It's a Christmas Thing Read online

  “Uh-huh. Sure.” Maureen winked. “Something tells me the man wants to be more than a friend to you. I may be overstepping, but you’ve been alone for well over a year. I know that, as a judge, you’ve got your reputation to think of. But nobody’s going to click their tongue if you find somebody new. In fact, folks will be happy for you.”

  Tracy tried to ignore the tightening sensation in her jaw. Was it panic, or was she just tired? “I know you mean well, Maureen. But I’m just not ready. Maybe I never will be.”

  “Well, you might want to think it over, honey, before that nice vet gets away.” Maureen glanced at the wall clock. “Have a good weekend. I’ll see you on Monday.”

  Tracy drove home, grateful that the work week had ended. Over the past year, her life had settled into a safe, comfortable routine—work all week, shop and clean on Saturday, unwind with a good book or a long walk on Sunday, then back to more of the same. She didn’t have to think or plan. She could be emotionally numb and still function in her drab little world. As long as nothing changed, she could cope. She would be all right.

  But how long could things remain the same?

  She parked in the driveway and entered her house through the kitchen door. Murphy was there to greet her, wagging his tail and gazing up at her with love in his clouded eyes. She walked him out to do his business in the side yard. When he was done, she brought him back in, refilled his food and water bowls, and then went to check on the cat.

  Tracy found the laundry room door open—her own fault for forgetting to close it. There was no sign of the little calico. Her food dish was empty, but with the door open, Murphy could have sniffed his way to the tasty wet food and gobbled it up. If he’d done that, he’d probably scared the cat away.

  The litter box had been used, so at least the calico knew where it was and what to do. But she must not have felt safe in the laundry room.

  She was probably hiding in her favorite place.

  In the bedroom, Tracy knelt on the rug and peered under the bed. In the far corner she could just see the outline of a furry head and two pointed ears. “Come on out, kitty,” she coaxed. “It’s all right. You’re safe.”

  The cat didn’t move.

  Crawling under the bed to get her was out of the question. The space under the bed would be a tight squeeze for Tracy, and even if she managed to grab the cat, she’d probably get some nasty scratches.

  “Fine, just stay there,” Tracy said to the cat. “When you decide to come out, I’ll feed you and give you a nice brushing. But when that happens will be up to you.”

  Standing, she kicked off her shoes and changed into her sweats. When she left the room to make herself some supper, the cat was still under the bed. Never mind, Tracy told herself. The little calico would come out when she was ready.

  By the time she’d made herself a cheese omelet and watched her favorite TV crime drama, she was getting sleepy. After washing her face, brushing her teeth, and checking under the bed for the cat, she crawled between the sheets and closed her eyes.

  * * *

  It was 2:14 in the morning when Rush’s phone woke him. With a muttered curse, he reached for it on the nightstand. His fumbling hand knocked the phone to the floor. Swearing, he sat up and groped under the edge of the bed, where it had bounced. Whoever was calling at this ungodly hour had better have a damned good reason.

  The phone was still ringing when he picked it up and looked at the caller ID.

  It was Tracy.

  In an instant, he was wide awake. “Tracy—” He paused to clear his throat. “Is something wrong?”

  When she spoke, her voice was slightly breathless. “Sorry, I hate waking you, but I’m worried. When I got home from work last night, some food was gone, and the litter box had been used, but the cat was under the bed and wouldn’t come out. She’s still there and I keep hearing these little squeaking noises. I think she might be having her babies. What should I do? Should I try and move her to her box?”

  “That’s not a good idea. Just leave her alone for now. She should be fine.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Do you want me to come?” Rush felt like a fish rising to the bait. What was he thinking? Hadn’t he resolved to keep his distance from the woman?

  “Oh, could you? I’d pay you whatever you charge for an emergency call.”

  “I’ll settle for another batch of those brownies.”

  “Oh, no—at this hour, I couldn’t ask you to come without paying you for your time.”

  “Double batch. Double chocolate. I’m on my way.” Rush was grinning as he hung up the phone. This was crazy. But he could think of no better reason to get up in the wee small hours than Judge Tracy Emerson.

  Tracy was just worried about the cat, he reminded himself as he pulled on his clothes, brushed his teeth, and finger-raked his hair back from his face. All she needed was to know that the little mother and her kittens were all right. He would give her that reassurance and leave.

  With his bag, he walked quietly down the hall to the front door. His partners might have heard the phone, but they were accustomed to his late-night emergencies. Bucket, nestled in his blanket near the stove, raised his head, thumped his tail, and went back to sleep.

  A chilly wind struck his face as he came outside to the Hummer. Leaves were blowing off the tall cottonwoods that lined the road to the ranch. By morning the hundred-year-old trees would be bare, the leaves carpeting the ground with brown and gold.

  A storm wouldn’t bode well for the second night of the ranch’s Halloween celebration. But last night, at least, had been a success, with plenty of families showing up for the hayrides and fun. Maggie had come to help and to be with Travis. In a quiet moment, she’d taken Rush aside.

  “I tried to talk Tracy into coming with me,” she’d told him. “I think she was tempted. But in the end, she said she wasn’t ready.”

  “Thanks for trying to play matchmaker,” Rush had said. “But that doesn’t surprise me. After talking to her, I’m not sure she’ll ever be ready.”

  Maggie had given him a smile. “Well, don’t give up on her just yet,” she’d said. “Tracy’s a lovely person. She deserves some happiness, and so do you.”

  The words came back to Travis as he drove into town and wound through the back streets to Tracy’s house. Maggie had meant well. But Rush wasn’t sure he believed her. Some women only loved once in their lives. Tracy, he sensed, was one of those women.

  She’d left her porch light on. After parking partway up the block to avoid any chance of gossip, he took his bag, walked back to her house, and climbed the front steps.

  Tracy was waiting at the front door. Dressed in sweats, her hair tousled, her face bare of makeup, she still managed to look delicious. Rush bit back the temptation to tell her so. This visit, he reminded himself, was strictly professional.

  “Thanks for coming,” she said, ushering him inside and closing the door. “I’ve put some coffee on. It’ll be ready in a few minutes. I don’t want you falling asleep on your way home.”

  “Good idea.” Rush paused next to Murphy’s bed and reached down to scratch the elderly dog’s ears. “How’s the cat?”

  “Still under the bed. I have a flashlight, but it needs batteries. Anyway, I’m not sure about shining a light in her eyes. It might scare her.”

  “Let’s take a look. Lead the way.”

  Carrying the small flashlight from his medical bag, he followed her down the hall to the bedroom. He’d seen the room earlier, but he still couldn’t help noticing Steve’s photo next to the bed. It served as a constant reminder that this lady was off-limits.

  “I was hoping the cat would stay in the box I fixed for her.” Tracy knelt on the floor and lifted the edge of the quilt. “But she seems to have a mind of her own.”

  “Most cats do.” Rush knelt beside her, steeling himself against her nearness. No doubt, Tracy’s intent in calling him had been totally innocent. But being close to a beautiful, vulnerable woman
he couldn’t help wanting was putting all the wrong thoughts into his head.

  Damn! He gave himself a mental slap and switched on the flashlight. He was here to check on the cat and her kittens. That was all.

  The bed was too low for Rush to look underneath without lowering himself onto his belly. Stretching out on the rug, he directed the beam toward the underside of the bed, letting the reflected light fall on the cat and her new family. Turning his head, he gave Tracy a grin. “Come on down and take a look,” he said.

  She eased onto her elbows, her shoulder resting lightly against his as she peered beneath the bed. “Oh . . .” She breathed the word. “They’re so tiny. And she’s got four of them—one orange, one black, one gray tabby, and one white. Look—she’s licking them with her tongue. Do you think she’ll have more?”

  “If she had more coming, she’d be restless. But she seems to have settled down. My best guess is that she’s done.”

  “Should I move them into the box?”

  “Not just yet. In a few days, when they’re stronger and the mother is more accustomed to you, you can try it. For now, the best thing to do is leave them alone.”

  “But . . . they’re under my bed.” She’d turned to face him. “I mean, what if they go on the carpet? What about the smell?”

  “Don’t worry. The mother will keep them clean until they’re old enough to eat solid food. And you mentioned that she’d already discovered the litter box for herself.”

  “I’ve got a lot to learn about cats.” She gave Rush a tired smile.

  “Don’t worry, just let the mother do her job,” Rush said. “Have you thought of a name for her?”

  “A name?”

  “If you’re going to keep her, she’ll need one.”

  She flashed him a stern look, reminding him that she was, after all, a judge. “But I haven’t made up my mind to keep her. I said I’d take her in, but giving her a name, that’s a commitment. Don’t push me.”

  “Fine. You’ll know when you’re ready to decide.”

  “If I’m ready. And speaking of ready, I think the coffee’s finished brewing.” She scooted away from the bed and scrambled to her feet. “If you want a cup, you’ll find me in the kitchen.”

  “I’ll be a few minutes.” Rush took his time to study the little calico and her kittens under the bed. Did the mother look alert and comfortable? Was she taking care of her babies as she should? Were the kittens all moving and responsive?

  Only after he’d satisfied himself that all was well did Rush turn off the flashlight, ease himself back from under the bed, and get to his feet. He could smell the coffee. But he wasn’t quite sure of the reception that waited for him in the kitchen. Tracy’s prickly response to his suggestion that she name the cat had caught him by surprise.

  Should he apologize? No, Rush decided. They were both tired—too tired to get into an emotional discussion. He would drink his coffee, promise to check on the cats later, and leave while there was still time to get some sleep.

  Tracy was waiting for him in the kitchen. She filled a mug from the glass carafe on the coffee maker. “Cream and sugar?” she asked.

  “I’ll take it black, thanks.” Rush accepted the mug and took a seat at the table. The coffee was strong enough to jar him wide awake for the drive home. “From what I could see, the kittens and the mother cat all look fine. Make sure she has plenty of food and water, and she’ll do the rest. Don’t be surprised if she moves the kittens. Mother cats will do that if they don’t feel safe where they are.”

  “Can I touch them, or even pick them up?”

  “It might be best to wait a few days. Give the mother a chance to know you and trust you, so she won’t be upset when you handle her babies.”

  “Wow.” She stirred half-and-half into her coffee. “I didn’t realize cats were so complicated. They’re almost like people.”

  “So, you never had a cat?”

  “I never had any pets growing up. My family lived in an apartment, no pets allowed. After my parents and sister died, my grandmother took me in. She was a good woman, but she couldn’t abide animals in the house. It wasn’t until Murphy—”

  “Wait—you lost your family when you were young?”

  “Yes.” Her voice was drained of emotion. “They were in a car accident when I was nine. If I hadn’t been at a sleepover, I would’ve been with them.” She paused, glancing down at her coffee mug. “There’ve been times when I wished I had been.”

  “I’m sorry.” It was a lame response, Rush thought, but nothing better came to mind. He was seeing Tracy Emerson in a new light, as a woman defined by loss. Her family, her husband . . . Lord, no wonder the idea of putting down her old dog brought her to tears. And no wonder she seemed reluctant to take on a new relationship, or even to adopt a homeless cat.

  Her smile was artificially bright. “What about you? Do you have a family somewhere?”

  Rush swallowed the tightness in his throat. “Not anymore. I’m divorced. My ex-wife and—” He paused, deciding to save the whole story for another time, if that time ever came. “My ex-wife and her daughter live in Phoenix. She married an old boyfriend after we split up.” And that was that. He would spare Tracy the ugly details—the shattering revelation, the DNA test, and the final good-bye that had ripped the heart right out of him.

  Standing, Rush carried his empty mug to the sink. “I’ll be glad to come back and check the kittens as they grow,” he said. “No charge—except maybe more of those sinful brownies.”

  “I also make pretty mean chocolate chip cookies and wicked cinnamon rolls, if you’d like some variety. But honestly, I’d be happy to pay you in cash.”

  “Heck, I can get money anywhere. Home-baked treats are in a class by themselves.” Rush picked up his medical bag. “How’s Murphy? Did you give him the Cosequin?”

  She walked with him to the door. “I got the first couple of doses down him. I suppose it’ll be a while before we know whether it’s helping.”

  “Well, call me if you have any concerns.” Rush opened the front door to a blast of wind. “One thing more. If you want to avoid neighborhood gossip, you might want to have me come by during business hours. As a judge, you’ve got a reputation to consider.”

  “Yes, of course.” Color bloomed in her face as she gazed up at him. Rush battled the insane urge to kiss her. He could almost imagine how sweet and tender those lips would feel against his.

  But kissing Tracy would be the worst possible idea. Even if he didn’t get his face slapped, a move like that would destroy her fragile trust like a shotgun blasting through a cobweb.

  He left her and walked up the street, through the blowing leaves, to his vehicle. Maybe Tracy would never be ready for a relationship. But at least he could be her friend. After all, friendship was something they could both use.

  But could he settle for friendship with the beautiful judge?

  That question had yet to be answered.

  * * *

  Standing at the window in the dark living room, Tracy watched Rush stride up the street. She was still watching when the Hummer’s lights came on, and the big vehicle made a U-turn and vanished around the corner.

  She should never have called him. And she wouldn’t call him again. The sensual stirrings she’d felt when he’d stretched out next to her to look under the bed had been so intense that she’d almost reached out and brushed his cheek with her fingertip.

  Dr. J. T. Rushford had never made an ungentlemanly move toward her. Tracy’s instincts told her she could trust him. But could she trust herself—especially when the cold hollow in the depths of her soul ached to be warmed?

  No, she wasn’t ready. The experience of loving Steve and losing him was still raw inside her. To move forward, to feel again, to risk again—even the thought terrified her. Being alone was safe. And even loneliness hurt less than loss.

  She would make the brownies as she’d promised. But she wouldn’t contact Rush again. If she had a question about the cat
s or Murphy’s medication, she could look for answers online.

  She was making the safe choice, Tracy told herself. Rush deserved a woman who had something to give. She wasn’t that woman. She was doing him—and herself—a favor.

  * * *

  For Rush and his partners, the end of October marked the start of serious Christmas preparations. Not that they hadn’t been working all along. Over the spring and summer, in addition to growing two crops of hay and caring for the cows and calves they’d bought, the partners had been tending the acre of Christmas trees that grew on a remote part of the ranch—shaping and trimming the branches, checking them for insect damage, and making sure that every tree had water from the nearby spring. They’d even planted new trees to replace the ones they’d cut and sold last year.

  Since it was Rush’s veterinary practice that provided a steady cash flow to the ranch, most of the other work had fallen to Travis and Conner. But with the Christmas holidays coming up, it was all hands on deck. Between his practice and needing to help with the trees, the yard, the supplies and equipment, the sleigh, and the massive Percheron horses that filled in for reindeer, Rush was kept busy every waking moment.

  He’d never stopped thinking about Tracy, but as the busy days flew by, she hadn’t called him. True to her word, she’d delivered on her promise of more brownies, but she’d given them to Maggie to deliver to the ranch. Now, after two weeks, it was almost as if she’d dropped out of his life.

  Rush tried to tell himself it didn’t matter. But it did. What if something had gone wrong? What if she’d needed his help and was too proud to ask?

  On a bleak Saturday morning in mid-November, Rush found himself in town. A cancelled appointment had left him with time on his hands and several options. He could go to the barber for a needed haircut. He could have some coffee and pie at Buckaroo’s on Main Street. He could go home . . . or he could drive by Tracy’s and make sure she was all right. He wouldn’t necessarily have to knock on her door, especially if she had company. But if her car was there and nothing looked amiss at the house . . .

  By the time Rush made up his mind, he’d already driven halfway there. Only now did he realize how much he’d missed her, and how much he looked forward to seeing her again.