The Christmas She Always Wanted

He cleared his throat. “Where have you been living all this time?”

Shortly after their relationship had ended, he’d heard that Angela had left town and he’d assumed that she’d moved totally out of the area. How bittersweet to find her so close and yet still so far away.

She glanced over her shoulder at him and he could see from the tight clamp of her lips that she didn’t want to talk to him. It crushed him to think that the love she’d once given him was now nothing more than dead ashes buried beneath a heap of anger.

“I’ve been living in Goliad for the past five years.”

She’d been living only thirty minutes away from him! It amazed Jubal that they’d not accidentally crossed paths before now. And if he’d known she was actually that close, would he have gone looking for her? No. He didn’t want to think so. He’d made his choice to marry Evette and then struggled to stick with the forced union. Walking away from Angela had been incredibly hard. If he’d seen her in that awful year when he was trying to make things work with Evette, he might not have had the strength to walk away again. And after their marriage had ended, he’d felt like a complete loser. He’d convinced himself that Angie was much better off without him and the baggage of horrible mistakes he carried around with him.

“Oh,” he said. “Guess you’ve had time to get to know a lot of people around here.”

“A few. The Saddlers and Sanchezes are some of the best.”

In spite of her work clothes and weary face, she looked utterly beautiful and Jubal felt himself moving forward, closer to the woman who’d irrevocably changed his life.

“I guess I’m trying to ask if you’re married now?”

For a split second he saw a spark in her eyes as though she wanted to jump straight at him with claws bared, but then just as quickly her face went eerily placid and she quickly glanced away from him.

“No,” she said bluntly. “I’m still single. Not that it’s any of your business. And right now I really do have to get home.”

By the time she’d opened the driver’s door, Jubal was at her side, his hand curling around her arm. The moment he touched her, she jerked as though he’d shot her with a bullet. As for Jubal, he couldn’t remember a time he’d felt so completely shaken, so aware of another human being in his life. She was single! The news shouldn’t mean anything to him. But hope was surging through him like a ray of sunshine amidst thunderclouds, and he wanted to cling to it. The same way he wanted to cling to her.

“Angie,” he said in a low, raspy voice, “I’m sorry about tonight. Sorry about all the pain and mess I put you through with Evette.”

She closed her eyes, as though to shut him out of her sight. All Jubal wanted to do was pull her into his arms.

“I don’t want to hear it, Jubal. Your apologies are too little, too late.”

Jubal felt sick inside. She’d once trusted him completely. She’d once looked up to him, respected him. Loved him. Oh, how he wanted that Angie again. Would he ever see that loving woman again?

Biting back a sigh, he tried to be diplomatic. “Look Angie, with both of us working here, don’t you think we should try to be civil to each other?”

Her eyes fluttered open and her cold stare bored straight into him. “The Sandbur is a huge ranch. It’s not likely we’ll be running into each other that much.”

In other words, she didn’t want to have anything to do with him. But then, what did he expect? He’d hurt her badly. He didn’t deserve her civility or respect. But he wanted it. And wanted her.

“Not likely, but possible,” he said. “A few days ago, I moved into the house below the north hill.”

A lifeless smile tilted her lips. “Good for you. I live here on the ranch, too. In the house where Darla Ketchum and her daughter Raine used to live. So now we both know the spots to avoid. And as far as I’m concerned, I’d be a happy woman if I never saw you again. So stay away from me! Got it?”

Her cutting words were bad enough, but it was the callous sarcasm with which she spoke them that shoved Jubal in the wrong direction. He probably did deserve her scorn, but he hated to hear that coldness in her voice. He wanted to bring her back to life, to spark in her the same desire that had been burgeoning inside him from the first moment he’d spotted her tonight in the Saddler living room.

Before he could consider his actions, his hand tightened on her arm and tugged her against him.

“Okay, Angie, you’ve shown me how you feel,” he muttered. “Now I think it’s about time I gave you a clue to how I feel.”

Her eyes flew wide open as her hands pressed uselessly against his chest. “Jubal—”

Blindly, his lips swooped down on hers, snatching them up in a kiss that was full of frustration, loss and longing. She tasted exactly the way he remembered: sweet, exotic, precious. Five years ago, he’d not been able to get enough of her and apparently that hadn’t changed. His body was already reacting, burning to make love to her again.

A few yards away in the dark shadows, a dog barked, and even farther, a truck engine roared to life. The distractions splintered Jubal’s foggy senses and forced him to finally rip his mouth away from hers.

Stunned, Angela stared at him, trying to read something on his face that would explain the kiss. But his expression was mostly shuttered and she felt herself floundering, too shaken to speak or gather the shreds of her composure.

“Angie, I—” He paused long enough to draw in a ragged breath. “Apologizing is about all I seem to be doing tonight, isn’t it?”

No. He’d done far more, she thought bitterly. He’d turned her world upside down. Again. He’d put his mouth on hers and that’s all it had taken to prove that she hadn’t gotten this man out of her system.

Her fingers trembling, she raked them through her mussed hair. “I don’t know what you’re thinking, Jubal, but I’m not your girl anymore. And you don’t have the right to kiss me—to even speak to me,” she finished in a raw whisper.

“Hell, Angie, being near you—makes me forget about the time we’ve been apart. Tonight, I feel like I’m seeing you for the first time all over again.”

Feeling as though she was splintering into a thousand pieces, she jerked her arm away from his grasp. “Well, get over it, Doc. Because nothing will make me forget what you’ve done to me!”

Not waiting for a reply, Angela climbed into her car and slammed the door. Without even glancing his way, she started the engine and gunned the car backwards. From the corner of her eye, she could see Jubal quickly stepping aside, out of the car’s path. After that, a wall of tears blurred her vision and she could barely see to drive home.

The next morning, as Angela helped her four-and-a-half-year-old daughter dress, she tried to hide her exhaustion and put on a cheery face while she listened to Melanie’s chatter.

“Mommy, I’m really, really hungry this mornin’. Can I have bacon, please?”

“Hmm. I suppose so. But you have to eat your oatmeal, too.”

Melanie clapped her little hands together. “Yippee. Thank you! And can I have some of those meat things? That look like sticks?”

“Those are sausage links,” Angela said as she held out a pair of blue jeans for Melanie to step into. “And we don’t have any of those right now. I’ll get you some when I go to the grocery store.”

Angela adjusted the waistband at Melanie’s rounded waist and reached for a pink sweater with a cartoon character on the front. Since Melanie was not yet old enough for kindergarten and too far away from a preschool, Angela took her to work with her. For the most part she was an obedient child, and both families on the ranch, along with all the employees, were more than happy to help keep an eye on her. Having her child with her was another nice perk of her job and one Angela didn’t take lightly.

Back when Angela had been waitressing and struggling to keep a roof over her and Melanie’s head, a motherly neighbor, Helga, had often watched Melanie at no charge. Angela always felt guilty, though—afraid she was taking advantage of Helga’s generosity. Being here on the Sandbur had taken away many of the difficulties she’d faced with raising Melanie on her own and she’d always be grateful to Nicci for getting her this job.

“Where are we goin’ this mornin’? Can we go to Jess’s house?”

Jess was the son of Matt and Juliet Sanchez and greatnephew to Geraldine. He was nearing two years old and, at four, Melanie pictured herself as the toddler’s mother. When together, the two children had a rip-roaring time. But today she wouldn’t be going to the Sanchez house, where the other Sandbur family resided. After last night’s party, she needed to make sure the maids were getting the Saddler house back to normal.

“We can’t go to Jess’s house this morning. We have to help Cook.”

Melanie tilted her head from one side to the other and as Angela looked at her precious face, her mind vaulted back to last night. To Jubal and that shattering kiss he’d placed on her lips.

What had he been thinking? Had he believed that she was something he could pick up or lay down anytime he wanted? Or had he really missed her all these years? Could he really still feel something for her?

Don’t be stupid, Angela. The man chose to marry another woman instead of you. If he’d ever had feelings for you, he would have shown it then. Not five years later.

Angela was thankful for the voice of reason inside her head, but still it wasn’t enough to dim the burst of pure excitement she’d felt when his lips had touched her. For a moment, she’d been transported to a magical place and even this morning when she thought of the kiss, she wanted to close her eyes and sigh.

“Mommy, Mommy! You’re not listenin’ to me!”

Jerking her attention back to Melanie, Angela saw that her daughter’s cherub-like features were scrunched up in a scowl.

“Sorry, honey. Were you saying something?”

“Can I take Mr. Fields with me, pretty please? He can sleep in his basket.”

Mr. Fields was an orange tabby that Angela had rescued from the edge of a cotton field where someone had dumped him. At that time, he’d been a scrawny little kitten with a scratched ear and bent tail. Now the tomcat was all grown and patient enough to put up with Melanie’s overly zealous affection.

“I suppose so. But he has to stay outside on the patio. And if he gets into a fight with Geraldine’s cat then we’ll have to bring him home. Okay?”

“Okay! Thank you, Mommy! I’m gonna go get him!”

Before all the words were out of Angela’s mouth, the child started to run from the bedroom. Angela jumped to her feet and hurried after her. “Not now, Mel! You have to eat breakfast first.” She snatched a hold on Melanie’s hand just as the girl was about to twist open the front door. “Come on. You can help me in the kitchen and then we’ll get Mr. Fields.”

A few minutes later, after a quick breakfast, Angela loaded her daughter and the orange tabby in the car. Since her small house was located on the south edge of the ranch yard, about a mile away from the big Saddler house, it took Angela less than three minutes to make the drive through a maze of barns and corrals, where saddled horses were tied to hitching posts, waiting for cowboys to start their work day.

The first week of December had brought cooler weather to south Texas. Trees were beginning to turn red and yellow. Christmas would be coming soon, and the ranch would be hosting all sorts of parties. Angela would be very busy, but she hardly minded. Her new job would allow her to buy Melanie a few decent gifts this year.

Minutes later, when Angela and Melanie stepped into the kitchen, Cook dropped her scouring pad, then knelt down and opened her arms out to Melanie. The girl ran straight to the older woman and gave her neck a tight hug.

Just to look at the stern woman, Angela wouldn’t think her capable of being soft and affectionate, but she was all that and more with Melanie. Her daughter adored Cook and the feeling was mutual. Early on, Angela had learned from Nicci that Cook had lost her husband at a very young age to the Vietnam war. The couple had not had a chance to have children and afterwards Cook had chosen to live her life alone.

“Well, don’t you look pretty this morning with all that brown hair braided.” Cook patted the top of Melanie’s head where Angela had pinned a coronet of braids. “My husband had brown hair the same color as yours—like an all-day sucker.”

Melanie’s small nose wrinkled with puzzlement. “What’s that?”

Cook chuckled. “A lollipop that tastes like caramel. If your mother can’t find you one in the store, I’ll make you one. Okay?”

“You wouldn’t be spoiling her a bit, now would you, Cook?” Angela asked as she pulled off her lightweight jacket and hung it on a hall tree located in a corner of the kitchen.

“Well, Christmas is coming. It’s a time for spoiling.” With a final pat to Melanie’s cheek, Cook rose and went back to work at the deep, stainless-steel sink.

After Angela settled Melanie with a coloring book at a nearby work table, she joined the other woman. “What do I need to do? Is Miss Geraldine ready for her breakfast yet?”

“No need to worry about that. She’s only having toast this morning.” She tossed a kitchen towel to Angela. “Here. Dry these pots and then we’ll take a coffee break.”

“A break! Cook, I didn’t take this job to sit around and drink coffee!”

The woman chuckled. “Geraldine don’t ’spect you to break your neck from dawn to dusk. Trust me.”

Angela decided it was best not to protest. The last person she wanted to irritate was Cook. She’d become like a mother to her and a grandmother to Melanie.

She was drying a second boiling pot, when Cook glanced her way. “Angie, that person last night—the one you got all het up over—is everything okay now?”

The dishtowel paused on the blue granite pot as Angela glanced over at her daughter. Last night after she’d gone to bed, she’d lain awake, reliving Jubal’s kiss and wondering how he would react if he learned he had a daughter. With his and Evette’s baby dying, would he want to be a part of this child’s life? Or would Melanie be an embarrassment to him? The questions had repeatedly tumbled through her mind until she’d fallen asleep from sheer exhaustion. They were still haunting her this morning.

“I’m not sure, Cook.”

The older woman tore off a handful of paper towels and began wiping the inside of an iron skillet. “This someone—he wouldn’t happen to be the new vet, would he?”

Angela placed the pot and the dishtowel on the cabinet counter and wiped a hand across her forehead. She’d not bothered to put on makeup this morning and she figured she must look pale and exhausted.

“Yes, he would be.”

Cook frowned. “That’s what I suspected.”

Sighing wearily, Angela rested her hip against the cabinets. “We—uh, we knew each other back in Cuero—before he married the mayor’s daughter.”

Cook’s grimace was full of disapproval. “Haven’t seen no wife with him around here.”

“They’re divorced. He told me last night.”

“Oh. How you feel about that?”

Picking up the dishtowel, Angela absently twisted it between her hands. “I’m trying not to feel anything toward Jubal Jamison. He’s best forgotten.”

Cook glanced shrewdly over her shoulder at Melanie, then across to Angela. “Well, if that’s what you think.”

About six miles north of the main ranch house, Jubal, Matt Sanchez and Lex Saddler were riding across a range filled with three hundred Brahman cows with calves at their sides. The two cousins had invited Jubal to join them on a ride this morning as a way for him to get more familiar with the Sandbur cattle and their quality of grazing.

So far, Jubal had seen healthy cattle and a surprisingly abundant amount of late-season grasses. “These mama cows are in great shape to head into winter,” Jubal told the two men. “I don’t see that you should change anything about your feeding program.”

“Hey, you’re my kind of guy, Doc,” exclaimed Lex, the younger, blond cousin. “We’re gonna be great buddies, I can already tell.”

On the other side of Jubal, Matt, the dark, serious one, let out a snorting laugh. “As you can see, Jubal, Lex is always happy when he hears there is less work to do.”

Grinning at his cousin’s teasing gibe, Lex asked, “Why change something that ain’t broke? Right, Doc?”

Jubal chuckled. “Well, there’s nothing that I see broken now.”

As they rode the horses through the herd of cattle, Jubal visually inspected the animals while the two cousins bantered back and forth. Yet even while he looked for any signs of disease or distress, a part of his mind was replaying the scene he’d had with Angela the night before.

Dear God, seeing her again had dazed him. For the past five years, he’d traveled all over south Texas and had never seen her or even heard anyone mention her. Never would he have dreamed she’d be living here on the Sandbur. And never would he have imagined himself grabbing her like he had and kissing her as though they were still lovers.

Jubal swallowed hard as emotions left the inside of his throat tight. Last night had been too early to tell her about Evette and the baby. But she’d asked and it would’ve been even worse to avoid the truth. And then he had touched her and every scrap of common sense had left him. Especially when he’d felt her body soften against his, felt her lips begin to respond, the way they’d used to kiss him. Or was that only wishful thinking on his part?

“Hey Jubal, look over there,” Matt spoke up. “Something is wrong with that cow’s milk bag.”

Turning toward Matt, he followed the line of the rancher’s pointing finger. “Let’s go see. She might need attention.”

Moments later, Matt had the cow roped and the lariat secured to his saddle horn. Down on the ground, Jubal stood in knee-high grass as he examined the new mother. “Looks like her teats are inflamed,” he told the two men. “She’s going to need a shot of medication for the next few days, otherwise her new baby might have to be bottle fed.”

“You gonna lead her home, Matt?” Lex asked with a taunting grin. “You’ve already got her caught.”

“Hell, no! She might decide to horn old Ranger. You wanta lead her for five or six miles back to the ranch?” he dared Lex.

For answer, Geraldine’s son reached inside his shirt pocket and pulled out a cell phone. “I’ll think I’ll just have some of the boys bring out a trailer.”

Jubal held up a hand. “Wait. She needs to stay right where she is—with the herd, where she feels safe. It would be best not to put her through the stress of loading her into a stock trailer, then putting her in a dry lot. I’ll drive out and take care of her for the next few days.”

“I knew there was some good reason we hired you, Doc,” Lex said with a happy grin. “I think I just found out what it was.”

“Lex, just remember I’m the one who insisted we needed Jubal,” Matt told his cousin, then turned a grateful look on Jubal. “I hope you don’t regret taking the job.”

Regret? The only thing Jubal regretted was losing Angela five years ago. Taking this job had led him back to her. And this time he was going to do things right.

“Not for a minute,” Jubal told him.

Chapter Three

Two days later, Angie was back in the kitchen of the big house helping Geraldine wrap dark blue cellophane around two huge baskets.

“Angie, I want you to take these two holiday baskets to Jubal’s. Not the clinic, but his house,” she said. “They’re full of useful little things for his new home and some goodies for him to eat. Men aren’t too good about cooking for themselves, you know. You do know how to get there, don’t you?”

Angie stared blankly at the woman. She loved her boss and certainly wanted to do everything to please the woman. But go to Jubal’s house? The last time she saw him, she’d said that she never wanted to see him again. After that, there was no telling what he’d think when he saw her driving up.

“I—I believe so. It’s over the hill, north of the ranch yard. On the left of the road.”

“That’s right. But the road is too rough for your car. You’d better take my old truck.”

The tall, slender, silver-haired woman gathered the cellophane paper at the top of one of the baskets and tied it off with a small piece of grass twine. A masculine touch, for an extremely masculine man, Angela thought wryly.

“Uh—what if he isn’t there?” Angela asked.

“Doesn’t matter. I seriously doubt he’ll have his doors locked. Just take the baskets inside and put the perishables in the refrigerator.”

Please, God, don’t let him be there, Angela silently prayed. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll take care of it right now.”

“Take care of what?” Cook asked as she stepped into the kitchen.

Geraldine looked around as Cook approached them. “I’m sending Angie to deliver these baskets to Jubal’s house. I want him to feel really at home here on the ranch. Maybe these few things will help.”

A tiny frown pulled Cook’s brows together as her dark eyes glanced over at Angela. “She don’t need to deliver those baskets,” she said to Geraldine. “I’ll get Alida to do it.”

“Alida is over at the Sanchez house,” Geraldine reasoned. “And Angela isn’t helpless.”

Even though she knew the two women had a close relationship that spanned decades, Angela didn’t want Cook to get into a rift with Geraldine over her. So when Cook opened her mouth to utter another protest, Angela quickly jumped in. “It’s no problem, Cook. I’ll get these delivered and be back in no time.”

Frowning, Geraldine’s glance swung suspiciously back and forth between Angela and Cook. “Is something wrong? Why shouldn’t Angela deliver these baskets to Jubal?”

Forcing a cheery smile to her face, Angela swiftly reassured her. “There’s nothing wrong, Miss Geraldine. Cook just wants me to help her with a dish we were planning for tonight’s meal. That’s all.”

Seeming to accept Angela’s explanation, the ranch lady glanced at the cuffed watch on her wrist. “Well, it’s still a long time before supper. You’ll have plenty of time to help her.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Angela replied, then turned and gathered up one of the huge baskets.

“I’ll help you carry this one.” Cook promptly collected the other basket from the table and followed Angela outside.

At the west side of the house, Angela opened the door to Geraldine’s work truck and carefully placed the basket she was carrying on the floorboard. Behind her, Cook snorted.

“Why did you interfere in there, honey? I could’ve gotten you out of this little job. It’s plain to me that you don’t want to go to Jubal’s house.”

“It’s all right, Cook. The man probably isn’t home anyway.”

“Angie, maybe you should fess up to Geraldine,” Cook suggested. “Tell her that there’s bad blood between you and the doc.”

Angela swallowed down a sigh. “There’s not bad blood, Cook. Just painful memories. Besides, I can’t complain to Miss Geraldine. I’m not important to her and she could easily replace me. Now Jubal—everyone on the ranch already thinks he’s just dandy and his job here is very important.”

Angela took the basket from Cook’s arms and thrust it into the truck.

Scowling, Cook said, “You’re important to me. That counts for somethin’, don’t it?”

Smiling now, Angela turned and kissed the old woman’s cheek. “It counts for everything. Now don’t worry about me. I can handle myself around Jubal Jamison.”

With that brave statement, she climbed into the truck and headed it toward Jubal’s.

As Angela bounced over the rough dirt road washed out from a string of fall rains, she turned up the heater and glanced at the gray sky. Winter in south Texas never lasted long, but it was a dismal time for humans and livestock. This morning Angela was feeling particularly shivery, but she had a feeling the weather had nothing to do with the chill deep inside her.

Facing east, Jubal’s cedar-sided house was located on a low, grassy hill with a small creek running in front of it. As she crossed a slab of concrete that spanned the shallow path of water, Angela geared down the truck, then urged the vehicle on up the hill to where a spreading live oak shaded a large, graveled driveway.