Big Sky Christmas

“Hey there, little guy.” Jackson’s voice was so tender, Winnie felt a lump forming in her throat. “You’re pretty darn cute, aren’t you?” he added.

“He looks just like his father,” Olive said proudly.

Jackson nodded. “But he has his mother’s eyes.” As he said this, he looked at Winnie, and she felt a moment of connection. This is as hard for him as it is for me.

“I’m sure his eyes will lighten up as he gets older,” was Olive’s comment. Winnie glanced at Laurel, saw her fighting back a smile and she had to do the same. Subtle, Olive was not.

This was Brock’s baby, and that was that. Not even his eyes were allowed to be like his mother’s.

“Well, now that everyone’s here,” Corb said, “how about we dive into the chicken stew? Mom, sit down and relax and let us men do the serving.”

Olive, not a fan of kitchen duties, didn’t have to be asked twice. Once the stew, biscuits and salad had been placed on the table, Jackson and Corb took their seats between Winnie and Laurel. For most of the meal, the talk was of cattle prices and auctions. Olive doted on her two grandchildren, feeding them mashed chicken stew and biscuits, leaving her own dinner practically untouched.

Winnie tried insisting that Olive eat. “Let me worry about Bobby now. Your food is getting cold.” She should have known better.

“I can always eat later. My grandson and I have a lot of catching up to do.”

After the meal and the pumpkin pie that followed, Olive excused herself from the table. A few minutes later she was back with two huge bags full of baby gifts. Only one small package was for Stephanie. The rest were Bobby’s.

“Wow. That’s a lot of presents.” Winnie was beyond overwhelmed.

“Like I said, I have a lot of catching up to do.”

Winnie didn’t miss the sharp look of annoyance in Olive’s eyes when she said this. But she chose to ignore it.

She and Laurel set Bobby and Stephanie on the floor and the family gathered round for the big unwrapping. The babies were too young, though, and Winnie and Laurel ended up tearing off most of the wrapping paper.

Winnie’s own mom and dad had been generous when Bobby was born. They’d bought her his car seat, as well as a crib. But Olive must have spent at least as much money. There were dozens of outfits, as well as a snowsuit, boots, hat and mittens perfect for the Montana winter.

And toys. So many. Most of them related to farming and ranching. Stephanie, too young to feel jealous, or even understand what was going on, reached for one of the plastic horses. Bobby watched placidly, then turned back to the mountain of gifts. His eyes lit up as he spied something special. He crawled over to the miniature Stetson, planted his butt on the floor then stuck the hat on his head.

“Look at that,” Corb chuckled. “He even put it on the right way.”

When everyone laughed, Bobby beamed then toddled to his mother for a hug and a kiss.

Olive’s expression grew pensive. “Look at him. Walking already. I’ve missed out on the baby stage entirely.”

Winnie bit back the sharp comment that almost slipped off her tongue. “My coffee could use a refill.” She escaped to the kitchen before she said something she might regret later.

* * *

JACKSON WATCHED WINNIE retreat to the kitchen with her spine taut, eyes shining much too brightly. He didn’t often find himself siding with Olive, but this one time, he did. Winnie’s secrecy about her baby had him puzzled. Why had she waited so long to share her good news with Brock’s family?

Thinking he might just refill his own coffee and see how she was doing, he started for the kitchen, but paused when Laurel started defending her friend.

“Olive, I know you feel like you’ve missed out. But try imagining what the past year and a half have been like for Winnie. The day of Brock’s funeral, she had bad abdominal pain and bleeding. She was in and out of doctor’s appointments for the next week, and for a while it looked like she was going to lose the baby.”

The words hit Jackson with a mighty punch.

Those first few weeks after Brock’s death had been hell for all of them. And to think Winnie had been dealing with so much more. And he hadn’t had a clue.

“She tried calling you, Olive,” Laurel continued. “She might even have driven down and forced you to talk to her. But she couldn’t. Her doctor had her on bed rest for most of her pregnancy.”

Olive’s eyes flickered. She glanced down at her hands, then toward the window. “I’m sorry. I wish I had known. But after the baby was born...”

“Why didn’t she tell you then?” Laurel’s voice was more gentle now. “It wasn’t an easy birth. And then Bobby had colic. It’s taken a long time for Winnie to recover...mentally and physically. Let’s not forget that she was also grieving the loss of the man she loved throughout all of this.”

Jackson couldn’t listen anymore. He left the room, went for the coffeepot then froze. Winnie was still standing there, her mug empty in her hands.

“What’s Laurel saying out there?” she asked.

She hadn’t turned to look at him, and he studied her profile, the straight line of her nose, the full lips, her small but firm chin. She was such a beautiful woman, and she was strong, too. Much stronger than he had realized.

“She’s telling us what you’ve been through since Brock died.” He cleared his throat. “I had no idea you had such a struggle to keep the baby—”

He stopped talking as Winnie turned to him. Her eyes, normally sparkling with good humor, were dark and sad. She glanced from his face to the empty cup in his hand. Automatically she reached for the coffeepot.

He’d been intending to have a refill. Inexplicably he changed his mind and placed the mug in the dishwasher. Laurel joined them, then. It seemed like a good time to make his escape. He wasn’t sure what to say, anyway. That he felt badly for her? That he wished he could have helped in some way?

As if anything he could have done would have made a difference.

* * *

LAUREL SIGHED AS she reached for the coffeepot. “I had to say something. I couldn’t take listening to her badger you anymore.” She refilled her mug, then Winnie’s.

“Nice of you to try,” Winnie said. “But it won’t make any difference. Olive is always going to blame me for this. In a way, she’s right. But I just didn’t have the strength to handle one more thing.”

As she spoke, Winnie watched Jackson head back to the family room, where he took a chair near Corb. She wondered what he’d been about to say to her. Jackson so rarely voiced an opinion that when he did, it was worth taking note.

But he’d left the kitchen now, so she’d probably never know what he’d been thinking.

“Olive is Olive,” Laurel concluded the point she’d been making. “At least she’s a good grandmother. I’ll give her that.”

“She sure spoils them with gifts. I’m not sure I’m going to be able to fit all that new stuff in my apartment.”

“Maybe you should rethink moving to the cottage. Corb and I would love to have you living next door.”

“That part would be fun,” Winnie admitted.

“Bobby and Stephanie could grow up playing together.”

Winnie groaned. “Stop tempting me.”

“Then move in. You know how much I worried about missing New York. But I love it here.”

“Sure you do. You’re married to Corb. And this is his place.”

“Bobby’s a Lambert, too.”