Letting Hearts Heal (21 page)

“You’re used to me making a mess of what I write.”

“Nothing you ever wrote to me was a mess. A few misplaced letters don’t take away the meaning of a sentence.”

Mason felt himself blush. His dyslexia had always been a sore spot, although Dean had been great about it. Reading was easier for him than writing, but at least the recipe writing over the years had helped a little. It was easier when it was something he was interested in.

In an attempt to change the subject, Mason pulled out a list he’d been working on. “I wrote down some herbs and vegetables that you might want to check out. I don’t know if you know them or not, but I figured some inspiration might be nice.”

Dean looked over the list and nodded. “Thanks. I’ll add it to my own list of things to try. You know, when I first thought up the concept of the boxes, I wanted to make sure that people didn’t just get a load of spuds and carrots every week. I wanted new things, forgotten things, and things that you don’t just pick up at the grocery store. No point of doing something ordinary when you can go extraordinary instead.”

An awkward good night later, and Mason was crawling into bed on his lonesome own while mulling over Dean’s comment. Wasn’t it the same as saying, “why be alone when you could be with the person you love?” Mason almost got up again because the urge to go knocking on Dean’s door was strong. Nearly too strong. Mason stayed put, though, and told himself that he was doing what was necessary. When he drifted off, he still hadn’t quite convinced himself.

D
EAN
WAS
finding the transition from being
with
Mason to being
without
him harder than their first separation. In some ways, it was as bad as when Mason had disappeared without a trace nine years earlier. Having Mason close but not close enough was not only driving Dean crazy—the whole
look but don’t touch
thing was maddening now that he’d had a second taste. But it also hurt. Dean felt genuine pity for his battered heart. Part of him hoped Mason didn’t suffer. Another part of him hoped Mason hurt worse.

“Daddy, can we write the letter to Santa?” Wyatt stood in the office door, looking hopeful, and it made Dean smile.

“Sure. It doesn’t hurt to be early.”

“Yay.” Wyatt ran over, climbed into Dean’s lap as if he’d always done it, and looked up expectantly. “Can I draw a Christmas tree on the letter when we’ve wrote it?”

“Absolutely.” Dean grabbed a sheet of paper from the printer and a red pen. “What are we writing?”

Scrunching his face up in concentration, Wyatt tapped a finger against his lips. “Dear Santa, I’m real glad that you come to all the malls so I can see you even though I live with my daddy now and not my mommy. My daddy’s writing the letter, by the way, because I haven’t learned how to write yet.”

Smiling as he wrote out Wyatt’s words, he vowed to make a copy of the letter and keep it forever. He’d committed a damn adorable kid. “What else?”

“Um… can I tell Santa about Mason and Sweet Pea?”

“Sure you can. You can tell Santa anything you want.”

Famous last words
, Dean thought to himself as he wrote down a long, rambling description of Mason, Sweet Pea, Joe, and horses, the ranch, the pea pizza Mason made sometimes, and how it was a lot more fun to live on a ranch than in an apartment in the city. Dean’s hand faltered at that. Wyatt had never spoken about whether or not he liked being on the ranch, but Dean was happy to hear that he was. Once again, it made him wonder about Wyatt’s life with Diana.

“And then I tell Santa what I want for Christmas, right?” Wyatt asked.

“That’s right.”

Wyatt considered it. “What if it’s too ’spensive?”

“You can ask Santa for anything, and if you’ve been a really good boy, he’ll give it to you.” Dean could barely remember believing in Santa, but he wanted Wyatt to. He just hoped he was explaining it the right way.

“Okay.” Wyatt took a deep breath, as if preparing to unload a list of Christmas wishes longer than the driveway. “Then write to Santa that I’d like a stable for Sweet Pea, my own horse when I get bigger, and for my daddy and Mason to be happy all the time.”

Dean fumbled with the pen. He’d planned to get Wyatt anything he asked for. A stable for the toy horse was doable as he knew Joe could help him hammer something together, and a Wyatt-sized pony was already waiting to be picked up in time for the holidays—along with a Mason-sized gelding. The last thing, however…. Dean knew he had his work cut out for him if he was to deliver on that one.

“And then write ‘from Wyatt.’”

“Got it.” Dean hoped Wyatt couldn’t hear his voice shake.

Grabbing the letter, Wyatt slid down from Dean’s lap. “I gotta get my crayons for the drawing.”

Wyatt scampered off and left Dean to contemplate how he was going to play Santa Claus.

Chapter 17

D
EAN
HAD
promised Mason to do things his way, but he was getting irritated and frustrated with the whole thing. He would do anything for Mason. But Dean still didn’t get what he was thinking—he’d get comfortable cooking again and everything would magically be okay? Or Dean would realize, guided by divine inspiration or some shit, why he’d let go of Mason’s hand and set off the entire avalanche of misery, and they’d live happily ever after? Dean didn’t understand how Mason would
know
when everything was fine.

“Boy, you’re out of whack.”

Dean sighed. Joe used that expression a lot, and Dean had never understood what it meant, but now he did. He was, indeed, out of whack.

“You’re stressed, and whatever’s going on between you and Mason is dragging you down. It’s your drive that keeps the business going, son. I thought you’d be thrilled to finally have your chef.”

“I know. And I am. It’s just….”

“It’s just what? You know I’ll listen and offer whatever advice I can, but I’m not a mind reader.”

They were on horseback doing something as old-fashioned as checking the fences. Dean had been excited about transforming the ranch since he was old enough to understand that it would one day be his. But he sometimes enjoyed the tasks that were unchanged. Like feeding the animals, checking the fences, and baling hay. And preparing to launch the catering side of the business kept him confined to his office for days at a time. He was getting desperate for excuses to spend time outside.

Like a dam bursting, Dean told Joe how happy he and Mason had been, how he had fucked it all up without even realizing it, how Mason had suggested they deal with their relationship, and how utterly frustrated Dean was feeling.

Joe whistled. “You youngsters always complicate things more than you need to.”

“Then what’s the simple solution?”

“It should be obvious, son. What is it that you want?”

Dean breathed in the cold, clean air and gazed over the pristine, snow-covered landscape. Here and there he could see animal tracks. The mountains in the distance and the valley with all its riches had given him the opportunity to go after his dreams. It was all part of him, just as Wyatt and Mason were. And he would never want anything other than his son, the man he loved, and the land on which his home stood. Wyatt and the Walker corner of the valley were already his. That left Mason.

“I want Mason.”

Joe chuckled as if he’d been privy to Dean’s thoughts. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“But how do I get him?”

Joe heaved a heavy sigh. “Boy, you’re not that dumb. You go after him the same way you go after everything else you want.”

“But he’s not comfortable cooking, yet. He says he is, but I can tell that he’s on edge every time he turns on the stove.”

“Does that make him worth less to you?”

“No, of course not.”

“Well, then.” Joe slid off his horse to take a closer look at something.

Was it really that easy? What if he pushed Mason too much and he bolted? Maybe taking charge and showing Mason exactly how he felt and what he wanted was the way to erase the ugly memory from town. Dean had a lot of thinking to do.

“Fence is fine here. Just a bit of a snow drift.” With a groan that showed Joe wasn’t a young man anymore, he got back in the saddle.

“I can help you even further,” Joe picked up their conversation. “Anna asked if she could help with some of the paperwork stuff that’s threatening to snap your back in two. As long as she can do it at the kitchen table and doesn’t have to make any phone calls, she’s your gal.”

“Really?”

“Yep. Your old man wasn’t too keen on it getting out, but she used to do the books for him, so she knows what she’s doing.”

“Dad didn’t do his own books? Oh, that’s priceless. What the hell did he do besides drink and ruin people’s lives?”

Joe, the ever faithful friend and employee, said nothing. Dean sighed. “Sorry. Except I’m not sorry.”

“The man did you a lot of harm. Mason even more so. I understand, son.”

Dean offered a tired smile. “If Anna wants to help out with some of the paperwork and bookkeeping, then she’s my hero. Let me know what she’d rather do or if she might want to sit down and hash it out with me sometime.”

“Thanks for understanding that she needs her space. It’s worrying about that that’s kept her from offering sooner.”

“I adore Anna,” Dean said, honestly. “You guys have always been there for me—in different ways, but there nonetheless.”

Joe smiled. “Anna always calls you my youngest son.”

“I wish.”

Dean wished it even more when a hesitant, yet extremely brave, Anna came knocking on the door the same evening. She was a beautiful woman who didn’t look like her oldest daughter was over forty.

“Hi, Anna. Please come in.”

“Thanks.” Her voice was soft and her gaze glued to the floor, but she stood her ground, which was more than Dean had ever seen. He was used to a quick hi and an apologetic smile before she vanished.

“Anna!” Wyatt came running, always curious when he heard the doorbell. He and Mason had been building a Lego stable for Sweet Pea.

Anna crouched down and got an enthusiastic hug from Wyatt. She handed him a cookie tin. “Chocolate chip,” she revealed. “But ask your Dad before you eat any, okay?”

“Okay.” Wyatt sniffed the tin. “Thank you, Anna.”

“You’re welcome, honey.” She stood back up and ruffled his hair.

“Wyatt, go play with Mason for a while. You can give him a cookie if he’s behaving. I need to talk to Anna.”

Giggling, Wyatt ran back to the living room, yelling at Mason to be good or he wouldn’t get a cookie.

“He’s a good boy,” Anna said. “He and you seem to be doing each other a world of good.”

Dean smiled, thinking that was the finest praise he’d ever received from anyone. “Thank you. Would you like a cup of coffee or tea? I suppose you’re here to talk business. I really can’t tell you how grateful I am for your offer.”

Anna looked like she wanted to say no, but nodded instead. “I’d love a cup of tea, thank you. And yes. Joe says you’re overwhelmed with the paperwork and bookkeeping, and I’ve got plenty of time. I think what you’re doing with the farm and the store in town is so wonderful.”

It was the most Dean had ever heard Anna say, and it pleased him that she was finally opening up to him a little. “You’re a godsend, Anna. The office is through that way, as I’m sure you know. I’ll be along in a minute with the tea.”

In the following hour, Dean discovered that Anna was an extremely intelligent woman, whose overwhelming shyness might have kept her from a lucrative career. She had a knack for numbers, and she was full of ideas. The more she thawed in Dean’s company, the more he got to see what an amazing person had been hiding on his ranch.

“I’ve always loved my life here on the ranch,” Anna said. “But sometimes I wish I’d had it in me to have a job somewhere. I liked doing your father’s books.”

“You can have first pick of whatever tasks you want. After Joe told me about your offer, I came right home and made this list for you. It contains pretty much all the stuff I deal with, though more is always being added because I can’t resist trying out new ideas.”

“As long as I don’t have to deal with people, face to face or on the phone, anything is fine.” She colored a little. “I never was good with people.”

“It’s sometimes easy to forget there’s a world outside when you live your life on a ranch. I feel a touch of that from time to time.”

The evening slipped away as they talked. Dean wished he’d had the opportunity to get to know Anna sooner. She was like Joe and Mason. She understood his vision and ideas. She told him about places on the property where, depending on the season, he might find new ingredients. Wild berries, elderflowers, mushrooms, watercress, wild garlic—Anna knew all the secrets.

Mason brought a stop to their talk by knocking on the doorframe. Dean was oddly disappointed.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Mason said with an apologetic smile. “Joe’s here to pick up Anna.”

Anna looked at her wrist watch. “Oh dear. It’s nearly midnight. He must be worried. I said I’d only be half an hour.”