The Christmas Cradle

“The lights are on,” she said.

“Yes,” Marisa answered, looking around for her shoes.

“Are you leaving?” Ellie asked.

“Yes. I have to go.”

“Then Santa didn’t send you.” The forlorn voice bothered Marisa.

“No. Santa didn’t send me, but here’s an early Christmas present.” She handed her the high heels.

“Cool.”

Marisa stood. “Goodbye, Ellie.”

“‘Bye. You sure you don’t need your shoes? It’s cold.”

“I have wool socks on, so don’t worry about it.”

“Okay.” She stroked Sooner. “Can I still come and see Santa?”

Marisa could feel Colter’s eyes boring into her, but she wasn’t going to disappoint Ellie. She didn’t care how angry he got. “Sure. Anytime you want.”

Ellie smiled. “Thanks.”

Marisa picked up her purse and walked toward the back door. Tulley was in the kitchen drinking coffee. “’Bye, Tulley,” she said, but didn’t stop. She had to get away.

Colter caught her at the door. “Let’s be clear about one thing.”

She’d had all she could take from him. “No,” she snapped. “I’m not listening to any more of your nastiness or your insults. I made some bad choices—very bad choices—but I had my reasons. Reasons I thought were valid at the time. If you could stop thinking about your pride for one tiny second, you might want to hear those reasons. Until then, I have nothing to say to you.”

Chapter Five

Colter walked into the kitchen and flopped down into a chair. Tulley placed a cup of coffee in front of him, but he barely saw it. All he could see was Marisa’s angry face.

Ellie tottered in on the high heels.

“Take those shoes off,” he said, more sharply than he’d intended. “We’re sending them back to Ms. Preston.”

Ellie stuck out her lip. “She gave them to me.”

“They’re going back.”

Ellie stepped out of the shoes, picked them up and ran to her room, slamming the door. Sooner barked. The door opened and then slammed again.

Tulley sat down. “You were a bit rough on her.”

“I’ll apologize in a minute—after I cool off.” He looked at Tulley. “She lied to me.”

“About what?”

“She said she was seventeen in Vegas, not twenty-one.”

“Yep, that’s a whopper, but I told you she looked too young and inexperienced for Vegas. Back then you weren’t listening to much I had to say.”

“I wore rose-colored glasses where she was concerned, but they were brutally ripped away and I can see her for the woman she really is.”

“Are you sure?”

“What do you mean?”

“The young Marisa was weak, but this Marisa seems strong. Remember the time you scratched your arm riding Diablo at the rodeo in Vegas? She almost passed out when I changed the bandage. But yesterday she climbed over the fence, with the horse running wild, to get to you. She even stopped the bleeding. The young Marisa wouldn’t have gone anywhere near that horse and she certainly couldn’t have attended to your leg.”

“So she’s matured. That doesn’t change anything.”

“Guess not.”

“What does she expect from me?”

“Forgiveness.”

“No.” He shook his head. “I can’t ever forgive her—yet last night, when she fell on the ice, I ran to her without thinking. I could feel her pulling me in with those soft eyes and that sweet smile—just like in Vegas. She was sitting with all those people and the only one I could see was her. That connection was there, and it wouldn’t have mattered if she was seventeen or twenty-one.”

“Nope. Probably not.”

Colter took a gulp of coffee, hearing the truth of his words but not wanting to face it. “I can’t believe any of this. Her parents sending the cops out here was the last straw, and it seemed to be for her, too. She was furious when she left, but I hope they convince her to stay away.”

“That would be best.”

Colter got to his feet. “I’d better go soothe Ellie’s ruffled feathers.”

“What would it hurt if she kept the shoes?” Tulley asked. “She’s a little girl, but she’s starting to like big-girl things.”

“Yeah.” Colter glanced toward Ellie’s room. “She’s growing up too fast and I’m lost when it comes to this girl stuff.”

“Yep. Ellie’s reminded you of that on more than one occasion.”

“I thought I could be everything to my daughter, and it hurts that I can’t. She still keeps asking for a mother….”

“Then let her keep the shoes.” Tulley stood and grabbed his hat. “She’ll feel like a big girl. What harm can it do? That’s my two cents. I’ll check on the horses and be back to fix breakfast.”

Colter watched him go with a bitter taste in his mouth. He didn’t want any reminders of Marisa in his house—not even a pair of damaged shoes. But it was a little late for such thinking. Marisa had invaded his carefully built world in more ways than he cared to think about.

AS MARISA FOLLOWED the deputy, her anger mounted. How dare her parents treat her like a child! That was what she’d always been to them—a child who needed protection, guidance and supervision. When her parents separated, the agreement had been that her father would raise Reed and her mother agreed to raise Marisa, and they would do so without interference from each other.

It had worked, more or less, until her father had come to New York for a visit and found her an emotional wreck. She’d just lost her son and she couldn’t bring herself back from that dark place of grief and intolerable sadness. When her father learned what had happened, he and Vanessa had argued bitterly, but he had ignored Vanessa’s threats and brought Marisa home to Texas to heal.

She’d had a strained relationship with her mother after that, but they’d reached a degree of understanding. Vanessa was not to meddle again. But Marisa had never been in control of her own life; one or both of her parents had. That was going to change. She’d been thinking about this earlier and now she had to put it into action.