Chapter Thirteen
T he problem with Thanksgiving trips north, Beth thought, had always been the travel and the risk of bad weather closing in before anyone got where they were going. Cal hovered and tinkered beneath the hood of her truck, and checked her snow chains, and then hovered some more, while she and Sam loaded the vehicle with baked treats and enough clothes to last a week. He hadn’t said a word about her plans, but his actions spoke loudly enough.
Be safe. I’m right here. I’ll still be here when you get back.
Cal was looking after the place and the ponies while they were away. Four nights, five days. Too long without him.
“I’ll call you when we get there,” she said, and then for his ears only added, “You big mother hen.”
“Give your mom and sister my regards. Red’s family, too.”
She hadn’t asked Cal to go with them. Not this time, although she fully intended to tell her family and Red’s that she was dating him and had never been happier. Or maybe she wouldn’t phrase it exactly like that. She could say she and Cal were seeing each other and, so far so good, and track their reactions. Although that sounded too wishy-washy. Something in between. “I will. One of the reasons I’m taking this trip is to tell them about us. Then, when we get back, you’re going to help us choose a Christmas tree. We’re going to be right here for Christmas and they’re all coming to us. You’ll be here for Christmas, too, right?” She hadn’t exactly asked him outright. Best not to assume.
“I can do that.” His smile was like a ray of sunshine peeking through clouds.
“And you’ll be here when we get back.”
“Right here. Straining at the yoke.” His smile widened. “Who’s the mother hen now?”
“You’re a funny man, Cal Casey.”
Such a gift of a man to wake her wary heart.
*
The valley was a different place over the next few days. Just like Cal knew deep in his bones that the wolf pack was still around, Beth and Sam had left a gap he couldn’t fill.
Even though he tried to.
If he wasn’t with the cattle, he could generally be found in his workshop, shaping burls of wood into vases or bowls, or carving this year’s Christmas ornament for his mother’s tree—he’d made his mother a Christmas ornament every year since he was five years old, and although some were better than others, she treated every one of them as if it was made of gold. A new belt for TJ in the hope his bull rider brother would finally show off his collection of championship buckles hidden deep in a drawer somewhere. A cheeseboard for Madeline the entertainer. A customized toolbelt for Seth.
Sometimes Seth tracked him down now the building work had slowed for the season, claiming himself in need of refuge from a pregnant woman with a current craving for a naked working man, but his brother was glowing when he said it so there was definitely no trouble in that small corner of paradise.
Jett called in most days because he was making a sled for Claire, and it needed to stay a secret, so where better than Cal’s workshop?
Even Mason sauntered in, wanting Cal to read a report on a bull whose semen he was thinking of buying.
Since when had Mason valued Cal’s opinion?
Still, Cal got his big brother a beer and studied the report and then they went online to look at the pictures, and somewhere in that mix, Mason circled his way around to the real reason for his visit.
“Has Beth ever asked you why Red was late to his wedding, and you were a no show?”
“We touched on it. She doesn’t know every last detail, and she doesn’t need to know them in my opinion, but she knows the bones of what went down.”
“Was it hard to tell her?”
“Wasn’t an easy conversation by any means. I was surprised by how much she already knew. That made it easier.”
Mason stared at his coffee. “Cara asked me why I stood her up at the prom.”
Ah.
“She’s still close to her mother, far as I can tell. I don’t see the point in dissecting the past, do you?”
“Not if you still want to protect her from knowing what her mother did. On the other hand, you could clear your name.”
“Why can’t she just… forgive the sin and the man and stop picking at it?”
“Because she’s wondering if the reason you bailed on her last time is still there? At a guess.”
“Do you think I should tell her?”
At which point Cal was beginning to wonder if Mason was addled in the head, because this was twice in one day that he was asking Cal for advice!
“If Cara’s any judge of character, she might not even be surprised when you tell her what went down. She might be relieved to finally get it out in the open and work through it.”
“She is a lot of work,” his big brother grumbled.
“And you’re an angel.”
“I asked Cara to Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow.”
Interesting. “Did she say yes?”
“She would have, except she’d already agreed to go to her mother’s place. She asked me to go with her.”
Cal couldn’t quite hide his wince. “Pass?”
“Hard pass.”
Which probably brought Cara full circle when it came to wondering why Mason kept leading her on and then bailing on her. “Tell her why.”
“How’s Beth?”
Cal grinned at his brother’s abrupt change of subject. “Well enough.” He’d heard from her this morning. “She’s making pumpkin pies with her sister. Sam’s having a ball with his cousins.”
“Your face changes completely when you talk about them.”
“How?” Cal wanted to know. “It’s the same face.”
“Less Northwest Face of Half Dome, El Capitan, more downhill ski run in a pristine back country valley. I’m glad for you.”
“Thanks.”
“Is marriage your end game?”
“Yes.”
Mason pulled a worn velvet ring box from his jacket pocket and set it on the workbench. “Then you’ll need this. Mom says it’s been calling her for weeks, wanting to come out of the drawer. It’s Great-Grandma Casey’s engagement ring. Apparently, Great-Grandma wants you to have it.”
“Since when has our mother been into woo-woo?”
“Says the man who talks to the dead.”
“That’s different. You should try it sometime. It’s useful.”
Mason grinned and tapped the top of the ring box with his forefinger. “This could be useful, too.”
True.
He opened the little box with care. The ring was a dainty little thing with a winking sapphire in the center, surrounded by petal-shaped colored stones in paler blues, blue-green, and green. The colors reminded him of earth and sky and the shape reminded him of a pasture daisy. He could picture it twinkling on Beth’s slender finger, catching the light and making her smile. Alongside it would sit a wedding band of simple gold. He could picture it as easily as breathing.
“Mom says they’re all Yogo sapphires, and that’s Montana gold. She says our great-grandfather made it. Not that he knew how to begin with. He got the tools, the stones, and the gold and started practicing. It took him three years to get it right, and he refused to propose before it was done. Probably where you get your patience from.”
“Har-har.” But he shut the box and closed his hand around it. “You don’t want it? Don’t these types of heirlooms usually go to the firstborn?”
“Nah. I think it’s yours to give to Beth.”
“So, you’re into woo-woo now, too?”
“Just take it.”
That was the trouble with Mason, all lightning temper and trouble, never wanting to expose his soft underbelly. “Thanks.”
“When are you going to propose?”
“When the time is right, I guess.”
Mason rolled his eyes.
Cal wasn’t deliberately trying to be cryptic or secretive. “For what it’s worth, it’s not going to take me three years.”
*
Cal thought about being at the Evans’s ranch house to greet Beth and Sam the day they were due to return home. But he didn’t want to crowd them or make it seem as if he’d been utterly miserable without them, so he sat in his mother’s kitchen like a kid serving detention and tried not to look at the clock. Beth had predicted they’d be back by around four—she hadn’t wanted to drive in the dark, and the sun disappeared early this time of year.
“Go and stack a few bales of hay in her barn,” his mother suggested. “She’ll never know you’ve been waiting since sunup for her to arrive.”
“I have no idea what you mean.”
His mother smirked and turned her attention back to the giant jigsaw puzzle currently in pieces on the table. He’d thanked her for the ring, hadn’t he? The other day. He’d even offered to pay for it, so he’d stay even when it came to the inheritance stakes. She’d told him to wash his mouth out with soap.
And then there was a knock on his mother’s kitchen door and Beth and Sam stepped in, amidst a flurry of boots coming off and Sam setting his backpack down in front of Cal and hauling out a weathered burl of wood with reverent hands. “Uncle Max helped me get it. It’s from a maple tree. Uncle max says it’s a mistletoe burl. You could make a chandelier out of it.”
“Er.”
Beth was staring at him as if he was a long, cold glass of water and she’d just come in from the desert. “It’s possible, I guess. I’ve never done a chandelier in wood before. He’d never made a chandelier full stop. How did you know I was looking for burl?”
“’Cause you always are. Cowboys are observant, right?” And then Sam hugged him, and Beth hugged and kissed him and, well… well, now that was more like it… and his mother smirked some more.
“Did you miss us?” Beth asked, glancing up at him through lowered lashes, and now there was a look, heavy with promises for later.
“There was plenty to be going on with,” he muttered, which earned a snort from his mother and a flicker of embarrassment from Beth.
Embarrassing Beth just wouldn’t do. What was it his mother had said? That there was nothing wrong with letting the woman of your dreams know that you think they hung the moon.
“But, yes. I missed you like crazy. Both of you.”
It was worth it to see Beth’s smile bloom. And Sam’s.
“Like a Christmas tree,” his mother murmured. “Anyone for soup?
“Oh, no, we couldn’t,” Beth stated. “We just… went to Cal’s first and when he wasn’t there, and we saw his pickup here… and, well.” A rosy blush looked good on her.
“Stay for soup and bread. It’s hardly a feast and there’s more than enough.” His mother was using her no arguing voice, and Cal waited for them to cave. Savannah Casey had five boys and thirty years of practice when it came to getting her way.
Ask him how he knew.
By the end of the soup, his mother had persuaded Sam he needed to stay with her and sort through her many boxes of Christmas decorations, while Cal and Beth went off to unpack the truck. The Casey tree was to be decorated with only wooden baubles this year. That and red ribbon and patchwork red hearts. Savannah Casey had yet to be introduced to Mason’s wooden spoon additions, but Cal was looking forward to it.
Sam had no idea what his tree was going to be covered in this year, but he was open to inspiration.
Cal and Beth could return in a couple of hours to collect Sam, they were told. No rush. No problem. Take your time.
“You’re sneaky,” he muttered to his angelic mother as he followed Beth out the door, Sam already safely surrounded by boxes full of Christmas decorations.
“You’re welcome.”