Come Home For Christmas by Susanne Matthews Page A

skating with friends from school. All in all, it had been a magical time, one she’d cherish for the rest of her days. Maybe she’d get to come back for it again next Christmas.
    Removing her coat, she carried Leah’s most recent Christmas creations into the family room and placed the pine cone trees on the end tables. The new handmade ornaments would go in the tree tomorrow.
    She carried her presents up to her room to put them away and heard Ethan talking to Leah. The voices were muffled, but she knew enough to give them their privacy. Going back downstairs, she settled on the sofa and waited for Ethan. She hoped he wouldn’t bring up her refusal to accept the restitution he’d offered. The last thing she wanted to do tonight was fight.

Chapter Eight
     
     
    Ethan entered the room, walked over to the bar, and poured them each a glass of wine from the bottle they’d opened last night. “I wish it was this easy to get her to bed every night,” he said. “Once school starts, she’ll be back to bartering for extra half hours. She can be quite the little con artist when she sets her mind to it.”
    Krista chuckled. “I remember doing that. It never worked if I asked Mom, but Dad was a pushover. I spoke to Aggie in town. She’s coming over in the morning to make pies and get things started for Christmas dinner. Maybe I should cook a ham, too. I’m sure the bird will be big enough, but how many will we be?”
    “Twelve, plus the twins, but they don’t eat. Chris is dating Reverend Clark’s daughter and having dinner with them.”
    “I see.”
    “But I love turkey sandwiches and turkey soup.” He sat on the couch beside her and reached for her hand. The skin was warm and soft, unlike the callous hands he remembered from her youth when she preferred to ride without gloves. “You read the letters this morning, didn’t you? That’s why you gave me a ‘get out of jail free’ card.”
    “No, I didn’t read them, Ethan. I’m not sure I ever will.”
    “I read yours; it’s only fair you should read mine,” he said dismayed with her comment. She had to read the letters. Their future depended on it.
    She shook her head. “We wrote those letters a lifetime ago when we were both young and carefree. I won’t hold you to the promises you made ten years ago,” she said softly. “We aren’t the same people.” She reached for her wine and sipped.
    “Are you that sure of yourself?” he asked, wishing he could turn back time.
    “Sure of myself—no, never—but I couldn’t let you do what you wanted to do. It wasn’t right, and it wasn’t necessary. I don’t begrudge you anything you’ve had these last few years. What I do regret is not having faith in the people who loved me, like Luke. I’ve had time to think, and I believe fear motivated your dad to do what he did. He wanted the ranch to stay in one piece and in the family, and I’ll make sure it does. Despite what he did, we found one another again. We can be friends once more, and I can come home. Ever since the day I left here, I’ve felt incomplete, as if some part of me was missing. My heart is here. Tomorrow before we go to church, I want to stop at the cemetery and visit Mom and Dad’s graves, something I haven’t been able to do until now. I hope they haven’t been neglected.”
    “They haven’t. Leah and I visit all eight graves at least once a month.”
    “Eight?”
    “Her parents, your parents, my grandparents, and my parents.”
    “Of course. Your whole family is there. I don’t even know where my biological dad is buried. He died before I was born. There’s something sad about not knowing where you come from.”
    “I can help you find out after Christmas. All you need is his name and place and date of birth.”
    “I’ve got those documents in Ottawa. I’ll bring them back with me. I’ll want to visit your dad’s grave. I’ll need to make peace with him, too. I can’t forget how deeply he hurt me, but I can forgive his