Chapter Nine
Having borrowed Cole’s truck to pick up the tree, Walker had planned for Amy to follow him with Zoie to Harvey Farms. However, that changed when Ben arrived at their place and Amy announced that they were going to get a spot cleared for the tree, then go through the ornaments that Janie B had given her on Friday while she’d been at work.
Not liking the idea of his sister and Ben home alone, he’d jumped on Amy’s offer to leave Zoie with them.
Zoie might be too young to truly chaperone, but she’d slept through church so she would be awake and demanding attention for several hours.
He’d considered calling Maggie and canceling the entire afternoon.
“What did that steering wheel ever do to you?”
Confused, Walker glanced toward where Maggie sat in the truck’s passenger seat.
She gestured to his hands. “You’re squeezing it so tightly that your knuckles are white.”
He forcibly relaxed his hold. “I was thinking about Ben being at the house with Amy and Zoie.”
“You’ve already told me that you like Ben.”
He did like Ben. A lot. “Just not with my sister. He’s going to hurt her.”
“So, you keep saying.”
Walker turned the truck to drive toward Harvey Farms, then glanced toward her. “You think he won’t?”
Maggie shook her head. “I am a terrible judge of character when it comes to matters of the heart, so you’ll have to ask someone else that question.”
Interesting that she thought she was a terrible judge of character in matters of the heart, when Walker would have labeled her as a shrewd judge of character in general.
“Asking someone else means acknowledging what I see happening between Ben and my sister,” he admitted.
“Which is?”
“They’re falling for each other.” Just saying the words out loud had his hold on the steering wheel tightening, again.
Amy had been his responsibility for a long time.
Was he supposed to do nothing when he knew she was on a path to having her heart broken?
But doing something meant hurting Amy because his sister liked Ben.
Which was why Walker had bitten his tongue, given Ben a you-better-not-touch-her glare, and left to go pick up Maggie.
“And them falling for each other is a bad thing?”
“It wouldn’t be if I didn’t think Ben would just as quickly change his mind.”
Turning to look out the passenger side window at the rolling hills they were driving past, Maggie shrugged. “If he’s going to change his mind, the quicker he does so, the better. It’s when a man stays with you for years, then blindsides you that he doesn’t love you after all, that stings the most.”
“Did that happen to you?” But he knew the answer even before he asked his question.
He’d heard it in her voice. Pain, betrayal, a wrenching of one’s emotions that only someone who’d also experienced a broken heart could truly understand. Walker forced himself to relax his fingers again, else he might be buying Cole a new steering wheel.
“Something like that.” She continued to look out the window as if the winter-dulled green grass and leafless trees were fascinating.
Who had hurt Maggie and why did Walker want to punch the guy for his stupidity and at the same time be grateful that the man hadn’t recognized what a precious gift he’d had in Maggie?
Selfish of him, Walker knew, but if the guy had cherished Maggie the way he should have, then she wouldn’t be in the truck.
With him. Rather than worry about Amy getting hurt, he should probably focus on protecting his own heart.
“Something that you’d rather not talk about?”
“Correct.” How could a single word convey so much pain?
Driving the truck onto the long road that led to the series of barns, some quite fancy, and a big white farmhouse that made up the crux of Harvey farms, Walker fought the urge to pull the car over and hug Maggie.
If he thought she’d let him, he’d have lost the fight.
She wouldn’t open up about herself, though, and pushing would likely just shut her down for the rest of the day. So, he changed the subject.
“We’ll grab a soup and sandwich in the café”—where she worked—“then walk or drive to the Christmas tree section of the farm.”
Still glancing out the truck’s window, Maggie nodded.
She’d changed into her earth-toned utility style pants, long-sleeved T-shirt, and a puffy black down jacket.
The sun was shining so the temperature wasn’t too bad for December, but he’d been surprised she’d not worn a hat, scarf, and mittens for when they would walk through the trees to pick the one they’d be bringing home.
Which was why when they got inside the cozy café that also had locally made goodies for sale, a hat and scarf display snagged his attention. Seeing the name on the tag, he smiled.
“Zoie’s sitter, Janie B, made these.” He picked up a red and green very Christmas-appearing set. The yarn was softer than he’d imagined. “What do you think? Would Amy like this one? I may buy one for an early Christmas gift and maybe even as a gesture of peace.”
He didn’t like the tension between him and his sister.
They’d always been close. When he’d mentioned moving to Pine Hill, Amy hadn’t batted an eyelash but had completely supported him.
As the several years older sibling, he might have been the one to pick up the slack when their parents had died, but Amy had been the one who’d been there for him since his disaster of a marriage.
“That’s a nice gesture.” Glancing at the matching set he held, Maggie nodded. “I suspect Amy would appreciate your thoughtfulness.”
“Which one, though?” He picked up a dark green and burgundy set. “Feel these. They’re soft.”
He brushed the scarf against her cheek, his fingertips rubbing her cheek as he did so.
Soft, he thought, every bit as much as the yarn scarf.
Softer, but electrified because the gentle touch zapped every cell in his body, making him acutely aware of Maggie.
Not that he wasn’t always. He was. Just touching her, yeah, every bit of him lit up at that innocent touch of her cheek.
Her gaze cutting to him, Maggie stepped back. “I was expecting the yarn to feel scratchy. That’s what I recall from my childhood.”
Scratchy scarves. From what little she’d revealed, he didn’t get a pretty picture of her childhood. The urge to give her “soft” hit hard. “If you felt any scratchy, it was my callused fingertips and not the scarf.”
Her gaze lowered. “They’re nice scarfs. I only felt soft.”
“Which set do you like the best?”
Maggie scanned the scarves and matching hats, then pointed to a Christmas red set. “That one.”
A little surprised she’d gone for such a bright color, he picked up the scarf and hat set. Smiling, he carried it and the green and burgundy one with him to the register.
From where she walked beside him, Maggie asked, “You’re getting two? You must really be in the doghouse.”
No. Although surprising him with Ben’s arrival, Amy had been nervous in her deviance. She wanted his approval. Walker wanted to give it. He really did. He wanted her to be happy.
If only he trusted Ben to not hurt her. “The first one is for her. The second one is for you.”
“Me?” Eyes wide, Maggie looked like a doe in headlights. “You do not need to buy a scarf and hat for me.”
“I didn’t think I needed to, but I do want to.” Which was probably him falling into old habits.
Hadn’t he always been doing or buying something for Linda? He’d wanted to give her the world. She’d wanted him to give her that, as well. Right up until her ex called and said he wanted her back. Then, she’d wanted nothing from Walker except a divorce.
Maggie was as different from Linda as light to darkness. Not willing to let his ex sully his day, he pushed the past from his mind and let Mrs. Harvey ring up the items.
Still looking stunned, Maggie shook her head when he turned to hand her the scarf and hat. “I can’t accept that.”
Her response had him wanting to give it to her more for so many reasons beyond the differences between her and Linda. Maggie seemed to think she didn’t deserve gifts. Or thought they ingratiated her to the giver. Had someone taught her that?
“Too late. I’ve already paid. Now, tell Mrs. Harvey what you’d like for lunch and let’s skedaddle before she puts you to work.”
Because he hadn’t missed how the woman’s eyes had lit up when she’d spotted Maggie and bragged on what a great job she did, then extended an offer for her to pull any extra hours she’d be willing to during the holiday season.
“I should be paying for your lunch considering I’m who initiated this afternoon. Thank you for going along with me yesterday. I do appreciate that but buying my lunch and the scarf”—she shook her head—“it’s too much.”
Walker glanced toward Maggie as they made their way to a table in the far corner of the room.
Most of the tables in the café were full, but the open one they chose had a good view of the large fireplace.
The smell of burning pine logs mingled with the aroma of the vegetable beef stew that had been teasing his senses from the moment they stepped into the café.
Mrs. Harvey’s soup was legendary around the firehall.
Not quite on the level of Lou’s Christmas chili, but close.
“Just because I’m living at Hamilton House in the Beds for Vets suite doesn’t mean that I’m a charity case. I’m not desolate.”
Walker hadn’t really thought about her financial situation.
He didn’t know the guidelines but there must be some type of qualifications to live in the free Bed for Vets suite.
He doubted she could be sitting on a huge nest egg, but he had no idea what the qualifications were for the program.
She’d been working for a month but couldn’t have put back much, but perhaps she had funds from her time in the service.
“I didn’t mean to offend you, Maggie. Didn’t you listen in church this morning? It’s better to give than to receive.”