2

Tiffany’s fingers sent bolts of lightning down his spine, and Bragg moved away. Definitely not because of her. Shock and disappointment swamped him. Apparently, Tony had gotten the job. Bragg could hardly breathe and forced himself not to glare at Tony. Bragg had applied for the part-time job, certain he’d get good recommendations. The Bar R had promised to make the decision two days ago, but he’d reckoned they were behind schedule due to the holidays. So he hadn’t worried. Now, he wondered. Had somebody sabotaged him?

Tiffany reeked of curiosity. He’d already hinted at the coldness between him and Tony, but no way would he confess to her. Not here. Not now. In a way, Rachel’s house was more Tiffany’s home than his, and in a round-about way, Tony was Tiffany’s guest. Besides, she’d find out soon enough. And then what?

Paralegals had to be above reproach, and there were a lot of years when he wasn’t. Bragg shoved away the memory of his Mountain Cove High swim star days. Those days when Coach Tony O’Neal had led him into the temptation of steroids, and performance enhancing substances. He shoved away his faked drug tests in college, his getting banned on his way to the Olympics. Oh, he was righting his wrongs, vacating his NCAA records and pulling his trophies off the shelves of the MCHS gym.

But Tony had never come forward, had let Bragg bear the brunt alone. Like a high school kid in a podunk town could do it all on his own. But the alumni booster club was headed by the richest man in three counties. He wanted the championship intact, and his word was the be all and end all. It still rankled, that Tony got off scot-free. Forgiveness was sometimes a hard thing to come by, despite Bragg’s unfailing faith.

Bragg stepped over Tony’s long legs to get to the fireplace where Rachel had hung the stockings with care. Three, a big one done in camouflage for the husband and father who couldn’t even be there, Rachel’s, middle-sized of course, in red velvet, and a tiny one for Matty made from both fabrics.

Trying to catch his breath, Bragg rested his elbows on the mantelpiece, crunching the pine boughs Rachel had wound around white candles and a nativity scene. He moved so he wouldn’t mess up the decorations.

Tiffany joined him. A perfume that smelled as good as dawn in spring drifted in the air. In the background Matty gnawed on a pacifier. For a moment, Bragg felt the urge to grab the baby and hold him close. He at least was a real innocent, untouched by life.

In his sleep, Tony snorted big time, startling both Bragg and Tiffany. Their shoulders merged. He didn’t move away because he liked it. Liked her warmth, liked her touching him.

“I guess I better wake Tony up and send him along,” Tiffany said with worry in her tone, not moving either. “I don’t really like the idea of any man or beast outside in that.”

Her words crashed nightmares into Bragg’s head. Just about everybody in his life was out in the elements tonight. Folks in Mountain Cove understood wintertime, of course, but nature was powerful with its own agenda. Even he hadn’t predicted the snow would barrel in so early. Or so fast.

Right now, he did what he always did in times of trouble. He bowed his head and asked God for safe harbor. Of course, he hadn’t always reached for God first and found himself in trouble. Well, that was then. Now was now. If they could shake Tony awake, he wouldn’t have but a few blocks to get to the motel.

Tiffany didn’t seem to notice his private prayer. With a gentle finger, she touched the framed picture of Rachel holding her baby. Next to it, inside a matching frame, was Nick in full dress uniform.

He’d never even seen his son, and Bragg’s heart panged.

“Beautiful family, aren’t they?” Tiffany asked in a voice that choked over the words. Well, Bragg might act the hard-bitten cowboy on the ranch and a logical, analytical CPA under the other “non-Stetson” hat he wore, but he wasn’t an insensitive lout. Even Helen Keller could hear and see how Tiffany hurt.

“You OK?” He had to ask, lifting his arm to scrunch her shoulder just for a second. Nothing boy-girl. Same kind of thing he’d do to any hurting human or critter.

“Yeah.” She brushed away tears, her dusky eyes still misty when she looked at him. “It’s not going to work out for me to be with my…family this Christmas. And I, well. You know.”

She didn’t say any more, and her own pain sliced in to him. What a time to be on your own.

“Well, I bet Rachel’s told you you’re part of Hearts Crossing, now. We’ll expect you. And it’ll be good for Ma. She’s planning a big shebang for Christmas Eve, and you don’t wanna miss the living nativity at church. Ella’s an angel.” He grinned thinking of how much his five-year old niece was going to like the little armchair he’d gotten her, upholstered in a print full of fairytale princesses. “Of course Ella’s up before first light next morning, and Ma gets her apple-walnut French toast casserole in the oven. We open presents while we eat, then head to church for the carol singing.”

Happy memories flooded him, and he stalked over to the switch that turned on the Christmas tree. He couldn’t help an “ooh and aah” when the pretty thing lit up, reflecting in Tiffany’s eyes. For a flash, his breath caught. The tree was pretty, but she was way prettier.

“After that”—he caught it back—“well, my sister Kelley and Ma put together Christmas dinner. We all sit-down around the big table. Usually it’s like something out of a magazine. Then there’s more dessert at ‘teatime’ as Ma calls it, but it’s mostly hot chocolate, not tea. And after all that, a supper buffet.”

“My goodness!” Tiffany’s eyes were bright from the lights. “Sounds like you gain ten pounds in twenty-four hours.”

He laughed out loud. “Likely we do. Kelley got the cooking gene. She’s got a restaurant now and is always trying out new recipes on us. Vegetarian, most likely.”

“A cattle rancher’s daughter?”

“Yep. But she isn’t judgmental against us carnivores, as she says it. Why, are you a vegetarian, or vegan, or whatever it is?”

“Not me. Give me a good old steak any time.”

“Well said, considering I’m a cattle man. It’s a date, then.” Bragg said, then almost bit off his tongue. “I don’t mean a date date. Already been there and been refused.” He braved a manly laugh to ease the moment. “I mean, like put Christmas at Hearts Crossing in your date book.”

“I got it.” She smiled but the mist flashed in her eyes again, and she knelt back down to check Matty.

He knew it had nothing to do with him, though, just her not getting home for Christmas. He didn’t know where she was from. That sounded like a good conversation starter for later on.

“It’ll be good for Ma, too,” he said instead. “Give her a chance to show off and keep her mind off other things.”

“Mind off other things?”

“Her kids won’t all be together this Christmas. Pike and Daisy took advantage of her three weeks off teaching school to take a ski honeymoon.”

“Well, life can get in the way,” she said, voice shaky and sad.

Must be money, her not getting home. Ma would likely loan her some. “It does, that,” was all he said, though.

She ran her fingers over the picture frames again. Just watching her, he almost felt them skitter across his cheek.

“I’ve been thinking,” Tiffany said, slow. “What if I made copies of these pictures? Without Rachel knowing. I think there might be a way to Photoshop them together and make it look like one family unit.”

Bragg peeked close at the pictures. They did seem to be all facing the same direction. “You think?”

“I totally do. It’d make a nice present. But”—she looked down at the fire—“do you think something like that would make her sad?”

“I think it would make her Christmas,” Bragg said, meaning it. “My brother Scott’s a web designer and computer geek.”

“Really? I thought you all were cowboys.” Her eyebrows rose like wings.

“Oh, we do that, too. It’s in our blood. But there’s eight of us. We all gotta help out other ways. Yep, I bet something like that’s right up his alley.”

Right then, hard knocks at the front door bounced around the living room. Matty started to bellow, Tony O’Neal crashed to his feet, and a snow-covered giant burst into the townhouse.

****

The abominable snowman shook off snow in the tiny mudroom-entryway.

“Scott? What are you doing here?” Bragg ran toward him.

Tiffany calmed herself and picked up the squalling baby. She had yet to get used to it, but unlocked doors were just Mountain Cove’s way. Noticing Tony once more by the fireplace, his fists clenched, hands on hips, she doubted any of the brothers would be happy with the man who’d mistreated their sister. Well, sister-in-law.

Paul, now…her brother might be glad if somebody gave her payback. Her heart hammered, and she buried her face in the baby’s sweet neck.

She lifted her head and gazed out the window while Bragg brushed a ton of snow off his brother. As he braved the open door to kick it outside, frigid air snaked around her ankles, and she shivered at the white misery outside.

“I’m coming in from shopping in Promise,” Scott said, jacking his boots away and striding into the living room in his stockinged feet. She had to admire his good looks. Each of the Martin brothers was breathtaking in his own way. Scott was lean and toned with hints of deep mahogany in his curly dark hair. Still, he couldn’t compare to Bragg who was tall, broad-shouldered with sandy hair and had eyes the color of champagne. Those strong fingers, even with calluses, she longed to have drift across her cheek. His mouth, too, lips meeting hers. She tingled and shouldn’t have. Bragg Martin was way off limits.

Scott smiled a hello and brought her back to reality. “Hope you don’t mind, Tiffany. No way I can go back to the ranch in this weather.” He looked around. “Where’s Rache?”

Bragg’s voice came through, tinged with worry. “Last I heard, a deposition in Rustic Canyon. Hope she had good sense to stay there. I hate to reckon she’s stuck in the canyon.”

Scott blew through his teeth. “She’s a smart one. I think Nick’s got an aunt or something there. One thing our big sister’s got is brains. Make that two things. Common sense, as well.” He walked over to the coffee table and laid down a package and his laptop.

“What’s that?” Bragg guffawed. “Your survival gear?”

“Yep.” Scott snickered back. “I never travel without my computer. Worse yet, leave it in the truck. I got those handmade chocolates Ma likes. Twenty dollars a pound. I’m not leaving them to freeze to death in my truck. Couldn’t find anything else to get her.”

“Well, we can certainly add them to our starvation rations,” Tiffany said with a laugh. “Hi, Scott. Glad you got here OK.” She held out a hand and Scott grabbed it.

That seemed to bring Tony to life. “Um…I better head out of here before things get worse. Didn’t mean to fall asleep on y’all.”

Scott shook his head, eyes wide with curiosity at Tony’s presence. “You wouldn’t get far. Wind’s tossing snow every which way. There’ll be white-out before long. I barely made it to the church parking lot where I stashed my truck.”

“You walked from there?” Tiffany gasped. “That’s got to be, what, four blocks or more? No wonder you looked like Dr. Zhivago when you walked in.”

All three men dropped their jaws. “Who?” they said in unison.

“A guy during the Russian revolution who deserted and trudged a million miles through blizzards just to get back to the one he loved.” The one he loved? Ah, where had that come from? She rushed on. “Just one of the best movies ever.”

Matty nuzzled her neck. Another feeding was upon them.

“My stepmom’s half-Russian. I was raised on that movie.”

The memories made her ache, and she busied herself with Matty who was squirming with starvation. “Look, you warm up, Scott. I’ve got to change and feed the baby, but I know there are some frozen pizzas in the freezer.”

“I’ll help,” Bragg offered and her heart plummeted to her toes and back up again.

“The pizzas?” Tiffany asked.

“Nope. Matty. He and I are buddies, now.” His half-lidded glance caught her breath.

“Well, he needs a change.”

“I can do that.”

Tiffany’s disbelief must have tightened her mouth or eyes because Bragg rushed on, flushing in a way that brought summertime to his carved cheekbones. Her tummy fluttered.

“Aw, Rachel explained what to do.”

“Explained? So you’ve never exactly done it? Didn’t you have a baby sister?” She couldn’t help teasing him, tingling at his shy smile.

His flush deepened. “Well, nope. To changing a baby’s britches, I mean. I was ‘the baby’ of the family until Chelsea surprised Ma and Pa. I was seven. Guess everybody reckoned I was still too young and helpless to pull diaper duty.”

Tiffany’s laughed. “Then this first time around, I’ll supervise.”

“I can start pizzas.” Scott stated while Tony stood there like a fifth wheel’s flat tire. He looked ill-at-ease, but she couldn’t forget that without him, she’d be stuck in a ditch, covered with snow, and likely on her way to the Promised Land by morning.

And she sure didn’t mean the neighboring town of Promise.

“What time is it?” Bragg asked, worried. She understood. His sisters were out in the storm. When Tiffany had taken the day off to try to repair the damage back home, Chelsea had stepped in on her way to a Christmas party tonight.

“Pushing seven, and dark as death out there,” Tony muttered. “Thanks for letting me crash, but I better push along.”

Well, no matter how discomfiting it might be for him to be here, he had rescued her. She had to do the same. Although she’d only known Rachel two weeks, the woman’s deep faith was palpable, and in her charity, she’d never shove anybody out into a bitter snowstorm. Tiffany took charge.

“Well, you’ll be crashing some more.” she said. “There’s plenty of room here.” She glanced cautiously at the brothers. Both shrugged, but she sensed wariness, so she gave the orders. “Now, you, Tony, you find the DVD and get the movie set up.” She pointed. “Underneath the stairs in the closet.”

“What movie?”

“Dr. Zhivago. You guys’ll love it.”

“Sounds like a snoozer.” Tony clomped over to where she pointed. “How do you know it’s here?”

Bragg spoke up. “Bet it’s there. Rachel’s got every classic movie there is.”

Tony opened the closet door and poked around the collection with a grunt. “Didn’t know your sister’s eighty-nine years old,” he snarked.

Tiffany watched Bragg’s knuckles tense as they headed upstairs to the nursery.

“Of all the people to get snowbound with,” he grumbled.

“Who, me?” Tiffany started to flirt, just to lighten the mood, and regretted it at once. Bragg was off limits. Case closed. She ought to carve it into her brain. But the look he sent her brought to mind endless possibilities, all of them glorious.

All of them impossible.

“Well, I understand there’s bad blood between him and your family, but what else could I do?”

“Aw, you did the right thing. Rachel will approve. Jesus told us what we do for others is like we’re doing it for Him. Let’s get this bad boy cleaned up.” Bragg’s chuckle sounded forced as he laid the baby on the changing table.

Jesus?

Tiffany wanted to grumble, now. Yes, the Martins were deeply committed Christians, but it would be hard to hang around here if they started proselytizing her. Faith sure wasn’t on her list of things to do.

“Bad boy? He’s a darling, a little lamb.” Tiffany sniffed and bent to bury her face in Matty’s tummy, longing for Connor. Matty giggled, his hunger forgotten momentarily. Then his little face crunched, and she read the signal immediately. “You go ahead with the big change, Mr. Mom, and I’ll get a bottle heated up.”

A sudden panic glazed Bragg’s face, and she didn’t have the heart to let him suffer. “You’re scared, aren’t you? Of a teensie-tiny diaper. Think you can handle heating the bottle? Thirty seconds, OK?”

“Aye, aye, captain,” Bragg said with a salute and that half-squint that might one day bring her to her knees. He rushed out of the room as if afraid she’d change her mind.

Tiffany glanced around the nursery, decorated in a cute combo of camouflage and cowboy. It fit; Nick worked the Hearts Crossing as geneticist and served his country in the Middle East. Tiffany had her own room off the kitchen, as Rachel tended her son during the nighttime, but the single bed in the baby’s room would work well for her tonight with the full house going on downstairs.

“Matt, your five-star bottle is warm and ready,” Bragg called out, his footsteps noisy on the stairs.

Her heart tumbled, and she ordered the feelings to stop at once. Even in a perfect world, she doubted they could even be friends. Never could she admit to Bragg how she’d betrayed her brother. The Martins stuck together, defended each other. In the old days, they would have fought to the death. They’d never understand. Besides, they were people of faith. Even she recalled the story of Judas’ betrayal. It was a bad, bad sin. So bad he hadn’t even been able to wait for forgiveness.

“Here ya go.” Bragg handed her a bottle, and she tested it first, nodding in approval. “Unfortunately Scott has decided the fastest way to supper is nuke the pizzas in the microwave. I’m afraid we aren’t in for much of a treat.”

Sinking into the rocking chair, Tiffany laughed with Bragg as Matty gobbled his own dinner. Bragg half-sat at the edge of the bed, elbows poking his knees. Even though she didn’t know him well, she knew the worry etching his face had nothing to do with soggy pizza.

“I’m sure your family’s OK, Bragg. They’ve all lived around here for years.”

“Oh, I know that. When we’re separated, we’re all supposed to contact a family friend in San Antonio. I texted about Scott and me. It went slow, but did send. Cell reception around here isn’t that great on a good day.” He shrugged. “Canyons, hills. Mountains. Seems land lines are down, too. Can’t reach Ma.” He met her gaze, but his eyes were bleak. “She’s a woman of faith and all, but I don’t like her to worry.”

“Well, um…like I said…”

“Wanna pray with me?” His lids dropped.

Whoa. She hesitated long enough for his eyebrows to draw together.

“Aw, I didn’t mean to get personal on you,” he said. “Seems whenever I’ve gotten stuck in the past and didn’t let God in, things got worse fast.”

“Why sure,” she managed. Her response seemed to relax Bragg, and she bowed her head, but didn’t really listen. If there was a God up there, He didn’t need Tiffany Vickers to bother Him. All the faithful Martins bombarding heaven were far more deserving of His attention.

After the prayer, Matty finished his meal and they all headed downstairs. Scott worked the DVD while Tony lounged on his chair and munched on pizza. The aroma of hot coffee swirled around the living room.

Bragg settled on the sofa without a word, Matty content in his lap. Like a missing piece of her personal puzzle, she sat next to him, close, ostensibly to tend the baby as needed. Bragg’s scent of pine and outdoors drifted across her, and the Christmas tree sparkled like a kid’s perfect dream. Almost like a real little family. Tiffany held back the pain and blinked away a sudden flash of tears. Connor…

“Home Alone,” Tony announced without looking at anybody. “Doctor Zhiv got overruled.”

“Seen it.” Scott glanced at Tiffany. “I like that idea of tweaking those photos. I think I’ll get a start.” He reached for the family pictures.

Bragg chortled at Tiffany. “Ever seen a cowboy who’s also a nerd?”

“Thanks, Scott. I think it’ll make a great gift.”

“Thank you, for thinking of it.” Scott grabbed his laptop and headed toward the nook in the kitchen where Rachel had set up a little office space. “Phones are down, but there’s still power, which means the router is OK. I’ll get everybody e-mailed where we are. Just hope Ma remembers to check hers.”

“Ya never know.” Bragg shrugged. “She’s both pioneer and twenty-first century.”

Tiffany chewed through three rubbery bites of pizza because her stomach had begun a loud complaint.

As if he heard, Bragg’s shoulders shook. “Saying grace might help,” he said with a smile.

“All righty.” She pretended, then opened her eyes and took charge. “As temporary head of household tonight, here goes: Somebody can have the sofa-bed in the basement. It’s mostly storage down there, but it is finished and there’s a space heater. I’ll sleep in the nursery with Matty. That leaves my room and the master.”

The three men looked at her, probably surprised at the authority in her voice. Well, she smiled to herself. Rachel hadn’t picked her for nothing. She snagged a chocolate-covered cherry from Rachel’s always filled-to- the- rim candy bowl to chase away the nasty pizza aftertaste.

“And nobody even needs to worry about toothbrushes,” she announced. “Rachel’s Sunday School class made hygiene boxes for charity. We’ve got stuff to spare.”

“Well, I’ve seen this movie, too,” Tony stood, obviously self-conscious. “And I’m done in. Thanks for putting me up.” A hint of embarrassment pinked his cheeks. “I’ll head to the basement. See y’all in the a.m. Hopefully, the roads will get plowed early on.”

“Goodnight, Tony. And thanks backatcha,” Tiffany answered, aware the brothers didn’t say a word. Something else must be stewing. If he was no longer part of Daisy’s life, if she’d forgiven her ex-husband, why still so much leftover animosity?

Oh well. None of her business. She simply basked in the contentment of safe-inside while winter raged outside, a blazing fire warming her toes, and a Christmas tree blinking beauty around the room.

Matty dozed on Bragg’s chest, tummy full. She’d need to check his pants in a bit, but sitting next to Bragg, with his warmth and fragrance seeping into her and the soft couch pillows surrounding her, had her relaxed. Before long, her head lolled against Bragg’s shoulder, and the long day caught up with her. She closed her eyes for just a moment…

“Come on,” Bragg’s voice was soft in her ear. “Movie’s about done, and I’ve got Matty all tucked in.”

She opened her eyes to the old man making peace with his son and granddaughter, and the battered emotions of the day assailed her now. Without any of her usual control, she started to sob. Christmas was the time for healing, for reconciliation, and it wasn’t going to happen. Paul had been home today. She’d seen his car parked at the tip of his long driveway. Of course, he’d heard her on the porch. And now all the carefully chosen presents, the toys she knew Connor would love, would be drowned and sodden in the snow.

Today was his third birthday.

There was no other place to go but Bragg’s arms. She clung to his neck, his warm formless words soothing her ears. Her near-empty stomach wrenched, and she coughed it down. Somewhere in all this mess there had to be hope and healing. She just didn’t know where or how. But tonight, Bragg offered comfort, and she took it willingly.

After the sobs resolved, she rested across his chest, feeling his heart beat, nestling her face in the crook of his neck, where his pulse raced. Without thinking, but with every instinct she possessed, she raised her face. He lowered his. When his mouth searched hers, the naturalness of it calmed her world. The taste of him soothed her hunger.

And her heavy lids tightened with tears and with sleep.