Home for Christmas: Return to Promise / Can This Be Christmas?

“Glen,” Ellie said, squeezing her husband’s arm, “who’s that woman over there?” Ellie was staring at a brunette standing near the fence.

“What woman?” Glen asked.

“The one talking to Cal.”

Jane glanced over, and even from this distance she could see that the other woman was lovely. Tall and slender, she looked like a model from the pages of a Western-wear catalog in her tight jeans, red cowboy boots and brightly checked shirt. It was more than just her appearance, though. Jane noticed the confidence with which she held herself, the flirtatious way she flipped back her long brown hair. This was a woman who knew she looked good—particularly to men.

“She seems familiar,” Ellie said, nudging Glen. “Don’t you think?”

“She does,” he agreed, “but I can’t place her.”

“She’s apparently got a lot to say to Cal,” Ellie added, then glanced apologetically toward Jane as though she regretted mentioning it.

Jane couldn’t help being curious. The woman wasn’t anyone she recognized. Normally she wasn’t the jealous type, wasn’t now, but she found herself wondering how this Rodeo Princess knew her husband. Even from this distance, it was clear that the woman was speaking animatedly to Cal, gesturing freely. For his part, Cal seemed more interested in what was happening with the rodeo than in listening to her.

Jane supposed she should be pleased by his lack of interest in another woman, and indeed she was. Then, as if aware of her scrutiny, her husband turned toward the bleachers and surveyed the crowd. His face broke into a wide grin when he caught her eye, and he waved. Earlier she’d been annoyed with him—in fact, she still was—but she’d never been able to resist one of Cal’s smiles. She waved in return and blew him a kiss.

An hour later, after Cal had been awarded the trophy for the amateur bull-riding competition, they decided to leave. With Mary Ann in the stroller and Paul walking between them, they made one last circuit of the grounds before heading toward the parking lot. They passed the chili cook-off tent, where the winner’s name was posted; for the first time in recent memory, it wasn’t Nell Grant. But then, Jane understood that Nell had declined to enter this year.

It was near dusk and the lights from carnival rides sparkled, delighting both Paul and Mary Ann. Cal’s arm was around Jane’s shoulder as they skirted the area set aside for the dance. The fiddle players were entertaining the audience while the rest of the musicians set up their equipment. People had gathered around, tapping their feet in anticipation.

The lively music had Jane swaying to the beat. “I wish we were staying,” she murmured, swallowing her disappointment.

“We’d better get home,” Cal said, swinging his trophy at his side. “I didn’t want to say anything before, but I’m about as sore as a man can get.”

“Your rib?” she asked.

He nodded. “Are you going to lecture me?”

“I should,” she muttered. “But I won’t. You knew the risks.”

He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “You’re right. I did.”

What really bothered her was that he’d known—and participated, anyway. He was fully aware that he could have been badly injured, or worse. And for what? She simply didn’t understand why a man would do anything so foolish when he had so much to lose.

“I’m ready to go home,” he said. “How about you?”

Jane nodded, but glanced longingly over her shoulder at the dance floor. Maybe next year.

The phone rang, shattering the night silence. Cal bolted upright and looked at the glowing digital numbers of the clock radio, then snatched the receiver from its cradle. It went without saying that anyone phoning at 3:23 a.m. was calling with bad news.

“Pattersons’,” he barked gruffly.

“Cal? It’s Stephanie.”

Jane’s mother. Something was very wrong; he could hear it in her voice. “What’s happened?”

“It’s…it’s Harry,” she stammered.

Jane awoke and leaned across the bed to turn on the bedside lamp. “Who is it?” she asked.

He raised one hand to defer her question. “Where are you?”

“At the hospital,” Stephanie said, and rattled off the name of a medical facility in Southern California. “Harry’s fallen—he got up the way he sometimes does in the middle of the night and…and he slipped.”

“Is he all right?”

“No,” his mother-in-law answered, her voice trembling. She took a moment to compose herself. “That’s why I’m calling. His hip’s broken and apparently it’s a very bad break. He’s sedated and scheduled for surgery first thing in the morning, but…but the doctors told me it’s going to take weeks before he’s back on his feet.”

“Cal?” Jane was watching him, frowning, her hair disheveled, her face marked by sleep.

“It’s your mother,” he said, placing his hand over the mouthpiece.

“Is this about my dad?”

Cal nodded.

“Let me talk to her,” Jane demanded, instantly alert.

“Stephanie, you’d better talk to Jane yourself,” he said, and handed his wife the phone.

Cal was pretty much able to follow the conversation from that point. With her medical background, Jane was the best person to talk to in circumstances like this. She asked a number of questions concerning medication and tests that had been done, explained the kind of orthopedic surgery her dad would undergo and reassured her mother. She spoke with such confidence that Cal felt his own sense of foreboding diminish. And then she hesitated.

“I’ll need to talk to Cal about that,” she told her mother, voice dropping as though he wasn’t supposed to hear.

“Talk to me about what?” he asked after she’d replaced the receiver.

Jane paused for a moment, then took a deep breath.

“Mom wants me and the kids to fly home.”

“For how long?” The question was purely selfish; still, he needed to know. Being separated would be a hardship on them all. He understood the situation and was willing to do whatever he could, but he didn’t like the thought of their being apart for any length of time.

“I don’t know. A couple of weeks, maybe longer.”

“Two weeks?” He hated the telltale irritation in his voice, but it was too late to take back his words.

Jane said nothing. Then, as though struck by some brilliant idea, she scrambled onto her knees and a slow smile spread across her face.

“Come with us,” she said urgently.

“To California? Now?” That was out of the question, but he hated to refuse his wife—especially after this business with the rodeo. “Honey, I can’t. Glen and I are getting ready for the bull sale this week. I’m sorry, but this just isn’t a good time for me to be away.”

“Glen could handle the sale.”

What she said was true, but the prospect of spending two weeks at his inlaws’ held little appeal. Cal got along with Jane’s mother and he liked her father well enough, but Harry had a few annoying mannerisms. The two of them tended to become embroiled in ridiculous arguments that served no real purpose and usually went nowhere. Cal suspected it was more a matter of their competing for Jane’s attention. Jane was Harry’s only daughter and he doted on her. Cal figured he’d be doing Harry a favor by staying away. Besides, what would he do with himself in a place like Los Angeles?

“Don’t be so quick to say no,” she pleaded. “We could make this a family vacation. We always talk about going somewhere and it just never happens.” She knew he found it difficult to leave the Lonesome Coyote Ranch for longer than a few days, but this was as good a time as any.