Big Sky Christmas

The main house had been built higher, perched into a grove of pines with a view of the flat-topped mountain locals called Square Butte. The home was a beautiful log structure, built Montana style with four bedrooms and a large kitchen and family room on the main level. It would have been a comfortable place to raise a big family. But it must feel rather empty to Olive now that she was alone.

To the left, barely visible through a large stand of aspen, was Cold Coffee Lake, where Bob Lambert had built the cabins for his sons.

We’re going to raise our children here, darlin’, Brock had told her. Live our lives and grow old together.

In a movie, music would have foreshadowed the impending tragedy before them. But there had been a romantic country song on the radio at the time and it hadn’t crossed Winnie’s mind that Brock’s prophecy wouldn’t come true.

She wiped a tear from her eye. “Well, Bobby. Ready to meet your grandmother?”

He glanced up again at the sound of her voice, then started gnawing his favorite push car. An incoming molar was Bobby’s preoccupation today. Fortunately he was too young to share her apprehension for the evening that lay ahead.

It would be a smallish gathering today, since the newlyweds were on their honeymoons. Fortunately Laurel, Corb and baby Stephanie would be there, so they wouldn’t have to face Olive alone.

And maybe Jackson? As an honorary member of the Lambert family, he was usually on hand for family occasions.

* * *

THE MINUTE WINNIE stepped in the front door, Olive’s arms were out for the baby. Thank heavens Bobby didn’t make shy. Fascinated with the chunky necklace his grandmother was wearing, he went easily into Olive’s clutches.

Um, embrace.

Be nice, Winnie. How often would she have to remind herself to behave tonight?

But it was difficult not to recall her first visit to the ranch, when Olive had flashed her eyes disdainfully over her bargain-basement sundress, mentioned an old girlfriend of Brock’s twice and barely glanced at the diamond on Winnie’s fourth finger when her son gave her their big news.

Winnie rubbed the ring now, hoping this evening would pass much easier than that long ago one had. Laurel kept telling her that Olive wasn’t so bad. Maybe she’d grown softer and more understanding in the wake of Brock’s death. Not that Winnie had seen any evidence of that so far.

No, more likely easygoing Laurel brought out the best in Olive, while she did the exact opposite.

“Good to see you back here at the ranch.” Corb was the first to give her a hug, and Laurel was right behind him. They led her to the family room where Stephanie, two months younger than Bobby and not yet mobile, was playing on a quilt spread over the hardwood floor.

“Gosh, she’s so cute.” Winnie crouched to give the little girl a kiss. Stephanie glanced up at her, smiled then went back to stacking her colored plastic blocks. “I remember the days when I could put Bobby in one place and he’d stay put.”

Laurel nodded. “It’s nice. I’m not at all anxious for her to learn how to crawl. Corb’s gone crazy baby proofing the cabin. I swear he’d put in rubber walls if I let him.”

“Might start a new decorating craze,” Corb said.

Winnie and Laurel looked at each other, then laughed.

“It could happen,” Corb insisted. “I have other great ideas, too, but before I get to them would anyone like a glass of wine?”

Both Winnie and Laurel said yes, but Olive shook her head. She still had Bobby in her arms. She’d given him a tour of the family room and was now showing him a picture on the fireplace mantel.

“This is your Daddy. Can you say Dad-dy?” Olive broke the word into two syllables and repeated them several times. Bobby stopped gnawing on his toy and stared at her, but he didn’t make a sound.

“He doesn’t talk much yet,” Winnie said. “Just a few words. Mama and go are his favorites.”

Olive didn’t acknowledge this, just went back to chanting, “Dad-dy. Dad-dy. Dad-dy. Can you say Dad-dy, honey?”

Corb, Laurel and Winnie exchanged uncomfortable glances.

“Sure smells good in here.” Winnie supposed Jackson wasn’t coming after all. The dining room table had two high chairs and four place settings.

“Bonny made a chicken stew and biscuits,” Laurel said. “It’s ready in the oven. We’re just waiting for Jackson.”

Olive’s head snapped up. “I didn’t invite him tonight.”

“No. But I did.” Corb casually added an extra plate and flatware to the table, then pulled up another chair.

The veins in Olive’s neck tightened. “I wish you hadn’t, son.”

“Mom, I know you’re upset that he went to work with Maddie. But he’s still part of our family.”

“He sure isn’t acting like it. After all the years we housed and fed that boy, don’t you think he owed me more loyalty than going to work for the one person he knows I can’t tolerate?”

“You and Dad did a lot for Jackson, it’s true. But he worked hard for us when he lived here. I’d say he’s settled that score.”

“Really? I wonder if Winnie can be so magnanimous, given that Jackson was the one driving when—”

“Mom. Don’t. Don’t even say it.” Corb’s voice was so sharp that Stephanie started to cry. Bobby’s lower lip trembled, too, and he reached for his mother. When Laurel moved to comfort her child, Winnie was glad of the excuse to reclaim her son from his grandmother’s arms.

No one said anything for the next few seconds. And then a knock sounded at the front door.

Talk about perfect timing. Or was it? Winnie eyed Olive apprehensively. Was she going to make a scene? Maybe even tell Jackson he wasn’t welcome?

Corb must have been wondering the same thing. The normally good-natured cowboy shook his head at his mother as he moved toward the foyer.

“Be nice, Mom. As far as I’m concerned, Jackson is my brother. That’s how Brock felt, too. And he wouldn’t want us to shut him out.” He glanced at Winnie, who nodded.

“Corb is right,” she said. “Brock wouldn’t have blamed Jackson.” She hesitated. “And I don’t, either.”

Olive had no opportunity for a rebuttal, because Corb opened the door then and Jackson stepped in, carrying a large poinsettia. He nodded to the group, his gaze resting on Olive. “They were selling these in Lewistown. Fund-raiser for the Eagles. I thought you might like one.”

Winnie held her breath, worried how Olive would react to the thoughtful gesture.

The older woman hesitated for a second, then said, “Thank you, Jackson. You can place it on the table by the window.”

By the time Jackson had done this, Corb had a beer opened.

“Here, buddy.” He clasped Jackson’s arm as he passed him the drink.

“Thanks.” Jackson said hello to Laurel and Stephanie next. Then he finally turned to Winnie...and the toddler in her arms.

His chest expanded as he drew in a deep breath. “So this is Bobby.”

Only then did Winnie realize that while she and Jackson had seen each other several times since her return to Coffee Creek, this was the first time he’d met her son.

Brock’s son.