Page 66 of Christmas at the Ranch
“I’m really sorry, you know. I’m just realizing now that we could have been doing things like this together for your whole life—and you’re twenty-eight years old.” She sniffles, reaches into her purse for a tissue.
“Oh, Mom. It’s not too late, you know. These past few days, and tonight, they proved that.”
She dabs at her eyes, then puts the tissue back in her purse. “I believe you, Emory.”
I hesitate, but I know I need to say this. “When I’m back in the city, I’ll come visit Dad with you.”
Her face lights up. “Oh, he would love that.”
“I know it isn’t going to be easy and that we have a long journey ahead of us, but we’re still family,” I say.
“Maybe someday, we’ll have gotten to a place where you feel proud to call us that,” she says.
“I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” I say softly.
She nods. “Yes. And I’ll miss you. But I have to get back to the city and your father, and I know how happy you’ll be here—which makesmereally happy.”
“Everything’s going to be okay,” I tell her—although I’m not certain of that. I know this is going to be a strange, hard year for my family. “I’ll be there for you through all of it,” I amend. “You won’t be alone.”
My mom pulls me in for a hug. I hear her sniffle a little more, but when she pulls away, her eyes are dry. “All right, I really should get on the road.”
“Text me when you get home,” I say. I stand and wave until her car’s red taillights disappear from sight. Then I turn and walk back toward Tate’s cabin.
He’s standing at the door, waiting for me. “Did that go all right?” he asks, pulling me into his arms.
“It did,” I say. “It was a nice goodbye.”
He looks down at me with his beautiful amber eyes. “She must be so proud of you.”
I can’t help but smile. “That’s sweet, but I’m twenty-eight years old and I don’t even really have a job. Not a ton to be proud of.”
“That’s not what I meant. She’s proud ofyou. Who you are.” But now he looks thoughtful. “You could, you know. Have a job. Bruce would have you onpermanently in a second. And you know he’d also let you keep the apartment.”
“It’s a nice thought,” I say. “Except Bruce doesn’t have enough money to pay me.”
He pulls away, then tilts his head up toward the sky.
“What are you doing?” I ask him, feeling bereft when he’s not near me. He reaches for me and pulls me close again, and I feel relieved.
“Making a wish,” he says, nodding up at the stars. “Wishing…” Now he ducks his head, his lips brushing against mine. “Wishing you’d stay. That we’ll find a way.”
Inside, through the open door, I can hear Charlie in the kitchen, humming along to Loretta Lynn’sCountry Christmasalbum.
I look up, too, at the starry blanket above—and then back into the eyes of the man I love and cannot imagine my life without, ever again.
When we kiss, I know his wish will come true. I’ll figure it out. Because I’mhome.
One Year Later…
Dear Diary,
This is the last page left in this notebook, so I’d better make it good. It has been quite a year.
I stayed, dear Diary. I stayed!
I found out about a community newspaper grant and helped Bruce apply for it. He got it, meaning he’s able to pay me. So, I took a permanent job atThe Evergreen Enquirer. I moved into the apartment—although I spend most of my time at Tate’s cabin.
The summer here was as magical as the winter. Long trail rides, with me working on Star, who it turns out maybe just prefers trail rides when it’s warm, rather than cold. Long walks with Tate, swims in the lake, hours on the dock once all the barn work was done. Plans for the future. He’s training more and more horses, making a name for himself in the equine world. He was at the Royal Winter Fair this fall and could hardly keep up with all the people who wanted to speak with him, tried to hire him to work with their horses. I keep telling him he should change the name of Wilder’s to “Heartland” and he just laughs—but I know it makes him happy. He’s doing what he’s meant to be doing.
