The Christmas Wife Read online

  Molly was giving him plenty to think about.

  He watched in amazement as she slowly, patiently and carefully lured Brianne into a conversation about a group of boys who stood nearby. Beau felt his heart swell with gratitude when she listened to Nicky's convoluted story about something that had happened at school. When the football team rode past in a convoy of pickup trucks, Molly cheered as if she were single-handedly responsible for the team's morale.

  By the time the parade had ended, he'd begun to regret that Molly wasn't going to stay around longer. Not for himself, but for his poor confused daughter and for the son who nudged through the crowds and grabbed Molly's hand as if he'd known her forever.

  Well…maybe a little bit for himself.

  Dear Reader,

  As a writer, sometimes you stumble across a character who grabs your attention and hangs on. Maybe you’re granted a glimpse of certain moments in his life. Maybe not. You only know that you have to find his story and share it.

  Beau Julander is one of those characters. He walked into my life and wouldn’t leave until I’d done my job. In The Christmas Wife we travel back to Serenity, Wyoming, a town I introduced for the first time a few years ago in That Woman in Wyoming (Harlequin Superromance #974). Serenity is a quiet town in Wyoming’s mountain country, and it has become almost as real to me as the town where I live.

  Beau lives there, surrounded by friends and family, the golden boy of his high school graduating class and all the years in between. But people aren’t always what they seem on the surface, and there’s more to Beau than the image he presents to the world. He meets Molly Shepherd, the quiet girl from high school, who has no family at all and can’t even remember their senior year. As Beau struggles just to get from one day to the next, Molly searches for answers about the past…and love follows a plan of its own.

  I hope you enjoy getting to know Beau and Molly as much as I did. Please write and let me know what you think of their story. You can send letters to Sherry Lewis, P.O. Box 540010, North Salt Lake, UT 84054. Or e-mail me at [email protected]. Also, visit my Web site at www.slbwrites.com.

  Sherry Lewis

  The Christmas Wife

  Sherry Lewis

  For Gene and Vanda Lewis, the best parents any woman could ask for

  Books by Sherry Lewis

  HARLEQUIN SUPERROMANCE

  628—CALL ME MOM

  692—THIS MONTANA HOME

  744—KEEPING HER SAFE

  816—LET IT SNOW

  826—A MAN FOR MOM

  883—FOR THE BABY'S SAKE

  974—THAT WOMAN IN WYOMING

  1072—MR. CONGENIALITY

  Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER ONE

  “HAS ANYBODY SEEN a blue sock?” Beau Julander straightened from the basket filled with clean, unfolded clothes and closed the dryer with his hip. “Anybody?”

  Late-autumn sunlight streamed into the renovated kitchen of the old farmhouse he’d inherited from his grandparents, spotlighting last night’s dishes stacked by the sink, still waiting to be washed. Leaves from the huge oak trees in the yard fluttered past the window, and the autumn colors on the foothills surrounding Serenity gleamed in the warm Wyoming sunlight.

  Beau kicked at the mound of unwashed laundry at his feet and turned toward the table where his twelve-year-old daughter scowled at the pages of an open notebook. “Brianne? Did you hear me?” It was an unnecessary question since he was standing less than ten feet away, but she’d been giving him the silent treatment for days, and he was growing tired of it.

  Brianne slowly turned a page in her notebook and rolled her eyes toward the ceiling, where footsteps thundered overhead. Eight-year-old Nicky must still be searching for the missing math worksheet Beau had sent him to find. Brianne let out a sigh weighted with preteen attitude and big-sister irritation, brushed a lock of wheat-blond hair from her forehead and looked back at her father. “When Gram was taking care of us, we always knew where our socks were.” One eyebrow arched meaningfully. “That’s because they were always clean.”

  Beau congratulated himself on getting a few words out of her and pretended not to notice the challenge underlying them. Before her mother left, Brianne had chattered at him endlessly, sharing news of her day, talking about her hopes, dreams, joys and disappointments. She’d changed since the divorce, and things had taken another turn for the worse two weeks ago. Now if she wasn’t ignoring him, she was starting an argument.

  He’d been struggling to hold things together for the past year, after Heather walked out on him. But he’d been sinking fast since the night two weeks ago when he’d decided it was time to do the job on his own. All he wanted was for life to get back to normal. For Brianne to greet him with a smile once in a while. To get through just one morning without an argument.

  “These clothes are clean,” he pointed out. “At least some of them are. And if each day would just come with three or four more hours attached, they’d be folded and put away, too.”

  Brianne’s only answer was an annoyed sniff, but he supposed that was better than nothing.

  Beau was due at the airstrip in less than an hour to begin a charter flight that would keep him in the air most of the day. He’d be home in time for supper and a last-minute meeting of the Homecoming committee, but he didn’t have time to spare, and he wasn’t in the mood to explain—again—why things had to change.

  He bent over the basket and dug until he found two boy-size socks that were similar, if not exact matches. Tossing them on top of the washer, he turned back to the eggs he’d left cooking.

  His daughter slid a pointed glance at the stove. “Gram never burned the eggs, either.”

  “Gram is a better cook than I am,” he said as he reached into the cupboard for plates. He flipped the mass of eggs, which had started out as fried and ended up scrambled, and turned off the burner. “But I can learn.”

  “That’s doubtful.”

  Struggling to hang on to his patience, Beau put the plates on the counter and opened the drawer for the silverware. “Get used to it, Brie. Gram isn’t going to be taking care of you anymore.”

  “Well, she should.”

  “I know you think so.”

  Brianne turned a page and shoved a stack of Homecoming flyers out of her way. “You’re just being mean.”

  “No, I’m being practical. Your grandmother was a great help after your mom left. But I’m taking care of us now. We have to expect that a few things will be different.”

  “I don’t want things to be different.”

  “I realize that, too.” Beau pulled juice from the refrigerator, found three clean glasses in the dish drainer and carried everything to the table.

  “Gram never left dirty dishes around, either,” Brianne pointed out needlessly. She brushed a piece of lint from her pink sweater and tossed her hair over her shoulder.

  Beau put a glass in front of her and filled it with juice. “Gram’s had more experience taking care of a house and kids than I have. I just need to get organized, that’s all. Once Homecoming Week is over, I’ll have more time.”

  “You won’t have more time,” Brianne said sullenly. “As soon as Homecoming’s over, you’ll start getting ready for WinterFest, and then Chri
stmas.”

  “Not immediately.”

  “Almost.”

  “I might not help with either of them this year.”

  “Yes, you will, because if you don’t, you’ll just worry about where they put the banners and whether those wire-deer decorations on Front Street are lit right.” She reached for a napkin and wiped her mouth with it. “You like doing all that stuff. Mom said so.”

  He’d heard that accusation more than once. Coming from Heather, it had always made him feel slightly guilty—as if volunteering to help his community was something to be ashamed of. It didn’t sound much better coming from Brianne.

  “Serenity’s a small town,” he reminded her. “Without volunteer help, there would be very few things going on around here. But you’re not the only one who has to make changes.”

  Brianne’s face twisted in disbelief. “Bet you’ll do Christmas. You always do.”

  “Bet I won’t. I already told the mayor to find someone else. And he will.” He’d better, anyway. Mayor Biggs hadn’t sounded convinced that Beau intended to step down. “I’ve told him I’m staying just until I can get a replacement up to speed.”

  A skeptical roll of the eyes met that promise. “I still don’t see why Gram can’t come back and take care of us. That way you could do stuff like Homecoming and Christmas and you wouldn’t have to worry. We wouldn’t get in your way, and Nicky wouldn’t be so sad anymore.”

  “You don’t get in my way,” Beau said evenly, “and Nicky doesn’t seem all that sad to me. And has it ever occurred to you that Gram might have other things to do?”

  “Like what?”

  He leaned against the counter and crossed one foot over the other. “Okay, fine. Gram would have kept coming over here every day for the rest of her life if I’d let her, but that wouldn’t be fair to her.”

  “Why not? She likes doing it.”

  “I know she does, but taking care of us is my job, not hers. Gram’s already raised her family—”

  “We’re her family. She says so all the time.”

  “Well, of course we’re her family.” At least, the kids were. Beau shifted uncomfortably and tried to find a way to explain the subtle nuances that seemed to be lost on his daughter. Now that the initial shock of Heather’s decision had worn off and the divorce had become final in July, it felt more and more wrong to give his ex-wife’s mother free rein over his house.

  It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate Doris’s help. What he didn’t appreciate was the way she watched and judged every move he made, her belief that Heather would “come to her senses” one day and return to Serenity, and her repeated insistence that Beau should be waiting for that day with open arms. He didn’t like thinking that Doris was filling the kids’ heads with unrealistic expectations about their mother, either. But how to explain that to a child who didn’t really understand why her mother left?

  “Gram’s been great to help us,” he admitted, “and you know how much I appreciate what she’s done. But I’m starting to feel like I’m not doing my job.”

  “That’s dumb.”

  Beau sat at the table and filled the other two glasses with juice. “That from the girl who keeps pointing out everything I don’t get done?”

  “You’re no good at housework, Daddy. That’s why Gram has to come back.”

  Her lack of faith stung, but the “Daddy” took some of the sting away. Beau went after the plates and decided to skip that second cup of coffee. “I’m not saying you can’t see Gram, sweetie. You and Nicky can visit her anytime you want.”

  “Anytime?”

  “Within reason. You can’t just disappear without asking me, though, and you should make sure Gram’s home first. But if you want to stop by after school once in a while, I won’t say no.”

  Brianne kicked the back of her chair rhythmically. “That’s not the same as having her here.”

  “No, it’s not. But that’s how it has to be.” Beau checked his watch and groaned. Once, he’d been a stickler about punctuality. These days, it seemed he was always late. “How about running upstairs to see what’s keeping your brother? The school bus will be here in ten minutes.”

  “I don’t think it’s fair that I have to baby-sit because you don’t want Gram here.”

  “That’s enough, Brianne. I’m not asking you to baby-sit. I’m asking you to contribute to the family. Now go.”

  She let out another sigh, rose majestically to her feet and disappeared with one last toss of her hair. Beau spooned cold eggs onto plates with a grimace and made a silent bet with himself about how much the kids would choke down before they ran out the door. He knew exactly how much he’d eat.

  Brianne was right about one thing, he thought with a frown. Housework wasn’t his strong suit. But that was going to change. He just needed time. A chance to focus. Then the piles of laundry would disappear and the dirty dishes would vanish. His relationship with Brianne would get back to normal, and he’d prove, once and for all, that he was more than capable of raising the kids on his own.

  TWENTY MINUTES LATER, Beau stood in his cluttered study and tried to remember where he’d left his car keys. The kids had made it to the school bus on time, but he’d be late if he didn’t walk out the door in two minutes. He dug through a stack of old mail, patted the bank statement beside his computer monitor and swore softly under his breath.

  He had to get more organized. That was all there was to it.

  He’d just lifted a pile of mail that still needed sorting when the telephone rang. He thought about ignoring it, but one glance at the caller ID changed his mind. He snagged the receiver from its cradle. “Gwen? What’s wrong?”

  “Well, that’s a nice greeting,” his sister returned. At thirty-one, Gwen was two years his junior, solid and dependable and, lucky for him, willing to take up the slack while he adjusted to the world without his mother-in-law underfoot. “What are you doing home? I’ve been trying to reach you at the office.”

  With a frown, Beau cradled the phone against his shoulder. “I have a better question. Why are you calling me?”

  “Why shouldn’t I?”

  “I may be paranoid,” he said, “but a call at this hour of the morning isn’t a good sign—especially on a day when you’ve promised to pick up the kids after school.”

  Her indrawn breath and soft sigh as she let it out again confirmed his suspicions. Her response cinched it. “Don’t kill me, okay?”

  “Gwen—”

  “It’s Riley’s mother’s birthday. We’re supposed to take her to Star Valley to visit her sister. I forgot all about it until five minutes ago.”

  Beau tossed the mail back onto the desk. “You don’t have to pick up the kids until three-thirty.”

  “We won’t be back that early. We’re taking Riley’s brother and his family with us, and they have the whole day planned. I’m really sorry, but we’ll be gone until late.”

  Beau stared out the window but he barely saw the autumn foliage on the hillside in front of him. “You’re leaving me in the lurch because of a birthday party?”

  “I have to. We’re committed.”

  “You’re committed to me, too, Gwen. What am I supposed to do now? I’ll be in Jackson when the kids get out of school.”

  “I know, but can’t they take the bus home just this once?”

  “They take the bus home every day, but tonight Brianne has karate and Nicky has soccer practice.” Beau turned away from the window and rubbed the back of his neck. “I can’t believe you’re doing this. I have to take off in just a couple of minutes. People are waiting for me in Grant’s Pass—”

  “I know, and I’m really, really sorry. Riley feels horrible, too. Usually one of us remembers things like this, but somehow we both spaced it this time.”

  Beau checked his watch and swore again. “Fine. Whatever. I’ll call Mom and see if she can help.”

  “Don’t bother,” Gwen said quickly. “I’ve already called. Lucas says she left for King’s Junction
half an hour ago.”

  With a growl of frustration, Beau shoved aside a bunch of magazines and finally spied his keys beneath a picture Nicky had brought home from school the previous afternoon. He stuffed the keys into his pocket so he wouldn’t lose them again and carried the cordless phone with him into the kitchen, where the scent of overcooked eggs still hung in the air. “Did you ask Lucas what he’s doing?” Their younger brother wasn’t nearly as responsible as Gwen, but he’d do all right for a few hours.

  “He’s scheduled to work until seven.”

  A tension headache began to pound behind Beau’s eyes. He ran quickly through a list of friends close enough to ask a favor on such short notice, but he couldn’t think of anyone who’d be home at that hour. “This is one helluva time to leave me hanging,” he snarled. “I can’t afford to ask another pilot to fly this trip. Property taxes are due in two months, and canceling at the last minute would shoot holes in my reputation.”

  “Well, of course you can’t cancel. I know that. But I can’t cancel on Riley’s family, either.” Gwen’s voice trailed away thoughtfully, then brightened again. “How about Doris? I’m sure she’d be glad to watch the kids.”

  Beau laughed harshly. “I don’t think so. She’s still upset with me.”

  “But she’s their grandmother.”

  “A grandmother who’s convinced I’m going to fail with the kids and who’s just waiting for me to prove her right.”

  “This isn’t failure,” Gwen said reasonably. “This is a scheduling conflict. Besides, you shouldn’t let her bother you.”

  “We’re talking about Doris Preston, right? My mother-in-law? The woman who can turn stone to dust with just a glance?”

  Gwen laughed. “I’ll admit she’s a little obsessive, but she’s not that bad. Her feelings are hurt, but she’ll get over it. Besides, if she knows that you really aren’t going to keep the kids away from her, maybe it’ll help heal the rift between you.”