Thirty minutes after the EMTs arrived, he watched as they loaded Gladys into the back of the ambulance. While bronchitis was a good bet, given her age, the doctors wanted to observe her to be certain there was nothing else going on.
He returned to the house to make sure everything was in order and the fire in the wood stove was put out. He’d have to touch base with the church and others in town so Gladys would have plenty of folks to check on her and bring her food once she returned home.
Before leaving, he picked up the framed photo and hung it back on the wall. Anyone could tell you were a Stephens.
His eyes closed. God, forgive me. I know I made a mistake all those years ago. How do I know if Kenzie is my child?
By the time his shift ended, he could hardly wait to get home. He didn’t want to get his hopes up, but if what played across his brain was truly from God, he might have the answer he’d prayed for.
He pulled his Tahoe into the drive, ditched his gear at the back door and headed straight for the bookshelves surrounding the fireplace in the living room. Quickly locating the scrapbook his mother had compiled for him and his sister-in-law Carly had assembled, he flipped past the baby pictures and those of him as a toddler, his heart pounding when he came to a photo of him at age four and a half. Except the face staring back at him was Kenzie’s. The nose, the eyes—He touched a finger to his forehead—even that little widow’s peak had Stephens written all over it.
He dropped onto the couch, feeling as though the air had been sucked from his lungs.
Kenzie was his daughter.
Standing at the island in her mother’s kitchen, Lacie transferred the remnants of Kenzie’s birthday cake to a large plastic container then licked a smudge of the super sweet frosting from her finger. Thanks to no nap earlier in the day, save for fifteen short minutes in the car on the way back from Montrose, the little girl had crashed early. Still, it had been a good birthday. Mom had gone above and beyond on the gifts. Clothes, toys, books... Yet she refused to do Christmas. Unless the abundance was to make up for not celebrating Christmas.
Whatever the case, they’d all had a pleasant evening.
She stowed the cake in the fridge, rinsed and dried her hands, then grabbed her laptop and settled on the couch in the living room. Since she’d sent off Matt’s list this afternoon, she was now free to see if any new job listings had been posted. Because if she could find something that started before Christmas, her problems would be solved.
“I see you got a turkey.” Sitting in an adjacent chair near the window, Mom looked up from her book and moved her reading glasses to the top of her head.
Lacie lifted a brow. Was that merely an observation or were they about to enter round two of holiday discussions? If so, she’d better prepare to stand her ground.
“Just a small one.” She snagged the deep purple plush throw from the back of the sofa and tossed it over her legs while she waited for the website to load. “Oh, and don’t forget to give me your dressing recipe.”
“It’s in the recipe file in the cupboard.” Mom reached for her herbal tea on the side table. “It’s fairly basic, no special ingredients, so you shouldn’t have any trouble finding what you need at Duckett’s.”
Contemplating an inevitable trip to Ouray’s one and only grocer, Lacie was pleased to see that her mother had embraced the idea of having Thanksgiving here at the house. Now if she would just come around to Lacie’s way of thinking regarding Christmas...
A knock sounded at the door.
She and her mother exchanged quizzical looks.
“I wonder who that could be.” Mom set her cup down, stood and started for the door. Fingering the sheer curtain aside, she peered through the sidelight window and smiled. “I have a feeling it’s for you.”
“Me?” Lacie set her computer on the coffee table, tossed the throw aside and stood in her socked feet. Who would be here to see her? The only person she’d had contact with since she’d been back was—
Her gut tightened. Oh, please don’t let it be—
“Matt, this makes twice in one day.” Mom held the door, allowing him and a blast of cold air to enter. “To what do we owe this pleasure?”
Pleasure? Lacie tugged at the sleeves of her bulky sweater. That was debatable.
“Hey, Barbara.” He wore a heavy coat, a pair of well-worn jeans, gloves and a black beanie. And if the hefty dose of pink coloring in his cheeks and nose was any indication, he’d walked. “I’m sorry to stop by so late.”
“Nonsense.” Mom closed the door behind him. “It’s only eight thirty.”
Yeah, never mind the fact that they were settling in for a cozy evening.
When Matt’s dark gaze moved to Lacie, she noticed something different, though. His shoulders seemed to slump, as though he were carrying a heavy burden, and there was something sad in his expression. Something that made her heart go out to him, though she quickly snatched it back.
Had something happened with the play? Mrs. Nichols?
“Is Kenzie in bed?” He watched her intently.
Uncertain how she felt about this side of Matt, she crossed her arms over her chest. “Yes. Why?”
“Could we take a walk?”
A walk? Now? But it was late. Moreover, it was cold.
“We won’t be long,” he added.
She looked to her mother.
“I’ll keep an ear out for Kenzie.” Obviously the woman had read her mind.
Lacie glanced down at her computer. So much for job hunting. “Give me a sec to get ready.”
She donned her coat, scarf, hat and boots, all the while trying to figure out why Matt would suddenly feel like taking a walk. With her of all people. Unless something had happened. Or he simply wanted to discuss his duties as director? But couldn’t they do that here or someplace else that was warm?
Tugging on her gloves, she let go a sigh. She’d find out soon enough.
Outside, the air was still as they started up the darkened street. The clouds that had plagued them all day had finally dissipated, leaving a plethora of stars in their wake. It also meant they were likely in for a very cold night. Perhaps a hot bath would be in order when she got back.
“How’d the party go?” Matt’s breath hung in the freezing night air.
“Not too bad, considering there were only three of us.” She stuffed her hands into her pockets. “Kenzie made out like a bandit.”
“I’m guessing she’d consider it a success then.” Though she didn’t look at him, she could hear a hint of a smile in his voice.
“Probably.”
