Page 41 of Christmas at the Ranch

Thirty-One

The night of the Starlight Ride is true to its name. No snow, just the clear and starry sky above. The way is lit by the lanterns on the horses and in the hands of the townspeople walking along with us—as well as someone who isn’t from town, but who I can tell feels at home here, too.

My mother walks beside me as I ride a sweet older gelding named Beau.

She has a lantern in her hand. She looks up at me from time to time and smiles.

This is new; so new, it’s taking some getting used to.

She’s stayed a few days in Evergreen, and I’ve found myself happy to have her around.

I feel sure I’ve never spent time with my mother like this before, doing what I like to do in a place I love rather than something she or my father have orchestrated.

There was a time I felt sure I needed to be free of my family, that my happiest life could never include them.

Now, as my mother walks with me on this beautiful, special night, Christmas Eve, I think maybe my life could take a different path. The one I always wanted.

“Emory! Hello!”

Bruce has caught up with us. He walks with his arm tucked into that of a tall man with red hair and a matching beard.

“This is my husband, Michael,” he says. “And this,” he says to his husband proudly, “is my brilliant Emory. I’ve so loved having her around. I’ll be completely lost without her.”

“Bruce,” I say, and a pain tugs at my heart. “I think I’m going to be lost without you, too.”

“But we still have tonight,” Bruce says with a smile. “And what a magical night I’m sure it will be.”

Tate, up ahead, riding Inez, looks back at me and smiles. I smile at him, feel that pull I always do when he’s near.

“I feel sure it will be, too,” I say.

I reach down to pat Beau’s shoulder. I feel sad I’m not on Star, but I know Star is happy tonight, out in a paddock with a few of her other horse friends who also don’t like being ridden on the trail.

Maybe Star will come around one day, but for now, it’s not something I can change.

I’m determined to enjoy the moment, knowing I’ll be able to ride her again.

And that with patience, things are likely to get better.

“Looking good there, Ms.Oakes.” A warm growl of a voice coming up beside me makes me smile even wider than I already was.

“Why, thank you, Charlie.”

He’s riding Hank. He looks down at my mother. “She’s a talented rider, your daughter.”

I laugh. “I don’t know about that,” I say. “I only rode four times while I was here and got thrown off two of those times. Not the best average.”

“Ah, but you know that wasn’t your fault. You were riding a horse who hadn’t taken to anyone in ages. You have a real way with horses.” He pauses. “A shame, though, that you probably don’t get to do much riding in the city.” He gives me a meaningful look but leaves it at that, then rides on ahead.

We all move slowly toward the woods, a mix of riders and walkers, all with lanterns.

There are also lanterns hanging from trees to light our way.

Tate and I walked through the woods together this afternoon and set up for the Starlight Ride.

We pulled the lanterns on a sled and stopped often to kiss, to talk.

He told me how glad he is I am staying for Christmas.

Beyond that, I don’t know. He didn’t ask for more, and my answer seems just out of reach.

Bruce and Michael are just ahead now—and I hear Bruce begin to sing. His voice is a stunning baritone. I had no idea he was so talented. The opening lines of “Joy to the World” ring out, as pure as fresh snow.

Michael joins in with a low bass. Soon, more people are singing, both those on horses and those walking.

Even my mother joins in, and so do I. At the end, Bruce sings one last verse alone.

It’s a verse of the carol I’ve never heard, with a line so beautiful I want to write it down later.

Perhaps in my diary, which still has a few blank pages left to fill.

And hearts unfold like flowers before Thee… opening to the sun above.

After the song, there is silence, just the sound of boots and hooves crunching through snow.

Then, a child’s voice begins to sing next: “Jingle Bells,” and I recognize that little voice as Sam’s.

She’s at the front of the pack, riding a peppy little pony named Mags.

Reesa is walking beside her holding a lantern.

I hear her voice, too, a pretty alto—and then the whole group is singing along. Laughing all the way…

I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy—but maybe I have. Maybe I was this happy ten years ago, and I’m finally finding a way to let it all in again.

We’re deep in the forest now, and our voices are ringing through the trees just like the sleigh bells we’re singing about.

“Emory.” Tate is beside me on Inez. For the briefest of moments, he reaches out to touch my hand.

He looks at me and smiles. I smile back.

“Come on,” he says. “Come to the front.” Beau and I follow him.

Together, we lead the group on a gentle loop through the starlit woods, and then back to the barn.

It’s eight o’clock by the time the bonfire is over, and we get the last horse put away, the ranch closed down for the night.

Charlie invites my mother to dinner—his traditional, very homemade fondue, he says with a wink.

And while the past version of my mother probably would have gotten a haughty look on her face and said no, thank you, as if eating store-bought fondue was a new low she did not care to excavate, she instead thanks him genuinely for the invitation, but says she had better get home so she can visit my father on Christmas morning.

I feel a pang when she says this. I ask her if she’d like me to come back with her.

“That’s going to be hard,” I say. “Going to see Dad in jail on Christmas morning. It’s so bleak, Mom.”

But she just smiles sadly. “It is. And there is no way I would take you away from this beautiful place you’re in, from how happy you are, to do that with me. I can handle it. I promise.”

“Will you call me after? Will you ask Dad to call?”

“Of course. Now, would you like to walk me to my car?” my mom asks.

I take one of the lanterns from the Starlight Ride to lead our way and we walk along the snowy path past the stables and out to her car.

“This place is just so peaceful,” my mother says, pausing and standing still. She looks up at the starry sky, then back at me. “Thank you, Emory.”

“For what, Mom?”

“For making me feel so welcome here.”

“Of course. I’m glad you came to Evergreen.” And I find that I mean it.

“I’m really sorry, you know. I’m just realizing now that we could have been doing things like this together for your whole life—and you’re twenty-eight years old.” She sniffles, reaches into her purse for a tissue.

“Oh, Mom. It’s not too late, you know. These past few days, and tonight, they proved that.”

She dabs at her eyes, then puts the tissue back in her purse. “I believe you, Emory.”

I hesitate, but I know I need to say this. “When I’m back in the city, I’ll come visit Dad with you.”

Her face lights up. “Oh, he would love that.”

“I know it isn’t going to be easy and that we have a long journey ahead of us, but we’re still family,” I say.

“Maybe someday, we’ll have gotten to a place where you feel proud to call us that,” she says.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” I say softly.

She nods. “Yes. And I’ll miss you. But I have to get back to the city and your father, and I know how happy you’ll be here—which makes me really happy.”

“Everything’s going to be okay,” I tell her—although I’m not certain of that. I know this is going to be a strange, hard year for my family. “I’ll be there for you through all of it,” I amend. “You won’t be alone.”

My mom pulls me in for a hug. I hear her sniffle a little more, but when she pulls away, her eyes are dry. “All right, I really should get on the road.”

“Text me when you get home,” I say. I stand and wave until her car’s red taillights disappear from sight. Then I turn and walk back toward Tate’s cabin.

He’s standing at the door, waiting for me. “Did that go all right?” he asks, pulling me into his arms.

“It did,” I say. “It was a nice goodbye.”

He looks down at me with his beautiful amber eyes. “She must be so proud of you.”

I can’t help but smile. “That’s sweet, but I’m twenty-eight years old and I don’t even really have a job. Not a ton to be proud of.”

“That’s not what I meant. She’s proud of you . Who you are.” But now he looks thoughtful. “You could, you know. Have a job. Bruce would have you on permanently in a second. And you know he’d also let you keep the apartment.”

“It’s a nice thought,” I say. “Except Bruce doesn’t have enough money to pay me.”

He pulls away, then tilts his head up toward the sky.

“What are you doing?” I ask him, feeling bereft when he’s not near me. He reaches for me and pulls me close again, and I feel relieved.

“Making a wish,” he says, nodding up at the stars. “Wishing…” Now he ducks his head, his lips brushing against mine. “Wishing you’d stay. That we’ll find a way.”

Inside, through the open door, I can hear Charlie in the kitchen, humming along to Loretta Lynn’s Country Christmas album.

I look up, too, at the starry blanket above—and then back into the eyes of the man I love and cannot imagine my life without, ever again.

When we kiss, I know his wish will come true. I’ll figure it out. Because I’m home.