* * *
Sage attacked the butter and sugar instead of creaming them together for a batch of chocolate chip cookies. Creed was a pompous, egotistical male who should never have a daughter. He’d keep her wings clipped so close that she’d never be able to fly.
You are just mad because you pictured him with a daughter that wasn’t yours, the voice inside her head said. It sounded so much like Grand that she whined out loud.
“I’m not fighting with you. Matter-of-fact, I’ll prove my point.”
She left the well-creamed butter and sugar and dialed Grand’s cell phone number. When her grandmother answered she asked, “Did you get the picture?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Where are you? It sounds like you are driving.”
“I am but I’ve got it on speakerphone so don’t say a word you don’t want Essie to hear. And don’t get her started about April’s dress.”
Essie’s voice came through loud and clear. “That ain’t no dress; that’s two Band-Aids holding up a hanky. Her daddy should whip her fanny for even thinking about going out in public in such a thing.”
“She’s a little old to be getting a whipping,” Sage said.
“Okay,” Grand said. “If I’d been there I would have told her to hang that dress back for some other affair and wear one of her other party dresses. Change up the jewelry and the shoes and no one would even realize she’d worn it before. There will be a scene if she comes down the stairs in that thing. Lawton will have a fit.”
“Creed and I just had a big argument about that. He said that his daughter wouldn’t wear a dress like that.”
“You are pregnant?” Grand asked bluntly.
“No, I am not,” Sage sputtered.
Essie’s voice was so loud that it hurt Sage’s ears. “Well, I’d hope not. You’ve only known that cowboy for two weeks. For God’s sake, Ada! Why’d you ask a dumb fool question like that anyway? Sage has enough sense not to go to bed with a man she’s only known two weeks.”
“Well, shit!” Grand said. “Then why’d you fight? You haven’t even got the possibility of a daughter, and April is Lawton’s problem. Y’all ain’t got no say-so in what she wears. And the fight will be between them and none of your business.”
Sage couldn’t think of an answer so she changed the subject. “Where are you going?”
“To Walmart, dinner at the Cracker Barrel, and then to Hobby Lobby,” Essie said.
“You got all that in Shade Gap? I always thought it was just a little place.”
“It is,” Grand’s voice came through again. “We’re going over to Chambersburg to shop.”
“What for?”
“Just stuff at Walmart, but a flier came with the newspaper today and Hobby Lobby has Christmas trees already on sale so I’m going to buy one. That ugly white thing that Essie had the last ten years is in the attic and I bet the rats have built nests in it so long that you’d never get the smell out.”
“I don’t have rats in my attic, I’ll have you know,” Essie fussed.
“Well, I’m not putting up a damned old white tree. I’m buying one that will last until we’re both dead and gone and it’s going to be green. Our reception is about to go, Sage. These mountains are hell on phone reception. Tell everyone at the party tomorrow night hello for me and I’ll send you a picture of our tree when we get it all decorated. When are you and Creed putting up one?”
“We already did,” Sage said around the lump in her throat.
“It’s getting crackly. I’m hanging up now,” Grand said.
The last two words faded out and the phone went dead. She held it until the tinny recorded sound of an operator said if she wanted to make a call to hang up and try again.
She crammed her feet down into her work boots, didn’t bother with a coat, and ran to the barn, the cold wind almost freezing the dripping tears into icicles as they fell off her jaw.
Creed was busy splitting a log when she burst into the barn. He laid down the ax just in time to catch her when she threw herself into his arms, sobbing uncontrollably against his chest.
“It’s okay. Your daughter can wear whatever she wants,” he whispered.
“She’s not going to wear a dress like that, not if she’s forty, and that’s not why I’m crying. I just talked to Grand.”
“Is she dying? Is that why she’s selling the ranch?”
“Nooo,” she wailed. “She’s putting up a Christmas tree.”
* * *
Creed patted her on the back and let her weep.
Why would a Christmas tree bring on tears? She hadn’t cried when they’d put up their tree. She’d actually been quite giddy about it.
She swallowed a couple of times and said, “And she said that she was buying a green one that would last them until they were both dead.”
“Is that the problem? Are you worrying about your Grand dying? Honey, she’s as full of spit and vinegar as a twenty-year-old. She’ll still be putting up that tree when she’s a hundred.”
That brought on another batch of tears and weeping so hard that it came nigh unto breaking Creed’s heart.
“That’s just it. If she’s buying a Christmas tree out there, then she’s serious and I won’t ever be able to talk her into staying on the Rockin’ C when you buy it. Creed, it’s going to happen. She’s not coming home to stay.”
He picked her up and carried her back to the house. He took her all the way to her bedroom where he laid her on her bed. He stripped out of his coat, reached up to remove his hat, and realized he’d left it beside the ax, kicked off his boots, and stretched out beside her.
She instantly rolled toward him, cuddled against his side, and used his arm for a pillow. Creed held her
