A Love Inspired Christmas Bundle: In the Spirit of...Christmas / The Christmas Groom / One Golden Christmas

“Impressive,” Jesse admitted, standing with his head tilted and both hands fisted on his hips.

“I love playing hairdresser.”

“No kidding?” His gaze filtered over her usual flannel and denim. “You don’t seem the type.”

“I think I should be insulted.” She smoothed her hand down Jade’s silky ponytail. “Just because I dress simply and get my hands dirty for a living doesn’t mean I’m not a girl, Jesse.”

He held up both hands in surrender. “Hey, no offense meant. You are definitely a girl. Just not frilly like some.”

Like your wife? she wondered. Was she frilly? Is that the type you prefer?

As soon as the thoughts bounded through her head, Lindsey caught them, shocked to even think such things. Once she’d dreamed of marrying a wonderful man and having a houseful of children, but after her fiancé’s betrayal, trusting a man with her heart wasn’t easy. Add to that the remote, sparsely populated area where she’d chosen to live, and she’d practically given up hope of ever marrying. Besides, she had a farm to run. She didn’t want to be interested in Jesse romantically. He was her hired hand and nothing more.

She turned her attention to Jade, handing the child a mirror. “There, sweetie. See what you think.”

Jade touched her hair again. Then a smile bright enough to light a room stretched across her pretty face. “I’m perfect!”

Both adults laughed.

Jade flopped her head from side to side, sending the ponytail into a dance. “How did you make me so pretty?”

“My Sunday-school girls come out for dress-up parties sometimes. We do hair and makeup and wear fancy play clothes. It’s fun.”

“Can I come sometime?”

“Sure. If it’s okay with your dad. In fact, tonight is kid’s night at church if you’d like to come and meet some of my Sunday-school students.”

“Daddy?” Jade asked hopefully, her eyebrows knitted together in an expression of worry that made no sense given the harmless request.

Some odd emotion flickered over Jesse, but his response was light and easy. He pecked the end of her nose with one finger. “Not this time, Butterbean. You and I have to work on those addition facts.”

The child’s happiness faded, but she didn’t argue. Head down, ponytail forgotten, she trudged to the couch and slid a pink backpack onto her shoulders. Her posture was so resigned, so forlorn that Lindsey could hardly bear it.

“Hey, sweetie, don’t worry. My Sunday-school class comes out here pretty often. Maybe you can come another time.”

The child gave a ragged sigh. “Okay.” She hugged her father’s knees. “Bye, Daddy.”

He went down in front of her, drawing her against his chest.

Lindsey’s throat clogged with emotion. The man was a wonderful dad, the kind of father she’d always dreamed of having for her own children someday. But someday had never come.

“I’ll get the dog,” she said, going to the door in front of Jade as she had every morning this week. She brought Sushi inside, watching through the glass storm door as the little girl headed to the bus stop, a small splash of pink and white against the flaming autumn morning. In the distance, Lindsey heard the grinding gears of the school bus.

As a teenager she’d ridden that bus to high school and home again, and in the years since she’d watched it come and go year after year carrying other people’s children. But this morning she watched a child make the journey down her driveway to the bus stop, and, for the first time, felt a bittersweet ache in her throat because that child was not her own.

By noon the damp October morning had given way to blue skies and the kind of clouds Jade called marshmallows. A bit of breeze swirled down from the north, promising a frost soon, but Jesse wasn’t the least bit cool. As he sat on the top step, leaning backward onto the front porch, he enjoyed what had become his usual lunch, a Coke and a ham sandwich, and pondered how one little woman had ever done all this work by herself.

Besides the routine weeding and spraying, he’d helped her clear several acres of land in preparation for planting another thousand or so trees next week. And from her description of November’s chores, October was a vacation.

He had to admit, however reluctantly, that he admired Lindsey Mitchell. She never complained, never expected him to do anything she wasn’t willing to do herself. As a result he worked twice as hard trying to lift some of the load off her slim shoulders, and her gratitude for every little thing he did only made him want to do more.

She was a disconcerting woman.

Twisting to the left so he could see her, he said, “Mind if I ask you a question?”

Wearing the red flannel and denim that seemed so much a part of her, Lindsey sat in an old-fashioned wooden porch swing sipping her cola. A partially eaten ham sandwich rested at her side. Sushi lay in front of her, exercising mammoth restraint as she eyed the sandwich longingly.

“Ask away.” With dainty movements, Lindsey tore off a piece of ham and tossed it to the dog.

“What would entice a pretty young woman to live out here all alone and become a Christmas-tree farmer?”

The corners of her eyes crinkled in amusement as she wiped her fingers on her jeans. Jesse’s stomach did that clenching thing again.

“I didn’t exactly plan to be a Christmas-tree farmer. It just happened. Or maybe the Lord led me in this direction.” One hand gripping the chain support, she tapped a foot against the porch and set the swing in motion. “My parents are in the military so we moved around a lot. When I was fourteen—” she paused to allow a wry grin. “Let’s just say I was not an easy teenager.”

Surprised, Jesse swiveled all the way around, bringing one boot up to the top step. Lindsey was always so serene, so at peace. “I can’t see you causing anyone any trouble.”

“Believe me, I did. Dad and Mom finally sent me here to live with my grandparents. They thought stability, the same school, the country atmosphere and my grandparents’ influence would be good for me. They were right.”

“So you didn’t grow up here?” Now he was very interested.

Lindsey shook her head, honey-colored hair bouncing against her shoulders, catching bits of light that spun it into gold. Odd that he would notice such a thing.

“Actually none of my family is originally from around here. My grandparents bought this farm after they retired. Gramps began the Christmas Tree Farm as a hobby because he loved Christmas and enjoyed sharing it with others.”

Jesse decided to steer the conversation toward her grandparents and their purchase of the farm, feeling somewhat better to know Lindsey had not been involved in what had happened eighteen years ago.

“How long did your grandparents own this place?”

“Hmm.” Her forehead wrinkled in thought. “I’m not sure. They’d probably been here three or four years when I came. I’ve lived here nearly fifteen years.”

Jesse did the math in his head. The time frame fit perfectly. He rotated the Coke can between his palms then tapped it against his upraised knee. So her grandfather had been the one.

“Did you have any idea who your grandfather bought this place from?” As soon as he asked, Jesse wanted his words back. The question was too suspicious, too far off the conversation, but if Lindsey noticed she said nothing.

“I haven’t a clue. All I know is after Granny passed away, Gramps put the farm and everything on it into my name. By then, I wanted to live here forever, so other than bringing me to a faith in Jesus, this was the greatest gift they could have given me.”

The too-familiar tug of guilt irritated Jesse. He had no reason to feel bad for her. She’d enjoyed the benefit of living here for years while he’d wandered around like a lost sheep. Only during his too-short time with Erin had he ever found any of the peace that hovered over Lindsey like a sweet perfume. And he was counting on this farm to help him find that feeling again.

“So you became a tree farmer like your grandfather.”

Stretching backward, Lindsey ran both hands through the top of her hair, lifted the sides, and let them drift back down again. Jesse found the motion as natural and appealing as the woman herself.

“I tried other things. Went to college. Became a lab tech. Then Sean and I—” She paused, and two spots of color stained her cheekbones. “Let’s just say something happened in my personal life. So, when Gramps passed away three years ago, I couldn’t bring myself to let the tree farm go. After that first year of doing all the things he’d taught me and of watching families bond as they chose that perfect Christmas tree, I understood that this was where my heart is.”

Though curious about the man she’d mentioned, Jesse decided to leave the subject alone. Knowing about her love life would only make his task more difficult. “So you gave up your job to dedicate all your time to the farm.”

“I still take an occasional shift at the hospital and fill in for vacations in the summer to keep my skills sharp or to put a little extra money in the bank. But this is my life. This is what I love. And unless economics drive me out of business, I’ll raise Christmas trees right here on Gramps’ farm forever.”