The Rancher's Holiday Hope

Maybe it was easier to allow a stranger into her life than to lean on friends who had already done so much and knew too much.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

He didn’t tease or mock. He merely nodded and reached for a hymnal that he handed to her. He took the other one in the back of the pew.

“I’m not always like this,” she felt compelled to add.

“I know.”

“Do you?” She lowered her voice, aware that one or two heads turned to give her a look. She didn’t wait for his answer, instead she joined the singing, not wanting to disrupt the service.

The music seemed to be God’s way of drawing her close to Him. It’d always been this way. Even as a child she would make excuses to ride her bike on Sunday morning so she could sit outside the neighborhood church and listen to the congregation sing. She never went in. Her father wouldn’t allow that. He hadn’t been a believer, so no one else had been allowed to believe.

The music touched the dark, hurting places in ways that sometimes the words of a sermon couldn’t. Even now, the music chased away the memories that had started to drag her down. It lightened her soul with words of hope and promise.

The sermon seemed directly related to the last of the hymns, focusing on new beginnings. She closed her eyes at the final words, that new beginnings sometimes required multiple tries. You might have to start again, but as long as you kept moving forward, there was hope.

His mercies are new every morning.

The congregation stood for a closing prayer and then headed toward the fellowship hall.

Again Max walked next to her, his hand on her back, guiding her through the crowd. She didn’t need him guarding her. True, he was tall and broad-shouldered, an able bodyguard.

But she knew how to take care of herself. It was safer than relying on someone who might not be there when needed. Or someone who might let you down. She had rescued herself from the nightmare of her parents’ divorce. She’d rescued herself from her captors in Afghanistan, managing to overpower a guard as American forces fought to enter the compound.

Yet here she was, allowing Max St. James to lead her through the sea of people, as if he were her Moses, parting the Red Sea for her to get safely to the other side.

“I know you can do this yourself,” he murmured very close to her ear. As if he’d heard her thoughts.

“Of course I can.”

She kept walking and realized that not once did she feel the dark edges of panic. His hand was on her elbow. He was strong. His presence was real. It was solid. He smelled good, too. Something expensive, with a touch of citrus and mountain air.

People spoke to them as they walked, as if no one noticed anything unusual about the two of them. Or so she thought. As they entered the fellowship hall, she spotted the people who would have questions. Kylie West, once the therapist at Mercy Ranch, and a wounded warrior herself, spotted Sierra and her eyes narrowed. Isaac West, Kylie’s brother-in-law, had a more amused expression. And then there was Melody St. James and others that Sierra assumed were Max’s family.

The two of them entering this room together was creating a firestorm of speculation. Not something she wanted.

She pulled away from him.

He released her. “You’re okay?”

“I am.” She meant to say it with a touch of rebuke but it came out softer, as if she were reassuring him. She let it go. “Thank you, for back there. For bailing me out.”

“Anytime.”

Then he left her and joined his family. An older woman greeted him with a hug, making him bend down so she could kiss his cheek. Sierra guessed her to be Nonni. She was a small woman in a floral dress, with graying dark hair pulled up in a bun. After kissing his cheek, she began to talk, gesturing rapidly with her hands. Melody laughed and gave her grandmother a hug. His parents, whom Sierra had met during initial wedding planning, gave Max hugs. His was a close family.

“Are you going to join us?” Kylie appeared at Sierra’s side.

“What?” Sierra pulled her attention away from Max and his family.

Her friend’s gaze trailed to the St. James family and returned to study Sierra.

“They’re lovely people,” Kylie said. “I’m glad they were able to buy back the ranch they sold. This was their home for a long time.”

“Yes, it’s good they were able to get it back.” Sierra clasped her hands together, trying to appear excited. “Let’s get this party started, shall we?”

Kylie raised a brow at her enthusiasm. “I’m not buying it, Sierra.”

“Oh, come on, you know I love big, festive events.”

They both laughed. The laughter shook loose some of the darker emotions she’d been feeling the past hour and a half. It felt good to have lighter emotions rising to the surface.

“Of course you do.” Kylie drew her toward the kitchen. “I thought you could serve desserts. Keep them cut, on plates, ready to be picked up by the guests.”

“Sounds easy enough.”

“It is easy. You’ll get to socialize a little, serve dessert and have fun.”

Sierra gave an exaggerated shudder. “Socializing and having fun. Two of my favorite activities.”

Kylie showed her all the cakes and pies, the table she would stand at, the plates and cutlery stacked up on the side. And then she looked past Sierra’s right shoulder and smiled a little too brightly.

“Here’s your helper now!” Kylie exclaimed.

“Helper?”

Warning bells went off in Sierra’s head. She looked up from the cake she’d been about to cut, expecting Max St. James. But she was wrong. It was his grandmother.

“Nonni, I’m so glad you can help us.” Kylie gave the older woman a hug.

“I’m glad to help. I have so many fond memories of these church dinners.” Nonni extended the smile to include Sierra. “And you, the wedding planner, I’m so glad we can finally meet. Melody talks of you constantly.”

“I’m not sure why!” Sierra said.

Max’s grandmother smiled big. “Because you say what you think.”

Sierra felt a rush of warmth slide up her neck. “Oh, there is that.”

Nonni patted her arm in a motherly way. “We would like for you to join us, working on the honeymoon quilt. And, also, if we could talk about food. Maybe we can add a few traditional dishes to her reception dinner. I don’t want to take over.”

“Nonni, don’t tell fibs.” The deep voice came from behind Sierra. “You always want to take over. They say it’s where I got my type A personality.”

Nonni’s forest green eyes sparkled with joy. “Max, you’re going to help us serve dessert?”

“No, I don’t think so.” He moved to his grandmother’s side, smiling at Sierra as he placed a protective arm around his grandmother’s shoulders. “I have things to do.”

“Watching football isn’t a thing to do,” Nonni warned. “We’re serving dinner today. You can miss the game just once. You and your father. You can help with dessert. Your father can help with cleanup.”

“I’m not sure about that,” Max countered.

“Oh, I am sure.” Nonni smiled brightly and the battle was won.

It happened that quickly. One minute Sierra and Nonni were working the dessert table and Sierra thought it might be fun to get to know this older woman. And the next minute Max became a part of the equation.

Sierra had been backed into a corner. The only upside to the situation? The sweat on Max’s forehead as he realized he’d been outmaneuvered by his grandmother.

Nonni had a way of making him feel trapped. He loved her and would do anything for her. Which was the reason he stayed to help serve up cake and pie. He stayed, knowing she had something up her matchmaking sleeve.

Not something. Someone. Specifically, Sierra Lawson. She obviously didn’t see why this project had failure written all over it. He wasn’t interested. And neither was Sierra.

In his mind, a matchmaker only worked when a person wanted or needed help finding love. His grandmother, on the other hand, liked a challenge. She seemed willing to try matching the two most unwilling subjects.

Fortunately for him, he had experience dealing with Nonni. Sierra had been taken by surprise. A sneak attack by his grandmother. She’d adjusted quickly, though, and was now listening intently as his grandmother talked about food and recipes.

His grandmother pointed to her kilecheh. “These are our Christmas cookies,” Nonni told her. “The rolled pastry is filled with dates, the other is filled with nuts, sugar and cardamom. They’re very good. Try one.”

“I shouldn’t.” Sierra held a hand up to protest but Nonni stuck a pastry in that protesting hand.

“No, you should. They have no calories at Christmastime.” Nonni laughed at her joke. “These are my grandson’s favorites.”

He reached for one as Nonni watched, waiting for Sierra’s response.

“They’re very good. Is that a yeast dough?” Sierra asked after finishing the small date-filled pastry.

“It is.” His grandmother glowed as she began to tell the younger woman all about her kilecheh.

His grandmother loved sharing traditions and loved a willing listener even more.

Sierra asked questions in her serious way. She wasn’t a person who gave false compliments, he realized. She seemed very detail-oriented, matter-of-fact in her questioning. He guessed this to be the reason Jack West had given her the job of running the Stable. She also baked. He knew this because Melody had shown him photos of the wedding cakes, going on and on about how amazing and beautiful they were.

He’d half listened because at the time he hadn’t met Sierra. He hadn’t known she had hazel eyes, auburn hair and a way of avoiding eye contact when she was uncomfortable. She also had a way of smiling that took a man by surprise.

At that moment she bestowed one of those rare smiles on his grandmother. Nonni beamed and issued another invitation besides helping with the honeymoon quilt. She would love for Sierra to help her bake pastries and cookies for Christmas. It was a large undertaking. Each year his grandmother baked for several days then she would take the baked goods to her old church in Tulsa, to other Assyrians.

His grandmother had a big heart. She loved to nurture. He could see the gleam in her eye. She’d found a likely candidate for all of that nurturing.

Fortunately people started to arrive. His grandmother and Sierra worked side by side, serving cake, cupcakes and pies. As people came up to their table, his grandmother hugged them and doled out compliments and encouragement. Sierra took the role as the quiet one, working to keep the sweet treats flowing.

“Max, we need another cake. Hurry, hurry, slice it up and bring it over.” Nonni issued the order without looking.

He turned and nearly tripped over a small child. He recognized her immediately. “Linnie, how are you?”

The little girl with the tangled blond hair now had her curls in a ponytail. She wore a blue dress and tennis shoes. Her eyes flashed with recognition and she gave him a slight smile, but then she started searching for her mother.

“Linnie, there you are.” A harried-looking young woman with a baby on her hip, and leading a child a little younger than Linnie, approached.

“You must be Linnie’s mom. I’m Max St. James.”

Her cheeks turned a bright shade of pink. “Oh, Mr. St. James, I’m so sorry she’s bothering you. I’ve been meaning to thank you for helping us find her.”

“I’m not really the one who found her...” He hesitated. “Miss—”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m Patsy Jay.” She took his hand in a hearty handshake. “I’m so glad to meet you. And I’m so thankful for what you did to help find my daughter.”

“Allow me to introduce you to Sierra Lawson. She’s the one who actually found Linnie.”

He pointed her toward the dessert table and Sierra. Linnie had already spotted her and he watched as Sierra squatted so that she could be eye to eye with the child.

“Hey, Linnie! Imagine seeing you here!” Sierra gave the little girl a warm smile.

Linnie flung her thin arms around Sierra’s neck.

“I got in trouble,” she told Sierra.

Patsy Jay stepped close to her daughter. “She doesn’t usually take to strangers. It’s been hard for us since...” Patsy shook her head. “Since the accident. I’m going to nursing school. I’m gone a lot, working and attending classes. My mom watches these three. It’s a lot.” Her cheeks burned scarlet. “I’m sorry. You didn’t need to hear all of that.”

Sierra stood and he noticed that Linnie had hold of her hand. “Patsy, you don’t have to apologize for doing your best for your family.”

Patsy teared up. “Thank you so much. And I wanted to invite you and Mr. St. James to my house for dinner. I live in trailer 12 at the Cardinal Roost. I don’t have a lot but I’d like to do something for the two of you.”

“Oh, I...” Sierra glanced down at the little hand holding hers.

Patsy bit down on her bottom lip. “I understand if you can’t make it.”

“Of course we can,” Max responded. “When?”

“Thursday at six?” Patsy’s hand rested on her daughter’s shoulder. “We would like that, wouldn’t we, Linnie?”

The little girl nodded.

Sierra handed Linnie a piece of chocolate cake on a small paper plate. “We would love to come to dinner.”

The word we took Max by surprise. No doubt she didn’t mean to make it seem as if they were a couple. They were barely acquaintances. Furthermore, he hadn’t been part of a we in years. He had a habit of letting women down and he guessed that Sierra had been let down by too many people in her life.

Their gazes connected and he knew that her thoughts had taken the same path as his. If they allowed people to connect them as a couple, things would spiral out of control.

That was the last thing either of them needed, and the one thing Sierra didn’t need was to be another person he let down.

Chapter Four

Monday morning Sierra woke up to a clap of thunder that shook the windows. The weather had been warm but a cold front had arrived and the two air masses collided to form one powerful storm system. She prayed it would move through quickly with no real severe weather. With Christmas less than a month away, what they needed was a good cold snap, maybe some snow. But they definitely didn’t need damaging winds or tornadoes.

Peeking out the window, she shivered. The sky was one massive dark gray cloud. The storm pounding the side of her apartment required baking.

In the kitchen she flipped on all of the lights, flooding the room in nearly startling brightness. She told the smart speaker to play songs from her panic playlist, smiling at the name she and Kylie had used for the songs that were meant to draw her out of a panic attack. The first song was one she loved to sing along to.

As she sang out loud, she started boiling hot water for her tea and put two slices of bread in the toaster. Next she grabbed a cookbook, the one with all of her favorite cake recipes. She browsed through the pages and finally went to her go-to vanilla cake. A lovely, simple cake made with real vanilla.

She pulled out bowls, beaters, ingredients and lined it all up on the counter. Baking had been her escape for years. As a girl enduring her parents’ fights, she would bake. Bake and keep to herself, hiding the shadows of her life so that others couldn’t see what was going on inside the lovely brick facade of the Lawson home. Her banker father would leave the house, briefcase in hand, smiling at neighbors. Her mother would slide designer sunglasses on her face to hide the bruises.

Sierra would bake. And eat. Now she baked but she didn’t eat the cupcakes, cakes and pies. She gave them away to the other residents of Mercy Ranch, the place she’d called home for the past three years.

She sifted together the dry ingredients, enjoying the process, the smells that changed as she added each one. Vanilla happened to be her favorite.

She prepared the round cake pans and poured the batter in equal amounts. There was another crash of thunder and all the windows rattled from the power of the storm. She nearly dropped the bowl. Her hands shook. She wrapped them in her apron and told herself to be calm, take deep breaths, focus.

From the living room she heard the front door creak on its hinges. She poured water over the tea bag in her cup and walked to the living area. Kylie West waved as she dropped her purse on the sofa.

“I was on my way to breakfast with Maria when I saw lights on and thought there might be coffee.”

Sierra headed back to the kitchen to put the cakes in the oven. “You know I don’t drink coffee. Come up with a better reason for knocking on my door in the middle of a storm.”

“I saw the lights on and thought you might be up, and I wondered, again, why you won’t accept a service dog.”

“They’re messy. They shed. They require too much.”

“A Labradoodle doesn’t shed, or not much. They give more than they take.”

“I’m afraid I would forget to feed it, or water it. That would be terrible. That’s also why I don’t babysit those cute kids you all seem to like bringing into our lives.”

“You’re not as unaffected by them as you like to pretend. I’ve watched you holding Eve’s little Tori when they come to visit.”

“She’s not as stinky as some. And Glory’s little bundle of joy, Cara, is okay. When she isn’t smelly or crying because she’s teething. When did Mercy Ranch become a home for wayward teens and their babies?”

“You’re such a phony. You love babies and dogs.”

“Make yourself a pot of coffee,” Sierra offered. “I’m baking.”

She ignored the “Aha! I knew it!” look on Kylie’s face. It wasn’t easy having a therapist for a best friend. She’d had best friends in her life. Everyone had a best friend in grade school, then high school. But Sierra had never invited friends to her home, not with her parents being how they were. Kylie was the first friend she’d ever been completely honest with. It was refreshing, to have a relationship where she didn’t hold back a part of who she was.

It was the reason she didn’t date. She didn’t want to have a relationship where she couldn’t share her true self. She was tired of fighting the past. She’d made huge strides at Mercy Ranch. She had a life here that she loved. She had friends.

Kylie made herself at home, because she’d once lived here. She pulled out the aging coffeepot, got it started, then helped herself to the banana muffins Sierra had made the previous day.

“I thought you were going to breakfast with Maria? Shouldn’t you be at your house with your lovely doctor husband and two precious children?” Sierra asked as she poured batter into another cake pan.

“He took them to Holly’s Diner for breakfast.”

“I see. And...?”

“I wanted to visit with you. I know the last few days have been rough, and then this storm hit.”

Sierra placed the two round cake pans in the oven and grabbed her tea to join Kylie at the kitchen island. “I’m fine. Really.”

“How’d it go yesterday, serving dessert at church?” A knowing look lit up Kylie’s expression. Sierra’s friend did not have a poker face.

“Oh, you mean with Nonni?” She wouldn’t mention Max St. James.

“Yes, Nonni, of course. She’s a sweet lady. The family lived here for years, until they sold the farm and moved back to Tulsa. I’m glad they’ve returned.”

“They seem to be a part of the community already.”

Kylie got up to pour herself a cup of coffee. “Yes, I guess they are. And Melody getting married at the ranch seems so right. How are the plans going?”

“She wanted a Christmas wedding. Her fiancé pushed it back to Valentine’s Day.”

“Why do you seem upset about that?”

Sierra closed her eyes, wishing for once that Kylie had a different job. Why couldn’t she be friends with an accountant, a schoolteacher, maybe a nurse? Anything but a therapist?

“Could we have a normal conversation?” Sierra asked.

“Oh, sorry. I’m doing it again, aren’t I?”

“You are,” Sierra agreed. “So, church was nice yesterday. I enjoyed the music.”

“It was. Do you have plans for Christmas?”

Sierra laughed a little. “Same as every year. I’m joining all of you on Christmas Day and hiding the rest of the time.” She paused. “Except I seem to have been invited to make cookies with Nonni and I’m also supposed to help sew a honeymoon quilt.”

“How fun.” Kylie grinned at her over the rim of her coffee cup, trying to hide her amusement.

“Really? Fun?”

“Of course,” Kylie agreed. “I have to leave soon, but save me a piece of cake.”

“I would, but I’m taking it to Lakeside Manor since it seems some Scrooge is trying to steal Christmas from the residents. I’m going to bake cupcakes for Patsy Jay’s children to decorate. I’ll make extra for you and the kids.”

“Oh, you don’t have to. But since you insist...” She flashed another quick smile. “I saw you talking to them yesterday.”

Sierra got up to make herself another cup of tea. “Patsy invited Max St. James and me to her house for dinner. She thinks she needs to repay us, although I don’t think we really did that much. The little girl wandered onto Mercy Ranch then the police took her home. Has she done this before?”

“I think one other time. I’m glad she had her dog with her.”

“Yes.” Sierra thought back to her own childhood and the long walks she would take to escape her parents and their fights.

Sierra glanced at the digital clock on the oven. “I need to finish up here and head to the Stable.” The Stable, a common name for a very uncommon wedding venue. “I’m going to decorate for Christmas.”

“Don’t you have another Christmas wedding coming up?”

“Yes, and they want twinkle lights and white poinsettias and trees. White trees! It’s a winter wonderland theme.”

“Are you going to decorate in here for Christmas?” Kylie asked.

Sierra got up to check on the cakes. The aroma of sugary vanilla goodness filled the kitchen. Aromatherapy. The storm forgotten, she inhaled deeply.

“I am. Glory and Cara are living here, too, and they deserve a tree and gifts.” Sierra admired the young mother. She’d started out as a teen mom from a dysfunctional home. For a time Kylie and Carson West were foster parents to Glory’s baby. The Wests mentored Glory, helped her to get her life back on track, and she’d regained custody of her daughter.

“Does it bother you that Jack is allowing them to stay? I know Mercy Ranch is designated for military vets, wounded warriors, and Glory is just a teenager who made mistakes.”

“She’s a wounded warrior of another kind. She battled abuse, addiction, and won. She deserves to be here, too.”

Sierra didn’t look at her friend. She didn’t need a pat on the back or kudos for being kind. She’d spoken the truth.

Knowing Sierra as she did, Kylie merely cleared her throat and moved on. “So about this dinner Thursday, with Max...”

“Stop.”

Kylie laughed and didn’t look at all ashamed. “You know he’s fabulously wealthy, right? Software, a social media platform, government contracts and so forth.”

“You know I don’t care about the man’s financials, right? He was nice enough to help look for Linnie, and her mother is kind enough to want to thank him.”

“He’s also handsome.”

And he smelled amazing. She cringed at her thought. “I’m not interested.”

“Of course not. But someday you will meet someone.” Kylie carried her cup to the sink.

“I meet people all the time. I’m not interested in inviting a man into my world, my very fragile hold on sanity. I’m in a good place, Kylie. I don’t need a man to make me happy. I don’t need to get married and have children. I don’t want to repeat—” She cut herself off and just stared at her friend, because the words had rushed out before she could stop them.