* * *
Anna had saved the cookies from burning, and Hope had baked the rest without incident. They sat prettily on a plate now, dusted with icing sugar like snowy mountaintops. Hope had sneaked one earlier and they tasted as delicious as when Gram made them, making her long for the comforts of the one place she truly considered home.
Blake had remained scarce for most of the afternoon, getting the chores done ahead of his guests’ arrival.
At three-thirty the kids and parents started arriving, and the house became a hubbub of activity as Anna set out a Crock-Pot of hot cider, carafes of hot chocolate, plates of cookies and bowls of potato chips and pretzels.
Hope hadn’t yet changed into her costume, and questioned whether or not she would. She would look ridiculous. Like an overgrown female Peter Pan with bells.
But when it came down to it she’d probably play along. She couldn’t escape the memory of the look on Blake’s face as he’d implored her to help him. Lordy, he was so handsome—and kind. She’d stopped noticing his scar days ago. What had once been ugly was now simply a part of the bigger whole, and that whole was something really special.
The carols playing on the stereo could barely be heard over the chatter and happy laughter of the kids. Cate arrived, using her crutches to get around, and Hope felt a surge of pleasure knowing that the little girl would have her sleigh ride complete with bells.
Hope looked around the busy room with a lump in her throat. This was how things should be, she realized. Loud and crazy and happy, with the sound of children’s voices echoing through the house and the lingering scent of fresh-baked cookies in the air. It all felt so right that it caused an ache deep inside her. This was what she’d wanted for her sisters. For herself. And despite Gram’s best efforts, and Hope’s, it had never quite come to pass. But here—here it happened so effortlessly.
It was a bit of a miracle, really, and she wondered if Blake truly appreciated the magnitude of what he was doing with Bighorn. It was more than therapy. It was home. This was his family, she realized. Not by blood, but by love. He was the cord that bound them all together.
She blinked away a sheen of moisture on her eyes. If she wasn’t careful she was going to leave a bit of herself behind when she left, and she wasn’t sure she had too many pieces to spare.
“Ready for the first sleigh ride?” Blake’s voice sounded close to her ear, the warmth of his breath sending tingles over her neck and down her spine.
“There’s more than one?”
“I’ll need to do two for sure, to fit everyone in.”
“Won’t I take up a valuable seat?” She turned her head slightly, angling her chin to look into his face.
His eyes were twinkling—he really enjoyed all this Christmas stuff, didn’t he? He was going to make a wonderful Santa Claus. He’d make a wonderful father too—if he ever settled down and started a family. She wondered again why he hadn’t.
“You can sit up with me,” he said. “And get the carols started.”
“Carols?”
He shook his head dolefully. “Hope, are you telling me you’ve never been on a sleigh ride?”
“Never.”
“Then you’d best get your coat and boots and bundle up warm. It’s high time you experienced one.”
And then he was gone, to organize the first round of kids.
She met them outside, bundled as warm as she could be in heavy mittens and a hat, and one of Blake’s goosedown jackets that was too big but the warmest thing she’d ever worn. The sleigh waited, hitched to two huge horses that stood so patiently Hope was sure they qualified as gentle giants. One shook his head, making the bells ring out merrily.
Cate clapped her hands at the sound. “Mister Blake, you do have bells!”
Blake tucked blankets around the knees of the passengers and rubbed the top of Cate’s pom-pommed hat. “Didn’t Hope promise you we would?”
Cate spun around to look at Hope. “You were right! He does have bells!”
The research, the drive, the money, the awkward moment with Blake this morning—all was worth it when she saw the smile on Cate’s face.
“Of course!” she replied with a laugh. “What’s a sleigh ride without bells?”
Hope climbed up front with Blake and nudged him with her elbow. “You’ve made Christmas for her, you know. Probably for all of them.”
“They make mine, too,” he replied quietly. He turned sideways and called back, “Everyone ready?”
“Yeah!” went up the chorus.
He gave the reins a gentle slap and the team started off. The runners squeaked on the snow, and Hope could smell the freshness of the air mingled with the pleasant smell of horses. Once they passed through the open gate to one of the pastures Blake urged the team into a trot, picking up the speed and causing some squeals in the back. Before long the first chorus of “Jingle Bells” started without any prompting from Hope, accompanied by the percussion of the bells on the harness. After “Jingle Bells” came “Silent Night,” the young voices so sweet that Hope felt a stinging behind her eyes.
“You okay?”
She nodded. “You were right. This is special, Blake.”
“Didn’t you have fun Christmases at home?”
She shrugged. “Not so much. I tried, and Gram definitely tried, but most of the time either my parents were split and my dad was missing, or they were together and things were so tense that it just felt wrong, you know? After they split for good it was worse. We usually spent Christmas with Gram, but our mother wasn’t always around.”
“I’m sorry, Hope.”
She shrugged again, not wanting to delve too deeply into those feelings. “It is what it is, you know? I tried for a long time to step into that role, but it was a bit much to expect from a young girl. After a while I gave up.”
“You were too young to be the mother.”
She shrugged. “My sisters resented me for it, I think. I was only trying to help, but to them I was being bossy. I forgot how to have fun—thought that if I somehow kept things together maybe things would work out. That it would help Mom so she’d want to be around more. And if she were around more she’d be happier with Dad...” She paused, wondering how much to confess. “It was too much pressure to put on myself. The snowball fight the other day...? I haven’t done anything spontaneous like that in years.”
“Everything’s precisely planned?”
“I don’t get disappointed that way. I’ve had a lot of disappointments, Blake. I’ve learned not to have high expectations.”
The song changed to the more upbeat “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.” The bells rang out merrily and the cold made their skin pink and vibrant.
“I hope you’re not disappointed now,” Blake replied, handling the reins easily in one gloved hand as they maneuvered through another gate into a grove of trees.
He put his free arm along the back of the seat, not quite an embrace, but she felt the intimacy of it anyway. It made her long to lean against his shoulder and let all her troubles go.
The tall spruces on either side made the setting even better, adding the spicy scent of their needles to the winter potpourri.
“Today’s a good day,” she said simply, afraid to say any more lest emotion get the better of her.
Truthfully, today felt like a fairy tale. In her quest for perfection over the years she’d forgotten what it was like to enjoy simple pleasures. She’d pushed so