Page 65 of Christmas at the Ranch
Bruce has caught up with us. He walks with his arm tucked into that of a tall man with red hair and a matching beard.
“This is my husband, Michael,” he says. “And this,” he says to his husband proudly, “is my brilliant Emory. I’ve so loved having her around. I’ll be completely lost without her.”
“Bruce,” I say, and a pain tugs at my heart. “I think I’m going to be lost without you, too.”
“But we still have tonight,” Bruce says with a smile. “And what a magical night I’m sure it will be.”
Tate, up ahead, riding Inez, looks back at me and smiles. I smile at him, feel that pull I always do when he’s near.
“I feel sure it will be, too,” I say.
I reach down to pat Beau’s shoulder. I feel sad I’m not on Star, but I know Star is happy tonight, out in a paddock with a few of her other horse friends who also don’t like being ridden on the trail. Maybe Star will come around one day, but for now, it’s not something I can change. I’m determined to enjoy the moment, knowing I’ll be able to ride her again. And that with patience, things are likely to get better.
“Looking good there, Ms.Oakes.” A warm growl of a voice coming up beside me makes me smile even wider than I already was.
“Why, thank you, Charlie.”
He’s riding Hank. He looks down at my mother. “She’s a talented rider, your daughter.”
I laugh. “I don’t know about that,” I say. “I onlyrode four times while I was here and got thrown off two of those times. Not the best average.”
“Ah, but you know that wasn’t your fault. You were riding a horse who hadn’t taken to anyone in ages. You have a real way with horses.” He pauses. “A shame, though, that you probably don’t get to do much riding in the city.” He gives me a meaningful look but leaves it at that, then rides on ahead.
We all move slowly toward the woods, a mix of riders and walkers, all with lanterns. There are also lanterns hanging from trees to light our way. Tate and I walked through the woods together this afternoon and set up for the Starlight Ride. We pulled the lanterns on a sled and stopped often to kiss, to talk. He told me how glad he is I am staying for Christmas.
Beyond that, I don’t know. He didn’t ask for more, and my answer seems just out of reach.
Bruce and Michael are just ahead now—and I hear Bruce begin to sing. His voice is a stunning baritone. I had no idea he was so talented. The opening lines of “Joy to the World” ring out, as pure as fresh snow.
Michael joins in with a low bass. Soon, more people are singing, both those on horses and those walking. Even my mother joins in, and so do I. At the end, Bruce sings one last verse alone. It’s a verse of the carol I’ve never heard, with a line so beautiful I want to write it down later. Perhaps in my diary, which still has a few blank pages left to fill.And hearts unfold like flowers before Thee…opening to the sun above.
After the song, there is silence, just the sound of boots and hooves crunching through snow. Then, achild’s voice begins to sing next: “Jingle Bells,” and I recognize that little voice as Sam’s. She’s at the front of the pack, riding a peppy little pony named Mags. Reesa is walking beside her holding a lantern. I hear her voice, too, a pretty alto—and then the whole group is singing along.Laughing all the way…
I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy—but maybe I have. Maybe I was this happy ten years ago, and I’m finally finding a way to let it all in again.
We’re deep in the forest now, and our voices are ringing through the trees just like the sleigh bells we’re singing about.
“Emory.” Tate is beside me on Inez. For the briefest of moments, he reaches out to touch my hand. He looks at me and smiles. I smile back. “Come on,” he says. “Come to the front.” Beau and I follow him. Together, we lead the group on a gentle loop through the starlit woods, and then back to the barn.
It’s eight o’clock by the time the bonfire is over, and we get the last horse put away, the ranch closed down for the night. Charlie invites my mother to dinner—his traditional,veryhomemade fondue, he says with a wink. And while the past version of my mother probably would have gotten a haughty look on her face and saidno, thank you,as if eating store-bought fondue was a new low she did not care to excavate, she instead thanks him genuinely for the invitation, but says she had better get home so she can visit my father onChristmas morning. I feel a pang when she says this. I ask her if she’d like me to come back with her.
“That’s going to be hard,” I say. “Going to see Dad in jail on Christmas morning. It’s so bleak, Mom.”
But she just smiles sadly. “It is. And there is no way I would take you away from this beautiful place you’re in, from how happy you are, to do that with me. I can handle it. I promise.”
“Will you call me after? Will you ask Dad to call?”
“Of course. Now, would you like to walk me to my car?” my mom asks.
I take one of the lanterns from the Starlight Ride to lead our way and we walk along the snowy path past the stables and out to her car.
“This place is just so peaceful,” my mother says, pausing and standing still. She looks up at the starry sky, then back at me. “Thank you, Emory.”
“For what, Mom?”
“For making me feel so welcome here.”
“Of course. I’m glad you came to Evergreen.” And I find that I mean it.
