Christmas at Cade Ranch Page 13

  “Addict?”

  She pumped her brakes as the plow slowed, then curved in a broad arc onto a white-covered side street. “That’s not who I am.” Yet the anguish in her voice said something else entirely.

  “Honey, you’ll always be an addict.” Sofia cringed inside the down jacket that Joy patted. “One of my biggest regrets with Jesse was how I always tried carrying on like normal, thinking if I gave him the same loving home as always, he’d come to his senses and become himself again.”

  Sofia startled. Wasn’t that what she was trying to do with her own life? Portland would give her a chance at a normal existence without reminders of who she’d been.

  “You loved him, Joy.” She blinked her eyes against the stinging rush rising inside them.

  “Yes. But he also needed my understanding. My unconditional love. He needed me to love and support him for who he was, not who I wanted him to be. I never accepted that side of him, and he must have felt so lonely.”

  “You were doing your best,” Sofia murmured, thinking of herself and how lonely she’d been as an addict, a sensation she could only escape with the next hit. Would she feel lonely again when Javi grew up and moved out? Would her addiction return to fill the void without, as James put it, Javi to stay sober for?

  Joy pressed the end of her scarf to each eye while her other hand kept pat-pat-patting away at any part of Sofia it could reach.

  “I was being selfish, honey. Jesse had changed and I wouldn’t change with him. I lied to myself and acted like his time in rehab was just him leaving home for a spell. And when he was passed out, I told myself he was sick and made him soup. When he came home, I never asked any questions. The less said, the quicker we could move on. Pretend like it didn’t happen. Stuck my head right in the sand and lost my baby because of it.”

  Joy dropped her head in her hands and her shoulders shook.

  “Oh, Joy. No. No. It’s not your fault.” Sofia wished for a safe spot to pull over but the road’s shoulders were piling up with snow right out into the lane.

  “It is my fault. I’m his mother and I failed him. There just isn’t anything worse you can do in life than fail your own children.”

  The air in the car pressed humid and close.

  “Jesse wouldn’t blame you, Joy.”

  She lifted her head and pressed her scarf to her damp cheeks. “He wouldn’t. But that doesn’t make it any less true. But now that you’re here, I have a second chance to get this right.”

  Sofia’s heart thumped. Javi had brought Joy out of her grief. Would she fall back into her depression when they left for Portland? And what about her own feelings? She hated thinking about leaving a place, a group of people that were becoming more and more dear to her...a family.

  “I’m so grateful for everything you’re doing for Javi.” Sofia gently pressed the brake, careful not to lock up as the wind swept a wide swath of snow from one side of the road to the other.

  “I wasn’t talking about Javi.”

  Sofia flicked her a surprised sideways glance. “What?”

  “You’re my second chance, Sofia. I can get this right by showing you that I care and accept you for who you are. Yes. Part of that person is an addict. And that might be the part of you I care about most since it’s the part that’s the hardest to love and the most deserving. If I’d loved Jesse—all of Jesse—that way, maybe he wouldn’t have hidden himself from me.”

  Sofia felt a strange numb sensation begin in her feet, steal up her legs, then into her chest and heart, stopping it momentarily.

  “You love me?”

  No one had ever loved her for her...all of her.

  “I do. And Javi does, too. Don’t ever hide any bit of yourself. Be proud of your struggles, your failures. They make you who you are, a better, stronger person.”

  “I don’t always feel strong.” Her gut clenched at the admission. She needed to believe in her own invincibility. Never wanted to think of the chinks in her armor. She ran from anyone or anything that shone too bright a light on those weaknesses.

  Like James.

  Yet he’d almost kissed her, and somehow, in that moment, she’d felt worthy of it.

  Was she deserving of love? Acceptance?

  “None of us do.” Joy was back to patting, this time Sofia’s shoulder and arm. “That’s why we have each other. Have you ever heard of the poem ‘Footprints in the Sand’?”

  Sofia shook her head. Hazard lights flashed red from a car that had swerved off the road. Its hood was buried in the drift and the driver stood outside with a phone pressed to his ear. He waved them on when Sofia turned on her blinker to pull over. A tow truck’s yellow light appeared in her rearview mirror and she eased her foot off the brake.

  “It’s a religious poem, but you don’t have to be religious to find meaning in it,” Joy continued once they passed the accident. “It’s about a man who has a dream about his life. In each scene, he sees two sets of prints, his and God’s. Yet during the lowest times in his life, he sees only one set. When he asks God why, God says, ‘It’s because I carried you then.’”

  Sofia’s heart thudded. “That’s beautiful.”

  “A family is like that. We’re strongest when we go through tough times together, holding each other, lifting one another up. When Jesse struggled, I didn’t walk beside him or carry him like I should have. I just waited on the other end of the beach for him to come back to me. I’ll never make that mistake again.”

  Sofia chanced a quick hand off the wheel to squeeze Joy’s hand. “Is that why you came to the NA meeting with me tonight?”

  “Yes. That and there’s a grief support group that meets at the same time. I’ve been meaning to go but kept putting it off, thinking my sorrow would go away on its own. Seeing you get help has inspired me.”

  “I inspired you?”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t even want to go to these meetings.”

  Joy pointed to the building that suddenly loomed ahead in the white shower. “But here you are.”

  Sofia braked, rolled to a halt, then turned the key. The engine ticked to a stop. All was quiet except the pelting ice and Joy’s quiet breathing beside her.

  “Yes,” Sofia said at last. “Here I am.”

  After a quick hug, they parted ways and Sofia took her seat inside the meeting room. She listened to her group leader’s opening comments and couldn’t stop her knee from jittering up and down.

  “Who would like to begin?” he asked.

  Sofia’s hand shot up. “I’d like to introduce myself.” She tried not to flinch at the avalanche of attention descending on her. “Again.”

  The teenage boy beside her cracked open one eye, then the other and slid up in his seat. She took a big breath and said:

  “My name is Sofia Gallardo...and I’m an addict.”

  * * *

  “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”

  James startled and the train engine he held dropped onto tracks that now nearly circled the entire living room. The last remnants of the evening’s fire glowed in charred embers deep inside the hearth and its warmth curled in the snug room. Bing Crosby crooned about a white Christmas from wall speakers, a popcorn maker sizzled with heating oil on the kitchen counter and Clint lay on an easy chair, his massive head between his tiny paws, eyes half-slit and watchful for any signs of forthcoming food or affection. On the mantel, a pair of green balsam-scented candles glowed.

  Sofia stood at the base of the stairs in an old-fashioned white nightgown straight out of some Charles Dickens Christmas movie. With her hair loose and curling over her shoulders, the firelight flickering over her beautiful face, she knocked the air clean out of him. Yet it wasn’t just her looks that swelled his tongue and evaporated his words.

  She hadn’t stolen the pills. That was part of it.
Just a part. Big picture—she’d still attended her NA meeting. And she had returned home different somehow, lighter if that made sense, her smiles coming a little easier, freer and even sometimes straight at him. It messed with his heart so it skittered like a newborn colt, wobbly and off balance.

  It was an inconvenient feeling that stuck with him since their near kiss on the mountainside. He’d done his best to avoid her and now here she was, materializing like she’d stepped straight out of one of his dreams.

  “Is this for Javi?”

  He nodded and inhaled the vanilla scent rising from her as she drew close. “You mentioned he liked trains.”

  “This is—this is amazing.” The soft awe in her voice filled him with pride.

  “We had the set as kids. Javi was still upset when he went to bed, so I thought I’d surprise him with this when he woke up.”

  “He’ll love it.” She clapped her hands together and the sparkle in her brown eyes made his pulse pick up speed. “Thank you, James.”

  “For?”

  “Treating him like a father would. He’s never had that before.”

  James ducked his head. “I didn’t expect to have that bond with him. Sometimes it makes me feel guilty, though.”

  “Because of Jesse?”

  “Yes. Javi’s his son.”

  “And he’s your nephew. That’s special, too. So—can I help?”

  “Well. There’s a specific order to it...”

  She rolled her eyes and the now-familiar exasperation she usually wore teased a laugh from him. “Of course there is,” she said.

  An explosion of popping kernels sounded from the kitchen. “Don’t touch anything,” he warned, then strode away. Working quickly, he cut some butter into a bowl and melted it inside the microwave. When the popper quieted, he unplugged it, then dumped the fluffy white pieces into a red-and-white-striped movie-theater replica tub. He salted and buttered it, sneaked a handful of the rich, crunchy treat, then added more salt.

  “Do you want anything to drink?” he called.

  “Is there eggnog left?”

  “I’ll check.”

  The fridge’s cool air rushed against his heated skin. If he had any sanity whatsoever, he’d make his excuses and retreat to his cabin. Being with Sofia late at night, alone, with his heart so raw and exposed it practically beat outside of his body, was asking for trouble. He couldn’t deny his growing feelings or the complications they caused.

  Sofia was Javi’s mother. Jesse’s ex. Giving in to any feelings he had was out of the question. Jesse should be here celebrating Christmas with his son and the mother of his child. Not James. He’d safeguard what had once been Jesse’s but wouldn’t cross the line and become the father he longed to be to Javi.

  As for Sofia, what did he want to be to her?

  He poured two glasses of the nutmeg-scented eggnog, sprinkled cinnamon on top the way Sofia had shown him earlier and suppressed his traitorous thoughts. Acting on his emotions would be disloyal. Unbrotherly... The final act of betrayal for a sibling who had deserved so much more from him.

  He would only ever be an uncle to Javi and maybe, just maybe, an ally to Sofia, someone to guide her, especially if she insisted on battling him for stewardship of Javi’s trust. While she’d made strides when it came to facing her addiction, she still lacked the experience, the discipline and the respect for the proper way of doing things needed for the position. Hopefully the upcoming case’s judge, an old friend, would rule in his favor.

  After loading a tray with the popcorn and drinks, he returned to the living room, then pulled up short. The eggnog sloshed up and over the sides of the glasses. A few popcorn pieces tumbled to the floor.

  “What did you do?”

  Sofia sat back on her heels and a completely unrepentant smile flashed, a line of pink gum appearing. “Made a few improvements.”

  “Improvements?” In a couple of strides, he reached the tree-stump coffee table, set down the tray and joined her by the chaos that had once been his neat and orderly village.

  “Where’s the depot?”

  “Over there. It’s more fun to have it in the center of town. Lots of hustle and bustle.”

  He swallowed that down. Everyone knew a train station sat at the edge of town. Although it did look colorful where she’d placed it. And having several access points to different town tracks made for some extra play opportunities.

  “What happened to the skating rink?”

  “Now, that had to go outside of the village. It gives the people an excuse to use the train. See?”

  And sure enough, a couple of figures waved from the slightly gaudy red, green and gold–painted Christmas caboose, part of the train that now encircled the pond. She’d also moved the hot-chocolate stand and the sliding hill there as well.

  He wanted to argue but couldn’t dredge up a single line that wouldn’t sound petty. Just because something deviated from the way it had always been didn’t mean it wasn’t right. Wasn’t better, in fact. How much he might miss, he mused, by refusing to consider different options.

  “Where’s the tree lot?”

  To his surprise, her face flushed a bit and her eyes fled his. She nodded at a trio of figurines before a large blue-green tree that resembled the one they’d nearly cut down yesterday. A young boy held hands with his mother and father, their smiling faces angled down at their child.

  “What do you think?” she asked with a catch in her voice.

  He stepped close and laced his fingers in hers.

  “I think I love it.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “YOU DO?”

  James turned and his other hand enfolded hers so that they faced one another in the soft blink of Christmas lights. The iPod shuffled to “Baby, It’s Cold Outside” and she shivered. Not from the waterfall of white still flowing from the black sky outside, but from the storm within. It felt like someone released a million butterflies inside her heart.

  “I do,” he rasped. His brown eyes searched hers and she swayed toward him.

  He smelled of fresh mountain air, pine and streams, snow-covered valleys and blue-sky horizons. Of the infiniteness of space and possibilities existing in this rugged outback, where the biggest discovery tonight was within herself...and now this. Them. An incredible joyful sense of being, of unity, that only existed when they occupied the same space. Breathed the same air. Shared the same thoughts.

  What was he thinking?

  “I should go back to bed,” she whispered. Her stomach jumped when his thumbs skimmed over the sensitive flesh of her palms.

  “Don’t,” he murmured, his voice tattered at the edges, the controlled, clipped tone gone. “Stay.” He released her hand and slid his fingers through her hair. “Stay with me.”

  “I—I—” She struggled to regain her voice but it disintegrated, disappearing under the onslaught of sensations bombarding her. James stroked a finger down her cheek. “Yes.” She sighed, melting inside. “I’ll stay.”

  He encircled her waist and her head tipped back. He brought his lips close and the warm, sweet curls of his breath brushed against her skin. “You’re beautiful.”

  “No.” She pressed her eyes closed.

  “Yes,” he insisted and then a strange thing happened. Instead of kissing her, he guided her down next to him on the couch. Lifting her hand, he brushed her fingertips with his lips in a delicious caress that traveled in an electric rush to her toes. Then his mouth trailed to the inside of her wrist and lingered at the vulnerable spot, making the flesh over her bones shake.

  “You smell good,” he murmured against her skin.

  “So do you,” she gasped.

  As he kissed his way up her forearm, her breath grew labored, the air impossible for her lungs to hold, as she responded to his gentle o
nslaught. When his mouth stopped on her track marks, she stiffened against him, hating the reminder of who she’d once been. Not the kind of woman who should be with a man like James. An upstanding man who’d never made any real mistakes in life, not like her, not like she still could...

  “These are beautiful,” he whispered against her scarred skin before kissing there. His lips paid homage to every ridge as though they were precious to him and her heart clenched along with the rest of her, in an agony of want and of wishing for what could never be.

  “James,” she protested. She lifted her lids and glimpsed the top of his dark head bent over her. He rolled his eyes up without lifting his face and the disoriented heat in them made her unravel, too. This undone James was ten times harder to resist than his usual controlled self. “Don’t.”

  He sat up, swept his arm around her shoulders and guided her against the warm, muscular length of his chest. His heart hammered against hers. “Don’t what?”

  “Don’t...” Her voice faltered. “Don’t kiss me there.”

  “How about here?” he murmured before his lips claimed hers in a joining so sweet she nearly cried. The teasing pressure drove her wild and she opened her mouth, allowing his tongue to glide over hers in a slow rub that singed her. She couldn’t get enough of the earthy-spicy taste of him.

  “Yes,” she gasped, her eyes drifting shut again.

  He kissed her ardently and pressed her back against the couch, lifting her legs so they lay beside him. Her nightgown rose slightly and her knee brushed against the smooth, worn denim covering his leg. Every drop of her blood rushed in her veins where they beat beneath the surface of her heated skin.

  The world spun when he left her lips to sample her neck and then lower, sliding down its length to the hollow valley at the base of her throat where his tongue smoothed over her thrumming pulse. Her fingers bored into his shoulders. When her body arched against his, his low groan vibrated against her skin.