“We all figured as much.” Mayor Harley Sutter swiveled around on the barstool next to Sam’s, his big belly brushing the counter, and his handlebar mustache wiggling as he talked. “But as it turned out, Hope has always been in love with Colt Lomax.”
“Which surprised the heck out of me,” Sheriff Winslow said. “Colt spent more time in my jail than Elmer Tate.”
“And maybe that’s why Hope fell in love with him. It’s hard to resist a bad boy.” Rachel winked at Sam. “Ain’t it, girl?”
Sam smiled in agreement, even though she’d never had a thing for bad boys with bad attitudes. Just soft- spoken farm boys. And it seemed that time hadn’t diminished her feelings. The moment she looked into Ethan’s green eyes, she’d been lost all over again. And when he’d pulled her into his arms, for one brief second, she’d thought he’d felt it too. But it turned out his greeting had been no different than Rachel Dean’s.
“So how long do you get to stay, Sam?”
Sam glanced down the counter to the cowboy with the contagious grin. “Only until the day after Christmas, Kenny Gene. If I’m going to pay back all my student loans, I need to find a job and quick.”
“Well, I don’t know why you couldn’t just set up shop right here in Bramble,” the mayor said. “Folks in Bramble have to go all the way to Odessa to find a vet. ’Course, most folks don’t mess with that and just take their animals to Ethan. That boy has a real gift.”
“So I’ve heard,” Sam said dryly. Of course she knew Ethan had a gift and had known it long before anyone else. It was Ethan who opened up the world of animals to her. Ethan who showed her the comfort found in the soft cuddle of fur or the warm nuzzle of a cold nose. And maybe that was her problem. She’d gotten her love of animals confused with her feelings for the young man who had offered a haven from her dysfunctional family.
As if reading her thoughts, Mayor Sutter asked, “So how’s your mama doin’? She still livin’ in Austin?”
Sam didn’t have a clue. The last time Sam had spoken to her mama had been on her fourteenth birthday-the day her mother had left town. She wanted to blame her mother for the rift in their relationship, but Sam was the one who hadn’t returned her letters or phone calls. Still, the town didn’t need to know that.
“So tell me more about this live nativity scene,” she said in an attempt to change the subject.
Fortunately, Mayor Sutter latched on to the new topic like a bass to live bait. “It was Pastor Robbins’s idea. I guess the church he worked at before us used to have one every Christmas Eve-supposedly it gets everyone’s thoughts back on the reason for the season.”
“Animal poop?” Kenny Gene piped up. “Because I gotta tell you, puttin’ all those animals in that little stable the pastor had me build is just askin’ for trouble.”
“Which is why we put you on poop patrol,” Rachel Dean said.
Kenny Gene’s eyes narrowed. “But I thought I got to be the Angel of the Lord.”
“You do, son.” Mayor Sutter patted him on the back. “But when you ain’t spreadin’ tidin’s of great joy to all people, you’ll be spreadin’ manure in the church flowerbeds.”
Kenny’s eyes lit up. “Well, I guess that ain’t so bad.”
“I just wish our hunt for baby Jesuses was goin’ so well,” Rachel said as she poured the mayor more coffee.
“Jesuses?” Sam said. “You need more than one?”
Rachel’s smile got even bigger. “Since we couldn’t decide on who should get to be Mary and Joseph-Faith and Slate or Hope and Colt-we decided to have two shifts. ’Course, now we need two Jesuses. And we’ve had tryouts for the last week and a half, and not a Jesus have we found. Dusty Ray don’t fit in the manger. Rufus Miles throws fits like he’s possessed. And Titus Smith is allergic to hay.” She released her breath in a long sigh. “Which means we might have to settle for the porcelain doll Darla made. And I gotta tell you that Chucky-lookin’ thing scares me to death.”
Sam muffled her laugh behind a cough. She had missed the craziness of Bramble. Missed it more than she’d realized. In the last seven years, she’d tried to become a cosmopolitan girl. But all it had taken was five minutes in Josephine’s to realize she was small town through and through.
“Not to say that Darla ain’t gifted,” Rachel continued. “Why, her manger-decoratin’ skills are gonna surprise the pants right off of Pastor Robbins when he gets back from that preacher convention in Dallas.”
Mayor Sutter nodded. “The pastor might’ve had a nice enough live nativity at his last church, but it’s not gonna hold a candle to ours.”
There was a chorus of “shore ain’ts” before the conversation moved on to Hope and Faith’s pregnancies and what they should name their babies. After a good hour of listening to children’s names weirder than Hollywood movie stars’, Sam decided she had delayed seeing her family long enough and got up from the stool.
“If you stop by the church a little before six, Sam, I’ll fix you up with a costume,” Rachel Dean said as she handed Sam her change. “We don’t got any more heavenly hosts’ wings or shepherd sheets, but I’ll find you somethin’.”
Sam smiled. It was so like the people of Bramble to include everyone.
“I’ll try to be there,” she said as she made her way to the door.
The weather had turned while Sam had been in the diner. Gray clouds blocked out the blue west Texas sky, and a cold wind press against her as she hurried to her rental car. She probably could’ve called her sister, Marcy, to pick her up from the airport in Lubbock. But she wasn’t willing to be stuck at her father’s house without a means of escape.
The one-story stucco house she’d grown up in hadn’t changed all that much over the last seven years. The lawn and flower beds were better cared for, and the yellow trim looked freshly painted, but other than that, it looked the same. It wasn’t a big house-no more than six rooms total-but it had been a comfortable home.
At least physically.
Emotionally was another story.
Ever since Sam could remember, there had been underlying tension in the house. When her mother and father weren’t arguing, they weren’t speaking. And their discontentment had filtered down to their children. By the time her mother had left, Sam felt almost relieved. Until she realized she was stuck with a father who didn’t know the first thing about showing love to his two teenage daughters.
As Sam got out of the car, a black Lab and a Yorkshire terrier came running up. But since her father had never particularly cared for animals, she figured they belonged to a neighbor. She gave each dog a good scratch before heading up the steps of the porch.
Rather than just walk in, she tapped softly on the screen door. But when the sound of Christmas music drifted from the closed windows, she pressed hard on the doorbell.
The door was pulled open by a woman Sam recognized immediately from the wedding pictures she’d sent. A puff of orange hair surrounded a round face with laugh crinkles at the eyes. Those eyes widened for only a second before the screen door was pushed open. The dogs squeezed past Sam’s legs just as she was pulled against a bright red sweatshirt with reindeer appliques and a soft body that smelled of gingerbread.
“You came,” Laverne said against her hair. “I worried myself sick that you wouldn’t.” The back door slammed, and before Sam could utter a word, Laverne was herding her over to the large Christmas tree set up in the corner.
“I know I shouldn’t have kept it a secret,” Laverne whispered under her breath. “But I just didn’t want him to be disappointed if you didn’t show up.” She grabbed a big gold bow off a package beneath the tree and slapped it on Sam’s head. “There.” She grinned so brightly, her eyes disappeared. “You’re going to be the best Christmas present he’ll ever get.”
“Laverne!”
Sam’s father’s voice boomed from the kitchen, and Sam jumped. But Laverne didn’t seem to be too intimidated by the gruffness.
“Would you keep it down, Phillip!” she hollered back as she hurried toward the kitchen, the dogs on her heels. “I swear you’re goin’ as deaf as Moses Tate.”
“I’m not deaf, woman,” her father said, “I’m starvin’. When will that turkey be done?” There was a creak of the oven door, followed by a sharp slap.
“Oh, no you don’t, Phillip James Henderson,” Laverne scolded. “You’re not gettin’ a taste until it’s finished.”
“Blame ornery woman,” her father huffed, but with more humor than anger. “Well, if I’m not gonna get any
