A Christmas to Believe In (42 page)

Ethan gave her a look that said she'd asked a stupid

question. "Why would he be?"

"Never mind." She turned back to her mug and put it in

the microwave. "So you helped. It must have taken a while."

He shrugged as he reached for a brownie. "I guess. We

had to make sure it could stand and drink." He took a bite,

chewed a moment. Then his exuberance returned, and he

gushed, "You should have seen the way she tried to stand. It

was so funny! I thought she was going to break her neck. But

she figured it out. Wanna see her?"

The microwave signaled her tea was hot, and she pulled it

out to take a long sip. "I peeked in already. But you can show

me more in the morning."

"We're s'posed to name it. I told Clint you were good at

that. I asked him to stay so we could talk about it, but he said

he was tired."

Jesse froze in place. "What?"

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"Jeez, Mom, are you going deaf? I said I asked him to stay

so we could pick out a name, and he was too tired."

She blinked. "You asked Clint to stay."

It wasn't really a question, but Ethan nodded anyway. He

polished off his brownie and wiped his hands on his jeans. "I

figured he'd want to show you the filly."

In slow motion, Jesse set the cup down. If Ethan had

asked Clint to stay, the fact he'd left gave her a huge clue

about what he thought of her now. She hadn't imagined the

brief glimmer of anger behind his earlier stare. Her heart

twisted at the discovery.

"Ethan, thank you for being polite tonight, I really

appreciate that. But Clint didn't stay because I called things

off with him. Things are a little...awkward...right now."

It was her son's turn to blink. "What? Why?"

She eased into the seat beside him and covered his hand

with hers. "I told you, you have a say. We're family, Ethan.

I'm not going to force you into something you feel so strongly

against."

The words hurt just saying them. It brought all the pain of

leaving Clint to the surface, and she looked away before

Ethan could see the tears in her eyes. She didn't want him to

feel like this was his fault. It wasn't. She'd made the decision.

If she'd thought there was any hope at all Ethan would accept

Clint as part of their lives, she'd have muddled through.

"Mom!"

At his exclamation, she braved facing him. He sat in

stunned surprise. Blinking rapidly, he opened his mouth,

snapped it shut. Then his eyes went wide with understanding.

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She watched as shock, disbelief, love and confusion filtered

through his features. No one had ever put him first. No one

had ever sacrificed. And Jesse knew, without his saying a

word, he regretted all the horrible things he'd said.

"You weren't supposed to do that," he murmured.

She struggled to swallow her sip of tea. "You're my son,

Ethan."

He shook his head, disbelieving. "But you said you loved

him."

Jesse couldn't hold the tears back any longer. They trickled

free, slow and steady. Silent harbingers of her sorrow. "I do.

But I love you too."

Ethan's face clouded over with something she couldn't

define. Emotion she had yet to witness from him. "I didn't

mean to make you miserable. I didn't mean..." He stood up,

his eyebrows drawn into a tight line. "I'm sorry. I don't want

you to be sad. I take it back. All of it. I don't want you to

cry."

If only he could. If only
she
could. Searching for the smile

she'd used throughout the night, she made an attempt at

light-heartedness. "I'll be okay. It'll hurt for a while, but I'll be

okay." Rising, she embraced him. "Don't worry about me. I'm

pretty tough." She kissed his cheek. "Now, I'm exhausted.

I've had a long night, and I'm going to sleep. Tomorrow's

Christmas, we've got a big day ahead of us."

He held on a little longer than usual before he stepped

away to let her pass.

Behind her bedroom door, Jesse let down the facade she'd

hidden behind all night. She stretched out belly-down on her

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bed and buried her face into her pillow so Ethan couldn't hear

her cries. One thought drummed in her head—Ethan had

invited Clint to stay, and he'd refused.

Her son, her precious, scarred, son had made the overture

she'd prayed for. That damned horse in her barn brought it

about. Clint had known how to get through to him, and she'd

lost her faith. She'd pushed him away, not brave or strong

enough to keep fighting for an impossible future.

In return, he shut the door to his heart.

She hadn't saved Ethan any pain either. Once again, in

trying to protect him, she wounded even more. He blamed

himself for her sorrow. Thought he could erase all his fears

with the simple statement,
I take it back
. Somehow she had

to make him believe she'd done it because she wanted to. Not

because he guilted her into it. Not because he threatened to

leave. She wanted him, more than anything.

Even more than she wanted love.

Clint woke for the fourth time, unable to breathe. His eyes

snapped open, and he stared at the ceiling as his heart

pounded into his ribs. He didn't know what haunted him. No

dream chased him out of sleep. No images of Jesse haunted

his thoughts.

Just an oppressive feeling he'd overlooked something

important in the barn.

He stepped through all the post-foaling tasks. Treated the

umbilical, waited for the baby to stand, checked the placenta,

unwrapped Angel's tail. He'd cleaned the stall, picked up his

things, and even put the filly in a blanket.

What then, had he forgotten?

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He rolled over on his side and stared out the window. On

the neighboring hill, Jesse's house was dark. He pictured her

in her bed, curled up on her side with her long hair cascading

around her shoulders. He'd have to confront her tomorrow.

She'd want to see the foal, no doubt, and she wouldn't feel

comfortable investigating on her own. He didn't know how

he'd pull that off. He'd never pretended at anything with her

once they moved beyond childhood games. Not in friendship,

and certainly not in love.

Turning to his back, he traced the constellations overhead.

Not everything had gone down the toilet in the last twenty-

four hours. The foal had lived. A filly, no less. She might not

be able to compete in the Kentucky breeders' incentives, and

she might have an uphill fight on the track, but her gender

offered promise. Colts that didn't win became pleasure-horse

geldings. Fillies that didn't win, especially fillies with her good

bloodlines, went on to become broodmares. She might not

ever make a penny on the track, and yet when crossed with

the right stallion, might go on to generate thousands.

He'd already accepted Susan Silby's offer. With the sale of

his farm, he could approach his mother about building a barn

near the back of her property. In time, perhaps he could build

a house. She didn't use the fifty acres, except for the handful

of hunters she let on for deer season. He could portion off the

driveway, and he'd be close enough to look after her, but far

enough away he'd retain his privacy.

Jesse, however, remained the obstacle to moving forward.

With her so close, it would be a long time before he stopped

staring out his window in the middle of the night. At the same

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time, Ethan could spend time with the horses and maybe his

childhood trauma would mend. It would feel good to hear that

boy laugh. Feel even better to pitch him a ball or two.

He tossed an arm over his eyes and grimaced as the

tightening in his chest began again. Good grief, he'd be in

full-blown panic attack if he couldn't put his finger on what

he'd overlooked.

The belts. His mind unwound as he pictured Ethan's belts

half-buried in the straw. He'd forgotten to pick them up. This

agitation in his gut was merely worry over the baby getting

tangled up.

Relieved he'd found the problem, he rolled onto his

opposite side and closed his eyes. He had unfastened the

loops. Baby might trip over them, but they wouldn't catch her

legs and do any permanent damage. She'd be fine until

morning.

Sleep crept in on his thoughts, lulling his mind to still.

Tomorrow would be sheer hell—he needed all the rest he

could find.

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A Christmas to Believe In

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Clint kicked off the covers as the first light of dawn

brightened the sky. He sat up, giving up on the idea of sleep.

Whatever plagued him wasn't the belts.

He pressed a fist to his chest and kneaded the sore

muscles there. On a yawn, he stood. He might as well savor

the remaining quiet before the house turned into a

madhouse. If his own childhood Christmases served as any

kind of example, the triplets would be up soon. Before they

went running down to the tree, he needed to get his gifts

underneath it.

He went to his closet and pulled out the small stack of

sealed envelopes that held money for his brothers. From his

duffel bag, he produced three identical stuffed white bears

with stocking caps and shoved them under his arm. The

stockings in their fuzzy paws held an assortment of candy,

along with a plastic gift card to Toys R Us and a ticket to the

local Doll Museum. Not the most creative gifts he could have

chosen, but he'd been preoccupied. Too concerned about

bigger matters than to shop with his heart this year.

After meeting his adorable nieces, he wished he'd taken a

bit more time.

Sighing, he decided to make it up to them with a shopping

spree before he left.

Clint quietly made his way down to the tree and tucked the

packages beneath the pretty lights. One sat off to the side—a

small box he'd brought along for Jesse. It wouldn't mean

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much to her now. But when he'd packaged up the tiny

miniature Jim's wife had carved of his first winning horse,

he'd thought she'd find it special. He knew she'd enjoy the

chocolate, and the certificate for season tickets to the new

hockey team. Jesse had always loved hockey.

He touched his hand to the box and closed his eyes. Ethan

and she would have fun with those.

After putting his mother's photo album and another

envelope in her chair, he wandered to the kitchen to start a

pot of coffee.

To his delight, someone had already set the automatic

timer and a fresh pot waited. He poured a cup, cocked a hip

against the cabinet, and glanced at the stack of unopened

mail on the countertop. A colorful magazine from his mother's

sorority caught his eye. He tugged at it, intending to see what

the Kappas had done this year for their annual winter

celebration. When they were younger, his mother had hosted

a tour of some sort. Clint couldn't remember the details, but

he remembered having to wear a tie and pass out cookies.

As he pulled the magazine free, something metallic clinked

against the Formica, then tumbled to the floor. In the dim

light, he squinted to find the object. His bare foot did when he

shuffled forward. It jabbed into his heel, the sharp sting

making him hiss.

He grabbed the object, and his gut coiled down tight. His

mother's wedding ring. In the chaos of the last couple of

days, she must have forgotten to put it away. But it was not

the reminder he wanted to run into first thing in the morning.

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Especially not this morning, when he'd expected to wake

up on Christmas in Jesse's sweet embrace.

Puffing out a breath, he set the ring on the counter. The

neon blue light of the coffee pot caught the diamond, made it

sparkle an odd green-blue-white. He stared at it, seeing all

the memories he longed to forget. The first night he'd walked

into the house, the kiss he'd stolen beneath the mayor's

Christmas tree—they all slammed into him with such force his

breath caught.

Conversations echoed in his head. Snippets of everything

from her first confession of love, to the humiliating way he'd

begged her to stay, to the awful arguments with Ethan,

replayed like a tape recorder. They stopped on the previous

night when Ethan had been so excited about the baby horse

he had invited Clint to stay so he could spend more time with

the filly.

Clint blinked. The breath that had lodged in his lungs

wedged in tighter. Behind those constricted organs, his heart