Epilogue

Caro

It’s always chaos in our house and never more so than at Christmas. But it’s still my favorite time of the year.

“Jeremiah… put down your sister’s doll! Stop teasing her!” My second oldest son hands my youngest daughter her favorite toy and shoots me a guilty look. I point a finger at him. “You’re going to be reading her her bedside story tonight.” He sighs and nods his head, knowing that he earned the scolding. Also knowing that he’s gonna have to read The Princess’s Tea Adventure which is her favorite story and we’ve all taken our turns reading it.

Our six kids rampage through our expanded ranch house and I smile as their father walks in the door. There’s more silver in his hair and more lines on his tanned, weathered face. His dark eyes still glint with golden sparks even though there are little deep lines at the corners from hard work outside.

He’s been a fantastic partner, father and husband and every day of our lives I’ve never regretted marrying him. Each day brings me so much joy and love.

He smiles over the noise and chaos and then blows a sharp whistle, all of our kids and Pete stilling to stare at him. “Who wants to take a sleigh ride?”

Even our oldest at seventeen smiles and yells. Christopher loves to drive one of the sleighs for our annual tradition. It’s time to head out to the place where we pick our tree.

It takes a good half an hour to organize everything and get the kids loaded up into two sleighs. We sing Jingle Bells and Dashing Through the Snow the whole way there and then when we pull up, it becomes quiet. There’s a hush every year when we reach this place, like the kids feel the importance of it to our little family.

This is where I felt the start of the bond between Ricky and I after I came back to Hamilton. Where he claimed more of my heart that day he actually talked to Christopher. Where we started the healing process that led to love. A love like nothing I’ve ever pictured and can’t believe I found.

That tree still stands out here. His dinky little tree is still growing where we pick our family tree. He loves to visit it and decorate it every year. His little siblings help him lift the safe for wildlife garland of cranberries and popcorn out of the back of the other sleigh. Also we have popcorn and birdseed balls that can be tied on the tree with twine. We make them for about a week before our trip out here.

Tears fill my eyes when I watch Christopher gently twining everything around the lush pine tree that’s grown up with him. My heart clenches at the gentle smile on his face. We decided that no matter what, this tree will always stay here. Where it really all started. It’s special to Christopher. Special to all of us.

I turn to smile at my gorgeous husband who pushes his dark gray cowboy hat back to keep an eye on the kids. Eventually he’ll cut down the new tree but not this one. Never this one.

The big softy rancher with the dirty mouth and heart of gold will never hurt one of us. Even if it’s a special tree.

I wander over and lean my head against his shoulder, tapping his cheek. He smiles down at me. “Hello, Mrs. Rowe.”

I smile mistily. “Hello, Mr. Rowe.”

He leans down and his warm breath ghosts across my lips as he kisses me lightly, sweetly. “I love you.”

“I love you more.” The next kiss is hungry and my whole body catches fire, the cold air barely registering as his big hands in the leather gloves cup my cheeks, the rough texture setting little sparks ablaze on my cold skin. His tongue slips along mine, coaxing mine to dance and swirl as he kisses me like his life depends on it. Like he wants to devour me.

“Ewww! Seriously, stop!” Both of us pull apart, laughing, as the kids’ chorus breaks the hush around us in the silent woods. Snowflakes fall and our littlest dances around trying to catch them on her tongue as the other kids glare at us.

All except for Christopher. His eyes are locked on something far away. Something that draws his eyebrows together and makes him frown.

“Christopher?” But he doesn’t respond. Just clears his throat and when he turns back to us, there’s guilt and envy in his eyes. Like he’s starting to want things.

My heart churns in my chest. My little boy is growing into a man. A man that I hope finds as much love in his life as I’ve found in mine. Even if it breaks my heart to watch him go.

Hopefully, the grannies don’t need to help him like they helped us. I’m not sure this town can take their tricks anymore. I’m definitely sure that I can’t.

Even if it did help bring me the love that I can’t live without!

Look for more in the Mismatched Hearts series soon! Until then, check out Tamrin’s story Really Poplar in the Black Timber Peak Mountain Men series. Really Poplar