Mistletoe Prayers Read online

  “Right.” She scampered up before they could argue, reaching down for the mistletoe-and-holly confection and hooking it into place. “Does that look right?”

  “Looks fine to me,” Miz Callie said. “Come down quick before Amanda wants to argue about whose turn it is.” She turned to Travis. “Have you figured out the difference between the twins yet?”

  “I had a head start, ma’am. Luke told me what to look for.”

  Annabel hopped down to the floor. “He said Amanda was the sophisticated one and I was the tomboy.”

  Travis’s gaze rested on her face in a way she found disconcerting. “Not quite. He said Amanda glittered but you glow. I think he was right.”

  Her cheeks flushed, but she was spared trying to think of an answer by Miz Callie’s quick hug.

  “I declare, I think that boy must be growing up if he said that.” Miz Callie released her, turning her bright, birdlike glance on Travis. “You and my grandson are good friends. It gives us a lot of pleasure to welcome you here.”

  “Thank you, ma’am. It’s kind of you to offer me your hospitality.” Travis’s deep voice was respectful. He might not exude the Southern charm the Bodine men had in abundance, but he knew how to treat a lady.

  “You make sure you come out to the beach house to see me, y’heah? My grandchildren’s friends are always welcome in my home.”

  Miz Callie’s warmth embraced Travis as a matter of course. She didn’t know, because Luke had told only Annabel, the deeper reasons why Luke was so insistent on their giving his friend a real Christmas.

  It was the helicopter crash in which Travis had put himself in peril in order to see his crew to safety. It was the woman he’d loved, who apparently hadn’t cared enough to wait out his recuperation.

  Make sure Travis has a good Christmas. Her brother’s voice echoed in her mind. I’m counting on you, Annabel.

  She’d promised, her heart touched. But that was before she’d met Travis, before she’d felt that warning signal that her own heart might be in danger if she got too close.

  Mamma brought in cookies and hot chocolate, diverting the attention of everyone but the children, who were too excited about the tree to stop, even for cookies.

  Annabel took her cup and retired to the rocker in the corner, wrestling with the problem that had dropped so unexpectedly into her lap. She couldn’t let Luke down, but…

  Surely it would be enough if she saw to it that Travis was kept occupied. After all, the whole family wanted to get in on the act. It didn’t have to involve her so much, did it?

  “…and then there’s the Jaycees’ Christmas dance, and the hospital auxiliary party, and the boat parade and…” Mamma’s voice floated over the chatter as she outlined the plans she’d made for Travis’s entertainment over the holidays.

  And Travis, well, Travis looked as if he’d like to jump on the first plane back to Alaska.

  “Goodness, Julia, let the boy breathe, won’t you?” Great-Uncle Ned came, surprisingly, to Travis’s rescue. “He doesn’t look to me as if he’s one for the social whirl, are you, son?”

  “Not exactly. I mean, I’m grateful, but…” He stumbled to a halt, probably afraid he’d offend someone no matter what he said.

  “I know just what you’d like,” Miz Callie said, reaching across the sofa to pat his arm. “You ought to go out to the farm and help Annabel with the animals. Goodness knows she could always use an extra pair of hands, especially with getting all the creatures ready for the Living Nativity. Luke said you grew up on a ranch, so that ought to be just the thing for you. How does that sound?”

  Annabel couldn’t miss the relief in his eyes. “I’d be happy to help out, if Annabel could use me.”

  He looked at her. Everyone looked at her. It was obvious what she had to say, so she said it.

  “I’d love to have your help, Travis. Thank you.” And her hopes of keeping a safe distance from Travis McCall went fizzling away to nothing.

  Chapter Two

  Peaceable Farm. The white sign with blue lettering was nearly obscured by the vines that grew around it. Travis turned into the lane. Peaceable. A nice name, bringing with it visions of peace and tranquility.

  Like Annabel. There was something still and serene in the depths of her blue eyes, reminding him of a quiet mountain lake he’d seen once.

  She’d agreed quickly enough to her grandmother’s suggestion that he help out, and he’d been so thankful to be rescued from Mrs. Bodine’s social calendar that he hadn’t stopped to consider anything else. Later, thinking it through, he’d begun to wonder.

  Had there been some slight hesitation in her eyes before she spoke? If she really didn’t want him here—well, he ought to be able to tell by her reactions to his presence. He could make some excuse to get out of this.

  The gravel lane wound around a sprawling white farmhouse and under the twisted branches of trees draped with Spanish moss. Even in December, flowers were blooming, and he spared a quick thought for the weather in Kodiak at the moment. No wonder Luke longed for home.

  He was still smiling at the thought when he came out into the open behind the house and the farm spread out before him—a red barn, a paddock, several fenced pastures beyond. And Annabel, walking toward the car with what seemed a genuine expression of welcome.

  He parked under a sprawling live oak and got out.

  “You found us all right.” Annabel, in well-worn jeans, scuffed boots and a flannel shirt worn loose over a T-shirt, didn’t show any signs of wanting him gone. “These backroads can be tough for a stranger.”

  “Your father gave me good directions. All I had to do was keep my eyes open for your sign. I like the name. How did you come up with it?”

  “Peaceable kingdom. You know…the image in the Bible of the future time when the lion shall lie down with the lamb.”

  “I see.” He didn’t, but he didn’t want to admit it.

  “Not that I have any lions,” Annabel said. She started toward the barn, and he fell into step with her. “But there are lambs—well, sheep, anyway.” She gestured toward the fenced pasture.

  A few cows, several sheep, an annoyed-looking goat and what looked like… “Is that really a llama?”

  She nodded. “It really is. Silly, isn’t it? People think they want an unusual pet. Then, when they find out how much trouble the animals are, they want to throw them away, as if they were disposable toys instead of living creatures.” The thread of anger in her voice showed him that on this one subject, at least, Annabel wasn’t so serene.

  “People do that.” With kids, also, as he knew only too well.

  She darted a look at his face. “Have you decided yet if I’m crazy?”

  He grinned, shaking his head. “Not crazy. Just a little idealistic, maybe.”

  “That’s what people say when…” She cut off the words when a kid came out of the barn—a gangly teenager in jeans and a shirt that had seen better days. “Everything okay, Sam?”

  The boy shot an appraising, wary glance at Travis. “Sure thing. I got that donkey in the cross ties, but he’s not likin’ it very much.”

  “It’s a first step, anyway. Travis, this is Sam Jefferson. He helps me out here. Sam, meet Travis McCall. He’s the coast-guard friend of my brother’s I was telling you about.”

  “Nice to meet you, Sam.” Travis extended his hand.

  The boy put his out reluctantly, it seemed, distrust in his dark eyes. “Yeah.” He swung back to Annabel. “You want me to help out with the donkey?”

  “I’ll have Travis do that. You can go on back to the fencing you were working on this morning.”

  “If you say so.” Face tight, he walked off.

  “Sorry about that,” Annabel said once the boy was out of earshot. “He’s a little cautious with strangers.”

  “Seemed like he didn’t want me doing his job. If my being here is going to cause problems…” He let his voice trail off, giving her the chance to find an out if she wanted one.

&
nbsp; “No, not at all.” She shook her head, the long braid swinging. “Sam…well, he comes from a difficult family situation. After Sam’s mother died, he really needed a job and a place to stay. And I needed someone good with animals, so it all worked out.”

  “Good.” The word sounded strangled, and he hoped she didn’t notice. He understood about difficult family situations too well.

  They moved through the open barn door, from sunlight into shadow. The donkey was the sole occupant, it seemed, except for a barn swallow that swooped out the door when they entered.

  Secure in the cross ties that attached to his halter on either side, the donkey rolled his eyes as Annabel approached him.

  “He doesn’t look like he’s feeling any too friendly,” Travis pointed out. “What exactly are we going to do?”

  “The vet left some ointment for his sores.” Annabel bent to pick up a brush from a plastic caddy on the floor. “I’d like to get some of the burrs out of his coat and put the ointment on.” She glanced at him. “Do you want to help? Because it’s okay if you don’t.”

  “Just tell me what you want me to do.” He rolled back his sleeves as he spoke. That donkey wasn’t as big as some animals he’d dealt with, but it could probably get in a wicked kick if anyone was foolish enough to be within range.

  “Let me try to calm him first. Then you can hold his head and talk to him while I work on him. There now, Toby.” She transferred her attention from him to the donkey. “Nobody’s going to hurt you here. We’re going to take care of you.”

  “He doesn’t look convinced,” Travis said. “If he was abandoned, how do you know his name is Toby?”

  “I don’t.” She touched the animal’s neck, and his ears went back. “It’s a traditional name for a donkey, so that’s what I called him.” She began stroking the neck. “Keep talking. I think he likes the sound of our voices.”

  He thought she was overly optimistic, but he obeyed. “Tell me about this Living Nativity your grandmother mentioned. I’ve never heard of that.”

  “You haven’t?” Her hand moved gently, rhythmically. “Maybe it’s not so popular in other places, but our church has had one every year since I can remember. We build a three-sided stable on the church lawn, and then the children and teenagers act out the Christmas story. And of course we use real animals.”

  Of course. “Camels?”

  “Well, no, not camels.” She sounded regretful, and he suspected if she could come up with a camel, there’d be one. “Cows, sheep, goats. Definitely a donkey for Mary to ride on.”

  “And you figure Toby is going to be ready for that?” At her gesture, he moved closer, taking her place at the animal’s head as she began to brush.

  “Well…let’s just say I hope so.” She moved the brush gently over the matted coat. “True, there’s not a lot of time, but love and gentleness can rehabilitate any hurting creature, don’t you think?”

  What he thought was that she was naive and probably a little too trusting. Hurting creatures could turn on anyone, even a person as gentle as Annabel.

  “How did you get involved with this, anyway?” He patted the donkey’s muzzle, keeping his hands well away from its teeth.

  “Miz Callie,” she said promptly. She put down the brush and began applying ointment. “My grandmother never saw a hurting creature she didn’t try to help. And the way she looks after the sea turtle nests out at the island—well, it’s too bad you weren’t here for the hatching. That’s—”

  He saw trouble coming too late to speak. The donkey’s skin shivered, his rear end shifted and he kicked out. Annabel tumbled back, landing half on a bale of straw.

  Abandoning the animal, he rushed to her. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” She pushed herself up. “I felt it coming and got out of the way of his hooves.” She sat down suddenly on the straw bale, making him suspect she wasn’t as calm about it as she’d let on.

  “You sure?” He frowned down at her.

  “Positive. Goodness, it’s not the first time I’ve taken a tumble. You grew up on a ranch. You must be used to getting bumped around.”

  He was—but not by the animals. His face must have changed, because all at once she was looking at him with a question in those wide blue eyes.

  “Sure thing.” He held out his hand to her. What was he doing, letting this woman push him into giving himself away? “I’m just surprised. I always thought Southern women were fragile flowers.”

  A chuckle escaped her, and she clasped his hand and let him raise her to her feet. “Don’t let any of the women in my family hear you say that. Steel magnolias, every one of them.”

  She looked into his face, her hand still clasped in his. The wave of attraction hit so hard that it nearly knocked him off his feet. His fingers tightened on hers for a second, and he wanted…

  He let go and took a quick step back. No. No way. He couldn’t let that happen.

  For a moment, Annabel thought the buzzing was part of that crazy spark that had leaped between her and Travis. Then she realized it was her cell phone.

  Murmuring an excuse, she turned away from Travis, yanking the cell phone from her pocket, and answered, trying not to let her feelings of relief show in her voice.

  “Pastor Tim, hello.” Pastor Tim Gunnel probably wanted to know if she had all the animals lined up for the Nativity. She sent an annoyed glance toward Toby, who seemed to glare back. “If this is about the animals for the pageant—”

  “I’m sure you have that well in hand.” Pastor Tim sounded more confident than she felt. “Actually, I have a favor to ask.”

  “Anything.” Her minister had been a rock when the Christmas wedding she’d planned so meticulously didn’t happen. If he needed a favor, he had it.

  “I’d like you to put Kyle Morrison in your kids’ program. You know who I mean?”

  “The Morrison family from church?” Kyle. She scoured her memory, coming up with an image of a fourth grader with a stubborn set to his chin and a quick temper. “I don’t know him very well, but if you think he’d benefit…”

  She left the statement open. Pastor Tim wouldn’t break confidentiality, but if she was to help the child, she’d need to know something about the situation.

  “I hope so.” He blew out his breath in a sigh. “I’ve had the parents in here regularly, and I’ve tried to talk with Kyle, but I haven’t gotten anywhere.” She could hear the worry in his voice. “He’s been getting into fights at school, his grades are falling and he’s run away twice at least. The parents are at the end of their rope.”

  “Are they getting professional help?” She leaned against a stall.

  “They’re reluctant to do that. Afraid of making matters worse. You know how parents can be in this situation.”

  She did. Afraid of some imaginary stigma attached to having a child who needed help. Maybe afraid of what might come out in a clinical setting.

  “I know it’s not much to go on,” Pastor Tim admitted, “but you’ve had such success in getting kids to open up once they’re working around the animals. Will you try?”

  “You know I will. Do you want me to make the arrangements with the parents?”

  “I’ll do that. Thanks, Annabel. I knew I could count on you.”

  After she ended the call, she stood for a moment, staring down at the cell phone. Pastor Tim had sent troubled children to her program before, and she had a lot of respect for his judgment. If he thought she could help, she’d do her best.

  Guide me, Father. She breathed a silent prayer. Help me to see how I can help this child. And open his heart to You.

  She slid the phone back into her pocket, feeling comforted, and turned to Travis.

  He had gone back to the donkey, talking to him in a low, calming voice. He wasn’t paying any attention to her, and she watched for a moment, not moving. Liking the easy way he had with the animal, his big hands moving gently as he spread the ointment on, his deep voice quiet and reassuring.

  Maybe thi
s wasn’t going to be so difficult, having Travis around. He had a gift with animals—that much was sure. And, from a slightly selfish point of view, it might be that occupying herself with showing him a good Christmas would help to keep her painful memories at bay.

  Travis unclipped the lead lines, holding on to the donkey’s halter, and glanced toward her. “Where do you want him?”

  Had he caught her staring at him? She could feel the warmth rush to her cheeks and tried to ignore it. “Let’s put him in the small paddock by himself for now. I like to keep newcomers isolated at first.”

  Travis fell into step with her, leading the donkey. Outside the barn, she opened the gate leading into the paddock. Travis shooed the donkey in and closed the gate. For a moment they stood side by side, leaning on the gate rail, watching as Toby, after a wary look around, dropped his head and began cropping grass.

  “Thanks for finishing up. I didn’t want to put off that call. The minister from our church has a boy he wants me to work with, and I thought…” She let that trail off, realizing that Travis was looking at her in confusion.

  “Sorry,” she said. “Let me start again. I’m getting as bad as my mamma is, babbling away as if you know all about what I do here.”

  “I know you work with abused and abandoned animals.” He jerked a nod toward the pasture. “What else?”

  “Peaceable Farm runs a program for kids who are at risk. Actually, that’s how I first became acquainted with Sam. He was in one of my early groups.”

  Travis’s dark brows had drawn together. “What kind of risk?”

  She’d expected him to ask about the program, but instead he’d zeroed in on the children.

  “Some of them come from homes where there’s addiction or abuse. Some are acting out in different ways—withdrawn, behavioral problems, getting into trouble at school, running away. Some are learning disabled or physically disabled.”