Silent Night, Star-Lit Night (Second Chance at Star Inn)(25)

Driving north, reading the increasing tenor of Pete’s texts, Jed knew the store had to move forward in some ways and turn back the hands of time in others.

He locked up, started for the car, and spotted Mia.

Tears streaked her cheeks.

She’d forgotten to put a hat on, and her pretty hair was being blown about by a Pacific Northwest wind.

He hurried to her side and drew her in. “Hey. Hey. It’s all right. I’m here, Mia. Right here.”

“I can’t do this.”

He held her close, letting her talk.

“I went away to make something of myself.”

He kept his arms snug, cradling her to his chest. “Which you did.”

“I needed to prove to myself that I could rise above my background. Be someone smart and take-charge and sure of herself.” She sighed against his chest. Her hands curled into fists. “And then I come back here and see him . . . hear him . . . and right away I’m that twelve-year-old kid with no mother, a wretched father, and no future.”

Jed’s heart ached for her. He’d missed so much of her misery as a kid because he was surrounded by faith, hope, and love. She’d known the direct opposite. “Except none of that is true now, and you proved it wasn’t true then. It was lousy and miserable, but you got yourself up and out. Doesn’t that count for something?” He drew back and cradled her face between his two gloved hands. “You made it, Mia. That’s something wonderful to take credit for.”

“I made it straight into the arms of a cheater and liar, so what does that say about me, Jed?” She stared up at him, angry and defiant. “It says I’m weak. It says I’m needy and foolish and willing to compromise my principles to be loved, except that wasn’t love at all. Not with my father. And not with Daniel. And I just can’t do it anymore. I can’t be here. I can’t—”

“Shh.” He drew her back in, and tucked her against his chest. Behind him stood the business his father worked for, all his life, a business handed down by his grandfather, John Taylor. West of them stood a family ranch, a ranch that bore Jed’s name.

He had employees counting on him.

He had family counting on him.

Responsibilities loomed in every direction and right now all he wanted was to be able to make this right for Mia, but there was no way he could do that. He couldn’t change the past, and until she was ready to handle it face-to-face she couldn’t deal with the setting.

This was home. But the longing in his heart said he wanted Roslyn to be her home, too. Just to see if maybe . . .

“I’ve got to get back. I needed to step away. I meant to sit right there, holding Grandpa’s hand, but then Dad came in, all fired up about his future, what he wants to do, where he wants to go, and I lost it because once again, it was all about him. Like it’s always been. Celia let me use the center’s transport car.”

“I’ll follow you back.”

“No.” She put firm hands on his upper arms. “I needed a shoulder and you provided it, but I can handle my father. I hate it, but I can do it. And I want to be with Grandpa for however long he has.”

“Unless that baby decides to be born.”

Mia grimaced. “I know.” She sighed. “I’ll call a local doctor in the morning to apprise them.”

“Ellensburg is over a half hour away.”

“Well, they say first babies take a while, so that should be fine.” She stepped back as the wind caught her hair. “I’ll call you if anything happens, okay?”

“The first call you make. Promise?”

She studied him. Hope lightened her features, not much, but enough to poke some of that hope his way. “Promise.”

She got into the car and drove south toward the assisted living center.

He ignored her instruction not to follow her, because it felt good to make sure she was safe and sound. And when she turned at the care center door and waved, he knew he’d done the right thing.

He couldn’t change Roslyn.

He couldn’t change her father.

But he prayed that she might find a way to give herself and their hometown another chance, and figured they both deserved it.





Chapter Eleven

December 23, Roslyn, Washington

Christmas music played softly in Grandpa’s room as the night wore on. He lay back, propped up slightly to ease the pressure of breathing.

Peace marked his face in sleep. A gentle contentment, as if he was at ease with this moment.

How could that be?

She didn’t know, but she’d give just about anything to face life with that kind of equilibrium.

She sank down into the chair and grasped his hand.

His eyes fluttered open, but not at her. Beyond her.

He smiled.

Oh, that smile! It did her heart good to see it. She leaned forward, laid her head against the side of his chest, and squeezed his hand lightly. “Hey, handsome.”

Her voice drew his gaze, but she read reluctance in his eyes, as if he’d seen something wonderful. Something glorious. “Mia.”

She nodded and kissed his hand. “It’s almost Christmas, Grandpa.”

“I had Celia get you a box of those chocolate mint things you like so well. I remembered.”

His voice broke every third word, but he clutched her hand and looked toward the nightstand near his bed. “I’m leaving you my picture.”