Chapter 12
“Mommy, Mommy!” The boys’ excited voices woke Sarah up the next morning. Bleary-eyed, she stumbled down the stairs.
“What is it?” In the early morning darkness, the lights glowed in the living room. “Did you turn the tree on?”
Nathan’s chin came out. “I’m a big boy.”
Sighing, she slipped onto the sofa, wishing it still held Ryan’s warmth. “I know you are, sweetheart. But what’s the problem? What time is it anyway?”
“The tree.” Sitting cross legged in front of their tiny tree, Justin looked up as if he were seeing Santa himself in those boughs.
The boughs. “My word. What happened?” Who had slipped into the house in the middle of a winter’s night to swap out their pathetic excuse for a Christmas tree for this beauty?
The luscious smell of pine hung in the air, as heavy and thick as the branches on their Christmas tree.
Melting onto the sofa, Sarah could only stare.
The configuration was the same, but the tree seemed fuller.
She drew closer. “The crooked branches had sagged into the bare spaces. The tree still wasn’t perfect, but it was theirs.
“Santa must have come and helped our little tree,” Nathan said with the outrageous belief of a five year-old. “There are more needles on it.”
“Or maybe a Christmas angel.” There could only be one explanation. She pulled her legs up under her.
Thank you, my love.
Some things are beyond human logic. Sarah let her suspicions rest with that explanation. Blessed by love, the tree carried a message that transcended time and space. The message had reached her and Sarah cradled it in her heart.
Their heat was set to click on at six in the morning, and the cold floor told her it wasn’t that time yet. Too early to get up. Shaking out the green afghan, she beckoned to Nathan and Justin. “Come here, boys. Let’s cuddle.”
“But I want to look at the tree,” Justin said, his fingers skimming over the boughs.
“And that’s exactly what we’re going to do.”
The boys piled onto the sofa and together they shared their warmth. Savoring the tree, now resplendent in its glory, Sarah knew in spirit there were four of them.
Ryan was whistling “I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas” when he came down the steps early the next morning.
That was Lila’s holiday favorite and he caught her humming it all the time.
After the evening with Sarah and the kids, he felt totally content.
Burned chili and all, decorating the tree took him back to his childhood and the experiences shared with his brother.
Somehow Jamie always made things right. That’s how the evening had felt. ..right.
A cool blue moon shone through the high windows of the garage, glancing off the Harleys and cars in the darkened shop.
Branson Motors had been his world for a long time.
But maybe that was changing. He’d had a call on his phone from Stuart.
They were going to meet about the new business plan for The Full Cup.
The light was on in the office.
“Who’s making all that noise?” Stanley called out.
Smiling to himself, Ryan stepped around the tools and vehicles and made his way back.
“Sounds like you’re the one yelling, old man.” Ryan leaned against the doorframe. “Is that your breakfast?”
“Want some instant oatmeal?” Stanley kept a hot plate back here. He held up a mug that said Cranky Old Geezer.
“I’ll take the coffee but hold off on the oatmeal.” Stepping over, he poured himself a cup of steaming coffee and sat down. He’d gotten up earlier today. As happy as he was, he couldn’t sleep.
Peering at him over the lip of his mug, Stanley took a sip. “So what’s with the whistling?”
“Just feeling pretty good right now.” Slouching in the hardback chair, he smiled.
Stanley’s eyes twinkled. “So the widow woman’s working out, is she?”
Ryan wasn’t about to share any details. “Let’s just say, we’re happy where we are right now.”
“Yeah, well something put that smile on your face. You look happier than a red bulb on a Christmas tree.”
“By the way, thanks for letting us use your woods. You’ve got some beautiful acreage there.”
“Did you get a tree? I haven’t been out there much since the snow started.”
The tree. Ryan didn’t know what to say. “We saw a lot of awesome trees. But Nathan and Justin chose the most pathetic tree you’ve ever seen.”
Stanley sat up like he’d been hit with a cattle prod. “In my woods?”
“Sorry, but yes. Relax. That’s why they liked it. The boys said it was their Charlie Brown Christmas tree. Fits real nice in the corner of Sarah’s living room. I was kind of relieved. Some of your trees are so big, I could never have wrangled one into Sarah’s small bungalow.”
“Glad it worked out. So everything’s fine?” Stanley paused, obviously curious.
“Guess so.” Ryan tossed back the last mouthful of coffee and stood up. “See you later. I have to go make gingerbread men.”
“Do tell. You’re getting all proper on us now.” Raising a pinkie, Stanley took a small sip of his coffee.”
As Ryan was striding through the garage, Stanley called out, “I could use some of those gingerbread cookies with my coffee!”
Ryan chuckled until he hit the frigid air outside.
Man, it was cold. His ears stung as he pulled himself up into the cab.
Sitting there waiting for the truck to warm up, he could not stop thinking about Sarah.
But she hadn’t been the only one on his mind all night as he tossed and turned in bed.
No, Jamie had been there too, running through his head with his straight-shooting, confident ways.
The one message Ryan heard was “Go for it”––his brother’s favorite phrase. In his dreams, Jamie was smiling when he said it.
Ryan threw the truck into drive. Okay, I will, big brother. I sure will.
By the time Sarah got to The Full Cup, Ryan had filled the racks with breads, brownies, lemon bars and even some gingerbread men. “What is this?” She shrugged off her coat. “What time did you get here?”
“Early,” he said with the cutest duck of his head. Who knew a guy could look masculine with a frosting bag in his hand.
“Wow, I’m impressed.” Grinning, she tied on an apron. “You almost look as if you know what you’re doing.”
Sliding a tray of gingerbread men onto the counter, he gave her a dark look. “Oh, I do. I know exactly what I’m doing.”
She grabbed a second bag and another load of cookies. “Let’s time ourselves. Winner gets her wish.”
Coming closer, Ryan snagged her by the waist. His kiss was coffee-delicious. “Maybe the winner will get his wish.”
So he wanted a challenge? “Game on.” It wasn’t easy to pull herself from his arms, but she sprinted to the other side of the counter and positioned her tray, one eye on the clock.
“Go!” They both ducked their heads.
Sarah worked faster than she ever had before. She tried not to let her excitement put too much pressure on the piping bag. Halfway through her tray, she looked up. Hunched over, Ryan nipped his lower lip as he worked. That one glance nearly broke her rhythm.
When she took the tray from the cooling rack, she hadn’t really paid much attention to the cookies on it.
Wielding the bag of frosting with ease, she sped through the gingerbread men, Santa Claus and Christmas tree cookies.
But the entwined R and S caught her by surprise.
Sarah’s throat closed and her eyes blurred.
She couldn’t rush through this. Hands shaking a bit, she took her time, piping a pretty scroll along the lettering.
Ryan startled her when he shouted out, “Done!”
“Oh, you are just so pleased with yourself,” she muttered, still working on her last cookie.
Peering over her shoulder, he murmured, “So, what do you think of my work?”
“That you can be pretty devious.” Zipping around, she shot a string of frosting that landed right below his left eye. She got him pretty good.
Hooking her with one hand, he laid down his bag and laced his hands behind her back. “I think you owe me.”
Reaching up, she swept the frosting from his cheek. “Aw, you’re so sweet, Ryan.”
“Never thought I’d ever hear that. Are you mocking me?” His eyes turned deliciously dangerous.
“No, never.” Giggling, she couldn’t offer any resistance as he pushed her toward the door to the shop. “What are you doing? It’s almost time to open.”
“Later. Right now I have other ideas.”
She looked up. The mistletoe. “Perfect.”
The conversation was cut off by a Christmas kiss she’d remember forever. Tunneling her fingers through Ryan’s thick hair, she felt the rasp of his beard and something else. Her cheek felt sticky. “You’re getting frosting all over me.”
“Turn around is fair play.” What a stinker. Ryan turned his cheek just a bit until both their faces were a gooey mess.
“Stop. Stop.” But her voice was choked by giggles.
“What is going on?”
Sarah and Ryan turned. Frosting obscuring one eye, she had trouble seeing her mother, standing there with hands on her hips. But Mom was laughing.
After Ryan left for Branson Motors, Sarah grabbed her blue binder, just to make sure they were covering the bases.
She flipped open the cover and stared. The recipes were divided by plastic tabs, each section alphabetized.
When she opened to Cookies, her recipes were arranged neatly.
Each scrawled note, card or piece of torn newspaper safely encased in a plastic slip sheet.
This had to be Ryan’s work and her heart turned over.
Amazed, she lugged the binder out to her mother.
“Will you look at this?” Sarah set the binder down and opened it.
“Oh, my.” Her mother whisked through the pages. “Ryan did this?”
“I guess so. Do you believe it?”
Turning, her mother gave her a slow smile. “I’d say this man’s a keeper.”