Jingle Bell Bride
Jingle Bell Bride
Jillian Hart
THE BEST-LAID PLANS… Finishing medical school at the top of her class, Chelsea McKaslin always achieves her goals. Now back home in Sunshine, Wyoming, her Christmas goal is to succeed as a pediatrician. In no way do her plans include Dr. Michael Kramer, despite the fact that he’s everywhere she turns.The standoffish widower keeps his distance from her, as if to protect his adorable daughter and himself. Yet the spirit of the season prevails. Soon Chelsea is bonding with little Macie—and her handsome daddy. Will these three hearts thaw in time for Christmas? The McKaslins of Wyoming: Where family ties lift hearts and restore faith
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The Best Laid Plans...
Finishing medical school at the top of her class, Chelsea McKaslin always achieves her goals. Now back home in Sunshine, Wyoming, her Christmas goal is to succeed as a pediatrician. In no way do her plans include Dr. Michael Kramer, despite the fact that he’s everywhere she turns. The standoffish widower keeps his distance from her, as if to protect his adorable daughter and himself. Yet the spirit of the season prevails. Soon Chelsea is bonding with little Macie—and her handsome daddy. Will these three hearts thaw in time for Christmas?
“Guess this means we’ll be working together.”
“I guess so.” Chelsea’s chest tied up in all kinds of knots. Was this good news or bad? Her hand shook as she secured the last string of Christmas lights, leaving a good six inches dangling free.
“I knew Denny was adding a pediatrician to the practice, but I didn’t know it was you,” Michael said.
“It’s been planned for a long time. Denny was my mom’s doctor.”
“I understand.” For a moment, his friendly but cool reserve vanished and the understanding she read in the shadows of his gentle gaze made her defenses stumble. He was a good man, and the smallest of wishes flickered to life against her will, wishes for a strong, good man she could count on.
Not going to happen, she told herself with a twist of regret.
Not that she wanted the hassle of a relationship, she told herself firmly and wrestled the wish away. She had a plan. No involvements, no romance, no wishing for a love that could not be.
Her No Man plan.
About the Author
JILLIAN HART grew up on her family’s homestead, where she helped raise cattle, rode horses and scribbled stories in her spare time. After earning her English degree from Whitman College, she worked in travel and advertising before selling her first novel. When Jillian isn’t working on her next story, she can be found puttering in her rose garden, curled up with a good book or spending quiet evenings at home with her family.
Jingle Bell Bride
Jillian Hart
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To Chelsea Tripp, DVM, DACVIM
God is the Lord, and He has given us light.
—Psalms 118:27
Contents
Chapter One (#u26d463a2-4da4-5cca-9ec2-16e1fc5647d7)
Chapter Two (#ue78317d2-b434-54d0-b04b-d395c91a7629)
Chapter Three (#ufbdd872a-136c-5a30-a12c-258401d1bf7b)
Chapter Four (#u903a631d-78fd-5d47-b8a8-ffdaa3a66f3d)
Chapter Five (#u100bec23-edbf-5b71-90a5-f9e9edfccb7a)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Dear Reader (#litres_trial_promo)
Questions for Discussion (#litres_trial_promo)
Teaser Chapter (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One
Snow tumbled from an unforgiving sky, icy against her cheek as Chelsea McKaslin knelt in the small town’s cemetery. The marker was simple, the white marble hard to read in the falling twilight and the accumulating snow. She swept away the fluffy inches of flakes from the gravestone with her fingertips, her hand-knit crimson mittens a vivid splash of color in a white, gray and dark evening. Ever since her mother had passed on, the world hadn’t seemed as kind or as colorful.
“Hi, Mom.” She laid pink carnations on the headstone, where the name Jessica Elizabeth McKaslin was etched, beloved wife and mother. “It’s me, Chelsea. I’ve missed coming to see you, but I did what you asked. I finished my residency. I stuck it out. It was tough, the last thing I wanted to do after you were gone, but I did it.”
More than anything she wished—she prayed—that her mother could hear her. That her words could lift through the airy snowfall and rise up to heaven as if on angels’ wings. Her faith had been tested over the two years of Mom’s sickness and death, but it remained strong. She still believed. Somewhere her mother was looking down at her and smiling. Her love lived on. Maybe it was in the soft brush of snowflakes against Chelsea’s cheek or the whisper behind the wind, so light it was barely audible. She liked to think so.
“Christmas is not the same without you.” She could hope it would be better than last year with the gaping, painful hole in their lives and in their family. No one and nothing could ever fill the void. “Sara Beth and Meg plan to fix our traditional dinner this year. Johanna has her heart set on a tree. We’re all pooling our gift money to start a scholarship in your name.”
The electronic jingle of her cell penetrated her wool coat’s outer pocket. She fumbled for it, the mitten’s thickness and the numbing cold making her fingers clumsy. The number on the luminous display came as no surprise.
“I’m almost home,” she said, squinting as the snowfall thickened, beating against her face.
“I was worried.” Her youngest sister’s voice sounded crackly. Reception was terrible because of the storm. “I’ve been keeping an eye on the clock and the weather report. Half the county roads are closed, and you should have been here twenty minutes ago. Where are you?”
“Safe. I had to stop by and visit Mom.”
Johanna’s silence said it all. Understanding zoomed across the line, the static unable to diminish the strong bond between them. Chelsea didn’t have to explain how she’d been needing this place of connection to their mother.
“The roads are getting worse by the minute,” Johanna reminded her gently. “I want you home safely.”
“That’s my plan.” Chelsea was good with plans. They had always been her strong suit.
She took comfort in a logical world, in compiling pro and con lists and puzzling out the road ahead. Once sure of her destination, she gave all she had into getting there. That’s how she had gotten accepted to med school and won a coveted residency position. She’d always taken to heart the Bible passage: a man chooses his path and God directs his steps.
“I’m leaving right now,” she promised.
“Good, because they are about to close Grimes Road. I thought you might want a heads-up, that is, if you want to sleep in your old bed tonight.”
“You know I do.” Home. There was no place like it. She’d had her own apartment for years, but her family’s piece of the Wyoming rangeland would always be her real home. Full of memories of love and laughter, made more special this time of year. Christmas had always been done right at the McKaslin household. She thought of her mom, how she always used to be waiting to welcome her daughters, cooking and baking up a storm. They all gained ten pounds every visit, especially if they weren’t careful.
It was hard to think of opening the front door and not seeing her there. Chelsea pocketed her phone, realizing she was shivering. The arctic cold sliced through her coat like a razor, chilling her to the bone. She faced into the wind, blind as the snowflakes struck her with a worsening fury. She really did need to get home while she could.
Snow squeaked beneath her boots as she hiked around headstones and across the rippled sheen of snow accumulating in the parking lot. Security spotlights glowed like tiny moons hovering overhead, their light eerie and veiled. At least she would get her snow fix. She didn’t miss Seattle’s gray drizzle, not one bit, as she knocked snow off her car’s windows. Home was all she could think about, her sisters waiting for her, the front door swinging open and Johanna launching out of it with a welcoming squeal. Lord, please see me safely home—
“Daddy! Daddy!”
A little girl’s voice broke into her prayer, a lonely and frightened sound in the thick snowfall. Chelsea froze, heart drumming. She glanced around, but there was no sign of another car as far as she could see, which wasn’t far at all. The snow had picked up speed, cutting visibility.
“Daddy!” Shrill this time, sharp as if on the edge of tears. Something was wrong. Was the child alone? Hurt? In danger?
She bolted from her car, trying to gauge where the cry had come from. A little north, she decided, as the snow grabbed at her boots and the wind pushed against her, holding her back. The labored sound of her breathing, her footsteps crunching in the accumulation and the thousand whispering taps of the snowflakes hitting the ground was all she could hear. No other sound from the child.
She definitely hadn’t imagined it, but the thickening darkness gave no hint of where the girl might be. Now what did she do? Chelsea swiped snow from her lashes, turning in a slow circle. Maybe she’d gotten disoriented and the child was farther away then she’d thought. Wait—was that something? She held her breath, listening. There it was again, a hiccup, such a small sound.
Thank God she heard it. She kept going, angling toward the graves, until she came across small boot prints. They led her to a little girl sprawled on the ground in the inky shadows.
“Daddy?” she sniffled.
“No, I’m sorry, it’s just me.” She hit the button on the miniature flashlight clipped to her key chain—a stocking stuffer from Mom three Christmases ago—and a faint light illuminated the girl. Maybe seven, eight years old. Pale face, big eyes, tears pooling, but they didn’t fall. The child was out here all alone? “Hi, I’m Chelsea. What’s your name?”
“I’m not supposed to tell strangers that.”
“That’s right and face it, I’m a stranger. My sisters tell me all the time that I’m really strange.” A little humor might make the kid feel more at ease. “But not scary, although this storm is a little scary. I can’t see a thing. How about you?”
“No. That’s why I fell down.” Silken brown wisps peeked out from a bright purple knit hat. The little girl swiped at them with a matching mitten on her good hand. “It was the curb.”
“I tripped on it when I got here. Almost fell right on my nose. I’m saying it was the curb’s fault, too. Definitely not ours.” Chelsea hunkered in, keeping her voice soft. She didn’t need her medical degree to see the girl’s arm was hurt, or why else would she be cradling it? “You must be here with your family?”
“My daddy.” The pooling tears threatened to spill. She was a cutie, with a round face, a sloping nose and a porcelain-doll look. Someone’s precious daughter. “I got to pick out the wreath but it was too sad leaving it at the stone.”
“I know just what you mean.” She thought of the flowers she’d left behind, pushed aside her grief and gave thanks she was a pediatrician. Her training would come in handy. “Now what about your arm? Can you move your fingers?”
“I don’t want to.” The kid shook her head, scattering snowflakes and locks of molasses. “There’s nothing wrong. It’s just cold.”
“I see.” She’d had stubborn patients before. “Is the rest of you cold too, or just your arm?”
“My arm especially. It’ll be okay, I just know it.” Honest blue eyes looked up into hers, so serious. “I really need my dad.”
“I’ll help you find him.” She’d feel better if she could take a look at that arm, which the girl held gingerly. A sprained wrist? A fracture? The doctor in her was itching to find out. The dad couldn’t be far. “Leave it to me. I have three sisters, so I’m really good at hollering. What’s his name?”
“Dr. Kramer. I— Well, I guess it’s okay to tell you my name. It’s Macie.”
“It’s good to meet you, Macie. I’m Chelsea. Tell you what, I’ll holler and we’ll follow your tracks back to him, all right?”
“But I don’t want to go back. It makes me sad.” Macie stayed right where she was, sorrow shining in her blue gaze. “It’s cuz my mom is here.”
“I’m sorry.” Sympathy hit Chelsea so hard, it left her weak. Tears burned behind her eyes. “My mom is buried here, too. I know just how you feel.”
* * *
Michael Kramer pressed his gloved hand against the gray marble as if to will what remained of his regret through the cold stone. Icy flecks of snow beat against his face as he fought not to remember his failings as a husband.
“The storm’s worsening, Macie.” He adjusted the wreath of plastic poinsettias, already dotted with snow. “We’d better get home before the roads close.”
No little girl’s voice answered. Probably because his daughter was no longer standing behind him. There was nothing but the impression in the snow of her two booted feet. Why hadn’t he noticed earlier? Frustrated with himself, he frowned, crinkling his brow. And how many times had he told her not to wander off? He launched to his feet, searching the thick veil of falling snow. No sign of her.
“Macie!” The wind snatched his voice. Snow beat against his coat hood, drowning out all other sounds. Blindly, he swiped snow off his face, noticing the scoop mark in the snow from a child-size mitten. No need to panic. Sunshine, Wyoming, was a safe place for kids, not like Chicago where he’d grown up. She had to be around here somewhere.
“Macie!” He tried again. Still no answer, at least none that he could hear in the rising storm. Not that she wouldn’t be easy to find. Just follow the trail.
Her boots cut a visible path into the snow and darkness, roughly heading toward the parking lot. If she’d wanted to leave, she could have just told him. Frustrated, he fisted his hands, teeth chattering in the cold. His daughter was grieving, too. It wasn’t easy for him to deal with emotions. Diana, when she’d been alive, had told him that often enough. He feared that made him a terrible father.
A flash of pink penetrated the swirling snow. Macie’s coat. What was she doing on the ground and why was someone kneeling over her? He took one look at the bulky navy coat bending over his fallen daughter and the worst thoughts leaped into his mind. Protective fury roared through him. He grew ten feet and his fist closed around the navy coat wearer.
“Get away from her.” He hauled the kidnapper to his feet. No one—no one—was going to hurt his daughter.
“Hey! Let go of me.” A rather bossy woman yanked her arm out of his grip. “What’s wrong with you, buddy?”
A woman? He blinked, the scene coming clear to him. His daughter sitting up, cradling her arm. Macie was hurt. Tears stood in her eyes. Was it this woman’s fault? “What are you— I mean, who are you? What’s going on here?” he boomed.
“You must be Macie’s dad. Good thing you came along. Awesome, right, Macie?” She cast him a quelling look and he felt like an idiot grabbing her like that. The girl was lost. Clearly the woman had been trying to help.
Great. Jump to the wrong conclusion, Michael. Just add it to his long list of idiocies around women. The flare of adrenaline crackling through his blood calmed. Now what did he do? Apologize? Explain that he wasn’t a terrible father? All he could see was Macie still on the ground, clutching one arm, pale, shivering and obviously hurt.
“I fell, Daddy.” Her lower lip quivered. “It was the curb’s fault. That’s what Chelsea said.”
Chelsea, huh? He bypassed the woman, catching a glimpse of big blue eyes glaring up at him. Her sweet oval face was framed by a hint of light-chestnut-brown hair and topped with a red hat. He ignored the hitch in his chest that made him want to take better notice of her and knelt in front of his daughter. Macie looked fragile and tiny, and his heart seemed to break—but that was impossible because as everyone told him, he didn’t have a heart. “Were you daydreaming again? Telling yourself stories?”
“Kinda.” She winced. “The snow could be hiding a princess’s castle.”
“Next time, stay with me, got it?” He gentled his voice, although it still came out gruff. Tenderness wasn’t his strong suit either.
Macie nodded. Twin tears trailed down her too-white cheeks.
His poor baby. “C’mon, let’s get you in the car.”
“No. Chelsea says I need an X-ray.” Macie sniffled. “You know why I don’t like the emergency room, Daddy?”
Yeah, he knew. He squeezed his eyes shut to hold in the pain. The past flashed like a mosaic—the receptionist bursting into his office with news of an urgent phone call, the mad dash to emergency, seeing Diana still and slight looking in death. His nurse kept Macie in the waiting room. After hearing the sad news the child had sat utterly still, frozen in a room of chaos.
He opened his eyes. Only a second had passed, but it felt like an eternity. “Let me take a look.”
“No!” She jerked away, the movement causing pain. More tears fell. “It’ll get better. I know it will.”
He knew the sound of desperation. He heard it every day in his office, when family members had to face a tough diagnosis. As a specialist, he gave out bad news as a matter of course. He’d had to harden himself so the sadness wouldn’t take him down. He had patients to think about, he had to stay uninvolved and rational so he could guide them through a tough and trying time.
He gave thanks that his child was healthy, unlike the others he treated, and wiped at her tears. “Come with me, baby.”
“No! I won’t go where Mom died.” His beautiful daughter hiccupped, upset by memories, which were hard for him, too.
At a loss, he opened his mouth and closed it. He wasn’t cut out to be a single father. He wished he were able to do a better job.
Footsteps crunched in the snow behind him. He felt the woman’s—Chelsea’s—glower as she stomped closer. He hadn’t noticed she’d left, but when he spotted two knit blankets folded up in her arms, it touched him.
“She needs to be kept warm.” Her blue eyes met his, full of concern, and was that a hint of censure? Or wariness? Her gaze turned kind as she brushed snow off Macie’s hat. “If we leave you out here any longer, you are going to turn into a snowman, well, a snowgirl, and that would be bad because then you’d melt away.”
“Not if I moved to the north pole.” Macie hiccupped, in an effort to hold back her pain. “I could make a house there.”
“True. You could live in an igloo. It could be cool.” Chelsea rolled her eyes, as if amused by her own pun, and draped one blanket around Macie’s snowy shoulders. “There, now you’re ready for transport.”
“We’re going home, right, Dad?”
“Sorry, baby. I’m worried about your arm.”
“The pain is sharp and radiating.” Chelsea rose, clutching one remaining blanket. “There’s no tingling or numbness in her fingers. No sign of a compound fracture.”
“You’re a doctor?” It came out gruff and ungrateful-sounding, which isn’t what he meant. Not at all.
“That’s what they tell me.” She glared at him, apparently not willing to share her kindness with him.
Not that he blamed her, grabbing her the way he had. He’d been wrong, but the instinct to protect had been right. Surely she could understand that? Trouble was, he didn’t know how to say all that to her. His child was still shivering and in pain, so he gathered her in his arms, keeping his focus where it should be. On his daughter. Her weight in his arms was dear as he stood, cuddling her against his chest. He turned, shielding her from the worst bite of the wind.
“Daddy, promise me.” Macie pleaded, fragile and small against him, shaking with cold and pain. “Not the hospital.”
“I don’t know, baby.” Maybe he could think of a solution. The snowstorm worsened, the downfall so thick it hid all signs of the parking lot, but not the woman standing beside him.
“Where’s your car?” Chelsea in her navy coat said as she forged ahead. “This way?”
“Yes.” He squinted to keep her in sight. She walked easily through the whiteout conditions, graceful as the snowfall. There was something about her that was poetic as the night.
Not that he was given to poetry. He fished his keys from his coat pocket, careful not to jostle Macie. She sniffled against him, fighting her tears. Maybe there was a way to avoid the emergency room. He beeped his remote, and the SUV’s lights flashed through the veil of storm. Chelsea surprised him by opening the passenger door, holding it against the gusts of wind so he could settle Macie into her seat. He brushed the snow off her the best he could.
“Here.” Chelsea shook out the second blanket and shouldered past him. He caught a faint scent of vanilla and strawberry. Light-chestnut-brown hair spilled out from beneath her hat as she spread the afghan over his daughter, tucking it snug around her. “How does the snowgirl story work out? Does she live happily ever after at the north pole?”
“Yes.” Macie sniffled. “Her daddy turns into a snowman so she’s not alone.”
“Sounds like a fantastic story to me.” Chelsea’s smile could light up the darkness. “I’ll see you around, Macie.”
“See ya around.”
“Thanks.” He cleared his throat, but the gruffness remained. The woman’s kindness touched him and drove some of the ice from his heart, on this of all days, the three-year anniversary of his wife’s death. “The blankets. I’ll need to return them.”
“I live at the end of Wild Rose Lane. It says McKaslin on the mailbox. You can’t miss it.” Her gentleness vanished when she turned to him, crossing her arms over her chest like a shield.
Yeah, he’d made a good impression, all right.
“I’ll be praying for Macie, that her arm is all right.” Chelsea McKaslin stalked away, her boots squeaking in the snow.
Before he could answer, the thick veils closed around her, the shadows claimed her. She was lost to him and he was alone in the storm.
Chapter Two
What a gorgeous morning. Chelsea breathed in the crisp, icy fresh air, stomped the snow off her boots and tromped through the backyard of her family’s property. She blinked against the sun’s bright glare and glanced over her shoulder at the horse barn. For as far as she could see, white fields rolled and preened beneath a pale blue sky. Wow, it was good to be back for keeps.
The frigid air burned her lungs as she trudged toward the door. Slow going through the accumulation, but much easier since the blizzard had stopped. Last night’s trek home had been interesting. Drifting snow made it impossible to drive, so she’d pulled over on Wild Rose Lane and walked a half mile. She’d nearly turned into a snowman, too—well, a snow-woman. Thinking of Macie, Chelsea smiled to herself as she clomped up the porch steps.
“Ha! I saw you coming.” The door swung open and Meg, her younger sister by four years, crooked one slim brow. “What are you doing up at this hour? You got in so late. You should be sleeping in. Taking advantage of your time off.”
“What can I say? I needed a horse fix.”
“I totally get it.” Meg braced one slim shoulder against the open door, model-gorgeous with her lean looks, beautiful face and long brown hair. “Good news. The county snowplow just finished clearing the road.”
“Yay. Now I can rescue my car.” Her eighteen-year-old Toyota might not be snazzy, but she’d gotten attached to it over the years. She’d inherited it from Mom when she’d gone off to college. She tromped through the doorway and into the warm house. “Do you know what I really need?”
“I’m afraid to ask.”
“Someone to give me a lift.”
“Sorry, I can’t pick you up.” Mischief twinkled in Meg’s brown eyes before she disappeared into the kitchen. “But I can give you a ride.”
“Really? Isn’t it a little early in the morning for puns?”
“Sorry, couldn’t help myself. Sara Beth is rummaging around in the basement. Thought I should warn you.”
“Okay.” Chelsea shouldered the door shut. Sara Beth was sister number two in the McKaslin lineup, Chelsea’s younger sister by two years. “I guess the real question is what she’s looking for?”
“House lights. We’re putting them up today.” Meg’s voice echoed from the kitchen, leaving a lot unsaid. This would be the first Christmas they would be stringing up the lights without Mom.
Chelsea swallowed against a tide of emotion and plopped down on the nearby bench. She could do this. She could face this Christmas without Mom. “Are you going to hang the dangly icicle ones or the multicolor ones?”
“Not my call. The person who puts up the lights gets to decide.” A clink sounded from the kitchen. “I can tell you, it won’t be me. Remember what happened when I was on a ladder last?”
“Was that when you got stuck on the roof?”
“Putting up the big star, per Mom’s directions, remember? And it totally wasn’t my fault the stupid ladder decided to fall over. I haven’t trusted one since.”
“You think the rest of us should?”
“Sure, as long as it isn’t me.” A clunk of a stoneware mug being set on the granite counter punctuated her humor. “I strung the lights the last time with Dad, if you remember. Sara Beth said she’s not partial to ladders, and Johanna is at the vet clinic working with Dad and who knows when they will be back, so that only leaves—”
“Me.” Great. She wasn’t fond of ladders either. She tugged off her boots. This is what she got for being the oldest and out of town when her sisters were planning Christmas. “Why don’t we wait for Dad?”
“Because I think it will be too tough on him to have to do it.”
“Right.” Because he’d always put them up for Mom. Boy, this Christmas wasn’t going to be easy. She unzipped her barn coat and hung it in the closet. “Guess it’s my turn, then.”
“I knew you’d do it. I kinda think it’s best to surprise Dad with the decorations, you know, like a new tradition. Now it’s our turn to put up the lights for him.”
“I like it.” She followed her sister’s voice into the kitchen. Bayly, one of their two dogs, opened an eye to watch her enter the room, let his lids fall shut and went back to snoozing on his bed near the family room’s crackling fireplace. “But before I do anything, I’ve got to fetch my car and I have a few things to do in town.”
“What things?” Meg set a teacup on the breakfast bar. The scents of cinnamon and spices wafted upward on the steam.
“Go to the bank. Hit the bookstore. Check up on a few people.”
“What people?” Meg’s eyes narrowed curiously. That was the problem having so many sisters. No privacy. Plus, sisters tended to be nosy.
Maybe she was missing Seattle after all. She cozied up to the breakfast bar and plopped onto a swivel chair. “I came across a little girl and her dad in the cemetery last night. She fell off the curb in the storm and broke her wrist.”
“Poor little one.” Meg set a second cup on the counter. “So, tell me. Handsome dad?”
“I didn’t notice.”
“How could you not notice? Honestly.” Meg shook her head with disapproval. “Any chance he was a single dad? I keep praying for you to find a really great guy.”
“He was a widower. That was why he was at the cemetery.”
“Oh.” Meg circled around the kitchen island and took the neighboring chair. “How sad for them.”
“Yeah,” she agreed, sipping her tea, remembering Macie. And the father...Dr. Kramer. She ought to really dislike him, she hadn’t appreciated the way he’d manhandled her, suspecting the worst when she’d only been helping his daughter, the child he’d let wander away from him. But then, it only took a moment of inattention and if he’d been at his deceased wife’s grave...her heart twinged with sympathy. Sympathy was one thing, but remembering the way snow had settled on his broad shoulders was entirely another.
“You’re praying for me to find someone? Really?” She sipped her tea, which warmed her instantly. “Even though you know I have a five-year plan?”
“You and your plans.” Meg leaned back, legs crossed. “Don’t tell me. You made a pro-con list, too.”
“Don’t mock my pro-con lists. I wouldn’t be able to make a good, workable plan without them.”
“I wasn’t mocking, honest. Just curious. Where are you putting romance in your plans?”
“I’m not.” When the time came, she had a very definite idea about the kind of man she would fall for—dependable, honest, loyal and kind—and even then, he would have to fit into her plans. Wasn’t that what plans were for? “Am I smart, or what?”
“How exactly do you want me to answer that?”
“I’m not sure I do.” Chelsea rolled her eyes, shaking her head. Somewhere outside rang a dog’s distant bark.
The doorbell chimed, echoing through the sprawling house. Bayly lifted his head from his dog bed, gave a halfhearted bark and yawned wide. His watchdog abilities were sorely lacking.
“Ooh, could be the delivery dude.” Meg bounded from her chair, mug in hand. “Maybe my package finally came. No, stay where you are. You’d better rest up while you can because in about ten minutes, you have a ladder to climb.”
“Will I be climbing it alone?” She arched one brow, kind of wondering what else her sister had planned for her.
“It depends.” Meg’s voice trailed behind her as she wove through the house. “If it’s not a busy day at the clinic, then Johanna will be able to lend a hand.”
“Probably not busy in this weather.” Their dad ran a veterinary clinic, now joined by Meg and Johanna, who were vets, too.
“Hey, that’s not the delivery truck.” Meg’s surprise lilted through the house. The door whispered open, but Chelsea’s feet were already on the floor of their own accord. She pushed away from the breakfast bar, driven by the tingle at the back of her neck.
“I’m Michael Kramer.” A man’s rich baritone rumbled from the doorway. “Is Chelsea home?”
“Sure. Let me guess. You’re the cemetery guy.” Meg tugged the door wider. “Here she is right now. Howdy, sis. There’s someone here to see you.”
“So I heard.” She did her best not to gape at the tall, solemn and handsome man towering in the doorway. Make that remarkably handsome, now that she got a good look at him in the full light of day. He wore a black wool coat, jeans and hiking boots. She’d be hard-pressed to recall when she’d last been around such a good-looking guy.
Wow, Meg mouthed.
It was hard to argue. Wow, indeed. His chiseled face, lean lines and wide, dependable shoulders made her heart catch. Her knees went weak and her heart skipped two beats, but it had to be from the surprise of seeing him again. A perfectly understandable reaction.
“Chelsea.” A hint of a smile shaped the corners of his chiseled mouth. The intensity of his gaze zeroed in on her like a target. “Looks like I got the right house.”
“G-guess so,” she stuttered out. Great. Brilliant. She’d never been what you’d call confident around handsome men. “I’m surprised you’re out and about on these roads.”
“They’ve been plowed. I wanted to return these.” He held up the afghans her mom had made. “Thanks again.”
“Not a problem.” Somehow she was in front of him and multicolored granny squares tumbled into her arms. The yarn, soft and full of memories, smelled of fabric softener, clearly freshly laundered. That was thoughtful of him. Wasn’t it? “How is Macie?”
“Better. She’s talking with your sister.” He gestured down the walkway, pointing out of sight. At least, she thought they were out of sight. Maybe she couldn’t see Sara Beth or Macie because she couldn’t make her gaze move past the man.
He loomed above her at well over six feet, his sandy-brown hair tousled by the wind. Blink, Chelsea, she told herself. Stop staring.
“It was a simple fracture, no complications, no real swelling, so the doc casted her last night.” His voice dipped, tender with fatherly concern. “She’s much better this morning.”
“Glad to hear it.” Chelsea dumped the afghans unceremoniously on the nearby bench, wishing her gray matter would kick into gear. Why couldn’t she be amusing and charming and unaffected? Where was her confidence when she needed it?
Footsteps thumping up the porch steps saved her from fruitlessly searching for something clever to say.
“Hi, Chelsea!” Macie peered around her dad. Daisy, the McKaslins’ yellow lab, hopped up and down with excitement at her side. “Sara Beth said I can choose the lights.”
“She did, did she?” Now that her vision had cleared, Chelsea spotted her sister down the walkway, leaning against one of two ladders.
“Sorry.” Tall, sweet and beautiful, Sara Beth gave her lustrous brown hair a toss. “I couldn’t resist letting her pick.”
“I totally get it.” It was so easy to remember she’d been little and the four of them rallied around Dad shouting out their preferences for lights. Once, he’d put up two different strings, one over the top of the other, just to keep everyone happy. The house had been so brightly festive, you could see the Christmas lights a good half mile across the horse pasture. She blinked away the recollection of Mom’s laughter at the sight. “Which ones did you like best, Macie?”
“The white ones.” Her round face was relaxed and smiling, a welcome change from last night. “I like those the best because they’re like icicles.”
“Me, too. Good choice.” Chelsea grabbed her winter coat off the tree by the door and shrugged into it, crossing the porch. “Hey, I like your pink cast.”
“Me, too.”
“And it matches your coat.” Aware of Michael’s gaze prickling across her back, she knelt to get a good look at the girl’s arm. “You were brave to get an X-ray and see a doctor.”
“I didn’t have to go the hospital. Dad took me to his office.” Macie gulped, wrestling with her emotions. “The hospital is where my mom died.”
“Mine, too.” She shared an understanding look with the girl. “Do you know what you need?”
“What?” Macie’s forehead crinkled.
“Stickers. I don’t know how to tell you this, but you can’t go around with a cast like that. It’s just plain wrong.”
“It is?”
“Sure. You’ve got to decorate it.” Chelsea felt the tug of Michael’s gaze, drawing her to him. There went her heart rate, galloping again. “Why don’t you two come in?”
“I think we could spare the time.” The deep notes of his voice shivered over her, as warm as steaming cocoa on a cold winter’s day. “But you’re clearly busy.”
“Nothing that can’t wait. We’re talking about stickers here. Important stuff.”
Suddenly Meg had returned—Chelsea wasn’t even sure where she’d went. Meg, ever helpful, grinned exceptionally brightly from the hallway. “Come in, Macie. Let’s go raid my sister’s stash of stickers, okay?”
“Okay. Does she have a good stash?” Macie trailed into the house and down the hall. Daisy—Dee for short—scrabbled after her, doggy nails tapping a cheerful rhythm on the wood floor.
Alone with Michael, Chelsea took a deep breath, fighting the unsettling sensation of being close to him. It troubled her, trickling in like the cold wind through her coat and she shivered. Now what did she say? Nothing brilliant came to mind. Funny, she’d been uncomfortable with him last night for an entirely different reason.
He looked as uneasy as she felt. He jammed his fists into his coat pockets, looking like a male model striking a pose for winter wear. He shifted his weight from his left foot to his right and his high intelligent forehead furrowed as if he were searching for something sociable to say to break the lengthening silence.
Talk about awkward. He was still standing on the porch! Why hadn’t her brain worked enough to invite him in? “Maybe you’d like some hot chocolate?”
“No, I don’t like hot chocolate.” His deep blue eyes transmitted his apology.
“Okay, then—”
Like an answer to a prayer, Sara Beth breezed up the steps, her face pink from the freezing wind. “Hey, Chels, it’s time to get the lights up. We’ve got two hours tops before Dad rolls in.”
“Right.” The perfect excuse. “Maybe you could take Michael inside? Maybe get him something to drink.”
“Sure. Hi, Michael.” Sara Beth nodded, apparently acquainted with the man. A total surprise. “Come on in and make yourself at home. Maybe keep an eye on Macie. No telling what kind of trouble she and Meg will get into with those stickers.”
“Stickers are not my domain. I’d rather avoid it.” Another hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Besides, when a man sees a ladder, he has to climb it.”
“Fine by me.” Sara Beth shot Chelsea a grin and wagged her eyebrows. “I’ll just go and fetch the lights. You two can get to work.”
“Us two?” Chelsea shot her sister a death-ray glare. What was going on? “Wait, Sara Beth. Aren’t you going to help?”
“Why should I, when we have a volunteer to do it?” Sara Beth sashayed down the hallway, leaving Chelsea alone with the man again.
Why did she suspect her sister had some kind of motive?
“I know Sara Beth from the riding stables.” He broke the silence, taking the first step in the direction of the ladders. “She’s teaching riding. She’s Macie’s instructor.”
“That explains it.” Chelsea closed the door behind her, shivering in the cold wind on the porch. “Sara Beth is the best.”
“So I hear. Macie wants to be like her.”
“Good call. Sara Beth is awesome. She’s a world-ranked rider.” Pride for her sister came through. “She won a bronze medal in the last Olympics.”
“And a gold and a silver in a couple World Championships. I know all about it.” Not because he knew anything about the McKaslin family, but because a little sprite he knew talked on and on about it.
“How long has Macie been riding?”
“Since the school year started.” His attempt to make her life as normal as possible after her mother’s passing. Not an easy thing to do, and remembering how hard it had been for Macie still choked him up. “My wife loved horses. For our last Christmas together, Diana promised riding lessons and a horse to Macie. I will never forget our last holiday together as a family.”
“Those memories are great treasures. That was like Mom’s last Christmas with us. We did everything to the max, decorating, gifts, the food. All that mattered was that she was with us.”
“I understand.” His throat tightened. As he ambled down the shoveled pathway, his feelings stirred. Maybe it was the bracing air that burned in his lungs with each breath or the quiet beauty of the December morning. “I would give everything I have to give Macie one more day with her mother.”
“I know the feeling, wanting to do anything to turn back time.” Her understanding touched him like a blessing. A gentle gust of wind caressed her light chestnut locks, which fell like gleaming silk over her slender shoulders. “I have to believe that love lives on.”
“Me, too.” He wasn’t sure what was happening to his stoic heart. He tipped back his head to study the placement of the ladders, stretching up two stories. Footsteps crunched close behind him and Sara Beth waltzed around the corner of the garage carrying a big plastic storage tub in both arms. It looked like an awfully awkward bin, so he headed toward her. “Let me get that.”
“I’ll get it.” Chelsea sailed in front of him, and the long lean line she made as she plunged through the snow made him think of music videos and wholesome country stars and the innocent grace of Christmas carols. Her long hair swept behind her like a rippling melody. She handled the big tub with ease. “Sara Beth, you’re staying to help, right?”
“Sorry, I changed my mind.” Sara Beth’s dark eyes looked him up and down, and her grin was just shy of mischievous. She turned on her heel and tossed over her shoulder, “I’ve got better things to do.”
“Someone is getting coal in their stocking come Christmas morning. I’m not naming any names, but it could be you.” Chelsea flipped off the container’s lid and sunlight shone on the thousand miniature lights inside. “Can you believe it? She abandoned me.”
“What’s the world coming to, right?”
“Right.” Her brows arched, an adorable little twist of her beautiful face, and exactly how lovely she was hit him like a snowball to the chest. Her porcelain jawline and dainty chin gave her a sweetheart’s look. Her sloping nose and friendly blue eyes could make stronger men than he stop in their tracks. She didn’t seem aware of it as she plucked a coil of white lights from the container. “You don’t look like the handyman type. So, really, why are you doing this?”
“Because one good turn deserves another.” He took possession of the coil, lifting it from her slender fingers. “Besides, it’ll give me practice. Macie is bound to talk me into stringing lights at home, and this way I’ll make all my mistakes here.”
“With our lights? Right.” She wasn’t fooled. She fished out a plastic bag of gutter hooks, sneaking another peek at him. Had he always been so tall? He had to be a few inches over six foot and he smelled good, like pine.
He snagged the plastic bag of gutter clips and seized a ladder rung. Without a second of hesitation, he climbed with confidence and speed. Since she didn’t want to be shown up by a man, she headed for the second ladder, took a steadying breath and grabbed hold of a metal rung. Lord, please don’t let me crash to my death.
Determined not to visualize doom, she launched off the ground. The ladder trembled and shook with every step she took.
That didn’t bode well, but she kept her eyes on the next rung and didn’t look down. Maybe the height wouldn’t bother her if she didn’t see it. Made sense, right?
The wind gusted, wobbling the ladder. Eek. She clutched the metal, although there was no crashing to the ground and no doom. Still, she hated the way the ground seemed miles away. She swallowed hard, determined to keep going.
“Why don’t you get down?” Michael’s deep baritone warmed the words, he really was a good guy. “I’ve got this.”
“You aren’t getting rid of me that easily. Sorry.” She might not like heights, but no way was she quitting. Not when she’d made up her mind to do something.
Determined, she trained her gaze on the gutter above. Three steps more. Two. Safely at the top she slowly uncoiled the string of lights and hoped Michael didn’t notice how much her hands were shaking.
Chapter Three
Michael nudged the small plastic hanger into place, tried to keep his attention on the eight or so inches of white stuff piled precariously on the roof over his head and failed. His gaze slid to the woman clutching the gutter lip with what appeared to be all her strength. Why didn’t she just let him do this? “Are you always this stubborn?”
“Usually more.” If she gripped the gutter any tighter, something was going to break. “Rumor has it, stubborn is my middle name.”
“Hey, mine too.” His own laughter surprised him, causing him to almost lose his balance. The ladder wobbled, his hand shot out, hit the snow on the roof and a cold avalanche rained over him. Icy stuff hit him in the face, slid down his coat collar and kept coming in a glittery white fall, blinding him. He probably looked like an idiot.
“Good one,” she quipped. “Now who has a death grip on the gutter?”
“I’m usually more suave than this. Smooth. Debonair.” He batted snow out of his face.
“I noticed that the first instant we met.” Humor laced her words.
She had to remind him of that, didn’t she? Not that he could see her just now because another wave of falling snow smacked him in the face.
“Need any help?” she asked.
“No.” Debonair he was not. He blinked snow out of his eyes. “This looked easier from the ground.”
“It always does.”
The avalanche finally stopped and he ran a gloved hand over his eyes, able to blink. Ice clung to his lashes and gleamed in the sun so when he looked at her, she seemed framed by light, surreal, a vision come to life.
“Maybe it would have been smarter to let the sun melt some of this before we started, but did I think of it? No.” She clipped her string of lights into the plastic hook. “My sisters wanted to get the lights up before Dad gets home.”
“So he’s usually on light duty?”
“True, but one of us always helps him. The job goes faster that way and besides, you can’t help wanting to spend time with Dad.”
“So this time you want to surprise him?” He cringed when a trickle of ice slipped between his shirt and his collarbone.
“Something like that. See, Dad always put up the lights with Mom’s supervision. Since she’s been gone...” There were no words to describe the loss. She focused on stringing the lights, getting them to sit just right in the clips. “Mom was big into Christmas. Lights and decorations and Christmas carols playing. The works.”
“You don’t want your father to feel her loss while he’s hanging the lights.” Understanding softened his granite features and warmed the low notes of his voice. “It’s easier to go on when you don’t stop to feel the loss.”
“Exactly.” Interesting that they had this in common. She didn’t like that her estimation of him crept up a notch. “Is that what you do? You try not to feel the grief?”
“I try to forget it. Bury it. Psychologists might not agree, but it works for me.”
“Me, too. Last Christmas we couldn’t put up as much as a tree.” She thought of the seasonal cheer, the festive joy, the touches of caring her mother had brought to the holiday and to her family. “This year, we’re trying to do Christmas the way she would have wanted.”
“It’s a tough thing to do. Two Christmases have gone by for us, this will be our third.” He hung another length of lights. “It was hardest on Macie.”
“I’m so sorry for that. Do you have other family in the area?”
“My folks live in town. They moved here after I set up practice, to be closer to their granddaughter.” The wind gusted, ruffling his sandy brown hair. “Mom always does Christmas right, and she can cook. Can’t wait for her turkey and stuffing.”
“My mom was a good cook, too. But me? Not so much.” She clipped more lights in place, ignoring the fact that her fingertips were numb with cold.
“You? A bad cook? I don’t believe that. You look like there’s nothing you do badly.”
She would not be charmed by his compliment and a hint of a dimple. “I’m too clinical. I approach cooking like a lab experiment. Exact measurements with the potential of anything going wrong.”
“But the outcome is edible.”
“Mostly, but it’s been frozen dinners for years. Med school, intern, resident. No time.”
“I remember well.” His gaze met hers, zooming across the distance between them as if there were no distance, as if they were no longer strangers, as if he were way too close.
Shyness swept through her and she jerked her gaze away. Her forearm bumped the gutter and snow tumbled onto her head, momentarily blinding her.
“Don’t worry.” His words carried on the wind. “Eventually the ice melts and then you’re just wet.”
“Something to look forward to.” The snow just kept on coming. She sputtered, held onto the gutter for dear life and thought she heard the rattle of a ladder that sounded suspiciously closer than it used to be. Sure enough, the avalanche stopped and there was Michael so near she could reach out and push him.
“At least the lights look good.” He leaned across the foot and half of space between them to brush snow from her face.
Air stalled in her throat, choking her. Really, she could do it herself, but she didn’t move. She blinked, able to see the shaven texture of his strong, square jaw and flecks of ice blue in his irises.
“Are you okay?” Concern crinkled pleasantly in the corners of those irresistible eyes.
“Sure. That was invigorating.”
“Nothing like a snowy winter’s morning on the roof.” His glove swiped snow away from her coat collar.
That was really nice of him, but he was making her dizzy. Somehow she managed to draw in air. “Thanks, but I’m not Macie.”
“Right, got it.” He handily grabbed the end of her lights dangling from the clip and plugged his string in. The icicle lights dangled and glowed, lovely even in the daylight. “I just didn’t want you falling.”
“I appreciate that.” She cleared her throat, surprised that her words came out a little strained. “Falling would be a bad thing for many reasons. Just think, if I landed in the rosebushes, they’d never be the same.”
A dog’s happy bark rang like a bell from beneath the porch, scattering sparrows away from the bird feeder. Dee pranced down the steps and down the walkway, head held high, tongue lolling, as excited as if she were leading a parade down Main Street. Macie followed with a few telltale cookie crumbs on her coat, flanked by Sara Beth. Meg shut the front door and trailed down the porch steps after them.
Finally, her sisters had come to rescue her. Not that hanging around with Michael Kramer had been so terrible. No, she certainly couldn’t say that. “Looks like your daughter has come looking for you.”
“So I see. I guess that’s my cue to leave, unless you want me to stay and help.”
“Oh no, I have plenty of help, if I can motivate my sisters, and you have a daughter to take care of.” She gripped the top rung and moved carefully down one step and the next. “Plus, I’m anxious to see what she’s done to her cast. Let me see, Macie.”
“It’s all Christmassy now.” The girl held her arm up for all to see. “They had lots of stickers, Dad. It was awesome.”
“But in the end we went with an animal and Christmas theme,” Sara Beth explained, folding a lock of straight dark hair behind her slim shoulder. “Doesn’t it look stunning?”
“I think the color scheme works,” Meg added, her dark eyes twinkling.
“Do you like it, Dad?” Macie beamed, her pink cast artfully decorated with candy cane stickers, white snowflakes and gold stars, Christmas trees and cats and dogs. “And I got to pet Burt.”
“Who’s Burt?” he asked.
“Burt liked that, I’m sure.” Chelsea leaned in to check out the stickers. Her light chestnut hair tumbled across her face, shielding her as she admired Macie’s sticker choices. “Now that’s one fantastic cast.”
“I know,” she said in her high, sweet voice. “Burt is a cat, Dad. You know, what I’m asking for Christmas.”
“I’m well aware.” No secret there. He caught hold of his child’s shoulder, nudging her toward the car.
“I was going to ask for a white kitty, but now I want a gray striped one like Burt.” Macie crunched through the snow with her pink boots.
That was already on his Christmas to-do list. Find a kitten for Macie. Not that he knew where to find kittens. The pet store? Ads in the paper?
The Lab gave a cheerful bark and loped ahead, glancing over her shoulder to smile at them in her doggy way.
“And I want one that hugs me,” Macie reminded him for the fiftieth time.
“I know.” He yanked open the SUV’s passenger door. “I’m still planning on giving you a stocking full of coal. No presents at all.”
“Oh, Daddy.” Macie rolled her eyes, not believing him. He couldn’t imagine why.
He swung her up onto the seat. “Time to go, little one. You’re looking a little pale around the gills.”
“Fish have gills. Not me.”
“Sure you do.” He helped her buckle up, aware of the women standing nearby, especially one woman, although he couldn’t explain it. He didn’t have to turn around to picture her standing ankle deep in snow in her navy coat and with her wavy chestnut hair dancing in the wind.
“Thank you for the stickers,” Macie called over his shoulder.
“You let me know if you need more. We have plenty,” Sara Beth answered, although it wasn’t her that he noticed as he turned to close the door.
“The icicle lights look the best. You were right, Macie.” Chelsea gestured toward the house where two strings of lights flashed in the glancing sunlight. “Thanks for the help, Michael. It’s more than my own sisters would do.”
“Hey, I could have done it,” Sara Beth corrected good-naturedly.
“But I just didn’t want to,” Meg confessed with a smile.
“This is what I get for being the oldest. It’s a burden.” Chelsea rolled her eyes, feigning displeasure, but her smile gave her away.
Had he ever seen a day so bright? He couldn’t remember one. The light blue sky shone vivid against snowy clouds sailing by in speeding puffs. The gleam and glitter of sunshine on the miles of snow stole his breath. And Chelsea shone the brightest of all, making him notice.
Two vehicles rolled into sight, cresting the roll of Wyoming prairie.
“It’s Dad,” she announced and bit her bottom lip.
“Early.” Meg shook her head.
“And the lights aren’t finished.” Sara Beth sighed. “Oh, well. It was a good thought.”
“It was.” Chelsea waved to her father behind the steering wheel. The chains on his pickup chinked as he rumbled around Michael’s SUV in the driveway and pulled up in front of the garage. A familiar beige vehicle lumbered into view. “Hey, there’s my car.”
“Rescued by another sister?” Michael asked as he opened his door.
“Yes, no idea what I’d do without Johanna.” She waved to the youngest of the McKaslin sisters. Johanna waved back, her neon blue mittens flashing behind the glare of the windshield before she pulled into the garage.
“I hope the rest of the light hanging goes well.” He folded his six-foot-plus frame into the front seat, his door thudded shut and the engine purred to life. His window rolled down. “I’ll see you around, Chelsea McKaslin.”
Whether that was a threat or a promise, she couldn’t tell.
The SUV motored away as Macie waved with her good hand, and Dee barked and whined, perhaps disappointed she wasn’t the one going for a ride.
“He was totally good-looking,” Meg commented. “An eleven on a scale of ten.”
“Was he? You know me. I’m not looking.” Although she couldn’t explain why she watched Michael’s SUV rumble down the road and out of sight. It didn’t mean she was interested in him. No way. “I have a no-man plan, remember?”
“I thought it was a five-year plan.” Sara Beth just had to point that out, didn’t she?
“A five-year plan, a no-man plan. Same difference.” She forced her gaze away from the swell in the prairie that had swallowed Michael’s SUV from her sight and turned on her heel, concentrating on the one man she could count on. “Dad.”
Dee spotted him and barked, leaping to race to his side and pant up at him adoringly.
“Hey, girls.” Grant McKaslin patted the Lab on her head. “I see you’re putting up the house lights. Looks good.”
His words sounded strained. Emotion gleamed in his eyes.
“Love the lights!” Johanna bounded out of the garage as the door lowered behind her. “Time for lunch, but, Chelsea, I’ll pitch in after we eat. I can’t wait to see them all lit up.”
“Your mom would be pleased.” Dad said the words they were all thinking. He held out one arm to draw Johanna close, the other to pull in Meg. “Let’s get in and warm up. Chelsea, we found your car at the side of the road.”
“Thanks for bringing her in.”
“No problem. I hope you girls have soup on the stove. I’m frozen clean through.”
Dee raced ahead, tail wagging, leading the way to the front door. Chelsea glanced over her shoulder to catch a last look at the half-finished lights dangling from the roofline. If only Mom were here, she thought, full of longing, but that was not to be. With a sigh, she tapped up the porch steps behind her sisters. As Dad held the door open for them, a gust of wind chased her inside and stirred the icicle lights above as if with a loving hand.
* * *
Michael tucked the fleece throw gently around his sleeping daughter while the TV hummed with a kid’s movie in the background. Clouds had moved in to dim the sun shining through the living room window, hinting at more snow on the way.
Macie sighed in her sleep, snuggling against her pillow pet. Her brown hair tumbled over her forehead, framing her face. Such a sweet girl. He pressed a kiss to her cheek, backed away from the couch and padded across the carpet, careful not to wake her.
The house phone rang. He caught it on the third electronic jingle, lifting the cordless receiver out of its cradle. He recognized the name on the electronic display. “Hey, Steve.”
“Hey.” His colleague sounded chipper. “I’m about to head out with my wife, but I wanted to check on your girl. How’s her arm?”
“Doing as well as can be expected. She’s napping now.” He tucked the receiver against his shoulder and eyed the lunch dishes in the sink. “What are you doing checking up on patients? You just can’t take a weekend off, can you?”
“I’m trying. We’re going snowmobiling. We’re just about to head out.”
“Sounds fun, so what are you doing on the phone with me?” He opened the dishwasher.
“Fine, so I’m not cutting back on my workload like I planned.” Steve didn’t sound guilty about that, not at all. “Eventually I’ll have to, since the new doctor I hired to help me starts on Monday.”
“I had no idea. Last I heard you were going to wait until January to start looking for someone.” He turned on the faucet and ran a lunch plate through the stream.
“I’ve had my eye on this doctor for a while, she’s available and the timing is right.” Steve’s smile warmed his words. “One of these days I won’t have to come into the office at all. The rest of you are so good, I’ll be absolutely unnecessary.”
“You? No chance of that.” Steve Swift was one of the most knowledgeable doctors around. “No one can fill your shoes.”
“I don’t believe it for a second.” Steven chuckled and it was good to hear him sounding happy. “My wife is calling. Better go.”
“Have fun. No more thinking about work. You’re not on call, remember?” He slipped a plate into the dishwasher rack, trying to imagine the unathletic man on a snowmobile. “And no accidents, got it?”
“Got it. No worries, Laura has done this before. We’re going on a tour up in the mountains. Great, now she’s honking. I really do have to go.”
“Have fun, Steve.” He set the phone on the counter, shaking his head. Seeing Steve broadening his horizons was gonna be very interesting. Maybe because although twenty years separated them, they were very alike. Workaholics dedicated to their profession, men of science and men who didn’t have room for much else in their lives.
What about the new doctor? And why hadn’t Steve said more before this? Why the mystery? Then again, that had been the plan since his health scare. He’d had a minor heart attack, but it had been a wake-up call for Steve. Less time at work, he’d said in the break room one day. More time spent living life to the fullest.
Couldn’t argue with that. The light clink of the dishes as he loaded the dishwasher kept him company in the lonely room. In Michael’s opinion, this was living life to the fullest. He had a job he loved, a comfortable home and a daughter to care for. Speaking of which, he grabbed the phone, dialed his mom and waited for the phone to connect. He swished the soup pan through the water, fit it into the bottom rack and closed the dishwasher door as she answered, sounding breathless.
“Am I catching you at a bad time?” He reached for the paper towel roll.
“No, just came in from running errands. It’s cold out there!” June Kramer blew out a breath for emphasis and something in the background rustled. “The grocery store was crazy. Everyone stocking up for the next storm. They say it’s going to be a doozy. How’s my granddaughter?”
“Napping.” He peeked around the corner. Yep, still asleep.
“Good, she needs rest to heal. Say, I bought cookie makings. Figured she might want to help me with my first batch of Christmas cookies. That ought to be a proper excuse to spend time with her. How does tomorrow sound?”
“I’m sure she’ll like it.” He was thankful to the Lord that his mom was the kind of grandmother who would step in and fill the void in Macie’s life. His mom was gold in a hundred different ways. “Why don’t you take her home after church? I’ll pack a bag if you want to keep her overnight.”
“Yes, yes, yes! Oh, you’ve just made me a very happy grammy.” More rustling bags and the sound of a refrigerator opening. “I’m glad I bought the supplies for her favorite supper.”
“You were already planning, admit it.” He grabbed a paper towel and a spray bottle of eco-friendly cleaner. “That I suggested you keep her worked into your master plan.”
“It did. Your dad will take her to school come Monday, as long as it’s not a snow day. Then, again, maybe we’ll keep her forever.”
“Sure, go ahead and try.” He squirted the length of counter and wiped it down. “In the meantime, I need your help with one of Macie’s Christmas gifts.”
“Do you mean the Christmas gift, the only one she wants?”
“The kitten.” No idea how that was going to work out, and he was a little afraid to think about it. “Where do I find one? I want a good one. The right one.”
He had no idea how to know which one would be the right one. Surely all kittens were nice, but how did he find the one that would be the loving friend Macie wanted?
“I have no idea. I know, not what you wanted to hear. But I have my sources. Let me make a few calls and talk to some friends. I’ll get back to you.”
“Mom, you’re fantastic.”
“Don’t I know it,” she agreed happily.
Relieved, he turned the conversation to what was going on in his parents’ lives. He listened while he wiped down the table and started sorting clothes in the laundry room. Wind gusted against the side of the house, and the last of the sunlight bled from the sky. He said goodbye to his mom and lit a fire in the fireplace. By the time the new storm’s first snowflakes fell, the Kramer house felt warm and snug. This was as good as life got, he thought, watching his daughter sleep. He couldn’t ask for anything more.
Chapter Four
The weekend flew by. Chelsea barely had time to breathe settling in at home—unpacking her car, putting up the rest of the lights and then there was church on Sunday. Monday morning blew in with a fresh accumulation of snow and a storm that sent snow drifting over roads and made the mile drive into town challenging. She pulled into the little parking lot behind Dr. Swift’s medical clinic ten minutes late. Totally hating being late, she shoved open her door, hauled her bag from the passenger seat, slipped on a sheet of ice and landed on her bottom.
Great. Just great. Cold seeped through her wool slacks as she levered back onto her feet, grabbed her keys and prayed Dr. Swift wouldn’t be too unhappy with her. He’d been clear. Staff meeting starts at seven-thirty. Halfway to the door she noticed a reflection in a glass window. Her headlights. Double great. With a sigh, she tromped back through the snow. Hurry, hurry, hurry. This was no way to start her first day of work for the man she’d looked up to all her life. Steve Swift was not only her new boss but her longtime mentor. He’d encouraged her in her studies and he’d been there for their family when Mom had fallen ill—
Her right foot slipped, she went down on her knees in the same ice patch she’d fallen in earlier. Fabulous. So, maybe she was missing Seattle’s rain just a little. She pulled herself up holding on to the door handle, unlocked her car, turned off the lights and trekked back through the snow. Really, the day had to get better from here, right?
Her cell chimed the moment she set foot through the back door. Warmth enfolded her, chasing away the chill as she fished her phone out of her bag. A text message stared up at her.
Hope your first day goes well, sweetheart, her father had written. I know you’ll do great.
That was her dad, always there for her.
Thanks. She hit Send, smiling as she unwound her scarf, imagining him at work at the vet clinic, cradling a cup of coffee and carrying on a conversation with any animals who happened to be in the kennels.
She unwrapped her scarf and her phone chimed again. Not Dad this time.
Praying UR first day is fabulous! Johanna’s words marched across her screen cheerfully. Meg says U go, girl!
Okay, this was the upside of sisterhood. Maybe being back in Wyoming wasn’t so bad. She unbuttoned her coat, shrugged out of it and tapped out an answer. So far I haven’t broken a leg. Have a great day, 2. Dinner tonight?
At Jeff’s Diner, Johanna answered. Six o’clock. UR treat.
MY treat? She texted back.
Becuz U love me and because I’m broke.
Hard to argue with that. She’d missed her sisters living so far away. Weather aside, it really was good to be back.
The door swung open without warning. Snow blew in like a blizzard, borne on a strong gust. A tall man dressed in black shouldered in, his silhouette strangely familiar. A dark knit hat hid his sandy-brown hair and for a moment the snow shielded his face, but she knew him even before he rammed the door shut.
Michael Kramer. Doctor Michael Kramer.
“What are you doing here?” she asked before her brain kicked in. “Wait, don’t answer that. Let me guess. You work here.”
“Guilty.” He tugged off his hat. He smelled like snow and pine. Very Christmassy. Very nice. “My name is on the stationery, at least it was the last time I checked. Are you here to see one of the other doctors?”
“See one? No, I work here. I’m the new—”
“Pediatrician.” He blinked in surprise, his gray matter suddenly stuck in neutral. Why hadn’t he guessed it? Maybe because when he’d first met Chelsea McKaslin, he’d had his daughter’s broken arm on his mind. The second time he’d met her, it had taken most of his mental acuity not to dwell on how beautiful she was. “Right. Guess I should have known.”
“So, you didn’t read the memo?” Blue eyes sparkled up at him, bright with humor.
Yeah, he deserved it. “I’m focused, I admit it. I’d rather practice medicine than the business of medicine.”
“I hear you there.” She swiped a lock of light chestnut hair out of her eyes. Melting snow clung to her like a tiara, twinkling in the light. “Steve hired me last month.”
“That explains it.” He led the way down the narrow hall, flipped on a bank of lights and clipped into the break room. No scent of coffee met him. The machine was dark, the lights off. Looked like everyone was running late this morning due to the worsening storm. “I’m just here two days a week. I’m in Jackson the other three. Must have missed the official announcement.”
“Working here has always been my plan since I was a kid.” She seemed at home as she plopped her bag on the edge of the central table and fished out a plastic lunch container. “Steve must be running late?”
“Late? No, he—” He shook his head, realizing he was watching her sweep over to the refrigerator like she’d caught his eyes with a tractor beam. Stop looking, Michael. He yanked open a closet door and shrugged off his snowy coat. “Something tells me you didn’t hear the news.”
“No.” She plopped her lunch on a rack and closed the fridge door. Concern gentled her eyes so blue they were almost lilac. “What about news?”
“Steve went snowmobiling on Saturday and had a run-in with a tree.” Why couldn’t he stop looking at her?
“Uh-oh, that’s never good.” She waltzed toward him, slipping out of her winter coat. Her slim eyebrows knit together, her heart-shaped face wreathing with the same tender caring as when she’d been helping injured Macie at the cemetery. “Is he okay?”
“Other than a broken femur, sure.”
“He broke his leg?” Her eyebrows shot up, her jaw dropped open. “Oh, no, is he looking at surgery?”
“Apparently it’s not indicated, but you know the saying, doctors make the worst patients. Steve might not be telling the whole truth. He left a message on my phone last night.” He jammed his coat on a hanger and rammed it onto the rod. A faint knock brought him up short. Sounded like someone at the front door. “I’ll check it out. What are the chances it’s him and he forgot his keys?”
“High, I’d say.” That would be just like the tough, seasoned doctor to come to work when he should be on bed rest. Alone in the room, she slipped her coat around a hanger and hung it up. The silence gave her a moment to digest new developments. So, she’d be working with Michael. Awesome.
Her phone chimed again. When she checked the screen, she smiled at Sara Beth’s message. I know you’ll work 2 hard today. Don’t forget to take a little time and enjoy the moment. U R a doctor now, Chels. Just like you’ve always dreamed.
Yes, it was a dream, she thought, checking out the coffeemaker. It was prepped and ready to go, so she hit the switch. As it gurgled to life, spitting and popping, she shrugged on her white coat and took a moment to savor the feeling. She’d accomplished one goal—getting here—and now it was time to work toward another, which was being the best doctor she knew how to be.
“Dr. McKaslin?” Michael’s voice rang down the hall. He held open the waiting room door for someone, his face a professional, granite mask. Obviously in doctor mode. “We have a patient. Could you take a look at her? Her regular doctor, Dr. Benedict, isn’t in yet.”
Goody. Trying not to do a Snoopy dance, Chelsea plunged her hands into her coat pockets and said in her most doctorlike voice to the woman stooped over in the doorway, “I’ll be happy to help you.”
“The snowblower broke, so I had to shovel our driveway,” the young mother explained, stooped over. Snow clung to her blond curly hair and a toddler clutched her right hand. “Bad idea. My back seized up and look at me. I’m bent over like a capital C. I was on my way to the hospital but the last thing I want to do is wait in the emergency room with Lily, since it’s flu season. Then I saw your lights on. You have no idea how grateful I am.”
“Glad we can help.” Chelsea shoved open the door to the first examining room she came to. “Come on in and let’s see what’s going on.”
“Bless you.” Mom and adorable tot ambled into the room.
Probably a muscle spasm, Chelsea reasoned, but she’d need X-rays to be sure there was no disk injury. She turned to Michael, but he was already gone, pacing down the corridor toward the front office with his shoulders braced and spine straight, likely to fetch the patient’s file. She couldn’t explain why she was even watching him. There was something about the man’s effect on her she didn’t entirely like.
* * *
“You were such a brave girl.” After a long day of doctoring, Chelsea held the bowl of Tootsie Pops for Alicia Wigginsworth so she could pick a flavor. Tootsie Pops were a tradition for Dr. Swift’s little patients, and now for hers. “Grape is my favorite, too.”
Alicia nodded in shy agreement before burying her face in her mother’s shoulder.
“Thanks, Dr. McKaslin.” Mrs. Wigginsworth patted her child’s back comfortingly. “Tell Dr. Swift I’m praying for a speedy recovery.”
“I will.” She opened the examining room door, chart in hand. “The injection site may be a little sore for a few days. If her fever doesn’t start heading down, call. You know the drill.”
“I do. I’ll let you know if there are any problems,” the mom promised as she stepped into the hallway.
“Goodbye, Alicia.” She waved at her patient, who watched her with tear-filled eyes over her mom’s shoulder. It wasn’t easy being little, or being the one who had to give a shot, but in a few days’ time the sweet little girl should be feeling a whole lot better.
The after-hours corridor echoed as the door to the waiting room whispered shut. The vague, muffled conversation between Mrs. Wigginsworth and Audra at the front desk were the loudest sounds in the echoing hallway.
“Looks like you made it through your first day unscathed.” Dr. Susan Benedict emerged from the break room, slipping into her winter coat. She was a young doctor, a few years out of residency, tall and slender with lovely long ebony curls. “Congratulations. Especially considering it was one of those days. Everyone tripped, fell, shoveled too much, caught a bug or slid off the road.”
“No kidding. I was so busy, I didn’t realize I’d missed lunch until a few hours ago. Crazy, but I loved it.” She rolled her stethoscope and slipped it back into the pocket of her white coat. “That was clever of Steve to run the staff meeting off the computer.”
“Praise the Lord for video chat. It’s going to be interesting to see how long Steve can hold out and not come into the office.” Susan’s amber eyes twinkled as she tugged warm gloves out of her coat pockets. “Thanks for seeing my patient this morning. Word is that Lenore is home, icing and heating just like you ordered. The muscle relaxant seems to be helping.”
“Good to hear. You’re heading out?”
“While I can. That’s one thing you’ve got to learn straight off. When the coast is clear, run for it or the phone will ring, someone will knock on the door or something will happen and you’ll be stuck here for another hour.” Susan offered a warm smile. “It’s a great profession, but it can take over everything if you aren’t careful. And since the coast is clear, I’m heading out. I’ll see you tomorrow, Chelsea.”
“Have a lovely evening.” She headed down the hall toward her office, smiling. She wasn’t alone in the clinic. Audra was still finishing up in front and a few doctors were finishing up their chart work. Michael was one of them, his office door firmly shut against intrusion.
She hadn’t exchanged another word with him through the day. She’d been so focused on her work and so had he. It was just as well because that’s where her attention needed to be. With a sigh, she waltzed into her office, small and impersonal, with just a desk, a computer and a phone. A small window looked out on the back lot where her car was covered by a foot of snow.
Her pocket chimed, the sound kick-starting a part of her brain that had gone dormant. Her sisters! Dinner. Yikes! What time was it? No clock in her office, so she hauled out her phone. Her eyes zeroed in at the time on the screen. Six-twelve. She was twelve minutes late!
Where R U? Meg’s text stared up at her accusingly. We’re waiting.
I’m coming! She tapped in, hit Send and fished a pen out of her coat pocket. She scribbled a note on Alicia’s chart, rushed down the hallway and slid the chart across the back counter in the receptionist’s direction. “Thanks, I gotta go.”
“Have a nice evening.” Audra shoved a lock of auburn hair out of her eyes. “Careful. The last few patients said it’s really icy out there.”
“Thanks for the heads-up.” She dashed into the break room, grabbed her uneaten lunch from the fridge, her bag from the shelf and shrugged into her coat. A few wraps of her scarf so it was snug around her neck and she was out the door.
One foot slid out from under her, but since she still had hold of the doorknob, she had something to hold on to. She managed to stay upright, but Audra hadn’t been kidding!
Slow down, Chelsea, she told herself, something Mom used to say. As she picked her way across the dangerously slick parking lot, she could hear her mother’s voice in memory. Chelsea McKaslin, slow down. You’ll always get where you’re meant to be. God will make sure of it, so stop rushing.
She missed Mom’s advice, even if she hadn’t always agreed with it. She brushed falling snow off her cheek, wishing she could turn back time so she could see her mom again and hear those words in person.
A few more steps brought her to her buried car. Wait, correct that. Her seriously buried car. It would take time and effort to dig out the poor thing. This was a total disaster. She hated being late! Grumbling to herself, she dug her phone out of her pocket. Her thick winter gloves didn’t make it easy to type out a message.
Car under tons of snow. Order without me. She hit Send and her phone chirped sadly. It wasn’t able to get a strong enough signal to send in the thickly falling snow.
Great. She jammed her phone into her bag, studying the monstrous white lump her car had become. Where to start? And with what? The little ice scraper under the front seat wasn’t up to this job.
“Looks like you have a problem.” A smoky baritone broke through the snowfall.
“Michael.” Impossible to see him through the storm’s thick white veil. Wait—there he was. A hint of muscled shoulders, a shadow in the downfall and she ordered her pulse to stay calm. “Are you always one of the first here and the last to leave?”
“Depends on the day.” He broke out of the storm, swathed in black and dotted with snow. “Do you need help?”
“Nope, I can get it.” She’d learned a long time ago to be wary of dudes offering “help.” Wasn’t that how she’d met Nick? Another total disaster. “I’m just figuring out my best strategy.”
“That would be getting four-wheel drive.”
“No kidding, but I’m partial to my old Toyota.” In more ways than one.
“Hey, it was a suggestion.”
“A good one if my school loans weren’t kicking in.”
“I hear you.” He hit his remote and his door locks popped. He leaned in and started the engine, leaving it to idle. “Hold on, there’s no way you’re getting out of this lot with that car. The snow is deeper than your bumper.”
“I was just pondering that particular dilemma. There are so many, I’m not sure where to start.” She rubbed snow from the driver’s side window with her glove and peered inside. Her poor car. “What are the chances the plow people are coming?”
“Not my area. Audra would know. She’s in charge of calling them, but it looks like they forgot the back lot. Again.” He knocked snow off his back door and opened up. “Remind Audra in the morning. That’s your best bet.”
“So, in other words, just leave my car here?”
“It’s locked up and with this storm, it’ll be safe. Not too many car thieves out.” He produced a long-handled ice scraper from the back of his four-wheel drive. “I can give you a ride.”
“Maybe I’ll walk.” The diner was, what, a mile away? Okay, maybe not. “Better yet, I’ll give my sisters a call. One of them will pick me up.”
“So, are you still in denial about being stubborn?” He tackled the side windows with his scraper. Snow rained to the ground.
“Me? Nope, I’ve never noticed.” Denial was the best way to go.
“Yeah, right. You and me, both.” He opened the passenger door for her. “Climb in while I clear.”
“I’m not sure I feel comfortable with that.”
“You’re one of those difficult women, are you?” A faint smile cracked the line of his mouth.
“Difficult? No, but I’m not sure about you, Dr. Kramer.” She plopped her bag on the floor in front of the passenger seat. “You hardly said a word to anyone all day. I didn’t notice it, anyway.”
“I get what’s going on here.” He circled to the windshield and raked twelve inches of snow off the glass. “You’ve heard what everyone says.”
“No, but now I really want to know what everyone says.”
“I’m focused at work.” He tried to pretend none of what he’d overheard mattered. Cold. Heart of stone. Glaciers had more personality. “I don’t hang out in the break room making friends with my colleagues.”
“You hung out in the break room with me, but I’m not sure I’d feel comfortable calling you a friend.”
“Me either.” It wasn’t easy ignoring the dazzle of her blue eyes, sparkling with a hint of humor. “There’s nothing friendly going on here.”
“Glad you agree.”
“It would ruin my reputation. I’ve worked hard for it.” He pulverized a chunk of ice on the windshield with the edge of the scraper.
“So, in other words, don’t friend you on Facebook?”
“At least don’t tell anyone if you do.” He freed the windshield wipers from the ice on the glass and strode to her side of the vehicle. “Would you get in? You’re letting all the hot air out.”
“Do you know what I think?” She squinted at him, her amused gaze roving over his face, really looking. “I noticed everyone at work seems intimidated by you, but you’re not so bad.”
“I’m not so good.” Not socially anyway, although it wasn’t for a lack of trying. There was a time when he’d once tried hard to fit in, to take down the walls that had always surrounded him. “Where am I taking you? Home?”
“No, to Jeff’s Diner.” She hopped on the seat, reaching for the belt. “Thanks for saving my sisters from having to come get me.”
“At least I’m good for something,” he quipped, closed her door and trudged through the deep accumulation. His boots squeaked, the ice beneath the snow threatened to send him sprawling and there went his vision again, strangely arrowing to the gorgeous brunette in his vehicle.
“Don’t let this get around.” He dropped into his seat, kicking snow off his boots. “My reputation at work will be ruined.”
“That might not be up to me.” She gestured through the frosty windshield toward the faint shadow as the wind gusted, giving a smudged glimpse of the building’s back door. “Audra’s waving. Looks like your reputation is doomed.”
“No way.” He yanked off his gloves and buckled in. Heat zoomed out of the vents, clearing a tiny spot in the glass. “Foggy windows. What are the chances she can see you?”
“Saved by a technicality.”
“I’ll take what I can get.” With all four wheels engaged, he gave it a little gas, spun the wheel and lumbered across the lot.
Chapter Five
“I noticed your name on the letterhead,” she said before silence could fall between them. “I didn’t know you were a pediatric oncologist.”
“That’s me.” He rubbed off the fog on the windshield with his shirtsleeve and maneuvered around the building, hitting a patch of ice, which thankfully garnered all of his attention. All day long, she’d been there at the back of his mind, a thought here and there. He wondered how she was doing, wondered why it was so easy to talk to her. Why did he feel comfortable with her? Why her?
“That has to be difficult dealing with critically ill children every day.” Understanding so tender in her voice tempted him to open up.
Opening up was the last thing he wanted to do. Nothing good could come from it. But did that stop him? No. He turned out of the lot, keeping an eye on traffic, and down went his reserve.
“It’s not easy, but it’s what I’m called to do.” He couldn’t look at her, it would be too personal, so he focused on the icy road barely visible through the pounding white flakes. “When I was eight, I lost my little brother, Danny to leukemia.”
“I’m so sorry. That had to be so hard to go through.”
“There was nothing I could do to help him. Nothing I could do to make him better or stop him from dying.” He paused, as if unable to say more.
“I know how that feels.” Her confession hovered in the air between them, too personal, too vulnerable. “I so do. When you’d do or give anything to save a loved one, but it’s impossible.”
“Exactly. I remember standing beside his hospital bed and vowing to be a doctor when I grew up. That way I could help other kids’ little brothers.” He shrugged self-consciously. “Here I am, thirty years later.”
“Helping critically ill children and their families.” New respect curled through her, warm and powerful. “I’ve had to diagnose cancer a few times during my residency. Telling a loving parent that their child has a terminal illness was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. Dealing with it every day, doesn’t that get you down?”
“I look at it another way. I help them fight for life.” He hit his blinker and pulled to the curb. “There is nothing more important than fighting for life so love can go on.”
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Jillian Hart
THE BEST-LAID PLANS… Finishing medical school at the top of her class, Chelsea McKaslin always achieves her goals. Now back home in Sunshine, Wyoming, her Christmas goal is to succeed as a pediatrician. In no way do her plans include Dr. Michael Kramer, despite the fact that he’s everywhere she turns.The standoffish widower keeps his distance from her, as if to protect his adorable daughter and himself. Yet the spirit of the season prevails. Soon Chelsea is bonding with little Macie—and her handsome daddy. Will these three hearts thaw in time for Christmas? The McKaslins of Wyoming: Where family ties lift hearts and restore faith
This Christmas, we’ve got some fabulous treats to give away! ENTER NOW for a chance to win £5000 by clicking the link below.
www.millsandboon.co.uk/ebookxmas (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk/ebookxmas)
The Best Laid Plans...
Finishing medical school at the top of her class, Chelsea McKaslin always achieves her goals. Now back home in Sunshine, Wyoming, her Christmas goal is to succeed as a pediatrician. In no way do her plans include Dr. Michael Kramer, despite the fact that he’s everywhere she turns. The standoffish widower keeps his distance from her, as if to protect his adorable daughter and himself. Yet the spirit of the season prevails. Soon Chelsea is bonding with little Macie—and her handsome daddy. Will these three hearts thaw in time for Christmas?
“Guess this means we’ll be working together.”
“I guess so.” Chelsea’s chest tied up in all kinds of knots. Was this good news or bad? Her hand shook as she secured the last string of Christmas lights, leaving a good six inches dangling free.
“I knew Denny was adding a pediatrician to the practice, but I didn’t know it was you,” Michael said.
“It’s been planned for a long time. Denny was my mom’s doctor.”
“I understand.” For a moment, his friendly but cool reserve vanished and the understanding she read in the shadows of his gentle gaze made her defenses stumble. He was a good man, and the smallest of wishes flickered to life against her will, wishes for a strong, good man she could count on.
Not going to happen, she told herself with a twist of regret.
Not that she wanted the hassle of a relationship, she told herself firmly and wrestled the wish away. She had a plan. No involvements, no romance, no wishing for a love that could not be.
Her No Man plan.
About the Author
JILLIAN HART grew up on her family’s homestead, where she helped raise cattle, rode horses and scribbled stories in her spare time. After earning her English degree from Whitman College, she worked in travel and advertising before selling her first novel. When Jillian isn’t working on her next story, she can be found puttering in her rose garden, curled up with a good book or spending quiet evenings at home with her family.
Jingle Bell Bride
Jillian Hart
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To Chelsea Tripp, DVM, DACVIM
God is the Lord, and He has given us light.
—Psalms 118:27
Contents
Chapter One (#u26d463a2-4da4-5cca-9ec2-16e1fc5647d7)
Chapter Two (#ue78317d2-b434-54d0-b04b-d395c91a7629)
Chapter Three (#ufbdd872a-136c-5a30-a12c-258401d1bf7b)
Chapter Four (#u903a631d-78fd-5d47-b8a8-ffdaa3a66f3d)
Chapter Five (#u100bec23-edbf-5b71-90a5-f9e9edfccb7a)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Dear Reader (#litres_trial_promo)
Questions for Discussion (#litres_trial_promo)
Teaser Chapter (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One
Snow tumbled from an unforgiving sky, icy against her cheek as Chelsea McKaslin knelt in the small town’s cemetery. The marker was simple, the white marble hard to read in the falling twilight and the accumulating snow. She swept away the fluffy inches of flakes from the gravestone with her fingertips, her hand-knit crimson mittens a vivid splash of color in a white, gray and dark evening. Ever since her mother had passed on, the world hadn’t seemed as kind or as colorful.
“Hi, Mom.” She laid pink carnations on the headstone, where the name Jessica Elizabeth McKaslin was etched, beloved wife and mother. “It’s me, Chelsea. I’ve missed coming to see you, but I did what you asked. I finished my residency. I stuck it out. It was tough, the last thing I wanted to do after you were gone, but I did it.”
More than anything she wished—she prayed—that her mother could hear her. That her words could lift through the airy snowfall and rise up to heaven as if on angels’ wings. Her faith had been tested over the two years of Mom’s sickness and death, but it remained strong. She still believed. Somewhere her mother was looking down at her and smiling. Her love lived on. Maybe it was in the soft brush of snowflakes against Chelsea’s cheek or the whisper behind the wind, so light it was barely audible. She liked to think so.
“Christmas is not the same without you.” She could hope it would be better than last year with the gaping, painful hole in their lives and in their family. No one and nothing could ever fill the void. “Sara Beth and Meg plan to fix our traditional dinner this year. Johanna has her heart set on a tree. We’re all pooling our gift money to start a scholarship in your name.”
The electronic jingle of her cell penetrated her wool coat’s outer pocket. She fumbled for it, the mitten’s thickness and the numbing cold making her fingers clumsy. The number on the luminous display came as no surprise.
“I’m almost home,” she said, squinting as the snowfall thickened, beating against her face.
“I was worried.” Her youngest sister’s voice sounded crackly. Reception was terrible because of the storm. “I’ve been keeping an eye on the clock and the weather report. Half the county roads are closed, and you should have been here twenty minutes ago. Where are you?”
“Safe. I had to stop by and visit Mom.”
Johanna’s silence said it all. Understanding zoomed across the line, the static unable to diminish the strong bond between them. Chelsea didn’t have to explain how she’d been needing this place of connection to their mother.
“The roads are getting worse by the minute,” Johanna reminded her gently. “I want you home safely.”
“That’s my plan.” Chelsea was good with plans. They had always been her strong suit.
She took comfort in a logical world, in compiling pro and con lists and puzzling out the road ahead. Once sure of her destination, she gave all she had into getting there. That’s how she had gotten accepted to med school and won a coveted residency position. She’d always taken to heart the Bible passage: a man chooses his path and God directs his steps.
“I’m leaving right now,” she promised.
“Good, because they are about to close Grimes Road. I thought you might want a heads-up, that is, if you want to sleep in your old bed tonight.”
“You know I do.” Home. There was no place like it. She’d had her own apartment for years, but her family’s piece of the Wyoming rangeland would always be her real home. Full of memories of love and laughter, made more special this time of year. Christmas had always been done right at the McKaslin household. She thought of her mom, how she always used to be waiting to welcome her daughters, cooking and baking up a storm. They all gained ten pounds every visit, especially if they weren’t careful.
It was hard to think of opening the front door and not seeing her there. Chelsea pocketed her phone, realizing she was shivering. The arctic cold sliced through her coat like a razor, chilling her to the bone. She faced into the wind, blind as the snowflakes struck her with a worsening fury. She really did need to get home while she could.
Snow squeaked beneath her boots as she hiked around headstones and across the rippled sheen of snow accumulating in the parking lot. Security spotlights glowed like tiny moons hovering overhead, their light eerie and veiled. At least she would get her snow fix. She didn’t miss Seattle’s gray drizzle, not one bit, as she knocked snow off her car’s windows. Home was all she could think about, her sisters waiting for her, the front door swinging open and Johanna launching out of it with a welcoming squeal. Lord, please see me safely home—
“Daddy! Daddy!”
A little girl’s voice broke into her prayer, a lonely and frightened sound in the thick snowfall. Chelsea froze, heart drumming. She glanced around, but there was no sign of another car as far as she could see, which wasn’t far at all. The snow had picked up speed, cutting visibility.
“Daddy!” Shrill this time, sharp as if on the edge of tears. Something was wrong. Was the child alone? Hurt? In danger?
She bolted from her car, trying to gauge where the cry had come from. A little north, she decided, as the snow grabbed at her boots and the wind pushed against her, holding her back. The labored sound of her breathing, her footsteps crunching in the accumulation and the thousand whispering taps of the snowflakes hitting the ground was all she could hear. No other sound from the child.
She definitely hadn’t imagined it, but the thickening darkness gave no hint of where the girl might be. Now what did she do? Chelsea swiped snow from her lashes, turning in a slow circle. Maybe she’d gotten disoriented and the child was farther away then she’d thought. Wait—was that something? She held her breath, listening. There it was again, a hiccup, such a small sound.
Thank God she heard it. She kept going, angling toward the graves, until she came across small boot prints. They led her to a little girl sprawled on the ground in the inky shadows.
“Daddy?” she sniffled.
“No, I’m sorry, it’s just me.” She hit the button on the miniature flashlight clipped to her key chain—a stocking stuffer from Mom three Christmases ago—and a faint light illuminated the girl. Maybe seven, eight years old. Pale face, big eyes, tears pooling, but they didn’t fall. The child was out here all alone? “Hi, I’m Chelsea. What’s your name?”
“I’m not supposed to tell strangers that.”
“That’s right and face it, I’m a stranger. My sisters tell me all the time that I’m really strange.” A little humor might make the kid feel more at ease. “But not scary, although this storm is a little scary. I can’t see a thing. How about you?”
“No. That’s why I fell down.” Silken brown wisps peeked out from a bright purple knit hat. The little girl swiped at them with a matching mitten on her good hand. “It was the curb.”
“I tripped on it when I got here. Almost fell right on my nose. I’m saying it was the curb’s fault, too. Definitely not ours.” Chelsea hunkered in, keeping her voice soft. She didn’t need her medical degree to see the girl’s arm was hurt, or why else would she be cradling it? “You must be here with your family?”
“My daddy.” The pooling tears threatened to spill. She was a cutie, with a round face, a sloping nose and a porcelain-doll look. Someone’s precious daughter. “I got to pick out the wreath but it was too sad leaving it at the stone.”
“I know just what you mean.” She thought of the flowers she’d left behind, pushed aside her grief and gave thanks she was a pediatrician. Her training would come in handy. “Now what about your arm? Can you move your fingers?”
“I don’t want to.” The kid shook her head, scattering snowflakes and locks of molasses. “There’s nothing wrong. It’s just cold.”
“I see.” She’d had stubborn patients before. “Is the rest of you cold too, or just your arm?”
“My arm especially. It’ll be okay, I just know it.” Honest blue eyes looked up into hers, so serious. “I really need my dad.”
“I’ll help you find him.” She’d feel better if she could take a look at that arm, which the girl held gingerly. A sprained wrist? A fracture? The doctor in her was itching to find out. The dad couldn’t be far. “Leave it to me. I have three sisters, so I’m really good at hollering. What’s his name?”
“Dr. Kramer. I— Well, I guess it’s okay to tell you my name. It’s Macie.”
“It’s good to meet you, Macie. I’m Chelsea. Tell you what, I’ll holler and we’ll follow your tracks back to him, all right?”
“But I don’t want to go back. It makes me sad.” Macie stayed right where she was, sorrow shining in her blue gaze. “It’s cuz my mom is here.”
“I’m sorry.” Sympathy hit Chelsea so hard, it left her weak. Tears burned behind her eyes. “My mom is buried here, too. I know just how you feel.”
* * *
Michael Kramer pressed his gloved hand against the gray marble as if to will what remained of his regret through the cold stone. Icy flecks of snow beat against his face as he fought not to remember his failings as a husband.
“The storm’s worsening, Macie.” He adjusted the wreath of plastic poinsettias, already dotted with snow. “We’d better get home before the roads close.”
No little girl’s voice answered. Probably because his daughter was no longer standing behind him. There was nothing but the impression in the snow of her two booted feet. Why hadn’t he noticed earlier? Frustrated with himself, he frowned, crinkling his brow. And how many times had he told her not to wander off? He launched to his feet, searching the thick veil of falling snow. No sign of her.
“Macie!” The wind snatched his voice. Snow beat against his coat hood, drowning out all other sounds. Blindly, he swiped snow off his face, noticing the scoop mark in the snow from a child-size mitten. No need to panic. Sunshine, Wyoming, was a safe place for kids, not like Chicago where he’d grown up. She had to be around here somewhere.
“Macie!” He tried again. Still no answer, at least none that he could hear in the rising storm. Not that she wouldn’t be easy to find. Just follow the trail.
Her boots cut a visible path into the snow and darkness, roughly heading toward the parking lot. If she’d wanted to leave, she could have just told him. Frustrated, he fisted his hands, teeth chattering in the cold. His daughter was grieving, too. It wasn’t easy for him to deal with emotions. Diana, when she’d been alive, had told him that often enough. He feared that made him a terrible father.
A flash of pink penetrated the swirling snow. Macie’s coat. What was she doing on the ground and why was someone kneeling over her? He took one look at the bulky navy coat bending over his fallen daughter and the worst thoughts leaped into his mind. Protective fury roared through him. He grew ten feet and his fist closed around the navy coat wearer.
“Get away from her.” He hauled the kidnapper to his feet. No one—no one—was going to hurt his daughter.
“Hey! Let go of me.” A rather bossy woman yanked her arm out of his grip. “What’s wrong with you, buddy?”
A woman? He blinked, the scene coming clear to him. His daughter sitting up, cradling her arm. Macie was hurt. Tears stood in her eyes. Was it this woman’s fault? “What are you— I mean, who are you? What’s going on here?” he boomed.
“You must be Macie’s dad. Good thing you came along. Awesome, right, Macie?” She cast him a quelling look and he felt like an idiot grabbing her like that. The girl was lost. Clearly the woman had been trying to help.
Great. Jump to the wrong conclusion, Michael. Just add it to his long list of idiocies around women. The flare of adrenaline crackling through his blood calmed. Now what did he do? Apologize? Explain that he wasn’t a terrible father? All he could see was Macie still on the ground, clutching one arm, pale, shivering and obviously hurt.
“I fell, Daddy.” Her lower lip quivered. “It was the curb’s fault. That’s what Chelsea said.”
Chelsea, huh? He bypassed the woman, catching a glimpse of big blue eyes glaring up at him. Her sweet oval face was framed by a hint of light-chestnut-brown hair and topped with a red hat. He ignored the hitch in his chest that made him want to take better notice of her and knelt in front of his daughter. Macie looked fragile and tiny, and his heart seemed to break—but that was impossible because as everyone told him, he didn’t have a heart. “Were you daydreaming again? Telling yourself stories?”
“Kinda.” She winced. “The snow could be hiding a princess’s castle.”
“Next time, stay with me, got it?” He gentled his voice, although it still came out gruff. Tenderness wasn’t his strong suit either.
Macie nodded. Twin tears trailed down her too-white cheeks.
His poor baby. “C’mon, let’s get you in the car.”
“No. Chelsea says I need an X-ray.” Macie sniffled. “You know why I don’t like the emergency room, Daddy?”
Yeah, he knew. He squeezed his eyes shut to hold in the pain. The past flashed like a mosaic—the receptionist bursting into his office with news of an urgent phone call, the mad dash to emergency, seeing Diana still and slight looking in death. His nurse kept Macie in the waiting room. After hearing the sad news the child had sat utterly still, frozen in a room of chaos.
He opened his eyes. Only a second had passed, but it felt like an eternity. “Let me take a look.”
“No!” She jerked away, the movement causing pain. More tears fell. “It’ll get better. I know it will.”
He knew the sound of desperation. He heard it every day in his office, when family members had to face a tough diagnosis. As a specialist, he gave out bad news as a matter of course. He’d had to harden himself so the sadness wouldn’t take him down. He had patients to think about, he had to stay uninvolved and rational so he could guide them through a tough and trying time.
He gave thanks that his child was healthy, unlike the others he treated, and wiped at her tears. “Come with me, baby.”
“No! I won’t go where Mom died.” His beautiful daughter hiccupped, upset by memories, which were hard for him, too.
At a loss, he opened his mouth and closed it. He wasn’t cut out to be a single father. He wished he were able to do a better job.
Footsteps crunched in the snow behind him. He felt the woman’s—Chelsea’s—glower as she stomped closer. He hadn’t noticed she’d left, but when he spotted two knit blankets folded up in her arms, it touched him.
“She needs to be kept warm.” Her blue eyes met his, full of concern, and was that a hint of censure? Or wariness? Her gaze turned kind as she brushed snow off Macie’s hat. “If we leave you out here any longer, you are going to turn into a snowman, well, a snowgirl, and that would be bad because then you’d melt away.”
“Not if I moved to the north pole.” Macie hiccupped, in an effort to hold back her pain. “I could make a house there.”
“True. You could live in an igloo. It could be cool.” Chelsea rolled her eyes, as if amused by her own pun, and draped one blanket around Macie’s snowy shoulders. “There, now you’re ready for transport.”
“We’re going home, right, Dad?”
“Sorry, baby. I’m worried about your arm.”
“The pain is sharp and radiating.” Chelsea rose, clutching one remaining blanket. “There’s no tingling or numbness in her fingers. No sign of a compound fracture.”
“You’re a doctor?” It came out gruff and ungrateful-sounding, which isn’t what he meant. Not at all.
“That’s what they tell me.” She glared at him, apparently not willing to share her kindness with him.
Not that he blamed her, grabbing her the way he had. He’d been wrong, but the instinct to protect had been right. Surely she could understand that? Trouble was, he didn’t know how to say all that to her. His child was still shivering and in pain, so he gathered her in his arms, keeping his focus where it should be. On his daughter. Her weight in his arms was dear as he stood, cuddling her against his chest. He turned, shielding her from the worst bite of the wind.
“Daddy, promise me.” Macie pleaded, fragile and small against him, shaking with cold and pain. “Not the hospital.”
“I don’t know, baby.” Maybe he could think of a solution. The snowstorm worsened, the downfall so thick it hid all signs of the parking lot, but not the woman standing beside him.
“Where’s your car?” Chelsea in her navy coat said as she forged ahead. “This way?”
“Yes.” He squinted to keep her in sight. She walked easily through the whiteout conditions, graceful as the snowfall. There was something about her that was poetic as the night.
Not that he was given to poetry. He fished his keys from his coat pocket, careful not to jostle Macie. She sniffled against him, fighting her tears. Maybe there was a way to avoid the emergency room. He beeped his remote, and the SUV’s lights flashed through the veil of storm. Chelsea surprised him by opening the passenger door, holding it against the gusts of wind so he could settle Macie into her seat. He brushed the snow off her the best he could.
“Here.” Chelsea shook out the second blanket and shouldered past him. He caught a faint scent of vanilla and strawberry. Light-chestnut-brown hair spilled out from beneath her hat as she spread the afghan over his daughter, tucking it snug around her. “How does the snowgirl story work out? Does she live happily ever after at the north pole?”
“Yes.” Macie sniffled. “Her daddy turns into a snowman so she’s not alone.”
“Sounds like a fantastic story to me.” Chelsea’s smile could light up the darkness. “I’ll see you around, Macie.”
“See ya around.”
“Thanks.” He cleared his throat, but the gruffness remained. The woman’s kindness touched him and drove some of the ice from his heart, on this of all days, the three-year anniversary of his wife’s death. “The blankets. I’ll need to return them.”
“I live at the end of Wild Rose Lane. It says McKaslin on the mailbox. You can’t miss it.” Her gentleness vanished when she turned to him, crossing her arms over her chest like a shield.
Yeah, he’d made a good impression, all right.
“I’ll be praying for Macie, that her arm is all right.” Chelsea McKaslin stalked away, her boots squeaking in the snow.
Before he could answer, the thick veils closed around her, the shadows claimed her. She was lost to him and he was alone in the storm.
Chapter Two
What a gorgeous morning. Chelsea breathed in the crisp, icy fresh air, stomped the snow off her boots and tromped through the backyard of her family’s property. She blinked against the sun’s bright glare and glanced over her shoulder at the horse barn. For as far as she could see, white fields rolled and preened beneath a pale blue sky. Wow, it was good to be back for keeps.
The frigid air burned her lungs as she trudged toward the door. Slow going through the accumulation, but much easier since the blizzard had stopped. Last night’s trek home had been interesting. Drifting snow made it impossible to drive, so she’d pulled over on Wild Rose Lane and walked a half mile. She’d nearly turned into a snowman, too—well, a snow-woman. Thinking of Macie, Chelsea smiled to herself as she clomped up the porch steps.
“Ha! I saw you coming.” The door swung open and Meg, her younger sister by four years, crooked one slim brow. “What are you doing up at this hour? You got in so late. You should be sleeping in. Taking advantage of your time off.”
“What can I say? I needed a horse fix.”
“I totally get it.” Meg braced one slim shoulder against the open door, model-gorgeous with her lean looks, beautiful face and long brown hair. “Good news. The county snowplow just finished clearing the road.”
“Yay. Now I can rescue my car.” Her eighteen-year-old Toyota might not be snazzy, but she’d gotten attached to it over the years. She’d inherited it from Mom when she’d gone off to college. She tromped through the doorway and into the warm house. “Do you know what I really need?”
“I’m afraid to ask.”
“Someone to give me a lift.”
“Sorry, I can’t pick you up.” Mischief twinkled in Meg’s brown eyes before she disappeared into the kitchen. “But I can give you a ride.”
“Really? Isn’t it a little early in the morning for puns?”
“Sorry, couldn’t help myself. Sara Beth is rummaging around in the basement. Thought I should warn you.”
“Okay.” Chelsea shouldered the door shut. Sara Beth was sister number two in the McKaslin lineup, Chelsea’s younger sister by two years. “I guess the real question is what she’s looking for?”
“House lights. We’re putting them up today.” Meg’s voice echoed from the kitchen, leaving a lot unsaid. This would be the first Christmas they would be stringing up the lights without Mom.
Chelsea swallowed against a tide of emotion and plopped down on the nearby bench. She could do this. She could face this Christmas without Mom. “Are you going to hang the dangly icicle ones or the multicolor ones?”
“Not my call. The person who puts up the lights gets to decide.” A clink sounded from the kitchen. “I can tell you, it won’t be me. Remember what happened when I was on a ladder last?”
“Was that when you got stuck on the roof?”
“Putting up the big star, per Mom’s directions, remember? And it totally wasn’t my fault the stupid ladder decided to fall over. I haven’t trusted one since.”
“You think the rest of us should?”
“Sure, as long as it isn’t me.” A clunk of a stoneware mug being set on the granite counter punctuated her humor. “I strung the lights the last time with Dad, if you remember. Sara Beth said she’s not partial to ladders, and Johanna is at the vet clinic working with Dad and who knows when they will be back, so that only leaves—”
“Me.” Great. She wasn’t fond of ladders either. She tugged off her boots. This is what she got for being the oldest and out of town when her sisters were planning Christmas. “Why don’t we wait for Dad?”
“Because I think it will be too tough on him to have to do it.”
“Right.” Because he’d always put them up for Mom. Boy, this Christmas wasn’t going to be easy. She unzipped her barn coat and hung it in the closet. “Guess it’s my turn, then.”
“I knew you’d do it. I kinda think it’s best to surprise Dad with the decorations, you know, like a new tradition. Now it’s our turn to put up the lights for him.”
“I like it.” She followed her sister’s voice into the kitchen. Bayly, one of their two dogs, opened an eye to watch her enter the room, let his lids fall shut and went back to snoozing on his bed near the family room’s crackling fireplace. “But before I do anything, I’ve got to fetch my car and I have a few things to do in town.”
“What things?” Meg set a teacup on the breakfast bar. The scents of cinnamon and spices wafted upward on the steam.
“Go to the bank. Hit the bookstore. Check up on a few people.”
“What people?” Meg’s eyes narrowed curiously. That was the problem having so many sisters. No privacy. Plus, sisters tended to be nosy.
Maybe she was missing Seattle after all. She cozied up to the breakfast bar and plopped onto a swivel chair. “I came across a little girl and her dad in the cemetery last night. She fell off the curb in the storm and broke her wrist.”
“Poor little one.” Meg set a second cup on the counter. “So, tell me. Handsome dad?”
“I didn’t notice.”
“How could you not notice? Honestly.” Meg shook her head with disapproval. “Any chance he was a single dad? I keep praying for you to find a really great guy.”
“He was a widower. That was why he was at the cemetery.”
“Oh.” Meg circled around the kitchen island and took the neighboring chair. “How sad for them.”
“Yeah,” she agreed, sipping her tea, remembering Macie. And the father...Dr. Kramer. She ought to really dislike him, she hadn’t appreciated the way he’d manhandled her, suspecting the worst when she’d only been helping his daughter, the child he’d let wander away from him. But then, it only took a moment of inattention and if he’d been at his deceased wife’s grave...her heart twinged with sympathy. Sympathy was one thing, but remembering the way snow had settled on his broad shoulders was entirely another.
“You’re praying for me to find someone? Really?” She sipped her tea, which warmed her instantly. “Even though you know I have a five-year plan?”
“You and your plans.” Meg leaned back, legs crossed. “Don’t tell me. You made a pro-con list, too.”
“Don’t mock my pro-con lists. I wouldn’t be able to make a good, workable plan without them.”
“I wasn’t mocking, honest. Just curious. Where are you putting romance in your plans?”
“I’m not.” When the time came, she had a very definite idea about the kind of man she would fall for—dependable, honest, loyal and kind—and even then, he would have to fit into her plans. Wasn’t that what plans were for? “Am I smart, or what?”
“How exactly do you want me to answer that?”
“I’m not sure I do.” Chelsea rolled her eyes, shaking her head. Somewhere outside rang a dog’s distant bark.
The doorbell chimed, echoing through the sprawling house. Bayly lifted his head from his dog bed, gave a halfhearted bark and yawned wide. His watchdog abilities were sorely lacking.
“Ooh, could be the delivery dude.” Meg bounded from her chair, mug in hand. “Maybe my package finally came. No, stay where you are. You’d better rest up while you can because in about ten minutes, you have a ladder to climb.”
“Will I be climbing it alone?” She arched one brow, kind of wondering what else her sister had planned for her.
“It depends.” Meg’s voice trailed behind her as she wove through the house. “If it’s not a busy day at the clinic, then Johanna will be able to lend a hand.”
“Probably not busy in this weather.” Their dad ran a veterinary clinic, now joined by Meg and Johanna, who were vets, too.
“Hey, that’s not the delivery truck.” Meg’s surprise lilted through the house. The door whispered open, but Chelsea’s feet were already on the floor of their own accord. She pushed away from the breakfast bar, driven by the tingle at the back of her neck.
“I’m Michael Kramer.” A man’s rich baritone rumbled from the doorway. “Is Chelsea home?”
“Sure. Let me guess. You’re the cemetery guy.” Meg tugged the door wider. “Here she is right now. Howdy, sis. There’s someone here to see you.”
“So I heard.” She did her best not to gape at the tall, solemn and handsome man towering in the doorway. Make that remarkably handsome, now that she got a good look at him in the full light of day. He wore a black wool coat, jeans and hiking boots. She’d be hard-pressed to recall when she’d last been around such a good-looking guy.
Wow, Meg mouthed.
It was hard to argue. Wow, indeed. His chiseled face, lean lines and wide, dependable shoulders made her heart catch. Her knees went weak and her heart skipped two beats, but it had to be from the surprise of seeing him again. A perfectly understandable reaction.
“Chelsea.” A hint of a smile shaped the corners of his chiseled mouth. The intensity of his gaze zeroed in on her like a target. “Looks like I got the right house.”
“G-guess so,” she stuttered out. Great. Brilliant. She’d never been what you’d call confident around handsome men. “I’m surprised you’re out and about on these roads.”
“They’ve been plowed. I wanted to return these.” He held up the afghans her mom had made. “Thanks again.”
“Not a problem.” Somehow she was in front of him and multicolored granny squares tumbled into her arms. The yarn, soft and full of memories, smelled of fabric softener, clearly freshly laundered. That was thoughtful of him. Wasn’t it? “How is Macie?”
“Better. She’s talking with your sister.” He gestured down the walkway, pointing out of sight. At least, she thought they were out of sight. Maybe she couldn’t see Sara Beth or Macie because she couldn’t make her gaze move past the man.
He loomed above her at well over six feet, his sandy-brown hair tousled by the wind. Blink, Chelsea, she told herself. Stop staring.
“It was a simple fracture, no complications, no real swelling, so the doc casted her last night.” His voice dipped, tender with fatherly concern. “She’s much better this morning.”
“Glad to hear it.” Chelsea dumped the afghans unceremoniously on the nearby bench, wishing her gray matter would kick into gear. Why couldn’t she be amusing and charming and unaffected? Where was her confidence when she needed it?
Footsteps thumping up the porch steps saved her from fruitlessly searching for something clever to say.
“Hi, Chelsea!” Macie peered around her dad. Daisy, the McKaslins’ yellow lab, hopped up and down with excitement at her side. “Sara Beth said I can choose the lights.”
“She did, did she?” Now that her vision had cleared, Chelsea spotted her sister down the walkway, leaning against one of two ladders.
“Sorry.” Tall, sweet and beautiful, Sara Beth gave her lustrous brown hair a toss. “I couldn’t resist letting her pick.”
“I totally get it.” It was so easy to remember she’d been little and the four of them rallied around Dad shouting out their preferences for lights. Once, he’d put up two different strings, one over the top of the other, just to keep everyone happy. The house had been so brightly festive, you could see the Christmas lights a good half mile across the horse pasture. She blinked away the recollection of Mom’s laughter at the sight. “Which ones did you like best, Macie?”
“The white ones.” Her round face was relaxed and smiling, a welcome change from last night. “I like those the best because they’re like icicles.”
“Me, too. Good choice.” Chelsea grabbed her winter coat off the tree by the door and shrugged into it, crossing the porch. “Hey, I like your pink cast.”
“Me, too.”
“And it matches your coat.” Aware of Michael’s gaze prickling across her back, she knelt to get a good look at the girl’s arm. “You were brave to get an X-ray and see a doctor.”
“I didn’t have to go the hospital. Dad took me to his office.” Macie gulped, wrestling with her emotions. “The hospital is where my mom died.”
“Mine, too.” She shared an understanding look with the girl. “Do you know what you need?”
“What?” Macie’s forehead crinkled.
“Stickers. I don’t know how to tell you this, but you can’t go around with a cast like that. It’s just plain wrong.”
“It is?”
“Sure. You’ve got to decorate it.” Chelsea felt the tug of Michael’s gaze, drawing her to him. There went her heart rate, galloping again. “Why don’t you two come in?”
“I think we could spare the time.” The deep notes of his voice shivered over her, as warm as steaming cocoa on a cold winter’s day. “But you’re clearly busy.”
“Nothing that can’t wait. We’re talking about stickers here. Important stuff.”
Suddenly Meg had returned—Chelsea wasn’t even sure where she’d went. Meg, ever helpful, grinned exceptionally brightly from the hallway. “Come in, Macie. Let’s go raid my sister’s stash of stickers, okay?”
“Okay. Does she have a good stash?” Macie trailed into the house and down the hall. Daisy—Dee for short—scrabbled after her, doggy nails tapping a cheerful rhythm on the wood floor.
Alone with Michael, Chelsea took a deep breath, fighting the unsettling sensation of being close to him. It troubled her, trickling in like the cold wind through her coat and she shivered. Now what did she say? Nothing brilliant came to mind. Funny, she’d been uncomfortable with him last night for an entirely different reason.
He looked as uneasy as she felt. He jammed his fists into his coat pockets, looking like a male model striking a pose for winter wear. He shifted his weight from his left foot to his right and his high intelligent forehead furrowed as if he were searching for something sociable to say to break the lengthening silence.
Talk about awkward. He was still standing on the porch! Why hadn’t her brain worked enough to invite him in? “Maybe you’d like some hot chocolate?”
“No, I don’t like hot chocolate.” His deep blue eyes transmitted his apology.
“Okay, then—”
Like an answer to a prayer, Sara Beth breezed up the steps, her face pink from the freezing wind. “Hey, Chels, it’s time to get the lights up. We’ve got two hours tops before Dad rolls in.”
“Right.” The perfect excuse. “Maybe you could take Michael inside? Maybe get him something to drink.”
“Sure. Hi, Michael.” Sara Beth nodded, apparently acquainted with the man. A total surprise. “Come on in and make yourself at home. Maybe keep an eye on Macie. No telling what kind of trouble she and Meg will get into with those stickers.”
“Stickers are not my domain. I’d rather avoid it.” Another hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Besides, when a man sees a ladder, he has to climb it.”
“Fine by me.” Sara Beth shot Chelsea a grin and wagged her eyebrows. “I’ll just go and fetch the lights. You two can get to work.”
“Us two?” Chelsea shot her sister a death-ray glare. What was going on? “Wait, Sara Beth. Aren’t you going to help?”
“Why should I, when we have a volunteer to do it?” Sara Beth sashayed down the hallway, leaving Chelsea alone with the man again.
Why did she suspect her sister had some kind of motive?
“I know Sara Beth from the riding stables.” He broke the silence, taking the first step in the direction of the ladders. “She’s teaching riding. She’s Macie’s instructor.”
“That explains it.” Chelsea closed the door behind her, shivering in the cold wind on the porch. “Sara Beth is the best.”
“So I hear. Macie wants to be like her.”
“Good call. Sara Beth is awesome. She’s a world-ranked rider.” Pride for her sister came through. “She won a bronze medal in the last Olympics.”
“And a gold and a silver in a couple World Championships. I know all about it.” Not because he knew anything about the McKaslin family, but because a little sprite he knew talked on and on about it.
“How long has Macie been riding?”
“Since the school year started.” His attempt to make her life as normal as possible after her mother’s passing. Not an easy thing to do, and remembering how hard it had been for Macie still choked him up. “My wife loved horses. For our last Christmas together, Diana promised riding lessons and a horse to Macie. I will never forget our last holiday together as a family.”
“Those memories are great treasures. That was like Mom’s last Christmas with us. We did everything to the max, decorating, gifts, the food. All that mattered was that she was with us.”
“I understand.” His throat tightened. As he ambled down the shoveled pathway, his feelings stirred. Maybe it was the bracing air that burned in his lungs with each breath or the quiet beauty of the December morning. “I would give everything I have to give Macie one more day with her mother.”
“I know the feeling, wanting to do anything to turn back time.” Her understanding touched him like a blessing. A gentle gust of wind caressed her light chestnut locks, which fell like gleaming silk over her slender shoulders. “I have to believe that love lives on.”
“Me, too.” He wasn’t sure what was happening to his stoic heart. He tipped back his head to study the placement of the ladders, stretching up two stories. Footsteps crunched close behind him and Sara Beth waltzed around the corner of the garage carrying a big plastic storage tub in both arms. It looked like an awfully awkward bin, so he headed toward her. “Let me get that.”
“I’ll get it.” Chelsea sailed in front of him, and the long lean line she made as she plunged through the snow made him think of music videos and wholesome country stars and the innocent grace of Christmas carols. Her long hair swept behind her like a rippling melody. She handled the big tub with ease. “Sara Beth, you’re staying to help, right?”
“Sorry, I changed my mind.” Sara Beth’s dark eyes looked him up and down, and her grin was just shy of mischievous. She turned on her heel and tossed over her shoulder, “I’ve got better things to do.”
“Someone is getting coal in their stocking come Christmas morning. I’m not naming any names, but it could be you.” Chelsea flipped off the container’s lid and sunlight shone on the thousand miniature lights inside. “Can you believe it? She abandoned me.”
“What’s the world coming to, right?”
“Right.” Her brows arched, an adorable little twist of her beautiful face, and exactly how lovely she was hit him like a snowball to the chest. Her porcelain jawline and dainty chin gave her a sweetheart’s look. Her sloping nose and friendly blue eyes could make stronger men than he stop in their tracks. She didn’t seem aware of it as she plucked a coil of white lights from the container. “You don’t look like the handyman type. So, really, why are you doing this?”
“Because one good turn deserves another.” He took possession of the coil, lifting it from her slender fingers. “Besides, it’ll give me practice. Macie is bound to talk me into stringing lights at home, and this way I’ll make all my mistakes here.”
“With our lights? Right.” She wasn’t fooled. She fished out a plastic bag of gutter hooks, sneaking another peek at him. Had he always been so tall? He had to be a few inches over six foot and he smelled good, like pine.
He snagged the plastic bag of gutter clips and seized a ladder rung. Without a second of hesitation, he climbed with confidence and speed. Since she didn’t want to be shown up by a man, she headed for the second ladder, took a steadying breath and grabbed hold of a metal rung. Lord, please don’t let me crash to my death.
Determined not to visualize doom, she launched off the ground. The ladder trembled and shook with every step she took.
That didn’t bode well, but she kept her eyes on the next rung and didn’t look down. Maybe the height wouldn’t bother her if she didn’t see it. Made sense, right?
The wind gusted, wobbling the ladder. Eek. She clutched the metal, although there was no crashing to the ground and no doom. Still, she hated the way the ground seemed miles away. She swallowed hard, determined to keep going.
“Why don’t you get down?” Michael’s deep baritone warmed the words, he really was a good guy. “I’ve got this.”
“You aren’t getting rid of me that easily. Sorry.” She might not like heights, but no way was she quitting. Not when she’d made up her mind to do something.
Determined, she trained her gaze on the gutter above. Three steps more. Two. Safely at the top she slowly uncoiled the string of lights and hoped Michael didn’t notice how much her hands were shaking.
Chapter Three
Michael nudged the small plastic hanger into place, tried to keep his attention on the eight or so inches of white stuff piled precariously on the roof over his head and failed. His gaze slid to the woman clutching the gutter lip with what appeared to be all her strength. Why didn’t she just let him do this? “Are you always this stubborn?”
“Usually more.” If she gripped the gutter any tighter, something was going to break. “Rumor has it, stubborn is my middle name.”
“Hey, mine too.” His own laughter surprised him, causing him to almost lose his balance. The ladder wobbled, his hand shot out, hit the snow on the roof and a cold avalanche rained over him. Icy stuff hit him in the face, slid down his coat collar and kept coming in a glittery white fall, blinding him. He probably looked like an idiot.
“Good one,” she quipped. “Now who has a death grip on the gutter?”
“I’m usually more suave than this. Smooth. Debonair.” He batted snow out of his face.
“I noticed that the first instant we met.” Humor laced her words.
She had to remind him of that, didn’t she? Not that he could see her just now because another wave of falling snow smacked him in the face.
“Need any help?” she asked.
“No.” Debonair he was not. He blinked snow out of his eyes. “This looked easier from the ground.”
“It always does.”
The avalanche finally stopped and he ran a gloved hand over his eyes, able to blink. Ice clung to his lashes and gleamed in the sun so when he looked at her, she seemed framed by light, surreal, a vision come to life.
“Maybe it would have been smarter to let the sun melt some of this before we started, but did I think of it? No.” She clipped her string of lights into the plastic hook. “My sisters wanted to get the lights up before Dad gets home.”
“So he’s usually on light duty?”
“True, but one of us always helps him. The job goes faster that way and besides, you can’t help wanting to spend time with Dad.”
“So this time you want to surprise him?” He cringed when a trickle of ice slipped between his shirt and his collarbone.
“Something like that. See, Dad always put up the lights with Mom’s supervision. Since she’s been gone...” There were no words to describe the loss. She focused on stringing the lights, getting them to sit just right in the clips. “Mom was big into Christmas. Lights and decorations and Christmas carols playing. The works.”
“You don’t want your father to feel her loss while he’s hanging the lights.” Understanding softened his granite features and warmed the low notes of his voice. “It’s easier to go on when you don’t stop to feel the loss.”
“Exactly.” Interesting that they had this in common. She didn’t like that her estimation of him crept up a notch. “Is that what you do? You try not to feel the grief?”
“I try to forget it. Bury it. Psychologists might not agree, but it works for me.”
“Me, too. Last Christmas we couldn’t put up as much as a tree.” She thought of the seasonal cheer, the festive joy, the touches of caring her mother had brought to the holiday and to her family. “This year, we’re trying to do Christmas the way she would have wanted.”
“It’s a tough thing to do. Two Christmases have gone by for us, this will be our third.” He hung another length of lights. “It was hardest on Macie.”
“I’m so sorry for that. Do you have other family in the area?”
“My folks live in town. They moved here after I set up practice, to be closer to their granddaughter.” The wind gusted, ruffling his sandy brown hair. “Mom always does Christmas right, and she can cook. Can’t wait for her turkey and stuffing.”
“My mom was a good cook, too. But me? Not so much.” She clipped more lights in place, ignoring the fact that her fingertips were numb with cold.
“You? A bad cook? I don’t believe that. You look like there’s nothing you do badly.”
She would not be charmed by his compliment and a hint of a dimple. “I’m too clinical. I approach cooking like a lab experiment. Exact measurements with the potential of anything going wrong.”
“But the outcome is edible.”
“Mostly, but it’s been frozen dinners for years. Med school, intern, resident. No time.”
“I remember well.” His gaze met hers, zooming across the distance between them as if there were no distance, as if they were no longer strangers, as if he were way too close.
Shyness swept through her and she jerked her gaze away. Her forearm bumped the gutter and snow tumbled onto her head, momentarily blinding her.
“Don’t worry.” His words carried on the wind. “Eventually the ice melts and then you’re just wet.”
“Something to look forward to.” The snow just kept on coming. She sputtered, held onto the gutter for dear life and thought she heard the rattle of a ladder that sounded suspiciously closer than it used to be. Sure enough, the avalanche stopped and there was Michael so near she could reach out and push him.
“At least the lights look good.” He leaned across the foot and half of space between them to brush snow from her face.
Air stalled in her throat, choking her. Really, she could do it herself, but she didn’t move. She blinked, able to see the shaven texture of his strong, square jaw and flecks of ice blue in his irises.
“Are you okay?” Concern crinkled pleasantly in the corners of those irresistible eyes.
“Sure. That was invigorating.”
“Nothing like a snowy winter’s morning on the roof.” His glove swiped snow away from her coat collar.
That was really nice of him, but he was making her dizzy. Somehow she managed to draw in air. “Thanks, but I’m not Macie.”
“Right, got it.” He handily grabbed the end of her lights dangling from the clip and plugged his string in. The icicle lights dangled and glowed, lovely even in the daylight. “I just didn’t want you falling.”
“I appreciate that.” She cleared her throat, surprised that her words came out a little strained. “Falling would be a bad thing for many reasons. Just think, if I landed in the rosebushes, they’d never be the same.”
A dog’s happy bark rang like a bell from beneath the porch, scattering sparrows away from the bird feeder. Dee pranced down the steps and down the walkway, head held high, tongue lolling, as excited as if she were leading a parade down Main Street. Macie followed with a few telltale cookie crumbs on her coat, flanked by Sara Beth. Meg shut the front door and trailed down the porch steps after them.
Finally, her sisters had come to rescue her. Not that hanging around with Michael Kramer had been so terrible. No, she certainly couldn’t say that. “Looks like your daughter has come looking for you.”
“So I see. I guess that’s my cue to leave, unless you want me to stay and help.”
“Oh no, I have plenty of help, if I can motivate my sisters, and you have a daughter to take care of.” She gripped the top rung and moved carefully down one step and the next. “Plus, I’m anxious to see what she’s done to her cast. Let me see, Macie.”
“It’s all Christmassy now.” The girl held her arm up for all to see. “They had lots of stickers, Dad. It was awesome.”
“But in the end we went with an animal and Christmas theme,” Sara Beth explained, folding a lock of straight dark hair behind her slim shoulder. “Doesn’t it look stunning?”
“I think the color scheme works,” Meg added, her dark eyes twinkling.
“Do you like it, Dad?” Macie beamed, her pink cast artfully decorated with candy cane stickers, white snowflakes and gold stars, Christmas trees and cats and dogs. “And I got to pet Burt.”
“Who’s Burt?” he asked.
“Burt liked that, I’m sure.” Chelsea leaned in to check out the stickers. Her light chestnut hair tumbled across her face, shielding her as she admired Macie’s sticker choices. “Now that’s one fantastic cast.”
“I know,” she said in her high, sweet voice. “Burt is a cat, Dad. You know, what I’m asking for Christmas.”
“I’m well aware.” No secret there. He caught hold of his child’s shoulder, nudging her toward the car.
“I was going to ask for a white kitty, but now I want a gray striped one like Burt.” Macie crunched through the snow with her pink boots.
That was already on his Christmas to-do list. Find a kitten for Macie. Not that he knew where to find kittens. The pet store? Ads in the paper?
The Lab gave a cheerful bark and loped ahead, glancing over her shoulder to smile at them in her doggy way.
“And I want one that hugs me,” Macie reminded him for the fiftieth time.
“I know.” He yanked open the SUV’s passenger door. “I’m still planning on giving you a stocking full of coal. No presents at all.”
“Oh, Daddy.” Macie rolled her eyes, not believing him. He couldn’t imagine why.
He swung her up onto the seat. “Time to go, little one. You’re looking a little pale around the gills.”
“Fish have gills. Not me.”
“Sure you do.” He helped her buckle up, aware of the women standing nearby, especially one woman, although he couldn’t explain it. He didn’t have to turn around to picture her standing ankle deep in snow in her navy coat and with her wavy chestnut hair dancing in the wind.
“Thank you for the stickers,” Macie called over his shoulder.
“You let me know if you need more. We have plenty,” Sara Beth answered, although it wasn’t her that he noticed as he turned to close the door.
“The icicle lights look the best. You were right, Macie.” Chelsea gestured toward the house where two strings of lights flashed in the glancing sunlight. “Thanks for the help, Michael. It’s more than my own sisters would do.”
“Hey, I could have done it,” Sara Beth corrected good-naturedly.
“But I just didn’t want to,” Meg confessed with a smile.
“This is what I get for being the oldest. It’s a burden.” Chelsea rolled her eyes, feigning displeasure, but her smile gave her away.
Had he ever seen a day so bright? He couldn’t remember one. The light blue sky shone vivid against snowy clouds sailing by in speeding puffs. The gleam and glitter of sunshine on the miles of snow stole his breath. And Chelsea shone the brightest of all, making him notice.
Two vehicles rolled into sight, cresting the roll of Wyoming prairie.
“It’s Dad,” she announced and bit her bottom lip.
“Early.” Meg shook her head.
“And the lights aren’t finished.” Sara Beth sighed. “Oh, well. It was a good thought.”
“It was.” Chelsea waved to her father behind the steering wheel. The chains on his pickup chinked as he rumbled around Michael’s SUV in the driveway and pulled up in front of the garage. A familiar beige vehicle lumbered into view. “Hey, there’s my car.”
“Rescued by another sister?” Michael asked as he opened his door.
“Yes, no idea what I’d do without Johanna.” She waved to the youngest of the McKaslin sisters. Johanna waved back, her neon blue mittens flashing behind the glare of the windshield before she pulled into the garage.
“I hope the rest of the light hanging goes well.” He folded his six-foot-plus frame into the front seat, his door thudded shut and the engine purred to life. His window rolled down. “I’ll see you around, Chelsea McKaslin.”
Whether that was a threat or a promise, she couldn’t tell.
The SUV motored away as Macie waved with her good hand, and Dee barked and whined, perhaps disappointed she wasn’t the one going for a ride.
“He was totally good-looking,” Meg commented. “An eleven on a scale of ten.”
“Was he? You know me. I’m not looking.” Although she couldn’t explain why she watched Michael’s SUV rumble down the road and out of sight. It didn’t mean she was interested in him. No way. “I have a no-man plan, remember?”
“I thought it was a five-year plan.” Sara Beth just had to point that out, didn’t she?
“A five-year plan, a no-man plan. Same difference.” She forced her gaze away from the swell in the prairie that had swallowed Michael’s SUV from her sight and turned on her heel, concentrating on the one man she could count on. “Dad.”
Dee spotted him and barked, leaping to race to his side and pant up at him adoringly.
“Hey, girls.” Grant McKaslin patted the Lab on her head. “I see you’re putting up the house lights. Looks good.”
His words sounded strained. Emotion gleamed in his eyes.
“Love the lights!” Johanna bounded out of the garage as the door lowered behind her. “Time for lunch, but, Chelsea, I’ll pitch in after we eat. I can’t wait to see them all lit up.”
“Your mom would be pleased.” Dad said the words they were all thinking. He held out one arm to draw Johanna close, the other to pull in Meg. “Let’s get in and warm up. Chelsea, we found your car at the side of the road.”
“Thanks for bringing her in.”
“No problem. I hope you girls have soup on the stove. I’m frozen clean through.”
Dee raced ahead, tail wagging, leading the way to the front door. Chelsea glanced over her shoulder to catch a last look at the half-finished lights dangling from the roofline. If only Mom were here, she thought, full of longing, but that was not to be. With a sigh, she tapped up the porch steps behind her sisters. As Dad held the door open for them, a gust of wind chased her inside and stirred the icicle lights above as if with a loving hand.
* * *
Michael tucked the fleece throw gently around his sleeping daughter while the TV hummed with a kid’s movie in the background. Clouds had moved in to dim the sun shining through the living room window, hinting at more snow on the way.
Macie sighed in her sleep, snuggling against her pillow pet. Her brown hair tumbled over her forehead, framing her face. Such a sweet girl. He pressed a kiss to her cheek, backed away from the couch and padded across the carpet, careful not to wake her.
The house phone rang. He caught it on the third electronic jingle, lifting the cordless receiver out of its cradle. He recognized the name on the electronic display. “Hey, Steve.”
“Hey.” His colleague sounded chipper. “I’m about to head out with my wife, but I wanted to check on your girl. How’s her arm?”
“Doing as well as can be expected. She’s napping now.” He tucked the receiver against his shoulder and eyed the lunch dishes in the sink. “What are you doing checking up on patients? You just can’t take a weekend off, can you?”
“I’m trying. We’re going snowmobiling. We’re just about to head out.”
“Sounds fun, so what are you doing on the phone with me?” He opened the dishwasher.
“Fine, so I’m not cutting back on my workload like I planned.” Steve didn’t sound guilty about that, not at all. “Eventually I’ll have to, since the new doctor I hired to help me starts on Monday.”
“I had no idea. Last I heard you were going to wait until January to start looking for someone.” He turned on the faucet and ran a lunch plate through the stream.
“I’ve had my eye on this doctor for a while, she’s available and the timing is right.” Steve’s smile warmed his words. “One of these days I won’t have to come into the office at all. The rest of you are so good, I’ll be absolutely unnecessary.”
“You? No chance of that.” Steve Swift was one of the most knowledgeable doctors around. “No one can fill your shoes.”
“I don’t believe it for a second.” Steven chuckled and it was good to hear him sounding happy. “My wife is calling. Better go.”
“Have fun. No more thinking about work. You’re not on call, remember?” He slipped a plate into the dishwasher rack, trying to imagine the unathletic man on a snowmobile. “And no accidents, got it?”
“Got it. No worries, Laura has done this before. We’re going on a tour up in the mountains. Great, now she’s honking. I really do have to go.”
“Have fun, Steve.” He set the phone on the counter, shaking his head. Seeing Steve broadening his horizons was gonna be very interesting. Maybe because although twenty years separated them, they were very alike. Workaholics dedicated to their profession, men of science and men who didn’t have room for much else in their lives.
What about the new doctor? And why hadn’t Steve said more before this? Why the mystery? Then again, that had been the plan since his health scare. He’d had a minor heart attack, but it had been a wake-up call for Steve. Less time at work, he’d said in the break room one day. More time spent living life to the fullest.
Couldn’t argue with that. The light clink of the dishes as he loaded the dishwasher kept him company in the lonely room. In Michael’s opinion, this was living life to the fullest. He had a job he loved, a comfortable home and a daughter to care for. Speaking of which, he grabbed the phone, dialed his mom and waited for the phone to connect. He swished the soup pan through the water, fit it into the bottom rack and closed the dishwasher door as she answered, sounding breathless.
“Am I catching you at a bad time?” He reached for the paper towel roll.
“No, just came in from running errands. It’s cold out there!” June Kramer blew out a breath for emphasis and something in the background rustled. “The grocery store was crazy. Everyone stocking up for the next storm. They say it’s going to be a doozy. How’s my granddaughter?”
“Napping.” He peeked around the corner. Yep, still asleep.
“Good, she needs rest to heal. Say, I bought cookie makings. Figured she might want to help me with my first batch of Christmas cookies. That ought to be a proper excuse to spend time with her. How does tomorrow sound?”
“I’m sure she’ll like it.” He was thankful to the Lord that his mom was the kind of grandmother who would step in and fill the void in Macie’s life. His mom was gold in a hundred different ways. “Why don’t you take her home after church? I’ll pack a bag if you want to keep her overnight.”
“Yes, yes, yes! Oh, you’ve just made me a very happy grammy.” More rustling bags and the sound of a refrigerator opening. “I’m glad I bought the supplies for her favorite supper.”
“You were already planning, admit it.” He grabbed a paper towel and a spray bottle of eco-friendly cleaner. “That I suggested you keep her worked into your master plan.”
“It did. Your dad will take her to school come Monday, as long as it’s not a snow day. Then, again, maybe we’ll keep her forever.”
“Sure, go ahead and try.” He squirted the length of counter and wiped it down. “In the meantime, I need your help with one of Macie’s Christmas gifts.”
“Do you mean the Christmas gift, the only one she wants?”
“The kitten.” No idea how that was going to work out, and he was a little afraid to think about it. “Where do I find one? I want a good one. The right one.”
He had no idea how to know which one would be the right one. Surely all kittens were nice, but how did he find the one that would be the loving friend Macie wanted?
“I have no idea. I know, not what you wanted to hear. But I have my sources. Let me make a few calls and talk to some friends. I’ll get back to you.”
“Mom, you’re fantastic.”
“Don’t I know it,” she agreed happily.
Relieved, he turned the conversation to what was going on in his parents’ lives. He listened while he wiped down the table and started sorting clothes in the laundry room. Wind gusted against the side of the house, and the last of the sunlight bled from the sky. He said goodbye to his mom and lit a fire in the fireplace. By the time the new storm’s first snowflakes fell, the Kramer house felt warm and snug. This was as good as life got, he thought, watching his daughter sleep. He couldn’t ask for anything more.
Chapter Four
The weekend flew by. Chelsea barely had time to breathe settling in at home—unpacking her car, putting up the rest of the lights and then there was church on Sunday. Monday morning blew in with a fresh accumulation of snow and a storm that sent snow drifting over roads and made the mile drive into town challenging. She pulled into the little parking lot behind Dr. Swift’s medical clinic ten minutes late. Totally hating being late, she shoved open her door, hauled her bag from the passenger seat, slipped on a sheet of ice and landed on her bottom.
Great. Just great. Cold seeped through her wool slacks as she levered back onto her feet, grabbed her keys and prayed Dr. Swift wouldn’t be too unhappy with her. He’d been clear. Staff meeting starts at seven-thirty. Halfway to the door she noticed a reflection in a glass window. Her headlights. Double great. With a sigh, she tromped back through the snow. Hurry, hurry, hurry. This was no way to start her first day of work for the man she’d looked up to all her life. Steve Swift was not only her new boss but her longtime mentor. He’d encouraged her in her studies and he’d been there for their family when Mom had fallen ill—
Her right foot slipped, she went down on her knees in the same ice patch she’d fallen in earlier. Fabulous. So, maybe she was missing Seattle’s rain just a little. She pulled herself up holding on to the door handle, unlocked her car, turned off the lights and trekked back through the snow. Really, the day had to get better from here, right?
Her cell chimed the moment she set foot through the back door. Warmth enfolded her, chasing away the chill as she fished her phone out of her bag. A text message stared up at her.
Hope your first day goes well, sweetheart, her father had written. I know you’ll do great.
That was her dad, always there for her.
Thanks. She hit Send, smiling as she unwound her scarf, imagining him at work at the vet clinic, cradling a cup of coffee and carrying on a conversation with any animals who happened to be in the kennels.
She unwrapped her scarf and her phone chimed again. Not Dad this time.
Praying UR first day is fabulous! Johanna’s words marched across her screen cheerfully. Meg says U go, girl!
Okay, this was the upside of sisterhood. Maybe being back in Wyoming wasn’t so bad. She unbuttoned her coat, shrugged out of it and tapped out an answer. So far I haven’t broken a leg. Have a great day, 2. Dinner tonight?
At Jeff’s Diner, Johanna answered. Six o’clock. UR treat.
MY treat? She texted back.
Becuz U love me and because I’m broke.
Hard to argue with that. She’d missed her sisters living so far away. Weather aside, it really was good to be back.
The door swung open without warning. Snow blew in like a blizzard, borne on a strong gust. A tall man dressed in black shouldered in, his silhouette strangely familiar. A dark knit hat hid his sandy-brown hair and for a moment the snow shielded his face, but she knew him even before he rammed the door shut.
Michael Kramer. Doctor Michael Kramer.
“What are you doing here?” she asked before her brain kicked in. “Wait, don’t answer that. Let me guess. You work here.”
“Guilty.” He tugged off his hat. He smelled like snow and pine. Very Christmassy. Very nice. “My name is on the stationery, at least it was the last time I checked. Are you here to see one of the other doctors?”
“See one? No, I work here. I’m the new—”
“Pediatrician.” He blinked in surprise, his gray matter suddenly stuck in neutral. Why hadn’t he guessed it? Maybe because when he’d first met Chelsea McKaslin, he’d had his daughter’s broken arm on his mind. The second time he’d met her, it had taken most of his mental acuity not to dwell on how beautiful she was. “Right. Guess I should have known.”
“So, you didn’t read the memo?” Blue eyes sparkled up at him, bright with humor.
Yeah, he deserved it. “I’m focused, I admit it. I’d rather practice medicine than the business of medicine.”
“I hear you there.” She swiped a lock of light chestnut hair out of her eyes. Melting snow clung to her like a tiara, twinkling in the light. “Steve hired me last month.”
“That explains it.” He led the way down the narrow hall, flipped on a bank of lights and clipped into the break room. No scent of coffee met him. The machine was dark, the lights off. Looked like everyone was running late this morning due to the worsening storm. “I’m just here two days a week. I’m in Jackson the other three. Must have missed the official announcement.”
“Working here has always been my plan since I was a kid.” She seemed at home as she plopped her bag on the edge of the central table and fished out a plastic lunch container. “Steve must be running late?”
“Late? No, he—” He shook his head, realizing he was watching her sweep over to the refrigerator like she’d caught his eyes with a tractor beam. Stop looking, Michael. He yanked open a closet door and shrugged off his snowy coat. “Something tells me you didn’t hear the news.”
“No.” She plopped her lunch on a rack and closed the fridge door. Concern gentled her eyes so blue they were almost lilac. “What about news?”
“Steve went snowmobiling on Saturday and had a run-in with a tree.” Why couldn’t he stop looking at her?
“Uh-oh, that’s never good.” She waltzed toward him, slipping out of her winter coat. Her slim eyebrows knit together, her heart-shaped face wreathing with the same tender caring as when she’d been helping injured Macie at the cemetery. “Is he okay?”
“Other than a broken femur, sure.”
“He broke his leg?” Her eyebrows shot up, her jaw dropped open. “Oh, no, is he looking at surgery?”
“Apparently it’s not indicated, but you know the saying, doctors make the worst patients. Steve might not be telling the whole truth. He left a message on my phone last night.” He jammed his coat on a hanger and rammed it onto the rod. A faint knock brought him up short. Sounded like someone at the front door. “I’ll check it out. What are the chances it’s him and he forgot his keys?”
“High, I’d say.” That would be just like the tough, seasoned doctor to come to work when he should be on bed rest. Alone in the room, she slipped her coat around a hanger and hung it up. The silence gave her a moment to digest new developments. So, she’d be working with Michael. Awesome.
Her phone chimed again. When she checked the screen, she smiled at Sara Beth’s message. I know you’ll work 2 hard today. Don’t forget to take a little time and enjoy the moment. U R a doctor now, Chels. Just like you’ve always dreamed.
Yes, it was a dream, she thought, checking out the coffeemaker. It was prepped and ready to go, so she hit the switch. As it gurgled to life, spitting and popping, she shrugged on her white coat and took a moment to savor the feeling. She’d accomplished one goal—getting here—and now it was time to work toward another, which was being the best doctor she knew how to be.
“Dr. McKaslin?” Michael’s voice rang down the hall. He held open the waiting room door for someone, his face a professional, granite mask. Obviously in doctor mode. “We have a patient. Could you take a look at her? Her regular doctor, Dr. Benedict, isn’t in yet.”
Goody. Trying not to do a Snoopy dance, Chelsea plunged her hands into her coat pockets and said in her most doctorlike voice to the woman stooped over in the doorway, “I’ll be happy to help you.”
“The snowblower broke, so I had to shovel our driveway,” the young mother explained, stooped over. Snow clung to her blond curly hair and a toddler clutched her right hand. “Bad idea. My back seized up and look at me. I’m bent over like a capital C. I was on my way to the hospital but the last thing I want to do is wait in the emergency room with Lily, since it’s flu season. Then I saw your lights on. You have no idea how grateful I am.”
“Glad we can help.” Chelsea shoved open the door to the first examining room she came to. “Come on in and let’s see what’s going on.”
“Bless you.” Mom and adorable tot ambled into the room.
Probably a muscle spasm, Chelsea reasoned, but she’d need X-rays to be sure there was no disk injury. She turned to Michael, but he was already gone, pacing down the corridor toward the front office with his shoulders braced and spine straight, likely to fetch the patient’s file. She couldn’t explain why she was even watching him. There was something about the man’s effect on her she didn’t entirely like.
* * *
“You were such a brave girl.” After a long day of doctoring, Chelsea held the bowl of Tootsie Pops for Alicia Wigginsworth so she could pick a flavor. Tootsie Pops were a tradition for Dr. Swift’s little patients, and now for hers. “Grape is my favorite, too.”
Alicia nodded in shy agreement before burying her face in her mother’s shoulder.
“Thanks, Dr. McKaslin.” Mrs. Wigginsworth patted her child’s back comfortingly. “Tell Dr. Swift I’m praying for a speedy recovery.”
“I will.” She opened the examining room door, chart in hand. “The injection site may be a little sore for a few days. If her fever doesn’t start heading down, call. You know the drill.”
“I do. I’ll let you know if there are any problems,” the mom promised as she stepped into the hallway.
“Goodbye, Alicia.” She waved at her patient, who watched her with tear-filled eyes over her mom’s shoulder. It wasn’t easy being little, or being the one who had to give a shot, but in a few days’ time the sweet little girl should be feeling a whole lot better.
The after-hours corridor echoed as the door to the waiting room whispered shut. The vague, muffled conversation between Mrs. Wigginsworth and Audra at the front desk were the loudest sounds in the echoing hallway.
“Looks like you made it through your first day unscathed.” Dr. Susan Benedict emerged from the break room, slipping into her winter coat. She was a young doctor, a few years out of residency, tall and slender with lovely long ebony curls. “Congratulations. Especially considering it was one of those days. Everyone tripped, fell, shoveled too much, caught a bug or slid off the road.”
“No kidding. I was so busy, I didn’t realize I’d missed lunch until a few hours ago. Crazy, but I loved it.” She rolled her stethoscope and slipped it back into the pocket of her white coat. “That was clever of Steve to run the staff meeting off the computer.”
“Praise the Lord for video chat. It’s going to be interesting to see how long Steve can hold out and not come into the office.” Susan’s amber eyes twinkled as she tugged warm gloves out of her coat pockets. “Thanks for seeing my patient this morning. Word is that Lenore is home, icing and heating just like you ordered. The muscle relaxant seems to be helping.”
“Good to hear. You’re heading out?”
“While I can. That’s one thing you’ve got to learn straight off. When the coast is clear, run for it or the phone will ring, someone will knock on the door or something will happen and you’ll be stuck here for another hour.” Susan offered a warm smile. “It’s a great profession, but it can take over everything if you aren’t careful. And since the coast is clear, I’m heading out. I’ll see you tomorrow, Chelsea.”
“Have a lovely evening.” She headed down the hall toward her office, smiling. She wasn’t alone in the clinic. Audra was still finishing up in front and a few doctors were finishing up their chart work. Michael was one of them, his office door firmly shut against intrusion.
She hadn’t exchanged another word with him through the day. She’d been so focused on her work and so had he. It was just as well because that’s where her attention needed to be. With a sigh, she waltzed into her office, small and impersonal, with just a desk, a computer and a phone. A small window looked out on the back lot where her car was covered by a foot of snow.
Her pocket chimed, the sound kick-starting a part of her brain that had gone dormant. Her sisters! Dinner. Yikes! What time was it? No clock in her office, so she hauled out her phone. Her eyes zeroed in at the time on the screen. Six-twelve. She was twelve minutes late!
Where R U? Meg’s text stared up at her accusingly. We’re waiting.
I’m coming! She tapped in, hit Send and fished a pen out of her coat pocket. She scribbled a note on Alicia’s chart, rushed down the hallway and slid the chart across the back counter in the receptionist’s direction. “Thanks, I gotta go.”
“Have a nice evening.” Audra shoved a lock of auburn hair out of her eyes. “Careful. The last few patients said it’s really icy out there.”
“Thanks for the heads-up.” She dashed into the break room, grabbed her uneaten lunch from the fridge, her bag from the shelf and shrugged into her coat. A few wraps of her scarf so it was snug around her neck and she was out the door.
One foot slid out from under her, but since she still had hold of the doorknob, she had something to hold on to. She managed to stay upright, but Audra hadn’t been kidding!
Slow down, Chelsea, she told herself, something Mom used to say. As she picked her way across the dangerously slick parking lot, she could hear her mother’s voice in memory. Chelsea McKaslin, slow down. You’ll always get where you’re meant to be. God will make sure of it, so stop rushing.
She missed Mom’s advice, even if she hadn’t always agreed with it. She brushed falling snow off her cheek, wishing she could turn back time so she could see her mom again and hear those words in person.
A few more steps brought her to her buried car. Wait, correct that. Her seriously buried car. It would take time and effort to dig out the poor thing. This was a total disaster. She hated being late! Grumbling to herself, she dug her phone out of her pocket. Her thick winter gloves didn’t make it easy to type out a message.
Car under tons of snow. Order without me. She hit Send and her phone chirped sadly. It wasn’t able to get a strong enough signal to send in the thickly falling snow.
Great. She jammed her phone into her bag, studying the monstrous white lump her car had become. Where to start? And with what? The little ice scraper under the front seat wasn’t up to this job.
“Looks like you have a problem.” A smoky baritone broke through the snowfall.
“Michael.” Impossible to see him through the storm’s thick white veil. Wait—there he was. A hint of muscled shoulders, a shadow in the downfall and she ordered her pulse to stay calm. “Are you always one of the first here and the last to leave?”
“Depends on the day.” He broke out of the storm, swathed in black and dotted with snow. “Do you need help?”
“Nope, I can get it.” She’d learned a long time ago to be wary of dudes offering “help.” Wasn’t that how she’d met Nick? Another total disaster. “I’m just figuring out my best strategy.”
“That would be getting four-wheel drive.”
“No kidding, but I’m partial to my old Toyota.” In more ways than one.
“Hey, it was a suggestion.”
“A good one if my school loans weren’t kicking in.”
“I hear you.” He hit his remote and his door locks popped. He leaned in and started the engine, leaving it to idle. “Hold on, there’s no way you’re getting out of this lot with that car. The snow is deeper than your bumper.”
“I was just pondering that particular dilemma. There are so many, I’m not sure where to start.” She rubbed snow from the driver’s side window with her glove and peered inside. Her poor car. “What are the chances the plow people are coming?”
“Not my area. Audra would know. She’s in charge of calling them, but it looks like they forgot the back lot. Again.” He knocked snow off his back door and opened up. “Remind Audra in the morning. That’s your best bet.”
“So, in other words, just leave my car here?”
“It’s locked up and with this storm, it’ll be safe. Not too many car thieves out.” He produced a long-handled ice scraper from the back of his four-wheel drive. “I can give you a ride.”
“Maybe I’ll walk.” The diner was, what, a mile away? Okay, maybe not. “Better yet, I’ll give my sisters a call. One of them will pick me up.”
“So, are you still in denial about being stubborn?” He tackled the side windows with his scraper. Snow rained to the ground.
“Me? Nope, I’ve never noticed.” Denial was the best way to go.
“Yeah, right. You and me, both.” He opened the passenger door for her. “Climb in while I clear.”
“I’m not sure I feel comfortable with that.”
“You’re one of those difficult women, are you?” A faint smile cracked the line of his mouth.
“Difficult? No, but I’m not sure about you, Dr. Kramer.” She plopped her bag on the floor in front of the passenger seat. “You hardly said a word to anyone all day. I didn’t notice it, anyway.”
“I get what’s going on here.” He circled to the windshield and raked twelve inches of snow off the glass. “You’ve heard what everyone says.”
“No, but now I really want to know what everyone says.”
“I’m focused at work.” He tried to pretend none of what he’d overheard mattered. Cold. Heart of stone. Glaciers had more personality. “I don’t hang out in the break room making friends with my colleagues.”
“You hung out in the break room with me, but I’m not sure I’d feel comfortable calling you a friend.”
“Me either.” It wasn’t easy ignoring the dazzle of her blue eyes, sparkling with a hint of humor. “There’s nothing friendly going on here.”
“Glad you agree.”
“It would ruin my reputation. I’ve worked hard for it.” He pulverized a chunk of ice on the windshield with the edge of the scraper.
“So, in other words, don’t friend you on Facebook?”
“At least don’t tell anyone if you do.” He freed the windshield wipers from the ice on the glass and strode to her side of the vehicle. “Would you get in? You’re letting all the hot air out.”
“Do you know what I think?” She squinted at him, her amused gaze roving over his face, really looking. “I noticed everyone at work seems intimidated by you, but you’re not so bad.”
“I’m not so good.” Not socially anyway, although it wasn’t for a lack of trying. There was a time when he’d once tried hard to fit in, to take down the walls that had always surrounded him. “Where am I taking you? Home?”
“No, to Jeff’s Diner.” She hopped on the seat, reaching for the belt. “Thanks for saving my sisters from having to come get me.”
“At least I’m good for something,” he quipped, closed her door and trudged through the deep accumulation. His boots squeaked, the ice beneath the snow threatened to send him sprawling and there went his vision again, strangely arrowing to the gorgeous brunette in his vehicle.
“Don’t let this get around.” He dropped into his seat, kicking snow off his boots. “My reputation at work will be ruined.”
“That might not be up to me.” She gestured through the frosty windshield toward the faint shadow as the wind gusted, giving a smudged glimpse of the building’s back door. “Audra’s waving. Looks like your reputation is doomed.”
“No way.” He yanked off his gloves and buckled in. Heat zoomed out of the vents, clearing a tiny spot in the glass. “Foggy windows. What are the chances she can see you?”
“Saved by a technicality.”
“I’ll take what I can get.” With all four wheels engaged, he gave it a little gas, spun the wheel and lumbered across the lot.
Chapter Five
“I noticed your name on the letterhead,” she said before silence could fall between them. “I didn’t know you were a pediatric oncologist.”
“That’s me.” He rubbed off the fog on the windshield with his shirtsleeve and maneuvered around the building, hitting a patch of ice, which thankfully garnered all of his attention. All day long, she’d been there at the back of his mind, a thought here and there. He wondered how she was doing, wondered why it was so easy to talk to her. Why did he feel comfortable with her? Why her?
“That has to be difficult dealing with critically ill children every day.” Understanding so tender in her voice tempted him to open up.
Opening up was the last thing he wanted to do. Nothing good could come from it. But did that stop him? No. He turned out of the lot, keeping an eye on traffic, and down went his reserve.
“It’s not easy, but it’s what I’m called to do.” He couldn’t look at her, it would be too personal, so he focused on the icy road barely visible through the pounding white flakes. “When I was eight, I lost my little brother, Danny to leukemia.”
“I’m so sorry. That had to be so hard to go through.”
“There was nothing I could do to help him. Nothing I could do to make him better or stop him from dying.” He paused, as if unable to say more.
“I know how that feels.” Her confession hovered in the air between them, too personal, too vulnerable. “I so do. When you’d do or give anything to save a loved one, but it’s impossible.”
“Exactly. I remember standing beside his hospital bed and vowing to be a doctor when I grew up. That way I could help other kids’ little brothers.” He shrugged self-consciously. “Here I am, thirty years later.”
“Helping critically ill children and their families.” New respect curled through her, warm and powerful. “I’ve had to diagnose cancer a few times during my residency. Telling a loving parent that their child has a terminal illness was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. Dealing with it every day, doesn’t that get you down?”
“I look at it another way. I help them fight for life.” He hit his blinker and pulled to the curb. “There is nothing more important than fighting for life so love can go on.”
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Jillian Hart
Тип: электронная книга
Жанр: Современные любовные романы
Язык: на английском языке
Издательство: HarperCollins
Дата публикации: 16.04.2024
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О книге: THE BEST-LAID PLANS… Finishing medical school at the top of her class, Chelsea McKaslin always achieves her goals. Now back home in Sunshine, Wyoming, her Christmas goal is to succeed as a pediatrician. In no way do her plans include Dr. Michael Kramer, despite the fact that he’s everywhere she turns.The standoffish widower keeps his distance from her, as if to protect his adorable daughter and himself. Yet the spirit of the season prevails. Soon Chelsea is bonding with little Macie—and her handsome daddy. Will these three hearts thaw in time for Christmas? The McKaslins of Wyoming: Where family ties lift hearts and restore faith