Colorado Christmas (6 page)

“Don’t doubt yourself, Will, you can do this. I said I’d renovate the buildings. You know I’d do a great job and I’d enjoy the challenge. And you wouldn’t have to pay me, just give me that old church as payment for services rendered.” Jack smiled. “I like the idea of living in a converted church and I could make that little beauty into a decent home.”

W
ILL WALKED BACK
to Mrs. C.’s that night, his mind filled with ideas—
provided
he could buy back the old buildings. Jack’s suggestion of renovating the site into shops, apartments and housing had inspired him. They’d retired to a booth and spent the next few hours drawing floor plans of shops and apartments on the paper tablecloth. Rusty kept up a steady supply as Jack’s plans took shape. He was familiar with the size of the buildings and wasn’t a half-bad artist, Will decided as his
brother drafted proposals for the overall appearance of the buildings.

Restoring Main Street would necessitate Will’s staying in town long-term and, for the first time in his life, the prospect didn’t fill him with dread. Instead, he felt newly energized. Exhilarated.

As project manager, he’d have a worthwhile and fulfilling job. It might even make him attractive to the judge.

Nicolas McBride was terrified.

Johnny Cooper’s immense bulk blocked his way out of the school grounds, preventing him from crossing the street to the recreation center.

“Goin’ for your
therapy
session again?” Johnny sneered.

Nicolas fought the fear rising in his throat. “Yeah,” he said, not making eye contact, hoping and praying the much bigger boy would leave him alone.

“When’re you gonna to learn to walk, kid?”

“I don’t know. But I’m trying,” Nicolas said. Embarrassed about needing leg braces to help him walk properly, he didn’t need Johnny pointing it out to everyone within hearing distance.

“Then try harder!” Johnny shouted and gave Nicolas a shove, sending him sprawling in the snow.

A few of the other kids laughed—friends of Johnny’s, or kids who were scared of him, too. Nicolas fought back tears of humiliation as he tried to get to his feet, but it wasn’t easy on the slippery, snow-covered ground.

None of the teachers were nearby and it didn’t look as if any of the spectators were going to come to his aid. Nicolas swallowed bitter tears as he tried to regain his footing, but the other kids just laughed harder. They all despised him.

He’d been advanced two classes at Spruce Lake Elementary. His mother said being in a lower grade wasn’t
intellectually
challenging
enough for him, but Nicolas hated being with the bigger kids—especially kids like Johnny.

All he wanted was to be left alone. He
hated
being smart. It was no substitute for being physically normal. He didn’t fit in. He ate lunch alone and spent most of his day trying to keep out of Johnny’s way. He’d never again tell his mom he’d been bullied. Johnny had been really mad when he was hauled up to the principal’s office and he’d been even meaner since.

“Get up, you dumb-ass weakling!” Johnny yelled, charging at Nicolas.

Nicolas braced himself, expecting a kick to the ribs, but someone yelled, “Get lost, Cooper, you jerk!”

Nicolas looked up into the face of an angel. “Come on,” she said, offering her hand and helping him to his feet.

“Who’s yer girlfriend?” Johnny sneered.

The girl released Nicolas’s hand and said, “As if you don’t know, you dumb bully! And in case any of your friends
don’t
know,” she said, surveying the group, “I’m Sasha O’Malley and this guy—” she drew a startled but grateful Nicolas toward her “—is a friend of mine. So don’t mess with him, okay?”

The other kids backed off, but not Johnny. “You don’t scare me,” he scoffed.

“Then maybe
I
will!”

Another girl, a pint-size one, stood with her fists raised, lips pinched together in a grimace, eyes narrowed with challenge. Nicolas was scared of her, although she was at least six inches shorter than him.

“Don’t waste your breath, Daisy,” the older girl said. “Johnny Cooper’s nothing but a bully.” She turned her attention back to him. “I can’t wait till you go to middle school, you rat. Maybe someone there’ll beat
you
up, the way you like to beat up kids who’re weaker than you.”

Nicolas wasn’t happy about being called “weaker,” even if it was true. He wished the ground would open up.

“Well,
I’m
not weaker’n him!” the little girl yelled. She ran
at Johnny and punched him in the jaw. Johnny went down and she leaped on him.

Then all hell broke loose. Sasha yelled, “Run!” at Nicolas while the little kid squabbled in the snow with Johnny. Despite her entreaties, Nicolas was glued to the spot, unsure what to do—help the little girl before Johnny got the upper hand and killed her, or run away as Sasha commanded. Although Johnny was twice her size, the little kid flipped him over and pinned him to the ground just like Nicolas had seen cowboys do to calves in the rodeo. She straddled Johnny’s back, grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled it back.

“Go! Now!” Sasha cried again, pushing Nicolas toward the school gate.

The rest of the other children had cleared off, standing a safer distance away. Nicolas still couldn’t decide what to do, but the little kid and Sasha were giving him a chance to escape. So he took it, moving as fast he could across the road to the safety of the rec center before Johnny could push the little kid off and come after him.

Now, as he sat waiting for his therapy session, he felt cowardly for running away. He should’ve stayed and helped the girls—although he had no idea what help he would’ve been. They sure were brave. And the little one was
really
tough! He’d have to find them at school tomorrow and thank them.

He wouldn’t tell his mom what had happened, otherwise she’d march right up to school and demand Johnny be punished. And then Johnny would punish
him!

Nicolas had learned his lesson—keep quiet and pretend everything was all right, rather than speak up and make more trouble for himself.

W
ILL STROLLED INTO
the Spruce Lake Recreation Center. Situated on the lakefront and across the street from the elementary school, it was an impressive indoor complex that served the county and consisted of a twenty-five-meter pool, hot tubs, a sauna, steam room, exercise facilities and squash courts. A
hydrotherapy pool was separated from the main pool by full-length glass paneling.

Will waved at Jessie Sullivan, an old school friend and now a physical therapist, as she worked with a client in the hydro pool.

Since he couldn’t even think about going skiing without provoking a panic attack, he’d decided that swimming would be the next best exercise. He dived in and concentrated on powering up and down the pool, lap after lap. By the start of the fifteenth lap, he was feeling the effects of the high altitude and lack of oxygen.

Cruising to a stop at the shallow end, Will lifted his head to catch his breath and found a pair of legs three inches from his nose. They were kid’s legs and were encased in braces below the knees. Will glanced up and was met by appraising blue eyes.

“Hi. You’re a good swimmer,” the kid said.

“Thanks.” Will caught his breath. Didn’t want the kid thinking he wasn’t fit. “Coming in?”

“I’m not allowed to swim in this pool.”

Will looked from side to side. “Who says?” he asked and raised his fists. “I’ll show ’em!”

The kid laughed. “You’re funny.”

“Why aren’t you allowed in this pool?”

He made a face and said, “Mom says it’s too dangerous. I’m only supposed to go in the hydro pool with Jessie. I do therapy with her.”

That would explain the leg braces. “Jessie’s a good therapist. Is she teaching you to swim?”

“Nah. We just do boring stuff. I’m not strong enough to swim freestyle.”

The kid gazed longingly at the other swimmers as they did laps up and down the pool at a more leisurely—and more sensible—pace than Will had.

He sensed a vulnerability in the child and a yearning as he watched the swimmers. For Will, learning to swim had come as easily as breathing, but life had thrown this kid a curveball. “I’ll teach you to swim if you want to give it a try,” he said.

The kid’s eyes lit up. “You mean it? Wow! You really mean it?”

Will admired his enthusiasm. “Sure. What’s your name?”

“Nicolas.” He thrust out his hand.

Will hauled himself out of the pool and shook the kid’s hand. He was a cute kid. Red hair, freckles…leg braces.

Nicolas stared up at him. “You’re real tall.”

Will grabbed his towel and wiped the water from his face. “Nah, only about six-two. You’ll be tall one day.”

The kid gestured down at his leg braces. “I dunno.”

“Swimmers are usually tall,” Will said, not knowing if this was true, but it might cheer the boy up.

“Really? I want to be tall. And swim in a race,” he said.

“If you wish for something hard enough, it’ll come true,” Will told him, thinking the kid might well end up learning to swim.

“I wish I had a dad.” As if realizing that wasn’t possible, the kid said, “I wish I could get a dog for Christmas.”

Hell! Leg braces and no father. The kid had it rough.

“There you are!” Jessie said, joining them. “I see you’ve met an old school friend of mine, Nicolas.”

“He’s going to teach me how to swim.”

Jessie glanced up at Will, her eyebrows raised. “Really? And when does he propose to do that?”

“When he gets his mom’s permission.”

“Good luck! She’s extremely overprotective,” she added in an undertone. “You’ll need to produce documented evidence of certification as a swim instructor. Advanced level.”

“A level-three ski instructor’s certificate won’t do?”

Jessie giggled. “Hardly!” She smiled at the kid. “Ready for your session, Nicolas?”

“Sure. Nice meeting you,” he said to Will, then ambled with an awkward gait toward the hydrotherapy pool enclosure.

“What’s his problem?” Will asked.

“Slight cerebral palsy. But he’s smart as a whip and a great kid.” She turned to Will. “That was sweet of you, offering to teach him to swim.”

As Will observed the kid undoing his leg braces, he reflected
that he’d had so many more opportunities in life than this little guy. “Maybe I’ll teach him to ski, as well.”

“Will O’Malley! Your reputation as a pied piper is well-deserved,” she said. “Provided his mom agrees, I know Nicolas would love spending time with you. He’s eight, and he doesn’t have a dad, so there’s no male role model in his life. I’ll talk to his mom about your offer when I get the chance. I take him home after therapy,” she explained, “but we don’t usually have time to chat.”

“No hurry. I’m pretty busy this week, organizing a fundraiser at the ranch. But next week I’m free.” A thought occurred to him. “I’m getting some flyers for the barbecue printed up. I’ll drop them over and leave one for Nick. Maybe he can get his mom to come along and I could ask her myself.”

As he showered, Will wondered if the judge ever swam at the rec center. At least here she wouldn’t find him flat on his back covered in Christmas trees or pig kisses.

“
HOW WAS YOUR DAY,
Mom?” Nicolas asked. “You look kinda frazzled.”

Becky kicked off her shoes and flopped down on the sofa beside him. “Where did you learn a word like that?”

“School.”

Becky smiled absently. Will O’Malley definitely made her feel more than a little
frazzled.
He made her feel hot and bothered. And after his antics this week outside the courthouse—and that kiss he’d managed to plant on her throat that still made her tremble at the memory—she was equal parts embarrassed, aroused
and
frazzled. The man’s strangely taciturn behavior in court yesterday still had her puzzled, though.

“Flowers?” Nicolas sniffed the roses Becky had brought home with her from the courthouse. “Pooh! They stink.”

Becky couldn’t help smiling at his typically little-boy reaction. “They might stink to you, young man, but to a woman they smell beautiful.”

“Who sent them? He must be rich.”

Becky smiled to herself. No, he wasn’t rich, far from it…. She caught herself, then frowned. What was she doing, letting herself daydream about a delinquent like Will O’Malley?

“What’s up, Mom? Am I in trouble?”

Becky stretched out her arms. “No, sweetie. Come and give Mommy a hug and tell me about your day.” She kissed the top of her son’s red mop of hair as he curled up on the couch beside her.

But her mind kept wandering from Nicolas’s animated description of his day at school—he’d made friends with a couple of girls—to Will O’Malley and the very flattering thought that he must have worked very hard to pay for the roses. She’d been much too abrupt with him in the florist’s shop, but seeing him there, covered in flowers and that silly pig running amok, had unsettled her.

“And I’m gonna get swimming lessons. Proper ones.”

Becky was pulled from her musings. “Swimming lessons?”

“Yeah, this really neat guy said he’d teach me to swim.”

“He
what?”
Becky sat up in alarm. Exactly what was going on down at that pool?

“Chill out, Mom. He’s a friend of Jessie’s. They went to school together. He even said that if I get some training, I might be able to swim in races.”

“And how does he know this?” Nicolas would never have the strength to swim races. It was a miracle he could even walk! “I don’t want you talking to strangers. I’ve told you how dangerous it can be.”

“But he’s a friend of Jessie’s. He’s big and strong and everyone at the pool knows him.” Nicolas crossed his arms and sighed. “Mom! Sometimes I don’t think you listen to me.”

“Of course I do, sweetie. I’m just tired and wasn’t concentrating. I’m sorry.” She sat up straighter and looked intently at her son. “I’m all ears.”

“Okay.” Nicolas drew in a breath. “You know how I’ve been writing to Santa and asking him for a puppy? For
three
years?”

Becky didn’t like where this was going; she didn’t have time enough for her son, let alone a dog. “Ye-es,” she said cautiously.

He crossed his arms, his mouth set in a determined line Becky knew only too well.

“Well, I’m writing to him again this year, and if he doesn’t bring me a puppy, then I’m not going to believe in him anymore!”