The Best Christmas Ever. Stella Bagwell

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      Chapter 1

      Nicholas Gallagher slowed his sports car as the blacktop gave way to dirt and the road took another sharp bend. To his right was the wide Arkansas River. Yet before he could catch a glimpse of the barges and towboats traveling the waterway, the road began to veer sharply away from the river and into wide, open fields. At the moment the land lay fallow. But Nick knew exactly how rich and fertile it would look come spring. He was on Gallagher land now—his family’s farm.

      Ahead of him, a county road grader was moving slowly, its slanted blade rolling the damp earth to one side of the road. Since the turn to the farm was only a half mile away, Nick downshifted and hung impatiently behind the vehicle.

      Bright sunshine glinted off the red hood of his car, making it seem more like an early spring day instead of late December. Yesterday, when he’d left Fort Sill in western Oklahoma, the weather had been cold and wet. But the drive east had left the clouds and rain behind him.

      It was a beautiful day, and he was almost home. Home for Christmas. It was a tradition for the Gallagher family to spend the holiday together. To eat, laugh, reminisce and generally make merry. Nick had always made it a point to return home and join in the celebration. But this year coming home for Christmas had taken on new meaning. His brother Sam was getting married and Nick was going to be the best man. He’d had a month to get used to the idea, but Nick still found it difficult to imagine his quiet, hardworking brother in love and about to get married.

      While the grader continued to creep along in front of him, Nick looked things over. It was easy to see that Sam had been busy this past harvesting season. Even the land around the old Lee house showed signs of being worked. Nick remembered that particular section of land used to be farmed in watermelon and cantaloupe, but for the past few years it had lain dormant—mainly because Old Lady Lee had been in ill health and his father hadn’t wanted to disturb her with the loud sound of tractors and the boiling dust plowing created.

      Maybe the old woman had passed away, Nick thought. Although he couldn’t remember his mother mentioning it in her letters.

      Nick studied the square, wood-framed house sitting a hundred feet or so south of the road. The old Lee place was still unpainted and the tin roof was just as rusty as it had been when he’d come home last Easter. Still, it looked as though someone lived there. Curtains hung in the windows and wood was stacked neatly on the east end of the front porch.

      However, Old Lady Lee swiftly left his mind as the cattle guard leading to the Gallagher farmhouse appeared on the right. With the road grader finally out of his path, Nick crossed the slatted entrance, then stepped hard on the accelerator. The sports car shot forward like a little red arrow. Dust roiled behind him and Nick chuckled as he pictured his mother’s expression when she spotted him coming down the road. She’d scold him for driving recklessly, then scold him again for not letting the family know that he was coming home today.

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