Page 24 of Somebody like Santa

Cooper pulled the Jeep into the driveway and handed Trevor his keys. “Go on inside and get ready for bed,” he said. “I’ll be along in a few minutes. Make sure you brush your teeth.”

As the boy disappeared into the house, Jess unlatched her door to get out of the vehicle. “Hang on,” Cooper said, opening the driver’s door and climbing out. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

“No need. This is Branding Iron, not Seattle. I’ll be perfectly safe.”

“But it’s Halloween, and there are goblins, even in Branding Iron.” He came around the Jeep, opened her door, and held out a hand to help her down.

“Not anymore.” She took his hand briefly as she stepped to the ground. “It’s after midnight. Halloween is over.”

“Why do you have to be so damned contrary, Jess? I just wanted to thank you for coming along tonight.”

“All I did was tell you where to turn.”

“Wrong. You listened to me when I needed to talk. That meant a lot.”

He was standing close to her—so close that if she’d given him a signal, like the slight upward tilt of her head, he might have kissed her. Part of her wanted it to happen. She could almost imagine the feel of those firm, masculine lips pressing hers, the scent of him, the taste of him, his breathing as his arms pulled her close.

“You’re becoming important to me, Jess,” he said.

At his words the soft emotion that was opening like a flower inside her shrank and hardened. She remembered the flashing cameras and the news stories—written by journalists like Cooper Chapman. She took a step back, away from him. “I need to go,” she said. “I need to go now.” With that she turned and fled to her car.

Starting the engine, she pulled away from the curb. Cooper had only meant to say that he liked her. But those few innocent words had touched a raw nerve that would never heal. The last time she was important to anyone, she had failed, and because of her failure, people had died. How could anyone live with that? How could any small amount of good she might do in the world make up for the horror of that day?

* * *

The next day, after a morning of window washing, Cooper drove his son out to see the place that might—or might not—be their new home.

They had talked about the idea earlier that morning. Trevor, while less than enthusiastic, had at least agreed to look. “I never wanted to be a cowboy,” he’d said. “But here in town, I’m nothing but a weirdo with no friends. I might as well check it out.”

Cooper felt the pain in his son’s words. But at least they wouldn’t be going alone. Sam and Grace had planned a lunch and movie date in Cottonwood Springs. They’d left Maggie with Cooper for the day.

She was bubbling with excitement at the prospect of going to the ranch with them. “You’ll be so lucky!” she chattered from the back seat of the Jeep. “I always wanted to live on a ranch with horses. Maybe I could come and stay with you sometimes, and you could teach me to ride.”

“We haven’t even decided to buy it, silly.” Trevor had complained about having to babysit, but Cooper knew he didn’t really mind. Maggie was such a sunny child, and so wise for her years, that it was impossible not to like her.

“And you said there was a dog!” She ignored Trevor. “Border collies are really smart. Do you get to keep her?”

“We don’t know if we’re buying the place yet, Maggie,” Cooper said. “Give us a chance to think about it before you start making plans.”

A few minutes later they drove through the gate. “That’s not much of a house,” Trevor said.

“It could do with some fixing.” Cooper hid his disappointment as he parked the Jeep in the front yard. Until now, he hadn’t realized how much he wanted his son to like this place. But the house’s appearance didn’t have much to offer, and it was even worse inside.

“It’s a ranch house. It’s not supposed to be fancy.” Maggie was out of the Jeep like a shot. “I want to see the horses!”

“All in good time. First, we’ll look at the house,” Cooper said. “That’s the most important thing because it’s where we’d be living.”

“Ifwe decide to live here.” Trevor took his time getting out of the Jeep. As his sneakers touched the ground, a black-and-white dog came streaking around the house, barking and wagging its tail to greet the visitors. Trevor shrank away, but Maggie opened her arms. She hugged the dog, squealing with laughter as it licked her face.

Cooper had phoned Clem Porter, the owner, to let him know they were coming. He was waiting on the porch. “What’s the dog’s name?” Maggie asked him.

“Her name’s Glory,” he said.

“Like the song!” Maggie began to sing the “Battle Hymn of the Republic.” “Glory, glory, hallelujah!”The dog danced and wagged as if she understood that Maggie’s song was supposed to be about her.

“That’s enough, Maggie. We need to talk,” Cooper said. “Why don’t you stay here and play with Glory while Trevor and I look at the house?”

Maggie picked up a stick and tossed it across the yard. The border collie bounded after it.