Just Joe (18 page)

Joe studied her enraptured
expression with loving eyes, experiencing some powerful emotions of his own.
Now, he thought in satisfaction, no matter what happened in the future, he
would always be able to picture Mattie here, in his home, on his land, with that
expression of joy and wonder on her face. Drawing a deep, cleansing breath, he
looked around. He had been back to the ranch innumerable times since his
parents' deaths, but for the first time he seemed to be looking at the land
with eyes that sought out the living instead of the dead. It wasn't the
memories of the past that haunted him now, but the dreams for the future.

"Let's go inside,
Mattie. We have a lot to do before the evening."

His voice prodded her out
of her reverie. "Like what?"

Joe began to lead her up
the front steps. "Well, the ranch house pretty much sits empty in between
visits. Cole looks after the land for me, but I could hardly ask him to stop by
and clear out the cobwebs."

Mattie laughed at the
image of Cole Baron, broom in hand, attacking phantom cobwebs. "Now I
understand," she teased. "You didn't want company for Christmas. You
wanted free maid service."

"No." Joe
couldn't play along with the joke. The next few days were too important to him.
"No. I wanted you, Mattie. I wanted you here in my home. You're the best
person I know to face ghosts with."

Mattie's gaze held his
solemnly, a little shaken that he had chosen the same metaphor of ghosts that
she had been carrying in her mind. Joe was facing the memories of his parents'
deaths with her. Maybe it was time for her to face, once and for all, her own
demons.

She reached for his hand
and squeezed gently. "Maybe we—maybe we can help each other?"

Joe tightened his hold and
brought her hand to his lips. "Don't you know that we already have,
Mattie?"

In the entryway, with its
tall ceilings and softly glowing hardwood floors, Joe took Mattie's coat and
removed his own. Holding her arm gently, he guided her into the living room off
to the left of the hallway.

"Besides, I need your
help with more than just the cobwebs," he told her lightly. "We've
got a tree to decorate." One hand on either shoulder, he turned her to
face the beautiful but small pine in front of the glass doors that led to the
side porch.

Mattie swallowed, a hard
little ache in her throat. "We're going to decorate a Christmas
tree?"

"Sure. It's part of
Christmas, you know."

"I've—" Mattie
tried again. "I've never had a Christmas tree to decorate before."

Joe's hands tightened
consolingly on her fragile shoulders. "Well, you do now. I can't do this
alone."

"But how...?
When...?"

"I called ahead and
asked a couple of the hands to get it. See, it hasn't even been cut," he
pointed out softly. "It was dug up and potted."

Mattie nodded a little
helplessly. "It's so beautiful, Joe." One hand lifted tentatively to
clasp his where it rested on her shoulder. "I think this Christmas is
going to be beautiful, too."

Joe's mouth softened.
"You bet it will, sweetheart. Because we're together, and that's always...
beautiful."

Mattie turned to face him,
curious at the emotion in his husky voice.

"Come on," Joe
said bracingly, before she could give voice to the questions in her eyes.
"Cobwebs first, tree later."

Mattie let the moment
pass. "Okay, Joe. Let's start upstairs."

Joe released her shoulders
and led her to the second floor. He showed her the bedroom she would have
during their stay, and pointed out his own room next to it.

Of course, Mattie knew it
was his room before he told her. It radiated a kind of calm and solidity that
she would always associate with Joe.

"Let's get
started," she ordered enthusiastically, clapping her hands once.
"Together or separate?"

Joe regarded her oddly.
"Together, Mattie."

They worked for a couple
of hours, dusting corners and making beds. Mattie actually made more out of it
than there was, simply enjoying the calm routine. They broke off around two
o'clock for a belated lunch, which Joe made with characteristic finesse, then
searched through the attic for Christmas decorations that had long since been
packed away.

Joe studied one of the
dusty boxes, a faraway look in his eyes. Mattie saw and understood that he was
years, not inches, away.

"Memories?" she
questioned gently.

Joe brought his mind back
to the present. "At least I have them," he murmured quietly, reaching
to brush a streak of dust from Mattie's creamy cheek. "Let's make a few
for you."

Mattie melted. Her eyes
filled, her lips trembled as she unconsciously rubbed her face against the
rough warmth of Joe's hand.

Joe pulled her carefully
into his arms, pressing her face against his broad shoulder. "And for me,
too," he whispered almost soundlessly, so Mattie couldn't hear.
"Let's make some new memories for me, too."

* * *

Joe refused to let Mattie
begin on the Christmas tree until she had eaten the supper he prepared for
them. "You're still too thin," he told her autocratically.

Mattie rolled her eyes and
complied, passing spurious praise on his culinary ability.

Joe, of course, got even
by making her wash the dishes.

"A good host does not
force his guest to wash dishes," Mattie observed blandly, up to her elbows
in soapsuds.

"A good guest does
not malign her host's cooking," Joe observed in return, placing a clutch
of suds on the tip of her classical nose.

Mattie sneezed and
dislodged the suds.

Finally the dishes were
clean and put away, and Joe and Mattie began decorating the tree. Mattie would
have dragged out all the ornaments and decorations and slapped them haphazardly
on the tree, wherever it took her fancy. Joe insisted on systematic dispersal.

"First, we pop the
popcorn—"

"I'm not
hungry," Mattie insisted.

"Then we thread
it," Joe continued, blithely ignoring her interruption. "Then we
separate the ornaments according to size and color. Then we untangle the
lights—"

"You should have
packed them away straight the last time," Mattie told him severely,
studying the tangled wires hopelessly.

Joe sighed. "1 did
pack them away neatly, I swear. Someone crawled up into the attic during the
year and tied them into knots."

"Right," Mattie
agreed disbelievingly. "There's some little man who has a full-time job
going from house to house tying knots in Christmas tree lights."

"Come on, let's get
busy," Joe ordered eagerly.

Mattie popped the corn
while Joe separated the ornaments. Then Joe went to rescue the popcorn while
Mattie unseparated the ornaments. Mattie was determined to attack the project
with the same unbridled zeal she put into her photography, and Joe could do
little to stop her. He did not want to stop her, he acknowledged to himself,
studying her glowing, excited face as she wrapped the strings of popcorn around
the tree.

Joe tackled the top half
of the tree while Mattie worked on the bottom. She broke off her industrious
labor every two seconds or so to offer suggestions to him.

"No, not there,"
she told him at one point, tugging on the cuff of his jeans.

Joe eyed her threateningly
and dropped the ornament in question on her head.

Mattie giggled and went
back to her half of the tree. Joe shook his head in fond exasperation.

Finally, well after the
sun had set, the decorations were finished. All the ornaments were hung, the
star was crowning the tree at the proper angle, the lights were untangled and
in place, and Mattie sighed with pleasure.

"It's beautiful,
Joe."

Joe carefully pulled her
against him, her back against his chest, and wrapped his arms around her waist.

They both studied the
glimmering lights and softly reflective ornaments with satisfaction.

"I'm glad they didn't
cut it down," Mattie continued pensively. "I'd like to think that
something from this Christmas will live on forever."

Joe's arms tightened.
"Something from this Christmas will live on forever, Mattie. And I'm not
just talking about the tree."

Mattie smiled softly,
thinking about his words. "Next year..."

"And the year after
that..."

"Christmas is a
holiday of the heart," Mattie repeated her earlier revelation almost
inaudibly, with even greater understanding.

"Mattie...?"

"Can I give you your
gift now?" Mattie wheedled hopefully, twisting in his arms to plead with
her eyes.

Joe swallowed a little
thickly at the touch of her body twisting against his and released her rather
abruptly. "Sure, let's exchange presents."

"Great!"
Noticing nothing amiss, Mattie turned to run upstairs to her room, where she
had left Joe's present.

Joe watched her disappear
from sight, sighed, then went to check on his own present to her. They met back
in front of the tree within sixty seconds, both clutching a gaily wrapped
package. Mattie almost knocked him down with her enthusiastic rush into the
room.

"I thought you said
you weren't much good at this Christmas stuff?" Joe remarked teasingly,
enjoying the dancing light in her eyes, as he tried to cover up the boisterous
movements of the box in his arms.

"I guess I was
wrong," Mattie told him happily. "It's easy."

Joe wanted to reach out
and kiss her until she was gasping for air, so instead he thrust his present at
her with a distinct lack of finesse.

"Me first," he
insisted. "I don't know that mine can wait too long."

Mattie reached for it
hesitantly, as if receiving a present was an unfamiliar thing, then she almost
dropped it as the box moved in her hands.

"My God, it's
alive!" she whispered.

Joe laughed and helped her
open the box, his eyes intent on her face, gauging her reaction.

Mattie peeked into the box
and caught her breath as two wide friendly eyes peeped back. "Oh..."
The sound was almost inaudible, the light in her eyes was bright. "Oh,
Joe..." She reached in and gently grasped the puppy, easing him out of the
box. He immediately let out a yapping little greeting and licked her hand
enthusiastically.

"It's an English
sheepdog." Joe told her hesitantly, watching carefully. "He'll grow
up to be pretty big, but he'll be a wonderful friend and protector for when I'm
not there."

At that, Mattie's eyes
flew to his in swift fear, and Joe answered soothingly. "I mean when I'm
away for a little bit, that's all. He's just another friend to care for. You
have room for one more now, don't you?"

Mattie's eyes misted.
"He looks just like the picture at my cottage."

Joe nodded gently. "I
thought you'd like a real puppy now."

"Yes! Oh thank you,
Joe. I'll take such good care of him, I promise I will." Her face was
sweetly earnest.

"I know that,
sweetheart." Joe's eyes were tender. "You always take good care of
your friends."

"I'm going to name
him Rags. That's what I used to call... the picture." She looked at him a
little shamefaced, but Joe only nodded approvingly.

"It's a great name.
Don't you think so, Rags? Right, boy?"

Rags let out his endearing
little bark, and they both laughed.

"Now yours,"
Mattie murmured self-consciously, wiping one lone tear from her flushed cheek.
"I hope you like it." Juggling the box in one hand and Rags in the
other, she managed to pass Joe's present to him. Apparently, she wasn't willing
to let go of her new friend yet.

Joe held her eyes for a
moment, reading the anxiety there, before he turned his attention to opening
the package. Didn't she know that she had already given him the best present he
could ever hope for? No, she didn't, he thought helplessly. Because he couldn't
find a way to tell her without terrifying her in the process.