Holding Out for Christmas (The Christmas Tree Ranch #3)(5)

“Close enough. I teach school in Nashville. I arranged to take Christmas leave early to give my family some extra help.”

“A teacher, hmm? I might’ve guessed that. What grade?”

“Kindergarten.”

“Like it?”

“I do. For now.” Megan stopped herself. She’d learned the hard way not to talk about her other career, the one she really wanted. People who learned her secret tended to forget about Megan Carson. Lacy Leatherwood was so much more fascinating—even though Lacy wasn’t real.





Chapter 2


As the truck left the highway and turned onto Main Street, Megan gazed up at the old-fashioned Christmas lights. Through the blur left by the thumping windshield wipers, the colors that reflected off the flying snow were strangely beautiful, like a Christmas scene done in glowing watercolor.

“What was that address again?” Conner asked.

Megan told him. “Thanks again for the ride. If you hadn’t come along, I’d still be stranded in my car.”

“Then I’m glad I came along. I still can’t believe your parents didn’t know who I was.”

So, who are you? Megan bit back the barbed question. The man clearly had an ego. Maybe he was some kind of local celebrity. But ego or not, he had just saved her from a cold, miserable night. The least she could do was be civil.

“Is your family new in town?” he asked.

“They moved to Branding Iron a couple of years ago, but they don’t get out much. My dad teaches at the high school. My mom is in a wheelchair, so he spends most of his free time at home with her.”

“What about your brother? He’s the one who said he knew me, but I can’t place him.”

“Daniel knows everybody in town. And people remember him—not just because he’s friendly, but because he has Down syndrome.”

The description clicked. “Oh, sure, I know who he is. He works at Shop Mart. Great kid. So he’s your brother?”

“He is, and I agree, he’s a great young man. He holds down a job and helps Mom a lot, too. He and I are the only children in our family.”

As she spoke, Megan felt a familiar twinge of guilt. Her family could use her help, too. That was why she’d arranged for a substitute teacher and given up two weeks’ salary to come home early this year. She did contribute money to her mother’s care. Still, it wasn’t the same as being here full time. She could always move to Branding Iron—her father had mentioned that teachers were in high demand. But leaving Nashville would mean giving up her dream, just when good things were beginning to happen.

“My street’s just ahead,” she said. “Is there someone I can call to get my car towed back onto the road?”

“You’re looking at him,” Conner said. “There’s a garage in town, but in this weather, the owner is liable to be busy. You’d most likely have to wait. But I can come first thing tomorrow, with a tow chain. If that plan works for you, I can pick you up at your house. We’ll pull your car out of the ditch, and you can drive it home.”

“You’d do that for me?”

“Sure. That’s what small towns are all about, neighbor helping neighbor.” He turned the truck onto her street. “The highway should be plowed by nine. Is that too early for you?”

“I’m a teacher. It’s fine. And that’s our house on your right—the blue one with the porch light on.”

Conner pulled into the driveway and stopped. Howling wind swirled snow around the truck. Snowflakes peppered Megan’s face like buckshot as she climbed to the ground, closed the door behind her, and staggered, head down, toward the porch. Conner followed with her two suitcases.

Megan’s father, Ed, tall and spare, with thinning hair and glasses, had come out onto the porch. He gave her a brief welcoming hug. “Thank God you’re safe,” he said, then turned to take the luggage from Conner. “And thank you for bringing her home. Won’t you come in? There’s hot cocoa on the stove.”

“Thanks,” Conner said, “I was glad to help. But I’d better head home before the roads get worse. See you tomorrow, Megan.” He strode back to the truck, snow flying around him.

As the truck backed down the driveway, Ed ushered her inside and closed the door. The house was warm and cheerful, with a small Christmas tree with twinkling lights in a corner of the living room. Megan’s mother, Dorcas, painfully thin but still a pretty woman, held out her arms for a hug. Daniel, all smiles, offered Megan a mug of steaming cocoa with a marshmallow melting on its chocolatey surface.

Her parents were getting older, Megan reflected as she took a seat at the table. They both appeared more careworn. But Daniel had never looked happier. Two years ago, he had walked into his first job as a bagger at Shop Mart and met sweet little Katy Parker working behind the bakery counter. Katy, who also had Down syndrome, had become the love of his life. The two were even talking marriage—happy news, but bringing new concerns for both their families.

“What about your car?” her father asked. “Do we need to call a tow truck in the morning?”

“No, Conner’s offered to come back with a chain and help me. He’ll be here at nine.” Megan sipped the chocolate. It was too sweet for her taste, but it warmed her body going down.