Chapter 17 #2
Dove gives a slow smile as she rests a hand on her belly. “That’s a lovely idea. Just family.”
Pop nods, briefly glancing at my wife with concerned kindness. “You’re right. Of course Mara would want her first Christmas with us to be quiet and peaceful instead of the entire town milling about and poking into her business.”
“Don’t you worry, dear,” Momma says warmly, gaining excitement with every breath. “This is exactly what you need. This Christmas will be just for us. And we’ll have turkey instead of goose since that old gobbler’s been fattening up all year. And—”
“No.” Mara’s protest is soft, but she might as well have shouted it by the way everyone’s attention immediately falls upon her.
“You’re all so very kind to offer, but I couldn’t let you do that.
I just couldn’t.” Hesitant fingers search for mine, and I gently squeeze to support her in whatever she’s about to say.
“Until I met Warren, I’ve never had anyone care about me in such a way.
And while Hope’s Stand holds some memories I’d much rather forget, maybe I can push them aside so Emmaline and I can make room for new ones.
” Her shoulders straighten before she adds, “Ones with Warren. With all of you.” Her gaze even flits to Dalton for a quick second.
Well, damn it all to hell and back.
I know I’m not the only one with misty eyes and a tight throat, and that’s proven when Pop gruffly clears his.
“I’ve raised all my boys to be strong men.
But you…” Respect for his daughter-in-law shines in his eyes.
“You’re stronger than all of them, Mara.
Never you mind about pulling a plow, I mean inside where it counts the most. You may not be ready to call me Pop yet—and you might never be—but I want you to know I’m proud to call you my daughter. ”
“Thank you,” my wife whispers with cautious gratitude, leaning into my side.
For a moment, all is silent and somber.
That is, until our daughter lets out a sneeze vicious enough that her little limbs flail about.
But it’s her grumbled cry afterward that fills the table with a laughter and joy even greater than before, and when the eating’s over, we decorate the Christmas tree.
The men are tasked with stringing popcorn together while the women drape gold tinsel around the evergreen branches.
But somehow it winds up being just me, Dalton, and Pop at the table because Jed disappears with a hastily muttered, “Be right back.”
I must be picking all the crumbly pieces of popped corn because my string isn’t nearly as full as my father’s or Dalton’s.
But maybe that’s because Mara steals all my attention as she stretches on tiptoe to loop the tinsel just right.
She turns and catches me watching, granting me a soft smile before reaching for another strand.
“Got yourself a good woman.” Pop keeps his voice low and nods her direction.
“I do. And she’s a good mother, too.”
“Townsfolk are likely gonna talk when they see her. She knows we’re gonna be right beside her to protect her from that, doesn’t she?”
My jaw clenches. “Some of them saw us the day I brought her home. That’s partly why she’s been wanting to stay at the house. But they’ll watch their mouths if they know what’s good for them. She’s a person just like anyone else, and I won’t stand for her being treated any other way.”
“She’s one of us now.” A beat of silence passes, then, “Any closer to knowing who hurt her?” Casual words wrapped around a steely thread of protection.
“Too many to count.” No use pretending to concentrate on decorations now. I set it aside and rub the back of my neck. “But the one who hurt her most”—and needs to pay full restitution with his death—“is Blackwood.”
Dalton stills. “Blackwood. As in that poker playing son of a bitch Montgomery Blackwood that wears those highfalutin’ gloves all the time?”
“That’s the one.” A vein in my temple pulses with cold familiar anger, but I fight it back.
I don’t want my expression showing anything that might make Mara retreat back inside herself.
Not now that she finally seems to be letting her guard down in front of my family.
I lower my voice further. “He wears them to hide a birthmark. Mara says it looks just like Emmaline’s. ”
“Does it now.” Pop turns thoughtful. “Probably gonna be here in a few months for the tournament. We should make sure this visit is his last.” The popcorn strand in his hand looks mighty damn close to a noose.
“But not before we relieve him of that mark. Piece of shit like him doesn’t deserve anything my grandbaby has. ”
I mirror Dalton’s grim chuckle before he says, “Relieve him of it?”
The wink Pop gives is so unexpected in light of the subject matter. “I didn’t teach you boys how to skin a coyote for nothing.”
“Damn, Pop.” I shake my head. “Didn’t know you had such a thirst for violence.” Almost matches my own.
“No one hurts my daughter-in-law and gets away with it.”
“Or my friend’s wife,” Dalton roughly adds.
On that we can agree.
The somber air lifts when Jed bursts through the door, grinning widely as he hides something behind his back. “Jedidiah!” Momma scolds as he stomps the snow from his boots. “Close that door before we all come down with influenza.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he says obediently before advancing towards Dove. “Now c’mere, wife of mine.”
“Why? What is that?” Dove stumbles over her words with laughter.
“Mistletoe.” He reveals his bounty and dangles it above his pregnant wife’s head.
So damn proud of himself. “And now you owe me a kiss.” Dove’s protest is too weak to mean much of anything, and she finds herself swept up in his embrace.
Apparently my brother needs both arms to properly kiss his wife, because he mindlessly tosses the small bunch of greenery to free both hands.
“Oh!” Mara catches it out of instinct, the apple of her cheeks stained a delightful shade of red as her panicked eyes dart between the kissing couple and me.
Flustered, she holds the branch out as if it had the plague, but I’m already crossing the room.
“I…here!” She awkwardly shoves it against my chest and nervously laughs.
“Please take it. I don’t know what to do with it. ”
Throwing it to Dalton—who protests the unfairness of not having anyone to kiss—I take pity on her and pull her into a hug so she has a place to hide her flaming face for as long as she needs.
“It’s okay,” I murmur into the softness of her hair.
A devilish idea hits me, and I press my lips to her ear so no one else can hear.
“Maybe we’ll just take it home with us so you can hold it when you use my face like a saddle. ”