Big Sky Christmas. C.J. Carmichael

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.

      “Hey there, little guy.” Jackson’s voice was so tender, Winnie felt a lump forming in her throat. “You’re pretty darn cute, aren’t you?” he added.

      “He looks just like his father,” Olive said proudly.

      Jackson nodded. “But he has his mother’s eyes.” As he said this, he looked at Winnie, and she felt a moment of connection. This is as hard for him as it is for me.

      “I’m sure his eyes will lighten up as he gets older,” was Olive’s comment. Winnie glanced at Laurel, saw her fighting back a smile and she had to do the same. Subtle, Olive was not.

      This was Brock’s baby, and that was that. Not even his eyes were allowed to be like his mother’s.

      “Well, now that everyone’s here,” Corb said, “how about we dive into the chicken stew? Mom, sit down and relax and let us men do the serving.”

      Olive, not a fan of kitchen duties, didn’t have to be asked twice. Once the stew, biscuits and salad had been placed on the table, Jackson and Corb took their seats between Winnie and Laurel. For most of the meal, the talk was of cattle prices and auctions. Olive doted on her two grandchildren, feeding them mashed chicken stew and biscuits, leaving her own dinner practically untouched.

      Winnie tried insisting that Olive eat. “Let me worry about Bobby now. Your food is getting cold.” She should have known better.

      “I can always eat later. My grandson and I have a lot of catching up to do.”

      After the meal and the pumpkin pie that followed, Olive excused herself from the table. A few minutes later she was back with two huge bags full of baby gifts. Only one small package was for Stephanie. The rest were Bobby’s.

      “Wow. That’s a lot of presents.” Winnie was beyond overwhelmed.

      “Like I said, I have a lot of catching up to do.”

      Winnie didn’t miss the sharp look of annoyance in Olive’s eyes when she said this. But she chose to ignore it.

      She and Laurel set Bobby and Stephanie on the floor and the family gathered round for the big unwrapping. The babies were too young, though, and Winnie and Laurel ended up tearing off most of the wrapping paper.

      Winnie’s own mom and dad had been generous when Bobby was born. They’d bought her his car seat, as well as a crib. But Olive must have spent at least as much money. There were dozens of outfits, as well as a snowsuit, boots, hat and mittens perfect for the Montana winter.

      And toys. So many. Most of them related to farming and ranching. Stephanie, too young to feel jealous, or even understand what was going on, reached for one of the plastic horses. Bobby watched placidly, then turned back to the mountain of gifts. His eyes lit up as he spied something special. He crawled over to the miniature Stetson, planted his butt on the floor then stuck the hat on his head.

      “Look at that,” Corb chuckled. “He even put it on the right way.”

      When everyone laughed, Bobby beamed then toddled to his mother for a hug and a kiss.

      Olive’s expression grew pensive. “Look at him. Walking already. I’ve missed out on the baby stage entirely.”

      Winnie bit back the sharp comment that almost slipped off her tongue. “My coffee could use a refill.” She escaped to the kitchen before she said something she might regret later.

      * * *

      JACKSON WATCHED WINNIE retreat to the kitchen with her spine taut, eyes shining much too brightly. He didn’t often find himself siding with Olive, but this one time, he did. Winnie’s secrecy about her baby had him puzzled. Why had she waited so long to share her good news with Brock’s family?

      Thinking he might just refill his own coffee and see how she was doing, he started for the kitchen, but paused when Laurel started defending her friend.

      “Olive,