Colorado Christmas (12 page)

Becky answered Will’s knock at seven the next morning.

He passed her the newspaper, the pages well-thumbed as though he’d been sitting on her porch swing reading it, waiting for seven to roll around. The swing still rocked gently. She noted that her front path had already been shoveled and she admired his initiative.

“Morning, Your Honor,” he said.

“Will!” On hearing his hero’s voice, Nicolas came down the stairs as fast as his leg braces would allow, nearly tripping over his feet in his haste.

“I’ll have to teach you how to slide down the banister, champ,” Will said, ignoring the choked sound of disapproval from Becky. Moving toward the kitchen, he asked, “What’s for breakfast? I’m starved.”

Becky followed him, hustling Nicolas ahead of her. “I’m having a bagel. There’s ham and eggs for Nicolas and probably enough for you, too,” she said and glanced at her watch. She’d made her son’s breakfast this morning, although Will had said he’d do it.

Will pulled out a chair at the table and indicated she should sit down. “Here, take a load off and eat Nick’s breakfast.” He slid the ham onto a plate, then gently lifted the poached eggs from the saucepan, drained them and placed them beside the ham.

“But this is for Nicolas,” she protested as he went to get the
coffeepot and poured some coffee into a mug. She added one sugar and a dash of cream, raised the mug to her lips, took a sip and almost purred.

Will opened the refrigerator. “What would you like for breakfast, buddy, since your mom’s gobbling all the eggs?”

Nicolas chuckled and joined him. “I hope you’ve made out a shopping list,” Will said from the depths of the fridge, “because we need to restock this thing.”

Becky stifled a yawn. “Sorry, I forgot.” She wiped her mouth on her napkin and started to rise. “I’ll do it now.”

Will’s hand came down on her shoulder. “Sit. Eat,” he commanded. “Champ, go change out of your pajamas, then get a pen and paper. You and I are having breakfast at Rusty’s and then we’re hitting the store before I drop you at school.”

“Yahoo!” Nicolas yelled and limped out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

Becky swallowed her last mouthful of ham. “I’m not sure eating at Rusty’s all the time is healthy.”

Will crossed his arms and leaned against the refrigerator. “Relax. Rusty does a mean homemade granola, fresh-squeezed juice, ham or bacon, pancakes, eggs any style.”

Becky sighed, but she did allow her shoulders to relax. She stood up. “I’ll pay for your breakfasts,” she said and got out her wallet.

Will closed his hand over hers. “Save it. Rusty owes me. He’ll enjoy seeing Nick again, too.”

Nicolas returned dressed, but with his hair still mussed, and handed paper and pen to Will. “Thanks, champ,” he said. “Now, what do you need in the way of groceries?”

Becky went through the kitchen and toward the stairs, ticking off items on her fingers while Will jotted them down. She was still talking as he followed her up the stairs and into her bedroom. When he walked into her back, he stopped writing and looked at her expectantly.

“Uh, this is my bedroom,” she said. “I need to take a shower and get dressed.”

“So take the shower and I’ll go check the pantry for anything you’ve forgotten.”

She closed her bedroom door—and locked it, in case he decided to come in and ask if she wanted anything else.

Oh, yes,
she sighed,
I want something else, but it can’t be bought at the supermarket!
Becky left her bedroom twenty minutes later to squeals of excitement. Her heart fell to her stomach as she stepped onto the landing. Nicolas was sliding down the banister. Will stood at the bottom cheering him on.

She forced herself not to scream.

“Aren’t these old Victorian places great?” he said. “I always wished we had a curving banister like this at the ranch.” He held the shopping list in front of her eyes, but without her glasses Becky couldn’t read it properly and waved it away, saying, “Fine. Great.”

She pulled several large-denomination bills from her purse, handed them to Will, then bent to kiss Nicolas. She hugged him close and said, “You have a good time and behave yourself. I love you.”

It was so hard to let go, but she trusted Will. “Take good care of him,” she whispered as they walked out the door. “He’s all I’ve got.”

W
HEN
B
ECKY ARRIVED HOME
after five, looking tired, Will suggested she put her feet up and rest while he and Nicolas joined Luke and his daughters tobogganing in Miner’s Park. The park was well-lit and had a small hill, dedicated to sledding during the winter.

Nick was practically bouncing with anticipation as they piled into Luke’s vehicle and headed off.

I
T WAS AFTER SEVEN
when Becky met them on the front porch, a frown creasing her brow. A frown that was quickly erased as Nick excitedly related his adventures.

“That’s wonderful, honey,” she said, smiling. She glanced up at Will. “I was getting worried. It’s been dark for quite a while.”

“Sorry, Judge. We were enjoying ourselves and lost track of the time.” He covered her hand, which was icy cold.
How long has she been waiting out here?
he wondered and led her into the house, closing the door against the early-evening chill.

He ruffled Nick’s hair and said, “He was having so much fun with Luke’s girls, I couldn’t tear him away.”

She started to object, but he held up his hand. “Boss, you’ve gotta learn to let go a bit. You wanted someone to look after Nick. You’ve got me. He’s safe. He’ll
always
be safe with me.”

Becky expelled an exasperated sigh. “I…I know in my head that what you’re saying is true, but my heart is finding it hard to let go.”

“The truth is, you don’t like not being in complete control of every situation in your life.”

Will knew he’d hit a sore point when she flinched. Not being a control freak himself, he found it hard to imagine why some people needed to maintain such a tight hold on everything around them.

Nicolas squealed from the living room. “There’s a dog in here!”

Dugald raced up to Will, who reached down and scooped up the little dog. “What’re you doing here, Dugald?”

“You know him?” Nick asked, his eyes wide with wonder.

“Sure. Dugald and I go way back, don’t we, fella?” He passed him to Nick.

“He’s yours?”

“No, he’s yours,” Becky said. “If you want him.”

Nick’s eyes were bigger than saucers. “Mine! Oh, boy!” He held the dog tightly. Dugald rewarded him by licking his face. “Eeyew!”

“He’s only kissing you and saying hello,” Will assured him as they went into the living room.

Nick sank onto the sofa and let Dugald lick his face some more. “He really likes me a lot, doesn’t he?”

“Sure does,” Will said, then turned his attention to Becky. “So instead of resting as you were told to, you’ve been visiting
with Miss P.?” He shook an admonishing finger at her, but tempered it with a smile.

“I did rest. Then I remembered my promise to do something about Dugald.” Her face softened with pleasure as she observed Nick and Dugald bonding.

Will massaged her neck, feeling her tension dissipate beneath his touch…and enjoying the fact that she didn’t pull away. “Thanks,” he said. “You’ve done a real favor for two people today. Dugald’s going to be a great companion. Why don’t we celebrate by buying a Christmas tree. The Boy Scouts are selling them down in the parking lot.”

A
HALF HOUR LATER,
after they’d hastily eaten the sandwiches Becky had prepared, Nicolas was raring to go. With Dugald tucked in the crook of Will’s arm, they were wandering through neat lines of Christmas trees. Customers roamed the aisles or warmed their hands on a fire blazing in a brazier. The stars shone brightly overhead and, with no cloud cover, the temperature had plummeted to well below zero.

The Boy Scout helping them pulled out three trees they’d shown interest in and leaned them against the fence side by side to compare.

Becky was alarmed the young Scouts wore only sweatshirts on this cold night. She and Nicolas were warmly dressed in several layers of clothing as well as ski jackets, fleecy neck warmers, beanies and gloves. As usual, Will wore considerably less.

She couldn’t resist asking the young Scout who was assisting them, “Aren’t you cold?”

He looked at her as though she was from another planet. “Nah. Why?”

“Because it’s
cold.
And dark.”

The Scout indicated a pile of ski jackets lying on a chair. “We’ve got ’em, but we won’t need ’em.”

Will bent to whisper in her ear. “We breed ’em tough up here in the mountains, ma’am.”

The warmth of his breath against the tiny amount of skin
exposed between her hat and neck warmer sent tickles down her spine, making Becky forget for a moment what she’d been talking about.

“They’re only out here for another hour,” Will assured her. “Then they can go home.”

“Another
hour?
Oh, my…”

“I like this one best,” Nicolas declared. “Can we take it, Mom?”

Becky tore her eyes from the Boy Scout and looked at the tree. It was a very handsome tree. A very
tall
tree.

“Isn’t it a little large for the house?”

Will sized it up. “Nope. We can put it beside the staircase where it winds up to the landing. There’s plenty of height there.”

“Yeah! Great idea!” Nicolas agreed.

Becky eyed the tree. There was no way it would fit in the back of her SUV—even with the rear seat down. “Can you deliver?” she asked the boy.

“Sure, we can bring it around when we close up here.”

“Yay! Now we need decorations!” Nicolas insisted.

T
HEY GOT HOME
, loaded down with decorations. Dugald had enjoyed his outing, sitting in the cart at the store, sniffing everything as it was chosen.

A truck containing their tree arrived, and the Scoutmaster and Will manhandled the Fraser fir into the house and set it up on a stand exactly where Will had said it would fit. Will lit the fire, instantly suffusing the room with warmth.

Becky stood back to check that it was in just the right place. She didn’t want it blocking Nicolas’s path, causing him to stumble and fall. “Perfect,” she decreed.

“Yay!” Nicolas started tearing open the packs of decorations and lights.

She’d never seen her son so animated. They’d had a Christmas tree before but it was the ready-decorated, plastic, store-bought variety and definitely lacked the soul of a real tree, she decided, as the scent of fir drifted through the house.

She put on a CD of Christmas songs and soon the strains of
Neil Diamond accompanied by Will and Nicolas singing “Winter Wonderland” filled the air.

Will hung the lights on the tree, then they decorated it, Nicolas the lowest branches, Becky the middle ones and Will the topmost.

Will had a beautiful singing voice and she told him so.

He winked down at her from where he was perched on a stepladder. “Thanks,
boss,”
he said, sending Nicolas into fits of laughter.

Becky put her hands on her hips. “What’s so funny, young man?”

“Will’s calling you ‘boss’—but I guess you are his boss.” He dissolved into laughter again.

Becky’s heart soared at the sound. She’d always assumed Nicolas to be a serious, withdrawn child, much like herself. But in Will’s presence, he was happy and effervescent.

In another hour, all the decorations were on the tree, except one.

“Come here, champ,” Will said from halfway up the stairs.

Will handed him the angel and lifted him so he could place her on top of the tree.

Becky was about to say
careful,
but managed to stop herself in time to admire Will’s biceps straining against his denim shirt as he held Nicolas over the banister railing.

“There!” he said and peered down at her for approval.

“Beautiful! Let’s turn on the tree lights.”

Nicolas climbed onto the banister and slid down while Becky held her breath. “Wheee!” he cried and Will followed him down.

“Hold on, champ. We need to dim the house lights.”

Finally, with the room lit only by firelight, Nicolas plugged the lights into the socket.

“Oh!” Becky exclaimed. It looked so much more beautiful than she’d expected. In her whole life, she’d rarely experienced such a wondrous moment as lighting this tree.

There’d been no Christmas trees during her childhood, since there was never any money to spend on that kind of indulgence. Instead, she’d snap a branch off a larger tree and bring it home
to decorate with anything she could find that was shiny or pretty. But there’d been so few of those things, too. One year she’d used some of her mother’s beads and been harshly reprimanded for it.

Tears filled her eyes at the memory. She’d only wanted to cheer up the trailer a little. And yet she’d been so soundly rebuked by her mother that the effect was ruined.

Becky’s need to keep the details of her upbringing a secret had ensured she never got close to anyone, either professionally or in her private life. She had colleagues rather than friends and, until lately, that hadn’t bothered her.

But Nicolas’s exposure to Sasha and Daisy’s large, close family and their very-involved grandparents had made him question why his grandparents and his father weren’t part of his life. The truth—that none of them wanted anything to do with him—was too horrible to admit, even to herself. Graham’s parents hadn’t acknowledged any of Nicolas’s birthdays or Christmases since his diagnosis, no doubt taking their cues from Graham.

To protect both her and her son from hurt, she’d cut herself off from everyone who should matter to Nicolas. Yet the O’Malleys had managed to worm their way into her heart, forcing her to confront issues so long buried she hadn’t thought of them in years.

“Mom?” Nicolas’s query brought her back to the present. “Why are you crying?”