A Small-Town Christmas

Josie Rushton’s in Camlin for the holidays—but not for long. She has just a few weeks to persuade her ailing grandfather to leave his small Nevada town and move closer to her Las Vegas home. But after seventy-five happy years in his house, Gramps isn’t going anywhere. Josie can’t imagine what’s so great about Camlin. When she meets single dad and forest ranger Clint Hamilton, she quickly begins to see the appeal. Clint shows Josie the joys of living in a close-knit community, especially at Christmas. She’s soon falling for the town, Clint’s charm and his adorable daughter. Can Clint convince her that love and family are the best gifts of all?

A flush warmed Josie’s face.

Clint took a sip of sparkling cider, but he didn’t meet her eyes. Since they’d confided so much to each other at the hospital, he hadn’t been the same. It was as though she couldn’t reach him anymore.

Oh, why pretend she didn’t understand? She’d be leaving soon. Going home to Vegas. She had a challenging job, but no one to share it with. As much as she’d like to stay here in Camlin, she couldn’t. She had to earn a living, and help provide for Gramps.

But leaving Camlin wouldn’t be easy.

Their meal ended all too soon. Gramps sat in his recliner beside the Christmas tree, with Gracie in his lap. Wearing expectant grins, they cast a conspiratorial gaze at Josie and Clint.

“What are you two up to?” Clint asked.

Gramps pointed over their heads. In unison, they looked up. A sprig of mistletoe hung directly above, tied with red curling ribbon.

“Now you have to kiss her, Daddy,” Gracie ordered with a laugh.

LEIGH BALE

is an award-winning, multipublished novelist who won a prestigious RWA Golden Heart in 2006. More recently, she was a finalist for the Gayle Wilson Award of Excellence. She is the daughter of a retired U.S. forest ranger, holds a B.A. in history with honors and loves grandkids, spending time with family, weeding the garden with her dog Sophie and watching the little sagebrush lizards that live in her rock flower beds.

Married in 1981 to the love of her life, Leigh and her professor husband now have two wonderful children and two grandchildren. But life has not always been rosy. In 1996, Leigh’s seven-year-old daughter was diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumor. In the dark years that followed, God never abandoned them. After six surgeries, 284 stitches, a year of chemo and a myriad of other difficulties, Leigh’s daughter is now a grown woman and considered less than 1 percent survivorship in the world for her type of tumor. Life is good!

Truly the Lord has blessed Leigh’s family. She now transfers the love and faith she’s known into the characters of her stories. Readers who have their own trials can find respite within the uplifting message of Leigh’s books. You can reach Leigh at P.O. Box 61381, Reno, Nevada 89506, or visit her website at www.leighbale.com.

The Forest Ranger’s Christmas
Leigh Bale

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Rest in the Lord, and wait patiently for him.

—Psalms 37:7

This book is dedicated to Rose and Angie,

two bright lights in my life.

Many thanks to Mike Fritz, RPh, for taking the time

to answer my questions about pharmacies. And

thanks also to Julie Muhle for her medical expertise.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Jocelyn Rushton decreased her speed and switched on the windshield wipers as she entered the sleepy mining town of Camlin, Nevada. Home for the holidays. Or at least the only place on earth Josie had ever considered a real home.

As she turned down Garson Way, a siren sounded behind her. She peered into her rearview mirror at the squad car coming up behind her. Great! Just great. A speeding ticket to welcome her home.

The deep-throated noise escalated to a shrill whine. She slowed her compact car, the tires slicing through furrows of slush covering the black asphalt. Inching her way over into a drift of snow, she hoped she didn’t get stuck in the frozen mud.

Red lights flashed and she shook her head. She hadn’t been speeding. Not on these slick roads. Maybe she had a taillight out. Maybe...

The patrol car zipped past and Josie expelled a breath of relief. Then her mind went wild as she thought about where the police car might be headed. Her grandfather’s house was on this street. He’d lived here most of his life. A cul-de-sac, with no outlet. What if...?

A blaze of panic burned through her chest. Glancing in her rearview mirror again, Josie pulled her car back onto the icy pavement and drove steadily toward Gramps’s house. Forcing herself not to speed. Anxious to see Gramps and know that he was all right.

Rows of quaint little homes with spacious yards covered in pristine snow flashed past her window. Fresh wreaths of pine boughs and holly decorated almost every door front. The late afternoon sunlight illuminated strings of red, yellow and green Christmas bulbs hanging along each roof.

Her fingers tightened around the steering wheel as she forced herself to remain calm. To take deep, even breaths. In these slippery conditions, it’d do no good if she ended up sliding into the shallow irrigation ditch bordering the narrow road.

Finally she saw Gramps’s white frame house. A bevy of ice-crusted vehicles sat parked out front. The squad car dominated the scene, perched at an odd angle in the driveway. It blocked a green Forest Service truck.

Josie pulled up in front of the house. Two elderly women wearing heavy coats scurried through the snow toward their cars. The siren still blared and they clapped their hands over their ears to shut out the deafening noise. No doubt they were eager to vacate the premises, now that the police officer was here.

Hearing the siren, neighbors came outside and perched on their front porches like gawking fowl. They crossed their arms against the chilly temperature and crinkled their noses at all the commotion.

Josie killed the engine and clicked off her seat belt. She scanned the area for an ambulance, then remembered this tiny town didn’t have one. Just a volunteer fire department, with the nearest hospital sixty-eight miles away in Bridgeton. One more reason for her to worry about Gramps. If he ever needed quick medical care, he could be in real trouble. And who would drive him to Bridgeton? With her living ten hours away in Las Vegas, Gramps was all alone. Something she hoped to change very soon.

She threw her car door open wide. Stepping out in her tennis shoes, she skirted a pile of slushy snow. She glanced at the roof of the two-story house, searching for smoke or some sign of a break-in. Except for a cluster of missing shingles on the west side, nothing looked out of place. No obvious reason that would warrant a cop.

Maybe Gramps had collapsed.

Lengthening her stride, she hurried toward the driveway. Her gaze scanned the yard...and screeched to a halt when she saw Gramps. In a flash, she took in his ruddy cheeks, lumpy coat, orange knit cap and black floppy galoshes. At the age of seventy-eight, he seemed perfectly strong and healthy. He stood beside another tall, muscular man Josie immediately recognized from her previous visits to her grandparents’ home.

Clint Hamilton. The local forest ranger.

His drab olive-colored shirt, spruce-green pants and bronze shield lent him an air of authority. Even his broad shoulders couldn’t withstand this intense cold. He jerked a heavy coat out of his truck and pulled it on, zipping it up to his chin. He towered over Gramps and the policeman, his muscular legs planted firmly beneath him. As he lifted his head and stepped closer to Gramps, he dominated the scene, strong and in control. But what was he doing here? And what did he want with her grandfather?

Josie’s gaze shifted to Officer Tim Wilkins, one of her childhood friends. Another one of her failed relationships. If you could call a school dance at the age of sixteen a failure. They’d gone out twice, but she’d broken it off when he’d asked her to go steady. As a teenager, she’d tried not to hurt Tim’s feelings, but she had. Her parents’ nasty divorce, followed by her father’s death a year later, had made her wary of falling in love. She’d promised herself she’d never get married if there was any chance it wouldn’t last. If she didn’t involve her heart, she wouldn’t get hurt. It was that simple. Yet since that time, she’d been engaged twice. Her two ex-fiancés made her realize those relationships had been based on something other than love and respect. She’d wanted to be engaged, to feel normal and safe.

So she wouldn’t be alone anymore.

Shaking off those somber thoughts, Josie refocused on the present. Tim was a grown man now with a family of his own, and she hoped he wasn’t the sort to hold a grudge. In comparison to Clint, he looked rather silly, with his officer’s hat perched at an odd slant and his hands resting on his thin hips.

Slogging through the foot-deep snow, Josie made a mental note to shovel it off the sidewalk before she unloaded her suitcase from her car. Her breath puffed on the air with each exhalation. As she bustled up the path, she surveyed Gramps’s house one more time. A single strand of colored lights hung from a protrusion of rusted nails that edged the front porch. A skimpy showing compared to the rolls of bulbs Gramps normally stapled to the house every December.

This wouldn’t do. Not at all. Josie had never hung lights on a house before, but she would learn how. And soon. No matter what, she wanted this to be the best Christmas ever. Because it might be their last here in Camlin.

A rivulet of meltwater ran from the gutters. Her gaze scanned the peeling paint and missing shingles. Without repairs, the moisture might soon invade the interior. Further proof that Gramps could no longer keep up the place on his own. He needed help. He needed her. She couldn’t stand the thought of him collapsing on the floor of his house and lying there for days on end until someone found and helped him. But asking a man like Frank Rushton to leave his home and move with her to Vegas might ruin Christmas. Regardless, she had to do it. Because as much as she loved her job, she was tired of being on her own. If Gramps lived nearby, she could check in on him often. Neither of them would be alone anymore. It’d be good for Gramps. And good for her, too.

She hoped.

She shielded her eyes against the blare of red lights emanating from the squad car like the beacon of a lighthouse. The men were talking and gesturing, but she couldn’t make out their words over the piercing squeal of the siren. It was so like Tim to leave it on. Even as a kid, he’d been loud and obnoxious. Always hanging around when Josie was in town to visit her grandparents.

She sighed inwardly, admitting she wasn’t very good at relationships.

Tim’s voice escalated as he shook a stern finger beneath Gramps’s nose. When he reached to unsnap the leather tab over his holster, Josie’s breath hitched in her throat.

She broke into a run.

“Officer Wilkins, I didn’t expect you to come over here today.” The forest ranger’s voice boomed over the keening howl.

“Just helping to keep the peace,” Tim said.

Ha! Not with all the racket his squad car was making.

Clint jutted his chin toward the neon orb flashing on top of the black-and-white vehicle, his brow furrowed in frustration. “Can you please turn off the lights and siren on your squad car? I can’t hear what everyone’s saying. And no guns will be necessary.”

Tim’s eyes crinkled in disappointment as he yelled his response. “Sorry about that.”

He trotted back to his police car, puffing for breath as he passed Josie along the way.

“Hi there, Josie. Good to see you home,” he shouted with a wave.

She nodded, too distracted to speak right now, her composure rattled. Her father had grown up in Camlin, where everyone knew almost everyone else, including a granddaughter who’d been visiting here all her life. That had good points and bad. The good was that most people here cared about her. The bad was that everyone knew her personal business, no matter how hard she tried to keep it private.

It didn’t help that Gramps had a penchant for gossip.

He gestured to the side, where at least two dozen fir and spruce trees leaned against the chain-link fence that edged his driveway and bordered his front lawn. “I haven’t done anything wrong, Ranger. I just cut fresh Christmas trees like I’ve done every year of my life since long before you was even a gleam in your daddy’s eyes.”

Trees? This was about Christmas trees?

The harsh sound of the siren died abruptly, and everyone in the yard exhaled with relief. Finally Josie could hear herself think.

“Gramps! What’s going on?” She squinted at her grandfather until the red orb on the police car was shut off , then she blinked.

“Why, Josie. I didn’t expect to see you here.” Gramps engulfed her in a tight bear hug.

The scents of peppermint and arthritis cream assailed her nostrils. When Gramps released her, she drew back and gazed at his gruff face, looking for signs of distress. He wasn’t a young man anymore, but he appeared strong, his cheeks flushed from the cold winter air. His steely gray eyes twinkled with joy and she couldn’t help smiling back. How she loved him. How glad she was to see him again.

“Remember I called you last week to tell you I was driving in today?” she said.

He blinked and gave her an absentminded frown. “Oh, yeah. That’s right. When did you get into town?”

“Just now. Are you okay?”

He waved a grizzled hand in the air. “Sure, I’m fine. How was your drive? Did you get caught in any snowstorms along the way?”

“No, but I—”

“How long can you stay?”

“About five weeks. But I want to talk—”

“So long? Why, that’s wonderful news. We’ll have so much fun. But we better go shopping. Ma always made a big ham for Christmas dinner, but maybe you’d like something else this year. What about prime rib? We can have whatever you like, as long as there’s pumpkin pie and homemade rolls. You know your grandma made the best—”

“Ahem.” The ranger cleared his throat. “Sorry to interrupt your reunion, Frank. But we’ve got to clear this matter up.”

Josie gazed at Clint, recalling what Grandma had once told her about the man. A single father, with a cute little girl he was raising. Tall and well-built, with a blunt chin, short brown hair, and a dazzling smile that sucked the breath right out of her lungs. When he smiled, that is. But he wasn’t smiling right now.

From her peripheral vision, Josie was conscious of Officer Wilkins joining them again. Without the wail of the siren, they automatically lowered their voices to a rational level.

“Can you tell me what this is about?” she asked, trying to calm her jangled nerves.

“Honey, you remember Clint Hamilton, the local forest ranger,” Gramps said.

How could she forget? They hadn’t said more than a handful of words to each other in the more than three years since he’d moved to town, but Josie would have to be a saint not to notice his slightly crooked smile and dark good looks. And she was definitely no saint. Not in this life, anyway. But since her broken engagement with Edward had been a mere eight months earlier, she wasn’t interested in another romance. At least, that’s what she told herself.

“Clint and his little daughter, Gracie, are members of my church congregation,” Gramps continued. “You’ve met them a few times over the past years. They were at Ma’s funeral back in September.”

Ma. The affectionate name Gramps used to refer to Viola, his wife of fifty-seven years. When she’d died three months earlier, something had changed inside Josie. She loved her job as a pharmacist, but suddenly work wasn’t enough anymore. She wanted more, but wasn’t sure what that might be. And so she’d decided to take a break and figure things out. Already, being here made her feel lighter inside. As though her presence really mattered. To Gramps, anyway.

She nodded at Clint. He’d been one of the pallbearers for Grandma’s casket. And following the service, he’d shaken Josie’s hand and offered sincere condolences for her loss. She’d looked into his caring eyes and felt her sorrow melt away. Then he’d stepped aside and she’d been blown back to her lonely reality.

“Clint, you remember my granddaughter, Jocelyn Rushton.” Gramps bumped the ranger with his elbow and gave a sly grin. “She’s sure pretty, isn’t she? And a good cook and seamstress, too. Viola taught her.”

Clint’s gaze darted Josie’s way. “Yeah, glad to see you again.”

Momentarily distracted, Clint stuck out a hand for her to shake. While her cheeks heated up like road flares, he shot her a guarded look, his warm brown eyes sweeping across her face.

“Hi.” Her voice sounded small and uncertain, not at all like the professional woman she tried so hard to portray. Then she realized she was staring. Oddly fascinated by the hint of stubble across his masculine chin. “Can you tell me what this is about?”

“Your grandfather is in a lot of trouble, Josie.” Stepping near, Tim hitched up his waistband. The pepper spray, ammunition pouches, flashlight and radio on his police belt jangled.

Clint interceded. “I’m terribly sorry for all this trouble, Frank, but I’ve had a report of stolen Christmas trees.”

Josie’s gaze darted over to the row of spruce and fir. She didn’t understand what was going on yet, but a twinge of alarm tugged at her stomach and she couldn’t help feeling as protective as a mother grizzly. This was Gramps, after all. Not a stranger to these men. And certainly not a criminal.

“My grandfather would never steal anything,” she said.

And she sure wasn’t about to stand by while they accused him of theft.

* * *

Clint didn’t like this situation. Not at all. And judging from the fierce glare on Jocelyn Rushton’s face, neither did she. But even her frown couldn’t diminish her pretty features. Curls the color of damp sand bounced against her slim shoulders. She looked casual, dressed in a waist-length coat, tennis shoes and blue jeans that fit her long legs in a firm caress. Her intelligent blue eyes sparked with annoyance. And he couldn’t blame her. This was her grandfather, after all. If Clint didn’t want trouble, he’d better do something to stop it. And fast.

“I’m sure Frank is innocent of any crime,” he said. “But I’ve had a complaint that he’s illegally selling trees. He’s cut so many that I’ll need to see his permits.”

In unison, all eyes riveted back on Frank. The elderly man blinked vacantly. “Permits?”

“Yes, Frank,” Clint insisted in a gentle tone. “You need a permit to cut each one of these trees. Do you have them?”

“Why, no, I don’t,” he blustered. “I’ve never bought a permit in the past. I just drive my truck up on the mountain and take what I want. It’s not like I’m going into someone’s backyard and stealing the trees.”

Horror ignited in Tim’s eyes. “Aha! That’s a confession, Frank. We’ve got you now.”

Josie’s mouth dropped open in dismay and her beautiful blue eyes narrowed for a fight.

Oh, this wasn’t good. Clint regretted telling Tim that he’d drive right over here and speak with Frank about the situation. As soon as Clint had arrived, he’d heard the blare of the siren and known Tim was on his way, too. Without him intending it, the situation had been blown out of proportion.

“Tim, let’s hear what Frank has to say.” Clint tried to calm everyone.

“Theft?” the older man said, looking confused. “I cut down Christmas trees to give to the widows down at the civic center. How is that a crime?”

Clint tilted his head to one side. Was this an act? Or did Frank really not understand about tree permits? Everything Clint knew about this elderly man told him he was painfully honest. But cutting trees without a permit didn’t make sense, either. The whole situation gave Clint a bad feeling, as if he was about to get hit in the head with a brick.

“You took the trees without buying permits. That’s called stealing,” Tim crowed in victory.

Frank’s gaze zigzagged back to Clint. “I can’t argue with that, but it’s what I’ve done all my life. Someone’s got to cut trees for the widows in town. In my day, the dads used to go out with their sons. Now, parents are too busy to spend quality time with their kids and teach them to do a good deed for others.”

Point taken. It reminded Clint that he needed to be a better father to his own child. It wasn’t easy being both a mom and dad to a seven-year-old girl, but he’d never stop trying. He’d failed to make Karen happy, but he wouldn’t botch it with his daughter. Gracie was the light in his life. His reason for living. And right then, he decided to make time to cut down their own tree within the next few days, just as soon as she got out of school.

“I agree, Frank. But I still need to see your permits,” Clint said.

“It’s a clear case of theft.” Tim pursed his lips almost smugly.

“It is not. My grandfather is not a thief,” Josie cried.

She stepped protectively in front of Frank. Fire crackled in her eyes, absolutely stunning. But Clint reminded himself he wasn’t interested. Not after his abysmal failure with Karen.

His heart couldn’t take it.

He released a shallow breath and closed his eyes for the count of three. Technically, he could have Frank arrested. But he wouldn’t do that. Not in a zillion years. Not only was Frank a good friend, but Clint could just imagine his supervisor’s deep frown should this story hit the evening news. Clint could see the headlines now: Local Forest Ranger Has Elderly Man Arrested for Cutting Christmas Trees to Give Away to Poor Widows.

Clint shook his head. No sirree. He wasn’t about to let this happen. Not on his watch.

“Look, Ranger,” Josie said.

“Clint,” he corrected.

“Look, Clint. I think this is all just a big misunderstanding. My grandfather didn’t know he was taking the trees illegally. I’m happy to pay for them. If you’ll just tell me how much.” She dug inside her purse as though searching for her wallet.

Tim shook his head like a banty rooster. “It’s too late, Josie. You can’t steal trees, then buy us off. I’ll have to take Frank in.” He reached for his handcuffs.

“Officer Wilkins, please. Cuffs won’t be necessary.” Clint held out a hand, thinking the lawman had lost his mind. Maybe they all had.

Josie stared at Tim in shock. “This is ridiculous.”

“I agree,” Clint said.

“But, Ranger...” Tim objected.

Clint leveled his best warning glare on him and shifted his weight protectively toward Frank. Thankfully, the cop clamped his mouth shut. Without saying another word, Clint had effectively controlled the situation. He flashed a smile of amicable indulgence toward Frank. The last thing he wanted was for this good man to think he was being accused of dishonesty.

“Don’t worry, Frank. I’m sure we can sort this out,” he said.

Tim backed up, tossing a wary glance toward him. Clint had jurisdiction in this situation and the lawman could do nothing without his say-so.

“Frank, I was told that you were selling these trees for a profit. From what you’ve said, that isn’t true.” Clint spoke in a congenial tone, determined to keep the peace.

Frank shook his head. “Absolutely not. I’ve never sold a tree in my life. Who told you that?”

Clint’s gaze wavered over the policeman for a fraction of a second. Tim had come to the Forest Service office less than an hour earlier to tattle on Frank. Unfortunately, the officer didn’t have his facts straight. Or he’d possibly omitted a few things from his report. Right now, it didn’t matter. Clint was not having Frank arrested.

“I realize now that was a mistake,” Clint said. “A complete misunderstanding. But I hope you can see why I had to check it out.”

Frank peered at the ranger with doubt. “It’s not true. I give all the trees away, except for the one I set up in my own living room each year.”

Clint reached inside his coat pocket and withdrew a slim pamphlet. Tree theft of any kind was a common occurrence that cost taxpayers millions of dollars every year. As the local forest ranger, Clint had to follow up and prevent theft whenever possible. “I’m afraid you need a permit. I’m surprised you didn’t notice all the signs we have posted along the main road leading up into the mountains. You didn’t see any of them?”

Frank shrugged his sagging shoulders. “Uh, sure, I saw the signs, but I didn’t stop to read them.”

“The lettering is quite large. We made the signs that way on purpose. You wouldn’t need to get out of your car to read what they say. This tells you all about the permits.” Clint handed him the pamphlet.

Frank barely glanced at the glossy paper. “How much is a permit? How do I buy one?”

Clint pointed at the brochure. “You can read all the information right there.”

Frank stared at it blankly. “Uh, my glasses are in the house. I’ll have to read it later.”

Clint considered the elderly man carefully. A sense of doubt assailed him, a nagging suspicion he’d been fighting off for some time now. But he didn’t want to embarrass Frank. Before he could act on his hunch, he’d have to get rid of the cop.

Reaching up, he clapped the policeman on the back. “Officer Wilkins, I appreciate you coming over here. But I believe it was a false call and I can take care of the situation from here on out.”

“Are you sure, Ranger?” Tim drawled, his chest puffing out with importance. “I can haul the suspect down to the jail for more questioning, if you like.”

“Suspect!” The word burst from Josie’s mouth like a nuclear explosion. “Timmy Wilkins, this is my grandfather you’re talking about. And you know perfectly well that you used to steal candy from Milton’s Grocery Store when we were eleven years old. Who are you to accuse my grandfather of theft?”

“I, um, don’t recall that.” Tim ducked his head, his face flushing red as a new fire engine.

Clint shot Josie a quizzical look, wishing she wasn’t here right now. He felt out of sorts around her. Around any woman, for that matter. Ever since Karen had died. But Josie had made a good point. Officer Wilkins wasn’t without faults. None of them were.

“We’re not arresting Frank.” Clint’s voice nailed the final verdict.

“There’s no need to mollycoddle Frank just because we’re all friends and neighbors. The law is the law and it can’t be broken, even in a small town like Camlin,” Tim said.

Josie shook her head, not accepting his sudden lapse in memory. “My grandfather has not knowingly broken any law. You’re not taking him anywhere.”

“Of course he’s not.” Clint tried to show a tolerant smile. “Officer, I’m sorry to have dragged you away from your busy day. Merry Christmas.” He gave Tim’s shoulder a gentle nudge toward the squad car, then turned his back on the policeman and indicated the house. “Frank, can I speak with you inside for a few minutes? Alone.”

Clint sure didn’t want Tim around for what he had to say next. Unfortunately, he had a feeling about Frank that would undoubtedly upset the elderly man and his fuming granddaughter even more. It’d be best to deal with the problem in private. Without anyone else present, including Josie.

But Clint couldn’t back down. The issue was too important. He just hoped that, when he was finished with what he had to say, he and Frank Rushton were still good friends.

Chapter Two

“Sure we can talk, Ranger. Come on inside where it’s warm,” Frank said.

Clint glanced at Josie. “I’d like to speak with your grandfather alone for a few minutes, if you don’t mind. It’ll only take a minute.”

She shook her head. “Sorry, but I’d like to be included.”

He hesitated, frowning with displeasure, but Josie didn’t give him the chance to argue. Frank lumbered toward the house and she followed, chugging through the snow like a bulldozer. Feeling as if the bottom of her world had just crashed through the floor. Dazzling smile or not, she wasn’t about to leave Clint Hamilton alone with her grandfather. Not when he could change his mind and have Gramps arrested.

Gramps circled around to the side entrance into the kitchen. He opened the door, then stood back to admit Clint and Josie first. She wasn’t surprised. Her grandfather was the kindest, most decent man she knew. Always putting others first. Generous to a fault. It wasn’t odd that he cut and gave trees away to the local widows. And it didn’t sit well with Josie to have him accused of theft. At least the ranger was being reasonable about the situation.

For now.

As she stepped inside, the warmth of the kitchen enveloped her. Then a sour odor like stale, damp socks struck her in the face.

Josie’s gaze swept the normally tidy room in astonishment. Dishes crusted with food sat piled high on the stove and in the sink. A brick of cheddar cheese sat drying on the countertop, greening with mold. Several cupboard doors hung open. Moving past Clint, she reached up and closed them. Something crackled beneath her feet and she crinkled her nose.

Her mind churned, trying to make sense of the mess. Grandma had always kept a spotless house. Since her recent passing, Josie had come to visit Gramps twice. She’d cleaned his house each time, but it had never looked this bad. And she figured this was one more reason he needed her help.

Gramps indicated the chairs at the scarred, wooden table. “Take off your coat and have a seat, Ranger. You can talk freely in front of Josie. What did you want to say?”

Clint stood right where he was, his brow creased. He obviously didn’t want Josie here, but she wasn’t budging. As if realizing that, he indicated the rumpled pamphlet Gramps still clutched in his gnarled fist. “Frank, I don’t mean to embarrass you in any way, but can you read that brochure to me?”

Frank’s eyes widened. “Of course I can read it.”

Yes, of course he could. At Gramps’s age, his eyesight wasn’t the best, but Josie knew he could read. And she couldn’t prevent an annoyed frown from creasing her forehead as she looked at Clint Hamilton. Nor could she soften the demanding tone of her voice. “What exactly are you implying, Ranger?”

Clint shifted his booted feet, his persistent gaze centered on Gramps. “Truly, I don’t mean to be rude, Frank, but would you get your glasses and read it to me now? Please?”

“Ranger, stop this,” Josie demanded, openly hostile now.

Clint’s gaze rotated to her, his dark eyes piercing her to the back of her spine. She expected him to make a biting remark, but he merely looked at her with a glaze of forced disinterest. As though he was trying not to like her.

“Please, call me Clint.”

Not if she could help it. Not as long as he posed a threat to her grandfather.

“What is it you want, exactly?” she asked, bristling.

Clint’s mouth tightened, but he had the decency to drop his gaze. “I don’t want anything, but I’d rather have this discussion with Frank alone.”

“I already said I’m not leaving,” she insisted.

He dragged a hand through his short hair. “I’m sorry for that, but I need to know if your grandfather can read.”

“Of course he can read. Why would you think he can’t?” She leaned her hip against the counter and folded her arms, feeling irritable. She’d been worried about Gramps for several months now, and this volatile situation frosted the cake. With Grandma gone, Josie felt an urgency building inside her. To take care of Gramps. To keep others from hurting or taking advantage of him. To be with her family, little that she still had. And a nosy forest ranger would not get in her way of that task.

“Please, just humor me,” Clint said.

She narrowed her eyes. “I thought you were his friend.”

“Believe me, I am.” Clint met her gaze again, the intensity of his eyes unwavering.

That was just the problem. She didn’t believe him. Not when he dredged up things that didn’t matter, let alone make any sense. Her past relationships had taught her not to trust easily. Especially men. In her life, Gramps had been the only man not to let her down.

And yet Josie couldn’t deny a feeling of unease. She knew Gramps so well. The crinkle lines that framed his mouth whenever he smiled. The way his bushy eyebrows curved together when he was upset about something. The deep, rich timbre of his laugh. But now her mind sorted through the numerous times during her childhood when she’d asked him to read to her. Bedtime stories. Magazine articles. New books Grandma had bought for her. Gramps had always deferred, telling her a story from his memory or tickling her instead. Silly distractions she’d never suspected before. But that didn’t mean Gramps couldn’t read.

Or did it?

No, Josie had never heard anything so outrageous in her life. She refused to believe it. It couldn’t be true. And yet an inkling of doubt nibbled at her mind. It’d be so difficult to hide a handicap like illiteracy. Gramps couldn’t have made it through his long life without knowing how to read and write.

Or could he? What if the forest ranger was right and Gramps couldn’t read?

* * *

Clint stepped back, giving Josie some space. She was visibly upset, with her blue eyes narrowed, her hands clenched. He would rather have this conversation without her present, but she’d made that impossible.

He considered leaving right now, without another word. He hated causing these people any more distress, especially after he’d accused Frank Rushton of tree theft. But he couldn’t leave. Not now. Not in good conscience. Not until he knew the truth and did something to help Frank.

“Go ahead, Gramps. Read.” Josie turned to face her grandfather.

Clint waited. When he’d seen Josie at her grandmother’s funeral, he’d noticed the way her stunning eyes glimmered with tears, and the grief etching her delicate face. He understood grief and couldn’t help feeling her loss.

But he’d heard that she was a career woman, one who couldn’t seem to settle down with a man. From the tidbits of information Frank and Viola had told him, Josie’s parents had divorced when she was thirteen. She’d been engaged twice, but it hadn’t worked out. She’d quit on both guys just like Karen had quit on him. Apparently Josie had an aversion to marriage, which suited him fine. He had a child to protect, and he wasn’t about to become Josie’s third conquest.

She loved her grandparents, he had no doubt. And he couldn’t blame her for feeling protective of Frank. No one lived in this small town and didn’t hear what a kind, charitable man Frank Rushton was. But right now, Clint had a hunch. His own past experience with Karen told him he was right. Frank couldn’t read. Not because he couldn’t see well enough without his spectacles, but because he didn’t know how to put the letters together to form the words.

“Please, Frank. Get your glasses and read for me,” Clint insisted.

Frank’s shoulders tensed, but Clint couldn’t back down. As a ranger, he had an obligation to protect the national forest. It was his job. His first priority after Gracie. If Frank was going up on the mountain to cut trees, he needed to be able to read the posted signs. Clint also wanted to help Frank, if he could.

With a labored breath, the elderly man nodded, and his head drooped in resignation. “All right.”

He disappeared into the living room. Josie stood beside the doorway, arms folded, her mouth set tight in outrage. Clint decided to be patient. He couldn’t help feeling surprised to see her here. Christmas was still weeks away and he knew from talking to Josie’s grandparents that she’d never spent this much time with them in the past. Not since she was a little kid. So why was she here?

“How’s your work at the pharmacy going?” he asked, trying to make small talk. Trying to keep from becoming her enemy.

“Fine.” Her clipped reply didn’t encourage further banter.

“It must have required a lot of schooling to become a pharmacist.”

“It did.”

He thought about his own master’s degree in geology. Even with his advanced education, he still felt like a fool in this woman’s presence. All jittery and nervous. He could take or leave most women. But with Josie, something was different. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. It was as though he knew her from some far-off memory. As if there was a magnetic attraction he didn’t understand, yet couldn’t deny.

“You’re in early for a holiday visit this year,” he said.

“That’s right.”

“Any special reason?”

“It’s not your concern.”

He rubbed his hand against his bristly chin. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

She was a blunt little thing, he’d give her that. So blunt that she bordered on rude. But Clint got the impression it was all an act. A form of self-preservation. He could read it in her wary eyes. A mist of fear seemed to hover over her. And that brought out the protective instincts in him like never before. Safeguarding women was a weakness he’d never seemed able to overcome. His own mother had been widowed after Clint had graduated from college, so he came by the trait naturally. Mom had needed his help and he’d gladly stepped up to the task. But Josie was different. Caring for another woman would only bring him and his daughter more heartache. Something he must avoid like the plague.

Yes, he knew something was up. He could feel it in his bones. Even so, Josie was right. Her presence here wasn’t his business. He tried to tell himself he didn’t care, but he knew that wasn’t true. She obviously didn’t want to tell him about it, so he shut up.

A horrible silence followed.

Frank returned, wire-rimmed spectacles in hand. It took another two laborious minutes for him to clean them, then plant the glasses firmly on the bridge of his nose before he held up the pamphlet and stared at the words. His hand trembled, betraying his anxiety. But he didn’t read. Not a single word.

Possibly because he was holding the pamphlet upside down.

Clint stepped forward and gently turned the leaflet right side up. With eagle-eyed focus, Josie watched every move.

She laid a hand on his arm. “Gramps? Read it out loud.”

The tender gesture didn’t go unnoticed by Clint. Maybe it was good she was here to offer moral support to her grandfather.

Frank whipped the glasses off his face and tossed them on the table. They clattered against the porcelain cookie jar shaped like a yellow pineapple. Josie gasped and stepped back.

Frank stared at the floor, obviously embarrassed. And Clint hated every minute of it, knowing he was the cause. Knowing he’d hurt this good man to the core.

“I’m sorry, Josie. The ranger’s right. I can’t read. Not a word,” Frank said.

“Gramps!” A look of incredulity washed over Josie’s face and she clapped a hand to her mouth in disbelief.

All the sadness of the world filled Frank’s gaze, a lost expression Clint had frequently seen in Karen’s eyes.

“Why do you think after your mom died your grandma and I pushed you so hard to do well in school?” Frank asked Josie. “We didn’t want you to end up like me. Can’t even read the daily newspaper. Uneducated and stupid.”

“You’re not stupid, Gramps. You’re the smartest man I know,” Josie objected in a passionate voice.

Clint agreed. “Definitely. You’re very smart, Frank. Being able to read has nothing to do with a person’s intelligence, believe me.”

But a sick feeling settled in Clint’s gut. He took no delight in revealing the truth. He’d suspected for a long time that Frank couldn’t read. Too many clues had led to this conclusion. But now, Clint’s heart tightened with compassion. He couldn’t forget how Frank and his wife had lovingly provided child care for his daughter when they’d first moved to town three years earlier. Even when Clint had been called out overnight to fight wildfires, Frank and Viola Rushton had tended his little girl as if she were their very own. And look how Clint repaid them. By revealing a secret Frank had kept hidden all his life.

The elderly man lifted his gaze to Clint, his eyes filled with uncertainty. “What gave me away?”

Clint smiled warmly, trying to lighten the tense moment. Trying to show an increase of love toward this good man and his irascible granddaughter. After all, it was the Christian thing to do.

“To begin with, you held the hymnal upside down at church once. I’ve also noticed you can’t seem to orient yourself in the scriptures. You flip through the pages and quote them from memory better than anyone I know, but you can’t find a specific verse when the Sunday school teacher calls on you. And I’ve seen you at the power company, paying your bills in person, with cash, instead of paying online or mailing in a check, like most people do.”

Josie narrowed her eyes. “How would paying with cash indicate he can’t read?”

“My wife did the same thing. She always paid our bills in cash because she couldn’t write a check.” Clint had been proud of Karen’s accomplishment when she’d learned to read, but he didn’t like talking about her now. Even after seven years, the pain of how she’d died was still too raw, the guilt over her death still too fresh.

“I don’t understand,” Josie said.

Clint released a deep sigh. “Let’s just say I recognized the signs. You fake it quite well, Frank. And today, when you claimed you hadn’t read the tree permit signs up on the mountain, it all added up. Those signs are too large for anyone to miss, unless you can’t read them.”

And Clint knew firsthand what it was like to cope with illiteracy. Karen had been highly defensive about her disability and had found ways to hide it from other people. She’d constantly feared someone might find out and make fun of her. That, coupled with the physical abuse she’d endured as a child, had left Karen with no self-esteem whatsoever. Even after they’d married and she’d learned to read, she’d never gained much confidence. And no matter how hard Clint tried to convince her, she’d never really believed that he or God loved her.

Clint had failed to make Karen happy, but he was determined to make a difference for Frank.

“What now? Will you have me arrested anyway?” Frank asked, his bushy brows arched in misery.

Josie gave a sharp inhalation and Clint inwardly cringed. It was bad enough to reveal Frank’s secret without worrying about Josie’s disapproval. At least her concern for her grandfather appeared genuine. But Clint wished once more that she wasn’t here to complicate the issue. Then again, maybe she could help remedy the problem.

“No, you’re not going to jail.” Clint stepped forward and rested a hand on the older man’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Frank. You can see now why I thought we should speak in private. I didn’t want to advertise this. I just want to help.”

Frank dragged back one of the chairs before dropping into it. He raked his fingers through his thin white hair, making it stand on end. Josie walked to her grandfather and rubbed his back, offering silent support. The man reached up and patted her hand, then leaned his elbows on the table, looking wilted with defeat.

Josie’s caring gestures confused Clint. She was a beautiful woman, but a bit overbearing and brusque. He remembered the glow of pleasure that permeated Frank’s face whenever he spoke about Josie and her career as a pharmacist. And then Frank’s disappointment when she’d canceled numerous trips home because she was too busy working. Over the years, her absence had hurt Frank and Viola, though they’d never admitted it out loud. Of course, Josie lived in Vegas, a ten-hour drive one way. But since Viola had died, Josie had been coming around more often. At least this year Frank wouldn’t be alone for Christmas.

“Frank, we have a learn-to-read program at the library downtown,” Clint said. “I volunteer there almost every Thursday night. They’re a great support group, but if you don’t like that option, I can come here to your house in the evenings. I’d like to help you learn to read.”

Frank stared at the dingy wall, his mouth taut. “I’m afraid I’m too old to learn, Ranger. It’s too late for me.”

Clint snorted. “No, it’s not. It’s never too late to learn anything. Not if you really try. And stop calling me ranger. We’re good friends and you know my name.”

Clint tried to sound positive, while avoiding Josie’s glare. No doubt she was in shock, finding out the truth like this. Clint had felt the same way when he’d learned his new bride couldn’t read. Having grown up in the poverty of a coal-mining community, Karen had been raised by an abusive stepfather. She’d been almost twenty-three years old before Clint had taught her to read. But even then, she’d never overcome the stigma. Depression had haunted her most of her life. Now, Clint worked at the local library in the learn-to-read program to honor Karen’s memory. Because he’d loved her.

Because he’d failed to save her life.

“My brain doesn’t work good like it used to,” Frank said.

“Your brain works fine, and I’ll prove it to you.” Clint sat across from Frank and met the old man’s gaze with a wide smile. “If you’ll agree to participate in a reading program for just two months, I’ll make the tree permit issue go away. In fact, you and I will deliver your trees to the civic center and hand them out to the widows tomorrow morning. I’ll pick you up at 8:00 a.m. But you’d need to be in the reading program for at least eight weeks. Do we have a deal?” He thrust out his hand.

For several moments, Frank studied his face, as though thinking things over. “Do I have any other choice?”

Clint licked his bottom lip, not wanting to be too forceful. He had no idea what he’d do if Frank refused his offer. He’d probably let the issue drop and still give the trees away to the widows. He certainly wasn’t going to call Officer Tim back to arrest the man. But learning to read would take time. It also could make such a difference in Frank’s life. It could open an entire world. And Clint wanted so much to help.

To redeem himself for failing Karen.

“Everyone has a choice, Frank. Even you,” he said.

“Are there other people that can’t read in the program at the library?”

“Yes, two. Both are members of our congregation. So you already know them. And I’ll bet they’d be happy to see you there, too.”

Frank paused for several moments, as though thinking this over. Finally, he lifted his hand and they shook on it. “All right, I may not be able to read, but I’m no coward. I’ll go to the library.”

A whoosh of air escaped Josie’s lungs. “While I’m here for the holidays, I can help, too. And you’re the bravest man I know, Gramps.”

“I agree,” Clint said.

“So what now?”

Clint stood and turned toward the door, pasting a generous smile on his face. “Now we go to work. I’ll see you in the morning, and then again at the library at seven o’clock next Thursday night.”

Josie nodded, going through the motions of listening. Her vacant look indicated she wished Clint would leave now. And he was ready and willing to oblige her.

Reaching for the doorknob, he paused long enough to bid them farewell. “Have a good evening. And merry Christmas!”

They didn’t respond. A stunned silence filled the air with gloom. Josie stood looking at him like an ice queen, her blue eyes filled with doubt and some other emotion Clint couldn’t quite fathom.

Fear, perhaps?

Clint didn’t ask. As he stepped outside, the frigid air embraced him. It was still early, but darkness mantled the town. Christmas lights gleamed along the neighbor’s houses across the street. Frost formed patterns of lace on the windshield of his truck. He climbed inside and fired up the engine before switching on the defroster. He decided it was quite a bit warmer out here than in Josie’s frigid, glowering presence.

He hadn’t meant to upset the pretty pharmacist, but he had. And for some reason, that bothered Clint intensely.

Chapter Three

Two days later, Josie stood with her shopping cart at the back of the only grocery store along Main Street. The place also served as a hardware store. Christmas songs blared over the loudspeaker, but she didn’t hum along. The scent of freshly popped corn filled the air, along with the happy chatter of shoppers. In spite of all this, it still didn’t feel like Christmas. Not to her. Not with Gramps in such a sour mood.

Looking down at her shopping cart, she studied the boxes of colored Christmas lights she’d selected. No matter what Gramps said, she was determined to hang them on his house. After what had happened with the ranger, he needed cheering up.

So did she.

Turning, she perused two fake Christmas trees. The pictures on the outside of the cardboard boxes were quite small and difficult to make out. A Douglas fir covered in heavy white flocking, and a spindly spruce. Both were poor imitations of natural Christmas trees. She could take one home and figure out how to assemble it, she had no doubt. But Gramps wouldn’t like either tree in his living room. And she couldn’t blame him. He’d had a real tree every year of his life and would settle for nothing less.

“You’re Frank’s granddaughter, aren’t you?”

Josie turned. An elderly woman with cottony white hair, too much facial powder, and a merry dimple in each plump cheek smiled up at her.

“Yes, I am.”

The lady’s grin widened as she propped one hand against her thick waist. “I knew it. I’m Thelma Milton, one of Frank’s friends down at the civic center. You and I have met a couple of times, but you probably don’t remember me. I knew your grandma well.”

“Yes, of course I remember. You were at Grandma’s funeral.”

“That’s right. I was sorry to hear about your breakup with your last fiancé.”

Josie tensed. No doubt Gramps had shared the news with all his cronies down at the civic center. The reminder hurt and made her wonder if she was doomed to spend her life as an old maid. How she wished she could meet just one man she could trust. A man who would love her unconditionally for herself.

“Frank told me,” Thelma confessed. “And I say it’s for the best. If a man really loves you, he wouldn’t let a little thing like your work come between you, believe me. A beautiful girl like you deserves better.”

Josie nodded, wishing it was that simple. But she’d rather never marry than end up in an ugly divorce like the one her parents had put her through. Of course, she wasn’t about to discuss her broken relationships with a stranger.

“Yesterday, Frank and the ranger brought me the most beautiful tree. Frank even set it up inside my house.” Thelma batted her eyelashes like a coy girl.

Josie swallowed a choking laugh. For some inane reason, she found the situation quite comical. True to his word, Clint had picked up Gramps and the two of them had driven over to the civic center, where they’d handed out all the confiscated trees. Josie had remained at home, sorting through piles of debris littering Gramps’s house to find the mop bucket and vacuum cleaner. His absence had given her some time to clean house. It had also made Gramps feel better, though the stress of learning to read had settled over him like a fat rain cloud.

“I’m glad you got your tree up,” Josie said, wishing she had a tree for Gramps. Too bad the ranger had confiscated all of the trees he’d cut down.

Thelma stepped closer. “Frank tells me you’re a pharmacist in Las Vegas.”

“That’s right.”

“Do you like your work?”

“Yes, I love it,” Josie answered truthfully. “And as I remember, you own this store.”

Josie showed her most friendly smile. After all, this was one of Gramps’s friends and the woman obviously liked him.

“Yes, I do. Frank is so proud of you. You’re all he talks about. I’m so glad you came home for the holidays. He needs some family around now that Vi’s gone.”

Vi. The name many people used for Viola, Josie’s grandmother.

“I’m happy to be here, too.” The bite of guilt nipped at Josie’s conscience. She should have come to visit more frequently. She missed Grandma so much. And it dawned on her that losing his spouse must have devastated Gramps. He didn’t say a lot about it, but inside, he must still be shattered by grief. Josie didn’t want the end of his life to be sad. She wanted them both to be happy. And Josie wasn’t. Not anymore. Not while she was alone. But so far, she’d failed to find a man willing to commit to her permanently.

“I sure wish we had a pharmacy here in Camlin,” Thelma continued. “I order my prescriptions through the mail. It’s a real pain if they arrive late and I run out of my hormones.”

“I’m sure that could be a big problem.” Josie laughed.

“You could always open up a pharmacy here in my store. I wouldn’t charge a lot of rent,” Thelma offered.

Josie forced herself not to react. Rent wasn’t the issue. Though she’d accumulated a modest savings account, she didn’t have enough capital to stock the shelves with the basic medications people would need. Besides, spending the rest of her life in this one-dog town didn’t appeal to her. “Thanks for the offer, but I’m happy with my job in Vegas.”

“Oh, well. Have a merry Christmas. And give Frank my love.” Thelma blew a sugary kiss before bustling down the aisle, leaving the cloying scent of gardenias in her wake.

“I will.” Josie waved, then stood there and blinked for several moments. If she didn’t know better, she’d think her seventy-eight-year-old grandfather had an admirer.

Josie shook her head. Men her grandfather’s age didn’t have girlfriends. Did they?

Above all else, she wanted Gramps happy. And a fake tree wouldn’t make him happy.

Gazing at her options, Josie realized she took city shopping for granted. Living in Las Vegas, she could pull up to a spacious tree lot and pick out any one she wanted. The mild winters would be easier on Gramps’s arthritis, too. Within minutes, they could visit a doctor and get his prescriptions filled. And she wanted that convenience for Gramps. A balanced diet wouldn’t hurt him, either. She’d almost had a fit when she’d discovered he’d been subsisting on canned soup, potato chips and oatmeal. But how could she ask him to leave his world behind and move away with her?

“Hi, there!”

Josie whirled around. Clint Hamilton stood behind her, holding the hand of a little girl about seven years old with a cute button nose, flawless skin and a long, blond ponytail.

“Um, hi.” Josie met his gaze and smiled uncertainly. Immediate attraction buzzed through her.

His unblinking eyes swept over her. He looked handsome and rustic dressed in a down-filled coat, cowboy boots and brown leather gloves. His gaze dropped away, and she couldn’t help wondering what had produced the wariness in his warm, brown eyes.

She nodded at the melted droplets covering his broad shoulders. “Is it snowing again?”

“Just a dusting, but a storm is coming in later tonight.” He showed a twinge of a smile, his cheeks slightly red from the cold.

“What’s your name?” the little girl asked, her voice hesitant.

Josie’s gaze lowered to the child, who was bundled up in a glistening red coat, matching rubber boots and a white scarf around her neck. She looked adorable. “Jocelyn Rushton. What’s yours?”

“I’m Grace Karen Hamilton, but everyone just calls me Gracie.”

“That’s a lovely name,” Josie said.

“This is my daughter,” Clint supplied the introductions. “Gracie, this is Frank’s granddaughter.”

Understanding lit up the child’s expressive eyes. “Oh, I recognize you. I’ve seen your pictures at Grandpa Frank’s house many times.”

Grandpa Frank? Over the years, Josie had heard other children in town call her grandfather by this name, but it seemed odd to hear it from the forest ranger’s daughter. Obviously, the girl had been inside Gramps’s home. Not surprising. Grandma and Gramps had many friends in this town.

“Is that right?” Josie felt the burden of Clint’s gaze like a leaden weight. For some reason, the ranger made her feel as though he could see deep into her soul. And in all honesty, she feared what he might find there besides a bitter, unlovable woman who was emotionally inaccessible to others.

“Yeah, in his photo albums. He shows his pictures to me all the time. And Grandma Vi used to make me chocolate chip cookies,” Gracie said.

“Ah, I see.” Josie had also loved her grandmother’s homemade cookies. In fact, she planned to make some while she was here. She wanted to bake and decorate and enjoy a slower pace while she could. In Vegas, she didn’t have time for domestic chores, or anyone to cook for.

“I sure miss Grandma Vi,” Gracie continued.

Josie did, too. More than she could say.

“She used to tend me every day while Daddy went to work,” Gracie said.

Josie jerked up her chin in surprise. Why would a woman of Grandma’s advanced age be tending a young child on a regular basis? This revelation gave Josie the strange sensation that she was the outsider, not Gracie and her tall father. “Really? I didn’t know that. She never mentioned it.”

“Yeah, she was my favoritest babysitter ever in the world. I miss her a lot.” No longer shy, Gracie smiled widely, showing a missing tooth in front.

A sinking despair settled in Josie’s stomach. She couldn’t help feeling as though she’d lost something precious when Grandma had died. But one question thrummed through her mind. Why had Grandma never mentioned that she was looking after a child every day?

Once again, Josie realized how little she really knew about her grandparents. Now that Grandma was gone, Josie regretted taking her for granted, and didn’t want to do the same with Gramps. That was all about to change. Josie would have to tell Gramps about her plans to move him to Las Vegas. And soon. But she dreaded it. If he refused, she wouldn’t make him go. And then what? Maybe she’d sit down and talk with him about it tomorrow or the next day. Together, they’d work something out.

“I got a new babysitter now. She’s nice, too, but she doesn’t make cookies like Grandma Vi did,” Gracie said.

“Does your mom work, too?” Josie asked, wondering why the girl’s mother couldn’t watch Gracie during the day. In fact, hadn’t Clint mentioned that he’d taught the woman how to read?

“No, my mom’s in heaven,” Gracie said.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Josie had forgotten Clint was a widower. She glanced his way, wishing she’d been more tactful. She understood firsthand the aching pain of losing people she loved, and didn’t want to remind him.

Clint’s eyes darkened and he shifted his weight uneasily. A guarded look flashed across his face and Josie regretted dredging up the topic.

Gracie shrugged one shoulder. “It’s okay. I never knew my mom. She died when I was just a baby, but Dad says she loved me like crazy.”

The girl slid her hand into her father’s, seeming to take comfort from his presence.

Josie nodded in understanding. “I lost my mom and dad, too.”

Now, why had she told them that? Normally, she kept her personal life to herself. Especially her childhood, which had been anything but happy. A disturbing memory of constant fights between her parents ripped through her mind. Angry words and hateful accusations, followed by her father leaving one rainy night just after Josie’s thirteenth birthday. She’d never seen Dad again. He’d been killed in a car accident a year later. But not once had he called or written her. In fact, no man seemed to want her. First Dad had left, then two ex-fiancé’s. Even Mom had treated her like a burden, and she’d grown up feeling unwanted.

She didn’t want to dwell on those sad times, but they seemed imbedded in her soul. Something about Clint drew out her carefully kept secrets. Right now, she wished she could crawl into a deep hole and hide.

“Yes, I know,” Gracie said. “Grandma Vi told me. She said you and me are kindred spirits because we both lost our moms.”

Grandma had said that? Hmm, surprising, when Josie considered that her mother never cared much for Grandma. Mom hadn’t gotten along well with her in-laws, especially after Dad had died. Now, Josie stared at Gracie, seeing a maturity in the girl’s eyes that was much too advanced for her years.

Kindred spirits. That sounded like something Grandma would have said, but Josie couldn’t equate herself with this little girl. After all, they were almost complete strangers. Yes, Josie understood loss. Her mom had been so busy working three jobs to put food on the table and pay the rent that she’d had little time for her lonely daughter. Growing up, it would have been so easy for Josie to become a rebellious teenager. Instead, she’d found approval through perfection. She’d spent most nights alone, reading books and doing homework. She’d had very few friends, but she’d earned top grades in math, science and chemistry. Seeking the love she so badly craved, she’d won the approval of her teachers. And during college, she’d avoided men and socializing. Nothing had seemed more important to her than school and work.

Until now.

“It’s okay. I still have Daddy,” the girl said.

Clint cleared his throat and glanced at the boxed trees before quirking his brows with amusement. “You need another tree? I would have thought with all the trees Frank cut down that you’d had enough for one Christmas.”

Josie’s face heated with embarrassment. He’d deftly changed the topic and she was relieved, but she hated that he’d caught her buying a fake tree. “Remember, you confiscated all the live trees, so we don’t have one for our own Christmas now.”

“Ah, I see. Well, that won’t do.” Understanding filled his eyes and he sent her a smile of empathy. “Where is Frank, anyway?”

She gave a scoffing laugh, finding the situation sadly funny. “Outside in my car. He refused to come inside to pick out a fake tree. He’s never had anything but a live tree and he’s been grumbling for two days that Christmas is ruined without a real one.”

She could buy a tree permit, but after what had happened the other day, she’d rather avoid the Forest Service office at all costs. She didn’t want to take another chance on Gramps being arrested. Also, she had no desire to navigate the winter roads up into the mountains to cut another tree.

“We’re going to cut our tree right now. Daddy needs to buy a new hand saw first.” Gracie spoke in a tone that indicated a real tree was the only way to go.

Although Josie hadn’t had a Christmas tree in her lonely apartment for the past three years, she agreed.

Clint chuckled, the sound low and deep. “There’s definitely something to be said about having a real tree in your house on Christmas morning. But lots of people buy fake trees. Some are beautiful and look very real.”

Josie stared doubtfully at her choices. “Just not these two.”

“Yeah, these are pretty pathetic.” He lifted a small saw with a yellow price tag emblazoned on the wooden handle. “I propose a solution. Like Gracie said, we’re on our way up on the mountain to cut our own Christmas tree. I’ve got a chain saw and it’d be no trouble to cut one for you while we’re there.”

“Oh, I—”

“Hey!” Gracie cut in. “Why don’t you and Grandpa Frank come with us? We have room in Dad’s truck. Don’t we, Dad?”

The girl looked up at her father, an innocent expression on her face.

Josie froze. She didn’t know what to say. The deafening silence indicated that Clint was just as dumbstruck.

“Yeah.” He spoke the word in slow motion. “Why don’t you come with us? It’d do Frank some good, too.”

Josie agreed. An outing might be just the thing to drag Gramps out of his surly mood. But that would mean spending more time with the attractive forest ranger and his cute little daughter. “I’m not sure we can. I’ve got to buy groceries first.”

“Oh, please come with us, Josie. Please, please,” Gracie begged, hopping up and down with anticipation.

Josie hesitated. If only the child wasn’t so charming. And her father so handsome and brooding.

But Josie had to think. To discern if Clint’s offer was authentic, or obligatory. She sensed a reticence in him. Not because of Gramps. Oh, no. Josie was almost positive that Clint had a problem with her. And she couldn’t help wondering why.

* * *

This was a bad idea. Clint felt it deep in his bones. But Gracie had invited Josie and Frank, and Clint couldn’t back out now. Not without possibly hurting Frank’s feelings again. “Sure, why don’t you come along with us? It’ll put Frank back on an even keel with the Forest Service. And I’ll even provide the thermos of hot chocolate.”

Josie laughed, the melodic sound easing Clint’s discomfort just a bit. “I don’t know. I hate to impose.”

He shifted his feet, surprised by her pleasant mood. He’d expected her to hold a grudge. And he liked that she was able to let it go. Nor could he deny the outing sounded fun. What could it hurt? It was just a tree-cutting party, after all. No big deal. Each year, he took Gracie out to cut down their Christmas tree. But this would be the first time a woman accompanied them. And Frank, a grandfather figure Gracie loved. Clint had to put his little girl first. And as much as he hated to admit it, he didn’t seem to be enough for Gracie anymore. She was getting older and growing up so fast. Maybe being with other people during the holidays would be good for her.

Maybe it’d be good for him, too.

“It’s no imposition. Really. I even have several permits, so it’ll be perfectly legal.” Clint reached inside his coat pocket and pulled out three tree tags, dangling them before Josie’s eyes as proof.

She chuckled at his attempt at humor. And it felt so good to hear a woman’s laugh. Like coming in out of the cold after a freezing storm. Karen had been sullen, laughing so rarely. Always deeply depressed. He remembered making up jokes, and bringing her flowers every Saturday, just to see her smile. But laughter had evaded her. Which was probably why he craved it so much now.

“I’d have to check with Gramps first,” Josie said.

“Don’t worry, he’ll agree.” Clint spoke with conviction.

“Okay, but I’ll need an hour to take our groceries home and put our perishables away in the fridge. I’ve been cleaning the house for two days and we need to stock up on a lot of supplies.” She clamped her mouth closed, as if she’d confided too much information.

Clint didn’t mind. He’d seen the state of Frank’s house and had his own concerns. Since Viola’s passing, the man wasn’t taking care of himself. At his age, Clint could understand why. He was glad Josie was here to aid her grandfather. But maybe she needed help, too. Clint had noticed some shingles missing on Frank’s roof. Not something Josie could repair easily. In this small town, you couldn’t just call a roofing company to come over and fix it. And it could become a huge problem if they got many more storms. Clint should do something about it. He had the time and knew what to do.

“I’ve been worried about Frank, too,” he confessed.

Josie nodded. “He’s competent enough, but I don’t think he’ll admit how frail he’s become. He’s not steady on his feet anymore.”

“You’re right. I’ve got some leave coming over the next few weeks and would love to repair his roof.”

He wanted to serve Frank, but he didn’t want to be around Josie any more than necessary. Right now, that couldn’t be helped. She was here to visit and the work needed to be done. End of story. Besides, she’d be leaving right after the holidays.

She hesitated. “I don’t want you to feel obligated.”

“I don’t,” he said. “Serving Frank is my pleasure. I was assigned the task of looking in on him and Viola from time to time by our church leaders, but I’d do it even without that incentive. I’ve been checking on them for so long that they feel like family to Gracie and me.”

“Oh.”

And since the work was outside, Clint wouldn’t need to mingle with Josie much. He’d show up, get it done and leave. Maybe a couple men from their congregation could help. Then Frank’s house would be in good shape. And the service would give Clint a warm feeling inside.

Josie blinked her dazzling blue eyes. “That’s very kind of you. Actually, I’ve been wondering who to call to do the job. I can pay for the supplies if you’re sure you have the time.”

He nodded. “I’m sure. Give me a day to watch the evening news. We’re supposed to get another storm tonight. As soon as we have several warm days to melt off the snow, I’ll come over and do the work.”

“I hate for you to take a vacation day for this.”

“It’s no problem, really. As long as you don’t mind watching Gracie for me while I’m occupied up on the roof.”

“No, of course not. Gracie is welcome at our place anytime.” Josie smiled so sweetly at his little girl that it made his throat ache.

“Yay! I love doing jigsaw puzzles with Grandpa Frank.” Gracie clapped her gloved hands together.

“And I think we’d love to go with you to cut a Christmas tree, too,” Josie said.

Gracie hopped up and down with excitement again. “We’re gonna have so much fun.”

Clint rested a hand on his daughter’s shoulder, forcing a friendly smile to his lips. “Okay, it’s a date. Uh, not a date, but, well, you know what I mean. I need time to fill up my gas tank, so we’ll pick you up at your place in one hour.”

He blinked, feeling tongue-tied and foolish. What was the matter with him? After all, Josie was just Frank’s granddaughter.

She nodded, seeming not to notice his awkwardness. “Thanks for your generosity. I have no doubt Gramps will like this. He’s been in a real huff ever since he found out he’ll have to go to the library on Thursday nights. Truth be told, I think he’s kind of scared about learning to read.”

“That’s normal, but he’s got nothing to worry about. Reading is easy.” Clint waved a gloved hand in the air. “We’ll walk him through the basics, teach him the skills he needs, and have him reading simple sentences by Christmas, mark my words.”

“So soon?”

“Sure. Most people learn to read when they’re a child. It just takes a little time to learn and practice.”

“Good. I want him to at least be able to read the instructions on his medicine bottles.”

From what Clint had seen, Frank also needed balanced meals and someone to clean his house regularly. Once Josie returned to Las Vegas, Clint worried what might happen to Frank. Maybe not yet, but sooner or later he would need more intensive care. Clint took a deep breath, hoping Josie would do right by her grandpa and figure something out for the elderly gentleman.

“If we can just get Frank to try reading, he won’t regret it. It’s indescribable how it feels when you can suddenly read traffic signs and labels without help,” Clint continued in an animated voice. “The whole world opens up. Most of us take our ability to read for granted.”

“Is that how your wife felt?” Josie asked.

“Um, yeah, she did.” He pursed his lips and nodded, but he didn’t enlarge on the topic. He could see the questions in Josie’s expressive eyes. She didn’t understand. Neither did he, but he wasn’t about to try and explain it. Reading had made a difference for Karen. For a short time. But it had never been enough.

He hadn’t been enough.

As if sensing his reticence, Josie stepped back and waved. “I better get going. We’ll see you in an hour.”

“Bye.” Gracie waved back as she skipped after her dad.

“Goodbye, sweetie,” Josie returned.

Taking Gracie’s hand, Clint led her down the aisle. As he reached the corner, he glanced over his shoulder. Josie stood watching them, her dainty brows knitted together in a frown. Once again he got the impression she was troubled by something. But he wasn’t about to ask what.

A solid roof and a live tree for Christmas should definitely lift Frank’s spirits. And that made Clint happy, too. But until the attractive pharmacist left town, he decided not to volunteer for anything else.

Chapter Four

An hour and fifteen minutes later, Clint gripped the steering wheel, still convinced this was a bad idea. He never should have invited Josie and Frank on this tree-cutting excursion. Oh, Frank was just fine. No problem. But Josie was a different matter entirely. Mainly because of what she made him feel whenever she was around. An uneasy premonition he didn’t understand.

He parked his truck in the Rushtons’ driveway and got out. Frank came from the garage packing a skimpy hacksaw, a buoyant grin deepening the creases on his face. Josie walked beside him, wearing a pair of earmuffs and a black coat with a white fur collar. They framed her delicate face perfectly.

His gaze lowered to her canvas tennis shoes. Not very practical for slogging through snow. “I’m afraid those little shoes won’t provide much protection for you up in the mountains.”

She gave a tepid smile. “They’re all I brought with me. Don’t worry. I’ll be okay.”

She turned away and he let the subject drop.

Gracie scrambled out of the truck and ran to hug Frank.

“Hi, sweetheart.” He kissed her forehead.

“What’s that for, Frank?” Clint pointed at the saw. Anything to jerk his focus away from Josie.

“Cutting trees, of course,” he said.

Clint leaned against the right front fender of his truck and forced himself not to feast his eyes on Josie. Yes, he was physically attracted to her. He was a man, after all. But he knew his fascination with her was so much more. Whenever she was near, he felt a haunting familiarity. As though he knew her from some long-lost memory. A connecting of their souls. Irrefutable, and yet he couldn’t quite put his finger on why or how. Something about her touched him deep inside and he felt drawn to her in a strangely powerful way. Her clean, bouncing hair, her expressive blue eyes filled with intelligence and...

Barriers.

No doubt about it. He didn’t like this attraction he felt. Yet he couldn’t seem to help it. After Karen’s death, he’d made a promise to himself and his infant daughter that he’d never expose either of them to that kind of hurt again. Losing Karen was a heartbreak he just couldn’t let go of. And so there’d be no other woman in his life. No more romance for him.

No more heartbreak.

He gave a nervous chuckle, thinking Frank’s hacksaw wouldn’t be of much use, except for removing slender branches from the trees. “You mean to tell me you used that wimpy saw to cut down all those trees you had here at your place?”

Frank tossed him a teasing frown as he spoke in a conspiratorial whisper. “No, I used my chain saw for that, but I ain’t about to give you any more evidence to use against me, Ranger.”

Clint laughed, noticing their exchange brought a wry smile to Josie’s lips. It was good they could now find humor in the tree permit violation. But that didn’t ease his discomfort around her. Not one bit.

They piled into his truck and set off. The ride up to Crawford Mountain took fewer than forty minutes. The girls sat in the back, with Josie behind Clint. He focused on the road, trying not to look at her in the rearview mirror. When the black asphalt gave way to gravel and then muddy ruts, he shifted his truck into four-wheel drive and slowed down to negotiate the windblown drifts of snow.

Frank had a satisfied smile on his weathered face. He seemed relaxed. Content to be here. And Clint wished he felt the same.

He tried to tell himself he was just self-conscious because of the tree violation and asking Frank to learn to read. But he knew this jittery feeling went deeper than that, and he wished he could shake it off.

He didn’t have to insist they all wear their seat belts. They each strapped in, their heads bobbing gently as the vehicle bounced over deep potholes in the washboard road. Come spring, he’d send a Forest Service crew up here to even out the potholes.

The blast from the heater filled the cab with warmth and Clint switched it down a notch. The recent storms had blanketed the mountains in white. Though it was almost two in the afternoon, ice crystals clung to barren tree branches. Tall spruce and fir trees pierced the cerulean sky like elegant dancers. The river paralleling the road showed rocks and a shore that glistened like diamonds. He glanced at the crystal clear stream filled with frigid water. A beautiful winter scene. No prettier place on earth. Clint loved it here.

“Brrr, I’d hate to swim in that river.” Looking out the window, Gracie gave a little shiver.

“I would, too,” Josie agreed.

“But it’s sure beautiful up here,” Clint said.

Frank burst into a quick song, his bass voice vibrating through the air. It was a poignant verse about a young man stranded up on a mountain during a fierce winter storm. All the fellow wanted was to return to town and see his sweetheart one last time before he died. Instead, he froze to death and his shrieks of grief could still be heard on the mountain as the howling wind.

“You have a beautiful voice, Frank,” Clint said when he’d finished the chorus. He’d always enjoyed Frank’s singing in the church choir.

“But I don’t like that song. It’s so sad.” Gracie’s nose crinkled with repugnance.

“You’re right. The young man forgot the most important thing while he was trapped up on the mountain alone,” Frank said.

Clint felt both Gracie and Josie lean forward, eager to hear more.

“And what’s that?” Josie asked.

“He forgot to pray.”

She released a breath of cynicism and sat back. In his rearview mirror, Clint saw her tight expression. Hmm. She must not believe in the power of prayer. Her disbelief fitted his preconceived notions of her. A woman of the world, focused on her job and getting ahead. And certainly not what he would ever consider wife and mommy material for him and Gracie. But if what Frank had told him about her life was true, Clint figured she had a right to be cynical.

Gracie rested her miniature hands on the back of Frank’s seat. “You think God would have helped the man down off the mountain if he’d prayed?”

“I do,” Frank said.

Gracie touched Clint’s shoulder. “But, Daddy, why wouldn’t God help him off the mountain without him praying first?”

From Josie’s skeptical expression, Clint could tell she wondered the same thing. Her doubt caused an overwhelming conviction to rise within his chest. In spite of how Karen had died, he felt God’s presence in his life every day. The Lord had sustained him through a very dark time. Though he had his own failings, Clint couldn’t help wanting to share his belief with others.

“He would have, if it had met His plan,” he answered. “But I think our Heavenly Father is just like regular parents. Sometimes, He waits for us to ask for His help.”

Gracie angled her head closer, resting her cheek against the shoulder of Frank’s red flannel coat. “What do you mean, Daddy?”

Clint was aware of Josie waiting for his response with rapt attention. Her eyes deepened to a cobalt-blue and flashed with doubt.

“I sometimes stand back and let you figure things out on your own, right?” he said.

“Yes, sometimes. But you help me all the time, too.”

“That’s right. But I don’t want to interfere if you don’t want me to. I try to stand back and let you learn some things on your own, including how to ask for my help. And when you ask, I step right in, because I love you so much. Well, I think God sometimes does the same thing for us. He wants us to live by faith, so He stands back and waits for us to call on Him for help. We don’t always know His plan for each of us, but I do know when we call on Him in prayer, He answers us. Maybe not the way we want, and maybe not on our timetable, but He does answer. Every time. It’s our job to exhibit faith.”

Speaking the words aloud brought Clint a modicum of peace. And it renewed his conviction that God loved him and Gracie. Clint knew the Lord wanted nothing but the best for them. And it also reminded him that he must not forget to call on God in prayer. To never give up hope.

Gracie sat back, thinking this over. “But your parents are dead. Who helps you, Daddy?”

“The Lord does. With God, I’m never alone.” Clint peered in the rearview mirror at his daughter’s puzzled expression.

He also noticed Josie, who stared out the window, seeming absorbed in thought. He wished she’d say something. Because he didn’t know her well, he didn’t want to push. At least not yet. Karen had been silent and deadly, keeping her feelings bottled up inside until they’d boiled over in tearful rage. Frank had never mentioned if Josie had a temper, and Clint sensed that wasn’t her way.

Now, he was concerned. Gone was her cheerful smile; her forehead was creased with distrust. For some reason, Clint didn’t like seeing this woman unhappy. And he hoped he hadn’t said anything to drive her further away from God. He still had the impression that something was bothering her. Something big. But it wasn’t his business to question her. He couldn’t interfere. Not unless she asked him to.

Just like the Lord.

After finding a place to turn his truck around, Clint parked in the middle of the deserted road. He doubted anyone else would come along and need to get by them while they were up on the mountain. If they did, he’d move his truck.

He killed the engine, then opened his door and got out. “Okay, ladies, you get the chore of choosing the trees. Make sure it’s what you want before we start to cut, though. I only have three permits.”

Frank gave an exaggerated cough, as though he was swallowing a heavy chortle. “No, we don’t want any more extra trees to explain to the forest ranger.”

Josie’s chuckle sounded from behind him and Clint didn’t even try to hide his smile. Yes, it was definitely good they could laugh about the situation now, and he liked that Josie had a sense of humor.

The foot-deep snow crunched beneath his boots as he stepped back to let the girls out. Josie climbed down first, tugging on her gloves, her breath puffing on the air each time she exhaled.

Clint looked at her tennis shoes and shook his head. He made a mental note not to let her stay out in the snow too long. Her feet would soon become wet and then she’d get cold.

If necessary, he had several pairs of dry socks in his fire pack in the back of his truck. Serving others came naturally to Clint and he couldn’t help feeling responsible for Josie and Frank. It felt surprisingly good to have someone besides Gracie needing his attention. No matter what, Clint would ensure everyone here was taken care of while on this trip.

Sunlight sparkled off Josie’s dark blond curls. The color of her eyes deepened to a sapphire-blue as she looked about. Twin circles of pink stained her pale cheeks. With the snow-covered trees as a stunning backdrop, she looked absolutely gorgeous.

Realizing he was staring, Clint looked away, so fast that he almost lost his balance in the snow. Clearing his throat, he clutched the handle of his chain saw tightly and wondered what was wrong with him. Josie was just Frank’s granddaughter. Within a few weeks, she’d return to Las Vegas. Besides, he and Gracie had been on their own for years, and he liked it that way.

So why did he suddenly wish for more?

“I’m with Grandpa Frank.” Gracie clasped the old man’s hand.

“All right. Let’s find the prettiest tree,” Frank said.

Clint glanced at Josie. “I guess that means you’re with me?”

A question, not a statement.

“Um, okay.” She gave a noncommittal shrug.

He headed off, plowing through the snow with his boots to make a wide path for Josie to follow. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw her lift her knees high as she navigated the trail in her shoes. As they tromped through the drifts, she didn’t utter a single complaint. Karen had grumbled about so many things. Now Josie’s silence won a notch of respect from Clint.

“That one!” Gracie’s shrill voice filled the air as she ran toward a bushy spruce standing along the roadside.

Frank followed, slogging through the snow in his black, knee-high boots. He brushed crusted ice off the tree’s pointed top and held up the hand saw. “You sure?”

“No, this one. Oh, it’s perfect.” Gracie raced farther into the forest and stood beside another tree. “Or what about that one? It’s so pretty.”

“You can only have one,” Frank called, as she darted from tree to tree.

Clint smiled, thinking perhaps it’d been a blessing that he was stuck with Josie. But poor Frank wasn’t a young man anymore. It’d be easy for Gracie to run him ragged. “You’re gonna have to choose one tree, so make up your mind before Grandpa Frank starts to cut.”

“Okay,” Gracie chimed.

“I like this one.” Josie waved to Clint.

He whirled around as she pointed at a small fir with thick clusters of dark green needles.

“That’s a good choice. Firs retain their needles longer and have a nice scent.” He took a step, then heard Gracie call again.

“What about this one, Grandpa Frank?”

Frank lumbered after the girl, grumbling something about women never being able to make up their minds.

The child bopped hither and yon to inspect what seemed to be every tree on the hillside. Frank finally stood still, letting her have her fun, while waiting for her to decide.

“Gracie, settle on one tree and stay where I can see you,” Clint called when she wandered too far off.

“She’s a female, son. She’ll never settle for just one tree. You should know that by now. But I’ve got a way to distract her.” Shaking his head, Frank laughed and hurried after her. When he came near, he tossed the hacksaw aside and fell backward into the soft snow.

“Gramps!” Josie cried.

* * *

A burst of panic blasted Josie’s chest. Gramps had fallen. He might be ill. He had a bad heart and she feared he’d left his medication at home. A nauseating lump settled in her stomach.

Paying no heed to the knee-deep snow, she lurched forward, and would have run to her grandfather if Clint hadn’t held out a hand to stop her.

“He’s okay. Trust me. Just watch a minute.”

At that moment, Gracie pounced on Gramps. He caught the child and rolled, tickling her and laughing. Gracie shrieked, her voice rising through the treetops.

Josie relaxed her stiff shoulders, her heart still thumping madly. She glanced at Clint. “How did you know he was okay?”

Clint shrugged. “It’s a game they’ve played before.”

Understanding filled her mind. Memories washed over her as she listened to her grandfather’s deep chuckles. When she’d been young, he’d played with her in much the same way. Making her feel loved and wanted. Helping her forget her sad childhood back at home.

“I guess I’ve missed a lot of fun times with my grandparents over the past few years. I’ve been too busy with work.” Though she didn’t want Gramps to get overly tired on this excursion, she was glad to see him having fun.

“You’re making up for it now.” Clint’s words sounded a bit reluctant.

She turned, her gaze resting on him as he lifted his chain saw from its case. He used an Allen wrench to move the bar out and tighten up the chain. With a knit cap pulled low across his ears and his blunt chin sporting a hint of stubble, he looked completely masculine and content to be up on this mountain cutting trees.

“Better late than never, huh?” she asked.

“It’s never too late with family.” He spoke without looking up.

His words brought her a bit of comfort. And standing there in the forest, her feet cold in the snow, Josie realized her family meant everything to her now. Once Gramps was gone, she’d have no one left. No husband or children to call her own. And maybe that was for the best. Remembering her parent’s ugly divorce, she decided being alone was preferable to being miserable in a bad marriage. Wasn’t it?

She contemplated Gramps as he pushed himself up, brushed the snow off his blue coveralls, then followed Gracie over to inspect another tree.

“I worry about him.” Josie spoke absentmindedly.

Clint looked up from his task. “That’s as it should be, but I think he’s doing okay.”

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