Christmas Kisses (Romance on the Ranch Series #5) (12 page)

Mac stood on the porch watching the taillights
of Cecelia's car until she turned the corner. He wanted to bawl like a baby.
He'd just messed up the best thing in his life in years. The hurt in her eyes
when he'd reprimanded her, when she was just trying to help, did bring tears to
his eyes. The worst, or possibly the best part of what she'd said, depending on
how you looked at it, was true. He'd had an opportunity to get to know his son,
but he'd blown it. His boy was almost a man and he'd been treating him as if he
were an adolescent. He needed to make things right, but he had no idea where to
begin.

The front door opened and Sean's voice cracked,
"I guess I blew it. I'm sorry I made her leave."

Tears leaked from Mac's eyes. He said, "No,
son. You didn't blow it. I did." He turned around, "We need to talk.
I've got to try and make things right."

*

Sean saw the tears in Mac's eyes and felt like a
rat. He wanted to rush past his dad and run for hours; anything to relieve the
guilt he was feeling. He wished he'd never discovered his birthfather was
living and now he wished he'd stayed away from that locked room. He didn't want
to know that his father was a famous painter. He wanted life to return to what
it had been. He wanted to be a teenage boy whose greatest worry was how to get
the most popular girl in school to notice him. He wanted to escape by playing
his guitar, but he'd stupidly left it at home, thinking he'd only be gone for a
couple of weeks.
Yeah, right.
Tomorrow was Christmas Eve. Some Christmas
he'd have with his dad in tears and Cecelia hating both of them.

Mac stepped past him and into the living room. Sean
gathered his thoughts and emotions. He just wanted to get this crap over with.
Maybe he could hitch a ride back to San Diego.

When he entered the room, his father stood beside
the couch. He said, "Let's go to the kitchen. I need a cup of coffee. How
about you?"

Sean followed and replied, "I'll get a coke
out of the fridge."

After retrieving his drink, Sean sat across from
Mac who was stirring cream into his coffee. Sean watched the cream swirl. He
almost jumped when Mac spoke.

"I remember the day you were born. You were
so tiny I was afraid to even touch you. Your mother wasn't, though. She had you
cradled in her arms and then laying against her shoulder and then laying in her
lap. She was a natural mother."

Sean sipped his soda but couldn't seem to
swallow.

Mac continued, "After we brought you home,
I got better at handling you. I even changed diapers and burped you." He
inhaled a long breath. "Your mother and I met in a foster home. We'd both
been orphaned as teens." Mac got a faraway look. "I loved her from the
first moment I saw her. She was sweet and gentle and had a gift for music. She
could play the piano and guitar by ear. After we married and started to make a
good living from my paintings, I bought her a grand piano and the best guitars.
I encouraged her to pursue her music professionally, but she said she was happy
caring for her baby and didn't want distractions until you were older."

Sean felt so choked up he figured he'd probably
start crying.

Mac looked sadly at him. "You see, Sean,
neither your mother nor I had happy homes, even before we were orphaned. My
mother was an alcoholic and a prostitute and Rose's mother was a drug addict.
So, when you were born, all we wanted was to create the perfect home for our
baby. Your mother loved you so much. Often, she would just sit and stare at you
and then tell me all the places we would visit when you were old enough. She
was already making plans to visit Disneyland, Lego Land, zoos, and one of those
cruises geared toward children." Mac swiped his eyes. "And I was
making plans right along with her."

Sean stared at his drink and wished the ground
would swallow him up.

Softly, Mac said, "And then the accident
happened and my bubble of happiness not only popped, it exploded. My beautiful
wife was dead and I was laid up in the hospital unable to move. At first, the
doctors said I may never walk again, which I could deal with. But when they
told me I may never paint again, I wanted to die. But I couldn't die because
the only bright spot in that sad picture was you. You escaped with only minor
scrapes."

Sean swallowed hard to keep tears from leaking.

After a sip of coffee, Mac said, "I had no
family to care for you. Sure, I had enough money to hire help, but paid help is
not the same as family. I was told my hospital stay would be months and then
long-term care and rehabilitation could last for years. I knew that if I couldn't
provide proper care for you, the State would step in and you would end up in
foster homes just like me. My situation put me into a deep depression and my
doctor asked if I wanted to consider adoption. He told me about an organization
that searched out homes for children thrust into situations such as the one we
were in."

Mac stared at Sean. "Maybe I made the wrong
decision, but at the time I truly felt it was in your best interest. My actions
have always been geared toward what's best for you. I never wrote to you or
came to visit because I wanted your life to be normal. If the press found out
you were my son, they would hound you, as they do me whenever they find
me." His voice cracked, "But there is another reason I never
contacted you." A tear dripped onto the table and Mac said, "I
couldn't bear always being reminded of what I had lost. It was pure selfishness
on my part."

Neither Mac nor Sean spoke.

Slowly, Sean reached across the table and placed
his hand on his father's arm. Mac continued to stare at his coffee cup while an
occasional tear dripped. With a choked voice, Sean said, "I'm so sorry for
being such a pain in the ass. You're not the selfish one, I am." No longer
could he hold back a sob. "I love you, Dad."

Mac placed a hand over his son's and squeezed.
"Can we start over?"

"I'd like that."

Reaching for a napkin with his free hand, Mac handed
it to Sean and then lifted another one to his own eyes. He said, "I have
an idea about how to win Cecelia back, but I need your help. I love that
woman."

Cecelia closed and locked the door to her coffee
shop. In a few minutes it would be dark and she needed to get ready to spend
Christmas Eve with Miles and Tooty and her niece and nephews. After the fiasco
the previous night with Mac and Sean, and her subsequent departure, the thought
of spending the entire day alone had turned her stomach. Rather than be alone, she'd
opened her coffee shop for business on Christmas Eve. Several locals had
visited and wished her a merry Christmas and she was thankful for the
distraction afforded by working. Justin had stopped by and chastised her for
being open and then proceeded to help with customers. When she'd ordered him to
leave, he'd refused. Only when she'd started locking up had he left the shop.
Now, with her coffee house closed and Christmas lights twinkling throughout the
business district, Cecelia inhaled deeply of the piney air. She glanced upward
when snowflakes landed on her coat; the perfect weather for Christmas Eve. In
the morning, children would be sledding and building snowmen while wearing new
mittens, muffs, and jackets. She stifled a sob. Mothers and fathers would be
laughing and playing with their children while she sat alone for yet another
Christmas.
Maybe I'll open the coffee shop on Christmas.

A noise distracted her and she lowered her head
from watching snowflakes. She recognized Sean walking toward her. Clearing her
throat she started to apologize for her behavior the night before, but Sean
spoke first.

"Don't tell me you opened the shop on
Christmas Eve."

"I did."

There was an awkward silence. Cecelia finally said,
"I'm sorry about last night."

Sean didn't respond directly to her apology.
Instead, he said, "I...ah…got things straightened out with my dad."

Surprised by his revelation, her heart jumped.

Sean continued, "You're not the one who
should be apologizing, I am. I walked to your house to do just that, but you
weren't home. I decided to see if you were at the coffee shop."

Cecelia said sincerely, "Apology accepted
and I'm so happy for you and your father."

Sean asked, "Can I walk you home?"

"Of course. My brother invited me to his
house and I need to get ready to go."

"Well, tell Harris I said hello."

"I will."

They walked in silence amongst dancing snowflakes.
When they reached the corner leading to Cecelia's house, Sean said, "I
want to show you something." He placed a hand on her arm and gently pulled
her in the other direction, toward Mac's house.

"Sean, I don't want to see Mac."

"I promise you don't have to see Mac. But
there's something you really don't want to miss."

Cecelia frowned. "I only have a few minutes
to spare."

"That's all it will take."

Curious, Cecelia allowed Sean to lead her toward
Mac's block. Just before they reached the corner, however, she stopped walking.
"Sean, I don't know what's going on, but I–" She sobbed and then
reined in her emotions. "I
really
don't want to see Mac."

Sean stepped to the corner and turned.
"Just walk to where I'm standing; that's all I ask."

Cecelia puffed air and watched her breath crystallize
in the cold night. She stepped forward until she stood beside Sean under a dim street
lamp.

She gasped.

Every house on Mac's block was lit with
Christmas lights. Some blinked on and off, some remained steady. But the house
with the most lights was Mac's. Movement on his porch captured her attention.
Sean pulled her down the sidewalk and closer to the house. She began to
recognize people on the porch—Fannie Levinworth and several other neighbors;
also, Tooty and Miles and their children. Inside the house more people peeked
out the windows, the Branigans, the Martinez, the Tuckers. Fannie's porch was
also crowded with the Hackstetters, the Tanners, Justin, Tillie, and so many
more. And everywhere there were children. She glanced at Sean with incredulity.
"What's going on?"

"I think I'll let Dad explain. Come
on." He clasped her hand and pulled her forward. When they reached the porch
steps, Fannie said loudly, "Imagine our surprise when we found out we have
another
celebrity living in our little town. As if a model, three
writers, and a rodeo star aren't enough, now we have an artist."

Cecelia's eyes rounded and she searched out Mac
standing off to the side. His eyes met hers and she held her breath. Slowly, he
smiled and the air rushed from her lungs. When he stepped forward everyone
parted. He held his hand out to her. It was a simple gesture that Cecelia knew
would set the course for the rest of her life. Lifting her eyes from Mac's hand
to his face, she moved to the first step and reached to hold his hand. With
their fingers entwined and their eyes locked, he said, "It was the only
way I knew to make you realize how much I love you."

As Mac pulled her toward the front door, she
knew in her heart that she finally had a family of her own.

Exactly one year later.

Cecelia reached and hid her present for Mac behind
the lowest branch of the Christmas tree. She sat back on her heels, sighed, and
marveled at all the changes in her life over the past year. In January, she had
become Mrs. Connor MacKenzie during a simple ceremony at Miles and Tooty's
home. Attended only by close friends and Sean, it had been the highlight of her
life—almost. The only event topping it was the adoption of Goldie in August.
With the assistance of Loving Homes Adoption Agency, the paperwork had been
fast tracked.

Tears pricked her eyes when she remembered Mac
reading the Christmas story earlier that evening and Goldie cuddling between
them on the couch. At the end of the story, their sweet daughter had lifted
luminous eyes and said, "I love baby Jesus and I love my mommy and
daddy." Cecelia had looked over Goldie's head to meet Mac's gaze and she
could see in his eyes that he had found beautiful peace with his new family.

Glancing around the home they'd purchased on the
outskirts of town, she envisioned it in the years to come. Perhaps they could
adopt more children and one day be blessed with grandchildren running through
the house and playing in the yard. Both she and Mac had fallen in love with the
old farmhouse at first sight. Unfortunately, they'd had to erect a privacy
fence and security equipment because Mac's whereabouts had been discovered. The
townspeople, however, had rallied around their newest residents and protected
them as best they could from journalists, just as they did the other
high-profile residents living in the area.

Cecelia thought about her coffee shop and
grinned. In July she'd promoted Justin to manager with a big raise and reduced
her hours in preparation of Goldie's arrival. In fact, she'd surprised all of her
employees with raises.

This Christmas, they'd expanded on Santa's Workshop
and even invited the local high school thespians to act as real-life elves two
nights a week with a play written by them. The event had become so successful that
they'd increased it to four nights a week.

As for Sean and Mac, they spoke on the phone
every week and Sean had stayed a month with them during the summer and another
two weeks at the Lazy M Dude Ranch learning the cowboy way. Harris and Sean
were still fast friends and Harris confided that Sean got along great with
everyone except Preston.

Mac had encouraged Sean to bring his guitar and the
first time his son had played for them, he and Cecelia had stared at each other
with big grins. The boy was certainly gifted. Within the week, Mac had hired
the transport of the grand piano from his home in Denver, and everyone got
teary-eyed the first time Sean played it, knowing it had belonged to his
mother. Another leap forward for Mac was finally putting his Denver home up for
sale.

A sound interrupted Cecelia's reverie and she
turned to see Mac enter the room. He paused in the doorway and said in that
sexy voice of his, "The tree is beautiful, honey. I can't wait to see
Goldie's face in the morning." He laughed and motioned toward the tree.
"I do believe we went overboard with her gifts."

Cecelia stood and walked to encircle her
husband's waist. "We did. But I consider it making up for past
Christmases."

Mac leaned and grazed his lips lightly across
his wife's. "Speaking of gifts, I want to give you yours. Follow me."
He entwined his fingers in hers and led her toward the art room. His surgery
had been proclaimed a success by his doctor and he now painted daily.

For the past two weeks, he had forbid her to
enter the room and so, of course, she knew he was painting something special
for her. Her heart pounded.

Mac held the door open and waited for her to
enter. Immediately her eyes were drawn to a large draped canvas. He nodded.
"Go ahead and remove the drape, sweetheart."

By now, Cecelia's heart was slamming her ribs. Holding
her breath, she slowly approached the canvas and with unsteady hands dropped
the drape to the ground.

A little sob escaped and she lifted her hands to
her mouth in surprise. Mac's usual mystical rendition couldn't have been less
like this masterpiece. It was their very own living room with their Christmas
tree twinkling and presents overflowing. His trademark of a man and woman
hidden
in the painting was not to be seen. Instead, the back of a man and woman
holding the hands of a little girl between them, and standing before the tree,
was painted in vivid detail. The little girl was wearing leg braces and her
sweet face was turned so that she was glancing backward at the viewer of the
painting.

The most profound aspect of the scene, however,
was the expression on the little girl's face. It said louder than words, I AM
LOVED. The child, of course, was Goldie.

Softly, Mac said, "The title of this
painting is,
Mystery Solved.
We now know who the figures in my paintings
are."