A New Family Makes the Perfect Christmas Gift

Yuletide Lawman by Renee Ryan

A Christmas to remember—that’s what Ellie Wainwright wants to provide for Sheriff Caleb Voss’s little girls. But she can’t agree to a marriage of convenience. Ellie wants nothing less than real love. Caleb long ago gave up on love, yet sweet Ellie’s kindness to his children could make a believer of him again.

Yuletide Reunion by Louise M. Gouge

Emma Sharp’s family needs to rebuild their barn before Christmas. All help is welcome—even if it comes from the handsome neighboring rancher who jilted her two years ago. Can Jared Mattson prove that he wants to build not just a barn with Emma—but a bright future together?

Praise for Renee Ryan

“Delightfully charming characters. The heroine’s struggle to do right by her sister and the hero makes for a story of misguided sacrifice and shines a light on the winning power of love.”

—RT Book Reviews on His Most Suitable Bride

“A charming love story with a mystery that keeps readers on their toes. The characters are amazing, bound to each other by their unbreakable love for each other.”

—RT Book Reviews on The Lawman Claims His Bride

“Ryan delivers a great love story. Her characters come from the heart and readers will not be forgetting them anytime soon.”

—RT Book Reviews on Heartland Wedding

Praise for Louise M. Gouge

“The ways the atrocities of the Civil War are shown to affect people years afterward, and their struggle to forgive, is heartrending and well done in this first Four Stones Ranch story.”

—RT Book Reviews on Cowboy to the Rescue

“A sweet love story set during wartime, when everything is up in the air and people are trying to live their lives as normally as possible. The characters are wonderful and are willing to go to the ends of the earth to make their dreams come true.”

—RT Book Reviews on At the Captain’s Command

“An enjoyable blend of mystery, romance and political intrigue.”

—RT Book Reviews on A Lady of Quality

A Western Christmas

Yuletide Lawman

Renee Ryan

Yuletide Reunion

Louise M. Gouge

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Table of Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Praise

Title Page

Yuletide Lawman

About the Author

Dedication

Bible Verse

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

Dear Reader

Yuletide Reunion

About the Author

Dedication

Bible Verse

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Dear Reader

Extract

Copyright

Yuletide Lawman

Renee Ryan

RENEE RYAN

RENEE RYAN grew up in a Florida beach town where she learned to surf, sort of. With a degree from FSU, she explored career opportunities at a Florida theme park, a modeling agency and even taught high school economics. She currently lives with her husband in Nebraska, and many have mistaken their overweight cat for a small bear. You may contact Renee at reneeryan.com, on Facebook or on Twitter, @ReneeRyanBooks.

To my twin sister, Robin Anderson, for all the good times we shared growing up and the support you’ve shown me as an adult. I’m proud to call you my family, even more honored to call you my friend.

Wait on the Lord; be of good courage, and He shall strengthen your heart; Wait, I say, on the Lord!

—Psalms 27:14

Chapter One

December 1, 1879 Thunder Ridge, Wyoming

Ellie Wainwright pulled her cloak tightly around her and hurried across the wide street that curved through the center of town. Cold air swirled, nipping at her cheeks. She quickened her steps, careful to avoid hidden patches of ice.

Winter had blown into Thunder Ridge, Wyoming, with enough snow to guarantee a white Christmas this year.

Ellie paused a moment to take in the pristine winter wonderland of her beloved hometown. A smile tugged at her lips, the first since she’d come home two weeks ago, mortified, humiliated and more than a little disillusioned.

Wreaths decorated most of the doorways along Main Street. Gold ribbon and red bows draped hitching rails and horse troughs. Garland hung from the rooftops of homes and businesses, while the occasional redbrick chimney boldly punched into the crisp, blue sky.

The festive decorations helped soothe Ellie’s melancholy.

She was home. She was safe. She was among people who knew the details of her family’s disgrace and accepted her anyway. Besides, she told herself firmly, a failed courtship wasn’t the worst calamity to befall a young woman of twenty-two.

Next time, she would be wiser. She would fall for a man who could look past her family’s shame and love her anyway. In the meantime, she would find another teaching position and give her attention to her students and—

A movement off to her right caught her attention. Her gaze landed on a lone rider and his bay-colored horse approaching from the west. With his hat slung low over his face and his collar pulled up against the wind, there was no easy way to identify the rider. Oh, but Ellie knew that silhouette.

She knew that man. Caleb Voss.

The widowed town sheriff had once been her brother’s closest friend and the center of Ellie’s secret girlhood admiration.

As if sensing her watching him, Caleb reined in his horse and turned his head in Ellie’s direction. She could make out only a portion of his face and the patch of light brown hair burnished copper from the sun beneath his wide-brimmed hat.

“Hello, Ellie.”

The low, husky voice sent a spattering of nerves tripping down her spine and nearly knocked her backward. “Hello, Caleb.”

With two fingers, he shoved his hat off his forehead, the gesture giving her a better view of his magnificent face. Unable to move, to speak, to think, she simply stared up at him.

He stared back, brows arched, eyes soft.

That look. It made her think of girlhood dreams from long, long ago. Ellie stopped breathing altogether. She simply stopped breathing. Worse, she couldn’t seem to tear her gaze away from that strong, square jaw, those moss-green eyes and the arresting features that had transformed from boyishly appealing to ruggedly handsome.

Caleb’s eyes crinkled around the edges, the precursor to a smile. “Cold out this morning.”

He wanted to talk about the weather? For some reason that made her even more uneasy.

“It’s...why, yes.” She forced her lungs to work one breath at a time. In, out, in, out. “It is rather chilly today.”

“Better get inside. Wouldn’t want you catching cold.” His voice was low and gravelly, with a touch of concern that sounded entirely too brotherly for Ellie’s way of thinking.

Holding back a sigh, she reached for the doorknob behind her. “I’m heading in now.”

A tug on the brim of his hat, a slight movement of stirrups, and that was the end of their very odd, all-too-brief conversation.

Heart pounding wildly against her ribs, she twisted the doorknob and stumbled inside her friend’s dress shop, Kate’s Closet, named for the owner.

“Well, well, well,” came the sly, knowing voice of the woman she’d come to meet. “That was certainly interesting.”

Releasing another sigh, Ellie frowned at her friend. Katherine Riley—Kate to everyone who knew her—was a petite brunette with pretty, waiflike features that included a pert nose and sparkling brown eyes, eyes that were full of amusement at Ellie’s expense.

She attempted a nonchalant tone. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

But, of course, she did. She’d been riveted by the sight of Caleb riding tall in the saddle of his beautiful horse, even more so when he’d stopped to speak with her.

“Ellen Marie Wainwright, I’m ashamed of you. As the daughter of our town’s most revered preacher, you should know better than to fib to your closest, dearest friend.” With a teasing twinkle in her eyes, Kate shook a scolding finger at her. “You and Sheriff Voss just had a...moment.”

“We did not have a moment. Caleb and I are old friends, nothing more. He’s practically like a brother.”

It was the simple truth. After his mother died, and his father turned to alcohol to drown away his grief, Caleb had become an honorary member of the Wainwright family.

Even if Ellie had secretly longed for him to see her as more than his friend’s little sister, Caleb had never looked at her that way. He’d been too smitten with Lizzie Covington, who he’d made his wife not long after becoming town sheriff.

Tragically, Lizzie had died in a freak wagon accident ten months ago, leaving Caleb to raise his five-year-old twins by himself. Hannah and Grace were such sweet children. Having lost her own mother, Ellie felt a strong connection to the little girls, nearly as powerful as the one she’d felt for Monroe Tipton’s daughters.

She shook away the thought.

Kate’s voice came at her again, a speculative note in the words. “I wonder if Mrs. Jenson will have success finding our good sheriff a woman to marry.”

Ellie’s shoulders tensed. “I’m confident she will.”

It was no secret Caleb wanted to marry again, for his children’s sake. Understandable, yet something inside Ellie rebelled at the notion of him seeking a mail-order bride. She couldn’t imagine him taking vows with a woman he didn’t know, or love. But perhaps that was the point.

Perhaps Caleb couldn’t bear the idea of anyone replacing Lizzie in his heart and thus wasn’t averse to marrying for his children’s sake at the sacrifice of his own.

Depressing thought.

Despite her recent heartbreak, Ellie still believed in love and marriage. Her parents had modeled the joy that came from a godly union. The memory of their genuine affection for one another would always be with her, and was what drove Ellie’s desire to marry for love, only love. Her disastrous experience with Monroe had only managed to solidify her view.

Fortunately, her father had found love a second time around and would soon marry again. Betsy Anderson was yet another connection Ellie had with Caleb. The woman her father would marry on New Year’s Eve was currently serving as Caleb’s housekeeper. Betsy was a kind woman and good to Ellie’s father. She truly made him happy and that made Ellie happy.

The thought of her father reminded her of the one task he’d charged her with this morning. She’d been so caught off guard by Caleb’s attempt at conversation that she’d inadvertently avoided her duty.

She slipped a quick glance out the window. Her gaze landed on the handsome sheriff climbing off his horse and she felt a jolt of...something in the center of her heart. Ellie was going to have to seek him out and speak to him again today.

If not now, when?

“I’ll be back in a few minutes.” She left Kate gaping after her.

* * *

Shaking his head over the inexplicable compulsion to stop and speak with Ellie Wainwright—about the weather, no less—Caleb swung Gideon’s reins over the hitching rail outside the jailhouse. He reached inside his jacket pocket for the carrot he’d brought with him. As he fed the horse his morning treat, Caleb stroked a hand down the animal’s majestic neck and took a quick inventory of the activity around him.

People hurried about their business, their breaths pluming in frozen puffs around their heads. Horses whinnied, dogs barked, children laughed, a door slammed in the distance.

Drawing in a long pull of air, he breathed in the scent of freshly fallen snow and pine. Instead of calming him, the aroma sparked a renewed surge of urgency. Today was the first day of December and he still hadn’t found himself a wife.

Time was running out if he wanted to provide the twins with a stable home by Christmas. They’d only known upheaval and heartache in their short lives and would face another one in a month when Caleb’s housekeeper, Betsy, married Reverend Wainwright.

The proverbial clock was ticking. Caleb wouldn’t rest until he was able to give the twins the kind of safe, calm atmosphere he’d experienced as a guest at the Wainwright home.

Nostalgia washed over him, increasing his previous resolve. After his mother died and his father disappeared into the nearest saloon, the reverend had reached out to Caleb and his four brothers. Perhaps his friendship with Everett Wainwright had played a role, but only Caleb had accepted the pastor’s kindness. His untamed, out-of-control brothers had preferred living life on the edge, free to do what they pleased with no adult supervision or guidance.

Those wild, rebellious boys had grown into even wilder, undisciplined men, not outlaws, precisely, but certainly not upright citizens either.

With his brothers scattered all over the West, Caleb didn’t keep in touch with them. He felt sad about that. His children had never met their uncles. They certainly didn’t know Lizzie’s family. They—

“Caleb?” A soft, feminine voice cut off the rest of his thoughts. “Do you have a moment?”

Warmth spread through him at the low, lush request.

Smiling fondly, he looked down at Everett’s little sister for a second time in a handful of minutes. “For you, Ellie, always.”

Big blue eyes fringed with long thick lashes blinked up at him. In the same manner as when he’d spoken to her only moments earlier, words backed up in his throat and an inexplicable jolt of awareness prickled down his spine.

When had little Ellie Wainwright grown up?

When had she become such a beauty?

Even with her doll-like features scrunched in an earnest expression she was unspeakably fetching. Slender and willowy, her head barely came up to his chin. Adding to the lovely image, several caramel-colored wisps of blond hair had slipped from a messy knot at the back of her neck and now flowed against her pinked cheeks.

As he stared down at her, surprisingly unable to speak, he realized she was staring right back at him, equally speechless.

The awkward moment stretched into two.

In the silence that hung between them like a heavy mist, Caleb wondered what had brought Ellie back to Thunder Ridge at this time of year. Schoolteachers usually worked from September to June, which led him to believe her return hadn’t been entirely her decision.

Had someone hurt her? Something dark moved through him and a protective instinct took hold. If someone had done Ellie harm, Caleb would find them and make sure they understood—

He cleared his throat. Not your place. “What can I do for you, Ellie?”

She startled at the question. “Oh, I...” She swallowed, saying, “I forgot to mention earlier, I mean, when we spoke I meant to ask if you and...”

Her words trailed off and she pressed her lips tightly together. A second later, as if gathering her fortitude, she lifted her chin and threw back her shoulders in a familiar show of female bravado. Caleb smiled at the gesture. He’d always liked Everett’s little sister.

Not so little anymore.

“I...” She forced a smile. “That is, my father wanted me to ask if you and the twins would like to come over for Sunday dinner after church this week.”

The earlier feeling of nostalgia dug deeper still.

Caleb had missed Sunday dinner with the Wainwrights. He’d stopped the tradition soon after his marriage to Lizzie. Now, her voice slid across his mind, reminding him why he’d avoided the Wainwright home. You’re nothing but a charity case to the pastor and his family.

Caleb frowned at the memory. “That’s a nice offer, Ellie, but tell your father that I—”

“Please, Caleb, don’t say no.” She touched his coat sleeve with her gloved fingers. “My father will be so disappointed.”

The remark sparked a wave of guilt. Reverend Wainwright had always been good to him, better than he deserved. Yet, Caleb had all but turned his back on the man in recent years.

At first, he’d kept his distance because Lizzie hadn’t liked his friendship with Everett or any of the man’s family. Then, after her death, Caleb hadn’t known how to make things right. His inability to help Everett in his friend’s greatest hour of need had added to his reticence.

Then, there was his guilt.

Though he knew Reverend Wainwright didn’t hold him responsible for Everett’s incarceration, Caleb felt as if he’d let the man down by not trying harder to keep his son from falling in with a bad crowd. It had been a sad day when Everett ended up killing a man in order to a save a woman’s life.

He’d done the right thing but in the wrong way.

Unfortunately, the judge had taken a hard stance and sentenced Everett to seven years in the Wyoming Territorial Penitentiary.

As if sensing his hesitation, Ellie tightened her hold on his arm. “Say yes. It’ll be like old times.”

They both knew that wasn’t true. The easy days when he’d shared Sunday dinner with the Wainwrights were long gone. A lot had changed since then.

Everything had changed.

Caleb thought of Hannah and Grace, of the steady, stable life he wanted to provide for them. Until he was able to do just that, the Wainwright home was the next best thing.

“Tell your father that the girls and I would be happy to dine with you on Sunday.”

Chapter Two

Caleb studied Ellie’s face, trying to read her reaction to his acceptance of her father’s invitation. Her expression was wide-eyed, slightly flustered and utterly adorable.

An uncomfortable sensation moved through him, the kind reserved for a boy conversing with a girl for the first time.

This is Ellie, he reminded himself. He wasn’t supposed to feel uncomfortable around her. Nor was he supposed to be this aware of her.

Yet the sensation persisted, digging deeper, causing his breath to hitch and his mind to empty of all coherent thought.

What were they discussing again?

Mildly amused at himself, he felt a laugh bubble inside his chest. When was the last time he’d laughed?

He couldn’t remember. A sad commentary on the current condition of his life. Even with help, raising twin daughters was hard work. But also the best part of his day. When he wasn’t at the jail, he put all his focus on caring for his daughters. That left little time for much else. He hoped that would change once he got married again.

“Anyway, that’s all I came to say.” The tentative smile that accompanied Ellie’s words reached inside Caleb’s chest, grabbed hold of his heart and squeezed hard. “I guess I’ll see you at church on Sunday.”

Staring into those big, expressive eyes, everything in him softened. “Yes, Ellie, you will see me there. Perhaps even before then.”

“Sounds lovely.” Her smile wavered ever-so-slightly. “Well, um, bye.”

“Bye, now.”

He watched her walk back the way she came. She looked left, then right, then hurried across the street. Twice, she slowed her pace and glanced at him over her shoulder, her lower lip caught between her teeth. Both times, when their gazes met and melded, Caleb felt an unexpected ping in the pit of his stomach.

There were logical reasons for his physical reaction to the girl—no, scratch that, not a girl. A woman. Ellie Wainwright was a full-grown, beautiful woman. She was also his friend’s treasured little sister and the daughter of the man Caleb considered a second father. That made her family, the sister he never had.

Except...

After their unusual, albeit brief interchanges this morning, Caleb wasn’t feeling very brotherly toward her.

He lifted his hand in a responding wave to match the one Ellie tossed at him.

His lips curved in a genuine smile.

Ellie was a reminder of everything good in his past, the quintessential example of the stability he craved for his girls.

Stopping yet again, this time at the door leading into the dress shop, she gave him one last glance over her shoulder before disappearing into the building.

Ping.

Caleb swallowed. He swallowed again. And one more time for good measure.

Taking advantage of his inattention, Gideon rooted around for more treats, searching Caleb’s coat pockets with a warm, nuzzling nose.

Giving in to the none-too-subtle demand, he fed the horse another carrot. “What,” he asked in a strained voice to the tune of the animal’s munching, “just happened?”

Gideon had no answer.

Neither did Caleb.

At the moment, he didn’t know much of anything, except that he was wasting valuable time staring at a closed door.

Banishing Ellie Wainwright from his mind, he gave Gideon one last pat then entered the jailhouse. With efficient movements, he divested himself of hat, gloves and long coat before turning his gaze onto his deputy.

Feet propped up on the lone desk in the room, Prescott Kramer eyed him with the affable nonchalance that defined him. “Morning, Sheriff.”

Caleb nodded. “Deputy.”

Younger than Caleb by five years, Prescott was nearly his same height, a full inch over six feet, but broader in the shoulders and back. His eyes were a startling pale blue and he sported a head of thick, jet-black hair. The combination seemed to make the man popular with the ladies.

No arguing that women liked Prescott and Prescott liked women. That didn’t mean he wasn’t a fine lawman. He had lightning-quick reflexes and a calm head in tough situations. Caleb had hired him eighteen months ago and had yet to regret the decision.

Flashing a row of perfectly aligned, sparkling white teeth, the deputy slowly rose to his feet and ambled over to the coffeepot sitting atop the potbellied stove. He filled two tin cups with the thick brew they both preferred, kept one for himself and then handed the other to Caleb.

Chilled from his time outdoors, Caleb took a grateful sip of the steaming liquid. “Any problems arise overnight I need to know about?”

“Nope.” Prescott shook his head. “All quiet. Took the opportunity to read.”

Caleb nodded again. The one pursuit Prescott loved nearly as much as getting to know a new woman in town was reading a good novel. “Glad to hear you spent your time productively.”

Prescott could have taken a short nap last night and it wouldn’t have mattered much. Although Thunder Ridge was a regular stop on the Union Pacific rail line, with its no-saloon ordinance and a strong Christian presence, it was also a peaceful community.

Not that there weren’t concerns that arose on occasion.

Caleb and Prescott dealt with random cases of vandalism, scuttles that came from high tempers and, of course, the occasional dispute over property lines. But the jail cells remained mostly empty. And now that Caleb’s brothers were scattered all over the West, there was even less trouble in town.

Most days, his job was boring, exactly the way he liked it. He’d had enough chaos for one lifetime, first from his unpredictable childhood and then from his volatile marriage.

“Want me to take the ride through town this morning?” Prescott asked, referring to their daily routine check-in with the local businesses.

“I’ll do it.” Caleb had already performed an initial inspection of the outlying ranches before coming in to work. Once he rode through town and spoke with the shopkeepers individually, he’d take Gideon to the livery for a much needed brushing and rest. “You can go on home, Pres.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” The deputy drained his coffee then set down his empty cup next to the stove.

With more enthusiasm than usual, he shoved his arms in his coat then jammed his hat on his head. Instead of heading out, he paused at the doorway. “Hey, Sheriff, got a question I’ve been meaning to ask you for a while now.”

That sounded ominous. “Okay, shoot.”

“Just how well do you know Ellie Wainwright?” A speculative gleam shone in the deputy’s eyes. “Well enough, say, to make an introduction?”

Caleb’s blood ran cold at the obvious masculine interest in the question. Prescott was nothing if not predictable. In truth, Caleb wasn’t all that surprised by the deputy’s inquiry, only that it had taken the man an entire two weeks to ferret out information about Ellie Wainwright.

Still.

“Don’t go getting any ideas.” A burst of temper spiked his tone to a near guttural growl. “Ellie’s off-limits.”

The warning only seemed to stir the man’s interest further. “Why? Somebody already courting her?”

Not if Caleb had anything to say about it. “She’s not available for an introduction and that’s the end of it.”

“You sure about that?” Prescott scratched a hand across his jaw, his eyes taking on a thoughtful light. “I haven’t seen her with any man since she came home.”

True. Nevertheless...

Caleb wasn’t introducing Ellie to Prescott. Or, for that matter, any other unmarried man in town.

He told himself he was acting on Everett’s behalf. He owed it to his friend to keep an eye on the man’s little sister while he was in prison. This wasn’t personal. It was simply the right thing to do.

Keep telling yourself that, cowboy.

“You can’t meet Ellie.”

“Why not?”

Caleb ground his teeth together so hard his jaw ached. “She’s a churchgoing woman with a strong set of Christian values and impeccable integrity.”

Prescott’s eyes narrowed to tiny slits. “You implying I’m not good enough for her?”

That about covered it. “No one’s good enough for Ellie.”

Now Prescott smiled, a big toothy grin that set Caleb’s teeth on edge. Clearly he wasn’t getting through to the hardheaded deputy.

He changed tactics. “She’s too young for you.”

Which, to be fair, sounded as irrational in his head as it did out loud, especially since Ellie and Prescott were the same age, give or take a few months.

“Ah, I get it.” The other man let out a low, amused whistle. “You got your eye on the preacher’s daughter.”

“I don’t have my eye on Ellie.” That would be wrong on so many levels.

Although...

Now that Caleb worked the idea around in his head...

Ellie was sweet and warm, caring, and excellent with children. She was the kind of woman a man made promises to, the kind of woman a man cherished and—

He cut off the rest of his thoughts.

Even if Ellie wasn’t Everett’s little sister, she deserved far more than Caleb had to offer a woman.

Yes, he needed a wife. And, yes, Ellie was available, or so he assumed, but approaching her with the idea of marriage seemed inappropriate because of his history with her family.

Best to look elsewhere for his future bride, or at least wait a little longer for Mrs. Jenson to find her for him.

As if to contradict his decision, an image of his daughters crystallized in his mind. They deserved a good, loving mother, a sweet and warm, caring woman who would provide them with a calm, stable home life.

With few available women left in town that he hadn’t already approached, and less than a month before Christmas, Caleb was getting desperate to find the twins a mother. So desperate, in fact, that he’d even agreed to let Mrs. Jenson contact potential mail-order brides from other parts of the country.

Now, he wondered if he’d been too hasty with his acquiescence on the matter. Perhaps his future wife was closer to home. Perhaps she was already in Thunder Ridge.

Perhaps she was right across the street.

* * *

Ellie reentered Kate’s shop with a pounding heart and an annoying case of trepidation. Considering her rapid exit, and her subsequent conversation with Caleb out in plain sight, her friend would surely want to know what they’d said to each other. And why she’d approached him this morning, instead of waiting until after her meeting with Kate.

How was Ellie supposed to explain something she didn’t fully understand herself?

Her discussion with Caleb had been brief, not much more than a question asked and an answer given. Yet, because of the long looks and inexplicable tension between them, Ellie wasn’t sure what to think.

What came next?

Mulling over the question, she stood just inside the store’s threshold, unable to move deeper into the room because she needed every scrap of energy to process the past few minutes she’d spent in Caleb’s company.

Kate’s eyebrows lifted in silent question, clearly waiting for an explanation.

Ellie pretended not to notice.

“Fine.” Kate held up in her hands in a show of mock surrender. “I won’t ask. Never let it be said that Kate Riley doesn’t know how to mind her own business.”

Ellie felt her mouth drop open. “Since when?”

“Ha-ha.” Her friend sniffed in feminine outrage. “I’ll have you know, you’re looking at the new and improved version of me. I no longer stick my nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“Uh-huh,” Ellie hummed in response.

“Now that you’re back inside,” Kate continued as if she hadn’t responded, “shall we get started?”

“Absolutely.” Taking several steps forward, Ellie dug inside the medium-sized reticule hanging from her wrist and pulled out the script for the Christmas play her father had insisted she direct this year.

She figured he’d assigned her the task with the express purpose of giving her something to do with her days, and to keep her mind off her troubles. As he was so often fond of saying, “Nothing helps redirect our gloomy thoughts better than focusing on others.”

It was good advice that Ellie intended to act upon from this point forward. No more feeling sorry for herself. No more wondering what might have been. “I have some initial ideas for the costumes.”

“As do I.”

A jolt of fear moved through her. With just over three weeks until Christmas, Ellie wasn’t sure she could pull off the production to her father’s satisfaction. Or her own.

Lowering her head, she exhaled a small, soulful sigh of remorse. “Last night’s rehearsal was a complete disaster.”

“Don’t you think you’re being a bit dramatic?” A pair of smart-looking, female, lace-up boots moved directly into her line of vision. “It’s a children’s play, Ellie, one you’ve directed many times in the past.”

Well, yes.

But that had been years ago, before she’d left for the teaching job in Colorado Springs.

Releasing another sigh, Ellie lifted her head. “Oh, Kate, I have exactly twenty-three days to put together a Christmas production that will make Thunder Ridge proud and I’m already off to a miserable start.”

“I was there last night. It wasn’t that horrible.”

Were they talking about the same event? “The children ignored me completely.”

One well-defined black eyebrow shot up in obvious skepticism.

Point taken. “All right, they didn’t ignore me completely.”

It had only felt that way.

Her inability to command a room full of rambunctious boys and girls was disturbingly new. Ellie used to be good with children, a requirement of any schoolteacher. But her confidence had vanished ever since she’d lost her job, which had been right after Monroe had withdrawn his marriage proposal because Ellie had told him about her brother’s incarceration.

“What if I lose control again tonight?” There. She’d voiced her fear aloud.

Instead of gaining sympathy, the comment seemed to make her friend’s smile widen. “Weren’t you the one who once told me first rehearsals are always disasters?”

“I’m pretty sure I never said any such thing.” This year.

Kate laughed. “Well, no matter what happens Christmas Eve, at least you can comfort yourself in the knowledge that the costumes will be spectacular.”

Her friend punctuated the remark with a wink.

Finally, Ellie smiled, as well. Kate was her assistant, her costume designer and the reason for this early morning visit to the dress shop her friend had inherited from her grandmother.

“Ellie.” Kate took her hands. “You aren’t alone in this. I’m right in the middle of the muddled fray with you.”

It was exactly what she needed to hear.

“You and me,” Kate said, winking again, “working side by side on the play, why, it’ll be just like old times.”

Just like old times.

Nearly the same words she’d spoken to Caleb moments earlier. They’d seemed appropriate at the time, but now Ellie felt foolish having uttered them.

Things could never be as they once were; too much time had passed. But maybe, just maybe, that wasn’t such a bad thing.

Chapter Three

Later that afternoon, just as Ellie feared, play practice turned into an unruly mess. She willed back the tears that would have formed in her eyes had she given them a chance.

Not that any of the children would notice if she gave into her silent despair. At the moment, they were engaged in a rousing game of tag, weaving in and out of the pews, laughing and chattering so loudly Ellie could hardly think over the ruckus.

The only children paying her any attention were Caleb’s beautiful five-year-old twins. Hannah and Grace Voss were fast capturing Ellie’s heart as they followed her around the interior of the church like two little miniature shadows. They’d stuck close to her ever since their housekeeper had dropped them off fifteen minutes ago.

Ellie smiled down at the girls, taking in their identical sweet, tiny features, light brown hair and big green eyes the same color as their father’s. They each looked up at her expectantly, clearly waiting for her to tell them what to do.

Two down, she told herself firmly, only thirteen to go.

“When are we going to get started?” Hannah asked.

“Soon,” Ellie replied. “So stay close to me.”

“Okay,” the girls said in unison.

Smiling, Ellie put a hand on each of their shoulders and pulled them near.

High-pitched squeals rent the air. The game had heated up, boys against girls. Someone was going to end up hurt.

Enough. “Everyone, please, settle down.”

Her request was promptly ignored.

For a woman who’d spent almost two years in a schoolroom of twenty-five boys and girls—ages six to fifteen—Ellie was supposed to be an expert at maintaining control in the midst of chaos. Well, of course she was an expert.

With the Voss twins following hard on her heels, she moved to the front of the church and did what she was trained to do.

She took control.

“Boys and girls.” She clapped her hands once, twice, three times. “Everyone gather around. It’s time to get started.”

When they continued to ignore her, she whistled, loudly, a technique she’d mastered in her first months in the classroom.

Half of the unruly children abruptly froze. Ellie repeated her request. They obeyed, probably because they’d grown bored with chasing one another.

With quick, concise words, she directed the group to sit on the floor at her feet then repeated her previous order, raising her voice to be heard over the boisterous laughter.

Another five children joined the others at the front of the church. Three mutineers remained, two boys and a girl, all of similar ages, somewhere between nine and eleven. They continued chasing one another around the perimeter of the room. Ellie bodily inserted herself in the middle of their game, forcing them to either stop or ram straight into her.

They stopped.

Wide-eyed and shifting from foot to foot, they seemed unsure what to expect from her. She took advantage of their uncertainty. “Now that I have your attention, please join the rest of us.”

Her tone brooked no argument.

The three dutifully complied. “Yes, Miss Ellie.”

The moment she returned to her spot at the front of the church, the various whispered conversations drew to a halt.

Ellie quickly organized the children into two groups, the older ones with speaking parts and the younger ones who would sing three separate songs during the play.

Kate chose that moment to rush into the building. “What did I miss?”

Ellie smiled at her friend’s flushed face and somewhat wild hair. “Nothing much, we’re only just getting started.”

“Wonderful.” With a pointed, I-told-you-so grin, her friend swept her gaze over the children. “I see you have everything under control.”

Ignoring Kate’s smug tone, Ellie put her to work. “If you could run through the play with the older children, I’ll teach the little ones the first song they’ll be singing.”

“Sounds good to me.” Script in hand, Kate collected her charges and escorted them to the back of the church.

Ellie settled on the floor between Hannah and Grace Voss. The twins sat on either side of her, so close they practically crawled into her lap.

As a teacher, Ellie wasn’t supposed to pick favorites; she knew this, knew the dangers of getting too close to any one child—or in this case two children. Yet she was already falling for the twins. She wondered if her fondness for them had something to do with her connection to their father.

Ellie shook her head at herself. Had she not learned her lesson in Colorado? Her affection for Monroe’s daughters had only led to heartache. Saying goodbye to them had been the hardest thing she’d ever done, maybe even harder than hearing Monroe retract his offer of marriage.

Yet, here she was, already growing attached to another widower’s young daughters. Not a wise move, considering their father was actively seeking a woman to marry solely to take on the role as their mother. Caleb wasn’t looking for love. And Ellie wasn’t looking to act solely as a mother to his or any man’s children. She wanted a real marriage and a family of her own.

Don’t get too close, she ordered, even as her arms wrapped around the girls’ shoulders.

Realizing what she’d done, Ellie quickly returned her hands to her lap and focused on the entire group of children. “Who wants to learn the first song we’ll be singing Christmas Eve?”

Seven tiny hands shot in the air.

She soon discovered that most of the boys and girls were familiar with the tune that accompanied the song “What Child Is This?” But they were shaky on the words. Repetition would be the key to their success, besides keeping to a single verse, maybe two if they learned the first one quickly.

She sang the first two lines then had the boys and girls repeat after her. “Well-done,” she praised. “Let’s try that again.”

On the second time through, she looked over at Kate with the other children. A quick headcount told her that one of the older boys had disappeared from the group. She was just about to alert her friend to the problem when Brody Driscoll reappeared, a mischievous grin on his face.

Ellie’s heart dipped. She’d seen that look on too many young faces not to recognize that trouble lay but a heartbeat away.

Proving her gloomy forecast accurate, a frightened female screech cut through the children’s singing, which was followed by several more shrieks—also female.

Ellie sighed as the girls, still screaming at the top of their lungs, scrambled away from Brody. They hopped up on the pews, dancing from foot to foot.

The older boys howled with collective laughter.

Kate, her face drained of color, eyes filled with panic, called for Ellie’s assistance. “Come quick!”

Ellie tried not to sigh again. But really, how disappointing. Everything had been going so well up till now.

“Stay here.” She quickly rose to her feet.

With a hand gesture, she indicated Kate join her in the middle of the church. “Tell me,” she whispered.

Kate hissed two monosyllabic, oh-so-troubling words. “Dead. Mouse.”

But of course.

At least Brody hadn’t brought in a live rodent. That would have brought a whole separate set of issues, namely chasing down the scurrying creature.

Stifling a grin—because, well, boys were after all boys—Ellie bypassed the screaming girls and shoved into the gang of laughing boys, who were taking turns slapping Brody on the back.

A quick glance to the floor and, sure enough, the dead mouse lay poised on its back, claws up, head lolled to one side.

Ellie disregarded the boys pressing in around her and focused solely on Brody Driscoll. He was a good-looking kid, probably about eleven or twelve years old, with dark, wavy hair and eyes nearly the same color.

He held her gaze almost defiantly, but Ellie saw the desperation beneath the bravado, as if he was determined to get a rise out of her and yet afraid he’d get exactly that.

Face blank, eyes still locked with the boy’s, she leaned over and picked up the mouse by the tail. “I believe this belongs to you?”

Brody’s earlier boldness faltered.

“I...” He glanced at his friends, all still snickering, then, emboldened once again, jerked his chin at her. “Maybe it’s mine and maybe it isn’t.”

More snickers from the other boys. She’d expected no less.

Just as Ellie opened her mouth to respond, a deep, masculine voice cut her off. “Outside, Mr. Driscoll. And bring your rat with you.”

Ellie spun around, her gaze connecting with Caleb’s. Except he was no longer the Caleb she knew. He was big bad Sheriff Voss, the dedicated lawman who kept order in Thunder Ridge. The man nobody challenged, especially not a mischievous boy at a children’s play rehearsal.

Ellie tried to gain Caleb’s attention, to let him know she had the situation under control, but his gaze was locked with Brody’s. “I said outside, now.”

Shoulders slumped, Brody took the mouse from Ellie’s fingers and headed toward the exit, Caleb one step behind.

No. Oh, no, no. Although sweet and certainly well-meaning, Ellie could not let Caleb rescue the situation. Yet she couldn’t question his authority in front of the children, either.

A quandary to be sure, but Ellie needed the children to know she was in charge.

She trotted after Caleb and Brody, caught up with them in the vestibule. “Cale—I mean, Sheriff Voss.” She gripped his sleeve. “A quick word, if you please.”

* * *

Caleb hesitated at the warmth that spread from Ellie’s fingers, past his coat and straight into his forearm. “Now? You want to speak to me, now?”

“Yes, Caleb. Now.”

Impatience surged. Whatever Ellie had to say couldn’t be more important than taking care of Brody’s willful disobedience.

“Please,” she pleaded in the soft, sweet voice that did strange things to his gut. “It’ll take only a moment.”

Frowning, he dropped his eyes to Ellie’s hand still curled around his arm, then raised a questioning eyebrow. “I’m in the middle of something pretty important here.”

“As am I.” She dropped her hand and favored Brody with a stern, no-nonsense glance.

“Sheriff Voss will meet you outside in a moment. I suggest you spend the time alone thinking about what you’ve done and, of course, taking care of that.” She looked pointedly at the mouse.

“Yes, Miss Ellie.” Mouse tail clamped between his thumb and forefinger, Brody headed for the door.

Caleb stopped him. “Stop right there. Don’t you have something to say to Miss Ellie?”

The boy sighed, his shoulders now drooping along with his head. “I’m sorry for disrupting play practice.”

“You’re forgiven,” she said, her tone full of the graciousness inherent in her character. “But don’t ever pull a stunt like that again. Are we clear?”

“No, ma’am. I mean...yes, ma’am.” Sighing heavily, Brody lifted a frustrated shoulder. “I mean, no, I won’t.”

She patted him fondly on the arm. “That’s all I ask.”

Brody smiled at her.

She smiled back. “Go on outside, now.”

“Yes, Miss Ellie.” The boy’s eyes were full of remorse as he exited the building.

Caleb had always known Ellie was a steady sort. Now he also knew she had a large store of patience. He attempted to follow her lead, though it called for great effort on his part. “I’m listening. What’s on your mind?”

“I appreciate your assistance with Brody, but you must understand. I had the situation under control.”

No argument there. “Yes, you did.”

When he’d walked into the church he’d watched her retrieve the mouse from the floor. I believe this belongs to you, she’d said without a hint of inflection in her voice, or fear in her eyes. Caleb nearly smiled at the memory. Despite Ellie’s diminutive stature, she was no delicate, fragile woman.

He liked that about her. “Your handling of the situation was quite impressive.”

A frown formed between her eyes. “Then why did you step in?”

“For Brody’s sake.”

Her frown deepened. “I don’t understand.”

“His mother is sick, Ellie. Dying actually. She may not make it to Christmas. He’s not been coping well with the prospect of losing her. This isn’t the first time he’s disrupted a gathering.”

“Oh, Caleb. I didn’t know, didn’t realize.” Ellie drew in a tight breath, her gaze filling with understanding. “That certainly explains his behavior this afternoon.”

In a word. “Yes.”

“Under the circumstances, you’re the best person to talk to him.”

He nodded, forever grateful Ellie knew his past. He didn’t have to go into detail about how his own mother had died around this same time of year when he’d been nearly Brody’s exact age. Caleb only wished Ellie wouldn’t look at him with sad memories in her eyes. He didn’t want her sympathy for himself, but for Brody. He turned to go.

“Don’t be too hard on the boy,” she called after him.

“Only what the situation requires.” He found Brody waiting for him on the front steps of the church, his foot digging into a pile of freshly fallen snow mixed with mud.

“What were you thinking?” he asked the boy in a stern tone. “You know better than to bring a dead mouse into the church.”

The boy looked him straight in the eyes. Tears shimmered in his gaze, but he heroically swallowed them. “I’m sorry.”

Caleb didn’t doubt Brody’s sincerity, but he suspected the sorrow in the boy’s eyes had little to do with the mouse incident. “How’s your mother feeling?”

“Not good. She’s so weak and can hardly get out of bed anymore. I hate seeing her suffer.”

“I didn’t realize her illness had progressed that much since I stopped by last week.”

Why hadn’t Betsy told him? His housekeeper had ample opportunity and would surely know Caleb would understand if she needed to spend more time with her dying sister.

“It’s not fair,” Brody said, battling tears. “Christmas is Mama’s favorite holiday.”

Caleb’s throat seized. He understood the kid’s pain, felt it deep in his own soul. He had to blink several times to keep memories of another Christmas at bay, his mother’s last. “I’m sorry to hear she’s growing worse.”

The boy kicked at the snow, sending white puffs circling around his foot. “Aunt Betsy is sitting with her now, reading to her.”

“Tell me about the mouse.”

The kid shrugged. “I thought it would make everyone laugh. I didn’t mean to scare the girls or Miss Kate.”

“But you did.”

“I know and I’m really sorry.”

Caleb’s throat seized again, painfully. Brody didn’t have a lot of family. He had only his mother and his aunt Betsy, who worked as Caleb’s housekeeper during the day and was due to marry Reverend Wainwright in a month. What would happen to the boy when his mother died? Surely, his aunt and her new husband would take him in.

But what if they didn’t?

“Is Miss Ellie going to kick me out of the play?”

Like most boys his age, Brody was concerned with the immediate future, not months down the road. “Not my call. You’ll have to ask her.”

“But I’m playing Joseph.”

“Then you better get back inside and speak with Miss Ellie.”

“Yes, sir.” Shoulders squared, Brody hurried up the steps.

Caleb ambled into the building behind him. Graciousness itself, Ellie welcomed the boy with a smile and a clasp on his shoulder. She whispered something to him that made him laugh. The boy nodded vigorously before rejoining his group.

Ellie’s mother had been equally kind to Caleb during his darkest days. For one brief moment, he let the memories come, let them remind him why he was so determined to establish a stable home for his daughters.

Left to raise themselves, Caleb and his brothers gained a well-deserved reputation as wild and out of control, primarily due to the flagrant lack of adult supervision.

Thanks to his friendship with Everett, Caleb soon began spending more time at the Wainwrights’ house than his own. He’d seen firsthand the difference a loving mother brought to a household. She brought a gentleness of spirit and a warmth that no single man could ever hope to achieve on his own.

Now, with his mind poised somewhere between past and present, he watched Ellie sit on the ground and the twins lean in against her, snuggling close.

He felt it again, the ping, followed by a surge of longing for something so far out of reach he couldn’t put a name to it. He waited a beat, struggling with an onslaught of emotion and possibilities. Suddenly, the future became a clear, distinct picture in his mind.

Caleb knew what he had to do. If all went as planned, his family would be complete by Christmas.

Chapter Four

After the pandemonium over the mouse incident died down and order was once again restored, the rest of play practice went smoothly.

Ellie would like to think the children’s obedience was due solely to her skills as a teacher, but she knew better. Caleb’s watchful presence from the back of the church was a powerful inducement for good behavior, as was the glint of his nickel-plated badge.

Despite her best efforts to ignore him, Ellie’s gaze continually wandered to where Caleb stood with his shoulder propped against the back wall. Each time she glanced in his direction, her breath caught in her throat. He looked so handsome, so impressive bathed in the afternoon sunlight that streamed in from the long skinny window on his left.

Each time their eyes met, the muscles in her stomach tightened and Ellie had to force herself to remain calm, to act normal, nonchalant.

A nearly impossible feat.

She was far too aware of Caleb in every fiber of her being, aware of his strength, of his reliable masculinity. It would be all too easy to imagine him as her husband, all too easy to dream of evenings sitting by a toasty fire with their children, the twins plus at least three more. And—

Stop right there, warned her better judgment.

She could not—would not—allow herself to view Caleb in any role other than friend, not even in the privacy of her own mind.

She forced her gaze back to the children in her group and caught two of them poking at one another. Shoving would soon follow. Were they the only ones growing antsy? Ellie took a fast assessment of the entire room and immediately noted the telltale signs of boredom in shifting feet, wandering gazes and general inattentiveness.

With the idea of preempting the inevitable, she called an end to rehearsal. “We’ll pick up where we left off next Monday afternoon, same place, same time.”

A mass rush to gather coats and gloves accompanied this announcement. Goodbyes were tossed between the children. Feet pounded toward the exit. Soon, the only people left in the church besides Ellie were Kate, Brody, Caleb and his daughters.

After a none-too-subtle nudge from Caleb, Brody apologized once again to Ellie and Kate. “I’m sorry for bringing a dead mouse into the church.”

Although Ellie had already forgiven the boy, she did so again.

Kate wasn’t so quick to excuse Brody’s behavior. “Your shenanigans certainly got my blood pumping, and I don’t mean that in a good way.”

Brody sheepishly repeated his apology, then added, “I didn’t mean to scare you, Miss Kate.”

“Apology accepted. However,” she said, ruffling the boy’s hair with a little more force than necessary, “you will leave all rodents and other critters outside where they belong. Are we clear on this?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The incident now settled between them, the boy gallantly offered to walk Kate back to her shop and she graciously accepted.

Then there were four.

Hannah and Grace crowded around Ellie, asking if she needed someone to walk her home, too, and maybe they could do it, with their father’s assistance, of course.

Ellie’s first response was a rush of longing, the kind of achy wistfulness she didn’t dare allow to take hold.

She was already dangerously enamored with Caleb’s daughters. More time spent in their company would only make it harder to watch another woman eventually become their mother.

“While I certainly appreciate the offer, there’s no need. I live right next door.”

“Nevertheless,” Caleb interjected before his daughters could respond. “The girls and I would very much like to escort you home.”

Something about the set of his shoulders, the look in his eyes—a sort of decisiveness she didn’t know quite how to interpret—made Ellie’s blood vibrate with nerves. “But my house is out of your way.”

“Not that far.”

He was right, of course. Caleb and his daughters lived on the other side of the street, barely a half block to the north. Ellie could see his front door from her father’s porch. She really had no reason to resist the kind offer.

Yet, resist she did.

Her inner conflict was so intense, so tangled with tempered hope, that heat surged into her face.

“It’s settled,” Caleb declared, taking advantage of her silence. “While you gather your belongings I’ll help the girls into their coats.”

Ellie capitulated. Arguing any further would only make her appear ungrateful. Besides, a few extra moments with Caleb, and his daughters, would be a treat worth savoring for many days to come.

“Thank you,” she said. “I’ll only be a moment.”

* * *

Over the next two days, Ellie made a concentrated effort to avoid the entire Voss family. She managed to do so easily enough, primarily by sticking close to home. But her self-imposed isolation came to an end Sunday morning. Church beckoned, as did the promised dinner with Caleb and his daughters, a meal Ellie was looking forward to more than was probably wise.

The day dawned clear and cold. The sky was a brilliant blue that looked brittle enough to crack. Tucking her hands inside her muffler to keep them warm, Ellie stepped onto her father’s porch, smiled up at the heavens, then made the short trek next door to the church.

She’d dreamed of Caleb again last night, the same dream she’d had the night before and the night before that. They’d been sitting together in front of a roaring fire, the scene playing out exactly as she’d imagined at play practice. While she read to their children, Caleb stoked the fire. The twins were there with them, plus a babe in a cradle, and...

It had only been a dream, she reminded herself, triggered no doubt by a long-ago affection for a boy who had grown into an attractive man. A man so averse to falling in love he was prepared to take wedding vows with a stranger.

Ellie would be smart to keep her distance, especially emotionally. She would see the Voss family today, and then go back to avoiding them.

As if to mock her resolve, she caught sight of Caleb and his daughters crossing the street. Her stomach performed a quick, hard roll. Caleb was handsome in all black save for his crisp white shirt. The girls were absolutely adorable all wrapped up in matching blue coats, mittens, hats and scarves.

“Miss Ellie,” one of the two bundles shouted as she lifted her hand in a wave.

“Hello, Hannah,” Ellie called out in return.

The child’s eyes widened. “How did you know it was me?”

The little girl’s surprise was understandable. Ellie doubted many people could tell the twins apart. On first glance the girls were identical. But they had very different personalities.

Hannah held herself with more confidence than her sister. She was certainly more precocious. Her smile also came quicker, with a mischievous glint in her eye.

Clearly impatient for an answer to her question, Hannah jammed two tiny fists on her hips. “Did you really know it was me or did you just guess?”

Holding back a laugh, Ellie smiled down at the gregarious child. “Actually, I can tell you apart from your sister rather easily.”

“You can? That’s really, kind of...” Hannah seemed to search for the right word “...amazing.”

“Yes,” Grace agreed, slipping in front of her sister so she could join the conversation. “Very, very amazing.”

Not for the first time, Ellie felt a need to pull the two girls close. They were smart and sweet, the kind of children any teacher would be glad to have in her classroom. And that any woman would be proud to mother as if they were her own children.

Careful, her better judgment warned for the hundredth time in a smattering of days. Remember your place.

Hannah attempted to reclaim her spot in front of Ellie, all but shoving her sister out of the way.

Silent until now, Caleb muttered something to the girls then set a hand on each of his daughter’s shoulders. The gesture was all it took to put an immediate end to their jockeying for position.

Impressed, Ellie lifted her gaze to meet his.

His eyes were dark beneath the brim of his hat, his smile a mere tilt of one corner of his mouth. Ellie thought she detected a hint of humor in his expression, and something that looked like affection. For her, or the girls, or all three?

The responding hope in Ellie’s heart felt too intimate, too real. How was she supposed to remain immune to the man when he looked at her like...like...that?

“It’s good to see you again this morning.” His deep voice fell over her soft as a caress.

She swallowed back a sigh. “Good to see you, too.”

Their gazes held a long, silent beat. As always, whenever he gave her his undivided attention, an unspoken message passed between them, one Ellie didn’t fully understand. Right then, in that moment, she somehow felt less alone.

Which made little sense. She wasn’t alone. She had her father, and would soon add his future bride, Betsy, to the ranks of her family.

And yet, with Caleb eyeing her so closely, his gaze soft and welcoming, a warm sensation moved through her. Ellie couldn’t help but think of far-off dreams and a happily settled future.

“Will you sit with us during service?” Hannah asked.

Touched by the request, Ellie once again smiled down at the child. “If it’s all right with your father, then, yes, I’d like that very much.”

“As would I.” Caleb held out his hand to her.

Ellie accepted the silent call without hesitation, then just as smoothly, reached out and grasped hold of one of Grace’s hands. Caleb took one of Hannah’s and the four of them entered the church linked together.

Caleb steered their tiny group to one of the middle pews. A lot of shuffling and giggling ensued as he and Ellie removed the children’s hats, coats and gloves. Almost as soon as they were settled in their chosen seats, the girls between the adults, the strains of the first hymn filled the church.

As if the organist and Ellie were in cahoots—which, admittedly, they were—the song was “What Child Is This?”

Hannah and Grace launched into the tune with great enthusiasm. Grace had a better memory than her sister, but Hannah caught up at the end of each line, all but shouting the words sleeping and then keeping.

Eyes dancing in amusement, Caleb chuckled softly. Ellie glanced at him with raised eyebrows.

“I believe a bit of practice at home is in order,” he whispered for her ears only.

They shared a smile over the children’s heads. Other young voices joined in the song, voices that belonged to children in the play. Ellie’s heart soared. Evidently her second rehearsal had been a success.

The rest of the service went quickly. Her father’s sermon was on God’s love given to mankind in the gift of His Son, an appropriate message for the season. After the congregation sang the last hymn, her father dismissed them all with a prayer and a blessing for the coming week.

Ellie and Caleb went through the arduous process of swathing the twins in their winter weather gear. She then escorted the Voss family around the back of the church and into the tiny room off the kitchen of the parsonage where she and Caleb once again began unraveling two squirming children from coats, gloves, scarves and hats.

A pleasant female voice rang out from the kitchen beyond. “Do I hear the sound of familiar laughter?”

“You do, indeed,” Ellie called out in response.

Betsy Anderson, the woman engaged to Ellie’s father and who also served as Caleb’s housekeeper, stuck her head around the corner. Her light brown eyes peeked out from behind wire-framed glasses and, in what Ellie considered Betsy’s no-nonsense style, her gold-streaked, brown hair hung in a single braid down her back.

Somewhere in her late thirties, maybe early forties, the other woman’s face was slightly lined, probably due as much to her worry for her dying sister as from age.

At the moment, however, Betsy’s pleasantly round features wore a happy smile. Her cheeks were pink from exertion, as if she’d hurried to the house and then went to work immediately after the service, perhaps even before the final hymn was sung. She was going to make a wonderful pastor’s wife.

The Voss girls squealed in delight when they were finally free of their coats and saw their housekeeper smiling down at them.

“Miss Betsy, Miss Betsy,” they said in tandem. “Did you hear us singing in church this morning?”

“I most certainly did.”

“Want to hear the song again?” Hannah asked.

“I do, yes.” She held up a hand to forestall the impromptu concert. “After we eat dinner.”

Their little faces fell.

Ellie quickly took control of the situation. “Come on, girls. Let’s get you washed up for dinner.”

Giving them no chance to argue, she guided them to the washbasin. Halfway through the room, she heard Caleb inquire after Betsy’s sister.

“Her health is failing by the day.”

Ellie’s heart went out to Betsy, as well as the sister she loved and the woman’s young son. As she helped the twins wash their hands and faces, Ellie lifted up a silent prayer for Clara Driscoll and her boy, Brody.

Lord, be with them today and always, bring them the peace that can only come from You, the peace that surpasses all understanding.

Having lost her own mother at sixteen, Ellie knew the sorrow Brody suffered as he helplessly watched his mother die.

Heart in her throat, she looked down at the Voss twins. They, too, had lost their mother, at a much younger age than Brody. How much of Lizzie did they remember?

No woman could ever replace their mother, but Ellie prayed that whomever Caleb married would love his daughters as her own. That woman wouldn’t be Ellie. Not because she couldn’t see herself loving Hannah and Grace, but because she could also see herself loving Caleb.

That love would only bring her heartache. Caleb wanted a very different kind of marriage than Ellie did. No good would come from building up hope that one day he’d change his mind.

She must focus on her own future. She’d already sent out queries for another teaching position. Though jobs rarely opened up in the middle of the school year, she was confident the Lord would provide in His time. She simply needed to have faith. And patience.

She set aside the towel in her hand. “All done.”

“Thank you, Miss Ellie.”

The girls hugged her, then ran off to find their father and Betsy. Ellie stayed behind, her mind traveling back in time to the pain and humiliation of being judged for something her brother had done.

When she’d told Monroe the entire story of Everett’s crime, she’d expected him to give her the same grace and understanding her father showed the members of his flock. Ellie had terribly underestimated the widowed preacher’s capacity for forgiveness.

It was telling that she missed Monroe’s daughters more than she missed him. In fact, she missed her teaching position more than the prospect of marrying him.

Even though matters hadn’t turned out as she’d hoped, Ellie’s dream of becoming a wife and mother still lived in her heart. Wiser now, she promised herself that whomever she eventually married, he would love her with his whole heart.

She would settle for nothing less.

Chapter Five

Caleb stepped into the Wainwrights’ living room and took in all the Christmas decorations. A sense of homecoming slipped through him, calming his soul, reminding him of the kind of home he wanted to provide for his family, not only at Christmastime but all year long.

Standing here, looking at the festive living room, he tried to recall the last time he’d been in this house. It had to be before he’d married Lizzie. Not much had changed in the years during his absence.

The furniture, positioned in the same places, still looked comfortable and inviting. If he closed his eyes, he would still be able to navigate around the overstuffed sofa, the brocade-covered chairs, the piano and various tables. He could walk to the wallpaper and run his fingers along the swirling floral pattern.

He’d spent many happy days in this house, the family treating him as if he was just another Wainwright son.

Guilt clogged the breath in his lungs.

He should have kept in closer contact with Reverend Wainwright. The man had lost his wife to illness, his son to prison and then his daughter to a job in Colorado Springs.

As if his thoughts could conjure up the man himself, the reverend came up behind Caleb and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “I can’t tell you how happy I am you accepted my invitation. It’s been too long since you were in this home.”

“I’m sorry for that, Reverend.”

“Don’t be.” The man’s eyes held nothing but acceptance. “You’re in a busy season of life, still grieving your wife and raising five-year-old daughters on your own.”

“I’m not completely on my own,” he countered. “Your future wife has been a godsend these past ten months, keeping my house in order and caring for the girls.”

“My Betsy is a generous woman.”

Too generous, he knew. She had enough of her own concerns with her nephew and dying sister, yet she still managed to help out Caleb and his tiny family.

He really needed to find a wife, sooner rather than later. After the chaos Lizzie had brought into their home, after the long absences, the not knowing how long she would be gone, or if she would ever return, Caleb was determined to restore order in his home. His daughters deserved stability. They deserved a carefully controlled, ordered life.

There could be no more unnecessary upheaval in their lives.

As if reading his thoughts, Reverend Wainwright addressed the situation directly. “I hear you’ve enlisted Mrs. Jenson in your search for a bride.”

Caleb resisted the impulse to correct the other man. He wasn’t looking for a bride, but rather a mother for the girls.

To say as much would be splitting hairs. The important point was that the owner of the local boardinghouse was on the hunt for a suitable woman for Caleb to marry. “Mrs. Jenson seems confident she’ll have success soon.”

The woman knew his parameters, knew he only wanted a marriage of convenience.

Would she find him a wife in time for Christmas?

The holiday was three weeks away and Betsy was marrying Reverend Wainwright on New Year’s Eve. Even without the concerns with her sister, Caleb would soon be without help.

“Betsy and I have discussed your situation and we’ve decided she’ll continue working for you until you can find a suitable bride.”

Caleb blinked at the other man, humbled by the offer. Once she married Jedidiah Wainwright, Betsy would take on the role of a pastor’s wife, which would require all sorts of additional tasks besides simply running his home. She would visit the sick, as well as deliver aid to the poor and less fortunate.

No matter how desperate his situation, Caleb couldn’t take away from others in far greater need than himself. “If Mrs. Jenson doesn’t have success soon, I’ll figure something else out.”

Laughter came from his left. Out of the corner of his eye, Caleb watched Ellie direct his daughters to a spot on the rug, a ball and jacks in her hand.

“The offer stands, son.”

Son. The term washed over him like a warm summer rain. Caleb had done nothing to deserve this man’s kindness. The words from Reverend Wainwright’s sermon came back to him now. Grace is a gift undeserved and unearned, freely given to us by our Heavenly Father.

Caleb thought of his earthly father. Harold Voss hadn’t been a bad man, just a weak one, so swallowed up with grief after his wife’s death he’d had no problem abandoning his five sons to fend for themselves.

But Caleb hadn’t been completely alone. This man standing before him now had modeled the Heavenly Father’s love in too many ways to count.

The back of Caleb’s eyes burned and his throat closed up tight, too tight to push words past his lips. He thought of Brody Driscoll, of the difficult days ahead. At the boy’s age Caleb had his brothers, and Everett, and the Wainwrights.

Who did Brody have?

He had his aunt Betsy. But the boy needed a father figure, a masculine role model.

The thought had barely materialized when Betsy called her future husband into the kitchen to help her with moving chairs to the table.

Caleb attempted to join the reverend, but he shook him off with a smile. “I’ve got it covered. Go spend time with your daughters.”

“Thank you, Reverend, I believe I will.”

He found the girls still playing jacks with Ellie. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. A sunbeam streamed through the window, backlighting her in golden splendor. Her pale blue eyes were thickly lashed and shimmered with good humor. She was as lovely and as bright as the sun behind her, her skin as lustrous as a pearl.

Her pink lips parted in a smile and his mind emptied of everything but her. This is Ellie, he reminded himself. He knew he was in deep trouble the moment she looked in his direction.

A profound ache spread from his heart and traveled up into his throat. Unable to resist her, he entered the room. The click of his heels on the hardwood floor was as familiar as the fixtures on the wall. The look and smell of Christmas was all around him.

“I love your tree, Miss Ellie,” Hannah remarked in a wistful tone.

“We don’t have one in our house,” Grace added, looking—and sounding—as forlorn as Caleb had ever witnessed.

Regret swirled in his stomach. He’d been so focused on finding his daughters a mother he’d let the smaller, equally meaningful matters slip away from him. Just because he didn’t have a wife to provide the girls with a stable home didn’t mean he couldn’t get them a Christmas tree.

“There’s a simple solution,” he said, stepping fully into the room, into the moment. “I’ll cut us down a tree of our own this week.”

“Oh, Papa, do you really mean it?” The restrained joy in Grace’s eyes was mirrored in Hannah’s gaze.

Their genuine surprise came as somewhat of a blow. “I absolutely mean it.”

The girls cheered, then hopped to their feet and rushed to him. He trapped them against his chest.

“My dear sweet girls,” he said in a low, choked voice.

How he loved them.

“You’re the best, Papa,” Grace said into his shirt.

“The very, very best,” Hannah agreed.

Overcome with emotion, he leaned down and buried his face in their baby-fine hair that smelled of the lilac soap he’d bought at the mercantile last week.

He felt his chest tighten with unspeakable love so strong it nearly brought him to his knees. A soft gasp came from Ellie. On impulse, he glanced over at her. Her eyes swam with some unreadable emotion. The look made him feel somehow taller, maybe even heroic.

“If you need help decorating your tree,” she said, shifting to a standing position, “I’d love to offer my assistance.”

The girls stepped out of his arms and proceeded to shower their enthusiasm onto Ellie.

Caleb caught what looked like a vulnerable expression on her face. Was it a look of longing, he wondered, or was it a trick of the light?

Betsy called them all to the table. There was a festive feel to the meal. Heaping bowls of whipped potatoes, corn and preserves were passed around, while varied conversations collided over one another.

Why had he avoided this home?

Why had he denied his daughters the taste of normalcy and stability he himself had found with this family?

The meal went by in a blur.

Once they finished eating and Betsy had set aside two plates of food for her sister and nephew, the girls asked if they could sing their song. Betsy guided the twins toward the piano in the living room.

Reverend Wainwright joined them.

Caleb stood beside Ellie in the doorway and watched his daughters entertain the older couple. A silence—comfortable as only one between longtime friends could be—settled over them.

Now, he told himself, make your offer now.

“Can we talk?” He waited for her to swing her gaze to his to finish the rest of his request. “In private?”

The question seemed to render her momentarily speechless. She rallied a second later. “Yes, of course. Why don’t we take a short walk?”

“Splendid idea.”

* * *

Huddled inside her coat, Ellie fell into step beside Caleb. They walked in companionable silence for several blocks then retraced their steps at a slower pace. Not quite sure what had motivated his request to speak with her alone, she slid a covert glance his way from beneath lowered lashes.

He appeared lost in thought, and she wondered at that, wondered what was on his mind. But then she feared she knew.

“Is this about the Christmas tree?” she blurted out. “Did I overstep by offering to decorate it with you and the girls?”

“You didn’t overstep.” He drew to a halt and looked at her with an easy smile, prompting her stomach to twist.

She opened her mouth but shut it when she realized he wasn’t through speaking. “In fact, I want to thank you for the offer. The children have never had a Christmas tree, so I’m pleased they’re going to get one this year.”

No Christmas tree? Ever? “But surely your wife—” She cut off the rest of the words. “Never mind, I shouldn’t have brought up Lizzie.”

But now that she had, she realized this would be Caleb’s first Christmas without his wife, and his daughters’ first Christmas without their mother.

“In answer to your unspoken question, no, Lizzie didn’t decorate for Christmas.” Something cheerless came and went in his eyes. “Holidays made her melancholy.”

Ellie sensed there was more to the story, but she didn’t think now was the time to pry. “I’m sorry, Caleb, for you and the girls.”

“Thank you.” He began walking again. She trotted to catch up then slowed her pace to match his.

The tension on his face told her he needed to unburden himself about something. Ellie reminded herself that above all else she was this man’s friend. Friends offered one another support, no judgment, no condemnation, no inquisitions.

“Christmas isn’t solely about the decorations,” she began. “It’s about being with family and...”

She let her words trail off, regretting opening her mouth, fearing he would misunderstand what she’d meant to say.

“I don’t disagree, Ellie. Family is everything. But the girls have never experienced a real Christmas with all the trappings. I want that for them.”

Those poor children.

This poor man.

No wonder Caleb wanted to remarry so quickly after his wife’s death. “At least you have Betsy,” Ellie offered in a small voice. “She’ll make your house a home this Christmas.”

“I’m sure she will.” His response lacked enthusiasm.

In that moment, Ellie felt such longing. I want to be the woman to give the Voss family a happy Christmas, all three of them.

What was stopping her?

Nothing. Absolutely nothing was holding her back, except her own fears. And her selfish worry over what it would do to her if she allowed herself to get too close to this man and his children.

Well, this wasn’t about her. This was about a family in need of something she had the ability and desire to give.

Ellie remembered what it was like to lose a mother, to experience that first holiday with the hole in the home left after her death.

“I have a proposal,” she said when they arrived back at her house.

“I was going to say the same.”

They shared a smile and for that brief moment a spark of hope kindled to life deep within her.

“You first,” he said. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”

“Well. I was thinking.” She paused at the foot of the porch, gathering her thoughts. “Maybe I could—”

The sound of pounding feet up the walk cut her off. She looked over her shoulder. “Brody? What’s wrong, what’s happened?”

Before the words left her mouth, Caleb was spinning around to face the boy.

“It’s my mama.” He skidded to a stop, slapped his hands on his knees and sucked in several gulping breaths of air. “She fell down and hit her head. There was lots of blood, but she made me promise not to get Doc. I helped her clean up as best I could. When she fell asleep I came here. Aunt Betsy is the only one who can convince Mama to let Doc inside the house.”

“I’ll fetch your aunt for you.” Ellie rushed inside the house.

After a brief explanation, Betsy and Ellie’s father grabbed their coats and hurried outside.

Deciding the others accompanying Brody was enough, Ellie stayed behind with Caleb’s daughters. She did her best to keep Hannah and Grace occupied with a story. Their eyes drooped, a clear indication the excitement of the day was catching up with them.

As Ellie directed them to join her on the couch, she lifted up a silent prayer for Brody and his mother. Lord, heal Clara Driscoll, bring her peace and freedom from pain, and give Brody the courage he’s going to need in the coming days.

When the girls went from tired to cranky and started arguing over who got to hold the book, Ellie settled them on each end. Covering them with a blanket, she began singing a favorite lullaby from her childhood.

Their eyes shut almost immediately. Just about the time their breathing evened out, Caleb reentered the house.

One look at his face and Ellie knew Brody’s mother was in a bad way. She cocked her head toward the sleeping children, then motioned for Caleb to follow her into the dining room.

As soon as the swinging door shut behind them, Ellie broke her silence. “How is Brody’s mother?”

“Better than we feared. Doc didn’t appear too concerned over her injury.”

“Good.” She breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s really good news.”

“I left her with your father and her sister.” Shadows swirled in Caleb’s gaze, dark and worried. Wanting to offer comfort where she could, Ellie touched his arm.

He blessed her with a slight smile.

As a thought occurred to her, she slowly pulled her hand away. “Betsy will want to spend as much time with her sister as possible, day and night.”

“Yes.” Caleb rubbed a hand over his eyes. “As she should.”

“That leaves you in a bind.”

He nodded. A pensive look shaded his face, but he said nothing more.

“I’ll watch the children for you.” The offer came out of her mouth as natural as a breath.

Caleb eyed her speculatively. “Actually, I had a more permanent solution in mind.”

Her heartbeat slammed against her ribs. Hope rose. She shoved it back with a hard swallow. This wasn’t about her. It wasn’t the realization of a dream, or a fairy tale. It was real life and real people in need. A woman was dying, a fractured family in pain.

“You’re a good influence on my daughters, Ellie. I trust you with them completely.”

Ellie sought to still the pounding of her heart. There was no reason to feel alarm. So she’d caught Caleb watching her throughout the day, his brows knit together as if working out a puzzle, or sorting through the particulars of a plan.

“You’re a steady woman, smart and capable. Easygoing, and not prone to outbursts or unnecessary drama.”

Listening to Caleb describe her with such bland words, Ellie didn’t know whether to be flattered or insulted. Steady, capable, not prone to outbursts. Was she truly that boring?

That forgettable?

Did he think her lacking in the finer, feminine qualities of kindness, gentleness and, well, prettiness?

“We’ve known each other for years.” He touched her cheek with such tenderness she thought she might cry. “I’ve always liked you, Ellie.”

“I’ve always liked you, too, Caleb.”

A broad range of memories swept across her mind, dragging her back to childhood when this man had been a boy, and she a young girl with stars in her eyes. He’d championed her on more than one occasion, such as the time when Everett had stuck her braid in an inkwell. It was Caleb who’d helped her wash out the black goo.

Then, on the worst day of her life, when her mother had died, Caleb had been by Ellie’s side. He’d let her cry on his shoulder, had tenderly dried her cheeks with the pads of his thumbs.

“...and that, Ellie, is why I’m asking you to marry me.”

What? Had she heard him correctly? Had he just asked her to marry him, while she’d been skipping down memory lane?

Surely she’d misunderstood.

Untangling herself from the past, she forced herself to focus, to recall the precise words he’d uttered. One line came back to her. You’ll make the girls a good mother.

There’d been no mention of love.

“Well?” He touched her arm, looked at her expectantly. “What do you say?”

“Could...could you repeat the question?”

He smiled. “Ellie Wainwright,” he said in a low, soft, affectionate tone. “Will you marry me?”

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