A Cowboy's Christmas Promise (8 page)

When Daniel had last seen Hayley, she'd had lust in her eyes and hay in her hair, and she'd smelled like horses and straw and a trace of something sweet that he couldn't identify. She'd had on jeans and a sweatshirt, and her hair had been up in some sort of messy ponytail that had made him just want to take it down.

Now, though?

She—sparkled, he guessed was the right word. From the thing in her hair to her silvery sandals, she had a glow he'd not seen before. Even her dress glittered with some sort of silvery thread, and it swished around her body, outlining all the right parts in all the right ways as she walked toward them.

“It's a dress, people.” Hayley snapped her fingers near their faces as she finally reached them, giving Daniel the uncomfortable feeling that his jaw may not have been quite closed. “And yes, I would love one of whatever you're having.”

Cole grinned as he hopped around the bar to grab a beer for her. “You want a glass?”

“That would be taking the dress thing a little far, don't you think?” She held out a hand for the bottle, and Daniel couldn't help but watch as she lifted it to her lips. God, she and Julia Roberts could be sisters.

“So Hayls,” Cole winked. “Did you get a visit from the girlie-fairy?”

“No.” Daniel could almost hear her grind her teeth. “Jess took me shopping.”

Daniel swallowed hard as she took another draw of her drink. She'd put something glossy on her lips—the same lips that, in a fit of madness and sleep-deprivation, he'd actually kissed this morning.

She turned toward him, her eyes that mesmerizing mix of greens and blues. “So, doc, have you had any sleep yet?”

“I snuck in a couple of hours this afternoon.”

“Me, too.” She took a quick sip, looking like she was trying to hide a smile.

Cole snorted. “Yeah, like eight.”

Hayley elbowed him. “I was tired! Jet-lagged!”

He laughed. “We're only two hours behind Boston. And you've been here for days already.”

“Well, it's been a long time since I've stayed up all night.”

Daniel smiled as her face grew suddenly red.

“I mean”—she took another gulp and turned away—“Never mind.”

“You want to make what?” Kyla wiped her steamy forehead with her arm as she carted the last of the breakfast dishes into the main lodge kitchen Friday morning.

“Cupcakes,” Hayley answered, feeling the customary jangles that haunted her every August 13. Maybe if Daniel had been able to stay for more than ten minutes after her entrance last night, she'd have more distracting things to think about today, but he'd been called out on yet another emergency before Ma even got dinner on the table.

Of course, maybe that was a good thing. After one aborted kiss, she was
already
thinking about him far too much.

“Jenny's delivering five dozen of them tomorrow morning for the reception.” Kyla laughed as she clattered the plates to the counter. “I think we're covered, in the cupcake department.”

Hayley resumed washing the breakfast pans, quiet for a moment while Kyla started loading the dishwasher. There was no way Kyla could have remembered what today was, not when she had a gazillion other things on her mind. Like, for instance, her own wedding. She shook her head and pushed away from the sink. “Listen, you. Aren't you getting married in twenty-four hours? Shouldn't you be primping at a spa or something today?”

“Ha. I wish! I might have time to paint my toenails later, but that's about it.”

“I can't believe Jess's flights have been such a disaster. Now she's not getting here until when? Three o'clock?”

“If we're lucky. I'm just praying she doesn't end up missing the whole thing.” Kyla's eyes glistened, but she shook her head quickly and turned back to the dishwasher.

“She'll be here. Don't worry. She wouldn't miss it, even if it means hiring a private jet to get her here.” Hayley put her hands on Kyla's shoulders and turned her toward the back door. “Now. I am hereby kicking you out of the kitchen. Whatever needs doing today, we'll figure out. You need to go into town, have a cup of coffee at Java Beans, and then let Paradise Spa do their magic on you for a couple of hours.”

Kyla laughed. “Right. You need an appointment about a month ahead of time to get in there.”

“Good thing Jess called six weeks ago, then.”

Her eyes widened. “Are you serious? She booked me at Paradise?”

“Well, we figured we kind of owed you for tricking you last year with the promise of a spa week. Plus, we're your bridesmaids. We're supposed to take care of you, right?”

Kyla looked around at the remnants of breakfast preparations. “But aren't the bridesmaids supposed to get the pampering part, too? Not just the manual labor?”

“Well, one's stuck in Pittsburgh and one's going to hold down the kitchen here for the morning, so instead, you get some well-deserved peace and quiet. No bridesmaids yammering at you, no guests needing extra towels, no kids screeching in the hallways.”

“Are you sure you can handle things here?”

“She can handle it.” Ma blasted through the swinging doors, hands full of serving dishes. “Now get your bridal butt downtown and get pampered.”

“But—”

Ma tipped her chin down and her eyebrows up, still holding dishes. “Are you or are you not the bride?”

“Ma—”

“Honey, we've been running this ranch for a lotta years. We can do it for a couple of hours without you, especially on the day before your own wedding. I've got Hayley here to help, and as long as she doesn't mind taking orders, we'll get along just fine.”

Hayley shook her head. “I'm good with helping, not as good with the taking orders part.”

“Shush.”

“Yes'm.”

Kyla laughed. “Okay, if you're sure.”

“See? Even Hayley's trainable.” Ma clanked the dishes into the big farmhouse sink. “Kyla, you've been dying to try out that spa since last year. Your sweet bridesmaids are trying to do something nice for you. Let 'em.”

Kyla looked from one to the other of them, then hugged them both hard. “All right. If you insist. I just need to grab some things upstairs, and I'll be out of here.” Her steps were light as she headed to the second floor.

“I'll handle the rest of the dishes, Ma.” Hayley shooed Ma away from the sink. “If you can find Kyla's laminated list, we can see what's left to check off.”

“Ha. To find the list, you'll need to find the binder she got to
hold
the lists.”

Hayley laughed. “I'm so not surprised.” As she buried her hands in the soapy water, she glanced at the calendar mounted on the cupboard beside the sink. Of course the day everyone at Whisper Creek was focused on was tomorrow, but as she looked at today's date, her chest stabbed a little.

“So, Ma? Do you mind if I bake a little something? Promise I'll clean up so well you won't even know I was here.”

“You know how to use the oven?” Ma's eyebrows went up again.

“Periodically, yes.”

“All right. Just be done before I need to put the lasagna in the oven for lunch, okay? I'm gonna go take care of the cabins.” Ma bustled out the door with her cleaning bucket and headed down the pathway.

An hour later, Hayley swirled the last of the pink frosting on the final lopsided cupcake and set it on a platter she'd found. She sprinkled glittery sugar crystals over the entire batch, then lit the candle she'd found in a utility drawer.

In a quiet voice, she sang Happy Birthday and blew out the candle.

Then wiped her eyes.

“Whose birthday is it?” Ma stood in the doorway, her eyes quizzical, her voice quieter than Hayley'd ever heard it.

“My little sister's. She's twenty-one today.”

“Missing her?”

“Yeah.” Hayley sighed. “That's one way to put it.” She turned toward Ma. “I haven't actually seen her since she was seven.”

Ma walked across the room and pulled a tissue from a box on the counter. “Here. Don't drip on your fresh frosting.” She handed it to Hayley and motioned to the cupcakes. “So you
do
know how to bake.”

Hayley sniffed and worked her mouth into what she knew must be a pretty watery smile. “At least twice a year. Me and Betty Crocker are like this.” She crossed her fingers.

“Well, you didn't find any Betty boxes in
my
kitchen.”

“No. I had to use an actual cookbook. That's why they look like…this.”

“They're fine. Made with love, so it doesn't matter, right?” Ma cocked her head. She was silent for a long moment, and then her warm arm settled on Hayley's waist, and it took everything Hayley had not to melt onto her shoulder. “What happened?”

“Oh, God. It's such a long story.”

“I got nothin' but time. Lasagna's made, ready for the oven, and nobody needs me 'til lunch.” She pulled out a chair. “Sit. I'll make us some tea. If it makes you feel better, I need an excuse to sit down anyway.”

Hayley watched as she bustled efficiently around the kitchen, marveling at how different Ma was from her own mother. Where Ma commanded a room in her flannel shirts, jeans, and slippers, Hayley's mother had always simpered at the edges in a dress that tried to show off more than she had, desperate to be noticed and desired.

Where Ma doled out hugs and
honeys
because she had a never-ending supply, Hayley's mother had always held back, especially after the girls were gone. It was like she was afraid that if she showed how much she loved people, they too would disappear in a virtual puff of smoke.

Ma sat down and pushed a mug toward Hayley. “Cinnamon, right?”

“My favorite.” Hayley smiled. “Thank you. How'd you remember?”

Ma shrugged. “Just did. So…you have a sister.”

“Two. Half sisters, really. Celia's twenty-one today, and Isabella will be nineteen in November.”

“But you haven't seen them since…when?” Ma's eyebrows crammed themselves together on her forehead.

“Since they were nine and seven. I was fourteen.” Hayley sat back in her chair, using a long sip of the soothing tea as a delay tactic. “Roger, my mom's dream guy, came along when I was five, and
bam,
Mom was pregnant within a month. He got scared and left town before Celia was even born, then stumbled back in one night two years later, drunk as a skunk. Out he went the next morning, and
bam.
Two months later, she was sitting on the toilet cursing the little purple stick in her hand.”

Ma shook her head slowly, but stayed silent.

Hayley took another long sip of tea, thinking back. “And then one day when Izzy was two, Roger drove in the driveway like he was just coming home from work, brought a suitcase in the house, kissed my mother, and moved in. She was over the moon, you know? He was back! For good this time!

“But he wasn't. I mean, he stayed for a long time, actually. Almost five years. But one night something happened, and the next day, Roger left. I still don't know what sent him flying for good, but from what we found out later, I guess there were a lot of possibilities.”

“And he took the girls?”

Hayley nodded. “Crack of dawn one morning—scooped them out of bed in their pajamas and put them in the backseat of his car.”

“Oh, no.” Ma put her hand to her mouth.

“Turned out Roger Smith was really Rico Dominguez, Pierre LeFleur, and Sven van der Plant, though I never figured out how he sold that last one to anyone, what with his olive skin and black hair. When Mom found all that out—from an immigration officer, no less—she lost it. She was sure he'd taken the girls across some border and we'd never see them again.”

Hayley took a deep breath. “Granny and I finally had to take her to the hospital, and she stayed there for a long time. I couldn't visit her for months, and by the time she got out, it was like living with a shell of the woman she'd been, you know? She sort of just went through the motions every day, dying a little bit more each time the sun went down and she still didn't know where her babies were. And then one night…one night she got desperate and downed a bottle of sleeping pills and most of a fifth of Jack Daniels. And…that was that.”

“Oh, Hayley.”

“Just a warning, Ma. I'm strong like an ox, but if you
oh, Hayley
me again, I'm going to lose it.”

“Losing it's a perfectly natural thing to do sometimes, you know.”

“Not for me, it isn't. I allow two losing-it days per year, and that's it.”

“Well, we're smack in the middle of one of them, aren't we?”

Hayley sighed, blinking hard. “Yeah. Unfortunately Celia's birthday fell squarely on Kyla's wedding weekend this time around.”

She bit her bottom lip as she swirled her mug. “It's okay. I'm okay. I'm pretty good at keeping it all at bay most of the time. Just sneaks out a little on days like their birthdays, that's all.” She took a deep breath and forced a smile onto her face. “So I make cupcakes!”

Ma stared at her for a long moment, and Hayley was terrified she'd do something like put her soft, strong arms around Hayley's shoulders—and that would be the end of her.

Instead, though, Ma seemed to sense how badly Hayley
didn't
want that to happen. “All right, then. I'm not gonna hug you or make you get all weepy here. But you know I got good shoulders, and you're welcome to them anytime, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I mean that, child. You're all grown up now and you probably bristle at that word, but you've got no momma around, and I don't have nearly enough kids. Kyla's like my own now, and tomorrow she will be, in a way. She loves you like a sister, and I want you to know you can think of us as your family, too.” She frowned. “I mean, if you'll have us. We're kind of a motley bunch.”

Ma nodded, then reached over to give Hayley's hand a squeeze. “You're going to find those girls someday, hon. I can feel it. And if you want us to help you, you just say the word. You'll do what's right, when it's time. You love those girls, and I guarantee they remember you
and
they love you right back. God willing, you'll find each other again.”

“Oh, I hope so, Ma. I really, really do.”

“All right, then.” Ma got up and looked at the clock. “I think we've got folks to feed. Busy hands are happier hands, right?” She handed Hayley a stack of plates and pointed her toward the dining room. “We'll just keep you busy today, and we'll figure out the rest as we can, right?”

Hayley couldn't help but smile at Ma's free use of the word
we,
like she actually thought of Hayley as part of this…motley crew. As she pushed through the swinging doors into the pine-paneled, two-story great room, she paused.

How did a place she'd lived in for only three weeks of her entire thirty years feel more like home than her own homes ever had?