The Texan's Christmas

So many emotions flashed across Adele’s face that it was almost dizzying to watch. Joy and terror and disbelief and hope. “I don’t know what to say.” She hugged her arms around herself. “I suppose I always knew it was a possibility, but as the years passed, it seemed less and less likely. I wasn’t sure that, after what I did, they’d care enough to look.”

Had they gone searching for their mom, or had it been more of an accidental discovery? Considering Adele’s name change, the latter seemed unlikely.

“You know you’re one of the most important people in my life,” Nicole said, “professionally and personally. But I care about Chris and Lizzie, too. I don’t want to lie to them.” Last spring, she’d respected Adele’s wishes, surreptitiously gathering information to assure Adele her kids were thriving, because she hadn’t seen the point in upsetting a pregnant Lizzie with news of a mother who was wasting away from cancer. But circumstances were different now.

“You want to tell them who I am on Sunday. Or, if you’re right about them knowing, confirm it?”

“That’s one option. The other is that perhaps you could get in touch with them yourself before then,” Nicole said gently.

“Oh, I don’t know. I...” It took her a few seconds to compose herself enough to continue speaking. “You described Lizzie as ‘shaken up.’ Not hopeful or wistful. She may not want to hear from me. And could you blame her? Walking away from those kids was a terrible, terrible thing.”

“You had extreme postpartum depression,” Nicole said. “You weren’t entirely in your right mind.”

“Which is why I met with their father later and asked for visitation rights.”

Which he’d ruthlessly denied. Brock was a powerful, unyielding man with enough money to fund a team of lawyers. Instead of drawing her children into an ugly legal battle, Adele had left them in peace to bond with their new stepmother.

“I didn’t fight hard enough for them,” Adele said, her voice low and full of shame. “I could have reached out to them once they were no longer minors, but...how could I face them after all that time? How can I face them now?”

“For what it’s worth,” Nicole said, “if my own mom tracked me down, I’d want to see her. I’d like to think I’ve forgiven her for doing what she thought was in my best interest.”

Gina Marie Bennett, a pregnant teenager, had angered her parents by not putting her baby up for adoption. As soon as she turned eighteen, they kicked her and Nicole out of the house. Two years later, burdened with a drug problem and a malnourished toddler, Gina Marie had sought refuge in a church during a devastating thunderstorm. For a decade, Nicole had bounced between foster care and an intermittently sober Gina Marie.

Her mother hadn’t shown up for a scheduled visit on Nicole’s fourteenth birthday. Nicole had held out hope that her mother would eventually return, that they could be a family. But she’d never seen her mom again. When Nicole was sixteen and living in a different home, she received a forwarded Christmas card with no return address. In it, her mother had written that her beautiful daughter deserved a better life than a druggie could provide. Gina Marie had loved her enough to get rid of her, but not enough to stay clean for her.

Now, looking at Adele, Nicole’s eyes misted. What a pair we are. One woman who had been dumped by her mom and another who’d walked away from her kids. It didn’t take a psychology degree to see how they’d helped fill certain holes in each other’s life. But maybe Adele didn’t have to settle for a stand-in daughter. Her biological children had never been more in reach.

“If nothing else, you should tell them you’re sorry,” Nicole added. “It would be good for them and for you.”

Adele bit her lip, unconvinced. “I don’t want to clear my own conscience at the expense of upsetting them. I know I’ve already asked far more of you than is appropriate, but can you do me one more favor? When you see them on Sunday, let them know I’m in Dallas, that I’d give anything to see them. But the choice is theirs. If they prefer, I can fade away like I was never here.”

Nicole had been Adele’s emissary in hundreds of professional situations. She had mixed feelings about serving that role in this capacity, but if there was any chance she could help reunite a family...

“Okay.” She prayed that she was right about Lizzie and the others wanting a second chance with their mother. If not, Adele would be crushed.

Meanwhile, since Nicole was being so vocal about her friend coming clean and sharing her secrets, maybe it was only fair she take her own advice. “Just so you know, there’s one other thing I want to discuss with Lizzie on Sunday. But I can’t imagine telling her—or anyone else—before first telling you. I’m...”

The word was momentous. She paused, struck anew by the magnitude of her choice. Happiness spread through her, a buzz of warmth and excitement. “I’m pregnant.”

Adele’s eyes widened. She opened her mouth, but no words came out.

“So, I guess it’s safe to say you weren’t expecting that?” Nicole’s queasiness and unusual lack of energy would have eventually given her away, but since she’d been in Dallas for only a day, there hadn’t been enough opportunity for Adele to notice yet.

“N-no, definitely not! I have to admit, I’ve worried at times that taking such good care of me didn’t leave you any room for dating. I—”

“The only ‘date’ involved in conceiving this baby was the cozy night I spent sitting by the fireplace and reading donor files. Well, and the day I had the procedure done, of course.”

“Procedure? You were artificially inseminated?” Adele’s shock didn’t seem to be abating.

“Why not?” Was there a touch of defensiveness in her tone? She dropped a hand to her still-flat abdomen. “I don’t know what the future has in store for me, but I know I’m ready to be a mom. Guy or no guy in my life, I want this.” Unlike Nicole’s younger self, this baby would never, ever feel unwanted. He or she would be completely secure in Nicole’s love. “Be happy for me?”

“Of course I am, dear!” The confusion and surprise in Adele’s expression faded. “You’re going to make a wonderful mom. And if there’s anything I can do to help along the way, to repay you for—”

“There’s nothing that needs repaying,” Nicole insisted. Taking care of Adele hadn’t been a selfless act. It had allowed Nicole to feel as if she had some measure of control, even if it was only an illusion. Watching her friend go through that terrible illness had been wrenching, but it would have been even worse if Nicole had felt useless. Cooking Adele doctor-recommended foods and coaxing her to eat had made Nicole feel like a member of the team, as if she was doing her part—no matter how small—to help beat back the cancer.

“A baby.” Adjusting to the idea, Adele grinned delightedly. “You do know that, as honorary grandmother, I’m going to spoil the kid rotten?”

“I’m sure she, or he, will learn a lot from you. God knows I have.”

There was no question that Adele would make a wonderful honorary grandmother. But Nicole hoped that by the time her child was born in seven and a half months, Adele would already have plenty of practice with her other grandchildren.

Chapter Three (#ulink_6627ab80-ca99-5832-980b-1d3eb43134c5)

There was a certain kind of soreness Daniel found gratifying—the kind that came from a challenging workout or staying out all night dancing with pretty ladies. As he exited the therapy building Thursday afternoon, he felt sore but upbeat. His physical therapist had not been what he expected. A gorgeous redhead, Sierra Bailey had a face like a porcelain doll and the soul of a drill sergeant.

After explaining the pendulum exercises she wanted him to do at home, she’d warned, “I’ll know if you don’t do them. And there will be hell to pay.”

He believed her. He also believed she was eminently qualified to whip him back into shape. The plan was to start with a regimen that increased his range of motion and flexibility. Strength would come later. Sierra had told him that once he’d regained enough mobility, she’d add biceps exercises. He couldn’t wait to feel like his old self again. He might even spend some extra time at the Roughneck so he could use the ranch’s heated pool for some of his exercises.

As he turned onto the sidewalk that cut through the medical complex toward the parking lot, he spotted a dark-haired woman coming from the other direction. She had a hand against her midsection, and his first thought was that she might be in pain. Then the wind tossed her hair back, away from her face. Nicole Bennett? Unlike the tension he’d glimpsed in her face the other day, now she wore a dreamy expression. She radiated a serenity he wasn’t sure he personally had ever experienced.

“Nicole?” he called.

She looked up, startled. He felt a twinge of guilt for disrupting her moment of peace. “Daniel.” Her voice was breathier than he remembered.

“Did you have an appointment here?” He circled his finger, indicating the horseshoe cluster of buildings that housed medical professionals ranging from orthodontists to podiatrists. Didn’t Nicole live in San Antonio? It seemed odd she would have a doctor in Dallas. Not that it was any of his business.

“Oh.” She blinked. “I, um...”

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to pry. I was just surprised to run into you. I was meeting with my physical therapist for the first time.”

Nicole cocked her head, studying him. “Chris mentioned you were hurt bull riding. Was it bad?” Her dark eyes were still roving over his body, ostensibly checking for injury, but his hormones didn’t seem to care about the platonic reason for her scrutiny. Awareness simmered through him, clouding his thoughts to the point where he could barely remember her question.

“Whoops.” She dropped her gaze. “Guess I’m the one prying now.”

“No, that’s okay. I...” Got distracted. By her eyes. Maybe best not to say that to a near stranger. “My injury was bad enough to need outpatient surgery. I consider myself lucky. Could have been a lot worse. Brock’s living proof of that.” It was ironic, given their many differences, that he and his stepfather had this one thing in common—being knocked on their butts by an ornery bull.

“When I visited Dallas in April, he was in a wheelchair. He’s better now?”

“He’s back on his feet, but I don’t think Julieta’s going to let him enter any more senior rodeos.”

“What about you? Do you plan to get back in the saddle?”

“I haven’t made up my mind, but...probably not.” It was easier to admit that to a virtual stranger than his rodeo-centric family. “I enjoyed competing. I love winning. But I’m ready for something new. I’ve been thinking a lot about my future lately, trying to decide what I want to be when I grow up,” he joked. “Sometimes you reach a point when it’s time to take the next step in your life, you know?”

“I do.” Something flickered in her eyes, and she took a deep breath, as if trying to steady herself.

“Are you okay?” He wouldn’t be surprised if the idea of facing all the Barons this weekend was giving the poor woman an ulcer.