"Would Santa be able to find us there?" Eric asked, worried that a last-minute change of address might confuse the jolly old elf.
"Absolutely." She grinned at Cale. Her mother had told her that Val arrived the night before with all the presents for the boys that Cale had bought and mailed for Val to bring with her. "What do you say, Cale? A wonderful Christmas is waiting, just a mile down the mountain."
"Maybe for some. But me, I had my Christmas," he told her softly. "And it was wonderful. Every bit as wonderful as I dreamed it would be."
"Come home with me, Cale." She reached across the table to rub his face gently with the back of her hand. "Let me have it all this year. Let me share it all with you and the boys."
Two little pairs of eyes met across the table. What was going on? Dad was acting like one of those guys on the soap operas that the nanny used to watch, and Quinn was looking all melty.
Yuck.
On the other hand, she had made cookies and a tree and was going to put their names in a book. That stuff should count for something.
As much as Cale wished to keep her to himself for a few more days, he could not deny the light in Quinn's eyes as she described the scene that would greet them at the High Meadow Ranch. She wanted, at long last, to share him with her family, to share the holiday with all of those she loved. She deserved to have it all. And it would be wonderful to see her family again, to bask in the glow of that large and happy group, to see her parents and to introduce his sons to the man they knew only as a legend. To see Sky again, and to spend the holiday with Valerie for the first time in years.
"Well, then, shall we pack up some clothes for the boys and me before we dig out your car?" He stood up and took her hand, drawing her out of her seat to hold her to him. "I suspect this will be but the first of many Christmases we will spend together at the Hollister hacienda. I'm ready, if you are."
She rocked against him, filled with the wonder of all the miracles that had somehow found their way into her life over the past few days. True Christmas miracles, of a certainty.
"What about our tree?" Eric wailed as left the cabin.
"It will be waiting for us when we come back," Quinn assured him.
"Will you come back with us?" Evan queried Quinn.
"Of course, I'll come back with you. You think I'm going to let you eat all those Christmas cookies by yourselves?" She ruffled his hair as she closed the front door, telling him, "Go get your hat. It's cold out here."
Pulling the wool hat down over his ears, Evan turned solemnly to look at his brother.
Finally, Eric said, "Is she going to be, like, you know"--he looked up at Cale, gesturing awkwardly with his hands--"like our mother?"
"There's a good possibility that we might let her do that" Cale knelt down to face his sons. "What do you think?"
The boys looked at each other for a long moment.
"She does make pretty good breakfasts," Eric said.
"And she knows how to make paper chains." Evan nodded.
"It might be okay," Eric told Cale.
"I hear the tractor." Quinn stuck her head back inside the cabin and looked at the three McKenzies, huddled together conspiratorially. "What are you guys up to?"
"Nothing," the three replied in unison.
"Uh-oh." Quinn rolled her eyes. "What have I gotten myself into?" It was midafternoon by the time the Land Rover made it down the mountain past snow-gilded trees that sparkled in the sun and fence posts that leaned wearily into the heavy drifts. A trail of smoke fled the massive stone chimney and thinned as it reached the sky; even as they followed the plowed path, the warmth of the High Meadow Ranch reached out toward them with arms filled with love. Quinn bit her bottom lip anticipating the joy of reunion with her sisters and the glow that seemed to surround the family home this time of the year.
From the big kitchen window, Catherine studied the caravan of tractor and Land Rover as it played follow the leader down the narrow, newly plowed road. She sighed heavily. Who would have thought that after all these years, Cale McKenzie would be back?
Anxiously, she watched the Land Rover pull into the yard and stop. From the passenger side, the man emerged. He looked taller, leaner than she had remembered, but the face with its boyish smile had barely changed at all. He always was a handsome thing, Catherine recalled. Handsome enough to have had a string of girls back in high school, had he wanted them, though she knew he had only wanted one.
A tide of maternal guilt washed over Catherine, and a kink of uncertainty pricked her conscience. She had never really known just what exactly had caused her daughter's breakup with Cale that summer so long ago. To be sure, Catherine had made gentle inquiries, but Quinn had chosen to respond in vague, one-word answers that had told Catherine nothing. All Catherine had known was that Quinn had not been the same since the day Cale had left Larkspur for Baltimore.
Had Catherine known how heavily Quinn would carry the burden of heartbreak for so many years, would she have been so quick back then to brush off her daughter's declaration of undying love? And more importantly, how badly bruised was Quinn from having been forced to spend the last few days in the company of the man who had broken her heart, but had never been replaced in her life?
Merciful heaven, why did he have to come back, after all these years?
Quinn opened her door and slid from behind the driver's seat to jump into the hard-crusted snow just as Sky and her father fled the house from the side door to greet the newcomers. The three men greeted each other tentatively at first, but in a heartbeat Hap had embraced Cale and a fine reunion was in progress. At least that went well, Catherine thought, nodding, knowing how proud Hap was of his famous proteg�. Cale rounded the side of the vehicle to where Quinn appeared to be fussing with something in the backseat. The way he touched the small of Quinn's back, the familiarity of the simple gesture, and the manner in which Quinn had turned to look up at him, squinting into the sun but grinning happily, gave Catherine cause for thought. Good grief, one would think that they... that they...