Western Christmas Wishes. Brenda Minton

us up. Instead we make the best of the days we’ve got. You learn something about that when you take a hair-turning ride on a half-broke horse.” She took hold of her granddaughter’s arm. “Sit down. I think we have a lot to discuss and Cameron won’t be able to contain Rose for very long. The girl has so much energy. Home sweet home. Have a seat.”

      “It’s nice,” Laurel offered.

      Gladys sat on the straight-back chair near the window. “Oh, it isn’t nice. It’s necessary. And it’s a reason to work hard on my physical therapy and get home.”

      “I’m sorry,” Laurel said as she took a seat on the bed.

      “Don’t be. I’m glad you’re here. If I’d known it took surgery to get you here, I would have tried it sooner.”

      “Don’t.”

      “I’m kidding.” Gladys shifted to pull the blinds closed and block the sun, which had suddenly decided to shine through the window. “How long will you be able to stay?”

      “I planned on just over a week.”

      “I see. Well, I plan on getting out of here as soon as possible. Your mother told me about your bakery.”

      Of course she had. “Yes, I guess it was the wrong time to start a business.”

      “It’s always iffy when you start up something like that. And I heard about the boyfriend, too.”

      “It seems you and Mom have talked a lot.”

      Gladys looked surprised by that. “Well, of course—she’s my daughter. We talk several times a week.”

      She should have known that. Of course her mother and grandmother talked on the phone. Patricia Adams might dislike her hometown but she loved her mother. Her visits to Hope had been more frequent than Laurel’s. Since Laurel moved off on her own, her mother had returned each summer to spend a week in Hope.

      “So your boyfriend turned out to be a cheater. And your bakery went belly-up. Time to reinvent yourself and start over.”

      Her mother and grandmother were definitely cut from the same cloth. It was hard to think about starting over when she’d thought the bakery was her new start.

      “Has your mother told you that she’s thinking about moving here?”

      Another bomb dropped without warning. “No, she hasn’t. I mean, I think she mentioned it in passing. But she also mentioned Florida. Anywhere warm and away from the city.”

      “Yes, I know she’s considered Florida but lately we’ve talked more about her moving here. I should have let her tell you.”

      “It’s okay. I can handle hearing that she might have plans for her future.”

      “Laurel, I’m just so glad to see you.” Gladys reached for her hand. Laurel took the cool, thin fingers in her own and warmed them.

      “I’m glad to see you, too, Grandma. Is there anything I can bring you?” She grinned. “Other than a Christmas tree?”

      Her grandmother laughed. “You’ll get me kicked out of here. But maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing.” She was quiet for a moment, then she sighed. “You could bring me a home-cooked meal.”

      “I’ll bring you lunch tomorrow.”

      They chatted for several more minutes, then silence. Laurel looked down at her hands, wondering, as she often did, if they were “his” hands, Curt Jackson’s. They weren’t her mother’s. Her mom had long slim fingers. Laurel’s fingers weren’t long. She had strong hands.

      “Is Curt Jackson my father?” she asked without preamble.

      “Oh, goodness,” Gladys gasped. “Well...”

      “He was leaving just as I got here, so I know you probably know he was here.”

      Gladys nodded. “He was here visiting his mother. She had a stroke not long after his father passed. But the rest, that’s something your mother needs to tell you.”

      “So he is my father? Have you always known?”

      Gladys shook her head. “No.”

      Laurel felt like she was falling apart inside. Like everyone she’d counted on had lied to her. They had, she supposed. Probably with good intentions but it didn’t feel good or right.

      “Laurel, your mother had her reasons.”

      “Really? She had reasons for not telling me who my father is? Maybe he didn’t want me. Maybe he wouldn’t have been a part of my life. But a name would have been nice. When everyone else in this tiny, gossipy town was talking about me, knowing things or acting as if they knew, it would have been nice if I had known.”

      “This isn’t a bad town,” Gladys inserted. “Most of the people in Hope are good people. There are always a few busybodies.”

      “Yes, I know.” Laurel wiped a hand over her face, trying to pull herself together. “What do I do now? I don’t want to be the town scandal again.”

      Gladys reached for her hand. “You were never a scandal and still aren’t. Thirty years ago, two young people made a mistake. But you’re not a mistake. You’re my granddaughter. You are your mother’s joy. And your father would like to get to know you. He regrets not being a part of your life.”

      “That’s something he should tell me himself. You’ll say whatever you need to say to make me feel better. It’s your job as a grandmother.”

      Gladys laughed at that. “I do love you, honey, but I promise, I won’t say what makes you feel good. If you need honesty, I’ll give it to you.”

      “Thank you,” Laurel said as she scooted off the bed and leaned to kiss her grandmother’s cheek. “Is there anything you need me to do while I’m here?”

      “Take care of Rose. Make sure if that caseworker calls or comes around that she knows Rose is safe and I’ll be home soon. Every time I take a breath, they threaten to take that girl away. She doesn’t need to be moved again.”

      “I’ll do what I can,” Laurel promised.

      “And you’ll be nice to my neighbor?” Gladys reached out a hand. “Help me up.”

      “I doubt I’ll see much of him. He doesn’t seem to be a social butterfly.”

      Gladys smiled at that. “No, but Rose has taken it upon herself to drag him out from time to time. Also, Rose likes church. She’s involved in the youth group. It gives her something to do with her time aside from school, and it keeps her out of trouble.”

      “I doubt that.”

      Gladys laughed. “Well, maybe you’re right. But still...it helps.”

      “Do you still go to Hope Community.”

      “I do,” Gladys confirmed. “Don’t get that look on your face. You can’t make judgments based on the people and situations from twenty years ago.”

      “I know.”

      Something in her face must have given her away because Gladys pointed a finger at her. “You have to go with her.”

      “I’d rather not, Gran.”

      “There are always things we’d rather not do. But we do them because it’s right. I hadn’t planned on taking in a teenager at my age. Yet here I am. We never know what God has in front of us, Laurel, but we can rest assured He has a plan.”

      A knock on the door ended their conversation.

      “Come in,” Gladys called in a singsong voice.

      Dora stepped through the door, a hand on Rose’s shoulder. The girl squirmed out from under the hand and hurried to Laurel’s side.

      “This