A Daughter for Christmas (14 page)

“Ho. Ho. Ho. So I see, and I've got some special presents for them.”

Several of the seniors perked up and sat straighter. The eighty-year-old man continued to grumble under his breath he was too old for a visit from Santa. The woman next to him told him to hush up. The man snapped his mouth closed and glared at a spot on the floor by his feet. Rachel clamped her lips together to keep from smiling at the exchange.

Max ambled toward the front of the room. “What do you all want first? Presents or caroling?”

Everyone but the grumpy old man shouted, “Presents.”

“Well, let me see what I have in here.” Max rummaged in his bag and withdrew one. “This says Bertha on it.”

“Me.” Granny's friend raised her arm, waving.

Max approached her and made a big production out of giving her the gift, then went back to his bag for the next one. As people opened their surprises, Max passed out all the presents. A few gasps and ahs filled the room. Rachel panned the faces of the seniors and marveled at the joy in their expressions.

She sidled toward her daughter. “Did you have anything to do with this?”

Taylor beamed. “Yes. The director told me quite a few of the seniors won't have much for Christmas. I wanted to do something for them. I found out what they needed or wanted and tried to get it.”

“You should have said something to me. I'd have helped.”

“I didn't need to. You had the care packages for those families. I happened to say something to Max and he loved the idea. He wanted to help me.”

What her daughter did was wonderful, but a seed of jealousy planted itself in Rachel's heart. She felt as if Max was moving in on her territory, and she didn't like that she was upset by it. “How did you buy all this?”

“I used the money I was saving for an iPod, and Max helped with the rest. He, Nana and me went to the store and got everything.”

“That evening you went to Mom's?”

Taylor nodded, pleased with herself. “I wanted it to be a surprise, and I really don't want people to know that I did it. Those gifts are from Santa if anyone asked.”

Suddenly her daughter sounded older than she was as though she'd grown up overnight. “What you did was great, honey. All you have to do is look at their faces to see the happiness you've brought to them.”

“That's my gift. It was so much fun buying for them. Now I see why you like doing those care boxes every year.”

As Taylor moved toward the front of the room, Rachel swung her attention to Max. A room separated them, but the other people for a moment faded from her consciousness as she stared at him. His smile encompassed his whole face from the gleam in his gaze to the deep crinkles at the sides of his eyes to the dimples that appeared in his cheeks. Joy infused her whole being.

This man was good for her daughter whether he was Taylor's natural father or not. In that moment, she knew what she would do when they got the results from the DNA testing. She wouldn't stand in his way of becoming part of Taylor's life even though being around him con
stantly would be difficult for her because she loved him and wanted more than what he was willing to offer.

 

“Taylor wants to take our caroling on the road.” Rachel sat on the porch swing later that evening, cupping a mug of hot chocolate that Max had fixed from scratch in her hands.

“I know. She mentioned it earlier. I told her I draw the line at wearing a Santa suit again. It was hot. Did you see the sweat pop out on my forehead?” The stream of light from the living room illuminated Max's teasing expression.

“I have a feeling if Taylor asked you to again you would. I think you're putty in her hands.”

“Shh. Don't say that too loud. Am I that obvious?”

“Yep.” Rachel sipped her drink, remembering the time and care Max had taken in preparing the hot chocolate just right. Although it was near freezing, Max's nearness created a warmth in her that went all the way to her toes.

“I can't believe tomorrow is Christmas Eve, and I'm not working on Christmas Eve or Christmas. I have for so many years I'm not sure what to do with the time.”

“You're coming to my house for dinner with the whole family. After that you might need to recover. It's an experience, possibly not worth repeating, to be around two four-year-olds at Christmas.”

“Should I bring anything?”

“Only a secret Santa gift.”

“Secret Santa?” He took a sip of his hot chocolate, relaxing back, his arm brushing up against hers.

“It's a game we play every year. We each make a present, then on Christmas all draw numbers. The person with number one will choose a present first. If there's a
gift you like that someone else already has opened, you can take it away from that person if it's your turn. Some people will. Some won't. It can get pretty ruthless but always in a fun way.”

“I have to make a present! When were you going to tell me?”

“I'm sorry. I forgot with all that's been going on this month.”

“And I can't go out and buy anything?” Panic laced his voice.

She shook her head.

“You did this on purpose,” he said in a mockingly stern tone. “You've probably had your gift done ages ago.”

“Yep. I don't like to wait until the last minute.”

“And you think I do?”

“Tell you what. I've got something I can give you to use.”

He thrust his shoulders back. “Nope. I'll come up with something.” He swallowed the last of his drink and rose. “Which means I need to go and start working on what I'm bringing.”

She didn't want him to leave. “You can't stay for a while? Taylor is spending the night at Ashley's. The boys are in bed early for a change. I'm not going to know what to do with myself.”

“You finished your Christmas quilt?”

“Done.”

“You've wrapped all your presents?”

“Done.”

“Your Christmas cards?”

“Mailed two weeks ago.”

“And I know your house has been decorated for a month.”

“So, what should I do with this unexpected free time?” There was a part of her that was stunned she was being so bold, but since he had come into her life, she realized she had been lonely since Lawrence's death. Max filled an empty place in her heart. She wished she did in his. That was the problem. His was closed off from others. He was scared to care too deeply for another. He'd seen so much of how precarious life was in his profession with trauma situations.

“I could build a fire and we could sit in front of it.”

Rachel inhaled a deep breath. The scent of others who'd done that spiced the air. “I don't very often anymore. That would be nice.” She'd stopped doing it when Lawrence died. He'd always been the one who'd wanted a fire going. She needed to build new memories.

Max rose and held out his hand to her. She took it, and he tugged her up against him. Tilting her face up to his, she ran her finger along his jawline, the stubble from a day's growth of beard rough beneath her pad.

A shadow of pain inched into his features. He captured her hand and stilled its movement. “What are we doing?”

“We're going to sit in front of a fire and talk.”

“No, this. I don't want us to be just friends. Right this moment I want to kiss you. I want to hold you against me. I want to…” He drew in a ragged breath. “This probably isn't smart until we know what's up about Taylor. I won't walk away from my daughter. I didn't have a choice thirteen years ago, but as far as I'm concerned, I don't have a choice now. She is my flesh and blood. A part of me.”

“In the end, what's best for Taylor is the most important thing to be considered.”

“And what is that?”

A dash of cold reality struck her in the face. Rachel backed away, her arms falling to her sides. “I don't know. I'm not even sure Taylor knows what is best for her. Your arrival has complicated everything.” Made her come out of her comfort zone and acknowledge she needed more than she had.

He stiffened. “So, what you see in me is a complication?”

“I care about you, but to take that any further is a complication.”

“I failed at my first marriage and look what happened. Taylor is with you.”

“I haven't said anything about marriage, and Taylor being with me isn't a bad thing.”

“You're twisting my words around.” His words were grounded out between clenched teeth.

“Am I? I know what a good marriage is, and I won't settle for anything less than that if I ever decide to marry again.”

“And you shouldn't settle for less.”

“You have a lot to offer a woman, but because of Alicia, who you can't seem to forgive, you don't see that. You can decide to either dwell in the past or live in the present. That's your choice. I choose the here and now. I hope my daughter does, too.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“If the DNA results come back that Taylor is your child, I'll acknowledge what happened to you was a bad deal, but I can't change that and neither can you. I won't let you take Taylor away from me.” Rachel sprayed her hand over her heart. “She's my daughter in here, no matter what a test says. My lawyer says I have a good case, and you probably wouldn't get custody, not even partial.”

“That'll be for the court to decide, if need be. I'd better go. It's getting late.” He spun about on his heel and strode away.

The rigid set to his shoulders and the clenched hands at his sides magnified his anger. She started forward to stop him. Halted in midstep and stayed where she was. What could she say to him? That she would share her daughter with him every other weekend or some type of agreement as if they were a divorced couple? No. She couldn't do that to Taylor.

“I
thought Max was joining us for Christmas dinner.” Jordan popped a carrot stick into her mouth.

“He's supposed to. Maybe there was a medical emergency.” In her kitchen Christmas morning, Rachel stared at the celery she was slicing for the relish dish.

“Or maybe there's something else going on. I also thought he was going with us to church last night. He came alone and sat behind us, then left before I could say hi.”

Rachel recalled Max slipping in late in the pew behind her and just as quietly slipped away when the choir finished and the service was over. He'd been there for Taylor. She had to remember her daughter was behind everything he did. She was his focus.

“What's going on? I thought you two were really getting along.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” Rachel stacked the celery sticks on the tray and set it in the refrigerator.

“Just exactly what I said.” Jordan moved closer, glanced over her shoulder then lowered her voice and said, “If you two married that would solve a lot of problems.”

“We don't know if he's Taylor's father. Besides, marrying because of a child isn't a good enough reason and, believe me, Max feels strongly about that.”

Jordan's eyebrows lifted. “Oh, he does? So you've talked to him about marriage.”

“Well, no, not exactly. But I know his views on marriage. He was burned by his wife. Look what she did by putting their child up for adoption without him knowing.”

“What I want to know is what do you want?”

“I want you and Granny to stop trying to match us up.”

Jordan waved her hand. “Besides that.”

“Ha! I knew you two wouldn't let it go.”

“You're avoiding the question.”

“I never thought I wanted to get married again, either. Now I know I do.” Rachel held up her palm to stop Jordan from saying anything. “But only if the man loves me and wants to be with
me
the rest of his life. I won't settle for anything less.”

“And you don't think Max would ever feel that way?”

“How would I ever know if Taylor turns out to be his daughter?”

“By trusting yourself—God.”

“That's easy for you to say. You aren't in this situation.”

“You don't trust the Lord to show you the right way?”

“It's more complicated than that.” Rachel wiped down the counter. Her feelings concerning Max had developed like an erupting volcano—suddenly and explosively. Her feelings for Lawrence had been formed slowly over time. They snuck up on her, whereas with Max, she felt overwhelmed with emotions from the very beginning.

The doorbell chimed, and Taylor shouted, “I'll get it.”

“That must be Mom and Kevin. I'm glad he decided to come.” Rachel draped the washcloth over the middle section of the double sink.

“Yeah, they're getting serious. It's about time. Do you think Granny moving out prompted this?”

Rachel leaned back against the counter, grasping its edge on both sides of her. “I think it's made her reassess her life. No one wants to be left alone.”

“Are you speaking about yourself?”

“Taylor will be leaving in five or six years. The boys will follow nine or ten years after that. I'll be younger than Mom is now.”

“This is new. You have been thinking about it.”

“Lately.”

“Ever since Max came to town. Interesting.”

Taylor appeared in the entrance from the hallway. “Mom, Max is here and Granny and Doug came right behind him. When is Nana gonna get here so we can open presents?”

“I don't know. Why don't you give her a call?”

“I'll just go to her house. She might need help with the gifts.” Taylor whirled around and rushed down the hall.

“Where's Taylor racing off to?” Max filled the en trance not seconds after Taylor left.

Rachel's pulse pounded through her veins. The conversation with her sister made her realize how much she was falling for this man. A man who was only concerned about his daughter. A man who didn't believe in marriage—like she did. “To get Mom. Nothing can start until she comes.”

“Oh, I see why she's in a hurry.”

“I'm gonna go see if Granny and Doug need any help.” Jordan squeezed past Max still in the doorway.

Could she flee, too? The tension in the room surrounded Rachel as though it were a palpable force. Her grip on the counter's edge strengthened until her fingers hurt. “I didn't think you would come.”

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No.”
Why can't their situation be simple? Girl meets boy. Girl falls in love with boy. Girl lives happily ever after married to boy.
“It's just the last time we talked we didn't part on good terms.”

“I wouldn't miss this first Christmas with—here in Tallgrass.”

The fleeting haunted look that flickered in and out of his eyes swelled her chest with feelings she wanted to deny. But she couldn't. She loved him and he didn't feel that way toward her. “I hope you enjoy yourself.” She turned, facing the sink and grabbing the washcloth. With her focus on the already cleaned counter, she began wiping it down again. Anything to hide the fact her hands shook, her heart was breaking.

A commotion in the foyer drifted to her.

“It looks like your mom is here.”

The feel of his look on her burned through her defenses. “Yeah, the festivities can begin. Let them know I'll be in there in a minute.”

A long pause, then Max said in a tone that sounded prickly like pine needles on a Christmas tree, “I'll do that.”

Squeezing her eyes closed, she listened to him head down the hall toward the den. Happy voices echoed through the house. Laughter and shouts of joy followed. She needed to go in there and act as though she were
fine. She didn't know if she could. Not since Lawrence's sudden death had she experienced such helplessness.

Lord, please help me. What do I do?

 

With the Christmas dinner eaten and the dishes done, Rachel finally sat in the den near the roaring fire. The heat warmed her chilled body. She needed an answer to what to do about Max. None came to mind. All the presents had been opened hours ago. The whole day had been filled with merriment and cheer, but nothing seemed to touch the coldness that embedded itself deep in her bones.

Soon she and Max would find out if Taylor was really his daughter, but lately in her heart she knew he was. Glimpses of them together confirmed it. The way she pressed her lips together when she was thinking. Max did, too. The tilt of his head reminded Rachel of Taylor when she was questioning something—usually her about something her daughter didn't want to do.

“It's time for secret Santa.” Jordan stood in the middle of the room. “For the newcomers, the rule is you can steal a present from someone else, but a gift can only be stolen twice then it's dead. No one else can take it.” Holding a bag with numbers in it, her sister started with Granny. “Whoever gets one goes first. And remember, if you want someone else's present don't be shy. Steal it. This is the only time it's okay to do that.”

“I got one,” her mother said, waving the piece of paper. She rose and walked to the group of wrapped boxes. After shaking a few, she selected a gift and opened it. Fudge from Granny.

Rachel looked at her number. Nine. By the time it was her turn five presents had been revealed. The one she wanted was a loaf of banana nut bread made by Sam with
Granny's help. She took it from Zachary. He frowned and grumbled but picked another gift to unwrap—a quilt showing different winter scenes that Rachel had made.

The next person, Doug, stole the quilt away from Zachary. More grumbles sounded and he selected a third package—a dinner cooked and catered by Max.

“Finally, a gift I can sink my teeth into.” Zachary pumped the air. “And no one better take this one.”

Max was next and wandered around the room, inspecting each gift. He paused in front of her, took the bread, saying, “Smells great,” but gave it back to Rachel, his gaze linking with hers for a long few seconds before he moved on.

She inhaled deeply. Her heart thumped against her chest.

Max stopped in front of Doug and grabbed the quilt that the older man tried to hide. “I believe this means it's dead. No one can take it from me.”

Rachel peered at him as he sat, cradling the gift in his arms.

Taylor was the last person to pick a present. She headed straight for Rachel and snatched the bread. “This is my favorite.”

That left Rachel to put an end to the game by opening the last one under the tree. Everyone encouraged her to do that. She couldn't. Instead she made a beeline for Zachary. There was no doubt what she wanted. She laid her palm out flat. “I'll take the dinner.”

Zachary glared at her and begrudgingly gave it to her. “The only way I won't get a gift stolen from me is to take the last one.” He plucked it up and tore into it. When he saw it, he smiled from ear to ear. “I got the best one of all. A Christmas story by my son.”

While Jordan and Granny asked for Zachary to read it
out loud, Rachel folded the piece of paper into her hand. A dinner with Max or at least one he prepared for her. She probably wouldn't have done it if he hadn't taken her quilt. The gesture gave her courage. A ray of hope. Was this the sign telling her what to do?

 

Rachel signed for the certified envelope three days after Christmas. When the mailman left, she hurried to her bedroom and closed the door, locking it. Taylor was working in the kitchen, complaining she had to work a few hours when it was winter vacation for everyone else. Rachel didn't want her daughter to disturb her while she read the DNA test results. Sinking onto her bed, her hands trembling so much she could hardly hold the letter, she laid it in her lap and stared at it. Oklahoma Diagnostic Lab. The bold lettering taunted her.
Open me.

If Taylor was Max's daughter, she'd be tied to him forever. How was she going to be able to do that loving him the way she did and he not returning those feelings?

She started to rip into it when the phone rang. She snatched it up before Taylor answered it. “Hello.” Even that one word shook with her stress.

“Rachel, I got the DNA results.” Not a hint of what the results were sounded in Max's husky, bass voice.

“I did, too.” She tore the end of the envelope.

“Have you read it yet?”

“No. You?”

“Yes. Read it. I'll wait.”

She didn't need to because she could hear it suddenly in his voice. Relief. Confirmation, finally. “Just a minute.” Placing the phone on the bedside table, she sucked in a fortifying breath and slid her finger in the slit
to open it. She held the paper in both hands, her whole body quaking.

He was Taylor's biological father. Her heart plummeted into her stomach. What was she going to do? “Rachel.”

Max's voice came to her from the receiver. She picked it up. “I'm here.”

“We need to talk.”

“When?”

“Soon.”

“I'll have Jordan come get the kids and have them spend the night at the ranch. We can talk this evening.” Which only gave her a few hours to decide what to do.

“Fine. I'll be over at seven. Okay?”

“Yeah, I'll see you then.” She quickly hung up before she dropped the phone.

Clasping her hands together, she stared at a spot on her floor, a flaw in the hardwood.

You can always refuse him access to Taylor,
a little voice needled her.

She couldn't. She didn't know how she could keep this from Taylor because if she did and her daughter discovered she had, that could destroy their relationship. She couldn't take that chance. Besides, Max could take her to court and then Taylor would definitely know what was going on. No, her daughter needed to find out from her.

But not before she knew Max's intentions now that it was confirmed by the DNA test.

Pounding at her door jerked her head up. “Mom.” The knob rattled. “Why's the door locked?”

Rachel shoved to her feet and let Taylor into the bedroom. “Can't I have a few minutes of quiet time?”

“Fine. But Sam and Will have found the empty rolls of wrapping paper and are using them as swords.”

A crash alerted Rachel that one had connected with something fragile. She hurried down the hall toward the den, glad for once for a distraction.

Right before she went into the room, Taylor shouted from the other end of the corridor, “Can I stop today? I've finished the page of math problems.”

“Yes. Yes.” She turned into the den and saw the lamp she and Lawrence had bought their first Christmas, smashed on the floor.

She came to a halt. Tears swamped her, blurring her vision. She felt like that lamp, shattered into a hundred pieces.

 

Max paced his den floor. In a few minutes, he needed to go over to see Rachel about what they were going to do concerning Taylor. What he'd started two months before when he'd come to Tallgrass was finally coming to an end. Taylor would know the truth soon.

But what was he going to do about their relationship in the future? Not his and Taylor's—that he knew what he was going to do—but his and Rachel's.

He hadn't thought he would do this, but the most logical thing for him to do was marry Rachel. Then he would truly be a part of Taylor's family. He cared deeply for Rachel, and he could be a good father to Will and Sam.

It could work out for everyone. With his decision made, he left his house to go across the street to Rachel's.

 

“Come in. Everyone is gone.” Rachel stepped to the side and let Max into her house that evening precisely at seven o'clock. “We'll talk in here.” She gestured toward
the living room, purposely choosing the more formal setting for their conversation.