Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

JILL

S he saw red.

The first moment they had to really be alone and talk – her husband was walking away. Over the last several months, they had company hovering around them all the time, and normally, she loved the attention. Lena, Ortega, Daphne, Christina, Gideon, Collins; even Panic and Lyndsey seemed to be kind people. It just dawned on her this morning that the second the two cabins were empty for a slight time and the guest room in the house was completed, suddenly, they had more visitors.

And now he was leaving her on the couch, walking into the kitchen? If he didn’t want to be alone with her, he should be man enough to say something. All the fake snores to get out of talking at night, rising before the alarm to avoid her in the morning, suddenly needing to help in the barn late in the evening, emergency runs into town for various different things.

It was all too much.

“GET BACK HERE!” she snarled angrily, rising to her feet and flinging the throw pillow at her husband’s head with all her might… only to see him stumble. “Oh gosh, Babe! Are you…” and her voice faded as she heard his nervous laughter. Her husband looked over his shoulder at her, resembling his old self as he smiled.

“Wanna get knotty ?”

“Excuse me?” she blinked in disbelief. “Did you hit your head?”

“I know you love those blue cookie tins – and I thought maybe we could start a new Christmas tradition.”

“Maybe I hit my head,” she murmured in confusion, gawking at him as he disappeared around the corner… before curling a leg on the door frame like a burlesque dancer, holding out a blue tin of her favorite cookies.

Jill rubbed her eyes and cracked up laughing, moving to join him.

“You are certifiable, you know that?”

“Have been for a while now, Darling. You just never noticed because of my rugged good looks.”

“I do have a thing for plucked-chicken-butt chins…”

“Ouch, Jill,” he laughed, smiling at her. “Want me to grow the beard again?”

“I kinda liked my scruffy mountain man… and I miss him.”

“Then you shall have him,” he murmured tenderly – and slapped a bowl onto the countertop, lifting an eyebrow. “We might have a problem to correct first.”

“What’s that?”

“The kids were eating the cookies earlier, so I thought we could make them instead… if you don’t mind helping me,” he said simply. “I bought red and green sugar crystals to sprinkle on the top so they are ‘ crunchified’ …”

“Okay,” Jill glared, putting her hands on her hips. What in the world was going on with him? First, he shaved his face, then he started ignoring her, and now he was acting all playful and loving? “Who are you, and what have you done with my husband? Is he bound and gagged in the basement? Are you a body double? He’s been snagged by little green men, hasn’t he?”

Her husband simply smiled at her – and slid the crock of cold butter toward her that Christina had made before leaving for Texas to go see Gideon’s family.

“What are you up to?”

“I told you,” he replied innocently. “I want to make cookies.”

“You don’t even like cookies,” she retorted in confusion. “Every time you ask for something, it’s Chantilly cake – in fact, I have a bowl of the frosting waiting in the fridge for tomorrow. I was going to make you one instead of a Yule log for Christmas.”

“Maybe I wanted to do something for you ,” he mumbled, turning away.

She saw him slide the massive glass container of sugar that was stored in an old tea decanter that she loved. They had bought it together at a rummage sale in Laramie one afternoon when he was home. She had fallen in love with the pink clear glass with the round thumb-shaped presses and sculpted flowers – not caring in the slightest that there was a spigot for tea. Her house, her rules, her kitchen, and she used it as her sugar jar because it made her happy.

“Here,” she said finally, moving beside him. “So you want cookies now?”

“I thought we could make them together – and talk.”

Jill looked up at his beloved face, seeing the ravaged expression in his eyes as he looked at her. He knew she had been upset, but stayed away regardless? Why?

“Talk about what?” she asked, moving deftly around the kitchen to get the rest of the ingredients. “Can you put a half a cup of butter in the bowl? I’ll be right there and…” as she turned, words failed her as she watched her husband shove a spoon into the butter, upending a massive wad of the golden spread before plopping it into the bowl. “That’s not half a cup.”

“My cup is different than yours.”

“Babe,” she sighed heavily. “Everyone uses the same measuring tools here – the rest of the world uses other stuff, but in ‘America’s Freedom Fractions,’ a half a cup is the blue plastic one that says one-slash-two, buster…”

“I know what I did,” he smirked and didn’t look away from her as she set down the plastic container of flour.

“Fine. I want two cups of fine cake flour,” she replied, shoving the container toward him… and watched in disbelief as he took the same spoon he used on the butter and put it in the flour. “No, no, no!” she wailed, rushing to the other side of the island to where he was, scooping the soft flour into the bowl like a mad fiend. It must have been six or seven heaping scoops that he put in the bowl before she could wrestle it away from him.

And he was laughing.

“It’s not funny,” she replied, pointing to the container. “You left butter in the flour, and this is the good stuff…”

“Come here,” he said tenderly, pulling her into the shelter of his arms but facing away from him. “Look at the bowl, Jill. What do you see?”

“A mess that is never going to set up. We’re going to end up with cookies the size of dinner plates that will probably be crispy or…”

“But it’s ours,” he whispered softly against her ear. “A little mix of this, a dollop of that, and at any other time – it’s nothing, but when you put them together, something special happens.”

“What are you doing?” she breathed, trying to turn toward him but he held her firmly in place, kissing her cheek softly as he nuzzled her ear.

“Explaining stuff,” he continued, picking up the clotted butter spoon that was caked with flour and pulled the bowl close, awkwardly stirring and beginning to cream the two ingredients. “I mean, Jill, look at this – and you are right. It’s a mess because I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m trying, and it’s never worked until you said ‘hello’ to me… and again, our recipe is changing.”

Jill swallowed silently as he shoved the filthy spoon into the sugar container – and she slapped her forehead in annoyance, but treasured his laugh as he dragged sugar across the countertop to the bowl and kept stirring.

“If you are romancing me, making a mess isn’t the way to do it…”

“Silence, woman, we’re creating something beautiful together,” and his voice was thick with emotion, causing her to instantly comply. “See, when it’s just you and me, we’re a thing – kinda messy, kinda works – but when you add a bit of sweetness. Things change, and I like the changes, Jill.”

She looked up at him in awareness and saw the truth in his gaze.

“It might scare me. I might not be any good at this, but I am excited that we are going to have a baby.”

“You are?” she uttered tearfully. “Are you sure?”

“I think it’s an incredible blessing that has finally happened – and if you want to know the truth?” he said hoarsely, his eyes holding hers as his arms tightened around her waist, and she heard the clatter of the spoon on the counter, uncaring. “I feel like I’ve put myself through Hell for so long that I am able to finally enjoy a little time in heaven with you. You are my heaven, my happiness, my forever, Jill. How could I ever be upset that God has given us a chance to take the best parts of each of us, swirling it around in your sweet belly, creating a miracle we get to love for the rest of our lives?”

“Why didn’t you say that?” she whispered, gazing at him. “I’ve been so scared that you were mad, upset, or wanted me to get rid of it – because then I would have to beat you to a pulp and show you who’s the boss,” she wept, smiling through her tears as she teased him.

Her husband leaned down, kissed her forehead, and then pressed his forehead to hers before making a painful sigh that seemed too big for anyone to be real.

“I already know who the boss is of this house – and I’m quite content at letting my soulmate rule our little home.”

“I love you,” she breathed, leaning up to kiss him, and smiled. “But do grow the beard back.”

“It’s not too rough or scratchy? You are so soft and delicate…”

“Your beard is hot,” she admitted openly in a thick voice, meeting his eyes and seeing the flare of desire in those hazel depths. “I like a manly man – the beard, the grumbling, seeing you chop wood for the fireplace, flexing those muscles… mmm… all of that is pretty amazing.”

“What if I told you this ‘manly-man’ was going to carry you away to our bedroom and show you just how ‘manly’ he is,” he murmured playfully, kissing her lips… only for her to draw back regretfully.

“Our company will be back shortly because it’s cold out – and we have this cookie-mess to take care of now.”

“Then let’s make the cookies – and resume the conversation when we are alone.”

“Do you mind?”

“Not at all,” he said, reaching over to grab the blue tin of cookies. “I think there are a few left. Do you want one while we are making more of them?”

“Sure,” she shrugged, looking at him. “I’ll grab the heavy cream for the cookies and…”

Her husband had pulled off the lid of the cookies – and was standing there beside her, smiling. The cookies were all there, except one paper tray was missing. In its place was a velvet box. She immediately took a step back and pointed, her finger wavering as she looked at him in disbelief.

“WHAT IS THAT?”

She stared in disbelief as his lip trembled, and he knelt. His eyes met hers, so bright and shining that she immediately covered her mouth as the tears came forth once more, but this time in joy.

“A long time ago, there was a boy who fell in love with a girl,” he uttered, his words choked with emotion. “I know you deserve so much better than me, but I could never give you up… and yet you stood by me. I told you then, all those years ago when I proposed at Christmastime in your parents' kitchen, that I would love you until the sun stopped shining, and the birds quit singing – and they’re still tweeting all the dang time at five in the morning, and I swear we’re eating that ornery rooster next time I ask for fried chicken,” he laughed as a tear streaked down his face.

She watched silently as he pulled out the box, glancing at it as he opened it before meeting her eyes.

“Back then, I was so broke, so young, and so stupid – but the smartest thing I ever did was to get up the nerve to write that letter. Even if I was scared to death to talk to the prettiest girl in the universe, I had to try it. I don’t know what I would have done if Logan hadn’t admitted that he knew you from high school, actually, yeah, I do. I would have probably thrown up on the floor from stress.”

“You? Stressed?” she whispered, shaking her head and smiling at him proudly. “You excel during moments of high stress, and we both know it. When the poop hits the fan, you stand up and holler, ‘You missed!’. You’ve done it repeatedly, and people lived because of you. So, why would you be stressed about some overweight girl who forgot to wear makeup that day?”

“Because that breathtakingly beautiful woman made my heart skip a beat – and still does,” he replied, and she could see the truth in his eyes. “That broke boy saved up and bought the cheapest diamond ring he could find, just so he didn’t feel like such a failure asking you to marry me… but I told you then to give me time.”

“And I said ‘you have forever and a day’…” she murmured, remembering those moments with such overwhelming love. “You still have forever and a day, my sweet Babe, because there is no one else for me – and never will be.”

“Well, I’ve decided to step up my game now that I’ve had you tied to me for twenty years,” he chuckled tearfully and took the ring from the box, looking at her. “I’m a little more confident, barely any smarter, certainly not any richer…” and they both laughed in understanding, sharing a smile as he stood. His smile faded, replaced by those gorgeous puppy-dog eyes that were now creased at the corners due to age.

“Miss Jill Warren,” he choked out, reminding her of that boy who’d done this same thing all those years ago, hiding an engagement ring in a tin of cookies that had a large red ribbon bow on top. He reached for her hand, and she felt his hands trembling as she gazed up into his beloved face in rapt attention, committing this moment to memory. “May I have your hand in marriage?”

“Always…” she murmured and felt something cold on her finger.

Feeling slightly guilty, Jill had stopped wearing her wedding band last year because it needed to be sized and didn’t fit her finger anymore. Her sweet husband never said a word when he came home. Instead, claiming he didn’t need a trinket to run off other guys, because he’d take care of the job himself if anyone ever approached her. As she looked down at her hand, she hesitated.

Her eyes shot back up to his in disbelief.

“You didn’t…?”

“I did.”

There, on her finger, was her wedding band. He had it cleaned, obviously sized, and it was sporting a new and much larger diamond, as well as the tiny band was bonded to a diamond anniversary band. It glistened in the light above their heads and was utterly lovely.

“This is too much,” she whispered tearfully, looking at him.

“This is not enough to show you how much you mean to me,” he replied sincerely as he brought her hand to his lips, kissing the ring. “You have always been my rock, my reason for living, and I am so thrilled at the idea of spending the second half of my life irritating the heck outta you, woman.”

Jill laughed tearfully, moving forward into his arms again, hugging him tightly. She always knew he was a sweetheart beneath that gruff exterior, but it was these glimpses, these stolen moments, that were the glue that held it all together.

And they heard a slow clap nearby.

Opening her eyes and pulling back slightly, her husband turned and grunted in irritation before leaning down to kiss her cheek. Obviously, he was slightly bothered by the interruption, but if he was actually upset – her sweet Babe would have told their friends to get lost. Seven faces peered into the kitchen from the doorway. Those happy smiles ranged from forty-two years old to three, and sucking his thumb.

“So things are back to normal?” Logan said simply.

“Always were,” Jill replied, feeling her husband hug her in a silent agreement.

“We’re having a baby,” her husband interjected proudly, kissing her temple as Jill chuckled at hearing their teasing words. Yeah, he’d already told his friends, but he was making the announcement official for her, and she knew it.

“You’re making a mess,” John said easily, entering the kitchen and lifting Rose onto a stool at the counter. “Is everyone allowed to make Christmas cookies?”

“They are supposed to be Danish Knots, or Kringlers,” Jill explained, pulling away slightly from her husband, nodding and waving everyone else into the kitchen to join them. Her heart was so full of happiness, love, and friendship that the idea of having the people they cared for nearby, being a part of their world was something she would treasure.

“I think we need someone skilled to sprinkle the red sugar crystals,” Houghton said to Rose, handing her the little container and then looking at Michael. “You wanna be the green-sprinkle-person?”

“And meee?” Griffin asked, yanking his thumb out of his mouth in a sweet high-pitched voice that melted Jill’s heart.

“You are going to put the silver candies on the cookies,” she said quickly, ad-libbing so the child didn’t feel left out as Logan lifted his son and stood behind him on the backless stool.

“Why don’t we open another carton of eggnog?” Lily smiled happily.

“I’ll grab the gumdrops, and we’ll just load the cookies up with gobs of sugar because it’s the holidays,” Juliet volunteered, causing everyone to laugh.

The conversation flowed as they worked around the island, managing to slowly make the mess in the bowl into a mangled version of her beloved Danish Knots. As she pressed out each form onto a cookie sheet, she listened as the children told her about their outing less than an hour ago.

“I made a snowman…”

“I found a rock,” Griffin announced, holding it up. She smiled tenderly at the toddler because it sounded like he’d found a ‘wok’ instead of a ‘rock.’

“I saw the moos…”

“A moose?” Jill hesitated in concern.

“A moo-cow,” Houghton nodded, chuckling. “C’mon hon, we’ve gotta learn the language, you know?” – and winked at her.

“Where’s Panic and Lyndsey?”

“I’m not sure,” her husband replied. “They borrowed the van.”

“Ahhh. Maybe a last-minute shopping spree before tomorrow?”

“Maybe.”

“And Ortega and Lena?”

“I won’t repeat what that man said,” Her husband said, frowning. “I heard from Mitchell in an email that Ortega told Logan that he had pixie dust…”

“EH-HEM,” Logan and Griffin both cleared their throats loudly, pointing in unison at the children who were watching him with obvious interest. By the look on their faces, Jill knew it wasn’t good.

“Ortega is… creative,” Jill hesitated, putting on a false smile for the kids. “And we love playing make-believe, don’t we, children?”

“Like , I believe that I need to talk to John for a second,” Lily said curiously, walking toward him as he leaned over, one hand resting on Michael where their son sat on the stool, whispering to his wife. Lily rolled her eyes and then chuckled knowingly.

“Hush, it wasn’t that funny,” Logan grumbled. “I might have gotten my feelings hurt… if I had them.”

“They were hurt,” Juliet quipped, laughing as she moved toward him, sliding an arm around his waist. “He just tries to hide what a sweet man he is.”

“Ugh,” all three men retorted at once, looking at each other in disgust.

“Oh, you hush,” Jill replied, moving to hug her husband. “You are the sweetest of them all.”