A Cold Creek Noel (The Cowboys of Cold Creek) (16 page)

He tried to think back and couldn’t come up with much. “We
usually had a nice tree. My grandmother’s decorator would spend the whole day on
it. It was really beautiful.” He didn’t add that he and Susie weren’t allowed to
go near it because of the thousands of dollars in glass ornaments adorning the
branches.

“Your grandmother?”

Had he said that? “Yeah. My grandparents raised my sister and
me from the time I was about eight until I left for college.”

“Why?”

He could feel her gaze on him as he tried to come up with the
words to answer her. He wanted to ignore it but couldn’t figure out a way to do
that politely. And suddenly, for a reason he couldn’t have explained, he wanted
to tell her, just like in his office earlier in the week when he had told her
about Brooke.

“My childhood wasn’t very happy, I guess, but I feel stupid
complaining about it. I don’t know who my father is. My mother was a drug addict
who dumped my half sister and me on her parents and disappeared without a word.
She died of an overdose about three months later.”

Her eyes darkened with sympathy. “Oh, no. I’m so sorry. What a
blessing that you had your grandparents to help you through it.”

He gave a rough laugh. “My grandparents were extremely wealthy
and important people in Chicago social circles but they didn’t want to be
saddled with the obligation of raising the children of an out-of-control
daughter they had cut off years earlier. They probably would have chucked us
into the foster care system if they weren’t afraid of how it would look to their
acquaintances. Sometimes I wish they had done just that. They didn’t have the
patience for two small children.”

“Then it’s even more wonderful that you work so hard to give
your children such a great Christmas,” she said promptly. “You’ve become the
father you never had.”

Her faith in him was humbling. At her words, he felt this
shifting and settling inside his heart.

This wasn’t simply attraction. He was in love with her. The
realization settled over him like autumn leaves falling to earth, like that snow
drifting against the windows.

How had
that
happened?

Perhaps during that sleigh ride, when he had seen her holding
her sweet niece Maya on her lap, or when she had come to the door the other
night, flour on her cheek from making three pizzas for a houseful of children.
Or maybe that first night at the clinic, when she had knelt beside her injured
dog and hummed away the animal’s anxiety.

Oblivious to his sudden staggering epiphany, she tied an
elaborate bow on the gift she was wrapping and snipped the ends. “There. That
should be the last one.”

Through his dazed shock, he managed to turn his attention to
the pile of presents. Somehow he, Mrs. Michaels and Caidy had managed to pull
off another Christmas.

She was right. He was a good father—not because he could
provide them a pile of gifts but because he loved them, because he was doing his
best to provide a safe, friendly place for them to grow, because he treated them
with patience and respect instead of cold tolerance.

“Thank you.” The words seemed inadequate for all she had done
for him this holiday season.

She smiled and rose from the kitchen table. She stretched her
arms over her head to work all the kinks out from being huddled over a table for
nearly an hour, and it took all his strength not to leap across the table and
devour her.

“Just imagining their faces on Christmas morning is enough
thanks for me. You’ve got a couple of really adorable kids there, Ben.”

“I do.” His voice sounded strangled and she gave him an odd
look but shrugged into her coat. He knew he should help her, but right now he
didn’t trust himself to be that close to her.

“Good night.”

As she started for the door, he came to his senses. “I forgot
you walked down here. Let me grab my coat and I’ll walk you back to your
house.”

“That’s not necessary.”

It was to him. In answer, he pulled his coat down from the hook
and drew it on while she watched him with a disgruntled expression.

“I’ve been walking this lane my whole life. I’m fine. You
shouldn’t leave the children.”

“I’ll be gone five minutes, with the house in view the whole
time.”

She sighed. “You’re a stubborn man, Dr. Caldwell.”

He could be. He supposed it was stubbornness that had kept him
from admitting the truth to himself—that he was falling for her. As they walked
out into the light snow, Tri hopping along ahead of them, he was struck again by
the peace that seemed to enfold him when he was with her.

She smiled at the little dog’s valiant efforts to stay in front
as leader of the pack, then lifted her face to let snowflakes kiss her cheeks.
Tenderness, sweet and healing, seemed to wash through him. He wanted to protect
her, to make her smile—to, as she had said earlier, lift her burdens if she
would let him.

His marriage hadn’t quite been that way. He had loved Brooke
but as he walked beside Caidy, he couldn’t help thinking that in many ways it
had been an immature sort of love. They had met when he had been in veterinary
school and she had been doing undergraduate work in public relations.

For some reason he still didn’t quite comprehend, she had
immediately decided she wanted him, in that determined way she had, and he
hadn’t done much to change the course she set out for both of them.

He had come to love her, of course, though his love had been
intertwined with gratitude that she would take a lonely, solitary man and give
him a family and a place to belong.

He thought he would never fall in love again. When Brooke died,
he thought his world was over. It had taken all these months and years for him
to feel as though he could even think about moving forward with his life.

Here he was, though, crazy in love with Caidy Bowman and it
scared the hell out of him. Could he risk his heart, his soul, all over
again?

And why was he even thinking about this? Yes, Caidy responded
to his kisses, but she had spent her adult life pushing away any relationship
beyond her family. She might not even be interested in anything more with him.
Why would she be? He didn’t have that much to offer in the relationship
department. He was surly and impatient, with a couple of energetic kids to
boot.

“I wonder if I can ask you a favor,” she said after they were
nearly to the barn. “If you have time this week, could you take a look at my
Sadie? I’m worried about her. She’s not been acting like herself.”

He pictured her old border collie, thirteen years old and
moving with slow, measured movements. “Sure. I can come over tomorrow
morning.”

“Oh, I don’t think it’s urgent. After Christmas would probably
be fine.”

“All right. First thing Wednesday. Or if the kids and I feel
like taking a walk after they open presents, maybe I’ll stop up at the house to
take a look.”

“Thank you. You should probably go back. You left a fire in the
fireplace, don’t forget.”

“Yes.” He wanted to kiss her, here in the wintry cold. He
wanted to tuck her against him and hold her close and keep her safe from any
more sorrow.

He didn’t have that right, he reminded himself. Not now. Maybe
after the holidays, after he and the children moved into the new house and Mrs.
Michaels came back, he could ask her to dinner, see where things might
progress.

“Thank you again for your help with the gifts.”

“You’re welcome. If I don’t see you again, merry
Christmas.”

“Same to you.”

She gave that half smile again. Against his better judgment, he
stepped forward and brushed a soft kiss on her rosy cheek, then turned around,
scooped up his little dog and walked swiftly away through the snow—while he
still could.

Chapter Fourteen

“H
ang on. Just a few more moments. There’s
my sweet girl. Hang on.”

Icy fear pulsed through Caidy as she drove her truck through
the wintry Christmas Eve in a grim repeat of a scene she had already played a
few weeks earlier with Luke. She was much more terrified this time than she had
been with the younger dog, and the quarter mile to the foreman’s cottage seemed
to stretch on forever.

Sadie couldn’t die. She just couldn’t. But from the instant she
had walked into the barn just moments earlier and found her beloved dog lying
motionless in the straw of one of the stalls, all her vague concerns about the
dog’s health over the past few days had coalesced into this harsh, grinding
terror.

Sadie, her dearest friend, was fading. She knew it in her heart
and almost couldn’t breathe around the pain. She couldn’t seem to think straight
either. Only one thought managed to pierce her panic.

Ben would know what to do.

She had picked up the dog, shoved her into the bed of the
nearest vehicle, Ridge’s pickup, pulled the spare key out of the tackroom and
drove like hell to Ben’s place.

Now that she approached the house nestled in the pines, reality
returned. It was nearly midnight on Christmas Eve. The children would be sound
asleep. She couldn’t rush in banging on the door to wake them up, tonight of all
nights, when they would never be able to go back to sleep.

Adrenaline still shooting through her, she pulled up to the
front door, trying to figure out what to do. The Christmas tree lights still
blazed through the window. Maybe Ben was still awake.

Sadie hadn’t made a sound this entire short trip, though Caidy
could see her ribs still moving with her shallow breathing.

Caidy opened her door and was just trying to figure out which
bedroom was his, wondering if she could throw a snowball at it or something in
an effort to wake only him, when the porch light flicked on and the front door
opened. An instant later, he walked out in stocking feet, squinting into the
night.

“Caidy!” he exclaimed when he recognized her. “What is it?
What’s wrong?”

Relief poured through her, blessed relief. Ben would know what
to do.

“It’s Sadie,” she said on a sob, hurrying to the passenger side
of the pickup. “She’s... Oh, please, Ben. Help me.”

He didn’t even stop to throw on shoes—he just raced down the
frozen sidewalk toward her. “Tell me what happened.”

“I don’t know. I just... After Destry and Ridge went to bed, I
was just sitting by the Christmas tree by myself and I...I decided to go out to
the barn. It’s a...sacred sort of place on Christmas Eve, among the animals.
Peaceful. I needed that tonight. But when I got there, I found Sadie lying in
the straw. She wouldn’t wake up.”

She choked back her sob, knowing she needed to retain control
if she had any hope of helping her beloved dog.

“Let’s get her inside out of the cold and into the light so I
can have a look at her.”

He scooped the old dog into his arms and carried her back
across that snowy walk. Caidy followed. Her heart felt as fragile as her
mother’s antique Christmas angel. How would she bear it if Sadie died tonight,
of all nights?

No. She wasn’t going to think about that. Only positive
thoughts. Ben would take care of things, she was sure of it.

She thought of that day when she had taken Luke to the clinic,
battered and broken. She had thought Ben so cold and uncaring. As she watched
him gently lay Sadie on a blanket she had quickly grabbed from the sofa to
spread in front of the still-glowing fireplace, she wondered if she had ever so
poorly judged a person.

He was kind and compassionate. Wonderful. How could she ever
have imagined that first day that he would become so dear to her?

“What’s going on, girl?”

At least Sadie opened her eyes at his voice, but she didn’t
move as the veterinarian’s hands moved over her, seeking answers.

“You said she hasn’t been acting like herself. What have you
seen?” he asked her.

She tried to think back over the past few days. The truth was,
she had been so busy coping with the stress of Christmas, she hadn’t paid as
much attention to her dog as usual.

“She’s been lethargic for three or four days. And it seems like
on the nights when she wanted to sleep inside, she was always having to go out
to pee. She hasn’t eaten much, but she has been more thirsty than usual.”

He frowned. “Exactly what I suspected.”

“What?”

He looked at her with such gentleness, she wanted to weep.
“I’ll have to do labwork to be sure but I suspect she’s having chronic kidney
failure. It’s not unusual in older dogs.”

She drew in a heavy breath. “Can you...can you fix it?”

“The good news is, I can probably help her feel better tonight.
She needs fluids and I always keep a few liters in my emergency kit. I can give
her an IV right here.”

“The bad news?”

“It’s called chronic kidney failure for a reason,” he said, his
eyes compassionate. “There’s no miracle cure, I’m afraid. We can perhaps make
her more comfortable for a few months, but that’s the best we can do. I’m so
sorry, Caidy.”

She nodded, those tears threatening again. “She’s thirteen.
I’ve known it was only a matter of time. But...even a few more months with her
would be the greatest gift you could ever give me.”

“I don’t know for sure it’s kidney failure. It could be
something entirely different, but from the symptoms you describe and the exam,
I’m ninety-nine percent certain. If you want me to, I can wait to treat her
until I run bloodwork.”

“No. I trust you. Completely.” She paused. “I knew you would be
able to help her. When I found her in the barn, all I could think about was
bringing her to you.”

He appeared startled at that, then gave her an unreadable look.
“I’ll go grab the supplies for an IV, then.”

After he left the room, she knelt down beside the sweet-natured
border collie, who had provided her with uncomplicated love and incalculable
solace during the darkest moments of her life, when she had been a lost and
grieving sixteen-year-old girl.

“Ben will help you,” she told the dog, stroking her head
softly. “You’ll feel better soon. We can’t have you missing your Christmas
stocking. Here’s a secret. Don’t tell any of the others but I got you a new can
of tennis balls. Your favorite.”

Sadie’s tail flapped halfheartedly on the carpet. It was a
small sign of enthusiasm, yes, but more than Caidy had seen from the dog since
she walked into the barn.

What would have happened if she hadn’t found Sadie in time? The
dog would never have made it. She was certain of that. When she and Destry and
Ridge went out for chores on Christmas morning, they would have discovered her
cold, lifeless body.

Just the thought of it made her stomach clutch. She
had
found her, though. Something had prompted her to
brave the weather so she could find the dog in time and bring her here, to Ben,
who knew just what to do.

Why
had
she gone out to the barn?
Yes, she had found peace and solitude in the barn a few times before on
Christmas Eve over the years, but it wasn’t as if she made a habit of it.

She had been standing at the window gazing out at the cottage
lights flickering in the trees, ready to collapse in her bed after a long day
with her family, when some impulse she still didn’t understand had compelled her
to slip into her coat and head outside.

Coincidence? Maybe. Somehow she didn’t think so. More like
inspiration. Perhaps her own little miracle.

The thought raised chills on her arms as she gazed down at her
beloved dog. What else could she call it? She had gone to the barn just in time
to save a life. Even more miraculous, a wonderful veterinarian who knew just
what to do lived just a quarter mile away—and he had the ready supplies
necessary to help her dog.

Yes. A miracle.

A sweet sense of peace and love trickled over her, healing and
cleansing, washing away the fear and sadness that had become so much a part of
Christmas for her.

The clock on the mantel chimed softly. Midnight. It was
Christmas. What better time for miracles, for second chances, for hope and light
and life?

She leaned down to Sadie and began to hum one of her favorite
Christmas songs, “It Came Upon a Midnight Clear.” After a few bars, the words
seemed to crowd through her heart, bursting to break free.

And for the first time in eleven years, she began to sing.

* * *

With the IV bag in his hand, Ben stood outside the room,
afraid to move, to breathe, as he listened to the soft strains filling the air.
He needed to help her dog quickly but surely he could wait a few more
seconds.

Caidy was singing to her dog and her voice was the most
beautiful sound he had ever heard, clear and pure and sweet.

“The world in solemn stillness lay, to hear the angels
sings.”

As she finished the song, he forced himself to move into the
room and knelt beside her and the dog. She glanced over, color soaking her
cheeks.

“You don’t have to stop,” he said as he pulled on surgical
gloves and went to work finding a spot for the IV. “In fact, I hope you don’t.
It appeared to comfort her.”

She was silent for a moment and then she began to sing “Away in
a Manger” in her sweet, lovely soprano. The song seemed to shimmer through the
air.

“Your brother is right,” he said when she sang the last note of
the third verse. “You do have a beautiful voice. I feel blessed I had the chance
to hear it.”

She smiled a little tremulously. “I can’t tell you how strange
it feels to sing. Strange and wonderful. All this time, the music has been
there, just waiting for me to let it out.”

“I didn’t know them but I can only imagine your parents would
be happy you found your voice again.” He knew he was taking a chance reminding
her of the sadness that had become so much a part of her holidays.

To his relief, she nodded. “You’re right. I know you’re
right.”

Moving forward took tremendous courage. He was consumed with
love for her and wanted to tell her so but the moment didn’t seem right, when
her beloved dog was struggling for life.

“Is there anything I can do right now for Sadie?”

He turned his full attention back to her dog. “I’m giving her a
bolus now—a great deal of fluid in a short amount of time—and then we’ll slowly
drip the other bag over the next hour or so. I’ve also given her some medication
in the IV that will help perk her up. We should see results fairly quickly. I’m
afraid I’ll have to keep her here for the night. Do you mind?”

“Mind?” She gave a rough laugh. “I don’t know what I would have
done without you, Ben.”

“I guess it was my turn to ease your burden a little for a
change.”

Though she smiled, the Christmas lights from the tree she had
given them reflected in green eyes that swam with tears. One dripped free and
slid down her cheek and Ben reached his thumb out and brushed it away from her
warm, silky skin. “Please don’t cry.”

“They’re happy tears,” she promised him. “Well, maybe a little
bittersweet. I know she won’t be here forever. But she’s here now because of
you. That’s what matters—she’s here. I don’t think I could be strong enough to
endure losing her on Christmas Eve.”

“It’s not Christmas Eve anymore. It’s past midnight. Merry
Christmas.”

Her smile took his breath away and she leaned slightly into his
hand. “Merry Christmas, Ben.”

He caressed her cheek with his thumb, tenderness and love
pulsing through him. Unable to resist, he framed her face with his hands and
kissed her gently. She sighed softly and her arms slid around him.

The moment was so perfect there in his borrowed living room
with the Christmas tree as a backdrop and he didn’t want to do anything to break
the spell, but he knew she couldn’t be comfortable for long on her knees like
that. He eased them both back against the armchair and sat there on the floor,
pulling her almost onto his lap.

They kissed for a long moment with aching softness and it was
more magical than any Christmas morning he had dreamed about when he was a
lonely boy. Love poured through him as sweetly as the notes of her song.

He loved this strong, courageous woman and needed her in his
life. Jack and Ava did too. All his carefully constructed reasons for taking his
time, moving slowly, seemed to fade into insignificance.

Yes, this might present another huge change for all of them,
but he knew his children were resilient. They both liked Caidy already. Even Ava
had said as much after the pizza night. It wouldn’t take long for them to love
her.

Finally she slid away, her eyes glimmering. She opened her
mouth to speak and then must have decided she didn’t want to disturb the peace
of the moment. She turned slightly in his arms to check on Sadie. He held her as
they both listened to the steady pump of the IV and watched the colored lights
of the tree reflected in the window and plump snowflakes begin to fall.

After a few moments, Tri hopped in, probably emerging from his
favorite sleeping spot at the foot of Ben’s bed to wonder where he was. The
little dog wandered over to Sadie, who was lying in front of the fire. Ben was
about to call him off but Sadie’s tail began to wag and she stirred herself to
sniff at the other dog. Tri licked at her muzzle and then settled in next to
her.

“Look at her.” Caidy’s laugh was filled with wonder.

“The medication metastasizes in her system fairly quickly. I
imagine by the time the kids wake up, she’ll have as much energy as they
do.”

“It’s amazing.
You’re
amazing.”

When she looked at him that way, he felt like the most
brilliant veterinarian in the country. She kissed him and though he knew some
part of it was motivated by gratitude, he sensed something else in the way her
mouth moved across his, the way her arms tightened around his neck.