But he didn’t believe it. She was as indifferent to Tess and the coming baby as she had been to Emma.
But even his fury at that had been distilled by the love he lived in.
When he looked at Emma and saw her compassion for others, he knew it came from all those years when she had tried to win attention and approval from Lynelle that never came.
Emma showed him that good could come from bad, good people from bad parents, good things from bad situations. It was the fire that tempered the steel.
She showed him every day that love was not a destination he had arrived at, but a journey he had embarked upon. It was full of peaks and valleys, challenges and rewards, but most of all, it was stronger than anything else.
Christmas represented that.
It represented all the things that, for awhile, he had lost belief in.
Goodness.
Hope.
Faith.
Light.
“Papa!”
Life.
Suddenly, Emma’s hand flew to her belly, and her eyes widened and then met his. She inhaled sharply and deeply.
“The books don’t get you ready for how that feels,” she marveled. “Do you think we’re going to have a Christmas baby, Ryder?”
The calmness in her face, her absolute trust in him made him remember the other belief love had restored—his belief in himself.
A child would be born and he would be enough to welcome another life into this world, enough to accept the responsibility as well as the joy. It was another thing to celebrate during the season, his list of things to celebrate slowly outgrowing his things to grieve.
And wasn’t that really what Christmas represented? An evolution of thought, man’s belief that everything in the end had a reason, and that everything in the end was for the greater good.
Somewhere in the last years, with Emma and Tess making his good outweigh his bad, Ryder had realized he could surrender. He could trust himself, but know that when his own strength flagged, or was not enough, that was when the real miracle happened.
The truth was that something greater than him ran the show.
Isn’t that what Christmas really celebrated?
The birth of a child that would bring a message to the world.
Love is the most powerful.
Love is the thing that cannot be destroyed.
And it went on and on, even after death.
It went on in a little girl down there a flash of neon pink, shouting “Mama! Papa! Watch me.”
And it would go on in a new baby, a new life, a brand-new messenger of the power of love to bring hope and to heal all.
Despite her saying he couldn’t possibly lift her, Ryder swept his wife into his arms and headed for the car. “Tim,” he called, “she’s going into labor.”
“Stop it,” she insisted. “Ryder, really! I’m too heavy. I can walk. It was only the first pain.”
But the thing was, she didn’t feel heavy to him at all.
She felt light. And he felt light. And all of it, the skaters on the pond, Tess, the Fenshaw girls, the laughter, the scrape of blades on ice, Tim racing toward them with a look on his face that reminded Ryder of the soldier he had been, all of it suddenly seemed as if it was swirling together, becoming one immense energy.
Ryder realized, suddenly, his heart swelling until he thought it would break, that he really believed.
And in that shining second of pure love, his breath, his bone, his life, his whole world, became a reflection of the Light.
Donna Alward
Stetsons and snowflakes
A week before Christmas, city girl Hope McKinnon finds herself snowbound with rugged rancher and all round do-gooder Blake Nelson. What is it about this handsome, generous man that has her blood boiling and her pulse racing?
Blake knows his ranch is the last place that Hope wants to be, but somehow her presence feels so right! Hope is the first woman guarded Blake has wanted to be around for a long time. Her visit may be temporary, but he has one more night to convince her to stay....
THE cold air penetrated clear through Hope McKinnon’s jacket as she stepped out of the rented car and looked up at the home base of the Bighorn Therapeutic Riding Facility. It was December in Alberta yet it felt like the arctic! It was a shock to her system after she’d reluctantly left the hot brilliance of the Sydney sun only hours before.
She huddled into her woolen coat and popped the trunk for her bag. The wheels of her suitcase squeaked and dragged on the snow covering the path to the wraparound porch of the big log home. Coming up the long lane, she’d thought it had a fairy-tale quality, like a romantic ski chalet nestled in the mountains. Twinkling fairy lights were intertwined through evergreen boughs on the railing, glowing softly in the waning light of late afternoon.
But that had been in the warm car, with the heater going full blast. Now she shivered. The house was rapidly losing its winter magic as she gave the case a tug over a ridge of packed-down snow. She heaved it up the stairs one at a time, growing more and more irritated until she plunked it down beside her leg and rang the doorbell.
Three times.
She huddled into her jacket as she waited.
By this time her legs were cold and her feet were beginning to go numb in the soft leather boots she wore. She looked around and saw a truck parked next to the barn. She was supposed to meet a man named Blake Nelson, the guy who ran the ranch. She’d been guilt-tripped by her grandmother into coming and taking pictures of his operation, and she wasn’t all that pleased about it. She could think of a million other places she’d rather be in December than in the icy cold of Alberta.
But she was here, and she was freezing, so she left her suitcase by the door and made her way across the yard toward the barn. A light glowed from a window within, a warm beacon against the grayness of the afternoon shadows. It would be warm inside, wouldn’t it? She quickened her step as she neared the door.
The next thing she knew she was slightly airborne as her boot hit a piece of ice camouflaged by a skiff of snow. The weightless sensation lasted only a second and was immediately followed by a bone-jarring, breath-stealing thump as she landed squarely on her rump.
“Ow!” she cried out as her tailbone struck frozen ground. She fought for a few moments as her emptied lungs struggled for air, and then gasped it in painfully, closing her eyes.
When she opened them she was looking at a pair of worn leather cowboy boots that disappeared into two very long, denim-clad legs. Humiliation burned up her neck and into her cheeks as she forgot the pain in her bottom. What a way to make a first impression!
“You must be Hope,” said a warm, deep voice with just the barest hint of a drawl. “Let me give you a hand up.”
The rich voice sent shivers down her spine and she struggled to keep her breath even. She looked up then, and couldn’t help the gasp that escaped her lips. This Blake guy—assuming it was him—was stunning. Incredibly tall, and the form he cut was that of the quintessential cowboy, complete with sheepskin jacket and