girls, all the time.”
As they reached Pinecone Ridge, Copper slowed, and Jack expertly turned him at the wide part of the path. “Let’s head back,” he said, “before they send a search party for us.”
Red chuckled at that, closing his eyes and lifting his old face to the sun as they plodded along. What needed to be said had been said, and Red could relax and enjoy the ride.
When they neared the lodge, he felt Jack tense as he elbowed Red to be sure he was awake.
“Hey, Red. You awake?”
“Barely.”
“I have a question, and I need you to be honest.”
“Don’t know any other way,” Red said. “What is it?”
“You really think I could fix things? After all this time?”
Red huffed out a breath. “Well, it sure isn’t up to me, son. But I think Cindy’s heart never stopped lookin’ for you. Even if her head gave up.”
Jack gave a short laugh. “You make it sound easy.”
Red shrugged. “Nothing about life is easy. But, Jack, this one ain’t that hard.”
The sleigh glided past the drive to his house where a whole bunch of winter-bare apple trees looked like tall sticks in the ground. But that wasn’t what Red saw.
He saw spring leaves and summer blossoms and a harvest in the fall. He could see his late wife standing there, wearing that blue flowered frock that fluttered when she walked, an apple basket on her hip. Cindy and MJ were hangin’ out of the trees, calling, “Daddy, Daddy!”
“The days slip by so fast,” he said, his voice thick, but he didn’t care. “Don’t waste them, son. That’s the biggest sin you can commit.”
Jack turned to him, his own eyes a little misty. “Good advice, Red. You always give good advice.”
That made Red smile. “Yeah. Now get me to the kitchen before MJ tosses the waffle batter. I never got breakfast.”
“Trust me, it’s worth the wait,” Jack said.
“Most of life is,” Red replied, looking out at the trail that looped back toward the lodge.
Smoke curled from the chimney and sunlight bounced off the second-story windows. Red looked at it—at the home he’d built with his hands and his heart—and knew deep in his bones that maybe Jack Kessler wasn’t done with Snowberry after all.
“Well,” Red muttered, rubbing his knees, “better get used to this again if I’m gonna be stuck in that red suit for the next few weeks.”
Jack grinned. “Can’t do sleigh rides without Santa.”
Red rolled his eyes. “Tell that to my aching back.”
But his smile lingered as Copper slowed at the paddock and neighed for peppermints and praise.