The Christmas You Found Me, page 24
Chapter 23
I wake up with two extra bodies in the bed wriggled in between myself and Guy. One is little and has morning breath, and the other’s tail keeps thumping lazily against my knee. Guy’s arm is long enough to wrap around all three of us, and I’m the only one not squirming.
I don’t even remember getting to bed the previous night. The last thing I can recall is Guy going to change Emma’s movie while I cuddled up to wait for him on the couch. I must have passed out, and at some point, he carried me to bed.
I’m kind of sad I missed that part.
“What time is it?” I mumble, not wanting to look at the clock next to me.
“An hour after you usually get up and fifteen minutes until you’ll be mad if I don’t wake you up.” Guy’s voice is husky with sleep but more awake than mine. He pats Barley’s rib cage before briefly squeezing my hip. “I was willing to risk it.”
“You’re a brave man.” When I roll over, I can’t help but smile across the heads between us. His sweet smile in return makes my heart thump so hard in my chest, it feels like bursting. I cover by hugging Emma, who yawns some of the absolute worst morning breath in my face. When I wrinkle my nose, she dissolves into peals of childish giggles.
Guy gets a sneaky look on his face, then suddenly scoops all of us into his arms and rolls. Man, woman, child, and dog all end up in a pile of blankets and pillows and paws. I can’t even begin to extract myself, and Emma’s high-pitched laughter is right in my ear as Guy tickles her. Barley gives up being polite and escapes by scrambling across my chest, and I’m pretty sure I’m going to have a paw print on my breast until New Year’s.
I honestly can’t remember being happier.
A good night’s sleep has done me a world of good, and I want to check on my cows again. I head out to start chores while Guy feeds Emma some breakfast, then they join me as I’m going over Legs to make sure he’s still sound after our trek up the mountain. The mule’s body is so large that when Guy leans on the stall door, he can only see my rear end, where I’m bent over cleaning out a hoof.
Yep, he’s whistling again, a little Christmas song that makes it clear he’s as happy as I feel today. I crane my neck around, a mule tail swishing against my shoulder.
“Why do I get the feeling you’re enjoying the view?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
“Just a perk of the job.” Guy shoots me a cheeky grin. “Speaking of perks, what can I do to help after Em and I get back from dialysis? Since you left, I’ve cleaned every surface in the house, fixed every piece of equipment in the garage, and restacked the hay. I’m running out of ideas.”
“You got through all the hay?” I ask, surprised. “How did I not notice?”
“You were dead on your feet yesterday,” he tells me. “I moved last year’s hay to the front so you could put your ATV in the corner next to the tack room, like you’d talked about doing. If I screwed up, I’ll move it back.”
I find myself smiling because he definitely did not screw up. “Don’t you dare move it back.”
I set Legs’s foot down, finished with my task, and join Guy at the stall door. I rest my hands on his arms and go up on my toes so I can kiss him in thanks, and I’m breathless when we finally pull away, steadying myself by gripping his forearms. Even beneath his winter jacket, I can feel the muscles there.
“Thank you for the hay. Did you eat enough while I was gone? I have this mental image of you stress-ercising too much and forgetting to take care of yourself because you were focused on everything else.”
He flushes, looking slightly guilty. “I might have been a little distracted.” When I tsk, Guy steals a second kiss. “It’s cute how you’ve been stuffing food my direction every time my hands are empty. It hasn’t gone unnoticed, by the way.”
“You were thin, Guy. Gorgeous, but thin.”
“I was exhausted from worrying about her.” His eyes flicker toward where Emma is playing with Barley by the barn door. She seems happier today, if lower on energy than usual. “I still am, but it doesn’t feel quite so hopeless anymore.”
“Don’t give up hope.” I slip out of the stall and hug him around his trim waist. “It’s Christmas. This is the time for hope and wishes.”
“What if I hope you’ll kiss me good morning again?” I laugh as he sneaks a third kiss, this one briefer because it’s clear Emma is watching us curiously.
“Actually, I was hoping to ride in with you and Emma this morning if it’s okay. I’d like to spend some extra time with her, and I might go see my dad during part of her dialysis appointment.”
Montana boys must never need to wear gloves, because Guy runs a bare hand over my hair, kissing my forehead briefly. “I’d love to meet him. Is that a possibility?”
I hesitate. “Dad usually doesn’t remember me, but if he does, he won’t understand if I bring you instead of Micah.” I add, “But it would be nice if he did remember me. This time of the year was so special for my family. My mom loved Christmas, and after she passed, he tried so hard to carry on her traditions.”
“Like what?”
“Like making stockings for the horses,” I admit with a small laugh.
“The first thing you did with Emma.” Guy hugs me close, resting his chin on top of my head. “We’d love for you to come with us, and I really would like to meet the man who created the legend.”
I nearly choke. “The legend?”
Guy winks at me. “You don’t know what they call you in town, do you?”
“That hussy who married a man the day after my divorce finalized?”
“Sen-na, what’s a hussy?” Emma asks as she and Barley move their game in front of Legs’s stall.
“Yes, Sen-na, what’s a hussy?” Guy grins as I hedge, trying to think of how to escape this one. Then he saves me by adding, “The people I’ve met all say you faced down a team of sharklike lawyers and the richest family in the state to defend a piece of property beautiful enough it should be protected from development forever. They say you’re as tough as the mountains themselves, and no one better get in your way when you walk into a room.”
Now I’m the one who’s blushing. “Which might be a slight exaggeration.”
“I don’t know. As the man lucky enough to get to walk into the room with you, I’m pretty sure they’ve got you pegged.” An alarm goes off on his phone, and Guy glances down at his daughter. “Speaking of walking into rooms, if we leave now, we have plenty of time to go see your father before Emma’s appointment. We could all go together as a family.”
As a family. My family.
I want to be with them, at dialysis or Christmas shopping or in a pile of blankets early in the morning. They are my favorite people, and I want to spend the holidays with them.
“Okay,” I say. “Let’s go introduce you to my dad. Do you want to take your ride or mine?”
“Actually, I have an early Christmas gift for you.” When Guy reaches into his back pocket, my breath catches in my throat. I’m instantly overwhelmed with affection for this man, because in his hand, he’s got my dad’s keys. He gives me a hopeful smile. “Want to take his truck?”
***
Emma’s paler than normal, and her blood pressure is lower this morning, so Guy leaves a message for her pediatrician before we head into town. Despite the rougher ride of the old Dodge, it’s fun being back in my dad’s truck. It even still smells like I remember: years of dirt and hay and sunshine permeating the cloth bench seats.
Guy drives and I kick back in the passenger seat, my foot up on the dash like I’m a teenager again. He winks at me as we drive along the Salmon River, and when he rests a warm hand on my thigh, I absolutely love it.
Emma falls asleep on the ride in but then perks up when we pull into the long-term care center. As we’re parking, Guy gets a call back from Emma’s nephrologist, so I grab her bag and take Emma out of my dad’s truck so she doesn’t have to hear them discuss her case. She insists on bringing her toy moose and a folded piece of construction paper she drew on while I was finishing morning chores.
We wait for Guy just inside the front entrance, because I don’t want to take her inside without her father’s presence. Long-term care facilities aren’t always easy places to be for anyone, not the people living there or those who come to visit them. Memory-loss units are especially difficult, which is where my father stays.
“Daddy says your daddy is sick. Is he sick like me?” Emma hugs me, and it takes me a minute to realize she’s hugging me for me, not for herself. I snuggle her against my chest, resting my cheek on the top of her head.
“Yeah, sweetie, he’s sick,” I explain, grateful I have her to hold. “But not the same as you. He’s got something that makes it hard for him to remember things.”
“Does he remember you?” Emma asks, touching my hair the way she always does when we’re sitting close together.
“Sometimes. Sometimes he forgets me though.”
She nods, then looks down at the construction paper in her hand. “When I die, do you think Daddy will forget about me?”
I go still, then I close my eyes. “Sweetie pie, your daddy thinks about you every moment of every day. There’s nothing that’s ever going to make him forget about you.”
I desperately want to tell her she’s not going to die. I almost say it, but I don’t know what Guy would want me to do here. Instead, I open my eyes, and I look down at her, holding her gaze.
“Emma, did you know the Naples family is the toughest, strongest, most stubborn family in Idaho?”
She shakes her head.
“That’s us. And as tough as my father is, do you know who was even tougher? My mom. And her mom, my grandmother. My grandmother once rode from southern Texas to the Canadian border just to prove she could. And my great-grandmother built the house we live in with her own two hands. And do you know what my mom once did? She beat breast cancer twice. Because Naples women are the toughest women in the world.” I take her hands and squeeze them. “Emma, my name is Maple now, but I’m still a Naples woman. And you’re my stepdaughter, which means you are one of us. You’re one of the toughest, strongest, most stubborn women Idaho has ever seen. So don’t you give up, Emma. You stay tough, you stay strong, and your daddy and I are going to be right here with you.”
Emma doesn’t answer, but she does snuggle a little deeper for a moment as we watch Guy climb out of the truck. He’s carrying a tension in his shoulders that wasn’t there before the call, so I pick up Emma and meet him at the entrance.
“Is everything okay?” I ask as we head inside together.
“Her pediatrician wants us to go see her cardiologist,” Guy murmurs. “I left them a message, but I’m guessing it’ll be hard to get an appointment until after Christmas.”
“Not if I’m standing outside their office with a pitchfork,” I mutter back, bringing a smile to his handsome face.
“It’s nice having backup. Hayden texted when I was on the phone. She wants to meet you. Maybe we could do a video call on Christmas morning?”
“’Tis the season to meet the relatives,” I say with a quick smile, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little nervous.
Nervousness shifts to discouragement when we learn that my dad’s having a tough day. The staff warns us he hasn’t left his room the last two days and doesn’t want to come sit in the common area or be around the other residents. He’s been getting mad when anyone comes in to feed or bathe him, and he’s becoming more verbally aggressive.
Which is the absolute last thing I want to expose Emma to.
“I don’t think this is a good idea,” I tell Guy as we stand outside my father’s closed door. “I don’t want Emma to be frightened.”
Guy’s hand rests on my waist, a solid, steadying touch. His voice is achingly gentle as he says, “There aren’t going to be a lot more days left, are there? Will this be his last Christmas?”
I won’t let my lip tremble like I’m a child. I will be strong because my father deserves it from his only daughter. “They don’t think it’ll be much longer now.”
He nods, and his thumb runs soothingly across my hip. “We all have bad days, Sienna. It doesn’t mean we don’t deserve love and respect. I’d really like to meet him if you’ll let me. I promise I won’t think anything but the best of him.”
“We can go in separately and take turns with Emma?” I suggest, but Emma tugs on my hand.
“I want to meet your daddy too,” Emma insists, getting a look on her face like she’s going to dig her heels in if we refuse. So I finally nod in agreement.
Guy presses a brief kiss to my temple and knocks lightly on the door. When there’s no answer, Emma opens the door herself, takes my hand, and heads inside. As I follow behind my stepdaughter, I wonder if these two are the bravest people I’ve ever known.
I don’t know what to expect when we see my father sitting in the corner on a recliner, wrapped up in a blanket and a heavy sweater despite the warmth of the room. He’s looking out the window at the snowflakes falling outside, eyes unfocused, but when Emma walks around the end of his bed, Jeff Naples does something I haven’t seen in a very long time: he smiles.
“Well now, look who came to see a boring old man,” my dad says, his tremulous voice stronger than it’s been for months.
“You’re not old,” I say out of habit, because that’s how my father always used to greet me. But he’s not looking at me. He’s looking at the little hand I’m holding.
“Hi,” Emma says, looking around the room before letting go of me and walking over to my dad.
“Hey, honey,” Dad says. “Shouldn’t you be in school?”
“No, it’s Christmas. We took your truck. It smells funny.”
I can’t believe it when my dad actually laughs.
Guy quietly closes the door all but the last inch, remaining near the doorjamb instead of coming forward. At first, I don’t understand why he’s staying back, and then I realize what is happening: my dad thinks Emma is me. The last thing I want is for Emma to be confused or scared, so I start to step forward to intercede. But instead of being scared, Emma crawls into my dad’s chair next to him, arms full of her moose and her picture. She snuggles into his arm as if he’s her new best friend.
“I drew this for you.” Emma holds up her drawing proudly. From where I stand, I can see she’s drawn a picture of all three of us and Legs and Barley, although the latter two are both in purple and look fairly similar to each other. Candy canes and Christmas trees decorate both sides of the paper, and on the back—where my father can’t see—it says, “To Grandpa.”
The title makes my eyes instantly water with tears. I cover as best as I can, wiping them away with a quick swipe of the heel of my hand.
“Well, this is real nice,” my dad says, taking the picture in his right hand and keeping his left around Emma so she doesn’t fall off the chair. I know how bad his eyesight is, but he looks down at her drawing as if it were a precious Picasso or the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. “Real nice.”
“I know.” Emma nods with all the confidence in the world.
I bite my lip to stifle my laugh as Guy and I share a smile. My dad is ignoring Guy completely, because Emma has all his attention. And maybe that’s why I miss this man so much. I knew when he looked at me, he really saw me. That I mattered more than anything to him.
A low whistle escapes his teeth. “I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a drawing this good.” And I would bet a twenty he means it completely.
This right here is my daddy. The man who always saw the best in me. Who was always proud of me, even when I was at my worst. A man who would declare my drawing the best he’d ever seen and not just mean it but be willing to throw down with anyone who dared tell him differently.
“Why aren’t you out riding, girl?” Dad asks her in that gruff, teasing tone he used with me so much of my life. “We don’t have all these horses just for them to sit in their stalls.”
“I have to go to the doctor’s,” Emma says as she plays with Mr. Moose.
“Why’s that now? You look fine to me.”
Emma shrugs, then hands her toy to my dad. “Mr. Moose doesn’t like going, but we always have to.”
“I don’t like going to the doctors either, but she’s always making me,” my dad says, eyes twinkling as he shoots me a smile. “She’s always stealing my truck too.”
My dad doesn’t just think Emma is me…he thinks I’m my mom. Heart in my throat, I decide to play along.
“Because you’re too stubborn to go if I don’t,” I say, my mother’s words coming unbidden to my tongue. It was the same joke they always had between them.
“I’m pretty sure the stubborn one in here ain’t one of us,” my dad murmurs to Emma, and she giggles.
“You can have my moose for when you see the doctor.”
“Well, that’s real nice of you. I’ll do that.”
Then she stands up next to his hip and presses a kiss to his age-spotted cheek. “I love you.”
His eyes water—the big softie—and it would be a lie to say mine aren’t watering too. “I love you more than the whole wide world, kiddo.”
I inhale a hard breath and out of the corner of my eye see Guy lean a little toward me, even though he doesn’t move away from the doorway. A soft clearing of a throat pulls our attention to the nurse waiting outside.
“It’s time for his medicine,” the nurse says apologetically from the hallway, where my dad can’t see her yet. Remembering what they said about how he’s been with company, I take Emma out of my dad’s hold and press a kiss to his cheek.
“I’ll see you later,” I promise in a thick voice, and for the first time in so very long, my daddy wraps his arm around me and gives me a hug.
“Now don’t cry. It’s just an appointment. Nothing to worry about.”
“I know,” I whisper and hold on to him just a little longer.
“You take care when you’re driving,” he says to me. “I wouldn’t be nothin’ without my girls.”
