The Rancher's Holiday Hope

Patsy bit down on her bottom lip. “I understand if you can’t make it.”

“Of course we can,” Max responded. “When?”

“Thursday at six?” Patsy’s hand rested on her daughter’s shoulder. “We would like that, wouldn’t we, Linnie?”

The little girl nodded.

Sierra handed Linnie a piece of chocolate cake on a small paper plate. “We would love to come to dinner.”

The word we took Max by surprise. No doubt she didn’t mean to make it seem as if they were a couple. They were barely acquaintances. Furthermore, he hadn’t been part of a we in years. He had a habit of letting women down and he guessed that Sierra had been let down by too many people in her life.

Their gazes connected and he knew that her thoughts had taken the same path as his. If they allowed people to connect them as a couple, things would spiral out of control.

That was the last thing either of them needed, and the one thing Sierra didn’t need was to be another person he let down.

Chapter Four (#u0d08213f-9aea-5ec2-abd3-29b3791ceb58)

Monday morning Sierra woke up to a clap of thunder that shook the windows. The weather had been warm but a cold front had arrived and the two air masses collided to form one powerful storm system. She prayed it would move through quickly with no real severe weather. With Christmas less than a month away, what they needed was a good cold snap, maybe some snow. But they definitely didn’t need damaging winds or tornadoes.

Peeking out the window, she shivered. The sky was one massive dark gray cloud. The storm pounding the side of her apartment required baking.

In the kitchen she flipped on all of the lights, flooding the room in nearly startling brightness. She told the smart speaker to play songs from her panic playlist, smiling at the name she and Kylie had used for the songs that were meant to draw her out of a panic attack. The first song was one she loved to sing along to.

As she sang out loud, she started boiling hot water for her tea and put two slices of bread in the toaster. Next she grabbed a cookbook, the one with all of her favorite cake recipes. She browsed through the pages and finally went to her go-to vanilla cake. A lovely, simple cake made with real vanilla.

She pulled out bowls, beaters, ingredients and lined it all up on the counter. Baking had been her escape for years. As a girl enduring her parents’ fights, she would bake. Bake and keep to herself, hiding the shadows of her life so that others couldn’t see what was going on inside the lovely brick facade of the Lawson home. Her banker father would leave the house, briefcase in hand, smiling at neighbors. Her mother would slide designer sunglasses on her face to hide the bruises.

Sierra would bake. And eat. Now she baked but she didn’t eat the cupcakes, cakes and pies. She gave them away to the other residents of Mercy Ranch, the place she’d called home for the past three years.

She sifted together the dry ingredients, enjoying the process, the smells that changed as she added each one. Vanilla happened to be her favorite.

She prepared the round cake pans and poured the batter in equal amounts. There was another crash of thunder and all the windows rattled from the power of the storm. She nearly dropped the bowl. Her hands shook. She wrapped them in her apron and told herself to be calm, take deep breaths, focus.

From the living room she heard the front door creak on its hinges. She poured water over the tea bag in her cup and walked to the living area. Kylie West waved as she dropped her purse on the sofa.

“I was on my way to breakfast with Maria when I saw lights on and thought there might be coffee.”

Sierra headed back to the kitchen to put the cakes in the oven. “You know I don’t drink coffee. Come up with a better reason for knocking on my door in the middle of a storm.”

“I saw the lights on and thought you might be up, and I wondered, again, why you won’t accept a service dog.”

“They’re messy. They shed. They require too much.”

“A Labradoodle doesn’t shed, or not much. They give more than they take.”

“I’m afraid I would forget to feed it, or water it. That would be terrible. That’s also why I don’t babysit those cute kids you all seem to like bringing into our lives.”

“You’re not as unaffected by them as you like to pretend. I’ve watched you holding Eve’s little Tori when they come to visit.”

“She’s not as stinky as some. And Glory’s little bundle of joy, Cara, is okay. When she isn’t smelly or crying because she’s teething. When did Mercy Ranch become a home for wayward teens and their babies?”

“You’re such a phony. You love babies and dogs.”

“Make yourself a pot of coffee,” Sierra offered. “I’m baking.”

She ignored the “Aha! I knew it!” look on Kylie’s face. It wasn’t easy having a therapist for a best friend. She’d had best friends in her life. Everyone had a best friend in grade school, then high school. But Sierra had never invited friends to her home, not with her parents being how they were. Kylie was the first friend she’d ever been completely honest with. It was refreshing, to have a relationship where she didn’t hold back a part of who she was.

It was the reason she didn’t date. She didn’t want to have a relationship where she couldn’t share her true self. She was tired of fighting the past. She’d made huge strides at Mercy Ranch. She had a life here that she loved. She had friends.

Kylie made herself at home, because she’d once lived here. She pulled out the aging coffeepot, got it started, then helped herself to the banana muffins Sierra had made the previous day.

“I thought you were going to breakfast with Maria? Shouldn’t you be at your house with your lovely doctor husband and two precious children?” Sierra asked as she poured batter into another cake pan.

“He took them to Holly’s Diner for breakfast.”

“I see. And...?”

“I wanted to visit with you. I know the last few days have been rough, and then this storm hit.”

Sierra placed the two round cake pans in the oven and grabbed her tea to join Kylie at the kitchen island. “I’m fine. Really.”

“How’d it go yesterday, serving dessert at church?” A knowing look lit up Kylie’s expression. Sierra’s friend did not have a poker face.

“Oh, you mean with Nonni?” She wouldn’t mention Max St. James.

“Yes, Nonni, of course. She’s a sweet lady. The family lived here for years, until they sold the farm and moved back to Tulsa. I’m glad they’ve returned.”

“They seem to be a part of the community already.”

Kylie got up to pour herself a cup of coffee. “Yes, I guess they are. And Melody getting married at the ranch seems so right. How are the plans going?”

“She wanted a Christmas wedding. Her fiancé pushed it back to Valentine’s Day.”

“Why do you seem upset about that?”

Sierra closed her eyes, wishing for once that Kylie had a different job. Why couldn’t she be friends with an accountant, a schoolteacher, maybe a nurse? Anything but a therapist?

“Could we have a normal conversation?” Sierra asked.

“Oh, sorry. I’m doing it again, aren’t I?”

“You are,” Sierra agreed. “So, church was nice yesterday. I enjoyed the music.”

“It was. Do you have plans for Christmas?”

Sierra laughed a little. “Same as every year. I’m joining all of you on Christmas Day and hiding the rest of the time.” She paused. “Except I seem to have been invited to make cookies with Nonni and I’m also supposed to help sew a honeymoon quilt.”

“How fun.” Kylie grinned at her over the rim of her coffee cup, trying to hide her amusement.