Chapter 9

Chapter 9

December 24

B randt woke up groggy on Christmas Eve morning. After rubbing his eyes and remembering where he was, he reached for his cell phone. When the numbers 9:23 flashed back at him, he was shocked. How could it already be after nine?

More surprising was the fact that he wasn't in any hurry to get out of bed. Nestled in his barn room, he pulled the flannel covers over his shoulders and flipped onto his side. Even though he felt obligated to get up, he couldn't seem to make himself do it. His room, with its sparse furnishings and private location made him feel completely relaxed.

A rarity when it was so close to Christmas Day.

He usually hated this time of year. That wasn't something he was proud of—and he really hoped that neither Mark nor Tricia would ever learn he'd spent a number of Christmases essentially alone until last year. Learning that someone's parents had moved away on Christmas Day just made things awkward.

And for folks like the Troyers, who not only valued their family members but worked hard to reach out to other people, well, his circumstances didn't make much sense.

His parents had moved when he was a senior in high school. Though they'd offered to take him with them to their new home in south Florida, he knew their offer hadn't been exactly genuine. He'd had college plans and plans for his last semester in high school. He couldn't ignore everything without paying the price in a number of ways.

They hadn't completely left him on his own. They'd made arrangements with the families of his friends, who'd been kind and had developed a kind of rotation system for him until he graduated, but that got old quick. Sometimes he was in a guest room, sometimes on the couch. The entire time, even when the parents tried their best, he felt as if he was an interloper.

The day after he graduated from college, he'd asked his parents for help paying a couple of months' rent on a studio apartment and then went out on his own. That had come with a lot of challenges as well, but at least he'd regained some stability in his life.

It was nothing like the Troyer family, though. Everything about their lives was filled with stability and care. He loved being around them.

No, he loved being with Tricia.

What he wasn't certain of was what to do about that.

When he finally opened his door, he was surprised to find a small basket with two muffins, a cup, and a carafe of coffee. Pleased by the thoughtfulness, he carried the basket into the main barn. When two horses popped their heads out and nickered, he sat down on a stool next to them.

"Happy Christmas Eve, horses," he said as he poured his first cup of coffee.

When one of the goats bleated, he grinned.

Sure, he was surrounded by farm animals, but he would take this crew over a lot of people he knew. At least they let him drink his coffee in peace.

He was almost done when Mervin Troyer, Tricia's father, wandered in. He chuckled when he caught sight of Brandt. "Look at you!"

"Good morning." When he moved to stand up, Mervin waved away his effort. "No need for that. I'll join you . . . unless you've decided that horses are better company?"

"I'll be glad of the company, though I must admit that they listen well and don't say much."

"I can't argue that point." Pulling up a stool, he grinned. "Ah. Now I understand. You got one of the breakfast baskets."

"Are they a thing?"

"Kind of."

"Hmm. I didn't receive one last year."

Mervin kicked out his legs. "Annie has five or six of these sets. If she has time, she sets them out at a few people's rooms every morning." He gave Brandt a sideways look. "Usually, she delivers the basket to a person or couple she feels might need a little bit of a helping hand."

"Hmm."

"Is that you?"

"I'm not sure." The idea didn't make him feel too good. He didn't want to be an object of pity.

Mervin's good-humored expression turned more serious. "I spoke in jest, but I'm ready to listen, if you've got something on your mind. I've always found that burdens grow lighter when shared."

Brandt's instinct was to say he was fine, but he knew if he didn't say what was on his mind today, he was going to have to do it one day in the future. Putting off this important conversation didn't seem like a good idea.

But he figured he should give the man some warning. "I . . . well, I've been thinking about Tricia."

Mervin froze for a second before he regained his composure. "My Tricia?"

"Yes." He poured himself another cup of coffee so he didn't have to look the man directly in the eye.

"I see."

It was obvious that Mervin didn't. A thousand questions were embedded in those two words.

But maybe it was time that Mervin learned how he felt? "I don't know if you realize it, but last year, when I came to your reunion, Tricia and I became friends."

Mervin's posture relaxed a bit. "I realized that. Her mother says that you two have been writing each other. Is that true?"

"Yes. I, um, never considered myself to be much of a letter writer. I guess I always thought it was too much work. But with Tricia, I began to look forward to pulling out a sheet of paper and a pen. Her letters were always fun to read and full of little details about her life that I wanted to know more about." Not wanting to drone on and on about their personal notes to each other, Brandt cleared his throat. "Our every-so-often letters became weekly. Sometimes more than that." He glanced at Mervin. "Needless to say, I had hoped to receive another invitation from Abel because I wanted to see Tricia again."

Mervin seemed to think about that for a moment. "You could have simply come to the house, you know," he said after a moment.

The man was not wrong. "I guess I could have done that."

"You wouldn't have even had to wear a band uniform for two hours last night."

He laughed. "Good point. I didn't think about doing that, though. It seemed too forward. And . . . like I was crossing a line."

"What line would that have been?"

"The line that divides friends and"—he paused, attempting to think of a suitable descriptor—"sweethearts."

Mervin's eyebrows rose so high, Brandt could barely see them beneath the brim of his hat. "Is this roundabout story your way of telling me that you have made my daughter into your sweetheart?"

Ouch . Despite the cold temperature, Brandt felt a trickle of sweat roll down his back. "Not officially."

"I'm sorry, but that don't make me feel any better."

"I reckon it doesn't."

"My Tricia is a good girl."

"I think she is, too."

Mervin narrowed his eyes. " Nee , pup." His voice lowered. "I mean that she is a good and decent woman. She is not deserving of your shenanigans."

"I'm not partaking in any shenanigans," he blurted. Feeling his cheeks pinken, he added, "Or anything else."

Mervin's frown turned into a deep scowl. "I should hope not."

What had he been thinking? Why had he thought he could share his feelings for Tricia with her father and it would all go well? Had he really thought he'd be able to gain acceptance from Mervin? He must have lost his senses.

Taking a last sip of coffee, he carefully set the empty cup in the basket and stood up. "I think I'll go take this into the kitchen and thank Annie properly."

Mervin stood up, too, though he looked a bit like a rooster ready to pick a fight. "Brandt Holden, look at me, if you please."

Though the words were phrased kindly, they certainly weren't a suggestion. They were a demand. Brandt turned to face Tricia's father. "Yes?"

"This conversation is not over."

"Oh?" His back was up. He might have shocked Mervin, but Brandt wasn't a kid and didn't want to be talked to like one. "What else do we need to say?"

To his surprise, Mervin's eyes lit up, as if he was amused by Brandt's feistiness. "I reckon it's not what else, but who else you need to be talking to."

"Pardon me?"

"Son, here's the way I see things. See, while I appreciate the fact that you are pouring your heart out to me, I think you are speaking to the wrong person."

"You want me to speak to Tricia, even without your blessing?"

"If you love my daughter and aim to spend the rest of your life making her happy, then you already have my blessing."

Oh, man. Now he was about to tear up. "Thank you."

"Hold on. You're still going to have to work on saying the right words to Tricia. She canna read your mind, you know."

Mervin was right. He needed to tell Tricia how he felt. "I'll speak to her soon."

"I'm glad that we got that settled."

"Me, too," Brandt replied, though he wasn't completely sure what actually had been settled.

"Get on your way now, Brandt. Go visit with Tricia and tell her how you feel. Then, if the two of you could let me and her mother know what your plans are, we'd be mighty grateful. We're thinking of taking a vacation in the summer, you see. If you two start planning a wedding and such, we're going to have to rethink our trip to Florida."

This was truly one of the strangest, most unexpected conversations he'd ever had in his life. "I'll do my best to keep you informed."

" Gut ."

And with that, Mervin walked back into the house, leaving Brandt alone with his thoughts. And a new nervous energy running through his veins.

It was time to find Tricia, take her someplace private, and pour out his heart.