True-Blue Cowboy Christmas (27 page)

Everyone had gone to sleep, even Dan and Mel who'd decided to rest before heading back to Lissa and Dan's parents.

It was so late that the sun would be rising soon. Summer should have slept, but she found she couldn't.

She stood at the window in the living room, staring out into the darkness. Someone had turned the tree lights off, and it was just as dark inside the house as out. Summer didn't know what she felt except a disconcerting kind of numbness.

But she heard the telltale squeak and whir of her father's wheelchair, and it sent a skitter of nerves down her spine. Not the same kind of nerves her mother produced, but wasn't it sadly telling that neither of her parents afforded her much comfort or ease?

“You should be sleeping, girl.”

Summer sighed. In the past twenty-four hours he'd said as much to her as he'd said in years, and here he was, telling her what to do. She was too exhausted and anxiously strung out to know how to feel about that.

“I can't.”

“Come here.”

She looked at the man who was, with no doubts any longer, her father. A man she barely knew, and one who over the last year had mostly treated her as though she didn't exist.

Still, she went, because there had to be some hope. Who would she be if she didn't hope for better? Who would they all be if tonight didn't change things?

The Christmas tree lights blinked on, and she realized he of all people had leaned over and flicked the timer switch to on.

In the white shining light of the Christmas tree Summer had helped Caleb pick out and dutifully decorated as Delia looked on, her father held out a small, wrapped gift.

She could only stare at it.

“Take it,” he said with a grunt, jutting his arm toward her.

Summer had to swallow and
force
her legs to move close enough that she could take the outstretched gift.

A present. The wrapping paper was a plain, solid green. There weren't any ribbons or bows, but her name was written in black marker across the top.

“Open it,” her father instructed, irritation and something she was afraid to name in his voice. Something like nerves.

With shaking hands, Summer slowly opened the package, lifting the tape carefully and trying not to rip the paper.

“What on earth are you doing, girl? Open the damn thing.”

“It's the first gift you've ever given me,” she managed to say through her too-tight throat. She glanced up at him as she carefully pulled the box out of the wrapping paper.

He looked pained, haunted by a million things she'd probably never fully understand. She opened the lid of a little white box and pulled out a necklace.

She swallowed at the painful, fizzling lump in her throat and held the necklace up to the light. At the end of a little chain was a golden sun.

“I don't think you have any idea how things have changed since you showed up,” her father said, his voice low and gritty and…emotional.
Her
father. Emotional. “The warmth we were sorely lacking that you brought into our lives. I could never begin to explain to you how sorry I am, how…I'll never be able to make up for it.”

“Do you remember what I said when you apologized to me this summer?”

He nodded carefully, and if Summer wasn't totally losing it from exhaustion, she thought the lights of the tree shone on a glimmer of tears in his dark-blue eyes. “That it was a start.”

Summer nodded, not sure she could say anything more through the ache in her heart, happy and hurt, bittersweet all in all.

He cleared his throat. “Um, it's actually a Shaw family heirloom. That belonged to my mother, whose nickname was Sunny. You remind me of her.”

Summer could only cry at this point. It wasn't just a thoughtful gift, it was a
family
heirloom.

“I've known all along I should've done everything differently, and I always figured this was my punishment for that,” he said, pointing to his wheelchair, his voice more gravelly with every word.

“I don't believe that's how the world works,” Summer said, her voice certain despite how the tears fell. She didn't and wouldn't believe that life's cruelties were punishment. They simply were.

“I don't really know what I believe anymore. I certainly don't believe I have anything to give you kids, but you all seem to think I do.”

“You should probably listen to us.”

Dad was quiet for a long time, his eyes on the tree. Summer held the necklace he'd given her—such a thoughtful, amazing gift—in the tight grip of her palm, fisted at her heart.

“Maybe I'll try,” he finally acknowledged.

“You should do more than try.” It was Caleb's voice, and when Summer turned to look behind her, both Mel and Caleb were standing in the entryway to the living room.

“Come here, boy,” Dad said, his voice gruff. “Will you find the ones for Mel and Caleb under there? They look just like yours,” he asked, pointing to under the tree.

Summer did as her father asked, finding two identical green packages under the tree. One with Mel's name written on it, and one with Caleb's.

She handed the boxes to her siblings, and they all arranged themselves on the floor around their father.

“Open them,” he ordered, the usual gruffness back in his voice.

Summer placed her hand on Mel's leg, and then Caleb's. They both tore through the wrapping, so different from how Summer had opened hers just moments before. Seeing how different they could all be made her smile and made her hurt.

Mel's box was bigger, and when she opened it, she saw an old and tattered-looking Bible sitting in tissue paper.

“It's the Shaw family Bible,” Dad explained. “Since you're the oldest, I should have given it to you on your wedding day, but I should have done a lot of things. It's up to date. I put Summer and Lissa in it last night before I wrapped everything.”

Mel stared down at the book, and for a moment the only sound was her sharp inhale, then exhale of breath. “Thank you,” she managed to croak, looking up at their father. “Thank you.”

“And yours,” he said, moving his gaze to Caleb. “Those are your grandfather and grandmother's wedding rings. I should have given them to you when you married Delia, and I'm extremely sorry that I didn't.”

Caleb scratched a hand through his hair. “I don't…know what to say.”

“Nobody needs to say anything. These were things that needed to be done. Your mother showing up… Everything that happened tonight proved that I needed to step up. I need to step up.”

They were silent for a few moments, each looking at their gifts, maybe trying to get a handle on their wayward emotions.

“Wait…” Summer looked up at him. “You said you did these last night. You had this all done before Mom showed up.”

Dad blinked and scratched his hand through his hair, just like Caleb had done only minutes before. “Yeah. I've been…trying. Failing, mostly, but it's hard to keep failing when you all keep poking at me.”

Mel got to her feet and wrapped her arms around their father. She didn't say anything, but Summer was starting to think none of them had to
say
anything. They just had to do. To act.

So she got to her feet and hugged him and Mel too. She glanced back at Caleb, and he gave a hearty sigh.

“Fine,” he grumbled, joining the hug.

For the first time in Summer's entire life, she felt one hundred percent like a Shaw. Like a
part
of this family, this
whole
family.

* * *

Thack prayed to every available Christmas deity for the patience to get through Kate's hyper, Christmas Eve shenanigans.

“Oh, I forgot—”

Thack intercepted his daughter as she tried to dart out of the bedroom for the third time. He happily flung her over his shoulder, and she squealed in delight. He dumped her on the bed and tried to muster his sternest expression.

“Santa doesn't come until you're asleep.”

Kate pouted, but she finally crawled under her covers and settled into her pillow. “Maybe we should put more cookies out. I don't think ten are enough.”

Thack settled in next to Kate and smoothed down her hair. “Ten is more than enough, Katie Pie. But he'll never get to eat them if you do not
go to sleep
.”

Kate sighed, but she'd been amped all day. Just sitting still was
finally
allowing exhaustion to catch up with her.

Thack rested his head against her headboard, warning himself against falling asleep. He was exhausted, and it would be so nice. Just a few minutes.

Kate murmured something about when Grandma and Grandpa would arrive, which reminded Thack of how much he had to do. Stan had called earlier to say they'd landed in Helena and would be driving up tomorrow. They'd be here in time for lunch.

Thack jerked awake he wasn't sure how many minutes later. Kate was fast asleep, breathing evenly in the glow of her pink lights.

Tiptoeing out of the room, Thack checked the time. Only ten thirty, so he hadn't dozed for too, too long. He'd managed to do most of Kate's Santa wrapping here and there over the course of the week, but he still had to fill her stocking and set the presents out and eat ten cookies, apparently.

He picked his way down the stairs, then stopped short at the woman crouching by the Christmas tree.

Summer slowly stood. “Hi,” she offered, a tremulously hopeful smile curving her lips.

“Hi.” He glanced around, but all he saw was Summer. “Where did Dad and Mrs. Bart go?”

“Well, after they let me in…” She opened her mouth, then made a little face and shook her head.

“I don't want to know, do I?”

“Let's just say, I think you'll have an extra person for Christmas breakfast.”

An extra… Oh, yeah, he really didn't want to know that. But it made him think. Tomorrow. Breakfast. Summer. “How about…two? Two extra people for breakfast tomorrow.”

She blinked a few times, obviously trying to hold back tears as he stepped toward her.

“You mean…me sleeping here?”

He nodded.

“I could…arrange that. I…” She shook her head, tears spilling over. “I think I just got everything I ever wanted for Christmas. Sleeping here, waking up here…it's everything I've wanted.” She rubbed a finger over a necklace. Instead of her usual bands of crystals and gold, there was only one chain around her neck tonight.

“This is new,” he said, reaching out and touching it, very purposefully grazing his index fingers against her hand.

“It was…Dad's Christmas gift to me. It was his mother's. My grandmother.” She curled her fingers around it, clearly moved, and Thack was moved for her. He pressed his forehead to hers.

Her hazel eyes met his, filled to the brim with tears, but still she smiled. A warm, hopeful Summer kind of smile. “We have a
lot
of work to do before morning.”

We.
He liked the sound of that, more and more. “We do, but…maybe we should talk first.”

She exhaled, then inhaled slowly. “Okay. Okay, we can do that.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but she pressed her fingers to his mouth. “Me first. I just wanted to tell you…” Her hand dropped from his mouth, and she took a tiny step away from him, but she stood tall, like she was getting ready to deliver a speech. She straightened her shoulders, her gaze met his, and colorful Christmas lights gleamed in her hair.

He knew he should feel some sort of anger or worry, something related to what had happened yesterday. But standing here, he knew how angry he was would never matter. He loved this woman, and they would always find a way to straighten their shoulders, look each other in the eye, and love each other.

“You were right.” She took a breath that caught halfway through, then let it out on a shaky exhale. “Yesterday. You were right. I shouldn't have tried to take everything on myself. I should have believed…that working together would always be better than trying to do it all myself. Sometimes you start to believe running away is the only answer.” She gave a little nod, like that was her speech and that was all she had to say.

“And sometimes you're wrong.”

She let out something that sounded almost like a laugh. “I guess I can be now and again. But mostly, I'm sorry. Sorry I couldn't listen or see.” She managed a smile, her heart so clear in her eyes that it hurt to meet her gaze. The smile was small and wobbly, but it was a smile, and he couldn't resist pressing a kiss to it.

She looked up at him, hope so bright in her eyes that it physically hurt. “Is that forgiveness?”

“That's love. Which, I believe, goes hand in hand with forgiveness.”

Her eyes searched his, shiny with tears. “As long as we don't always need a weapon-wielding family member on a break with reality to get it through our heads.”

“I'll put that in my…” He stopped himself from saying what he'd meant to say. He knew he wanted to propose to Summer, and the past forty-eight hours had driven that certainty home. But he didn't have a ring, and he most certainly didn't have a plan.

“You'll put that in your what?” she asked, and the way her eyes got big for a second made him think she'd figured it out.

He thought about how she'd said she'd loved him on the phone when he'd called to warn her, because she'd thought it was her last chance. Which should make him mad that she hadn't unloaded the truth then, but he couldn't hold on to the anger. Not after yesterday.

No matter how inadvisably she'd done it, she'd acted out of fear and love. He knew that the combination could eradicate sense. Hell, they'd eradicated
his
sense when he'd let her walk out that door.

But even at her weakest, at her most wrong, she'd said she loved him. She'd grabbed the moment, because she'd feared it would be gone.