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An Aspen Creek Christmas
Roxanne Rustand


Second Chance HolidayAll Hannah Dorchester wants is to give her orphaned niece and nephew a happy Christmas. She’s ready for anything—except their uncle Ethan Williams. Thirteen years ago she was planning their wedding and he was planning his escape—joining the military without even a goodbye. Ethan never meant to break Hannah’s heart, but now the recovering soldier's back and he wants his late brother's kids. He's got one month to prove he'll be the better parent. But as they start sharing in the joys of the season, he’s determined to show Hannah he’s also become a better man. Could this be their final chance at family—and their second chance for love?







Second Chance Holiday

All Hannah Dorchester wants is to give her orphaned niece and nephew a happy Christmas. She’s ready for anything—except their uncle Ethan Williams. Thirteen years ago she was planning their wedding and he was planning his escape—joining the military without even a goodbye. Ethan never meant to break Hannah’s heart, but now the recovering soldier’s back and he wants his late brother’s kids. He’s got one month to prove he’ll be the better parent. But as they start sharing in the joys of the season, he’s determined to show Hannah he’s also become a better man. Could this be their final chance at family—and their second chance for love?


“We have to think of the children.”

Ethan’s eyes narrowed. “I am.”

“I know you mean that, but—”

“There’s nothing that’ll prevent me from taking care of my brother’s kids.” He stood up. “And now I’m turning in. Good night.”

After he left, Hannah sat there, thinking over every minute since he’d arrived in town.

Years ago Ethan had been a handsome daredevil who could make a girl fall in love and want to take off on wild adventures with him.

But he was different now. A man seasoned by the military. A man with a good heart who could be kind and gentle with kids and animals, yet who still possessed that charisma that drew her as much now as it once had.

But he was not the one who should have custody of the children.

No matter how strong it was, she had to put aside her attraction and focus on getting her sister’s kids settled before the caseworker arrived.

And she had just thirty days to do it.

With Ethan watching every move.


Dear Reader (#uf348bec7-23e0-5c3e-8dd1-0b36010d3b55),

Welcome to Aspen Creek! I have so enjoyed writing about the folks in this quaint, fictitious town on the western edge of Wisconsin. If you enjoyed Hannah and Ethan’s story, there are three earlier books in the Aspen Creek Crossroads series: Winter Reunion, Second Chance Dad and A Single Dad’s Redemption.

I love small towns and country life. We live on a rural acreage with horses, two rescue dogs and an abundance of barn kitties—all neutered, friendly and well fed. It’s such fun setting books in this type of world...and I especially loved writing this story involving the reunion of a jilted bride and her handsome soldier, who have no intention of ever getting back together, but want only the best for two orphaned children.

This book involves Christmas and my holiday gift to you is my favorite Christmas cookie recipe—one my family has been making for over thirty years!

I love to connect with readers and to hear your comments.

You can find me at:

www.roxannerustand.com (http://www.roxannerustand.com)

@roxannerustand (https://twitter.com/roxannerustand) (Twitter)

www.Facebook.com/roxanne.rustand (https://www.facebook.com/roxanne.rustand)

www.Pinterest.com/roxannerustand (https://www.pinterest.com/roxannerustand)

Email: roxannerustandbooks@yahoo.com

Snail mail: Roxanne Rustand, PO Box 2550, Cedar Rapids, Iowa 52406.

Blessings to you all,

Roxanne Rustand


A USA TODAY bestselling and award-winning author of over thirty-five novels, ROXANNE RUSTAND lives in the country with her husband and a menagerie of pets, including three horses, rescue dogs and cats. She has a master’s in nutrition and is a clinical dietitian. RT Book Reviews nominated her for a Career Achievement Award, two of her books won their annual Reviewers’ Choice Award and two others were nominees.


An Aspen Creek Christmas

Roxanne Rustand






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


And we know that in all things God works for

the good of those who love Him,

who have been called according to His purpose.

—Romans 8:28


To Danielle, Ben, Lilly, Violet and Finn,

with all my love.


Acknowledgments (#uf348bec7-23e0-5c3e-8dd1-0b36010d3b55)

Many thanks to Dr. Erin L. Garman, DVM, for her wonderful assistance with the veterinary details in this story. Any errors are mine alone!

And also, many thanks to Lisa Mondello for her research assistance on foster care and adoption.


Contents

Cover (#udc1aa86a-5a43-5e5e-a7a0-03b64215b722)

Back Cover Text (#u6d2b810d-685b-5653-b28e-7936a8be2f70)

Introduction (#u92c01b3f-d8ae-511c-9047-a54a68aab4f0)

Dear Reader (#u1c74a1f4-ac1e-5eb5-922d-012371e58521)

About the Author (#ue224110c-e335-5346-9ea5-f25bbe387e83)

Title Page (#u3fcb8458-f53c-5e40-aaf7-896329041e34)

Bible Verse (#u8e1d528a-4808-5c2d-ab72-61525dc2dfb0)

Dedication (#u632502d2-740f-559b-990d-f8243cfd9607)

Acknowledgments (#ua00832ba-318e-5d0b-9538-8117adf21343)

Chapter One (#u94e6350a-5f42-53fa-953e-f691bcaa5dfa)

Chapter Two (#uc6db7792-9f50-57ae-a399-bf705a168f6a)

Chapter Three (#ub6826815-aeb6-57d9-b50a-22b0061f4854)

Chapter Four (#uc23abdec-b5ca-58b9-ad5b-69d2eb0728c2)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

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)

Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Recipe (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter One (#uf348bec7-23e0-5c3e-8dd1-0b36010d3b55)

Hannah Dorchester studied her travel-weary, disheveled niece and nephew sitting across from her in the McDonald’s booth.

Neither had spoken since she’d picked them up at the Minneapolis–St. Paul airport a half hour ago, except to refuse every restaurant she could think of that might be open on Thanksgiving evening—hence, the fast food.

Though even in this child-friendly atmosphere they hadn’t touched a bite of their meals. And no wonder. Today they’d faced yet another huge change in their young lives.

After they were orphaned seven months ago in Texas when their parents died in a head-on collision with a semi, their elderly great-aunt Cynthia in Dallas had been adamant about gaining custody.

But two weeks ago she’d tripped over a toy truck and broke her hip badly. She’d then informed Hannah she simply couldn’t handle the children any longer—not while facing a long and painful recuperation.

Hannah had immediately begun the process of gaining out-of-state custody of the children. With a family law attorney at her side, she’d then gone to court to gain temporary guardianship.

Given that there were no other options besides Hannah or long-term foster care, social services and the court—bless them all—had expedited the process.

Scowling, Molly poked at the paper wrapping of her cheeseburger, then shoved it aside. “I don’t even know why we had to come way up here. I don’t like Wisconsin.”

“You’ve never been here, honey.” Hannah chose her words carefully. “It takes a long time to recover from a broken hip, and now Aunt Cynthia realizes she can’t keep you and your brother any longer, because she...um...just isn’t young enough to raise two children. But I know you’re going to make some great friends here. And if you start missing her, maybe we can all go down for a visit—”

“She didn’t even like us,” Molly scoffed. “She was mean.”

Hannah blinked. Cynthia was an elegant, austere woman who had never been particularly friendly during the few times Hannah had seen her. But mean? “Maybe she just isn’t used to being around kids.”

“She kept saying our uncle Ethan would be coming to take us, and he’d make us behave or else. ’Cause he’s some kind of soldier.”

Ethan?

Hannah swallowed hard, willing away the painful memories of the man she hadn’t seen for thirteen years. A man she never, ever, wanted to see again. “I’m sure she didn’t really mean—”

“Why would he want us? We never even met him.” Molly angled an accusing glare at Hannah, then dropped her gaze to her lap. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “And even you didn’t want us till now.”

“I did, honey. Believe me. But Texas prefers to keep children in their home state, if possible, so they’ll face less disruption. The judge decided Cynthia could provide a good home and keep you in your same schools.”

Left unsaid was the fact that Cynthia, a wealthy widow who owned a major western wear company, kept a team of lawyers on retainer who had made very sure that her wishes were met. Hannah hadn’t stood a chance in family court back then.

But now Cynthia’s determination made more sense. Ethan was Cynthia’s nephew. She’d apparently wanted to keep the children in Dallas, so the transition to his guardianship would be easier.

He’d probably even insisted on it.

Yet, seven months after the car wreck, he’d never showed up—no surprise there—and Cynthia was no longer capable, so now Hannah finally had a chance to give these kids the stable, loving home they deserved.

“We’ve got an hour drive ahead of us. Would you like to bring your food along?” she asked gently, wishing she could reach through the wall of grief surrounding them both.

Cole, only six years old, lifted his teary gaze briefly, shook his head and then slumped lower in his seat. “My m-mommy always h-had turkey an’ everything on Thanksgiving.”

His voice was so soft, so broken, that Hannah’s heart clenched. “I know, sweetheart. But since you traveled today, I thought maybe we could have our big dinner tomorrow. Is that all right?”

The bleak expression in his eyes reaffirmed what she already knew.

This wasn’t about the pumpkin pie or the holiday feast. It was about memories of happier times...and about loss. He just wanted his parents back.

And that could never be.

* * *

The next morning Hannah awoke early and made herself a cup of coffee, eager for the kids to wake up.

How life had changed in the blink of an eye—and how grateful she was for this wonderful blessing—a chance to finally surround her sister’s children with love and healing.

Until two weeks ago she’d devoted herself to her career as a physician’s assistant at the Aspen Creek Clinic and the ongoing renovation of this pretty little cottage on a hill north of Aspen Creek. Her only roomies had been the assorted rescue animals she took in, rehabbed and re-homed.

She’d had so much to arrange in a hurry after Cynthia’s injury—both here and down in Texas—that there’d been no time to create a welcoming home for Molly and Cole. So they’d stayed a couple extra nights with one of Cynthia’s friends while Hannah flew home to get the house ready.

Exhausted after their day of air travel and the sixty-mile drive from the airport, both children had been dazed and silent when she’d driven into her driveway at ten o’clock last night. They’d barely looked at their rooms before tumbling into bed without a whimper.

She’d checked on them several times during the night, but sometime during the early morning hours Cole had quietly dragged his quilt into Molly’s room and went back to sleep wrapped up like a mummy on the floor at the side of her bed.

Hannah’s stomach tightened. The poor little guy. Had he been scared? How had she failed to hear him?

Please, Lord, let this be an easy transition for them. They’ve been through so, so much.

A white-faced golden retriever limped to her side and bumped her hand, eliciting an ear rub. “So what do you think?” she whispered. “Will they be happy here?”

The dog, one of her rescues who had yet to find the perfect forever home, waved her flag of a tail and stared up at Hannah with pure adoration in her cloudy eyes. “I’d like to think you’re telling me yes, Maisie.”

The old dog crept silently into Molly’s room and sniffed at Cole’s makeshift sleeping bag, then gently curled up next to him.

The little boy stirred, mumbling something in his sleep. Cuddling closer to her warmth, he flung an arm over her soft neck.

Hannah felt her eyes burn at the dog’s instinctive compassion. She’d started to tiptoe away when the puffy pink-and-purple comforter stirred on the bed.

Molly sat up and frowned as she surveyed the bedroom, her long, curly brown hair framing her face.

“Good morning, sweetie,” Hannah whispered, stepping just inside the door. “What do you think of your new room?”

The walls were now a pale rose, the woodwork a crisp white. The bookshelves and a bedroom set were ivory with gold trim. Keeley, who owned an antique shop in town, had brought lovely lace curtains as well as a stained-glass lamp in pink, green and blue for the bedside table.

It was a fairy tale of a room that Hannah would have loved for herself as a child, but Molly just shrugged.

“Are you hungry for breakfast?”

Molly shook her head and flopped back down on her pillow, pulling the quilt up to her nose.

“Remember when I came to see you in Texas last time and made chocolate chip pancakes? I can make them this morning, or I have that chocolate cereal that you like.”

“No.” Molly yanked at the quilt to cover her head and turned toward the wall, clearly ending any further conversation.

Hannah tiptoed down the short hall to the kitchen, where a trio of cats sat staring at the refrigerator door, apparently willing it to provide an extra meal.

She stepped over a basset hound snoring in the middle of the floor, nudged the cats aside to grab a gallon of milk and then made her homemade version of a café-au-lait in her favorite mug.

Settling down at the breakfast bar overlooking the living room, she contemplated the stack of twelve, extra-large, newly delivered FedEx boxes sitting just inside the front door.

Each had felt like it had to weigh over fifty pounds when she’d dragged them in from the porch. Each had given her a pang of sorrow.

They represented the remnants of her sister’s life, after Cynthia had summarily sent all the adult clothing to Goodwill and hired an auction house to dispose of the apartment furnishings.

It was heartbreaking to think that everything left of the children’s lives had been distilled into just twelve cartons.

The question now was how she should most tactfully deal with all of this without upsetting them. Would they cry at the finality of seeing those labels and the contents? Things they’d seen in their old home, before a drunken truck driver had plowed into their parents’ car and everything went so terribly wrong?

Hannah pushed away from the breakfast counter and moved over to the boxes to read the labels written in Cynthia’s elegant hand.

Hannah quickly stowed Dee and Rob’s boxes out of sight in her own bedroom closet to consider later. Then she lugged one of the Home Office boxes across the living room and began searching for school and health records, categorizing the contents into neat piles on the sofa.

At a knock on the door she looked up, startled at the silhouette of a tall, broad-shouldered man standing outside the front door. The basset hound gave a single, bored woof and went back to sleep.

She was usually working at the clinic during the day, so none of her friends would think to visit her at this time of the morning. It was probably just another shipment of boxes from Cynthia—who must have paid a fortune for such quick delivery.

She pulled back the lace curtain to look outside before unlocking the dead bolt.

She froze. It was Ethan Williams.

And he’d seen her. There was no way she could step away from the door and pretend she wasn’t home.

From all the way down in Texas—or wherever it was that he’d been—Ethan had somehow found her, deep in this pine forest, five miles out of Aspen Creek on a winding gravel road.

He was the last person she’d ever wanted to see again. The cruelest man she’d ever met. And she knew his arrival spelled just one thing.

Trouble.

* * *

One glance at Hannah’s horrified expression through the multipaned window in the door and Ethan knew his chances of being allowed inside were slim to none.

He deserved that and worse. But he’d traveled a long way. This visit wasn’t about the troubled history between them. It was about the kids and their welfare, and he knew he had to handle this carefully or there’d be a battle every step of the way. It wasn’t one he planned to lose.

After a long moment of hesitation, Hannah closed her eyes briefly, as if saying a silent prayer, then cracked the door open without releasing the safety chain. She focused her gaze somewhere above his left shoulder. “Yes?”

He drew in a jagged breath.

She was even more beautiful than when he’d seen her last—thirteen years ago. Slim, shapely, with honey-gold hair that fell to her shoulders in waves and startling, light blue eyes.

They’d first met at his brother Rob’s wedding rehearsal, and their mutual attraction had been immediate. He hadn’t taken his eyes off her for a second during the rehearsal and wedding, and despite all the years since then, he now felt that same rush of emotion all over again.

From a lifelong habit he nearly offered his right hand—or what was left of it—but caught himself just in time. “It’s been a long time, Hannah. But you haven’t changed a bit.”

“If that’s a compliment, don’t think it will get you anywhere, Ethan. I’ve grown up since you last saw me and I’m not the fool I was when we first met. Understand?”

He nodded, edging the toe of his boot forward and bracing his left hand high on the door frame in case she tried to shut the door in his face. “Totally. Two adults. All business. That’s fair enough.”

“I can’t imagine what business we would have after all these years.” She bit her lower lip then reluctantly unhooked the safety chain. “Come in, but try to be quiet. The kids are still sleeping.” She waved him past two tall stacks of boxes and toward a sofa and upholstered chairs arranged in front of a fieldstone fireplace.

The sofa was covered with stacks of papers, apparently taken from a shipping carton sitting on an ottoman, so he eased into one of the chairs, setting his jaw against the familiar stab of pain in his right knee.

Open suitcases stood just inside the door with children’s clothing cascading out onto the floor, while a heap of winter jackets lay tossed over a chair.

Three cats, positioned like sphinx guardians in front of the refrigerator, glared at him from across the room.

“Nice place you have here,” he said as he surveyed the warm amber walls and abundance of multipaned windows looking out into the timber.

“It’s a mess right now. We got back from the airport pretty late last night.”

“Beautiful country.”

“I’ve got ten fenced acres, with state forest surrounding the house on three sides.” She perched stiffly on the arm of the upholstered chair opposite his, still avoiding his eyes. “This is a perfect place to raise the kids. There’s lots of room to play.”

He ignored her pointed tone. “After coming up your road, I’m glad I chose an SUV instead of a sedan at the airport. You must not get much traffic up here.”

She didn’t return his smile. “There are only a few homes on Spruce Road. I’m at the end of the line, actually. Public access to the government preserve is south of here. But I’m sure you didn’t come all this way to discuss real estate.”

“No.” He’d rehearsed his speech during the flight north. Weighed different approaches. Honed his logic, to best make his points clear and get this done as efficiently as possible.

If only he’d returned to Dallas a few weeks sooner, before Cynthia’s injury, the children’s transition into his care would have gone smoothly. But from the steely glint in Hannah’s eyes, he already knew that wasn’t going to happen.

His conversations with Cynthia and social services in Dallas had made it clear that the situation was now far more complicated.

Maybe the children hadn’t had time to settle in and bond with her, but Hannah had been granted temporary custody and had already brought the children north. He couldn’t legally swoop in and whisk them back to Texas now—even though it was the right thing to do.

Unless he could convince her that it would be best for everyone involved. And why wouldn’t she be relieved? The Hannah he remembered had been flighty, irresponsible. Surely she would understand that if he took the kids, her life would be a lot easier.

She crossed her legs and folded her arms over her chest. “Well?”

“I’m here to see Molly and Cole.”

“Because...?”

“They’re my niece and nephew,” he said easily, “just as they are yours.”

“You’ve missed them a lot, I’m sure.” Her eyes narrowed. “Since you’ve seen them so often.”

The ever-present phantom pain in his right arm began to pulse in deep, stabbing waves in response to his rising tension. “I’ve been overseas in the military. As you probably know.”

“But you never went home to see your family? Not even,” she added in a measured tone, her gaze fixed on his, “when the kids were born? Or your own brother’s funeral? At least, I didn’t see you there.”

“I wasn’t.”

He hadn’t been able to arrange for leave in time to fly back from the Middle East for the christenings. And as for the double funeral this spring...

He flinched as a cascade of images slammed through his brain. Gunfire. Explosions. Screams and blood and wrenching pain. And, finally, blessed darkness. That first long, hard and drug-fogged month at Walter Reed had left him incapable of anything more than simply existing.

“The kids say they’ve never met you.”

“I saw Molly when she was toddler, and I made it back when Cole was starting to walk, but they were probably too young to remember. I plan to make that up to them, though.”

“By finally finding time to visit them way up here?” The veiled note of sarcasm in Hannah’s voice was unmistakable.

“Actually, now that I’m stateside, I want to take them back to Texas, where they belong.”

“No.” Her eyes flashed fire and she shook her head decisively. “I don’t think so.”

She’d definitely changed.

When he’d spent those three weeks with Hannah years ago, she’d been a fun, lighthearted nineteen-year-old with a sense of adventure and daring that matched his own.

Impulsive and giddy, she’d dared him to go cliff diving at the reservoir and had matched him shot for shot at a gun range. She’d invited him on five-mile runs in the moonlight, after the oppressive heat of those Texas summer days had faded.

She’d also been impetuous and immature, he’d realized in retrospect, though at the time he’d been sure she was his soul mate—if there was such a thing. He hadn’t wanted to miss a minute of her company during the brief time he’d been stateside.

But now, instead of a sparkling sense of fun in her eyes, he saw only keen intelligence, absolute determination and a heartfelt wish that he would simply disappear.

After what he’d done to her, he expected nothing more.

But that didn’t mean he was going to give in. No matter how difficult it was going to be, he owed it to Rob to make sure his kids were raised right, and were raised where they belonged.

“You do know that your custody is just temporary.”

“That doesn’t mean it will end. I spent considerable time with the children’s caseworker, my Texas lawyer and in court. Even in a situation like this, involving out-of-state custody, the children’s welfare and happiness are still paramount. So we’ll have home visits and interviews by a caseworker after thirty days to evaluate how the kids are doing. Then again at three and six months—at which time I will petition for permanent custody and ultimately adopt them, if Molly and Cole agree.”

He ground his teeth. Perhaps the nineteen-year-old he’d dated had grown up—but she was not the right person to take on this responsibility. “Clearly, there are lots of uncertainties. Is it fair to get them settled clear up here, when they’ll need to move again?”

“That won’t be the case.”

He cleared his throat. “We need to straighten out this situation, the sooner the better. I honestly think they’d be better off coming back to Texas with me. You’d be free of responsibility, and they could be back in a familiar school, with their friends. Close to relatives and—”

Her smile vanished. “Close to what other relatives? Cynthia? Who didn’t want to deal with them? And their uncle Ethan? Who travels the world? Who else is there to give them consistent day-to-day time and attention? Your dad is in a residential facility. Your mom and grandfather are gone. Would you need to hire a nanny for the months you’re away?”

“What can you offer them?”

“A stable home. A loving home in the country with lots of animals and a huge fenced yard. I have lots of close friends with children they can play with. A warm church family. This is a friendly small town, where people know each other well and watch out for each other. Good schools. And,” she added, meeting his eyes squarely, “I work at the Aspen Creek Clinic, so they’ll have the best of medical care. I can guarantee it.”

“It seems you’ve given this some thought.”

“Since the day of the accident—not just when you showed up at my door. The kids don’t even know you, Ethan. I heard Cole asking who you were and wondering why you’d never visited—at least that he could remember. Anyway, I’m their godmother—which ought to tell you something about their parents’ wishes.”

He snorted at that. “And I’m their godfather, so I guess we’re even.”

Her mouth dropped open. “I don’t believe it. No one ever mentioned a thing about that. You certainly weren’t at the christenings.”

“I was stationed out of the country and couldn’t make it back in time. I guess I was never able to make it back for anything important,” he admitted with a twinge of regret. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t make up for lost time. And I plan to, even if it means that we need to take this back to court.”

Hannah flung a hand in the air to silence him and glanced over her shoulder.

A little boy in Batman pajamas suddenly appeared in the arched doorway that probably led to the bedrooms, his hand on a white-faced golden retriever. He blinked at the sunlight streaming in through the wall of windows facing the driveway and forest beyond.

Hannah immediately went to him, kneeled and gave him a hug. “Good morning, sweetie. Did you have a good night’s sleep?”

He rubbed his eyes and gave Ethan a brief, blank look, then regarded her with an achingly solemn expression. “Do we have to go back on the plane now?”

“No, of course not.” She rested a gentle hand on his cheek. “Do you remember what your great-aunt Cynthia said before you left Texas?”

“She said we had to come here.” His lower lip trembled and his eyes welled with tears. “But Mommy and Daddy are there, and our toys, and everything. And I gotta go back.”


Chapter Two (#uf348bec7-23e0-5c3e-8dd1-0b36010d3b55)

Her heart breaking at Cole’s grief and confusion, Hannah briefly closed her eyes. Lord, please help me say the right things and help him understand. He’s so very young for all of this to happen.

“Your mommy and daddy will love you forever and ever, and would want to be with you more than anything,” she said softly. “But they’re in heaven now, sweetheart. When you grow very old and go to heaven, you’ll be with them again, I promise.”

She rested her hands gently on his shoulders and nodded toward Ethan. “But you have relatives on earth who love you very much, like your uncle Ethan and me. We want to make sure you are safe, and happy. And that you’ll get to do all the fun things boys like to do.”

She bit her lower lip, wanting to tell him that she would be the one to keep him safe and happy forever. But with Ethan lurking in a chair across the room, she couldn’t risk adding more hurt to the little boy’s life.

Would she even stand a chance against Ethan and his aunt if they challenged her custody in court? Could she afford enough legal representation to stop them?

“Your toys are in those boxes by the front door, and I see you made friends with Maisie,” she continued with a smile. “Did I tell you that there are lots of other friends here for you to meet?”

He met her eyes then dropped his gaze to the floor.

“Bootsie, the basset hound, is sleeping over there on the kitchen floor and the kitties by the fridge are Eenie, Meanie—the most playful one—and Moe. And outside I have some really fun surprises to show you once you get dressed and have some breakfast.” She tipped her head toward the suitcases. “Do you want to pick out some clothes for today or should I?”

He lifted a shoulder in a faint shrug, so she dug through his suitcase and found jeans and a bright red sweatshirt. “Can you get dressed all by yourself?”

At that, his lower lip stuck out. “I’m six. Anybody in first grade can do that.”

She chuckled. “Of course they can. So here you go, buddy. You can change in your room, okay? And I’ll go check on your sister. Maybe she’s ready to wake up, too.”

After he dressed and she’d settled him at the counter with a bowl of cereal and a glass of juice, Hannah knocked lightly on Molly’s door and stepped just inside when she heard no answer.

The eleven-year-old was dressed—in her clothes from yesterday—and huddled in the corner by the bed, her arms wrapped around her knees.

Hannah dropped to the floor next to her. “Tough morning, with all of these changes,” she said softly. “I’m so sorry.”

“I want to go home.” Molly bit her lower lip. “But I don’t know where that is anymore.”

“You must feel like a leaf blowing in the wind. From Texas to Oklahoma for a year, then back to Texas last April. Right?”

“’Cause Dad kept losing his jobs,” Molly said bitterly. “But he said things would be better if we went back to Texas. He promised.”

Glancing through the open bedroom door, Hannah saw Ethan shift in his chair and frown at Molly’s words. Had he known that little detail about his shiftless brother? About all the promises, all of the failures?

Probably not. At Cole’s christening, her sister Dee had mentioned that Ethan rarely came back to Texas when on leave, and Rob had been adept at covering his failures with bluster and bravado.

With so little contact with his family, Ethan somehow imagined he should be the one to raise these kids? If he was like his brother, it would mean just one more chapter marked with disappointment in Molly’s and Cole’s lives.

“If you ever miss being with your great-aunt Cynthia, you can call her anytime. Or even visit her when she feels better.”

“I don’t miss her. Just home.” Molly swallowed hard. “But now everything there is gone and there’s no way we can go back. It would never be the same.” Molly glared at Hannah. “You won’t ever be our mom. I’ll never call you that.”

“Of course not. When you were little, you called me Auntie Hannah.” Hannah rested a comforting hand on Molly’s, but the child jerked her hand away. “You can call me Aunt Hannah or just Hannah. Does that sound okay?”

Molly gave a faint, dismissive shrug.

“Sweetheart, I loved my sister very much, and I don’t want to take her place. I just want you to be happy again someday.”

“Then I need to be with my old friends at school. Not here.” Molly dropped her forehead to her upraised knees.

With all the times her family had moved in the past three years, Hannah knew the poor girl had barely had the time to make new friends before changing schools and starting over. Though she wasn’t ready to hear it, Aspen Creek would be her first chance to actually put down roots.

“Speaking of friends, I have some for you to meet—right here.”

Molly shuddered. “I’m not staying and I don’t want to meet anyone.”

Hannah rose. “I think you’ll feel differently in a moment. After breakfast, we’ll have some introductions. Okay?”

“I don’t like breakfast.”

Hannah had known there’d be plenty of problems ahead, and that choosing her battles would be the key to making this work. Today’s breakfast just wasn’t one of them.

* * *

Cole finished his cereal, then swiveled in circles on his bar stool several times before pulling to a stop and pinning his gaze on Ethan. “You’re my uncle?”

Ethan nodded.

Cole’s eyes narrowed. “I never met you.”

“That’s because I’m usually very far away.” Ethan cleared his throat. Did he explain that he was Rob’s brother or would mentioning the kid’s dad make him cry?

He’d always been uneasy around children, never having a clue what to say. If he upset the boy, would it make everything even more difficult in the future?

He definitely didn’t want to mess this up on the first day.

He summoned a smile. “You did meet me, Cole...but you were just a little guy then.”

From Cole’s stubborn expression, he wasn’t buying it. “If you’re my uncle, how come you didn’t come see us all the time like Hannah? She came lots of times on a plane, and even brought us presents. Every time.”

“Well, I couldn’t come to see you often because I’m a soldier. So I’ve been gone a lot, way on the other side of the world.”

“Shooting guns and stuff like on TV?” The boy’s eyes widened with worry and a touch of fear. “Do you kill people for real?”

“Uh...” He searched for the right thing to say to the boy, who slid off his stool and backed up beside Hannah, and figured a vague answer was best. “Soldiers do a lot of things—not just fight.”

Cole considered that for a moment, his expression still wary. “So I could take you to show-and-tell, with your guns and everything?”

Ethan shuddered at that. “That would not be a good idea, buddy. Guns aren’t safe—especially at school.”

He looked up and found Hannah glaring at him, her arms folded over her chest and her eyes as cold as steel.

“You can thank your aunt Cynthia for how he feels about you. Apparently she told Molly and Cole that you were a tough guy. One who would really straighten them out. If you ever showed up, anyway.”

“Why on earth would she—” He heaved a sigh, suddenly knowing all too well.

Even when he and Rob were kids, she’d been a stickler about her designer clothes, her elegant lifestyle. She’d always watched them like a hawk during their rare visits to her pristine home. Having Rob’s two kids underfoot all those months had probably been unbelievably stressful for a woman who had always prized perfection over warm family emotions.

Ethan cleared his throat, searching for a different topic. “So, do you, um, like to ride bikes?”

“Don’t got one.” The child’s face fell, his eyes filled with stark grief. “Mom said she’d get me a bike after we moved. But she died.”

“I—I’m...” The boy’s words felt like a fist to Ethan’s gut and he floundered to a halt. “I’m so sorry about that.”

Knowing Rob, there probably hadn’t been any extra money for a new bike anyway, even though Ethan had loaned him a lot of money over the years.

His brother had always had just one more emergency, one more bout of overdue bills, and promises that it wouldn’t happen again. And, always, a case of amnesia when it came to paying any of it back.

“I’m not batting a thousand here, am I?” Ethan muttered, looking up at Hannah.

“Nope.” Her eyes narrowed on him. “And just in case you haven’t noticed, never think this situation is easy.”

Cole looked between them, clearly confused by their exchange.

“Time for a new topic,” Hannah muttered as she put Cole’s bowl and cup in the sink. She smiled down at him. “We have our first snowstorm of the year predicted on Sunday, so right now I think we should be shopping for sleds. But come spring I’ll make sure you and your sister have new bikes. Now—are you ready for a surprise?”

His eyes round and serious, Cole nodded.

Molly appeared in the kitchen, her expression dour, and Ethan felt his heart clench at seeing her long, curly brown hair and big green eyes. Cole was fair and blond like his mom, but Molly was nearly identical to her dad at that same age—even down to her stubborn chin, the sprinkle of freckles over her nose and slender frame.

“Stay where you are, so you don’t get trampled. I’ll be right back.” Hannah went through a door leading into the attached garage, leaving it open behind her.

A moment later a river of puppies exploded into the kitchen. Black ones. White ones. Gold. Spotted and speckled. They tumbled across the floor with squeals of excitement and chased each other throughout the kitchen and living room. The basset snored on.

Giggling, Cole dropped to the floor, quickly overcome with puppies trying to crawl over his legs. But though a glimmer of a smile briefly touched her lips, Molly held on to her aloof expression and backed away.

Ethan winced as a white pup with a black spot over one eye careened against his bad right ankle then landed in a heap on his other foot.

Forgetting his usual caution, he reached down and scooped it up, cradling its fat bottom in his good hand to look into its pudgy face. “Who are you, little guy?”

“I haven’t named any of them yet,” Hannah said. “That might be a good job for Molly and Cole.”

She glanced at Ethan’s weak ankle, where his brace probably showed beneath the hem of his jeans, and cocked her head, obviously curious but too polite to ask. But when she lifted her gaze, her attention caught on his prosthetic hand and her mouth dropped open. She quickly looked away. “I...I didn’t realize. I’m so sorry, Ethan. Are, um, you all right now?”

Unwanted attention.

Shallow sympathy.

Platitudes.

He gritted his teeth. After leaving the hospital he’d encountered those reactions at every turn and he wanted none of it.

He knew he was fortunate to still have both legs. Fortunate to finally be walking unaided and to have a state-of-the-art prosthesis that once again made him a functional human being.

But he still struggled with a surge of instant resentment whenever he saw pity in someone’s eyes. So many soldiers had to deal with far worse and deserved sympathy far more than he did. And all too many—some of the best friends he’d ever had—never had a chance to come home.

He shrugged off her sentiment and surveyed the puppy pandemonium. “This is like trying to count minnows in a bucket. How many of them are there?”

“An even dozen.” She hitched her chin toward the garage. “The mom was a stray and she was brought here just before she whelped.”

“Quite a bonanza.”

Hannah picked up two of the black-and-white-spotted pups and snuggled them against her neck. “Not a record litter, but more than enough. She’ll be spayed before I try to find her a good home.”

Molly looked up at Hannah. “They all live here?”

“Not in the house. The mom and pups have a fenced cage, heat lamp and warm bed in the garage, with a doggie door out to the fenced backyard. I bring the little guys inside for socialization several times a day and give their poor mom a break.” Hannah grinned at her. “Now that you’re here, you can help me play with them. I have more friends to show you, but that can wait until I do chores.”

Now Molly had a half dozen of them crawling over her feet and when she crouched, they tried to lick her face. “You have even more puppies?”

“No...not right now. But there are some other rescues in the barn.”

The joy of the romping puppies was too infectious not to elicit a smile and Ethan found himself chuckling at their antics. “Isn’t there a humane shelter in town?”

“On the other side of the county, but not anywhere close to Aspen Creek. So there are several of us who try to help. We have fund-raisers every year to help with food, spaying, neutering and vaccinations.”

Two of the pups started chasing each other around the living room, skidding on the hardwood floors and braided rugs. One of them scrambled onto the sofa and scattered the stacks of paper like falling leaves in a stiff wind.

Molly’s smile faded as she focused on the big cardboard box by the sofa. “‘Rob and Dee’s home office and health records,’” she read aloud. She turned to give Hannah an accusing look. “You’re snooping through my mom and dad’s stuff?”

Hannah paled at her harsh tone. “I wasn’t snooping, honey. Cynthia collected all of their important papers and sent them to me. They came this morning. We’ll need your health records and other documents for when we get you set up with a doctor, dentist and the school.”

Molly’s mouth hardened. “Well, if you think you’re gonna find money or something, good luck with that, because we didn’t have any. Sometimes Mom didn’t have enough money for the grocery store. Not even at Christmas, and that made her cry.”

Ethan tensed, remembering all the times his brother had asked him for loans. Had things been even worse for them than Rob could admit? “I’m so sorry. If I’d known...”

Hannah glanced up at him with a frown, then gave the children a faint smile. “You know what? I think these pups would love to run and play with you two in the backyard. Want to grab your jackets? Then after you’re done playing, I want you to meet Penelope.”

She had the kids bundled up and the whole lot of them—exuberant puppies and kids—outside in minutes. He’d watched every move and still didn’t know quite how she’d done it with puppies running everywhere and Cole too excited to stand still.

Cole ran around the yard with the pups, though Molly perched on a picnic table and chewed her fingernails, doing her best to look bored.

Despite the awkward history between them and his determination to take the kids back to Texas, Ethan couldn’t help feeling a newfound appreciation for Hannah as they stood on the back deck to watch the melee. “You’re good with them.”

“Never had any of my own, of course, but one learns.” She shrugged. “Corralling kids when armed with vaccination syringes does take some practice.”

“You mentioned the clinic earlier. Are you a nurse?”

“I’m a PA—physician’s assistant.”

He blinked, surprised. “Where did you go to school?”

“I’ve got a Masters from UW-Lacrosse. My clinical phase was at Mayo.”

He whistled softly. “When we first met, you had a part-time job at a burger place and didn’t have a clue about your future.”

“I always planned on college,” she said simply, keeping a close eye on Cole. “I just needed to save money first.”

“You never married?” The question escaped before he thought it through and he’d have done anything to snatch it back.

A long, awkward silence stretched between them.

“No,” she said finally, angling a glance at him that could have sliced through steel. “Though I understand you did—your brother was more than happy to let me know that you’d gone on to far better things. Rapidly, in fact.”

He felt heat crawl up his neck. After the hard life he’d led and the things he’d done for his country, he wouldn’t have imagined that he was capable of such a reaction, yet here it was—heart-stopping regret, awash with embarrassment over what a fool he’d been. But he’d paid for it, in spades.

Janet had been one of the biggest mistakes of his life.

“I regret a lot of things in my life. That’s one of them.”

“I never asked Dee or Rob about you over the years. The subject was strictly off limits, and they knew it,” she said. “But since no one is here with you, I assume the marriage didn’t last.”

“Never guess that every twenty-one-year-old guy is actually mature.” He gave a humorless laugh. “I was lonely and impetuous. Janet worked on the base and was on the rebound. Let’s just say it was not a match made in heaven. The ink was barely dry on the certificate when Janet’s ex turned up and she left me.”

Her gaze fixed on forest beyond the backyard, Hannah didn’t answer for a long moment. “And that’s what I was, too. Just a brief fling.”

“No.” His heart wrenched at what she believed and what had been the truth. He’d dreamed of her for years afterward, regretting what he’d done. “You were the one who stole my heart and never gave it back.”

She raised an incredulous eyebrow and snorted. “That’s not how I remember things, but it’s all in the past and I’m pretty sure we both dodged the proverbial bullet. All for the best.”

Hannah descended the deck stairs. “Hey, kids, can you help round up these guys? C’mon, puppies—dinnertime!”

Some of the little critters followed, others went the opposite way. One black-and-white pup industriously tugged at Cole’s shoelace, trying to wrestle it free. But in a few minutes they all disappeared into the garage with Cole and Hannah, where metal food dishes rattled and Cole’s laughter rose above the din.

After Hannah retrieved the mixed-breed mom from a separate outside enclosure and took her to her brood, she stepped outside and started for a weathered-wood shed at the far end of the yard.

It looked like a classic, hip-roofed barn the size of a double garage, with a walk door on the side and two big, sliding barn doors at one end. A wood-fenced corral enclosed a small pasture behind it and to one side there was some sort of pen surrounded with a high chain-link fence.

“I don’t suppose anyone wants to see what I’ve got in here?” she called over her shoulder.

Cole followed at her heels as Hannah disappeared into the shed, while Molly just hunched over her folded arms on the picnic table and made no move to follow.

Ethan strolled over to her and sat at the opposite end of the table. “So...what do you think about all of this?” he ventured after a few minutes of silence.

She lifted her gaze to the surrounding forest and scowled. “It’s not Texas. And it’s cold.”

“True.”

A thin whinny echoed from inside the barn. One of the sliding doors opened and Hannah emerged leading a woolly Shetland pony with Cole on top. She led the little buckskin in a slow circle then toward the picnic table.

Cole beamed. “This is Penelope. She’s really old.”

“She’s a rescue, as well. It’s probably time to hop off, but she should gain some weight in a few months and feel stronger, and after that maybe you can ride her a bit longer.” Hannah reached up and helped Cole dismount before pulling a small brush from her jacket pocket. “In the meantime, you can lead her if you want and bring her carrots. She also needs to be brushed every day. Anyone here interested in doing that?”

Cole nodded, accepting the brush. He began brushing Penelope’s neck. “She’s pretty.”

“I heard you talking to Cole in the house,” Molly said to Ethan after watching her brother for a while. “And I don’t get it, either.”

“What’s that?”

“How you could be our uncle—our only uncle, but we never met you. Not ever.” Her mouth flattened. “Maybe we shouldn’t believe you.”

He considered that. “But it’s true. Your dad and I were brothers. He was three years older than me. Let’s see... He had a great sense of humor, he could charm his way out of trouble and he was great at every sport he tried. He had a long scar on his left inner arm from when we were playing in your great-grandfather’s workshop. Did he ever tell you how it happened?”

Her lower lip trembled. “He said his brother snapped a piece of wire at him.”

Typical Rob. “No. He stretched out a coiled length of wire, planning to snap it at me. But he lost his grip on one end and it zinged back. He actually had to have eight stitches.”

Her brows drew together. “He had a collie. What was its name?”

“Radar.” Ethan smiled. “I’m glad to see you’re such a smart girl. It’s good to be cautious with someone you don’t know.”

She turned to give him a long look. “You don’t look like my dad. And—” The moment her gaze dropped to his right hand, her eyes filled with horror and she recoiled. “What is that?”

Cole stopped brushing the pony and craned his neck for a better view. His mouth dropped open. “Wow.”

Ethan had just gotten out of Ward 57—Amputee Alley—at Walter Reed a week ago, a place where the loss of his hand and damaged leg were minor compared to so many who had lost a great deal more. Compared to the three men in his platoon who had paid the ultimate price the day of the explosion.

But seeing the kids gawk at his missing hand reminded him that he would always be different in this civilian world. And to them, he might even seem scary.

“I was in Iraq. An insurgent lobbed a grenade into the back of our transport vehicle. I lost my hand.” He flexed the fingers, demonstrating the dexterity of his prosthesis. “This gives me back some of that function.”

Cole’s eyes rounded. “So now you’re like a bionic robot guy—with superpowers?”

“Somebody has seen way too many movies,” he said with what he hoped was an easy smile. “But it would be tough having just one hand and my prosthesis does help a lot.”

“It...it looks like real skin on it,” Molly whispered.

Ethan nodded. “Supposed to. But that’s just a skin-colored cosmetic cover, so it doesn’t draw attention. I don’t always wear it.”

Molly surveyed him from head to toe, her eyes filled with blatant curiosity.

“No other mechanical parts,” he said, guessing at her unspoken question. “Though several bones in my right leg were shattered. I still wear a brace.”

“Forever?”

He shrugged. “I hope not.”

“I’m so sorry about all you’ve been through, Ethan,” Hannah murmured. “When did it happen?”

He glanced at Molly and Cole, once again unsure of what to say in front of them. “Last spring. A couple weeks...before.”

Hannah winced and closed her eyes briefly. “And that’s why you couldn’t come back for the funeral. I’m sorry about what I said to you earlier. I had no idea that you were injured. Cynthia should have said something to me at the funeral...or later.”

“She didn’t know yet. She and I were rarely in touch over the years.”

Cole turned back to brushing the pony.

Molly seemed to have lost interest in the conversation, as well. She wandered along the fenced perimeter of the backyard and peered into a chain link at one end of the barn, jumping back when an explosion of black-and-white feathers flew into the air.

“That’s Mabel,” Hannah called out. “She’s gets herself in a kerfuffle at the least thing, but Ruth and Louise are a little less silly. They’re probably taking a nice sensible nap inside the barn, where it’s warm.”

Molly looked over her shoulder. “You rescue chickens?”

“A lady near town had them. When she passed away, her family brought them here. They actually do lay eggs once in a while, but not so much now that it’s winter.”

“Chickens. Back in Texas, I expect they would have been dinner by now,” Ethan mused.

A glint of humor sparked in her eyes. “Maybe so, but I could never eat something that has a name—or such individual personalities as those hens do.”

Her gaze dropped to his jeans and he realized he’d been idly massaging the deep hollow along his outer right thigh, where the explosion had ripped away most of the muscle. “Does your leg still ache a lot?”

He shrugged. “Not really.”

“Right. And poor old Mabel has an IQ of two hundred.”

He snorted.

“Still, I haven’t noticed you limp at all.”

“Only if I’m tired, or walk too far. Or,” he added with a short, humorless laugh, “if I step on it wrong. Which means a return to active duty isn’t yet on the horizon.”

She lowered her voice. “I can only imagine how many surgeries you’ve been through and the months of rehab.”

“I have no memory of the explosion, and very little of the month afterward. And later—with the ongoing surgeries and the intensive rehab—I wasn’t able to focus on much else. I didn’t look at email or snail mail for months.”

She rested a gentle hand on his arm. “And no wonder. I’m so—”

“I don’t want sympathy,” he retorted, his voice too harsh. “I never should have—”

He stopped himself in time and looked away. Until this moment, he’d never talked about the explosion or its aftermath. Not even through his wasted months in support groups or the attempts of a private counselor. Regrets were a waste of time, because he deserved what had happened to him.

Nothing would ever change the truth of what occurred that day. And nothing could ever erase his guilt.


Chapter Three (#uf348bec7-23e0-5c3e-8dd1-0b36010d3b55)

At the sound of a car pulling to a stop outside, Hannah glanced at her watch and gave the table a final, critical glance.

Four settings of her grandmother’s china were placed on the cranberry tablecloth, flanked with her own silverware, folded linen napkins and her mother’s sparkly water goblets.

Warm, flaky biscuits were already nestled in a napkin-lined basket and, from the sound of approaching footsteps outside, the rest of the dinner had arrived.

She hurried to the front door and ushered in Keeley and Sophie, some of her best friends in town. The aroma of roasted turkey, buttery sage dressing and sweet potatoes flooded her senses.

She closed her eyes and inhaled. “This is incredible. I can’t believe you did all of this for us!”

Keeley and Sophie set the food on the counter. “We have at least one more trip in,” Sophie said with a cheerful smile as she turned for the front door. “Then we’ll leave you in peace.”

Ethan, seated in one of the upholstered chairs by the fireplace, stood and turned to face them with an easy grin.

Keeley blinked and darted a quick, questioning glance at Hannah, her eyebrows raised. Sophie stumbled to a halt and simply stared.

Disconcerted, Hannah cleared her throat. “Uh, Ethan Williams, I’d like you to meet my dear friends, Keeley North and Sophie McLaren. They knew things were going to be a little crazy here and volunteered to bring Thanksgiving dinner. And, um, Keeley and Sophie, Ethan is—or was—my sister’s brother-in-law. He came to see his niece and nephew.”

Sophie looked as if she were on the verge of melting into a puddle of awe and admiration over the unexpected visitor.

Keeley recovered more quickly. “Nice to meet you, Ethan.”

When he made no move to step closer and offer a handshake, she slid another glance at Hannah then gave him a welcoming smile. “Did you travel far?”

“I flew in from Dallas—this morning.”

“Well, I’m sure the children were happy to see you,” Keeley murmured. “As you’ll see, we brought way, way too much food, and I hope you’ll all enjoy it.”

Sophie finally found her voice. “I’ve been dying to meet the kids. Where are they?”

Hannah tipped her head toward the bedrooms. “Just hold on a minute.”

“We’ll go ahead and finish bringing in the food.”

Ethan followed the two women outside to help, and soon containers of mashed potatoes and gravy, green bean casserole and three pies filled the counter.

Molly edged to the threshold of her room and glanced at the newcomers, then bowed her head, but Hannah had to go into Cole’s bedroom to convince him to come out.

Keeley beamed at them both. “I am so happy to meet you two. Molly and Cole, right? I hope we’ll get to see a lot of you around town.”

“I hope so, too,” Sophie echoed. “My son Eli is in fourth grade, and I know he’ll be very excited about meeting you both.”

“Tell Hannah to bring you by my shop anytime,” Keeley added. “I always have fresh homemade cookies for special visitors.”

Hannah glanced between them. “Can you join us for dinner? It would only take a moment to add some place settings.”

“Wish I could,” Sophie said with a wistful smile. “We have a lot of catching up to do. But Josh is on call at the ER today, so I need to be home with Eli.”

“And I need to get back to my store. The day after Thanksgiving is usually really busy. But I hope you’ll all enjoy the meal.”

Hannah walked them out to Keeley’s SUV. “This was so kind of you—going to all this work. I can’t thank you enough. I know the kids missed having their Thanksgiving dinner yesterday.”

“Poor kids,” Sophie said in a somber tone. “I can’t imagine how tough this year has been for them. And what’s with the uncle? The kids were down in Texas and got on their plane just yesterday, yet he’s already made a trip from Dallas up here? What’s really going on?”

Hannah darted a look back at the house. “It’s...a long story, but basically he says he wants custody.”

Keeley gasped. “Isn’t it a little late?”

“And what about the kids—uprooted then being hauled right back?” Sophie chimed in. “That’s just not right.”

“I agree. Totally. And I plan to fight him every step of the way, if it comes to that. But he is their uncle, so I can hardly shove him out the door...at least not yet.”

Sophie’s eyes widened. “You’re going to let him stay here?”

“We haven’t discussed how long he’ll be in Wisconsin or where he’ll stay. I hope he’ll be leaving in a day or so. But, no, I don’t think it’s appropriate for him to stay here. I don’t have an empty guest room now, anyway.”

Keeley gently gripped Hannah’s forearm. “You’d better get back inside before the food goes cold. But call me—day or night—if you need help or just need to talk. Okay?”

“And me, too,” Sophie whispered. “This place is so isolated, now I’ll wonder if you’re even safe here.”

Hannah smiled at them both. “I taught personal safety classes at the community college for four years, remember? And I have 9-1-1 on speed dial. We’ll be fine.”

But as she watched them drive away, Ethan’s words slipped into her thoughts.

He’d mentioned an explosion.

She shivered, imagining all he’d gone through. The pain. The loss of a limb and thus the loss of his life as he’d known it. The surgeries and long, painful therapy. Probably even PTSD.

Given his proximity to that explosion and the extent of his physical damage, had he also suffered a TBI—traumatic brain injury? Unfortunately it was all too likely.

A soldier could fully recover from a TBI...or face disabling symptoms for a lifetime.

During the clinical phase of her physician’s assistant program she’d seen one such problem firsthand when a vet with severe mood swings sent an orderly to the floor at her feet, out cold.

Ethan had the right to his privacy, but she needed to keep two young children safe. So she would keep on her guard. Watch him carefully. And she would talk to him privately when the moment seemed right.

But in the meantime, she would also keep her cell close at hand.

* * *

Ethan watched the kids as they sat at the table pushing bits of turkey around their plates, their eyes downcast. Neither had eaten enough to keep a sparrow alive.

Were they remembering Thanksgiving dinners from years past, when their family was still complete? How could that grief and loss ever be repaired?

“This is the best meal I’ve had in a dozen years,” he said reverently into the strained silence as he forked up another bite of mashed potatoes and rich gravy. “Everything is delicious.”

Molly looked up from sculpting a mountain range with her potatoes and frowned at him. “A dozen years. Really?”

He nodded. “I’ve been stationed in various places overseas all that time and almost never made it back for a Thanksgiving dinner in the States. Your aunt Hannah has some mighty nice friends to go to all this effort for you.”

Tears started down Cole’s face. Hannah moved to his side and wrapped him in a gentle embrace. “I know coming here is a big change, after all those months at Aunt Cynthia’s. And I know how tough it is, honey.”

Had Ethan’s words about home-cooked meals reminded him of his mom? Cole’s thin shoulders shook and his tears flowed faster. “I...I just want my m-mom back,” he whispered brokenly. “A-and my dad.”

“I know you do, sweetheart. I miss your mom a lot, too. And I know that right now you both feel hopeless and overwhelmed.” Hannah gently rubbed his back. “You’ll never forget your parents and you’ll never stop loving them. But in time, I promise it will become easier.”

Molly fixed her gaze on her brother, her lower lip trembling. She abruptly pushed away from the table and fled to her room, slamming the door behind her.

Ethan had led men into battle. He’d faced off against the enemy too many times to count. But now he stared after the girl with a searing sense of helplessness. “Should I go after her?” he asked finally.

“Not just yet. Give her some time.”

Cole pulled away from Hannah’s embrace and slouched lower in his chair, draping an arm over Maisie. The old dog hadn’t moved from his side since they’d all sat for dinner and now she sidled even closer to rest her head on his lap. “Can I go to my room?”

“Would you like some pie first?” Hannah ruffled his hair. “Sophie brought pumpkin, cherry and a French silk—that’s like a creamy chocolate pudding. Or, I have chocolate chip ice cream.”

“No thanks.”

Ethan watched the boy trudge away, the retriever at his side, then stood to help Hannah clear the plates and serving dishes. “I wish there was something I could do, right now, to make them happy.”

“What it will take is prayer and love, and lots of time. But time is elusive, because it’s all so relative. Now they’re going through this year of firsts—the grief of birthdays and holidays without their mom and dad.” Hannah began emptying the leftovers into plastic containers and loading the serving dishes and glassware into the dishwasher. “They will adjust, but every big life event will bring it all back. Confirmation. Graduation. Weddings. It just goes on, because they’ll wish they still had their parents to share those times. But you know all that—Rob said you two lost your mom early, right?”

“She walked out on us when we were in grade school and we only saw her once after that. She moved to Maine, remarried, then died at thirty-five. Jay-walking, of all things.”

“But your grandpa raised you, correct? Rob used to say he was quite a pistol—and the grumpiest person he’d ever met.” She looked over her shoulder while stowing the leftovers in the refrigerator. “It must not have been easy for you boys.”

“One way to put it, I guess.”

After living with a single father who’d had a short temper, little interest in parenthood and a career involving a lot of travel, the parade of live-in babysitters had finally ended when Dad ditched Rob and Ethan at their grandfather’s house. Ethan could still hear Dad yelling that he couldn’t cope with them any longer and he wasn’t going to try.

“I’m so sorry,” Hannah murmured as she began filling the sink with hot, sudsy water.

He shrugged. “My parents never should have married each other, and having two kids couldn’t cement bonds that didn’t exist. But I guess these things happen.” He eyed the flatware and the stack of plates. “Can those go in the dishwasher?”

“Not the good china or silverware.”

“Do you want me to wash or dry?”

She glanced at the oversize clock above the sink. “Thanks, but it’ll take just a minute to wash these few things and I’ll let it all air-dry. Anyway, it’s already getting dark. Are you heading into town for the night? Or the airport?”

“Town.”

She washed and rinsed a plate and gently rested it in the drying rack, then took a deep breath and turned to face him. “And then what? Do you have any plans?”

When he’d talked to one of his aunt’s attorneys in Dallas and insisted that he wanted to pursue custody, she’d confirmed what Hannah had told him earlier today. There would be monthly visits by a caseworker to see how well the children were adapting to Hannah and their new home before permanent custody would be granted—probably after ninety days if all the reports were good.

She’d also warned him that he could petition for custody, but if the children were well settled and content in their new home, it was unlikely that the court would agree to any further disruption of their lives.

But it was the attorney’s additional words that kept playing through Ethan’s thoughts.

The situation would be evaluated—especially regarding how well the children were bonding—and with whom. Which led him to believe that he still had a chance.

He was a stranger to them, so that was now a moot point. But the attorney had suggested he spend as much time as possible with the children—without upsetting them or challenging Hannah in any way—prior to the first thirty-day custody evaluation.

If he wanted any chance at all, the children needed to be comfortable with him, and want to join him in Texas.

Hannah looked at him expectantly, clearly waiting for an answer.

“I’m staying in town, at least until Christmas.”

Her jaw dropped. “In Aspen Creek? Don’t you have a home in Dallas...or somewhere?”

“Just a condo—but it’s always been more of a storage unit than a place to live.” He shrugged. “Right now I’m on medical leave, so there’s no place I need to be. A month or so here would be as good as any place else.”

“To do what? Have...a...a vacation?”

“Of sorts.”

Her face pale, she fidgeted with the dishcloth, wiping at the already spotless kitchen counter. “You have a place to stay?”

“Reservations at a B and B on this side of town that also has some year-round cabins. I haven’t checked in yet, but the off-season rate was better than any of the other places I found online.”

“Y-you arranged all of this before even flying north?” She worried her bottom lip with her teeth. “What else have you planned?”

“I want to spend time with my niece and nephew.”

“Now—when they’ve barely arrived here? Is that fair to them?”

“It’s time I got to know them—something I failed to do before. As their uncle, I understand I have that right, but I won’t interfere.”

“But they’ll be in school starting this Monday, up through December twenty-third.” Her voice took on a desperate note. “They’ll be in school all day. They’ll have homework and will be spending time with kids they’re going to meet at church and school...”

“Understood, but surely I can see them now and then. Isn’t it good for them to know more about what little family they have left? I promise I won’t be in the way.”

“Not much,” she muttered under her breath. “Why not come later, when they’ve had a chance to get settled? Maybe Easter.”

“Rob and I had a childhood filled with acrimony and irresponsible adults who didn’t much care about us. That isn’t going to happen to Molly and Cole.”

“There will be no such acrimony and lack of responsibility here, I assure you. I love these kids.”

Love? Maybe. But he knew all too well how flighty and irresponsible she could be, and he wasn’t going to take any chances. “I need to make sure my brother’s children have a much better life than he and I did. I owe him this much.”

She sagged against the counter and he could see the realization dawning in her eyes. “Which means you are serious about wanting custody. This trip is all about you trying to win them over before permanent custody is finalized.”

“I want what’s best for them, Hannah. A loving, stable home, in a familiar place. Except for their dad’s misguided move to Oklahoma last year for another job that didn’t pan out, they have always lived in Texas.”

“A nice sentiment. But will you really follow through—or will you lose interest and foist them off on some nanny when you go overseas again? You did say that your return to active duty isn’t yet on the horizon, so you obviously hope to leave again.” She blew out a slow breath. “I don’t mean to keep bringing up the past, but I seem to recall that your good intentions don’t always amount to much. You once made some very serious prom ises to me.”

“A whirlwind romance when we were too young to know better.”

“You were already in the service, which implies responsibility and honor to me. You made promises and then you not only reneged on them but you disappeared without a word. Without an apology. Without explanation. Not even a goodbye. I was packed, ready and excited, Ethan. And you left me standing on the courthouse steps. Alone.”

“There’s nothing I can do to change that now. I only wish it was possible to make up for what I did.”

She gave a short laugh. “Not necessary. Eventually I realized two things—that I was lucky to have escaped marriage to a man I couldn’t trust. And, I escaped repeating history.”

“History?”

“My dad was military, as you might remember,” she said bitterly. “He ran our home like a barracks, and woe to anyone who challenged his authority or failed to measure up. But he’d always promised to come home—no matter where he was sent or what he did.” She turned away.

“But he couldn’t keep that promise?” Ethan asked gently.

“A new recruit went crazy on the base one nice, sunny day. Shot Dad six times in the chest while shouting nonsense about war and the evil army officer who was sending him home. I was just twelve, visiting Dad’s office on Career Day. I saw him die. I thought I would be next. But then his killer turned the gun on himself. The whole floor was awash in blood and I was too scared and shocked to even move.”

“I’m so sorry, Hannah.”

“I swore then that I wanted nothing more to do with military life when I grew up. Living with Dad had been tough, but seeing him die because he wore a uniform was a thousand times worse. Military families are amazing, strong people, and we all owe them so much for what they sacrifice every day. But I’m just not that strong—and I could never handle that life again.”

He’d seen the horrors of war for over a decade. Dealt with his nightmares as best he could. But he could not imagine what that terrible day had done to an innocent child.

“So you see,” she added softly, “you jilted me. You made me a laughingstock in town. But you also saved me from a life of living with my worst fears. I won’t ever trust you again on any count, but I guess I also owe you my thanks.”


Chapter Four (#uf348bec7-23e0-5c3e-8dd1-0b36010d3b55)

“So this is downtown Aspen Creek, guys. All of the shop owners have been decorating for this weekend, and the Christmas Committee has been putting up decorations in the town square.” Hannah parked at the north end of Main Street in front of the shoe store and looked over her shoulder. “Next, I want to buy winter boots for you both, then we’ll walk down to the square so you can see the crew decorating the pine trees. If you aren’t too tired after supper, we can come back for the lighting ceremony and a sleigh ride.”

Cole perked up at that. “With horses?”

“Yes, indeed.” She grinned at Cole and his sister, happy that her plans for the day seemed to be working out. An introduction to the festive downtown area, a yummy lunch somewhere and then maybe a movie might be a good start at helping the two kids feel at home. She hoped. And surely they’d enjoy the Christmas lights and carolers tonight—Aspen Creek’s kick-off weekend for the holidays.

“A stable near town always brings a pair of dappled gray Percherons and a beautiful sleigh for evening sleigh rides,” she continued. “They’re here Saturdays and Sundays during the Christmas season. I love hearing those heavy brass jingle bells coming down the street.”

Cole unbuckled his seat belt and leaned forward. “Can we go more than once?”

“Of course we can.”

Molly directed a disinterested glance out the window, then picked at the snowflake design on her new wool mittens. “Can’t have a sleigh. No snow.”

Hannah laughed. “You’re right about that. When there isn’t any snow, they bring a pretty carriage with a fringed roof and big wooden wheels with red and white spokes. If the weather forecast holds, we might have enough for a real sleigh for tomorrow.”

Her cell phone chirped and she grabbed it out of her purse. Her happy mood vanished. Ethan. She hesitated then took the call with a resigned sigh. “Yes?”

“You mentioned going into town today. Can I treat you all to lunch somewhere?”

She glanced at her watch. She’d gone through the children’s clothing boxes this morning to check on what they needed for the colder climate and then she’d taken the kids shopping. After an hour at the Children’s Shoppe, both of them now had extra sweatshirts and warm pullover sweaters, goose-down jackets and snow pants in their favorite colors, with mittens to match.

But she still needed to buy them snow boots and sleds, and take them down to the town square. If there was enough time, they could also drop in on Keeley’s antiques store for cookies.

And—admittedly—stop somewhere for lunch. “I...guess so. In an hour?”

“Perfect. Do you have a favorite place?”

Despite her resolutions regarding Ethan, the deep timbre of his voice still sent an unwanted tingle of awareness shivering over her skin.

“I think the kids would like the Creek Malt Shop. It’s fairly new, but has 1950s décor, and they make malts with scoops of real ice cream. Their burgers are the best in town and they have old-fashioned pinball machines in the back—no charge.” She glanced at the kids. “What do you two think—sound good?”

When they nodded, she returned to the call. “The Malt Shop faces the town square. We were heading down there to see the holiday decorations after we finish shopping, anyway. We’ll be there in an hour.”

She ended the call and sighed. They would show up to meet him, but she doubted she could eat a single bite. Her stomach was already tying itself into a tight knot.

She’d stayed awake until two in the morning, worrying about what the future would bring with Ethan in the mix. Praying that he might see the flaws in his plan and just give up and go back to Dallas.

But, nope—he was still here. And he was already finding ways to keep in touch.

Which proved that she’d better plan to keep on her toes.

* * *

Ethan idly ran a fingertip through the condensation on his malt glass and settled back in the booth. He glanced at his watch once more.

The hesitance in Hannah’s voice had been unmistakable over the phone. Would she even show up?

His booth was right in front of a plateglass window looking out over the street and, beyond that, the town square where clusters of folks were busy winding strands of Christmas lights on the dozen pine trees scattered throughout the little park.

A larger team was tackling the towering blue spruce in the center, utilizing a cherry picker to reach the very top.

Though it was only the Saturday after Thanksgiving Day, Christmas music already blared from loudspeakers in the square, and even through the window, he could hear the banter and laughter from the crowd as they worked.

Christmas seemed to be everywhere.

Even in this hamburger joint, there had to be a dozen tabletop-sizes Christmas trees with twinkly lights perched on shelves, counters and in the corners. Wreaths and Christmas stockings hung on the walls. Over each booth and table a sprig of mistletoe hung from the ceiling on a bright red ribbon.

It was as if Christmas had exploded in here, and it made him edgy. Bah humbug.

He caught sight of Hannah—her shimmering, pale blond hair unmistakable, even from a distance—weaving through the crowd across the street, where she was making slow progress by chatting to every person she met. Cole walked at her side, wearing a puffy, bright red jacket. Molly, in a similar hot-pink jacket, followed a few yards behind with a sullen expression.

They finally made their way across the street and he saw Hannah square her shoulders and take a deep breath before ushering the kids inside the Malt Shop. From her grim expression she didn’t seem at all happy to be there.

In a moment they arrived at his booth. Molly and Hannah slid in opposite him and Cole scrambled next to Ethan. The faint, familiar scent of Hannah’s perfume wafted in the air, reminding him of the past they’d shared. One he needed to forget.

“Sorry if we’re a bit late,” Hannah murmured as she grabbed menus from the rack behind the napkin dispenser and dealt them out.

“I got a new coat and mittens and boots,” Cole announced. “And other stuff, ’cause it’s cold here.”

Molly rolled her eyes and dropped her gaze to her menu.

“Looks like you got a new coat, as well,” Ethan said to her. “Have you found your sleds yet?”

She shook her head.

“We never had sleds before,” Cole announced. “’Cause we didn’t get enough snow. But Aunt Hannah says we’ll get lots tonight. Five whole inches!”

“The most I ever saw in Dallas was a few flurries.” Ethan shifted his gaze to Hannah. “So I’ve never gone shopping for sleds, either. Can I come along?”

She gave him a stiff smile. “Of course. The hardware store is a couple of blocks over and it usually has a good supply.”

Cole’s eyes lit up. “Maybe you can both get a sled, too, and then we can all go. Aunt Hannah says she’ll bring hot cocoa and marshmallows and cookies. So we have lots of energy.”

Ethan chuckled. “Somehow I don’t think you’ll run out of that anytime soon.”

“But you’ll come sledding, right? And for the carriage ride tonight?”

“Well...” He angled another glance up at Hannah. “Is that all right with you?”

The corner of her eye twitched but she nodded. “Aspen Creek Park is just a mile north of town and there are good sliding hills near the campground. The snowplows don’t usually clear the country roads before the afternoon on Sundays, though. So...” She considered for a moment. “Maybe two o’clock tomorrow?”

“Deal.”

“And the carriage ride, too?” Cole insisted.

A waitress in a red-striped uniform appeared at the table with a tray of water glasses and a smile. “As you can see, we’re kinda busy, so just wave to me when you’re ready to order.”

“I want a cheeseburger and a chocolate malt, with French fries,” Cole announced instantly.

“Same,” Molly muttered.

“That didn’t take long. Hot-fudge shake and a grilled chicken sandwich for me,” Hannah said without looking at her menu. “Ethan?”

“Cheeseburger and fries. I’ve already got my malt.”

Molly eyed the colorful flashing lights on the pinball machines at the back and gave the waitress a pleading look. “Can we play?”

“Sure. Nice change from all those computer games, if you ask me. Unless someone else comes in and wants a turn, you can play as long as you like.” The waitress grinned. “At least, until your food comes. I’m sure your parents can keep an eye on you from right here.”

Hannah’s gaze flew to Molly—expecting a meltdown over the waitress’s assumption. But the kids launched out of the booth and made a beeline for the bank of pinball machines without a backward glance.

“Whew,” she whispered, her hands clenched on the tabletop. “That was close. I’m finding casual conversations can be quite a minefield with people who aren’t yet aware of our circumstances. I’m sure the word is spreading, but still...”

It would probably be the same in Texas, Ethan realized, though he couldn’t help but think it would be easier if the kids were at least on their home turf. And come to think of it, there would be a few people who could make assumptions. He didn’t know people there anymore except Cynthia and his dad. He’d been gone all of his adult life.




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