that. She was,
perhaps, more than a little accustomed to having her own way about such things.
Due partly to her background and partly to her high-profile position with Nurses
Without Boundaries, people tended to defer to her. She made decisions and
choices and she followed through on them, having things her way most of the
time. She tried her best to be fair, but she knew she had definite opinions as
to how things should be.
However, in this case, she had to remember that the whole idea
was to get Preston to feel comfortable taking care of his son. If he had strong opinions about what he wanted in his
little boy’s room, well, that was a good thing, wasn’t it?
She knew that it was. But it was also more proof of all the
ways she was...losing him.
Losing Ben.
Dear God. Life was cruel. It was her job here, in Montana, to
lose Ben. So that Ben could gain his father, so that Preston could have his
son.
Sometimes doing what one had to do was too painful for
words.
And now it was way too quiet in the kitchen. Neither Silas nor
Charlotte looked much like they wanted to laugh anymore.
“Belle...” Preston’s voice was gentle.
She swallowed hard, and straightened up in the chair, lifting
her head proudly, meeting his beautiful blue gaze. “You’re right. I should have
considered that you might want to choose something else—or maybe not even have a
mural. I could...well, if that’s what you want, I...”
“Look, it’s all right. Winnie-the-Pooh is fine.”
“No,” she said. “It’s not. We’ll choose something else—that is,
if you’re willing to have a mural in the first place.”
“A mural is fine.”
“All right, then. Tomorrow, on the way to Missoula, we’ll stop
in town and trade in Winnie-the-Pooh for trains. Or horses.”
“Or cars.” He said it lightly. Teasingly.
And she felt better. About everything.
Charlotte said, “Which means, Preston, that you’re the one who
should go with Belle on the shopping trip tomorrow. That way you’ll be there to
approve the purchases for Ben’s room.” She turned to Belle. “I’ll keep Ben with
me here. It’s so much easier to shop without a little one in tow.”
Silas said, “Now, that makes sense.”
Preston asked him, “Can you handle things on your own
tomorrow?”
“I was running this ranch when you were in diapers.”
“Okay, Dad. I’ll take that as a yes.”
So it was agreed. Weather permitting, Belle and Preston would
go to Missoula as soon as Belle had put the painter to work the next
morning.
The second subject for discussion was Christmas. Specifically,
decorating the tree.
Silas said, “We can make this quick. Pres, you go up and bring
the decorations down. As I recall, they’re just about directly over our heads.”
He pointed at the ceiling. “You think you can find them? Good. Belle can help
you. Right, Belle?”
“Well, ah, certainly.”
“And Charlotte and I and the hands will go out and get us a
tree. That work for you, Charlotte?”
Was Charlotte actually blushing? “I would love to go and
acquire a tree with you, Silas. Are you sure we need both of your hired
men?”
“When I say a tree, I mean a tree. We’ll find us a tall one to stand proud in the front hall—and what are we
waiting for?” He shoved his chair back. “Bundle up and let’s get a move on.”
* * *
Ten minutes later, Pres stood under the attic door with
Belle. He lowered the ladder and led the way up with Belle right behind him.
At the top, he turned on the attic lights and paused to glance
back at her. “This way,” he said, all too acutely aware of her, in her trim
brown pants that looked pretty amazing coming or going, of that snug sweater she
wore that was sort of brown and sort of gold and a little bit amber just like
her eyes.
He led the way through the stacks of boxes and crates and old
furniture to the place where the old man had said the Christmas things would be.
“Here we go.” There were boxes and more boxes of
perhaps, more than a little accustomed to having her own way about such things.
Due partly to her background and partly to her high-profile position with Nurses
Without Boundaries, people tended to defer to her. She made decisions and
choices and she followed through on them, having things her way most of the
time. She tried her best to be fair, but she knew she had definite opinions as
to how things should be.
However, in this case, she had to remember that the whole idea
was to get Preston to feel comfortable taking care of his son. If he had strong opinions about what he wanted in his
little boy’s room, well, that was a good thing, wasn’t it?
She knew that it was. But it was also more proof of all the
ways she was...losing him.
Losing Ben.
Dear God. Life was cruel. It was her job here, in Montana, to
lose Ben. So that Ben could gain his father, so that Preston could have his
son.
Sometimes doing what one had to do was too painful for
words.
And now it was way too quiet in the kitchen. Neither Silas nor
Charlotte looked much like they wanted to laugh anymore.
“Belle...” Preston’s voice was gentle.
She swallowed hard, and straightened up in the chair, lifting
her head proudly, meeting his beautiful blue gaze. “You’re right. I should have
considered that you might want to choose something else—or maybe not even have a
mural. I could...well, if that’s what you want, I...”
“Look, it’s all right. Winnie-the-Pooh is fine.”
“No,” she said. “It’s not. We’ll choose something else—that is,
if you’re willing to have a mural in the first place.”
“A mural is fine.”
“All right, then. Tomorrow, on the way to Missoula, we’ll stop
in town and trade in Winnie-the-Pooh for trains. Or horses.”
“Or cars.” He said it lightly. Teasingly.
And she felt better. About everything.
Charlotte said, “Which means, Preston, that you’re the one who
should go with Belle on the shopping trip tomorrow. That way you’ll be there to
approve the purchases for Ben’s room.” She turned to Belle. “I’ll keep Ben with
me here. It’s so much easier to shop without a little one in tow.”
Silas said, “Now, that makes sense.”
Preston asked him, “Can you handle things on your own
tomorrow?”
“I was running this ranch when you were in diapers.”
“Okay, Dad. I’ll take that as a yes.”
So it was agreed. Weather permitting, Belle and Preston would
go to Missoula as soon as Belle had put the painter to work the next
morning.
The second subject for discussion was Christmas. Specifically,
decorating the tree.
Silas said, “We can make this quick. Pres, you go up and bring
the decorations down. As I recall, they’re just about directly over our heads.”
He pointed at the ceiling. “You think you can find them? Good. Belle can help
you. Right, Belle?”
“Well, ah, certainly.”
“And Charlotte and I and the hands will go out and get us a
tree. That work for you, Charlotte?”
Was Charlotte actually blushing? “I would love to go and
acquire a tree with you, Silas. Are you sure we need both of your hired
men?”
“When I say a tree, I mean a tree. We’ll find us a tall one to stand proud in the front hall—and what are we
waiting for?” He shoved his chair back. “Bundle up and let’s get a move on.”
* * *
Ten minutes later, Pres stood under the attic door with
Belle. He lowered the ladder and led the way up with Belle right behind him.
At the top, he turned on the attic lights and paused to glance
back at her. “This way,” he said, all too acutely aware of her, in her trim
brown pants that looked pretty amazing coming or going, of that snug sweater she
wore that was sort of brown and sort of gold and a little bit amber just like
her eyes.
He led the way through the stacks of boxes and crates and old
furniture to the place where the old man had said the Christmas things would be.
“Here we go.” There were boxes and more boxes of
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