A Randall Thanksgiving. Judy Christenberry

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      John stood there, looking at him. Finally, he shook his head. “No, I don’t see that happening.”

      “Then you should encourage your dad not to press her on that front. If she married because of him, the marriage wouldn’t last. You know how that goes.”

      “You sound like a voice of experience. You’ve seen a marriage like that?”

      Harry hefted off the saddle and put it in the tack room. “Yeah, my parents’. When they finally divorced it was a relief for all of us.”

      “I’m sorry, Harry. I didn’t know.”

      “It’s not something you go around bragging about. But I think both my parents are happier now. Anyway, that’s why I’m not interested in Melissa. She’s beautiful and obviously talented, but I don’t want an unhappy wife.”

      He couldn’t believe he was using the words Melissa and wife in the same thought. He laughed to himself as he absently brushed down the borrowed horse. The matchmaking Randalls were legendary in these parts. But they’d met their match in Melissa.

      Once he and John fed the horses, they bundled up again for the trek to the house. The snow was falling heavily now, and blowing around, nearly obliterating the building in front of them. Trudging through the storm they reached the mudroom and shed their coats and boots, which were wet and covered in crusty snow.

      Melissa called out from the kitchen. “Come on in. It’s almost ready.”

      Suddenly, Harry hesitated. The scene was almost too domestic. Him coming in from work, Melissa having dinner ready. “Maybe I should go on back to town. I’m supposed to be on duty tonight.”

      John stared at him. “You’ve got to be kidding! Didn’t you see how bad this storm is? I don’t think you’re going back to town until it stops, Harry. You’d be crazy to try.”

      “Well, I’m certainly not spending the night here!”

      John ignored him and ushered him inside. “Come in and call Mike. He’ll tell you the same thing.”

      Harry pulled his cell phone off his belt, but found he had no service, probably due to the storm. Now he had to go in and use the house phone.

      John led the way into the kitchen.

      “Where are you going?” Melissa asked as the men walked through the room.

      “To the phone,” her brother told her. “Harry wants to drive back to town now.”

      She looked at Harry. “Are you nuts? It’s not safe.”

      “I’m on duty tonight,” he said, as if that was sufficient reason to try.

      She raised her chin and gave him a glare as cold as the great outdoors. “And we certainly know how you take your duty seriously.”

      John looked at him, puzzled. “What does she mean?”

      Harry ignored his friend, his eyes never leaving Melissa. So she’d thought about that night at the steak house and bar, too?

      Not that it mattered, he reminded himself quickly. Nothing could ever happen between them.

      He went to the phone and called Mike, who, as he’d suspected, told him to stay put. The roads were a mess and the day shift deputies were pulling double duty.

      “What did Mike say?” John asked as he came to the table.

      Harry frowned. “I guess I’m staying, if y’all don’t mind putting me up.”

      Melissa answered before her brother could. “Of course we don’t. It’d be pretty rude of us to refuse when you helped move the herd.” She put bowls of hot soup in front of them.

      “What’s this?” John asked.

      “French onion soup.”

      He frowned. “You made us French food? Dad said he almost starved to death before he got home.”

      “Oh, just try it, John,” Melissa said, losing her patience. “It’s hardly French. It’s onion soup with melted cheese.” She muttered, “If you want French, try eating snails.”

      John looked about ready to pass on dinner.

      Harry tried the soup. “Hey, this is good. Did you make it?” he asked Melissa.

      “Yes. And thank you.” She gave him a smile.

      The smile warmed him as much as the hot soup.

      They ate silently until the phone rang, shattering the quiet.

      John jumped up to answer it. “Hello? Oh, hi, Dad. How’s Mom?”

      Immediately, Melissa’s attention was focused on her brother. Harry watched her, seeing the anxiety she was feeling. It must’ve been hard to come out with them instead of going to the hospital with her mom.

      When Melissa realized he was staring at her, she stiffened and turned to eat the rest of her soup.

      “You should’ve gone with your mom instead of helping us,” Harry said softly.

      “I wanted to, but Dad needed to be alone with her tonight. He didn’t have time to prepare for any separation or the threat of a serious illness.”

      “They’re that close?”

      Melissa looked at him in surprise. “Yes. Aren’t your parents?”

      He gave her a wry look. “Not for a long time. They divorced ten years ago.”

      “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

      “It’s okay. It’s not a sensitive subject for me. They’re much happier since they split up.”

      “Are you an only child?”

      “No, I have a younger sister. She had a harder time with the divorce. She was just fourteen. She’s married now and I don’t see her that often. I don’t much like her husband.”

      “How old were you when your folks divorced?”

      “Eighteen. That makes me twenty-eight now.”

      Melissa flashed an embarrassed smile. “I guess I wasn’t subtle enough.”

      “So how old are you?”

      “Twenty-six.”

      “You moved to France when you were twenty? Was your dad crazy?”

      Her spine stiffened. “He wasn’t crazy at all. He and Mom realized what a great experience it would be for me.”

      John, who had just hung up the phone, entered the conversation, “You mean, Mom decided it would be a great experience СКАЧАТЬ